© Copyright 2010 - Reaper2014 - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-f; M/f; prepare; cook; eat; machine; cons; X
"Chelsea, table five wants a cunt steak, medium well, no cut!" Andrea called from the counter.
"On it!" Chelsea answered. Being a Grade-A meatgirl, she knew she could get "The Call" at anytime, so she was only wearing a bathrobe. Some places had their meatgirls walk around naked at all times, but Anderson's had a strict policy against that - they didn't want the other workers distracted.
On her way back, Chelsea passed a preparation room. Her best friend, Rebecca, was currently being stuffed. This was actually less common than popular belief - a proper full-body roast job took hours to prepare, and of course could not be eaten by one person, no matter how hungry they were. Chelsea envied her friend for the experience she was undergoing. Judging by Rebecca’s face, she was in total ecstasy.
Chelsea hung up her bathrobe outside one of the self-cooking rooms, and hit up the controls for the Jessica 5000. A few places still used the venerable 3000 roaster, but the Jessica 5000 was a multicooker. It could do just about any job except ovens or boiling, while being no larger than its predecessor. Chelsea briefly eyed the spit at one end before activating the cunt grill. She punched in “medium well”, and the machine came to life.
Chelsea straddled the Jessica 5000 like a horse, with one leg on either side. She carefully lowered her pussy onto the grill. As she settled into position, leg clamps activated automatically, locking her in. Above, a harness descended, and Chelsea obligingly raised her arms, placing her wrists into their clamps. The clamps weren’t to prevent the girls from escaping – meatgirls were all consenting. In fact, they were unionized – Rebecca was also the president of the local chapter. The clamps merely held Chelsea still. They also added to the experience, in her opinion. She was completely helpless. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
The grill got very hot very quickly. Chelsea could feel the heat just radiating from it. It was like being outside in Arizona in the summer, only the heat was coming from below… and concentrated on her nether regions. She felt the intensity building – the slow buildup to climax. Her pussy was already wet. After five minutes, Chelsea felt her juices begin to sizzle. The heat was incredible. The pleasure was coming in waves, more and stronger, until her first orgasm took her. The next came less than two minutes later.
Fifteen minutes after the machine was turned on, Chelsea’s pussy was done cooking. The grill turned off, but the clamps remained in place. Her pussy needed a few minutes to cool off – and she needed a few minutes to recover from the experience.
Once her clamps released, Chelsea walked out of the room, down the corridor that lead to the final preparation room. The butcher, Kevin, waved at her.
“Got an appointment, Chelsea?”
“Sorry, Kevin. Not this time!” she replied.
She walked out of the preparation room, still completely naked. She found Table Five, where a young man was sitting. She nonchalantly hopped onto the rotating section, and slipped her ankles into a pair of ankle clamps at one end. Again, this was just to keep her still. The control was near her head, and her arms were free.
“Dig in,” she said, then laid back as the man began devouring her cuntsteak. She quivered as he sliced off her clit. Then he started cutting small pieces off of her womanhood, triggering yet another orgasm. It was even more incredible than the cooking process. As he finished her labia, he gestured with his fork to her left breast.
“May I have a nipple?” he asked.
“Go ahead.” The man had paid for her cunt, but he still needed permission from her to eat any other parts of her body. Chelsea moaned as he cut off her left nipple. Eventually, he put down his fork and knife. He signaled another waitress – Emma – who brought the check. After signing, he got up, thanked Chelsea, and left.
Chelsea released her leg clamps, but just lay there for a minute. She then got up, got off the table, and walked back into the kitchen area, bypassing the grills and cooking rooms, finding the room which contained a little piece of technology that made all this possible.
Developed ten years ago, the Regenerator had revolutionized modern medicine. So long as the central nervous system and vital organs were intact, it could heal almost any injuries in a matter of hours – depending, of course, on how much damage had been sustained. Chelsea lay back in the machine. A pair of electrodes slid up to her head, and she fell asleep within seconds as they triggered a massive buildup of serotonin.
It had taken about a year before the Regenerator had become cheap enough to be used for something like this. And the public had taken time to accept the idea of eating people – even if they were not only consenting, but would survive the process unharmed. But in time, such restaurants became common. Some even suggested that eating animals was no longer necessary, now that we had a way to eat humans without violating any ethical codes.
An hour or so later, Chelsea woke up. Her pussy was completely restored, along with her left nipple. It was like nothing had happened. She got out, put on another bathrobe, and resumed her place with the other meatgirls.
Forty minutes later, she was back in the cooking room, this time grilling her breasts.
It was just another day at work.