Anne was new to the Cannibal Cookout forums. She had discovered them completely by accident while browsing the internet, following one of the suggested search terms while randomly lazing around and going down a deep rabbit hole. She stumbled across this site while reading up on something that seemed mildly interesting, and she had gone through the forums curiously.

She was surprised by its contents. At first, she thought it had to be some sort of gag site. A joke thing, like she saw sometimes. But as she browsed the site further and read through the various threads, something began to awaken within her. She started to understand some things, and to question many others.

She saw threads of women who talked about secret fetishes, saying they had always wanted to be abused and roughly handled, how nothing would make them happier than to be publicly humiliated and strung up by the neck to swing and kick and struggle in vain in their final moments, until their strength at last faded and the darkness of death overtook them. There were men who made boastful posts with photoshopped—or so Anne had first believed them to be—pictures of glassy-eyed and mutilated women, bloody or beaten or dismembered, set out on tables or lying, seemingly alive, atop stoves or grills, even suspended over an open fire or stuffed in a pot or oven, claiming that these were pictures of their most recent conquests, women they had fucked and turned into masochistic snuff sluts.

Snuff sluts.

It was a running theme throughout the various threads and image posts, and a common phrase. It was one of many terms liberally thrown around in various posts on the site, along with “longpig” and meatgirl” and “hucow”. There were others, too. They talked about “roasties” whose only use was getting spitted on a rotisserie and cooked until well done, about brainless bimbos who barely rose above the level of bipedal livestock. Some were very misogynistic, speaking contemptuously of all women, saying things like “The only good bitch is a dead bitch” or “If she isn’t gonna have my kids, then I’ll carve her up and eat her ass.” Others were more positive, in some strange way, giving effusive praise to anyone who posted remotely attractive pictures of a woman. But, mostly, it seemed that the dynamic in the whole roleplay on this site was of men as dominant and predatory, and of women as submissive and prey.

It… caught her interest, she had to admit. There were exceptions and inversions. There were women who asked for dick pics then told the senders in lurid details how she would love to pin them down and grill their living cocks before chopping them off and forcing the men to eat them—and some of these men sounded very interested in those suggestions, too. There were young men of effeminate appearance and doubtful age who dressed like girls and posted provocative pictures of themselves, of smoothly waxed thighs or round bottoms in women’s lingerie, and peers or older men who went into disturbing detail about how they would love to take them in and slowly cook them, basting them with cum from head to toe, eliciting euphoric responses and offers to exchange addresses or arrange IRL meet-ups. And there were girls who went after other girls, talking about how they would love to eat the flesh of fellow women, or about how they tricked rivals into a position where they could snuff and cook them.

All of this, Anne gathered over the course of several days and multiple visits to the site.

She wasn’t certain at what point, exactly, she began to realize that most of what was posted on here was real and sincere. She couldn’t pinpoint the precise moment when she realized that those pictures were real, and the various requests and offers all very much genuine. She didn’t know when, exactly, she understood what it was that so fascinated her about this. But by the end of a week of browsing the forums, of going through all the threads and slowly building up a sense of the members of this community, of the unwritten and unspoken rules, the unofficial hierarchy of posters, she knew it was genuine. She lurked for days and days, slowly acquainting herself with the main personalities on the site, with TheButcher_81 and RealMeatSow and OmNomMom and predtrap3 and hentai-chef-haram and Eatme_please and BloodforWodan12 and OGDolceteer.

Slowly, gradually, Anne came to understand the nature of the Cannibal Cookout forums. This was a site for people with an interest in things like snuff and cannibalism, in vore and dolcett. She had been dimly conscious of the existence of such things before. She had been vaguely aware that such people existed out there, but she hadn’t really encountered their kind in person until now. It wasn’t really in person on the internet, of course, but she still felt like she knew many of these people, in a way, after lurking in the forums for a while. She felt like she could understand many of their interests, that she could appreciate the strange, perverse culture they’d built up around themselves.

And more than that. The longer she lurked the site, the more she felt a personal, visceral interest in these things. Finally, she realized that she had awakened something that should have stayed dormant—but now that it had stirred from slumber, there was no chance to seal it away again. She fantasized about being cooked and eaten. About being snuffed.

At last, a month after first discovering Cannibal Cookout, Anne made her first post. She signed up for the site, picking the username Freshmeat21.

‘Hi. I’m a college age girl living with her mom—no dad. I’ve been lurking for a while, and I think I’m interested in the stuff on this site. Does anyone want to RP with me?’

She got a few responses.

‘lol Freshmeat21. You new here? Rp is for babbies. Post when ur ready to give me ur address, and ill come over and cut you up.’

‘Tits or gtfo, bitch. Ain’t doing shit with no newbie unless she knows her place.’

‘College age? Too old. Maybe if you were ten years yonguer.’

A few users posted FBI memes and loli gifs at this last poster. This seemed to be a running joke with him, and Anne assumed it was mostly for laughs, not really serious. But it looked like the thread was veering off-topic, so she was about to make another post. Before she could, however, she saw that a post had been made by no less than OmNomMom, one of the prolific members of the forums. There was hardly a thread on the site without at least one post from her, and she seemed to have a good rapport and a teasing, friendly relationship with nearly all the regulars.

‘You’re new to this site, OP?’

Both relieved and a little nervous, Anne replied.

‘Yeah, I am. Been lurking for a month or so, but this is my first post.’

‘I remember when I first joined. The hazing was something else. Mmm… I got so many offers from so many very generous men<3 Sadly, I had to turn them all down. I’m more of a pred, unfortunately… And, anyway, I still need to look after my daughter. She isn’t quite out of the nest, yet. Maybe once she is, I can consider becoming meat. But until then, I’ll have to be patient and satisfy myself with shlicking to other girls on trays and platters.’

Anne replied to this nervously, taking time to compose her post. Between starting it and submitting it, a few more posts were made to the site.

‘You really got a daughter? You talk about her, but you never show any pics.’

‘Do you kiss that cute little slut to bed every night? Smack dab between the legs?’

‘Fuck, I’d love to have you and your little girl for dinner. A nice bitch oyakodon. Maybe OP could join in to make it a foursome? Hehe.’

Anne’s post only showed up after these.

‘That’s interesting. I must be about the same age as your daughter. Is she cute? Does she look like you? Your pfp is very sexy.’

OmNomMom’s response was prompt.

‘The pic isn’t me. It’s of my first meal. From my honeymoon. Me and hubby had a scrumptious luau with my bestie. She was delicious<3’

‘Oh, I thought that was you. Do you not look like that, then?’

OmNomMom’s profile picture was of a buxom blonde in a skimpy swimsuit, posing sexily before a firepit. Anne wondered if that was the last photo ever taken of OmNomMom’s best friend before she was cooked and eaten. This thought gave her a thrill.

‘No, not really. Haha! I’ve posted a few pics of myself on the forums in the past, although I try to stay anonymous. Would you like to see some? Maybe I could give you a couple fresh photos?’

Anne was briefly tempted by this offer, but she decided against it. She wasn’t here for flirting with women. At least, not for ordinary kinds of flirting.

‘Nah. Not unless you’d want some pics of me.’

Several others in the thread posted enthusiastic replies. Many of the comments were obscene, and in another context, Anne might have taken them as threats or harassment. But here and now, she only felt a pleasant tingling of excitement at all the receptivity and interest she got from the other forum-goers.

‘Show us your meat!’ said one.

‘wanna see ur raw filet, ho,’ said another.

‘Tits or gtfo,’ said a third.

But she didn’t see a reply from OmNomMom yet. Nonetheless, the interest of the others caused her to grow a little moist—very moist, indeed, as the talk went further down the cannibal rabbit hole, users offering to snuff her or share pics of recent ‘meals’ with her. Some offered to let her know what it would be like for her when they got their hands on her and prepared her for cooking.

She was very pleased by the lurid imagery they used, and she helpfully provided them with descriptions of herself, straddling the line between accuracy and self-promotion as carefully as anyone on the internet could. She didn’t have to exaggerate much to make herself sound appealing. She had good genes, and she was quite fit.

Anne was a redhead, slim of build and only very lightly freckled. Her breasts were goodly handfuls, if not especially large, and she was conscious that her ass was very tight and perky. She had long legs, a little on the lean side, but otherwise very nice, and her face was pretty, symmetrical and attractively proportioned. Her eyes were green, and she had often been told how pretty they were. Her belly was taut, and her pussy was tight, her bush neatly trimmed.

Sitting in her bedroom, Anne spied her laptop’s camera. She considered tugging off her shirt and playing with her tits for the users. It got her a bit wetter to consider this. She grasped her phone and toyed with the zipper of her pants, contemplating whether she might want to tug them down and snap a pic of her snatch to upload on the forum. Her heart raced as she tugged the zipper down an inch, as she slowly, nervously undid it. She was shaking with excitement.

Yet she was also still mildly perturbed by OmNomMom’s silence. She heard her mother walking through the hall. It sounded like her mom was bringing the laundry back to her room. Anne dimly remembered hearing the dryer announce the completion of its cycle. She wondered what was keeping OmNomMom busy.

Anne tugged down the front of her panties, typing with one hand.

‘Who wants to see my meat? I’ve got a prime, fresh pussy barely used and begging to be cooked up. How would you studs and spicy mamas want to have me? Tell me how you’d cook my tasty little cunny.’

She licked her lips. The thrill of arousal was soaking the fabric of her panties. She yanked them down with a sharp motion, refreshing the page and seeing the replies pour in—nearly all of them affirmative, except for a few trolling contrarians. She read through vivid descriptions of how the users would like to prepare her, the most graphic language being used to paint an obscene picture in her head.

Anne held her phone a little shakily, and switched it to selfie mode so she would be able to see the screen. She angled the phone just so that it would take in her pussy and some of her lightly freckled thighs, but no more. A usb charging cable linked her phone to her laptop, and she adjusted this so it wouldn’t fall into the picture. Then she snapped a shot, refreshing the page to read a few more lascivious posts about how the users would ream her and roast her and ruin her with their ravenous, rapacious jaws.

A shudder of bliss rolled up her body, starting at the toes and ending at the crown of her head. She arched her spine and bit back a lewd moan, wary of being overhead by her mother, whose footsteps she could still hear, though they were now past her room. She swallowed and took her fingers to spread her cunt open, then snapped another picture. She leaned back and pulled down her pants along with her panties, bringing her ass into the shot before taking another picture. She typed a quick post, telling the users that she was almost ready with their treat.

‘Your appetizer is almost ready ;)’

She lifted the front of her shirt and unsnapped her bra, letting it drop. She bared her breasts and held out the phone just far enough to get both her modest, shapely melons in the shot—but not so far that she would show more than she wanted to. She snapped the final picture, her heart pounding in her chest, then refreshed the page to see all the eager comments from the users.

She was just about to post the pics when she noticed a new post from OmNomMom.

‘Ooh~ You’re sharing pics already, Freshmeat21? How naughty. If you go so quickly, one of these naughty animals might gobble you up. <3’

Anne felt a more powerful rush at this comment than at nearly all the others, although there was very little explicit in it. It was coy and teasing, yet it filled her with a heat of excitement, and she typed out a quick message to go with the pics to let the other user know that she had seen the comment.

‘Yeah, OmNomMom. Mmm. I’m super horny. I’d love it if somebody on here decided to come over and gut me like a pig. Oh, yeah. That would be the best fucking thing. Here. Do these look tasty to you?’

And she posted the four pics of her private places, then waited a couple moments in breathless anticipation, fantasizing about what the users might say, reveling in the thrill of exposing herself to these complete strangers. It was so powerful, so intoxicating. It felt so damn fucking good. She almost came just from thinking about it.

Anne hit refresh. She was about to read through the new posts—and there were several, looking very florid and flattering, when she noticed a small bit of red on the top of the screen. Next to an envelope symbol, she saw a number indicating that she had a single private message in her inbox.

She swallowed and opened the icon in a new tab.

The message was from OmNomMom. The header read: You Look Delicious.

But the first line gave her pause. It almost knocked Anne right out of her high, rudely bringing her back to reality.

‘Are you serious about this?’

That was the first line.

Anne read on.

‘In my experience, there are two kinds of people on this site. There are the RPers who just come on here to talk a big game and play pretend. To have sexy chats and share their pics. Then there are the people who are actually serious about this.

‘I don’t mean to be rude. I won’t judge you if you’re only on here to RP and share hot selfies—I can enjoy that as much as the next person, and I’m not about to stop you from giving us lovely fap material.

‘But I think it’s important to warn you. This isn’t just a fantasy roleplay. For some of us on here, this is all very real. I’d love you have that tasty little cunt of yours on my plate, but I want to be careful. I want to be considerate. If you really want to be cooked and eaten, I won’t stop you. But if you just want to have an occasional quick thrill before going back to your normal, everyday life, then be careful.

‘Or I might gobble you up ;)’

The message ended on a playful note, but Anne got the impression that OmNomMom was giving her serious advice.

She considered what the woman was saying. Why was she here? Was she just doing this to get a quick high, to roleplay and pretend before going back to life as normal? Or did she actually want to…?

The moment she gave this any thought, she understood what it was that she desired.

A shiver racked her body. She slowly, tensely inhaled. She felt a renewed excitement, and also an anxious knot in her belly, as she typed out her response.

‘I want it for real.’

There was a moment’s pause. Then she saw the notification for another message, and she refreshed the page.

OmNomMom had sent her a new reply.

‘Where do you live?’

For a moment, Anne was conflicted about what kind of answer she should give. She decided to be clear about the woman’s intentions, first.

‘Why do you ask?’

Another message.

‘Because I want to give you what you’re begging for. It’s been too damn long since I got to taste a pussy that fresh. I want to eat you up.’

Anne felt her excitement building.

Fuck. This was really happening. She hadn’t expected it when she first posted. Not seriously. Or not so soon. But now that the possibility was presented to her, she knew at once that she wanted this.

She told OmNomMom her city and state.

‘Damn, that’s convenient,’ the woman replied. ‘I live in the same city.’

‘Shit, you do? Talk about a small world. But this means… it would be really easy for us to meet up, wouldn’t it?’

‘It would. Hell, we could almost do it any day you wanted…’

‘Yeah. Where would you want to meet up?’

It was a little bit longer before Anne got a response. She clicked briefly back into the thread, and teased the users with the suggestion that they might get to see pictures of her dead and roasted, if someone decided to be generous. She read a couple very exuberant replies to this—and also a few griping posts by users who seemed disappointed at the implication that she had already found someone to cook her.

‘The really good ones are always snapped up before us plebs even get a shot,’ one poster commented.

Anne might have made a conciliatory post in response, but she saw a new message, and she went back into the new tab.

This, too, was from OmNomMom.

‘I messaged a friend about making some arrangements,’ said OmNomMom. ‘You can come to my place tomorrow. My daughter is usually out on Saturdays. Does that sound good? Or do you need a little time to prepare yourself and put things in order?’

Anne considered saying goodbye to her mom or writing up some sort of farewell message for her friends. But, no. This seemed like it would only be a nuisance, a hindrance. She wanted to do this as soon as possible. She didn’t care about anything else.

The thought that she might very soon be cooked and eaten, like those women she had seen in all those pictures on the forums… it made everything else seem insignificant.

‘No. Tomorrow’s perfect. But you’ll give me your address?’

‘Yeah. It isn’t a problem. Most of the long-time users already know where I live, anyway. We get together for meals, sometimes.’

Anne shivered at that remark.

Then she skimmed down to the last line, where OmNomMom had typed her address.

For a moment, it didn’t register in her mind. She read the address, and she recognized it, but she didn’t make any connection, nor did she really grasp its significance.

Not until she had started to type a reply.

Then, it hit her.

‘Wait, that can’t be right. Is this a prank? How do you have my address?’

It was several long seconds before a reply came in. Anne thought she heard a noise from her mother’s room.

Then the reply came.

‘…just a quick question,’ wrote OmNomMom. ‘What’s your name? Your REAL name. It… isn’t ANNE, is it?’

Anne was taken aback.

‘How did you know that?’

She didn’t get a reply. Not by private message.

Instead, she heard a quick tread coming down the hall, and before she could close her laptop or remember the fact that she was half naked, the door to Anne’s room was flung open, and her mother thrust in a mature, red-haired head. Anne, her pants yanked down, her bra and shirt on the bed, her laptop open to the Cannibal Kitchen webpage, stared at her mother, the usually mild-mannered and reserved woman gawking at her with an expression that could not be read. Her mom, Mary’s mouth worked open and closed for several seconds.

On some level, Anne wasn’t even really surprised.

“…OmNomMom?” she said slowly. Her breasts bobbed a little, and her pussy glistened with all the moisture of its arousal. She turned on the bed to face her mother, taking a chance and accepting that it was too late for her to feel embarrassed. “Is that… YOU?”

“Anne,” her mother breathed. “Freshmeat21?”

Both redheads nodded, staring at each other for a long, pregnant moment.

Anne swallowed. She noticed that her mother’s dress was oddly rumpled, as if the woman had thrown it on in something of a hurry. She also smelled a slightly tangy, faintly pungent, mildly sexual odor quite apart from the smell of her own horny privates.

“…Dad never died in a car crash, did he?”

Mary shook her head.

“He’d always wanted to be eaten one day.”

Anne numbly processed this. She belatedly looked down at her basically naked body.

“Is the arrangement still on?” she asked tentatively.

Mary, her mother, OmNomMom—the mature, buxom redhead who smelled of arousal and wore the guilty look of a teen who’d been caught masturbating in the bathroom—blushed, but slowly nodded.

“If you’re still willing.”

“I am,” Anne breathed. Somehow, the fact that this was her mother did nothing to kill her arousal. If anything, it got her a bit wetter. “Shit… yeah, I want it even more, now.”

She trembled, eyeing her mother in a new light.

Mary swallowed, and she slowly removed her dress.

The two of them had gone too far past the limits of decency to be averse to a little mother-daughter incest. The pair tangled themselves together on the bed, throwing aside restraint and flinging themselves fully into the present pleasure.

They could discuss this later. But for now, they were desperate to get themselves off.

… … … … …

Anne and her mother didn’t talk much, for the rest of the day. Upon learning that they shared this fetish—that one of them had just offered to be snuffed for the other’s delight—they had cast aside all inhibitions and forgotten the taboos, save as a way to spice things up further. They spent the rest of the day having fun in anticipation of the morrow, and they spoke very little about what would be done. Only at one point during the evening did Mary pull away from her daughter, and that was just to make the final arrangements.

She got on her computer and messaged one of her fellow forum members: BloodforWodan12.

‘Hey, Blood. I’ve got a fresh one for tomorrow. You’re available, right? This one will be fun. You know my daughter?’

Blood soon responded. Mary didn’t know his real name. He was a secretive person. But he lived nearby, and there were few people on the site who were more experienced dolceteers. He was always available to help cook and snuff a cute little bitch—often in that precise order, too.

‘I can come over whenever you need it. And, yes, I remember your daughter. You talk about her often enough.’

‘I can’t help it. I’m proud. And today, I’m prouder than ever! Did you see that thread by the newbie, Freshmeat21?

‘I saw it. Someone claimed her before I was able to respond.’

‘Yes. I claimed her. And it turns out—this is the best part!—it turns out that Freshmeat21 is my dear, sweet little Anne. She’s all grown up, and she takes after me. Or maybe I should say after her father? I was always more of a pred, while he was happy to wind up as prey, at the end… Yum! My mouth is watering just thinking about it.’

It was a minute or two before BloodforWodan12 replied. When he did, it was terse.

‘I see. I’ll be there by morning.’

Mary’s reply was short and sweet. She knew that Blood had gotten all of that. He didn’t like to carry on at length, once a conversation had reached its point. He felt no need to waste time with pleasantries about what a nice surprise this was. He understood her excitement and anticipation, and Mary understood that he understood.

‘Thanks<3’

With that, she returned to her daughter, refreshed by the short break.

They spent the night in each other’s arms. This forbidden embrace was the only farewell either of them needed.

Anne was her mother’s daughter to the end.

… … … … …

Mary awoke, feeling her daughter’s face buried in her bosom. Anne’s breath tickled one of her nipples, and her cheek depressed the side of one of Mary’s large breasts. Her face was cute and peaceful, a look of dreamy serenity relaxing her attractive features. They were lying in Mary’s bedroom; the mother had taken her daughter in with her. The sheets were bunched and tangled up between their twisted, intermingled bodies. Their limbs, knotted together, held them close.

Mary heard a knock on the bedroom door, and she looked at the clock on the bedside table. Its face said 6:54 AM. A smile curled plush, pouty lips, and a voluptuous form shifted as its owner stirred. When Blood said he would be there by morning, he meant it.

Gingerly, trying not to awaken her pretty baby girl too rudely, Mary extricated herself from her daughter. She unlooped her arms from around Anne’s waist, and she pulled her tits out of Anne’s face. She heard a soft sigh from her daughter, and she smiled at the look of drowsy disappointment on the girl’s features.

A second knock sounded on the door. She heard a deep voice grunt impatiently.

Not bothering to put on a nightgown, Mary got off the bed and walked to the door. She opened it before the third knock could sound out. She saw the huge, knuckles poised like they were just about to strike the wood again. She looked into a visored face, a mask with the shape of a deer skull and a fur hood from under which protruded a pair of antlers. A great, bare, burly chest heaved with expectant breath, and a hide cape was draped over broad, powerful shoulders. Huge and hirsute, with only a small loincloth to hide his nether regions—which Mary knew from experience to be most impressive—BloodforWodan21 stood towering in the hall.

His outfit never ceased to seem outlandish, no matter how many times she saw him decked out in it. He always insisted on wearing the mask and hood and antlers, even when she stripped him otherwise buck naked. It was an odd fixation of his, but compared to the kinds of things that the two of them did, there wasn’t really any cause for her to call it THAT strange. Anyway, it was no less bizarre than her own obsessions. She was always taking in young women, as young as she could get them, and making them call her mommy and suckle at her teat (she had kept herself lactating all these years with regular pumping and stimulation) while got ready to get snuffed.

Blood was a large fellow, burly and taciturn. Muscles rippled beneath ruddy skin, and coarse fingers groped the air. A small pouch of tools and utensils was tied at his waist.

Mary cocked her hips. She was a full-figured woman with large, creamy breasts and wide, child-bearing hips. Her cunt had none of its youthful tightness, but it was sublimely hot and juicy, and her thick thighs and pillowy ass were wonderful attractions in their own right. She wasn’t as svelte or toned as she might have been. It was hard to keep in really good shape. But she looked very fine, and she had every right to be called a MILF. It was obvious where most of her daughter’s good looks came from.

“Sheesh. When you say morning, you MEAN morning, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Blood grunted. He peered in the door, where he saw the young woman lying on the bed. He saw the resemblance, and he recognized her from numerous pictures. “That’s her, then? Fresh meat?”

“That’s my daughter, Anne,” said Mary with a nod. “Freshmeat21.”

She heard the sound of lips being smacked, slightly muffled by the mask. Blood plainly approved.

Her pussy moistened, and in her mind’s eye, she saw her daughter strung up and prepared to die. A sultry moan escaped her mouth.

Shivering, Mary turned to face into the bedroom. She leaned forward and raised a hand to her mouth, bending over with full knowledge of what she was doing, lifting her ass and giving Blood a tempting view of her nether regions as she spoke.

“Time to get up, dear. The butcher is here?”

Mary wiggled her hips and inched back, pressing her ass to Blood’s crotch. The man, who insisted that he was a priest of Odin, laid one of his massive, calloused hands on her waist and gripped, holding her firmly. Another thrill went through Mary, and she bucked her hips eagerly, wondering if they had time to get in a quickie before Anne woke up. It would be oh-so-fun to see the look on her daughter’s face if she awoke to find her mother being fucked silly by the man who was going to snuff and cook her.

But, sadly, Anne woke up before Mary could fully convince Blood to lift the front of his loincloth. It was still a helluva sight for the girl to see, when she blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but there wasn’t quite the same powerful impact as there might have been if Mary were in the throes of ecstasy, stuffed full of Blood’s huge, dominating cock.

Still, Anne’s expression WAS a delight.

“Mom?” she said. For a moment, she looked and sounded confused. She was drowsy and disoriented. She hadn’t fully put everything back together. “What’s…?”

But she soon remembered the previous day, the previous night, and she understood. Or thought she understood.

“Who is that? Is he here to help with…?”

Anne blushed, sitting up in the bed. She was conscious of her nakedness, but she realized that there wouldn’t be any point in trying to hide it. Her breasts were bare and perky, goodly-sized if not yet as large as her mother’s. And they never WOULD get that big, seeing how her life was going to end today. She looked at Blood’s form, great and muscular, and she took in his outlandish dress.

“I’m the high priest of Odin,” the man intoned. “You will be a blood sacrifice to the All-Father.”

Anne gulped. A shiver coursed through her body. She saw her mom step forward, pulling away from the self-proclaimed priest with a slightest look of disappointment. But a moment later, Mary was smiling warmly at her daughter, and she advanced to draw the young woman up out of her bed.

Mary held Anne affectionately, giving her what might be the last embrace her daughter would ever receive from her mother. She felt the tension, the excitement coiling up in Anne’s body. She saw the hope and dread warring in Anne’s eyes.

“Are you ready, baby?” she asked her daughter tenderly.

Anne needed only a second to consider her answer.

“I am,” she breathed. “Oh, fuck, yes. I am?”

There was an unabashedly lascivious tint to her voice.

Mary was so proud.

Blood might have been leering behind his mask as he gestured for Anne and Mary, mother and daughter, to arise and follow him. They stepped forward, Mary turning to face his back and Anne stepping up behind her mother. The two women, equally naked, followed Blood, the self-proclaimed high priest of Odin.

The man led them as if perfectly familiar with the house. Because of course, he was. Mary had had him over many times in the past, whenever she’d found a new cute thing to snuff, whenever she’d able to get him over while her daughter was out. In the past, it had been very difficult to arrange her schedule so that they could get together without her daughter learning of it. A few times, she had gone out to meet up with him or one of the others under the pretense of a short business trip.

But now, she would never have to worry about that ever again.

Her daughter now knew of that lifestyle she lived, and she plainly wholeheartedly approved. Moreover, soon Mary would HAVE no daughter to need to hide this all from. On one hand, that would be sad. She was a little past the point where she could easily have another child, and losing her daughter would make her life after this seem a little hollow, even if she was able to indulge more freely and frequently in her preferred debauchery. On the other hand, she would be proud to see her daughter become meat, and maybe she wouldn’t force herself to live long enough to really miss her baby girl.

She had long enjoyed being the predator, but in the world of dolcett, even the most dominant woman was at a very real risk of becoming just another meal. She was female, which in the eyes of many of her fellow forum-goers—both man and woman—meant that she was meat. No matter how long she lasted as an arrogant predator, flattering herself with the flesh of lesser maidens, eventually she would come into the grasp of someone higher up the food chain, and whether she consented or not, she would be put in her place and sent to join all those past, delicious meals of hers.

A shiver rolled through Mary’s voluptuous body as she thought all this. There was a dreamy smile on her face, and she swung her hips a little harder as they approached the basement, where Blood had doubtlessly set up everything beforehand. She grasped at one of her plump, wobbling breasts and slicked her soft, red lips, sighing and peering over her shoulder as they started down the steps. She saw her daughter behind her, above her, staring ahead into the gloom of the basement. There was only a faintest, reddish light down there. Mary appreciated the view of her daughter’s form, seeing Anne’s tight pussy and perky, modest breasts. She grinned.

Anne raised a hand to flick the basement’s light switch, but Mary shook her head.

“No. That would ruin the ambiance.”

Anne looked skeptical, but she accepted this and heeded her mother. They continued into the basement, turning forty-five degrees on the landing, halfway down, before emerging into the space.

It was tidier than many basements, the clutter well pruned and managed. There was little dust, and everything was neatly sorted. The water heater and the furnace were set up not far from each other, reasonably impressive sights. A respectable amount of space was open in the center of the basement, and a stout, heavy-looking pipe ran across the ceiling.

There was something new in here, though. Candles were lit and sitting in a ring, dimly illuminating the space. A portable altar was set up, its top blackened and laden with kindling. Opposite this was a medium sized Dutch oven. A hose was looped up nearby, hooked to the spigot of the basement sink, apparently ready to hose off any mess that might be left when everything was over.

The priest untied his satchel, letting it drop to the floor with a metal clinking and clattering. He stepped forward and knelt over the alter, intoning a low prayer in a language Anne didn’t recognize.

Mary was shivering in excitement, anticipation lighting up her nerves. She purred and leaned over to embrace her daughter, wrapping her arms around Anne and planting many wet, lusty kisses upon her naked skin. She fondled Anne’s nubile form, rubbing their bodies lewdly together. The candlelight glittered in Mary’s eyes, and her lips smacked hungrily, thirstily, as she licked and nibbled her daughter in slow, savorous expectation.

Anne took a deep breath.

“That oven isn’t big enough to fit me,” she said, looking at the article in question. It was at the upper end of what could be reasonably transported by a single strong man, but this was a bit small to accommodate her whole body. And then she looked at the altar, the surface of which was clearly set up for a goodly burning. She noticed a fire extinguisher sitting atop the basement freezer. “And what is that for?”

“Did you think you would be cooked alive?” asked Mary amusedly. “We could have arranged for that, if you’d been more specific… but Blood prefers to be methodical, and he’s a much better butcher than I am.”

Anne trembled. Her eyes were fixed to the large, burly eccentric.

“I thought you might,” she mumbled. “But I won’t insist on it, if you have something else in mind. I don’t care especially how I’m done in. I just… want you to treat me like meat. To snuff me?”

There was a trace of bliss in her tone, and she smiled nervously but lovingly at her mother.

Mary leaned in to kiss her daughter. Their lips sealed together, and their tongues slid into one another’s mouths, meeting in a lusty tangle, twining and rolling together. Their bodies shivered, their bosoms heaving, and they wiggled their hips, both moistening. They stood like this for several long, euphoric seconds, enraptured by each other’s bodies and by the thought of what was soon to happen.

Mary pulled her mouth back, a thin trail of saliva smearing her chin. The kiss had been obscenely wet. She traced a meandering line down Anne’s waist.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” the mother purred. “I love you?”

Anne moaned, and a spasm of bliss rocked her body.

“I love you, too?”

It looked like the pair were about to indulge once more in a hot and heavy make out session, but Blood intervened.

“C’mere,” the man grunted, grabbing Anne with a frightful strength and effortlessly sweeping her off her feet. He snatched the lass away from her mother and slung her over his shoulder, laying a broad, calloused hand over her perky, lightly freckled ass. Anne shivered at this treatment, and she swooned over the priest’s strong body, feeling the heave and ripple of his large, powerful muscles. “It’s time.”

Mary trotted over with a giddy stride, wiggling her hips like a squealing schoolgirl. She watched closely as the pagan went to work, taking a thick, sturdy rope and deftly looping it around Anne’s ankles. The rope was coarse, and its fibers scratched against Anne’s smooth, sensitive skin, but her only complaint was a soft, cute whining noise. Otherwise, she let the man do his work without critique.

Blood took this rope, once he had fastened Anne’s ankles, and slung it over the thick pipe that ran just under the ceiling. He pulled down on the far end of the rope, hauling Anne bodily into the air, yanking her up so that she was hanging upside down, suspended directly over the drain in the basement floor.

Mary moaned and drew close, peering attentively into her daughter’s eyes as Blood took the rope and tied it around one of the basement’s vertical supports. She saw the slight surprise in her daughter’s eyes, and a glint of comprehension. Anne realized what was about to happen.

“You look delicious?” Mary cooed, stepping forward and tipping her head to kiss her daughter on the mouth one final time. It was a deep, hungry, adoring kiss. It expressed love and lust and even a trace of secret envy. Her body shuddered with barely contained sensations, and her eyes lewdly rolled in her sockets. She was smiling sublimely when she finally pulled away, a gossamer strand of spittle connecting their mouths. She gazed into her daughter’s eyes, and she saw her daughter’s cheeks going almost as red as her hair. “I can’t wait to eat you, sweetie?”

Anne opened her mouth to make a response, but she never got the chance. Swift and deliberate, a heavy, razor sharp knife was thrust into her throat and drawn across in a single, mechanical motion. Her eyes went wide as blood spilled down over her face, coating her cheeks and mixing with her lewd slaver. Her body shuddered, suspended, and she wriggled obscenely in the final, confused, orgasmic throes of life. Anne came in delight, humiliated and ecstatic to be snuffed as she was, utterly dehumanized and robbed of all choice in the matter.

Then the light left her eyes, and she went still.

Mary moaned and fingered herself, feeling a rush at the knowledge that she had just watched her daughter die. This was a better thrill than any other. It was better than snuffing her former best friend. Better than snuffing her husband. This was perfection. It was the highest ecstasy, the lowest and blackest perversion.

She writhed, feeling some of her daughter’s hot blood on her heaving, jiggling breasts. Her eyes lewdly rolled, and she smiled to high heaven.

Her eyes fell on the camera recorders that had been set up, set to start filming once they entered. This scene had been captured from three different angles.

She smiled, looking forward to editing the footage together to share with her friends on the forum. And conscious of the future, leering stares, she bucked her hips and masturbated a little more vigorously, a little more shamelessly, throwing her body salaciously to and fro in the throes of arousal. She exclaimed loudly and immodestly, letting the recorders pick up the full texture and tone of her orgasmic, delighted voice.

Mary fingered herself, and a bit of arousal leaked over her digits. She was close to coming as she watched the life leave her daughter’s eyes, and she watched the flow of blood come to a stop.

Her breathing was ragged, and she sucked the inside of her mouth.

“Fuuuck. That’s wonderful. She looks simply splendid. Mmm… To think I get to watch my baby girl go like this. That I am the one who gets to send her off… it’s delicious?”

Blood nodded distractedly, stepping around from behind Anne. He saw the young woman’s ashen face, almost lifeless, and he saw her dull and cloudy eyes. He saw the thin line of the opening in her pale neck, and he saw her life fluid spilt everywhere. He turned and noted a modest amount even spattering Mary’s plump, wobbling bosom.

“She looks good,” he grunted. “So do you.”

Mary felt the man’s eyes on her bloodied tits, and she smiled and licked her lips.

“Not today, you tease. I want to taste my daughter, before anything else.”

“She’s still raw.”

“I know. That’s what the oven is for, though, isn’t it?”

She winked cheekily.

Blood tilted his head, then nodded. He turned and bent over to retrieve a different set of knives from his bag. Mary, standing behind him, saw the back of his loincloth ride up and the front of it dangle, exposing his nether regions. She saw his ass and his sizable prick, and she wiggled her hips, tingling hopefully.

Maybe he would fuck her in the ashes of her daughter’s burnt offerings as part of his ritual. Mary shivered at this thought. He had done things of that sort before, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

Blood stood back up. He had knives for butchering at the ready, now. He stepped forward and grabbed one of Anne’s breasts. There was still some lingering warmth in the skin, and they were still soft. A part of him almost expected the girl’s face to stir with a look of pleasure or embarrassment. But that look of morbid euphoria was unchanging, and Anne made no response to his coarse molestations. So, he grunted and gripped her teat, pulling it out slightly from her chest.

Then he set the edge of a knife to its underside. Aware of the cameras, and of Mary’s eager eyes as well, he shifted his body, angling himself so his work would be visible as he began sawing the blade across Anne’s skin, slowly parting it, slowly shearing his way downward through soft and squishy fatty tissues. He drew the knife down, the flesh tender and easily parted. He almost peeled Anne’s modest breast from her body, the gleaming blade of his knife exiting from the topside and letting him effortlessly pluck the tit away.

It dripped a little, from its naked side. He raised it up, holding it by the nipple, so he could see the cross section of Anne’s prime mammary. He saw the skin, the layer of fat, the base of her milk gland in the center. He also observed the red circle on Anne’s chest, where her tit had been until a few seconds earlier.

He took this breast and plopped it into the Dutch oven. It had already been heated up in preparation, and the base of the pot audibly sizzled when the tit clapped down inside it. He then went back to Anne and repeated this process with her other tit, listening to the salacious moaning noises Mary made while she watched him work, groping her own breasts and plunging her fingers obscenely in and out of her pussy.

Blood plopped the second breast into the pot. He heard a redoubled sizzling, and he saw clear grease, liquefying fat, leak from the boobs. He nodded, pleased, and stoked the heat a bit.

He walked around and untied the rope suspending Anne’s carcass. He lowered this and then draped it over his altar, belly down. He took his knife, wiped it off, then began carving the redhead’s buttocks. He sliced the cheeks of Anne’s ass, carving off the raw ham. He placed the slices on a small platter, reducing the girl’s ass to a bare, flat, bloody nothing atop her legs.

Then, he pushed her body forward a bit and grabbed a heavy cleaver. He brought this down with a hard CLUNK¸ hewing the girl’s leg. His arms were strong, and he managed this with a single mighty stroke. Mary moaned lasciviously, beholding her daughter’s steady dismemberment, her gradual butchering. She fingered herself more deeply, groping her tits harder and more lewdly. Blood hacked off Anne’s other leg, again doing it with a single stroke.

Next, he repeated this process with her arms, cutting off these, leaving the amputated carcass of the girl to lie on the altar, titless chest down, assless backside up, lifeless face gazing pleasantly at the far wall. Finally, he took his cleaver and beheaded the lass, letting her mindless noggin tumble to the basement floor.

Mary darted after the rolling object and snatched it up. She dusted it off for a second, then raised it. The skin had mostly cooled. A shiver went through her as she stared into those cloudy eyes. She licked her lips, gazing at her daughter’s freckled face, the serene expression. She saw the lingering, lusty anticipation lingering on her features along with a faintest hint of pleasant surprise, the last thing to ever pass over her face, aside from that momentary, interrupted satisfaction.

With a groan, a breathless mewling, Mary bowed her head and kissed her daughter on the lips. It was a deep kiss, licentious and immodest. Her bosom heaved, and she buried her fingers up to the knuckle inside her cunt, thrusting her tongue into her daughter’s mouth. She wiggled her hips, salaciously shaking her ass.

Blood watched this. His face, hidden behind the death’s head vizard, could not be read. But he chortled, sounding amused, and the front of his loincloth rose with the proof of an erection.

He returned to butchering. He gutted Anne, removing her visceral organs. He opened her womb and removed her ovaries, and he set these on the platter with the slices of longpig ham. He dealt with the rest of her viscera, setting some aside for burning and others for cooking. It was a bloody, dirty, unspeakable process., but he was unfazed by it.

He split Anne’s gutless carcass, cracking her flanks apart. He began removing cuts of meat, preparing them to toss in the pot. He would not be making anything fancy with Anne’s meat. Mary had told him that she wanted to keep it as simple as possible, so she could savor it. He peeled tender flesh from bones, and he hacked up the girl’s severed limbs. Slowly, steadily, he reduced Anne to the point where it was almost impossible to tell that there had once been a human here.

He chucked the best cuts of meat into the pan to sizzle in the fat and grease of Anne’s liquefied tits. He threw in leg meat, arm meat, rib meat, bacon. He added the slices of her rump, and her pussy, carved whole from the girl’s carcass. Last of all, he managed to pry the girl’s severed head away from her mother and cut out the tongue, which he draped over Anne’s pussy.

He shifted the contents to make sure nothing would burn. Then, he turned to what was left of Anne, and he placed all these miscellaneous parts atop the altar while Mary knelt before it, shaking her ass and dangling her tits. The woman looked almost tempted to place herself on the altar with her daughter’s discarded parts, to be burned with what was left of the girl.

But she wanted to taste Anne’s meat. She wouldn’t miss that chance for the world.

So she inched back as Blood set up the altar and prepared the sacrificial fire. A substantial space had been cleared around the altar, and they were under a vent, via which the smoke could escape. They had done this before, and they had taken all the necessary precautions.

BloodforWodan12 lit the fire. OmNomMom, or Mary, watched as her daughter’s remains were consumed. She was beaming happily, and she pleasantly wiggled her hips.

She grabbed Blood’s loincloth and tugged it up, as she watched the fire devour the better part of her daughter, consuming flesh and revealing the bones underneath. She moaned and mounted herself atop Blood’s bone, grinning lasciviously, and she took his cock inside her.

The man, having nothing else that he needed to do presently, apart from keeping an eye out, only somewhat begrudgingly obliged the slutty MILF.

He fucked her while her daughter’s remains were burnt as an unclean offering to unclean gods, and she reveled in his cock as her daughter’s choices cuts were cooked, plain and unseasoned, in the Dutch oven. She was beaming and throwing her head, and she moaned obscenely.

Sweat streamed down her skin. She couldn’t wait to taste her little girl’s meat.

This thought occupied her mind in endless fantasies.

… … … … …

The stench of the burnt offerings was in the air, and incense wafted as well, sweetening and softening this harsh, unpleasant fragrance. The lid of the Dutch oven was lifted, allowing the more moderate and pleasing aroma of Anne’s cooked meat to drift out and tickle the nostrils of the pair who set themselves down to eat. The sacrificial fire was still going, but it was low, and most of the offered flesh was now ash.

Mary was sweaty and smiling, ruddy-faced and purring, as Blood plopped Anne’s perfectly cooked pussy onto her plate. Mary looked at the golden-brown flesh, the darkened folds and ridges of the exposed insides. She licked her lips and stabbed a fork into Anne’s cunt, then raised it to her mouth.

She took a bite, chewing. She rolled the meat on her tongue.

Fuuuuuck. That was splendid.

Her eyes lit up. She shuddered and came a little, feeling the flesh melt in her mouth, tasting the perfectly savory flavor. She adored the taste of her daughter’s cooked cunny, and she compared it favorably with how the part had tasted the night before, when her daughter was still alive.

She smacked her lips, then swallowed the mouthful of pussy meat.

“She tastes perfect?” Mary caressed her cheek, wearing an orgasmic expression. “Oh, I’m so happy to know she’s this delicious. My life is complete?”

“It’s over, then?” asked Blood. He had lifted his mask just far enough for him to slip Anne’s roasted tongue into his mouth. He ate this with brusque relish. “You’d be fine with joining her?”

Mary rolled her eyes.

Blood asked her basically the same thing after every meal of girlmeat.

“No,” she told him. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. In the end… mmmm, I’m still a predator at heart?”

She winked, then took another bite out of Anne’s rapidly disappearing vulva.

“So you say,” Blood replied skeptically. “But you’re also a woman. A natural cow.”

He eyed her breasts.

Mary smiled proudly.

“I am. And maybe when I’m too old to be of any use for milk and sex, I’ll acquiesce to being cooked. But there’s still fun for me to have.”

Blood fondled his knife, seeming tempted despite her words. Anne’s flesh WAS delicious, and he was curious if Mary’s would taste as good. But he didn’t do anything, ultimately, and he simply reached for another piece of meat.

Mary smirked and polished off her daughter’s pussy.

It was a delightful meal.

… … … … …

A/N: A dolcett-like piece, but it’s different from the usual sort. I enjoyed the first half pretty well, and I think the second half is alright… but the character getting snuffed before cooking just takes the wind out of the sails. Then again, cooking her alive in any worthwhile level of detail would have bloated the piece to a simply unreasonable length.

I dunno, whatever. I’m sleepy.

Updated: …

TTFN and R&R!