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Introduction:

If you squick easily, my stories aren't for you. Consider yourself warned.

"Hey Sarah", the message begins, "I'm cooking up a special dinner tonight and I want you to be there. I'm inviting a bunch of our friends, it'll be great!"

I'd known Steve for years, but never knew he could cook. This is such short notice though... Well, it IS a Tuesday. What else do have to do on a Tuesday night?

"Sounds good. I'll be there. You want me to bring anything?"

"Nah, just bring yourself"

"Alright, I'll see you then!"

"See ya!"

I continue working until five o'clock, wondering what sort of meal Steve's preparing and who might be there. I hope Steve's not, like, vegan or something. I can't remember him eating any time we've hung out. Maybe Jess will be there, and I can ask her why she hasn't returned my calls in a week.

At the end of the day, I leave, get to my car, and drive over to Steve's. There are quite a few cars parked in the street around his house. I wind up parking four houses away and walking back. I knock on the door, and some guy I don't recognize answers it. It's surprisingly not loud for a party. I would think they would be blasting music or something, but it's quiet. As the door opens I catch the scent of something that smells amazing. "Hey," the guy starts, "Are you Sarah?"

I'm caught off guard by this guy knowing my name. I don't know him. It's kinda creepy. "Y- yeah?"

"Oh, good, Steve said to expect you." As he says this, he opens the door the rest of the way. Inside, I see a whole party of people. They're all just sitting around and talking. I don't recognize any of them. They're also all guys.

"Where's Steve?", I ask, hoping to see a familiar face.

"Oh he's in the kitchen," the guy points, as if I don't know where the kitchen is, "checking on the entree."

"Thanks." I step passed the guy and wave to the group shyly as I walk passed to the kitchen.

As I enter, I see Steve closing the oven. "Oh, hey Sarah! I wasn't sure if you'd make it!"

"Of course I came. Who could turn down a free meal cooked by a friend, right?"

"Heh, yeah, I hope you like it. It should only be about another hour."

"I don't know, like, anyone else here."

"These are all buddies of mine that I met online. We all meet up like this every Tuesday. I thought this would be a good chance for you to meet them. You can trust them as much as you can trust me, so don't be shy."

"Okay. I guess I'll go introduce myself. Dinner smells great! I can't wait to eat!"

I return to the previous room and introduce myself. The guys are all very different from one another. It doesn't seem to be a group who would usually hang out together, and I can't really find any common interests to all of them as we chat. After a while, I hear Steve call out, "Hey, I'm about to bring out the food. If you could all wait in the dining room that'd be great."

We move to the dining room, and I wind up seated furthest from the exit. I hope I don't wind up having to go to bathroom during dinner, as I'd have to squeeze past half the people here.

Then Steve brings out what was in the oven... WHO was in the oven... It was Jess! I look wide eyed at the platter as she's set down on the table. She's completely bald, and a lot browner, but that's definitely Jess.

"I uh... I've gotta go to the bathroom. Sorry. I'll be right back."

The guys, who were all looking at Jess and clutching their forks and knives, mouths watering at the sight of her cooked body, all turn to look at me. A shiver of fear runs down my spine. The guy seated to my right hands me an empty beer bottle. "Here. Use this. We won't watch. It'll be easier than having everyone here get up."

"Th- Thanks." I take the bottle. They want to keep me here in this room. They know I'll escape if I can. They've all got knives too. There's no way past them. Maybe if I just play along, I can watch for an opening. But how can I eat my best friend like this? I mean, she smells absolutely delicious, but she was my friend. This is insane.

"Sarah," Steve asks, holding up a carving knife, "Jessie wanted you to have the first pick of her meat. Where do you want a slice from?"

She... wanted? This was her choice? Why didn't she ever tell me this? This is confusing... "Uh... I don't know. I've never eaten a person before. What's good?"

"Personally, I'd recommend a slice of thigh or ass. It's a lot like pork, so whatever cut you might get from a pig, you'd probably like from a longpig, which is what we call humans when they're food."

"Okay, I'll try some of her thigh."

"Great choice!", Steve exclaims as he puts a slice of Jess's thigh on a plate and passes it down to me. It looks as delicious as it smells. This feels so wrong, but my mouth is watering. I take my fork and knife and cut a small piece off. I slowly bring it up to my mouth. I begin to chew and it tastes incredible. It's like honey glazed ham, but even sweeter. Culinary perfection.

"Mmmmmm, this is absolutely delicious!", I exclaim, as I cut myself a much larger bite from the slice in front of me.

"Thanks! Jess and I had been discussing this night for the past week. It's great to have friends for dinner, isn't it?"

"Mm, yeah, she's so sweet. Can I get another slice?" In my mind, the two conflicting thoughts begin to swirl. As I eat, helping after helping, from various parts of her body, my absolute enjoyment of my friend's delicious body begins to overtake my apprehension against cannibalism and twist it instead into something of pure enjoyment... Something of pure sinful pleasure. While waiting for my 3rd slice, I'm already squeezing my right tit with my left hand, through my shirt. Eating my friend is making me so wet. Once I reach my limit, I'm so horny, and I still want more, but I just can't eat another bite. Most of Jessie is gone. The others ate as voraciously as I did.

Then I feel someone grab my chest from behind and squeeze my tits. I don't care who they are. I don't care who sees. I'm in absolute lust right now. I let out a moan and move my head back, giving them better access. They pull my shirt off as I kick off my shoes. Another minute and we've removed the rest of my clothes as well. I turn in my seat and take this strangers hard cock into my mouth as I reach my other hand into my skirt and begin to rub my clit. I close my eyes and feel someone else pull my skirt and panties off. Another dick enters my dripping hole. After a few thrusts, he picks me up and lays me on him, on the floor pushing his moistened cock into my ass. The guy who I was sucking off kneels near my head so I can continue as a third guy fucks me. I grab two nearby cocks with my hands. We go late into the night as guys take turns in my holes, giving me orgasm after orgasm. Every guy there fucks me at least once.

When I wake up, I'm lying on Steve's table naked. The plates haven't been cleared. Jess's bones are picked clean. There are spots of dried cum on the table, chairs, floor and on me. Steve's sitting naked in one of the chairs near me, but the others are all gone. "Good morning sleepy-head," Steve says.

"Hey... Good morning... That was, like, the best night ever."

"I knew you'd have fun. You want to have some more fun?" He gets up from the chair, his morning wood ready to go.

"Yes, please."

He sucks and licks my nipple, followed by a playful bite and pull. "Mmmmm... You would be such a delicious longpig."

I look next to me at the platter of my friend's bones. "With you as the chef, I'm sure I would."

Thinking about it gets me excited so quickly as he moves his head down and pulls my moistening moistening labia with his mouth. He makes "mmmm" sounds, like he's eating a delicious meal as he licks, sucks and pulls on my labia and clit. Climbing onto the table, he gives me a deep kiss as his cock enters my cunt. Our tongues intertwine as he thrusts deep into me, stroke after stroke. He pulls himself up just in time for me to let out a moan of deep pleasure. Pulling out, he showers me with his cum.

I call into work sick and help Steve clean up from last night. I clean up the table, chairs and floor as he does the dishes. After that, I take a shower. All I can think about is joining the group again next week.

I dry off and leave the towel in the bathroom. As I step out, "Do you serve longpig every Tuesday?"

"For the last five years or so, yeah."

"Who do you have lined up for next week?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping to get to cook you. What do you say?"

Well, obviously my answer is no, right? I don't want to die. As caught up in the moment as I am and all, no one in their right mind would agree to be eaten (no offense to my good friend Jessica.) "Heh, well, as long as I'm in your hands, I know I'll taste great, won't I?" What the hell? Do I not listen to reason? He's offering to kill me, and I flirt about how good I'll taste? Get it together, Sarah!

"Oh you definitely will. Tell me, do you have any other friends who you think would enjoy eating you? I could invite them next week." I should say no one. Whoever I say is as good as dead. Shit, why am I not bolting for the door?

"Stephanie, probably. Here, I can give you her info..." I start walking over to my handbag to take out my cell phone where I keep all my friend's contact info. That was the absolutely best time of my life, and Steve is incredibly hot, and a great chef and all that, but aren't I supposed to instinctively flee from death? Why is this making me horny instead of wanting to flee? Why am I staying here and just letting my friend here turn me into the sweetest most delicious, succulent meal imaginable? "What kind of site did you meet those friends on? They seemed nice."

"Oh, it was a fetish site for eating human flesh. Our first few meals were volunteers from that site, but we kinda ran out of women there. Girls are so much more tender than guys."

"I think I have that fetish now."

"Good. It's called 'voraphilia'. Having it will make cooking you all the easier. Come, I'll show you to the guest room."

I follow him into the basement. He's got a false wall, and behind it is the room. There's a bed, a small table, and a toilet. It's almost like a prison cell. In the center is a pole with a rope around it that leads to a collar. I know I should leave, but instead I lift my hair to allow Steve to more easily put the collar on my otherwise naked body.

"I'm getting kinda hungry. What's for breakfast?" Steve hands me a bottle of honey.

"To make sure you're deliciously sweet, you're going to eat nothing but honey for the next week. It will soak through to all of your meat and even clean out some of your systems for me."

"Thanks."

"And if you need me for any reason... For more honey, sex, or even just to chat, simply press this button on the wall here."

"What if you're at work?"

"Actually, I am at work. The guys all pay me when they visit each week."

The next morning, I call into work to tell them I went on vacation to the Bermudas. Over that week, Steve and I make love dozens of times. I start to notice my poop being less like poop and more like honey.

On the last day, when Steve comes down, he tells me with a smile, "It's Tuesday." After making love again, he brings me upstairs to the bathroom and completely removes my hair. I see the large pile of red hair as he sweeps it up and dumps it into the garbage pail. Then, in the shower, he scrubs me extra well. Twice in some areas, as he needs to clean me again after making love to me.

By now, I've fully accepted that I'm meat. As meat, it will be an honor to be cooked by such a skilled chef. I'm looking forward to it, wet with anticipation. We go into the kitchen, and I help him prepare the honey glaze, and spread it on myself where I can reach while he spreads it on the places that I can't. I lie down in the pan on my back, lift my legs with my knees spread to the sides crossing my ankles, and hold my wrists near my ankles to allow Steve to tie them all together the way that Jess was.

He slides me into the preheated oven and I feel the wave of heat against my skin. I imagine this must be similar to a tanning bed, but with my pasty white skin I wouldn't know, since I can't tan. As the metal of the pan heats up, I feel a searing pain along my back, much worse than the pain from the heat in the air. I hear a few of the guests arrive. The metal box that is the oven seems to amplify the sounds, so I can hear them really well. Despite all the pain, I get very wet imagining them eating me, but the added moisture seems to cook off of me almost as quickly.

As I continue to cook, I get very tired, and my consciousness fades away as I fall asleep, dreaming of how good I will taste.

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