Giantess Stories: Ready Meals

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Ready Meals (Takeaways)   by Banfield

 

    What a glorious day it

promised to be. Chilly at first, but as the sun slowly climbs into the heavens

it became warmer and so pleasant. Girls in their hundreds were emerging from

houses, bungalows and flats dressed in freshly-laundered, crisp-white blouses,

ties of differing patterns, blazers and dainty, micro-mini skirts denoting

whichever school they attended. Strong, svelte legs moved, the feet shod in

good, sensible leather shoes, socks were pure white, some just ankle-length,

some reaching up to just below the knees. Above the knees could be seen splendid

thighs almost discernible as far as the charming twin curves of the pert

buttocks.  Some girls preferred not to wear blazers, perhaps a light Summer

cardigan left open to reveal the young budding mammae pressing the fine cotton

fabric and shewing just a hint of the nipples.  Bras were not considered

appropriate nowadays unless the female had awfully large breasts and needed the

support of those "man-made" garments.  Many girls wore school hats...the English

kind. Old fashioned perhaps, but exceedingly charming, especially if pretty

ribbons were attached and fell at the back of the wearers.  The outer clothes

were of normal, traditional material...cotton, wool and synthetic, but the

underwear, usually only knickers, were something else. A material that could

"breathe"...not cotton, or polyester but a silky fabric, a finer, more delicate

textile than any other silk...the epidermis of human males, and not just any

males. They had to be fair, preferably blond males, and young.

 

  The first stop the

schoolgirls made on their way to school or college, was at the many tuckshops

which opened early to catch the school rush. It used to be paper shops,

newsagents but no longer. Newspapers are outdated, actually stopped because of

the terrible destruction of trees.  For those wishing to keep abreast of current

affairs, a tiny module was bought, slipped into personal walkmans and listened

to as the purchaser continues to her place of work, or, if unemployed, takes a

stroll to other shops.

 

  A crowd of sweet-smelling

girls filled a particular tuck-shop and gazed in a babble of chat, giggles and

laughter.  The object of their rapt attention was what stood behind a long fence

of perpendicular steel rods crossed by thicker rods running horizontally.

  The youths, lots of them

and of similar age to the girls, looked sullen and morose. They were not at all

happy being gaped at by girls - especially as they were naked, but such em-

barrassment was not the main reason for their resentment.  All the youths were

of a darker hue, all imported from the Southern hemisphere, brought over in

their hundreds in what is eu- phemistically called "Tiertransporters."  They had

been delivered only that night, put through the cleansing units on a

conveyor-belt, given only water to drink and herded into the display cage. 

There they had to wait to be bought - bought by girl pupils, students and

others, then swiftly processed as required...all to be consumed.

 

  "Right, come on, girls,

make your minds up! You haven't got all day! You don't want to be late for

lessons! Yes?"  The shopkeeper, an Asian woman, eyed a pretty, blonde-haired

girl who shewed a keenness for a batch of boys. "You want those?"

  "Yes, please. I'll take

half a dozen of those there," said the girl pointing.

  "What size?" she was

asked.

  "Five centimetres,

please."

  "Oh, you mean 'two

inches'. Anymore for two inches?"

  "Yes, I want ten!" piped

up a voice.

  Another cried six and

another called for eight.

  "Is that all for two inches...five centimetres?"

the shopkeeper shouted above the hubbub. No answer. "Mita, Zeeta, send thirty

through!"  The two dark-skinned Indian girls attired in tight-fitting leotards

of the purest "silk" used special rods to herd the thirty youths from the long

cage and through a gangway resembling a car-wash facility. A loud whirring was

heard and the two beautiful Asian girls moved to the exit point.  The

shopkeeper, probably their mother or aunt, called out the quantities. The

assistants quickly put the numbers into bags, all of them perforated to keep the

purchases fresh and alive.

  The shopkeeper, in the meanwhile, took other

orders briskly: "Twenty-five millimetres...one inch? How many for one inch?" 

And so it went on. As each batch of required sizes were ordered so that quantity

of youths went through the shrinking device as passively as lambs to the

slaughter.  It was such an efficient system. The two girls only had to single

out the number of youths, press the size required on a keyboard and then simply

gather up the miniaturised boys and stuff them into bags - just like sweets at

any confection- ary.  Although the youths seemed so passive and submissive,

there were the signs of distress

such as tearful eyes, quivering bottom-lips, the

shaking of inner- weeping; but all was ignored by the females - the girls as

they passed their credit cards clutching their bags of tiny humans...popularly

known as "jelly-babies."

 

 Some of those "jelly babies" might last only a

short while as a girl might just fancy a nibble as she proceeds to school.

Perhaps an an arm, a leg or that special something dangling between the lower

limbs.

  At school, college or university, the bags are

put into the drawers of desks, and as the lessons progress, a little snack might

be called for...to help concentration, to appease a little hunger or simply an

idle suck. Chewing-gum had long been banned.

  There were girls who had other ideas. Sitting

listening to long, drawn-out lectures or watching boring educational films, they

would very carefully extract one or more of the wriggling creatures, making sure

not to cause any rustling of the bag, and very secretively take the tiny youth

down under their skirts and either place them into the hot, sweaty gusset of

their knickers or gently insert them into their vaginas - a source of pleasure

while pretend- ing to be immersed in what the droning voice of the presenter was

saying.

  It was the perfect remedy for staving off

sleepiness, yawning and, quite effective for concentration.

  There were two girls sitting close to each

other at the back of the class. One was white, the other black. They were both

very close friends, did most things together, very chummy. The black girl raised

herself off her seat.

  "What are you doing, Colette?" whispered

Sheena.

  Colette didn't answer. Sheena looked and saw

the dusky girl reaching under her bottom holding an eight inch (20cm) mini-youth

in her dark fist. A quick movement with her free hand pulled the silky

undergarment aside. The midget was quickly placed before she sat back down on

her seat. A grunt of satisfaction came from the black girl. Sheena grinned

knowingly: "He won't last long," she whispered, "Not under your big arse." 

Colette just grinned. "He's struggling like mad. It's lovely!"

  "Those girls, are you paying attention?" cried

the female lecturer.

  "Yes, miss, we're just making notes!" came the

excuse.

  The lecturer looked hard at them and continued

the lesson. Of course it was known that the more senior girls liked their

"snacks" much bigger than the junior girls. She herself had one up in her

vagina. She was having her periods and an eight inch male acted as a perfect

sub- stitute for a tampon - far more satisfying, sometimes difficult to extract

because of its bloated state, but nevertheless....

  Another whisper came from Sheena. "What's he

doing...is he still...?"

  "Uhu...he's....Aaaaah!"  Colette's thick, pink

tongue curled from her mouth  to gather the tiny beads of perspiration from her

upper-lip.  Sheena felt the need. She took her eight-incher from her bag and,

under the cover of her desk, slipped him headfirst under her knickers, his legs

beating against her stomach.  "Mmmm...O gosh, he's got his head stuck in my....Ooooh!"

  Again, the lecturer looked up and across the

heads of her class: "Please, let's have no more disturbances!"

  "No, miss, sorry!"  Both girls grinned and

strived to contain their sexual excitement with their individual "toys"

stimulating their respective orifices. It didn't really matter if their "toys"

expired, come lunchtime and they'll be eaten...after a thorough rinse under a

tap.

  All the pupils swarmed out of their respective

classes, schools, colleges and uni's for their lunch-breaks. Girls gathered in

groups, some paired off, others went quietly on their own to stroll, bask in the

warm sunshine, or watch a game being played. Almost every girl had their

lunchbags, dipping in to take out a wriggling little male. Some girls liked to

play with hers, licking it all over, trying to create an erection, each girl

vying with another to see who gets a hard-on first, the victor claiming both

tiny penises. Others like to compete with sucking games, to see who can remove

the skin off their tiny "snacks" first by sucking them hard. Some girls merely

munched on their "snacks" as casually as if they were chips paying no regard to

the tiny squeals as they popped them into their open mouths.

 

  The teachers, lecturers and admin. staff were

more civilised. They bought more mature males, usually from four inches to

twelve, and those were cooked in the staff-room...fried, grilled or toasted, and

put between slices of buttered bread or rolls, provided there was enough time

for such niceties. Otherwise, and the mini-men had to suffer the same ordeal as

those eaten by the students...seeing those mouths open and, either headfirst or

feetfirst, being projected between sharp, white teeth and feeling head or feet

being bitten off, masticated and swallowed into feminine bellies for, this was

their only purpose in life, to feed the females, and, of course, supply semen

for future generations.

 

  Outside in the playground, the recreation

field or in some secluded spot in the campus, the students were relaxing and at

ease from the rigours of scholastic studies, tests and swotting.

  "What've you got for this afternoon, Marissa?"

  "Aw...history and art. Hate history, but art's

all right. Here, look at these, aren't they funny?"

The girl had picked out three or four tiny

little creatures from her paper-bag. They were wriggling desperately and making

tiny noises, all caught between the dainty finger and thumb of the pretty

schoolgirl.  Her friends, all taking their "snacks" one by one, looked and

giggled.

  "Go on, then, put them all in. Why don't you

just swallow them altogether. You'll feel them all wriggling in your tum!"   The

girl grinned and lightly licked her sweet, full lips. She opened her mouth wide,

tilted her head back and dropped the little youths. Her mouth snapped shut, her

cheeks bulged. The minute youths were suddenly awash in viscid saliva.

  "Well, go on, swallow!" urged that daring

girl, her pretty eyes dancing with unholy glee.

  "Mmmm...Mmmm... I don't know," the other girl

mumbled with her mouth full. She seemed reluctant, perhaps afraid.

  "Oh, go on...All right, I'll help you," said

the other, and straight away grasped the girl by her shoulders and pressed her

lips on the other's mouth. There were giggles and hoots as the girl held fast,

and then, with a gulp, the girl being kissed swallowed. The other girl pulled

away and looked with sparkling eyes as the girl gave several gulps to recover

from the kiss and the send- ing of those tiny male specimens down her throat.  "Mmmm...Oh,

golly, I can feel them!" She put her hand to her abdomen and gave a sigh. "I

wonder how long they'll live?  They're still alive...at least, some of them."

  "Let me hear!" squealed the girl who had urged

her to swallow them. She bent and pressed her ear to the girl's bare midrift:

"Yes, I can hear something...just a minute...yes, they're

shouting...no...screaming. They must be digesting in there. Golly, it must be

awful, being dissolved alive!"

  "Where're yours, then?" asked the girl, "'spose

you gobbled them all up."

  "Well," replied the girl straightening up,

"not all of them. I've got a few of them up my fanny. I think they're dead now,

though."

 

  Meanwhile, Colette and Sheena were in the

toilet block rinsing off their little men under a running tap. The eight inch

(20cm) "snacks" coughed and spluttered, both had almost expired, the one having

his head trapped in the white girl's cunt, and the other crushed under the black

girl's bottom.

  "I'm hungry," said Colette, "My tummy's

growling." She gazed at her human figurine shewing her appetite. He stared back

petrified fully aware of his ghastly fate.

  "So am I!" replied Sheena. She took one of his

arms between her teeth. A scream came from the mini-man as her incisors snapped

shut. As she chewed up the limb she licked the spot where his arm had been, just

like one would lick at a chocolate-covered ice-lolly.  Another squeal came from

Colette's "snack" as she nipped off an arm.  The girls sauntered out of the

toilet block into the warmth of the sun holding their "snacks" well away from

them to prevent blood from staining their white school blouses and ties.  Dotted

about were the groups of students. Strolling about, lying on the lawns or

sitting on benches. A perfectly normal scene of a school grounds during the

lunch break. Girls of all ages. Some joking and laughing, some having serious,

deep conversations while others just quietly relaxed. There was, of course, that

one disturbing feature

and that was, what they were having for lunch.

  "Here goes!" giggled Colette. She had just

eaten her little victim's limbs. She held the figure and bent forward and, with

her tongue, lapped at the genitals playfully before snapping them from him. Then

it was Sheena's turn to deprive her little "snack's" whole manhood. Both girls

gazed at each other grinning happily as they quickly masticated the tiny

morsels.

  Colette glanced up at the clock tower. "Hey,

we've only got ten minutes!"  They then quickly gobbled up the remainder of

their "snacks" gave little, ladylike burbs, rubbed their tummies and carried on

strolling until the bell sounded.

 

  In the class of about 25 to 30 girls, all in

their early teens, a babble of noise increased as the teacher was awaited.  The

weather was very warm and every young, pre-nubile damsel began sweating - not

profusely but enough to shew under their armpits through the fine cotton

blouses. Tie were loosened as were the top two or three buttons.  The babble

rose and then suddenly fell silent as the stern mistress entered and half-glared

around the room daring anybody to utter a word: "Right, English literature." A

low groan came from several throats.

"Literature," she went on, "that has been long

suppressed. Not the works of Jane Austin, the Bronte Sisters, Rossetti or

Christie, but the male authors. I would only keep Shakespeare's play The

Merchant of Venice because because the main character is a female, Portia, and

that drama has been rewritten....Portia demands the pound of flesh instead of

Shylock, and wins her case."   A buzz of glee rose from the class.  The teacher

then looked at a very pretty girl about half way up one of the lines of desks.

"Amelia, are you all right? You're rather fidgety."

  "I'm all right, thank you, miss. It's

just..."  Amelia wiggled herself.  The teacher, aware of something, looked at

her sternly: "I know a lot of you girls like to keep certain titbits on your

persons. They should be kept only in your lunchboxes or bags. It's the school

ruling that no sweetmeats should be secreted in your...er...well, you know

where."  A sudden giggling re- sounded. The teacher raised her voice: "So

anybody who has any where they shouldn't, please leave the room and dispose of

them in the lavatories!"

  Only Amelia rose to her feet.  "Don't take too

long, Amelia," warned the teacher.

  Amelia stepped into a vacant cubicle. She

lifted her skirt, drew down her knickers and sat on the seat of the lavatory.

She started to relax herself and then came the quiet plops of the "sweetmeats"

as they emerged from her loosened anus and plummeted down into the rounded

square pool of water of the pan. Six tiny little creaures exited.  She then

reached for the living facility supplied in every twelve cubicles - a nine inch

figure of a male with a collar and fine chain attached to his waist.  She

grasped him about his waist, opened her legs wide and carried him down

headfirst.  The wretched little man just had time to glance down to see the six

much tinier males floating on the surface. All were lifeless except for one. The

human toilet-paper could discern the minute ripples around the live mini-man as

he struggled to keep afloat. Then the facilitating male was shoved under

Amelia's bottom, his face positioned at her loose-fringed anus. A squeeze gave

the command and he began lick- ing laboriously.   "Damn," she muttered,

recalling Miss Price's warning, and forceably rubbed the male's face roughly

into her tingling orifice.  She didn't need a pee just then so replaced the

fellow back into the slot on the wall beside her.  She then stood up and gazed

at the half dozen bodies below. She grinned spotting the desperate live one,

then gathered a mouthful of saliva and playfully spat. She gave a sound of joy

as her thick, slimy spittle landed on the struggling figure. She then quite

casually activated the flushing system and watched as the pool began to swirl

and rise. Then, with the sound of the cistern refilling, saw the figures and the

live one disappear with a fierce gurgle.

  With not one iota of pity, Amelia returned to

her class....

  "....and so," the teacher was saying, "where

do think Portia would remove the pound of flesh from Antonio?"

  "His thigh, miss?"

  "His chest, miss?"

  "His bum, miss?"  Gales of laughter.  The

teacher carried on glancing from one to another ignoring the incorrect answers.

Then a dark-haired girl with a beam on her face squealed: "His genitals, miss!"

  "Yes, his genitals!" confirmed the teacher,

and then added, "But not before increasing the size of his manhood!"

  "How did she do that?" asked an inquisitive

pupil.  More giggles.

  "I shall not go into that now," smiled the

teacher, "but obviously they had weighing scales. The forfeit was taken and

shared equally between Portia and Jessica and Antonio became their slave."  

Applause, sighs and chattering erupted - the chat was mainly about the desire of

having a slave and what he would be made to do.  Without genitals there was only

one duty he could perform, and that would be with his tongue....    

 

  Miss Smythe, the headmistress or principal,

sat comfortably in her study after enjoying her lunch of three six-inch (15cm)

males between freshly-buttered rolls and smeared with a tasty French mustard. 

In her 40's, she was still a very attractive woman, on the plump side and with

large breasts and an awesome behind.  She, unlike some of her staff, preferred

eating her snacks alive. She had always dined on live men...loved to look at

them, talk to them, hear their pleading for mercy, their cries and squeals as

she ate. She also found, even after so many years, that eat- ing men alive, that

it stimulates her senses, and therefore, having her own room, she was able to do

things with herself...especially if, on many occasions, she didn't have any

duties to perform for several hours.  Again, quite normal, but there was

something different about her chair. A normal-looking chair, appropriate for a

woman of her importance. It was when she arose from it that one would see the

startling difference. It was a commode-type of chair - a box structure and

stretching from it and going under her table were the lower limbs of a male - a

fully-formed male.  In the centre of the seat there was an oval hole surrounded

by soft leather and just a few inches below the surface can be seen the features

of that man - a human seat.

  As she sat, her generous bottom covering the

whole seat, very faint grunts could be heard. The leather surround of the hole

was pressed down. Miss Smythe, relaxing after her lunch, had lifted her skirt to

sit on her human seat. She had removed her expensive knickers, made with the

finest of human skin, skilfully flayed, expertly treated to retain the exquisite

texture of a silky fabric. She had witnesed the process of flaying at one of the

best fashion shops in the city, a young man selected from a batch of

Meditteraneans imported for their delicate, natural tanned colour. From the

fashion shops those males, once flayed, were sent to the next procedure - the

kitchens of fashionable restaurants and posh hotels.

  She was fortunate to get this young man -

through a friend of a friend who moved in high circles. He was about to be

skinned alive for a very important dignitary but she changed her mind after

spotting a very fair-skinned Scandinavian, so he was snapped up by that friend.

  Miss Smythe had kept him as her sex-slave for

several days, making him cater for all the fancies she dreamed of.  The very

first act was unconventional - according to the dictum of the period - that was

intercourse, but not as it was, the missionary practice. Miss Smythe simply had

to flop out in a low, cushioned armchair, spread her legs apart and have him

"service" her on his knees free of his heavy, sweating pummeling body.  She

could gaze at him as he laboured, and increase her excitement by visualising the

feast she'll be enjoying when she decides to eat him. She could relax as he

pumped away, his body sweating, gasp- ing as he slaved to give her a multitude

of orgasms, then, when fully satisfied, she would raise her bottom by her legs

for him to insert his head and bear her fearsome weight on his sweating face

until such time she felt recovered enough to stand up.

  It must have been agonising for him to know

that the very woman he was "making love" to would soon be eating him...filling

that paunch of a belly that he had to look at; and again, while being sat on,

amounts of his flesh will eventually be expelled from between those smothering

cheeks.

  Of course, he begged, wept and promised to be

a most obediant body-slave, no matter how degrading his tasks. He had to watch

while Miss Smythe gorged herself on human flesh, seeing the wriggling, frantic

collection of miniaturised males being forked and spooned into her voraceous

mouth. Seeing the flimsy, gossamer-like underwear she wears - all made of human

skin, knowing that those poor, wretched "donors" had been flayed alive to

provide those intimate garments...males from all corners of the globe.  It was

fashionable. Beautiful models, actresses, singers and even schoolgirls, all wore

such bizarre underwear; and dainty shoes like all the haute couture, were made

with human source - human male bones.

 

  The day came when Miss Smythe decided she

needed a fresh body-slave. She 'phoned for a  professional flayer, a woman

skilled in removing human skin...especially the epidermis.

  A ring at the door sounded and Miss Smythe,

expecting the caller, went to answer it. A dark-haired lady entered: "Good day

to you, Miss Smythe. My name's Alexandra. You have a male to be....?"

  "Oh, yes. I've got him in the kitchen. Is that

all right?"

  "That'll be fine. The perfect place. Is he

still alive?"  The professional, slim and only 22, followed the headmistress

into the kitchen where awaited the victim. He looked up at the girl unable to

suppress his regard for the visitor's attractiveness, and yet it was

stomach-churning to know why she had come. In her hand she held a Gladstone-type

bag containing the tools of her trade. She looked down at him where Miss Smythe

had positioned him in a chair.

  "Hmm... He'll have to be upright," the girl

advised. She looked up and spotted two stout hooks fixed to the ceiling.

"They're for that purpose," she said, "All houses have those now.

Didn't you know?"

  Miss Smythe gave a weak smile. "I

didn't...well, I thought they were for hanging meat or poultry...years ago."

  "Still are, madam," Alexandra with a wide

smile, "but not exactly poutry. Now, how would you like him...by his feet or

hands?"

  "Oh, by his hands. He'll look so undignified

upside-down."

  Together, the two women fixed leather straps

around each of his wrists. Each strap had steel rings by which the ropes could

be attached. They both hauled on the ropes to raise him just off the floor.  As

he was hoisted, Alexandra's breasts were close to him. He could smell her

feminine perfume disguising the natural smell from her armpits. She was wearing

a sleeveless black dress.  He began wimpering and his eyes looked so sorrowful

as he hung suspended, but the girl, all professional and hardened, took no

notice. She looked down at his bulging pouch, the only garment he wore. "What

about those?" she asked.

  "Oh, can you do those?" asked Miss Smythe.

  "But of course. I can flay the whole

body...from the scalp down to the toes, all in one piece if you wish."

  "What, even his face?"

  Alexandra smiled indulgently: "Every bit.

Ladies do like the scrotum for money purses or to hold little trinkets. They do

like the penises intact though...usually erect, cut off and stuffed...as

mementos, you know."

  "Can they be removed without the beast dying?"

asked Miss Smythe, "I mean, I'd like him to see what I'm doing with it."

   "Yes, of course. I've got everything here."

  "But surely he'd never get big, not like

this...you know...?"

  Alexandra smiled broadly: "Oh, yes he will.

I've got a phial containing a strong drug, you know, an aphrodisiac. Just an

injection in any part of him and in a short while it'll be up. Is he very big?"

  Miss Smythe confirmed that: "Nearly nine

inches!"

  Alexandra gave an appreciative smile. "Over 20

centimetres, eh? Very nice! Well, let's get ready."

  To the man's surprise and ambiguous emotions,

the young lady who had come to flay him, sliped out of her dress. Miss Smythe

looked at the girl's figure admiringly and with a degree of envy. She had a

figure like that 20 years ago.  The man gave a groan. He gazed at the girl's

breasts, her slim waist, her lovely bare legs. He'd never had the opportunity to

have a girl all his life. Then he looked at her bikini-style knickers and felt

the icy grip on his heart. The garment covering her pudenda and only part of her

buttocks were of the finest skin, almost transparent. He could plainly see the

dark triangle of her pubic hair bulging beneath the human material.

  Miss Smythe was certainly impressed. Most

females liked to wear some sort of covering when skinning or butchering males.

Some didn't, preferring to be semi or completely naked.

  Alexandra shewed she wasn't so concerned.

"Right, so what do you want, madam?" asked the girl as she bent to pick up her

bag to place on the chair he had vacated. In that instance he looked at the

girl's derriere, seeing how the "silky" garment stretched and sank between her

cheeks.

  "Ah, I think just his torso, hands and legs. I

do need a new pair of gloves and stockings."

  "Er, what about his...?" murmured Alexandra,

nodding to his genitals, "Would you like them?"

  "Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Can you give him an

injection?"

  The girl smiled and took out a phial and a

hyperdermic syringe. She carefully filled the syringe from the phial and without

a word, inserted the needle into his groin. "What about his hair? Would you like

it cleared away? It'll only take a short while."

  "Yes, I think so," replied Miss Smythe, "I

know it can be removed while the skin is being treated, but it takes longer,

doesn't it?"

  "Yes, that's right," said the girl as she

removed the soft, leather pouch from the man.

  A liberal application of a pungent hair

remover was applied to his torso, back of his hands and his entire legs. As she

did this with her hands, tightly sheathed in skin gloves, he felt the drug

taking effect on his libido. He looked at her as she rubbed him all over. She

had very cruel eyes that totally belied her prettiness, but the drug and her

hands...sort of caressing him, began stirring him sexually.  It was Miss Smythe

who noticed it first. She gave a loud sigh and a sound of pleasure: "You're

right, Alexandra, it's working! Quite amazing!"

  The man's penis thickened and grew. The helmet

started to stretch out and actually touch the girl's body as she applied the

hair removal cream. When she bent to do his legs it was rearing before her face,

but she didn't seem to take any notice of it..

 "Right," she said with a deep breath, "that's

done. We'll wait awhile then give him a good rub down and he'll be clear of all

that nasty hair."

  Miss Smythe couldn't take her eyes from his

projecting manhood. It looked such a marvellous sight, so proud, so

mouthwatering. She suddenly rushed to a drawer of a cabinet and found what was

needed. She smiled at Alexa: "I know that drug might keep that gorgeous thing

like that, but later...well, it might be too late."  She returned to her

erstwhile body-slave and looped a length of meat twine around the base of his

swollen genitals. She then made a tie and tugged both ends with a strong

wrench.  The man gave a loud gasp and his body jerked with the sudden pressure.

Alexa smiled indulgently. She knew the drug would have retained the erection no

matter how the victim suffers.  Miss Smythe looked at the penis then took it in

her hand. "It's beautiful," she murmured, "Much bigger than I've ever seen it

before, and those balls...they're so huge...delicious!"

  "Would you care for a drink while we wait?"

she asked.  Alexandra accepted.

  "Aren't you feeling chilly?" asked Miss

Smythe, seeing the young lady almost naked. Alexa shook her head; but the man

was shivering...shivering with fear. He could feel the cream working on his

bodily hair, eating at the folicles, and the terrible strain of his bloated

genitals.  Alexa looked at him. "Do you think he needs a drink?"  Miss Smythe

gave a little laugh: "Does it really matter now?"

 "Well," murmured Alexa keeping her eyes on his,

"I often give my subjects a nice warm drink. My predecessor always liked to, so

I just followed suit. May I?"

  "Well, yes, but how?"

  "There's a little while to go yet, before he's

ready for a rub-down. Let's just lower him to the floor. I'll give him a drink

and we'll haul him up."

  They lowered him to his feet and then forced

him to lie on the kitchen floor. Alexa slipped out of her knickers. "Surely

you've watered him?" she asked as she positioned herself astride his body.

  "Oh, of course, hundreds of times, but...."

She looked at the man and in a stern voice told him to open his mouth.

  He gazed up at the naked girl, his eyes

feasting on her youthful figure, then at the vulva poised over his mouth.  The

silvery liquid tinted with gold, spewed in a gush from her urethra. He caught it

and gulped as fast as he could in total submissiveness as all males in this day

and age under the present gynocrasy.  He swallowed almost every drop of piss

until she had emptied her bladder. She then bade him lick her labia and its

nadir. She straightened up looking down at him with a smug look on her face. She

stepped off from him and slipped her ultra-fine knickers back on. The garment

was, by its nature, a second skin.

  He was then hauled back up, his penis jutted

out from his groin. Alexa asked for a sponge and gave his body and legs a brisk

rub over leaving his skin sleek and smooth like a child's. She didn't take any

notice when his manly stem brushed against her. Like an efficient nurse

preparing a patient for an operation, she rubbed the sponge around his genitals

taking the pubic hair away leaving them hairless like a young boy's.

  "Now to get started," muttered Alexa as she

took a glinting scalpel from her bag. She then stood by his right-hand side and

raised the razor-sharp instrument. He gave a grunt when the blade pierced his

skin at the shoulder.

 "I shall make just the one incision," she said,

"and remove the skin in one piece. It should make about six pairs of knickers."

  Miss Smythe sat watching. She had seen men

flayed so many times and it always fascinated her - seeing the raw flesh appear,

the contours of the muscles.

  Alexandra was fully skilled at her job. She

adroitly slid the blade under the edge of the skin and very gently began peeling

it away slitting it with quick, delicate jabs making sure the blade did not

pierce the epidermis.  The wretched man started to make a din. It began to get

on Miss Smythe's nerves: "Oh, be quiet, man!" she shouted. He tried but couldn't

stay silent.

Miss Smythe lost patience: "All right, if you

can't be quiet...Alexa, cut his tongue out!"

  "Are you sure?" asked the young lady as she

continued peeling the skin from his torso.

  "Yes, I can't stand his groaning. It disturbs

me."

  Leaving his skin hanging from his chest and

abdomen, Alexa took another implement from her bag.

  "What's that for?" asked Miss Smythe.

  "It's for this," replied Alexa. She raised the

steel object up to his mouth that resembled the shape of a pair of full

dentures. It had a thumb-screw at one side. She forced it into his mouth and

began turning the screw. Gradually, his mouth opened wide and wider until it was

opened to its maximum. The girl stood close to him, his penis pressed against

her and projected upwards. Her breasts also pressed against him. She then, using

a pair of surgical pliers, caught his tongue and pulled it as far as it could

stretch. With the same scalpel she was using to flay him, she cut first the

restraining gristle beneath the tongue and the insert- ed the scalpel to reach

the furthest part.  With a few quick jerks she sliced through the fleshy,

muscular organ and lifted it out from his gaping mouth.

  "Do you want it?" asked the young lady with a

grin.

  "Oh, but of course!" replied Miss Smythe

enthusiatically, "Tongue is delicious. Will you stay for lunch?"

  "I'd love to," came the quick response; and

the flaying was continued with the minimum of noise from the tortured male.

  As promised, Alexa removed all the skin from

his torso in one piece. Miss Smythe was de- lighted. The skin from his legs came

next, right down to his toes and from the top of his thighs.  She gazed at the

gruesome spectacle and began to feel her stomach rumbling. She turned to Alexa

as she placed the skins in a large pan full of processing liquid: "Are you very

peckish?" she asked.

  "Well, I am, only had a light breakfast this

morning, a few handfulls of midgets at a cafe."

  "In that case, let's have those as well,"

smiled Miss Smythe nodding at the appetising geni- tals.  "I'll just put this

under a slow grill."

  Alexandra, with a dark, evil grin, moved close

to the vivid, raw body of the victim. She looked into his eyes menacingly as she

grasped his huge manhood, her hand just about en- compassing the whole package.

Mewing came from his tongueless mouth, his eyes staring hopelessly at the pretty

young lady.  Her grip tightened. His glistening body tensed. She commenced

hacking through the silky skin and flesh. His lips formed the word "mercy" but

no real word was uttered.

  A deep, agonised grunt burst from his mouth as

the keen scalpel did its work and he looked with sadness as the girl lifted his

severed organs for him to see.

  "Have you got a pan for these?" she asked Miss

Smythe.

  "Oh, my goodness, it's lovely!" the

headmistress exclaimed, and quickly took down a sauce-pan suitable for the

massive organs.

 

  The wretched man, hanging by his bound wrists,

had to watch as the two females sat to dine on his tongue and masculinity. They

cut and forked his members so casually into their open mouths, watched as they

chewed and chatted about general topics.  Alexa had by then donned her business

jacket, but her haunches and thighs were still exposed.

  "So how long have you been doing this?" asked

Miss Smythe as she raised a morsel of tongue to her lips.

  "I first started when I was quite young, 16 or

17. I loved dissecting the little creatures and looking at their tiny bits under

the microscope at school. You know."

  "Yes, my girls love that lesson...biology.

Their best lessons, sport and that. Tell me, do you eat males regularly, and

what size do you prefer?"

  "Well, of course I eat them

regularly...sometimes make a glutton of myself. I like fully-formed males, but

only at weekends. During the week it's mainly takeaways, but they're very

nutritious and not at all fattening."

  "No, I can see," smiled Miss Smythe, "You have

a lovely figure, but you've got to watch yourself...I mean, what you eat. The

men, or whatever, can be fatty."

  Alexa gave a light laugh: "Not those I eat. I

make sure they're lean. I usually only eat teen- agers. They're all meat and

tender." 

  "Oh dear, we've forgotten to skin those!"

exclaimed Miss Smythe prodding her fork into the twin scrotal sacks, "Still,

I've got a couple of nice purses, one of each colour."

  "Mmm...yes, I fancy one of those now,"

muttered Alexandra. She gave the man a sly grin and with her knife and fork,

extracted a slightly-grilled gonad. She jabbed her fork into it and raised up to

her mouth. She gazed at him as she popped it in her mouth. Her lips closed and

she withdrew the fork. Her mouth bulged slightly as she began chewing the

egg-like gland muttering sounds of gastronomic pleasure, drops of juices

appeared at each corner of her ripe lips.

  Miss Smythe impaled the other testicle peeled

of its silky bag. She beamed at Alexa as she took the morsel to her ready-open

mouth. Her thickish tongue came out to give it a lick, then it returned to await

the entrance of that gonad. Her lips closed and, giving her erstwhile body-slave

a smile, sucked the gland like a large boiled sweet. Then her sharp teeth split

the morsel and began mashing it in her molars also grunting appreciative moans.

   When both females gave simultaneous swallows

and smiled across at each other, Alexa stuck her fork into the massive penis

lying on the serving dish. She lifted it up and handed it to Miss Smythe.  The

older woman looked at it then at the younger woman. "No, you have the first

bite. You deserve it, making such a good job of skinning him."

  Alexandra thanked her client and looking at

the distraught victim, positioned the dome of his penis between her teeth.  He

wept and cringed as her pearly-white teeth bit and sawed their way through the

solid organ. Then she lifted the penis away and offered it to Miss Smythe, its

head had gone and was in the attractive young lady's mouth and was being sucked

and played with in preparation for biting and subsequent mastication.

  They chatted away as they ate the human

morsels, mostly about their individual professions and their likes and dislikes.

  When the light lunch was over, Alexandra stood

up and stepped to the tray holding his skin. It had turned into a nice creamy,

pink shade, an ideal colour for underwear. The next process would be slow drying

and then taken to a skilled seemstress who, once given the measurements, would

produce pretty knickers, stockings, gloves and, if so desired, bras.

 

  They seemed to get on so well together,

agreeing on most things. They shared each other's secrets, laughed at each

other's jokes. It was Miss Smythe who broached the subject of them both enjoying

an evening's feast..."and perhaps stay for the night?"

  Alexa smiled demurely. She saw that the older

woman admired her. Could see the desire in her eyes, almost a lustful gleam. She

knew, of course, she was desirable. Almost every male she had flayed had sported

an erection as soon as she divested herself prior to skinning them.

It was always to the victim's regret though,

because the client, upon seeing such a startling revelation, at once requested

that amazing erected organ to be flayed together with the testicles. Whether it

was her naked body or the beauty of her face, was never certain.

  She accepted the invitation and both females

felt the stirring in their loins as they each anticipated a long night of

love-making.

  "So how would you like him?" asked Miss

Smythe, "Roasted or...?"

  Alexa looked at him, his torso and legs still

glistening raw. She smiled revealing her upper teeth, a cruel glint in her dark

eyes: "I'd like to eat him as he is. The flesh is so much more tasty and..." she

added turning back to gaze at Miss Smythe... "more exciting."

  Miss Smythe gave a little laugh. "Yes, you're

right. My girls...(referring to the girls at her school)...simply adore munching

on live males. They're so amusing...wriggling about, making funny noises...even

while they're in their mouths. Do you ever play with tiny males...I mean,

sexually?"

  Alexa gave a tinkling laugh: "But of course! I

love sticking them up me...several at a time, and up my behind. It's lovely

feeling them squirm about...and it's exciting feeling them slip out. I just pick

them up, shove them back in or, if I feel like it, pop them into my mouth and

chew them up."

  "What, without washing them?"

  "Yes, I don't mind."  They both giggled. Miss

Smythe confessed that she too liked stuffing tiny men up into her vagina and

sometimes her anus..."but I couldn't eat them without rinsing them off. Well,

especially if they've been up my bum!"  Again they laughed.

 

  The man, strung up, naked and flayed, gazed

down at the two females, practically praying for them to quickly end his life;

but he knew it would be some time yet before they began eating him alive. He had

watched them despairingly as they ate his tongue and genitals...just as a mere

snack and with no pity whatsoever for his suffering - the suffering all males,

boys and men, are doomed to endure.

 It had been many years now since the once

downtrodden "second-class sex" had risen with unassailable power, crushing the

male dominance, sweeping aside their lofty arrogance. First of all acquiring sex

equality then, by subtle subterfuge, undermining the male strongholds of

society, pushing them from their pedestals like so many stone statues.

 Once the female power was established, so the

full plenipotentiary began grinding the male down. Matriarchy then took over in

all walks of life from the home to the factory, from the office to the services

and, of course, government.  As had been written plenteously, the female species

then took revenge of all the suffering they had endured for many millennium but

with such vengeance that outstripped anything man could devise.

  As it necessitated, males of certain ages

substituted the lack of domestic livestock and were slaughtered and butchered

then eaten in order to sustain the ever-growing female population.

When, however, the decimation of males became

alarmingly obvious thus unbalancing and causing possible shortage of men,

restrictions were called for and the process of male breed- ing and farming came

into existence. Fortunately for the females, there were countries that produced

a glut of males, so many, in fact, that those countries were able to export vast

numbers of surplus stock to feed those nations short of males.

  So now we're up-to-date.  Scientist, (women)

found the way of shrinking males to whatever size required. Thousands upon

thousands of males, no matter what age, are being shrunk en masse and sold as

"sweets" to girls. Larger males...from eight inches upwards to thirty-six

inches, sold to older girls...mainly in their teens - not only to feed their

stomachs but to provide sexual stimulation and general entertainment.

  The full-grown males which the women

preferred, also provided certain pleasures as well as nourishment.

  Every household throughout the world buy males

to sustain them, to nourish and nurture their bodies; yet those hapless males

still maintain their natural instincts - looking on females as sex

objects...never losing that primeval passion because, unlike beasts of the

fields, they had human emotions which could never be eradicated.

 

  Soon, however, the man's torso and legs began

to take on a darker colour as the raw flesh began drying of blood. Miss Smythe

noticed that he was beginning to lose his attractiveness. She turned to

Alexandra. "I don't like the look of him now. I think he ought to be put in the

oven."

  "Is it big enough?" asked the younger female.

  "Well, it is if he's folded up or butchered. I

usually only cook and roast smaller males, you see. Perhaps if his legs are

removed. Can you manage that?"

  "Of course!" replied Alexa brightly, "I cater

for all requirements. So you do want him roasted?"

  Miss Smythe gazed at him for a moment and

nodded.

  Alexa, having eaten the snack of tongue and

maleness, got up from her chair and searched in her bag for the necessary tools.

She tok out a wide-blade knife, a gleaming axe with a short handle, and a

bone-saw. She then took off her jacket to reveal her pert breasts.

  Together, they lowered him from his suspension

and laid him on the long table purpose-built for butchering with culverts

running along all four edges and holes at each corner with perspex pipes leading

to a large container underneath.

  Wordless grunts came from him as Alexa stood

by his side. Like a skilled surgeon, she began the cutting process as close to

the hip, carving through the abductor muscles and the gluteous maximus. The pain

was unbearable for him and his body reacted furiously.

 "I think we'll have to restrain him," suggested

Alexa, "otherwise I'll make a mess of this."

  Miss Smythe quickly secured his legs, placing

straps around each ankle and above each knee. Instead of strapping his upper

body and arms, she whipped off her trousers and knickers, climbed onto the table

and settled her generous behind on his face.

  At once, the agonising groans became silent as

her bottom crushed his features. She used her thighs to hold his arms and with

both hands, held his hips. Now only faint muffled sounds came from the victim as

Alexa continued the amputation. She sawed through the thighbone or femur then

gave a quick chop with the surgical axe. Blood spurted from the stump spattering

her breasts and stomach, but she carried on regardless.

  As soon as both legs were removed she swiftly

took out a tin of medical gel and smeared generous amounts to the wounds:

"There," she murmured casually, "that'll stop the bleeding, have you got a

trolley or something?"

  "No, I'm afraid I don't. I usually just carry

the thing over to the oven."

  "Right, then," muttered the young lady, "we'll

carry him. They're much lighter without their legs."

  Miss Smythe raised herself off his face. She

looked down at him over her shoulder. "He's still all right. I rather liked

that. He gave me such a thrill. I do believe I..." She gave Alexa a knowing

smile. Alexa returned it: "Well, they do have other uses sometimes!" 

They both laughed at the joke as they carried the dismembered victim to the

oven.  He looked up with utter despair at Miss Smythe who was holding him by his

shoulders, her plump belly pressed against his head. He would have pleaded with

her if he could, but knew full well that it would not have deterred her one

iota. He trembled by the pressure of her stomach against his head with the

despairing knowledge of his ultimate fate. He looked at Alexandra holding him by

his hips, seeing her cruel eyes, her mouth, her breasts which were spattered

with his blood. His mind went dizzy with the thought of being eaten by those two

females - like so many millions throughout the world - all being gobbled up like

sweets, shrimps, calves and cattle.  Just meat; and what marvellous benefits it

provides...physical as well as spiritual. Females are so much more happy and

contented. The younger maidens are able to dress as they wish, flaunting their

feminine charms to the world with no fear of censorship, frowns or uncontrolled

lust from males. Older girls, women, likewise. If such a heinous crime such as

leering, ogling, sexual harrassment or physical molestation should occur, then

the law, now unhindered by "do-gooders", can exact the most severest penalties

with satisfaction for the injured parties. Whatever the crime, whatever the

offence, the punishment suits that unacceptable infraction insofar that,

whatever the male senses (organs) used are removed as a lesson to other males;

and best of all, the plaintiff (she who brings the suit to court) is given the

choice of exacting the appropriate punishment and, if so desiring, take the

miscreant home to do with what she wishes.

 

  "You know, Miss Smythe," said Alaxandra as

they both ate the roasted man, "you must come to my place for a

meal...spend the weekend.  I've got about half a dozen small creatures...they're

about a foot to eighteen inches. You'll adore them. Amazing how big their

willies are, especially when aroused. I like eating alive you know...love

hearing them squeal as I nip off their limbs."

  "Alexa, please call me Pat. Yes, I'd love to

come."

  "Very well, next weekend?"

   "Perfect.  I say, this meat's delicious. How

is it with you?"

   Alexandra took a large piece of meat on the

end of her fork and popped it into her mouth. She chewed, her sharp teeth sank

into the cooked flesh so easily. "Mmmm...very nice. Men have such a delicate

flavour. Boys are nice too, a little fatty sometimes, but still delicious."

 

  The weekend was slow in coming. Miss Smythe

could wait. It wasn't so often she ate males as tall as a foot. There were other

things nice about men that small. She felt a stir in her groin and had to give

herself a rub to assuage the tingling sensation. Her thoughts turned again to

men of that size...could almost be like big penises.     

Giantess Stories: Ready Meals

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