The Veal Meal Deal A single, lonely drumstick greeted me as I opened the fridge. The freezer was empty, too. But that was fine. It meant that it was time to call the butcher, and that's always one of the highlights of my month. "Ah, hello, Mr. Stevens! Shall we send over your usual order?" "Please." "That's one hundred and ten pounds of lean long pork, female, delivered on the hoof, with a two-hour throat sphincter. Will there be anything else for you today?" "No, thank you." "Very good. Oh, and Mr. Stevens..." "Yes?" "We do have a special on veal today." "Thanks, but I prefer my meat fully aged." "Of course. But there's another possibility: we have some meat which has been aged in our vats for eighteen years, just as you like it. But it has been engineered to RESEMBLE veal. It tastes eighteen years old, because it IS eighteen years old--but it looks about fourteen. Is that something that might interest you?" It was certainly a different idea. "Sure, why not?" "Very good, Mr. Stevens. Your meat will be delivered within the hour." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The doorbell rang and I answered it. Standing at the door was what looked very much like a naked, fourteen year old girl. She had small, hard breasts and no pubic hair. Her blonde hair fell straight and true all the way down to her ass. She had dark eyes and a big, easy smile. "Hi!" she said perkily. "I'm your meat." "Please come in," I said, holding the door open for her. "Where would you like to snuff me?" she asked cheerfully. "The living room will be fine. Just through there. Say," I said hesitantly. "Are you sure you're really eighteen years old?" "You bet," she said, and handed me her vat certificate. Sure enough, the incept date was eighteen years ago to the day. Yet her small, boyish breasts were those of a girl no more than fourteen. It's really amazing what they can do with gene splicing these days. "Shall I activate my throat sphincter now?" "Please." The adorable little blonde reached up to her throat and pressed gently. I heard a soft click, and she winced in pain. Her throat sphincter had begun to close. In two hours it would close completely, and she would strangle to death. Until then she would be in substantial, ever-increasing pain. The purpose of this was, of course, twofold. Her pain would make her meat more delicious. And I would have a wonderful afternoon's entertainment as I watched the exquisite suffering of what appeared to be a fourteen year old girl. "Please lay down on your back so I can mount you as you strangle," I instructed. She complied readily, spreading her legs wide to accept me. Meat really knows a great deal about fucking these days. But then, that's the beauty of the vats. Suspended in nutrient fluid for eighteen years, the meat has little to do but accept subliminal cortical input. My butcher fills its meat with all the right ideas: sexual knowledge and prowess, a vast willingness to suffer, and plenty of meat ideology. When they send a piece of flesh out into the world, it's deliriously happy to be meat. It knows that its purpose is to suffer, to die and be eaten. And to fuck. I removed my pants and climbed on top of the girl. The sight of her slowly strangling body had already made me hard, so I began to force my way into her tightness. She was nice and wet; my butcher sells only self-lubricating meat. She did have a tough hymen. But that was fine; it just gave me another opportunity to hurt her. I rammed my cock into her resilient flesh barrier. I hear her gasp in pain. The hymen stretched, began to tear. Then all at once it ruptured, and I was inside her. She was the tightest cunt I had ever fucked. She felt just like I've always imagined a young teen would feel--too small for me, really, which was good news, because it meant more pain for her and more pleasure for me. I rammed into her ruthlessly, feeling her sweet, tender cunt stretch around me. When I came, my orgasm was nearly blinding. I pulled out and watched her strangle until I grew hard again. She could still breathe OK, but if obviously hurt her quite a bit, and I could tell that the pain was growing steadily worse for her. The amazing thing was that she didn't seem to mind. I could see the pain in her eyes, and she was choking and gagging just as you'd expect, but she was still smiling. Meat ideology is strong. I flipped her over and took her ass hymen from her. Her ass was sweet and tight, just like her cunt. I lasted longer this time, much longer. By the time I finally erupted into her ass, she was really starting to strangle. I withdrew and flipped her onto her back again. She began to toss and turn in agony, her hands clutching impotently at her throat. Her skinny legs kicked weakly. I admired the sight of her lean flanks. It was time to start thinking about dinner. How should I prepare her? Teriyaki, maybe? Barbecue? She looked young and delicious. Maybe I should call them back for some veal after all... Watching her suffer eventually hardened me again. This time I instructed her to mount me. She did so willingly, but shakily. The throat sphincter had almost completely closed off her windpipe now. Still, she managed to climb atop my cock and get it inside herself. She even managed to fuck me as she strangled. Her tender young cunt muscles were responsive and she used them well. Her hand drifted to her throat again. The smile was still there, but behind it was desperation now; her pain must be immense, and even meat ideology could not quite assuage her fear at her impending death. Of course, there was nothing for it: her death had been inevitable from the moment she had activated her throat sphincter. Since I had come twice already, it was easy to hold back. I simply fell into the rhythm of her dying body. I could feel her collapsing around me, turning into meat for real. She stared down at me, dark eyes full of pain, and mouthed a single word: "please." That, and the impossible, indestructible smile, was enough: I released into her one last time, even as her body shuddered and quivered and expired.