AND ONE FOR THE POT... AND ONE FOR THE POT...
By Ralph LeCan By Ralph LeCan
© Copyright 2023 Ralph LeCan Enterprises, All Rights Reserved. This story may be reproduced
only in its full, original, unedited and unmodified posting where: 1) full credit is given to its author
and 2) no commercial gain of any sort is realized as a result of its reproduction. No permission is
granted, actual or implied, to reproduce a modified version of this story, in whole or in part,
without the express consent of the author. 
Never Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth? Never Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth?
The trip to Africa had not been planned, but came as a welcome opportunity for
the young couple. It would be something to allow them to get away from their
problems for a few days. Ron and Rosie, both second generation Irish Americans
-- both hating that designation -- had been married for less than a year. They
lived in a small apartment outside of Rochester. Ron at 28 was a former star
football running back in college, and, at 5'10", was built like a fireplug. 
Unfortunately, he was too small for the pros, and had to fall back on his degree to
try and find employment. Unfortunately, the job he landed was rather modest.
His redheaded wife, 24-year-old Rosie, at 5'3", had the short, roundish, but very
pleasant figure that came with her Irish background. She was working as a
secretary at a local pharmaceutical company. 
Pressures from their jobs and as well as from their families had been mounting
over the previous seven months, padded Ron with a few extra pounds and filling
out his wife even more – particularly in the bottom region – Rosie felt she was
getting a terminal case of Secretary Spread! Additionally, Rosie had become
extremely unhappy with the fact that Ron was passed over for a promotion. That
promotion would have allowed them to ditch the apartment and buy a house (and
also allow her to quit her job).
As a result, she became extremely critical of her husband, blaming him for the
inability to have been promoted over his rivals. Their relationship soon became
very strained. Ron stopped heading straight home after work, but began to stop
off for a beer or two on the way in order to postpone the inevitable bitching and
carping, mostly about how he had not gotten that promotion.
Sex almost became a thing of the past but Rosie, a robust woman with a healthy
sexual appetite, could not totally abstain -- no matter how mad she was at Ron. 
However, their couplings were totally driven by lust, with little lead-up or
tenderness. In fact, the old joke about Irish foreplay only involving the male
partner muttering "brace yourself Bridget" was not inappropriate for this couple.
1
Fortunately, a possible resolution to their strained relationship came in the form
of an unexpected, but not unwelcome, trip. The trip had resulted from an entry in
one of the, what seemed like, hundreds of "vacation contests" that came in the
mail -- often tied to some sort of questionable purchase. The contest in question,
which arrived in an early September day's mail, had been completed and returned
with the "No Thank You" box checked, indicating they had no interest in the
product being offered. The entry was soon quickly forgotten.
 
Hence, when the registered letter was received in mid-January, and the couple
found the contest had named them as winners of a two week, all-expense paid
vacation at a newly opened, central African resort, they saw it as something that
should consider. Friends of both had been urging them to patch things up, and
now this trip was seen as a possible first step.
The deadline for completing travel was only a few months after that January
receipt of the announcement. Given the tight timetable, and the need to have to
juggle schedules and commitments, the couple was tempted (although
reluctantly) to just throw away the award. On the other hand, they badly needed a
change of scenery. So, with a "what the hell," they made the appropriate
arrangements and booked dates for travel.
As they mapped out plans for the vacation, both were rather chagrined to find
that their summer clothes from last year were more snug than expected. 
Motivated by the trip and that unpleasant reality, Rosie attempted to impose a
period of dieting on both of them. Unfortunately for Ron, she now had something
new to berate her husband over, he had to lose weight, and she bitched and
carped nightly at how heavy he was. 
Ron had hoped the trip would mellow his wife; instead, it just seemed to fuel her
efforts to point out and castigate his every "imperfection." Also, while each lost
about ten pounds, last minute demands in arranging things put backed five of
those lost pounds on Rosie, Ron escaped with only two. They could, however,
somewhat comfortably fit into those summer clothes. Then, to be on the safe
side they borrowed some money from his father and bought new clothes. Both
pledged that, during the two-week vacation period, they would "be good" and
come home markedly slimmer.
The day before departure, they met with the travel agent who was handling the
trip for the company that had awarded it. He explained the political games they
would have to play to get into, and out of, the African country, including the
amounts of money needed to "grease" the palms of the officials they encountered
at the airport upon arrival. The amounts were not huge, and were worth it several
times over in avoiding a hassle.
The travel agent also cautioned them that the part of Africa they were going to
visit had a "Traveler's Advisory" issued, as there was "increased hostile activity
by local residents.” However, he saw that the clients sitting in front of him were a
couple of obviously well fed white people -- just the type of people targeted by the
warning. 
2
Hence, fearful of losing his commission -- he did not mention that it was issued
due to a marked increase in cannibalistic behavior by some local native tribes. 
He did offer the recommendation, contained in the advisory, that they stay within
the confines of the resort, or very close to it.
Finally the day arrived and his father drove them to the airport. At the airport,
while Rosie was using the ladies’ room, Ron bought a $250,000 accident
insurance policy on her, but strangely none for himself. He mailed the policy to
their home address.
After connecting through Kennedy, the flights to Africa were not too eventful, just
very long. The officials at the airport in the central African country had
"gratefully" accepted the "gift" of the visiting couple and let them through with a
minimum of hassle. The trip to the resort, in a rather cramped shuttle bus, took
about 35 minutes from the airport.
 
The "luxurious" resort located about thirty miles outside of the central African
town where they landed was in a fairly dense jungle area. It was comfortable, but
"luxurious" was a stretch. Still, it was fairly busy and promised a change of
scenery. Upon arrival they ordered up a large meal to (over) compensate for the
airplane food they encountered on the way over, then crashed for the night.
An Ill-fated Walk An Ill-fated Walk
The first few days allowed for some winding down, and the couple soon began to
feel relaxed. The package that they won included meals, which tended toward
rather heavy, starchy, gravy soaked food. Little did they know that the high
calorie content of the meals -- served to the resort guests -- had a most sinister
purpose. Soon their old summer clothes were very "snug" again, and the new
ones approaching that.
 
On Monday morning of the second week Ron suggested that they take a walk in
the surrounding jungle. He had scouted out the area a few days before. Both had
noted some very interesting flowers, plants and birds through the fence
surrounding the resort and Ron suggested to Rosie that it might be a good idea
to check them out. It was a warm morning, so each dressed in a fresh pair of
shorts neither mentioning, but both individually noticing, the newly acquired
snugness of each other's respective garments.
The path was not that well traveled, but still identifiable, as they set out. At the
same time, another group was setting out on the same path. From about four
miles away seven native men, who formed a "procurement party" from a local
cannibal tribe, were on their way to meet up with several members of their tribe
who worked at the resort. The ones from the tribe who worked at the resort had
identified several guests who would likely provide very delicious meals for their
tribe. 
3
Their tribe had (again) formally embraced cannibalism about 10 years ago and
now delighted in the exquisite taste of a properly cooked long pig. Soon after its
opening, the resort was providing the tribe with a ready source of that “special”
kind of meat.
At a bend in the road, about a half-mile from the resort, the two groups met. The
natives, immediately seeing the potential for some fine dining presented by the
white couple, reacted quickly and grabbed the startled pair, (well at least one
member of the pair was startled)
Her shorts and sleeveless blouse, exposing plump limbs, left little doubt that
Rosie was worthy of taking back to the village, but what about Ron? They at
times kidnaped males, but with the abundance of well-fed young women at the
resort, there was really no need to grab the guys. The men were often tougher --
to both capture and tougher when cooked. Nevertheless, they did grab men just
for some variety. However, Ron was starting to push the envelope of “chubby.” 
They could see from his, somewhat tight, knit sport shirt that he had a nice meaty
torso -- which held some real promise. They tied the hand of both of their
captives and herded them the three and a half miles back to the village.
Arriving at the village, the first job was to see just what were the attributes of the
two, well-fed young whites they had captured. They untied the hands of both the
man and the woman, then began to undress them. Rosie was first, her blouse
and bra came off. That exposed a nice amount of flesh spilling over the waist of
her shorts – Rose was a certifiable “muffin top.” They then peeled down her
shorts and panties over her ample hips and full thighs to drop around her ankles,
and appreciated that the rest of her body had a nicely padded softness to it. 
Ron was next and they pulled down his shorts and underpants to get a look at
him. Just being a few pounds overweight, one of the women said to the other,
"he'll take more fattening than her, but we'll get 'em both good and meaty!" 
However, they were delighted to find that Ron was rather more endowed in the
bottom region than were many of his male counterparts, and the village chief's
wife gave one soft, fat padded butt cheek a pinch and said, "and I can't wait to
see how this fattens up," then she smacked his ample ass for good measure,
which jiggled in response.
Then, the cannibal chief, who had joined the inspection, did his own inspection. 
He first cupped the full breasts of the terrified woman, and then ran his hands
down over her soft torso, then reached around to squeeze two handfuls of her
lush bottom. After doing a cursory inspection of Ron he ordered them into the
fattening hut.
4
 "Under normal circumstances" the chief told them in impeccable English, "both
of you could be cooked and served up as dinner this evening. But, there is a
special feast in a couple of weeks, and we would like to serve both of you as a
very special 'twosome' for the feast. With a bit more fattening, we’ll dine upon a
well cooked tender, juicy white woman and white man -- a combination we have
not enjoyed in a long time. We don’t want you to get too fat, but a few extra
pounds certainly won’t hurt." The two young whites looked at each other with an
emotion which embodied both fear and disbelief. 
"By the way," the chief continued, "I saw from your wallets you are from
Rochester, well I went to college at NYU. Made some money on a couple of real
estate flips and came back here. I own 20% of the place you were staying, but
my village, my people and, of course the exquisite taste of a properly cooked long
pig, are my first loves!" 
 With little ceremony, they were both led away to the village’s "fattening hut.” 
The couple was also left naked; there was no need to give them back their
clothes. In a short while they would no longer fit in them!
Second (and Third) Helpings Always Available Second (and Third) Helpings Always Available
The fattening hut was a smallish, wood framed building about 20 by 30 feet. 
Inside were a few chairs, four cots and, in the corner near the door, a scale. Also,
hanging on a hook on the wall, there was a well-used measuring tape. This was
the first stop for the unlucky couple as each, in turn was weighed, then had their
hips and waist measured. Guards were posted to watch the hut 24 hours a day,
and its one window had a six-foot pit underneath it, so escape through it was
impossible.
The victims and their captors were followed inside by several native women
carrying a large pot of a thick, beige colored stew. The stew was prepared by the
cannibals for the specific purpose of fattening their captives, being very heavy in
calories. As expected, efforts to have the couple voluntarily eat met with
resistance. Therefore, three burly native men were called. They wrestled Ron
into one of the chairs, tied his arms behind him, and lashed his legs to the seat. 
Rosie soon joined him in a second chair placed beside his. 
One of the native women stood behind both and, grabbing each by the hair,
pulled their heads back. The woman with the pot of stew began to alternately
shovel large spoonfuls of it into the mouths of each. Seeing the futility of
resisting, both victims were soon swallowing spoonful after spoonful of the
heavy stew.
Since both were now being force fed, the cannibals needed an objective way to
assess when they were full. Therefore, a native woman would squeeze the bellies
of each to determine when each victim's stomach became hard, indicating it was
full. This would be a task that would become increasingly difficult over the next
few days, as the fattening process progressed, and both Rosie’s and Ron’s belly
fat got thicker.
5
When the pair was finally untied, neither had ever felt as full in their lives. 
However, both felt strangely calm, and rather sleepy. They didn't know it, but the
stew contained a herb grown by the tribe, which has a mild narcotic effect. The
inclusion of this in the stew has two very practical purposes. The first is to make
the victims more docile and easier to handle. The second is to make them sleepy
following the feeding so as to keep them from moving around. So they go to
sleep thus maximizing the fattening effect of the stew. Hence, the well-fed couple
now lay down on the cots to take a nap. Soon both were fast asleep, and their
bodies undertook the task of converting the belly full of food into new fat to pad
both of them.
When they awoke, Rosie turned to Ron, tears in her eyes, "is this for real, are they
really cannibals, are they really fattening us for food."
Ron turned to his wife and nodded, “it sure looks like it, we're both headed for the
dinner platter.” He then looked at his naked wife's body -- they had not had sex in
four days -- but strangely he felt no stirring in his groin, as his cock remained
flaccid. The herb had other side effects in its role of keeping the victims docile.
The feeding process was repeated twice more that day, but there was no longer a
need to tie them to the chairs, nor hold their heads still, while they had the stew
fed to them.
A Preview of What's to Come A Preview of What's to Come
The couple awoke the second day around mid-morning, having gone back to
sleep after the pre-dawn feeding. There was much commotion outside and the
two, wiping the sleep from their eyes, got up and padded over to the window to
see what was going on. It was mid-morning, and both soon realized that what
was going on outside was a preview of what they would face.
The same procurement party, which had brought them to the village less than 24
hours before, was now entering the village to much fanfare. Slung over the
shoulder of one of the larger members of the party was a struggling white
woman, clad only in a skimpy swimsuit. He carried her to the center of the
village, a few yards from the window of the fattening hut, and unceremoniously
dumped her onto the ground -- she landed hard on a very well upholstered
posterior, only to be hauled to her feet.
The ill-fated inhabitants of the fattening hut saw that this latest captive of the tribe
certainly didn't need to spend any time in their hut. She was a rather short,
chubby but attractive blonde in her mid-30s. That recalled seeing her at the
airport when they arrived -- she had been coming off an Air France flight with two
girl friends. 
Now, she had stuffed her plump body into a two piece swimsuit, a suit which was
meant for a woman 15 to 20 pounds lighter than she was. In fact, she had bought
it when she was 17 pounds lighter, but had been unwilling to acknowledge that it
had become too tight.
6
Actually, this unfortunate woman was to have been the target of the procurement
party yesterday, when they had the "chance" encounter with the couple who now
was their "guests" in the fattening hut. She had been singled out by a tribe
member working near the pool area and, today they had little trouble kidnaping
her as she walked through a secluded area on the way back to her room, after an
early morning stint by the pool.
The top part of her swimsuit had trouble containing her ample breasts, which
spilled over the inadequate material. However, the bottom part of the suit had
even more of a challenge, as her pudgy middle stretched the waist band tight and
hung over it. In addition, the back part was woefully inadequate to even begin
covering the expanse of her deliciously round rear-end. 
There wasn't much clothing to remove as they undressed her. In fact, since the
swimsuit had shown off her, more than abundant charms, preparation was
already underway for cooking her, even before she was stripped naked.
She pleaded softly, "Mon Dieu, non, non, non," although, apparently she had no
idea what was in store for her – she thought she was to be raped…
The cannibal chief ignored her pleas and began to squeeze and knead the
softness of her luscious figure, complimenting her on the size and texture of her
various ample body parts. "Ah, my dear," he offered, “what a nice, soft tender
creature you are," and as he fondled one round, soft buttock smiled, then
switching to her native tongue: "ah, c'est tres douche, tres, tres douche,
beaucoup du bon viande.”
Suddenly the truth struck her, "viande? viande! Mon Dieu, ils ont cannibales, mon
Dieu, non, non, nooon!”
Then, two native women roughly grabbed led the unlucky white woman away and
out of sight of the fattening hut inhabitants, who were interrupted by the native
women who brought the pot of stew in for the day's second meal. 
Rosie and Ron fought sleep to watch out the window what would happen next. 
As if to give them a closer view of the proceedings, the cannibals began to build a
fire in the long barbecue pit closest to their window. About ten minutes later, two
burly men came into view carrying a long pole on their shoulders. However, what
was on the pole struck terror in the hearts of the white couple; it was the blonde
French woman. She had been impaled on the pole that entered her plump body
between those full thighs and exited from her open mouth. Her hair had been
shaved off and Rosie turned to Ron, "My God, they have spitted her like a pig; I
hope she's not still alive."
As the natives got closer with their human cargo, the couple could see that her
eyes were open in a blank stare that could only mean that, mercifully, she wasn't. 
Then Rosie turned to her husband, "look at her stomach, she has been slit open
and sewn shut, oh my God, she is stuffed with what looks like dressing, stuffed
just like a Thanksgiving turkey!"
7
They held the body in place for a second while one of the women took a bucket
and, dipping a well used paint brush --but not well used from painting -- and
brushed an oily liquid all over the naked white body. As they placed the body
over the fire, the pole nestled in two "Y" shaped spits at either end of the pit
Rosie turned to Ron, "my God, in a week that will be us!"
As if on cue, their “lunch” arrived and both were soon “stuffed to the gills.” 
Soon, both grew tired and could no longer watch the macabre proceedings
outside. Hence, more than full after the feeding the couple lay down for a nap. 
As the first whiffs of the sweet aroma of roasting meat drifted in though the
window, both of them, as they nodded off to sleep. However, even as satiated as
they were from the latest feeding, they were surprised at how delicious that
aroma smelled, even knowing full well its source. 
An evening feeding followed and both soon were snoring away. Their sleep that
night was interrupted on several occasion by the noise from a, loud, very raucous
gathering of the cannibal tribe. It was fueled by the rough, but very potent, beer
that the tribe brewed from the grain that thrived in the moist fields surrounding
the river that ran by the village. Both also knew what (who) was the main course
of that feast -- and both were unable to not think about a similar feast scheduled a
few days in the future. 
Sleep that evening was also fitful at best as both now vividly knew, and thought
about in detail, the fate that awaited them once they were plump enough. Hence,
despite the dulling effect of the drug added to their food, both were gripped with
an icy fear as the full impact of their fate played over and over in their minds.
"Putting on a Little Weight My Dear?" "Putting on a Little Weight My Dear?" 
The third morning of captivity brought the first assessment of how well the
fattening process was doing. Prior to the early morning feeding, the two were
rousted out of bed by several, rather ill tempered, native women. Obviously,
while they, and their husbands, had enjoyed the evening before, morning came
too fast and they had to meet their obligation of tending the fattening hut.
The stew that the couple was served had something new added to it, bite-sized
chunks of meat with a generous amount of fat clinging to each. Thinking back to
the evening before, both guessed the source of the meat -- leftovers from the
feast's main course. However, neither of them dared hesitate to begin eating
when they were each handed a large bowl of the warm stew. The other
ingredients of the stew, however, overpowered the flavor of the meat, and they
had no idea how it really tasted, yet they both knew they had just become
cannibals themselves.
Indeed, since there was no longer any resistance on the part of the captives,
there was no need for the cannibals to force-feed them -- the couple now fed
themselves. In order to make sure, however, that the two whites ate their fill, it
was still necessary to continue to squeeze their bellies to determine when their
stomachs were full. 
8
 As expected, this was getting more difficult, due to the increasing thickness of
new belly fat which populated their middles. Soon, however, the cannibal women
were able to gauge about how much stew it took to fill each, and the bowl would
be refilled until the unlucky victims were both full.
Then, after "breakfast" it was time to assess how successful the fattening
process had been to date, measurements were taken first. The native women
were not particularly gentle, and made explicit comments about the fate that the
couple faced, punctuated with comments about the use which had been made of
the unfortunate blonde whose well-roasted, plump body had been the focal point
of the previous evening's festivities.
Ron had added another 3/4 of an inch to his waist, now setting at 38" and 1 1/4 
inches to his hips, bringing him to 41 1/2. Rosie added 1/2 inch to her waist,
getting her to 36 1/2, and one inch to her hips, bring them to 42. Then each was
weighed . . . Both had added six pounds in the two days of fattening, bringing
him to 197, her to 154.
The women doing the measuring, despite their hangovers from last nights
raucous party perked up after seeing that progress.
Time Flies When You're Having Fun! Time Flies When You're Having Fun!
Days passed and the couple grew plumper. A few days prior to the scheduled
feast, the amount of the narcotic herb added to the stew was gradually reduced,
replaced with a combination of several spices which would impart a special, but
subtle, flavor to the meat (and fat) of the two. As the dulling effect of the herb
wore off, the couple became even more acutely aware of the true nature of the
horror that awaited them. 
However, as if in compensation, the cannibals began providing the unlucky
couple with access to the native beer, setting a large crock of it in the hut around
mid-morning (and re-filling as needed). Finding that it did dull the senses, and
hence the ever present knowledge of what was to happen to them, the couple
began to help themselves. Of course, the cannibals were not at all unhappy with
this, as the calorie rich beer ended up as additional padding on the pair.
During those last few nights, their perspective altered by a day of drinking the
beer, it was not uncommon for the two to kid each other about what was planned
for them -- as if somehow that would go away. They would pinch and squeeze
each other, just as the cannibals did, and comment on each others attributes to
grace the banquet table. 
Their pending, shared fate as becoming human main courses had drawn them
closer together. Certainly Ron found Rosie to be much less shitty, much gentler. 
Unfortunately, the next morning always brought the sobering fact that their fate
as food was a reality they could not escape.
 
9
The natives had explained to them that they wanted them nice and fleshy, but not
really "fat" and, a few days before the feast scaled back the feeding a bit. This
would be so that, on the day of that "special" feast, both would be at the desired
level of plumpness.
The evening before that fateful day, with their senses -- and emotions -- fully
restored, they made love for the first time since they were captured (and also for
the last time). The cot groaned under the weight of well over 300 pounds as, after
some initial difficulty in finding a position that accommodated the adverse effect
of their over-padded bodies, they successfully undertook that lovemaking. 
They finally ended up on their sides and Ron entered his wife from the rear, she
was wet and ready for him. He got in low enough that her ample rump did not
interfere with his dick, the fact he had over seven inches also helped. He
reached around to hold and fondle his wife, first her heavy breasts, then running
his hand down her fleshy torso to discover just how really fatter belly was. Soon
the echo of the slapping of his equally fat belly against Rosie's abundant bottom
filled the hut, and several women outside giggled at the sound.
Rosie then let out a long moan and shuddered as she came, Ron, who had
mustered all his willpower to delay, also groaned loudly and his cock throbbed
and pumped deep inside his wife. The women again giggled then went in to do
the final feeding. 
You Look Good Enough to Eat! You Look Good Enough to Eat!
The morning of that special feast, at which the now, nice, well-padded white
couple were scheduled to constitute the main course, saw them awakened early. 
However, instead of being fed, they went directly to being weighed and measured.
Still sleepy in the pre-dawn chill they were led to the front of the hut. Today was
"the day" and, already the smoky smell of a fire filled the air. The cannibal chief
joined the fattening hut crew and took a few minutes to squeeze and knead the
two unfortunate white people. He found the texture of both their over-padded
bodies to be somewhat firm -- indicative of the fact that they had been fattened so
fast that their skin was stretched a bit tight to accommodate the substantial
quantities of fat they had gained in a relatively short period. 
First, both were weighed. Ron now weighed in at 234. Rosie had, however,
gained 50 pounds to weigh 180. Given that they were both fed the same amount
of food, this was not surprising. He had started out nearly 40 pounds heavier
than his wife and his larger body burned more calories, hers had more of the stew
available to convert to fat.
10
Their respective waist measurements were 41 for him, 38 for her and, surprisingly
she caught up to him in the hip area, as both had 44 inch hips. Since a nice fat
rump is one of the more desirable characteristics of a cannibal victim, the natives
were delighted.
Suddenly Rosie squealed, and her Ron saw that one of the cannibal women,
unbeknownst to either of them, had located the fullest part of the white woman's
round, naked right buttock, and stuck a very long pin into it. The pin met with
little resistance, sinking deep into her abundant buttock fat. Only when the native
woman felt the slight change in resistance, indicating the pin had reached the
meat (muscle) underneath the fat, did she stop pushing. She marked the point on
the pin with her fingernail; it still had about 3/4 of an inch protruding from the
unfortunate white woman's ample bottom, then pulled it out.
The native woman then took the frayed tape measure and measured the length of
the pin that had sunk into the well-padded cheek, to determine the thickness of
the fat of the white woman's rear. This was not an idle or frivolous exercise as it
is important to know depth of the thickest fat on their victims, as that will
determine how long they will take to roast. 
The native women tending the hut had been told that both whites were to be
barbecued (and were not aware of the chief's plans). Hence, such a measurement
was deemed important due to the fact that the heat of the fire must penetrate the
fat before it is able to begin cooking the meat underneath.
Ron was next. On him they selected the fattest part of his left cheek and pushed
in the pin. It too sunk in easily. Ron was not happy they stuck a pin into his
ample ass, it just wasn't necessary Withdrawing it, the native woman measured
the length of penetration -- it was about 1/8th more that his wife's. Noting that he
also had a good-sized gut, she then located the fattest part of his belly and
pushed the pin into it. However, the pin fell well short of the thickness of his
rump fat before it encountered meat.
It was not really puzzling that the fat of Ron's rump was a bit thicker than Rosie's
-- even though both had over 44 inch hip measurements. This is because her hip
measurement includes the reality of Rosie’s wider female, but still well padded,
hips. His narrower male hips had to contain a greater amount of fat to give the
same circumference. The Chief's wife, who had just joined the crew, chided them
for going too slowly. However, seeing the woman just finishing up with Ron's
hefty rear, she stopped to give it an appreciative squeeze, Ron didn't like the way
she purred.
Both were taken out of the hut, ostensibly for the last time, and led towards the
preparation area where they faced their ultimate fate -- as the main course of
tonight's feast... except, the cannibal chief intervened. "We only need one for
tonight, send the male back to the hut, we will slow roast him in the morning for
tomorrow night's feast." He then ordered Ron to be taken back to the hut, Ron
was to be saved for another day, but today was Rosie's day.
11
The chief looked into the plump naked young woman's face and smiled. "I think it
is only polite to tell you what we have in store," taking great delight in the
frightened expression on her face. "Although you saw us spit roast the other
night's ‘piggy’ we have a special 'treat' for you. We haven't done this for a while,
but we are going to make a nice 'Rosie stew'. My guest requested a boiled dinner
tonight, so we are going to get out our seldom used pot."
"You, you are going to boil me in a pot," Rosie stammered, anticipating the
searing pain when she was lowered into the boiling water.
"Yes, my dear," he said, “and a fine boiled main course you will make. I know this
is nice and tender," and he kneaded a large handful of Rosie's ample bottom, "but
boiling will make it even more so. You cannot appreciate just how delicious your
meat will be for, you have become a nice little butterball there is still a lot of good
meat on you, here, feel this," and he guided Rosie's hand to squeeze her fleshy
upper left thigh, "Now, can't you feel that nice meat underneath your fat." Rosie
could and nodded slowly.
Ron watched this from the hut, hearing the resounding "smack" when the chief
whacked his wife's chubby bottom; he smiled, watching the process.
The chief continued his culinary tour of Rosie's body; "ah, and such a nice round
stomach" and he patted her soft fleshy stomach, "a couple of very nice belly
steaks there." Rosie began to cry.
"Nice tits too, not much meat, mostly fat, but that fat will contribute nicely to
making a delicious soup stock, as will your other juices. Now we must take you
and thoroughly clean you out, can't have you doing anything nasty like peeing or
shitting in our soup."
A Little Diversion A Little Diversion
Two women then escorted Rosie to a small clearing nearby. They walked past a
large cast iron pot filled two-thirds with water, which was having a roaring fire
being built underneath it. 
 They then made the terrified plump naked young woman climb up on a large
sturdy table, and lay down on her back. Just then the cannibal chief came over. 
He was only wearing a pair of tan shorts. He smiled as he ran his hands over the
abundant softness of Rosie. He thought to himself, “there would be some fine
dining tonight thanks to Rosie’s plump body’s contribution to the “special stew.”
A large bulge formed in the crotch of his shorts and Rosie watched in awe as the
chief shucked them. His erect black dick sprung into view, and Rosie saw it was
huge! She had thought Ron was big, but she never thought a man could have
one this gigantic. It looked to be a foot long and as thick as her wrist! Not quite
on both accounts but still close. She could see the end was already moist with
anticipation. 
12
Being married, Rosie’s pussy was indeed no stranger to hard male penises. 
Indeed it had hosted quite a few before she met Ron -- also, in reality, there had
been a couple after she was married. However, this was the first black one and
she couldn’t imagine having this monster stuck all the way into her. 
“God, he’ll split me in half” she thought. In the meantime he was slathering on a
greasy yellowish substance which as the rendered buttock fat of a former plump
white female victim. In fact, ironically, some of Rosie’s own ample, rendered,
ass-fat would serve a similar function in a few days.
The chief then climbed onto the table and spread Rosie’s full heavy, soft thighs
apart, taking a second to squeeze the left one at the top, and appreciate how nice
and thick its fat was. He would find it hard to decide if he wanted a nice thick,
tender thigh steak, or a large chunk of Rosie’s ample rump. Although the table
was hard, there was no need for any bedding, as Rosie’s ample figure provided
more than enough padding for both of them. 
Then he spread open her pussy lips, positioned the head of his massive organ at
the entrance to Rosie’s vagina and slowly inserted it into her, letting Rosie feels it
slide deeper and deeper inside. It slid in much easier than Rosie had envisioned,
as a number of other hard cocks had paved the way! 
Soon he had his weight resting on her full hips, as he began his rhythmic
movement. For her part, Rosie couldn’t believe she actually had that enormous
brown pole fully inserted inside her, but she could feel his tight balls bouncing off
the bottom of her generous ass cheeks. He was sunk into her up to the hilt!
It completely filled her pussy but, surprisingly didn’t hurt; in fact it felt damn
good. Hence, despite the horror she knew awaited her in a few minutes – as her
plump naked body was immersed in boiling water -- she became a full and active
partner in the sexual undertaking, moaning and pushing her heavy hips upward
to meet his thrusts, with the rhythmic slapping of her hefty bare backside on the
hard table being the other sound she contributed to the coupling. 
The chief then slid his hands under her to grab large handfuls of her abundant
backside, and roughly knead it, pleased at how much Rosie has back there. He
knew in about four hours he would enjoy that ample ass in a far different way. 
Then she heard a scream, as from far off, but it was her own voice as she
climaxed with an earth shattering shudder. 
The chief was not far behind, his final stimulation being the knowledge that the
plump young white woman, into whom he was now emptying the copious
contents of his balls, would soon likely be screaming for a very different purpose. 
Rosie felt the huge cock throb and spurt deep inside her. He withdrew and
climbed off the table, motioning to the women to get on with cooking the chubby
young woman he had just fucked, saying “get her ready for the pot!” 
13
Time to Prepare Dinner Time to Prepare Dinner
They pulled Rosie off the table and she was forced to urinate, pushing hard to
clear her bladder. They had a special way of pushing on her lower abdomen, even
if it was padded with a substantial layer of flesh such as Rosie's, to totally clear
her. Then her vagina was flushed out with water, to get rid of any residual urine
as well as the chief’s recent “gift.” Next a soapy enema emptied her bowels,
followed by two flushing with clear, warm water to thoroughly clean her out. 
Rosie was then thoroughly washed from head to toe. Now, squeaky clean, the
doomed, plump young gal was lead back to the pavilion style structure where the
large water filled pot sat over that roaring fire.
One arriving there, however, to be extra safe, both her lower body openings were
plugged with a wedge of breadfruit to ensure that no accidents took place. 
Rosie's arms were then tied behind her back and she was forced to kneel on a
large metal contraption, some sort of rack, made of solid metal bars. Basically it
had a platform that was about three feet long by two feet with three bars across,
two welded underneath them. 
Also at one end a three-foot bar was attached vertically and Rosie was positioned
so that was behind her. A rope was then looped around Rosie's legs, over her
thighs and under the platform, another one around her upper torso securing her
to the vertical pole.
The chief smiled at Rosie. "My dear, I guess you are wondering why we put
bothered to secure you to this device. Well, just think back to physics, or maybe
biology in school, you'll recall that fat floats in water, and of course, my pudgy
little pumpkin, you certainly have a decent amount of that on you. Therefore, if
we don't have this to keep you in place, when the water starts to boil and bubble,
you will just float to the top like a cork -- a juicy, round cork -- and that just won't
get you cooked properly, so this keeps you in place.” 
Just then, one of the women walked over to the large pot of water and stuck her
finger in it, only to rapidly pull it back with a yelp, "shit, that's really hot, it’s ready
for her."
Two of the larger natives picked up the contraption holding Rosie and carried her
over to the pot and positioned her over it. The chief barked at them "what are
you waiting for, put her in!"
A loud cry, somewhere between a scream and a wail tore from Rosie's lips as she
anticipated the, soon to be felt, searing pain of the boiling hot water as she was
lowered into it. Eyes tightly shut she continued to scream as her legs first
encountered the water, and she was released to sink into it. Braced for
unendurable pain, she sank into water that was lukewarm at best and, opening
her eyes, saw the assembled natives laughing at her reaction. The water came up
to just covering her nipples.
14
"Wow," she thought, "this is just a big joke, they'll take me out of here," but
nobody moved except to put more wood on the fire. 
They then dumped several baskets of a variety of vegetables in the pot that
floated around the doomed young woman. A cup of salt, an equal amount of
pepper and two generous handfuls of herbs and spices followed the vegetables
in the pot. Rosie sat there, watching the vegetables floating around her, bumping
into her breasts. She felt surprising calm in the warm water, and attempted to
identify the vegetables. She got yams, carrots, celery -- stopping to think where
they got celery -- of course diced breadfruit, but about three others she couldn't
identify.
 
As the water got warmer, Rosie got sleepy and thought, "she really didn't care
what veggies they used." Soon her head tilted to the side and she quietly drifted
off to sleep, never to reawaken, as the water temperature climbed over 130. 
Hence, Rosie was never aware of the searing heat as the water started to boil, and
her chubby body began to cook. She was one of the lucky ones who was
humanly cooked by the tribe -- barbecuing would have been much more
"uncomfortable" -- as the aroma of the young secretary’s cooking body, now
turning a bright red, starting to fill the air.
After about half an hour of having the water at a rolling boil, one of the women
took a very long fork probing in the water (now turning into soup stock) and stuck
Rosie's body in the breasts, belly, thighs and rump to release her melting fat, and
other juices which would further flavor the soup. Just before serving, they would
thicken the liquid with finely ground tapioca root to make it a stew.
A Nasty Deal A Nasty Deal
Ron watched this from the hut as the chief and his wife approached the hut and
came inside. "Well, what do you think, will we enjoy dinner tonight?"
Ron was suddenly aware of his nakedness and said, "okay can you get me some
clothes, Christ, also why did you get me so fat, it’s gonna take forever to knock
off this blubber!"
“Well," the chief responded, "we did need your wife, as well as the women
tending the hut, to believe you were also being fattened for food."
Just then the Chief’s wife reached down to again pinch the softness of Ron's
ample bottom and said, "why don't we forget the $50,000 and barbecue this nice
meaty ass."
"$50,000" thought Ron, "goddamn it, the deal was for $25,000." $25,000 was the
agreed upon price for them to cook up his wife and then put the word out they
had done so, so he, in turn, could collect the insurance money. But, as he also
felt the woman continue to toy with his beefy backside he knew that the money
was the only safeguard he had. He was glad he told them the insurance was for
$100,000 instead of $250,000!
15
The chief smiled at his wife, "na, that's over $250 a pound, he ain't worth that,
after all we do get his nice chubby wife for dinner and the $50,000.”
The chief then handed Ron some good-sized jeans and a shirt. "Okay," said Ron,
"tomorrow we go into the bank in the city, and do the paperwork, when the policy
is settled; you'll automatically get your $50,000."
 "No," said the chief, "we can do it after the money is collected, I know you won't
leave town without paying me."
Ron of course knew that to be true, his every move would be watched until the
money was paid. He then put on the jeans and shirt, not wanting to think about
where they came from, and was glad it was finally settled.
Dinner Time Dinner Time
The chief just smiled and said, "let's see how dinner is going." The three then
walked outside. Ron felt little remorse when he saw his wife cooking in the large
pot thinking, "the bitch is finally being put to a good use!" Rosie had been
cooking for over three hours. She was a bright "lobster" red, and the sweet
aroma had intensified. 
The water was still going at a frantic, rolling boil and, despite the heavy metal
rack; Rosie's plump body was bumping around in the turbulent water. They
continued to poke her body with the long fork, and it had the desired effect, as
the water now took on the light brown appearance of a rich beef stock.
"A couple more hours and we will enjoy dinner," said the chief then winked at
Ron, "but you better watch how much you eat, looks like your getting a bit
chubby," and he laughed, poking Ron in his ample belly. Ron didn't laugh in
return.
Dinner was at seven. Ron had taken a nap and was awoken just in time to see
them remove his wife from the large pot in order to get her ready for dinner. One
of the women had rousted him from his sleep, offered a large, fire glazed clay
goblet of a wine they also prepared from a local grape. which Ron found much
better than expected.
A basin of water was brought for him to use to wash-up, and the woman told him
dinner would be in an hour, returning his watch. However, he walked outside,
wanted to see what Rosie looked like when they took her out.
Two burly men took Rosie's well-cooked body out of the water. The red had
muted a bit, but she was still a deep dark pink and the soup had boiled down to
just above her navel. Now thoroughly cooked she, like the metal rack, was at 212
degree, too hot to handle with bare hands. They took a long wooden pole and slid
it under her arms to lift her out of the water some. 
16
Another man, wearing, what looked like an oversized oven mitts, then grabbed
the body around the waist and the three of them lifted Rosie's ample body, and its
stand, out of the pot and set it on the ground. Rosie's body remained upright,
held securely by the ropes around her torso. Her head was to one side, her hair
sopping wet, and her face had an almost serene expression.
 
Another pair of mitts appeared and two of the men picked up the bottom of the
rack and carried it and Rosie into a nearby hut so she could be carved for dinner. 
They then dumped in the ground Tapioca root to thicken the liquid.
Ron went back to the hut to wash-up, then the chief's wife came to get him. He
had his back to her and she crept up to grab his ass and gives it a good squeeze. 
He jumped and she laughed, "lotsa good meat there." Ron still didn't think it was
funny, in fact her attention to the size of his ass was getting really tiresome!
They went over to the chief's nicely appointed hut (if you could call it that as it
was a cinder block building) where a table was set. Then, while one woman
poured some beer, another brought in three large slightly concave bowels. The
one set before Ron had a large chunk of meat on a bed of, what first looked like
rice, but was the same grain, boiled, which had been used to make the beer. 
The soup and veggies had been ladled over it and the presentation was
reminiscent of lamb over couscous, he and Rosie often enjoyed at a local Middle
Eastern place. However, this meat wasn't lamb! Ron looked at the meat, it had
about a half inch of fat on one side and he could tell that some of the fat had
already been trimmed away.
 He tentatively cut into the meat, and the Chief's wife smiled as she popped a
chunk of meat in her mouth, "go ahead, mmm, it’s delicious, melt in your mouth,
delicious. By the way, can you guess where it came from, no, not who, where on
her?"
From the size and shape Ron correctly guessed his wife’s thigh, then looked over
to see that they had similar cuts. However, the wife's still had the full original,
thick layer of fat on it; her husband's was trimmed totally of all fat. Immediately,
the old nursery rhyme "Jack Sprat" came to Ron's mind.
Ron then took a long swig of beer and popped a piece of meat in his mouth -- he
couldn't believe it. Not only was it unbelievably tender, but the taste was
indescribable. The other two watched his reaction and smiled, remembering the
first time they had tasted human meat.
"Kee-rist," blurted out Ron, I don't believe it, I have never, ever tasted anything,
and I mean anything, this good. If he knew how good Rosie's meat would taste
he might have even done something at home (after he bought a freezer) that have
come all this way. He didn't even hesitate when offered a second portion (this
time a generous cut from his wife's deliciously plump rump.)
Finally, his stomach was full, even though the fattening process had stretched it,
he could eat no more.
17
What's Sauce for the Goose... What's Sauce for the Goose...
Ron left the next morning. He returned to the resort, and the manager was
surprised to see him, and didn't hide his surprise at how stocky the white man
had gotten. Their stuff was in storage and it was returned to him and he took the
room for another week.
He went through the stuff and took Rosie's clothes to a second hand shop and
swapped them for some larger sized men's clothes to fit his heavier body. None
of the clothes he brought over now fit, but he hoped, once he got home, that they
would after he knocked off the extra blubber.
 Later that afternoon he reported Rosie's disappearance and demise to the local
police, who seemed not at all surprised. Through the various contacts they
confirmed that Rosie had indeed ended up a cannibal main course and, aided by
$700 from Ron, issued the report in a day along with a death certificate signed by
a local doctor (who gratefully took the $400 from Ron to expedite the process).
 All of this was faxed to the insurance company and, within four days it was
settled and the $250,000 was in his account. The chef showed up early the last
morning, dressed in a business suit, and they went to the local bank in order to
transfer the $50,000 to the chief's account. Ron knew that the Chief was keeping
tabs on him, as several of the hotel employees were from that very same tribe,
and if he tried to leave the country without paying they would stop him. 
Therefore, Ron signed the transfer papers, the said “goodbye” to the Chief.
 
The Chief responded, "it's been a pleasure doing business with you, and of
course your wife, who makes a wonderful rump roast." 
Ron then packed checked out and felt lucky as, just as he came out just a cab
pulled up in front of the resort. He didn't want to mess with that shuttle bus to
the airport. He was happy --the insurance money had come through, his "partner
in crime" had his $50,000, and Ron was going home to a clean $200,000 with the
added bonus of never again having to listen to Rosie's harping.
Ron jumped in "airport and make it fast" he barked to the black driven. Although
the driver seemed to be familiar, he wasn't sure because of the large, floppy hat
he wore.
 "No problem," the driver offered, "but do you mind if we have another
passenger." Before Ron could answer, the door opened and the cannibal chief
slid in beside him, still dressed in his business suit.
"Ah, hi again Ron, it was good to see you haven't lost any weight, 'cause were
gonna take a little ride back to the village. You see, my wife has been bugging me
about how nice that round, meaty butt of yours would taste -- you know what it’s
like when your wife nags you" and he winked, then laughed.
"You bastard,” Ron spat at him, "don't you know you'll lose your $50,000 if I don't
return home."
18
 "Ah, not to worry," the chief said, "my banker friend down the street found out
the policy was for $250,000 not $100,000, you fibbed to me. So, for $10,000 he
slipped a ‘2' in front of the $50,000 transfer from your account in the states and
that money is now safely over here.”
He then said something to the driver in their native tongue and the car sped away,
heading out of town and the chief patted Ron on one plump male thigh, "gotta
hurry, you know just how cross women can be when they have already put the
water on to boil and you're late bringing something home for dinner!" 
19