How I Became Just Another Meatgirl 10

Part Ten

After my recent episode with the contractors moving me from the storeroom to the container and leaving me locked away overnight, I thought it best that I didn’t push for any further time as a meatgirl, in case Ollie would not be too happy after what happened. There always seems to be something that doesn’t go to plan when I indulge in my meatgirl fantasy, well, at least some of the time anyway.

Plus, the contractors were busy rebuilding the shop, a whole new designed interior, as well as the storeroom being extended to accommodate more meatgirls to be stored in there. I wondered what it would look like squeezed in among the hanging stock, just another product waiting to be sold. There were some other changes that Ollie hadn’t spoken to me about, but I would find out later.

But two weeks later, the contractors were finished, so when I returned home from work, I popped in to see what they had done. I had purposely avoided looking in beforehand, so what I saw came as a complete surprise. The interior of the main shop was decked out with a new timber finish, but what stood out to me was the three display alcoves on either side of the shop, each one containing a meatgirl on display. This was certainly different, and it sparked my interest, as you can imagine.

When Ollie saw me standing there taking in the changes, and to be honest, I was more focused on the meatgirls in the displays, he walked over to where I was standing.

“You like the new look?” he asked.

“I’m a bit stunned at the transformation, to be honest, but it looks great,” I replied.

“Well, if you’re going to make changes, you might as well go all out.”

“It seems that you’ve certainly done that,” I said, still looking at the meatgirls on display.

“And you seem to notice the other big change too,” he laughed, seeing what I was currently fixated on. “The three on this side are your clones, and on the other wall, the original types of meatgirls.”

“They look wonderful, but why have them on display?”

“To help sell the stock, and with more meatgirls in storage, it pays to advertise, and having them stashed out of sight doesn’t advertise the product.”

“But don’t the rules state that meatgirls can’t be displayed like this, something about their being naked or some such thing. Though when you buy one, they come ‘au naturel’.”

“They recently changed the rules, plus you can only see them when you enter the shop fully, hence the screens, so that you can’t see them from the road.” he told me, “And you’re right about the silliness of the rule, because after being sold we carry them naked into the street and to the customers car.”

“Yes, it did seem stupid.”

“So, do you want to see the rest?”

“Yes, please,” I answered, still drawn to the meatgirls on display.

Ollie could see that I had a vision of myself being put on display, and wanted to distract me, at least for the moment. He knew me too well. He took my hand and guided me through the rest of the shop, pointing out the different additions or changes that had been made. Most of it washed over my head, the new meat display counter, and other boring shop stuff. But when he opened the storeroom door, that was when my interest spiked again.

Inside were now four rows of meatgirls; the expanded storeroom had grown in size, making much more room. There were two rows against either side wall, but there was now also a central two rows, but one side was facing the door, the other the back wall, and I wondered why. Ollie could see the question forming on my face and reached over to a switch on the wall, and told me to watch.

As he touched the switch, a mechanical sound started, much like the one that I had been dreaming of when I was being processed at the meat works. The sound of the clanking chain brought back the memory, and a shiver ran through my body, not one of shock or fear but something more wicked and delightful. Not that I’d ever want to end my days at such a place, but in my bizarre fantasies that seemed to inhabit my fevered mind.

I watched as the line moved around, taking the meatgirls with it, each one swinging slightly as they were transported around. The row that was facing the back wall was now coming around to face the door. And of course, I could see myself hanging there, enjoying the ride. But why did we need this? It’s not as if the expanded storeroom was that large. Of course, what I hadn’t seen was the rear part of the mechanism. At the rear part of the storeroom were plastic straps hanging down, hiding behind this, the chain both went up and down on two separate sides, and that there was an additional hidden storeroom underneath.

“Cool, huh?” Ollie said, “There’s room downstairs for more rows of meatgirls. I think that with the ones stored up here, there’s more than one hundred of them, so we’re not going to run out anytime soon.”

“There’s another storeroom?”

“Yes, underneath, we built it in the basement as we didn’t have any more room up here; this was all we could build upstairs, but having additional storage downstairs made sense. Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

Grabbing my hand, Ollie was like an excited schoolboy showing off his new toys. He dragged me down a new set of stairs to another door, opening it and switching on the light. There, hanging in the additional storeroom were several rows of meatgirls, each row alternated with the other in which way they faced. Again, the whole line moved, carting the meatgirls along, and I watched as they moved to the far side, where they were lifted up to the main storeroom.

“Why so many?” I asked, slightly confused but also curious how it would feel to be stored like this.

“I’m expanding and taking on another new shop, as well as the one that Matt currently runs. I have another that is currently being fitted out. So I plan on keeping the main stock here and shipping them out to the new store when it opens,” he continued, “Plus I get a better discount when I buy in bulk. I’m also getting our own delivery truck, just a small one, to run stock between the shops.”

My mind was spinning with ideas for future play at this point. There were so many opportunities for this meatgirl to enjoy her time stored away, but that would have to come later; for now, I would wait, but not for too long. Plus, I had some changes of my own planned, but I would have to sit down and talk with Ollie later, up in our apartment. But as we entered the main part of the shop, my eyes were again drawn to the meatgirls on display, but for now, that would have to wait.

Later, up in our apartment, Ollie showed me the changes that he’d made to our playroom. The old cupboard that we’d used to store me when we couldn’t use downstairs, was now an exact replica of the proper one, using the same materials. He had gotten the contractors to make one up here. I wondered what he had told them what it was going to be used for, though I guessed that I would soon be finding out. The bed was new too; it had a metal frame with fixing points attached to secure a certain female so that she couldn’t escape, not that I ever wanted to.

Ollie then eagerly pulled me into the kitchen, and I thought that he was about to throw me down on the kitchen table and take me, but, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t for that reason, he showed me the new, larger oven that had been installed that day. Obviously, you can guess just why that was, having occupied the older oven on a couple of occasions, usually around his birthdays.

But finally, with the tour over, I finally got my chance to speak.

“The changes all look great, I’m really pleased to see them, but I’ve been thinking things over the past couple of weeks.” I stopped for a moment to look at the expression on Ollie’s face; he now seemed deflated after his initial excitement at showing me around. “But I want to make some changes of my own, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Now you have me worried,” he said, his face looking sad, like I was about to announce some bad news.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like I guess that you’re thinking right now, I still love you deeply and want to spend all of my time with you. But it’s more to do with when I play downstairs as a meatgirl.” I told him.

“Okay, go on, I’m listening.”

“Well, you know that I have a rule for when I’m a meatgirl that I won’t respond, and that once I’m bound and gagged, I want you to treat me just like the other meatgirls, with no preferential treatment on my part. I want to be just like they are, to become one of them and feel the way they do, and also to be kept the same way as part of the store’s inventory.”

“Yes, I usually abide by that rule, except in the container when I couldn’t find you.”

“Mmm, well, that was different, but you managed to remember the safe word that we use to play up here with, so if you need to use it for whatever reason, do, though it had better be an emergency, I don’t mind.”

“Okay, point noted, what’s next?”

“Well, this one is more difficult…” I started, “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, I know how much you like having me bound and available to be used by you.”

“I thought that you enjoyed that too.”

“I do, and I will always want you to do that, maybe after we’ve finished here,” I suggested, “But this is more to do with when I’m actually stored away downstairs.”

He stayed silent, his mind was wondering where I was going with this.

“I can see that you’re concerned, and I still want to explore being kept as a meatgirl, but because of the way that we now have to do that, with you exchanging the tag from the meatgirl to my own nipple, you now have to store that meatgirl up here, hide it away from any surprise visits.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Well, I have said in the past, that while I did fantasize about you taking a meatgirl from downstairs, instead of me, and of you using it for your own, erm… needs.”

He interrupted, “I recall that conversation, but the only time I’ve used one like that is when I was at the other store and away from you for so long.” He paused, “Oh, and when your sold sticker fell off…”

I interrupted him, “Yes, well… That’s okay, but what I’m trying to say, in a very long-winded way it seems, is that while I’m bound and stored downstairs, and enjoying myself with the meatgirls, it doesn’t seem all that fair to me that your own manly needs are not being taken care of.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not, so I’ve decided that from now on, my new rule is that you can make use of the meatgirl that I’m replacing, take her and use her like you would with me.”

“I don’t think…” he started to say, but I stopped him.

“Look, I want you to use her, if it’ll make it easier for you, take one of the clones that looks like me, swap me with her, and that should make it less complicated for you to get some enjoyment for yourself, during my time as a meatgirl. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think at the moment, I don’t feel the need, but I guess that you feel the obligation for this new rule. I do know what goes on in the storeroom after dark, and I was quite happy that you got to join in and enjoy that, and I’m not jealous that you get to play with the other meatgirls. In fact, I’ve watched you several times on a hidden camera in the storeroom.”

“What, you’ve watched me…” I replied, surprised by this revelation.

“Cum, yes, several times,” he laughed, “but the camera was more to keep you safe, after all that stuff with the inspector.”

“Oh well, I hope that you enjoyed the show.” I teased, while running my hands over my breasts. “But enough talk, I think it’s time that you take this meatgirl into our playroom and make use of her features.” I winked.

Taking up my message, I was soon naked and bound to the new bed, my limbs this time were spread to the four corners, leaving me open and available to him. Bringing the ball gag up to my lips, I readily opened my mouth for him to push it home, the straps fastened, letting me know that I would no longer be allowed to speak, or stop what was about to happen, not that I would.

Several hours later, I was left bound to the bed, deeply satisfied with what he had done to me, my mind drifting off to being a meatgirl again. Though I wondered why he hadn’t stored me away in the new storage room in our playroom, I guessed that he had his reasons, or maybe he’d forgotten. But soon I was deeply asleep, my dreams flooding my mind, my body hanging from my ankles in some darkened storeroom among many other meatgirls, waiting to be processed.

I was woken up mid-dream by the feel of hands on my body, Ollie had slept in our bed and had left me bound in the playroom so that he could take advantage of me again in the morning, which he did, just a quickie on his part, leaving me wanting, but happy that he’d managed to enjoy using me, it just one of those things that I like. Sometimes I just want to be used and then left discarded, other times I just want to please him for all the things that he does for me, or to me.

Friday, today was the day that I felt the urge to spend some time as a meatgirl again. I knew that, for the moment, Ollie would only allow me to indulge my desires after the shop was closed, but I was just happy that he would let me enjoy myself, even if only briefly. So after getting home, I headed up to our apartment above the shop, and with a quick shower to wash the day’s grime away, I was now ready.

The sound of the shutters closing let me know that the shop was now closed, and the sound of one of Ollie’s workers leaving was my signal to action. I walked down the stairs, naked and free of all clothing, and I knew that I wouldn’t need them where I was intending to end up. But as I reached the bottom step, I could see that Ollie was still busy, so I quietly walked up behind him and placed my hands over his eyes.

“Surprise!” I called out, as I rubbed my body against his own.

He turned and saw that I wasn’t dressed, “What the…”

“I was wondering, dear sir, if you had a spare spot somewhere for this poor, lowly little meatgirl?” I asked, my eyes looking up at his, in my best submissive role.

“I’m not sure that…”

I stopped him continuing, my hand now reaching down and rubbing against his now hardening member.

“I’m sure that you can find room, even if only for a short while.” I continued to tease him. “Over there on display looks good to me.”

“No, I couldn’t…” Again, my hand pressed against his now hard and ready penis.

“Oh, please, sir, just for a little while, and later you can use this thing on me however you wish,” I said, still holding him tightly, and giving him a squeeze.

“Well, maybe for an hour or so.”

“That sounds like a deal to me.” And promptly stopped what I was doing and walked over to one of the displays. “I’d really like to see what I look like on display.”

“I’m sure that you’ll look good, especially to me.”

“But, you’re just saying that to get into a girl’s knickers.” I laughed.

“I guess, but you’re not wearing any,” looking at my naked crotch.

“Mmm, I wonder where they went?” I teased, “But then meatgirls don’t wear them, do they, so I must be just a meatgirl too.”

“I’m not going to win here, am I?” he asked, resigned to the fact that I usually got my own way.

“Of course you are, you get to see your very own lovely meatgirl on display.”

“Mmm, well, I guess, but we’d better get on with it then.”

He reached up and unhooked the meatgirl from the display alcove, bringing it over to stand next to me. “You ready for this?”

“I was born ready.” I joked, “And don’t forget my new rule, should you feel the need.”

He just shook his head, but I could see that he had been thinking about what I had said, and I wondered if he would take advantage of this meatgirl that I was now replacing.

Taking hold of the nipple tag that the meatgirl wore, he transferred it over to my own nipple. I reached down to examine it while he walked off to get some rope to bind me. When he returned, he quickly bound my wrists and ankles, then added the gag, which I again accepted. I do so love a good gag. Now it was just the hood to be fitted, and I would be ready, but for a moment, he stopped.

“Do you want the hood?” he asked, “I thought that maybe you might want to see this time.”

With the gag in place, I couldn’t reply, but indicated that I wanted to experience the whole thing. So he began placing the hood over my bald head, adjusting it to fit. I had left my wig upstairs along with my clothes. Ever since my time, well, very many times, going through the meatgirl processing facility, riding along the production line, going through the meatgirl washing machine, my hair had refused to grow back. Not that I minded, the other benefit was that hair didn’t grow elsewhere, either, so no need to wax any longer.

After tightening up the ziptie that held the hood in place, I was moved over to the empty alcove. He grabbed my hands and lifted them up until the rope between my bound wrists connected with the hook, closing over the rope and trapping me in place. I was stuck here until Ollie wanted to release me, and I loved it. He adjusted my body so that I stood in the right spot, and then, something that surprised me, he switched on the display lights, and I started to rotate on the unseen platform beneath my feet.

“There, one more meatgirl on display,” I heard him say, sending that delightful tingle through my body and ending up in all the right places.

I heard him lift the meatgirl over his shoulder, and carry it away, taking it upstairs to hide it away. I began to wonder if he was currently using it, after all, he did seem to be taking his time before returning back down to the shop. Eventually, he returned, and I heard his footsteps as he got closer, and then I heard the sound of a camera; he was taking some pictures of me on display for our growing personal album of my times as a meatgirl.

“Well, it’s the end of another busy day, better head off to bed, and I have a tasty dish waiting upstairs for me to enjoy,” he said, knowing I would hear him.

Turning off the main lights of the shop, he left the display lights on, as well as the stand motors that turned the meatgirls on display.

I slowly rotated for several hours, my mind drifting off into my meatgirl fantasy. It felt good to be on display, just another product, though it was not as enjoyable as when I was stored away among the other meatgirls, rubbing myself against their bodies and slowly bringing out a wonderful orgasm or two. But I was stuck here, I admit at my own request, until Ollie felt otherwise.

Even being bound like this, I still managed to drift off into a peaceful slumber. My dream this time was being sold and prepared in a kitchen, stuffed and oiled before being placed in an oven to roast. The dream was eventually interrupted when I felt the feeding system kick in. Now slightly confused, I was sure that it was too late for the evening feed; if so, then this must be the morning one, though I wasn’t too sure. But where was Ollie? Had he left me here overnight to enjoy myself upstairs with my replacement?

Then, a short time later, I heard the sound of footsteps. I thought that I would soon be released, and taken upstairs before the shop opened. But then I felt hands on my body, and a stranger’s voice.

“Mm, looks like the boss switched over the display last night. I’d better get this one ready before the customers arrive.”

The sound of one of Ollie’s workers shocked me for the moment, though I didn’t react as I didn’t want to give myself away. I didn’t know this guy, and I couldn’t be sure of his reaction to finding out that Ollie had bound his wife and left her as just another meatgirl on display. So I would have to wait to find out what would be happening to me, and again I wondered where my husband was.

I felt the worker’s hands return; they were slightly colder than my own body, sending a shiver down my spine. But he carried on with whatever he was doing to me to get me ready. Next, I felt a cold liquid being sprayed over my naked flesh, and then a cloth rubbing it all over, and I do mean all over, even the more… sensitive parts. The cloth, finding its way down from my breasts, across my tummy, and down to the pleasure valley between my legs, seemed to linger there for a while longer than on the other parts of my body. Not that I objected, as the touch felt really nice.

I was then rotated around, and the same treatment was applied to my back. He seemed to take great care to get every part of my body coated in whatever he was using on me. He touched up a couple of places on my skin that he had either missed or thought needed more attention. Satisfied, he stepped back to inspect his work, turning on the display motor to rotate me around, before touching up again on other parts that needed it.

“They’re all done, and ready for the day,” he said, “time to open up the shop.”

The sound of the external shutters opening let me know that customers would soon be entering the shop, and I was openly on display for them to see, touch, and inspect. I was stuck here, it seemed, maybe this was Ollie’s plan all along, though after all the things that have happened to me in the past, I would doubt that he would go that far, well, not at the moment anyway. But my thoughts were stopped when I finally heard the sound of Ollie’s voice.

“Morning, Sam, how are things down here?” I heard him ask.

“Fine, I’ve gotten the display all glossed up and ready for the customers, and everything is nearly ready in the meat cabinet, just a few more fillets to add.”

“Okay, well, I’ll leave that in your hands, sorry, but for some reason I overslept, but it’s good to see that you’re quite capable of getting things done,” Ollie replied. “I’ll just check on the display for a moment.”

He walked over to where I was slowly rotating around, checking on how I was presented, but also wanting to let me know that he couldn’t remove me for the moment.

“That new gloss looks great on their bodies, really brings out their features,” he said to Sam, while his hand stroked over my body.

The touch of his hand felt nice after a long night hanging here without any contact, and at one point, his finger slipped in between my thighs to check just how wet and turned on I was at this moment. “Juicy,” he whispered, his finger removed as he sniffed my aroma on his fingers. “Just like the meatgirl upstairs,” he added.

Just then, the front door of the shop opened, and in walked an unexpected visitor.

“Hi, I’m Eyla, Eyla Vanel, from the Meatgirl Regulatory Authority. I’m just in the area, and I thought that I’d pop by to check out the new shop layout,” she said.

“Welcome, come on in, and I’ll give you a tour,” I heard Ollie reply.

“I see that you’ve taken advantage of the relaxed rules about displaying meatgirls; they all look good there,” she stated, while eyeing up the meatgirls. “I didn’t see the reasoning behind not displaying them; they’re just products after all.” Her hand reached out and touched the meatgirl before her.

I felt the touch of her hand on my thigh, though I knew better than to react and give myself away. Her hand lingered for a moment; maybe she was testing me to see if I would behave any differently from any other meatgirl. But she seemed to be happy with what she saw. Though she did grab my nipple tag, pulled it down, and scanned it, to check that I was part of the stock, which I was, of course, the real meatgirl was stashed away upstairs, her tag now adorned my own, now sore nipple.

“Okay, let’s see the storeroom,” the Inspector said.

“Follow me, but if you’re going to scan them all, be prepared for a long inspection,” Ollie replied, his joke falling flat with the inspector.

I was then left alone, slowly rotating around, as they walked off. Shortly after several customers came in, some taking in the newly fitted out shop, others commenting about the naked meatgirls on display, while others just picked up what they wanted and left. It was only when Ollie returned with the inspector that I felt that everything was okay, and that he’d passed.

“Thanks, Ollie, the new shop looks great, I like what you’re doing here.” The Inspector said.

“Come over to the other shop when that opens too, you’re always welcome here,” Ollie replied, and opened the door for the inspector to leave.

“Woo… that was unexpected,” Ollie said to Sam, “but we don’t have any issues with the new shop layout, which was good, but I was worried there for a moment,” he said, while looking at my naked body as it revolved around on display.

But whatever thought he was about to express was broken when a couple of customers walked in, one wanting to check out the meatgirls on display. Ollie was happy to oblige; after all, the customer was always right. Walking over to the meatgirl that the customer wanted to inspect, which turned out to be me, he started to explain the various cuts of meat that I could make, his hands touching several parts, while talking about joints of meat, and the many succulent, juicy fillets that this one would make.

He even encouraged the woman to touch my body in several places, while he explained the multiple different ways that the meatgirl could be cooked, roasted whole if you have a large family to feed, with many parts left over for other meals. “The breast fillets on this one are mouthwatering”, and he got the woman to feel them, saying about the weight of them, “Each one is a meal for two, or to make sandwiches if cut just right”.

“But the most delectable piece that everyone wants to taste is down here, and I particularly enjoy it, especially its delicate flavour, liked by so many for its exquisite fragrance and tastiness,” his hand drifting between my legs, offering me up for the woman to inspect. The touch of her fingers on my little pearl as she examined me, sending the right signals to my brain.

Just then, Sam asked Ollie a question, “Please excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back, but please feel free to continue inspecting the quality of the meat.” And left.

The woman’s fingers continued to explore, pressing deeper in between my thighs, touching the soft outer labia before pushing further, seeking out the more juicier spots. Her fingers found my hole and entered, while her thumb played with my little nub, now standing out proudly, reacting to her touch.

“Mmm, I bet you like that,” she teased, “You’re certainly getting very moist down there. I’ll bet that you’ll roast well, and taste delicious, though I’d want to devour your tender pussy fillet on my own, maybe even before I get you in the oven.”

Her hand left my now wanting pussy as Ollie returned, “I’ll take this one,” she said.

“The displays are not for sale; it takes us a while to get them polished up and looking this good, but I have an exact replica that I can prepare for you, and look… I’ll even throw in free delivery for you too.”

“Well, I really wanted this one,” she pined, “are you sure that I can’t take this one?”

“All of the meatgirls are cloned, so they’re all alike, and I have several just like this one ready to go. How would a 10% special discount sound to you?”

“And still free delivery, right?” the woman asked.

“Of course, that’s if you don’t want to take it with you now. I can deliver in the next few hours, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s fine then, I like the way that you do business.”

“Come with me to sort out the payment, and I’ll get one, just like this, delivered to you.” And Ollie turned to go back to the counter to ring up the sale.

Though the woman hadn’t finished with me just yet, her hand again reached between my thighs, “Sorry, my dear, I would have loved to taste and later eat that tender fillet, but I’m sure that your replacement will be just as sweet.”

Ollie left me there the rest of the day; he seemed to take great delight in bringing customers over to inspect the quality of my meat, their hands touching, pinching, and probing various parts of my body. All the while with him explaining how to prepare a meatgirl, getting the right stuffing. With one woman saying that she really enjoyed tucking into a well-stuffed womb, comparing it to a haggis, like she had had when she was a young girl.

“Put the right meat in there, and the juices overflow,” she said, while her hand explored my now well-examined pussy.

I thought that we were talking about me being meat here, not my reaction to Ollie shoving his hard penis deep inside of me, well, that too, always got my juices flowing, I reflected. I’m sure that Ollie was thinking the same thing, too.

At the end of the day, the last customer had left, and the shop was cleared and made ready for the following Monday. Sam had now departed, and the sound of the roller shutters closing made me think that I would soon be free. But after several moments, the shop sounded quiet. So where was Ollie? Surely he’d want to free me after being left here on display for the entire day.

But he’d gone upstairs and left me here, thankfully the motor was no longer turning me around, but I was left facing the wall in the alcove. Not that I could see that much with the bag over my head, just the outlines of people as they came and went. But now there was nothing, and soon I drifted off to sleep, the evening feeding letting me know that the shop was really closed, and I would be stuck here until Ollie decided otherwise.

In the morning, Sunday, after the breakfast feeding, I heard the sounds of footsteps as they approached where I was still on display.

“I hoped that you enjoyed your time being exhibited,” I heard Ollie ask. “Just a product on show,”

But I didn’t respond, I was in my meatgirl mode, he should know that I wouldn’t answer, unless he used the safeword.

“I must say that you do look good up there, and the customers really liked exploring your meat,” he continued, gleefully adding, “And I loved showing them how to prepare and cook the various delicious parts of you.”

Again, though I had loved it when he treated me just as another meatgirl, I wondered if he was about to take me down.

“Oh, and I love your new rule too, that’s why I was late coming down, I overslept but woke up next to your replacement, and well, I just had to make use of its body again.” He teased, thinking that he’d get a reaction from me.

But I remained silent, and didn’t react, even though at this point, I would maybe have preferred to come down, but my rule is strict; once bound and gagged, I’m just a product until I’m released.

“Mmm… well, meatgirl, I’m going back upstairs, as I have a hot body waiting for me to enjoy.” And he walked away. Leaving me in the display alcove.

It wasn’t until the evening feeding had come and gone, that he returned, finally grabbing me from the hook that had held me for so long and carrying my still bound body upstairs, before placing me in the new storage cabinet in our playroom. It was then that he moved the meatgirl that I’d replaced, up against my own body, along with another one that he brought out from the storeroom downstairs, and sandwiched me between them. When he told me to enjoy myself, I knew then that I wouldn’t be getting free anytime soon.

You’d think that I would have had enough after being left on display for the day and the following one, but without the customers pawing at my naked flesh. But this meatgirl is not deterred, and I rather enjoyed my time on display, and of course, the time after spent between two other meatgirls in our new storage cabinet. But my mind had been on the new storeroom, especially the new system that held the stock down in the basement. Several questions had come to mind about the new setup, especially how long it would take if placed at the end of the queue, for that meatgirl to emerge back into the main storeroom. It was something that I wanted to find out.

So I asked Ollie, who didn’t seem to know himself, “Well, in the interest of meatgirl product science, I’m willing to find out.” I told him.

“I don’t know how long you’ll be down there. It depends on how many meatgirls we sell; you could be there for days. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Look, I have some leave saved up, and of course, I won’t mind you replacing me with another meatgirl.” I offered, hoping to secure my spot, and also noticing that he hasn’t really objected to my being stored down there.

“But how will I tell that it’s you that finally moves up to the storeroom?” he asked, “I mean, you now blend in so well.”

“Doesn’t the system track where the meatgirls are?”

“Only that they’re in the storeroom and are part of the inventory,” he answered.

“Maybe you could add a sold sticker, that always seemed to work, well, most of the time anyway,” I recalled the time the sticker fell off after a massage before being put away.

“I doubt that will work, especially after that failure, no we need something else here.”

Now I knew that the idea was actually running through his mind, so in theory, I could be part of the stock if I found a way for him to recognize that it was me. It wasn’t a hard no, like it would be in the past, maybe my new rule of having the replacement meatgirl handy for him to use as he wished, had softened him a little.

“How about a rubber stamp, like a grading one? Do they still use those?” I asked.

“No, the clones are all pre-selected for their quality, so the rejects don’t make it to the shop, they’re sent off to be rendered,” and then added, “as you may recall.”

“Mmmm… I know, how about a second nipple tag on my other breast, saying ’end of stock’ or something like that, letting you know it’s time to reorder the next batch.”

“Yes… That sounds like it could work, and I could let the staff know to inform me when this certain meatgirl appears from the downstairs storage.” And then added, with a wink, “Just in case I’m busy elsewhere.”

“So I can book my leave then?”

“Well, I doubt that I can change your mind when you’re set on something, so yes, but you’d better make it soon, as we nearly have a full stock downstairs, and knowing you, you’ll want to get the full experience.”

“Thank you,” I said, jumping on his lap, before working my way down until I was on my knees, thanking him properly, as a good submissive should.

So the next day I put my leave in, taking two weeks off, but being able to extend it should I need to. Returning home, I let Ollie know that I was now free, his head shaking in resignation that I would be getting what I wanted again.

So after the shop had closed, and the staff had left, Ollie came up and collected me. I was already naked and waiting for him. He bound both wrists and ankles, then placed the gag between my lips. I savored the taste of the gag and wondered how many other meatgirls had worn this gag. After they’re prepared, the gag is now removed and replaced with a temporary one, without the hole for the feeding tube, and later probably with an apple before their destiny inside an oven.

Finally, the bag was placed over my head, the ziptie closed, and I was hauled over his shoulder and carried downstairs, but not into the basement as I thought that he would take me. He opened the main storeroom door, causing the lights to come on and stopping the meatgirls from what they were doing. He took me over to an empty spot on the rack and hung my bound wrists on the hook, that wonderful click letting me know that I was now stuck here.

He reached behind me for the next meatgirl in line, taking its nipple tag. He transferred it to mine, then he attached another one to my right nipple, as I had suggested to let staff know that I was the last of that batch, and to order the next ones. He pulled the other meatgirl from the line and left it standing there for the moment, then he got closer to where I was now hanging, after taking some more photos, of course, and leaned in so he could whisper.

“Okay, meatgirl, this is it, one last chance to back out before I send you down to the basement.” He waited for a moment for me to respond, and when I didn’t, he added, “Well, I hope that you enjoy your time as just another meatgirl. I also hope that I catch you before you’re sold, but if not, then there’s plenty of copies of you for me to take pleasure in.”

With that said, he activated the conveyor, and I felt myself moving along with it and the other meatgirls, then the line moved down, and I felt myself being carried into the basement. Again, I wondered just how long I would be down here and if I could last the entire time. But then again, I had asked, even begged for this to happen to me, and there was no real way for me to get free.

Or even if Ollie wanted to free me at this point, after all, he had a replacement for his own needs, and he could do whatever he wanted to with that meatgirl, though he could do the same with me, well, mostly, but I haven’t really found my absolute limit so far.

Once I was down in the basement storage area, the line stopped, and I hung there by my wrists in the dark, without a clue as to how long I would be here.

The only upside was that I still had a meatgirl in front of me to rub against, though Ollie had taken the one behind me. After a couple of very satisfying orgasms, I drifted off to sleep, deeply content.

The first few days passed in a slow, delicious haze. The line moved several times each day as meatgirls were sold from the rows above. I gradually worked my way along my own row, still able to press my body against the warm, soft flesh in front of me. Every time the conveyor shifted, I felt that familiar thrill, the gentle swing, the press of skin on skin, the quiet reminder that I was nothing more than another piece of hanging stock. My submissive side drank it in. This was exactly what I had begged for: to be reduced to just another meatgirl, anonymous, helpless, and enjoying every second of it.

I lost count of how many times the rhythmic rubbing with the meatgirl in front brought me to slow, rolling orgasms. There was something wonderfully peaceful about it, no decisions, no responsibilities, just the simple pleasure of warm bodies moving together in the dark. I smiled behind the gag more than once, thinking how perfectly this fulfilled my deepest fantasy. The dreams came every night, vivid and arousing.

I had been sold along with a couple of other meatgirls. We were shipped off to some fancy hotel, and I was then taken up to some penthouse suite. There, the lady of the house took great delight in getting me ready along with two other meatgirls, who seemed to be really enjoying what was happening to them. She began first, by rebinding our limbs with cooking twine, finally leaving us all exposed, face down, ass up, before pushing lots of stuffing deeply into each of our well-lubricated pussies.

Then she took her time rubbing marinade all over the bodies of all three meatgirls, before stuffing our mouths with an apple and getting the maid — who seemed very strong, almost robotic — to carry the now three prepared meatgirls into a pantry and place them on cold steel trays to let the marinade work overnight. Later, coming in to inspect the three meatgirls, I overheard her say, “Sweet dreams, little piggies. Tomorrow it’s time to roast you all.”

I heard the other two meatgirls let out a groan, like they had just climaxed, and felt the shudder that ran through their bodies, because each of us was placed so that we touched. Then I felt the gentle touch of female fingers as they began to explore my flesh. My plump rear received the first touch, checking the tender flesh. Next, my now fully packed pussy felt the long fingernails of the woman, before they found that one spot that so desperately required attention.

My pussy throbbed at the touch of her fingers, and soon she had teased out an orgasm from my tightly bound body, the heat coiling deep inside my belly before the release, leaving me a shuddering wreck while still stored on the shelf.

“Three little piggies, all in a row. One for the oven and two to know,” she sang as she left the pantry.

The dream ended with the breakfast feeding waking me up, and then the movement of the line began. I was again at a turning point to the next row, left alone again for another night. I wandered back into my dreams. This time, I was still at the penthouse, but there were several older women looking at my bound body. The same lady of the house announced that a chef was here to do a presentation on how to prepare a meatgirl for the oven.

The firm hands of the chef quickly got to work. Soon I was trussed up again, along with the other two meatgirls, but they seemed to enjoy being treated like this, the smiles on their faces giving away their little secrets. To them, this was all fun and games, but then maybe I should just accept what was happening to me and enjoy it myself, which I seemed to do in my dream. Eventually, the chef had stuffed and marinated all three meatgirls. Now bound and ready for the oven, the ladies all came over to examine our bodies, their fingers reaching several delightful places.

Before the dream was broken again, I had just been placed inside an oven. The heat was building, but I felt no regret. This was my purpose. I was just meat after all. The line moved, and I had a warm body again. I must be on the third row, but I couldn’t recall just how many were down here. Was there four or six, maybe eight? I would be down here for a long time to come.

As each day ended, the more I felt like I was just another meatgirl, just part of the stock. That previous life was just a dream like the others. There was no way that a meatgirl like me, product to be sold and consumed, would ever have any other life than this one. By the next day, I started to think that I had never been anything but a meatgirl.

My memories from past events intermingled so that I now recalled events that brought me here: the sale from the cloning yard to the wholesalers, then being auctioned off before being transported to this place, where I was currently being stored until I was bought and taken to be consumed.

My dreams had now moved on from that penthouse to a family gathering. They were having a barbecue, and I was the meat they had bought for the occasion. Again, my skin was coated in marinade. The smell was sweet, but it felt tingly on my naked flesh. The woman then began stuffing me until I was full. I seemed to recall the older woman’s face from somewhere, but at this moment, my memory was bad. She mentioned something about liking eating a fully stuffed womb. It brought back her childhood memories.

I was lying face down, my arms tightly bound behind me. I had been free of any bondage, but had not tried to escape or prevent what was happening to me. I just lay there and let them get on with preparing me, resigned to my fate. Maybe I was enjoying what they were doing to me, especially when she was forcing the stuffing deep inside me, her hand fully working its way in.

Then, after being bound, I felt the cold touch of something metal between the cheeks of my ass. It was pressed forward until it entered my rear hole. There was no pain as they continued to press the pole deep inside me. Eventually, the pole exited my mouth. There was some blood, but they were careful not to knock out my teeth, and still, there was no pain. My feet were tied to the pole, and I was then carried outside. There was an open barbecue pit with two sides that would hold the spit I was now fixed on, holding my body above the flames.

I felt the first touches of the flames as they licked at my exposed flesh, and then I started to rotate inside the barbecue. The lid closed, blocking out any other light but the flames below me. I rotated for a long while as the family checked on my state of cooking every so often. Eventually, I seemed to black out, and my dream ended.

The next day in the storeroom had begun, the breakfast feed began, followed by lunch, and then the evening one. I thought that maybe one day soon I would make it upstairs and be sold. Would I be roasted or end up on a barbecue like in my dreams? To be trussed up, stuffed, and my body coated in marinade, a meatgirl ready to be served up, either to a family or a group of people, maybe celebrating some occasion as they dug into what remained of me.

By the middle of the ten days, I had settled fully into the role. The line moved more frequently now, but I no longer tried to keep track of the days. I simply enjoyed being product. The occasional warm body pressing against mine, the steady feeding tube, the gentle sway of the hook — everything felt right. My submissive side was in heaven. I was nothing more than another meatgirl on the rack, and I loved it.

More days followed, more dreams, each one more real than the last. I did return to that penthouse one. The other two meatgirls joined me again in the pantry. We had all been prepared, marinated, and stuffed, ready for the oven the next day. But each time I was the only one who ended up inside the oven, the other two escaping my fate to later join in the feasting of my deliciously roasted body.

On the morning of Day 11, the line moved several times. Then I felt myself being lifted upward. The motion felt different, but I didn’t question it. I simply accepted whatever came next as part of my life as stock.

I finally emerged into the main storeroom. A warm body pressed against me again, and I felt a quiet, nameless joy. That night, the meatgirls began their dance once more. It was harder for me to reach climax after so many days of near-isolation, but the contact was still comforting and deeply satisfying.

Unknown to me, the staff had forgotten about the extra “end of stock” tag on my right nipple. I remained in the main storeroom for the rest of that day and into the next.

Late that afternoon, while the shop was still open, a small delivery truck backed up to the loading door. Ollie had arranged for a large portion of the stock to be moved to the new store that was about to open. I was among those selected.

Rough hands lifted me from the hook and threw me over a broad shoulder. The moment I was carried out of the storeroom and into the open air, a powerful thrill surged through me. This was it — I was being treated like real meat. No special treatment, no gentle handling, just another piece of stock being hauled out for transport.

My bound body bounced against the man’s shoulder with every step, my naked skin exposed to the cool afternoon breeze, my breasts and pussy on full display.

As I was carried toward the truck, I passed right by Ollie. He was standing at the loading area, clipboard in hand, checking off the meatgirls as they were loaded. When the worker carrying me walked past, Ollie glanced up. His eyes locked onto the extra “end of stock” tag on my right nipple. For a split second, he froze.

Then a small, knowing smile curved his lips.

He looked straight at me for a moment, his voice calm and professional as he spoke to the customer standing beside him.

“Yes, ma’am, these ones here are all going straight over to the new store today. We’re moving a big shipment of stock, over fifty meatgirls, to get the new location fully prepared and ready for opening next week. They’re all top-quality products, ‘A’ grade identical clones, perfect for roasting or the barbecue. Just routine inventory transfer. No special ones in this load… they’re all just meat.”

The words hit me like lightning. Ollie had seen the tag. He knew it was me. And he was deliberately letting me go.

A hot, dizzying wave of submissive pleasure flooded through me. My own husband had just casually confirmed to a customer that I was nothing more than part of a routine meatgirl shipment — “just meat” being sent to the new store. No rescue, no special treatment. He was allowing me to be loaded and transported exactly like the anonymous product I craved to be.

My nipples hardened instantly, my pussy clenched and grew slick with arousal. The thrill was overwhelming. I trembled with helpless delight as I was carried past him and placed inside the truck.

My wrists were hooked to an overhead rail alongside the other meatgirls. The doors slammed shut, plunging us into semi-darkness, and the engine rumbled to life. As the truck pulled away, every bump and turn pressed my naked body against the warm flesh around me.

I was being transported exactly like the product I had always fantasised about, just another piece of stock on its way to a new storeroom. The memory of Ollie’s calm voice saying “they’re all just meat” kept echoing in my mind, sending fresh sparks of submissive ecstasy through me with every jolt of the truck.

I rode the slow, rolling pleasure for the entire drive, quietly savouring every jolt, every press of skin, every reminder that right now I was nothing more than meat in transit.

When the truck arrived at the new location, the crew unloaded us efficiently. I was carried inside the still-unfinished shop and hung on a hook in the new storeroom alongside the other meatgirls. The extra tag on my right nipple stood out clearly under the work lights, but the workers, focused on setting up the new location, paid it no special attention. They simply treated me like all the rest.

Ollie arrived shortly afterward to supervise the setup. He walked slowly along the row of newly hung meatgirls until he reached me. His hand brushed lightly over my hip, a touch only I would have recognised as familiar. He leaned in close and whispered so quietly that no one else could hear.

“Enjoy yourself, my beautiful meatgirl. I’ll come collect you in a day or two… probably.”

Then he straightened up and continued his inspection as if I were nothing more than another clone on the rack.

I remained there, bound, gagged, hooded, and hanging among the stock in the new storeroom. For the next two full days, I was simply another meatgirl on the hook. The press of warm bodies against mine, the gentle sway of the line when it moved, the quiet feeding tube, the total anonymity, it all fed my submissive desires perfectly. I spent long, blissful hours lost in the slow, shared dance with the other meatgirls, riding wave after wave of quiet pleasure. Being treated as nothing more than a product felt even better here in the unfamiliar surroundings of the new store. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

On the evening of the second day, Ollie finally came for me. He lifted me off the hook, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me out to the car. The short drive home was a pleasant blur of motion and anticipation. Once there, he carried me straight into the kitchen instead of the playroom.

The clone was already there, lying face-down on the large kitchen table, tightly trussed in the same strict hogtie position as the image in my fantasies: wrists pulled behind her back and tied to her ankles, legs bent and bound together at the thighs and ankles, back arched, her oiled rear raised high and glistening under the lights.

Ollie lay me face down on the table right beside her.

“Time to prepare this second cut of meat to match,” he said casually, as if talking about any ordinary meatgirl.

He worked quickly and efficiently, binding me in the exact same way — wrists crossed and tied securely behind my back, then roped to my ankles in a firm hogtie that forced my back to arch and my rear to lift invitingly. My legs were cinched tightly together at the thighs and ankles. When he was finished, the two of us lay side by side on the table: two identical, tightly trussed meatgirls, shoulders brushing, hips touching, our raised rears presented next to each other for his viewing pleasure.

Ollie picked up the bottle of spiced oil and began coating my body, starting at my shoulders and working slowly downward. His strong hands rubbed the warm oil into my skin until I was glistening and shining just like the clone beside me. The slick, slippery feeling and the sight of my own oiled, raised rear triggered vivid flashes of my dreams — the pantry, the marinade, the slow preparation for the oven. A deep submissive shiver ran through me.

“Look at you two,” Ollie murmured appreciatively, running his hands over both our glistening rears. “Two perfect, identical cuts of meat, oiled and trussed, ready for use. Fine quality roasts, both of you.”

He then ran his hands over both our rears, caressing, squeezing, and spreading the soft cheeks.

“Mmm… I think that I should really stuff you both properly,” he teased, pressing a finger against my slick entrance before doing the same to the clone. “Get these two prime pieces nice and full before I decide what to do with you next. But first…”

He positioned himself behind us and took his time, sliding slowly into me first while his fingers worked the clone’s slick entrance, stroking and circling her clit. He fucked me with deep, deliberate thrusts, then pulled out and switched to the clone, using his fingers on me at the same time. He alternated between us like this for a long while, never leaving either of us unattended, cock in one while fingers pleasured the other, then switching again.

He brought each of us to a long, shuddering orgasm, then continued building us both up again until he finally came deep inside me with a low groan. After a short rest, he started once more, taking the clone to her second climax before finishing inside her as well.

By the time he was done, both of us were trembling, glistening with oil and sweat, our bodies spent and satisfied.

After he had thoroughly enjoyed both of us to multiple orgasms, he gave each of our glistening rears a firm, satisfied pat.

“Good little meatgirls,” he said, voice warm with pleasure. “Now it’s time to store you properly for the night.”

He lifted us one by one and carried us to the newly built kitchen pantry. He placed us side by side on the wide shelf, each of us laid face-down on a cold metal roasting tray. He adjusted the trays so our bound bodies were close enough to touch — shoulders brushing, hips pressed together, our raised, oiled rears almost touching.

Ollie stood back and admired the sight, his voice low and teasing.

“Look at that… two fine quality roasts, oiled and trussed, side by side on the pantry shelf. You’d both make excellent Sunday dinners. Maybe one day I’ll slide you both into the oven and see how well you brown up.”

He leaned in closer, his hand gently stroking my glistening rear.

“And you, my sweet little meatgirl… You really are nothing more than just another piece of meat now, aren’t you? After hanging in the storeroom, being shipped like stock, and now stored trussed up on a tray in the pantry with your clone. This is exactly where you belong.”

He gave both our rears one last affectionate squeeze, then closed the pantry door, plunging us into darkness.

I lay there on the cold metal tray beside my perfect clone, our oiled bodies gently touching, the familiar feeling of being nothing more than stored product washing over me once again. A deep, contented smile formed around my gag.

This was perfect.