Aunt Sally's Farm

Ever since I was little, I have been coming to Aunt Sally’s farm every summer. I loved seeing the livestock out in the fields, the crops growing, and hearing the sounds of nature all around. It was certainly different from living in the city, with all of the noise and lack of green spaces.

Aunt Sally is my Mum’s sister, or so I believed. I just assumed that because I called her my auntie that she was related, though that was never really made clear to me. And I didn’t consider it strange that when my mother stayed at the farmhouse, they would share the same bed. They were sisters after all, and they were very close with each other during the day. I would often see them kiss and cuddle, which seemed like a natural expression of their affection.

Later on in my life, as a teenager, I started to notice the changes that had been made to the farm. A new, large, very long barn had been erected close to the house. My Aunt had told me that it was built to house some livestock that would be arriving soon, as she was expanding the business into more profitable ventures.

But it wasn’t until my next visit, that I saw what exactly the new livestock was that she had moved her whole farm business into. I watched as the truck arrived and began unloading its cargo; I gazed in awe as a line of naked females walked from the truck and into the barn, all connected together by the collars that they wore, a small chain running from the necks of each of them to the next in line. I stood there fascinated and observed the whole unloading process until the last one had entered the barn.

I had noticed the meatgirl shops in the city; it seemed like new ones were opening every day. The trade in meatgirl flesh was booming, and it looked like Aunt Sally had gotten involved as well. She saw me observing the unloading process and came over afterward to explain what I had just witnessed.

“Well, that’s the latest batch of meatgirl clones now stored away, what do you think?” she said matter-of-factly, like this was just an everyday thing to her.

“You’re into meatgirls?” I asked, still stunned by the sudden discovery.

“Yes, well, after the animal purges, I had to diversify to keep the farm, otherwise this would have all been taken and sold by the bank. I just had to follow what other farmers are now doing, and it turned out to be much more profitable, and to be honest, much easier to manage than the previous large and heavy livestock.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I stammered.

“No one does, other than country folk; the city folk just think that food magically appears in the supermarket, they just don’t understand where it really comes from.”

“I guess so, I have several friends who have never visited a farm or even ventured out of the city who think like that,” I offered, “Even after I try to tell them, they still don’t believe me.”

Aunt Sally laughed, “Ignorant sheep that’s all they are, not like you.”

“Thanks, but that’s because of my visits here, and thanks to you too,” I replied.

“It’s good to see that you’ve grown up properly, and are filling out just like your mum,” she responded, while looking over my body. I wasn’t too sure if Aunt Sally was checking me out as a girl growing into a woman’s body, or as a potential meatgirl, as her eyes seemed to devour me.

I was wearing a tight-fitting pair of skimpy white canvas shorts along with a shortened and cut t-shirt, the front of which was tied into a knot just under my breasts so that my tummy was exposed. With the heat of the summer and my own growing desire to display my body, I loved teasing the farm hands. Even though they got to see naked meatgirls every day, they still turned their heads when I walked by. And unbeknownst to me at the time, I had also caught the eye of my Aunt as well.

Well, a girl has her own needs and desires, and one of those was to be admired, to feel their hungry eyes lingering on my long bare legs, the smooth curve of my exposed midriff, and the way my breasts strained against the thin fabric with every step. It gave me a delicious, secret thrill. I could feel their gazes like a physical touch, making my nipples tighten and a warm, slippery ache bloom between my thighs. Knowing I could make strong, capable men lose their concentration just by walking past them left me flushed and secretly wet, my body humming with arousal at the power of being so openly desired.

“Would you like me to show you the inside of the barn?” she asked, her eyes drifting slowly over my body with open appreciation. I was still slightly unsure what she liked about my body, whether she was admiring the young woman I had become… or already imagining how I might look hanging among the other meatgirls.

Wanting to please her and feeling a strange flutter of excitement at the idea, I said, “Yes, if that’s okay?”

She grabbed my hand, her rougher skin felt strange against my own soft flesh, and her grip was firm as she walked me over to the barn. Her stride was confidant, much faster than my own, but then her feet were covered by the boots that she always wore, while I loved walking around the farm in bare feet, enjoying the feel of the grass underneath, the touch of the dirt, and the cool water of the stream that ran through the farm.

Entering the barn, the warm summer air outside gave way to a slightly cooler, heavier interior. The scent of clean skin, faint herbs, and warm female bodies filled the space. As my eyes adjusted to the overhead lighting, I realized the barn was much larger than it appeared from the outside. It was divided into a long row of spacious animal pens running down both sides, each one containing a batch of meatgirl clones, the freshest ones closer to the main door.

As Aunt Sally pulled me closer, the full scene came into focus. Every meatgirl had her arms raised high above her head, wrists bound with smooth plastic cuffs and hooked securely to an overhead metal rack that ran the entire length of the pen. Their bodies hung in neat, orderly rows, their toes barely brushing the soft rubber flooring. The setup allowed just enough movement for them to sway gently and brush against one another.

I couldn’t stop staring. Their bodies were so smooth and perfect, with full, rounded breasts, soft, curved hips, and toned stomachs with no trace of hair anywhere. Their skin had a healthy sheen under the lights, and their naked forms looked almost peaceful as they hung there, completely exposed and vulnerable.

I found myself unconsciously comparing them to my own body. My breasts were similar in size and shape, but theirs seemed somehow plumper, the nipples a delicate shade darker. My hips and bottom were round like theirs, yet I wondered how mine would look hanging beside them, whether my curves would appear just as inviting when displayed so openly. A strange, warm flutter settled low in my belly at the thought.

Each girl also wore a fitted gag with a clear tube extending from it. When Aunt Sally noticed what I was staring at, she explained calmly, “The gag has a feeding tube attached. They’re fed a special liquid diet three times a day, with some extra feeds added as they progress through the barn as needed.”

“We buy these clones from the lab when they are fully formed, which is roughly 8-10 months old, and then we bring them here to fatten them up for market. It’s a lot like the old-fashioned feedlots that they used to run with cattle, I suppose… though you’ve never seen one of those. Still, that’s probably the closest way to describe it.”

“You said that they progress through the barn?” I asked, now genuinely curious.

“From the time they arrive in the truck, they are first processed, washed, weighed, and barcoded,” Aunt Sally explained. “Then they move into the first pen, where they’re left for a couple of days to acclimatize to the barn. After that, they start their daily routine: breakfast, followed by exercise out in the yard, then back for the lunchtime feed.” She paused, checking to see if I was following what she was telling me.

My mind remained fixated on the meatgirls in the pen. Their naked bodies glistened under the lights, every curve soft and inviting as they swayed gently in their restraints. I kept comparing them to myself, the way their full breasts rose and fell with each breath, the smooth flare of their hips, the plump roundness of their bottoms. Mine were so similar, yet standing here fully clothed suddenly felt wrong. I imagined myself among them, arms raised high, skin bare and gleaming, no longer the girl who teased the farm hands but simply another piece of meat on display. The warm flutter in my belly grew stronger, spreading downward until I felt a tell-tale slickness between my thighs, and made my nipples tighten beneath my thin t-shirt.

Aunt Sally noticed how transfixed I was. Her eyes lingered on me a moment longer than necessary, and I later realized she was probably wondering whether I took after my mother, who preferred women to men, the reason I had grown up with a string of “Aunties” in the city. I had caught her watching me more than once as I walked around the farm, her gaze taking in how much fuller my body had become: my curves rounder, my rear shaped like a perfect peach, my breasts now firm, ripe mounds that turned many a man’s head.

Her hand gently but firmly tugged me away from the first pen. “Here’s the next stage,” she said. “From here on, the process is much the same, other than the feeding cycle. We need to maintain the fat-to-meat ratio just right, not too much fat, but enough to make their meat tender and juicy.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that there was so much to it,” I responded, my eyes still taking in the meatgirls as they hung from the racks.

“We need to turn out a quality product, one that buyers and their customers want, having too much fat turns the meat sour, or so I’m told. Though in some cases that’s exactly what the customer wants, but we don’t cater to that particular market here. We concentrate on making the best quality livestock that we can produce in the time that we have these meatgirls here.”

“H… how long is that?” I stammered, my mind still lost in the sight of all that smooth, naked flesh.

“Usually we turn them over in about 2-3 months, but that depends on the quality of the clones that we buy, and of course, the trader’s requirements for their own customers.”

“That seems quick.”

“We’re here to make a profit, sweetheart. We’re not a holiday camp. These meatgirls cost a lot to buy and maintain, and the quicker the turnover, the more money that we make.” Sally gave a small shrug. “Anyway, enough for now. It’s time for lunch. Let’s go and eat.”

Aunt Sally prepared lunch. She was a pretty good cook, as well as efficient in running the farm, but this time she simply made some sandwiches. She brought out a tray of fresh meat from the large pantry and placed a couple of generous slices on the bread, adding tomato and lettuce to mine. She told me she preferred hers with just meat, “Nothing to get in the way of the flavor.”

Once everything was ready, we sat down at the table. The air between us felt suddenly thicker.

“Mmm, breast meat,” Aunt Sally said softly, her eyes locking onto mine as she took a slow, deliberate bite. “I just love the taste.” She chewed with obvious pleasure, her gaze drifting down to my own chest for a long, lingering moment before returning to my face. “Tuck in, my girl. This is fresh meatgirl, carved this morning.”

I was no stranger to eating meatgirl flesh, but this felt different, intensely intimate. The way she looked at me, especially at my breasts, while savoring the tender meat made the heat rise in my cheeks and a strange flutter settle low in my belly. As I took my first bite, the rich, juicy flavor burst across my tongue, warm, succulent, with just the faintest hint of spices. It was so tender it almost melted in my mouth.

For a fleeting second, I couldn’t help but imagine my own breasts on that tray, full and soft like the ones that she was currently enjoying, carved fresh and served to her with the same appreciative hunger. The thought sent an unexpected rush of warmth between my thighs.

Still, I understood exactly what she meant. The meat was incredibly fresh and flavourful, far better than anything I’d tasted in the city. As I continued eating, I remained hyper-aware of my own chest rising and falling with each breath, wondering how my flesh would compare if it were the one being savored so openly across the table.

Aunt Sally watched me eat with a small, knowing smile, her eyes never quite leaving my body.

After lunch was over, Aunt Sally went back to her farm chores while I cleaned up the kitchen. The images of all those naked meatgirls refused to leave my mind, leaving me with a strange, insistent itch that desperately needed relief. I headed up to my bedroom, already feeling flushed and restless.

I was soon lying completely naked on the bed, one hand gripping the headboard above me, the other sliding down between my thighs to seek out that delightful, aching spot. As my fingers moved through the soft, slick outer folds of my pussy and found the hidden little gem of my clit beneath, my body gave a sharp convulsion at the first electric touch. I bit my lip and soon settled into a gentle, steady rhythm, the kind that promised the wonderful release I craved so badly.

My mind drifted back to the meatgirls hanging in the barn, their naked bodies so tantalizing under the lights, smooth skin stretched tight over soft curves, full breasts gently rising and falling with each breath, completely helpless and exposed. I imagined myself right there among them: wrists bound high above my head, my own body on full display, every inch of me vulnerable and admired. No clothes, no secrets, just warm, tingling flesh waiting for whatever came next.

The fantasy sent a fresh, molten wave of heat rushing through me. My fingers moved faster, circling my swollen clit with increasing urgency. My back arched off the bed as the pleasure built higher and higher, until a soft, shuddering moan escaped my lips. The orgasm crashed over me in powerful waves, leaving me trembling, breathless, and glowing with satisfaction.

I was still lying naked on the bed, chest heaving, when the door suddenly opened.

I had barely come down from my orgasm, my body flushed a deep, rosy pink from head to toe, my skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, thighs still visibly trembling. A soft, breathless moan was still fading on my lips, and between my slightly parted legs, the evidence was unmistakable; my pussy was swollen and slick, and I could feel my clit still, sensitive and puffy from the intense attention it had just received.

She saw me lying there, completely exposed and glowing, legs slightly parted, the unmistakable slickness of my climax glistening on my inner thighs and coating my fingers. At first, she turned her head away. “Sorry, sweetheart…”

But then she paused. Slowly, she looked back, and this time her eyes drifted openly over my body with quiet appreciation, taking in my bare breasts still rising and falling rapidly with my quick breaths, the faint sheen of sweat on my skin, and the wet, shining evidence between my slightly parted thighs. A soft, knowing smile touched her lips.

“You’ve grown up so much like your mother,” she said quietly, her voice warm rather than shocked.

At first, I didn’t know what to do. I had been discovered completely naked by my Aunt, right in the middle of the afterglow of my orgasm. I thought I should die of embarrassment, and if it had been anyone else, I would have. But Aunt Sally had seen me naked many times before, especially after I’d been playing in the stream. She just smiled that warm, knowing smile of hers and said softly, “Well, it looks like you’ve been enjoying the sunshine while you’re here, judging by your tan… and by the look of things, a little bit more, hmmm?”

I felt my face burn hotter than the afternoon sun outside. My legs were still slightly parted, with one hand resting limply on my stomach, the faint sheen of my climax still visible on my inner thighs. There was no hiding what I’d been doing. Aunt Sally’s eyes moved over me slowly, not with shock or disapproval, but with that same gentle fondness she’d always shown me, now mixed with something warmer, more appreciative.

“I… I didn’t think you’d come back so soon,” I stammered, my voice shaky and barely above a whisper. I started to close my legs and reach for the sheet, but she waved a hand lightly.

“No need to scramble, sweetheart. It’s just us girls here.” She stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. “You really do look so much like your mother at your age. Same soft curves… same pretty blush when you’re caught doing something naughty.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of fresh earth on her clothes from the farm chores. Her gaze lingered on my bare breasts for a long moment, then drifted down to where my fingers had just been.

“Seeing those meatgirls really got you all worked up, didn’t they?” she asked, her tone light but knowing. “I saw the way you were staring at them before lunch. Can’t say I blame you. They’re quite the sight, smooth, bare, hanging there so peacefully.”

Aunt Sally sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, her hand resting lightly on my bare thigh. The room felt smaller, warmer, the air thick with the scent of my recent climax and now the faint earthy smell of her clothes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” she said softly, her thumb tracing a slow, soothing circle on my skin. “Our bodies have needs. Especially curious ones like yours.”

My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure that she could hear it. I nodded shyly, unable to meet her eyes for long. “I… I started wondering what it would feel like. To be like them. Just… displayed. Naked. Waiting…” I swallowed, still flushed and trembling slightly. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about them. The way they hung there, completely naked, no secrets, no hiding. It made me wonder…”

“You wondered what it would feel like to be one of them?” Aunt Sally finished for me, her voice gentle but curious. She tilted her head, studying my face. “To have your arms tied high, your body on full display for anyone to see… helpless and admired?”

I nodded shyly, unable to meet her eyes for more than a second. “Yes. It felt… exciting. Scary, but exciting.”

“Well now,” she murmured, her voice dropping softer, almost intimate, “that’s a very curious thought for a girl to have while she’s touching herself.” She gave me another small smile, this one carrying a hint of playful teasing and something deeper.

Aunt Sally’s fingers continued their slow caress along my thigh, moving a little higher, stopping just short of the still-sensitive skin between my legs.

“I see,” she murmured, a hint of warmth and something deeper in her tone. “And when you were touching yourself, imagining yourself hanging there among them… did it make you wetter?”

My breath caught. I gave another small nod, my cheeks burning.

Aunt Sally smiled, slow and knowing. “That’s a very honest answer, my girl. Most people would never admit to something like that out loud.” Her hand gave my thigh a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad that you felt safe enough to tell me. We can talk about these thoughts whenever you want. No judgment. Just us girls.”

She leaned in and brushed another stray lock of hair from my damp forehead, her touch lingering this time.

“For now, why don’t you take a little time to collect yourself? Then come downstairs when you’re ready. We’ll have an early dinner, and if you still want to… we can talk more about what it might feel like to live out some of those daydreams. Safely. With me.”

She stood up slowly, her eyes drifting over my naked body one last time with open appreciation.

“Take your time getting dressed… or don’t. Around here, we don’t hide what Mother Nature gave us.”

With that, she slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar. I lay there for several long minutes, heart still racing, skin tingling, and my mind spinning with a confusing mix of embarrassment, relief, and a growing, secret excitement about what “talking more” might actually mean.

Later, after a slightly awkward dinner, during which the earlier events in my bedroom were politely ignored, and with Aunt Sally now busy in her office with paperwork and the dishes cleaned and put away, I felt an irresistible pull drawing me back to the barn. I needed to see the meatgirls again. The images of their smooth, naked bodies had been lingering in my mind all evening, refusing to fade.

The house was quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of Aunt Sally’s desk lamp spilling under her office door. I slipped out the back door, barefoot as always, the cool night grass brushing my ankles as I crossed the yard. The barn loomed ahead, its big doors slightly ajar for ventilation.

Inside, the overhead lights had been dimmed to a low, golden hum, casting long, intimate shadows across the pens. To me, the air always felt thicker at night, warmer, heavier, carrying the faint, clean scent of the meatgirls’ skin mixed with the soft, rhythmic sounds of their breathing. My heart beat a little faster as I got closer.

I stopped just inside the doorway, hidden in the deeper shadow of a support beam, and let my eyes adjust. There they were, row after row of naked meatgirls hanging from their wrist racks, bodies gently swaying. Every so often, one would shift, and their smooth, oiled skin would brush against the girl beside her: a soft press of breast against flesh, a hip grazing another hip, quiet sighs escaping around their gags. The sight made something deep inside me tighten with longing.

The contact looked almost tender, accidental, yet it sent a slow, liquid heat pooling low in my own belly. Standing at the closest pen, I could see that their nipples had tightened in the cooler night air, and the faint sheen of sweat still glistened on their curves from their erotic dance.

I pressed my thighs together without thinking, already feeling that familiar warm ache returning between my legs.

What would it feel like? The thought slipped in uninvited, warm and insistent. To stand among them, wrists locked high above my head, completely bare and helpless, while my body slowly swayed and brushed against the others. To feel warm skin sliding against mine, soft breasts pressing into me, the quiet knowledge that I was just another pretty piece of livestock waiting to be fattened and admired.

My breath caught. Part of me wanted to step forward, to slip into an empty spot on the rack and hang there from the rack, my arms over my head, fixed in place, to become one of them for just a little while…

But then the fear hit, sharp and sudden. Aunt Sally could finish her paperwork any minute now, and she might decide to check the barn before going to bed. What would I say if she found me here, standing in the shadows with my hand already drifting under the hem of my thin nightshirt, with my cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with forbidden daydreams…

I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. The thought of her warm, knowing smile turning into something more, something that might actually lead me exactly where my fantasies were pulling me, made my stomach flutter with equal parts terror and excitement.

I stayed hidden, barely breathing, watching the gentle, helpless rubbing of their bodies for what felt like forever, my own fingers lightly tracing the edge of my thigh as the ache between my legs grew hotter. But finally, with a reluctant little sigh, I turned and slipped back toward the house before my courage, or my fear, could betray me.

I left the barn door exactly as I had found it, heart still racing, wondering how long I could keep sneaking back like this before Aunt Sally noticed… and whether, deep down, I secretly hoped that she would.

The second night, I sneaked out of the house but this time completely naked, the warm night air brushing over my bare skin as I made my way to the barn. I stood just outside the pen, my body pressed against the cool metal railing, watching the meatgirls sway and move gently in their restraints. Their soft, contented sighs drifted through the dim light, bringing a secret smile to my face.

I imagined myself among them, wrists high, body helpless and on display, but I still wasn’t brave enough to step inside and join them. Instead, my hand slid firmly between my own thighs, fingers circling that familiar little spot until a delightful, shuddering orgasm rippled through me, leaving me weak-kneed and breathless against the railing.

By the third night, though, I had summoned up enough courage to actually enter the holding pen. I tried to squeeze myself in between a couple of the meatgirls, desperate to feel their warm, smooth skin against mine. But the moment my hands brushed against them, they froze. Their bodies stiffened, and the gentle swaying stopped. Of course, my hair was another obvious problem; they could clearly see that I wasn’t one of them. They all went still, frozen, staring at me with wide, uncertain eyes, completely ruining the moment.

I retreated quickly to the house, heart pounding, narrowly missing Aunt Sally as she stepped out the front door and headed toward the barn for her usual nightly check on the meatgirls. Unknown to me at the time, there were security cameras placed inside and around the barn. She had been watching me slip in over the past few nights but hadn’t said a single word about it during the day. But at this moment, I was more concerned about the problem with not frightening the meatgirls by my being among them.

The solution for my hair was simple enough. I wasn’t about to cut it all off, but a tight rubber swimming cap would hide every strand perfectly. The next morning, I hitched a ride into town with one of the farm workers. His eyes kept drifting over my body the entire journey, especially since I hadn’t worn a bra, each bump in the road making my breasts jiggle noticeably under my thin top. I certainly enjoyed teasing him a little, shifting in my seat just enough to draw his gaze, feeling a secret thrill at the way he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes on the road.

In town, I found the perfect cap, one whose color closely matched my own skin tone, hopefully making it far less noticeable in the low barn light. While I was there, I also bought some soft, silky rope. Earlier, I had looked online and found a simple way to bind my wrists that would look convincingly helpless to the other meatgirls, yet easy enough for me to slip out of if I needed to in a hurry. By evening, with the cap and rope tucked away, I felt a nervous, excited flutter in my stomach. I was ready for my next adventure.

Once again, Aunt Sally was busy in her office with paperwork and other things. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I slipped quietly out of my bedroom, completely naked. Before leaving the house, I paused in the hallway mirror and pulled the tight rubber swimming cap snugly over my hair, tucking every strand out of sight until my head looked almost perfectly smooth, like bare skin. The sight of myself, naked, capped, and ready, sent a fresh thrill through me.

With my heart racing with nervous excitement, I slipped out the back door and ran across the yard toward the barn, the cool grass brushing against my bare feet and the warm summer air caressing my naked skin. The barn loomed ahead, its big doors slightly ajar.

Inside, the overhead lights had been dimmed again to a low, golden hum. I moved quickly to the same pen as before. With trembling hands, I made a loop of the soft, silky rope that I could attach to the overhead hook, then created another loop that would hold my wrists together, or at least appear convincingly bound to the meatgirls.

Entering the pen, I moved slowly and carefully up next to one of the girls. Reaching above me, I clipped the rope loop through the metal hook. With my wrists now “bound,” I gripped the rope tightly and let my body relax into the same hanging posture as the others. I held my breath, waiting.

This time the girl beside me didn’t startle. She shifted slightly, accepting my presence as if I belonged there. After a few moments, the whole pen began to settle, and then the gentle, erotic dance started once more, slowly swaying at first, then gradually building as their smooth, warm bodies began rubbing against one another in earnest.

The contact was immediate and overwhelming. The meatgirl in front of me pressed her back against my breasts, her soft, full curves molding warmly to mine with every gentle sway. Behind me, another girl’s breasts nestled firmly against my back, her hard nipples, already tight, dragged across my own flesh in slow, teasing circles. her hips brushing my bottom in a slow, rhythmic grind. The chain continued down the line, breast to back, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, creating a living, breathing wave of warm, naked flesh that moved as one.

The sensation was intoxicating. Warm, silky skin slid against me. I could feel the soft press of breasts, the gentle friction of nipples, the slick heat of another girl’s thigh slipping between mine. Quiet sighs and muffled breaths filled the air, the faint, sweet scent of female arousal mixing with the clean smell of their skin. Every sway of the line sent a new ripple of contact through me, a full breast molding to my back, a hip grinding softly against my bottom, a smooth belly brushing my own.

My own body responded helplessly. My nipples hardened into tight, aching peaks, brushing and rubbing against the girl in front of me with every movement. Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading outward until I was slick and throbbing between my legs. The chain of bodies pressed tighter as the dance grew more insistent, and I found myself instinctively moving with them, my bound arms high, my naked form completely surrounded and caressed by living, breathing flesh.

I stayed there for what felt like an eternity, lost in the rhythm. The constant, sensual press of breasts against my back, the slow slide of hips and thighs, the way every girl’s body seemed to seek warmth and comfort from the other, it was overwhelming. My breathing grew ragged, my heart hammering as the ache between my legs built higher and higher. I was so close to the edge, my clit swollen and pulsing, every gentle rub of skin against skin pushing me closer to release.

Just as the pleasure crested and I felt the first powerful waves beginning to build, and then the familiar fear of discovery crashed over me. washing that all away. Heart hammering, I quietly slipped free of the rope and stepped out of the pen, and I hurried back across the yard to the house, my body still tingling with unspent need, my thighs slick, and my mind spinning with the memory of warm flesh pressed so intimately against mine.

I barely made it back to my bedroom from the barn before the ache became unbearable. I collapsed onto the bed, legs spreading wide, fingers diving desperately between my thighs. I was already so wet, so swollen, so close. My fingers circled my throbbing clit with urgent, frantic strokes, the memory of breasts rubbing against my back and hips grinding against me flooding my mind. It only took a few minutes before I came hard, my back arching, a choked moan escaping my lips as intense waves of pleasure crashed through me, leaving me shaking and gasping for breath on the sheets.

Even after the climax faded, my body still hummed with residual heat. I lay there panting, fingers still lightly stroking my sensitive folds, wondering how much longer I could keep sneaking to the barn before the fantasy consumed me completely.

The following morning, I came down for breakfast. Aunt Sally was already sitting at the table, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. She looked up as I entered and greeted me with a wry smile on her face.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well last night?”

“Yes, thanks, the best sleep that I’ve had in ages,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but slightly concerned by the look on her face.

“Mmm, must be all that fresh, night air,” she teased, her smile growing wider.

“Urm, yes, maybe…” I stammered, suddenly feeling a flicker of unease at the knowing look in her eyes.

“Or just maybe, it’s all the extra exercise you’ve been getting,” she added, smirking.

“The walks have been good for me,” I replied, still unsure where this was heading.

“Yes… the walks,” she repeated, making air quotes with her fingers around the word. “They certainly seem to have put a lovely rosy glow on your cheeks.”

My face flushed hot with embarrassment. Had she caught me in the barn at night? Before I could respond, she slid a sheet of paper across the table toward me. It was a printed photo, clear, sharp, and unmistakably me, standing naked in the barn, body pressed against the railing, one hand between my thighs.

“Oh…” I breathed, the word barely audible.

“Yes. ‘Oh’ would be exactly what I’d say too,” she said, her tone light but amused.

“I didn’t mean for you to…”

“Find out?” she finished for me. “You do realize there are security cameras around the farm, especially in and around the barn.” She tapped the photo. “And it seems that you have a certain, shall we say, desire to experience the joys of being a meatgirl.”

I stood there stunned. I had been caught red-handed, my naked body clearly captured in the image. Then she brought out a second photo, this one from last night, showing me slipping into the pen, binding my wrists, and pressing myself among the other girls.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Last night was particularly impressive,” Aunt Sally continued, her voice warm with amusement. “I couldn’t quite believe it when I saw the footage. There you were, entering the pen completely naked, carefully binding yourself to the hook, then squeezing in among the meatgirls and enjoying every moment of their little erotic dance. I even walked down to the barn to check on you myself, but you were far too preoccupied to even notice me.”

“Oh no… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I started, but she gently interrupted.

“Mean to be caught? Or mean to find out what it’s really like to be a meatgirl?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Both, I guess,” I whispered, mortified. “I’d better pack my things and leave…”

“Why, sweetheart? There’s no need for that.” Her expression softened. “If you want to explore what it feels like to be a meatgirl, why didn’t you just come to me and ask?”

“I thought you’d think I was weird… or worse, crazy. I couldn’t do that.”

“But it’s okay to sneak around behind my back?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I didn’t mean for this to happen, it’s just…”

“You’re curious, I get that. All girls are curious about their sexuality when they grow up, and what their needs and desires are,” she said, “I was too at your age, and found that I prefer girls to boys, and that I’m more attracted to women.”

“Oh… I didn’t know…”

“But you must have guessed, with your mother spending so much time here and sharing my bed every night.”

“I just thought… since you were sisters, that’s what sisters did.”

“Sisters?” Aunt Sally laughed softly. “Is that what she told you? Yes, that does sound like her. She wanted to keep it hidden that we were lovers. We shared that bed for years.”

“Well, I did start to put things into place when I had several ‘Aunts’ over the years.” I replied, my confusion slowly clearing, “But are you my real aunt or not?”

“I’m your real auntie, always have been, always will be,” she said warmly. “Just not on your mother’s side of the family. It’s a pretty complicated story, and the topic for another day. But right now, we need to decide what to do about your little night-time adventures.”

“Oh, really, you’re not angry?”

“More disappointed that you didn’t feel you could ask me. I want you to know you can come to me with anything, to explore your needs and desires safely, with whatever you feel comfortable with doing and with someone who deeply cares about you.”

“So, I can stay then?”

“Of course you can stay, sweetheart. As long as you like.” She reached across and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “But we do need to set some ground rules first.”

“Okay.”

“First, and most importantly, absolutely no daytime barn action unless I know about it beforehand. I don’t want the farmhands finding out about you. They’re good men, but this is something that stays strictly between us girls. Understood?”

“Yes, that would be… embarrassing,” I murmured, my cheeks warming.

“Good girl,” she said with a soft smile. “Second, if you want the full experience, I will set you up in the barn myself and treat you exactly like any other meatgirl. Then I’ll come and release you in the morning.”

“So… I can actually spend the whole night in there?”

“Yes. That’s really the only way you’ll get to feel what it’s truly like.” She studied my face for a moment, her gaze warm but serious. “But, I’ll be quite hands-on with your body while I’m getting you in place. Are you comfortable with that?”

I swallowed; my heart was now racing, but I nodded. “Yes… I trust you. Whatever you need to do to me, I’m okay with it.”

“Right. That’s settled then.” Aunt Sally smiled, a spark of playful excitement in her eyes. “Tonight, I’ll bind you, but this time properly, and then place you among the meatgirls until morning. I suggest that you get plenty of rest today, it’s going to be a long night ahead for you.”

“Okay, noted.”

“And one more thing,” she added, her gaze drifting slowly over my body. “I want you to remain completely naked from now on while you’re here. Not only because I enjoy seeing you that way… but because any tight clothing leaves marks on your skin that could give you away. The meatgirls arrive naked and leave that way… so should you.”

That night, my body was shaking as we headed for the barn. I was completely naked, except for the rubber cap on my head, walking beside Aunt Sally, who was still dressed in her practical work clothes. The contrast made me feel less like her niece and more like I was just a product. And whether it was the chill of the night air or my own nervousness, or maybe a bit of both, I couldn’t stop trembling.

As we stood outside the barn door, she turned to me, her expression soft but serious. “Are you still sure you want to go ahead with this, sweetheart?”

“Yes… please,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Right, from this point on, you’re going to be nothing more than another meatgirl, no more talking, in fact, it’s time to gag you.” She brought out a gag from her pocket, “Open.”

I obediently opened my mouth. She pressed the gag between my lips and carefully adjusted the straps around my head until it was snug and secure. With one final check, she tickled my sides lightly; the only sound that escaped was a muffled squeak. I was ready.

“Now for your wrists,” she continued. “Once we’re inside, I’ll put them through the machine. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. It just applies the plastic cuffs. Then I’ll carry you into the pen.”

I nodded, feeling my nipples tighten at the thought of her carrying me like the others.

“Okay, let’s go, meatgirl, I’ve got things to do.”

I followed her into the dimly lit barn. She led me over to a compact machine mounted on the wall. As promised, it didn’t hurt at all, just a quick series of clicks, and when it finished, my wrists were securely bound together in front of me with smooth, sturdy plastic cuffs. I hadn’t noticed that the meatgirls wore plastic cuffs, but I guess that it made economic sense when you’re dealing with hundreds of meatgirls.

She turned me around, inspected the cuffs, then bent slightly and hoisted me effortlessly over her shoulder. My body draped across her like a sack of grain, bent at the waist, arms hanging down her back, legs dangling in front. She adjusted me carefully, one strong hand wrapping around my bare bottom, her fingers resting dangerously close between my thighs, just inches from my already slick, aching sweet spot. If she had slid them any closer, she would have known exactly how wet and turned on I was. And at that moment, I wasn’t sure that I would have objected.

She carried me to the holding pen closest to the barn door, the same first-batch pen I had sneaked into the night before. Opening the gate, she stepped inside and carried me over to an empty hook on the overhead rack. She lowered my feet to the floor, then lifted my bound wrists and clipped them securely to the hook.

Her hands then began to roam slowly down my body, stroking, caressing, teasing every curve. Her touch sent sparks straight to my core; my breasts felt heavy and tender under her palms as she gently squeezed and played with them, teasing my nipples until they ached. She pressed all the right buttons, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. I began to wonder how much further I wanted her to go… and whether I would have the courage to ask.

She attached the feeding tube to my gag with practiced ease, and then pressed me forward until my body was flush against the back of the meatgirl in front of me. Another girl was eased in behind me, sandwiching me tightly between two warm, smooth bodies. Aunt Sally moved along the line, pressing each meatgirl firmly against the next until the entire row was snug and compact, until she was satisfied with her work.

The sound of the pen closing let me know that I was stuck here now until she decided to release me. I would be remaining here for the rest of the night, and there was no going back, no way for me to signal to let her know if I had changed my mind; this was it, this was what I had wanted. I was just now another meatgirl in the barn.

Eventually, the meatgirls started their gentle night-time dance, the slow, sensual swaying and rubbing against each other’s bodies, seeking warmth and comfort, enjoying their special moment. I joined in, pressing and sliding against the two bodies surrounding me.

It felt delightful, the sensuous way that they moved their bodies, the tactile feel of soft skin on skin, our sweat intermingling, the shared heat and faint scent of female arousal filling the air. The chain continued down the line, breast to back, hip to hip, creating a living wave of warm, naked flesh.

I stayed there for what felt like hours, lost in the rhythm. My body grew hotter and more desperate with every gentle rub and sigh. The constant, intimate contact pushed me closer and closer to the edge, until eventually the moment came, well, especially for me, my first orgasm among the meatgirls came hard and fast. My body tensed, a choked, muffled cry escaping around the gag as pleasure crashed through me. I hoped Aunt Sally was watching on the cameras as I shuddered helplessly between the other girls. I had just experienced the most joyous moment of my short life.

I hung there resting for a brief while before they all started up their second round of the evening, but this time it took far longer for me to orgasm, and it was even more intense than the first one. I think that I blacked out for a moment. And when I came too, everything in the barn was quiet. The lighting had changed to a red color, making it harder to make things out, and I guessed that it was time to sleep.

In the morning, I was woken up by the feeding tube, the cool liquid running over my tongue; the first feeding of the day. By now most of the meatgirls had woken up and began moving, not the erotic dance of the night, more that they were stretching their tired muscles with soft, sleepy movements.

I began to wonder when my Aunt would come and fetch me from the barn… but the secret, shameful little thought lingered that maybe, just maybe, that she would leave me here for the rest of the day.

Shortly after the feeding stopped, I felt cold, impersonal hands on my body, lifting me up so that I could slip free of the hook holding me in place. Without any word spoken, I was then turned around, and there was Aunt Sally’s smiling face.

She hoisted me effortlessly over her shoulder like any other meatgirl, and then carried me out of the pen and towards the barn door. But if I thought that I was about to be free, I was wrong.

Instead of taking me straight inside the house, she walked across the yard with my naked body draped over her shoulder, my bare bottom and slick thighs completely exposed to the morning air, like I was just a piece of meat, which I guess that I was at that moment.

She stopped to speak with two farmhands who had just arrived for work, giving them their morning tasks as casually as if I weren’t there at all. To them, I was simply another meatgirl being moved around the farm, and they took no notice of me.

Her hand rested on my bare bottom the entire time, patting and squeezing it lightly while she talked, occasionally using the grip to make a point. The exposure was mortifying. I could feel their eyes on me, on my naked breasts hanging down her back, on my spread thighs, on the unmistakable slickness still glistening between my legs from the night before. I was no longer Vicky. At that moment, I was just meat. The embarrassment burned through me, hot and deep, yet it also sent a fresh, shameful wave of arousal pooling low in my belly.

But eventually she turned and headed to the house, bringing me inside, before placing me down in the kitchen on a chair. She removed the gag and gave me a glass of water to drink, but she left the tie around my wrists for now; it didn’t even occur to me that I was still wearing them.

“How was your night?” she asked, that knowing smile still playing on her lips.

“Wonderful,” I replied. between sips of water.

“Everything that you imagined?”

“Oh… much more,” I admitted, cheeks flushing hot. “And the way you carried me across the yard while talking to the farm hands… that was just so…”

“Erotic,” she finished for me, her eyes sparkling. “Having you so exposed and helpless under their gaze turned me on more than I expected to.”

“Yes… it was delicious,” I breathed, still feeling the burn of embarrassment. “But I have to honestly admit that when your fingers were so close between my thighs… it made me so wet.”

“I thought you might like that,” she said with a soft laugh. “It was a treat for me as well. But for now, enough talk, or I might do something I’ll possibly regret, especially with you still naked, bound, and smelling so strongly of sex.” She gave me a gentle nudge towards the stairs. “Go take a shower and get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve earned it.”

Later that day, after I had slept like a baby, I wandered downstairs to the kitchen, still completely naked as Aunt Sally had requested. I opened the fridge to make myself a snack and found a plate of sandwiches she had prepared for me, along with a handwritten note:

‘Enjoy the taste of meatgirls, sweetheart. You’ll soon be joining them again.’

My tummy flipped with a rush of nervous excitement. I hadn’t expected her to let me go back to the barn so soon.

Aunt Sally joined me shortly after, finding me sitting naked at the kitchen table. I was doing exactly as she had asked, remaining fully nude while in the house. It felt like a small, easy way to repay her kindness, which she seemed to enjoy, and also for the freedom she was giving me to explore my hidden desires.

“Feeling better?” she asked, her eyes drifting slowly and appreciatively over my bare body.

“Much better, thanks, Auntie.”

“Good.” She smiled and leaned against the counter, her gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Do you want to go again tonight, or would you like to try something else?”

“I think I want to go back to the barn,” I replied, my curiosity piqued about what the “something else” might be, and whether I would like it.

“Okay, that’s fine,” she said gently, though her voice had taken on a slightly huskier note. “But if you change your mind at any point, please tell me. I want you to feel completely open and free to express your wants, needs, wishes, and desires so we can explore them together.”

“Well… I really do want to go back to the barn,” I continued, watching her face carefully, “but this time I want more than just one night. I want to stay for the entire day… if that’s okay with you. I know you didn’t want the staff finding out about me, but is there any way that I could try?”

“Mmm, yes… there is a way,” she replied slowly, stepping closer and resting a warm hand lightly on my bare shoulder. “But I’m not sure you’ll like what it involves.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind,” I said softly, feeling a flutter low in my belly at her touch. “I trust you to do whatever you need to make this happen. And please feel free to use me however you think is best. I know there’s more that you want to do with me, or to me… but can we do that in small stages, until I feel ready for that?”

Aunt Sally’s fingers gave my shoulder a gentle, lingering squeeze. Her eyes darkened with quiet hunger as she looked down at my naked body, then back up to meet my gaze.

“Noted. Small stages it is,” she said with a warm smile, clearly understanding I was hinting at exploring my sexuality with her as well. The way she said it carried a promise, slow, deliberate, and full of unspoken possibilities between us.

She let her hand slide slowly down my arm before pulling away, ever so briefly, the tips of her fingers brushed against the side of my breast, though the heat of her touch lingered on my skin. “But for the full daytime meatgirl experience, it would require quite a bit more preparation. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my pulse quickening under her attentive gaze.

“Well, the rubber swimming cap works fine for the meatgirls during the night, but for the staff handling you, it’s not; they would spot it immediately during the day,” she explained, her eyes tracing the curve of my breasts as she spoke. “So the hair would have to go.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize…”

“Everywhere,” she added, her eyes flicking down to my already smooth crotch with an amused smile. “Though I can happily see you already keep yourself nice and bare down there, ready and available.”

“It just feels better… cleaner… and much smoother too.”

“Yes,” she breathed, the word carrying a hint of desire, “and much better to devour.”

I swallowed nervously at her comment, heat rising in my cheeks and elsewhere. But then a delightful tingle began spreading outwards from between my legs, my pussy felt the first flush of arousal, my nipples joining in and standing to attention.

“Well, I guess, I did ask for the whole day, so as long as it’ll grow back later, I guess… that’ll be okay,” I replied.

“It will, as long as you don’t overuse the special shower gel too often. That one removes hair permanently. I’ve used it on myself.” Aunt Sally raised her arm and showed her perfectly smooth underarm, then let her gaze drift openly over my body again. “It never grows back here… or anywhere else.”

“Well, I won’t miss the body hair either,” I laughed softly, feeling strangely thrilled by the idea under her hungry stare. “But is there anything else?”

“If you remember what I told you on the tour, when the meatgirls arrive by truck, they are processed, washed, weighed, and barcoded before going into the pens,” she said, her tone still warm but now laced with quiet excitement. “So you’ll have to be registered in the system and barcoded like the others.”

“Oh, so is this permanent?” I asked.

“Yes, the barcode is applied by a machine that sinks the ink deeply into your tissue, but after a few years it should fade away,” she told me, stepping just a little closer again. “So no bikinis on the beach.”

“Or nude sunbathing!” I laughed, my voice breathier than I intended.

“Unless you’re alone… or with someone who knows your dirty little secret.”

“Like you, I guess.”

“Yup.” Her smile turned playful yet possessive. “But your secret is safe with me, my little meat sack.”

“It doesn’t sound so bad,” I said, my heart racing. “My hair will grow back, and I can live with the barcode. So… when can we do it?”

“Tonight, if you want to,” she replied, her fingers lightly brushing my arm once more. “I’ll run you through the full processing myself, and then leave you in the pen with the other meatgirls for the staff to handle in the morning.” She paused, her expression turning a little more serious, though the heat in her eyes remained. “But be aware, to them you’ll be just another piece of meat. Their hands will touch your body freely. It disgusts me a little at the thought, but if that’s truly what you want, I won’t stop it.”

“If we do this, I guess I’ll owe you,” I said quietly, meeting her gaze. “Maybe you can think of some way I can reward you afterwards.”

“You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice low and intimate. “But if you want to do something for me later… that’s entirely up to you. I’m not forcing anything.” Her eyes flicked down to my lips for the briefest moment before returning to mine. “So… tonight it is, then?”

I took a deep breath, excitement and nervous desire swirling in my stomach.

“Tonight it is.”

After the farm hands had left for the day, Aunt Sally brought me over to the processing shed attached to the barn. Inside was a wash-bay that the meatgirls passed through; the same overhead racking system that held them in their pens ran straight through the middle of the machine. I was already naked, my wrists re-bound with the familiar plastic ties, and now ready for processing. Aunt Sally seemed more intense tonight, treating me less like her niece and more like just another piece of stock to be dealt with. The shift in her tone sent a quiet thrill through me.

“Sorry to rush you through this,” she said, her voice brisk, “but I have something else I need to attend to tonight, so we need to get on.”

“That’s okay,” I replied softly. “Please, just treat me as part of the stock.” Even as I said it, I wondered what had her so excited.

“Right then. Let’s get you washed.” Her hands lingered on my naked body for a long moment, almost possessively, before she raised my arms and fastened my wrists to the waiting hook above. “Keep your eyes closed as it’ll sting. And don’t open your mouth, as it doesn’t taste nice either.”

She then pressed a switch, and the rack began moving, taking me inside of the wash-bay, and I prepared myself for the first wave. The jets of water instantly started, they hit hard and cold, and even though I kept my eyes closed, it still seemed to seep in, as it did to my mouth, and the taste was indeed bitter. The rack then moved me along to the next spray; this time, though, it was just a water rinse. Then came the hot air dryer, which blew away any lingering hair that was left on my body.

Further along, a green light scanned me from head to toe. A screen flashed my results: Grade ‘A’ meatgirl. Then came the cold press of the barcode machine against my skin. It was quick, a sharp prick and a deep hum, and when I emerged on the other side, Aunt Sally was waiting. Her eyes slowly drank in my transformed, fully bald, naked body hanging there on full display, completely available to her if she wished.

She was on the phone, her voice low and warm. “I’m just finishing processing another meatgirl. Once I’m done, I’ll be over. You bring your body… and I’ll bring the ropes.” She winked at me as she spoke.

“New girlfriend,” she whispered, covering the mouthpiece for a second and pointing at the phone with a playful smile.

I didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or happy for her. A small sting of rejection twisted in my chest; she had someone else to satisfy her needs tonight. But then I reminded myself: this was what I had asked for. I wanted to be a meatgirl, and Aunt Sally had her own desires that needed tending to as well.

She held the phone with one hand and picked up a scanner with the other, running it slowly over my freshly minted barcode to register me into the farm’s system. I was now officially part of the stock. For the next twenty-four hours, or longer, if she decided, I would remain one of them, until she decided otherwise. As she continued her conversation, her eyes remained fixed on my naked flesh hanging there. Her free hand roamed openly over my bare body, tracing my curves and leaving goosebumps wherever her fingers brushed.

When she finally ended the call, she turned her full attention back to me. Her hand moved to my breast, squeezing the firm flesh appreciatively. “So tender and plump… these would make excellent breast fillets,” she murmured, then bent down and slowly licked my nipple, making it harden instantly under her tongue. “It’s a shame to waste such fine meat… but this is what you wanted, after all.”

She reached over and then picked up the gag, “Open my little sweetmeat, let me wrap those delicious lips around this gag.”

Once I was properly gagged, barcoded, and helpless, her hands began to explore again. “I know I said small steps,” she said, her voice low and husky with barely restrained desire, “but looking at you like this… It’s just too tempting.” Her fingers trailed from my breasts, down my stretched belly, and between my thighs. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a little reward right now. Of course, if you object… just say something.” She laughed softly, knowing that I couldn’t with the gag in place.

Anyway, I didn’t need to object. Maybe I had secretly wanted this all along, but had been too shy to ask. Being bound and gagged made it easy; I was simply available for her pleasure.

Her fingers pressed between my soft outer lips, finding my swollen little button and circling it expertly. And to her surprise, I opened my thighs as much as I could while suspended from the overhead rack, getting a smile from her. Her touch felt incredible, her fingers sliding deeper, stroking me in all the right places until my body was trembling with building heat.

She played with me for several long, delicious minutes before suddenly stopping, leaving me wanting. She lifted her glistening fingers to her mouth and licked them slowly, sensuously, savoring the taste of my arousal with obvious pleasure.

“Sorry, my love,” she teased, her eyes dark with want, “but I have other plans tonight… and so do you.” She gave my cheek a gentle pat. “Time to put you where you belong.”

She hoisted me easily over her shoulder and carried me into the main barn. Opening one of the holding pens, she found an empty hook between two meatgirls and lifted me up, securing my cuffs to it. She then adjusted the girls on either side until I was pressed snugly between their warm, smooth bodies. With one final, lingering look at my helpless form, she slipped out of the barn, leaving me to the night.

That night, I joined in fully with the meatgirls in their erotic dance, though this time it didn’t take me that long to reach my first orgasm. After being played with by Aunt Sally, I was already turned on, and I just needed the final push to go over the edge. By the time my third orgasm had run its course through my body, I was exhausted and promptly fell asleep.

The morning feeding woke me up, but if I thought that I would soon be free, like before, I would shortly find out that I was mistaken; I was here for the full 24. The farm hands started to enter the barn, going through each holding pen to check on the meatgirls. Then one pen after another, they began removing the meatgirls, but not by carrying them. Instead, they activated the motorized overhead rack, sliding entire sections of pens along the track and out through the rear doors toward the exercise yard. One pen after another disappeared.

When it was my turn, I was moved along the rack past the other pens and out the rear of the barn, where there were several turntables; each resembled a large version of a washing line, with several arms radiating out from the central pole. There were several fixing points, and soon one of the hands lifted me off the rack and, with rough, practiced ease, hooked my wrist cuffs to an outer arm of the nearest turntable. To him, I was simply stock. The casual handling made my stomach flutter. I was no longer Aunt Sally’s niece; I was just meat.

Once the turntable was full, it began rotating, taking all of the meatgirls along with it, some of the newer meatgirls stumbling as it began, while others, more seasoned to this treatment, took it in their stride. We began walking around in circles. I looked out at the poor meatgirls on the outer part of the arm; I pitied them, they had to walk much further than those on the inside. After what felt like several hours, though time had little meaning for a meatgirl, the hands began to remove the ones that had completed their daily exercise, while replacing them with fresh ones, ready for the next round.

I was again carried the short distance to the rack, my wrists held up by the hook. I was now again trapped here. Soon, the rack began to move, and as we entered a shed, I could see a wash-bay ahead, and I recalled what my Aunt had told me about how too many washes would render my hair unable to regrow. But whatever worries or concerns that I had, were soon washed away, along with the sweat and grime from being outside.

Clean and dripping, I was moved deeper into the barn and placed into a new pen, this time at least three sections further from the main door. I began to wonder how many pens actually filled the barn, and how long it would take for a meatgirl to travel from one end to the other, the end where they were prepared for sale. Aunt Sally had said the usual stay was 2-3 months. I reminded myself that I was only supposed to be here for twenty-four hours… but with no sign of her yet, that reassurance felt increasingly thin.

I thought that my Aunt would be here later this evening, or maybe she would wait and let me stay another night. Well, I was beginning to hope so. But then my thoughts drifted to what we would be doing after I was free. I had mentioned some form of reward for her, and she had already taken some of that from me when I was bound in the processing shed. Could I expect more of the same? Would I like it, and more to the point, could I do that to her? I was so inexperienced when it came to sex and the hidden signals that people use.

Then the night feeding came, and the lights dimmed down again, signifying it was time to sleep, but there was still no sign of my Aunt. Where was she, was she alright? Or did she decide to leave me here longer, even overnight again? But my thoughts were soon distracted by the movements of the meatgirls around me, and I again joined in their merry dance, before drifting off to a peaceful and very contented sleep.

The morning feed woke me again, another day here in the barn. How long would I remain in here? I had no idea, but there was very little, if anything, that I could do about it. The farmhands again began their day, but still there was no sign of my auntie. I was beginning to feel concerned about her; had something happened to her, maybe she’d been in an accident. But then that would leave me here to be processed along with the other meatgirls, with no one to stop the process, I could end up being sold… or worse.

The exercise routine started, followed by the shower afterward, and now I was really concerned about my hair. The lunchtime feed came and went, the staff were busy around the barn, but still, there was no sign of my Aunt. It wasn’t until the end of the day that I eventually spotted her; she was busy with one of her staff, and hadn’t checked on me, or even looked in my direction. She appeared to be giving the staff member a direction, and handed him the barcode scanner.

The staff member walked over to the pen that I was currently hanging in, opening the gate, he entered and began scanning the meatgirls, but each one was not the one that he was looking for. To him, I guess they all looked the same, but he was carrying out his given instruction. He moved along the line until the scanner eventually registered the meatgirl that he was after.

“Finally, I’ve found it,” he said, “Though I don’t know why she wants this one, but I guess that the boss has her reasons. Okay, you, it’s time for you to head for the oven.”

Picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder, I wasn’t too sure what he meant when he said something about an oven. Was I about to be roasted? Surely not, I don’t imagine that my auntie would allow that. But whatever was going to happen was out of my hands, I was in his rough but steady ones, holding me firmly over his shoulder, he carried me out of the barn and over towards the house.

Once inside, he headed for the kitchen, where the oven was. Oven? A cold spike of fear shot through me. Surely Aunt Sally wouldn’t let them roast me…

But then he walked over to the pantry and took me inside. There were a couple of hooks in the ceiling, and he lifted me easily and hung my wrist cuffs from one of them. Another meatgirl was already suspended there, so I guess that I wouldn’t be alone. The hook was slightly higher than the ones in the barn, so my feet didn’t quite reach the floor, so I was hung from my bound wrists, leaving my toes just brushing the floor. It didn’t hurt, I found that the plastic cuffs were surprisingly comfortable.

With one final check that I was secure, he gave my bare bottom a casual pat and left, closing the pantry door behind him with a soft click.

I hung there in the dim, cool space, my heart still racing from hearing the word “oven,” and wondering how long I would remain like this… and whether Aunt Sally would come for me tonight, or leave me hanging here even longer.

Finally, long after the evening had given way to the night, Aunt Sally entered the pantry. I had been hanging there for what felt like hours, my arms stretched comfortably above me, toes barely brushing the cool floor. The other meatgirl beside me remained silent and still, a warm, anonymous presence in the dim light.

She walked over to where I was hanging, she didn’t greet me, and she didn’t call me by name. Instead, she looked me over with the calm, appraising eye of a farmer examining prime stock and began to inspect my body, which made me feel like she was eyeing me up for dinner.

Her hands moved over my body with slow, deliberate touches in various places, as though I truly were nothing more than another meatgirl hanging in her pantry. All the while commenting on which parts of me were great to roast, while other parts would be used in other dishes.

“Mmm… such smooth, even skin,” she murmured, running her palms down my sides. “Perfect for roasting. These flanks would crisp up beautifully.” Her fingers pressed gently into the flesh just above my hips, testing the give. “Nice layer of fat here, tender and juicy.”

She continued her inspection, cupping the underside of one breast and lifting it slightly. “These are excellent. Firm, well-shaped… they’d make lovely breast fillets. Or perhaps slow-roasted whole with a little herb butter.” Her thumb brushed across my nipple, which instantly tightened into a hard little nub, begging for more attention. A soft smile touched her lips, but she still gave no sign that she recognized me as her niece.

She moved to the other breast, squeezing it gently, weighing it in her hand. “Yes… very fine quality. Grade A all the way.” Her mouth lowered, and her warm tongue flicked across one stiff peak, then the other, teasing them with slow, deliberate circles until I trembled in my bonds. A quiet, muffled whimper escaped around my gag.

Her hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my waist and belly. “This tummy is so soft and smooth… perfect for slicing thin and pan-searing, or leaving whole for a nice stuffed roast.”

One hand drifted between my slightly parted thighs, cupping me possessively. “And this sweet little cut… so tender and responsive. Would make an exquisite pussy fillet, or perhaps kept intact for slow braising.” Her fingers stroked lightly along my outer lips, not quite giving me what I craved, but enough to make my hips twitch helplessly.

All the while she spoke in that calm, matter-of-fact tone, never once acknowledging that I was her niece Vicky. To her right now, I was simply meat, warm, naked, and completely at her mercy.

She stepped even closer, her body pressing lightly against mine as she held me steady by the waist. Her mouth returned to my breasts, licking and sucking each sensitive nipple in turn while her hands continued their slow exploration, squeezing my bottom, stroking my thighs, occasionally dipping between my legs to tease the slick heat she found there. Every touch sent sparks through me, my body responding eagerly despite the helplessness of my position.

After several long, torturous minutes, she finally pulled back. Her eyes flicked briefly to the other meatgirl hanging silently beside me.

She gave the other girl’s hip a casual pat, almost dismissive. “You’re coming along nicely too,” she said offhandedly, “but you’ll keep for tomorrow.” Then she turned her attention back to me for one final, lingering look, her gaze dark with hunger and something deeper, before stepping away without another word.

My mind spun with a dizzying mix of arousal, frustration, and quiet longing. She had touched me like I was hers to use… yet she had walked away, leaving me suspended between the reality of being her niece and the fantasy of being nothing more than her meat.

Aunt Sally left the pantry shortly after her inspection, the soft click of the door echoing in the quiet space. She didn’t say goodnight. She didn’t offer any reassurance. She simply turned off the kitchen light and went upstairs, leaving me hanging there in the cool darkness alongside the silent meatgirl.

I remained suspended by my wrists all night, toes barely brushing the floor, my body gently swaying whenever I shifted. The other girl’s warmth radiated faintly beside me. I was truly left as meat overnight, forgotten in the pantry until morning.

The next day began with the click of the pantry door. Aunt Sally entered, still dressed in her casual work clothes, and looked at both of us with calm, professional eyes.

“Time to prepare my two girls for the oven,” she said matter-of-factly, and then faced me. “This is the reward that I’ve chosen for your time as my sweet little meatgirl.”

She lifted me down first, then the other meatgirl, and laid us both side by side on the large wooden workbench in the kitchen. My wrists were freed from the plastic cuffs, but I made no attempt to move. I lay there on my back, completely naked and smooth, next to the other girl. A strange, floating acceptance had settled over me. I was just meat now. This was what I had asked for. Whatever happened next… I would accept it as her reward.

Aunt Sally began with a thorough cleaning. She wiped our skin with damp cloths, then used a soft brush and mild solution to make sure every inch was spotless. Her hands moved over me with slow, lingering care, lifting my arms, turning my hips, gently spreading my legs to clean between them. She paid special attention to my breasts, my belly, and the smooth, sensitive area between my thighs.

“Such lovely, even skin,” she murmured, her voice warm and intimate. “This will take the marinade so beautifully… and I’m going to enjoy every second of preparing you.”

Once we were clean and dry, she mixed a fragrant blend of herbs, oil, and spices, then began coating us both in her special sauce. Her hands glided over my body with deliberate sensuality. She poured the mixture across my breasts, squeezing and massaging it into the soft flesh until they glistened. Her palms worked it into my belly, my thighs, and between my legs, her fingers sliding slowly along my most intimate folds with slow, teasing strokes.

The cool, slippery liquid made my skin tingle and my nipples harden into tight peaks under her touch. I lay perfectly still, not resisting, not speaking. The intimate way she was touching me, as both Aunt and lover, sent waves of quiet arousal through me. This was her reward, and I was giving it to her willingly.

Aunt Sally’s breathing had grown deeper, more heated. She moved with unhurried pleasure, clearly savoring the chance to touch and prepare me so thoroughly. I remained lying there obediently, arms at my sides, legs slightly parted, glistening with marinade, offering myself to her without hesitation.

She smiled, eyes dark with desire as she looked down at my submissive form.

Satisfied, she moved on to the next stage. She began trussing us.

First, my legs. She folded each calf against my thigh, then pressed my heels up toward my bottom, binding them securely so my legs were tucked into my body. With a gentle push, she rolled me over onto my front, so that I now lie face-down on the workbench, my rear raised and fully exposed.

Next came my arms, they were folded neatly behind my back, wrists crossed and bound tightly with soft butcher’s twine. The ropes were snug but not painful, rendering my arms completely useless. The position left me completely open and vulnerable to her, my bound limbs pulled tight and helpless.

The other meatgirl was trussed in exactly the same way beside me.

Aunt Sally stepped back for a moment to admire her work, then reached for the large bowl of stuffing mixture. She stood between us, one hand resting possessively on my bound, upturned bottom, her fingers tracing the cleft between my cheeks with open affection.

“Now for the stuffing, my sweet girl,” she said softly, voice rich with desire. “This is the part of the reward that I’ve been especially looking forward to.”

She scooped a generous handful of the fragrant, herb-flecked mixture. It was cool and slightly grainy against my skin, heavy with the scent of garlic, rosemary, and lemon. She pressed it firmly against my entrance, the chill contrast making me gasp. Slowly and deliberately, she began working it inside me.

The first push was slick and insistent. Her fingers slid the cool, oily stuffing past my tight opening, packing it deep with steady, sensual strokes. I could feel every bit of it, the soft, moist texture spreading and filling me, the gentle stretch as she added more and more.

The mixture was slippery from the oil, making wet, intimate sounds with each thrust of her fingers. It pushed deeper, pressing against sensitive inner walls, creating a heavy, delicious fullness that made my belly tighten, and my breathing come in shallow little pants.

“You feel so warm and ready for me,” she whispered, her free hand stroking my thigh with open longing. “I love how your body opens for me… so soft, so wet, so willing.” Her voice dropped even lower, thick with hunger. “I’ve wanted to touch you this intimately for a long time, Vicky. Having you bound and offered to me like this… It’s making me ache.”

She added another generous scoop, working it in with slow, twisting motions. The stuffing stretched me further, the cool grains and herbs pressing firmly against every sensitive spot inside. The pressure built into a deep, throbbing fullness that bordered on overwhelming.

Every slow thrust sent more slick, slippery sounds echoing softly in the kitchen and sent sparks of pleasure radiating through my core. My hips twitched helplessly against the workbench despite my bonds, my body betraying how much I craved her touch, how much I needed her to keep filling me.

The marinade on my skin mixed with the leaking juices of my arousal, making everything slick and glistening. Aunt Sally’s fingers occasionally brushed my swollen clit as she worked, teasing me mercilessly while she packed me fuller and fuller. The contrast between the cool stuffing and my own growing heat was exquisite. I felt stuffed, claimed, and utterly possessed by her.

When she finally finished, she gave my stuffed, glistening rear a gentle, appreciative pat and leaned down close to my ear, her breath warm against my skin.

“This is only the beginning of what I want to do with you, my pretty little meatgirl,” she murmured, voice husky with restrained desire. “But we’re not done yet.”

She reached for more twine to secure the stuffing, ensuring nothing could escape, then stepped back to admire both of us, two perfectly prepared, trussed meatgirls lying side by side on her kitchen workbench, skin glistening, bodies bound and helpless, now ready for the oven.

Aunt Sally’s breathing was noticeably heavier now, her eyes dark with open desire as she looked at my helpless, offered form. She ran her hand slowly over my bound, upturned bottom one last time, giving it a gentle, appreciative squeeze.

“Not quite ready yet for the oven,” she murmured, voice low and husky. “You both need to marinate properly overnight. Tomorrow is time for a Sunday roast, after all… and I want my sweet meatgirl to be perfect.”

Instead of moving us toward the oven, she lifted the large roasting trays she had prepared earlier. With ease, she transferred first the other meatgirl, and then me, onto the trays, arranging us face-down, rear raised, limbs tightly bound and useless. The cool metal of the tray pressed against my marinated skin, making me shiver.

Before carrying us back to the pantry, she reached for two large, thick carrots from the counter. She coated each one generously with oil, her fingers sliding along the smooth, firm length until they glistened. The sight of her preparing them sent a fresh wave of nervous excitement through me.

“This will help keep everything in place… and give you something nice to feel while you marinate,” she said softly, a teasing smile in her voice.

She moved behind me first. One hand rested on my lower back to steady me while the other pressed the lubed carrot gently but firmly against my rear entrance. The cool, rounded tip nudged insistently, then slowly pushed inside. I felt every inch as it stretched me, smooth, firm, and unyielding, sliding deeper and deeper until it was buried as far as it would go. The fullness combined with the already-packed stuffing created an intense, overwhelming pressure that made my toes curl and a muffled whimper escape around my lips.

Aunt Sally let out a quiet, pleased hum. “That’s it… Take it nicely for me.” She used a length of twine to bind the carrot securely in place, looping it tightly so it couldn’t slip out, the pressure constant and intimate.

She repeated the process with the other meatgirl, then stepped back to admire her work. Both of us now lay stuffed, trussed, and our rears plugged, glistening with marinade on the roasting trays.

Satisfied, she lifted my tray first, carrying me carefully back into the pantry. The motion made the carrot shift inside me with every step, sending little jolts of sensation through my core. She set the tray on a shelf, then returned for the other meatgirl, before returning and placing her beside me.

The pantry door clicked shut, leaving us once again in the cool, dim space. The marinade slowly worked its way into our skin as we rested overnight, the thick carrot a constant, intimate reminder of my Aunt’s claim on me. I lay there in the darkness, and completely surrendered, my body aching with a confusing mix of arousal, vulnerability, and quiet anticipation for whatever the “Sunday roast” would bring tomorrow.

The following morning, Aunt Sally returned to the pantry carrying a fresh bowl of marinade. Sunlight filtered softly through the small window as she set the bowl down and looked at both of us with a hungry, appreciative gaze.

“Time for a little more basting, my pretties,” she said, her voice low and warm.

She lifted the trays slightly and began rubbing fresh marinade over our bodies with slow, sensual hands. The cool, fragrant mixture felt soothing against my skin after the long night, but Aunt Sally’s touch quickly turned it into something far more intimate. Her palms glided over my bound rear, between my thighs, and across my stuffed entrance, massaging the liquid in with deliberate, lingering strokes. She paid special attention to my breasts, cupping and squeezing them as she worked the marinade into the soft flesh until they glistened. Her thumbs circled my nipples, teasing them into tight, aching peaks.

While she worked, she leaned close to my ear, her breath warm against my skin. “I’ve invited a few friends over for a Sunday roast. They’re going to love tasting your tender flesh once you’re nicely browned and carved. I told them I have a very special piece of meat this time… young, sweet, and oh… so very willing.”

Her words sent a shiver of arousal and nervous excitement through me. Her hands continued to explore my bound body, stroking my thighs, squeezing my breasts, and letting her fingers drift between my legs to tease the sensitive skin around my stuffed pussy. The combination of her possessive touch, the fullness inside me, and her wicked teasing soon had me trembling with need.

To both our surprise, her skilled fingers brought me to a sudden, intense climax right there on the tray. My body tensed hard against the ropes, a muffled cry escaping around my lips as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through me. Aunt Sally’s eyes darkened with raw desire as she watched me come undone beneath her hands.

“Mmm… look at you,” she breathed, voice husky. “Coming so beautifully for me while I prepare you. My sweet little meatgirl is even more responsive than I had hoped.”

She left us both to rest and marinate for another hour, the herbs and spices slowly soaking into our skin. The entire time, I could feel the lingering heat of her touch and the heavy fullness of the carrot and stuffing inside me.

Later that morning, Aunt Sally returned and carried both trays out of the pantry, setting them down on the kitchen workbench. She opened the large oven door. Intense heat rolled out in a thick wave, washing over my face and body. The smell of roasting herbs filled the air. For one terrifying moment, I was certain this was the end, that I really was about to be pushed inside and roasted.

Aunt Sally lifted my tray and carried me right up to the open oven. The heat was overwhelming against my marinated skin. She held me there, her body pressed close to mine, teasing me with a wicked, intimate smile.

“Shall I slide you in now, my sweet?” she whispered, her free hand stroking my bound thigh. “You’d look so beautiful turning golden brown… all hot and juicy for me.”

She waited, letting the heat lick at my body, watching my reaction with wicked, hungry eyes. My heart pounded with real fear mixed with aching arousal. Then, with a soft, teasing laugh, she relented and brought me back to the bench. She then carried the real meatgirl’s tray over instead and carefully slid it onto the oven rack. The door closed with a heavy thud, sealing the other girl inside to roast.

Aunt Sally turned back to me, her expression warm yet still charged with desire. She then began unbinding me. She removed the twine from my arms and legs with gentle care, then slowly eased the thick carrot from my rear. The sudden emptiness left me feeling strangely hollow and exposed.

“Look at all this stuffing,” she teased softly, her fingers tracing my entrance. “It’s going to be quite the job getting it all out of you later… though I don’t mind helping. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”

Once I was free, she took me upstairs to the bathroom. She ran a warm bath and gently washed every trace of marinade from my skin. Her hands lingered lovingly and possessively on my breasts, my belly, and between my thighs, stroking and soothing me with slow, sensual affection.

“You would have let me roast you, wouldn’t you?” she asked quietly, her eyes searching mine with open hunger.

“I guess I would,” I whispered. “It was hard for me not to accept that you wanted to eat me.”

Sally smiled, soft and full of emotion. After drying me carefully with a large towel, I leaned in closer to her face and kissed her on the lips, not a quick or rushed kiss, but slow, deliberate, tender, and sweet. The kiss quickly deepened with growing passion. We ended up making love right there on the bathroom floor. It was my first time with another woman, but I gave myself to it completely, following every touch and sigh.

Sally was patient, passionate, and wonderfully attentive, her hands and mouth exploring me with obvious desire. When we finally lay spent in each other’s arms, she looked deeply contented and satisfied.

A little while later, a very satisfied Aunt Sally made her way back down to the kitchen to check on the now-roasting meatgirl. As she basted the golden-brown skin, her mind kept drifting upstairs, back to the image of me trussed and prepared on her kitchen table… and to the very real, very willing version of me now lying naked, bound and waiting for her on the bed, ready for her to take full advantage of my still-sensitive, eager body.

Upstairs, I recalled all the events that led up to this moment, and I began to wonder that if my spending 24 hours, well slightly longer, in the barn as a meatgirl, and ending up being trussed up, stuffed and prepared for the oven, what would a whole week give me…