And One for the Pot
by Ralph LeCan
by Ralph LeCan
Pressures from their jobs and as well as from their families had been mounting over the previous seven months, padded Ron with a few extra pounds and filling out his wife even more. Additionally, Rosie became extremely unhappy with the fact that Ron was passed over for a promotion that could have allowed them to ditch the apartment and buy a house.
As a result, she became extremely critical of her husband, blaming him for the inability to have been promoted over his rivals. Their relationship soon became strained. Ron stopped heading straight home after work, but began to stop off for a beer on the way in order to postpone the inevitable bitching and carping about how he had not gotten the promotion.
Sex almost became a thing of the past, but Rosie, a robust woman with a healthy sexual appetite, could not totally abstain, no matter how mad she tried to get at Ron. However, their coupling were totally driven by lust, with little foreplay. In fact, the old joke about Irish foreplay only involving the male partner muttering "brace yourself Bridget" was not inappropriate for this couple.
Fortunately, a possible resolution came in the form of an unexpected, but most welcome, trip. The trip had resulted from an entry in one of the, what seemed like, hundreds of "vacation" contests" that came in the mail -- often tied to some sort of questionable purchase. The contest in question, which came in an early September day's mail, had been returned with the "No Thank You" box checked and was quickly forgotten.
Hence, when the registered letter was received in mid-January, and the couple found the contest had named them as winners of a two week, all-expense paid March vacation at a newly opened, central African resort, they saw it as something that should not miss. Friends of both had urged them to try and patch things up, and this trip was seen as a possible first step.
The deadline for completing travel was only a few months after that January receipt of the announcement. Given the tight timetable, and the need to have to juggle schedules and commitments, the couple was tempted (although reluctantly) to just throw away the award. On the other hand, they badly needed a change of scenery. So, with a "what the hell", they made the appropriate arrangements and booked dates for travel.
Both were rather chagrined to find that their summer clothes of last year were more snug than expected. Motivated by the trip and that reality, Rosie attempted to impose a period of dieting on both of them. Unfortunately for Ron, she now had something new to berate her husband over, he had to lose weight, and she bitched and carped nightly. Ron had hoped the trip would mellow his wife, instead, it just seemed to fuel her efforts to remove his every "imperfection". Also, while each lost about seven pounds, last minute demands in arranging things put back five of those lost pounds on Rosie, Ron escaped with two. They reluctantly borrowed some money from his father and bought new clothes. Both pledged that, during the two-week vacation period, they would "be good" and come home markedly slimmer.
The day before departure, they met with the travel agent who was handling the trip for the company that awarded it. He explained the political games they would have to play to get into, and out of, the African country, including the amounts of money needed to "grease" the palms of the officials they encountered at the airport. The amounts were not huge, and were worth it several times over in avoiding hassle.
The travel agent also cautioned them that the part of Africa they were going to visit had a "Traveller's Advisory" issued, as there was "increased hostile activity by local residents". However, knowing that the clients sitting in front of him were a couple of obviously well fed white people -- just the type of people targeted by the warning but, fearful of loosing his commission -- he did not mention that it was issued due to a marked increase in cannibalistic behavior by some local native tribes. He did offer the recommendation contained in the advisory that they stay within the confines of the resort, or very close to it.
Finally the day arrived and his father drove them to the airport. At the airport, while Rosie was using the ladies room Ron bought $250,000 accident insurance on her, but strangely none for himself. He mailed the policy to their home address.
After connecting through Kennedy, the flight to Africa was not too eventful, just very long. The officials at the airport in the central African country had "gratefully" accept the "gift" of the visiting couple and let them through with a minimum of hassle. The trip to the resort, in a rather cramped shuttle bus, took about 35 minutes from the airport.
The "luxurious" resort located several miles outside of the central African town, in a fairly dense jungle area, was comfortable, but "luxurious" was a stretch. Still, it was fairly busy and promised a change of scenery. Upon arrival they ordered up a large meal to (over) compensate for the airplane food they encountered on the way over, then crashed for the night.
On the morning of the Monday of the second week Ron suggested that they take a walk in the surrounding jungle. He had scouted out the area a few days before. Both had noted some very interesting flowers, plants and birds through the fence surrounding the resort and Ron suggested to Rosie that it might be a good idea to check them out.
It was a warm morning, so each dressed in a fresh pair of shorts neither mentioning, but both individually noticing, the newly acquired snugness of each other's respective shorts.
The path was not that well travelled, but still identifiable as they set out. At the same time, another group was setting out on the same path. From about four miles away seven native men, who formed a "procurement party" from a local cannibal tribe, were on their way to meet up with several members of their tribe who worked at the resort. The ones from the resort had identified several guests who would likely provide very delicious meals for their tribe, which had (again) formally embraced cannibalism about 10 years ago. Soon after its opening, the resort was providing the tribe with a ready source of food.
At a bend in the road, about a half-mile from the resort, the two groups met. The natives, immediately seeing the potential presented by the white couple, reacted quickly and grabbed the startled pair.
Her shorts and sleeveless blouse left little doubt that Rosie was worthy of taking back to the village, but what about Ron? They could see from his, somewhat tight, knit sport shirt that he had a nice meaty torso -- which also held some real promise. They tied the hands of both of their captives and herded them the three and a half miles back to the village.
Arriving at the village, the first job was to see just what were the attributes of the two young whites they had captured. They untied the hands of both the man and the woman, then began to undress them. Rosie was first, her blouse and bra came off, then they peeled down her shorts and panties over her ample hips and full thighs to drop around her ankles. They were pleased to see that she had full breasts and the rest of her body had a nicely padded softness to it. Ron was next and they pulled down his shorts and underpants to get a look at him. Just being a few pounds overweight, one of the women said to the other, "he'll take more fattening than her, but we'll get 'em both good and plump!" However, Ron was a little more endowed in the bottom region that were many of his male counterparts, and the village chief's wife gave one soft cheek a pinch and said, "and I can't wait to see how this fattens up," then smacked Ron's ass for good measure.
Then, the cannibal chief, who had joined the inspection, did his own checking out. After cupping the full breasts of the woman, he ran his hands down over her soft torso, then reached around to squeeze two handfuls of her lush bottom. After a cursory inspection of Ron he ordered them into the fattening hut.
"Under normal circumstances" the chief told them, "both of you could be cooked and served up as dinner this evening. However, there is a special feast in a couple of weeks and we would like to serve both of you as a very special 'twosome' for the feast. With the proper fattening, will dine upon a well cooked plump white woman and plump white male -- a combination we have not enjoyed in a long time."
"By the way," the chief continued, "I saw from your wallets you are from Rochester, well I went to college at NYU. Made some money on a couple of real estate flips and came back here. I own 20% of the place you were staying, but my village, my people and, of course the exquisite taste of a properly cooked long pig, are my first loves!"
With little ceremony, they were both led away to the "fattening hut". The couple was also left naked, there was no need to give them back their clothes for, in a short while they would no longer fit in them!
Since both were now being force fed, the cannibals needed an objective way to assess when they were full. Therefore, a native woman would squeeze the bellies of each to determine when each victim's stomach became hard, indicating it was full. This would be a task that would become increasingly difficult over the next few days, as the fattening process progressed, and belly fat got thicker and thicker.
When the pair was finally untied, neither had ever felt as full in their lives. However, both felt strangely calm, and rather sleepy. They didn't know it, but the stew contained an herb grown by the tribe, which has a mild narcotic effect. The inclusion of this in the stew has two very practical purposes. The first is to make the victims more docile and easier to handle. The second is to make them sleepy following the feeding so as to keep them from moving around. Instead, they go to sleep thus maximizing the fattening effect of the stew. Hence, the well-fed couple now lay down on the cots to take a nap. Soon both were fast asleep, and their bodies undertook the task of converting the belly full of food into new fat.
When they awoke, Rosie turned to Ron, tears in her eyes, "Is this for real, are they really cannibals, are they really going to fatten us for food."
Ron turned to his wife and nodded "it sure looks like it, we're both headed for the dinner platter". He then looked at his naked wife's body -- they had not had sex in four days -- but strangely he felt no stirring in his groin, as his cock remained flaccid. The herb had other uses than making the victim docile.
The feeding process was repeated twice more that day, but there was no longer a need to tie them to the chairs nor hold their heads still, while they had the stew fed to them.
The same procurement party, which had brought them to the village less than 24 hours before, was now entering the village to much fanfare. Slung over the shoulder of one of the larger members of the party was a struggling white woman, clad only in a skimpy swimsuit. He carried her to the center of the village, a few yards from the window of the fattening hut, and unceremoniously dumped her onto the ground -- she landed hard on a very well upholstered posterior, only to be hauled to her feet.
The ill-fated inhabitants of the fattening hut saw that this latest captive of the tribe certainly didn't need to spend any time in such a hut. She was a rather short, chubby blonde in her mid-30s. That recalled seeing her at the airport when they arrived, she had been coming off an Air France flight with two girl friends.
Now, she had stuffed her well-upholstered body into a two piece swimsuit, which was meant for a woman 15 to 20 pound lighter than she was. In fact, she had bought it when she was 17 pounds lighter, but had been unwilling to acknowledge that it had become too tight.
Actually, this unfortunate woman was to have been the target of the procurement party yesterday, when they had the "chance" encounter with the couple who now was their "guests" in the fattening hut. She had been singled out by a tribe member working near the pool area and, today they had little trouble kidnapping her as she walked through a secluded area on the way back to her room, after an early morning stint by the pool.
The top part of her swimsuit had trouble containing her ample breasts, which spilled over the inadequate material. However, the bottom part of the suit had even more of a challenge, as her pudgy middle stretched the waist band tight and hung over the it, and the back part of the bottom was woefully inadequate to even begin covering the expanse of her full rear-end. There wasn't much clothing to remove as they undressed her. In fact, since the swimsuit had shown off her, more than abundant charms, preparation was already underway for cooking her, even before she was stripped naked.
She pleaded softly, "mon Dieu, non, non, non," although, apparently she had no idea what was in store for her!
The cannibal chief ignored her pleas and began to squeeze and knead the softness of her plump figure, complimenting her on the size and texture of her various ample body parts. "Ah, my dear," he offered, what a nice, soft tender creature your are," and as he fondled one round buttock smiled, then switching to her native tongue, "ah, c'est tres douche, tres, tres douche, beaucoup du bon viande".
Suddenly the truth struck her, "viande? viande! mon Dieu, ils ont cannibales, mon Dieu, non, non, nooon!".
Then, two native women roughly grabbed led the unlucky white woman away and out of sight of the fattening hut inhabitants, who were interrupted by the native women who brought the pot of stew in for the day's second meal.
Rosie and Ron fought sleep to watch out the window what would happen next. As if to give them a closer view of the proceedings, the cannibals began to build a fire in the long barbecue pit closest to their window. A few minutes later, two burly men came into view carrying a long pole on their shoulders. However, what was on the pole struck terror in the hearts of the white couple, it was the blonde French woman. She had been impaled on the pole that entered her plump body between those full thighs and exited from her open mouth. He hair had been shaved off and Rosie turned to Ron, "My God, they have spitted her like a pig, I hope she's not still alive."
As the natives got closer with their human cargo, the couple could see that her eyes were open in a blank stare that could only mean that mercifully she wasn't.
Then Rosie turned to her husband, "look at her stomach, she has been slit open and sewn shut, oh my God, she is stuffed with what looks like dressing, stuffed just like a Thanksgiving turkey!"
They held the body in place for a second while one of the women took a bucket and, dipping a well used paint brush --but not well used from painting -- and brushed an oily liquid all over the naked white body. As they placed the body over the fire, the pole nestled in two "Y" shaped spits at either end of the pit Rosie turned to Ron, "my God, in a week that will be us!"
Now, both grew tired and could no longer watch the macabre proceedings outside. Hence, stuffed full after the feeding the couple lay down for a nap. As the first whiffs of the sweet aroma of roasting meat drifted in though the window, both of them, as they nodded off to sleep. However, even as stuffed as they were from the latest feeding, they were surprised at how delicious that aroma smelled, even knowing full well its source.
Their sleep that night was interrupted on several occasion by the noise from a, loud, very raucous gathering of the cannibal tribe, fueled by the rough, but very potent, beer that the tribe brewed from the grain that thrived in the moist fields surrounding the river that ran by the village. Both also knew what (who) was the main course of that feast -- and both were unable to not think about a similar feast scheduled a few days in the future.
Sleep that evening was also fitful at best as both now vividly knew, and thought about in detail, the fate that awaited them once they were plump enough. Hence, despite the dulling effect of the drug added to their food, both were gripped with an icy fear as the full impact of their fate played over and over in their minds.
The stew that the couple was served had something new added to it, bite-sized chunks of a rather, fatty meat. Thinking back to the evening before, both guessed the source of the meat -- leftovers from the feast's main course. However, neither of them dared hesitate to begin eating when they were each handed a large bowl of the warm stew. The other ingredients of the stew, however, overpowered the flavor of the meat, and they had no idea how it really tasted, yet they both knew they had just become cannibals themselves.
Since there was no longer any resistance on the part of the captives, there was no need for the cannibals to force-feed them -- the couple now fed themselves. In order to make sure, however, that the two whites ate their fill, it was still necessary to continue to squeeze their bellies to determine when their stomachs were full. As expected, this was getting more difficult, due to the increasing thickness of belly fat. Soon, however, the cannibal women were able to gauge about how much stew it took to fill each, and the bowl would be refilled until the unlucky victims were both full.
Then, after "breakfast" it was time to assess how successful the fattening process had been to date, measurements were taken first. The native women were not particularly gentle, and made explicit comments about the fate that the couple faced, punctuated with comments about the use which had been made of the unfortunate blonde whose well-roasted, plump body had been the focal point of the previous evening's festivities.
Ron had added 3/4 of an inch to his waist, now setting at 36" and 1 1/4 inches to his hips, bringing him to 38 1/2. Rosie added 1/2 inch to her waist, getting her to 34 1/2, and one inch to her hips, bring them to 40. Then each was weighed... Both had added six pounds in the two days of fattening, bringing him to 188, her to 141.
The women doing the measuring, despite their hangovers, perked up after seeing that progress.
However, as if in compensation, the cannibals began providing the unlucky couple with access to the native beer, setting a large crock of it in the hut around mid-morning (and re-filling as needed). Finding that it did dull the senses, and hence the ever present knowledge of what was to happen to them, the couple began to help themselves. Of course, the cannibals were not at all unhappy with this, as the calorie rich beer ended up as additional padding on the pair.
During those last few nights, their perspective altered by a day of drinking the beer, it was not uncommon for the two to kid each other about what was planned for them -- as if somehow that would go away. They would pinch and squeeze each other, just as the cannibals did, and comment on each others attributes to grace the banquet table. The pending doom of sharing a fate as human main courses had drawn them closer together, certainly Ron found Rosie to be much less shitty, much more gentle. Unfortunately, the next morning always brought the sobering fact that their fate as food was a reality they could not escape.
The natives had explained to them that they wanted them nice and plump, but not really "fat" and, a few days before the feast scaled back the feeding a bit. This would be so that, on the day of that "special" feast, both would be at the desired level of plumpness.
The evening before that fateful day, with their senses -- and emotions -- fully restored, they made love for the first time since they were captured (and also for the last time). The cot groaned under the weight of nearly 370+ pounds as, after some initial difficulty in finding a position that accommodated the adverse effect of their over-padded bodies, they successfully undertook that lovemaking.
They finally ended up on their sides and Ron entered his wife from the rear, she was wet and ready for him. He got in low enough that her ample rump did not interfere with his cock, the fact he had over seven inches also helped. He reached around to hold and fondle his wife, first her heavy breasts, then running his hand down her fleshy torso to discover just how really fat her belly was. Soon the echo of the slapping of his equally fat belly against Rosie's abundant bottom filled the hut, and several women outside giggled at the sound.
Rosie then let out a long moan and shuddered as she came, Ron, who had mustered all his willpower to delay, also groaned loudly and his cock throbbed and pumped deep inside his wife.
The women again giggled then went in to do the final feeding.
Still sleepy in the pre-dawn chill they were led to the front of the hut. Today was "the day" and, already the smoky smell of a fire filled the air. The cannibal chief joined the fattening hut crew and took a few minutes to squeeze and knead the two unfortunate white people. He found the texture of both their over-padded bodies to be somewhat firm -- indicative of the fact that they had been fattened so fast that their skin was stretched a bit tight to accommodate the substantial quantities of fat they had gained in a relatively short period.
First, both were weighed. Ron had gained 27 pounds to weigh in at 209. Rosie had, however, gained 33 pounds to weigh 168. Given that they were both fed the same amount of food, this was not surprising. He had started out nearly 50 pounds heavier than his wife and his larger body burned more calories, hers had more of the stew available to convert to fat.
Their respective waist measurements were 40 1/2 for him, 39 for her and, surprisingly she caught up to him in the hip area, as both had 43 inch hips. Since a nice fat rump is one of the more desirable characteristics of a cannibal victim, the natives were delighted.
Suddenly Rosie squealed, and her Ron saw that one of the cannibal women, unbeknownst to either of them, had located the fullest part of the plump white woman's round, naked right buttock, and stuck a very long pin into it. The pin met with little resistance, sinking deep into her abundant buttock fat. Only when the native woman felt the slight change in resistance, indicating the pin had reached the meat (muscle) underneath the fat, did she stop pushing. She marked the point on the pin with her fingernail, it still had about 3/4 of an inch protruding from the unfortunate white woman's ample bottom, then pulled it out.
The native woman then took the frayed tape measure and measured the length of the pin that had sunk into the well-padded cheek, to determine the thickness of the fat of the white woman's rear. This was not an idle or frivolous exercise as it is important to know depth of the thickest fat on their victims, as that will determine how long they will take to roast. The native women tending the hut had been told that both whites were to be barbecued (and were not aware of the chief's plans). Hence, such a measurement was deemed important due to the fact that the heat of the fire must penetrate the fat before it is able to begin cooking the meat underneath.
The plump male was next. On him they selected the fattest part of his left cheek and pushed in the pin. It too sunk in easily. Ron was not happy they stuck a pin in his ample ass, it just wasn't necessary.
Withdrawing it, the native woman measured the length of penetration -- it was about1/8 inch more that his wife's. Noting that he also had a good-sized gut, she then located the fattest part of his belly and pushed the pin into it. However, the pin fell well short of the thickness of his rump fat before it encountered meat.
It was not really puzzling that the fat of Ron's rump was a bit thicker than Rosie's -- even though both had 43" hip measurements. This is because her hip measurement includes the reality of her wider female, but still well padded, hips. However, his narrower male hips had to contain a greater amount of fat to give the same circumference. The Chief's wife, who had just joined the crew, chided them for going too slowly. However, seeing the woman just finishing up with Ron's hefty rear, she stopped to give it an appreciative squeeze, Ron didn't like the way she purred.
Both were taken out of the hut for the last time and led towards the preparation area where they faced their ultimate fate -- as the main course of tonight's feast...
However, the cannibal chief intervened. "We only need one for tonight, send the male back to the hut, we will slow roast him in the morning for tomorrow night's feast." He then ordered Ron to be taken back to the hut, Ron was to be saved for another day, but today was Rosie's day.
The chief looked into the plump naked young woman's face and smiled. "I think it is only polite to tell you what we have in store," taking great delight in the frightened expression on her face.
"Although you saw us spit roast the other night's "piggy" we have a special 'treat' for you. We haven't done this for awhile, but we are going to make a nice 'Rosie soup'. My guest requested a boiled dinner tonight, so we are going to get out our seldom used pot."
"You, you are going to boil me in a pot," Rosie stammered, anticipating the searing pain when she was lowered into the boiling water.
"Yes, my dear," he said, "and a fine boiled main course you will make. I know this will be nice and tender," and he kneaded a large handful of Rosie's ample bottom, "but boiling will make it even more so. You cannot appreciate just how delicious your meat will be for, despite the fact you have become a nice little butterball there is still a lot of good meat on you, here, feel this," and he guided Rosie's hand to squeeze her fleshy upper left thigh, "Now, can't you feel that nice meat underneath your fat." Rosie could and nodded slowly.
"The best parts of you are, of course your rump and thighs -- mmm, lotsa good meat, lotsa good meat," and smacked her ass for emphasis, enjoying the young's woman's squeal and watching the fleshy, naked cheek jiggle.
Ron watched this from the hut, hearing the resounding "smack" when the chief whacked his wife's chubby bottom, strangely he smiled, watching the process, although he had been told that tomorrow he, like Rosie, would be cooked for food.
The chief continued his culinary tour of Rosie's body. "ah, and such a nice round belly" and he patted her soft fleshy stomach, "a couple of very nice steaks there".
"Nice tits too, not much meat, mostly fat, but that fat will contribute nicely to making a delicious soup stock, as will your other juices. Now we must take you and thoroughly clean you out, can't have you doing anything nasty like peeing or shitting in our soup."
Arriving at the preparation area, first, Rosie was forced to urinate, pushing hard to clear her bladder, they had a special way of pushing on her lower abdomen, even if it was padded with a substantial layer of flesh such as Rosie's, to totally clear her. Then, a soapy enema emptied her bowels which was then followed by two flushing with clear, warm water to thoroughly clean her out. She was then thoroughly washed from head to toe. Her hair was unceremoniously cut off and now, bald and squeaky clean, Rosie was lead back to the pavilion style structure where the large water filled pot sat over that roaring fire.
One arriving there, however, to be extra safe, both her lower body openings were plugged with a wedge of breadfruit to ensure that no accidents took place.
Rosie's arms were tied behind her back and she was forced to kneel on a large metal contraption, some sort of rack, made of solid metal bars. Basically it was a platform that was about three feet long by two feet with three bars across, two welded underneath them. Also at one end a three foot bar was attached vertically and Rosie was positioned so that was behind her. A rope was then looped around Rosie's legs, over her thighs and under the platform, another one around her upper torso securing her to the vertical pole.
The chief smiled at Rosie. "My dear, I guess you are wondering why we put bothered to secure you to this device. Well, just think back to physics, or maybe biology in school, you'll recall that fat floats in water, and of course my plump little pumpkin, you certainly have a nice amount of that on you". Therefore, if we don't have this to keep you in place, when the water starts to boil and bubble, you will just float to the top like a cork -- a juicy, round cork -- and that just won't get you cooked properly, so this keeps you in place".
Just then, one of the women walked over to the large pot of water and stuck her finger in it, only to rapidly pull it back with a yelp, "shit, that's really hot, its ready for her."
Two of the larger natives picked up the contraption holding Rosie and carried her over to the pot and positioned her over it. The chief barked at them "what are you waiting for, put her in!"
A loud cry, somewhere between a scream and a wail tore from Rosie's lips as she anticipated the, soon to be felt, searing pain of the boiling hot water as she was lowered into it. Eyes tightly shut she continued to scream as her legs first encountered the water, and she was released to sink into it. Braced for unendurable pain, she sank into water that was lukewarm at best and, opening her eyes, saw the assembled natives laughing at her reaction. The water came up to just covering her nipples.
"Wow," she thought, "this is just a big joke, they'll take me out of here," but nobody moved except to put more wood on the fire.
They then dumped several baskets of a variety of vegetables in the pot that floated around the young woman. A cup of salt, an equal amount of pepper and two generous handfulls of herbs and spices followed the vegetables in the pot. Rosie sat there, watching the vegetables floating around her bumping into her breasts. She felt surprising calm in the warm water, and attempted to identify the vegetables. She got yams, carrots, celery -- stopping to think where they got celery -- of course diced breadfruit, but about three others she couldn't identify.
As the water got warmer, Rosie got sleepy and thought, "she really didn't care what veggies they used." Soon her head tilted to the side and she quietly drifted off to sleep, never to reawaken, as the water temperature climbed over 130. Hence, Rosie was never aware of the searing heat as the water started to boil, and her plump body began to cook. She was one of the lucky ones who was humanly cooked by the tribe -- barbecuing would have been much more "uncomfortable" -- as the aroma of her cooking body, now turning a bright red, starting to fill the air.
After about half an hour of having the water at a rolling boil, one of the women took a very long fork probing in the water (now turning into soup stock) and stuck Rosie's body in the breasts, belly, thighs and rump to release her melting fat, and other juices which would further flavor the soup.
"Well," the chief responded," we did need your wife, as well as the women tending the hut, to believe you were also being fattened for food". Just then the wife reached down to again pinch Ron's ample bottom and said, "why don't we forget the $50,000 and barbecue this nice meaty ass."
"$50,000" thought Ron, "goddamn it, the deal was for $25,000." $25,000 was the agreed upon price for them to cook up his wife and then put the word out they had done so, so he, in turn, could collect the insurance money. But, as he also felt the woman continue to toy with his beefy backside and knew that the money was the only safeguard he had. He was glad he told them the insurance was for $100,000 instead of $250,000!
The chief smiled at his wife, "nah, that's over $250 a pound, he ain't worth that, after all we do get his nice chubby wife for dinner and the $50,000."
The chief then handed Ron some good-sized jeans and a shirt. "Okay," said Ron, "tomorrow we go into the bank in the city, and do the paperwork, when the policy is settled, you'll automatically get your $50,000."
"No," said the chief, "we can do it after the money is collected, I know you won't leave town without paying me."
Ron of course knew that to be true, his every move would be watched until the money was paid. He then put on the jeans and shirt, not wanting to think about where they came from, and was glad it was finally settled.
"A couple more hours and we will enjoy dinner," said the chief then winked at Ron, "but you better watch how much you eat, looks like your getting a bit chubby," and he laughed, poking Ron in his ample belly. Ron didn't laugh in return.
Dinner was at seven. Ron had taken a nap and was awoken just in time to see them remove his wife from the large pot in order to get her ready for dinner. One of the women had rousted him from his sleep, offered a large fire glazed clay goblet of a wine they also prepared from that local grain, which Ron found much better than expected.
A basin of water was brought for him to use to wash-up, and the woman told him dinner would be in an hour, returning his watch. However, he walk outside, wanted to see what Rosie looked like when they took her out.
Two burly men took Rosie's well-cooked body out of the water. The red had muted a bit, but she was still a deep dark pink and the soup had boiled down to just above her navel. Now thoroughly cooked she, like the metal rack, was at 212 degree, too hot to handle with bare hands. They took a long wooden pole and slid it under her arms to lift her out of the water some. Another man, wearing, what looked like an oversized oven mitts, than grabbed the body around the waist and the three of them lifted Rosie's plump body, and its stand, out of the pot and set it on the ground. Rosie's body remained upright, held securely by the ropes around her torso. Her head was to one side, her hair sopping wet, and her face had an almost serene expression.
Another pair of mitts appeared and two of the men picked up the bottom of the rack and carried it and Rosie into a nearby hut so she could be carved for dinner.
Ron went back to the hut to wash-up, then the chief's wife came to get him. He had his back to her and she crept up to grab his ass and gives it a good squeeze. He jumped and she laughed, "lotsa good meat there." Ron still didn't think it was funny, in fact her attention to the size of his ass was getting really tiresome!
They went over to the chief's nicely appointed hut (if you could call it that) where a table was set. Then, while one woman poured more wine another brought in three large slightly concave bowels. The one set before Ron had a large chunk of meat on a bed of, what first looked like rice, but was the same grain, boiled, which had been used to make the wine (and beer). The soup and veggies had been ladled over it and the presentation was reminiscent of a lamb shank, over couscous, he and Rosie often enjoyed at a local Middle Eastern place. However, this meat wasn't lamb! Ron looked at the meat, it had about a half inch of fat on one side and he could tell that some of the fat had already been trimmed away.
He tentatively cut into the meat, and the Chief's wife smiled as she popped a chunk of meat in her mouth, "go ahead, mmmm, its delicious, melt in your mouth, delicious. By the way, can you guess where it came from, no, not who, where on her?"
From the size and shape Ron correctly guessed the rump, then looked over to see that they had similar cuts. However, the wife's still had the full original, thick layer of fat on it, her husband's was trimmed totally of all fat. Immediately, the old nursery rhyme "Jack Sprat" came to Ron'smind.
Ron then took a long swig of wine and popped a piece of meat in his mouth -- he couldn't believe it. Not only was it unbelievably tender, but the taste was indescribable. The other two watched his reaction and smiled, remembering the first time they had tasted human meat.
"Kee-rist," blurted out Ron. I don't believe it, he thought, I have never, ever tasted anything, and I mean anything, this good. If he knew how good Rosie's meat would taste he might have even done something at home (after he bought a freezer) that have come all this way. He didn't even hesitate when offered a second portion (this time a steak from his wife's left thigh).
Finally, his stomach was full, even though the fattening process had stretched it, he could eat no more.
He went through the stuff and took Rosie's clothes to a second hand shop and swapped them for some larger sized men's clothes to fit his heavier body. None of the clothes he brought over fit, but he hoped, once he got home, that they would after he knocked off the extra blubber..
Later that afternoon he reported Rosie's disappearance and demise to the local police, who seemed not at all surprised. Through the various contacts they confirmed that Rosie had indeed ended up a cannibal main course and, aided by $500 from Ron, issued the report in a day along with a death certificate signed by a local doctor (who gratefully took the $200 from Ron to expedite the process).
All of this was faxed to the insurance company and, within four days it was settled and the $250,000 was in his account.
The chef showed up early the last morning, dressed in a business suit, and they went to the local bank in order to transfer the $50,000 to the chief's account. Ron knew that the Chief was keeping tabs on him, as several of the hotel employees were from that very same tribe, and if he tried to leave the country without paying they would stop him. Therefore, Ron signed the transfer papers, the said goodbye to the Chief.
The Chief responded, "it's been a pleasure doing business with you, and of course your wife, who makes a wonderful rump roast."
Ron then packed, checked out, and felt lucky as, just as he came out just a cab pulled up in front of the resort. He didn't want to mess with that shuttle bus to the airport. He was happy --the insurance money had come through, his "partner in crime" had his $50,000, and Ron was going home to a clean $200,000 with the added bonus of never again having to listen to Rosie's harping.
Ron jumped in "airport and make it fast" he barked to the black driver. Although the driver seemed to be familiar, he wasn't sure because of the large, floppy hat he wore.
"No problem," the driver offered, "but do you mind if we have another passenger." Before Ron could answer, the door opened and the cannibal chief slid in beside him, still dressed in his business suit.
"Ah, hi again Ron, it was good to see you haven't lost any weight, 'cause were gonna take a little ride back to the village. You see, my wife has been bugging me about how nice that round, meaty ass of yours would taste -- you know what its like when your wife "nags you" and he winked, then laughing.
"You bastard", Ron spat at him, "don't you know you'll lose your $50,000 if I don't return home."
"Ah, not to worry," the chief said, "my banker friend down the street found out the policy was for $250,000 not $100,000, you fibbed to me. So, for $10,000 he slipped a "2" in front of the $50,000 transfer from your account in the states and that money is now safely over here.
He then said something to the driver in their native tongue and the car sped away, heading out of town and the chief patted Ron on one plump thigh, "gotta hurry, you know just how cross women can be when they have already put the water on to boil and you're late bringing something home for dinner!"