FSE

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Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Tomek| December 2020 | 6201 Words

~ December 23rd, 2020 ~

The gentle hum of stainless-steel blades, a rhythmic whirr-whirr of the food slicer as it bit into tender cured meat, leaving behind thin carved strips of perfect flesh. A little smile graced the early-50's white tailed deer's face as he worked on his best Christmas appetizer yet, his rather pathetic six point rack casting a shadow over the deli slicer as he carefully carved a hand prepared Mortadella di Prato, perfectly heat-cured meat, mixed with hearty chunks of fat, flavored with pounded garlic and an imported herbal liquor. Picking up the paper-thin slice, the deer resisted the urge to pop it into his mouth right away, instead savoring the texture between his hooved fingers.

"Hey, Zack!" A voice called from the other end of the restaurant, a smiling pine marten wearing a sharp overcoat over his work-stained butcher's apron. "Just letting you know I'm going to head home now. You know the drill, clean and lock up when you're done."

"No problem, Boss, just like every year."

"Looks good, all the meats you picked out this year too. I'm sure you'll have a blast at dinner tomorrow."

"It's always a hit! 2020 is going to be the best year yet. The family has always been impressed with the quality."

"Well, I'm glad I taught you everything I know." A little wink and the pine marten smiled, letting himself out the front door after flipping the sign to Closed. Zack smirked as he gave himself a moment or two before casually unzipping his fly and groping lewdly under his underwear.

"Oh, Miriam, how you could never have known what would come... But don't worry, my dear, you may have been my first, but we'll be having a family reunion tonight," with one hand gripped upon his cock, stroking slow and sensually, Zack used his other hand to roll the choice cut of mortadella and place it upon his favorite serving board. "Upon this very platter."

~ February 8th, 1992 ~

Dear Diary: My heart is still beating like crazy. I can't believe what I just did. Today it began with Miriam. Oh, my sweet Hereford cow, Mrs. Cowthwaite. Not six months prior, I began my relationship with her fine young bull calf, Kobey Cowthwaite. I made such an impression at Christmas, bringing the most lavish charcuterie board for the family to enjoy. But deep down, gears were turning in my mind. I could not distract myself with the mountain of meat and sides on the Christmas dinner table. Sitting there, staring at the older, motherly cow, something just snapped inside of me. I knew what I needed to do. The family. The whole family would be mine. One at a time.

It was easy to kidnap her. Early this morning, when Mr. Cowthwaite was out on business, I crept into her home using the alarm password I'd been given in confidence. A glass of dissolved sleeping pills poured like wine down her throat. She awoke, choking on the liquid, my buxom MILFy cow, my little milk slut. Oh, she sputtered as I held her down in her own bed. I was so close to raping her, especially with my hands on her breasts and my ass holding down her hips. But I resisted the urge. There would be time for that plenty.

Bundled into the trunk, I drove off with my prize to a quiet little spot I've been grooming for months. An abandoned diner off I-90, two right turns from the exit. It's no wonder they went under. Weeks I had spent, boarding up the windows, recommissioning the kitchen and outfitting the old dining area with cages, built to their rough weight and size. Each one was lovingly adorned with their names. Miriam would be my first. Still drugged, she listlessly pleaded for me to let her go as I dragged my luscious MILF to her new home for the rest of her life. The female cages were built with leg restraints, meant to keep her in a perpetual kneeling position, with her luscious tits hung over the bar she lay forward upon, while her arms were tied tight behind her back.

A part of me wanted to wait for her to come to. I wanted to look her in the eyes as she saw what came next. But as her bosom hung before me, sagged with age but not unappealingly so, I needed to know if she was dry. The milking machine was secondhand, purchased off a formerly pregnant mother with cash, no questions asked. I watched, the suckers hovering close to her massive areolae and engorged nipples, before they secured with a loud suck. Oh, Diary, how long I waited, pursed lips, breathing slow, hoping I need not kill my first step of my masterpiece. When the first dribble flowed, she lowed out in such awkward, drugged pleasure, as if she allowed her very life essence to flow out. I kissed her, on the snout, tenderly for her good behavior, before gagging her tight.

I am only back home for an hour while she milks, I neglected to fill the fridge at the diner, so I am making her dinner here.

Christmas, I have decided my spread will have a lovely handmade comté cheese. Perhaps even a nice Havarti if I am feeling eager. Plenty of months to practice.

~ December 24th, 2020 ~

Zack grinned as he stood on the doorstep wearing a smart overcoat to cover his favorite button-down and khaki pants, his finger fidgeting and tapping the edge of the cling wrap on his wooden charcuterie board with impatience as he waited for someone to come. The wait was long, but soon the door would open wide to reveal a stocky, large, late-60's Belgian Blue bull, his broad greying muzzle picking up in a warm smile as he reached out to hug his son-in-law.

"Merry Christmas, Zack." Zack could tell it was a hard time of the year for the old Mr. Cowthwaite. It always was. Every holiday must remind him of his missing wife, even so many years after she disappeared that cold February morning. But his face furrowed into a frown as he peered past the white-tailed buck's antlers. "Oh, is Kobey coming separate?"

"He." Coughing to clear his throat and one-handing the platter of lush appetizers so he could give a hug to his father in law. Zack put on his best smile before answering. "He is coming separate, I'm sure he will be here soon." Smiling, Zack strode down the familiar halls of his boyfriend's home, greeting the remaining members of the Cowthwaite household. Auntie Bell, Miriam's sister, was working diligently in the kitchen. Her younger children, Kaycee and Henry, in their mid-20s and early-30s respectively, were taking up residence in the living room, Kaycee was happily wrapped in the arms of his farm-fox boyfriend. But as Zack walked in, Henry clammed up a little, talking about how much the holidays makes him miss Dad. Uncle Angus was a brutish Aberdeen bull who even put Mr. Cowthwaite to shame with his size. His disappearance in the late 90s involved a much larger manhunt than what Mrs. Cowthwaite had, two disappearances in the same family certainly caught the eye of the police.

"Merry Christmas, Zack." The two younger bovines said almost in unison, trying to suppress their displeasure as the deer placed down the platter of meats and cheese on the table.

"Merry Christmas everyone! I brought along my yearly treat." Peeling back the saran wrap, Zack had to stifle a moaning gasp as he watched the rolled meats and cubed cheeses released from their plastic prison. "Mmmm... god, it smells so good."

"You always go all out on the platter, Zack. What is it this year?"

"Ahh-ahh, you know the rules, try what catches your fancy first. Only then will I tell." A little wink as he picked up what appeared to be a slice of tender, cured ham, squished next to a slice of sharp and pungent aged cheddar, smirking as he inhaled softly at the flavorful scents rolling through his mouth and nose. For the first time, the family noticed something a little odd about the way he reacted to his meal. There was something more reverent about how he ate his own appetizer today, how he shuddered with a near orgasmic moan hushed under his breath all the while. Zack seemed to flush under his breath as he whispered softly to himself, "Oh, Angus... you were too fun."

~ August 16th, 1998 ~

Dear Diary: Angus was getting mouthy with me when I ungagged him for feedings this week. I beat him hard enough to leave bloody streaks over his back and ass, but he still cursed me out. Shame he won't be coming to mine and Kobey's wedding in November, but I've got work to do. Miriam has been a pleasant peach as always, happy to suck my cock and perfectly Stockholm syndromed. Even tried to tell the ungrateful fucking brisket to be quiet and do as he was told last week. It wasn't enough, he's done mentally. I even tried to leverage her against Angus on Wednesday. Made him watch me beat her till she fell unconscious. I have enough milk saved up; the lost days won't matter.

But the old bull seems to have given up and decided I can't do anything worse to him. Perhaps it's true. I've been giving him daily beatings on his thighs and ass to soften him up and get him ready for his big day. He's ready to die. Besides, he's got two legs. One to cure for Christmas this year. One for the family reunion. Perhaps I'll give Miriam a bit of pleasure while I slaughter him. Vibe up the cunt and put her favorite suckers on. I hope she doesn't mind eating her brother in law as feed for a few months.

Serves him right for trying to edge me out of the limelight with an appetizer plate last Christmas.

NOBODY

In this family.

Will up stage.

MY family dinner.

~ August 17th, 1998 ~

Dear Diary: My hands are still shaking. I did it. I killed a man today. He knew. He struggled, tried to gore me with the filed off horn stubs, cursed me out, told me he hoped I choked on him as I hooked up his ankles to the hanging mechanism even before he was removed from his cage.

I hung Angus from the ceiling, using the ratcheting pully. Slipped a ring gag into his mouth and fucked his throat hard till I came. He choked and sputtered for a good twenty minutes. I tried to tell him to enjoy it, it'd be his last minutes alive. His throat was velvet smooth, like Miriam butter when I broke him. After he got a last meal, I knelt down and slit his throat with the old butcher's knife I found in the back of the diner. I could feel his pulse thumping against the metal. Oh, how it twitched the blade in my hand as I cut the man's life short. So much beautiful meat. He struggled for longer than I expected, his body thrashing on the hooks before giving out at long last. I can still remember the moment his eyes unfixed. Were he not meat, I'd almost call it haunting. But he is just meat. Miriam watched. She cried as her brother-in-law was gutted. I'll need to come back tomorrow and clean up a bit better. She can live with the smell of his blood and offal tonight.

I broke down his carcass into primal cuts. Kobey and I will be having plenty of steaks prior to our wedding, but his thighs and ass? Oh, those beautiful cuts will be slow smoked as hams. Nobody will think that a bovine could be prepped like a ham, but Angus lived a life of relative calm. He'll cut like butter on the boss's deli slicers, so tender and soft.

Cowthwaite Christmas Charcuterie - 1998

• Aged Miriam Cheddar (2 Years) and Gruyer (3 Years)

• Fresh First-Calf Heifer Parmigiano-Reggiano

• Cherry Smoked Angus Ham

• Hand Corned Angus Pastrami

P.S. I need another. Maybe two? My masterpiece Christmas charcuterie must be made entirely of the family. Nothing store bought.

~ December 24th, 2020 ~

Mr. Cowthwaite narrowed his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen. Did he just see Zack fondling himself through his jacket? It couldn't be? He was always so well behaved and kind, but it looked as if he had allowed his hand to graze over his groin, lingering far longer than necessary on his pants, and shifting to deal with the growing tent of arousal. Hooves stepping up behind his son-in-law, the older bull clapped a hand upon his back and tried to make his presence known.

"So, Zack, why don't you take your jacket off and get comfortable? Bell was just finishing up with a hand-made appetizer tonight." The already edgy deer's face dropped, muzzle gaping as if he were staring into the headlights as he noticed a large, multi-gallon pickling jar resting upon the countertop, next to his masterpiece creation.

"A-a... a-a-appetizer?" He stammered out, muzzle contorting as he spoke in a daze, eyes fixed upon the lovingly crafted mixture of fresh vegetables that had spent the past year marinating packed in vinegar.

"Giardiniera Mezzita!" Chirped the older Hereford as she turned the lid on the jar, popping the suction on the lid. The sound might as well have been Zack's heart sinking into his gut as he stared wide-eyed at the unannounced appetizer intruding upon his special day. "All grown in my garden. Cauliflower, celery, carrots, sweet peppers and a little chili, garlic and dill." Slowly she scooped out a hearty helping of the pickled vegetables, the pungent vinegar stinging his nose just as Zack began to develop a twitch in his left eye. Layering it upon a simple platter, after shaking off some of the juices, Auntie bell swiped the toothpicks off the table, toothpicks that SHOULD have gone to Zack's masterpiece, and began to stick them, one at a time, into her beautiful garden mix. Each one felt like a stab through the heart. No. No, through the balls, god his balls, they felt swollen, agonized, blue balled over his own dish. It could not be complete without it being his. His for good.

~ July 14th, 2006 ~

Diary: I got cocky today. Why the hell did I think that was a good idea? I could have gotten caught. I could have blown everything.

I heard that Kobey, my dear sweet husband, had a few estranged family members, an aunt and uncle on his dad's side, and a few young cousins out in Atlanta. Oh god the moment I laid eyes on their pictures on FluffBook, I knew. Oh, I knew I had to have them. Claire was a petite little thing, loved to work out. She'd need a little bit of work, but she'd be fine. Cousin Hic (his real name was Henry but running a pit bbq business will give you weird nicknames, like Hickory) was a lot heftier. I bet he would probably taste smokey and mellow even if I kept him around awhile.

The brother and sister took a little plying, but I had a good cover story; I was going on a business trip to Georgia to pick up some choice cuts of pork for a fancy dinner the Boss was preparing. God it was dumb of me though. So dumb. I got them both alone in a quiet little restaurant in Hic's small town. Like with Miriam, I drugged their drinks. It was easy enough, $20 to the busboy and another $20 to drop a tray so I could get them out. When they began to list, confused at how drunk they'd gotten, glass went everywhere. The room became alight with activity and I was able to bundle them both up, arm in arm and slump them out to the car.

Only when I'd got Hic into the back seat, Claire slurring her words as she hung onto the door, did the owner come out after me. I should have laid a fat wad on the table and called it good. I overpaid, probably $60 extra to keep him from asking questions. But soon my prizes were bundled in the back, nestled against a cooler of fresh pork. I'll keep them drugged for the drive home. The pork will go to the Boss, the beef comes back to my little hideaway.

~ July 20th, 2006 ~

Dear Diary: I'm glad old Miriam has some company now. She's getting up in age, and her milking has produced less and less these past years. It must feel nice to have some more of the family here, even if they're not close to one another. I repurposed a few cages to hold the pair. Mr. Cowthwaite will need to wait to join his wife. Same with Auntie Bell, it would bring too much heat to snatch either of them. Besides, a part of me wants them there for the big dinner.

Ahhh yes! I almost forgot to tell you, Diary. I've decided on Christmas dinner 2020. A nice even number. 28 years of captivity, murder and charcuterie. I'll be over fifty then, won't I? How time flies.

I've situated brother and sister face to face for a while. They've been getting along well. I've even been experimenting with them a little. Where I beat poor Angus to tenderize his meat, I wanted to see if love and lust could be tasted in the meat. And what better love than that of siblings. Heh. I just needed to add a little force to get the juices flowing and turn that love into a real chemistry. I started off ring gagging the pair and pushing their cages together till their dumb little cow snouts were touching. God they look so pathetic caged up like this. Then I simply told them to start kissing. When they refused, out came the cattle prod. A few jolts on Hic's balls and he started forcing himself on the moaning and struggling Claire. I waited for her to resist a little longer before slipping the leads between her tender pussy lips. There's something about how a young, 20-something cow just lowes and lowes when you work the leads of a cattle prod into her cunt and pull the trigger till she cums.

After their first makeout session, I made Hic clean up the floor with his tongue. He was so ashamed, and his face went ashen when I told him that I'd slaughtered Angus in the same room not 10 years ago.

Cowthwaite Christmas Charcuterie - 2006

• Smoked Miriam Gouda (Hickory, in honor of my newest captive) and Aged Cheddar (6 Years)

• Fresh Claire Heifer Brie

• Fatty Angus Soprasetta

• Thin Sliced Angus Rauchfleisch

• Hickory Semen and Mustard Sauce (?)

It's too early to butcher Hic. I want him around till I can taste the brotherly love in every bite.

~ August 20th, 2008 ~

Dear diary: What a difference a few years can make. Claire and Hic were mewling and sniveling little beasts just a short time ago. Now? Now they rut like first time lovers with only the snap of a finger. I have to keep a set of magnum condoms around any time I walk in, they're ravenous to pleasure each other. Of course, they might do it because last time they tried to stand up to me, things didn't go so hot for either of them.

Remember what happened in 2007? October, was it? Hic managed to slip one of his bonds. Took a swing at me when I got close enough. I was able to dodge out of the way, nearly clocked out my lights. Boy was he mad when he couldn't get his other arm free from the restraints. I walked back around him, got out a set of old kitchen shears from the kitchen, and went to work castrating him. He pleaded and begged when the metal bit into his sack. Hard. He even put his arm back against the restraint, like he was saying sorry.

Diary, I clipped off one of his testicles that day, and snipped off his scrotum till I had a cute little coin purse. Left his last one dangling down on the bottom of the cage. I want him to still have testosterone so he can rut on his little lover a little longer.

Why am I telling you all this, Diary? Well you might notice something a little different. I've been practicing tanning leather. Just on a small scale right now. I hope you like your new Hickory Balls Leather case, my dear friend. But this is just the start. I've decided I will wear a lovely set of leathers to my big Christmas dinner. 12 years? 12 more years.

~ December 24th, 2020 ~

The last straw. The last snap was Auntie Bell picking up her accursed, godforsaken platter and setting it next to Zack's masterpiece. Slowly, the gaudy serving tray slipped across the kitchen countertop, closer and closer, each centimeter causing the buck's pinpoint eyes to twitch with a growing, horrified nystagmus as it edged next to his gorgeous spread. The perfectly selected wooden board he had picked practically towered over the porcelain monstrosity Bell had put together, the sound of scraping ceramic on countertop like nails on a chalkboard. Hackles raised, the deer let out an audible gasp as he heard the porcelain 'tink' softly against his prized charcuterie board. Instinct boiled over to rage.

"N-n-no! NO! NO!" In an instant, the deer had grabbed the giardiniera mix platter, a warbling horror welling in his throat as he launched the plate over his shoulder, sending wet vegetables strewing across the dining room floor. The platter flew much farther, a corner of the rectangular plate lodging itself in the flatscreen TV, the yule log video running on the television ending abruptly in darkness as all eyes turned upon the jacketed deer. Agape mouths stared, horrified and concerned as Zack planted both hands on the multi-gallon pickling jar. Like a petulant cat, he tipped the whole thing over onto the floor in a rage, time seeming to slow down just before the jar imploded in a spatter of glass, vegetables, and acrid vinegar.

"Z-Zack? ZACK! What is WRONG with you?" Mr. Cowthwaite finally snapped out of his confusion and barked aloud.

"IT CAN NOT!" Zack growled through gritted teeth as he turned back to his psychotic pride and joy, practically resting his head upon the platter, over the tender rolled meats, even getting a daub of stone ground mustard in his cheek fluff as he did. "N-No, no it cannot happen, noooooo... nothing else to ruin my family reunion... No-no-no-no."

"Jack, what the fuck are you talking about?!"

Turning his head slowly from atop the platter, the deer grinned with a maniacal curl to his lips as he asked, softly, "What would you give to see your wife again, 'dad?' "

~ September 03rd, 2012 ~

Diary: I knew the day would come. I wasn't prepared for it. But I knew it would come. Miriam failed to produce for a week in a row. God, she... She cried so hard, her worn out teats sagging down over her milking rack. I knew she was begging me behind her gag. She was pleading with me. Not to.

I can't bring myself to do her like Angus. She deserves better. I bought a bolt gun yesterday. Gave it a try on a watermelon to make sure it worked. I'm sorry if I'm not very talkative today. I'm letting her rest with a vibe up her cunt. She deserves one last night of continuous orgasms.

~ September 04th, 2012 ~

Diary: It's done.

Cowthwaite Christmas Charcuterie - 2012

• Gooey Miriam Burrata and Rolled Provolone

• Fresh Claire Heifer Port Wine Cheese Spread

• Angus Summer Sausage

• Angus Tongue Loaf, in Aspic

• Tender Miriam Galantina

• Smoked and Spicy Miriam Csabai with Hungarian Paprika

Note to Self: Make sure to save the remnants of Angus and Miriam. This is a big family reunion.

~ January 25th, 2016 ~

Dear Diary: Hic and Claire have been getting along well without any other companionship in the confines of my little thrill kill palace. Albeit the place has seen better days. The roof is leaking and it gets cold in the winter. I wish I could call in a handyman, but a few raised space heaters should ensure nobody gets electrocuted too soon. The two seem to love each other so much. They call each other sweet things in my presence, they kiss when I make them, and they rut like nobody's business. It's a shame that Hic lost his other ball to infection last year. But, no matter - an embarrassing trip to the doctor netted me a script for testosterone gel, so the big bull's still plenty able to get hard. And no need for condoms anymore, so I'd call that a win.

Boss was pleased with some of the pictures I sent him from last year's charcuterie board. He even offered to let me use his shop's deli slicers from here on out. Can you believe it? My precious family will grace the beautiful tools of THE Choice Cuts Deli? Only the best for my familial love.

Sadly, I must think ahead to the big day. I have been working on my leatherwork. I only had a few scraps left over practicing on Angus, but I made myself a lovely codpiece, tanned from his back skin. Miriam's pelt was supple, if a little hard to work due to her age. I made sure to give it multiple treatments with leather conditioner, and decided to make a harness out of her hide. I was even able to include both her nipples on the chest of each strap! Diary, I so wanted to have the codpiece fit through her cunt... oh how I wish I could have, but the supple lips would not tan the way I wanted. Too much meat on the old girl. I had to settle for using straps over the base.

I must also prepare to bring in Kobey for our final date together. Mmmm... what could I possibly do with my sweet husband? So many options! I've decided to cull Claire and Hic next year, to make room and focus on aging the meat. Kobey will join them in 2019.

Cowthwaite Christmas Charcuterie - 2016

• Claire Heifer Havarti

• Claire Heifer Gorgonzola, Mold Grown in Hic's Semen

• Dry, Spicy Miriam Calabrese Sausage

• Tender Rolled Miriam Coppa Salami with bits of Angus Ham

• Unfreeze some Angus Semen Stone Ground Mustard

I am being very sparing with Miriam's milk and Angus's meat. Neither will last much longer so I need to be careful.

~ October 07th, 2017 ~

Dear Diary! What a rush! Oh how they kissed... oh how they choked.

Today was the day I ended the lives of Hic and Claire. I gave them both plenty of pleasure - free reign to rut under my supervision, and plenty of forced stimulation when they tried to rest. I kept Claire hooked up to her milking machine right to the end.

When the time came, I showed them the contraption I had rigged special for them both. A double garotte - designed so they could die face to face, snout to snout, tongues embraced like two lovers should, while the straps holding them to the post tightened around their necks until they snapped. Hic had given up entirely. I stopped giving him testosterone a few days prior, and the final flurry of fucking had burnt off any last will to resist. When I let him out of his cage, he calmly came with me to the restraint post, and let me tie him. He rested with his legs on either side of a bench, facing over the post as I attached the belt strap around the back of his neck. A metal spike protruded into his Adam's apple, an uncomfortable position that would get far less so once I began tightening the belt. As a kindness, and to show how much I loved him, my sweet cousin-in-law, I asked him to tell me his recipe for brisket. I promised he would grace the table just so, despite my hesitance to vary from cold cuts to a hot dish for Christmas.

Claire cried when it was her turn, but she didn't resist. I kissed her as she walked with me, and fingered her sore and blown out little cunny. As I settled her on the bench, opposite Hic, their snouts just touching, I asked if she would feel better if she died with her milking machine on.

She nodded. She actually nodded. I had broken her at last! Oh the beautiful sounds I heard that evening as I spent hours tightening the belt around their necks. I allowed them an hour together to kiss and make out, to whisper soft things to one another, encouraging them to let their love flow so I could ensure the meat tasted sweet as could be. All the while I jerked off to the sight while recording it on my phone.

Over the next two hours I slowly tightened the band of the garotte. Tiny, centimeter twists of the handle, slowly driving the metal rod deeper and deeper into their throats. They strained to kiss, they pleaded in coughing, breathless gasps as they begged, their cheeks growing flush and purple...

Claire went first, Diary. I felt something shift and noticed the metal peg had slipped between two vertebrae. Hic watched in tear filled horror as her neck snapped, and the light faded from her eyes. I felt, perhaps, pain of guilt that he had to witness it. So I turned the knob one more time, and ended his life just opposite his sister.

Cowthwaite Christmas Charcuterie - 2017

• Claire Heifer Caprese, with fresh Mozzarella

• Hickory Brisket, Smoked, Cooled and Rolled on Angus Bonemeal Crostini

~ December 24th, 2020 ~

Zack beamed as he picked up a piece of tender rolled mortadella off the charcuterie board. Carefully, selecting a thin and crisp cracker from the platter and layering it on top, adding a slice of aged cheddar and slowly handing it to an incredulously horrified Mr. Cowthwaite.

"Eat up."

"I- I don't want your fucking food, I want to know what you just said to me?!" The snarling bull smacked the hors d'oeuvre out of Zack's hand, snorting in the face of his son-in-law, who appeared for all his worth absolutely offended.

"Dad, I can't believe you. You don't recognize your own wife? Even after all these years?" Confusion rolled over the bull's face as he watched Zack drop his outerwear jacket from his shoulders and onto the floor. He had been wearing practically nothing at all underneath his jacket... but strangely, the vague understanding began to hit the bull's mind - and everyone else in the room.

Zack was wearing a pair of tight-fitting leather pants, custom built, which sported the brown-and white-spots of Kobey's pelt. His cock, hard as a rock, was ensheathed in a codpiece that appeared to be a deep Uncle Angus black. Strapped down from his chest to his groin were long leather harness straps, sporting two broad areolae and nipples at chest height. Mr. Cowthwaite's eyes teared up the moment he guessed who they came from - though he wouldn't realize that parts of Claire were used to accent the side straps and buckles. And finally, he sported a vest over his chest, the broad body of Hic the only one which could supply that much leather to complete the horrific kink project. The flaps of his vest were vibrating rapidly as Zack began to furiously masturbate himself with the Angus-leather cock sleeve as he growled out.

"Tonight's a special night!" Announced an unhinged Zack, turning back to the party platter he'd made and leaping up onto the tabletop with an unpracticed florish, his pathetic rack scraping on the ceiling as he did. "We have everyone here for the first holiday we've shared together! May I introduce you to your long-lost relatives? Today we have... unnngh..." Zack groaned as he kept jerking furiously before the stunned crowd, nobody able to take their eyes off the train wreck of the display. "Mmmm... tender, rolled cuts of Miriam Mortadella, made with the chopped fat of Uncle Angus himself for just a bite of bull to the tooth! Over here, tender Uncle Angus ham, yes ham! Nobody would suspect such a beefy boy like him would make a lovely pork butt, but you all ate him up back in 1998, so how could I refuse! I've even brought a few guests who've not joined us before. Meet Cousin Claire, her beef brisket tenderly corned by hand and dry-cured. Oooooh-hoo-hoo-hoo, but I promise you can taste the love in every bite, after all that Cousin Hic did to her! Ahhh, yes and Cousin Hic is here too! I made him a promise and served him as brisket just a few years ago. I figured it was worth a reprise, except this time I marinated him in a spicy chipotle sauce before cooling and serving his tender cut. And dear sweet Kobey. My little husband... aside from wearing him, he's joining us tonight as thin sliced kobe beef carpaccio, right there, nestled in amongst a few capers where he belongs." The aghast crowd watched in horror as little dribbles of precum pattered onto the serving tray, drooling out from a hole in the tip of the codpiece, as the psychotic deer continued his unhinged rant.

"And we can't forget about the cheeses, can we? Mmmmm, oh no no no, what's savory without a little tenderness? I made sure to practice plenty on Miriam. A wonderfully aged cheddar, pungent and perfect made from frozen milk of hers. We also have a gooey burrata made from our loving little sibling Claire's tender teats. As soft and jiggly as her mountainous mamms were jiggling on the milker! And of course, a lovely Havarti, made from a blend of the two. I never allowed them to embrace when they were kidnapped and held for my pleasure, so think of it as a loving hug between Miriam and Claire... and of course, plenty of bones left over, so a variety of crackers, crostini and... mnnpfh.. and flat breads from... from... Unnnngh!"

Caught off guard in his own lust, Zack suddenly reached orgasm, hot cum spattering over the party platter he had brought. It came as such a rush, such a sudden torrent he couldn't contain himself as hot and sticky seed flowed out of his codpiece and over top all of the charcuterie board. It spattered across the table, droplets speckling Auntie Bell and falling in little rivulets onto the glass covered floor.

For a moment, there was quiet, just the sound of the psychotic buck breathing heavy in blissful afterglow as he stared down at his magnum opus. A moment later he was on the ground, tackled hard by Mr. Cowthwaite in a rage, the elderly bull seeing red and screaming bloody murder as he clenched his hands around the boy's throat. A moment later, the farm-fox boyfriend had joined in to restrain Zack while Kaycee and Henry leapt to keep their uncle from killing the deer. Auntie Bell stood in horror, wiping the cum spatters from her glasses before someone shouted at her to call the cops.

~ January 04th, 2021 ~

The pine marten proprietor of the deli sighed as he put down the newspaper, a frustrated growl as the ongoing investigation into a decades-long serial killer continued. It was hard enough to have something like that go on in your town. Even harder when it was your own former employee. After the holiday season it was time to get back to work at last, and the deli owner knew he needed an extra hand now that operations had resumed at his shop. Picking up a handmade Help Wanted sign, he sauntered over to the window and placed it in the corner, peering out idly into the snow-lined downtown street and sidewalks.

And then... it hit him.

With a wry little smirk, the marten reached up to throw the deadbolt on his shop's front door, turning the Open sign to Closed, and finally flicking off the lights. Walking back to his office, he gave his computer's shift key a quick double tap and popped open a word document. It's never when you think inspiration will strike. But strike it does at the weirdest of times. With a little lick of his lips, he began to type:

THE Christmas Charcuterie

Written by Choice Cuts Deli

January 2021 | 6201 Words

'The gentle hum of stainless-steel blades, a rhythmic whirr-whirr of the food slicer...'

© 2020 Choice Cuts Deli Freelance Author

All Rights Reserved