by Scipio42 (Hunting, Femcann, cooking)
“Hi, is that Caroline? Yes, It’s Margaret
Rogers. You did some work for me last year. Well they’re back. I don’t know if
it’s that same ones but they’re getting into my fields and ripping my vines up
again …”
Caroline ended the call after agreeing to visit Margaret to assess the problem.
Caroline Bateman was an exterminator, and a good one. If someone like Margaret
had a pest problem Caroline would take care of it. Iguanas, pythons, hogs, it
didn’t matter. Caroline would take them down and dispose of the waste.
It was a profitable business – certainly, some of the meat was disposable –
often the farmers would take some for their freezers, but the tall, athletic
and strong woman was quite capable of filling the back of her truck and hauling
off the carcases to butcheries in the area.
“They’re coming in from the woods,” Margaret, showed her the broken and
scattered bunches of grapes. The mess between the vine rows was extensive, but
Caroline noted it was confined to this one corner of the yard.
“They gorge themselves on the grapes,” the exterminator pointed at the
scattered fruit, “Then I guess they get a bit frisky …”
“Ughh!” Margaret shuddered. “Fucking animals.”
Caroline laughed, shrugging, her large bosom moved enticingly, “It’s that time
of year for them I guess.”
“I thought they were like this all the time.” Margaret looked puzzled.
“Well, I guess they are but they’re moving south …”
“And my vineyard is on their route?”
Caroline nodded. “You still got the shooters hide?”
Margaret nodded and looked up towards a blocky hunting hide in a stand of trees
nearby.
“I’ll be back about five and set up there. Have you got room in the freezer?”
Margaret nodded.
“Well, see you then.”
Caroline’s night vision scope showed the scene as if it was clear daylight.
There was no moon and an overcast but she had no problem seeing the first one
as he cautiously came out of the trees.
Looking down to her left, Caroline could see five or six heat signatures on the
other scope, the one already in the open, and five more in among the trees.
That was about normal – they usually travelled in groups of four to six.
Unusually these were a bit more cautious than normal, often the exploded into
an area and just went through it as if they owned the place.
Soon though, the exterminator had six targets out in the open.
Six strapping, muscly jacks, gorging themselves on Margaret’s grape harvest,
flexing their muscles and cat-calling each other in their uncouth language.
They’d come out through a narrow gap in the boundary fence so that was where
she would start.
That first target was a huge beast, blonde, his hair hanging down his back, a
pair of tattered board shorts covering his butt, but otherwise a fine musculature
rippled under his tanned hide.
‘Snap!’ The first shot entered the back of his head and the tumbling slug took
his face off as it exited, and the hulk dropped like a rock.
The silencer had done its work and though the other five jacks were shocked they
didn’t realise the immediacy of the threat.
Caroline fired quickly and suddenly there were three more down on the floor –
though the last shot had been hurried and she thought that the jack might be
down but not dead.
The last two were panicking, they darted about but had not yet made a break for
the woods. That was until Caroline’s next shot took one of them out with a
bullet between the eyes.
‘That was more luck than judgement,’ she told herself with a grin, ‘But I’m
never ever gonna tell anybody.’
The last jack finally got its shit together and was moving towards the gap in
the fence, as it crossed the gap, Caroline’s shot caught it in the small of the
back, dropping it so that it folded up over the fencing mesh.
Six down, seven shots, not bad.
Caroline’s truck pulled into the farm yard and Margaret came out to meet her.
They walked round to the tailgate and the exterminator lifted the tarp.
Six jacks lay on the bed.
Margaret looked at them, tall males, young men, tanned and fit, the ones that
had not been disfigured looked like they were sleeping, like some of the jacks
they’d raised on the farm.
Caroline looked at Margaret. “These are feral males. Men!” she reminded the
farmer, “They’re invasive, they’re destructive, and if you’re a single female
and they catch you, they’re dangerous!”
She reached in among the bodies and pulled one of them towards her. The jack
moaned weakly with the movement.
“They’re also damned tasty.” She grinned. “That natural diet and all that
exercise. Wish I could get barn-raised man-meat to taste like that!”
She hefted the man onto her shoulders as Margaret pointed to a table beside a
fire pit.
“Do you wanna kill it first?”
“Nah,” Caroline told her, “He’s dead, he just hasn’t realised it yet.”
By now the rest of the family and some of Margaret’s workers had joined them.
It was late, but it was an unexpected barbecue, always a good thing.
Two of the farm’s women set about lighting the fire in the barbecue pit, while
Margaret’s eldest daughter stripped the ragged covering off the jack’s hips.
“Oh my!” The younger woman exclaimed. “That’s a meal in itself!”
All of the women stopped to look. The jack had been towards the smaller end of
the group, but he was certainly packing something special, his cock was huge –
at least ten inches and thick too, his balls were big as well.
“Lord! Can’t let that go to waste.” One of the hands said, producing a frying
pan.
“Laura,” Margaret told her daughter, “Go and get me some of that chorizo
sausage from the fridge and a large red chilli and some shallots.”
“Are you staying?” Margaret asked Caroline. “You can put those other ones in
our freezer ‘til morning. Tisha and Janey will give you hand.
With the option of hot, fresh, barbecued male-meat on the menu, Caroline agreed
readily.
By the time they got back to the table, the jack had been bound onto the spit
pole and placed over the fire. As he rotated slowly the large cock flopped
about.
“Gonna brown that off a bit and then I’ll take it off and chop it up with the
chorizo and the chillis.
“Garlic?” Caroline asked.
“There’s enough in the sausage, don’t want to kill the flavour. At least
there’ll be more than just a mouthful each.” Margaret said with a snort.
“Beer?”
The jack was still weakly moaning as his skin darkened, but all sound – except
for the hiss and spat of dripping fat – ceased as the jack expired on the
rotating metal pole.
Margaret stopped the spit-motor and deftly sliced the big cock and balls away
from the dead man, catching them in her frying pan.
With the spit rotating, the farmer began slicing the cock, and balls, even the
ball sack was shredded, and the pan placed on a low heat. The chorizo sausage,
the peppers and shallots were next and they went into the pan. It was all left
to cook for a few minutes before Margaret added a good slug of tequila.
Margaret noticed Caroline’s raised eyebrow. “Most of the alcohol burns off, but
it’s worth it – you’ll see.”
With the spit motor doing all the arduous work, Margaret placed the cooked cock
and balls on a large plate with some rice and all of the assembled women sat
around and watched the dead jack turn brown.
“You know, I’ve eaten a few cocks in my time,” Caroline said, “Some of ‘em have
even been alive when I finished, but I’ve never had cock and ball like that …”
“Yeah, that was a good one.” Margaret told her. “But it was you brought the
ingredients. Like you said, fresh is best.”
“May I be forward?” She asked.
The farmer nodded.
“It’s been a long day; would you mind if I showered before we eat?”
“Sure! Would you like someone to wash your back for you? Laura? Will you go and
wash Miss Caroline’s back for her?”
“It would be my pleasure, this way Miss Caroline.” The woman said as she stood
up.
“If you’re washing my back, Laura, then you can call me just Caroline.”
Later when they returned, and the women started slicing long strips of hot male
meat off the cooked jack on the spit Margaret asked Caroline how much she’d get
for the other five bodies.
Caroline told her.
“Is that retail?” The farmer asked.
Caroline laughed.
“No,” Margaret said, before she took a slug from her beer, “I’m only asking
because we normally go big for our Emancipation Day party, that’s a month away.
And we usually hold a barbecue when we do the new vintage, and if’n the others
are as tasty as this one, then it would save me a lot of hassle, and you some
backache, if those ones in our freezer, stayed there.”
As it was, Caroline was very satisfied when she finally couldn't eat any more
jack and had to push her plate away. She’d been paid for the job and the farmer
had given her a decent price for the bodies, she’d had her pussy well-licked by
the talented Laura, and she had an invite to the farm’s Emancipation Day
celebrations.
As the sun climbed higher, and the workers were told that today was officially
a post-impromptu barbecue rest day, the farmer stood up and extended her hand
to the handsome guest, inviting her to spend the rest of the morning ‘sleeping
off’ the meal, Caroline thought, ‘Yep, good day indeed!’