"What Are Friends For? By: Uri Revised By: Teruyo" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/AqYrnti5 Created on: Wednesday 25th of April 2018 07:48:33 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:14:30 AM UTC What Are Friends For? By: Uri Revised By: Teruyo It was a normal Saturday afternoon in early Summer, and the two Barlow sisters and their two friends were sitting in the sisters' living room, chatting. "Stupid Gail Glaser," said the elder Barlow Tori, referring to her and her friend's new boss at work. "I know, right," replied said friend Mattie. "She's such a bitch, and she cut my hours." The girls' conversation is interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door opening and shutting again, followed by a voice. "Tori? Sweety? You home?" It was Tori's mother, home from her Saturday shopping. "Mr. Hill's was all sold out today, I didn't get a chance to buy a roast for dinner." The voice was heading their way, along with the sound of the woman's shoes on the hardwood floors of the hallway. "I'm going to need you in the kitch-" She stopped mid-sentence as she entered the living room, realizing she had guests. "Oh! I didn't know we had company! Hi Madelyn, hi Amelia," she said, pleasantly surprised. "Hi Mrs. B," the second friend replied, immediately followed by a "Hi mom," from the younger sister Portia. "I'm going to need you in the kitchen in 20 so I can get you ready for dinner, okay?" "Urgh. Okay, mom," Tori replied, a hint of irritation in her voice as she rolled her eyes. You'd think her mother had just told her to take the trash out in the middle of a TV show. "Don't you give me that tone, missy," her mother scolded, before addressing the others. "You two are welcome to join us for dinner, we'll have plenty of food." "Thanks, Mrs. B," cheered Mattie as the woman walked back towards the kitchen. "So anyhow," Tori continued as she started to disrobe, lifting her shirt over her head and talking through the fabric, "I heard she was stealing money." She tossed the shirt aside, her long flaxen hair quite disheveled by the process. "Me too," Mattie said. "Also, I heard she was having an affair with Greg." "The cook? I don't blame her, he is kinda hot." Tori's bra was next, she reached behind her back and unhooked the garment, exposing her breasts to her sister and their friends. "Well yeah. But still, she's got a fiancé. No excuse." "She's getting married? To who?" Now topless, Tori started removing her jean shorts, tossing them in the same pile as the rest of her clothes. "I dunno his name, but I seen him come in a few times. Y'know that bald guy that always gets eggs and toast in the morning?" Tori paused as she slipped her fingers into her panties, peering up at her friend. "Him!? She's getting married to him?" She looked Mattie in the eye to make sure she wasn't lying. "Yeah him," Mattie replied, grinning. "That's messed up. There's no reason for her to be cheating on him. And you know I'm not into bald guys, but that man is like, the definition of hot." Tori flopped back onto the couch, her perky breasts bouncing as she pulled off her panties. The conversation carried on for a few more minutes before Amelia, normally the shy, quiet one of the bunch, spoke up. "Um... T-... Tori?" "Hm?" The elder Barlow looked over at her friend, who was blushing almost as red as her frizzy hair. "What's up?" "Do you, um..." Amelia fidgeted. "D'ya think your mom would be mad if I asked to cook with you?" The other three immediately started grinning, remembering how much their friend enjoyed the thought of being food. "Nah, don't think so. Let's ask. Hey mom!?" "Yes," the Barlow matrarch's voice replied from the kitchen? "Can you come here a minute?" A moment later, Tori's mother returned. She walked into the room wearing nothing but an apron and her underwear; the woman's body looked amazing considering she was going on 40. "What's up, dinner?" "Amelia wants'ta know if she can cook with me. Is that okay?" Mrs. Barlow chuckled. She always enjoyed willing food, they were the only exemption she had to her rule about not playing with her food. "Sorry, sweety. I'd love to roast you both, but the oven simply isn't big enough." Amelia looked dejected, before Tori spoke up again. "Well is it okay for her to just take my place, then?" Worth a shot at getting out of being dinner, after all, and the redhead's face practically lit up at the suggestion. "Y- yeah," Amelia stammered. "Would, um... Would it be okay if I just... took her place?" Tori's mother hummed, giving her naked daughter a look as if to ask Really? "Well, let me inspect your meat first, before I consider taking you up on your offer." Seemingly before Mrs. Barlow finished her sentence, Amelia had already disrobed, her clothes laying in a crumpled pile at her feet. A smile grew on the woman's face as she half-inspected, half-played with the girl's succulent body: pinching one of her nipples elicited a moan and a shudder from the eager girl. Mrs. Barlow squeezed, poked, and prodded seemingly every inch of the quivering girl's body, and was completely amused by the "Grade A" tramp stamp on the girl's backside, before she completed her examination with a light slap on Amelia's rear. As she watched the rump jiggle, she stood back up. "Your tattoo says it all, honey. Tori, you're saved for today, I'll gladly cook this prime little piggy. You can put your clothes back on." Amelia practically went weak in the knees as she heard Mrs. B's verdict. "Naah, I'm good. In fact, why don't the two of you join us? It's kinda fun." Tori turned to face her sister and her non-food friend. "Meh, sure, why not," Mattie agreed as she started to strip. "I mean, we're all girls here, right? Well, except for the food, anyway." If it was possible for Amelia to turn a brighter shade of red, she would have done so by now, and Mattie got the reaction she had hoped for. The ginger felt a warmth growing between her legs, and resisted the urge to start playing with herself as she was lead away from her friends. "Alright, let's get this meat ready to cook," Mrs. Barlow said, directing Amelia to get into the sink. She gleefully complied, barely settled in the metal basin before she was sprayed with cold water. Once her meal was thoroughly drenched, the older woman shut off the flow and began to clean her. Sponge in one hand, a bottle of soap in the other, the Barlow matriarch gave Amelia the scrubbing of her life, getting suds into every nook and cranny of the girl's body. The ginger was totally complicit in the process, too, eagerly presenting her rump and spreading her legs at Mrs. Barlow's request. And once she was totally soaped up, the cold water came back, washing it all down the drain. With her main course now cleaned, Mrs. Barlow plucked Amelia out of the sink and carried her over to the table, where she was placed onto the rack in a roasting pan. She shifted a bit, trying to get somewhat comfortable with the metal bars pressed into her skin while her red hair was tied into a tight bun. Once she completed her task, Mrs. Barlow picked the plastic wrap from a new bottle of oil and poured a generous amount of it over Amelia's pale, freckled breasts and belly, before she spread it around with her hands. "Don't you ever get any sun, sweet meat," she teased, once again playing with her food. Amelia just moaned in response, putty in the older woman's hands and still thoroughly enjoying being treated like a big hunk of meat. Which is really what she was, anyway. Unable to resist any longer, the meal-to-be started to play with herself as she was worked over. Oil-coated fingers dipped in and out of her oil-coated snatch, and it wasn't long before Amelia's body shuddered in orgasm. Mrs. Barlow just chuckled, rubbing a new coating of oil into the the girl's back while this was happening. Once Amelia was coated in the oil, Mrs. Barlow began to shake salt, pepper, and a touch of garlic powder over the glistening skin, which clung to the oil and made her look more and more appetizing by the minute. "Let's see," Mrs. Barlow said as she poured some of the oil into the girl's hair. "Are you a turkey or a pig girl?" "I, uh, I thin-" "It was a rhetorical question, sweety, you're a piggy for sure. There's not much to show off up here," she squeezed Amelia's petite breast, "but your rump is to die for. Besides, food shouldn't talk." The last sentence was more Mrs. Barlow's continued teasing than anything else, she loved the way her piggy squirmed when she was reminded she was just food now. "Alright, kneel down, piggy, and bend over. Butt in the air... perfect! Give me your arms." Amelia's wrists were tied to her knees and her ankles were tied to her elbows with poultry twine, before spreading the pig girl's legs as wide as they would go to show off her mouthwatering rump; it was definitely uncomfortable, not that it mattered what she felt because she'd be roasted meat soon. The grate around Amelia was covered in vegetables: chopped potatoes, sliced carrots and celery, and halved onions surround the oiled, seasoned piggy in the pan, though she was mostly blind to what was happening, instead staring longingly at the preheating oven in front of her. Images wouldn't stop flying through her head: What would she look like? How would it feel to be in there, surrounded by the heat that would roast her to a delectable golden brown. She wouldn't have to wait much longer, at any rate. The LCD display on the oven had read 325 degrees for quite some time now, and Amelia was snapped back to attention by the sight of an apple being waved in front of her face. "Open wide, piggy," Mrs. Barlow instructed, and the girl did as she was told. Without hesitation, the woman shoved the apple in as far as it would go, lodging it firmly between her teeth. "Thatta girl," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "Girls, come in here please!" "Yeeees?" Mattie arrived first with the other two in tow, all three still naked. "Well, what do you think?" The piggy's slim figure, oiled and shiny under the kitchen's fluorescent light bulb, her delicious rump raised high in the air, it all made for quite the appetizing sight, and Mrs. Barlow was proud of her work. "Oh wow, mom, it looks awesome," Portia said, and Tori nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I can't wait for dinner, it looks delicious already," the elder sister continued. "Yeah, Mrs. B. This looks amazing! Thanks for having me over for dinner." Amelia almost came again on the spot from the way her good friends referred to her as nothing more than an it. She was no longer a person to them, just meat, a pig meant to be cooked and eaten. "No problem, Madelyn. The more the merrier, we're already going to have leftovers for weeks. Now then, time to get this pig cooking if it's going to be ready for dinner." After inserting a meat thermometer deep into the piggy's butt, Amelia's pan was slid off the table and onto a wheeled cart, which was pushed over to the waiting oven. She was facing the door as Tori opened it for her mother and the intense heat rolled out, almost too much for the poor piggy to take. She wiggled against her bindings, desperately hoping someone would see, would stop to play with her one more time before the end. Sadly, no one took notice as she was slid into the cavernous metallic mouth of the oven and the oven door shut behind her. Amelia moaned with pleasure as she was encased in the heat, and the already unbearable aching between her legs grew even more intense. She wished she was untied just so she could keep playing with herself, but she had no such luck. Tori and Portia didn't even bother to stay and watch, simply returning to the living room to continue their chat, and after pulling a can of Cherry Coke from the fridge, Mattie left as well. Only Mrs. Barlow remained, settling down to enjoy the show through the oven's glass door as the piggy cooked. The former girl finally managed to "find" a larger piece of potato and began rubbing against it as well as her bindings allowed, and was still at it when she was pulled out to baste a half-hour later. "I really do love willing food," Mrs. Barlow said, picking up pan juices with a basting bulb and pouring them over the piggy's back. "They always have so much fun." Amelia's energy had been clearly drained by her time in the oven so far, but she kept at it as she was slid back in. Having gotten her entertainment, Mrs. Barlow washed her hands and then joined the girls in the living room, to watch TV. "Hey Mr. B!" "Hi dad!" "Welcome home sweety. Hungry? I was just about to go check on dinner." The lone man of the family had returned from his golf outing, greeted by four beautiful, naked women as he walked in the door. "I'm a bit peckish, yeah," he replied as he set his bag of clubs down. "So, uhh. What's the occasion," he asked, referring to their lack of clothes. "Just some friends over for dinner," Tori replied. "I see. I don't suppose you girls would mind if I joined ya?" "No no, go right ahead," his wife replied, standing up. "I was just about to go check on dinner, anyway." While Amelia had managed to please herself several more times since she started cooking, she knew this time would be her last. The poor piggy was doing everything she could, but it seemed to her like she might not make it. The redhead longed that someone would stick something between her legs: a carrot, a cucumber, anything to help her have fun. Suddenly she was greeted by a rush of cold air as the oven door opened again. Moments later, there was a sharp pain in her butt, and she knew instantly what it was: someone was poking her with a fork, trying to see how close to done she was. The thought was simply too much for her, and Amelia's body spasmed one last time, one last orgasm before she went limp. Mrs. Barlow smiled at the sight. Between the motionless pile of meat in front of her, how easily the fork slid in, and the dial sticking out of her butt, she knew that dinner wasn't far off. The pig's skin was starting to brown and crack, and was letting off a mouthwatering smell to boot. The woman resisted the urge to drool as she basted the roast one last time, before she closed the door to let it finish cooking. Not even fifteen minutes later, the meat was done. The temperature read a perfect one-hundred-and-forty degrees Fahrenheit, and Mrs. Barlow shut the oven off. Amelia's pan was slid out of the oven onto the cart again, and then the pig herself was transferred to a platter and, after her twine bindings were snipped, surrounded by the vegetables she cooked with. Once the platter was properly prepared, Mrs. Barlow wheeled it out to the dining room, where a host of hungry people were waiting. The smell of cooking girl pig had been filling the house for hours, and to say they were a bit peckish would be an understatement. "Whoa, Mrs. B," Mattie exclaimed! "That looks good!"