The Wedding Banquet
By Czolgolz
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One month before her wedding, Stacey’s maid of honor and three bridesmaids received this invitation:

You are invited to a day of beauty and relaxation, at the Anything Goes Spa.  Wear loose clothing and a smile.  Be prepared to be catered to!  RSVP

All four women accepted.  They day at the spa was scheduled just two days before Stacey’s wedding, it would be a nice break from the chaos of the wedding plans.
*

Jessie arrived first.  She’d known Stacey since high school, and though they’d lost contact over the years, she’d been delighted when Stacey had asked her to be in the wedding.

Jessie stood in front of the door to the spa, uncertain.  She was a country girl, and had never even been to a health club, let alone a spa.  The unlabeled, frosted doors intimidated her.  She was a lovely young woman, with black, curly hair, a nervous, becoming smile, and a slender, waif-like frame.  In spite of her beauty, she often felt overwhelmed in social situations, as if everyone would see her as unsophisticated.  Nervously, she entered the lobby.

The interior of the building was softly lit, done up in neutral colors.  The tall woman with the blonde braids behind the counter smiled at her.  “Jessie?  Please come in.  Stacey is waiting for you in room one if you’d like to go ahead in.”

Jessie mumbled a reply and ducked through the door.  She found herself in a small room.  It was undecorated, with only a large metal table, a mirror, a medicine cabinet, and what appeared to be a huge stone bathtub, connected to many tubes and pipes.

“Jessie!” hollered Stacey.  The redhead kissed her friend on the cheek.  Stacey, with her flaming red hair, pert breasts, and naughty smile, seemed at ease in any situation.  “I’m so glad you’ve made it!”

Jessie smiled, much more at ease.  “I wouldn’t have missed it.  So what’s in store for us?”

Stacey giggled.  She was wearing a robe.  Apparently she’d already partaken in some of the treatments.  “Oh Jessie, it’s glorious.  But I don’t want to ruin the surprise.  Why don’t you undress and take a warm bath?  Someone will be with you shortly.”

“Oh, okay,” said Jessie as Stacey left.  She was just a little upset.  She thought she’d be spending the day with Stacey and her other old friends.  Well, maybe they’d meet up later.

Jessie removed all her clothes and drew a bath.  She stared at her naked reflection as the tub filled.  While she’d never developed past an ‘A’ cup, her pert breasts, flat stomach, and nymph like figure still turned heads.  Her nipples stood out redly against her ivory skin, as did her black pubis.

As the room filled with steam, she slid into the bath and soaked.  She never fully relaxed, always expecting an attendant to barge in.  Eventually she drained the tub and stood up, wondering where she could find a towel.  It was then she noticed that she was no alone.  Hidden in the steam, Stacey had somehow managed to reenter the room silently, and was smiling at Jessie nude form.

“Stacey!” screamed Jessie, trying to cover herself up.

“Surprise!” giggled Stacey.  She was holding a hose in her hand.  When she turned it on, the liquid felt like it was burning Jessie’s pale skin.  Only later did she realize the liquid wasn’t hot, it was cold.  Very cold.  Jessie couldn’t read the label of the canister at the other end of the hose.  The word ‘nitrogen’ might not have meant anything to her anyway.

As the vapor from the liquid nitrogen cleared, Stacey was joined by the receptionist.  “How did it go?” she asked, squinting through the smoke.

“She never suspected a thing.  Look.”

Standing in the bathtub was a beautiful ice sculpture of a naked woman.  The ice had a bluish color to it.  Every curve and cranny of the woman had been lovingly rendered by the carver.  One would wonder why anyone would put so much detail into a work of art that would surely melt, and yet, here it was.  The ice was so lifelike you almost expected to feel warm female flesh instead of unyielding ice.  With a little imagination, you could almost see color under the ice, her dark hair, her red lips.

Stacey laughed.  “I never believed it would work!  This is amazing!”

“We’ve been doing this for years.  I’m just glad you got her by surprise, I hate it when they get caught in some awkward position.”

Stacey tapped the Jessie statue on the shoulder.  “So do you think she knows what happened to her?”

The receptionist nodded.  “Oh yes.  She’s fully conscious.  She just can’t move.  Well, we better get her into the freezer.”  The receptionist said something into her headset.  Two large men appeared with a hand truck.

“Will you take Jessie into the freezer please?”

One of the men grinned lustfully at the human icicle.  “With pleasure.”

“Behave,” chided the receptionist.  “Remember what happens when you lick a frozen flagpole.”

Wordlessly, the men loaded Jessie onto the dolly and rolled her down a corridor.  Soon they came to a huge freezer door.  Carefully, they sat her on the frosted floor, and closed the door.  There was no light in the freezer and it was pitch black.
*
Brandi wasn’t one to turn heads.  Her love for Little Debbie and Haagen Daas banished her from the world of bikinis forever.  But there was something pleasant in her round face.  Once a guy got past her chubby stomach and soft thighs, they were often taken with her DD breasts, her smooth and pliant rear, and her warm, encircling arms.

Brandi sat alone in room two, wearing nothing but a towel.  She was pleased her old college friend Stacey had asked her to be a bridesmaid, but honestly, the spa wasn’t for her.  She’d have much preferred a ladies night out, with drinking, strippers, and a nice buffet.  

There was a knock at the door, and a large man walked in.  Brandi unconsciously pulled her towel tighter.  The guy was handsome and muscular.  Brandi silently cursed the day they invented deep-dish pizza.  While she didn’t hate her body, she often wished there was less of it.

“Hello, I’m Brad,” said the man.  I’m here to give you your massage.”

Brandi giggled.  “Oh my...”

“If you’d prefer a female masseuse...” started Brad.

Brandi decided that she would not.  She lay face down on the large massage table.  When Brad undid her towel, she got goose bumps.

When his hands touched her, she moaned.  She couldn’t help it.  “Oh, God, do not stop!”

“I don’t intend to.”

Brad kneaded Brandi’s ample rolls of skin.  He worked her back, her shoulders, her sides.  Soon Brandi slipped into sleep and her flesh softened under his hands.

When Brandi woke up, she thought she was having s strange dream.  She was seeing a huge puddle on the massage table.  It wasn’t really a puddle, though.  More like a lump of dough that had been gone over with a rolling pin.  But it was uniform; smooth, not lumpy at all.  And the color.  It was tan, almost flesh like.  The strangest thing, of course, was the pair of sleepy eyes that watched dimly from the front of the mass.  They were so out of place, like something superimposed with Photoshop.  Brandi blearily tried to lean in for a better look when she got the shock of her life.

She was looking in a mirror.  The eyes on the pile of skin shot open wide.  But how could that be?  She tried to get up, but nothing happened.  In fact, she couldn’t feel her legs...or her arms...or her face.

“I’ll wake up soon,” she thought.  There was no possible way she could be that...that...thing!  That human blob!  When Stacy told Brandi that he would make her melt, she didn’t mean literally!

For ten minutes she stared in panic at the human puddle.  Eventually the door opened.  Instead of Brad or Stacey, in came the two men who had stuck Jessie in the freezer.  They were wearing aprons and rubber gloves.  One carried an enormous crock-pot.
Brandi wanted to scream, to beg for help, to plead to them to put her back together.  Instead, they joked and laughed as they set up the pot.

“Tasty looking one,” said one of the men.

The other winked and dipped his finger into Brandi’s back, or what once passed for her back.  His finger came up coated with Brandi colored material, which he licked off.  Though he was no longer touching Brandi, she felt like she’d been licked.

“Knock it off,” said the first man.  He dug his hand into Brandi and came out with a handful of skin, which he began to roll into a ball.  To Brandi’s horror, she felt part of herself in his hands.  Was it her back?  Her stomach?  Her leg?  She couldn’t tell.
Soon both men were rolling Brandi-balls.  “So what are we making here?” asked the first man.  “Cookies?”

“Nah.  See...” he held up a piece of Brandi.  “You can still see her goose bumps and moles and things.  We’re making meatballs.”  He removed a large bottle of barbecue sauce from below a counter and filled the pot.  Brandi felt as if she was half submerged.
The man placed the lid on the pot.  “I’m going to take this to the kitchen and start cooking.  Looks like she’ll fill three, three and a half pots.”

“How many were ordered?”

“Three.”

Like two children snitching cookies, both guys took a large ball of what used to be Brandi and swallowed it.  Brandi barely registered the feeling of having part of herself eaten.  Meatballs?  COOKED?
*
Lori was not surprised when her old coworker Stacey, asked her to be a bridesmaid.  That’s the way things worked in Lori’s world.  Thin, blonde, leggy, with large breasts and the face of a model in a toothpaste commercial, she was used to honors like this.  She removed her sunglasses as she entered the spa, making a mental note not to show up the bride.  Not too much.

Lori was short with the spa employees.  She’d done this every month since she was seventeen, and was not in the mood to chat.  She was here to be catered to, not to make friends.  Before fifteen minutes were up she was laying in a tanning bed, clad only in her bikini, her sunglasses, and a thin layer of tanning lotion.  If she had thought to look under the label of the lotion, she may have been surprised to see the bottle actually contained topical anesthetic.  

Lori was asleep when the end of the tanning bed opened, so she didn’t realize that the bottom of the bed was slowly propelling her forward.  Outside, a large meat grinder had been attached to the end of the booth.  Before long, a long stream of grade-A hamburger meat began to stream from the blades of the machine and fill the pot below.

Stacey peaked into the room half an hour later, to check on her friend.  She giggled when she saw Lori, who was now spread across a countertop in a large oblong shape.  100 pounds of pure beef.  A shaker of salt and another of seasoning stood nearby.  Lori was well on her was to providing the main course of the wedding meal: hamburger casserole.

Stacey giggled when she saw whoever had prepared Lori had dressed her in her bikini and sunglasses.  It seemed as if Stacey’s former coworker had been transformed into a large sausage.  Stacey was about to leave when she heard a voice.

“Who’s there?”  It was faint, but there was no mistaking where it came from.

“It’s me, Stacey,” she answered, shocked.

“Hey, Stace.  I think I fell asleep.  Could you wake me up in ten minutes?  I’m just about done here, I think.”

Stacey giggled.  Lori wasn’t done, she was still raw.  She wouldn’t be done until she went into the oven tomorrow.
*
Out of the four women who became Stacey’s wedding dinner, Rachel was the one she’d most consider a true friend.  They had been like sisters growing up, but had lost contact several years ago.  Rachel was thrilled when she was asked to be maid of honor, and looked forward to catching up with Stacey.

Rachel had just changed into her bathrobe when Stacey walked in.  With her short brown hair, toothy grin, and athletic body, Rachel was the epitome of the girl next door type (so long as the girl next door was awfully pretty).  

Rachel screamed and embraced Stacey.  “Oh, it’s been so long!  It’s so good to see you!”
Stacey felt a twinge of regret.  Rachel had a been a good friend, and it felt mean to trick her like this.  Still, she hadn’t seen her for five years, and it would probably be another five before she saw her again.  Besides, it was too late to make alternate plans now.

Rachel and Stacey gossiped for half an hour.  Finally, Stacey brought up what was on her mind.

“Rachel, can I ask you a big favor.”

“Of course.  Need help with the wedding plans?”

“Not exactly.  It’s my husband.  His bachelor party is tonight, and I’m a little worried.”
Rachel looked concerned.  “You don’t think he’ll get into trouble, do you?”

“No, he’s always been faithful.  It’s just that, well, his friends want to hire a stripper.  They swear it’s hands off, but I don’t know.  I don’t trust them.  I’m afraid they’ll want him to do something we’ll regret.”

“So what can I do to help?”

“Well, the guys said I could pick the stripper, if I wanted to.”

Rachel jumped up in shock, causing her bathrobe to fly open.  For a second, her coffee-colored nipples and toned belly were visible.  “Stacey, you don’t mean me?”

“Calm down.  You wouldn’t have to really strip, just wear a bikini.  My husband’s never met you, just dance a little, I know you can, give him a thrill.”

“Stacey, that seems very awkward.  I mean, your husband and all.”

“Please, Rachel.  I need someone I can trust.  Someone pretty, who won’t let things get out of control.”

Rachel pondered.  “Okay.  But only as a favor to you.  Will it be at a bar or something?”

“No, at his house.  You’ll jump out of a cake.  Actually, I have the cake here.  Let me show you.”

She let Rachel down a corridor, to a large, almost empty room.  In the center stood a metal frame, vaguely cake-shaped.  A stepladder stood to the side.  

“That’s the thing.  They’re going to decorate it tonight.  Would you mind getting in it?”

“Why?”

“I think you may be a little tall.  I just want to check.”

Rachel shrugged, and climbed the stairs.  Her robe wrapped around her, causing her to almost stumble.  

“Just take it off for a sec,” said Stacey.  “No one’s here.”

Rachel obliged, swung her long legs over the top, and dropped inside.

“Oh, it’s plenty tall.  In fact, I don’t think I can get out!  Stacey, give me a hand here.”

Stacey wasn’t listening.  She had grabbed a coil of hose from a corner and slung it into the cake’s top opening.

“Stacey, what...?”

Stacey turned a valve, and the inside of the cake began to fill with batter.  Stacey didn’t turn it off until it began to overflow from the top.  She then grabbed a metal lid and fastened it to the highest layer of the cake.  She left, and men in aprons entered.  They rolled the cake down the hall, into a kitchen, and opened a walk-in oven.  When it had heated sufficiently, they rolled Rachel’s cake inside and let her bake for several hours.

When they were done, they wheeled the cake out with gloved hands.  The metal frame was removed, showing a five-and –a-half-foot high, golden brown cake.

“What now?” asked one of the men.

“The usual drill.  Divide the cake into layers, then frost.”

“That’s going to be one tall cake, once we put the supports in.”

“Actually, the bride doesn’t want a cake that tall.  She says just cut out some of the middle pieces.”  

“What do we do with the leftovers?”

The other man gestured to a pile of cake boxes on a table.

“That’s the trouble with this job.  Can’t stay on a diet.”  He took out a large knife, and deftly removed the top foot of the cake.
*
By eleven o’clock, the wedding guests were starting to go home.  A few still lazily moved across the dance floor.  Others leaned back in their chairs and reminisced.  Still others picked at what was left of their meal.  The caterers, Anything Goes Fine Foods, had started cleaning up.  They scraped the remains of hamburger casserole into the trash, tossed half-eaten meatballs down the sink, and wrapped the uneaten portion of the cake for the new couple to freeze and enjoy on their first anniversary.  At the main buffet table, the ice sculpture had melted down to its navel.  The meal was a success, many of the guests had asked for the meatball recipe.  No one had ever heard of meatballs cooked with brandy.

At a corner table, the groom, who also was the owner of Anything Goes, shared a laugh with his best man.  Another member of the old gang settling down.

“So how long do you think it’s going to last?” said the best man.

“What do you mean?”

“Your marriage.  I don’t give it a year.”

The groom was furious.  “I love her!  There’s no way we’re divorcing!”

The best man chuckled.  “I don’t mean that.  How long until she winds up in that cooking pot of yours?”

“No way.  She’s different.  She’s my wife, not an ingredient.”

“You said that about Jennifer, about Dawn, about Jill, Brenda, Isabel...”

“Okay, okay.  I know I was never one for the old long-term relationship.  But Stacey’s different.  I love her too much.  I think I’d have made a mince pie out of her by now if I didn’t.”

“Ever since you were on TV, you can’t keep a female staffer for more than a week.  A hundred bucks says Stacey winds up a main course before three months is up.”
“You’re on, sucker.”  They shook hands.

The groom looked over at his new wife, who was chatting with her bridesmaids.  All that red hair...it’d look good next to green icing.  But he’d have to be strong.
*
Stacey laughed with her bridesmaids, who were also her sisters.

“So all four of them fell for it?  None of them suspected they were about to be cooked?”

“I think Rachel did, at the end.  The rest of them had no idea.  God, I’m so glad I married a caterer.  The meal cost next to nothing, and I didn’t have to hurt anyone’s feelings by not asking them to be in the wedding party!  This way, no one loses.”

“All the same, I’m just glad I didn’t end up as a side dish!”

Stacey’s freckled face broke into a sly grin.  “Then make sure he doesn’t get you alone.  Sometimes when he’s around you three he looks like he’s at the deli counter, looking for sandwich fixings.”

The girls laughed.  “Speaking of which, are you sure you want to go through with this?  I mean, serving up your old friends is one thing...”

Stacey hugged her sister.  “Remember when we used to play tea party?  You three were always princesses, and I was always the cookies!”

“True enough.  I remember when you told your teacher you wanted to be a hoagie when you grew up.”

Stacey looked over at her husband.  “I never thought it could really happen.  But when I saw him on TV, cooking up that Andi woman, I knew I’d met my husband and chef.”

“So have you talked to him about this?”

“No.  He’d say no.  I want it to be his idea.  He won’t be able to resist.”

“How long you think?”

“Less than three months.  Next time he invites you over for a big meal, check for any stray jewelry in the soup.”

The DJ made an announcement.  “Last dance everyone.  Will the married couple please come to the dance floor?”

They danced the last dance together, Stacey with her head on Brian’s shoulder.  

“You smell nice,” he said.  “What scent are you wearing?”

Stacey just smiled.  She had dabbed a little vinegar behind her ears.

Brian held his bride and ran his hand down her lean, tasty body.  He kissed her freckled shoulder and playfully nipped her.

“Three months,” thought Stacey, with confidence.

“Three months,” thought Brian, in agony.