The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Meredith was standing in the lobby of the ad agency, waiting for the elevator. There were two other women, both very beautiful, waiting for the same elevator in the same lobby.

The thought crossed Meredith’s mind that they might be going where she was going— the Quick Sale ad agency, up on the 15th floor of the complex. They were pretty enough to be models like her: both a bit taller than average. The one on the left had sleek black hair, and the one on the right had thick, curling red tresses. Both women’s hair was impeccably styled, just as Meredith’s own blonde locks were. And of course, all three of them had knockout bodies and gorgeous faces. It was too much of a coincidence.

Meredith was the first to break the ice. “Are you both here for the Quick Sale modelling call?” She asked, as the indicator above the elevator doors ticked down.

The redhead’s eyes widened in interest. “I am,” she said. “I’m Amity.”

“Meredith,” Meredith replied, with a nod.

“I’m here for the modelling call, too,” the black-haired woman interjected. “My name is River.”

The indicator above the doors ticked again, showing the elevator had just moved from the third floor to the second— only a few seconds more until it was down to them.

“Do either of you know exactly what we’re modelling for?” Amity asked, looking between the other two women.

River gave a shrug. “It’ll probably be a photo shoot. I’ve showed up to a few of these unspecified calls in the past few weeks. They all turned out to be photoshoots. At least this call said that it was for a Thanksgiving display, so there’s some idea of what to expect.”

The elevator dinged, having arrived at the ground floor, and the three women stepped in. Amity pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Maybe it won’t be a photoshoot,” Meredith countered. “It might be a simple commercial for some kind of Thanksgiving-related product.”

The doors of the elevator closed, and it started its ascent to the fifteenth floor.

There was silence for a few minutes, as it appeared Amity was thinking over what the two other models had said to her.

“Well, whatever it is, I guess we’ll find out when we go in,” Amity said at last, as she stepped out of the elevator.

The waiting room of the ad agency held a receptionist’s desk, which sat centered in front of the elevator and overshadowed by a large sign on the wall behind it with the agency logo and name.

There was no one else in the waiting area except for the receptionist behind the desk, who looked up at them brightly. “Are you three here in response to the call we put out?”

“We are,” Meredith said, and the other two women nodded in agreement.

“You can go right in, through the doors just to the left of this desk,” the receptionist said, cheerfully. “They’re all ready for you.”

The three models shared a look. Meredith, at least, was thinking it was strange that the receptionist hadn’t said what exactly was waiting on the other side of the doors… what it was that was ready for them. Judging by the look both River and Amity shared with her, she suspected they were thinking similar things.

“Thank you,” the three models said together, after their shared glance ended.

The receptionist gave a nod of acknowledgement to their thanks, and then the three women crossed to the designated door and stepped through.

It was a room that was typical of an ad agency— Meredith had seen many others like it before. It would be well suited to either a photoshoot, or the filming of a commercial. And as was also pretty typical, there was a small team of people already inside, standing in a group and chatting with each other, while waiting for the work to begin.

The only thing that was maybe a little strange was the presence of speakers in the four corners of the room’s ceiling. If Meredith strained her ears, she almost thought she could hear something… but it was too inaudible to make out if it was language, music or just white noise. Or maybe she was only imagining it.

When the doors closed behind the three of them, the group of people looked to them. The man who was standing closest to the door turned and looked first, dropping the conversation he’d been engaged in a moment early. He was also notable because he was the only man in the group.

The rest of the people in the room were women. They were all quite beautiful, too. Meredith assumed they were models, come to respond to the call like her. But when she paid closer attention, she noticed they were all dressed in business attire: suit jackets, and blouses, pencil skirts and similar. It was complimentary business attire, cut to really emphasize each woman’s body. But they clearly weren’t models—they must have been ad agents. Though they were surprisingly pretty for ad agents.

“Ah, the models are here, good! Come further into the room, girls — if the three of you could stand in a line next to each other. There’s a strip of tape on the floor— just come right up to that, and line yourselves up.”

The group of ad agents, which had been collected in the center of the room, dispersed to make room for the models. A long strip of green tape became perfectly visible on the floor in their wake. Meredith, River and Amity stepped past it, and turned back so they were facing the door they’d come through, and which the group of agents had their back to.

“I’m Thomas, the director of today’s shoot,” Thomas introduced himself. “Thank you for coming to be part of our Thanksgiving display. Let us just take a good look at you, and see which one of you would be most suitable for each display.”

The group considered them, as the three models stood patiently in a line. Meredith found she was actually starting to feel tired, even just from standing there. The lights in the room were a little harsh, and it made her eyes tired. Her eyelids were heavy; they seemed to want to fall closed. And the inaudible nothing— which she couldn’t even be sure she was really hearing— if it was really there, there was something draining about hearing it, but being unable to make it out.

The agents, after looking at them from a few different angles, had move on to hushed conversations amongst themselves. These conversations were interspersed with quick glances back to the models, as if confirming or verifying points raised in the conversations which were too quiet for the women to hear.

Meredith couldn’t help but be a little irritated— or, rather, she thought that maybe she should have felt irritated by the secrecy and whispering. But what she found instead was a supreme feeling of apathy. She just needed to keep standing behind the green line on the floor. They would tell her what to do when it was time. She didn’t need to worry about anything until then.

At last, Thomas stepped back away from the group to address the models again. “Alright, girls, I think we’ve decided which one of you is best suited to each display. We’ll tell you in a minute.”

The three of them waited for him to go on.

“But don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You’ve been standing there and waiting so patiently… just keep standing like that for a little while longer. By now, our subliminal messages should have softened your minds up for us. All you want to do is stand right where you are and listen to my voice. You’re almost ready to receive programming from me.”

It was a bizarre statement— but Meredith found she was similarly apathetic to it as she’d felt towards the whole experience in general. Who cared if it sounded like nonsense? There was a grain of truth in it, at least. Meredith did want to keep standing right where she was— and she did want to listen to Thomas speak.

“Just keep listening to me,” he said. “The longer you stand there, the more tired you feel… and the more that my voice fills and enters your mind, the harder it becomes to think. You don’t want to think anymore; it’s too much work, now.”

Meredith could feel that she was sagging inwards on herself; but she was unbothered. She’d been told to keep standing, so there was no danger of her collapsing. She was just becoming a bit looser in her stance, her muscles relaxing more into her instructed position.

She had a hazy feeling in her mind, like she’d fallen into a daydream, and yet, she was still somehow perfectly aware of the room around her, and Thomas’ voice still speaking.

“You’re all falling into trance now, girls. And once you’ve gone all the way under, your minds will become completely open to us. You’ll want to obey, want to do everything we say… the more you obey, the more of this feeling will fill you. Isn’t it such a nice, warm feeling? You want more and more of it— you want as much of it as you can get, so you always want to obey more— and you’re grateful for every chance you get to do so.”

Meredith almost felt like she’d drifted off into a nap… if this was trance, it didn’t seem so bad… she wasn’t as disturbed as maybe she should have been. The only opinion she had on the fact that she’d been tricked into it was that it was such a nice feeling. Wasn’t it nice of them to give her a gift like this? She hoped to have more of it.

“I’ll count to three now,” Thomas said. “And when I reach three, the three of you will go under, and you will fall deeply asleep. One, two… three.”

The feeling solidified in Meredith. It was calming; peaceful. It only made her feel drifting and happy; drifting, happy, and eager to do what she was told, so she could feel even more of it. It was so light and airy that it lifted her mind up, and carried it away on a cloud of warmth.

Meredith’s awareness faded into that comforting warmth, and the room slipped away from her.

Meredith stayed down in the darkness for a time. She didn’t mind it. It felt pleasant down there.

But eventually, her peaceful mental rest was disturbed. She was called back to consciousness again.

When she followed the call back up to awareness, Meredith found she was no longer in the ad agency room. She seemed to be in a large, spacious kitchen with copper as the metal of choice for the appliances, fixtures, and handles.

The lights above were a golden yellow, making the entire room feel bathed in warmth while at the same time illuminating it brightly enough that everything was more than clearly visible.

She was not alone in the kitchen: she was again standing in a line with River and Amity, this time each one of the models behind each other instead of beside.

Ahead of them stood one of the female ad agents— perhaps she had led the models through the house into the kitchen.

There were other women in the room, too, these ones all attired in short dresses with aprons tied around their waists and white chefs’ hats on their heads. They were moving quickly around the kitchen carrying ingredients and dishes of various kinds, as if they were rushing to get everything into place.

One of these chef-girls was speaking to the female ad agent.

“These are the girls Master has brought to be prepared for tonight’s Thanksgiving feast,” the ad agent was saying.

The chef-girl looked past her to where Meredith, River and Amity were standing.

“Did he say which girl was for which meal?” She asked.

The ad agent nodded. “Meredith is our turkey— she’s the blonde one in the middle. River is the one front— she’s going to be our Ham. And the redhead in the back — Amity— is our pumpkin pie.”

The chef-girl gave a curt nod. She turned slightly to the side to call over her shoulder. “Numbers 4, 7 and 8,” she called, and three of the rushing chef-girls in the background stopped to listen. “Ham, Turkey, Pumpkin Pie,” The first chef-girl barked out, pointing first to River, then Meredith, and finally Amity. “Get them to their proper stations, and prepare them for the feast,” the chef-girl added.

The chef-girl turned back to the ad agent, as the three others approached the line of three models. “Thank you,” she said. “We’ve already got girls for the other dishes. Master brought some of them up to the house last night, and some earlier this morning. But we were waiting on these last three before starting preparation. We’ve just been getting all the stations and ingredients arranged. Now we can actually begin.”

The ad agent gave a duck of her head. “It was my pleasure to serve Master by giving you the things you need to serve him also.”

The chef-girl nodded once more in return, and the ad agent turned to leave back through the kitchen door, signaling the end of their interaction. That first chef-girl rejoined the commotion of the others, fading into the background, becoming one among the many who were still rushing dishes and utensils and ingredients around the room.

The three girls who had been called to guide the models to their stations reached them, and took each girl by the arm.

Meredith had been right, earlier, when she’d thought the kitchen was spacious. The room was very long, and it had multiple island counters that were accessible from all four sides, once you got deeper into the kitchen. Meredith thought that must have been what the first chef-girl had meant by “stations.”

Chef-girls #4, 7 and 8 led them about halfway through the kitchen, past other stations which some other girls were being helped up on to. The “other dishes” the chef-girl had also made reference to.

Meredith did not find any of this strange, or disturbing. She understood what her purpose was, now. At some point during the gap in her memory, it had been realigned for her. She was the Turkey— the central dish of the Thanksgiving feast. She felt more dedicated and devoted to this purpose than she had to any other purpose in her life. More dedicated to it than to any job she’d previously worked. Even more dedicated to it than she had felt to her career in modeling.

There was a rightness to it, and it settled into her soul. She was the Turkey. It was like it had been her destined life purpose all along, the true fate that had always been meant for her, and she had only realized it recently. But it felt truer and more important than anything else about her.

She was so proud of her role that she couldn’t help but feel a bit superior to the other girls, who would be made into other foods. None of them had the privilege of being the star dish, like she did.

When the chef-girl who had been leading her stopped them in front of an empty station, Meredith felt a lift of excitement in her chest. They were here— now, she would be prepared.

She noted with less interest that River and Amity had been led to the two islands on either side of hers— River, to her right, and Amity, to her left. She was more focused on her own preparation. She was eager for it to begin.

Meredith took a little closer at the station in front of her. On first glance it looked like a counter, but when Meredith looked to its base, she could see that it was on a circular track. It was a rotating station. This made sense to Meredith—it would give the chef-girls better access to her for the purposes of preparation.

When the first girl stopped Meredith at her station counter, several more came out of the rushing background of commotion to join her, so there were four girls in total surrounding Meredith.

They didn’t waste any time. Once their team was assembled, they immediately instructed Meredith to raise her arms above her head. Two of them seized hold of her shirt and pulled it up off her, while the two others seized hold of her skirt and pulled it down her legs. When they’d gotten it down past her knees, one of them gave a firm tap to one of Meredith’s legs, and Meredith followed the cue to step out of it.

Having removed the top layer of Meredith’s outfit, one of the team collected the articles of clothing from the rest. Then she pulled open an empty drawer in the island, and quickly stashed them inside.

The team next worked to remove Meredith’s underwear. One of them undid the clasp of Meredith’s bra, and the other two helped guide Meredith’s underwear down.

The first member of the team, still waiting by the open drawer, also accepted Meredith’s undergarments, and put them inside with Meredith’s other clothes. Then she shut the drawer tightly.

The team paused a moment to contemplate Meredith’s naked body. One of them reached out, and took hold of her breast. “Master chose well,” she said, giving Meredith a firm squeeze. “These are the perfect breasts to have on a Turkey.” The other three girls chorused their agreement.

Meredith felt a spike of pride at this appraisal.

“Let’s get started,” one of them encouraged, next. The one who’d been holding Meredith’s breast released it, and the girls got moving again.

Two of them placed a plastic platter on their station, and then a wire resting rack on top of that, suspended several inches above.

Then one of them pulled a step-stool around to the front of the station. She indicated it with a hand, while looking to Meredith. “Rise.”

Meredith took her first step onto the lowest rung of the step-stool, feeling like a queen stepping onto her barge. The team put out hands to steady and support her ascent. Two of them held onto her hands, and the other two put steadying hands on her body.

When she’d reached the top of the three steps, they guided her to sit on the rack. Then they gave her station platform a turn to change their angle of access. The station rotated smoothly on its track, turning Meredith about ninety degrees from her initial position.

The rack had looked like wire to Meredith when she’d watched them put it on the platter, but it seemed there was some kind of coating on it, so it did not cut into her skin. Better this way, she thought— it was important that Turkey-flesh remain tender, and not become tough from mishandling.

Once sitting, the team instructed Meredith to release all tension from her body, and go boneless. She did as instructed, and they took over the task of positioning her.

First, they guided her hands behind her back. They placed one hand into the other, and turned them both so they were palm-facing down. They placed her arms, and her hands, so that Meredith’s elbows came out at an angle: wing-like.

As they worked, they shifted the station this way and that, turning it as necessary to always ensure ideal access.

Having positioned Meredith so that her wings were ideally displayed, they pressed her palms to the pleasant, coated rack, and then guided her down to lie on her back, her back to the back of her hands.

There was a slight pull in her shoulders from contorting into this position, but Meredith didn’t mind it. She was thrilled that her wings were so highlighted. Everyone would be able to view and admire them. It was worth the stretch it took to keep in place.

Next, the team turned their attention to her Meredith’s lower body. Her legs were stretched out straight in front of her. And because they had placed Meredith centered on the rack, instead of at the head of it, her legs stuck partly off the rack’s end.

Two members of the team each took hold of one of Meredith’s legs. The two others who were out of sight turned the station again slightly to better line Meredith up with the two holding her. They moved her legs back, pushing them to her chest, and then rolled her hips out, so that each knee was resting close to a shoulder.

Meredith couldn’t have been more thrilled about her position. Now, not only were her wings accentuated, but her drumsticks too! And she hadn’t realized before, but the way that her hands were placed below her upper back actually pushed her chest out, so that her breasts were also clearly displayed.

Meredith just knew she would make a beautiful Turkey for the feast— with full breasts, and well-displayed wings and drumsticks. She was going to be the best Turkey Thanksgiving had ever seen. She couldn’t wait to see what the team did next.

Meredith’s drumsticks were in place, but her feet were still both pointing straight up. One of the team reached into a drawer in the station, and retrieved what looked like two little white slip covers. Each was placed carefully on Meredith’s foot, and Meredith approved. She looked like other turkeys she’d seen, her drumsticks thick and meaty with little white caps on the end.

Now that they had her correctly placed in the center of the rack above the plastic platter, it was time for them to prep her in earnest. Two of the team left briefly to retrieve something.

The first of the two returned with a large tureen full of liquid. The second team member followed closely behind, carrying four basters with her. These she distributed to the team. She kept an extra back for the first team member as she placed the tureen on the station, to the side of the platter. There was plenty of room for both to fit comfortably.

All four took turns filling their basters with the provided glaze. It smelled like all the delicious Thanksgiving seasonings Meredith remembered from years past, and it felt like heaven to feel it washing over her.

As they basted her, they kept the station turning in a constant rotation, to ensure even distribution of the liquid.

“It’s very important we bathe you in this liquid,” one of the team members spoke to her. “We want you to be a delicious, juicy Turkey. You want that too. You want to be so juicy that there’s juice running right out of you; you want to be absolutely dripping with juice.”

Meredith couldn’t help but moan. She felt how true the words were, even though she hadn’t known they were true in the minute before. She wanted to be juicy — a nice, juicy, moist Turkey, and they were helping her to become that way. It was perfect.

More and more liquid was basted onto her— they were covering every inch of her in it. There would have been nowhere to go if she’d wanted to escape the deluge. But she didn’t want to escape it. She wanted them to completely coat and cover her.

And they were— they bathed and bathed and bathed her in it, and she could feel herself moisturizing from it. They were saying similar things, though she couldn’t make all of their statements out. That she was moist. That she was tender. That the more they basted her, the more she could feel herself moisturizing. And the more they basted her, the more she could feel herself relaxing.

Though the liquid smelled like Thanksgiving, it wasn’t exactly cooking seasoning. It felt like the most luxurious beauty treatment Meredith had ever experienced—better than any she’d ever gotten in a spa or salon. She just knew her skin was glowing the more that they lavished the liquid onto her.

As her team basted her, the surface of her skin glowed more golden by the minute. But the liquid got in deeper than that. Meredith could feel its chemicals seeping into her muscles, and relaxing them even more. The minor aches that had come with her position were fading away, and she could feel herself becoming looser and more flexible. She could hold her perfect Turkey pose forever, now, thanks to the help of her basting.

She was going to be a good Turkey. And she was going to juice for them just the way they wanted her to.

Meredith found herself becoming incredibly aroused. The more the liquids moisturized her, the more they relaxed her, and the more they turned her on. She could feel her own, natural juices starting to come out of her. She could feel them running down to drip through the rack to the platter below, mixing with the liquids that had gone the same way.

And still they kept bathing her her, relaxing her more, drawing more of the juices from her pussy meat. They went on until it seemed she was gushing it out faster than they could douse her in their aromatic, relaxing concoction. They praised her— she was being such a good Turkey, juicing this way.

One of them set their baster down, and slipped a hand to Meredith’s opening, tenderly caressing it to coax still more juice to pour from her. Meredith cried out in pleasure again, and gave it. She had no choice— she was their Turkey, they had moisturized her, they had relaxed her, and she had to give up her juices to them.

Meredith’s team continued preparing her, and Meredith went on enjoying her preparation. But she could tell they were nearly done. Then a natural break came into their work. All four chef-girls turned away to work on other elements of her dish elsewhere on their station. This left Meredith marinating in her juices.

She was so relaxed and so comfortable that her head lolled to the right side, and she watched in absent curiosity as they prepared River next to her.

River, who had been chosen for the Ham, was not nearly as far along in her preparation as Meredith was. It looked like they had only just got her up onto her platter. She was naked, but nothing else had been done to her yet. Apparently, River’s team was not as quick as Meredith’s.

Meredith felt a little smug about this. She was the Turkey— of course she got the best team. But this meant she could watch in curiosity to see what they would do with River.

River had been left sitting alone on her platter— her team had gone to retrieve some ingredients. Meredith noticed them just past her station, walking back to it. One of them was carrying a large jar of honey, so large she had to practically wrap her arms around it. Another had a rack of pineapple, sliced into rings, and the third was carrying a set of food brushes in her hand.

The first two set their ingredients on the station, and then each one took a brush from the third. They dipped their brushes into the honey, and turned back to River.

River clearly understood her purpose as the Ham in the same way Meredith understood her own as the Turkey. She seemed very excited by her preparation, and as the honey-coated brushes touched down on her skin, she let out a sigh of relief.

Meredith watched, mesmerized, as River’s team made honey trails on her skin, glazing her golden one brush stroke at a time. They were telling River similar things to what Meredith had heard. That she was going to be the perfect Ham, that she was going to be coated in glaze and made honey-golden, and that that would make her so happy.

River soon seemed to be dripping from between her legs, but the painting of her skin went on until she no longer looked like the model she’d been before. She had been so coated in honey that her skin looked luscious and golden, and silken in texture. Meredith thought she looked very appetizing.

As the last touch, the three members of River’s team turned their attention to the rack of circular pineapple slices. They each lifted a slice, one at time, examining carefully for quality. Finally, the three of them seemed satisfied with the rings they’d chosen. They turned their attention back to River, two of them coaxing her honey-coated nipples to complete tightness before placing each of their pineapple rings around them.

The third did the same, but to River’s clit, coaxing it to become erect through its honey coating, before finally fitting her pineapple ring around it.

Meredith had to admire their work— they seemed to have chosen perfectly sized pineapple rings. They highlighted River’s nipples and clit beautiful.

But before Meredith had a chance to watch River’s team put the finishing touches on her, her line of vision was shifted. Her own team was turning her station in its track again for their own reasons, in service of her preparation. Meredith didn’t mind. Her trance didn’t allow space for her to worry about things like that.

They rotated her station almost a full one hundred and eighty degrees, so Meredith could see what had originally been to her left— the preparation of Amity.

Amity was not yet even lying on her station — only standing naked next to it, waiting. This was explained a moment later when Meredith saw her team lifting a well-baked pie crust from its pie plate, and setting it on the station.

With the crust in place, Amity was helped up on to the station, and guided to lie down within the crust.

The rack Meredith was placed upon was high enough for her to see over the edge of the pie plate. Amity lay sprawled out in the center of the crust, her arms and legs spread-eagled.

Her team advanced on her, brushing her with butter. Then Meredith watched as they seasoned her with spice— pumpkin spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar. It rested on her skin, clinging to the layer of butter they had first applied.

Once Amity was as thoroughly coated as they could get her, her team shifted their focus. Next, they fanned her long red hair out around her head. It stood out impressively against the crust beneath and was long enough that it made quite the picture.

Just as Amity’s team was smoothing the last of her locks into place, Meredith’s attention was drawn back to her own platter.

She was being lifted off of the rack. She was done— she was ready.

Other girls had joined her team, enough so that they could all suspend her body in the air comfortably, and with no strain. When they lifted her up, one of the team members pulled the plastic dish out from under her. It was quickly replaced with a beautiful, gleaming silver platter, already garnished with herbs and leaves.

It was a fitting presentation for her. She knew she looked like a beautiful Turkey. A beautiful turkey deserved such a beautiful platter.

Once the silver platter was centered beneath her, Meredith was lowered back down onto it, and the added helpers dispersed to resume their previous tasks.

She had been lifted with such skill that she had not shifted an inch out of place.

She looked down at herself— she did look beautiful on the new presentation platter. Every inch of her skin was completely glistening in juice. She was shining, glimmering with it under the lights.

One of the team members had left again to retrieve something else, and when Meredith saw the girl coming back, she realized she wasn’t quite done.

She still needed to be stuffed.

The chef-girl held the stuffing in her hand. A large, thick dildo that looked like it would stretch. She wasted no time, when she reached the station. Meredith’s opening was already hungry, so all she had to do was slide the dildo in deep.

It was thicker than it had looked. It conformed to every inch of Meredith’s inner cavity. And it took a deep, painful stretch to accommodate it. It must have been sized for a substantially larger woman, and Meredith could barely fit its thickness inside.

She was lucky they had moistened her, and gotten her to juice so much. Otherwise she never could have take it in.

She knew she had at last become the perfect turkey— right down to the stuffing. She was stuffed full to bursting; there was no space left inside of her. The dildo took up all of it, running alongside each curve of her interior.

The Turkey was ready.

The team which had so expertly prepared her stepped back and considered her. One of them shifted a few of the garnishes beneath her to optimize their placement. Then the four of them left her there, to go help cooks at other stations finish up.

When they left, they left Meredith with the discomfort of being stuffed. Meredith felt like she was being split in two.

But all the arousal her team of chefs had stirred in her before was still there— so that the discomfort had a very pleasurable edge. Meredith was clenching on the dildo involuntarily even as she lay there, unable to stop her body from responding in that way. It felt too good to be full when she had been juicy and empty down there before.

Meredith was the perfect Turkey, all trussed up and served on her silver platter.

A long time passed, and then Meredith heard a voice call-out through the room; silence fell in response to the call. Meredith thought it was the first chef-girl— the one who had spoken with the ad agent.

“All the dishes are ready, and Master is ready for us to serve him and his guests,” she called out. “All cooks will break into teams with whoever is closest to them, and carry the dishes into the dining area. Go, go, go!”

The silence which had fallen to accommodate the chef-girl’s announcement was replaced with the sounds of rushing and commotion again.

Four cooks, different than the ones who had prepared her, appeared once more around Meredith’s station. Each took hold of the silver platter, and together they lifted it with ease, carrying it quickly the rest of the way through the kitchen.

Meredith recalled when she had been led into the kitchen before— she, River and Amity had come in through the entrance at the opposite end. Now, she was being carried to the entrance at the other side— opposite to the one she had entered through. The door there was a push door, and one of the cooks was holding it open, as the others rushed various dishes through it.

When Meredith’s team of carriers passed through it, Meredith saw that the room on the other side was a dining room. Or at least, she imagined it was a dining room. The dining table and chair had all been moved to the far end; and Thomas and his women were standing in the center of the room, watching with interest as the food was being brought in.

The dining room was a large room, too, with high ceilings and lush wood panelling.

Meredith was placed in a central position, with other dishes spread out around her. She was the center of everything, from which all the other platters radiated outwards. She felt the same thrill of pride as before.

At last, when all the food had been brought out, the chef-girls lined up along one wall, and stood at attention. The head chef-girl stepped forward to speak to Thomas.

“We’ve prepared everything as we were programmed to, Master, exactly to your instructions. Everything is here— everything is ready.”

Thomas cast a glance around the room at the many dishes on the floor. “It looks like you’ve outdone yourself this year, slave. You and the others may stay for the meal as a reward.”

The chef-girl flushed in excitement. “Thank you Master— oh, thank you!” Then she hurried to join the lineup herself.

“Well, if everything’s ready, we may as well start,” Thomas said, turning back to address both the female ad agents and the waiting chef-girls, who were even now removing their aprons and hats impatiently.

“Thank you all for being here to celebrate Thanksgiving with me,” he said.

“Anytime, Master,” the women chorused back in unison.

“I will go around and have the ceremonial first serving,” Thomas went on. “I will serve, I will carve, and then everyone may eat their fill. Make sure to enjoy it— all the dishes look just delicious.”

There were excited cheers in response to this, but Thomas paid them no mind. He was quick to unhook his belt, and remove his pants. His shirt followed to the floor, and he was naked in front of them all.

“I’ll start with the main course,” he declared, and then Meredith watched as he approached to where she was laid out on her platter.

“Looking delicious—” he said. “Those of you who prepared her did a wonderful job.”

Meredith only lay there patiently.

“I’ll take the stuffing out first,” Thomas said, and Meredith felt him take hold of the dildo’s base. He slowly withdrew it from her, making her ache even more. At last when he had it out, he set it in a bowl, which he passed to an ad woman who was close by. The slave girl looked ecstatic about being served first—like she could hardly stand keeping her hands to herself, and waiting for her Master to finish.

He crouched down, lining himself up with Meredith’s entrance. Meredith could feel that she was gaping open more than she normally would have done— the dildo had stretched her out in preparation for this moment.

When he pushed his girth into her, she was vaguely grateful to have been stretched out first. She felt stuffed all over again.

At first, his pace was slow, but it still rocked her in place. Her hips ached from the stretch necessary to open up her knees and send them back to her shoulders. Her shoulders ached from the stretch necessary to press her hands palm down and against the platter behind her back. The ache increased with each rocking of her body.

After a few strokes, Thomas seemed to find his rhythm, and accelerated speed, shaking her body even more. A few strokes further than that— then a few minutes in which he maintained his accelerated pace evenly.

Meredith had no hope of keeping her pleasure at bay. She couldn’t hold it back any longer, and shuddered around her Master’s cock. She could feel her juices flowing freely, and through the haze of her orgasm, she hoped her tender meat was delicious and moist enough to satisfy her Master.

At the end of that time, Meredith felt Thomas’ own shudders of pleasure as he spent inside of her. The realization sent Meredith into another spiral of pleasure and satisfaction as she came again, spilling her juices even as her Master withdrew, his member dripping with a mixture of his cum and Meredith’s own juices. The drippings sprinkled beautifully from his tip and onto Meredith’s toned stomach.

This time, when he went, it seemed the eyes of the room were on him; and as no one else approached her, Meredith let her eyes follow him, too.

She hadn’t noticed before, but River’s platter was the one next to hers, only several steps to the right of her. River was on it, and when Meredith found that her programming was no longer as strict after being ‘carved’, she turned her head to the side for better look, she had a good view of the black-haired model.

River had been positioned on her platter differently than Meredith had. She was sitting up, in a partial kneel, leaning slightly back on her hands. This angle highlighted her nipples and her clit ideally, displaying the pineapple rings which had been carefully placed around each one.

This position was also ideal to display the glinting, cascading honey which clung to every inch of River’s skin. Like Meredith, River was shining under the lights of the dining room. The honey, when combined with the pineapple rings, looked less like simple honey and more like a honey glaze. River looked as at peace with this as Meredith felt about her own presentation.

Thomas knelt between River’s legs, and lined himself up with her entrance, too. But River hadn’t had Meredith’s luck. She hadn’t been stuffed first, and it was obviously more of an adjustment for her to accommodate Thomas’ entrance. She did manage it, though, and before long, he was fucking her with the same abandon he had fucked Meredith with.

In that moment Meredith became aware of how empty she felt; she was still gaping open as ever, and she wished there was something else to stuff her full again. Turkeys were meant to be stuffed. She watched him fuck River with near-jealousy the longer she felt her own aching emptiness.

At last, when River had enjoyed her own quivering orgasm, he stood again to walk past her platter.

Meredith saw then that Amity was the one on the other side of River, still laid out in her pie crust. Still spread-eagled, still with her long red hair fanned out around her head.

Thomas stepped into the pie crust, and laid himself over her. He kept Amity on her back, and took her like that, fucking her back into the crust of the pie. He picked up speed, and as he fucked Amity with more enthusiasm, her red hair staying in position along the crust.

This time, Thomas did not orgasm inside of the dish. After maintaining his rough and fast rhythm for maybe two dozen or so strokes, he accelerated speed and then after a few seconds, pulled out and very clearly unloaded onto Amity’s skin, sprinkling the dessert with just a little bit more flavor, for the rest of his slaves. Then finally, he withdrew from the table, spent from the combined fucking of the three models, and his grand finale coating the last.

This time he was a little shaky when he rose back to his feet.

“A delicious feast,” he declared. “And there are many more dishes for all of us to enjoy. But I won’t make you wait for me to go around to each one. All of you— dig in, enjoy! Bon appetit!”

At Thomas’ invitation, the women in the room, both chef-girls and ad agents, stripped themselves naked, too, and they descended on the platters with ravenous looks on their faces.

Suddenly Meredith was not alone at her platter anymore; there were several women there, but there were too many of them — or her mind was too fogged with lust and obedience — for her to count. It didn’t matter. They were more like a shapeless form to her than women, with characteristics that seemed to take on a life of their own.

Some of them spoke in excitement — “Oh, Master has glazed her in the juices of his cock before our sampling. Oh, we are the most lucky!” and “Oh, look how beautifully Master has served her for us; how wonderfully carved and ready to eat she is!” — but Meredith couldn’t tell who was speaking when.

Hands prodded and fondled her breasts, stroked her skin, probed her lower folds. Tongues licked at her juices, and ate hungrily between her thighs in rotation, sometimes giving her added stuffing at the same time.

Meredith turned to look and saw it was the same for River; hands fondling her, getting sticky with her honey glaze and rubbing it into her skin. Fingers flicking and tweaking her nipples and her clit, careful not to send the pineapple rings falling off from their perches.

Amity had more of a reprieve, from what Meredith could see. Only one woman would climb into the pie crust at a time; and usually this would be a woman who had already stopped by Meredith and River’s platters first. By the time she’d gotten through the first two courses, her appetite was much lighter. As a result, Amity only got a few minutes fucking at a time, and usually it was much less energetic.

Meredith took the time to look further, to the other side of her. On her left side, there was a girl in a bowl of cranberry sauce covered and dripping in it, and past her, there was another blonde girl doused in butter, a dildo in both her mouth, and her ass with handles meant to look like corn holders.

Further beyond those two was a girl in a casserole dish. She was lying on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes, and had been coated in sticky melted marshmallow topping.

Beside her was a girl sitting in a gravy tureen, and on the other side of her, a girl in bowl of mashed potatoes.

Meredith looked back the other way, past where River and Amity were being eaten. There was plate of large rolls of bread, which had all been baked together in the same pan. They had all been sliced down the middle, and split open to provide a bed for the girl there. She had also been doused in butter, but it looked like her butter had been seasoned with herbs and spices— maybe even garlic.

Meredith couldn’t see much further than her. There were too many dishes to count.

Each dish that Meredith could see was surrounded by Thomas’ guests and servants, all of them hungrily licking at the food girls there, eating their delicacies ravenously, stroking, prodding, penetrating, fondling; in combination with eating the foods they had been served with.

Meredith was only able to keep her attention on the room around her for so long. All the time that she’d been looking, she had still had guests at her own platter, and their attentions were once again becoming too distracting to ignore. Meredith let herself turn away from the room, and enjoy the sensation of being eaten instead.

It felt good to be consumed, as the Turkey. It was her destiny.

The feasting went on for some time, until all Thomas and all his guests had gotten around to each dish once, if not twice or three times. In Meredith’s case, Thomas had visited her six times in total, more than he had visited any of the other dishes. Meredith was gleefully smug about that.

It seemed every one of the diners had enjoyed many orgasms in the course of their dining; maybe even too many too count.

When the last guest had eaten their fill, the group of them all collapsed back into lying on the floor, among the mess of the dining room.

Meredith looked around her. It really was a mess— much of the food, in the course of the meal, had been streaked onto the floor. So much of it in fact that it was some kind of weird third glaze, made up of ingredients from multiple different dishes.

The dinner guests themselves, now lying around the platters in disarray, were equally messy. In the course of fucking each dish-girl, they had all become streaked in the glazes of their foods, as well as their own sweat, and Thomas’ juices. He had been very generous, fucking not only the dish-girls, but the guests as well.

Meredith looked more closely at the guests on the floor. They all wore matching, serene, facial expressions. Meredith realized they were sleeping— they had all fallen asleep.

A small voice told Meredith that this was part of their hypnotic Thanksgiving programming. The only thing a hypnotized slavegirl could do after such a heavy meal was slip into an equally heavy food coma.

Meredith herself was no less messy than the dining room, or its diners; she was still coated in the remnants of her glaze, and she had also taken on the juices of the guests, and of Thomas, from his six repeated visits to her dish.

Meredith was just as satisfied as the guests, but in a different way— she was not full of satiated hunger like they were. But she was full of pride; she had been the Turkey, and she had fed them all to this level of fullness; at least, partly. She couldn’t be sure, but she’d thought more people had returned to her platter for seconds, thirds, fourths and fifths than they had to any other platter. She had more than done her part to fill them all up.

She noticed there were three people who had not fallen into a food coma: Thomas was still standing, speaking to the first ad agent who had led Meredith and the others into the kitchen, and the head chef-girl.

“I think this was the best Thanksgiving feast I’ve ever thrown,” he said. The ad agent and the chef-girl nodded eagerly in agreement.

“And all the models this year were really top quality. They all served their roles so well. Make sure and give them all an extra bonus, once you’ve gotten them all back to the agency. You both remember your orders?”

The agent nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Master— I’ll make sure they all get cleaned up, and transported back. And I’ll make sure we wipe their memories before we pay them and send them on their way.”

“And I’ll make sure we get this room cleaned up, and the dining table moved back,” the chef-girl affirmed.

“Good,” Thomas said. Then to Meredith’s surprise and joy, he turned his attention to her. “You and the other two models you came with made succulent centerpieces. I’ll be sure to have you back as my Turkey for next year.”

Meredith felt so full of pride she thought she might burst. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that she would happily be his Turkey, whenever he wanted, anytime, and for as long as he wished. But he went on to say something else that Meredith couldn’t make out.

She was suddenly very tired. Suddenly the only thing that Meredith could think about was how it was satisfying to be consumed and feasted upon in the way she had been, and how exhausting!

Meredith was drifting back into the warm darkness that had swallowed her awareness before. That was alright with her. She had fulfilled her destined fate as the Turkey, and fulfilled it so well.

She had earned her sleep.