Memories from first trip to the US
I will never forget the first time I visited the US. One of my trip goals was to try to get familiar with what everyone knows as USDA grading. I was excited about tasting USDA “Prime” man-meat, but I was so broke back then and a “Prime” man would cost me a fortune. So I tried to find an alternative way to taste it.
After doing some research, I found out that meat framing was more common in the US than anywhere in Europe. There were many ways you could trap a guy into it, and transform him into meat, with the right procedures. Of course it was not an easy job and it required a lot of effort to search for extensive evidence to support your request of transforming someone into meat. One of the common ways to do that was to contact an experienced lawyer to do the job for you. A lot of lawyers would end up acquiring jobs in this field, as there were thousands of people looking for ways to eat an average young man, without repercussions.
While organising our trip with my girlfriend, I found a service that could help us with what we were looking for. I was assigned to a lawyer named Cliff, who I contacted in advance and booked an appointment with. He was more than happy to help and he invited us to a boat party that would take place after our appointment at his office.
We arrived in the US, and the next day we went to our appointment with Cliff. He was a recent graduate, who had just started working as a lawyer at the age of 25. He was assigned with advising clients on how to select a high-quality specimen of a man, and with assisting them to transform this man into meat. He was a really friendly guy, who seemed to know a lot about the procedure, and he was a big fan of male meat too. He told us that he helped dozens of families to turn their sons into meat legally, and also dozens of other clients transforming even strangers into meat. He claimed to have done this many times for his own consumption too. His friends hate him for it, because they know they could end up trapped by him one day. But they also love him because he always provides them with the best quality meat.
After chatting all afternoon about the legal procedures and possible kinds of men to look for, we found ourselves at an extravagant boat party. People were in swimming suits, enjoying the hot weather, the good music and the amazing drinks. Cliff had arranged a cookout with a bunch of distinguished friends, and one of them was a professional butcher who knew very well how to categorise meat. His name was Bob, and he explained all the terminology to us while he was helping others with the grilling. The meat being cooked was of a 22-year-old model who Cliff had managed to convert into meat especially for the party. He was not quite “Prime” quality, but model meat is always excellent. As Bob was talking about various USDA grading, Cliff was just sitting there shirtless and barefoot.
Surprisingly, Cliff himself seemed to fit into the highest quality category but he had no idea we were all thinking about it. His meat probably had the perfect marbling and his feet looked super soft and juicy. Bob realised we were looking at Cliff’s meat and he told us to consider him as an example of “Prime” meat. Cliff just laughed and thought Bob was simply messing around.
Then Bob told us to look at Cliff’s thighs and legs to observe the perfect amount of muscle and fat. Cliff went on with the flow of the conversation and stretched his legs to tease us. Bob made sure to comment on the irony of the situation. He said that Cliff’s meat could be of better quality than the average meat-boy in steakhouses, but he is in the privileged situation of being a lawyer whose job is to trick other men into becoming meat.
While this awkward conversation was going on, my girlfriend was secretly taking pictures of Cliff’s body, as she knew that Bob wasn’t joking.
Suddenly, Cliff stood up and asked Bob to stop the bullshit, and instead serve us some pieces of the grilled 22-year-old model meat. Cliff recommended the shoulder and ribs to us, Bob insisted that we should try a foot, as he used his special marinade on them. We tried a bit of everything and it was delicious. But of course the aim of the trip was to taste the best quality meat we could find.
Later that night, when we returned to our hotel, we couldn’t stop thinking about eating Cliff. My girlfriend showed me the pictures she took of him, and Bob’s words came to our minds. He was indeed “Prime” quality. And Bob hinted his intentions of cooking him when he commented on his meat so many times. Bob owned a butcher shop and a restaurant specialising in male meat. All we had to do was contact him and tell him our thoughts about Cliff.
He said he was expecting us to call, as he realised how we were staring at Cliff from head to toe. He said that he is also drooling when he meets him, and that he has always been waiting for the perfect chance to cook him. Thus he offered to help us.
He had the perfect plan for tricking Cliff. He was going to create a fake identity for a longpig he already owned. Then he would provide us with the pictures of the guy before he became a meat animal, so that we can send all the information and photos to Cliff for the legal procedures. Then he asked us to not allow Cliff to send the final paperwork, but instead give it to us or send it to Bob prior to submitting it. That way we could change all the information about the man to become meat, in order to have Cliff served to us instead.
Without any hesitation, we accepted his help, and in a few minutes Bob sent us these photos of the “supposed” longpig.
We had to convince Cliff that this guy was an average guy named Martin, living a normal life, while the truth was that his name was Tommy and he was already locked in a cage in Bob’s restaurant. The story we told Cliff was that we met him at our hotel’s swimming pool and that we ‘d classify him as “Prime” quality meat. He agreed with us on the “Prime” grade and he was impressed with our selection. After doing his own research, he found all the details he needed to frame him as meat. Bob had previously called the hotel in order to instruct them on what to say. They provided Cliff with fake details and a made-up reservation on “Martin’s” name. By the end of the day Cliff had sent us all the paperwork we needed to submit, and an invoice for his payment. In the email he included the fact that part of his payment would be to join us for dinner at Bob’s restaurant and enjoy some of Martin’s meat.
Bob received the paperwork too, and he changed all the details in less than an hour before finally submitting all the documents himself. Cliff’s signature and name was on every page, so it would be difficult to prove that he did not become meat voluntarily. By the next day, Cliff would no longer be a free citizen.
Next morning, Cliff got in touch with Bob to check whether Martin’s collection was arranged. Bob told him that his assistants were on it, and that they’d bring the boy to the restaurant by midday. Our reservation was for 7 in the evening. Bob was indeed preparing the boy for the same evening, but not for us. Thus Bob used the opportunity, and sent Cliff a bunch of photos from the preparation of the boy. Cliff was super excited for the evening.
We all arrived at the restaurant, and Bob welcomed us and showed us around. He showed us his cages full of expensive man meat, his spit-roaster device, his glass-door ovens and his special cauldrons, all of which were occupied by meaty men. Our table was big and circular, and some fried fingers and toes were provided with our drinks.
We chatted for about 10 minutes, before Bob asked Cliff to join him in the kitchen to help with serving Martin’s body. We knew that Cliff was not going to return back to the table as a free man. But we couldn’t wait for him to be served to us as meat.
Cliff was more than happy to help Bob, as he had assisted him many times before. The smell of cooked man meat made him smirk as he walked by some waiters carrying a roasted boy on a tray. When Cliff entered the kitchen and saw Bob cleaning the empty counter, he realised that the cooked boy on the platter which was carried by the waiters outside the kitchen, looked exactly like Martin. He looked outside the kitchen window, and indeed the boy was the one he framed, expecting to eat parts of him tonight. But instead of the platter being served to our table, it was taken to other clients.
Cliff realised that he was trapped, but it was already too late. Bob’s assistants restrained him, gagged him and took off his expensive clothes and shoes. The few hairs on his legs were then shaved and his whole body was washed in less than 5 minutes. Then they placed him into a special trolley, where his legs were lifted up and restrained in front of him and his arms were locked on the sides.
Bob pushed the trolley outside the kitchen and approached our table accompanied by the assistant chefs. He sharpened his butcher knives while smirking at Cliff, who was crying and moaning through his ball-gag. His body was jerking as he was trying to break free, while all of us were waiting to have his pecs in our plates.
The grill at the end of our table was heated up, and the assistants started slicing off Cliff’s pecs, which were then salted and spiced by Bob before being placed on the hot grill. The sizzling sound of his pec steaks was difficult to hear compared to his screams. His hands were both sliced off and deep fried in hot oil. His feet were to be cooked while on him. Bob placed the foot soles above some hot coals and the fire tickled Cliff who was trying to kick the cooking equipment. His feet were basted in oil and spices while their juices were dripping on the coals below them. His toes were cooked to a crisp fairly quickly, so Bob recommended that we approach a foot each and eat the meat off his juicy toes. It was an amazing experience, but not so much for Cliff who could probably feel our teeth tearing into his cooked toe meat. Once the toes were all cleaned from the meat, Bob sliced the little bones off with his knife, and chopped the feet from the ankles in order to cook them on all sides. By that time his hands were fried to a crisp and they were served to us chopped up like fried chicken wings. The cheesy garlic sauce accompanying the dish was delicious, and the meat of the hands was really crunchy and flavourful. The pecs were also sliced and salted like beef steaks before being served. Then is when we realised what “Prime” meat really meant. We had never had better pec steaks before. And the abs that came later were even better. But nothing could top his foot soles for me. Such delicious and sweet meat.
By the time we had devoured most of his torso meat, Cliff had passed out. His head, arms and legs were butchered and packaged for us to take home. Bob kept his ribs, rump, genitals and some shoulder steaks for the restaurant.
We were so lucky to have met both Cliff and Bob during our trip to the US. Definitely a culinary experience to remember, and a perfect lesson about USDA meat grading.
