CAPTIVE BEEF
The Shocking Story of
Corporal LeBloc
(Part Two)

The young French soldier is ordered to remove the little clothing he has on - his brief-briefs that even when carefully adjusted couldn't even fully cover his cock shaft.

 Buko eyed the blond hunk before him. Sitting back in his chair, Buko has the young man stepped to less than two feet from him. Buko uses his cane to test the young corporal's flesh, poking the point at Le Bloc's bulging pectoral and leaning his weight into the cane, pushing so hard the young man nearly fell back. The general grinned then poked his cane-point into le Bloc's navel.

Le Bloc gasped and grabbed for the cane, bending over, his knees starting to buckle from the sharp pain that made him swoon.

The black guards grabbed le Bloc's shoulders and hands, jerking le Bloc's back straight, quickly hand-cuffing his wrists behind his back.

Then they shoved him the two steps forward so he stood between the general's parted knees. The young Frenchman was puzzled and more frightened than he had ever been. Nothing was said. Le Bloc just stood there, praying to himself over and over, doing his best to hide his fear. Concentrating on not breaking down and crying.

Buko leaned forward, just a little, just enough to reach for the young white's large, uncircumcised penis.

Buko's fingers lightly slithered across the silky smooth skin then lightly folding his fingers around the shaft and rubbing his thumb over the loose foreskin, sliding the skin over le Bloc's cock head.

The young corporal was stunned and angry - almost as angry as he was afraid. He was a little relieved that his hands were cuffed behind his back - at least that way he couldn't lash out and strike the general. Le Bloc bit his lower lip and stood there, not trying to step back or to the side, till the general had finished his examination.

Buko cupped the young man's hen's-egg sized testicles, wrapped his fingers over them, then closed them tight, digging his fingernails into the tender testicles and scrotum.

As le Bloc gasped hard, the general shoved his fist forward, pushing the young white Frenchman off balance, holding tight as le Bloc fell back.

Buko stood up, laughing, holding the young muscleman off the floor by his balls. Le Bloc couldn't hold back any longer, screaming, his eyes full of tears, his begging voice watery.

The general grinned then let his grip relax - just enough for the testicles to pull through his fingers, slowly, like lumpy molasses.

Soon as the young man was flat on his back, Buko put his boot on the stretched, squirming testicles, and ground them under foot. Buko mumbled something and then abruptly walked out.

The guards jerked the gasping young soldier to his feet...

And drag-marched him to a large room that looked strangely to him like a kitchen. The kitchen???

Two stewards gazed upon the naked demi-god before them. They admired his full, meaty body - the beautiful, deep copper tanned flesh that covered his young body. The stewards poked and palpitated his muscles, much the way the general had. Suddenly the young blond realized why he was here! He was the prize bull, brought here to be slaughtered!!!!

Le Bloc elbowed the two attendants in the gut and tried to run, but a rifle-butt hard to the back of his neck brought him down.

(there is no art for this text)

When le Bloc came to, he awoke to a shock of unbelievable pain surging through his body. His arms were strung high; his legs were spread wide. Long metal skewers were being inserted through his naked body. The metal rods were being carefully positioned into the beefy meat on the front part of his torso - through his meaty pectorals, carefully skimming the rib-cage, through his sausage-like abdominals, precisely threaded to avoid puncturing the intestines. Le Bloc screamed in bloody horro with each new intrusion. Le Bloc's eyes filled with tears - less because of the pain... he could tolerate pain... more because his fate was obvious... and there was absolutely nothing he could do to save himself...

And nothing he could do to lessen the insult to himself and the whole French army his fate was to become... even as a long skewer was pushed painfully underneath the foreskin and onto the full length of his prized penis, the stewards careful not to sever the main veins.

Sauce was applied over the hanging meat. The sauce mixed with the blood dripping from the young corporal's wounds. Then the young muscle-hunk's testicles were bundled with cooking string, making a small but nice and tidy roast.

An apple was stuffed into the young man's screaming mouth.

Le Bloc tried to move, but the skewers kept his muscles from working right. And all the pain had taken it's toll, making it too difficult to move even those muscles that were unskewered. Le Bloc's red copper skin was cooked slowly so as not to break or bruise the delicate skin or meat. The singing pubic and arm-pit hair helped smoke the meat with the au jus caucasian that made French meat so desirable.

The still living hunk of meat was flipped over several times to cook him only rare, Buko's favorite. The chef took great joy in basting Le Bloc's big round meaty butt roasts, his testicle bundle and swelling skewered cock. Talking to the hunk, telling him how delicious, juicy and meaty his cooking body is.

Le Bloc's lightly roasted meaty body was brought to the banquet to a round of applause. His body looked magnificent lightly cooked a crispy brown. His muscular male body was perfectly symmetrical - an especially fitting bull for Buko's Friday feast. Le Block was only slightly aware he had been paraded through the crowd, all eyes on which part of him they wanted to eat.

Pieces of flesh were carefully sliced from several choice cuts. This brought Le Block around, feeling the knife cut deeply and scraping his bones, the chef getting all the rare delicious meat possible. The silent crowd could hear a pained moan from the roasted hunk.

The young corporal's cock was severed and chopped into moist, bite-sized chunks for Buko. This was the final insult Buko felt. His pride and joy being sliced and served as the ultimate delicacy. With a final pained moan, Buko was now only a juicy meaty hunk of meat.

Most of the guests favored chunks of French chitterlings and delicious, pink-rare thigh steaks.

Or slices of more thoroughly cooked fillet pectoralis.

The last anyone ever saw of Corporal le Bloc, his cooked carcass was hanging in the heat locker. His face was still boyish, handsome and pretty - and no longer criss-crossed with the pain and worry lines he had the last hours of his short life.

Le Bloc's demi-god body was already stripped of half it's meat. The glory of a banquet is now passed. The carcass will now be cup up piece-meal for sandwiches and stews and steaks for the not-as-important officers....

And, maybe, for sandwich meat for other prisoners of war... if you're lucky. These unfortunate prisoners didn't have a clue they were all destined for the BBQ pit.