Three candles lit the linen-draped table and the five-foot-long silver platter on it. A man -- naked but for blue-cowled cloak, gloves, boots, and belt -- lay face-up on the platter, his lower legs hanging over the end. He squirmed, but the ropes that bound his hands behind his back held firm. He raised his head, squirmed again, and saw the candles flicker, highlighting his powerful muscles. He saw a wisp of steam rise from his long penis and massive testicles. He sniffed, and caught a hint of roasted meat in the air.
Beyond the candle-lit table, a wall loomed in the darkness. A lean-muscled teen-ager hung there, suspended by his wrists, naked but for shoes, gloves, and the black mask that half-hid his worried frown. He pulled himself up, bit at his ropes, then relaxed with a groan.
A doorknob rattled. The man on the platter saw a compactly built man, naked but for his chef's hat, step into the pool of light. He dropped a handful of silverware on the table, grinned at the man on the platter, then looked back over his shoulder.
"Ready, Danny?" asked a deep voice from the direction the youth had come.
"Come and get it," said Danny, and seven more men -- naked but for a few shoulder holsters and pistols -- strolled to the table and surrounded their captive.
"What's a matter, Batman?" asked one, a slim man with a thin moustache and carefully combed hair that gleamed in the candlelight. "Those nuts a yours what Danny went and roasted smell real nice -- ain't ya hungry?"
The captive raised his head again and growled wordlessly.
A bespectacled, small-boned man of about twenty sniffed the air, licked his lips, and said, "That leaves all th' more for us t' eat, Tony."
"Laugh all you want," growled Batman. "It's a match for anything you hoods can put up."
"Th' fuck you say," said a rangy young man, stepping forward to display a long, stiffening shaft. "I got two inches on you, easy."
"Lance, you tryin' t' get eaten, instead of him?" asked the man with the glasses, putting his right arm around the long-shafted man's shoulders.
"I like getting my prong admired, Bookworm," said Lance, glancing down at his virile equipment, "but not quite **that* fucking much."
"Cut the chatter, studs," said the biggest of the eight, a heavy-boned, thick-shouldered man. "Let's get started before his nuts get cold." He clapped the youth in the chef's hat on the back. "Danny, you did a real good job, cooking the big bat's nuts, so you get to chop him up."
"Okay, Gunner." Danny brandished a carving knife and fork. The rest picked up plates and forks and lined up behind Gunner. Danny glanced at his victim's face and asked, "Ready?"
Batman growled, then nodded slowly as he watched the fork slide into his right testicle. Danny divided the organ with a stroke of the blade and put half on Gunner's plate. He lopped off Batman's glans, eased it aside, and then cut a chunk of shaft to go with the half-testicle. The line moved on as Danny cut up and served more of Batman's freshly cooked organs.
Bookworm paused by Batman's head to ask, "Can you feel anythin' when he cuts int' you?"
The muscular captive looked up. "Not -- no, not really," he growled. "The pain -- being roasted -- that's all I can feel down there, that and a little tugging at the roots." He looked down again, saw the last chunk of roast testicle had been passed out and Danny was carefully bisecting Batman's glans. Batman took a deep breath, let half out, and said, "Getting cut up and eaten -- that's nothing compared to being roasted alive."
Tony, the young man with carefully combed hair, strolled to Bookworm's side. "Ya taste real good, guy," he said around a mouthful of testicle. "Rest of you might be pretty good too," he added, running his hand over the naked captive's pectoral muscles. "Plenty of white meat, f' sure."
"And good drumsticks, too," said a red-haired young man, stroking Batman's powerful thighs.
"The drumsticks are further down, Jake," said Gunner. "Wonder if he's got a wishbone?"
"Nope," said a broad-chested blond waiting in line. "Only birds have 'em." He glanced over his shoulder, then said "Watch out, Lance: Robin's got a mean kick."
"It's okay, Karl; I'm giving him a bite of Batman's prong, and he promised to be good. Hey, what are we gonna do to this fucking kid we strung up, anyway?"
"Want to use my oven on him next?" asked Danny.
"We could have a game of darts first," said Bookworm. "First two guys t' score on his balls get t' eat them when they're cooked."
"Got a better idea 'n that," said Tony. "Set the darts on fire before ya throw them, and cook him that a way."
"That's an idea," said Gunner. "You got some brains under all that pretty hair after all."
"Why don't you pick on people your own size?" Batman growled. "He's not food!"
"We don't underestimate that kid," said Gunner. "He's just as dangerous as you are."
"And almost as well hung, too," laughed Karl.
Batman shrugged his shoulders, then watched the last of his shaft being cut from his crotch. "You two guys at the end of the line -- with my balls and glans all gone, all you're getting is shaft."
"Yeah, what gives?" asked Karl.
"Don't get **your* balls bent out of shape," Danny said. "The first six guys each got short chunks of prong plus half a ball or half his cock-tip. You and I get a full two inches of cock apiece."
"Okay, okay -- and it's good and thick down there," said Karl, holding out his plate.
As Danny cut off the final length of Batman's penis, the young man just ahead of Karl -- a sturdy blond that looked very much like Karl -- turned back to Danny and asked, "Want to swap? Half Batman's glans plus this chunk of shaft for your two-inch piece?"
"Sure, Eric" said Danny. "You and your brother are the **hungriest*_--"
"We're still growing boys," laughed Karl. "And fast as we're pumping it out_--"
"-- we gotta keep our strength," said Eric. He chewed on a bite of Batman's shaft for a moment. "Not bad -- not bad at all. I could get to like this kind of meat."
"Hey, guys," said Tony. "Now we a got Batman de-nutted an' de-pronged, what do we do with him next?"
Karl said, "Well, you're the one that suggested we eat the rest of him. He oughta dress out 100, maybe 120 pounds of good, red meat. What do you think, Eric?"
"Maybe the others won't like the taste, and you and I'll get to eat all of him."
So Batman was knocked on the head to daze him, stripped and stuffed. Then placed in a roasting pan, and cooked alive at 350 degrees. He expired as his white meat cooked and his voice screeched. Robin listened on, as they played ‘flaming darts’ on his testicles. It took a dozen or so darts imbedded in his painful testicles to roast them. Eric held Robin’s legs still while the others ate his cock and balls from his writhing screaming meaty body.