You chuckle as the eight women you pick up in total squirm, giving you a good excuse to squeeze their tender bodies. The curves on the Latin ones always pleased you, as any extra juicy meat made your meals more savory. You carried the women over to your stove, where you had a pan set over it. You had some butter heated up previously, so you just tossed the bare ladies onto the hot surface, where they attempted to walk out, failing to catch surface on their feet with the butter, and ironically covering themselves in it.
You watch as the butter starts to bubble, and the screams from the women start to grow louder. The heat was getting to them, and that meant that they were cooking well. Screams barely fazed you anymore, as your tolerance for any sort of violence had skyrocketed since the start of your feasting habits. Seeing people chomped in half, impaled by a fork, or even filled through the ass with stuffing in person had made you numb to feelings on said things.
You turn off the stove and look at the tiny women crawling for the edges, barely moving if at all, and you grin. This was perfect for the dish you were fixing to prepare, which was
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