Choosing the Christmas goose

Nervous and trembling the girls, nude and their hands tied behind their backs, lined up in the kitchen. This year their parents hosted the big Xmas family gathering and traditionally one of the daughters of the house had to serve as Christmas goose.

None of them had gotten much sleep. Most of the night they had chatted about which of them will be selected as goose, how they would taste and how proud they would be to be chosen. But now, seeing the new big oven, the sharp knifes, the bowls for the intestines, they felt less proud but scared.

“OK girls, before the real fun starts we have to decide which of you will be the Christmas goose.”

“Uh dad? Couldn't we wait till..” Trina looked over to the men who had installed the extra big oven and now was looking at the girls with hungry eyes. “till we have some more privacy?”

“No. Those gentlemen worked overtime to get the oven installed on time so I invited them to some slices of the goose and some entertainment by the remaining girls. Now keep your mouth shut till we have decided, gooses don't talk. I have not yet decided if it will be a live roast or not, so you gooses better behave.”

Trina shuddered. Last year uncle Adolf hosted the family gathering and she watched her cousin Ulla getting prepared as live roast goose. Ulla had made it through the gutting and stuffing pretty good, but when she was shoved into the preheated oven the heat made her scream in pain, and she kept screaming for a pretty long time. Aunt Elfride suggested to sew Ulla's mouth shut, but Uncle Adolf refused. Those screams are his favorite Christmas tune he had said.

“I would vote for Patsy,” their mom suggested. “A goose needs some fat so the meat gets not to dry.”

“Hm... but the idea is a roast goose,” their father replied, pinching Patsy's belly. “With her curves she would be more suited as pork roast. Just imagine her with a apple in her mouth.”

“I know what you mean,” their mother laughed. “So, Patsy is out of the picture and it will be between Trina and Sabby. In that case my vote would go for Tina. In my opinion Sabby is to meager for a good roast goose.”

Sighting her father pressed Sabby's tiny tits: “But she has the briskets I prefer on a roast goose, they are my favorite cut you know.” He looked over at Trina who held her breath. “Well, your mother is as excellent cook and she surly knows best. So Trina, this year you will be our Christmas goose. Come with me into the garden and put your head on the chopping block. Don't worry pumpkin, I have sharpened the ax. It will slide through your neck like through butter. If you want we can gut you first of course.”

“Uhm.. no thanks dad.” Trina assured him, already on her way to the garden, happy that she would not have to suffer like cousin Ulla.