It feels like more hours as you sit in your small cage crying when you hear the troll return. You look up to see him carrying firewood, a basket of berries and a large stick. He sets it all down and procceds to start a fire. "You cook real nice. Me make fire, roast yous over it. You roast nice. Be good and golden brown." You watch in horror as he manages to light the fire. "Mmmm Fire good and hot. You roast nice. Be nice and crunchy yet chewy." Your heart sinks as he gets up and walks over to your cage, opening it. All hope of escape and rescue sink as he grabs your by the hair and drags you kcikng and screaming to a small make shift table. He than procceds to bind your hands and feet to the large stick. "Mmmm These berries help with flavor. Make you tasty." He says and he smushes up the berries and rubs them all over your naked body. He than shoves a large apple in your mouth. "This help with noise. Make dinner lot quieter." He says as he begins to hold you over the fire, turning you slowly every now and than. All you can do is be roasted and cry, praying that death takes you before his feast so you won't have to feel those horrible teeth chowing down on your roasted flesh. You have to admit that the berries and your flesh cooking make for a good smell, but it sickens you that your thinking that way! Your being roasted alive dammit! You cry harder as your roasted to a golden brown and after a while you can't cry anymore. You can only stare into the fire and scream your self hoarse into the apple-gag. Finnaly he pulls you off the fire, but to your horror your still quite alive. "mmmm yu good and crispy now, nice golden brown and tasty." Witht hat he blows on you a little, which feels nice against your cooked skin, but than takes a bite out of your juicy ass. It doesn't hurt, but it isn't pleasent either. "mmm very tasty." He ays as he takes a swig from a large mug of what smells like rotten beer and contenuies to chow down on your flesh. As he reches your head, death finnaly claims you, nothing is left of you but a pile of bones he tosses into a corner, with the rest of his victems. With a loud belch he finishes his beer and lays down to sleep, licking his lips of the last of your flavor.
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