The night has finally arrived, and it’s every bit as glorious as I’d imagined. Midnight has come and gone, and now, under the cloak of night, the Human Farm is transformed into a scene of pure, primal celebration. Every Femcan from miles around has gathered, the air humming with a shared energy as the festivities truly begin.
The river wheel is turning slowly over the crackling fire, casting an orange glow that dances across the faces of the assembled Femcans. LP15092, our centerpiece, is resting in the cage, his skin glistening as he roasts in the gentle rotation, perfectly seasoned and marinated to perfection. The riverside air is thick with the smell of rich, roasted meat, and Femcan Mara’s special marinade is filling the night air with mouth-watering aroma. Each turn of the cage reveals another golden-brown edge, another crisp layer developing over his flesh. I can already see the other Femcans gathering around, glasses in hand, eyes hungry as they watch the fire do its magic.
The tables near the riverbank are laden with cuts and dishes from the earlier harvest. The burly northern LPs, now perfectly smoked and carved, rest alongside the more delicate city LPs, sliced into tender portions. Every Femcan has taken her favorite cut, loading plates and clinking glasses as laughter and conversation drift up into the night. Femcan Rita has brought her famed wine, the dark red liquid sloshing into every glass, the color deep and rich, matching the tone of the night. I see Femcan Zara and Femcan Rhea off to the side, laughing as they raise a toast over a shared platter, delighting in the crisp skin and seasoned meat that’s been prepared to perfection.
As the celebration continues, I feel a powerful sense of satisfaction knowing that each LP here tonight was carefully selected, screened, and trained. Watching each Femcan savor her meal, the thought strikes me that tonight isn’t just about feasting—it’s about a bond, a connection that each of us shares in this rare network of farms. We’ve worked tirelessly, and tonight, we’re reaping the rewards. The Human Farm feels like the heart of something vast and powerful, with each of us playing our role in a system built on tradition, discipline, and, of course, an unwavering appetite.
Femcan Tanya, my closest friend in the network, approaches with a glass of wine, her face flushed with satisfaction. “To the Human Farm,” she says, raising her glass high. I join her, clinking my glass against hers as we echo her toast. “To the Human Farm.”
We drink, savoring the flavor, rich and heady, before turning back to the feast. LP15092 is nearly done, his skin crisp, his aroma filling the night air. The cage spins in the slow, steady rhythm, each turn revealing a new, perfectly roasted side. Femcan Zara takes a carving knife, and with a reverent hush, she makes the first slice, releasing a fresh wave of steam and flavor into the cool night air.
The first taste is nothing short of bliss. Each bite is tender, savory, with the slightest hint of Mara’s marinade lingering on the tongue. I watch as the other Femcans dive in, each plate filled with carefully carved portions. We’ve reached a pinnacle tonight—a perfect blend of effort, reward, and flavor.
As we feast, there’s a feeling of unity in the air, a shared understanding that we’re part of something bigger than any of us alone. The Human Farm is thriving, each harvest more successful than the last, and with plans to expand, our network will only grow stronger. Femcan Rhea starts to share stories of new LP sources she’s found in western Canada, and Femcan Mara chimes in with news of potential recruits from the east coast. The dream of an international operation feels closer than ever.
Hours pass as the celebration continues, laughter and conversation filling the night. When the feast finally winds down, and the fires burn low, the last echoes of our voices drift off into the woods. The Human Farm stands quiet, surrounded by the shadows of satisfied Femcans making their way home, full and content, their minds already dancing with thoughts of future feasts.
Tonight will linger in my memory as a perfect night of harvest, a night of satisfaction and unity. The Human Farm is thriving, and with each LP that passes through our gates, our future looks more promising than ever.
Until the next harvest,
Femcan Lana
The night has finally arrived, and it’s every bit as glorious as I’d imagined. Midnight has come and gone, and now, under the cloak of night, the Human Farm is transformed into a scene of pure, primal celebration. Every Femcan from miles around has gathered, the air humming with a shared energy as the festivities truly begin.
The river wheel is turning slowly over the crackling fire, casting an orange glow that dances across the faces of the assembled Femcans. LP15092, our centerpiece, is resting in the cage, his skin glistening as he roasts in the gentle rotation, perfectly seasoned and marinated to perfection. The riverside air is thick with the smell of rich, roasted meat, and Femcan Mara’s special marinade is filling the night air with mouth-watering aroma. Each turn of the cage reveals another golden-brown edge, another crisp layer developing over his flesh. I can already see the other Femcans gathering around, glasses in hand, eyes hungry as they watch the fire do its magic.
The tables near the riverbank are laden with cuts and dishes from the earlier harvest. The burly northern LPs, now perfectly smoked and carved, rest alongside the more delicate city LPs, sliced into tender portions. Every Femcan has taken her favorite cut, loading plates and clinking glasses as laughter and conversation drift up into the night. Femcan Rita has brought her famed wine, the dark red liquid sloshing into every glass, the color deep and rich, matching the tone of the night. I see Femcan Zara and Femcan Rhea off to the side, laughing as they raise a toast over a shared platter, delighting in the crisp skin and seasoned meat that’s been prepared to perfection.
As the celebration continues, I feel a powerful sense of satisfaction knowing that each LP here tonight was carefully selected, screened, and trained. Watching each Femcan savor her meal, the thought strikes me that tonight isn’t just about feasting—it’s about a bond, a connection that each of us shares in this rare network of farms. We’ve worked tirelessly, and tonight, we’re reaping the rewards. The Human Farm feels like the heart of something vast and powerful, with each of us playing our role in a system built on tradition, discipline, and, of course, an unwavering appetite.
Femcan Tanya, my closest friend in the network, approaches with a glass of wine, her face flushed with satisfaction. “To the Human Farm,” she says, raising her glass high. I join her, clinking my glass against hers as we echo her toast. “To the Human Farm.”
We drink, savoring the flavor, rich and heady, before turning back to the feast. LP15092 is nearly done, his skin crisp, his aroma filling the night air. The cage spins in the slow, steady rhythm, each turn revealing a new, perfectly roasted side. Femcan Zara takes a carving knife, and with a reverent hush, she makes the first slice, releasing a fresh wave of steam and flavor into the cool night air.
The first taste is nothing short of bliss. Each bite is tender, savory, with the slightest hint of Mara’s marinade lingering on the tongue. I watch as the other Femcans dive in, each plate filled with carefully carved portions. We’ve reached a pinnacle tonight—a perfect blend of effort, reward, and flavor.
As we feast, there’s a feeling of unity in the air, a shared understanding that we’re part of something bigger than any of us alone. The Human Farm is thriving, each harvest more successful than the last, and with plans to expand, our network will only grow stronger. Femcan Rhea starts to share stories of new LP sources she’s found in western Canada, and Femcan Mara chimes in with news of potential recruits from the east coast. The dream of an international operation feels closer than ever.
Hours pass as the celebration continues, laughter and conversation filling the night. When the feast finally winds down, and the fires burn low, the last echoes of our voices drift off into the woods. The Human Farm stands quiet, surrounded by the shadows of satisfied Femcans making their way home, full and content, their minds already dancing with thoughts of future feasts.
Tonight will linger in my memory as a perfect night of harvest, a night of satisfaction and unity. The Human Farm is thriving, and with each LP that passes through our gates, our future looks more promising than ever.
Until the next harvest,
Femcan Lana
