The Final Offering

Content Warning: This story contains extreme graphic violence, gore, cannibalism, decapitation, and themes of voluntary self-sacrifice/suicide. It is purely fictional dark fantasy and not intended to reflect reality in any way. Strong reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. Human cannibalism is illegal, immoral, and dangerous in real life. No endorsement of such acts is intended. If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please seek professional help immediately.
-----------------------------------------------------
In a shadowy, exclusive corner of a dystopian metropolis in 2045, there existed an underground establishment known only as "The Harvest Table." It was no ordinary restaurant; here, the elite dined on the rarest delicacy imaginable—human flesh sourced exclusively from healthy adults who had voluntarily signed up to become the main course. Strict medical screenings ensured only those in peak physical condition were accepted, and every detail was documented with ironclad consent forms. The volunteers were people who had reached the end of their tether with life's relentless grind, seeking a final, meaningful exit where their bodies could sustain others.
Lana Kim was one of them. At 32, she had been a successful travel influencer, jet-setting across the world with her lithe, athletic figure and captivating smile. The framed photograph on the preparation counter captured her at her happiest—blonde-dyed hair flowing in the ocean breeze, bikini showcasing the toned body she had sculpted through years of discipline, standing confidently on a sun-drenched beach. But behind the filtered perfection, Lana had grown profoundly disillusioned. The endless chase for likes, the hollow relationships, the creeping sense of purposelessness—it all eroded her will to continue. One day, she decided she was done. She wanted out, but not wastefully. She wanted her end to matter.
Lana arrived at The Harvest Table with her volunteer form already completed, her health records impeccable. The staff welcomed her warmly, confirming her decision one last time. "You're in exceptional condition," the head chef said with professional admiration. "You'll make an exquisite menu." Lana nodded calmly, requesting a serene, painless process. In the private chamber, she was prepared, and everything ended swiftly.
Now, in the gleaming kitchen, her contribution was artfully arranged for the evening's patrons. Her severed head rested peacefully on a large white platter at the center, eyes gently closed, expression tranquil as if in deep sleep, long dark hair framing her face. Around her, black pots brimmed with carefully portioned parts: delicate hands and feet with manicured nails, coiled intestines, plump thighs and breasts stamped with the restaurant's official seal of quality and consent. A sharp knife lay ready on the wooden board beside a small discarded scrap, while her volunteer form sat prominently displayed—a legal reminder of her willing choice. The beach photo stood framed nearby, a tribute to the vibrant life she had once lived.
That night, discerning guests would savor dishes masterfully prepared from Lana's body: tender grilled cuts, rich organ pâtés, succulent roasts infused with herbs. In her final act of agency, Lana had transformed her weariness into sustenance, giving everything she had left to a world that had taken so much. In the twisted elegance of The Harvest Table, she had found the ultimate escape—becoming forever part of something greater, consumed and remembered in the most intimate way possible.