Twins

“ 'Rebecca, your bag.” Ms Prime, our maths teacher held out my shoulder bag.
I froze at the sight of her holding my bag. Smiling I ran back and she gave it to me. “Thank you Ms Prime”
She smiled at me.
“I just don't understand why a nice girl like you keeps getting into trouble.” I tried to look sorry, but I wasn't.
“Now you run along home and try not to deserve detention again this week.”
“Yes Mme.” Holding my bag close to my side I hurried back to my Julie and Maria. When I moved my hand they saw my name written on the outside. Ms Prime hadn't noticed it but my sisters giggled when they saw it. Ms Prime had searched if for contraband, and missed the fact that it wasn't 'Becca's bag. It was a near miss. Pretending to be my twin could be trouble if we were caught. But now my twin sister owed me one.

Julie handed my sweater back to me and I put it on. Now to the world I was Ruth once more. By habit Rebecca never wore her sweater even in winter. She liked to show her curves off with just a tight blouse. I'm happier with an extra layer of clothes between me and the hungry eyes of the adults. So the adults could only tell us apart by our clothes. But we were very different. 'Becca was a rebel, always taking risks. I'm more careful. I study hard and I'm going to graduate. 'Becca just can't wait to be meat. I've got ambitions beyond that.

“Are you going to tell dad?” Julie is like that, thinking of telling him the truth. She wasn't bad though, just a bit boring like most sisters are.
“Don't be silly. That will just get them both into trouble.” Maria hurried ahead to the bikes.
Julie and me were still unlocking the bikes as Maria pedalled off.

“Why do you keep covering for 'Becca Ruth?” Julie is a good person, but worries a lot.
“Us sister have to stick together you know.” Which was true, but more true for twins.
“I suppose so, it's just the risk.” Then we were off, the two of us easily catching up with Maria.
Apart from 'Becca, all my sisters were singletons. Each of them would make their own choices, take their own risks. But me and 'Becca are different.

Only one twin is allowed to make it to adulthood. The other is always converted. In this we were different from all our sisters. It was a connection that me and she shared. Or as she said. “It's Ruth and 'Becca against the world.”
'Becca wanted to be converted. I wanted to grow up. A simple choice. But not ours to make. So 'Becca broke the rules, getting poor marks at school. She knew it would increase the chance of her being chosen. That's why I'll take her detentions for her. I know that her wish to be meat will let me grow up.

Turning onto our road I see there are carriages and unharnessed pony girls. Usually it's just our sisters around at this time. Riding past the dormitories that I share with my sisters we go up to the main house. There's smoke and laughter. The sound of adults having fun. I share a look with Julie and Maria, and feel a shiver down my spine. There's a BBQ going on. Someone is going to be cooked. We all think for a moment whether we've done something wrong. Something that could result in us being cooked and eaten. There's nothing to be done but go in and hope it isn't us.

Leaving our bicycles in a pile on the lawn we go in. The adults are there. Most of our neighbours, some teachers from school. My sisters are serving nibbles and drinks. At least they know their role today. We still don't know ours. Reluctantly I go towards the cooking pits, and I see her. My twin is sitting on the edge of the stone slab. This is where we played when we were little. Sometimes we played dress-up, pretending to be adults and the slab was our stage and theatre. Often we played meat and butcher, imagining how brave we would be. But for Rebecca it looked very real.

Already her uniform was scattered on the grass. Ms Gruwell the English teacher was fingering a pair of panties. They were the same type as all my sisters wore but I assumed they were 'Becca's. Thinking she must be scared I approached the slab. She looked around and saw me.
“Rebecca, I'd hoped you'd be here.” She was smiling, and for a moment I missed it. She greeted me by her name. Unsure what to say she grabbed me and pulled me close. Stifling any response with a deep kiss. She held me close, her oiled breasts pressing against my sweater.
“Don't say anything.” She whispered into my ear. “This is my chance.” With those words she took my hand and forced me to scoop up a handful of warm fat and pressed it against her belly. “Please!”
“Either grease Ruth up or get out the way and let me.” Ms Gruwell was sniffing the soiled panties as she said that, and I spread the grease over my twin's breasts. 'Becca wrapped her long legs around my waist, pressing her pussy against my belly. Leaning back she pulled me down on her and once more she claimed my mouth with hers. My uniform was a mess now, the sweater soaked with oil and grease as my weight pressed her against the slab. Her oiled fingers slipped through my hair and I rubbed grease into her scalp. Grease that would stop her hair burning when she was roasted.

Shifting my weight higher she took the opportunity to slip a thigh between mine. The pressure of her leg against my cunt reminded me of hers. I pressed my fingers into hers, exploring the folds of flesh like we'd done when younger.
“Now that's a sight for hungry eyes.” It was the priest from our local church. “Nothing like sisterly love is there?” I couldn't answer with 'Becca's tongue down my throat, but seeing Ms Gruwell on her knees servicing the priest he probably didn't want an answer. A hand thrust between and I felt more grease being applied. My sisters were all helping out, making sure their sister was well coated for the oven. My own hand was being squeezed as Rebecca came, adding her own lubricant. Another flavour for the diners to enjoy. I slid down her body, using my hair to wipe a nipple clear of grease. Her breasts still tasted of cooking oils but there was the undercurrent of 'Becca.

“That enough you two, we've got hungry guests waiting” That was father. His hand on my shoulder pulled me off and he began binding my twin sister. The chords were to prevent her burning herself against the sides of the oven, and once bound more grease was smeared onto her. She had the traditional apple in her mouth by now but I could see the pleading in her eyes. My sisters probably thought she was pleading to be released, but I knew the truth. She wanted to make sure that I let her go through with this.

Stepping back I watched as my sisters lifted my twin into the oven. The heat was intense and Rebecca was already squirming in the roasting tray. Then the glass oven door was closed. My twin sister had taken my place. She had wanted to be meat, just as I wanted to graduate. But I'd been chosen. One twin is always chosen for meat and my parents had chosen to eat me and save Rebecca. But 'Becca must have known. While I'd been punished at school in her stead she had pretended to be me.

“You're a mess child.” Hearing my mothers voice I looked at myself. My school uniform was ruined. Grease and oils stained my sweater and I could feel that it had soaked all the way through to my skin.
“Sorry mother, I ah . . .” But she interrupted.
“And such behaviour in front of the Priest.” I could see that the Priest was now happily being blown by Julie, but Mother wouldn't appreciate me pointing that out.
“I thought you, of all my girls, would have more sense.” She tugged at my spoiled sweater. “Now get out of those clothes. Rebecca has wasted enough time as it is.” I was stunned. Unsure if I'd heard it right.
“Come on Ruth, get undressed. We can't cook you in your uniform you know.” With a sinking feeling I realised that Mother could tell us twins apart.

“I'm sorry mother I”
“To think you'd try a trick like this. You could have sent all your sisters to slaughter.” I felt so ashamed. I'd just been thinking of me and Rebecca swapping places, but I'd forgotten the penalty of avoiding conversion.
In moments my sisters, angry that I'd nearly condemned them all, were tugging my uniform off. Tearing cloth and popping buttons as they hurried me back to the slab. The only clothes they left me was my school tie, which was used to secure my arms behind my back. I could smell my twin roasting a few feet away as grease was roughly applied to me.

I tried to apologise to my sisters, but they were uninterested. But at least their anger ensured I was being well coated. Laying on my belly fingers forced their way into my anus, almost tearing it. Eyes watering I wondered why my sisters didn't lubricate, but then I felt the fingers slide out and a but plug get inserted. This was by far the biggest thing I'd ever taken. This would ensure I didn't shit in the BBQ.

One of my younger sisters finished oiling my hair and pulled it away from my face, twisting it into a bun that was pinned back. With my sight clear I saw the adults lighting a fire pit. In chops or spitted, I knew where I would meet my end. It was the feel of cold steel against my pussy lips that confirmed my worst fears. Rebecca would have loved being spitted alive, but this had never been my dream. Regardless, hard steel was forced into me. I tried not to scream, and as my body opened up to receive the spit I succeeded. It didn't hurt, much. I could feel a pressure inside of me as the spit progressed through my belly, it's length teasing my clip as it went in. Twisting I tried to guide it, but even without my help it reached my chest.

For a moment I thought I would suffocate before I even reached the fire pit, but then oxygen flooded my lungs. This was a ventilated spit, designed to let me live roast. Neck straining, my tongue tasted steel. Jaws wide I let the tip of the spit pass my lips. Teeth scraping the steel my eyes cross, focused on the bloody tip coming out my mouth. I am spitted, but I live still.

I'm living Rebecca's dream as my sisters lift the spit ends. The weight of my body causing the spit to bend slightly in my torso. Over the flame pit I feel the heat. At college we studied how this works. The way heat is conducted through the flesh, cooking blood in the veins as the body cooks. But I was never taught what it would feel like. The heat moving over the surface of my skin as I turn on the spit. The core of my body, slowly warming the steel. I know I'm just meat, being cooked for the waiting crowd. But I'm not ready yet.

Thighs strain, breaking the seal of congealed blood. First push, then pull. I move on the shaft. I hump the spit. Metal on tongue, metal on cunt. I'm fucking the spit and my sisters, I hear them shouting. They're cheering me on as I fuck the spit.

I can smell meat. Meat cooking. It could be my own flesh cooking, or it could be my sister. Ruth and Rebecca. Do we smell the same? Will we taste the same? I feel soothing coolness poured over by breasts. It's my mother basting me with the hot juices from my sister's roasting tray. Mixing our flavours. My head hurts, blood pounding in the heat. I concentrate of the spit, lubricated by fresh blood and cum. Soon I cannot think of anything. I can only feel. I choose to only feel the rhythm of the spit against my clitoris. A clit that will soon be eaten by my father.

I cannot go on for much longer. No longer able to feel my cooked skin, even my thighs are failing. The cooked muscles unable to thrust me on the spit I'm still. Nearly gone. The last concious sensation is of the weight of my breasts as they are cut away. To be consumed by my sisters. My flesh. To be eaten. To join my twin one last time. Ruth and Rebecca in the bellies of our sisters.