A D.C. Tale Part 7: Ruth’s Turn

Please wait...

by Ralph LeCan

Numbly Ruth took off her nightgown and obediently began to climb onto the large preparation table. That table was in the basement of the house she shared with her two house mates. Given the situation she found herself in, she could hardly call the two other young black women "friends," although "housemates" was a technically correct description.

While those other two women -- Marsha and Melissa -- had often encountered Ruth in various stages of undress, they had never seen her totally naked. Both were now very impressed by her nicely fleshed figure. Ruth was not fat, but also was certainly far from skinny. She had recently knocked off a few pounds, which had been added courtesy of their recently introduced, new "dining" habits. However, Ruth was appalled that they were now going to do "it" to her!

So, as the 27-year-old, trembling naked woman got up onto the table she was perspiring profusely. This was partially due to the fact it was a rather hot in the basement, thanks to a very warm May day and, also, thanks to the heat from the fire in the nearby fireplace -- a fire she was soon to become much too intimate with. However, the fact that Ruth's plumpish black body was shiny with sweat was primarily due to the gut wrenching terror she felt.

Try as she might, Ruth couldn't remember what time it was, or why she was (or had been) in her nightgown, but she certainly knew what was in a store for her in a few minutes.

Over the past year Ruth had watched over a dozen equally (or better) well-fed, naked human bodies -- usually female, a few male, but all white -- on the very same table as they were on their way to becoming food. Now it was her turn, and she was the first black person, female or male, to meet such a fate in the basement.

As she struggled to climb up onto the table, Ruth felt Marsha grab two handfuls of her ample backside and lift/push her up, "here Ruth dear," she said with a chuckle, "let me help you, that's a lotta ass to haul up there."

Ruth knew that Marsha had a particular affinity for the nicely-padded backsides of their "long pigs" and, as she felt Marsha appreciating the abundance of her own, she knew that it, despite her recent weight loss, was still more than satisfactory for Marsha's tastes.

Ruth finally crawled onto the table, painfully, aware of the implications of where she was. She first lay down on her front, the sturdy surface cool on her chubby belly and full breasts. A few minutes ago she had her head shaved bald, as well as having her coarse black pubic hair removed -- now she knew all too well that she was ready for the next step.

Ruth then heard footsteps and, turning sideways saw Melissa, who was the 27-year-old resident cook, come down the basement steps holding a long, sharp knife. Ruth knew that, in a few minutes, the knife would be used to slit open her soft, pudgy belly so that she could be gutted and stuffed for barbecuing.

"Why me," questioned Ruth, "both Marsha and Melissa are certainly far from skinny, and indeed are now probably fatter than I am." In fact, Ruth thought, "I knocked off 15 pounds over the past two months, why me?"

It was true. All three women had put on some serious poundage since first discovering their mutual love of human meat several months ago. However, Ruth was the only one to really make a serious effort to knock off the excess baggage, yet she was the one about to be barbecued!

How this particular horrific situation developed was still a blur for Ruth. Indeed it was counter to the agreement the three women had come to months ago, an agreement which stated they would not eat their black sisters (obviously including themselves.) Then it came roaring back to Ruth – that agreement came unraveled with the spontaneous decision they made last night -- well lubricated by several bottles of wine -- to play a sort of cannibal "Russian Roulette." Ruth had been the loser!

Ruth was now feeling even more disoriented. Wait a minute, wasn't that game after Marsha's law firm's Christmas party, why was she here in May being prepared for roasting?

Whatever the situation, Ruth felt Melissa also take a few appreciative squeezes of Ruth's naked rump as she said; "Okay Ruth, we'll make this as quick as possible, however I gotta say that you've done a gang-busters job of getting a beautifully delicious ass. Myoh my, you are certainly more than suitable to be the first 'sista' to grace the table -- so now its time to roll over."

Obediently, Ruth rolled onto her back. She felt the hard surface of the table on that meaty rump which was receiving so much attention. Then Ruth winced, feeling a twinge of pain in her left buttock.

Why did her left cheek hurt? Then she remembered -- damn why was she having so much trouble remembering stuff? It was just a few minutes before that Ruth had suffered the indignity of having the thickness of her bottom fat measured with a device she herself had designed for just that purpose. It was a very simple device, a modified hypodermic needle, that relied on the difference in resistance between buttock fat and buttock meat to reveal the thickness of the fat, "tres" simple!

The reason for doing this was also simple: the rumps of their victims (particularly the women) were usually where body fat was the thickest. The heat of the fire (whether barbecuing or oven roasting) had to cook through it to get to the well-marhemorrhage meat below and start to cook that meat. Hence, the thickness of the fat was the determining factor as to how long the nicely padded victim had to spend over the fire or in the oven.

Therefore, Ruth's left cheek was still sore from the dullish needle that had been stuck into it, something she was acutely reminded of as her chubby bottom cheeks had met the hard surface of the table.

As Ruth reflected on this horrible situation she found herself in, something she contended was totally unfair, she heard another noise on the steps. Ruth turned her head in time to see Judy came down the stairs. The 30-year-old white woman, a lawyer like Marsha, had horned her way into the dining habits of the three black women.

"God damn," Judy exclaimed, "you really are going to do it, really gonna roast one of your black asses, now we are gonna see what some sweet, dark meat tastes like!"

Ruth, listening to this, just sighed. Unlike a chicken with two different types of muscle, and hence a "white meat" and a "dark meat," all people, regardless of their skin color have the same meat. It might have a different taste due to cultural differences such a diet and environment, but Ruth knew her meat would taste very similar to the white women who had previously occupied the table. "Her meat," she muttered bitterly, she never thought she would ever say those words.

From Judy's standpoint however, it could have been any one of the three black women on the table now, all were nicely padded and all were young enough so their meat would be tender and juicy.

Ruth then recalled the concept that people facing imminent death often have their lives flash before them -- and a vivid memory welled up from her mind. Of all her recent memories one event rushed to the forefront, one that was very much "on topic" It was something that her current lover Ron and she had played out last week, or was it last December? Anyway it was a prelude to a very intense, very satisfying session of passionate sex, she was certainly more than clear on that.

For a number of months Ruth and Ron, a doctor at D.C. General where Ruth worked, discovered a mutual, very erotic fascination with cannibalism. This fascination they had, in turn, spawned numerous cannibal/victim play acting scenarios as a prelude to their lovemaking.

So, that mid-December evening, "damn," Ruth recalled it was in December when she had gone over to Ron's for an evening of fun and games. Several months ago they had dispensed with the niceties of dating -- such as going to the movies or a play -- in favor of getting right to the "fun and games."

As the situation flashed before Ruth, she questioned the time line, "this is May, that happened in December, but it feels like it was last week, what's going on, what's going on?"

Notwithstanding Ruth's current mental confusion, she was transported back to that "special evening."

Ron had fetched a couple of bourbons for them then offered "Hey babe, take a look at this." With that, he showed a water color painting to Ruth, getting the reaction he was looking for as she saw the subject of the painting. It was a picture of a rather zaftig young black woman, lashed to a long pole, being cooked over a hot fire. The spit was positioned between two "Y" shaped poles and, the body was shiny and head was shaved bald. The background was a jungle, native village setting.

As for the human barbecue in the picture, it was a full frontal view and, the impression from the painting was that the woman had been over the fire for a while, her face had a peaceful look to it, eyes closed and features relaxed.

Ruth also saw that the picture was of her! Before she could react, Ron produced a second painting, obviously of the same roasting, this time a view from the back. In it one could clearly see the pole to which the woman was lashed lying along her back, nestled between two nicely-fleshed buttocks, several ropes, cutting into her ample body, securing her to the pole.

Ruth had finally caught her breath, focusing on the second picture she blurted, "but my ass isn't that big," although her heart was pounding from the excitement of seeing the pictures.

Then, Ron laughed, "but babe, this isn't you, I copied them, and put 'em in color, from a couple of drawings my grandfather gave my father. With that, Ron opened a third portfolio and showed Ruth two very old, but very well drawn pen and ink sketches of the same well-fed woman turning over a fire. "My grandfather sketched them from memory, pictures of the roasting daughter of the neighboring tribe's chief -- your grandmother!

Before Ruth could react, Ron offered "one of the few useful things the missionaries left behind, other than sometimes themselves nicely roasted, was to teach my grandfather to draw."

Earlier Ruth had discovered that Ron had some old documents, passed down through his family, proving that his ancestral tribe in Africa had lived next to Ruth's family's tribe. Back around the turn of the century they had actually spit-roasted Ruth's grandmother whe she was a 27-year-old woman.

Ruth had gingerly taken the two dog-eared sheets from Ron. Although, only drawn in black and white, the detail was perfect, the front and back views of the roasting woman, her grandmother, were expertly drawn, and Ron's water color rendition of them were perfect. "shit," thought Ruth, "she really looks like me."

Ron continued, "no babe, your ass isn't that fat, yo' grandma musta liked to eat even more than you, but maybe I'll draw a coupla better picture of you..."

They had rushed through dinner in order to get upstairs. It was Ruth's turn to play the role of cannibal royalty. So, when they got to the bedroom she went into the bathroom to change. Slipping out of her clothes she put on the "grass skirt" that they shared for role playing. It really was made of grass, and, when fastened around the waist, came to mid-thigh on both of them.

As Ruth fastened it around her waist, she noted that it was a bit more snug than the last time, but "what the hell.” She walked out of the bedroom, naked from the waist up, the skirt cutting into the flesh of her ample belly (she had yet to lose the weight). Also her full breasts jiggling invitingly, at least for Ron, who walked through the door, pretending to be pushed in, naked with his hands "tied" behind his back.

Ruth sat in the chair by the door and commanded, "come forward slave, come forward and meet your fate!"

She noted, as she looked over her lover's dark naked body, that Ron certainly hadn't lost any weight, although it was hard to tell if he had put on any more. As a former football player in college he had a solid build which, once in medical school, had added about 35 pounds of less than solid flesh. While far from fat, his days of running the 100 in 11.3 were well behind him.

Speaking of "behind" Ruth recalled, as her flashback continued, Ron's bottom consisted of two very pliable, milk chocolate "flavored" cheeks, plump and soft to the touch.

Ruth also recalled that his other over-sized attribute was sticking straight out at her, and already had a glistening drop of fluid gracing its end. Ron was also really turned on by this. For her part, Ruth was starting to feel the grass between her legs become moist, God she had loved this role playing.

"Come forward slave," Ruth repeated, "let me feel your suitability to fulfill our needs."

It was a role both of them had played and, as Ron walked forward, Ruth lovingly assessed his meaty body. She knew that in a few minutes she would have that naked body on top of her, appreciating its sensuous weight, with that big, rock hard dick sunk deep inside her. However, for now, she continued with the game.

"My, but you are a nice meaty one," and, as Ron got closer, she reached out to squeeze one full thigh. In one previous game she had grabbed his hard cock and had been, in return, rewarded with the release of a long stream of Ron's "lovin' spoonful" or "ten cc's" -- e.g., the contents of his seminal vesicles.

"Christ," Ruth had thought, "I still remember that term for the male reproductive portion of "Physiology 101" in college. The heavy milky fluid had shot out of the end of his erection and splattered over her naked breasts.

At that time they had both laughed (although Ron was a bit chagrined at his lack of control). However, a few minutes later they had gone straight to bed where Ruth coaxed Ron back to full attention and then welcomed him inside her.

Now, the flashback again focused on that night's, somewhat bizarre, foreplay. Ruth had murmured, "mmm, lotsa good meat here," as she kneaded here lover's thigh. Then, careful to avoid brushing his "at attention" member, she ran her hands over what was a rather soft belly.

Now, "Ruth the Cannibal Queen," commanded "tonight's meat slave" to turn around. This was the best part, the best part on several levels, the part of the play acting, she liked and the part of Ron she liked to play with.

Ruth knew that Ron had been, at first, somewhat embarrassed by the size of his can. However, through her nurturing, as she worked the play acting, he became first comfortable, then actually turned on by the prospect of his generously fleshed bum becoming food.

Returning to that evening, she recalled that Ron was so up that he moved forward, grabbed Ruth and lifted her up from the chair (no easy job) and carried her to the bed. Window-rattling sex continued for over 25 minutes, fueled by the two participants' cannibal fantasies until both came together, each with their own mind numbing orgasm.

Now, Ruth's attention was jerked back to the present and the terrible reality, as Melissa took the sharp knife and pushed it into the abundant soft flesh of Ruth's lower abdomen. Slowly increasing the pressure, it finally broke through the skin and into the fat below. Ruth let out a yelp as Melissa carefully drew the knife upward to slit her belly open. As an operating room nurse Ruth had seen many stomachs cut open -- but they were cut open for good things; surgery to make people well. Yet now she was having hers cut open but for a bad reason (at least for her) as she was being gutted in preparation for roasting.

Then, with a strange, almost morbid curiosity, she put her head up. Marsha had taken her hand and was spreading opening the incision. The blood had yet to really start and Ruth was stricken by the contrast between her black skin and her exposed yellowish belly fat. All the other victims whose bellies they had slit open for gutting were white-skinned, and the contrast between their skin and their fat was less pronounced.

Then Marsha plunged her hands in the opening and lifted/pulled out Ruth's organs. Melissa snipped them off and dumped them in a large pot. Just as Ruth had done herself in the past, Marsha ground up the still warm organs, and mixed them with the dressing which was soon being stuffed into Ruth's belly cavity.

Strangely, Ruth still was alert. Her stomach, now full of the dressing, bulged out as if she was seven months pregnant, something she knew she knew would never experience! Ruth's belly was then sewn shut -- she was ready for spitting.

"Hey Ruth," asked Melissa, "wanna be spitted in the ass or in the pussy?"

Ruth didn't answer, so Melissa said to the others, "okay let's give her one last thrill," and as Judy spread open Ruth's full brown thighs, Marsha and Melissa positioned the long, well used, spit between the lips of Ruth's vagina and pushed it inside her.

Ruth was acutely aware of the murderous spit being thrust into her but, before it reached the "end of the tunnel" she found herself making comparisons with other cylindrical, but organic objects that has been inserted/stuck/thrust into her -- in other words the erect cocks of previous lovers. Ruth's pussy had certainly welcomed its fair share of blood engorged male appendages. It was the early '70s, AIDS was a distant concern, and Ruth uses the "free love" reverberation that spilled over from the '60s to make sure she got more than her fair share.

As she had confessed to Melissa during their senior year as roomies at Howard, "I just LOVE to fuck!" Certainly during that era of "free love" there was no shortage of males willing to take her up on that, climbing aboard the "Ruth Express" for a fine "ride." Ruth had always been built for comfort not for speed!

However, as of late Ruth had been seeing only one guy, Ron. So now, it was Ron's large cock that she used for comparison. Ron was a bit thicker than the pole. However, while it was a very respectable length, she would find the spit was more than just a bit longer!

As she felt the sharp end began to put pressure on her cervix, it was as if her thoughts of Ron made things happen, as he walked down the basement steps and was standing there next to her!

"Hi babe," he said to Ruth and kissed her sweaty brow, "boy do you look delicious. I enjoyed our playing but never knew you would go through with it, oh wow!"

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse for Ruth, she saw him walk over and kiss Melissa in a manner that definitely was not a kiss between casual acquaintances. "God," thought Ruth, "so he has a thing going with that bitch, Christ, I wish it was his black ass here on the table instead of mine!"

Then Ron said to Melissa, "sorry I'm late Melis, but I couldn't find a liquor store that has 'our wine' and I thought Ruth, and all that good meat on her, definitely deserved that special 1968 Merlot, so I got three bottles."

He then walked over to Ruth and patted her dressing stuffed stomach, "gee Ruth, you really shoulda laid off the candy for a while, you've gotten a real pot belly," and he laughed.

Still stunned by Ron's appearance, Ruth really wasn't aware of the spit sliding through her. However, after breaking into her lower abdominal wall it only had to contend with the dressings before passing by her lungs and heart to enter her thorax. Judy then carefully positioned Ruth's head, the push continued and the bloody end of the spit emerged from Ruth's mouth. Ruth's eyes opened wide in amazement as the blood stained spit came into her line of vision, and continued to go a foot above the top of her head.

Only then did Ron stop patting her bulging belly and walked around to look into Ruth's terror filled eyes. "You should know that the game last night was rigged, and we knew that, with your almost sickening sense of fair play, you would go through with it." Ron continued, "so now Melissa and I are free to get married, you are out of the way and, as a bonus, we'll enjoy a delicious meal at our engagement party this evening!"

Somewhat sharply, Melissa barked, "okay, enough chatter, let's get the long pig on the fire, gotta tie her up first."

Several lengths of rope were tied around Ruth's full calves and meaty thighs, the others appreciating how nicely they cut into the fleshiness of her legs. The pain was now starting to kick it. It was not really intense yet, as the trauma of being gutted had actually delayed it some. However, now her entire insides were just starting to become a dull, deep ache.

The dressing stuffed into her belly had stemmed the flow of blood, but Ruth knew there was no way back, she was "meat."

They continued securing her to the spit as the last length of rope was looped around her middle pinning her arms to her side.

Judy then walked over and pinched a nice thick amount of Ruth's thigh, "gee what color do you think this will be when it's roasted. Ruth is pretty light for a black chick so I think she'll just be a little deeper brown, more like a well-varnished mahogany rather than cedar."

The others just laughed, they really didn't care what color Ruth was, just that she was nicely roasted!

Then with Ron holding one end, and Judy and Marsha the other, they picked up Ruth's spitted body from the table and held it in place while Melissa took the well-worn basting paint brush and coated Ruth all over with the melted fat of a previous victim. Soon, Ruth's own melting fat would take over the basting job!

Ruth's insides were really starting to hurt now as they carried her over to the fire. She was still surprised she was awake and alert as they put the spit in place and turned on the motor.

Ruth's felt her body convulse as it encountered the hot flames. She was put on face up so it was that magnificently well-padded rump which first felt the searing heat. Unable to scream due to the spit coming out of her mouth, she began to slowly turn over the hot fire.

Suddenly Ruth was now seeing the entire scene as if she was someone sitting on the basement steps watching the process. She was looking at her own naked body, stuffed, spitted and basted, starting to be barbecued. She was fascinated at how the ropes cut into its soft flesh as it struggled in vain.

Then she was back inside the barbecuing body, again feeling the pain of the murderous fire, beginning to smell the first few mouth-watering whiffs of her own roasting flesh. Even though it was her own body being cooked, Ruth appreciated how delicious it smelled.

Suddenly, despite the spit in her mouth, Ruth was able to let out a blood curdling scream, a scream that flew up the basement steps with a life of its own, burst open the front door and headed in a 360-degree direction: they heard it over on Wisconsin, they heard it over at New York and Capitol, they heard it at National Airport, they heard it at the White House, they heard it in Silver Spring, the workers digging the Metro heard it: "OH MY GOD, HELP ME I'M BEING ROASTED ALIVE!!!"

It was 3:45 a.m. when Melissa and Marsha heard the glass shattering scream and went running down the hall. Both reached Ruth's room at the same time. They threw open the door to see their friend sitting up in bed. Although it was mid-December Ruth was totally drenched in perspiration, her hair soaked and matted, her eyes the size of saucers. Seeing them, in return Ruth, still half asleep screamed, "get away from me you bastards, you bitches you, you...how the fuck can you roast me, how can you..."

"Whoa," said Melissa, "that had to be one nasty dream, calm down, Jesus, Ruth, it must have been bad."

Ruth was totally disoriented, the dream was still reality, a vivid reality from which she could recount every word, every feeling, every vision and yes, every smell, from the metallic odor of her blood as she was slit open for gutting to the sweet aroma of her own roasting meat.

Slowly, however, Ruth adjusted to the real situation, she was alive, she was not being roasted by her friends, she was in her own bedroom it had been a nasty dream, a very, very nasty dream, but she was alive.

"Oh God, oh God, you can't you won't believe what I just dreamed," murmured Ruth, "Christ you guys set up this deal... something, I don't totally remember... shit but I was... well in the basement and... Ron was there and ...oh God, Melissa you were ballin' him. Then you did me, really did me good ...cut me open and put in stuffing and all and that... then you put me on the fire and... oh shit it was so real...before than you even stuck me in the ass with the measuring device. God damn I was even smelled my own meat cooking".

While Marsha sat on the edge of the bed to comfort Ruth, Melissa went down stairs to get a glass of warm milk (to be aided by a couple of Valium) to calm Ruth down.

Around 4:20 a.m. Ruth seemed to get back to reality and was ready to go back to bed. Melissa and Marsha helped Ruth out of her sweat drenched nightgown. Neither had seen their friend totally naked before and appreciated Ruth's suitability to star in such a dream.

Tomorrow all of them would have a hard time getting to work.

But for now, Ruth, calmed by the drugs went back to bed, although the scenes from her dream would be front and center for days. Still naked, she climbed back into bed, throwing off the damp sheet and blanket. Then Ruth became acutely aware of another area that was unusually damp and slid her fingers down between her legs to locate that, all too familiar "little man in the boat," her clit. It took only a few seconds of stroking in the way she knew best and Ruth soon let out a muffled groan, and arched her back upward as she experienced a "Class A" orgasm.

Walking down the hall Melissa and Marsha rehashed the early morning event. Then, Marsha turned to her friend and with a sly wink said, "maybe one day we really CAN make her dreams come true!"

Leave a Reply