Chapter Text
With her eyes closed, Ration Grade C 0137 tried to breathe silently now that she was in position, pressed lightly against the rough wooden door, though she worried that her pounding heart would rattle the door despite her best efforts to be still. Just having her beloved uncle being a few inches behind her typically would have been enough to get her heart going, but she had moved the man’s presence to the back of her mind, as she concentrated almost entirely on her role in the breach. In that moment, her excitement was from the thrill that came from a life-and-death battle, with only the barest hint of sexual arousal to intensify her emotions.
Focus, ration! When the door goes, I go, she reviewed mentally. Move in fast and engage the baddies, but stay just to the side, so Uncle Ed has a clear shot. He will not get hurt on my watch, or my name isn’t Ration Grade C 137!
The scrawny teen hadn’t thought of herself as Diane Heide since the moment she had set the tip of her pen against the volunteer form three months earlier. In fact, she had barely even felt that she belonged to her birth name long before that. The young girl had always been frustrated with her mother for getting married, thereby deviating from the family tradition of volunteering for an honorable military death after popping out a few replacement girls for the family. Little Diane had considered the name given to her a mere placeholder until she was old enough to earn a serial number, and fulfill the duty her mother had dodged. For as long as she could remember, the wiry girl had been training herself to protect her youngest uncle in battlefield situations just like this.
The slight tap on her back, followed by the door crashing open as Sergeant Stevenson’s boot rammed into it, was not jarring or disorienting to the MOTF, it was the signal which freed her to act. Ration 0137 stepped smoothly into the dim room, and opened her eyes. She didn’t falter–she instantly took in the occupants and determined that the startled man reclining in a chair in front of the small TV was a bigger threat than the two nude girls on the cot, so she charged towards his right side, leaving a clear shot for the soldiers she knew were peering in after her.
The insurgent’s gun was leaning against the TV a few feet in front of him, so she easily closed the distance before he even had a chance to reach for it. He did however manage to pull a knife from his belt as he stood, and swung it at her. Reflexively, Ration 0137 raised her forearm and blocked the swipe, then swooped her arms around, grabbing his wrist with both of her hands, and locked her arms straight out. This effectively prevented him from moving the weapon again, and also left space between them for the stream of hot metal shots which ended his life. A few more bursts of gunfire dispatched the girls on the cot while Ration 0137 watched the man in front of her slump to the ground.
“Clear!” called each of the arriving privates as they finished scanning the room.
Ration 0137 looked around sharply, still on alert for hidden threats, but there were none left. She moved to the corner when the soldiers entered, knowing that she would only get in the way if she tried to go with them into the narrow hallway connecting the room to the rest of the building.
After all but Private Laurel, the rear man in this fire team, had transferred deeper to the building’s interior, Ration 0137 took up the insurgent’s knife and slit the throats of all three of the enemy bodies. There hadn’t been any sign of life in any of them, but she was still on edge and needed something to do to distract herself from the fact that her Uncle Ed was engaged in something dangerous, and she couldn’t help him at the moment.
After several minutes of tense fidgeting, she let out a sigh of relief when Sergeant Stevenson and Corporal Collins came into the room, evidently unharmed.
“We’ll need to call in a couple trucks to haul all this out, Collins,” her uncle was saying. “Take Laurel and Hardy, and bring the rest of the squad in here, for now.”
“Yes, sir!”
The sergeant looked around the room and noticed his MOTF standing by the cot, with a toothy grin on her young face.
“How’re you doing, string bean?” he asked.
“Great, sir! Ready for orders!”
He pulled out a med kit from one of his vest pockets as he walked up to her. After lifting her bloodied arm, he raised an eyebrow. “Then, what’s this about?”
Ration 0137 looked at the gash in her arm in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t even notice it. Sorry, sir.”
The knife had struck the part of her forearm where the bone was right by the surface, so it hadn’t done much more than slice a section of skin. The man nodded and carefully wrapped the wound in gaze and that inexplicably self-sticky outer bandage.
The MOTF cocked her head and looked at her uncle. “Why bother bandaging me now, sir? With an injury like this, wouldn’t we just put me on the menu for supper?”
“We would,” he answered, “but I hear that Ration 3041 took a grenade, so you’ll have to wait.” He guested to the snuffed meat on the cot nearby. “Looks like we’ve got some decent sluts as spoils to eat, too. Probably be a few days before we get down to grilling your skinny ass.” He finished tending to her injury with a little kiss on her wrist.
Ration 0137 glanced at the cot and then grinned at her uncle again. “Are we secure for now, sir? Is this a good time for some stress relief? I’m very ready for you, uncle sir!”
Sergeant Stevenson chuckled and nodded. “We should be good for a quickie, little slut,” he said fondly.
The thin girl hastily shoved the meat off the cot, and took their place, not caring about her injured arm or the blood-stained sheets. She enthusiastically fluffed his cock, then laid back with stars in her eyes as he sank it into her dripping wet baby hole.
“Mmmm, yeeess,” she moaned.
Fuck! I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on! she thought, as the rush of adrenaline from the short battle found a sexual outlet.
Riding in a truck over the rough dirt roads wasn’t much of an improvement over marching all day–at least, not for the rations in the back of the cargo truck, squeezed between crates of confiscated munitions. The five rations were noticeably stiff when they climbed out of the truck after coming to a halt at the forward supply depot, a few of them groaning softly, but none of them complained. Some sore butts and stiff limbs were nothing compared to pain tolerance training back in meat camp. The soldiers in their troop transport had fared much better, having seats and room to move around a little during the ride.
Ration Grade C 0137 was the only one of the MOTFs who still seemed to have any spare energy as the squad jogged the remaining yards to their assigned barracks, but she had special reason to be excited.
“We’re going to restock on rations when we get to base this afternoon,” the sergeant had said that morning. “So, tonight, we’re treating ourselves to a whole roaster! My little spit muffin MOTF is on the menu, boys!”
When they reached the barracks, they found a half dozen fresh field rations lined up and waiting for them. The new girls all seemed to know who their assigned masters were, since they each went up to one of the soldiers who had already snuffed their previous ration and presented themselves.
“Ration Grade A 1610, reporting for service!” cried the one standing at attention in front of the sergeant and his young MOTF.
“At ease, ration,” Sergeant Stevenson said.
As soon as the new girl relaxed, Ration 0137 stepped up and hugged the fresh meat. Like most of the new rations, 1610’s skin was far paler than that of the MOTFs who had spent the last several months marching around stark naked in the desert sun. The sergeant’s latest ration was a striking red head in her early twenties, with meaty legs and a pair of soft, round tits that just begged for you to fondle them, especially when she was naked. Ration 0137 felt an immediate bond with the woman, particularly since she readily returned the younger girl’s embrace.
“Hi, I’m Ration Grade C 137! You must be lucky, ‘cause you got yourself assigned to the best fucking master in the army.” She snuggled briefly with the woman’s freckled cleavage, then pulled back with a huge grin on her face. “You smell like you’ll be delicious. Not that I’ll be around long enough to find out. I’d love to tell you all about how great Uncle Ed is, but he promised that I would be spitted today, so I guess you’ll just have to discover that for yourself!”
Ration 1610 laughed lightly, and after a nod from her master, followed 0137 as she skipped her way to the nearest fire pit.
Ration 7421 collected all the sections of the snap-together travel spit from the rations’ various packs. Ration 0137 had a good fire going by the time 7421 had assembled the spit and its stand, and Ration 1610 had unpacked the stuffing and the basting oil. Ration 0137 had shucked her boots and cap as soon as she had reached the spot where she would be snuffed–she didn’t even wait for her master to issue any orders, so she was very nearly bare by the time the sergeant walked up to the cooking team.
“Alright, string bean,” said the sergeant tenderly, peeling the bandage from his MOTFs arm. “Are you ready to become my dinner?”
Her arm had only healed enough to stop bleeding in the week since capturing the enemy supplies, but they didn’t want to risk the meat spoiling, so the sergeant had ordered her to continue protecting the small gash with fresh bandages each day.
Ration 0137 pouted playfully at her master. “How can you even ask that?” She broke into a grin. “I’ve been ready for years, sir. Servientes in morte. Just order me, don’t ask. I only exist to die for you, Uncle.”
He smiled and nodded, rolling one of her erect nipples between his fingers. “Ration 1610, make me a table to spit this slut on.”
“Yes, sir!”
Ration 1610 got to her hands and knees next to them, and Ration 0137 promptly bent over on top of her, presenting her tight, wet pussy to her uncle. He pressed a finger into her hole, gauging the position and angle of her cunt before 7421 handed him the spit.
Satisfied that his MOTF was ready, he took the spit and held it in both hands like a spear, sliding the sharp tip into her opening. He worked the end in and out a few times, then found the entrance to her womb and forced the spit into her empty baby factory. She let out a long, low moan when the point reached a part of her no one had touched before, and could barely keep herself from pushing back and rushing the next critical moment of her life. Sergeant Stevenson gave the girl a few gentle thrusts of the deadly cooking implement to help her get closer to an orgasm before firmly sending the sharp tip into her gut.
Ration Grade C 0137 came immediately, with a cry that obviously blended pain and ecstasy. Her uncle steadily worked the spit in, around her vital organs, until the point reached the base of her neck. He paused for a moment to let her enjoy her orgasm a bit longer while she could breathe freely, then he quickly guided the spit the rest of the way, leaving it sticking out of her mouth.
“Nicely done, sir!” said Ration 7421.
The man just waved for her to insert the stabilizer she was holding. After the anal stabilizer had locked the roast in place, the sergeant and Ration 7421 lifted the spit muffin off Ration 1610, and set the spit leaning against one end of the roasting stand. The squad commander had other things to attend to at that point, so he left the meal prep in the capable hands of the field rations.
Ration 0137 had put a hand between her legs, and started rubbing her clit as soon as they set her up where she was hanging above the ground at the stand. The travel spit’s breathing holes weren’t as accommodating as the ones on a standard live-roast spit, but still provided enough air for her to survive until she started to cook. Rations 7421 and 1610 got to work gutting and oiling the meat, but before they started adding the stuffing, Ration 7421 was called away by her master.
“Slut,” ordered Corporal Collins cheerfully, “get over here on your knees, and help me with my tent.”
He pointed to the bulge in his pants. The corporal was obviously looking forward to the feast, and was already in need of servicing from his busty MOTF. She wiped some of the oil on her hands off on to her breasts, then dutifully began blowing her master, while also fingering herself. The other rations, old and new, were busy giving a hand, mouth, or cunt to each of the other soldiers, all of whom had gathered around to watch the naked teen get cooked.
“Sure, leave me to do all the work over here, while you have fun with your masters,” grumbled 1610 quietly, but she actually enjoyed handling the meat.
The spitted girl and her chef were both getting considerably turned on by the intimate process of turning a nude girl into a meal.
“Hey, muffin,” said Ration 1610 kindly, “I’m going to have to bind your arms and legs soon, so you might want to hurry with that last cum.”
Ration 0137 was squirming as much as the steel rod through her body allowed, and she had one hand on her cunt and the other pinching and pulling on her tiny breasts. Ration 1610 packed the roast’s belly with stuffing and sewed her shut, then the meat shuddered with an orgasm. When the slowly dying girl relaxed, her chef tied the meat’s limbs into position.
The fire and the meat were both ready at this point, so Sergeant Stevenson came back over and helped Ration 1610 pick up the spit and place it fully on the stand. Ration 1610 noticed that her master just stood at the head of the spit, watching his young MOTF begin to cook, so she knelt in front of him and smiled up at his face.
“Thanks for your help, sir,” she said. “I’m ready to serve, if you need anything, sir.”
He glanced down, and looked at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. “Hmm? Oh, yes, go ahead, ration. A little relief sounds nice right now. I was just remembering when my cute little niece gave me her very first blowjob. A pretty typical story, I guess, but even back then, she said she wanted me to be the one to snuff her. A damn fine field ration, this one was.”
On the spit, the young roaster felt herself growing tired, but also deeply satisfied. The heat of the fire felt right and familiar, like the blazing sun searing her over the last few months was just a preview, and it was finally time for the real thing. Her deeply tanned skin was already intensifying its color, the first sign that she was truly cooking and would soon be nothing more than a feast for her uncle and his squad. Ration Grade C 0137 could see her uncle and her replacement from her position above the fire, so she smiled, as much as the spit in her mouth allowed, when Ration 1610 began fellating him.
Just before her world faded to black forever, she thought to herself, Bye, Uncle Ed! And thanks for your help, 1610. It’s nice to see that field rations still suck…