Sheryl walks in carrying a breakfast tray. She's wearing my favorite nightie, the one that barely reaches past her hips.
"Morning hun," she says with a smile as she lays the tray across my lap. "Happy anniversary."
I'm presented with a heap of heart-shaped cookies, next to a mug of steaming black coffee. Now, that's what I call a good morning. Wouldn't it be awesome if one could wake up to this every day?
"Morning hun," she says with a smile as she lays the tray across my lap. "Happy anniversary."
I'm presented with a heap of heart-shaped cookies, next to a mug of steaming black coffee. Now, that's what I call a good morning. Wouldn't it be awesome if one could wake up to this every day?
"Aww damn, babe, you're the best. Happy anniversary."
I'd like nothing more than to get it on with the busty blonde I was lucky enough to marry. But this is supposed to be a romantic moment, right? Guess I'd better keep it in my pants for now.
Alright, let's try one of these cookies.
Woah, this is weird. So soft and wobbly, like a piece of jelly. By the looks I thought it was butter or something. Although, now that I watch closely... well, if I didn't know better, I'd say that it's covered with skin. As in human skin.
I'd like nothing more than to get it on with the busty blonde I was lucky enough to marry. But this is supposed to be a romantic moment, right? Guess I'd better keep it in my pants for now.
Alright, let's try one of these cookies.
Woah, this is weird. So soft and wobbly, like a piece of jelly. By the looks I thought it was butter or something. Although, now that I watch closely... well, if I didn't know better, I'd say that it's covered with skin. As in human skin.
"Wait a minute. What the hell is this?" So much for the romantic moment.
"A special recipe. I wanted to make something different for, you know, today."
"That's sweet, but it doesn't really answer my question."
"Why don't you just try it, hun? I've put a lot of myself in those cookies."
Well, I don't want to be an asshole. Not on our anniversary.
Let's give this thing a bite.
...
Hmm.
Okay, this is actually not a cookie at all. It's salty and kind of juicy, like meat. A bit like roast beef, but not quite. Takes me a while, and a sip of coffee, to chew it down.
Sheryl's acting strange now. I don't know how to describe it. She looks like she's trying to keep her composure for some reason, biting her lip, wincing.
Let's give this thing a bite.
...
Hmm.
Okay, this is actually not a cookie at all. It's salty and kind of juicy, like meat. A bit like roast beef, but not quite. Takes me a while, and a sip of coffee, to chew it down.
Sheryl's acting strange now. I don't know how to describe it. She looks like she's trying to keep her composure for some reason, biting her lip, wincing.
"Hey, are you all right?" I ask as soon as my mouth is free.
"Yeah. I'm... feeling great." She is panting. "Absolutely great. Have another one."
Just what the hell is wrong with her?
"Babe, you're acting funny. And to be honest, this stuff tastes a little funny too."
She makes a sad face. "You don't like my cookies?"
"That's not the point. I can't believe I even have to say that, but- babe, these simply aren't cookies. You realize that, don't you? They aren't sweet. At all. What is it, beef?"
"I see. Well, if sweet is what you want, then maybe you'll like this."
She rummages through the heap of what she insists on calling cookies, looking for one in particular. She hands it out to me. It has something red and round in the middle, and no, it's not a cherry: it's a nipple. Yes, an actual human nipple, tiny bumps and wrinkles and all, right in the middle of a heart-shaped cookie.
Isn't that lovely?
As I rub my thumb on it I realize two things: one, the nipple is hard; two, my fingers are shaking and there's no stopping them.
She rummages through the heap of what she insists on calling cookies, looking for one in particular. She hands it out to me. It has something red and round in the middle, and no, it's not a cherry: it's a nipple. Yes, an actual human nipple, tiny bumps and wrinkles and all, right in the middle of a heart-shaped cookie.
Isn't that lovely?
As I rub my thumb on it I realize two things: one, the nipple is hard; two, my fingers are shaking and there's no stopping them.
"What the fuck..."
I had intended to boom out those words, demanding an explanation. They came out in a whisper.
"Still," says Sheryl, "that's not what you really want, is it? Pfft. Men." She reaches down between her legs, under her robe, and slowly, as if making an effort, pulls out some kind of tool made of stainless steel. "I was gonna save this for last, but... whatever, knock yourself out."
Too stunned to speak, I mechanically take the object from her hands.
It's a cookie cutter.
Heart shaped.
Engraved along the edge are the words Coochie cutter™.
Hah. Nice one. I'd laugh, if I only weren't staring at my wife's disembodied pussy, framed into the cutter like an absurd sex toy.
For a moment I can't tell if she's naked or not. She has no underwear on, yet her body is dotted with black tattoo stickers or something, a few of which are covering her naughty bits.
Then I realize what I'm really looking at.
Holes.
Sheryl's trunk has more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese. Big, heart-shaped holes through which I can see the closet behind her.