Day 11 of the 25 Days of TF-Mas! (Contains girl to cookie dough tf)
The past several days had been dull for Vanessa. That was a strange sentiment to have, considering this ordeal began with the most extraordinarily impossibility to ever happen to her in her entire life, but here she was. A complete stranger broke into her home, smashed her flat into her own wall and wrapped her around a box as some sort of macabre gift wrapping. Since then, she’d been sitting on the coffee table in her own living room utterly immobile. Her foot had fell asleep in the first hour, which prompted an interesting self-investigation as to whether she had feet anymore, but that only lasted so long. The first few times she’d heard the door open had made her heart pick up speed, but over time she came to realize it was just the woman that had first made her this way coming and going as though she owned the place. Each time the woman returned Vanessa noticed she brought in more items, and she had to wonder how many were like her; a human trapped in an inanimate form. Kat had not so much as looked at her since turning her into wrapping paper, and the solitude was beginning to eat away at her. Vanessa found herself jealous of the plush toy that Kat squeezed, of the snow globe she shook vigorously, and even the stocking that Kat walked right past her to hang up over the fireplace. She silently begged for some stimulation – some kind of acknowledgement. Anything at all. Such wishes were never heard and never granted. Finally, something happened to break up Vanessa’s immobile monotony. The doorbell rang. It wasn’t Kat, they were already inside, so who could it be? Vanessa’s satisfaction to this mystery was at the whim of Kat though, unable as she was to reach the door in her current state. Eventually, the woman in the beanie that had been her tormentor headed to the door. A slightly dark thought occurred to the paper Vanessa. She wondered if Kat would turn whoever it was into some other shape like they had with her, and with that wonder came a morbid desire to see it happen. To witness it from the outside perspective. That morbid curiosity turned sour when Kat opened the door.
“Heyyy Va- oh!” The woman on the other side of the door cut her greeting short, seeing a woman in a coat and beanie with long dark hair instead of her sister Vanessa, “I’m sorry, who are you? Vanessa still lives here, right?” she fretted, worried she’d totally embarrassed herself by getting the wrong address.
“Vanessa… yes. Yes, she still lives here. She’s taking a vacation and I’m taking over the holiday preparation.” Kat explained, having to take a moment to recall that the wrapping paper was once called Vanessa.
The woman’s demeanor was a little strange. She was pretty deadpan, and her words were a bit stunted, but she seemed nice enough to her, “I actually had a similar plan. I know the holidays are super stressful on her,” She held out her hand for the woman to shake, “I’m Rachel, Vanessa’s sister. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Kat,” it replied, shaking Rachel’s hand, and looking her up and down, like a creature sizing up its next meal.
“So, do you live nearby or…?” Rachel asked, leading the question to dig for Kat’s relationship to her sister.
“Here.” Kat said, gesturing for added effect.
Naturally, this indicated to Rachel, who was prone to jumping to conclusions, that Vanessa and Kat were domestic partners of some sort. This was fueled further by her idealistic view of love and romance, and thus she assumed with next to no evidence, that Kat and Vanessa were madly in love, and that Kat had selflessly taken it upon herself to take the reins of decorating that stressed Vanessa so. The thought was enough to make her tear up, even though she could almost not be further from the actual truth. She shook Kat’s hand vigorously and bustled inside, “I see you already got started!” Rachel declared.
“Yes. It was… her wish,” Kat said, following Rachel into the home. Vanessa sat on the table, screaming mutely at her sister to get away from the woman in the beanie.
“That’s so sweet! Ugh, I need someone with that attitude in my life,” Rachel said, “Well, my wish is for you to help me make some cookies, okay?” She added with a renewed pep, not that her initial energy needed renewal.
Her words lit Kat’s eyes up a bit, “I can grant that,” Kat said, watching Rachel put on an apron and start to gather ingredients and bowls and such.
The pair spent the next several minutes going over a recipe and assembling the wet and dry dough ingredients into separate bowls. In between this, Kat offered a massage to Rachel, gripping and squeezing her shoulders to release tension from them. Rachel was naturally pretty wound up, as anyone that spent more than a moment with her could deduce, so despite the oddness of the offer, it was most welcome. She sighed as Kat kneaded the knots out of her shoulders and arms. Rachel almost felt as if her very skin was softer when Kat was done. Finally refocusing on the task at hand, she thanked Kat for the massage, insinuating that Kat ought to open a parlor or something, then started to pour both contents of dough component bowls into the big mixing bowl.
“Can you believe that some people hand mix? It so much more work than it needs to be,” she said, clipping the metal mixing attachments into place, ready to get mixing. Rachel lowered the top part of the mixer into place and plugged it in. Before turning it on, though, she thought she saw a stray fleck of eggshell, and reached in to retrieve it.
WHRRRRR
Kat had turned on the mixer, which immediately spun Rachel’s hand up into the bowl. She yelped in surprise, “Hey! Don’t- huh?” her confusion came from the sensations in her hand. She expected the metal bits spinning at high speeds to hurt and maybe even cut her hand, but her hand blended into the rest of the dough, disappearing into the mix to the wrist. She was completely incapable of removing her hand from the mixer. In fact, the rest of her arm was quickly being pulled in! “Turn it off!” She cried at Kat, having gripped the bowl to try to pry her other arm free. She met the cold eyes of Kat with frightened ones of her own. Never mind how impossible this was, who was this woman? Rachel had little time left to ponder though, as her grip on the bowl slipped when the mixer hungrily yanked her arm in up to the elbow. The moment a stray finger touched the whirring metal, Rachel was pulled further in. Not only did she lose the ability to reach for the off switch, but nothing impeded the progress of the mixer yanking her further and further in.
“I’m granting your wish.” Kat said, her lack of strong emotion in her voice now far less charming to Rachel, “I’m making cookies.” Rachel spared a thought for Vanessa. Was her fate similarly tied to this sadistic woman’s idea of wish granting?
“Turn it off I said! What did you do to-mlgglfrrr!” Her demanding question was interrupted by the mixer. It had latched onto her hair when she had turned to look at Kat, and mercilessly pulled her head in, spinning away her mouth and any ability to protest her fate.
Rachel’s world spun violently, her eyes, ears, and mouth all devoured by the dough. She felt the rest of her being pulled further and further into the mixing bowl, which was either growing to accommodate her mass, or her mass was likewise compacting to fit. Never one to go down without a fight, no matter how utterly useless a fight was, Rachel continuously tried yanking herself free. She tried to use the floor or the cupboards as leverage, but soon her feet began to lose contact with the floor. She kicked her legs in the air and yelled muffled words out of the bowl, but Kat only turned up the speed in reply. Rachel was exceedingly dizzy by the time the machine was finally done rending her form into a lump of cookie dough. She tested the ability to move, and managed a small quiver, but nothing effective. One thing Rachel did have was her senses, which she supposed was actually five things. She could taste her body’s delectable cookie form, hear Kat pulling out a cookie sheet, smell the delightful candle Kat had burning nearby, see Kat loom over her bowl like some sort of giantess, and feel Kat’s finger scoop a small portion of her body from the rest and taste her. Apparently satisfied with the results, Kat sealed Rachel in the bowl with a layer of plastic wrap. Then she was placed in a very dark, very cold place. She did not know how long she was left in that cold place, but she faintly heard an oven beeping in the distance after a long time. Light flooded in and her bowl was lifted out of the refrigerator. The plastic film was removed, but Rachel could no longer even manage the small quiver she’d done before. Kat methodically removed chunks of Rachel’s body and rolled them into spheres, placing them on the cookie sheet. The rest of her was resealed and shut away in the cold again, but then the detached balls Kat had removed became much much too hot. She was being baked! Within a couple of hours, no cookie dough of Rachel remained, only a few trays of cookies left to cool before they were ready to eat.
Back in the living room, Vanessa found herself lamenting not being able to watch it all happen, much to her own moral dismay…