"Welcome to Weissleman Chocolatiers," greets the clerk behind the counter as the couple enters the door. The bell over the door chimes again as it closes. Delicious aromas swirl around and invade their senses.

She snuggles into his arm. "What are we doing here, Stan?" Her words are tinged with curiosity and accusation.

Stan smiles as if he were expecting this. "Is there something wrong with taking the love of my life to a sweet place, so we can buy sweets for our anniversary tomorrow," he shrugs as he dodges the real reason for their coming.

To their left and right, there are stacks of chocolates in wrappers displaying their visual properties and their delectable goodness. By the clerk and in front of the couple is a room-wide, curved, glass counter showing even more variations of chocolates, grouped according to kind. It's almost enough for them to drool.

But it's the centerpiece behind the sales-girl that arrests their attention. It is a large female chocolate bunny. Stan has never seen one that size. His wife's head has moved from his arm. He follows her gaze to spot another in the left display window that he had missed before. Or the salesperson's right, he reasons.

Approaching the counter he points, "How much for that?"

She whispers a number to him. He pretend clutches his heart with his free hand, "Ouch. If you have to ask ..." He trails off. Then he tries again, "Well, I was just hoping that since it's our 6th anniversary tomorrow and that's the Candy anniversary ... we'd get our chocolate anniversary..."

He trails off as his wife mutters to his ears only, "I knew it." He can hear the smile in her voice.

The clerk's eyes are wide. She flaps and grabs at the things on her counter without looking at them, "Are you? Are you the couple for tonight?" She grabs a handful of paper in the middle with one hand and an upside down pen in the other and tries to write something, all without looking.

Her eyes dart to her husband who is shushing the salesperson. Seeing his wife looking at him, he stops and looks at her sheepish. "I was going to tell you in a minute."

She leaves his arm but still holds onto his hand while she turns to face him, "Okay. Spill it."

"Almost a year ago, I heard from our neighbors about this place and a special night that can be had here. I had to wait until six months ago for this spot to open to reserve it," he tells his wife.

The clerk adds, after realizing how ridiculous she looks and putting the things back down, "He has signed you both up for the whole package." Then she cups her mouth to whisper to the woman, even though both of them hear, "It's pretty expensive."

Embarrassed, he looks to his wife, "Happy Anniversary, Stella..."

Her smile is influenced by her almost laughter. She sees his careful plans falling apart in his hands. His flustering is part of the reason she fell in love with him in the first place. "So, what did you get for us?"

Before he can speak, the clerk bursts, "Oh, it's great. First you get a tour of our factory, get free samples, get to spend the night here, and in the morning, you'll get a very special tour when the workers come in and see the chocolate made live."

"That sounds wonderful, dear." Stella approaches and goes on her tiptoes with her lips puckered. He bends down to kiss her.

"Sweets for my sweet," he whispers to her as their lips part.

A door opens and a male worker comes out. "Hey, Xander, could you give them their tour," she asks the other employee.

His dishevelled hair and tired eyes look to her. How he is still awake after all these hours is anyone's guess. "Do I have to? I've got the early shift tomorrow. My replacement should be here any time."

"But! Xander," she urges gesturing toward them as if they weren't watching, "This is the couple for the night. We need to make them welcome."

"Welcome," he says with no enthusiasm at all, "I'm Xander. I'm tired. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow on the special tour." He turns to his partner, "Okay?"

"Fine. You man the counter and wait for your replacement. I'll give them the tour," she huffs at him. Turning to them, she says, "When you are ready for your tour, please head around to the back of the building. I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to have you behind the counter. We'll give you a chance to get your luggage after the tour. So, when you're ready head out the front door, and I'll meet you in the back."

Stan and Stella browse a little more. An obviously rich man comes in a buys the giant chocolate bunny in the window. Xander heads over and presses a covered button. Part of the wall slides away and the heavy hunk of chocolate rolls into the opening like it's on rails. The wall closes.

They are tempted to buy some chocolate, but Stan remembers that there will be samples on the tour. So, they decide to buy some tomorrow after the special tour. Then they head out the front door hand in hand. Due to the kind clerk's directions they head around the short side of the building through the parking lot to the back door.

It is wide open, and the female employee from before is there. "Welcome!" She allows them into the warehouse and closes the door behind them. "Private tour," she explains.

They stop by the 'Filling' station where they get a taste of nougat and nuts mixed with a hardened syrup. They see caramel being sliced into uniform rectangles. They go to the next station where they see chocolate 'cups' being filled with a pink creme and others topped off with a cherry and a clear liquid.

Then the centers, including the coconut ones, are sent on a conveyor belt to the next station. It's as if by magic that the machine knows what chocolate to pour onto which candy. Stan continues his streak of samples by taking a chocolate covered caramel. Stella joins in, but she grabs a nougat and candied nuts to taste.

Walking a little further, they notice that the chocolates now get their intricate designs on top. Their guide informs them that this is the 'details' section. Since not much has changed, they don't get a sample. But just a bit more they arrive the 'mistakes'. Having learned the design of their favorites at the last stop, they grab a couple more before moving on.

The conveyors start splitting at this new location with mechanical arms pushing the treats here and there. Each belt takes them to either to get wrapped in clear cellophane or dropped into black wrapper cups that drop into boxes that are then closed by the top being placed on them. Then they disappear into the distance.

"And that's the end of your tour," their guide finishes all of her spiel. "If you'll come this way, I'll take you to your room." She takes them almost to the back of the store and opens a door. There, where there wouldn't seem to be space, is a bedroom.

She gives them a brief tour of their master bedroom complete with his and hers bathrooms. "I hope you didn't fill up with samples because we have a special treat for you. It's sitting on your pillow. Be sure to eat up tonight and have sweet dreams." She smiles at them. "I'll be at the back door to let you in and out to get your clothes."

Soon, they are settled in their room for the night. Sitting on the bed, Stan remembers something, "Dear, I forgot something. Our special tour starts at six and after that we are supposed to leave."

"Makes sense. Let's set the alarm for five and get a shower before we leave," she suggests.

He nods. "Sounds good." They nibble on their chocolate mints as they cuddle under the covers. Sleep comes quick as does the alarm. They snuggle a little longer before dragging themselves out of bed. "Good morning, my sweet. Happy anniversary."

Waking up a little more, she sends it back, "Happy anniversary, dear." They walk hand in hand back to the front door. They give a parting kiss and split to their respective bathrooms.

As per his normal morning routine, Stan sits on the toilet and reaches for the newspaper. There is none nearby. I suppose that's good. Otherwise that would mean someone walked in on us while we were sleeping. Maybe it's outside the door. He sits on the toilet longer but nothing's coming. Then he realizes that he doesn't need to go to the bathroom after all.

He stands and takes a step toward the bedroom but stops as he sees the interesting shower he's about to pass. For starters it has a TV screen embedded in the wall under the shower head. Speaking of, the sprayer has a high tech look to it. It's like no model Stan has ever seen. On the floor is a placemat with two footprints and the wall has matching handprints. Also, there are dangling 'arms' with sponges on them.

The screen inside the sealed, clear container instructs him, "Please step on the bathmat to enter." He does. The glass parts to allow him in. Figuring the next instruction will tell him to step onto the footprints, he does it before he's told to. The entrance closes behind his naked body so that the crack is invisible.

"Beginning cleansing. Please stand still." The shower takes him through the steps. Spraying him with warm to hot water, slathering him with soap and conditioner and using the spinning sponges to work up a lather before rinsing again. By the end, Stan feels the cleanest he has ever felt. I should get one of these for the house. I bet Stella is loving hers.

When it feels like everything has been cleaned, the instructions on the screen state, "Please step on the foot prints and press and hold the hand prints to finish up and exit." He does as he is told. The shower is filled with steam that after a few moments disperses. He hears the door behind him slide to the side.

Upon trying to turn around, Stan discovers he can't. He can't even move. He's stuck there pushing the handprints. The sound of a motor trickles into his ears. The shower head drops below his vision. The ceiling does, too. Soon, Stan is standing naked on the roof of his bedroom. The first thing he notices, besides the dim light around him, is the cold. If he could move, he is sure he would be shivering.

At first, nothing happens. Then he feels something inserted into his ears. "Welcome," an old geezer of a voice says and then stops. After a moment of silence the voice tries again. "Welcome to the special tour of our facilities!" This voice reminds Stan of an old prospector working the gold rush. It's like there's a little crazy worked into this guy's voice.

Stan feels the thing he's standing on rock at points as if someone is playing with something down there. Since he can’t look much below horizon, he has no idea what's going on. It becomes clearer soon, however as he starts moving forward. Not fast, just a slow lumber. "I'm Herbert Weissleman, your guide on this journey."

"By now," the voice continues, "You should be headed to your first stop." Something enters Stan's peripheral vision. It's a little ahead of him and drawing closer to the path he's taking, not that he can see it per se. They run parallel for a moment before she pulls in front of him. Then she drops out of sight. Then he sees it, the first drop.

The rider in front of him descends into the brighter light and then he sees that it is Stella, his wife, in a crouching position. Poor woman. Stuck like that. Still, that means I get to see her behind and she can't do anything about it.

"Now, you may be wondering what's going on," Herbert continues, "Well, in those bedtime mints last night, there was a cocktail of chemicals that slowed down your body and effectively put it into hibernation mode." He chuckles here and it's kinda a little creepy. "So, you won't need to eat or drink or poop for a long time."

The audio goes silent for a moment to let the words sink in. Then it kicks in again, "The white liquid that we sprayed on you in the shower does something different ..."

His wife rolls to a stop in front of him. She is in an area that is fairly empty. There's some hoses and utensils hanging. The tracks that Stan realizes that they are on now lead to where Stella is now, next to a person with headphones on. He is wearing a Weissleman uniform and jacket. He grabs various hanging utensils

One that he grabs sprays some clear liquid on her. He lets it go and it retracts itself back into position. He nabs a spade and starts swiping at her front. Stan can't see what's going on but what he can see horrifies him. Her skin seems to melt and flow and fuse together. The shapes of her bent legs are still visible but there is skin between them linking them together. Her arms are the same. locked to her sides by her own skin yet still defined. Her butt seals shut. The tool smooths over some spots making them look uniform.

The technician turns her to the side. Stan gets a clearer view of what's happened to her. It's like her body is one piece of flesh. With a shove with his foot on her platform, she rolls forward and out of sight. His platform releases and he creeps forward. "Welcome to the 'Filling' station. Our expert technicians have been trained to get things just right." The 'technician' looks at him, but Stan is sure that he is not seeing him.

Pulling down the spray nozzle he starts spritzing Stan with it. It is an unnerving feeling having his skin flow and merge together. "You might be wondering what is happening now. That white liquid we poured on you in the shower has two chemical compounds in it. One is activated when we spray this solution on you. It causes you skin to grow and join. I believe the kids these days are calling this 'skin sealed'. You'll be nice and comfy and stuck inside your own skin. From what I hear there is no way to escape."

Like with his wife, once the nozzle retracts to the ceiling, the flat tool comes down and swipes on his body. He can feel it move. It's only a couple quick motions and it goes back up. He feels his body moving and without much warning, he is looking at himself. As he suspected, the skin is continuous with no lines or breaks. Like his wife, there are indentions where former limbs meet his body.

Most surprising is that he has no mouth. Eyes, sure. Nose, absolutely. But no mouth, not even a bump or dent. If he could move his tongue, he'd check the inside to be sure, but considering his tongue is resting at the bottom of his mouth touching his teeth, it’s obvious that it is not moving either. That is a relief, feeling something on the inside. Another startling thing he notices is that his crotch is smooth.

But he doesn't get long to think about this before some dark lenses are placed on his eyes and straws up his nostrils. He is turned back and starts rolling down the rails again. The voice starts up again, "By now, you should be starting to be able to move again. Buuuuutttttt be careful not to wiggle much," Herbert's caution almost sounds sincere, "you're about enter Detail Gulch through Chocolate Waterfall. We'd hate for you to fall into Caramel River."

These words reinforce the miner 49er talking in his ear, but also makes him shiver a little at the descriptions. Stan does not want any of that on himself, so he remains still as possible. He does probe the front of his mouth to find past his teeth is skin. He can't part his lips because there aren't any.

The track descends a little and he picks up speed. Up ahead, he sees a dark, shimmering wall. It's like flowing latex or something. Stella in front of him plunges in. No trace of her is left behind. Moments later, he follows suit. Thick liquid pours onto his skin and drips down. Most of it sticks to his body. Before he can react to this, his platform reaches the bottom where more fluid splashes up on him. Since his lenses are covered, he can't see a thing, but it does remind him of a roller coaster. The warmth that surrounds him begins to cool.

As he slows to a stop behind his wife, Herbert continues, "Here we are at Detail Junction. I hope you enjoy your stay at this stop of your special tour." Didn't he call it Detail Gulch before? The gunk over his eyes slides down allowing him to see again. Stella is stopped in front of him at another technician with more nozzles hanging from the roof and a couple of things to the side. Like an artist, he pulls without looking, sprays with precision, and crafts a three dimensional sculpture. He turns her to face himself, then her other side, then her backside, before facing her away from Stan.

He is in utter shock. His wife, no longer looks like herself. She looks like the chocolate bunny on display in the street side window when they walked into the store yesterday. He rolls forward without noticing because his mind is replaying the day before.

His attention is brought back to present when he feels the straws removed then replaced in his nose. Stan's eyes fall on the worker and he recognizes him. He's the one who they met that said he had to work today. What's his name again? I think it starts with an 'X' or 'Z'. Zephyr? No, that's not right. Since he only has use of his fingers and wrist, he flails them around in order to get the worker to recognize him and stop.

That works for a moment until thick chocolate pours around his hands. Like the display models, it doesn't take long before it cools turning his hands into thick paws. The same happens to his feet, with a little controlled tipping. He is turned to face the worker, but the chocolate hands are too heavy to lift. His straws are covered next giving him a muzzle. He's got to notice me and get me out of here!

And yet, the craftsman doesn't notice him. Reaching up, Stan feels something bump him on the head before more weight is added. He remembers what happened to Stella and figures he just got rabbit ears.

Then the indignity happens. Handfuls of nuts are pressed against his chest. When that side is big and generous and heavy, something super thick is dolloped next to it. It's then that Stan remembers that both the displays were female. Oh no! He tries to wiggle to freedom. He doesn't care if he falls off. Anything is better than that. However, the chocolate on him has hardened, restricting all movement to nothing. A couple sprays by a different nozzle and the deed is done.

He is spun to face a mirror again. This time, as he suspected, a chocolate bunny looks back, exactly like the one he saw behind the counter. Behind him, the chocolatier bends down and Stan feels a little weight added near his butt. He is faced forward again and with a gentle nudge he continues down the track.

"Congratulations. You are now a Weissleman Chocolate Bunny ready for the world to see the quality and craftsmanship of our expert workers. Be proud of how you look. Because everyone wants a chocolate rabbit like you."

This gives Stan pause. Display is inevitable at this point. he reasons to himself, Maybe I'll melt and get free while I'm out there. But being bought ... His thoughts trail off as he remembers the rich man that bought the giant bunny last night. Oh crap. No!

He renews his struggles in futility. Nothing cracks. Nothing moves. He is stuck. Stuck in a prison of chocolate. The old man's voice cuts into his frantic thoughts, "And here's the display floor now, ready to display another masterful piece of Weissleman Chocolate." Then in a word that Stan can only think of as creepy, he says, "Enjoy..."

Different sounds enter his ears as his scenery changes. The darker back area, where he was changed into this, is replaced by light and color. The front door to the store slides into view or, perhaps, he rolls to the center in front of the door. Down below, he sees his wife enter from an opening in the wall down in front of the window. Her tracks are visible until she reaches the end of the line. Then small plates that look like the display table slide into place hiding the tracks underneath.

Just at the bottom of his peripheral vision, he sees the counter and the clerks. I am the giant chocolate rabbit that I wanted to buy yesterday. Then a more disturbing thought comes, Who was in the chocolate bunny that the rich guy bought? Was there someone in the window bunny? What happened to them? This place has been booked solid. Oh no. I bet that was someone, too.

A deep click draws his attention. One of the clerks has a key in the door and is flipping the sign to open. He hears the clacking of her heels as she walks back. Even the jingling of the bell over the door as the first customer enters. The words of the customers and salespeople enter his ears. Despite the distractions, his mind is nervous about what is going to happen to him.

Most of the day no one notices. A couple of times his heart skips a beat as someone points at one of them and asks the question he dreads, "How much?" Every single one chooses buy something less expensive. He expects to get warm standing in his spot, but the top of him remains chilled. I must be under the air conditioner.

Another couple enter, walking hand in hand. The smiles on their wrinkled faces are evident, even up where he is. They look with love into each other's face as they discuss things including spending the night here. No! No! No Turn back, he calls down mentally to them, Get out of here before it's too late for you. They can't hear him, so they buy some chocolates and head around the building like he and Stella did. Oh no. no.

People enter and exit. Shadows shift. Another sales person heads to the door. Stan's heart eases some. Lock the door. Lock the door. Just before the employee reaches the door, a co-ed enters. "Are you closed?"

"Almost. I was just locking up." He twirls the keys on his finger to indicate what he said.

The teen wipes his brow, "Good. I need something big for the fraternity party tonight."

"How big?"

"Enough chocolate to feed all the guys and whoever else comes."

"I think we can manage that."

As they walk back to the register, Stan's heart beats faster. Not me. Not me. Not me.

The door opens again. A young girl enters. The two teens exchange greetings. "Are you getting something for your party?"

She nods excited. "Oh yeah, our sorority is having a 'wine tasting' and what's better with wine than chocolate?"

"Oh! And your sorority is huge. You're going to need as much chocolate as us." No.no.no. Buy the little chocolates.

The young man looks around for a second before the teen girl looks up and points at Stan, "Dibs!" No! If Stan could scream, he would.

The other collegian points to Stella, "Then I want that one."

"Great. I'll have them delivered to your respective houses. Any particular time?"

Stan doesn't hear the rest. He is doing everything in his power to escape. I do not want to be eaten in a sorority. Then another thought hits. Hunks of his chocolate body ripped off by ravenous females revealing his flesh underneath. "I don't want to be naked in front of a bunch of girls." No.

A jolt of movement gets his attention. He is rolling back into the wall where he came from. Down below, Stella is getting the same treatment. Once he enters the wall, she disappears from sight. This might be the last time I see her until we are arrested for indecent exposure. Then his thoughts get darker, Orrr she is only a couple of years older than those college boys. Maybe they'll keep her and do things to her.

Stan wishes he could do something but all he can do is stand there and head into a different part of the warehouse. He struggles but the shell holds him fast. He can get no momentum to throw himself free.

He slows to a stop by two large men. One walks behind him while the other stands by a machine. Ambient sound enters his ears, as the two speakers in his ears are removed. He hears the sound of a machine moving. The one in front of him jerks and reaches for the machine. The one beside him calls over, "Where are we sending these two?"

Grabbing papers out of the machine, he says, "The tall one to a sorority. The squat one to the fraternity next door."

"Oh. They're good customers. We should make sure they stay cold." Dammit, Stan curses. They place a pad on the floor of a wooden crate that Stan just noticed. It's tall. Tall enough. to fit. me.

As expected, the two men grab him, one on each side, and lift him onto the pad. His feet get chilly. After turning him around to face the opening, they place more of the floor pads on his sides. Then seal him in with a hammer.

Darkness surrounds him. Taunting him, Teasing him. Making his imagination go wild.

He hears muffled voices and sounds, none of which help the situation. After a pound or two on the side, he feels himself lifted up, moved, then set down again. The rumbling of the truck vibrating his little world, damning him to be the life of the party until they realize he is in there trapped in his skin unable to get away. All my identification is still in the room, he realizes and moans.

The drive to the college takes forever. Starting, changing gears, slowing, stopping. All of it is driving him crazy. He envisions the unveiling scenes over and over between dreams of being arrested, lingering in jail or other forms of his demise, but worst of all is never seeing his precious Stella ever again.

And it's all my fault for signing us up for this.

The truck slows again. This time, the turn is sharper and tips him a little before her returns to center. The engine cuts off, and he returns to silence. His fear climaxes as his discovery is eminent.

Unlike being loaded, unloading is rougher. Something must be wrong with the jack. I've hit the sides twice. His right ear has broken off and cracks have formed in his arms. Still, it's not enough. He is stuck.

Then hope springs forth. Something outside happens and the crate falls backward. The chocolate on the back of his head softens the blow, but he gets a little headache. Then in righting him, it crate goes too far and falls forward. He hears frantic voices and they catch him. But not before he smashes his muzzle on the front. Cool air brushes his face. My face is free. He reaches up with his paws to remove it. Then he realizes that they might check on him before leaving so he puts the mask flush to his face and his arms back to his sides.

Thumping and creaking follow as they open the crate. At points he sees the crowbar in the light through the cracks it has created. When the front is free, they do glance in and lean the door across the opening. Freedom is so close. Then they start working on something next to him. Patience. Patience, he reminds himself, If I leave now, I'll get in trouble. I'll wait until they leave before escaping to save my wife.

He hears more wood splintering and nails being pulled free. Maybe they made a mistake and delivered us together to the same place. He thinks a moment longer. They were pretty bad delivery guys. He remembers back to being packed, They seemed to be pretty with it then.

Footsteps and then silence after the door closes. Stan waits another minute to ensure that they aren't coming back. Then with escape on his mind, he hobble hops his way out of his enclosure. Pieces fall off him as he moves more. He knocks the opening away and looks for the other crate. It's shorter and just her size. He bats hers open with his paws.

There she is looking delectable. No time to think about that. He wraps his arms around her as best he can and tugs. She breaks free bit by bit until she can move, too.

After she exits her crate, he starts toward the door. "Wait." Stella's voice stops him in his tracks. He turns and removes his chocolate head. "What?" He looks into her eyes.

"Look around," she gestures with her paw. His eyes, blinded by panic, start to see where he is. They are not at a sorority or fraternity. In fact, as he looks, the place looks more familiar until he sees that they are in their own home.

All the fear and nervousness flows out of him in a shudder. No one is chasing them. No one is going to eat them. They will not be arrested or hauled off to jail. They are safe at home.

Everything changes and takes on a new light.

Now able to saunter, Stan sashays to his wife. With a predatory gaze at her, he whispers to her, "I'm going to eat you out."

-==Epilogue==-

After a night of passionate lovemaking, washing their bedding covered in melted chocolate, and sick stomachs from too much candy, they find a note taped to their TV.

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Trumaine,
Thank you for spending time and money at Weissleman Chocolatiers. We appreciate your patronage. And we do hope you enjoyed your stay with us. We do apologize for any fear or concern you had during your special tour. You are welcome to all the chocolate you can eat that you brought with you.

We do hope that you found all of your clothes and necessities quickly. Should you want the large wooden crates out of your house, please give us a call and we will have people there as quick as possible.

If you are confused about how you are able to move at the end, the answer is that the lotion we sprayed on you had two chemical compounds. We told you what one did. Rest assured, that while we can't tell you exactly what the other does due to company secrets, the other compound is what got you out of your skin.

Happy Anniversary! We hope you enjoyed The Whole Package.

Sincerely,
Weissleman Chocolatiers"

Stan turns to his wife. "Next year?"

She nods with a smile, "Yes, please. But next time, we switch."