Encounter 7 - A Shifter’s Culinary Antics
I observed the pears from about a meter away, monitoring for any sort of activity. When three minutes passed without any sign of movement from Rebecca and her copy I decided to start preparing a light lunch for the two, or maybe three, of us. Reaching into the cabinet I retrieved a cutting board, then I pulled some celery from the fridge. I cut the celery up into nice dippable sticks after setting out a dish of peanut butter.
Looking down at the celery sticks, then at Rebecca and her copy, then back down at the cutting board, an idea came to my head. I tapped one of the pears near the stem until a set of lips pressed their way into the fruit. “Yeah?” she finally peeped.
“I had an idea... can I cut up your clone?”
“Um... I guess... I assume you plan on eating it?”
“I’m making lunch right now actually; I was hoping we could both eat it. Is there some way you can like separate the extra pear from your conscience?”
“Actually yeah, I can do that. Once I do I can’t get it back but I don’t care. It’s just a normal pear from then on. Could I help make lunch?”
“What do you mean?” I wondered aloud, and then we both gave a smirk.
===
“Yeah, go ahead, slice up my clone. I just released her from my consciousness anyway. Though I should probably say it; it’s just an ordinary pear now.” This must have come off a bit dismally, shown by how Mark’s expression slightly drooped. Before he could say anything I remind him that “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No no I don’t have any pears right now anyway so I’ll cut up the one you made. But in the future maybe you just transform into food without me cooking with it.”
“That’s... fine...” I agreed, though some part of me had a wish to be melted by my boyfriend in the near future. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “...but would you consider melting me down sometime?”
“Uhhh, what?”
“I... kinda want to be melted as food...”
“Well... um... I-I’ll consider it, let’s leave it at that.”
“Thanks.” My eyes returned.
===
I handled the pear tentatively. “If what she said is true...” I whispered as I took a knife from the block I had nearby, aligning it evenly on the fruit’s surface before placing it onto the cutting board. With a rapid gasp I sliced straight through with the speed of a bullet and watched the two halves rock about. “Rebecca? Did you feel anything?”
“Nope! Told you so.” I blew a sigh of relief.
“I guess I’ll keep going then.”
“Go ahead Mark!” she cheered.
Cutting six more times I soon had a set of eight pieces of pear. Setting these aside with the celery I made another stretch for the fridge, but Rebecca was quick enough to stop me. “Hold on, just tell me what you need. I’ll create an extra that will shapeshift into exactly that.”
“Oh. Um... hm. Pita chips.” Out of the Rebecca-pear oozed a creamy green slime that slid down the island counter and onto the floor. It built up into a height close to mine and began taking on a womanly figure. Within seconds I stood before a perfect copy of my girlfriend.
«Bonjour, monsieur. Qu’est-ce que vous voudriez?»
“Oh,” I chuckled. “I didn’t know you had a thing for French...”
“I studied it for a while so I could blend in with the Québecois. Though I ended up only learning French French as opposed to Canadian French.”
“I mean I know some too, but now’s an odd time to use that skill, I must say.”
“Fine, I’ll just do the accent.”
===
“Hi Miss, could I please get a bag of pita chips?” Mark inquired, rousing a blush from me.
“Ah, ssure. Quel flay-vohr?”
“Just sea salt, s’il vous plaît.”
“Ah oui, merci,” I finished as I let my auxiliary body collapse and darken. I shrank to a size that pulled me very close to the floor while I felt my insides lighten up, my limbs pull into my torso, and my head to slip down what’s become a plastic exterior. Deposits collected within me as I hollowed yet puffed up with air. These deposits developed themselves as freshly baked chips while logos, pictures and text were applied on my black skin. It hadn’t been a long wait for Mark; now at his feet was a bag of ‘Rebecca’s Pita Chips.’ With nothing but sea salt.
My conscience returned in full to my pear body, which reshaped into a green ceramic sphere. A small hole opened by the base. “She’s out of my hands now,” I assured Mark as more green goo slipped from the hatch.
===
“Cool.” I opened the bag of pita chips after choosing a large plate for our lunch platter. I poured them onto the plate, only to turn around and face another Rebecca dupe.
“I ‘ad a feeling you’re ready for your next ohr-der?”
I didn’t really like this roleplay Rebecca had roped me into but I went along with it. At least it made her happy. “Yes, I need some jalapeños, a dish of hummus, and a dish of salsa.”
“Oh-keh!”
That is definitely not how I’d think the French pronounce ‘okay,’ I stated in thought as I watched her change... partly. She held up her hand and her four fingers faded to a dark green, swelling rapidly into a set of the hot peppers. She effortlessly plucked them off with her other hand and set them on the plate, then she abandoned her hands in total after morphing them both into bowls. One was filled with hummus and the other salsa. “That’s probably the weirdest I’ve seen out of you.”
“At least-eh, ze dips et peppers ar-ont me, well, not anymohre.”
“At least.” I took the peppers to the board and began slicing, this time with a smaller blade. I placed them onto the platter beside the salsa.
“Anyzing else you need?”
===
I regrew my hands as Mark answered with “some Gouda, maybe? It goes well with the chips.”
“Ooh, cheese transformassions ahre alouais une expérience fabuleuse,” I responded. “What shape do you want?”
“Can I have some examples?”
“Like, a wheel, a wedge, some slices, et-cet-uh-rha.”
“Well... you know what? You pick.”
“Here, I’ll shift into a full wheel and zen stahrt to shrink. Once I’ve reached ze correcte size, juste tell moi when to stop, oh-keh?”
“Oh-keh,” Mark replied with a smirk, mimicking me. Sucking in trace amounts of air through pores on my body, I rid my skin of any dirt or debris, and then I climbed onto a space on the countertop. Curling into the fetal position I let my limbs adhere together as I slightly shrank, my pliable form feeling creamier and milkier, as it pulled in on itself into a disc shape with thick curved sides. I melted my head and hair away into the semi-hard dairy while I firmed up to give myself the proper texture and taste, even coating myself in a layer of red wax. Indistinguishable now from a full-size wheel of Gouda cheese, I began to shrink.
===
After that oddly satisfying shift I supervised the shrinkage of Rebecca’s new form, allowing her to compress down into a counterpart about 10% of her original size.
“Stop!”
I watched a mouth appear on the side of her but it didn’t face me. “Gotcha. Gonna abandon zis now... is zere anyzing left you want on our pita playte?”
“I’m almost done. Would you mind if I just grab the remaining parts myself?”
“Fine...” she sulked as the lips pulled back into the fromage. I made sure to grab a half-sleeve of crackers as well as some pineapple slices I’d kept in the fridge. Finally, I spooned vanilla yogurt into a large bowl, separate the plate. Taking smaller dishes for Rebecca and I, I brought the platter to the table before tapping on Rebecca’s spherical self.
===
I finally reformed fully into my native shape. Following Mark to the table we took places adjacent each other while he gave me a dish, then we just dug in, helping after helping, not even mentioning that I had created half the food on the centerpiece.
The platter was almost cleared by the time we had both stuffed ourselves to capacity. “Is it okay with you if I toss the rest?” asked Mark.
“Totally...” I breathed. “Man I’m full...”
“You bet. Come on, let’s clean this up.”
“Aye aye.”
We’d put the tableware in the dishwasher and discarded all the unwanted food in a span of about five minutes. Then my boyfriend suddenly blurted out: “I need a nap.”
“You know what? I concur,” I said back.
Mark slung an arm around my shoulders as we sauntered into the bedroom. Holding me at the hips under the door frame, he gave me a hug right before we hopped into bed and drifted into a lightweight slumber after he complimented my ‘cooking.’