Published: Nov 24, 2024
(CW: THIS CAPTION CONTAINS THEMES OF VORE AND IDENTITY DEATH. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!)
My one hundred and seventy-second caption, featuring a girl working at a bakery who got a little too curious. I fully admit I was heavily influenced by one of the endings of those old "You Choose The Scare" Goosebumps books, specifically "Beware of the Purple Peanut Butter".
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Your after school job working at Effie’s Bakery was a stressful one. Effie, the owner and your boss, was a demanding woman, one who expected perfection from all her employees. Like a casino mob boss, she wanted everything done to her exacting specifications, no more and certainly no less. If a single thing was off with the bakery, she’d dress down whoever was responsible and make them do it again, if she didn’t fire them on the spot for their mistake. This led many to either walk off or quit entirely, intimidated by her personality. Being a woman seemed to garner you no “special treatment” from your fellow, male co-workers, and if anything, your longer hair and large breasts drew more of her personal ire. Still, there seemed to be some merit to the way she acted, given how explosively popular her goods were. From simple bread, muffins, cakes, and other complex confectionaries, they all flew off the shelves the moment they were ready, into the hands of eager customers. You had been employed at the bakery for a little over a month at this point. The holiday season had begun to kick into gear before Thanksgiving, and like the normal stores, the bakery had begun stocking the shelves with Christmas-themed goods such as sugar-powdered bread stars, cranberry loaves, gingerbread cookies, and raspberry sweet rolls. If Effie was a tyrant before, she had become God himself now that things were ramping up. Working in the back, she gave you the task that day of making her famous gingerbread cookies. You had worked on the icing and candy details the day before, but now you’d be mixing the cookie dough and pressing out the forms for the gingerbread men themselves. She gave you her custom recipe for them, and you knew you’d better commit every detail to absolute memory.
Just from looking at it, you saw most of the basic things you’d expect to find in something like this. Flour, ginger, cinnamon, baking soda, nutmeg, and salt mixed together evenly, beaten in a bowl with brown sugar and butter until light and fluffy, before adding molasses, egg, and vanilla and mixing that in as well. None of it seemed like anything that’d make these cookies any different from what you’d find in any other store, but what caught your eye was something in the middle of the list. It called for an ingredient called “Lot-11”, one drop per batch, which was on the shelf above you. You knew it must have been the “secret ingredient” she used. Deciding to break the rules, at least just this one time, you took the little bottle from the shelf and unscrewed the top, seeing it was a little dropper, filled with a viscous, yellow liquid. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, you held it above your head and squeezed out a drop, letting it fall onto your waiting tongue. The immediate reaction you had was… not what you expected. It was bitter with an underlying metallic flavor. You nearly gagged, but not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you quickly put the bottle back and began working on the first part of the recipe, doing your best to ignore the awful flavor still lingering in your mouth. As you prepped the industrial mixer with the six base ingredients, you began to feel… queasy? Maybe that wasn’t the right word. It was like a stomach ache, but with no pain, almost like some kind of pressure had built up inside of you. You doubled over onto the floor, unable to hide this feeling as you grabbed onto the edge of the mixer bowl to steady yourself. Your vision narrowed significantly, and you felt as if everything was somehow getting… bigger. Then you blacked out, falling down completely…
You woke up an unknown amount of time later, everything still incredibly blurry. The odd, strangely intense taste of ginger and nutmeg could be felt in your mouth, and you also felt an intense stiffness trying to move your arm. “Blinking” a few times, you found yourself looking at the ceiling of Effie’s office, followed a second later by her face, almost like that of a giant, appearing above you with a dissatisfied look on her face. Your blood went cold as she held up a “small” mirror above you. In the reflection was not you, but a gingerbread cookie that looked like you! What the hell had happened to your body?! Was it some kind of sick trick she was playing on you?!
“Aw, you look so scared, my little sampler.” Effie mocked, taking away the mirror as her voice boomed above you. “What did I tell you and the others about eating our ingredients? That Lot-11 is perfectly safe to eat once it's mixed into other things, giving the customers a gentle, warm feeling of satisfaction in their bellies when consumed, but when eaten in its raw form, it causes that person to transform into the final product instead~.”
She pressed her gloved finger against your breasts, causing them to sink just slightly as you managed to move your arms a bit. She chuckled, watching you struggle.
“Now, I could reverse all of this with a single drop of my neutralizing agent.” She teased, dangling a red dropper over me, the beginnings of a single drop forming on its end. You leaned towards it, only for her to slam it back into the bottle. “But… I doubt you’d stay quiet about this in school, would you?”
She then took out the blue bottle again, dangling that same blue dropper over instead. You felt fear rush through you, knowing she had ill intentions in mind. A blue drop fell from it a heartbeat later, soaking into my whole form as you felt… colder, almost as if you were beginning to freeze up like an ice cube.
“Now you’re nothing but a regular gingerbread cookie… well, woman.” She sneered as you felt tears made of icing weep from the corners of your candy eyes, limbs fully seizing up as you became entirely inert. “Bye bye, honey! Maybe you’ll make a good check-out counter gift for… maybe someone’s kid…”
Without missing a beat, she picked you up, sealed you up in plastic, and placed you into a red and green box, plunging you into darkness. Through the thin walls of your new prison, you could hear the tell-tale sound of people coming and going from her shop, the sound of small change and the cash register, before you felt movement again, someone picking up your box. The sounds faded away, replaced by the eerie stillness and silence of being kept in one spot, likely hidden away somewhere. With another burst of movement, your eyes were blinded by light once again as you were plucked from the box, coming face-to-face with someone else you recognized. It was Amber, the younger sister of your best friend. For a second, you thought you might have somehow been saved, but those hopes were dashed when she spoke.
“Wow, it looks so tasty! Thanks, sis!” The 9th grader cooed, removing the cellophane keeping you from going stale as the heat from her breath hit you.
Without another word, she immediately took a bite out of your arm, sending a sharp CRUNCH vibrating through your whole body. Strangely enough, you felt no pain from this, but an odd, pleasurable sensation as your disembodied arm was gnashed into mush. This pleasure repeated itself, for the rest of your body until your head was reached, plunging you into a permanent state of bliss as your essence slowly became part of Amber. Though you were absorbed by her body, your old human features slowly began to manifest on Amber as she went through high school, making her far bustier and giving her better hair than her older sister. You were there, now part of her, along for the ride for the rest of her life. Still, despite the pleasure, you hoped she never decided to get a job working at Effie’s Bakery…