Just a Slice of Cake

When I woke the realization hit me that I was in my own dining room. The large ceiling light was turned off and the dining room was bedecked in an overbearing number of candles in all shades. I would blame the marbles of sweat that rolled down my face on the heat of so many candles, but it was the fact that my wife had me tied down to the chair with the very ties that she had gifted me in the past five years. One had dinosaurs on it and the other little stacks of money with wings coming off them. And she wondered why I never wore them. A decision I might be regretting now.

“Oh, hello dear,” she said coming in from the kitchen. She carried a glossy looking chocolate cake. The candles themselves danced in the reflection of the perfectly frosted icing. Dew covered raspberries circled its top to match the deep red of her lipstick. She smiled broadly, her white teeth flashing like pearls. Her heels tapped the floor as she went to the table and placed the cake in the center.

“Rebecca,” I cleared my throat, but more to steady my voice, “What is going on?”

She smoothed the wrinkles on her fluffy pink dress, a color that truly washed her out in her already pink skin tone.

She sat down across the table from me, “We’re having a meal.”

“Darling,” I said sternly, but it almost sounded like I was begging, “You drugged me didn’t you, and now you have me tied to a chair? What is going on?”

The meal however was missing. All that was on the table was the too perfect looking cake and all the blasted candles, some of which were starting to run down their sides and pool on the dark wood of the table.

She leaned back in her chair, her veins bulging. The corners of her mouth twitched, and she closed her eyes. The smile stayed, but I could tell that there was something else on that face, something under her mask of perfection.

“This has gone on too long dear.” She sighed. Her eyes opened a moment later and twinkled in the corners. She giggled, “I truly picked someone completely oblivious.”

I wiggled my hands but there was no use, my fingers were turning purple with the pressure of me trying to squeeze them from the hold of my ugly ties. My feet too, were tied down. I stopped struggling and met her eyes again. Her head was tilted to one side, her smile covered her teeth now, but I could tell she was enjoying watching me struggle.

“Fine, cut the crap. What do you want?” I shouted angrily. I looked around the rest of the room to see if there was anything to help me. The curtains were drawn so it was unlikely any of the neighbors would see anything. Should I start screaming? Would anyone hear me? Would anyone come to a man’s screams? As far as I could tell, there was no reason Rebecca should have been acting like this. I was a loyal man, sure my eyes wandered but I had never acted on it. Did I forget to take out the trash too many times? Did I not notice a haircut?

She got back to her feet, “Would you like a piece of cake?”

I glanced at it quickly, God knew what she had done to it, “No, thank you.”

She moved to the center of the table anyways. When she leaned closer to the candle light in I could see now. The skin on her hands was pealing back like dry dough. The pink tones ripping away to show a silky white texture underneath.

She removed a knife from her apron, “You know dear, I have been married 44,750 times before you. So, don’t think that you can try something that I have not already seen.”

She brought the knife down in one swift moment on top of the cake. I could hear the blade cutting the air. The sweat on my brow was running into my eyes, it must be, because as I looked my beloved wife was transforming. The corners of her mouth were peeling into the white undertones. Strands of her brown hair were falling out in clumps and landing on her shoulders, on the cake. I looked at the cake now and could see that little rivers of thick red syrup were oozing from the place she had just cut. It was syrup, right?

I could say nothing as she lifted the knife again to make the second cut. The blade was covered in what must be some horror movie substitution for blood. My throat closed around itself as I looked back into her eyes, but her pupils had grown. In fact, she no longer had any iris, all I could see was pure black. I lifted my tongue to make a sound, but it felt like cement in my mouth.

The blade fell downward with the precision of the guillotine, and she kept her monologue, “My dear Gregor, I shall come clean. For now, you can surely tell I am shedding this skin. I can only maintain an image for so long, such is the cruel perceptions of society. I did enjoy your company though. I wish things were different. I have learned long ago not to get too attached to the skins, for once you see me like this, you love me no longer.”

I managed to find some whisper of a voice as I witnessed her now bald head, “That’s not true, I love you still.”

I knew she would not believe it, but it seemed better than admitting she was right. Whatever she was, it seemed like her intention was to do me harm. Her skin was now flaking off delicately like puffs of dandelion. One of her nails fell off when she put down the knife. She turned fully toward me, plate of chocolate cake in hand. The fluffy pink dress didn’t fit her anymore, and she had grown almost a full foot. Her bone structure was evident through her now white paper skin. Barbs protruded from her elbows, and her teeth had turned into long fangs as she smiled again, “Don’t be silly.”

She placed the cake in front of me and with a long nail replacing the one that had fallen off she cut one of the ties. She grabbed my wrist as soon as I tried to lift it, “None of that now. You are smart enough to know that before you get the other tie off, I could end you.”

My head was swimming with my own blood, and it was a wonder I could still think. As she turned away to go back to her seat, I could see the remainder of her pink skin float to the ground leaving behind a trail like snow.

“What are you?”

She leaned back in her chair, “What I am doesn’t matter because your language no longer has a name for what I am.”

Silence continued and I just watched her, small horns came from the crown of her head. My heart skipped a beat just witnessing this transformation. Was it like she said? There was nothing I could do that she had not seen or delt with before?

“You’re not eating your cake.” Her voice had changed. It no longer sounded like a woman, but the combination of five people of varying ages.

I swallowed, but there was nothing more that I could do, “You did not give me a fork.”

“You don’t need one.”

“What if I do not want to eat the cake?”

“I could make you.” She smiled, all her fangs had come forward now and her face looked truly demonic. Her black pupils still twinkled in delight.

“Am I dreaming?” I leaned forward as much as I could and reached forward with my hand as she watched.

“It will be easier if you think you are dreaming, and you are just about to wake.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No, my love, you will live a long time yet.”

This response stilled my fingers as they broke the surface of the frosting like a layer of ice on a lake. The smooth texture of the cake did not disguise the feeling of the slimy inside. The blood bubbled out from the places that my hands sunk in. I lifted the piece to my face, and she watched as my lips parted, the morsal entered my mouth. I expected the chocolate and red juices to taste foul, but instead I tasted the most wonderful bit of cake. The richness of it dulled my senses. I did not feel the bite of my ties, I did not feel the fear in my veins. I looked up and she had stood again. The corners of her blurred. The room darkened around her and the candlelight engulfed her like a golden halo.

“You are now a part of me, and I will always remember you. I remember them all.”

She was right above me now and with her mouth stretched as wide as a football she leaned in for one last kiss. Her tongue licked the frosting off my lips. This surely was a dream, for the edges of my vision smudged as her mouth bit into the flesh of my face. The sensation I felt next was that of my consciousness escaping my body. It no longer belonged to me. I closed my eyes and when I reopened them, I looked upon my own body. It was lifeless now, and the skin sagged and wrinkled. I tried to move any limb of my own but whatever connection there had been to that body was now severed.

The body I now resided broke the hold over my own and I could see there was no bone, or muscle or organ left. The only thing that remained was my skin and the clothes that I had been wearing. Through the eyes of my creature wife, she lifted her own pale and unnaturally long limbs and held up my skin like she was at the department store for a new coat. She then proceeded to stretch my skin over her own, and as she did her bones creaked, and I could feel them as if they were a part of myself. She did one final shake like a dog discarding the water on its coat before what was left of me slid into its place.

I had no voice to scream or protest. I was floating thought. I could feel it now. Around me there were others. Other floating consciousness contained in her vessel. Some slept and I could feel they had been sleeping for a long time. Others brushed against me, they could not speak, for they were contained in their own consciousness.

She cleared her throat and said with my own voice, “You see Gregor, it’s not that bad, you will now get to live with me forever.”