Swamp Shoot, Part Five:  Emiliu and ‘Eat Me’ II

by Tannen Scheer

Emiliu stood stone still against the wall of the kitchen, hoping to hear Bonnie or Christi call out that the coast was clear, or that Arietta was all right, or that the old woman was dead. But only a few moments after Christi had left to assist Bonnie, what she heard was what she had feared the most: the sound of her friend, Christi, screaming.
As soon as the nylon clad, Oriental beauty heard that shriek, she knew that somehow her friend had fallen victim to the old witch. And she knew that she had to find a place to hide in case the swamp witch came looking for her. There was no room behind the appliances, and under the table was no good, either. But there were two other doors at the back of the kitchen. Maybe one led outside.
The dark haired pantyhose model opened the farthest door first and stepped in. It appeared to be some kind of pantry, with several glass jars on wooden shelves, and fresh vegetables in baskets near the door. Emiliu kicked several vegetables out from under her stockinged feet as she stepped slowly toward the pantry shelves. She felt something on her foot, and jumped back, only to see a string bean stuck in the nylon mesh between her toes. She pulled it off and threw it aside. "I really hate string beans," she said, and stepped closer to the shelves to see if there was a place to hide, or a door to the outside. While she searched, several of the string beans began joining together to form a long and threatening green chain. A chain strong enough to securely bind a certain lovely visitor to the witch's pantry.

Emiliu only glanced at the clear jars as she stepped past, looking for an outside door behind the wooden shelving. But there was nothing there but a large iron cauldron filled with some sort of clear, gelatinous substance. Above the cauldron was a wooden shelve with several empty glass jars. Apparently the old woman liked to can her own fruits and vegetables, just like Emiliu's grandmother. Of course, Emiliu's grandmother did not share the witch's hobby of luring beautiful models to a remote hideaway, and then subjecting them to some sort of horrible fate.

While the Oriental beauty took in her surroundings, a long strand of green string beans, attached together into a strange but firm rope, snaked its way silently across the floor toward the model's stockinged feet. It's movement stopped when Emiliu turned back toward the pantry shelves. Maybe there was at least some kind of weapon she could use against the old witch. The top shelve was labeled "PRESERVES", and Emiliu noticed that the jars contained the same clear jelly that was in the cauldron. But there was something else in the jars. At first she thought it was just large pieces of fruit, but as she looked closer it appeared to be a tiny figure, like a doll. Why would anyone put dolls in a jar of homemade jelly? Emiliu looked at the dolls in a few of the jars. The first had an old-style hairdo, and wore only a garter belt and tan stockings. Another looked like some kind of circus performer, with a tiny tiara and fishnet tights. The doll in another jar had on white go-go boots and pink pantyhose. Emiliu picked up one of the jars to look closer at one of the dolls. This one was wearing a tan bodystocking, and seemed to have a more modern hairdo. As Emiliu examined the jar and its contents, the string bean rope moved closer to her tan nyloned feet.

In the next moment, several alarming things seemed to happen all at once. First, Emiliu held the jar close to her eyes to more closely examine the erotic doll contained within. As she marvelled at how real the doll's body and features appeared, the doll's legs moved, rubbing one nyloned leg up the other leg. And the doll's mouth and eyes opened with a look of terrified pleasure. That's when Emiliu realized that the figure inside this jar - and all the other jars - were not dolls, but real women.

Victims of the swamp witch's evil magic. And that's also when the model felt something crawling on her foot and up her leg, and looked down to see the stringbean rope begin to wrap itself around her silky ankles. Emiliu gasped when she felt the living vegetation, and dropped the glass jar. The jar shattered, and the shrunken girl in her tan bodysuit writhed for a moment on the pantry floor. And then, as the air of the room penetrated her gelled coating, the figure started to age and wither and then dissolve into bones, and then dust. Only a tiny and empty nylon bodysuit remained.

The vegetable binding pulled tighter around Emiliu's ankles - so tight that the model lost her balance and dropped to the floor. At first she thought the vine intended to hold her there until the witch could arrive, but then she felt her body being pulled by the vine away from the shelving - and toward the large cauldron. Magically, a large fire ignited beneath the metal pot, and the already warm clear jelly began to bubble and pop. Emiliu realized that the vine intended to put her body in the cauldron, into the hot clear jelly, where she would be shrunk and preserved, and be the next live figurine in a jar on the pantry shelves. The panicked model looked for something to grab onto, but the shelves were too far away. As her legs moved closer to the large pot, Emiliu saw the broken jar, and picked up one of the large pieces of broken glass. The front of the bean rope had crawled up the wall, draped itself over the top of the shelf with empty jars, and tied itself on one end. That motion lifted Emiliu's feet off the floor, and in moments the model's nyloned legs were lifted straight up, then her upper body and head were raised as well. The bean rope lifted her even higher, until she was above the rim level of the cauldron. Then it pulled her closer to the pot, and a shrunken fate.

Emiliu knew that her only chance was to somehow raise her upper body enough to slash the vine with the glass shard. She tried a couple of times, but simply couldn't pull her arms up to reach the bottom of her legs. The cauldron loomed closer, but so did the shelf. Maybe, she could grab hold of the shelf and slice the rope before it dropped her into the pot. It would be close. Emiliu's head was almost past the cauldron rim - in fact her shoulder length black hair was only inches from the jelly coated sides. Just as the rope was about to center her over the cauldron and drop her in, Emiliu pulled her upper body up just enough to grab the shelf with one hand. With the other hand she slashed the string bean rope, then fell back and away just enough that her feet narrowly missed going into the cauldron. The Oriental beauty would not be canned and preserved this day.

The lovely model took just a few moments to catch her breath, and regain a little strength. She didn't know what she would do next, but she knew she had to get out of that pantry. That was too close a call with the cauldron, and who knew what other peril lie waiting in this room. Looking around her to make sure there were no other living vines or mutant vegetables headed her way, she stepped quickly out of the pantry and into the kitchen. Regardless of what had happened to Bonnie and Christi, Emiliu planned to make a beeline out the front door and join Donna Jo and Franny.

But as soon as the model approached the living room, she heard the old witch's voice. "Now where did my little pretty run off to? Upstairs? Or probably into the kitchen."

Emiliu heard the old woman approach, and knew she had to hide quickly. She wasn't going back in with the attacking vegetables and shrinking goo. So she ducked into the other door, and hoped the old woman would change her mind and go upstairs. As she stepped in, Emiliu expected to find another pantry. But she was greeted instead by the sweet smell of pastries and baked goodies. The shelves in this room were filled with all kinds of cakes and pies. There was a chocolate layer cake, right next to a beautiful coconut cake on a shiny silver platter. Beneath the cake shelf was one filled with pies. Crème pies with toppings of luscious meringue. And fruit pies with beautifully latticed crusts: apple, blueberry, and one with a light tan crust and a pinkish filling. A card in front labeled it a 'Milk Melon Pie.' "Never heard of that kind," Emiliu thought, and bent down to savor its tasty aroma. The middle of the crust had a familiar look: a round, brownish patch with a small doughy knob right in its middle, from which some of the pinkish filling was oozing out. The model had seen that shape before, but couldn't quite place it.

Emiliu was about to put her finger on the knob and sample the filling's taste when a bell sounded. There was a large oven door next to the pastry shelves, and apparently it was on some kind of timer, because it slowly opened by itself. Considering the things she had seen and heard in this house of horrors, Emiliu didn't quite know what to expect. But the aroma coming from the oven was a familiar one: fresh baked gingerbread. After the door opened, a steaming pan of the sweet, tempting pastry came sliding out on a long metal tray. Despite her precarious situation, Emiliu was quite hungry, and the smell of the gingerbread was causing her mouth to water. Stepping over to the tray, the pantyhose model saw that there was writing on the deep brown surface. Two words were spelled out in a white glaze: EAT ME. Something in Emiliu's mind warned her not to touch anything that the swamp witch may have been responsible for creating. But logic and caution took a back seat to temptation and hunger, and Emiliu tore off a large hunk of the gingerbread, and popped it into her mouth. It was delicious. The sweet textured confection practically melted in her mouth, and in seconds she had gulped down the first piece, and tore off a second chunk. It too was gone quickly, and the Oriental beauty tore off a third piece, then slid to the floor to enjoy it while sitting against the warm wall containing the oven.

As she finished this third piece, her hunger abated, and Emiliu berated herself for her gluttony. She knew that she should take a quick look in the kitchen, and then run outside if the coast was clear. But she felt so tired. Undoubtedly due to the emotional toll the day's bizarre events had taken upon her. The model decided she would just take a moment to rest, and then head outside. She wrapped her arms around her nyloned knees, and pulled them up against her bare breasts. And then, Emiliu nodded off to sleep.

The model was awakened by the sound of the bakery door opening. Her eyes widened with terror as she saw the swamp witch walk in, carrying two large melons in a small basket.

"Well, well, sleepyhead. Time to wake up. There's baking to be done," the witch said in a sing song voice. Emiliu braced herself for an attack, but the old woman carried the melons back into the kitchen. The model heard her hostess running water in the kitchen sink, probably rinsing off the melons. And she knew that this was her one chance to make a break for it . . . .

. . . . but she could hardly move. She wasn't able to focus her eyes very well, and she felt both rough and flimsy throughout her body. Apparently, the gingerbread was drugged in some way, and this was the result. When she concentrated on at least removing her arms from around her knees, it appeared that her pantyhose had taken on a brown, coarse appearance. As she moved forward to look more closely, her tan pantyhose actually looked about the same. It was her knees that appeared to be changed. She reached out to touch the nylon covering her legs, and then she screamed.

The swamp witch came into the baking closet, and began to cackle at the sight of Emiliu holding her hand in front of her face and screaming. Actually, it wasn't really much of a hand anymore - but more of a mitten like appendage that looked like a dark brown sponge. And the scream wasn't a normal high-pitched scream, but a faint moaning noise that came from a long slit in her dark brown rounded head.

For Emiliu was no longer the long legged, brunette, nylon sheathed, Oriental beauty that she had been when she first came to the swamp witch's mansion. The special gingerbread had changed all that. Emiliu was now a human female shaped lump of pliable ginger dough. She was a living gingerbread girl.

Gingerbread Emiliu tried to stand up, but no longer had bones to give her support. "No use trying to get away, my sweet beauty. You're not going anywhere." The witch walked over to a large cabinet, and pulled out a long pole with a flat, widened top. She slid the giant spatula under Emiliu's legs and bottom, and lifted the former model onto a giant greased pan laying on a nearby table. "Actually, that's not entirely true. You are indeed going somewhere."

As she said that, the witch opened a second oven door in the wall directly in front of the pan.

"Noooo, pleeeaaassee don't," Emiliu groaned as well as she could, but she had almost lost the ability to speak.

"Don't worry, honey. You won't feel anything, not as gingerbread dough. Here, I'll prove it." The old woman returned to the cabinet, and this time retrieved a large wooden rolling pin. She then began to roll the pin over Emiliu's gingerbread legs, flattening them as she went. And Emiliu realized the witch was right, she didn't feel that at all. The witch flattened both legs, then arms. She flattened Emiliu's tummy, and then positioned the rolling pin over her attractive breasts. The Oriental beauty moaned as her attractive bust was leveled.

"I know that's hard to take, sweetie. But the baking will pop 'em right back out. Let me show you." The swamp witch strolled over to the far wall of the bakery room, and opened two large wooden doors. Emiliu moaned even louded as she viewed their contents. Stored in the lengthy cabinet were several lifesize gingerbread women, each one fully baked. As the witch had promised, each one had ample gingerbread breasts topped by candy nipples.

The swamp witch looked upon them with pride. "All still rather well endowed, as you can see. Also," she said, running her hand along a line around one of the gingerbread women's waist, and then up and down another's gingerbread thigh, "note how the baking process incorporates the nylons wore by each of my beautiful cookies." The witch returned to Emiliu, and traced the seam running from the gusset to the waistband of Emiliu's pantyhose. "The same will be true for you, my dear."

Emiliu heard a loud click, and saw the witch look up at the wall oven. "Finished preheating. Time to get baking." The doughy model started to moan, but was halted in mid-moan by the rolling pin flattening her gingerbread head. The old woman sprinkled powdered sugar from Emiliu's feet up to her head, and then pushed the tray into the oven. Emiliu felt a blast of intense heat, heard the oven door clang shut, and then slipped into oblivion.

The swamp witch looked at her watch, and then punched in some numbers on the oven's control panel. She then walked over to the gingerbread ladies cabinet. "I suppose our newest ginger doll will fit, but I should really make some more room." She walked down the display of female baked treats, and stopped at one wearing baked in stockings and garters. She pulled the lifesize cookie out, and looked at the back of her legs. "Just as I thought. Seams." The witch pulled the gingerbread girl out, laid her on a table, then stacked some tupperware containers nearby. She grabbed a large cake cutter, and raised it above her head. "Time for the PTA bake sale for you, my pretty," she said, as she began to cut the cookie into smaller pieces.

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