whatafoolbelieves:
Butter Face
Paula had to accept the abuse. She read and listened to how much she deserved disease for her “egregious indulgence” and all she could do was rest inside of her stainless steel vessel and take it. The disease was one of the last steps in her transition. But they couldn’t know, couldn’t understand. Not yet. It would be soon.
Paula adjusted the vessel’s temperature. The bath of fats and oils warmed around her skin. In a few minutes she’d feel, maybe even see her skin loosening, beginning to meld with the fats and oils. She took the carafe of sweet batter and drank it down. The sugary concoction clung to her interior passageways, softening them up to gently succumb during the transition. It would be soon.
Paula slipped down to fully submerge herself in the bath. The fats and oils kissed her face, their bubbling love filling her ears. She focused her mind on the meld. She would be better than bacon fat, better than duck fat. When the transition was complete, she would become Deen fat, what she’d been striving for her entire human existence: pure delicacy, the most delicious substance ever consumed. Once rendered, she would mix with potatoes, pancakes, and pastries, then gormandized to become a delicacy, a form of being, even more pure: the glowing warmth of a satiated belly. They would take back their abuse then, they would understand, they would accept her. It would be soon.
This is fucking fantastic.
