We can’t all be the pretty one

By Jess Charle

The table before me was a pastel painting of tantalizing treats. Fried donuts with shiny pink frosting, checkered with white, red, and pink sprinkles, lay on a platter the deep purple of fresh grapes. Rainbow lollipops spiraled in on themselves, paper sticks standing strong beneath their massive weight. They leaned against the edge of a light green vase like a bouquet of flowers, their sugar ridges shining dully in the soft light. A large round chocolate cake stood on a white ceramic stand, a triangle carved out from where a piece had been taken, exposing the cake’s delectable insides. The moist layers were covered with a smooth blanket of milk chocolate frosting. Crumbs seemed to spontaneously manifest around the bottom of the undisturbed dessert. A clear jar of M&Ms overflowed beside it. Small piles of colorful coated candies gathered at the bottom of the jar where they had fallen out, the result of long gone candy waterfalls. Light orange and peach macaroons sat on top of each other in messy stacks, their silky filling barely visible between the delicate cookie sides. Gummy bears nestled in a pack together beneath a tower of yellow cupcakes. Each individual cake topped with a puff of fluffy untouched buttercream icing.

Chocolate chip cookies, the center of which dropped into a dark valley of buttered dough heavy from being just barely baked, were scattered over miscellaneous candies. Caramel colored toffees and toffee colored caramels lay in a heap, melting ever-so-slightly in the warm air, sticking together as their delicate structure fell, becoming a united mass. A tall old-fashioned glass, like the ones they used to have in drug stores when drug stores sold fizzy sodas and frappes, stood to my right filled to the brim with whole milk blended with creamy white ice cream, chunks of chocolate cookie striping the sides of the glass, leaving traces of black dust behind like a miniature milky way.

A pie sat at one edge, a slight tendril of steam rising from the warm center of gooey cherries which glistened, wet with a viscous filling that hugged every curve, every bite. Their color a red so rich and deep that the pie could have been mistaken for fake if not for the scent of sweetened cherries and baked pastry that carried across the immense feast to my nose. The golden brown crust of the pie laced across the top in perfect thin strips. I could see, even from my distance, small pieces of the pastry flaking upwards, so light and airy. The warm humid air was heavy with the smells, which danced together, forming a symphony of tainted breath, laced with sugar and cream.

I have always struggled with my weight. Sweet treats acting as an escape from a difficult reality. The sugar rush of each bite numbing my mind, disguising my pain. But not Crystal. Perfect Crystal. My best friend. Always so skinny and fit. Her breasts perfectly round and perky beneath her tight tank tops. When she wore loose t-shirts the cotton fabric hugged the shape of them just slightly enough for your mind to fill in the gaps. Her long brown hair fell around her shoulders in thick curtains of pure silk. The full lips of her small mouth met in a perfect almond shape on her triangular face. The lower lip puckering out slightly from her chin in a flirtatious manner, the peaks of her top lip making the shape of a heart where they met.

She stroked my head comfortingly as she sat on the armrest of the sturdy wooden chair to which I was bound. She was humming an indiscernible song and her hand absentmindedly rose and fell in beat with the melody, her fingers running through my hair with ease. My stomach roared with hunger, turning in on itself and performing somersaults in a desperate attempt to push me forward towards the banquet of sweets. Saliva soaked my gag, thin streams of drool slowly trickling around the corners of my stretched mouth. Snot and tears stuck to my face uncomfortably as Crystal’s hand traced my ear and cheek. She ran her limp fingers softly down the side of my neck. Her palm was light and delicate as it followed where my shoulder ended and my chest began. She dropped her hand to one of my small exposed breasts, and gently followed the circle of my nipple with the tip of her forefinger, her nail scraping across the sensitive skin.

I shivered despite the warmth of the familiar room, my naked skin prickling. I stared at the feast before me, my eyes and mouth watering. After days of this torture, I no longer had the strength to struggle against the ropes around my waist, wrists, and ankles.

Crystal leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips to my cheekbone in a delicate kiss. She let her mouth brush against my skin as she found her way to my ear, her voice soft and breathy.

“Do you enjoy it?” She cooed. I shook with a sob, my shoulders heaving inside their bounds, “do you enjoy being a slut?” Her fingers closed over my nipple, clamping down hard. My scream was cut short by the lace panty shoved deep into my mouth.

Crystal straightened up and smiled, her full lips arching with warmth and affection. She pulled herself up onto the table in front of me, her knees wide, her white skirt falling between her open thighs. Plunging a perfectly manicured hand into the velvety cake beside her, she dug deep and ripped out a large hunk which she brought to her mouth. She dragged the dessert over her unmoving lips in a grotesque gesture of eating, so exaggerated that none of the cake seemed to actually hit her tongue but instead collected on her hanging lips. Brown frosting spread over her cheeks as cake fell from her hand, landing in the cup of the draping skirt in front of her. The frosting painted streaks across her chest as she squished it between her fingers and over her cleavage, then back up over one shoulder.

Her eyebrows met above her nose, scrunched together in pure hatred, her eyes burning into me with a predatory anger. She reached out her hand, covered in cake and frosting, and pulled the gag roughly from my mouth, her nails scratching into my cheek and pulling

sharply at my lip.

“I’m sorry!” I cried out, my mouth finally free. I could hear desperation twisting my voice tight.

Her face filled my vision. “Sorry for what?” She spat, disgust dripping off her words.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry that guy said I was pretty!” I sobbed. “He was wrong! He was lying!”

Crystals’ foot struck out and kicked the chair with her boot. I fell to the floor. My head lurched back with the force, and white light exploded in front of me.

“You know that’s not what I want!” She screamed, falling on top of me, straddling my chest. Her hand flew to my mouth and rich cake was pushed deep into my throat. My scream turned into a muffled choking. I tried to move my head out from under her, desperately wanting to cough out the invading sweetness so I could breath.

Crystal raised her hand and brought it down on my cheek. I cried out in pain, air forcing its way through the cake, which simultaneously flew from my mouth while also being sucked deep into my nasal passages, mixing with spit and snot at the back of my throat.

I coughed and sobbed, my lungs searching for sweet release from the pain. She kept me pinned with her thighs as I tried to twist beneath her, her weight forcing my shoulders down as the back of the chair dug into me.

She lowered her face to mine, “say it.”

A sobbed ripped through my throat and caught on the food forcing its way into my sinuses. Vomit spew upward, the acidic fluid gurgling in my upturned mouth. Crystal allowed me to turn my head, letting my sick fall to the floor. I threw up again, bile from my starved stomach burning my already raw throat, my lungs filling with air graciously, a sharp pain dulling inside me.

Breathing heavily, I let my head fall back, ignoring the pain as I hit the floor again.

“You…You…” I started.

Crystal smiled with glee, nodding in encouragement.

“You… You’re the pretty one.” I snorted. I swallowed the phlegm and chocolate that had gathered and my stomach heaved.

Crystal bent down, bringing her lips to mine, covering my mouth with hers. Her wet tongue tried to pry its way inside of me, getting more forceful each second I resisted. Tired, hungry, and broken, I opened my mouth and let her kiss me deeply.

“I love you, Jenny.” she whispered, her lips brushing against mine with the words.

I forced myself to swallow. My throat, nose and eyes stung while my body was limp with pain.

“I love you too, Crystal.”

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