Gretel settled in to her task like a good little homemaker. I watched in horror as her fleshy fingers kneaded my now clammy, doughy flesh. The flour mixed into my now batter body. What was to becomed of me. Then she picked up the marble rolling pin, and started to sing the paddie cake song.
My body squished flat under the relentless pressure of the cold marble roller, and the girl's steady hand. Air pockets popped, I was getting thinner. The flatter she made me, the more sexually aroused I became. She rolled back and forth, back and forth repeating that inane nursery rhyme. Then suddenly, she stopped.
"Who could that be?" she said. She left the pin on top of me, and dusted the flour off her hands on to her apron. Then I heard the distant knock of a fist pounding against the side of the house, and then there was another voice.
"Hello. Constable here! Everything allright? Noticed your door is bashed in."
"Why thank you, officer," gushed the voice of the fat old witch as if she was a doe-eyed teenager, "I fear an interloper did break in our door, but I scared him off with a cross bow. I think he ran down that road." She paused.
"Thank you, Ma'am, no one was hurt, nothing stolen?"
"No, no. Would you like to stop in for some hot tea, and cake?"