Carly felt so unusual on the tray, but it was also something of a thrill. The sensation of her doughy flesh
against the charred metal really made her feel like what she was - a sweet product ready for cooking.
The oven was pre-heated, large enough for all six feet of her height, and the fans of warmth were uncomfortable
but not painful. She could feel herself cooking, her dough rising, her icing hardening in the heat. It felt so
good to go through this process, to become a delicious baked treat. She didn't move, her arms and legs astray,
but the constriction felt right - she was a gingerbread man (or, rather, woman), and she had to keep the classic
pose. Nobody would want to buy her if she didn't come out 100% right. And who was going to buy her? Would it be
a man, a woman, a child?
After ten minutes, Carly was cooked, and removed from the oven.