???

You look over at the extraterrestrials. One of them pulls down on what looks like a lever. The glass case holding you lowers onto the ground. Then, it hisses as the front face slides off. Could they really be letting you go? No... something else is going on. The second one looms over you. You gulp. A tendril of some kind hooks around the top of your head, sloooowly peeling it from the back. With a “SCHRIP” it cleanly pulls your posterized likeness from the frame, holding you up to the light. Its head tilts towards one side, then the other. Then, it makes some kind of gesture towards the other one. It seems to nod in response. All the while, you sway back and forth, powerless against your captors, with a worried look on your face. Then, you feel yourself getting crumpled between the alien’s tendrils! In one swift motion, you go from being a poster to a tiny ball. But it doesn’t stop there. It continues to massage your compressed body, to the point where it feels like kneeding. You moan and grumble, feeling yourself get mashed into some kind of dough. Meanwhile the other alien pages through a... book? You can’t make out the title; mostly because your face is being thoroughly mixed from your front to back and vice versa. You could swear that it says “To Serve Toons”. Is that what this is? Some kind of cosmic massage parlor? Maybe that’s not so bad... It then stops on one page in particular, seeming to make up its mind. The book slams shut, and the alien steps out of view. The kneading from the other one has stopped too. Good grief, what are they up to now? Then, the first one steps back into the room, holding what you can only assume are vicious chemicals or torture devices of some kind. It walks over to you, holding one of the bags. It then splashes you with a handful of its contents. Oh dear, you’re covered in... flour? Then, you hear a cracking sound. A thick liquid of some kind drips down you. As it passes into your peripheral vision, you realize it’s an egg. Wait, are they... baking you? After another quick stir of the new ingredients and your body, you feel completely dizzy and confused. Then, you feel yourself squeezed between 5 cold, metallic surfaces. A bread pan! Oh no... Apparently, “To Serve Toons” was a cookbook. After an hour of brutal, hellish heat, the two aliens stare through the windowed side of their retro-futuristic oven. One of them rubs its “hands” together, while the other opens the face of the device, ready to pull out its newest creation: a nice loaf of earth-sourced bread. They proudly display their newest creation underneath a display case of sorts. You subconsciously whimper to yourself. Did these aliens really travel thousands of lightyears to Earth to make homemade bread? Don’t they have anything better to do? And more importantly, were you really an important ingredient? Well, you might as well enjoy being all nice and toasty.

Feeling Kneaded

You have found 24 Endings out of 24!