Your family is already sitting down, though your mother is standing on the opposite wall recording you as you’re carried in. Your eyes are fixed on Mira.
Standing behind the chair at the head of the table, wearing a short Champaign colored cocktail dress that stops at her upper thigh, and reaches up to wrap around her neck with two thin strands of silk, Mira looks gorgeous. Your mouth would be hanging open even if Maddie hadn’t jammed an apple inside of it. Smiling as she meets your eyes across the table, Mira slowly licks her lips, and you’re grateful for the rice between your legs as you watch her soft pink tongue run over smooth white teeth. Until a deep rumble from her abdomen, exposed by a thin slit in the dress, sends a tremble through you and most of your male relatives, while the women all break into a fit of giggles.
You’re sat down carefully on the table, taking up most of the available space in the center, with your head resting no more than half a foot from the empty plate sitting in front of Mira. Still grinning at you, and never breaking eye contact, Mira waits for Harvey to stand and pull her chair out for her, pushing it in again as she begins to sit down.
“You look delicious.” She says running a finger down the side of your face, and then inserting it into her mouth, covered in Mole.
With a sudden commotion, everyone begins to eat, and you feel a sudden trill of terror at the prospect of being cut into like a Thanksgiving turkey. But the sedatives keep you from moving, and nobody touches you, you just listen to the clatter and clamor of your family eating dinner all around you, passing plates and chatting about their days and their plans for tomorrow.
Your eyes don’t leave Mira. You watch as she fixes a plate of mundane food, as she turns and talks to family, and as she eats. Her eyes always come back to yours, staring into you as she chews and swallows. You can already hear her stomach gurgle as she begins to digest her appetizer. Acids potent enough to break down an entire human being, larger than her own body, in just a handful of hours… surely pork and steak won’t last long in such an environment. You half wondered why she even bothered, but with the apple jammed in your mouth, you were unable to speak.
You supposed that was the point. You weren’t Max anymore; you weren’t family. You were dinner.
