Cupcake Diaries Graphic Novels Novels & Stories

I start to write, my hand moving quickly across the paper: "Dear Diary, Today is the day I decided to spend an entire day naked. I know it sounds crazy, but I just couldn't resist the urge. I'm going to do everything naked – watch TV, eat, clean the house, maybe even dance around a little. I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, but I'm excited to see where the day takes me. Wish me luck!"

--- Inside the car, Diane carefully lifted the cupcake box onto her lap. “Can I eat one now?” she asked, eyes bright. I glanced at her, hesitated, then reached out gently to take the box from her hands. “Not now, honey. Let’s wait till we get home, okay?” “But why?” “Because I got you something better.” Her eyes lit up as I pulled out a small pack of strawberry biscuits from my bag. She gasped. “The one with the cream inside?” I nodded, passing it to her. “Exactly.”

This is what I've always wanted for four years, though I wouldn't have gotten around to quitting but now I had a valid reason to run away. I parked my car outside Richie's Cafe. I needed sugar to wake me up from this nightmare. My life is suddenly transforming from bad to worse. I walked into the artfully designed Cafe. Brown settees are arranged opposite each other with a table in between. The sweet scent of freshly baked cupcakes invaded my nostrils as I neared the counter. The chime hanging on the doorpost jiggled as I shut the glass door. Richie was standing behind the wooden counter, the tiny light bulbs shone above the wall behind him where a large chalkboard displayed the menu.

Kate’s Pov I sat in the corner booth of the quiet cafe, nursing a lukewarm latte that's gone mostly untouched. My mind kept replaying the scene from last night like a broken reel and I can't shut off. Is the fact that Jim— my Jim was pounding into that woman on our bed while his hands gripping her hips so hard that I swear I could see the bruises forming even from the hallway. “Take it all, you greedy bitch,” he had snarled.

For one of her boyfriends and the pictures of that little photoshoot she still kept in her scrapbook. Her still-warm panties found a place in the box and were buried again as she sat and dug deeper. She touched the soft leathery corner of her personal scrapbook . "Gotcha!" she pulled out the small tome and set it onto her lap. The plain cover hid the pages and pages of pictures Ella had found in her explorations into the darker side of the internet. Halfway through, she found the high resolution black-and-white photographs she adored. The ones with a pair of red lips barely touching the head of a stiff cock or a woman pushed down onto a plush bed by a man taking her from behind.

Pancakes. Burned. Nico in boxers and apron. My apron. That says "KISS THE COOK." He had flowers. Grocery store flowers. $12.99. Wrapped in plastic. And a card. Handmade. Front: stick figures. One tall. One small with big hair. Inside: "Day 180. Still choosing you." I started crying before coffee. "Nico—" "I know. Pancakes burned. I tried—" I kissed him. Syrup on his mouth.

By Friday, my house smelled like vanilla and nerves. I’d baked because Bailey had texted SNACKS ARE NON-NEGOTIABLE and I, tragically, was the kind of person who responded to loud friendship with domestic surrender. The cupcakes were purple, of course. Lavender frosting with little sugar pearls like tiny moons. They weren’t perfect, but they were mine, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t baking to apologize for existing. I was baking because someone was coming over who wasn’t Kyle. That shouldn’t have been a milestone. It was. My life had become a series of quiet firsts.

MARY'S POV: ​The little boy stood there hovering between the princess cupcakes and the superhero ones, completely unable to decide which one he wanted more. His small hand floated over one, then shifted to another, his forehead scrunched up in deep thought. Finally, he picked a Spider-Man cupcake, holding it up high like he had just won a prize. ​Seeing him get one, the other children could not hold back any longer. They rushed over all at once, surrounding the carriage in a noisy group. Their voices filled the air, a loud chorus of pure excitement.

My panties rip. Cool air touches my pussy. I'm exposed. Zeke steps back. He pulls his pants down. His zombie cock springs out. It's thick and veined, the skin mottled green and black. Pus drips from the tip. It smells foul, like curdled milk and decay. Precum leaks in thick globs. Yellow and sticky. I gag at the smell. He grabs my hips. Flips me around. My face presses against the wall. Rough wood scrapes my cheek.

IT HAS BEEN THREE MONTHS. THREE BLOODY MONTHS and the pain keeps getting worse. This morning it was so bad that I was barely able to get out of bed. No matter the amount of wolfsbane I consumed, the split bond was eating me up. And it was eating me fast. I grab the piping paper and decorate the last cupcake from the batch. I look up from the cupcakes as three college students walk in. “Welcome to Petals and Bean Cafe,” I say to them but they outright ignore me and walk over to their table.