24 December 2011

An XXXMas Carol Part 5 - Scroogella Comes Around

Bah, Humbug! Xmas stuff getting in the way. Just because I'm related to you, I have to talk to you about things over tea? Grrr.

So here's another short part. They're getting shorter I know, but in fairness from meeting Eros to the end was meant to be one single part. Now it's going to be a few. So there you go. There might be errors by my ass aches. So there you go again.

An XXXMAS Carol 


  Casting all matters turnip related firmly aside, Scroogella turned to the David Beckham shaped God of Love and other related squelching matters with a look of extreme patience on her classically beautiful, not to mention utterly perfect face.
  "So . . ." she began, hoping that he would jump in at any moment with some kind of deep life lesson so she could get home to her warm bed and snuggle there until Christmas morning appeared. The god, however, was all at sea when it can to matters of tact and subtlety it seemed. 
  "Yes?" He asked her. "What's the matter?"
  Scroogella gave up and sat down on the mouldy cheese she had won for correctly identifying her latest companion on this most strange of Christmas Eve's.

  "So . . ." she started again, this time thinking of something to follow it up with. "You're the god of love eh? Must be pretty interesting I bet?"
  "Oh definitely, definitely. On the whole it's all pretty grand, or rather was, when I could fornicate at will with anyone in your reality. Grand times, grand, grand times."
  "I can imagine."
  "Well except for those occasions where the dyslexia got in the way?" He admitted ruefully.
  "How do you mean?" Scroogella asked.
  "Well like all that business in Sodom and Gomorroh. I'd booked a fortnight off to visit and I missed the whole shebang." Eros looked sadly at the floor.

  "Why, what happened?"
 "Well first I ended up in The Sudan, then in a clinic dealing with severe gonorrhoea. Transportation can be a bugger when you have to think of the place name in order to materialise."
  "Ah. Then I think I'll get a cab home, when we're done here if it's all the same to you. No offence of course." Said Scroogella, invoking the mantra of all offence givers everywhere.
  "No, no, I totally understand." Conceded Eros, still somewhat melancholic.
  "So . . . will that be any time soon? Only I really have to get the turkey in the oven by 7 at the latest, and it must be getting on that time." Scroogella hinted as hard as she dare.

  "Oh it won't take long, what I have to teach you, I can assure you of that. Not long at all in fact."
  "Well that doesn't sound terribly promising." She replied with a small sigh of disappointment.
  "I find it hard these days is all," Eros continued, "I get so little practice really, what with only having bitch goddesses as my own real source of female, how shall we say, companionship.
  "What about Aphrodite," Scroogella asked, "I'm sure she's up for some fun isn't she?"
  Eros sighed deep as the void that surrounded them.
  "Married. With 3 kids. All she cares about now is the nutritional values of what her family eat and what strange men might be living near their home. She's even started reading the Daily Mail. Back when we hung out, she didn't know a calorie from a kumquat. Now she can recite the fat amounts in any given supermarket product to two decimal places. And you know the worst thing?" He asked, relentlessly.

  Scroogella shook her head. She really didn't want to try and guess.
  "She's sent them all to a Catholic school." Eros moaned pitifully. "Worse yet, they seem to enjoy it. Only last week little Chastity, she called her daughter Chastity you notice, Chastity wrote and told me how she felt the cold baths and strict discipline were going to be a great help to her when she became a nun. A nun... oh my. Young Virginia's becoming very much the same. Last time I saw her she was wearing a trouser suit. A trouser suit."
  He sighed even heavier than last time. Scroogella patted him delicately on his bronzed well muscled arm, wondering whether she could do anything to cheer him up. At this thought, Eros looked up.
  "Well a bit of ass to mouth wouldn't go amiss, miss," he ventured hopefully.

  Scroogella slapped him hard right across the mouth.
  "Mind your manners," she scolded him viciously, before adding, "how did you know what I was thinking, it was in no way sexual. I was thinking something more along the lines of a cup of tea or a muffin."
  Eros shook his head. 
  "No, no. If a young nubile girl such as yourself, you are, by the way the nubilest wench I've seen since Helen of Troy, or as we called her the wooden whore. On account of her being most unresponsive when being fucked, like a plank of wood. You know how a lot of ravishing women are, feeling they don't have to try to hard to keep a man. No offence, my dear." He paused with a small smirk on his face, then continued.
  "And whore, cos she was often found with a legion or two of Greeks inside of her . . . where was I? Oh yes. When A nubile young girl such as yourself, by the way are those things real?" 
  Scroogella nodded.
  "They are? Wowsers. Anyway, when someone such as yourself thinks I wonder if I can do anything to cheer a man up, well, the associated implication is as close to sexual as makes no odds. Therefore I can detect it."
  "Ah. Well I won't be doing that for you." Scroogella informed him sternly, then adding, "I'd only do it for Bob, if for anyone."

  "Ahh it looks like you've picked up a few things on your journey so far Scroogella." Eros proclaimed grinning to her in a most lecherous manner. "I have to say young Bob Scratchit is a lucky man. Though clearly your ex, Dan, has become much better looking than Bob of late. That, by the way was most peculiar."
  Scroogella rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't say I would do it for him, only that if I did it for anyone, then it would be for Bob, or at least he'd be in the vicinity, and be generally aware of what I was doing and he'd most definitely approve of it. Should I choose to do it. Which I probably won't."
  "Uh-huh," Eros nodded his head, the grin on it, if anything, had broadened. "So you'd do anything if Bob was feeling down would you?"
  "Well . . . maybe," Scroogella conceded unwillingly. "I do love him an awful, awful lot."

  "But just hours ago you wouldn't even let him cop a feel." Eros accused her.
  "Well, people change. Look at you, once you made Casanova look like someone who worked in an IT department. Now look at you, a snivelling pathetic wretch who can't even get it on with a woman. A forgotten god who's forgotten what his job is." By the end of this sentence Scroogella was almost shouting into the void. Her words carried long and loud through the nothingness that surrounded them. To emphasis her intense feelings on what a crazy night all this had been, she kicked the large wheel of green cheese hard. That was possibly a mistake.

  She pulled her foot free of its lactose covering and shook it rapidly, sending flecks of rotting cheese flying from her toes.
  "Do you have a towel?"
  The god shook his head, waved a finger for emphasis and Scroogella watched the slimly green yogurty substance vanish from her foot.
  "Thanks. Sorry about what I said about you." She sat on the floor, well away from the cheese.
  "So is that what you really think?" Eros asked after a moment of silence.
  "Well . . ." Scroogella waited for an interjection which wasn't arriving any time soon. Eventually she felt she had to finish the sentence. ". . . you're just out of practice is all. I mean you certainly look the part of a love god. That's for sure." She eyes down his body once more. Her nudity had long since ceased to bother her. She fixated on his groin, then nodded towards it. "Is that realistic? I mean to the real version of your persona?"
  Eros shook his head. "No it's what you expected he'd have. I'm cast in your ideal mold remember."

 "Don't talk about mould," Scroogella said shortly, the memory of the rotting cheese still fresh in her mind.
  "Oh you know what I mean."
  "So in real life, do you know if Beckham is . . ." Scroogella wasn't prepared to fully finish that sentence.
  Eros held up his thumb and forefinger. The eeriest thing wasn't that they were only an inch or so apart, but that his hand was no longer attached to them.
  "Sorry, I'm losing cohesion now. Your faith in this version of me is diminishing, perhaps because of your new found knowledge over the poorness of his tackle."
  "He can cross well though," Scroogella retorted.

  "I meant his tackle, his penis," Eros explained patiently.
  "Ahh, so should I think of a new person for you to be?"
  "It might help," admitted the god who had now suffered wandering leg syndrome. In so much that his leg had wandered off all by itself. It could now be found gently kicking the cheese a short whey a way.
    Scroogella concentrated hard. Who else did she find attractive enough to be a love god? She flicked through the choices as Eros started to crumble into a pile of body parts.
  "I have it," she exclaimed.
  "Well don't shout about it, else they'll all want some," a muffled voice from under a limbless, headless torso replied.
  "Be Bob Scratchit."
  And suddenly there was Bob, stood naked before her, the god had coalesced instantly into this new form. Scroogella looked him up and down. Unfortunately, to her mind, in this persona, the god wore a loin cloth. It was most discouraging. She assumed it was because she had never actually stopped to think about what Bob had down his pants. She wondered if she twitched the cloth aside they would just be a smooth crotch below it, like the Ken doll from her Barbie set.

  As an aside, it may explain Scroogella's attitude to sexual relations to know that when she was small her mother had shown her Barbie and Ken, telling her that this was how people really were in real life, and that because Scroogella had nipples and a slit downstairs, she was a mutant freak. Sod 'may explain it', it's safe to say this awful incident explains it for sure. Scroogella had been 15 before she had realised that nipples and vaginas were things every girl had. Her mother by the way came from a right wing Christian community. How she had ever conceived Scroogella was a mystery most likely involving lots of hail Mary's.

  Meanwhile back in the void, Scroogella was eyeing up Eros as Bob most appreciatively. She'd never seen the real Bob naked and hoped that Eros had gotten a good likeness to him. He was stood there smiling at her. Oh shit, thought Scroogella. She was thinking vaguely sexual thoughts. He knew everything she was thinking.
  She tried to think about sprouts, then about tinsel, then about puppies, but to no avail. 

  Eros smiled with Bob's mouth. "Scroogella I think it's time for your lesson."
  The change of form had clearly given the god a new lease of confidence. He snapped his fingers once. A large wooden bed appeared with ivy tracing all over its stout heavy oaken frame. He clicked his fingers again. Scroogella's PJ's vanished. A third time he clicked and the ivy reached out and pulled Scroogella towards the bed. She was helpless to resist it. It dragged her inch by inch then slowly turned her around and lay her flat on the sheets. Two new strands parted her legs. She struggled, in all honesty not that much. She was starting to see the possibilities of this sex malarkey.

  Eros as Bob stood over her, his eyes staring deep into hers. He knew what she was thinking. What she'd always secretly longed to do. He bent his head. Scroogella gasped out loud in expectation. He raised his head.
  "You know how I said it didn't take long?" he started tentatively. Scroogella nodded cautiously from her ivy cage. "Well it's mainly due to the fact I'm divine and you're well . . . made of earth and stuff. It's like comparing sugar substitute to real sugar. Non-alcoholic lager to the good stuff. Like comparing Seth Rogan to a real actor. Ah you'll see." He dipped his head again, his tongue snaking out of his mouth.

  Everything stopped for Scroogella when Eros' tongue touched her virgin clitoris. Then everything was on fire. A glorious burning beautiful mass of flames. It went on and on and on. Each second lasted an orgasmic eternity. She was lost to his one light touch of the tip of his tongue. Her innermost parts contracted. Her skin pimpled. She closed her eyes tight, lost in this magical climax.
  Then everything exploded. Everything. She dissolved in pleasure, her constituent atoms tumbling apart from sheer joy. It lasted forever and yet at the same time it was over in a second.

  She opened her eyes to find herself staring at her own ceiling. Outside of her windows she could hear the bells chiming for Christmas day. Had it all been a dream?

To be concluded...?

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