by Scarlett M Butler
Becca couldn’t hold back the sobs; they just kept coming as she knelt over the body of her slain lover.
She had actually begun to care for him, too. Over the past six months, he had taken her in, provided her with clothes—well, a trenchcoat and a thong, at least, that was all he could afford to buy her—and made love to her every night, sometimes several times a night. And he made up in sheer size for what he lacked in skill. Unlike most guys, who had to do it the other way around—or not at all.
His kindness had been so unexpected and joyous. She hadn’t been able to believe that she, Becca, was the recipient of all his wonderful gifts. And so, she had begun to have feelings for him.
Only to have him taken away from her in a pointless murder, by some man who didn’t even know him.
And it was her fault, too. All her fault.
She had caused her lover’s death!
She had been walking down the street, her trench coat hanging open, arms waving limply at her sides as she walked down the street, whistling. Then, she spotted an alleyway, and stopped. Pressing her 4’11, 346 lb frame against the brick wall as flat as she could, she had twisted her head, so that she could look into the alleyway.
It was empty.
Becca’s face lit with joy; she loved romping in empty alleyways, where she could be alone and no one would bother her.
So, she ran through the alleyway, her trenchcoat flying behind her and her flesh jiggling, as her feet, bare but for the foam glued to her heels, pattered down the alleyway, and back again. When she finally came back to the point from which she had started, Becca stopped to catch her breath, panting and bending forward to rest her hands on her knees.
She snorted once, then blew out a giant booger from her nose with a single blow. She sniffed then, to make sure that her nasal passages were all clear. In the sniffing, however, she picked up a strange scent, that she couldn’t quite make out. It smelled kind of like a dead fish, only dirtier, and mixed with the succulent smell of excrement.
She looked down, and realized that the smell was coming from her vagina; her thong must have fallen off somewhere in the alley!
Becca began to panic. Her lover would kill her if she lost the thong he had given to her! Although she did have a penchant for losing thongs in alleys, she knew that her lover couldn’t afford to buy her another thong if she lost this one! And the thought of walking around, thongless, for who knows how many days, shook her to the core.
She had to search for it. She had to find her precious thong!
So Becca returned to the scene of the crime—her crime. She had gone up and down the alley, her trenchcoat hanging open around her, searching for her thong. But she couldn’t find it! Becca began to despair. Would she ever find her beloved thong?
Then, from the corner of the alleyway, she thought she saw a flash of something moving. Quickly, hoping that it might lead to her thong, Becca began to follow it, down a side alley branching off of the main alley, where she had assumed she had lost her thong. But perhaps she had been wrong! Perhaps a breeze had blown the thong down this side alley … perhaps the flash she had seen was her thong! She had to find out, if it was the last thing she ever did upon this barren planet!
So Becca ran, ran like the wind—taking only a few short half-hour breaks to regain her breath—down the side alley, following the flashing thing that may or may not be her thong.
Finally, the side alley ended, with a brick wall. And beneath the wall were stairs, leading down, down into the depths of a place that Becca could not fathom.
But, she had no other clues in the search for her thong so, pulling her trenchcoat tightly around her naked body, she crept down the stairs, noticing as she did that the foam had long since disappeared from her heels.
Damn Krazy Glue.
She crept down into the darkness, noticing as she did that this place, although dank, had fluorescent lighting, so therefore it wasn’t technically dark. But it felt dark, which meant that it was, indeed, a dank, dark place, filled with dreariness and, possibly, deception.
As Becca continued to descend, she noticed pictures on the wall. Pictures of a woman. A woman who looked kind of like …
Her!
Becca stopped where she was, and let her trenchcoat hang open in shock. There were pictures of her on the walls of the staircase! Pictures of her in various poses; some naked, some wearing her thong, some wearing her thong and trenchcoat outfit. But all pictures of her. Very sexy pictures indeed, even if she did say so herself—and she did!
But then she wondered, who had put these pictures here, and how did they know her? Was it someone that she knew, or did she have a stalker? Becca hoped it was the latter; Stalkers were just so cool! She had always wanted to have sex with a real, live stalker!
So, Becca continued down the stairs, with even more purpose than before. And, when she came to a door, and opened it, and walked through it … she had to stop, and gasp, at the sight before her.
There, in the center of the room, on a pedestal awash in a pillar of light, was a statue of her. A naked statue. A very realistic, yet sexy statue. And all around the dimly lit room, there were pictures of her. And something else…
All around the room were thongs. Her thongs. Thongs that she had ‘lost’ in alleyways.
And in the center of the room, kneeling before the statue, was a man. A sexy man. And he was holding in his hands a thong—the same thong she had been wearing earlier.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, startling him, “that’s my thong! Give it back!”
He turned around and looked at her in awe, clutching the thong even tighter.
“So the legends are true,” he whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at her.
Becca screamed with frustration, and her trenchcoat, already loose, fell to the floor, leaving her nude, as nude as the statue.
“What are you talking about, you freak?” she exclaimed. “Just give me back my thong, you stalker!” Although she had previously thought the idea of a stalker to be kinda cool, she now found it incredibly scary, as opposed to arousing.
“But you …” he pointed at her, then to the statue. “You are Becca, reincarnation of the ancient Goddess Becca!”
Becca just stared at him. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
The man sighed and stood up, and took some spectacles out of his pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose. He also took a pointer out from the crotch of his pants. What it was doing there, Becca didn’t want to know—but she would have loved to find out!
The man cleared his throat, and pointed to the statue with his pointer. “This is Becca, Goddess of Thongs,” he said, holding up the thong he held in his hands. “If not for her, thongs would never have been created! However, throughout the years, with all the various religions that popped up in various parts of the world, people forgot about Goddess Becca.” He shook his head sadly, and then held it up, proudly. “But not me! I never forgot her! I have been worshipping her ever since a little boy.” He looked down at the thong he held in his hand, and a tear shed from his eye. “Ever since I discovered the first thong, in an alley near my house, I knew. I knew that the reincarnation had arrived. That Becca lived again!” Then he started to laugh hysterically, his hands clutching the thong to his heart.
“And here you are! I knew you would come! When I found this thong in the alleyway, I knew you would come!” And he continued laughing, as Becca just stood there, confused.
“You don’t expect me to do anything, do you?” she asked, “because I really don’t want to have anything to do with a crazy guy like you! Well … you are kind of cute. I guess we could sleep together, but really, that’s about it!”
He stopped laughing, and stared at her with crazy, insane eyes. “Oh, it’s not sex I’m after!” he exclaimed. “Well … not yet.”
“No,” he continued, “What I’m after is the creation of a new religion. The religion of thongs! Where we all worship thongs, and the Thong Goddess, Becca! But,” he added, “we can’t do that unless there really is a goddess! So, my plan was, through human sacrifice, and the special alignment of planets that will be occurring in exactly ten minutes, to turn you from a plain old human being into an immortal goddess!” He cackled evilly, yet again.
“O …. K,” Becca said, rolling her eyes. “And if I say I don’t want you to?”
“You have no choice!” he exclaimed, unveiling his diabolical machine. There, lying on a table with a childishly written label, “Sacrificial Person,” lay her lover.
“No!” she cried, running to her lover.
“Yes!” cried the crazy man, still clutching the thong in his hand. And then he went over to the statue, stuck his hand in between her legs, and put a finger up into her marble vagina, flicking a switch.
Suddenly, lights began flashing all around the room, and Becca cringed, and fell to the floor, unable to move. And then she felt all weird and tingly inside, like she was having sex.
Noticing the crazy man lying above her and grunting, she realized that she was having sex, with him! And he was actually quite skilled! And as they had sex, she could feel her consciousness slipping away, even as the pleasure grew inside her. And when she climaxed, she could see and hear and feel only blackness.
When she awoke, it was several hours later, and she felt weird. She could see the crazy man standing by the statue, weeping into the marble woman’s cunt.
“What happened?” Becca asked groggily.
The man just shook his head. “It didn’t work!”
“Well, DUH,” Becca exclaimed, that’s because I’m NOT the reincarnation of a goddess! You’re just a crazy man! You must have seen me on the street somewhere, and when I lost my thong you began following me, and stalking me, and made a marble statue that looks like me. And you decided that you wanted to start your own religion, and wanted me as the figure head. But, come on, loser! You may be good in bed, but you’re NOT good in the head!”
Becca stood up, brushed herself off, and took one of the thongs down from the wall and slipped it on. She then daintily walked over to the entrance of the room, where her trenchcoat lay, and slipped it over her shoulders, tying the belt around the waist, even though she knew it would come undone within a few minutes. Then, almost as an afterthought, she went to check on her lover.
It was then that she realized he was dead.
“No!” she whispered fiercely, as the tears began to flow.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
And so she began to weep over his body, realizing that it was all her fault that her lover had died.
After a few hours, she wiped her face, and looked around. The crazy man had left her there, alone with her lover, in this … tomb.
Yes, it would make a nice tomb for him. No one would ever come here; no one would ever disturb him.
With one last glance back at her dead lover, she walked up the stairs and out into the alley. And as she ran through the alley, towards her lover’s home, the thong she wore, one that she had lost many years ago, slid down her thighs once again, to be lost amidst the sands of time—or to lie dormant, in a lovers tomb.
The only remnants of the love of a goddess.
Becca's Life
Evening of Delight
