by Scarlett M Butler
“Becca,” the dark voice whispered.
“Mmm,” Becca replied, touching herself.
“Becca … are you listening to me?”
Becca just grunted as she shoved aside her thong and thrust her arm inside herself, all the way up to the elbow.
“Becca! Dammit, Becca! Listen to me!”
Becca wasn’t paying attention to anything at the moment, much less some stupid disembodied voice. Her arm began to pump in an out of her, and after only a few thrusts, she came, her brown juices gushing all over her arm. She withdrew it, and began to lick it as though it were a popsicle, as her thong snapped back into place.
“Mmm,” she murmured, in ecstasy, “Tastes just like chocolate!”
“BECCA YOU INSOLENT LITTLE GIRL! I’M TRYING TO TALK TO YOU HERE, BITCH!”
Becca jumped up with a start, her arms flailing wildly, splattering brown fluid all over her dingy bedroom.
“Who’s there?” she whined, “You don’t have to shout! I was just having a little fun!” Becca began to pout, crossing her flabby arms over her tiny bosom and flopping her entire 4’11 346 lb frame down onto the bed, which wasn’t really a bed, but rather, a mattress on the floor of some building’s boiler room, which she had claimed as her bedroom the week before.
“It’s me, Becca! I’ve returned for you!”
Suddenly, out from behind one of the furnaces crept a figure hiding himself with a wide-brimmed hat and a black cloak held carefully in front of himself.
Becca just blinked.
“Do I know you?” She asked the man.
He just kinda stood there, looking at her funny.
“It’s me, Becca! Your true love!”
He threw off the hat and cloak in one move—or rather, attempted to. Unfortunately, the cloak accidentally got wrapped around his arms and legs, and he collapsed to the ground, writhing around in pain, trying to free himself from the confines of the stupid black cloak. Meanwhile, his hat fell gently from his head, revealing his face.
Becca gasped.
“I know you! You’re that guy that used to work in the ice cream trucks during the summer, back when I was just a young girl with a prepubescent body! Your job was just to hide your true nature, of being a child molester!” She ran up to him, and caught his still-cloaked body in a bone-crushing bear hug, as brown tears began to fall from her eyes. “Oh, I remember all those long, passionate nights, in the cramped back of the ice cream truck, as we made sweet, sweet love amidst the melting ice cream, just like it was yesterday!” She thought about that for a moment. “Oh, wait a minute, it was yesterday! I was jogging in the park, following some dog that had somehow stolen my thong, when I heard the tinkling of the ice cream truck bells, and I ran over as fast as my little legs would carry me, and there you were! And last night, we renewed our passions with fervor, as I pretended that I was still that little girl, in braces and braids!” She sighed, and stared down at him with lustful eyes. “Chester, is it really you?”
“Err, not exactly,” the man replied, blushing. “My name is Larry, and I’ve been stalking you for awhile now, actually.”
Becca looked at him curiously, her trench coat falling loose revealing all her bodily charms to his roving eyes. “Why would you do that?” she asked cluelessly.
“Because I love you!” Larry declared, still struggling against the confines of his cloak.
“But … why?” Becca asked, sitting back and letting her trench coat slip down her shoulders, revealing that the only piece of clothing covering her rotund body was a simple blue and white tiger-striped thong.
“Umm …” Larry would have scratched his head if his arms were not caught up in his cloak. “I don’t know, I just do!” he exclaimed, rather nervously, glancing around as he did so. Kind of shifty-like.
“Ok,” Becca said.
They just sat there for a few minutes in silence, as Larry tried, and failed, to remove his cloak from his person.
“So …” Becca began, as she counted the sheep that had somehow wandered into the boiler room from the farm next door. “Is there anything you’d like to … talk about?”
“No, not really,” Larry replied, still struggling with his cloak.
“Oh.” A moment of silence. “Ok.”
The awkward silence continued to fill the room for the next twenty-four hours, until the entire room filled to the brim with sheep.
Becca was now literally ‘riding’ one of the sheep, while another sheep, presumably a male one, went at her from behind. “Do you want to have sex with me?” she asked Larry. “I’m bored and there’s nothing else to do, and honestly I think these sheep are all virgins, because they’re kinda small, and they might be lambs.” She sighed once again, thinking of her nights of passion with Chester in the ice cream truck.
“Uh, sure,” Larry replied, finally freeing himself from his cloak.
Beneath the cloak, he was naked. Except for a man-thong.
“Ooh!” Becca cried with a giggle, and jumped from the sheep’s back to land atop her new lover, as she began humping his leg. “You’re naked, just like me!” Her thong had fallen off several hours before, and had somehow ended up on the neck of one of the sheep, who had wandered out into the alley and then returned, thong-less, a few minutes later.
Larry grunted as the morbidly obese yet extremely short woman knocked the wind out of him. “Well, yeah, I was planning on us having an emotionally fulfilling relationship,” he explained to her, earnestly.
Becca snorted, causing several days worth of phlegm to fly out of her nose and into his mouth, which in turn caused a gag reflex that accidentally made him swallow it. He shuddered as he felt the large green globs descend into his body through his esophagus.
“What-EVER!” she exclaimed, still humping her leg and beginning to cum, spreading her sticky brown fluids all over his leg, and the floor, where the liquid began to flow out to cover the entire floor of the boiler room, coating the hoofs of the sheep. “Who cares about emotions? All I want is a healthy, purely sexual relationship, in which I have a partner whom I can fuck like a rabbit, and yet not get emotionally entangled.” She quirked an eyebrow at him as she came again. “Is that understood?” she asked him.
“Very,” he murmured, attempting to shift beneath her; her massive figure, however, stopped him.
“Oh no you don’t, little man!” she cried with a lust filled rage, “You’re mine!” And then she jumped his damn bones!
She began to pound up and down on his hard flesh—she didn’t happen to notice the empty Viagra bottle that lay a few feet away, some of the contents spilled.
“I’M CUMMING, I’M CUMMING!” she exclaimed to her lover. And then, with a giant gush, a massive amount of brown liquid began to flow from the point at which they were joined, spreading out all over the entire room, coating everything with its stickiness, and its unique, stinky scent.
At long last, Becca was tired out from her passionate moment. She lay down beside her lover, and reached down inside herself, pulling out a cigarette and a match. She lit the cigarette, and then tossed the match away as she took a puff.
“You smoke?” Larry asked, confused.
“No,” Becca replied, blowing smoke in his face. However, it wasn’t the smoke that caused him to cringe and turn away—it was her foul breath!
It was then, as he turned his head, that Larry noticed one of the sheep was screaming in the sheep-tongue, and running around wildly. Its wool was on fire, from the match that Becca had just thrown away! And the fire wasn’t just staying there, either—it was sparking, and spreading to the other sheep—and igniting the flammable brown liquid on the floor!
“Oh no!” Larry cried, scrambling to his feet, “Becca, look what you’ve done! The entire place is going to burn down to the ground!” With that, he ran out of the room and into the alleyway, without a single look back.
Becca just lay there, like she was dead.
Was she dead?
The flames began to spread quickly. The fact that it was actually a boiler room made things even worse! And through it all, Becca just lay there, the cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
The flames grew closer to her, even as all the sheep either lay down to die or fled into the alleyway in a panic. Soon, the flames engulfed her, and nothing of her body could be seen.
Days later, when they finally cleared the rubble of what had once been a rather nice building, they came upon the boiler room, where the whole mess had started.
They knew there was a woman trapped under there; they assumed, after all this time, that she must be dead.
With a gulp, one of the workers, an elderly lesbian woman with short, green hair, began sifting through the rubble of the boiler room.
Finally, she felt a large lump beneath her feet. With a gulp, she realized that it must be the woman.
The dead woman.
A single tear slid down the green-haired dyke’s eye. Oh, how horrible, for such a young woman to die so young, while an old woman like herself was forced to live on, and on, and on, like the energizer bunny, except with green hair, not pink.
So she reached down, and touched the lump—then backed away, wide-eyed, as it began to move!
“It couldn’t be,” she whispered to herself, shivering in fright as she cowered in a corner, whimpering like a wounded dog. “A … zombie?”
And then, climbing out of the rubble, her body covered in bits of debris, Becca emerged from her cocoon, and stretched her arms high above her head. Her body was completely naked, as she began to do her morning stretches, in front of a fascinated lesbian woman.
“You—you’re alive!” the dyke exclaimed.
Becca giggled and waved at the woman, not at all ashamed by her nakedness. “Well, of course I am! Otherwise I wouldn’t be here, now, would I?” she giggled again at the sillyness of the senile old woman.
“But … but how?” exclaimed the green-haired woman.
“Oh, that’s simple! You see, the fire was coming closer, but I was just kind of sleeping, because I was very satisfied from the orgasm I just had. Then, suddenly, as the flames were about to engulf me, a breeze came in from the doorway that led to the alley. The breeze was strong enough to pick up my trench coat, and let it float on the breeze to reach me in time before the flames actually reached me! And since it’s flame retardant, or resistant, or whatever that word is, the flames didn’t hurt it, and therefore, they didn’t hurt me!” Becca grinned, and picked up her charred and singed trench coat, which was barely recognizable as a trench coat. She hugged it close to her body, and kissed it lovingly, caressing its wounds. “Oh, my darling,” she whispered, batting her eyelashes at it.
The green-haired woman sighed with relief as Becca put the trench coat on her body, tying the belt loosely around her waist, and then sauntered off, into the alley, reaching down only to pick up a single blue and white tiger-striped thong that lay there in the shadow of a trash can.
Becca's Life
Monday is Marvelous
