This is my first attempt at Bananun.
Mary Eunice's body rose languidly from its slumber, lanky limbs akimbo and silken hair spread haphazardly across pillows. She stretched her arms above her messy head and sucked in the morning air with a sturdy and noisy sniff. Not unlike a fiendish children's cartoon, her delightful lips curled into an unsettling grin and the lips parted in a chuckle. "What wicked, wicked things can we do today, my dear?" The grinning lips said to themselves as long legs came to stop before an aging mirror.
The angelic face began to contort in response, a weak voice coming in tiny gasps. "No, please, no more! Stop this horror and let me be!"
But a lovely hand tipped in strikingly red nails came up and slapped the face of its own body. "None of that, you little bitch," the cool lips said to themselves again.
The body's haughtier inhabitant now in control, lithe arms wound around it like those of a lover and slid rakishly over the flimsy material of a sleazy nightgown. A long, delicate throat hummed unmelodically in no particular time to the sultry movements of the body, and the hands stopped for just a moment to cup their own breasts.
"My, my! What perky little breasts you have, my dear," she purred, admiring her new-found flesh. "Why, the better to," she paused to bend and glide her hands along the length of her legs. "…seduce you with." She continued to hum and prance for her own reflection as she considered the possibilities for the day. With so many nutty people to spook and religious types to insult, her choices were limitless, really. She could provoke the paranoid or get the prudey ones hot and bothered, terrorize the mutes… She sighed contentedly. A crooked institution was the greatest place for her to land, she decided. It was all like a charming little playland made especially for Satan.
She slid her hands to the apex of her thighs and dragged her nails across the skin above her curls, raising dots of flesh and a shiver in her borrowed spine. "There's never a bad time for un petit mort," she whispered to herself through devilishly curling lips.
"What have you in your darkest dreams, little nun? Hmm?," she murmured. The presence pulled from the retreating mind of its beautiful host to draw inspiration of mischief from a maiden's desires in order to debauch the girl's sainthood. Being an omnipotent being had so many perks; she couldn't fathom why anyone wouldn't want to be the devil.
"La-di-da," she murmured, fingers stilling. "Perhaps we'd better go out in search of another woman's touch."
It was at this moment, however, that an unmistakable and wholly disturbing wail broke free through the halls and rang like a phone receiver in her ears.
"Well, speak of the fuckin' devil!" She squealed. "How delightfully refreshing!" Maybe there was a God after all, handing her a delicious little lesbian on a silver platter of crazy.