"Quick! Take all of her clothes off!" Carlisle screeched, pawing lewdly at Isabella's shirt. Both Bella and I smacked at his hands, and he pulled back, immediately shoving a finger in his mouth. "Damn. Why'd ya have to go and do that? I just want to examine her. Esme, fetch my douche bag."
I stared at him quizzically. I wasn't quite sure what douching had to do with her tightly stretched face, and I sure as shit wasn't going to let Carlisle anywhere near Isabella's glorious body when it was unclothed. "Uh, yeah. I don't think she needs to be naked."
Esme rushed up behind him carrying his very conservative black doctor bag with the word 'DOUCHE' emblazoned across it with neon yellow block letters. She hovered over Isabella, trying to cop a feel of her heaving titties.
"Jufbt... giff... me... epppinefphreen," Isabella huffed, her lips slightly blue. Her tongue was now so swollen it stuck out of her mouth, like she was trying to be sassy... except she was wheezing and clawing at her arms.
"What's that, spastic?" Carlisle grinned down at Isabella, standing with his arms crossed over his still-nude chest. I wished he'd put on some pants.
"She has a strawberry allergy," I explained impatiently. "She needs epinephrine before her throat totally closes up."
Esme stopped her groping and eyeballed me. "You got all of that from that fucked up sentence?"
"No, she told me before her lisp got so bad."
Carlisle nodded and squinted, peering at Isabella's now-grotesquely swollen mouth and tongue. "All right, sweetheart, just let me get my EpiPen." He dug around in his bag, and Isabella started scrabbling at my pants. I thought for a second she was trying to touch my dick, and I immediately stuck my hand out in front of my Albert for protection purposes. Then I noticed her lips had turned bluer, her eyes bulging. Oh shit! She couldn't breathe!
"Hurry it up - she's going to die!" I fell at her feet, wrapping my arms around her calves. "Oh, Isabella, don't go, sugar booger! Stay! Don't go into the light!" Esme snickered, but I felt Isabella's hands clutching at my hair, nearly tearing it out by the roots, so I felt confident she was fighting to stay alive simply at my urging. "I'll never give you strawberries again; just don't die!" I sobbed into her kneecaps, patting her juicy thighs.
Isabella's grip on my hair loosened, and I slowly became aware that the room was silent other than my jagged crying and whining. I lifted my head to see three faces staring down at me. Carlisle's eyebrows were raised incredulously, Esme just looked amused, but Isabella smiled wanly at me, swaying precariously.
"Your tits look so hot from this angle," I blurted, hugging Isabella's leg.
"Ohb." Her tongue still fell over her giant lips, but she seemed to be breathing just fine... even though her perfect tits still rose and fell heavily as she sucked in breaths of air. "Noo, I'mb pfwine naow. Cawliwle gath me a thot."
Carlisle held up a thin purple dildo. "See?"
I punched him in the dick. "You shot her with your sex toys?" I yelled over his tormented howling. "What kind of fucked up doctor are you?"
Esme rolled her eyes and patted Carlisle's back as he hunched, clutching his junk. "No, you ass. That's an EpiPen. I had a special one made for him so we could carry it to our swinger parties. I have an allergy to whipped cream."
Carlisle hissed in a deep breath and blew it out again, his eyes clenched tightly shut. "You're... so... fired, dude."
"Now, now," Esme said, rolling her eyes and tousling his hair as he took turns glaring at the two of us. Isabella propped herself up against a wall and watched with wide eyes. "That's just the trauma to your man meat talking. Let's get some ice on that."
"Ice?" Carlisle propped one eye open, a hopeful look on his face. "Will you do that thing with my ass?"
"Whoa! Will you look at the time?" I shot to my feet and turned to Isabella. She looked absolutely panicked, and I worried her attack was worsening. "Are you okay?"
"Wyaw. Lwetsh jusht get out awf herrrr. Thew'rw thucked upp."
I had no idea what she said, but it was definitely time to go. When I turned around to thank Carlisle for his quick treatment of my beloved Isabella, Esme had her hand on his dick, rubbing it furiously. I averted my eyes since his hard-on exposed more of his strangely dark pubic hair. I'd seen more of him than I wanted to already, and I was afraid of seeing anything else that would jeopardize our professional relationship.
"Uh, we're going to go. Um, thanks, Carlisle. Sorry about the dick."
"No harm, no foul, dude," he rasped out, waving me off. "See you at work tomorrow."
-({})-
Despite everything we'd gone through together tonight, I awkwardly dug my hands into my pockets on the doorstep of Isabella's brownstone, fumbling in vain for something eloquent to say. I didn't want our date to end, but seeing as we were at her door and she hadn't yet invited me in, the night had pretty clearly reached its logical conclusion.
"Can I kiss you goodnight?" I asked, not even bothering to disguise the naked hope in my voice.
Her lips were still puffy but no longer in a way that resembled a flotation device. They were swollen like engorged pussy lips, which reminded me that before the great strawberry fubar, I was trying to try to nose my way into her panties.
"My mouth hurts a little," she said woefully. "I love kissing you so much."
"Hold still," I whispered and cupped her jaw in my hand. I drew my mouth to the corner of hers and kissed her very softly, just the tiniest bit of pressure to her drool-dampened skin. A tiny whine expelled from her lips.
"How long until you're able to make love?" Her voice was frantic, and it didn't escape my notice that her hips were bucking. I lowered one of my hands to her thigh and squeezed.
"A few more days, my gumdrop." I french-kissed her nose, licking furiously at her nostril.
"Ohhh." She panted and squeaked in response. I tried to fuck her nose with my tongue to give her a taste of what was to come, but things got a little slippery, and I accidentally licked the corner of her eye, sending her brow into a palsy-like frenzy.
"That's a naughty little eyebrow you have," I chastised teasingly and bit it gently.
"It twitches when I'm excited." She wiped away my saliva from her forehead and fingered the corner of her brow.
"I noticed."
"I'm excited." She was bucking like a bronco now, so I pushed my knee discreetly between her thighs to give her something to hump since I couldn't give her my cock and she seemed reluctant to let me eat her. She grunted and rutted, and her eyebrow bounced in rhythm with each hump, redefining the term 'eye-fucking'.
"Can I come inside?" I pleaded, pressing my forehead against hers.
"Your eyebrows twitch, too," she whispered against my nose, ignoring my request.
Suddenly, I noticed my eyebrows were indeed dancing against hers, like sympathy spasticness. I could feel my hairy Tribbles nuzzling and caressing her dainty silk worms, gently at first in a languid stroking motion, but as the friction increased, the dance transformed into a skirmish. I gasped as our brows became frenzied, as if they couldn't quite get enough, rising and falling and battling for dominance like duelling tongues in cheesy romance novels. Not that I knew anything about those.
"Edward," Isabella cried, standing up on her toes and arching against my face. I hunched over to offer her a better angle on my head. "Faster... harder..." she moaned, rubbing my forehead raw with her ministrations. Tiny hairs flew around us like feathers as she gasped and panted.
"Oh, god..." I groaned.
"Your eyebrows are so big, Edward... so hairy."
My body erupted into goose bumps, standing each hair of my brow erectly on end.
"Please let me come inside, Isabella? I have so much more than just my eyebrows to give you."
The front door of her house flew open, revealing a wizened older man, his dark hair swirling thinly around the top of his head in a single strand. Isabella jumped back, her face turning redder than the strawberries I'd used to make the killer buttercream.
"Isabella Marie Swan! What did you do to your face? Did this ass clown do that to you?" The man pulled a massive gun from the waistband of his pants and waved it in my direction. I hopped off the stoop, panicked and trying to ignore the sudden, shooting pain in my dick from all the movement.
"Daddy, no!"
Daddy? My dreams of pleasuring my sweet cherry parfait evaporated as Isabella wrestled the gun away from her alleged father, and I ducked behind the car parked in front of her house.
"Don't think I can't kill you with my bare hands, boy!" the old man yelled. "You hurt my daughter, and you're worm meat, you hear me?"
I peeked over the hood. Isabella tugged him back inside the house and yelled over her shoulder, "Stay there, Edward!" as she closed the door behind them both with a firm click.
My breath was hissing out of me as I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. Oh god, Isabella's father thought I'd hurt her. With a sudden gasp, I realized he was right. I had hurt her. It was all my fault - I was the one who gave her the buttercream that nearly killed her. If it hadn't been for me, Isabella never would have eaten strawberries. I was dangerous... a monster. I was a horrible human being, and all the pussy bouquets in the world couldn't make up for it.
Her father was probably in there explaining that to her right now. She would never forgive me. Never! As I sagged down, sliding my back against the car until I was curled up into a tortured ball by the tire, the air around me sparkled and the opening strains of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" sounded. The lead singer, the bald one who wore the bandanna, appeared, shimmering like a ghost as he pointed at me and sang the first verse. A single tear tracked down the side of my face, pooling in my ear.
My angel had to hate me, and even if she didn't, I could so easily have killed her tonight that I had to let her go for her own good.
Though I tried not to hurt you, thought I tried, I guess that's why they say -
The door slammed shut behind me, and I could only imagine it was either Isabella's father coming out to finish the job or Isabella herself coming to tell me to leave her alone. The singer guy spun around, joined now by a battalion of scantily clad women and a guy who looked suspiciously like a pimp, all of them now singing the chorus of "Love is a Battlefield."
"What are you doing?" Isabella's sweet voice floated above the musical break up scene playing out in front of me and pulled me from my hallucination. I waved sadly at the dancers as they faded into the night. It was probably the closest I'd get to tits for a decade after Isabella dumped me... or I had to break up with her.
"Are you alright, my honey biscotti darling?" I asked tremulously, wiping my face as I sat up.
She quickly sat beside me, folding her legs beneath her. "Er, I'm fine. But... you know... I'm sorry about my dad. He's a little crazy."
I couldn't even look at her. "He should be crazy about protecting you, Isabella. You are more precious than all the bung hole bundt cakes in the world. If someone else had maimed you, I would have tried to kill them, too. I deserve to die."
"What are you talking about?" Her fingers on my leg were warm. I ached for her, knowing I'd never kiss her again.
"I nearly killed you tonight! The strawberries. I should have known!"
"Oh, good gravy," Isabella muttered while climbing to her feet. "Get up, Edward."
"Are you going to punch me? Aim for my cock - it'll hurt more." I pushed myself up, using the car for support. I'd probably lose my dick permanently when she hit me... but I didn't mind; I needed to be punished for what I'd done to her.
I finally raised my eyes to her face, determined to watch as she destroyed me. Isabella rolled her eyes.
"Do you have pussies at your house?"
"What?" I didn't understand what that had to do with anything, but I answered her honestly. "Oh, uh, well... I do have quite a porn collection."
"Well... uh, yeah. Do you have pussy cupcakes? Or those cannoli from earlier? Maybe more buttercream?" Isabella's eyebrow was starting to twitch again, her eyelids still puffy from her earlier near death experience.
"At the apartment?"
She nodded.
"Yeah, but why? I'm not allergic to anything," I informed her dejectedly. "You could probably choke me with an ejaculating eclair, though."
"Er, I don't... want to hurt you. I'm just checking to see if you have anything to eat. I'm staying overnight."
My forehead wrinkled in confusion. "But Isabella... your father, and I, well, I nearly killed you!"
"Dad's a little crazy. My mom can take care of him for the night - she was, uh, indisposed when he came out."
"But... but... he had a gun!" I stammered.
"A water pistol," she explained. "He's a retired school teacher - he went a little nuts after he was forced to resign from the school. Apparently he was running around telling people he was a police officer."
"Oh. But, Isabella, I'm a danger to you! How - "
She interrupted me by pressing her puffy lips very gently to mine. "Edward, you're being... er, silly," she said when she broke away. "I never told you I was allergic to strawberries."
"But..."
"But, nothing." She picked up a duffel bag I hadn't noticed before and squared her shoulders. "I think you have to take me home with you now."
"Why, my beloved biscotti?"
"Well, for starters, I think my neighbor might call the police if we don't leave soon. He probably thinks you've been fiddling with his car."
I looked around, and there was a large man peering out her front window with a phone in his hand. I waved hello, hoping I could apologize with a plate of dirty whoopie pies. I could deliver them tomorrow night. And perhaps Mrs. Swan would enjoyed some pressed cookies - I had a new plate for my press gun that would carve dick shapes into the top of the dough.
Isabella picked up my hand, curving her fingers around my palm. "And secondly, I'd like to talk to you about cocks and pussies."
"You're not afraid to be around me?" I asked, my resolve to protect her from me crumbling.
"No." I glanced up; her eyebrow was undulating again.
"Well... yeah, we can go to my apartment. I do have some of the less perfect pussy cupcakes there, and I'll let you beat some dough for the cock cakes if you like."
"I wasn't talking about cake."
A/N: We've been alluding to the general insanity of this chapter for days on Twitter (what, you don't follow us? Come find us at BellaFlan and mac_214), so we hope this lived up to the sweet, sweet hype.
The idea for the bung hole bundt cake is not ours – thanks to Profitina for that one. Have more ideas for insanely bizarre erotic desserts? Send them our way or post totally inappropriate photos over the the Twi'd thread for Sweet Tooth.
Many thanks to askthemagic8ball and Jkane180, our betas, and JewelzP, our prereader, who go above and beyond in dealing with the cracktasticness of all this. If we could, we'd deliver bung hole bundt cakes and ejaculating éclairs to you every damn day.
