Here's the second half! Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far!
I realized yesterday it would have been funny if I named this fic "Hole Milk" (GET IT? Like WHOLE Milk? But instead it's HOLE so it's a pun.)
If you forgot what was going on in the fic: when we last left off, our heroes were on the side of the road, America thought God wanted him to visit a nunnery, and England was gay. Enjoy.
X
When I got to the nunnery, I realized it wasn't exactly a nunnery. It was a 'group home' RUN by nuns. That's what it said on the sign on the outside. In case you didn't know, 'group home' is PC liberal talk for orphanage. It was the kind of place crack-whores and irresponsible knocked up teenage sluts left their accidental babies on the doorstep of. See girls? That's why you save it for your husband. If you don't, you'll either have to abort your baby and that's a sin and makes Jesus cry because he too was also a baby, or you have to leave it with nuns and then it will end up Catholic and who wants that?
"Hmm," I said, staring at the sign. "I hope God isn't telling me to adopt an orphan and give it a much needed loving home. Because that'd really cut into my TV time."
"You idiot," said England. He didn't put his shirt back on, just the big puffy coat. "If God is saying anything, it's that here is a place for you to find a baby for the nativity scene."
:O
"Oh my glorious GOD! You are so right, England!"
YAAAAY! :D This was perfect! I needed a baby, and I asked for God's help, and through that 2009 Toyota Highlander he has shown me the WAY! Pssh, and all this time I was worried this had something to do with being gay. Silly me! I've known all along that the best thing to do with gay stuff is just ignore it and hope it goes away on its own. It's just a distraction from important things, like borrowing orphaned babies for a night.
England tried to open the door, but it didn't move. "It's locked," he said, but in a tone like he didn't care or maybe even was glad! "Oh well. We failed. I suppose it's time to go back home and finish … exchanging gifts." MOAR LIKE EXCHANGING BODILY FLUIDS. Nice try, England.
"We can't just give up! God wants me to take one of these babies, and I am."
SMAAAAASH!
"The hell!" startled England, jumping back.
"God wanted me to shatter that window, and I did," I said, holding a rock in a hand now dripping with blood.
"GOD!" he exclaimed in a panic.
"Yep, that's who. Now come on. Hop through this window with me and help me find a spare baby."
England watched me climb through the broken window (I'm pretty sure he was checking out my butt as I did so, as I could feel him eye-raping me.) After I was through he huffed and puffed like he was all mad and annoyed and didn't wanna do this, but in the end he followed me. Probably to keep looking at my butt, that pervert.
The first room was just like a foyer or something. We went down a hall, looking around, but it was dark and we were guided only by God's love in my heart telling me what to do and also the light from my cellphone.
There were doors in the hall. I assumed they led to rooms with orphans and stuff in them. We needed to find the one for babies. We poked open one of the doors, but the kids in that room were toddlers which was a little too old and therefore worthless to me.
One of them woke up when I opened the door. It was a little girl, no more than two. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and looked my way. "Santa?" she asked.
"Uh … yeeeeah …" I said. "I'm Santa. Go back to sleep or you won't get any presents."
"We're gonna get presents?" she asked excitedly. "Sister Whoopie said God couldn't afford presents this year."
"Uhh … byeeeee."
Then I closed the door.
"Brilliant job," said England, rolling his eyes. At least they weren't on my butt though.
Luckily the next one had babies in it. Not like two years old toddlers, REAL babies. Like one or less. Oh, and can I just say that I really hate it when you ask a parent how old their kid is and they say something like thirty-six months? It's like, I asked how old your kid was, not for a gosh darn math problem. Say three like a normal person, GOSH! That has nothing to do with this story. Just wanted to say it.
"Hmm." I started looking the babies over. They were in cradles and stuff, lined up in two small rows. "Now I just gotta pick one out."
"If you're really going to do this, you really should hurry. The nuns could wake up at any moment and find us."
"Well, then help me pick one!"
"Any of them is fine."
"Uh, NO. I need to pick the perfect one! This is JESUS we're talking about! I can't let the church down!" I said. "… plus I need a white one because God is white."
"God isn't any race."
"BLASPHEMY!"
If God isn't white, then why is his kid white? And I know Jesus is white because he sure looks that way in the inflatable manger scene I have in my yard next to the inflatable Santa on a tractor. Oh, and Santa is also white. Coincidence? I dunno, I kinda forgot where I was going with this.
Oh yeah. I needed to pick a white baby.
There were a couple, but the first one I found looked … off. I stared into its eyes and it rustled my jimmies. First of all, it was tiny. Tiniest baby in the room. Well, its body was. Its head was more or less normal, but with an itty bitty body. Actually, the head looked misshapen, like how babies look when they first fall out of their moms, but this one still looked that way despite looking a couple months old. It looked all disproportionate to its body too, being normal size. Also its eyes didn't focus. They went in two different directions. It had a couple hairs, but like in random places. It had unusually thick eyebrows for a baby. Its nose looked smushed. All in all, it looked pretty jacked up.
"Ugh," said England, making a face. "Looks like someone had a few too many drinks while carrying that one, eh? Or crack."
I kept staring into its misaligned eyes. Something about it … I can't describe it. It was ugly as sin and yet, I was oddly drawn to it. I felt like God wanted me to find this baby. I felt like he was telling me this was the one. This was the one to play Jesus in the nativity scene.
I picked up the baby and held it out in front of me. "I'm getting this one."
"That one?" England looked disgusted. "It's ugly as hell."
"I know. It's got a face only a mother could love. Except apparently not even she did because it's an orphan." I cradled the baby to my chest and it snuggled against me. "But you know what? It just feels right. God wants me to pick this one."
"Ugh, you're touching it."
"It's like in Charlie Brown. The Christmas special. You seen it? Probably not, as it has strong Christian overtones, and you are a godless sodomite, so I shall explain."
SPOILER ALERT BOYS AND GIRLS! For the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. Though really if you haven't seen it yet, what gives? It was made like in the 40's or something.
"In the Charlie Brown Christmas Special," I began to explain, "Charlie Brown has to get a Christmas tree for the Christmas play. The other kids send him off to go buy one. They wanted a fancy one and it was up to Charlie Brown to get it! But when Charlie Brown got to the Christmas tree lot, he didn't pick out a nice fancy tree. You know what he picked? This crappy, ugly, little one. And when he brought it back to the other kids, they all made fun of him and his crappy tree. And Charlie Brown went home all upset because he got bullied, as this was back in the days before Bully-Free Zones. But then Linus told all the other kids what Christmas is really about, and recited a long part of the Bible — like REALLY long, even I was like wow how long is this gonna go — and the other kids felt bad for being little buttholes to him. So they went to Charlie Brown and decorated his tree and liked it after all and they lived happily ever after."
:)
But for some reason England was like -_-
"Don't you see, England?" I asked. "This baby is like that tree. And I am like Charlie Brown. I guess that makes you like Snoopy or something. But whatever, the point is I have to get this baby."
"I'll be Snoopy if you do me doggy style," he muttered. "Hell, I'll even bark as you do me, I don't care what you're into."
But I ignored his faggotry.
"Who's gonna make a good Jesus?" I said in baby talk to the ugly baby. "You are! YOU ARE!"
The baby started fussing.
"Look what you did," said England.
"Don't cry, little baby." I tried patting it, trying to simmer it down. "There, there, it's okay."
But it did no good. The baby started crying, like "WAAAAAAH!"
Suddenly England, who was still making his annoyed -_- face, looked very surprised like O_O . His eyes jolted open and he gasped.
"WAAAAAAHHH!" screamed the baby.
And the other babies started to wake up. They stirred and made little whimpering and fussing noises.
"Uh oh …" I said, glancing around the room.
Because then all heck broke loose. They ALL started crying.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! !"
England grabbed his chest. "Oh, fuck …"
"Shhh, shhhh!" I tried to calm the babies down, but they wouldn't listen to me. "Be quiet, babies! Don't wake the nuns up! They will hit me with a ruler! SHHHHH!"
England was holding his chest and shivering. "Oh God, it feels like a faucet."
"Huh?" I looked over to him. "What does?"
England unzipped his coat and flashed me! "This!" I saw his breasts were even more swollen, and steadily leaking milk. It was literally running down him. "It's from the babies crying."
"EEEEEEW!"
"Damn, it even hurts now," said England. "They're so swollen it's painful. I need to get this shit out of there." England grabbed a boob in each hand and squeezed. It was like he was milking a cow. I don't even think he was trying to be sexual about it that time. I really think he actually was just trying to get the milk out of him. And boy did he get a lot of milk out! It squirted out fast, all over the floor where he aimed. It was like a squirt gun, but with MAN MILK.
"UGH GROSS!"
I covered ugly baby Jesus's eyes. It didn't need to see that.
We needed to get out of there. With all those babies making a ruckus, the nuns were sure to show up any minute and catch us borrowing a baby. And that's probably illegal. I don't wanna spend Christmas Eve in jail! Then how will Santa find me and bring me an iPad Mini?
"Come on!" I started jamming for the door. "Let's go!"
Holding his milk jugs so they didn't bounce all around, England quickly followed me.
We dashed down the hall. But then I skidded to a sudden stop, as someone stepped in front of me.
It was the little girl from earlier. She looked sleepy, like she'd just gotten out of bed.
"Santy Claus?" she asked, confused. "Why? Why are you taking our baby? Why?"
I was nervous for a second. But ya know, I'm so smart and so slick. I thought up a lie and I thought it up quick.
"Why, my sweet little tot," I said. "There's an eye on this baby that won't work on one side. So I'm taking it to my workshop, my dear. I'll fix it there, and I'll bring it back here."
Dumb kid bought it, LOL! I gave her some water and sent her back to bed. Kids love water. Then me and England kept running.
"I can't believe you got away with that," said England as we hopped out the window.
"I know, right? I'm not even dressed like Santa. What a stupid kid, haha!"
X
I was so excited to show all the church peoples that I'd gotten a baby. We'd made it just in time, too. It was about ten minutes until showtime. Which really means like fifteen or twenty, because you know how all shows start a few minutes later than they say they will. Why? Because we can, that's why. What, are you gonna leave after coming all this way for a show? No, you're not, so get over it.
"You know your lines, right?" I asked England as we walked into church. "I think it's something like, 'here you go.'"
"'Here you go'?" England looked confused.
"Yeah. You say that as you give him the frankincense or whatever. Babies love frankincense."
"I don't think any of the Wise Men said 'here you go.'"
"What do you know? You're a gay homo."
"Oh, you're back!" said one of the church guys from before. "And you found a baby! Praise Jesus."
"Yes, praise him," said the other church usher guy. "I already do on a regular basis, but it's always good to say it some more."
I was holding the baby. It was snuggled up close to my chest. If you're wondering how I got it there without a car seat, don't worry. God is my copilot! And also a baby's car seat.
I held the baby out to them. "One of y'all wanna take it so I can change into my costume?"
Then they both went from :D to D:
"UGH! What is wrong with that baby? !"
"Yeah, it's hideous!"
I was expecting this. Hehehe … I knew it all along! Just like in Charlie Brown and his adventures. They mocked the ugly tree. Now they will mock this ugly baby. That is until I remind them the true reason for the season.
So I said to them, "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men."
(I know you didn't read all that and just skipped over it. But that is literally exactly what Linus said so I understand. Pretty long, huh? I don't blame you for skipping past it. God might though.)
"That's what Christmas is all about, church guys," I said.
:)
"What does that passage have to do with having an ugly baby play Jesus?" one of them asked. "Nothing, it just talks about Jesus' birth. It doesn't say he was an ugly baby."
"Yeah," agreed the other. "In fact, we say Jesus was a beautiful child all the time!"
:/
I glanced to England. He was wearing the puffy coat and crossing his arms, trying to keep his milk makers in check. "Help me out here, England."
"Don't ask me. I told you not to get the ugly one."
"Looks like we will be canceling the live nativity scene after all," said the usher. The other nodded.
"What? No, you can't!" I exclaimed. "You'll change your minds! You'll see you're wrong about this baby! Just like all the kids in Charlie Brown! They were wrong about that tree! It worked just fine! And so will this baby! After all, it was made in God's image! So if you say it's ugly you're saying God did shoddy craftsmanship, and we all know he doesn't, and neither does Jesus, he was a good carpenter, he was especially good at building decks and patios. So can you please just look into your hearts, and give this little guy a chance, and let the show go on, and we can enjoy a nice, wholesome Christmas Eve with a live manger scene like God intended?" :D
"No."
:(
X
I went home and was super bummed. It was Christmas Eve, the most holiest of nights. Holiest as in holy like God-like not like filled with holes. I was talking about MY Christmas Eve — one of a good Christian — not of some sodomite like England who wanted his Christmas Eve filled with actual holes. Like buttholes, but anyway. It was the holiest of nights and yet how did I spend it? NOT going to church and stealing a baby and staring at England's sinful sweater puppets.
I don't think that's what Jesus wanted :(
So I was sad. I didn't say a single word on the car ride home. I was so upset I wasn't even hardly paying attention to driving. Like Carrie Underwood I was just like JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL! England didn't say anything either. He just sat and leaned against the car window, looking out of it. He would grunt a little and squirm whenever the baby made some noise, like it whimpered and cried a little, but he never actually said anything to me or whipped out his AMPLE MAMMARY GLANDS, thank the Lord.
When we got home, I threw my tie on the ground that was never really tied anyway, and went upstairs.
"You can stay if you want," I said to England as I was going up them. "But you're sleeping on the couch."
I crashed on my bed and so totally did not cry like a spigot into my pillow, you guys.
… okey, that was a lie. I did do that. I'm not gonna lie because lies make baby Jesus cry. And he doesn't have a pillow to cry into like I did. He was born in a manger. That's a word you never hear except when talking about where Jesus was born. You ever notice that? Every other time we need to say that word, we say 'barn' or 'stable' … weird.
Thinking about that made me say NOOOOO! I will NOT just lie around and cry like some emo kid or self-flagellating Catholic. NO WAY YOU GUYS! God wants us to be happy. He wants us to enjoy life, like Tim Tebow. Why God thought a cruel joke like making a football player who prays and praises him so gosh darn mediocre at the game, I don't know, but God works in mysterious ways.
I decided the best thing to do in this situation was read God's WORD. God's WORD will always show you the way. It is his like exact WORDS. His exact WORDS paraphrased by his friends. I mean, God didn't write the Bible per se, because he can't write. I mean, he CAN, he's God — he can do whatever he wants. But for some reason he had to have friends write his WORDS for him. WORDS with friends. (Not the game.)
But everything in the Bible is what God says! It's like an instruction manual for life. Plus lots of other stuff you'll never need to know like how to cure a leper. If you're curious, according to God, you get two birds and kill one, then dip the blood of the dead one in the live one and drip it on the leper. Pssh, and you thought it was treated with DRUGS! No, the Bible has the REAL answers. It really says that. I kid you not!
It says all kinds of things. Did you know it also says if a man's testicles are crushed or his penis is cut off he won't get into heaven? Apparently this was enough of a problem that God felt the need to put this in the Bible.
But I wasn't reading Lorena Bobbit's favorite passage. I was reading the greatest story ever told. JESUS'S STORY. It is my favorite. Well, actually, Noah's Ark is probably my favorite story in the Bible. I like how it has animals, especially giraffes. I like giraffes. Oh! And I also really like the story of Jonah and the Whale because I like whales. I have one! But he never eats me because I'm not a sinner running away from God's orders like stupid Jonah. Also Whaley is a baleen whale and his mouth is not suited for eating large prey like myself, more like stuff like krill. My other favorite book in the Bible is the one where Jesus and his disciples have to shrink down and go inside one of their friend's bodies because he swallowed a watermelon seed, and they have to stop it from growing inside his tummy.
Those are my three favorites but technically I have to say the story of Jesus's birth is my favorite because … well … it's 'the greatest story ever told.' And all that.
So after a good cry, I was reading it, trying to learn from it and reflect upon the real reason for the season. If I can't be in the play, the least I could do was read the script! Scripture. Ooohh I just got that!
I squinted as I read. I realized as I was reading that the Bible never actually mentioned any animals being in the manger in the nativity scene. Even though in every nativity scene I'VE seen, there are sheep and donkeys and camels and stuff. What the …? This can't be right …
KNOCK KNOCK
There were two knocks at my bedroom door. Then it opened and there were two knockers at my door. (England's because he was at my door and he still had those huge boobs.)
"Hey," said England, opening the door before I even said to come in. RUDE! What if I hadn't been decent? Actually, he was probably hoping for that … "I know you're upset, so I went and got you something."
I looked up from the bed, where I was sitting there Indian style reading the Bible. "Huh?"
England came into the room with something in each hand.
"NUTTER BUTTERS!" I exclaimed happily. England had NUTTER BUTTERS! If you live under a rock or in some crappy Podunk country, Nutter Butters are peanut butter sandwich cookies and are so good it's like God's love exploded in your mouth. "Oh my gosh, where did you get Nutter Butters at this hour on Christmas Eve? !"
"Wal*mart," said England. He had a glass of milk in his other hand. "I took your car—"
"WHAT you took my car—"
"—and fetched some for you. I know how much you wanted biscuits and milk to leave out for Santa, and I knew how upset you were, I figured this would make you happier."
"BOY DOES IT!" I said happily. "I LOVE NUTTER BUTTERS!"
:'D
England sat on the bed with me. I happily took the Nutter Butters and started NOMNOMNOMING away, like Cookie Monster, who hasn't been the same ever since he found out Elmo likes underage boys, by the way. I had to set down my Bible so I could dunk some of the cookies in the milk. Don't wanna handle the delicate pages of a Bible with milky fingers!
"What are you doing?" asked England.
"Reading the Bible," I said, licking my fingers. "Did you know they don't mention any animals in the story of Jesus's birth? That blew my mind."
England really liked watching me lick my fingers. I could tell by that smirk. Ugh, I never should have let him sit on the bed with me. Two dudes sitting on a bed together is GAY. I stopped licking my fingers and just ate the cookies like normal, and washed them down with the milk, without any more dunking. It's a good thing England's not around when I eat Dunk-a-roo's.
"Never thought about it," said England. "Hey, it's almost midnight." He adjusted himself between the legs for a moment. "11:41 to be exact. Christmas is almost here."
"GASP!" I gasped. "We better hurry and get to sleep, or Santa might not come!"
"Don't you think we could stay up a little longer?"
I stopped chewing mid-bite. Because I realized England's hand was running up the inside of my thigh.
"WHOA!" I said, jumping back, falling onto one of my pillows. "England, how many times do I have to tell you? ! I will not commit faggotry with you!"
"But it's my Christmas wish," he begged. "It's all I want for Christmas."
"What is? !" I exclaimed. "My PENIS? !"
What, did England expect me to cut it off and wrap it in a box with a bow on it? NO WAY! First of all, if you cut off your penis, you don't get into heaven. And secondly, dick in a box is The Lonely Island's idea, and I won't just copy because I am more original than that. This wasn't the first time I'd told England that, but he never listens to me.
"It would be nice," England said, looking away with a smirk like he was imagining it. "But like I said, we don't have to go that far. I would settle for anything."
"Psssh, you mean anything SEXUAL and GAY!" I said. "You can't be happy with just sitting on this bed and eating cookies with me. Oh noooo, you gotta take your penis out for this to be a good Christmas Eve. WELL GUESS WHAT ENGLAND! There's no PENISES in the story of the birth of JESUS!"
"There's also not any animals, but we include them anyway, don't we?" said England like he thought he was a real wise guy. "Nor is Santa in the Bible. Or Rudolph or Frosty or any of that Christmas rubbish. And yet, it's part of the holiday anyway."
"You leave Frosty out of this!"
"Please," England begged. He was looking desperate, like a donkey in heat. I swear those were in the manger — they just gotta be! I can't imagine no donkeys in the manger … "Just for one night, put your homophobia aside, and make me happy … just for one night."
"I can't do that, England."
"But why?"
I sighed deeply and dramatically. I wish I hadn't eaten all the Nutter Butters. "I've told you a zillion times. I am not gay."
"But you told me you chose to be straight. So if you really think sexuality is a choice, you can choose to be gay."
:I
"I told you, England. The Bible says homosexuality is wrong. Do you know what it says about queers like yourself?"
"Yes, I—"
"Shut up, I'm gonna tell you. It says, 'If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.'" England didn't seem as scared as I thought he would. "Did you hear me, England? PUT TO DEATH!" I said. "That's quite a severe punishment for buttsex! God really hates it! So unless you want blood on your head, you should really stop getting gay with people, yes I know, for the Bible tells me so."
"Like you obey everything in the Bible," England scoffed. "We all sin sometimes. Just ask for God's forgiveness afterward."
"I follow the Bible to the best of my abilities. Whatever it says, goes."
"Oh really?" England seemed to think this was some kind of challenge. He made the ORLY face at me. "You don't tell white lies at times to not upset someone? You don't do any kind of work on the Sabbath? You don't indulge in any gluttony — one of the seven deadly sins — on occasion like eating an entire package of Nutter Butters in just a few minutes and not offering me even one?"
"You didn't ask—"
"The Bible is full of random rules no one can possibly follow. Things like you shouldn't pet rabbits or talk to women whilst they are menstruating."
Oh no. Oh no he didn't. OH NO HE DI-INT! Was England questioning the BIBLE? Which is God's WORD? Everything in there is written in stone. Like literally, okay? It was written on stone tablets or something, I think. If you question the Bible, you are questioning GOD. And God totally hates that. He finds questions annoying, which is why he made them a sin.
"Well, I didn't know that," I said. "But if it's in the Bible I gotta follow it, so from now on I won't pet rabbits anymore and I won't talk to chicks while they're on their periods."
"How the hell are you going to know if they are?"
"I'll ask them." Wait … if I ask them, that means I'm talking to them. Which means I might be talking to them while they're on their periods. But I can't know without asking. I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. (Like literally! Damned to hell!)
"So you're telling me, if I point to anything in the Bible, you will follow it?"
"Yep."
"Anything?"
"Mmmyep."
"Without question?"
"DUH! You're not supposed to question God."
England grabbed the Bible from me pretty quick. He started flipping through the pages. He was going through it like he actually knew what was in there! Psssh. Obviously they're not too acquainted or he wouldn't do all that sinning he does.
"Here it is," said England, stopping at one of the pages. "Read Song of Solomon 7: 7-8."
I gave him a suspicious look. How did he know a passage in the Bible and find it so fast? "Okay …" I said cautiously, taking the Bible back. I read it out loud, "'Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like its clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree and lay hold of its fruit. Oh may your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the scent of your breath like apples.'"
:/
There was an awkward pause.
"What the heck was that?" I asked. "Sounds like Shakespeare trying to write a crappy romance poem."
England snapped the book shut. "Does it matter? It's in the Bible."
"But I need context—"
"It's in the Bible. You said you wouldn't question anything in the Bible. That's a sin."
"BUT I NEED CONTEXT!"
There was a thump as England tossed the Bible on the ground. He crawled over on the bed, closer to me. But I was against the headrest and had nowhere else to back up to.
England was on all fours, facing me. "Climb my tree and lay hold my fruit, America."
"But — I don't even know what that line means — like what is it even referring to—"
"Shouldn't matter," interrupted England. "It's in the Bible. And you cannot question God's word."
"But but but—"
"You said it yourself. If it's in the Bible, you will follow it."
:I
Well, it appears I have found myself in a pickle. England wants my pickle inside himself. Or at least, to like, play with his boobs. What exactly does 'lay hold of fruit' mean anyway? The Bible is so cryptic. You can't be cryptic about what base I'm supposed to go to. Is second okay or was God saying to go all the way?
I didn't know what to do. On one hand, England was right. The Bible did say SOMETHING about climbing on top of him and holding his apple napples. Then again, that would be incredibly GAY, and as I have said before, I am not a gay homosexual. After all, it didn't say I had to climb England per se — that line was surely meant for like, a wife. A CHICK. You know … a WOMAN. (A non-menstruating one, of course.) (I don't care even if they do lay down a couple towels and just take a shower afterwards. It's a sin.)
Then again … it doesn't say 'she' specifically … it's in first person. Who writes in first person? ! It's a terrible way to write, as you only get one side of everything. All kinds of crazy things could be going on with the other characters and I wouldn't even know until it's too late.
"By the way," said England. "That milk I gave you was my breast milk."
D:
"BLECCCCH!" I retched. "UGH SICK! What is wrong with you? !"
It was Christmas Eve, and instead of having cookies and milk like a normal straight person, I had BREAST MILK with my Nutter Butters. MALE breast milk. From the MAMMARIES of a DUDE! Last I checked, this was no holiday tradition. Does Santa let his elves suckle from his old, withered but jolly teats? No, that is Mrs. Claus' job, because she is a woman, like God intended.
I held my tummy. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna toss my cookies!"
"It's okay," said England. He was crawling closer and closer to me. And we were fast running out of room between us. I leaned back to try to make some, but I hit the wall and my butt slid down. And then I was in this awkward position somewhere in between sitting and laying. "You liked it, didn't you?"
"I thought it was regular milk! From Wal*mart!"
England pulled his shirt over his head. He wasn't wearing a bra. "No, it was all me."
"Whoa!" I shielded my eyes with my arm. "You gotta stop whipping those things out like that!"
England pressed them together, smirking down at me. "I know this turns you on. Just touch them."
"NO!"
"Shhh."
Suddenly England climbed on top of me. Even though he was the tree, not me. The extra weight made me slide down the rest of the way, and then I was lying flat on my back.
With England now on top of me. With his boobs hanging down just above my face.
I got really cheesed off by this. I was about to shove him onto the floor for trying to get gay with me, but right before I could, England pressed his AMPLE BOSOMS into my face.
I started squirming, because I COULDN'T BREATHE! He had very large breasts, you guys.
"Mmmph mmmph!" I whimpered.
And then he pulled them away. I could breathe again, but only for a few seconds. Because he shoved one of his nipples in my mouth. And said demandingly, "Suck."
"Mmmph!" I protested.
"I said suck." He held it in my mouth very forcefully. "The Bible said to do so, remember? Don't argue with God."
I couldn't argue with God. I can't even question. Can't even PONDER! Whatever the Bible says, goes. And I told myself that over and over as I pushed back the tears, and sucked at England's dudeboob.
"Yesss," hissed England. "Just like that."
There were tears in the corners of my eyes as I sucked. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I couldn't believe this was in the Bible! Sexually explicit material in the Bible? ! That makes no sense! It's bad enough 50 Shades of Grey is out there! And that there are FIFTY of those books! Weren't the first one through forty-nine enough for perverts and sinners to get their jollies off too? Give your genitals a break!
It tasted … okay. I mean, I couldn't taste a difference earlier from regular milk when I was drinking it from the glass with my Nutter Butters. Though now that I was suckling it like this, I could taste it better. It tasted a little weird. Like there was something in it just slightly bitter. A sharp taste, really. Something with a little bite in it.
… alcohol is passed through breast milk, isn't it? :/
This was just a sin wrapped in a sin wrapped in another sin. A Russian nesting doll of sin. Thank God it wasn't Russia making me breastfeed from him though. As much vodka as he drinks, his milk would be 80 proof. For those of you who don't drink like me (yay go us!) 80 proof is a lot.
Neither of us spoke. All you could hear in the room as I nursed were these gross, wet gulping and suckling noises. I wished so badly I could have more Nutter Butters with this. I mean, I also wished I didn't have to do this. But I'm just sayin'. If I gotta do it, some Nutter Butters would be nice.
"You know," England said finally, "when you were little … when I found you as a baby, you tried to breastfeed from me a couple times."
I choked on his boob for a second. I pulled away to catch my breath, but as soon as I did, England put his nipple back in my mouth.
"You were so tiny and helpless back then …" he mused. "Okay, maybe not helpless. You tossed around buffalo and Native Americans as a hobby. But you were lonely and craved human contact and intimacy."
I huffed as I gulped down another big sip of milk.
"And you always had one bloody hell of an appetite." I hated when England got all nostalgic. Unfortunately, he kept talking, "A few times when I held you to my chest, you would try to nurse. You'd root your mouth on my chest like you were trying to latch." And he even kept talking more, "I never let you, but I felt so sorry for you."
I pulled away, and England's breast fell out of my mouth. "I don't remember any of this."
"You were too young."
England leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was brief, and he broke it nearly right after it started, then slid down my body.
I scrunched up my face. "Oh, GAY!"
"Calm down. It was just a kiss."
England stopped sliding when he was between my legs.
"I suppose I can't get you to take your clothes off," he sighed. "It wasn't in the Bible … unless you want to do it."
"HECK NO!"
"I guess I'll just have to be happy with what I get then." England reached for his belt.
"What are you doing? !" I asked quickly. The Bible said to lay upon England's melons, not whip out any zucchini! It only mentions fruit, not vegetables.
"Relax," he said. "I'm not going to make you do anything. This is just for me."
"… what is?"
ALL OF A SUDDEN England's pants were pulled down just past his butt. He grabbed his penis, which was as hard as a pillar of salt. Like Lot's wife I knew I shouldn't look because it would make God angry, but I couldn't help it. It was pure curiosity! I'd never seen anyone else's but my own. And I was shocked at how HARD it was, just from England getting his nipples sucked.
"Just let me enjoy this."
England leaned over me. He straddled over me. But he didn't touch me. His arms and legs were on either side of me. Except for one arm, because it was attached to the hand that was currently holding onto his hard ding-a-ling. He started to stroke it.
My eyes were nearly bugging out of my head. I couldn't believe this! England had taken out his gay penis and was touching it front of me! On TOP of me! Even if we weren't actually touching, this still felt very gay. Definitely enough to make God shake his head and go TSK TSK shame on you and your genitalia.
I should have punched him! Right in his wiener-loving jaw! But I was afraid to move. It was like I was trapped with him pinning me down. He wasn't touching me, but ifI touched him, the movement might make his pee-pee touch me in some way and that would be really GAY!
So I lay there frozen in shock. Penis shock. Shock from a penis.
"Nnn," moaned England. He was pumping his penis pretty fast now. Inches above my tummy. "I've pictured you below me so many times whilst touching myself …"
"Eeew," I said, trying not to look at his man meat. "And I'm surprised you said below, considering how you're a sodomite and love taking penises up your butt."
"Below, above, sideways, any and all directions," he panted. "B-but … it's so much better in reality. My imagination is a poor substitute compared to the real thing."
I don't know why this was getting England off. I mean, I had all my clothes on. Well, they were my suit. And he did say me wearing a suit turned him on. Hmm. No wonder he uses the 'world meetings' excuse so much … he must get aroused every time I go to one, since I always wear suits to those darn things! Except casual Fridays. Then it's a button shirt with khakis because jeans are 'too casual.' Whatever. They're lucky I don't wear my pajama jeans. THAT'S casual.
If you're wondering why I didn't make him stop, look, STOP JUDGING. I told you I was frozen in shock, okay? In fact, for a few seconds I was like SUPER frozen. I couldn't move except I trembled and I felt weird and was just like ASDWEOPOWIERO;JSDF (I think that was my brain going into homo shock.)
What a weird Christmas Eve.
"England …" I said, still not looking at his jibbly bits. "I'm … I'm still a virgin, right?"
He didn't respond.
"Like … even because … of what you're doing over me?"
England grunted. He was breathing really hard now. "… y-yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm p …. positive." His voice sounded ragged. "You're not doing … nnnf … a-anything."
"Oh." I swallowed. "R-right."
What had been rhythmic stroking became all fast and uneven. England moaned again.
"This wasn't what was in the Bible," I said. "You climbed on me. It was supposed to be the other way around."
"… do … do you want to get on top of me?"
"NO!"
Didn't matter anyway. Because suddenly, England's breath hitched and he grunted. Then my suit was wet. With PENIS MILK. That was even grosser than breast milk! Because it wasn't milk at all, it was SEMEN!
I watched as England finished off on my tummy. It came in spurts. And I was disgusted, frozen in HORROR! Because I thought he wasn't gonna touch me. Yet I have his SEMINAL FLUIDS all over my belly! I could just FEEL those little spermies swimming around on me like little tadpoles. Little GAY tadpoles. UGH!
"GRRRROOOOOOSSSSS!" I exclaimed. "GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!"
England heaved a big sigh and rolled off me. He didn't seem to care about the mess he left on my tummy! (And suit! Now how am I gonna explain that to the peoples at the dry cleaners? Just tell them it's mayo? Because they're gonna know. By the smell.)
"Calm down," snapped England, lying beside me, trying to catch his breath. "It's just cum."
How many times have you EVER heard that sentence before? ! 'Calm down, it's just cum.' JUST cum? ! JUST? ! Few bodily fluids are grosser than SEMEN JUICE! How am I supposed to CALM DOWN? !
"Get some paper towels, GOSH!" I demanded.
England quickly sat up. But not for some Bounty. Nor Scott. Not even Brawny! (I assumed that was England's favorite paper towel brand because it has a strong, handsome man on the front and England is a sodomite and likes dudes like that.) No, England grabbed something else. ME.
Pacifically? Between my legs. Grabbed himself a handful and squeezed.
"EEP—" I squeaked.
"Just wanted to see if that aroused you or not."
" … uh …"
"Wasn't homosexuality a choice?" England sat up. "That's what you said."
"England—"
"Don't worry." England hopped off the bed, I assume to get those darn paper towels. "You're still a virgin even if you involuntarily cum whilst another man wanks over top of you."
:I
X
When I woke up the next morning, it was Christmas. England wasn't in my bed and it was almost like what we did last night didn't even happen. Everything seemed normal except I was wearing a different pair of pants.
I happily ran downstairs to see what Santa left me under the tree! :D
Guess what it was!
A PRESENT!
England had been sleeping on the couch, in the same room. "Nnhuh?" he startled awake because I was so BOISTROUS coming into the room.
I shredded that present's wrapping paper. "OH WOW!" I exclaimed so happily. "An iPad Mini! Just what I wanted! OH BOY!"
I cried tears of joy :'D
"Thank you so much, Finland!" I said even though he wasn't there. Finland is Santa IRL, in case you didn't know that. "I don't care if you're a filthy sodomite too, you can come down my chimney anytime!" (Finland is a sodomite with Sweden.)
England chuckled. "Heh heh … 'down your chimney.'"
"Yep! Oh, what's this other present?" I picked it up. It was HUGE! I dunno how I missed that.
"That's from me," said England. "Merry Christmas."
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously as I unwrapped it. "It better not be a dildo or something gay like that."
"A dildo in a box that big? Christ, what kind of dildos have you seen?"
I opened it and it was a big box FULL of packages of Nutter Butters. "NUTTER BUTTERS!" I exclaimed happily. "Wow, there must be like thirty packages of them in here! This will last me a whole month!" I looked up and smiled at him. "Thank you, England."
"Ehh, it's not much. I was in a hurry when I went to Wal*mart last night. Figured you'd be happy though."
"I'm very happy. Honestly I would have been happy with almost anything that wasn't gay like a vibrator or anal beads or whatever else you gays shove up your butts. But the fact that it's a ton of cookies just makes me even happier!"
"Well, I'm glad."
"OOH! Hold on." I raced out of the room, but returned with another gift. "This one's for you."
England opened it. It was an Easy-Bake Oven.
"It's an Easy-Bake Oven!" I said. "But this is one of those new GENDER-NEUTRAL ones! So it's not gay." Have y'all heard of the new gender-neutral Easy-Bake Ovens? NO? Where have you been? ! It's the new thing now! Now boys can bake in a BLUE oven and therefore it's not gay. Cooking in a pink oven is gay. Not that they're real ovens. More like a box with a very hot light bulb in it, but you know. "Since I know how you suck at cooking. I figured if childrens can use this, even you could probably make something!"
"Thanks." England rolled his eyes but kinda smiled at the same time. I hoped he wouldn't have sex with it. (I know he has a thing for pans.)
Just then I realized England didn't have boobs anymore.
"Whoa, England!" I said. "What happened to your chesticles?"
England sighed. "The spell must have worn off during the night."
"Oh."
"WAHHHHHHH!"
Me and England both turned and looked. That ugly baby was on the floor crying.
"Oh, I forgot about that baby," I said.
"I didn't," said England. "I took care of it after last night and this morning."
"Oh? Did you nurse it?"
"Hell no. That ugly thing wasn't going anywhere near my amazing tits."
"We should really return it to the orphanage."
X
So we went back to the orphanage. But when we knocked on the door, no one answered. Where I broke the window was boarded up some time during the night, but now it seemed no one was there.
"We should have known no one would answer Christmas morning," said England. "They're technically closed."
"But they're in there," I said, holding the ugly baby. "All the orphans are in there! And whoever watches the orphans, too!"
"But they're closed, so they're not going to answer the door."
I thought about just breaking a window open again. But seeing how the first was just boarded up with like plywood and duct tape made me think that probably wasn't such a good idea. That isn't very insulating. If I keep smashing windows, these orphans are gonna freeze. And making orphans freeze isn't very Christian. It doesn't say that in the Bible specifically, but it's probably implied.
Besides. I kinda liked that baby. I didn't really wanna give it up just yet. "I suppose we could watch it for one day," I said, smiling. "Then bring it back tomorrow when they're open."
"You mean leave it at the door, right? No way in hell are we confessing to this. Stealing babies is illegal."
"Hehe … oh heck yes, we're leaving this thing at the door before dawn. I ain't going to jail."
As we walked away, I was amused by something.
"Ya know …" I started. "I was upset I wasn't gonna have a very Christian Christmas. But now, as a virgin and his partner are turned away with a baby because they can't be taken in on Christmas … well, that sounds pretty similar to the greatest story ever told."
:)
"… partner?"
:I
"I meant like partner like fellow human!" I said. "Fellow country! Country-human … things."
England gave me a sly glance. It was very homo of him.
"By the way," I said to change the subject. "How come Santa didn't bring you anything for Christmas?"
"He did," said England. "It was just coal."
"YOU WERE A BAD BOY THIS YEAR!"
"I suppose I was." England smirked at me. "But next year I'm going to be good so I get what I really want for Christmas."
"Oh? What is that?"
"I relate to that music group The Lonely Island in more ways than one," he said. "You don't have to cut off your dick to put it in a box, you know. Just cut a hole in the side, push your penis through, and hold the box up to yourself. It's fairly simple."
:/
(The end!)
