© Copyright 2004 - Doug S - Used by permission
Storycodes: MF; Magic; bodymod; packaged; cons; X
Part 5: Eggs at Easter
I thought I was busy in the run up to Christmas, but somehow the approach of Easter was even worse. Work was OK but all the things I seem to have taken up in my spare time since moving here to Exeter just filled up all the space in my diary. On top of this, the thermostat on my central heating had blown up and the house had been roasting since Tuesday.
Somehow because of all this, my relationship with Jo had suffered, and I'd hardly seen her for about two weeks. Until Sunday, that is, when…
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Begin at the beginning, that's the advice, so that's what I'll do.
I've been visiting the club that Jo works in most weeks until very recently, and seeing her a lot in between, but now that Easter is upon us I seem to have been just too busy. Holy week is always a nightmare, and I spent all of Thursday night fixing the PA at church. Friday is a bank holiday, but somehow I spent all day sorting out for the service that evening and I never got to the club. Eventually I got home, exhausted, at about half past midnight, and as I entered the house, the heat hit me like a wall. I still hadn't fixed that thermostat.
I was still taking my jacket off when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and found Jim's mother stood there with a large basket in her arms.
"Mrs D !" I said. "Come in. I haven't seen you for weeks."
"I can't stop, dear. I'm just dropping this in for you. Happy Easter."
"Thanks, Mrs D," I said, "What is it?"
"Don't thank me," she replied, "It's from Jim. Well, from Jo too, I suppose. A nice big chocolate egg with a special filling."
I took the basket and she left. A huge egg shape, covered in brightly coloured foil, lay therein. I took the egg through to the kitchen, cleared some space in the fridge and set the egg on the shelf. It was almost as large as it could be and still let me shut the fridge door. Worn out by the week's activities, I went to bed.
Saturday was filled catching up on household tasks I'd got behind with, putting a new water pump in the car and getting some shopping in. I bought a new thermostat too. On Sunday I bumped into Jim in the park as I was wandering home for lunch. "Ho, Doug, did you have a happy Easter?" he asked, a sort of sly smile on his face.
"What? Oh, sorry. Yes, I suppose so. Been too busy to enjoy the holiday much."
"Didn't mum drop off that basket?" asked Jim.
"Oh, the egg, yes. I put it in the fridge. I'll probably open it later today."
I must have said something wrong. Jim stepped forward, grabbed my wrist and marched me double-quick towards the park gates. "You mean it's been in the fridge since Friday night?"
I explained about my over-zealous central heating as he propelled me across the road and down the hill towards my street. I told him that I might have opened it sooner if Jo had called in on me on Saturday. He gave a sort of short, barking laugh at that. I said that Jo was much more fond of chocolate than I in any case. Jim agreed heartily: "Oh, she is, she is." I nearly tripped on the loose flags outside my house, Jim was rushing me so much. I asked him what the hurry was.
He shoved me up the path from the gate to the front door. "You just get in there and get your present out of the fridge. Unwrap it and then ask me what the hurry is."
Baffled, I stood in my front porch watching him return down the road towards the park, shaking his head and muttering to himself. I opened the door and went in.
The heat hit me again. I must fit that new thermostat. I went to the fridge, took the egg out and placed it on the empty dining table. I peeled off the foil, and looked at the huge chocolate egg which sat on the table in front of me. A small brown card was attached to a piece of string embedded in the chocolate, and two tiny straws peeked out of the surface nearby. Printed on the card were the words "To break the hypnotic trance, pull the ball out using the attached string."
Someone's hypnotised an egg? I took hold of the string and pulled, gently at first and then rather harder. The surface of the chocolate cracked and a familiar large white snooker ball popped out. I saw the light.
A few months earlier, at about Christmas time, Jim and I had reduced Jo to about the size and shape of a bowling ball. We had removed her legs and substituted her breasts in place of the stumps, and taken the whole top half of her body off at the waist, replacing the cut surface with just her face. She'd said at the time that she thought it would be fun to try living a whole weekend in that condition. Now, looking at the chocolate egg before me, I realised: the size was right, the shape was right, and — looking at the crater where the ball had emerged — her pretty little mouth was yawning through the surrounding chocolate. I broke off a little more where her eyes and nose were covered, removing the straws from her nostrils, and her eyes blinked open and looked at me.
"Christ, I'm cold," she said, "Happy Easter." She licked her lips, taking some of the chocolate off the surface. "Belgian mocha, good stuff."
I broke the remaining shell of chocolate, removing the pieces from her abbreviated form and dropping them into a bowl. The chocolate I removed weighed nearly as much as she did. When I had removed all that was still solid, I looked at her, still resting on the foil in front of me, covered in little smears of sticky dark chocolate. "Come on," I said, "I'll wash that mess off."
"You will not," she said, "It's a wicked waste to wash chocolate this good down the drain. You'll have to lick it off."
I understood, then, why Jim was in such a hurry. Jo had wanted this to last for a whole weekend, and I was already running thirty-six hours late.
At least Monday was a bank holiday.
Following a Sunday afternoon spent very pleasantly licking chocolate from Jo's dramatically curtailed body and letting her suck it from my tongue, we had a nice warm bath together, after which I took her to bed.
A little later, I was laid on the mattress with Jo's sexy little round bowling-ball body impaled on my lap, idly brushing a nipple with each thumb, when she said, out of the blue, "I suppose we'll get married, then."
I double-took. "You what?"
"Well," she said, "we've been seeing each other for about eight months now, and you've made me as happy as I've ever been. I can't see me spending the rest of my life with anyone else, so I suppose we'll get married. It took me about four months to get you inside me, so if I wait to be asked I'll be old and grey before we get married: I thought I'll do the asking. Oooh, I can feel you swelling again."
Happy Easter, Jim's mum had said. Too right. The happiest Easter ever. They say that spring is the season for new beginnings.
I don't think we got out of bed until teatime on Monday.
story continues in part six - Swapping with Sandy