Stuffed (945 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: thanksgiving
Rating: 1.75 on 28 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2008-11-26 13:58:25 EST
Sarah took a step back from the counter and eased herself down into one of the kitchen chairs. She was almost done. Last night she had prepared potatoes and yams and cranberries. This morning she had baked fresh rolls and two apple and two pumpkin pies, the pies heavy on the nutmeg and cinnamon the way her boys liked them. Her boys. She straightened and looked into the back yard.
Bill was out there in his faded old Colts sweatshirt. The shirt and his jeans were already damp from the thin layer of snow on the ground and smeared with stains from the grass under the snow, bright green in the noon sun. She could hear him laughing loudly, out of breath. The Thanksgiving tradition of the Dad vs. Kids touch football game was harder this year since her sons were now fourteen and fifteen, bigger and stronger than ever. She saw the football tumble into view and heard her sons whoop and the loud smack as they high-fived each other.
"Aw that was just luck," Bill said in his mock-hardass tone as he strolled close to the window and scooped up the ball. "You kids are years —decades— away from acquiring the kind of skill, strategic intellect and sheer masculine awesomeness your old man has. In fact—"
His voice was lost in the cat-calls and laughter coming from his sons. He threw the ball and saw Sarah in the window.
Sarah had taken a pregnancy test last night, one of the off the shelf tests available at any pharmacy.
"Almost done," she said lightly, standing and looking at the flour dusting the thighs of her old jeans. Flour also lay in a white layer on her bosom, covering her navy blue t-shirt, like snow on a mountainside.
She had two boys. She liked boys. The thought that she might have a girl inside her was something she didn't want to think about, because girls were difficult. Girls were bad.
Sarah stood on her toes close to the big kitchen window, knowing Bill could now see her from the waist up She gave her torso a quick shake, something she would never dream of doing if her sons were in view. Her breasts swayed back and forth and flour rose up in a thin white cloud.
Bill gaped and raised a hand to his mouth, biting the webbing between the finger and thumb of one hand like horse chewing a bit. That was his sign. His way of telling her in mixed company that she had just turned him on and he could hardly stand it. The kids shouted to him and he gave her a wink, and then trotted out of her view.
She didn't feel the least bit sexy, not now, but she liked to keep her boys, happy, the young ones and the grown up one. Keeping boys happy was easy. Keeping girls happy was impossible. Girls were trouble. She should know, after all. Her daddy hammered that into her head a thousand times.
Sarah didn't like thinking about her daddy, or her four brothers. She had been the youngest, and her mother had died giving birth to Sarah. Her family never said a thing but she knew they resented her, hated her.
Because girls were bad. Girls were filthy.
She turned back to her last task. She had just filled an assortment of pots with peas and baby carrots and beets and set them on the stove ready for heating, and she had made a big bowl of stuffing from scratch. Now she had one more thing to do— stuff the turkey and put the beast in the oven. While she cleaned up the kitchen and then relaxed in a hot bath and her boys sat on the couch with a tivoed NCAA classic ball game on the big flat screen and a mountain of snacks and sodas before them, the beast would be transformed from a pallid, fleshy thing to a crisp on the outside and tender on the inside feast.
The beast.
That was how Sarah thought of the twenty pound turkey lying on the kitchen counter. She always tried to stuff the Thanksgiving turkey as quickly as possible. Thanksgiving was the only time she absolutely had to prepare turkey, preferring ham at Christmas.
In truth, Sarah didn't like dealing with turkeys. Not at all. There was something upsetting about dealing with them. They looked so naked and exposed, almost obscene. And handling their fleshy dead weight gave her an uneasy feeling. No. When it came time to stuff the turkey Sarah did it quickly, because sometimes they talked to her. It happened the first time three years ago when she had been pulling the bag of giblets from inside the turkey. Get rid of that nasty filth, the turkey had said. Get rid of it and leave me pure. Sarah had thought she was losing her mind and had to fight to calm herself. Her boys were in the yard playing football and working up an appetite. She could not disappoint them. She had rammed handful after handful of stuffing into the bird as fast as she could, fighting to ignore the turkey's whispers. You are raping me the turkey said as she drove her fist up inside the slick, cool body. The turkey had the querulous voice of an old woman, a voice softened by the lack of teeth and slack lips. You are raping me and I like it I like it I like it. When she was done she had let out a nervous laugh, alone in the kitchen then as now, but she had never forgotten hearing that voice for the first time and how much it unnerved her.
This year's turkey was on the counter. Beside it was the large bowl of stuffing, redolent of spices and walnuts.
Look at me sprawling, the turkey said now, Sprawling with my thick thighs spread wide for all the world to see my filthy gaping—
"Shut up," Sarah said in the empty kitchen, her voice soft. "Please shut up."
The only response was the indifferent ticking of the clock on the wall.
She sank a hand into the stuffing, staring at the wide hole in the end of the turkey and the loose flesh hanging limp on either side.
I'll soon have this bird stuffed and ready to be cooked, Sarah thought. Stuffed and trussed, with its legs tied together with twine, its thighs no longer splayed wide but held firmly together—
Like a good girl, the turkey said.
Sarah squeezed the handful of stuffing and then let out a cry. She opened her hand and saw a shard of walnut shell stuck in one finger like a splinter. She plucked the shard free and watched a tiny drop of blood well up on her skin.
Good girls bad girls they all bleed and spread their legs and let themselves fill up with filth—
Sarah drove a wad of stuffing deep into the bird, muffling that soft, wavering voice.
When the turkey was stuffed and the legs were tied together with string she opened the oven door. She lifted the pan with both hands and slid the bird into the oven. As she was closing the door the turkey spoke again, its voice reedy and fast with panic.
You spread your thighs like you spread mine. You are filling up with filth as you filled me. You can kill me but can you kill your own filth? Can you?
Sarah put her hand over her mouth fought back tears. "Oh shut up," she whispered.
She heard the front door open and the boisterous voices of her boys filled the house.
All girls are filthy, filthy girl, the turkey said. It began to cook, and its voice rose to a scream. ALL GIRLS ARE FILTHY AND THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO BE PURE AGAIN!
Bill slipped an arm around her waist and she let out a tiny shriek like a heroine in an old Hitchcock movie. They boys were standing in the kitchen doorway and they laughed.
Sarah gathered her composure and shooed them into the den with a forced smile. "Go on, watch your game! I'll bring you your snacks in a moment!"
Her boys told her she rocked and that she was the best. Bill kissed her cheek and said the boys were right.
When she was alone again, just before the TV came on and a beer commercial roared out of the speakers, she heard the turkey speak. It said filthhhhhhh and that last word became a hiss of cooking juices.
Sarah brought her boys sodas and snacks, and when they were set for a while she cleaned the kitchen. She refreshed their refreshments, jumping a little and hoping her sons didn't see anything when one of Bill's strong hands half patted, half cupped her ass. Then she went upstairs and ran a hot bath.
Sarah only filled the tub with a few inches of hot water. She stripped and took a swiveling mirror with a heavy base into the bathroom and set it at the end of the tub.
She climbed into the tub holding a large knife she had carried upstairs from the kitchen.
Leaning back in the partially filled tub, Sarah spread her thighs. In the mirror she could see her filthy girl parts gaping wide, but not wide enough to expose the growing filth inside. Downstairs Bill and the boys cheered. Using the mirror to guide her hands, she began to insert the knife.
User Reviews
Submitted by IronChef (user info) at 2008-12-01 23:07:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Gyro_Gearloose (user info) at 2008-11-28 16:09:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy crap.
Submitted by morello (user info) at 2008-11-28 16:00:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Author Jack McCallum +2
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2008-11-27 22:56:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2008-11-27 20:54:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2008-11-27 11:31:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fucking awesomness with extra awesome on top, and a big awesome dildo up it's awesome gaping cunt.
jolly good show...
Submitted by TheBrad (user info) at 2008-11-27 03:45:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You,sir, Are sick. We should trade numbers and hang out.
Submitted by SilvrWolf (user info) at 2008-11-27 02:26:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff.
Disturbing.
But good.
Submitted by YourNameHere (user info) at 2008-11-26 18:22:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2008-11-26 17:38:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't even want to think about what deeper issues this story hints at. Glad I'm a vegetarian.
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2008-11-26 16:46:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You're a very disturbed individual.
Not that that's a bad thing per se, but just FYI.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-11-26 16:22:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jack?
There are no typos in this!
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:58:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'd like to stuff your dirty dick inside me.
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:37:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
apologies, skrap got there first.
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:36:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
shame on you Linus streak breaking! Damn you I have your cold!
Submitted by Linus (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:32:13 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
No Comment
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:12:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by The_Drake (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:11:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet and disturbing. Like a turd shaped like the virgin Mary.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2008-11-26 15:06:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:57:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by FilledwithHate (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:48:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A cross between internet fisting porn and a Norman Rockwell painting.
--
Thank you.
At the end of my life if anyone asks what I have done, I can say I created a new genre of fiction.
-----
American Gahthic
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:57:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by FilledwithHate (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:48:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A cross between internet fisting porn and a Norman Rockwell painting.
--
Thank you.
At the end of my life if anyone asks what I have done, I can say I created a new genre of fiction.
Submitted by FilledwithHate (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:48:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A cross between internet fisting porn and a Norman Rockwell painting. Very nice.
Submitted by MudWhistle (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:46:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My wife gets those fucking clings for every holiday....she needs mental help
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:40:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Somebody gave ME one of THESE for my cube windows.
http://housewares.hardwarestore.com/36-181-miscellaneous-holiday/merry-fun-stuff-gel-clings-112315.aspx
It's an 'oooh-too-cute!' sticky gel Santa.
I just realized that with a few cuts from a sharp knife I can transform parts of the largest snowflake into a huge dangling penis and testicles that will appear to be hanging below the hem of Santa's red coat.
I am thankful I have a job that allows me to tackle these big projects.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Submitted by Comfortably_Numb (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:39:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:30:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hope to be stuffing Mrs. Shlongy at some point this evening after we make it a Blockbuster night.
Or, "during"...I don't really give a shit.
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:18:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fuck! I hate you sometimes.
you vivid picture-painting bastard.
I think I'm ordering a pizza Thursday.
Submitted by MudWhistle (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:13:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nice
but who the fuck says "sheer masculine awesomeness" and isn't gay?
Submitted by Sidivan (user info) at 2008-11-26 14:11:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Was expecting a coat hanger, but got a kitchen knife and an incredibly graphic turkey fisting.