Book: Queen B
Word count: 1000 (+/-)
Prompts Used: baby batter; rod; pubic hair;fun bags; interruption by friends/professor
Music Inspo: "Goodbye Horses" by Q Lazzarus
Warning: NSFW; this is fairly cringe (even for me!); mentions of human captivity, sociopathic behavior; language
AN: Happy Queen B Book 2 Release Day! I can't think of a better way to celebrate today AND Week 3 of @smut-tember than by sharing this monstrosity of garbage! This is a strange rewrite of that infamous chapter 9 (with some extra characters lol). As always, characters and some of the plot belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This chapter is straight-up inspired by one of my favorite movies. 🐑
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Watching an anxious Carter pace a hole in the rug, Zoey bounces her knee incessantly while Taylor chews on her perfectly manicured thumb nail. This wasn’t like Bea. She hadn’t been back to their immaculate dorm room at Belvoire in almost three days. Her clothes were still perfectly hung in the closet; none of her new fancy bags were misplaced. Unfortunately, her cell phone went straight to voicemail. Terrified that something bad happened, Zoey decided to pull out the big guns.
Hearing a stern knock, Carter opens the front door. “Good evening, Professor Kingsley.” He bounds into the living quarters, a pensive look on his face. He gives a nod to Zoey before leaning against the doorway.
“Have we called her parents?” he questions as he pushes up his glasses, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes.
“Yes, sir,” replies Carter, “they’re at a Corn-Shuckers convention with no cell service.”
“Damnit!” the college instructor begins to pace. “And the last time you saw her was…?”
“Almost three days ago,” Taylor tearfully answers, her voice quivering. “She was coming back here to take a nap before the Zeta’s Annual Wet Sweatpants Contest and now she-she’s--” she breaks down crying, “-missing!” she wails.
“Wait--wait--wait--” Professor Kingsley holds a hand up, placing a hand on his hip. “Did anyone see her walk into the residence hall?” The three students perk up, their eyes widening. The professor continues, “Maybe one of the staffers saw her. Have you asked the RA?”
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Hovering over a steaming hot plate of boiling noodles, Benji Knoll toggles through his music, clicking on his favorite Q Lazzarus song. As he hums the familiar tune, he shuffles to his mirror to admire a picture he took in the girls’ public bathroom of none other than the woman who held his heart, his delicate petunia, his bleating little lamb, his one and only honey Bea.
He removes his retainer and glasses. Opening up a deep wooden drawer, he pulls out a mannequin head with his latest sewing creation on top: a blonde wig made entirely from Bea’s pubic hair. He gently pets it, feeling the wiriness between his fingers. He brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply of it’s natural essence. Feeling his rod twitch, he looks back into the mirror, carefully placing the head piece over his skull.
He reaches back into the deep drawer, pulling out a purple perfume bottle. Beas perfume. Gently squeezing the atomizer, he spritzes the skeezy smell of cotton candy mixed with chlamydia. As droplets rain down on his face, he smiles in euphoric delight.
He reaches back into his drawer, and pulls out a red lacy bra. As his fingers trace across the intricate stitching, he begins to pant hungrily, knowing that this fabric once grazed her bare naked body. As his heart begins to race, he rips off his hoodie, and hooks on the bra. His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he squeezes the empty cups, pretending Bea’s fun bags were bouncing inside of them.
As his humble chode strengthens, he grabs a ChapStick once used by Bea. He begins to smear it across his lips, swirling the cherry flavor around and around until his cock erects to it’s full three-inch potential. As he continues to put on the lip balm, he starts to sway his hips to the music, turning his attention to the mirror.
“Would you fuck me?” he growls at his reflection. “I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me hard.” With one more swipe of the gloss, his voice darkens. “I’d fuck me so hard.”
Suddenly, a timer chimes; his noodles are ready. He brings the hot pasta with him into his darkened closet. From his pocket, he pulls out matches, igniting them to light candles.
He makes haste, meticulously applying the spaghetti to his most recent creation, his adoration station, a relic of his undying passion for Bea Hughes. As the spaghetti takes form, Benji falls to his knees. His breath hitches in his chest in sovereign awe. The homage to his mincemeat pie, to his precious Creamsicle, to his fuzzy wuzzy bear was complete, taking the mold, the very liking to Bea’s appearance.
"She--she's complete," he chokes out, his eyes smoldering with desire. He wants to take it right then and there, but that's not enough for Benji.
He crawls over to a giant pit in the ground that he created for this exact moment. The dorm, more specifically his room, was built on top of an old, dried-up well. It was shallow enough for someone to fall in without getting too terribly hurt. But, they wouldn't be able to get out on their own.
Benji looks over the side. "Bea baby? My little kumquat--?"
A female figure begins to rustle at the bottom of the pit, groaning in pain.
"Bea? Wake up," he singsongs, "I have something to show you."
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Professor Kingsley, Zoey, Carter and Taylor make their way downstairs to the head resident advisor's quarters where they proceed to bang on his front door. No answer.
"He's not here," states Taylor.
Zoey scrunches her face. "That weirdo is always here."
Carter presses his ear to the door. "She's right! I hear music! And--" he listens closely, "-- someone's screaming--"
"Bea?" Taylor yelps.
Professor Kingsley knocks again, this time ramming his shoulder into the door. Hearing the wood give under strength, he tackles the door again, only this time, it busts open.
They pour into the room, searching for Bea. They hear strange, noises coming from the closet. Giving each other one last nervous glance, Carter opens the door.
"Oh dear God," gasps Zoey as Taylor quickly shields her eyes. Carter stifles a laugh while the professor gives a disgusted, yet curiously look.
There was Benji, finally getting what he always wanted. Well, sorta. With sweat pouring down his brow and fueled by his captives shrieks for help, he thrusts one last time into the licorice mouth of his beloved Bea shrine before spilling his baby batter all over her mashed-potato face.
******
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