by
Cari Silverwood
Copyright 2014 Cari Silverwood
Published by Cari Silverwood
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
About Strum
Yet another erotic parody where a light is shone on all the dirty, crazy, squishy things dwelling in your romances.
When a stag party goes terribly wrong, Virginia Chaste loses her memory of all the best bits of her fiancé, Karl whatsisface. She awakens with her tongue stuck to the castle floor, a suspicion that someone kissed her, a missing fiancé, and no idea what will happen next. Luckily Dangerous Bob can show her the way.
All she has to do is join Zagan Grimm, rock star and demon, he of the radioactive cock, to retrieve the ultimate sex book, the Necrosexi-texmexicon from the depths of the Zon, then she can get her fiancé back, even if she’d rather sell his castle and make a million dollars.
Then she absolutely has to remember not to have a spectacular, tentacular ménage with Zagan and Karl whatsisface.
With so many things to remember, Virginia may forget the last one.
Yes, a big, fat warning to all those with pristine, well-vacuumed minds: Here Be Tentacles.
Acknowledgements
I’m not sure how I would ever succeed in writing anything without the help, encouragement, and reading of my early manuscripts from people like Jennifer Zeffer, Gwendolyn Brooks, Shannon Wichman, Tequila Rose, and Marianne Sawko Chiumento. They also helped me with general smacks about the head, when I got too grumpy writing this one. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Of course, if anything in this story is too crazy, I can blame them.
The finale of the final sex scene was all theirs. Also the groupies, the general smuttiness...I could go on and on. I think we need a cheesy evil laugh here.
Mwahahahahaaaaaaaa.
A special thank you also to another author, Joan Defers, whose hilarious post about erotic book covers inspired a scene in Strum. Go read it after you read the book and you’ll understand. The link is in my Connect with Cari Silverwood section.
Chapter 1
Virginia awoke, and after several aborted attempts, managed to open her eyelids. Her tongue was stuck to the floor with semi-dried drool. Someone was shaking her. Who?
His name surfaced from the swampy garbage heap steaming up the inside of her brain. She unstuck her tongue.
“Dangerwous...” She tried again. “Bob?”
He grunted, shifting forward to help her sit up. There was a glass in his hand and he offered her a few sips.
Virginia blinked and shook her head. She was in a bedroom. Hers, she figured. The quilt, the desk – familiar. Ditto, the cross-eyed seagull on the window sill – the one that always fell off when the phone rang.
“What? Is this my...” Things blurred.
Dangerous Bob swore severely then put a finger to his lips. He helped her to the bed and steadied her when she sat on the edge. Her feet felt miles away, so did her head.
“What happened?” She raised her hand to feel a sore spot on her head and was surprised at the glinting diamond ring on one finger. “What’s this? I’m engaged?”
Bob sighed and for the first time she could recall, he looked flustered. He let out a whole string of fucks, interspersed with some craps, shits, and words from another language that were also likely profane. Some of them turned into real words in her mind.
She thought through the translation that always came with his swearing. She’d become so used to Bob’s odd talent of talking through swearing that it didn’t faze her.
*Do you remember what happened?*
“Only that there was a stag party and I went down to tell them to be quiet. Then...nothing. And I seem to remember a green thing whizzing past.”
*You remember being engaged to Karl? Karl gave you the ring.*
Her memories served up images. Karl? Nice man. Nice. Calm. Handsome. Sexy. All of the memories were like pictures. She knew him as a friend and that was it.
“Engaged? No. So, I’m engaged to him?”
“Fuckitty fuck. Fiirrr. Grr. Fuckitty.”
What he’d said was so mindboggling she had to repeat it to make sense of it.
“I was supposed to be married later today? The wedding was supposed to be this day?”
He nodded.
And this was Karl’s castle.
“Oh fuck. I can barely remember him.” She leaned back on her hands and saw the ring down there. She’d woken up on the day she was to be married to a man she could barely remember, but she wasn’t married to him. All she had was this ring.
“Where is he? Something has happened to him, hasn’t it?” Damn, she should be feeling unhappy. And she was, but it was a vague and weird unhappiness, like she’d lost something but didn’t know what it was.
Bob nodded for a long time, a sad expression deforming his already somewhat ugly face.
Virginia grimaced. Cheer the man up fast or she’d be puking. “It’s okay, Dangerous Bob. We’ll find him. I mean he’s here somewhere? In the castle?”
This time he shook his head.
Wait. She was living in Karl’s castle but they weren’t married yet...
“Ohmigod.” She put her hand over her mouth. “We didn’t have sex or anything, did we?”
The fixed grin on Bob’s face said it all.
“I lost my virginity and I can’t remember it? This is way worse than waking up unconscious...”
He interrupted. *Technically when you’re awake, you can’t be unconscious.*
She fluttered her hand. “Worse than waking up and not remembering not getting married to a man I don’t remember meeting! Way worse. I think. I’m not sure what I just said...but it’s awful!” She buried her face in her hands and spoke around her fingers. “My quest for the ten inch schlong is ruined.”
While she sobbed he patted her on the back, and as her crying ebbed he began to explain what he’d discovered. The string of swearing went on for so long that she knew he’d have an entire posse of girls clinging to him by now if there’d been any nearby. Being immune to Bob’s girlnip cursing had its advantages. At least she could simply be his friend.
Damn she hoped Karl was ten inches. Maybe she could get out of this marriage if he wasn’t?
She’d better listen to Bob.
He rambled on, carefully pacing his swearing so she understood.
What he said surprised her.
Wow. Maybe she was still, sort of, a virgin...because Karl hadn’t penetrated her with his mating...what? Tentacle? Couldn’t be. She’d mistranslated that fuck, obviously. But there seemed an out. They mustn’t have had proper sex after all. Maybe she’d only done a BJ? Did that make her half a virgin?
Bob had found everyone in the castle unconscious, as she had been, even the cleaners. He’d woken them all. One of them recalled her returning to her room by herself, and some recalled seeing a strange, green, sparkling
book fly through the hallways and out a window before everything went blank.
Karl was missing along with the Sea Wolves – she could remember them – and along with the portal. No portal. That apparently was important since the portal went to another dimension and Bob seemed to think, because of markings in the portal room, that they’d all gone through it at the stag party.
“Uh-huh.” She tapped her teeth. “And the book?”
*From the sightings by the cleaners and the direction of travel, it came out of the portal.*
“Can we rescue them? Get them back? Make another portal?”
“Fuck.”
Startled, she drew back. That was one big fat *no.*
Something about this whole scenario was familiar. A castle full of asleep people. One man coming to wake them. A fairy tale... Sleeping Beauty!
She stared at him suspiciously. Had he kissed her? To wake her? Then she remembered her drool-stuck tongue. Eww.
If he had kissed her, he deserved a medal.
Her potential but forgotten husband was gone.
After a short mourning period, one second, two seconds, three seconds, it was time to be practical.
“So!” She clapped her hands together. “How much will the castle bring on the real estate market? And do you want half?”
His scowl was immense, deep, and a little frightening.
Perhaps he had other ideas? “What?”
*Stay.*
When he returned later that day he told her to get ready for a journey and dumped a small suitcase on the bed then opened it.
*Pack.*
“Why? Where are we going?”
Hands on hips, he set out some facts. He had, apparently, been googling, reading, talking, more googling.
*We’re all fucked. That book was the Necrosexi-texmexicon. It’s evil incarnate.*
“Okayyy. Mmm. Bad. Yup.” She had no clue.
But she figured incarnate evil was probably worse than other sorts of evil.
Funny how she could remember everything about Dangerous Bob. She had such a convenient amnesia. And this story would be so damned hard to tell without her knowing him.
Though ugly as a stick of exploded ugliness with his scarred face and real wire, wire-brush hair, Dangerous Bob was a loyal and a mostly good man, when he wasn’t being excessively violent. He was a solid presence. He was a man who swore a lot but he got things done when they needed to be done.
Right now, it sounded like he wanted to do things.
“Where is the book going?”
She took in the rumbled swearing, turning his words over in her mind.
*To the Zon, where all things of momentous importance go.*
Momentous was not a word she would’ve imagined Bob as even knowing let alone using. It was up there with incarnate.
*Copies of all the books in existence are at the Zon. Plus Lawn ornaments. Movies. Sex toys. The Zon is a dangerous place. If the Necrosexi-texmexicon makes it to the heart of the Zon, the world may cease to exist as it is now.
“Cool.” She nodded brightly. “So you’re going to go fetch it?”
He slammed shut the suitcase and locked it. *We are.*
Damn, there’d been so much dialogue, she hadn’t put anything in the suitcase. “Umm. Bob? I need to put in bras and panties, at least.”
Bob blushed bright red.
After she packed properly, he made her kick off her heels, shove back the sleeves of her shirt, and repeat some words, because apparently, this was what the old her would’ve said.
She began. “We’re going to restore the Necrosexi...fucking thingicon to where it came from if I have to shove it down a toilet and flush it to get it there?”
He nodded eagerly and encouraged her to keep going.
“Time for me to be mean and kick some ass?” Bob was so into this. Maybe he thought it would jog her memory? The next bit was strange but she said it with gusto and a fist swipe to make him happy. “The things a girl has to do to get tentacle fucked on her wedding day!”
There was that tentacle word again. Nope. Saying that hadn’t jogged a thing.
As they left the room she took a last look. She could sell this place later if things went back-assward.
Oh wait. The world was going to cease to exist. Maybe they did need to kick some butt.
She paused with her hand on the door knob. A memory barged in. The stag party. She’d seen a man.
He’d made the world screech to a halt. The raging stag-party music had gone far, far away. Ravens had appeared, flying in circles, cawing in a distant sort of way – which was really weird since this was inside a room.
Most of all, she remembered Him.
A muscular man in a red shirt wearing black skinny jeans, aviator sunglasses, and a multitude of flame tattoos. White hair, and the flames on his skin had writhed as if alive.
An aisle of rock had crackled from him to her. The surface beneath her feet had trembled. The room had spun and blurred.
In that instant, she’d known that it meant either impending doom or she’d found a heart-sent lover – a lover who was to be with her forever until the end of time. A lover who would die with her, his arms wrapped about her, never letting go as their ship sank and sank into the cold, quiet, depths of the ocean. Spiraling down, drowning...
Like the Titanic, but worse.
That had been pretty creepy. Her inner voice, in the back of her mind, had made a note not to ever go on a cruise.
The ravens had cawed and circled some more.
She recalled thinking that getting the bird shit off the rug was going to be hell then blackness had rained down.
Heart-sent lover? Whoever he was, he couldn’t be. She already had one of those: Karl whatsisface. If she could find him. The alternate dimensions really needed a Lost and Found department.
Chapter 2
Dangerous Bob throttled back and the bike glided to a halt outside the entrance gate to the Rockschlock gig. Strobing lights and thunderous riffs blasted from a distant stage somewhere at the far end of the huge conference hall. She’d been surprised when she’d seen the address. Purgatory playing at a dismal hall out in the suburbs? Crazy.
Here was the man that Bob said they needed. Zagan Grimm. A major planet in her universe of rock stars. The man, himself. Only Bob thought he was a demon. Those – rock star and demon – seemed a little mutually opposite, but hey, she wasn’t arguing with a man with an artificial cock who possibly ate bricks for breakfast.
Virginia hopped off the bike, clutching her bulging handbag to her side. The lines of people trying to get in were atrocious and as hungry looking as a snake waiting to gulp down a mouse.
“Fuckitty,” Bob murmured. He knew the potency of his swearing. Girl attractant el supremo. If he spoke too loudly, they’d be knee-deep in squealing girls.
“I’ll be okay.” She inhaled, determined. “You sure you can’t come in?”
He jerked his chin at Security, who were sweeping everyone with metal detectors. Then he smacked his palm onto his groin and shook his head.
His artificial cock would never get past that security check. This was her mission, her problem, from here on in.
“Point taken.” She was on her own, except for her wits, her wiles, her mostly virgin pussy, and the card Bob had given her. “I’ll text you.”
He nodded, switched on the bike but stayed there, watching, as she walked away. The lycra of her octopus motif tights gripped her so firmly, they seemed likely to cut off circulation to her legs. It occurred to her to pull down the pink T-shirt and show some cleavage, or she could maybe waggle her ass, if she wasn’t worried about popping out somewhere. No. She wasn’t a loose woman. She’d get past security without that.
“Whoah, bitch!” A man’s voice from the queue. She put her nose in the air. “Look at that octo-pussy! Show us what you got in there, girl!”
That did it. She focused on him and glared. “Shut your filthy mouth!”
“What? Have you seen where t
hat octopussy has his mouth? He’s eating you out, slut. If you don’t like him, I’ll do it!”
The crowd laughed.
She fumed. Wearing these had been a bad idea. She’d thought they’d make her look like a rock chick. Sadly, the octopus did seem to be sucking on her crotch. Bob’s taste was a bit lewd. She held up a middle finger, waggling it at the bald guy with the big mouth, a few feet ahead. “You, you...”
Her smart ass reply died away.
As she approached, she lowered her aim and looked at his groin but her normal schlong-hunting and appraising hobby had lost its attraction.
Hah. A seven point five incher. And sadly she was half a virgin. A woman in no man’s land. Or was that no-cock land? Who cared how long his schlong was. Though, hmmm, she tilted her head, and ran through the calculations. The man needed her aid.
“Twenty-nine point two seconds to ejaculation and a problem with maintaining an erection? See a doctor about that, mister.”
“What?” His lip trembled and he shrank back into the crowd.
She sighed and walked onward without any further comments about his schlong. She was adrift. Without her complete and undisputed virginity, the world had lost something, a spark of sorts.
As she went past, a few of the men added width to their leers, patently staring at her pussy, correction, her octopussy. Behind her she heard a not-so-subtle snarl from Bob. Some hard looking men moved his way. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Dangerous Bob.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. She kept going.
As she approached the gate, bypassing the queues, the smell of spilled stale beer tainted the air.
A security guard held up his hand, palm out. “Sorry ma’am, you need to get into line.”
“You need to look at this.” She handed him the gold-edged card.
Once Bob had figured out this was who they had to see, he’d tried contacting Zagan only to be repeatedly knocked back. This was their last resort, a black market, backstage pass to a Purgatory gig.
The guard tilted an eyebrow and added his leer to the crowd’s. “It’s not a backstage pass but it will get you in, if you go around the side to the right. Next gate.” He wiggled the card.
Strum: virgin captive of the billionaire demon rock star monster (The Squirm Files) Page 1