“I knosh shings about you, Newt,” Nancy slurred, as she jacked off the Japanese eggplant with a handful of rancid bacon grease. Newt was hugging Lady Justice, his hands tied together on the far side. He weakly struggled to get free and sobbed. He was nude and his pale buttocks and pallid thighs puckered in the cold rotunda.
Nancy leaned forward and rasped in his ear, “I’m nowsh Diana! Of the Hunt!” Newt screamed in pain, the agony of hearing your own shitty prose read back to you.
“Are are a Nazi sex kitten?!?” he yelped, uncontrollably. The script was locked in by Nancy’s words. There was no going back. He needed to pee very badly, but he knew that would only make Mother angry.
Nancy slipped the greased eggplant into Newt’s slack anus. It grated against his enlarged prostate, blown up to the size of a baseball. Newt moaned.
“Get s’hard for you Nashi sex kitten!” Nancy screamed. Newt could feel her wiry nipple hair grating across his hairless back. She reached around and squeezed his flaccid penis. “Get S’HARD!” she screamed again, her shrill voice ringing in his giant round head.
“I can’t,” Newt gasped, “Not even Callista, my sweet Apple of Discord, can make Hades rise from His work in Tartarus.”
“No allusions!” Nancy ordered, digging the eggplant deeper.