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To the horny devils of bookstagram and booktok, y'all make it so fun to be bad!
Shelby has been scrambling to get her life together for years.
nice one
But when a giant horned (and horny) egg crashes the party and tries to get her to let loose and have fun, will she be able to resist his devilish charm?
This story is about a sentient deviled egg, emphasis on the devil part.
Part One Scrambled Beginnings
Like Humpty Dumpty, my life was so shattered that all the king's horses and men couldn’t put it back together if they tried.
ahh yes another egg
So why is there one giant shell, the size of a dinner plate, sitting in my sink?
The toilet flushes from down the hall. I freeze in place as the door opens and footsteps start coming to the kitchen. “Ahhh, fuck yeah. That feels better,” says the strange man inside my house.
the eggs first order of buisness was to go potty?
But I’m too stunned to throw it when he finally walks in. A massive egg-man with horns breezes in from the hallway.
“Damn, girl! Your ass is so fine it jiggles even more than that weird jelly thing your aunt brings to holiday meals.” I’m still wrapping my mind around the fact that a towering egg just smacked my butt, let alone that he knows about my aunt’s obsession with gelatine molds.
“Can you just shell the rest of the eggs for me?” I command, the exasperation thick in my voice. Banging the door shut once again, he cups his hand to his mouth in mock surprise. “Shell them? But I hardly know them!”
“What’s your name anyway,” I ask my helper. He leans into me, bumping his arm into mine playfully before answering, “Damien.” “Damien the Deviled Egg,”
He’s handsome, for an egg.
“So, what’s your name, Bunny?” His voice is low and gravely against my ear. “Shelby,” I say as I close my eyes and rest in his embrace. This man is seriously scrambling my brain and I don’t mind it one bit. “Shelby Shells Egg Shells by the Sink Side,” his lyrical rhyme, to the tune of “She Sells Seashells by the Sea Shore,” rings through my body, the baritone of his verse waking my core.
Part Two Whisked Away
I won’t lie, a part of me was scared he would taste sulfuric or curdled. In reality, his kiss is warm and salty, like creamy fresh mozzarella.
The cracking sound is louder now, and I look at Damien to see what it is. The piece of shell I was holding earlier is starting to come apart again. It’s clear to see why, there’s a tenting bulge pressing against the shell in search of freedom. My egg man is ready to get fully undressed, and show me just how hard boiled his body really is.
Muscles carved from a diet of lean protein are covered in curls of green hair that smell like chives.
I feel like a chicken in a time warp the way I lay the oval bulges before sucking them back in.
With a guttural roar, the devil in my egg comes to life. His beautiful green eyes now glow sharp and red. Teeth, like knives, fill his sinister smile with evil eroticism.
“Oh Bunny, you’re barely carting a dozen.”
“Oh fuck isn’t our safe word, Shelby.” “CLUCK CLUCK,” I shriek, giving in to the pain and begging for release.
Part Three Sunny Side Surprise
“I didn’t even know I had chives,” I say as I reach for one to try. The flavors stroking my tastebuds have me rolling my eyes into the back of my head they are so fucking delicious. I look over and see Damien filling the last one with his secret sauce.
The final touches have him reaching for my kitchen shears, which he uses to clip a bit of chives from the space just above his balls. With the herbal forest cleared, I can see the tattoos on his devilhood better. They swirl all the way down to his sack, which is also heavily inked.
Within moments of each other, all five of my friends show up with food and housewarming gifts in hand.
NO ONE QUESTIONED THE GIANT EGG MAN IN THE HOUSE?!?!
It’s no surprise the deviled eggs are what everyone goes for first. “What’s this recipe?” Michelle asks around a mouthful, “There’s something familiar about this taste, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
WHY DOES SHE KNOW THE TASTE
“So, what’s in this secret sauce? I’m pretty good at discerning flavors, and I’m curious if it’s nut-based.” “I guess you could say it’s something like that,” Damien answers while looking at me and raising his glass in my direction.
