A God called Bruce

Marge plays Interior Decorator

It was about three days later when I dreamt I was lying on my back, n***d, and a colony of blowflies were buzzing around my d**k. The feeling was so intense that it woke me up. Except, the feeling was still there. When I managed to open and focus my eyes I saw Marge, sitting near the foot of the bed tickling my d**k with a peacock feather.

"What do you think you are doing Marge?"

"I wanted to find out if there was some way to play with your d**k without getting into the vapour-zone. It works, see?" With that she tickled away at that poor member of mine with renewed vigour.

"Vapour-zone?"

"Yes, the zone where I go poof and disappear if I get too close."

"Very cute, but will you stop this s**t. I am busting for a piss and if you keep this up I'll wet the bed."

"Spoilsport."

I tried to get up and that's when I noticed my surroundings. I was in an enormous bedroom, done up like the thousand and one nights bedroom in a nineteenth century French brothel. All silk, satin and velvet, in red with gold trim. Expensive mirrors and fittings and priceless Persian carpets.

"Where am I? Never mind, tell me later, where is the bathroom?"

Turned out that one of the large mirrors with the elaborately carved gold leafed frame was really a door that led into a beautiful bathroom, all done out in marble, with a Jacuzzi, a glass enclosed shower as well as a toilet and bidet behind a partition. Marge had come in with me and watched me piss. Gods have no shame.

"You are still in your house," she said. I have just done a bit of redecorating."

"Where did all the space come from? This is no longer a little sandstone cottage. If the bedroom is any indication this is a f*****g mansion."

"Only on the inside, from the outside it looks just the same."

"You have to put it back to what it was I can't afford to live in a place like this. I would spend my whole day cleaning up and I couldn't even get a cleaner in here without getting into trouble. The bank would foreclose because of unauthorised alterations and then make a fortune selling the joint."

"You worry too much. The house is no maintenance. It cleans itself." She went back into the bedroom and pointed to the bed. "See, the bed is already made, the carpets are clean and the dusting is done. The Gods are lazy. We had all these little things figured out a long time ago. As to the mortgage, it's paid up. The house is yours as of now."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well, if I am going to spend a lot of time here I want to be comfortable. Come, let me show you the rest of the house."

"Can I get dressed first?"

"If you must. Your clothes are in here." Another mirror turned out to open a walk in wardrobe. My K-Mart shorts and underwear had turned into Calvin Klein, The suits were Armani, the shoes Florsheim.

I didn't even ask what she had in mind with this s**t, I just put on some shorts and a tee shirt and looked for my thongs. I cursed because I couldn't find them. She grumbled something about me being like Bruce and materialised my thongs.

The second bedroom was done in a contemporary style. Everything top quality. It also had a walk in wardrobe and a similar en suite bathroom. The lounge was modern. White lacquer Italian furniture, white leather lounge and a glass topped coffee table with travertine legs. The dining room had six burgundy chairs, a large glass table and a burgundy buffet. The floors in the living areas were polished wood with Persian rugs. The kitchen was a dream. Ultra modern and functional. There was a door that led from the kitchen into a wine cellar. It was well stocked. Bruce would like this. Perhaps she had him in mind when she created it. Whatever fittings and furniture were in the house probably were worth at least ten times the price of the house.

I must say Marge has taste. I told her so and complimented her on the job. She seemed pleased with that.

"Let's have breakfast. What would you like?"

"I'd love a huge American breakfast with pancakes, maple syrup, eggs sunny side up, bacon crispy, hash browns, a sausage and a piece of steak. Orange juice and coffee, lots of coffee."

"Coming right up."

I thought she would just conjure the s**t up, but she didn't. She actually went into the kitchen and started cooking. I felt a bit guilty for ordering such an elaborate meal. She didn't seem to mind though, humming a happy little tune while she was doing her work.

I sat down on my favourite table on the veranda rather than in my newly acquired dining room. Thankfully she had not changed anything in the yard or on the veranda. It was still the way it always had been. I lit a cigarette. Marge came out and brought me some coffee and went back to the kitchen.

I was very confused. On one hand having a Goddess doting on me was wonderful, but the idea of her spending a lot of time here, as she had said, scared me and pissed me off a little. I hadn't even been asked if it was okay with me. How do you argue with a God though without getting hurt? I would have to play it by ear.

The breakfast, when it came, was cooked to perfection. She had made the same for herself. I complimented her on her cooking and asked why she had not just conjured it up.

"I love cooking. The smells, the tasting, the feel of the ingredients and then the final product, it's an adventure for me. I don't get to do it often. Bruce likes his barbeques. He does that himself, Lil is never there, she is always flitting around somewhere and dinner parties are rare where we live. Most Gods just conjure stuff up, especially for the big official banquets. We only eat for fun really, we don't need food to survive."

"Tell me Marge, why I am I all of a sudden so favoured by the Gods?"

"Because you are not scared of us. When Lil first came to see you, you got her to strip for you, when Bruce tried to play the angry father you spoiled his game by giving him a beer before he had a chance to say anything and when I was about to tear strips off you, you gave me a hug and a kiss and left me flabbergasted. No one, not a single human in history, has ever had the audacity to treat us as if we were equals. You are the talk of Olympus. I think you'll have quite a few Gods popping in from now on, just to see for themselves that cheeky, but nevertheless polite and inoffensive human. You are a star."

"So what happens now?"

"Now you and I will figure out a way for us to have a nookie."

"As much as I would like to, we can't do that."

"Why on Earth not?"

"It wouldn't be right. It would be immoral. I could not do this to Bruce or Lil, however much I fancy you."