Agatha and His Noodly Ecstasy

Agatha returned home from work. It was her first day as a waitress at Pirate Dan's Fish and Chips, and she was completely exhausted. As if it wasn't bad enough to be walking around all day, waiting on people who refused to tip, but she had to do it in this ridiculous pirate costume, with a sash tied around her head and her pants rolled up above her knees. It wasn't the sort of job she ever imagined having. She should at least be going to college, but she hadn't won the scholarships she would have needed to attend even the most ordinary school. Agatha took off her belt with the shiny plastic cutlass, and tossed it on the table. This was her life now: spending the day saying "Arrr, garlic shrimp be our special today." She swore to herself at the memory. She had felt like such a moron, and she wanted to simply close her eyes and forget the day. She was too exhausted even to get undressed: she simply fell into bed, and was quickly asleep.

In the middle of the night, she awoke. The air in her tiny apartment was moist with humidity. She sniffed the air. Oregano. Agatha sat up in bed, trying to process the scent. Had she spilled oregano on herself at work? She smelled her shirt. She had a little meatsauce stain, but nothing to produce an aroma of that strength. She stretched her arms over her head, still sleepy, and stood. She wandered to the kitchen, but the smell was less intense there. Deciding that it must just be her imagination, Agatha resolved to return to bed and to sleep.

But upon returning to her bedroom, she saw Him. She screamed. It was a natural reaction to seeing an enormous pile of spaghetti and meatballs on her bed. She screamed louder when she noticed the two enormous eyes on noodly tentacles sprouting from the mass. But she was aware that her screams were in vain: it was as though the very nature of space had been changed, and her voice fell away when it traveled only a few feet from her. She turned to run, but a one of the noodly appendages, as thick as her own arms, swung forth and bound around her ankles. Agatha tripped and fell, forward. She instinctively shot her hands out to brace herself against the fall, but just as she was about to hit the hardwood floor, more tentacles swung beneath her and caught her.

They were warm and moist, and left her skin wet wherever they touched. Agatha reached for something to hold onto, but the table, only a foot away a moment ago, now seemed to as though it was a million miles away. She closed her eyes, and reminded herself how she must, obviously, be still asleep, dreaming. She would open her eyes, and be alone, safe, in bed.

She took a deep breath, counted to three, then opened her eyes. She was face to face with Him, His eyes looking back into hers, and it was as though she could see all the universe within each of those black, glassy orbs. She looked down to the writhing mass of noodles and the two enormous meatballs, each of them the size of a beachball. The appendages still held her tightly, keeping her elevated off the floor. Something about it looked familiar. Then it hit her: she had seen a drawing of this on the news: something to do with the Kansas School Board debates on intelligent design.

"You're the Flying Spaghetti Monster!" She exclaimed.

"Yes." His voice was deep and low, and it did not seem to come from His body. It was more that when He spoke, all of existence echoed to produce the sound waves. And yet Agatha knew that she was the only one who could hear.

"But you're not real!" she exclaimed. "Some guy just made you up to show how intelligent design was nonsensical. You don't really exist!"

"My ways are complicated, and I will not explain them all to you. But it my will, at this point, to appear as though I was concocted by one man."

Agatha shook her head, unwilling to believe that she was having a conversation with Him.

"Can you put me down?" she asked.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster paused, as though reluctant to let go. Then the appendages slackened somewhat, and He lowered her to the floor.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I have watched you since you were born, I have looked after you and protected you. I have waited a long time for today."

"Why today?"

"Because today is the first day that you've worn the garb of the prophet."

Agatha looked down at her rumpled pirate costume. "What, this? It's just the costume for the place I work: Pirate Dan's Fish and Chips."

"It's not the best outfit, I'll grant you. But someday you'll wear the most bejeweled pirate outfit ever, with the loudest parrot ever."

"Wait," Agatha said, sitting down on the bed beside Him and rubbing her head. "I don't understand what this outfit has to do with anything. What I have to do with everything."

"Pirates have been my prophets throughout history, and even now, any of my prophets must wear pirate regalia."

"Are you saying I'm a prophet?"

"Not just a prophet. You are the prophet. You will bring my teachings to the masses," He said, reaching a noodly appendage around her shoulders.

Agatha shook her head. "I can't be a prophet. I don't even believe in you. I'm an atheist."

"Yes. It was my intent that you would be an atheist."

"Why?"

Suddenly she felt his tentacles wrapping around her again.

"So I would be forced to convince you," His booming, omnipresent voice echoed. All at once she was elevated again, held up off the ground by a dozen tentacles, some gripping her by her wrists and ankles, others stroking her body. She looked at Him again, and understood that she was not dreaming. She understood, also, that there was more than simply a divine abyss behind His eyes. There was desire, as well.

The appendages, even with their blunt and squishy ends, somehow manipulated the fastenings of her belt. They slipped beneath her silk blouse with it's ridiculous frilly edges, and she felt their slimy warmth across her breasts, down her back, and she shivered with delight. It made sense. It was ridiculous, but it made sense: her life had no purpose, and yet here was a chance for purpose: to tell people they were wrong, and more importantly, show them the truth. She wanted this badly. The Flying Spaghetti Monster sensed this change within her, and pulled her close.

"Oh yes, my noodly Master," Agatha moaned. She reached out and ran her hand over one of the meatballs, feeling its radiant heat beneath a thin layer of meatsauce. The world shuddered, and Agatha knew this was pleasurable to Him to be stroked thus, so she continued with both hands, rubbing the enormous meatballs gently. Then she raised her fingers to her lips and tasted His rich, tangy sauce. It was delicious, addictive. She continued licking her whole hand clean, as his tentacles ripped open her shirt, and unfastened her bra. She felt Him warm and gentle against her bare nipples, even as more noodly appendages sought to find their way down into her pants. Before she knew it, her pants were around her ankles, and she felt Him caressing her ass, sliding wetly along, and then up her back.

Her skin was now moist as though she were in the shower, and his embrace was humid. She breathed in the aroma of Him, and it was like an aphrodisiac to her. She spread her legs willingly, hopefully, and looked down to watch as two appendages began caressing her most intimate climes, where she radiated her own humidity.

He was against her like two enormous tongues, rubbing up and down, teasing at opening her up. She looked at her body, now tangled up in his noodly body, and marveled at how beautiful she looked; she had never seen her skin glisten as it now glistened. She looked up to Him, and saw Him looking back.

"I want your noodles inside me, please." Part of her mind said that it was the most ridiculous thing she had said in her life, but she knew she had never uttered anything so true. She reached around one of His meatballs and pulled herself in against him, pressing her body against his thick and aromatic sauce. His body enfolded itself around her, until she was actually inside that mass of noodles, her arms and legs hopelessly tangled. Her head was lying against one of the meatballs, so she began licking it, and she felt him tremor in delight.

Then He began to slide into her. She had never felt anything so large, nor anything so firm and muscled within, and yet soft and slippery on the surface. She tensed her hips, squeezing herself around Him, and He responded by slipping out, and then in again. Agatha moaned in delight.

"Oh Master! Your noodle, it's so good."

"Agatha, my beautiful pirate lass," the voice echoed now within Agatha's head. She felt her whole body being caressed by His heaving mass of noodles, as though there were nothing else, no other sense possible beyond the sense of His touch. He slid in and out of her faster, his appendage contorting within her, touching every secret place that had eluded even her most dedicated of lovers in the past. For just a brief moment, the absurdity of her situation appeared to her, and she wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. But at that moment, a tremendous orgasm was building up inside her, and it took control of her body—of her voice—and howled out in ecstasy. She felt it all along her bones, and then felt her bones disappear, and for that delicious moment of orgasm, she was nothing but a mass of meat and limp, noodly appendages.

She lay there, tangled upon Him, His tentacle still inside her, until she knew that she was about to be taken by sleep.

"I'll be your prophet," she said, knowing that He already knew. And Agatha fell asleep, and awoke, as she had before, to the smell of oregano. She blinked her eyes open, then looked down to see streaks of His sauce upon her body, stains upon the sheets. Of course, He could have hidden all traces of His appearance, and make her wonder if it was all a dream. But she smiled, understanding His benevolence, and used a finger to wipe some of the meatsauce from her body and raise it to her lips.

Then she collected her pirate costume from the floor. It would need to be ironed, and the stains would need to be rinsed. She happily carried the pirate blouse to her sink. She knew her life had purpose. She didn't fully understand what it was she would be expected to do, but she felt certain that He would come to her again when she needed to know more. And she looked forward to His coming more than anything she had ever wanted before.