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Message-ID: <52234asstr$1129662602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Girl Scout Hookees {Hoisington} (nosex, humor, scoffing, digressing, eye-rolling, wet spot, surgical tape)
Lines: 563
Date: Tue, 18 Oct 2005 15:10:02 -0400
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                        GIRL SCOUT HOOKEES
                                 
                        Russell Hoisington

************************************************************

This is an erotic fantasy and, in case you've forgotten the
rules, you shouldn't read it if you are:
     1) under legal age.
     2) living where reading this material is forbidden.
     3) in your right mind.
 
Once again, similarities to any "Girl Scout Nookie" events
chronicled by the talented writers remain absolutely coincidental
and irrelevant to the fact that they still remain taped to the
computer desk in front of me.  My own "Girl Scout Nookies en
Passant" and "Girl Scout Wookiees" and "Girl Scout Crookies" are
taped there too, and you should confine your snooping to those. 
The insignificant coincidences, sometimes incorrectly described
as "being identical," remain unworthy of worrying about, except
for "GSNeP" and "GSW" and "GSC" because these events take place
after those three.
 
This story is copyright 2005 by Russell Hoisington.  You may post
freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites as long as you do not remove the author
information or make any changes to this story.  This does *not*
mean that it is in the public domain, nor does it mean that I
give permission for you to use it in spam advertising.  I reserve
the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by *my*
definition, not yours or anyone else's.
 
Thank you for your consideration.
 
************************************************************
 
     Do you know what it's like to wake up and find four cute
little bareassnaked nookies in your bedroom?  Neither do I
because it was a dream, interrupted by the blasted alarm going
off at exactly the wrong moment.  I squeezed my eyes shut against
the thoughtlessly intruding ray of unwanted sunlight that had
wound its way from a gap in the curtains to my face, muttered
something that would cause my mother to die just so she could
spin in her grave, and rolled over to shut it off.  Before I
could reach for the button, the noise quit.  I dragged open my
eyes, expecting to see that Allie had turned it off.  Instead I
beheld two things:  one, four variously shaded cute little
bareassnaked nookies ranging from completely smooth to fully
thatched, and two, a quirt held in a cocoa-colored hand.
 
     Okay, three things:  no Allie.  Which, it seemed, wasn't
that much of a problem at that point.
 
     All four started laughing with an overabundance of glee.
 
     "What's so funny?" I asked through a yawn.
 
     Maria's lustrous brunette hair coruscated in scintillating
waves as she shook her head.  "You don't know your own name."
 
     Ming's red bangs bounced like silicone implants on pogo
sticks as she nodded.  "Instead of Mister Hoistigon..."
 
     "Hoisington," I corrected.
 
     Mistress Star shrugged her supple burnt sienna shoulders. 
"Who cares?  And knock off the stupid adjectives and similes."
 
     Buffy finished.  "...you think you're Mister Naive."
 
     I was dumbfounded, bewildered, and perplexed, not to mention
stupefied.  "What makes you think that I think that?"
 
     They exchanged _that look_.  Maria's bemused gaze returned
to smirk at me.  "Because," she scoffed, "nine paragraphs ago you
said that our being here instead of the fat bitch wasn't a
problem."
 
     "Oh."  Hey, I'd just been rudely awakened from a pleasant
dream, okay?  Just how well do _you_ think under those
circumstances?  "So, why are you here?"
 
     "Because there's a problem," said Buffy, sighing and rolling
her ice-blue eyes in a precise imitation of the manner of a
female who is speaking to a male who can't grasp the obvious.
 
     I yawned again.  "Well, remind me to look surprised next
Tuesday.  _OWTCH!!!_"
 
     Mistress Star's hard hazel eyes examined the tip of her
quirt to see if I'd damaged it by striking it with my shoulder
while Maria rolled her warm umber eyes and said, "Can't you wake
up enough to keep your stories straight?  This is a _Girl Scout
Nookies_ story!  Use the right phrases for it!"
 
     I was now awake.  I rubbed the welt on my shoulder.  "I
believe the '_OWTCH!!!_' was right for a GSN story," I said
painfully.
 
     Mistress Star drew back the quirt once more.  "Are you going
to start those silly Tom Swiftie adverbs again, worm?"
 
     "Ummmm..., no?"
 
     "Good.  Now wake up!  Here."  She indicated me to the others
with a jerk of her head.  Maria produced a steaming cup of
coffee.  One of these days I need to find out where they hide
things like cups of coffee, sheaves of papers, and Chicom AK-47s
when they're bareassnaked.  The only thing I know with certainty
is where Buffy keeps the ink pen they use for me to sign the
mortgages and other documents that Ming carries... wherever.
 
     "I'm glad you mentioned that," smirked Ming as she produced
a sheaf of papers and extracted one.  She handed it to Mistress
Star, who turned the printout to me and slapped a line with her
quirt.
 
     "See this line?  Thin Mints are now up to five hundred a
box, Samoas at four-fifty, shortbread at four-and-a-quarter, and
they're all still climbing.  Each will be over a thousand by
Christmas."  She lowered the printout before I could focus on it. 
Fortunately, she also lowered the quirt.  More fortunately, she
lowered it slowly.  Most fortunately, she didn't lower it on me.
 
     "That can change if you don't stop digressing, worm," she
warned me.
 
     I gulped a mouthful of the coffee, hoping the caffeine would
wake me up.  The sudden blisters did that before the caffeine
could kick in.
 
     When I stopped screaming Mistress Star shook her blonde Afro
and continued.  "The boxes we sell are making money hand over
fist.  In fact, you've paid off all but your original mortgage
with your share.  But at the rate we're going, we'll still
have..." she glanced at Ming, who handed her another printout. 
She scanned the bottom line. "...forty-two cases, mostly
shortbread and peanut butter, left over by the time the new
cookie season starts."  When I said nothing she added, "When the
price goes back to _normal_."  She stared at me, as if expecting
a response.
 
     "Could I have a shortbread cookie to go with the coffee?"
 
     Apparently that wasn't the response they wanted.
 
     "A peanut butter?"
 
     Maria rolled her luxuriant burnt umber eyes and produced a
Thin Mint.  I hoped it came from where I thought it did.  "I
suppose you'll ask for this next?"
 
     "Say, would you mind crumbling it back where it came from? 
Allie and Nykki both love having me eat them from there.  I'll
bet you'd also...."
 
     The quirt caused me to scream and drop the scalding coffee,
which landed in my lap and immediately soaked through the thin
sheet, causing more screaming.  Buffy produced a bowl of
goldfish.  Each took two and stuffed them in her ears as the
light faded into oblivion.
 
                              ~ ~ ~
 
     "I think he's coming to," said a muffled voice that sounded
vaguely like Ming's.
 
     The water mattress jumped with the redistribution of
multiple weights.  My eyelids quit resisting and began creeping
open slower than a snail on tranquilizers, revealing four
kneeling cute little bareassnaked nookies with what looked like
dark crumbs lining the three slits that weren't totally obscured
by thatching.  I reluctantly raised my eyes up their bareassnaked
bodies, past the flat stomachs, past the grapefruits, softballs,
baseballs, and lemons, and past the glistening smirks decorated
with flecks of more dark crumbs, to dreamy, satiated eyes.
 
     "You were right," Maria purred with satisfaction.  "I _do_
like it."
 
     That brought me back to consciousness.  My eyelids separated
like mats of seaweed in a tidal swell.  "Well, in that case, let
me...."
 
     "You're too late," sighed Buffy, her languid, enchanting
ice-blue eyes glancing at the clock.  "Play time is over.  It's
back to work time now."
 
     "Besides," murmured Ming as her dreamy jade eyes glanced at
my crotch, "you'd probably get a boner and pass out again before
you could finish."
 
     Frowning, I lifted my head from the pillow.  The top sheet
had been removed and thrown over the clothes hamper, where it
dripped dark brown coffee onto the light beige rug.  I beheld
Mister Happy and his two travelling companions wrapped in large
bandages covered with white surgical tape.  "Is it...?"  Fear of
the answer kept me from finishing the question.
 
     "Just severe first degree burns," Mistress Star said with a
smile.  "Hardly any second degrees worth mentioning.  And you
also killed off any possible crab infestation.  It will be fine,"
she waved her quirt and warped her smile into a snarl, "unless I
need your attention."
 
     I gulped like a sweet young thang swallowing a cmsix pick-up
line.  "You have it!"
 
     "Good."  She turned to Maria, Ming turned to Buffy, and they
licked the residual Thin Mint crumbs from each other's faces.  I
started to groan with envy, but Mister Happy decided to respond
to the sight, so instead I screamed with pain.
 
                              ~ ~ ~
 
     "I think he's coming to again," said a voice that sounded
like Ming's.
 
     "I hope so," said a voice that sounded like Maria's.
 
     "We don't have all day," said a voice that sounded like
Buffy's.
 
     "If he doesn't wake up, he'll wish he had."  That, without
question, was Mistress Star's.  My eyes flew open faster than the
legs of a ten-dollar hooker looking at a roll of hundreds.  They
were now sitting in the lotus position beside me.  I ignored the
open nookie display that disproved the hair color on their heads
and concentrated on their faces.
 
     "We should have thought of the bandages months ago," said
Ming.  The others nodded in agreement.
 
     "And the goldfish to muffle the screaming," said Maria,
pointing at the thrashing tails sticking out of her ears.  More
nodding.
 
     "I still don't know what you're doing here," I grumbled. 
"And I don't know why you're naked, for that matter."
 
     They looked at me as if I were the results of a backyard
trip by Baggins after he'd eaten his fill of cookies and they had
found me stuck to the bottoms of the shoes they'd removed. 
"You're hopeless," Buffy sighed, her fishtails wiggling as she
shook her head.
 
     "Do you really think anybody would still be reading this
crap if we were dressed, worm?"  Mistress Star's fishtails
wiggled in as disgusted a manner as can be wiggled by dying fish.
 
     But, unfortunately, she had a valid point.
 
     "Um, do you mind if I get up?  I'm lying in a puddle of
coffee, and my butt's getting cold."
 
     Group eye-rolling ensued.  If synchronized eye-rolling ever
becomes an Olympic sport, I know a guaranteed-gold-medal team. 
"Oh, sure!  It's a problem if _you_ are the one lying in a wet
spot, but it's okay if women have to sleep in it," scoffed Maria.
 
     "Ummm...."  Clearly it was time to change the subject again. 
"What did you say the problem was?"
 
     "We haven't said because you keep digressing!" screeched
Mistress Star, drawing back the quirt.
 
     Maria blocked the downstroke.  "If he keeps passing out,
we'll never get ourselves out of this stupid story."
 
     Mistress Star's face slowly faded from cinnamony chocolate
to plain cocoa chocolate with marshmallows where her fangs
showed.  She nodded reluctant acquiescence as Ming said, "If we
don't sell all the cases of cookies, we'll fall short of our
anticipated financial net profit goal."
 
     "If that happens," Buffy continued, "Officer Sherry might
not be able to acquire the entire Girl Scouts operation in one
purchase.  The price for the remainder would skyrocket, and it
would remain serious competition until we could afford to acquire
it at the new, much-higher price."
 
     Wheels spun, gears clacked, and realization loomed like the
income tax deadline.  "Let me guess.  You have another mortgage
in that stack of papers?"
 
     Mistress Star laughed, which is not so pleasant a sound as
it might seem.  "Not exactly, worm."
 
     Ming nodded smiling agreement.  "I have three of them."
 
                              ~ ~ ~
 
     "He's coming to again," said Ming's voice.
 
     "The worm had better, or _else!_"  You know whose voice that
was.  So did I.  My eyelids snapped upward faster than
politicians snapping up campaign contributions.
 
     Maria resumed where I had rudely interrupted Buffy.  "So, we
have two choices:  you make up the difference or we hook more
customers."
 
     I rubbed my stubbled chin.  "There's a third possibility," I
mused.
 
     "_YOU ASSHOLE!_"  It was the standard greeting from CJ, my
Museypoo, freshly returned from the latest Muse Convention. 
"_I'll_ do the musing around here!"
 
     "I think you're too late," said Buffy.  "Read the story up
to this point."
 
     CJ did.  "You loser!  She's right."  She qualified herself
for an individual eye-rolling medal.  "There's no way I can
salvage this amateurish drivel," she scoffed.  "Anyway, I have to
leave for the Muse Standards Council meeting."  She spun on her
heel and strode out of the room.
 
     I was astounded.  "I didn't know muses had standards."
 
     More synchronized eye-rolling.  The Olympics committee might
have to create a platinum medal.  "You sure can't tell it from
your stories," scoffed Ming.
 
     "CJ does some excellent scoffing," said Maria, who was still
staring at the door where Museypoo had exited.  Her voice bore a
tone bordering on uncompromising admiration.
 
     Mistress Star scowled and nodded agreement.  "No doubt she
gets a lot of practice with this worm since she obviously doesn't
get to do much musing.  You have to be pretty pathetic to have a
muse and not listen to her."
 
     "Now who's digressing?  We're already at the top of page
five."
 
     I will realize in retrospect that my comment wasn't the
right thing to say because the quirt lashed out.
 
                              ~ ~ ~
 
     "He's coming to again," said Ming's voice.
 
     "Damn," groused Mistress Star.  "I really did want to try
this."
 
     My eyes flew open like the doors of a casino evicting a card
counter and focused on the object in her hands.  "A metal dildo?"
 
     "Not exactly," she said with the smile that frightens
sharks.  "It contains the modified works of a cattle prod."  She
did something to it with her hand.  Electric arcs sizzled and
danced over its surface.
 
     I gulped and rushed out the words.  "As I was about to say,
I think I have a solution to the problem."
 
     The electric arcs vanished.  She looked at me with the
pleasantry that housewives reserve for special occasions, such as
discovering slime mold on the shower wall.  "Go on, worm."
 
     I breathed a sigh of relief.  "Well, we can 'borrow' the
money using Tesseract's credit cards and...."
 
     The arcs sizzled back to life and she snapped, "You have
absolutely no shame, do you, worm?  You'd actually do that to one
of your friends, wouldn't you, even though Mister Tesseract
is..." she thought for a second and then cooed, "nice."
 
     "He's kind," sighed Maria.
 
     "He's sweet," giggled Ming.
 
     "He's a dreamboat," moaned Buffy.
 
     I shrugged my best 'try to look nonchalant while trying not
to piss yourself' shrug.  "The less of his money I spend, the
more of my own I have to lay out, and that means less will be
left over for you and Officer Sherry."
 
     "He's a slimeball!" snarled Mistress Star.
 
     "He's a scuzzbucket!" growled Maria.
 
     "He's a pimple on the ass of humanity!" barked Ming.
 
     "He's a Canadian!" retched Buffy.
 
     Mistress Star stopped snarling and cogitated thoughtfully. 
"You're right.  He is.  And you can't buy much with their
Monopoly money.  Guess that leaves us with Plans A and B, worm. 
I expect you'd prefer Option B."
 
     "Um....  Which one was that again?"
 
     Buffy's goldfish tails waggled, spasmed, and went limp as
she shook her head in disgust again.  "Hooking more customers."
 
     I blinked.  Several times.  "You want me to be a hooker?"
 
     It's not often you get to see that quality and quantity of
synchronized eye-rolling from one consolidated source.  I felt
rather privileged while at the same time feeling chastised,
chagrined, and chattled.
 
     Hey, I was desperate for another "ch" word at the end, okay?
 
     "Where do you think the fat bitch is, worm?"
 
     "Ummm...."  No clue.  "Shopping for groceries?"
 
     They blinked at each other in surprise.  "The blind monkey
caught a peanut!" murmured Maria.
 
     "Almost," said Mistress Star.  "It's more like he caught the
empty peanut shell.  She's in the parking lot at Safeway, handing
out samples.  _One_ sample each.  She knows the tell-tales to
look for in a sugar junkie, so she knows just who to hand them
to:  the ones with that donut-glazed look in their eyes who went
cold turkey when the cookie season ended and they ran out. 
That's the thing with junkies:  they need just one and they're
hooked again.  And desperate."
 
     "So..."  I noticed that keeping my eyes on their faces had
the advantage of providing Mister Big Head enough blood to power
some serious thinking.  "I'm supposed to be a hooker and hand out
samples, too?  Halloween's in a couple of weeks.  How about me
giving some out as treats?"
 
     Well, maybe the blood supply was a few drops short of a
transfusion.  Copious synchronized eye-rolling followed,
accompanied by eight dead fish tails flopping.
 
     "He's hopeless," sighed Buffy.
 
     Ming closed her almond-shaped jade eyes and waggled her fish
tails.  "Yeah.  A total loser."
 
     "You wouldn't know who to give samples to, worm!" scoffed
Mistress Star.  The quirt left a breeze across my nose, but no
agonizing welt, and slammed into the mattress next to Mister
Happy.  "You'd use up the profit in wasted giveaways."
 
     Ming nodded.  "The fat bitch will be the hooker.  You'll go
along and provide protection, since she doesn't know how to
defend herself the way we do, and you'll collect the money from
the hookees."
 
     "Understand now?" asked Maria.  Clearly she expected the
answer to be "No."
 
     "I'm Allie's... pimp?"
 
     Maria's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
 
     Buffy shrugged.  "Close enough."
 
     Ming produced three documents from her sheaf of papers.  "Or
you can go with Plan A."
 
     I gulped.  "You know, everybody chooses Plan A first.  Let's
be different and go with B."
 
     Ming replaced the papers and pulled out another.  "By the
way, you owe us for the samples you'll be distributing plus the
ones you ate from the fat bitch's nookie, plus the Thin Mints we
had while we were waiting for you to come to."
 
     "The ones _you_ had?"
 
     Buffy shrugged again.  "Well, it was your idea, after all." 
She produced the pen and held it forward.
 
     Ming offered the paper.  "Sign here, please, and the
treasurer--that's me--will deduct the cost from your share of the
profits."
 
     I signed.  Well, I didn't feel like arguing because I'd been
awake--mostly--for some time now and was still in bed.  I really
really really needed to go to the little room in the corner.
 
     "Uh oh," said Mistress Star as she glanced at Buffy.
 
     "Oh no," said Buffy as she glanced at Ming.
 
     "Oy vey," said Ming as she glanced at Maria.
 
     "Damn," said Maria as she slapped her forehead.  "We forgot
to leave you an opening in the bandages."
 
     I gulped and then grabbed Mister Happy, noting with a degree
of mixed pleasure the increased apparent size, and looked at his
bandaged nose.  Maria was right.  "Not a problem," I said.  "I'll
just remove the bandage and replace it."
 
     "Um, you might not want to do that until it's fully healed,"
said Maria.
 
     "You see, we couldn't find any gauze," added Ming.
 
     "You mean...."
 
     "It's just tape," finished Buffy.
 
     "Don't worry about it," said Mistress Star as the world
began darkening.  "After all, you men think it's no big deal when
you have women wax their bikini lines for you."
 
     As I sat there, staring at the white bundles, they trooped
out of the room, removing the goldfish as they went.  I heard
Maria in the hallway ask, "Do you think we should get dressed
before we leave?" and Ming answer, "Nah.  Mister Coldmelon is up
by now.  He probably needs a thrill," as I reached for a loose
end of the tape.
 
     I tugged, and then I didn't hear anything for a considerable
length of time.  I didn't have any goldfish, and I think the
screaming damaged my ears.
 
 
 ************************************************************
 
 Copyright Russell Hoisington 2005
 
 The entire Girl Scout Nookies story collection is archived at
     http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/denny/www
 
 ************************************************************
 
 We who write the stories you like to read have received, and
continue to receive, a great amount of support from the people
here at ASSTR (The Alt Sex Stories Text Repository).  ASSTR's
major service is the archiving of our stories to make them
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     http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html


Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion

Stories archived at
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