The "AwkWard" Contest
Story Title: Strapped
Pen name: queenofgrey & bananapancakes7 (collab)
Disclaimer: Rated M for cringe-worthy situations, inappropriate language, and sex that is all kinds of weird. Like, really. This isn't fluff. Don't say we didn't warn you.

To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:


On the car ride home, I got my explanation. Apparently, Emmett and Rosalie had spent a drunken evening watching Road Trip, and, like the incessant fool Emmett was, he had somehow convinced Rosalie to try to enter his backdoor and hit the hot spot that was played up in the movie. The result was, in Emmett's words, "fucking magical," and Edward was simply curious if it really worked, or if Emmett's pants were just on fire with lies.

He went on to say that, while he was certainly satisfied with our love life, and everything we had done in bed thus far, he thought it might be beneficial to try new things--to keep our sexcapades fresh and exciting.

"If you really don't want to, you don't have to," he kept repeating, assuring me with gentle squeezes on my shoulder and kisses on my knuckles. "We can always do something else. You seemed excited about the idea of all the 'recreational' activities… maybe next time, we can shop together?"

Here I was, sitting with the most gorgeous man I knew, who was being open and honest, and actually eager to keep our sexual relationship raw, satisfying, and adventurous. And we were young, both fans of 'trying new things' and, after listening, I couldn't help but feel curious. Even if I was terrified and kind of nauseated, I was curious.

When I agreed, he smiled mysteriously, promising me that, no matter what happened, after we experimented, he would be at my mercy, ready to satisfy me any way I wanted him to. In addition to his statement, he dipped his hand below my dress and touched me, teasing, making me grip the leather seat with clenched fingers, moaning with closed lips in encouragement. His hands were magic, and he knew it; even if I had refused, he would have turned me to obliging putty in no time.

However, once we had pulled up to our house, I left my lingering scent of arousal in the car with the passion fruit air freshener, and stood alone in our living room, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Anxiety and awkward tension were building quickly, and I was starting to have second thoughts.

What if I did something wrong and hurt him? Or, what if he liked it, liked it so much that he always wanted to do it that way? Or, God forbid, what if something got stuck?

I decided that the liquor cabinet stood as my only option of sanity at the moment. While Edward was in the bathroom, I hurriedly opened the glass door, snaking my hand behind the colored bottles for the tequila. With shaking hands, I poured myself a shot, clinking the rim of the bottle to the glass, evidence of my ever-increasing nerves.

Quickly downing the sour alcohol, I coughed, catching the dribbles on my chin with a swipe of my hand. My stomach gurgled in protest after a few moments, and I thought twice before I poured myself another shot. The last thing I needed to do was literally fuck my fiancé, and then vomit all over him. At least I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't into that kind of kink. Well, I hoped not.


Aw, fuck it. I took one more swig of tequila, swallowed the burn, and closed the liquor cabinet. As I walked into our bedroom, I felt the cool tingle of sweat bead at the base of my neck at the sight of Edward rummaging in the closet, and I bounced on my toes, trying to shake myself free of my discomfort and mounting nerves…

Yeah, the mounting's coming, honey, don't you forget.

Edward turned with a bright blue box in his hands, and the tequila I'd consumed was reminiscent of Old Faithful, spouting and bubbling fiercely in my stomach. I coaxed my lips into smiling instead of curling into a horrified grimace, and Edward actually grinned like this was going to be fun.

"So," he said, ripping off a piece of tape, "I heard that this was one of the best brands. It has leather straps; I heard those were the most comfortable."

I swallowed my nausea, fidgeting with my practically nonexistent fingernails as he opened the box and reached inside. "Uh-huh."

Slowly, he pulled out a plastic-packaged…thing. Loops of black bands, similar to belts, were curled around a flesh-colored, veiny dildo. "See? There's a mini vibrator behind it, so it'll please you, too… Bella?" Edward said, waving his hand in front of my eyes. "You're not blinking."

I forced myself to blink a few times, my eyes burning slightly, and cleared my throat. "You, uh…you really gave this a lot of thought, didn't you?"

"Well, I wanted you to be comfortable."

Comfortable. Right.

He tore the plastic and reached inside, grasping the present, and my eyes grew larger as he pulled it out, in all its dildo glory.

I stared, wide-eyed and gaping. "Edward, that's huge. It'll tear your ass in half. I mean…" Suddenly, something caught my eye, and I pulled one of the black leather straps back; if it was possible, my mouth dropped even further. "What the--why does it have testicles?!"

He appeared as startled as I was. "My God," he said, twisting it in his hands, causing it to look like a rocket ship, ready for take off. "It wasn't this graphic on the box."

I sputtered, nearly choking on laughter. "I can't do it. I cannot put this on and cram--I mean, it has balls, okay? If it was straight, and purple, or something, and didn't look like the Dick of Doom, I might be up for this."

Edward snorted, unable to keep his amusement contained, either. "I guess we could always make some adjustments…"

"What, you want to cut off its sac?" I asked incredulously. This was leading up to be an utter disaster. "Wow, babe, that's so romantic. I could cry." I really could.

"Well, they don't seem to be firmly attached," he said, poking the artificial skin like it was a doorbell. "I think they'd come off easily. That is, if you even still want to do this."

Honestly, all I wanted to do was put the whole contraption in the garbage disposal and get drunk--enough to make me forget the sight of him with faux man-junk clasped in his hands, those hands that always traveled voraciously over my skin, and down to satisfy the release that I craved. It was our anniversary, for Christ's sake, and I wanted this to be memorable, not scarring. Yet, he was trying to be spontaneous and had hoped to make our night kinky, crazy, and as something that we could look back on: a wild night of passion. We were a hot couple, after all, and a little experimentation never hurt anyone… right?

"I guess I still want to try," I said, swallowing my doubt. "But really, I can't get past the… you know… boy giblets."

Edward squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning to pull open my junk drawer from the dresser. "You have art scissors in here, don't you?" I didn't have to answer, as he pulled out a pair of cheap, plastic scissors fit for a kindergartner. I massaged my temples with rhythmic pressure. Some guys turned on cheesy, suggestive music, breaking out candles and three-thousand thread-count sheets for a night of passion. Some even ran blossom-scented bubble baths, luring their loves to bed with promises of chocolate body paint and multiple O's. And, here I was, watching Edward castrate fake balls off a rubbery, fleshy dildo with a pair of safety-scissors.

The room was too quiet, and I decided that whatever noises might come of this act were not going to help me relax, so I turned on our stereo, cranking up the volume and settling on rock music. It wasn't as if this was a gentle, intimate scenario, after all. When Edward turned around with the twig-minus-berries, I felt myself start to sweat again, and not in a good, excited way. Without bothering to converse over what to do next, I plucked the sex-device out of his hands, tossed it on the bed, and then took the butchered, silicone balls from him and threw them into the hallway, out of sight.

"Just a second," I whispered, bringing his face close to mine. "I want something from you, first."

With that, I pressed my mouth to his, wanting to have something familiar--I needed to taste the lingering tartness of wine on his lips, feel the heat and smell the sweetness of his skin, and push my hips greedily into his. Regardless of what was about to happen, he was my Edward. If I kept the vision of this in my mind, I might be able to get through the evening successfully.

He responded as I'd hoped, eagerly pulling me close and pressing his hands into my back, smoothly returning my kiss before lowering his avid lips to my neck. Our bodies were warm and aflush as we started to strip off each others' garments. I managed not to pop any of his buttons as I tugged off his shirt, tossing it on the night table, and my shoes thumped against the wall as he kicked them out of our path. Clothes continued falling fluidly to the floor, as our hands fisted, fondled, and clasped in a carefree pattern, until we were red-faced and panting, hungry with longing.

But then, I remembered.

"So," I piped up, my lips only inches from his, "should I put this thing on, now? Or should I wait until… well, I don't know what I'd be waiting for."

His breath hit my cheeks in balmy puffs. "…I suppose now would be better."

It was almost depressing how the blazing desire seemed to grow lukewarm, and I could feel him watching me as I stepped out of his arms and over to the edge of the bed. I picked up the strap-on by its black leather straps and stared at the shape of it; after I spent an embarrassing amount of time dick-gawking, I peeked over at Edward, feeling quite certain that I could fry an egg on my cheeks.

He was only in boxers, and observed as the dildo swung to and fro. "Um, do you want me to help--why don't you put your leg up, and I'll--"

"No," I hissed, turning him so his back was to me. "Get on the bed, and don't you dare turn around. I can't let you see me with… man-junk."

I heard him try to stifle a laugh. "Suit yourself."

I put my legs through the harness and got my foot caught for a moment, causing me to hop sideways and fall, face-first, on the bed. I grunted, cursing under my breath and ignoring the continuous chuckles from Edward, and finally succeeded in fastening everything in place.

Well, congratulations, Bella--or Billy--Swan. I was officially strapped in, and ready to go. Sort of. Thankfully, the tequila was finally kicking in, in a good way. A warm, hazy, carefree stream of encouragement was pumping through my bloodstream, and I smiled lazily, running my hands through my hair before rubbing them together.

"Wait, shouldn't we use some KY, or something?" I asked, trying not to explode into giggles at the sight of the fake pe-nay-nay between my legs.

"Oh…right. There's a bottle in my drawer."

Once I had recovered a bottle of personal lubricant, I climbed into bed and pressed my back against the headboard. I felt ridiculous, yet kinky, as I lubed up the rubbery penis, taking a comical moment to flick the tip of the head, watching it bob up and down. Haha. Bobble-Peen.

"Okay," I said aloud, to both myself and Edward. "So, are you just going to, like, take it? I mean, are you going to… handle yourself, too, or should I try to do that?"

I couldn't imagine looking graceful while playing 'Humper' and trying to give him hand job, simultaneously. Although, this whole thing wasn't exactly a ballet recital; grace went out the window as soon as the word strap-on came into play.

"I'll do that," he said, sounding a bit self-conscious.

I snapped the waistband on his boxers, unable to help giggling. "Well, come on, then, let's do this before my thing falls off."

Edward took a deep breath and nodded, slipping off his boxers and granting me permission--or access.

Oh, Jesus Christ, here we go.

I made sure to focus on the Warhol painting hanging on the opposite wall and not my naked fiancé, who positioned himself on his hands and knees. Biting my lip, I hovered over the small of Edward's back, and as I placed my hands on his hips, I tried not to stare directly at his ass. This was hardly enticing, and as much as I loved him and had agreed to marry him, I was not aware that the promise of sharing my life with him forever would include cramming Dildolph the Ball-less Cockdeer into his rear end.

I braced myself, and gave a small, forward thrust.

"Whoa, Bella, you can't just--" he said, stilling my hips as I jabbed him. He crawled on his knees away from me, away from the thing, and turned around, fear in his eyes. I wondered if I looked the same as I stared down at the floppy dick-monster attached to me. "You have to, like, warm it up first."

"It's the warming liquid kind--"

"Not the lubricant, Bella."

"Then what, the dick? Like, put it in the microwave?" I asked, appalled--food went in the microwave, not peen.

"No, my--you know--me--my anus. You can't just dive right in. I'd die."

"You wouldn't die," I told him, and then I thought about his words. My anus. What exactly could a warm up for an anus entail? I didn't want to know, but I was certain he would tell me. And then, I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Warm up?"

"Fingers, Bella. You can't just go full-throttle, so to speak."

"My fingers? In there?" I asked, wide-eyed. All of a sudden, the dick attached to my girly parts was looking better and better.

"Hey, I put mine inside of you," he countered, his brows dipping sternly above his eyes.

I scoffed. "No, wait, you put yours in my vagina. Totally different."

After a bit more back-and-forth, and getting a verbal education about the male g-spot, I decided to stop arguing and grabbed the bottle of lubricant. I put a squirt of the slippery gel on my fingers, shut my eyes, and went for it. Suddenly, I was knuckles deep and thinking, "Poop doesn't exist. It doesn't come out of there. No, it doesn't. Sunshine and rainbows. Not poop."

"Feel anything 'magical' yet?" I asked, wondering if the soft grunts he was making were out of pain, or pleasure. Thank God we weren't facing a mirror; I'd either die of laughter or cry with horror at the presumable look on his face.

"It's different," he answered, and I immediately froze, afraid I was hurting him.

"Should I stop?"

Please, tell me to stop.

"No, it's okay, it doesn't feel bad, it's kind of… sensual. It's just a little weird."

A little?! "You're getting me a manicure," I said bluntly.

After some fancy finger push-ups, he was finally warmed up. I made a quick trip to the bathroom to scrub my hands, and stumbled back to the bed, feeling graciously drunk. I fumbled with the lubricant again and squeezed the bottle without looking, causing Edward to yelp. "Damn, Bella, that's cold! And you're not planning on humping my back, are you?"

I looked down to find a splatter of lube on his spine, and instantly cracked up. "Not unless there's a secret g-spot there, too, baby. Are you ready?"

I watched him fist handfuls of the sheet, and his shoulders went from tense to relaxed, and then stiffened again. "I guess. Emmett better be right about this."

"Don't mention your brother in this bed, please," I said, slapping one of his ass cheeks. "And not a word of this to anyone, right?"

"Trust me, I'm not saying anything."

Well, this is it. You can do this. Think nice thoughts--lusty thoughts.

I turned on the little vibrator inside the makeshift panties, and slowly, carefully, pushed my hips frontward. I screwed up my eyes, outright scared to death, and waited. I couldn't believe it, but the damn thing actually fit inside him, and he wasn't screaming in pain. That gave me the smallest bit of confidence that I wasn't going to literally rip him a new one, and little by little, we both developed a comfortable rhythm--he with his man-business, me with my fake business.

Thankfully, the music overpowered the creaking of the bedsprings, and any other noise that would make me remember what I was wearing. I concentrated on the vibration coming from the center of my legs. This wasn't so bad; it was bizarre, but we were being adventurous.

You're okay. He's okay. This is--

"Bella?" I snapped out of my thoughts and stared down at Edward. "Does that vibrating thing go any higher?" he asked.

"Uh…" I reached into the harness and felt for the little pulsating pod. I pushed the button to a higher speed, and both Edward and I reacted, both gasping, feeling the effects. "Is that okay?"

He mumbled something I couldn't understand, but it must have been of positive nature, because he started starting moaning lowly, appreciatively. A few deep breaths later, we were both pumping again--his hand, my hips. I felt like I was bucking around, riding an invisible horse, and I felt like I should have a whip in my hands, like a damn cowgirl. An intersexual cowgirl.

You're wearing a penis. Damn it all. This was ludicrous. However, Edward was still enjoying himself and gave no sign of wanting to stop. Even though I couldn't hear him very well, I could feel his back rising and falling with heavy, anticipatory breath. Maybe he was coming to a climax.

"Oh, God, Bella…"

Yup. He was close.

"Edwaaard," I mock-moaned through gritted teeth, hoping whatever kick he was getting out of this would be over soon; I was getting tired, and sore. I reached down to adjust the vibrator, pressing it against my clit, thinking that the only thing that would get me through this remotely unscarred was an orgasm. Maybe if I continued to look at the ceiling and think of the Spartan abs from 300, I would succeed.

I peeked at Edward, whose arm was still pumping his front-boy business, and tried not to dry heave as my eyes magnetized back to my hermaphroditic lower half. This needed to be over--like, now. And the only way that was going to happen was to get him off like a rocket, and prove that I was the best fianceé ever, and conquer the male "G." Frantically, I rocked my hips, unable to help snickering at Edward's moans of ecstasy, and I closed my eyes, finally feeling the hot pressure begin to build in my stomach, down to my center.

"Mm, baby," I cried, the pleasuring sensation overriding my insecurities. I closed my eyes as a burst of rapturous heat shot through my body, and I thrusted myself forward, riding out my orgasm. Just as mine ended, I felt Edward shudder beneath me, and he collapsed onto his stomach, bringing me down on top of him.

Panting heavily, and half smiling in embarrassment and odd satisfaction, I buried my face in his neck, too tired to speak just yet.

"Just… purr…" he rasped breathily, his hand straight out in front of him, probably praising the strap-on gods, or something.

Just purr? What the…? He wanted me to purr, now, too?! A fake cock apparatus wasn't enough, and now I had to turn into a fucking cat?! I pretended I didn't hear. But he said it again, and the clarity hit me like a train car.


"J-Jasper?!" I cried, pushing myself away so hard, so fast, and I flew back against the headboard, arms up, legs bent, ding-dong flopping. "Ow, shit--goddamn it, Edward! Jasper? Jasper?!"

This wasn't an adventurous experiment. This wasn't a promiscuous act to keep our sex life stimulating and new. This was a performance--a set-up--all so he could get off on having Jasper's phantom cock in his ass.

I wriggled, pulling and unhooking myself as fast as my fingers allowed, and raised the rubbery dick strap up in the air, fully intending on beating the hell out of Edward with his prized possession, when I saw a figure by the door.

Jasper Whitlock, in the flesh. Edward had been trying to tell me that Jasper was standing right there, watching in mindfucked shock.

Holy shit.

"Jazz! What are you doing?!" I cried, frozen in place, suddenly very aware that I was completely naked and holding a penis in front of Edward's best friend.

"It's--you said--aren't you guys supposed to be on vacation?" Jasper uttered, spinning around, holding onto the wall. "You told me to water your goddamn plants!"

"We're leaving tomorrow!" I cried, yanking the sheet from the mattress so hard, Edward toppled off the side of the bed, landing with a loud thump. He lay gasping, the wind knocked out of him. "How long were you standing there?!"

"Long enough!" came Jasper's horrified voice.

As I struggled to wrap the bed sheet around my body, hiding what felt like neon nudeness, I saw Jasper squat down to the floor. He stood up, made an indecipherable sound, and held up something--the lone pair of balls that I had thrown. "What the fuck are these?" he asked, still turned away.

I had never wished for sudden death before, but I would have gladly sunk through the floor, to an early grave, from utter humiliation.

"Oh, tell me you didn't," Jasper said, strangely high-pitched. "You cut off the tes-ticklers?" He howled with laughter, dropping the fake balls, and to my horror, they actually bounced. "Oh, my God… oh, my--" Jasper's manic fit of hilarity resonated throughout the room, and he held his knees, slouched over, barely able to get a breath. He finally turned to look at us, managing to sputter, "You will never live this down, Eddiekins. I always told you you'd regret telling Alice about the taco incident, man. To this day, she still calls me Hershey Squirt whenever I get on her nerves."

"Ew," I muttered, pulling the sheet's folds tighter around my shoulders, and then, I realized what he meant--he was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He was going to call Alice.

"Don't you dare!" I screeched, lunging for the phone, only managing to rip off the phone's protective case. Jasper cartoonishly held my head with his hand, keeping me and my flailing arms at bay as he pushed the pad of numbers, placing the phone to his ear. "Sorry, Bells," he said, wheezing with laughter. "It's too good. I'll never get an opportunity like this again. Payback's a bitch," he added to Edward, who was still struggling to breathe evenly, and unable to move, or speak.

I fought, pushing and grabbing, clawing and kicking, threatening and pleading for him to hang up, but I ended up tripping on the bed sheet. I tumbled back through the bedroom doorway, leaving Jasper to saunter merrily down the hall.

"Alice," I heard Jasper gasp, laughing so hard he sounded like he was choking. "Oh, my God, you'll never believe it. Tonight, Bella finally grew a pair of balls and Edward totally lost his, forever."

I crawled back to Edward, wanting to kill him, but, instead, I leaned against the bed, patting his chest with one hand, while staring at the mocking, little, black leather phone case in the other, listening to Jasper rat us out to Alice. I could only think one thing:

FML. Up the ass.