Warning: This story is a piece of erotica.� (Barely)� It contains Tits and Ass and more Tits.� If you are under 18, or easily offended, or a Dickens Scholar, please don�t read.� Thank you.

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Yet Another Damn Christmas Carol.

By HorseRadish.

�2004 Horseradish.

With all due apologies to Charles Dickens.

�� Eleanor Scrooge sat in her office, reviewing the 3^rd quarter figures for her business empire.� Babs Cratchit stumbled in to her office.�

�Madam Scrooge, could you see fit to let me have Christmas day off? Its for my family you see��

Scrooge slammed both of her boney hands on the desk.

�Will your demands ever cease Miss Cratchit!?� �Madam Scrooge, the overhead light burnt out, can I get a replacement?� �Madam Scrooge, Can I spend Christmas with my family?�� Scrooge hatefully mocked Cratchit.

�But madam,��

�Get back to work.� And I�m docking your pay for this time you�ve wasted!�

�Yes Madam Scrooge.�

The door closed as Cratchit left.� Scrooge silently admired herself in the upright mirror.

�Not an ounce of that wretched body fat.� All lean muscle and skin.� She sighed to her self.

Scrooge had made a great fortune by promoting diets and exercise that were guaranteed to leave women thin as a reed. �She had shrewdly created cross product endorsements that brainwashed women into using her products.� Celebrities were boney thin and touted as the ultimate beauty.� They would smile a rictis grin and thank Scrooge for their fabulous bodies.� Needless to say, breast implants went out of style and very few women wore a bra beyond a B cup.�

�� Fred joyously leaped to her office.�

�Happy Holidays to you, Auntie Scrooge!�

�Bah, humbug!� All this chattering idiocy about Holidays that make you happy?!�

�Now Auntie, we just want you to come have a nice holiday dinner with us.� Is that so wrong?�

�Ah yes, the bird slathered in greasy gravy and starchy stuffing.� I�ll pass, but thank you kindly for asking.�

�Auntie Scrooge, you pass every year!� You�ve not eaten anything but rice and water for as long as only god can tell!� A solid meal would put some meat on your bones.�

Fred deliberately crossed the line, pushing Scrooge to look at him.

�Foolish, foppish nephew.� I would have you know that I am unflawed with your

�meaty bones.�� Spat Scrooge.

�Regardless, you�re most welcome to come.� Replied an unfazed Fred.

Fred left while singing �Jingle Bells.�

��

Scrooge rode the elevator to her penthouse.� She wished for nothing but a quiet meal away from the clattering holiday noise.� The doors slid open and an icy breeze washed over her.

�Damn environmental controls.� Something is off its adjustment.� Muttered a bitterly cold Scrooge.

She put a sweater on and noted that the thermostat was set for 72 degrees.� Scrooge�s low body fat meant she owned a lot of sweaters and was still cold.� She picked up a phone and stabbed the number of the building maintained.

�Yes, This is Scrooge at penthouse 311.� It�s freezing up here!� The environmental controls must be busted.� Yes, I�ll be waiting to buzz you in.��

Scrooge shivered and waited by the elevator door.� A telltale ping signaled the arrival of the maintenance worker.� She anxiously pushed the button and waited.� The doors parted and a wretched blast of cold air tossed her to the ground.� She whimpered as the frigid ozone scorched her nostrils.�

�Eleanor Scrooge!� called a voice, the voice of the dead.

Scrooge squinted up and through her steamy breath saw the impossible.� It was the translucent image of her dead partner.�

�Janet Marley!� You�ve been dead and gone for a � quarter!�

�Silence!� screeched Marley.�

Scrooge reeled back.

�You can�t be here.� It must a bad piece of beef.� Yes, a bad spot of beef.�

�You moron!� Vegetarians don�t eat beef!�

�Oh yes.� Scrooge shivered.

�Scrooge, I am here to give you a warning.� You must change your ways or end up like ME!��

Marley splayed her robe.�� She had skin like dry parchment taped over her skeleton.� The dried paper-thin skin that had browned tightly wrapped joints.� Her nipples pointed straight down tapering about an inch.�

�Geez, that�s skinny Janet.�

�ITS NOT SKINNY!� IT IS YOUR DEATH!� howled Janet.

�No need to yell, death breath!� snapped an increasingly annoyed Scrooge.

�Anyway, you�ll be visited by three spirits tonight. � �

�Oh really, more dead skinny people?� sniped Scrooge.

�I came back here to warn you.� I filled out all the proper paperwork and requisitioned a full manifestation just so I COULD take this ABUSE!� Stupid bitch.�

Marley flew back into the elevator.� The doors slid closed.

�Three spirits Scrooge.� Janet said as the doors cinched.�

�� The apartment warmed up.� Scrooge sat in her bedroom reading a report.� A bell chimed.� It had a distinctly holiday sound that rang through Scrooge like a nail in her blackened heart.� She looked around and saw a flittering light around her bed.� The light settled on her bedspread and popped.� A beautiful three-foot elf appeared in a red bikini and Santa hat.� The long blond hair flowed over her shoulders and tapered off at the start of her plush and full breasts.� Her boobs were straining and compressed by the top that held the jiggly mass at bay.� Her rounded hips flowed down sculpted legs and tiny bare feet.�� Scrooge was aghast at the fullness of the elf.�

�Hiya, you ole bittie!�

�Who..Who the hell are you?�

�I�m the ghost of Christmas past!�

The ghost raised her hands in a gesture of presenting herself.� Then she started to jump up and down on the bed while yelling �yippee, oh boy� and �weeeee!�� The bra top mystically stayed on despite the tremendous weight tossing around in it.

�You�re not the regular ghost of Christmas past, are you?� Scrooge dryly noted.

�Nope, that�s my boyfriends job.� He wanted to go wassailing with the boys.�

�Ok, ok, ok. �Gasped the breathless elf.� �Its time to go on a trip.�

�A trip? At this time of night�

:�Shut up and grab my breasts, ok?��

�Why, are they mystical?�

�That and I dig the jealous look women give me.�

Scrooge grimaced and placed one hand on each breast.�

�� The two appeared at a windowsill in front of Fezziwig�s gym.�� It was the Christmas party that her boss threw 20 years ago.� It was full of trainers and their families.� Scrooge looked up and saw her kind-hearted boss, in her youthful glory.� Fezziwig was an Amazon, towering over most at a 5�11�.� Her waist curved out to a toned and shapely ass.� And whatever body fat she was missing found a home in her chest, which stretched out the leotard as if she had placed basketballs in it.�� Many accused her of implants.� She would laugh heartily and push their faces into the plush yielding flesh.� The accuser would pull away and grin sheepishly.� Often, the accuser would ask for another confirmation.�

�

Fezziwig was frowning at the young Scrooge, who was laboriously working on the leg lift machine.� The younger woman was half way through her infamously vigorous workout in her attempt to shave off more body fat.

�Scrooge, what are you doing!� Git yer ass off that glute machine and have some Christmas cheer!�� Honked Fezziwig.

�But I have another 20 reps� gasped the young Scrooge between leg lifts.

�Scroogy, you know what glutes are for?�

�For filling out the jeans and keeping your ass out of the toilet bowl!!� the party members gleefully chanted.

�Damn straight!� barked Fezziwig.�

Fezziwig tossed Scrooge over her shoulder and placed her next to Fezziwig�s brother, Steven.� A man that most women would call cute.� Scrooge would�ve called him scrumptious if she had the fundaments of a more confident woman.��

Steven cleared his throat.

�Would you like to dance, Miss Scrooge.�

Scrooge could not but nod her head in agreement.� A slow song played and Steven wrapped his arms around her, mindless of her sweat soaked leotard.� They slow danced as the throng hooted and hollered.�

�� The older Scrooge looked wistfully at the dancing couple.� She turned to the ghost.

�That was the only time I�ve ever been happy.�� Choked Scrooge.

�I know.� �

�Why couldn�t he love me the way I loved him?!?!?�

�You knew he was gay, right?�

�WHAT?� gasped Scrooge?

�Yep, Flounced out of the closet about a week after this dance.� Geez, you are one stupid bitch!�

�Spirit, take me back, I beseech you.��

Scrooge grabbed the spirits breasts and squeezed them to trigger her return.�

�You don�t need to squeeze them, they don�t work that way.�

�� Scrooge found herself lying face down on her bed.� Her nose was smashed in to a bowl of melted sugar free and fat free frozen yogurt.

�Furfh!� she spat angrily.

She pushed herself off and dramatically scooped the soppy yogurt residue from her eyes.� She whipped her head around in a murderous search of the buxom ghost.� When she determined that she had no idea where the elf went, she marched in to the bathroom to clean herself off.�� She noticed someone was in her shower stall.� The etched glass provided a silote but no details.�� The showering body was singing in a growly bawlsy way, with shimmy of her shoulders in rhythm of the song.�

�.. Jiggling tits, jiggling tits, jiggling all the way.� Oh what fun is it is to hide that one eye trouser snake��

Scrooge yanked the door open and beheld the spirit her bountiful beauty.

�Say luv, could you be a right gal and do me back?� chimed the earth goddess.

Scrooge could not help but stare at the water trickling down the waist and dripping from her round ass.� The ghost pulled her hair up and gave a quick grin to Scrooge.� Scrooge had not wiped the yogurt from her face and was not about rub this narrow waisted hourglass spirit of �.

��Christmas present.� The ghost completed the thought of Scrooge.

�Can you read my mind?� Scrooge was horrified.

�Phhhttt� Like it�s a real challenge.�� Sang the ghost.

The ghost came out of the shower fully clothed in the most flamboyant cocktail dress Scrooge had ever seen.� Scrooge fought her revulsion at the combination of nylon and polyester stretched over the curvy overly fertile figure standing before her.�

�Scrooge, you�ve been a long time without the lovin� touch of a man�� the ghost paused dramatically, �or a woman.�

�I only want the touch of paid invoices under my fingertips.� Countered Scrooge.

The ghost laughed and the room shook with each peal.�

�Scrooge, you really are a stupid bitch.�� The ghost muttered dangerously.�

�Could-could we hurry this along?� I have an early morning.� Scrooge tripping on her own bravado.

�Grab my hem line.��

Scrooge dutifully grabbed the cocktail hemline and off they went in a blur of wind and light.

�

�� The pair appeared at the house of Babs Crachit.� The house was full of Christmas cheer, despite the wretched poverty of their family.� In the corner, Babs was gently coming the hair of her daughter Tiny Tina.� Tina had turned thirteen and could barely walk, due to her disastrous attempts at emulating the dance moves of her favorite group, the Scrauni Five.� Tina could not stop from injuring herself due to her lack of body fat that could have protected her from repeatedly falling down on the concrete floor.�

�Mommy, will I ever be as good as the Scrauni Five?�

�Tina, why don�t you relax and I�ll get some lotion for that cast.�� Babs quickly diverting the question.

Tiny Tina coughed loudly and repeatedly.

�Careful dear, you�ll break that rib again.�

Scrooge looked with a horrible query painted on her face.�� She wanted to cry but she had her tear ducts surgically removed.�

�Ghost, will�will the child live?�

The ghost shrugged her shoulders.�

�Sorry, toots, that question isn�t in mah job description.�

The ghost signaled and Scrooge dutifully grabbed the hemline on the skirt.� A flash of light and the two were gone.

�� Scrooge woke up with a headache.� She looked around and realized that she was thrown head over heals in to her shoe closet.� A spike heal pump was poking her in the forehead.� She was beginning to realize just how much fun the ghosts were having at her expense.�

�DAMN YOU!� she screeched in helpless upside down fury.�

She righted herself and screeched again.�

�DAMN You ALL!�

She heard someone playing a soft brush on a snare drum.� An upright bass plucked a sensual walking bass line.� She grimaced as she realized that she was hearing theme music from �Twin Peaks.� [i]

�Hah, now what!� Laura Palmer is the ghost of Christmas future?� [ii]

A shrouded figure slowly walked down the hallway, in time with the music.�� Scrooge grew impatient and ripped the hood off the shrouded figure.� She was shocked to see it was none other than Elvira, Mistress of the dark.� Even more shocking was a conspicuous swath of duct tape covering her mouth.�

�Why are you here spirit?� To show me my future?�

Elvira nodded impatiently.�

�Why have they bound you such?�

Elvira shot Scrooge a dirty look.�

�I�m a really stupid bitch, right?� muttered an exasperated Scrooge.

Elvira nodded again.� Scrooge grasped the edge of the ghost�s cloak.� The ghost wiggled her nose.

�Hey! That�s the thing they did on Bewit��

The room was empty except for the tortured distant moans of Charles Dickens.�

�� The two appeared at an empty gravesite.� Elvira pointed to the headstone.� Scrooge could not hide her terror.�

�Please spirit, do not show me this sight! I beseech you, do not show this thing to me!�

Elvira showed her disgust by pointing her finger at her taped mouth in a gagging motion.� With a cavalier snap of her fingers, several stage-mounted klieg lights flooded the gravesite with light.� The carved words were sharp and undeniable.

�� Here lies Eleanor Scrooge

�� She was rich, skinny and

�� An incredibly stupid bitch.

�No no no!� cried Scrooge.� Tell me its not too late!��

Elvira carefully positioned herself behind Scrooge.� Scrooge was so besotted with grief that she hadn�t noticed where Elvira went until she felt herself being kicked into the empty grave.� Elvira did the touchdown dance.�

�� Scrooge fell for minutes through the gravesite.� A dark ending seemed to loom ahead.� A thrashing and booming sound became increasingly louder as she fell closer to her personal black hole.� She screamed.

�� She felt very sore.� Her ankles hurt for some reason.� And she was upside down again.� She looked up at her ankles and realized that she was ankle-cuffed to her living room chandelier.�

�Uh, Christmas ghosts, how am I going to get down?� Past, present or future, it really doesn�t matter�.�

The chandelier shifted.� She heard the plaster and stucco crack and powder.��

�Aww shi..!!!�

�� Scrooge painfully limped to her bathroom.� In the mirror, she saw a woman who spent the night in an industrial rock tumbler.� Her flawless complexion was now covered with bruises and cuts.� A small thought had occurred to her.

Tiny Tina had no body fat to protect her from injuries.�

Scrooge drowned in a wave of guilt.� That poor girl suffers because of me and my war on cellulite!� Is it too late?

She ran to the window and threw it open. She spied a young man on an errand.

�Boy, what day is it?!� scrooge asked hopefully.

�Its Christmas Morn, weird lady!� yelled the young man in response.

�Oh and a glorious Christmas it is!� Tell me boy, is there still that fabulous turkey in the Butcher shop window?�

�Uh, yeah��

�GRAND!� Here, you take this 100.00 dollar bill and buy it.� And keep the change!�

The boy leaped up and caught the bill as it drifted slowly down.

�Uh, sure thing. �, muttered the boy as he eyed the crisp bill.� �I�ll be sure to uh, get right on it.��

The boy ran off in the direction opposite of the butcher shop.

�� The ghosts!� They did it!� They showed me the true meaning of Christmas!�

Scrooge grabbed her phone and called her personal assistant.� She told her that she had a list of duties for her to do.� She was about to celebrate the new Christmas, MasterCard style.

One year later�

�� On a snowy Christmas afternoon, Babs sat around the family table of the Crachits.� Tiny Tina was no longer tiny, as her delayed pubescence finally kicked in to high gear.� Tina gleefully danced around in her form fitting school outfit.� Her sweater neckline descended in to a full valley of plump cleavage.� Her wide hips curved in her jeans, decidedly feminine in shape.�

�� Scrauni Five had disbanded when the lead singer had succumbed to her addiction to rocky roads ice cream.� The other 4 went in to business publishing their autobiographies.� Nobody cared.�

�� Scrooge had invested in a new product line, curv�ie.� A new line of clothes that fit the fuller figure.� To promote her new clothes, she hand picked members of a new group, one designed to dismantle the Scrauni Five.� Each member had to have full figures and even fuller voices.� When faced with the challenge of beautiful women nearly bursting out of their clothes while singing the high notes, the five couldn�t compete.� The real women of 44D showed how plastic the Five really were.�

�� Scrooge sat by her nephew Fred.� She gleefully told about how she crushed those tweedly teen singers.� As she laughed, her newly borne breasts bounded against her open sweater.� A strange and beautiful feeling to Scrooge, a delight in being a full woman stretching her clothes with her curves, instead of a broken twig.� She had gone on a diet of foods that nourished her spiritually and physically.� She could say that she thoroughly enjoyed having her spherical ass cheeks pinched.� It was all new and fantastic and sexy.� She was able to get any man she wanted, and often did.

You see, Scrooge was no longer stupid, but yet she remained a bitch.

The end.

Thanks for reading,

HorseRadish.

Smarsha_at_Columbus.rr.com

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