Chapters 37-42

Another six chapters of Virginal Bella. Am I excited about it? Sure am. I’ve gotten my long break, and now I’m ready for more. Excitement sensors are reading 100%. Let’s do this, people!

Chapter 37

Over the next week the Swans moved in to our house, all of them including Mr. Swan, as we had the bigger house that was closer to the local hospital and every one was able to get there own room except for Isabella and myself as we were sharing a bedroom.

First things first: THEIR OWN ROOM!
And what is this deal about them sharing a bedroom? Kissing is a no-no, but sleeping in the same room before they’re married, that’s kosher. Please, author, be consistent. If you’re going to be a Jesus nazi about their “purity,” then you can’t make them shack up before the wedding bells sound and expect us not to notice.

So this whole gold digger thing Bella’s got going is genetic, I see. Not only is she milking the Cullens’ rich teets, now her entire family is. I can just see them showing up at the door dressed up like Oliver Twist, holding out their little bowls and saying, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

Emmett and Jasper moved the futon form the sunroom into my bedroom so that I didn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Has anyone else noticed how Emmett and Jasper only serve as slaves in this story? Their only purpose is to do shit for Edward, which ends up getting their “characters” in the story—I use the term loosely because they’re little more than sentient sacks of meat with limbs strong enough to haul shit around. I can’t even mock this slavery theme on religious grounds since the bible is very much pro slavery.

The first night that Isabella slept in my room was a hard one as Isabella moaned like she was in pain. I watched her as she tossed and turned all of a sudden she sat upright gasping for air.

She must have been reading this story right before bed, then. I too, moan in pain. I’m moaning right now.

“Edward where are you Edward?” Isabella called for me with a voice saturated with absolute devastation, I flew to her
side and knelt down beside her.
“What is wrong angel, are you in any pain?” I asked starting to panic.

“Saturated with absolute devastation?” Jesus ass-tickling Christ! Hyperbole much? You’d think the bitch just survived a fucking tsunami. I wouldn’t apply the words “absolute devastation” to her little bitch ass dream in which her presumed baby daddy dumps her sorry ass.

“No I am not in any pain I just had a very distressing dream where you never asked me to marry you, then you stayed with me while I was pregnant and during the birth then once you saw the children you place a kiss on my forehead and then the next time I saw you it was two years later and you were carrying a baby that looked about three months old with your arm wrapped around a blonde girls waist. When you saw me pushing a pram full of our children you pointed at me and both of you laughed.” She said the whole thing with sobs in between each word and tears running down her face with the look of repulsion from the intense suffering she faced in the dream and the desperation for me to tell her it was all a dream.

*gasp* My brain ran out of breath reading that fucking dream description that had 82 words and ONE FUCKING COMMA! That’s not a sentence, that’s a fucking marathon. I think I’m now entitled to slap that bumper sticker on my car that reads 26.2.
Speaking of that dream… Why, you manipulative little skank! We all know there was no damn dream; that was her way of guilting the kid into popping the question. Don’t do it, bud. I know you’re illiterate and all, but you’ve got to be smarter than to marry this bitch. Do like the dream says, pop the question to a pretty, top-heavy blonde that will only have one baby at a time and then laugh at the worn out old hag pushing five babies around in a pram. Which, by the way, I called Babies R Us in Colorado about. I asked if they carried any prams. They said if I wanted a pram, I was on the wrong continent for that. IT’S A STROLLER! THIS IS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, NOT THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF AUSTRALIA! I’m amazed to see that Australians still live under the delusion that they’re not British.

Chapter 38

“Shh Isabella its ok I am here, I am yours, calm down for me please.” I told her pulling her tight against my body I sent a text message to dad to come quick as Isabella was shaking and feeling hot.

He pulled her tight against his body? Leave room for the holy spirit!

A few minutes later dad slid in to the room looking us over he asked the same question I did so I told him what happened and he nodded that he understood what was going on to some extent he took out his stethoscope so that he could do his checks once he completed them all he asked her to swallow a tablet and she did never questioning him.

Fuck me, where to begin? Why did he show up in the first place? Why, after hearing the stupid reason for all the commotion, did he still feel the need to check her out? Oh, and what kind of doctor prescribes a pill he just happens to have on him for an inexplicably manipulative bad dream? And what fucking moron takes the pill without even asking what the fuck it is? Did I mention this Bella is a fucking moron? Oh yeah, I have… Well, it never goes amiss to say it again. She’s a fucking moron!

I just rocked her until she fell asleep in my arms. I went to place her under the covers but her grip tightened it seemed even in her sleep she was afraid that I would leave her.

Dude, she just had a fucking dream that you left her, what made you think she wasn’t worrying about you leaving her while she sleeps?

I need to propose to her soon so that this fear would disappear for good.

It won’t. It’ll just be more focused on you cheating after five babies turn her pussy into a dusty old cavern with little usefulness beyond silly echo sounds.

“Edward” dad spoke snapping me back into the room.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Just lie down with her nothing but you will calm her.” Dad told me and helped me get both of us into my bed I fell asleep quickly dreaming of the perfect way to ask her to become my wife.

Do I even need to elaborate on this shit? That’s enough cheese to make a Frenchman cry out in distresss, “No more, that’s just too much cheese!” *mustache twirl*
There’s no other explanation for why she’d be sleeping so soundly except that Edward’s body is there to calm her down. It’s not like Carlisle just slipped her a horse tranquilizer or anything.



When I next woke it was the morning I looked down at Isabella to see that she was still sleeping so I slowly rotated so that I was lying flat on my back I pulled Isabella along with me so that her head was resting over my heart.

AWWWWWW. Her head was over your heart? How cute. *barf*

I placed my arm akimbo behind my head I started thinking about my life and how it had improved ever since I received her letter two and half years ago, we meet at the age of 16 we both have had two birthdays and are now 18, we have helped each other through the hard times that we faced and celebrated the good times.

I looked into it, and I’m not sure that people say “arms akimbo behind my head.” I understand what was meant, but I don’t think it’s called that, though I could be wrong. Thanks to the author for the math lesson. Two and a half years after we met them at sixteen and that makes them eighteen now; I’d never have guessed. I’m surprised that this tiny amount of interaction is all that has happened in two years. And like I could let it go that an eighteen year old kid who grew up in extraordinary opulence and lived a more sheltered life than a princess in a tower is complaining about the hard times. The only “hard time” we’ve seen was when Ms. Moron smashed her face on a rock and decided to go on a coma vacation for a couple of months, and nobody was helping each other through fuck all when that was going on. Other than that, their lives look pretty damn perfect, except for the extreme religious brainwashing. What a crock of shit.

now we were going to have an instant family that dad was going to bring into this world on the same day I arrived.

The babies will be born the same day as Edward’s birthday? Awwwwwwwww…*barf* Isn’t that…wait for it… CONTRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVED?!


Chapter 39

I started to plan my day to the T, what I want to make for her breakfast and then what to next… Now that I knew what I was going to do today I slid out from under her and she started to whimper so I gave her my pillow to hold and cuddle.

He knows what he’s going to do today, and it starts with breakfast. Now there’s an original idea! Glad the author was thoughtful enough to include this riveting piece of information.

**Warning, Excitement integrity is compromised, please find the nearest whore house to replenish stores**

I stood by the bed and just looked down over my sleeping angel I took a deep breath and placed a light kiss on her forehead then left the room I entered the kitchen as I knew I would be able to make a decent breakfast because Isabella would sleep soundly for at least two hours.

How do you know that? She woke up screaming in fear of you leaving her for some blonde bimbo just last night. Which is something you should do, by the way.

I opened the fridge and rested my wrist on the top of the door and started to move things around collecting the things I wanted to use for Isabella’s first breakfast made by me.

That sentence sucks.

I walked over to the appliance cupboard where I retrieved the waffle maker, the omelet maker that would cook them into heart shapes.

I feel depressed that those are things that exist and more so that people will spend money on them.
I wish they could make a correctly-structured-sentence maker. Now that’s an appliance I’d buy and send to this author. Though I’m not sure she’d figure out how to plug it in…

I found the bowls and other utensils that I would need.

Congratulations? *rains confetti from the sky*

I started to make the mixture for the waffles, cupcakes, and omelet. an hour later I was starting to cook everything I was just placing the waffles and omelettes on to the warming rack when mum walked into the kitchen.

Cupcakes for breakfast? Who the fuck eats cupcakes for breakfast?

****Warning, If stores are not replenished soon, enraged diatribes may ensue****

“Oh my God Edward what a mess, I hope this is for a good reason.” mum said with glee in her voice.

Blasphemy? Seriously? MOM is so going to hell. That’s the unforgivable sin.

“What why?” I asked looking around and seeing every single counter top was covered in batter, used spoons, unused spoons, bag of flour, broken egg shells and a few different varieties of sugar. There was also fresh fruit waiting to be cut up and dirty mixing bowls just to name a few things.

Ha ha, Edward made a mess in the kitchen with “a few different varieties of sugar.” How quirky and adorable! If only this weren’t THE BIGGEST FUCKING CLICHÉ IN THE HISTORY OF MOTHERFUCKING CLICHÉS! I wonder, did he have sugar on the tip of his nose, too?

“Oops sorry mum but its for a good cause.” I told her.

Mom. And no, it’s not.

“And that would be?” she asked most likely knowing what I was about to say.

*Pulls the trashcan over*

“Im going to ask her today and I want it to be perfect.” I said paying attention to my feet.

What the fuck does that mean? “Paying attention to my feet?” What might they be doing that’s so interesting?

“It’s ok Edward I will clean this up for you as a gift to the both of you.” mum said walking past ruffing my hair.

What a cheap bitch. I’m not getting you an engagement gift, I’m just going to clean up the kitchen and we’ll call it a present.

here you go those who wanted them married

****Alert, the excitement stores are now empty. There is nowhere to run, there is nowhere to hide, please tuck your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.****

People actually read this and made legitimate requests? Are you telling me that not only was this story written, but that there were crazy people who wanted to read it for the story and characters and not for the train wreck that it is? You’ve got to be shitting me. I mean, literally shitting on me. This is not a misuse of the word “literally.” I actually mean that you must be dropping you pants and popping a squat over my head, then proceeding to relieve your bowels on me. There is no way anyone alive is dumb enough to have enjoyed this fic. Even illiterate Indus Valley farmers know that this is a pile of shit. YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT PEOPLE LIKED THIS SHIT. I WON’T HEAR IT, AND I WON’T ACCEPT IT! IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!

Chapter 40

“What do you have left?” mum asked.


“I don’t have much, I just have to get the muffins out of the oven and cooled, cut the strawberries for the waffles, juice the oranges then I will just need to drizzle the chocolate over both the waffles and the muffins.” I informed mum.

That’s a lot of effort to put out for a ruined girl carrying your Jesus seeds, and who will very clearly say yes to your teenage dream marriage proposal because, really, at this point, it’s not like she has a world of options. You could make her a ring of silly putty, and she’d be so desperate that she’d say yes and drag you straight to the courthouse.

And it’s fucking MOM!

30 minutes later I was making my way up to my room with food for us to share.
I opened the door to see Isabella starting to stir awake. I placed the tray on to my desk and walked over to her, I began to gently wake her as the food would get cold.

WAKE UP BITCH! I MADE YOU THIS FOOD AND YOU’RE GOING TO EAT IT WHILE IT’S WARM. See? That’s you Edward, that’s what you sound like.

“Wake up Isabella. I have brought you breakfast well brunch.” I spoke softly to her and she blinked her eyes and she opened them so I could see her eyes that were the perfect match to my favourite colour. She arched her back and stretched out.

What’s a “breakfast well brunch?” Is it an Australian thing?
When writing that sentence, did it sound good? Is it possible that an errant thought crossed the author’s mind, like say, the thought that the way this sentence was worded so horribly that any person with eyes would recoil at the sight of it? I also love how American Edward thinks with British spelling.

“Good morning Edward, what time is it and what smells so good?” she asked placing a kiss on my cheek.

The way this story is going, it’s probably his farts. He’s so perfect, his farts smell like fresh donuts. You can visually tell when he farted, too, by the delicate cloud of powdered sugar hovering around his ass, like a man-boy hooker who’s had one too many whippets done out of his ass.

“Good morning Isabella, its about 10 am and that smell would be the food I cooked for you, which I will be feeding you unless you feel too uncomfortable being fed by me.” I said unsure of her reaction.

What? Is he going to work her jaw too? Fuck me, that sounds like the perfect way to ruin my goddamn day. I at least hope she repays the favor and shakes it for him next time he goes to the bathroom.

” You cooked breakfast for me?” she asked excitedly.

“Well, no, you see I cooked it for Rover, remember him? Rover, the dog that was mentioned in chapter one but has never been mentioned again? Anyway, I cooked it for him, but I burned it, so I figured it wasn’t good enough for him anymore, but it was perfect for you, my angel.”

“Yes I did.” I responded.
“What did you cook?” Isabella questioned.

These chapters end in some of the dumbest places I’ve ever seen. It’s the middle of a conversation about what’s for breakfast, for fuck’s sake. Is this supposed to be a cliffhanger? Should I be biting my nails in anticipation as to whether she’ll like the dog shit he piled on a plate for her?

Chapter 41

“Well we have two waffles with fresh strawberries and chocolate drizzled over both of them, then we have a egg, onion, mushroom omelette, we will finish with muffins they have a lump of molten nutella in the centre of them.” I informed her.

Since he’s going to be repetitive as fuck, then so am I:
That’s a lot of effort to put out for a ruined girl carrying your Jesus seeds, and who will very clearly say yes to your teenage dream marriage proposal because, really, at this point, it’s not like she has a world of options. You could make her a ring of silly putty, and she’d be so desperate that she’d say yes and drag you straight to the courthouse.

“Whats first? I cant wait to enjoy them all. Thank you for breakfast.” she told me arranging the pillows so that her back was supported.

How the fuck pregnant is she supposed to be at this point?

I removed everything but the waffles and our drinks off the tray so that there was room to eat our waffles I didn’t feed her but we did offer each other bites of the waffles. we continued to share our breakfast.

Well, that’s a relief. Not the sentence; that’s the holocaust of sentences.

“Isabella can you please get dressed in warm clothes for me as I would like to take you to my safe haven where I would go to reread every single letter you sent to me when, I was there I would feel closer to you, I would talk to you about things when they became a challenge and to troublesome for me to handle on my own and I didn’t feel comfortable talking to my family.” I said to her looking down at my hands.

I’m at a loss for words… Just kidding, can you imagine if that were true? This is just pitiful. I literally pity this. Not just the way it’s written, but also the sentiment. I don’t know how “My sisters and I were adopted and abandoned on a church doorstep” is at all helpful when you’re sitting alone in a special place that you go when you’re being a whiny bitch about your privileged life. But the fucking cheese is the worst: “I felt so close to you, reading your letters in this place while I felt sorry for myself, please come see this place of ultra-rich first-world woe and desolation, my love.” Seriously, just fuck off with this story.

“Edward I’m glad I could help you solve your problems and know that I’m here to help you and this time I will talk back.” she told me placing a kiss on my cheek then she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me to her. I encircled her and after a bit I felt something push in to me, so I quickly broke the hold Isabella had on me.

Son of a fuck. It’s the babies kicking, isn’t it? I’ve already covered how it’s too early for all that before, and I’m not doing it again.

“What was that?” I asked confused which made her giggle.

“Teehee, men are stupid and easily frightened creatures. Teehee.”

“That would be one of your children saying hello.” she informed me.

Actually I think they’re saying, “The piety, the chasteness, the poor grasp of biology, it burns so much. Please, make it stop!”

“Really! Have they been moving much?” I asked.
“Just the past couple of days would you like to meet them?” she questioned. I started to nod emphatically before she had finished asking. She took my hand and placed it in one spot.

And you didn’t tell him right away? What a cunt. I don’t have a comment for the stupid line about stupid Edward nodding stupidly before Bella finished her stupid question, except that it’s stupid.

“Baby one” she said then moved my hand to another location.
“Baby two” my hand moved again.
“Baby three” then I was pushed to fourth spot.
“Baby four, and finally” my hand was relocated to one final spot.
“Baby five” she said.
“Thank you for introducing me to my children which one said hello?” I asked.
“That was your third child who is generally the most active.” Isabella enlightened me.

Enlightened? This bitch couldn’t enlighten shit if she stuffed it full of Christmas lights, though I’d love to see her try. And it’s been a few days, and she knows their moving-around-inside-her personalities already? Fuck this noise.

After I kissed her cheek I collected some warm clothes for myself and I left the room to enter the guest bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Chapter 42

I walked with Isabella to the huge rock that had built in natural steps and a very flat top, the rock would be about seven feet tall and close to six feet wide.

“The rock had built in natural steps.” I didn’t know rocks could build shit. Unless the author meant “built-in?” One little dash makes the difference between a contrived piece of bullshit and a rock from outer space with building powers of its own.

I help Isabella on to the top of it and I had her stand while I placed a blanket down that would protect us from the cold snow that was coating everything in an innocent white covering that dusted everything we could see.

Innocent white covering? Is it innocent until proven guilty, or just until it comes down the side of a mountain and destroys a village? I MOCK THEE, OH POORLY WORDED SENTENCE!
“The snow was coating in a covering that dusted.” She needed three damn verbs to say there was white shit on the ground. Jesus titty-fucking Christ…

I sat down then pulled Isabella to sit in between my legs.

Isn’t that how you guys got in this situation in the first place?

“I can see why you would come here to talk to me there are no man made sounds, its amazing thank you for sharing it with me” Isabella said happily, it was time.

Here it comes, everyone. He planned out his whole day so that he could pop the question at just the right time. Meaning, he’d feed her breakfast, then propose while she was sitting on a rock.

“Isabella, you are my life, without you with me I find it hard to breathe. I love you with my mind, heart, body and soul, they all belong to you and will always be yours. Isabella Marie Swan will you say yes to becoming my wife” I asked her.

That sucks. I know half the women on the planet fell for that kind of crap, but let me be clear, when men say that, what they’re really saying is… “I give up, you win.”

“Yes Edward I would love to become Mrs. Edward Cullen.” She told me turning so that her legs were hanging over my left leg.

“I can’t wait to become an extension of you and no longer an autonomous being.”

“Edward may I kiss you now please I would love to kiss my future husband.” She asked shyly unknowing how I would react to her request as I had reacted negatively the last few times she asked or tried to kiss me. I cupped her face and very softly kissed her on her mouth for the first time in close to 80 days, I was in heaven her lips were so diaphanous…

The author chose to dust off the old thesaurus keys to give us “diaphanous lips?” Why in the hell are her lips transparent or sheer? Aside from the flowery attempt that made me vomit in my mouth, it doesn’t even make any goddamn sense.

…and fit perfectly against mine I felt her tongue poke out and I just did what was pure instinct, I opened my mouth and invited her tongue into mine. We kissed like this for a while until Bella started to shiver.

It looks like Bella vomited in her mouth, too.

“My beautiful Bella would you like your ring now?” I asked her and she nodded holding out her left hand for me to place her engagement ring on her fourth finger, which I did.

Show of hands, who didn’t know which finger an engagement ring went on before that timely explanation? Nobody? I thought so.

“Oh Edward its perfect, can you tell me about it does it have a meaning to it?” Bella asked her eyes never leaving it.

Yeah, it’s old and has a made up story about it.

“It is a claddagh ring and this one has been past down so many times that we have lost count how many times it was passed down from the first princess off Ireland. There are three symbols that are the ring and they are the hands are for friendship the heart for love and the crown for loyalty.” I informed her.

That’s stupid, and I already covered the queen of Ireland shit.

Fuck this story for having ruined my excitement to be back in action. I need a strong drink and a soft pillow so I can smother myself now.


10 comments on “Chapters 37-42

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  2. I’m Aussie and I found your Aussie comment a little annoying. Mostly because I resent the idea of being ‘British-Aussies’ as I hate the brutality that occurred when they forced themselves on this land they declared as ‘terra nulius’ (empty land) and devastatingly decimated the Aboriginal culture.

    But apart from that, as usual, I bloody loved it. Hilarious. I kept teasing myself the entire day seeing the email in my inbox. Definitely worth the wait. Thanks!

    Oh and I think if this was, at the end, a dream, I would envisage Edward crying happy tears that it was just a crazy dream and not reality. I can’t imagine a sane person being happy about this.

    • I said that for precisely that reason. I know plenty of Aussies and they hate ot when I call them British. “We’re not fucking poms!” They rage. Otherwise, I’m glad you enjoyed it.

      • I understand. I think for most of us it’s more of a playful thing than not; especially where sports are considered.

  3. You are wasting your energy and time on this. It’s a total clustefuck, we get it. I hope you’ll review another fic next.

    • I said I’d do the whole thing, and I’m going to. But I will be doing something different for the rest of it which I hope will add something new to it. As for another review, I’ll be getting to a new one soon, but later this week.

  4. Pingback: Chapters 37-42 | The Fanfic Assassin

  5. 26.2! This thing’s a 50 yard dash, at best. Maybe a three-legged race. Definitely rearranging deck chairs…

    You’re angry, still angry…especially at virginal Bella. She can’t help she was written that way. She’s a gold-digging idiot with a soon-to-be cavernous dustbowl of a canal, who like all women, wore down a man into marrying her, right? I think you and the author are in agreement on that.

    Be careful, your slip is showing.

  6. “laugh at the worn out old hag pushing five babies around” and “It’ll just be more focused on you cheating after five babies turn her pussy into a dusty old cavern with little usefulness beyond silly echo sounds.”

    What do you have against vaginas that have had babies come out of them?
    Mean ass.

    I hope you get locked in a closet with VB and DE (dumb edward).
    Apologize to all women kind or else I will have Keeper smack you again.

  7. I’m assuming people who requested more chapters enjoyed the author’s attempt of creating a flawlessly perfect Edward. Instead of being an attractive MC, I find him about as interesting as watching grass grow. I have a feeling this author rides the short bus to school and occasionally licks the glass windows. But wouldn’t it be funny if she was writing Edward’s character in a sort of metaphorical, Jesus-Christ sort of way? It IS called Virginal Bella … What if try never actually fucked? The author is fucking with us. Plot twist in the future: Edward never actually impregnated Bella. It was all a dream. Or the entire fic is a dream, uh, nightmare. Wait … It already is! Total mind fuck.

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