From Norway With Lust

Thanks for reading my

Halloween Story Contest 2022

entry. You'll find there's German, Norwegian, Danish and Finnish words scattered throughout the story, but I hope I've made their meaning clear without having to use a translator. My apologies if it didn't work.

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"You're spoiling them, you know," Amanda said, accepting a spoon liberally coated in pumpkin muffin batter.

"Maybe," shrugged Megan, "but I like baking and the guys at work like what I make so..."

"Yes, but they don't appreciate... Oh, that is good," Amanda moaned. "Appreciate your efforts. You should enter one of those TV baking shows. You're fantastic, much better than a lot of those that get on the show."

Megan slid the muffin pans into the oven. She turned and said. "Actually, Mom entered me in the 'Best State Baker' tryouts. I didn't make the final cut."

"Nooo, really? Why?"

Megan started wiping down the bench and sighed. "Bottom line was I didn't look good enough for TV. Too short, too fat, and I didn't have a sob story in my background or fit into one of their diversity boxes."

"Well, that sucks. Did they like your baking?"

"Oh, the judges for the show loved it. I actually made this recipe, and the two of them thought they were the best Halloween muffins they'd ever had." Megan sighed, "But casting seemed to think a white girl who's only 4' 10" high and about the same wide wasn't going to be - attractive to their audience. They didn't say it like that, but it was pretty obvious what they were thinking."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Amanda quickly took a sip of coffee to hide her disappointment for her neighbour. She liked Megan but felt a bit sorry for her. No doubt about it, she was short and wide. Her hips were so wide, as one of their colleagues indelicately put it, you could use them to rest your beer on at the bar if she wasn't so short. Her boobs would have made a much better shelf, but they sagged too much. Amanda had quietly told the slob to shut up or she'd send his balls back to where they came.

"It's ok. Who needs fame, fortune and a cookery book deal? I'm happy doing this as a hobby. If it was a job, I'd probably get sick of it."

"Mmm. I guess. The money would be nice. Anyway," Amanda said, thinking it was time to change the subject, "what are you wearing to the Halloween party at the hall?"

"I'm not sure. Tossing up between a Bridgerton outfit or Ursula."

"What, Ursula from The Little Mermaid? Really?"

"Uh huh," Megan said absently, staring at her muffins. "I love the movie, but I can't be Ariel. What about you?"

"David wants to go as Mr Incredible and me as Elastagirl. I'm not sure I want to wander around the party in red lycra."

"You'll look great. You'll get more looks than I will." Megan cracked open the oven door slightly and sniffed. "Four minutes."

"I can't believe you can get the timing right by the smell. You're incredible. Anyway, I'm not after looks. I just want to have a bit of fun without the kids."

Megan straightened up and set out the cooling racks. "It's a nice idea, having an adult's party after the kid's one. We never had that where I lived in Lancaster."

"It's a good tradition. Send the kids home from their party at 9.30, then the adults rule the school hall from 10. Getting babysitters is the main problem."

"Ah well," Megan said, whipping the pans out of the oven, "I'm glad the weather's going to be kind and the hall's close enough to walk to. Getting a taxi was impossible last year. I still can't believe Uber isn't around. How 20th century..."

Amanda laughed, "I know. I broke a heel off my favourite stilettos last year walking home. I was so mad at David."

"That's right," Megan said, lightly tapping the muffins. "Did he ever replace them? I thought he was going to pick up a pair when he went to New York."

"Eventually. He supposedly kept forgetting until I threatened to impose the ultimate birth control. Abstinence."

"That would do it." Megan inwardly sighed. Abstinence was something she'd become used to. After a short, sharp, very bad marriage, Megan moved away to what her old friends derisively called 'Very SmallTown USA'. Close enough to the Boston area to catch up with people she wanted to see, far enough to not be bothered by anyone else. Overall, it had been a good move, but single guys were scarce. That had been the only low. She wasn't hopeful that anyone would magically appear to offer her anything more than a request to sample her baked goods.

Amanda's phone pinged. "Speaking of David, I'd better go. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

Megan smiled, "Sure. I can't eat all these muffins myself."

"I don't know how you don't. They are gorgeous."

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"Of course it doesn't fit," Megan grumbled to her reflection. "Plus size my ass. Only if you're six-two." She dragged the heavy Regency styled dress over her head and dropped it on the bed. It was a lovely dress, cream with gold edging, but it was far too long. She stared at the black octopus outfit and sighed. Ursula it would have to be - assuming it fitted.

She pulled the costume over her head and shimmied it down. "Hmm, that's not bad. Not bad at all." Megan twirled and watched the tentacles move as she spun. The length was about right, and the boning in the corset-like body made it stay put on her waist. Her white strapless bra was very noticeable though. The costume had cups to hold her breasts in place, but she had learned the hard way that they didn't always work as advertised.

"Well, let's see how no bra goes." Megan whipped off the bra, bounced on her toes, leaned forward and stretched up. Her boobs jiggled a lot but they more or less stayed in place and maintained a bit of decorum. That was fine by her. She didn't mind flashing a bit of cleavage but having a whole breast fall out would be embarrassing.

"I like this. I really like this. I wonder if they make normal clothes?" She slid her hand into the cup and over her hardened nipple. The cup was lined with a silky material and her movements against the softness had excited her points. She grabbed hold of herself and rubbed her teat against the material.

"Yeah, I really should check their website." she sighed and reluctantly removed her hand. "I bet if I had worn something like this, casting would have signed me on."

Megan pulled the costume off over her head. Nagem pointed accusingly at her from the mirror. "Admit it, you're fat. That's the real reason you didn't get picked. You don't bake for others. That's just an excuse for your to chow down on your own cooking."

Megan shrugged and fondled her tits. "Maybe I'm on the large size, but guys like looking at these. And I'm pretty fit. You know I go to the gym. And I don't have that much to eat."

"Pff. You constantly nibble while you cook and a half mile on the treadmill hasn't had any impact on this," Nagem snarled, grabbing hold and shaking her belly. "And when was the last time those tits got you fucked? College? Come on, seriously. We moved here for a clean break. Let's start at the Halloween party."

Megan tapped a finger to her lip. "Mmm. Good point. Ok. No more sampling as we cook. Well, minimal."

"Agreed."

"A mile on the treadmill, and start going to that pilates session."

"Ok. And no underwear to the party."

"Umm..." Megan hesitated.

"It's an adult only thing. No one will know. And you have to admit, it's not going to be easy going to the bathroom wearing that costume."

"That's true. We'll do it. Oh, and what about drinking something harder than Mountain Dew?"

"Now, that sounds good."

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Steve Tyler was belting out "Livin' on the Edge", the mirror balls were sparkling, the punch was suitably spiked, and couples were making out in dim corners amongst the fake spider webs. Megan felt miserable, despite the rum punch she'd consumed.

"What's up Meg? You look like you've lost a dollar and found a dime." Amanda asked, sitting down beside her. "You seemed to be having fun."

"I was, but I'm going home alone. Again." Megan shrugged and sipped on her punch. "I danced with a few guys but the single ones have found better looking offers. Never mind, I've had a good talk with myself and decided I'd better change." She told Amanda of her dress problem and her subsequent Halloween resolution.

"Well, good. I'll help if you'll let me. First, you need to find another hobby and only bake on special occasions. And being Friday isn't that special. Second, I'll..." Amanda stopped and turned towards the hall door. Two impossibly pale men had entered and were looking around the room. They talked to each other, pointing at various people and the props hanging around the hall.

"Well, hello. I don't recognise them. Any idea who they are? And who are they supposed to be?" she asked.

"No idea, but their makeup is so white, they seem to shimmer under these lights. I can't really tell what they look like. They look like twins though." Megan said, uncertainly. She suddenly snapped her fingers. "Got it!" she exclaimed. "They're the twins from 'The Matrix'. You know, from the highway chase. Ghosts."

"Yeah, I guess they are. Huh, they did a really good job. They look pretty creepy in those white suits." Amanda stood and grabbed Megan's hand. "Come on, let's go and say hello. They're the most interesting thing that's turned up all night."

Megan shrugged and sighed as she stood. "Ok, I guess. They do look pretty strange. I think they'd win the best costume prize if we had one."

"That's my girl. What's the worst that could happen? They happen to be a couple?"

"That would be just my luck." They crossed the dance floor towards the visitors. Megan blinked and looked again at the two. Curiously, their outlines seemed to solidify as the women got closer.

The twins had turned to watch the two women cross the dance floor. The dark lenses of their sunglasses were the only significant change in the whiteness of their costume.

"Hi!" said Amanda brightly, "I'm Amanda and this is Megan. How are you? Welcome to the Halloween party. Better late than never."

The two white dreadlocked heads turned in unison toward Amanda. "God kveld... Guten tag... Hallo. Danke. We am sorry. Our American is not god. I am Grøntøye and brother Blåttøye... Romvesen."

"Nice to meet you both," said Megan. "Your English, not American, is actually quite good. What brings you to our little town? We don't get many visitors, especially from overseas. I'm guessing you're German?"

"Nei... No, we are Norge. From Sørøya. We know... many languages. Confusing. We wanted to see more than Norge. Sørøya is small. Few people. America ist big. Many people. We are... not so strange here."

Megan watched Grøntøye as he spoke. His face was almost expressionless, like his makeup had hardened his features. His speech also seemed strange - stilted and out of sync with his lips. The two were thin and only about a head taller than her. It was refreshing to stand next to someone and not have them tower over her. "Well, I'm glad you dropped in. I can believe you have trouble with languages. I tried to learn Italian but gave up. I also kept mixing my words. Would you like a drink or something to eat?"

Blåttøye gave a short nod. "Ja, danke. That would be god, good."

"Is it makea... sweet?" Grøntøye anxiously asked.

"Oh, you have no idea how sweet some of these things are. Megan here is the queen of sweets. She made a lot of the snacks on the table," Amanda laughed. "And if you like sweet drinks, the punch will be just to your liking. Lots of fruit, lots of sugary soda, with a decent amount of rum."

The four worked their way back towards the table. "We do not know rum. What ist?"

"Really?" said Megan. "It's a spirit, like vodka, but made from sugar cane."

"Ah. Sukker. Ja, ja, god. Nice." Blåttøye leaned over and whispered in Grøntøye's ear, who nodded vigorously in response.

"Megan, is that you?" asked Grøntøye, waving a hand towards her body. "Du ser fin... You look nice. Sweet."

Megan blushed and giggled at the compliment. They were certainly a very strange pair, but she'd take a flattering remark any day, particularly when she was walking next to a blond goddess in red lycra. "Thank you, Grøntøye?"

He nodded. "Ja."

"Oh good. You two are identical. I don't think your mother could tell you apart. Anyway, yes it's all me under the costume. A little too much me, if the truth is told." She quickly filled two glasses with punch and handed them to the twins. "Try this, and feel free to eat whatever you want."

The twins took a tentative sip, then gulped the rest. Grøntøye turned to Blåttøye. "God."

Blåttøye nodded. "Ja, meget godt." He turned back to Megan. "Danke Megan. Sweet, very good. Sweet food?"

Amanda leaned down and murmured in Megan's ear. "I'd better go and find David. This is your area of expertise." She straightened and said, "Have fun you three."

Megan gave her a quick wave and said to the twins, "Well, if you like sweet things, let me introduce you to my cooking." She pointed out the treats. "Chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies, raspberry chocolate brownie, red velvet whoopie pies, peach Brown Betty, pecan pie slice, and the last of my pumpkin muffins. Have a taste. I don't want to take it home. I'd just eat it, and I don't need any more."

Grøntøye picked up a whoopie pie and seemed to just inhale it. One moment it was in his hand, then it vanished from Megan's sight. "Oh, das ist good. You make all this sukker? You like sugar?"

Megan smiled and shrugged. The twins were odd, no doubt about that, but they liked her cooking and were happy to talk to her. "I like sugar a little too much, and yes, I did make all these. I love baking. I'm glad you like them. Load up a plate and let's sit down."

The twins gave her the barest of smiles and filled a plate each. Their hands hovered over each offering before diving on what Megan knew to be the sweetest items.

'Wow,' she thought. 'That's impressive. They must have great metabolism to stay so trim.' Clearing her throat, she said, "Sit over here at this table, and bring your drinks."

Megan sat at the long folding table and was a bit surprised when Grøntøye and Blåttøye sat on either side of her. Over the other side of the hall, Amanda gave her a thumbs up, and she lamely waved back. She liked where she was, but the twins were more interested in her cooking than her. In the short time they had sat, they had eaten half of the things on their plate. She shook her head. Eaten was the wrong word. The food just seemed to vaporise.

"Gee, you two must have been hungry. When was your last meal?"

Grøntøye (or was it Blåttøye?) replied, "Not long. Our... condition. We need süß food. And væske, liquid. Must be sweet."

The other twin nodded. "Ja, special sweet." He put his empty plate on the table and pushed closer to Meagan. "You are special makea," he said earnestly.

The two were almost robotic, but they were giving her more personal attention than any other guy had for ages. Megan furrowed her brow as she tried to look through his sunglasses. She believed that the eyes revealed so much of a person, that they truly revealed the soul.

"You are looking for my eyes, Megan?"

She nodded. "Yes. They tell me so much."

"Ah. You must be sure. Ja, Ja, we understand. We like you, and your sokeria. Our øyne will... entrance you. Sie werden bei uns sein... You will want us to be with you."

Megan nodded. The twin's voice was like the sound of sugar caramelising in a pan. Liquid simmering, sweet, a hint of something potentially ruinous in the background like how one extra degree of heat or one speck of water can ruin her caramel. She shivered but didn't know why. She whispered, "I need to see."

The twin looked over her shoulder at his double, who barely nodded. "Look," he commanded as the first slowly removed his glasses.

"Oh my..." Megan breathed softly. His eyes were a deep, deep blue, a shade she had never seen outside of dusk on a summer night. Her eyes opened wide in surprise when she realised there were flakes of gold whirling in his irises. Megan leaned forward to stare and felt herself falling, drawn into the depths of his stare. She couldn't look away.

"Det er nok, Blåttøye. Hide your eyes." Grøntøye gruffly said behind her. "We cannot... Ei täällä... Not here, not now."

Megan whimpered as Blåttøye reluctantly pushed his glasses back. The dance of gold in his dark eyes was hypnotising, transporting her to a place of deep pleasure. She forced herself to look up and around at his twin. "Grøntøye, who are you? Where are you from?" she whispered. "Are you the same?"

"Grøntøye - green eyes. Blåttøye - blau eyes. We are same otherwise." He quickly flicked his glasses down and up, enough for Megan to catch a glimpse of deep sea green pools with silver flakes. "We are... from Sørøya, Norway. We... started there."

"You were born in Norway?" Megan asked. She had met a few Scandinavians, but none of them had been like these twins. They were not normal.

"Ja, ja. We came to be there. Det bor veldig få mennesker der. It is lonely place. We had to move. Sorry, we have travelled much. Language is confused. Need rest, mat - food."

Images of the dancing flecks continued to spin in Megan's mind. She looked around to find Amanda but the hall had turned to a haze. It was like looking at images through a frost-crazed window pane and unable to identify what they were. She turned to Blåttøye. "I can help with both. You can stay at my house. I'll take most of this food home, and I have beds. I can do with some company, and the party's finishing soon."

"Gut, gut. Danke Megan. You are kind. Most menneskelig... people find us different?"

"Ja, strange we are," Grøntøye confirmed. "Sørøya ist lonely place. We romvesen. No friends. Few familie."

"Well, that's a bit sad." Megan sat back and cautiously placed an arm around each twin. "I know what it's like to be a bit different and lonely."

"You feel same? I knew you were like us. Need sukker, need friends, need touch." Grøntøye said. He looked at Megan and tilted his head so she could see the barest amount of the ocean. "Kan vi røre deg? May we touch you?"

She licked her lips and nodded at the eyes. She was playing the part of the tentacled sea creature, and these two were sending waves of conflicting emotions over her, catching her in their net. She knew her mind was roiling, awash with worry, loneliness, uneasiness, hopefulness. And lust. Coming up from deep below was a feeling of intense desire she had never known, a primal urge to take these beautiful beings home and let them devour her.

The glasses tilted back and the urge subsided. She closed her eyes as Grøntøye ran a hand slowly through her hair and down the nape of her neck. His brother gently placed a hand on her knee and lightly ran his fingers upwards. Her eyes shot open and she stared at Blåttøye when he did not stop at a respectable point on her thigh but continuing until he touched her split, then slid back to her knee. His face was very nearly expressionless, and it was like he didn't realise what he was touching or the reaction it provoked in her.

"That's not somewhere to tou... Oh..." she started to say, but Grøntøye had slid a hand under her breast and started kneading it. The sensation was indescribable, unbelievable, impossible. Her boobs had been mauled and caressed many times, but not like this. Grøntøye's hand had somehow covered the whole thing, squeezing, twisting, pulling, then sucking.

"How are you... What are you? God, don't stop." she whispered. Grøntøye had found her nipple and somehow tweaked the hardened nub while still kneading the rest. Megan threw her head back and groaned in illogical delight when her body reacted to applied suction. She knew this was wrong, physically impossible but her mind didn't care. When the constant vacuum changed to a pulse, Megan was gone.