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Timmy Mac’s Summer Camp Adventures, Simpsons 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: -Misc Cartoons > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1981 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer:The Simpsons,The Fairly Odd Parents &Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners,not me. I receive no compensation.

Chapter List
- 5
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- 7
06: The Emotional Projection Option Pt. 2
Marge had begun drinking after Homer left… well, been kicked out… or kicked himself out. Added to the sleeping pills & uppers she had been using (and abusing) for years… well, not a good combination. She began to have strange dreams. She was sure she heard Lisa in her room, but felt her hand… somehow, she was urged to her feet. Hand in hand with the daughter she could not see, she tottered into the hallway. “Must be a dream” she said to herself. Invisible Lisa agreed.
Glancing from side to side she saw Maggie sleeping peacefully. Lisa in her room, smiling in her sleep (she was momentarily puzzled but the familiar hand, Lisa’s hand, urging her on).
There was Bart’s room, door open a crack. “Look inside” the familiar voice said. She didn’t like spying on her children. There was Lisa… again? Dancing naked. OMG! Naked.” Bart was on his bed, naked too. Jerking off, watching Lisa. An unfamiliar green nightgown lay at her feet.
This was all too terrible for Marge. Sex had ruined her marriage. Now her children. No one was safe. She wanted to burst into the room and… and… “And what Mom? What do you want to do?” To stop them? No… to join them. To sink down on her knees and sweep her naked children into her arms and do depraved things.
Marge fled in terror back to her room. She stayed there until dawn praying that it was just the drugs and liquor. “It has to be… right? It has to be?”
Then, “What kind of person dreams such things?”

It was a strange breakfast the next morning in the Simpson kitchen. Maggie was being ignored, more than usual. She was a perceptive baby and seeing the faces around her, felt that there was probably safety in obscurity. She kept her fussing to an absolute minimum.
Bart was unusually bright & chipper. He smiled at everyone. Ate his Krusty-O’s and left for school whistling. There was no fighting with Lisa. In fact, he smiled at her. She smiled back. Shyly…
Lisa was unusually quiet. She was still thinking about her dream. She wasn’t upset by it this time. She had awoken with dried, sticky cum on her thighs and was pleased. “I’m a woman!” she realized. She thought only boys had wet dreams! And she wondered what it would be like to really dance naked for Bart. Oh, she knew it would never happen. He’d probably hurl if it ever did. But it was a fantasy she enjoyed thinking about. She kissed her mother goodbye. Marge momentarily pulled away. Lisa didn’t let it bother her.
Marge hadn’t had sex… well, since Maggie was born. Homer was usually too drunk… But not always his fault, she knew. What was worse, she hadn’t had an orgasm in… years? A couple? Several? She wanted to cry. She hadn’t had an orgasm since before Lisa was born, maybe even Bart.
When they were first married, she had enjoyed sex immensely. She forgave Homer his faults because he sent her to the moon, the stars and beyond. No one in her family had told her about the joys that the right man could give her in the bed. Homer was the right man… Then he wasn’t. Oh, they had sex often for a while, but it was mostly going through the motions on her part. Then, not even that.
Sex for Homer now was mostly rolling on top of her, a few hasty gropes. He sprayed her… then rolled off and passed out.
She buried that part of her life. Took care of Homer and the kids. Pretended that she was fulfilled. Took several lovers who all disappointed her. Male and female both. Turned to her toys, her dildos, vibrators and such, which brought her no relief either. The drugs helped… until they no longer did. They just made her not care as much.
In the clear light of morning she realized that the crazy sex dream was the first time in over a decade that she felt something. Something hot. Something she desired, needed back in her life. Watching her daughter dance naked while her son masturbated… (even if it was just a dream!) excited her, heated her libido like nothing in years had!
She didn’t know what was worse… that it was so perverted? That it felt so good? Or that it was only a dream?
She knew what she had to do. “Swear off the drugs and booze. Cold turkey… Well the booze, anyway. She couldn’t imagine her life without her pills. Anyway, she had paid so much for them. Chief Wiggum was her supplier. “The booze! She thought, “That’s the problem.” It had destroyed Homer and now was destroying her. “End it. Tonight! Only one little drink… to take the edge off.”
So that was the Simpson family.

The gun hadn’t fired. The bullets were old and rusty. So was the gun. What was worse, the liquor bottle was empty. He had tried to smash the bottle to cut his wrists, but all he had done was put a dent in the door frame. “They don’t make liquor bottles like they used to. Can’t depend on anyone!” He opened the window, tried to break the bottle on the brick ledge and dropped it. Third floor, if he jumped all he would do is break his ankles. He thought about beating himself to death with the gun.
There was a knock on the door.
“Goway” he slurred.
The knocking continued… it was almost as loud as the pounding in his head.
“Goway, goway!”
He opened the door, expecting someone complaining about throwing empty bottles out the window.
It was a hot young red-head with pink eyes and a nasty expression on her face. “Reflexologist?”
“No, Simpson. Look kid, goway, willya?”
“Funny.” She pushed her way past him. “Can ya’ put the gun down, before I need a tetanus shot!”
“Look, I’m kinda’ busy here.”
“Really, doin’ what? Chuckin’ empties out the window? You almost scratched the paint on my car.”
“Sorry kid… look errr?”
“Vicky, name’s Vicky. And you’re Homer Simpson. Jeez, what a name… Homo J. Simpson. Homo says what…?
“Huh?”
“Way to kill a punchline, fatso.” She pushed him backwards on the bed. It was a mercy; he would have fallen in a few moments.
“I’m here to give ya’ a freebee. Don’t do that very often, bad for business. No profit.” She pulled off her blouse.
“Uhhh. Look, there’s $20 in the wallet. Take it & go, kay? Take the wallet too, if ya’ want. Anything. Just go.”
“Aww, poor little Homer, feeling all sorry for himself? Well ya’ should. Fucked up, didn’t cha?”
Homer turned his head away.
Vicky removed her bra, her perky, beautiful young tits spilled out. Homer was hard in spite of himself. He didn’t want to be. Just couldn’t help himself.
“See?” she said, grabbing his hand put putting it on her breast. His hand was like a lifeless paw for a moment… then came to life, squeezing, fondling, enjoying the firmness of young flesh. “Ain’t these better than fucking your little girl, you perv?”
Homer goggled in horror.
“Don’t worry hun, Vicky’s not here to judge.”
She exposed his veiny yellow cock, it was as thick as beer can and she rubbed it against her cheek.
“God, hope I don’t get jaundice when I stick it inside me!” she laughed and thought “Well, at least it’s hard. I can work with that,” then said “Oh, a grower. Nice!” Two beer cans long now. It took both hands to handle the thing. “Drop a hundred pounds and get some breath mints, you might be worth my time.”
Homer turned his head. “I’m all fucked up!”
“Hun, you don’t know what fucked up is until I get done with you!”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Timmy Mac’s Summer Camp Adventures, Simpsons 1