Read this on my website at - https://spidernon.home.blog/2020/01/16/unmarried-goose-girl/

Priscilla pushed her way out of the bushes and into the small clearing, stopping to brush the loose leaves off her ample bosom. She flapped her lily-wings and batted her pretty blue eyes, and loped about the small, muddy island she called home. It was perfect, loaded with nice things from all over town. It hadn't always been this nice. That had taken work. She surveyed her kingdom of shiny objects and trinkets with satisfaction.

"Honk!" she said, nodding, as she looked over everything and it met with her approval. Well, not everything. Something did seem off. She frowned. What was it that was wrong? She saw a toy soldier on its side in the mud.

"Honk..." she observed. She walked over to the fallen toy soldier and gingerly put it back in its rightful place on the upturned wastebasket, next to the porcelain sheep missing a leg.

She took a step back, and squinted at her repositioning. Better, but it still didn't seem right. Something was missing, she was sure of it. A cabbage? No. She had plenty of those, and they always started rotting after a little while. An inhaler? Nope, she had that asthmatic boy's, over there near the broken toaster oven. An Oliver?

She looked about and flapped her wings.

"Honk?" She asked.

Her question echoed off the trees. There were no Olivers in sight. That was the problem. An Oliver was definitely missing. Come to think of it, She hadn't gotten an Oliver yet. That was a good enough reason to venture out today. She would get an Oliver. She set out for town.

She walked on her wide, orange webbed feet, slapping the grass in rhythm as she strut forward confidently. With chest out and nose up she walked past the broken wooden gate and towards the pond.

Priscilla entered the water with the faintest disruption, and she glided on the surface. In water her true beauty and grace came out, and she looked majestic and powerful, moving along the water quickly and without ripples. In the stillness of the lake, in this time of peace and contentment, she sometimes liked to close her eyes and imagine she was the Battleship Bismarck. She pictured herself on a midnight run in the harsh black waters of the Atlantic, the skies lit with the fires of sinking ships as both flame and water consumed them. She saw the ocean itself burning as the prismatic color of oil filled the waters. She saw sailors diving into the frigid blackness, and could hear her great cannons roaring on targets beyond the horizon with resounding booms that rattled the very earth, sea, and sky.

The thoughts of exploding merchant vessels pleased her, and she arrived at the other side of the lake with a smile. She stepped out with a bit of sadness, and shook the water from her butt. She walked forward past a park bench and towards the town.

To her left was the garden. There were many things to do in there, but now was not the time for that. She looked forward and committed herself to her task. Well, okay, she took a quick peek; what would that hurt?

The gardener was busy toiling away on his hands and knees, digging a hole for a rather full little tree. He was smiling to himself as he reached over to pick up the plant. As the Gardener looked up and saw Priscilla, his smile faded. He stood, gripping his small shovel as tightly as Brutus gripped the blade that killed Caesar.

Priscilla stopped walking and narrowed her eyes. She lifted a foot and slowly took a step in his direction, turning to face him. Immediately, the Gardener looked away, losing his nerve, as he went back to his toiling. That's right, old man. Keep working. She was too busy. She had to get an Oliver, had to...

She jumped back a bit, and nearly honked in shock and anger. There, against the little brick shed, was a rake, where a rake didn't belong. A. Rake. This matter had been settled, and agreed upon by all (at least, by all the Goose girls). There would be no rakes on dry land, not while the word for them rhymed with the one for a large body of water. Yet there it was, soggy and with seaplants between its wobbly metal teeth.

The Gardener saw her eyeing the rake, and his mouth twisted to an expression of horror. He raced to it and clutched it in his arms in a fearful embrace. He shook his head furiously, his wide eyes pleading.

"Honk," Priscilla announced. She pointed with her nose towards the lake.

The Gardener again shook his head, then raised his fist and wagged it at her. How...how dare he! She shook her body all the way to her butt. Big mistake, old man. Big mistake.

She swiftly reached down and grasped his hand shovel, then took off running. Or more appropriately, took off waddling. A goose girl may look rather awkward, but they are surprisingly difficult to catch, and she deftly bobbed and weaved as he tried to tackle her.

She faked left, then went right, and the old man staggered, utterly fooled by her webbed footwork. He tried to grab her as he fell, but his foot landed in the hole that he had just dug, and he sank up to his knee. He fell on his face with a shout and a string of words that would have most upset the vicar if he heard them.

He was laying across the rake, no doubt a shrewd tactical decision, but she was one step ahead. She saw her true objective. She dropped the handshovel, then reached down and snatched his phone from his back pocket. He cried out in protest, saying that it was his phone, which was an odd thing to say, as they both knew that. She took a few quick waddle-steps away from the Gardener's lunging grasp. As he struggled to rise from his self-inflicted pit trap, she quickly (or as quick as one can with wings) went to the Gardener's facebook and typed:

"@Gertrude u have a fat arse"

Priscilla clicked send just before the Gardener snatched back the phone. He stared at the message in horror, and looked up in time to see the door to his house open. A very stout, and very angry, little woman emerged from the house, snorting like a bull as she brandished her phone. The Gardener vainly held up his hands in protest, the cellphone still in them, trying to point and scream that it was that evil, evil Bird Girl (whoever that was). His protests were of no avail, and she charged forward with her eyebrows knitted. A conversation began, in which the Gardener's wife said, if they were being completely honest, that her arse was not too big, it only seemed that way to his small winky. The Gardener, reeling from this assault, turned red-faced and said his winky was only so small because all she did was just lay there like a dead fish. Which she was smelling of a lot lately, by the way.

The fighting continued to escalate, and when the Gardener's wife bent down, picked up a huge handful of mud and threw it in his face, Priscilla knew that a ladylike goose should not deign to listen to such improper behavior. The mud assault caused the Gardener to fall backward, dropping his rake on the ground. He stood, grabbing a handful of mud, and chased his wife off behind the hedge. The rake was ripe for the taking.

Priscilla grabbed the metal of the rake in her wings. With exertion she dragged it through the garden gates, down the grass and past the bench to the lake. With a heave she tossed it in, and watched the splash. The rake sank until only the top of the handle was visible.

"Honk," she declared as the ripples dissipated. Order was restored. She made her way back to the Gardener's house, where the two of them were now sitting in the mud, laughing hysterically. The Gardener wiped the mud from his lips and gave his wife a kiss, and they headed inside together holding hands, saying they both needed a good bath, which made Priscilla curl her lip in disgust, as they were old people.

Anyways, it was time to get back to the task at hand: getting an Oliver.Olivers were hard workers, very hard workers. They hung out at the grocery store, bringing in boxes from trucks and then stacking them. Why they did this was a mystery, but she guessed it had to do with those little rectangle pieces of toilet paper with the Queen's picture on them.

Everybody really liked getting that toilet paper, even Olivers. She had amassed a little bit of it when that armored car had gone off the road a few months back. She found it wasn't as good as the regular toilet paper.

But anyways, that toilet paper wasn't worth the fuss, embossed with the Queen or no. But Olivers were woth a fuss. Olivers were very kind, and they were always particularly nice to goose girls.

When she reached the grocery store she went around the back. She saw the Oliver working there, the best and most prime of all Olivers. He had big, burly arms from carrying those wooden crates of food all day, and today was no exception as he hefted a heavy box to the loading bay door and dropped it off in the entrance, then walked back to the truck.

Priscilla walked up to him, feeling the wholly unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach that people called butterflies. "H-honk!" She announced nervously. The noise startled Olvier, and he nearly toppled and dropped his crate, but she caught and steadied him back to his feet.

"Oh, Hi Priscilla!" he said. "Nearly capsized there, thanks for catching me! I can't talk for long, it's a busy day today. Three more trucks to unload then shelves to stock. What's up?"

"Honk," she said excitedly, trying to relay the story of her victory in the Battle of the Rake. "Honk Honk Honk!"

He smiled, but it was very clear he didn't know what she had said. He looked down at his arms and the crate of apples he was carrying. "Do you want an apple?" Oliver asked.

She shook her head. The only thing she wanted was nuts. "Honk," she said in as sultry a tone as a goose girl has ever said it. She flapped her wings a little and made pouty lips, turning and wiggling her very nice rear at him. She couldn't be much more clear.

"Ah..." he said. He smiled, seeming to understand as he saw her kissy face. "You want a lemon!"

She snorted. A lemon? Stupid Oliver! "Honk!" She said, flapping her wings in agitation. "Honk, honk!"

"Easy, there..." he said, backing away. "It's hard to understand you, Prissy..."

She didn't see why. Whatever, Olivers may be cute but they were kinda slow sometimes. He would be made to understand. She moved forward as he retreated, until he was up against the truck and she was leaning in to him.

"N-n-now Priscilla, just calm down..." he said. "W-what are you..."

She pushed her ample breasts into his face, so that her cleavage was millimeters from his nose. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened. He looked up at her.

"P-P-Priscilla?"

She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up "Honk?" She asked coyly, striking his arm with a soft, feathered wing.

"...oh..." he said, finally catching her meaning.

"...honk..." she replied in a very feminine voice, with a coquettish smirk. She knew she had beautiful eyes, oval shaped and blue like the sky, sparkling when she was happy. She batted her eyelashes as she stared up at him, letting him soak in her Goose girl perfection and imagine her staring up at him with those eyes from between his legs with his little Ollie in her throat.

"Uh...um..." he said, turning beet red. He had met her gaze, and he was lost in it. The fact that he was so flustered made her feel like doing cartwheels. "Oh man..." he said in an amazed voice, panting.

They stared into each other's eyes. His eyes were quite beautiful, brownish and greenish in that color people called hazel. He took a deep breath, then leaned down with his eyes closed and his lips out. She pouted her lips and shut her eyes, savoring the coming kiss.

They were just about to touch lips when there was a shout, and Oliver jumped and recoiled backward, tripping and hitting his head into the truck. With a cry and an expletive he landed on his rear, clutching at his skull. Priscilla fretted over his wound with honks and attempts to headpat with a wing, and once she was sure he wasn't going to die, she turned around to see who had ruined their moment.

She saw the short, bald shopkeeper walking towards her with a broom, shouting at her to scoot and for Oliver to get back to work. She shook with anger.

"HONK!" she raged. She lowered her head and charged at the shopkeeper, who dropped the broom, jumped in the air, and raced back for the store with a terrified scream. She reared back to deliver a goosegirl bite which would break the skin. He pulled frantically on the loading bay strap, eyes bulging, as Priscilla loomed closer.

"No, Prissy, no!" Oliver shouted, grasping her by the shoulders from behind and seizing her. Any other man who tried to waylay her in such a way would have gotten a stout knee to the balls, but you could never, ever, treat an Oliver like that. That was not what their balls were for.

"HONK!" She shouted, lunging at the fearful shopkeeper as he pulled the bay door shut with a loud crash. "HONK! HONK!"

"Priscilla, you can't hurt him. He is my boss, and he has a point; I am supposed to be working, not canoodling," he took a deep breath. "So...honk once for yes and twice for no - would you like to meet up after my shift gets out?"

"Honk!" She exclaimed.

"Okay...so do you want to go to a restaurant?"

"Honk, Honk," she said, shaking her head.

"I suppose not. I'm pretty sure you're banned from all of them. You want to see movie?" He asked

"Honk!"

"I can see what's playing..." he said.

"Honk, Honk!" She replied forcefully.

"Oh right, the theatre banned you after you played all those deepfakes. So not the theatre... how about my place?"

"Honk, Honk," she said, leaning in.

"I see. So...your place?"

"Honk!" She exclaimed, nodding. She flapped her wings excitedly. "Honk!"

Oliver smiled, which made her heart flutter and the place between her legs tingle. "I get out at six. I'll wait for you to collect me here, then, and we can walk over?"

"Honk," she said with a sly smirk. She leaned in and gave him a little peck on the cheek. Not too much, just enough to whet his appetite. He staggered back a little and let out the most wonderful laugh. She turned slowly and wiggled her butt as she walked off. He went back to work with a big smile, his hazel eyes filled with mirth. She walked slowly, trying to let her hips sway, although for a goose girl it made her look even more wobbly. When she rounded the corner, she took off as fast as webbed feet would carry her. She had to get ready, there wasn't much time!

She pulled out her notebook and wrote her To-Do list in flowing cursive:

1) Get made up

2) Get a romantic movie

3) Prepare a meal

4) Get an Oliver

While she knew she was a natural beauty, she also knew that she needed to look her best tonight for Oliver. Performing beauty duties could be hard with wings. She could really use some help.

She walked down the street towards the beauty salon, March Hair and Mad Hattery. The salon was atypical, colored brightly with whimsical rainbow colors. Through the windows Priscilla could see that three Cheshires were inside, wiping down their salon chairs and shitposting madly on their phones. The door opened with a jingling bell, and the Cheshires turned to face the door and see who had entered. For a moment, goose girl and Cheshires stared at each other. Finally, the Cheshires fell down before her in worship. Priscilla puffed out her chest and tilted her nose skyward.

"Honk," she said regally. She flapped her wings to rapturous applause from the Cheshires. These faggot cat shitposting beauticians would prove useful. She took out her notebook and showed it to her new catspaws, pointing with her wing at the line. The Cheshires hooted and gave her encouragement for bagging an Oliver, then sprung into action.

A fetching blue pillbox hat was placed slightly askew on her head, and a jaunty scarf placed around her neck. The Cheshires then began to apply makeup as Priscilla sat in one of their chairs. Cheshire paws weren't the best suited for these tasks, but they were better than Goose wings, and this made the process go faster than if she had done it herself. The Cheshires knew their craft well.

Still, one had to watch Cheshires carefully. Left to their own devices, Priscilla knew that they would doll her up to be as rainbow-colored as a clown's semen. When all was done, the Cheshires were well pleased with their work, clasping their hands and making cooing sounds. Priscilla looked at herself as one of them held a mirror out before her. She pouted her now-ruby red lips and nodded. It was acceptable.

After waving goodbye to the Cheshires, and giving them some of that Queen toilet paper she kept handy, they wished her luck. Priscilla crossed off the first item on her list, then continued on her quest. The next step was to get a romantic movie, and there was only one choice. The Romantic Movie tape was front and center at the library, in their DVD section. It would be the perfect film to watch with Oliver, giving him the kind of subtle hints that would get his boy-brain thinking about a certain goose girl's firm rump.

She walked through the library door and waddled past the front desk where a librarian in a sweater vest stood over a bunch of books. The librarian was a younger man, one of those humorless ones with circular glasses who was always upset that a goose girl was stealing the newspapers. She waddled past the front desk and made her way toward the DVDs, but the librarian raced out from behind the counter and blocked her path. He began shooing her out the door (quietly, of course). He pointed at a picture on the corkboard near the counter of a goose girl. It looked a lot like her, and had a giant red line through it. Apparently there was still some blowback from that moral panic she had inadvertently orchestrated two years ago, when the first library had been burned down.

Forced to exit, she turned back and gave the sweater-vested dweeb the stink eye. He folded his arms and upturned his nose, then went inside, slamming the door (but quietly, as he was a librarian). This was no good. That tape was essential. Innocent, wonderful Oliver would need coaxing. The Librarian would have to be removed, and she knew exactly how.

Across the street, at the Cafe Bleu Ovaire, she saw a large police woman with a single horn sitting at one of the little tables. She knew Officer Oni would sit outside the coffee shop in the late morning, resting her face in her hands, sighing wistfully as she looked across the street. With a longing gaze Officer Oni watched the library, where her unrequited love toiled at doing whatever it was that librarians did when they weren't giving lovesick goose girls a hard time. This would be trivial.

Priscilla reentered the library. The librarian saw her, clenched his teeth, and quietly rounded the table to force her out. Priscilla flapped her wings and cleared her throat. The librarian's eyes widened, and he held up his hands in a futile attempt to stop what was coming.

"HOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNKKKK!"

In the back, an old woman jumped back in fright and fell into a card catalog, knocking it over and probably dying in the process. Well, maybe not. Hopefully not. An old man reading the newspaper in a chair near the entrance clutched at his chest and frantically pulled out pills with a shaking hand, and slammed them in his mouth. A man climbing a ladder to reach books from an upper bookshelf convulsed, lost his footing, and fell with a crash into a table where a group of women were sitting. They stood and ran away screaming as the man whimpered.

The librarian, surveying the devastation, began quaking with fury. After having endured years of merciless goose girl, he snapped. He reached out with his hands and tried to throttle her about the neck in the full throes of a psychotic episode. She let out a honk of alarm, and frantically fought him off before she beat a hasty retreat out the door. The librarian followed her out screaming obscenities and awful things that made everyone else stare at him in horror, and as the rage passed he sheepishly retreated behind his desk.

To the unenlightened observer it looked as if an angry librarian had bullied an innocent goose girl, but the practiced eye would see that she had quite neatly snatched his car keys without him knowing. A bit of empiricism was involved in determining which car was his, but she found it in the library parking lot. She then had to do her best at starting up the car and driving with her wings, but she had gotten fairly good at this, and after a few celebratory beeps of the car's horn, she put the car in 'R' and began her drive. She only had to drive a little ways before she reached a good spot alongside the road. She parked the car with satisfaction, tossing the keys on the seat and wondering if other people also hit trashcans when they drove.

Now it was a simple matter of notifying Officer Oni. Priscilla waddled up to the cafe, and to the metal table where Officer Oni sat with her cup of tea (with booze in it, of course), and kept her sad watch.

Seeing the goose girl's approach, Officer Oni narrowed her eyes. The Officer and Priscilla had been erstwhile allies in the past, having teamed up to put a halt to that global conspiracy a year ago, but they still didn't trust each other.

"Honk!" Priscilla said, trying to look like a concerned citizen. "Honk! Honk!"

For what seemed a long time, Officer Oni stared at her. She knew Priscilla too well to think this was anything what it seemed. Still, the loverlorn ogress rose, partly out of curiousity and partly out of a sense of duty.

She followed behind Priscilla down the street, until she saw the blue compact parked directly in front of a fire hydrant. That was quite illegal. The librarian would need to be punished. Priscilla attempted to say all this, but it sounded like honks.

"Honk," Priscilla said, pointing with her wing at the library. "Honk."

Officer Oni looked at the car, parked diagonally across the sidewalk, then at the library, and then at Priscilla. She considered for a long moment, then a smirk appeared on her lips. She twirled her club and went off walking toward the library.

Officer Oni and the librarian returned a minute later. She pointed at the car, and a heated discussion began. He protested his innocence, while she stood over him with arms folded. Finally he pointed at Priscilla, and rather unfairly claimed it was her doing. He then turned his back and with a dismissive handwave he began to walk towards the library.

In hindsight, he would see this as a miscalulation. With a sudden lunge, Officer Oni slammed the librarian against his car and handcuffed him, then engaged in a furious bout of frisking which appeared to turn up that the librarian had two testicles and a penis. She made an exhaustive squeezing of every muscle in his body. The librarian was doing his best to act as if he wasn't enjoying this, but the swollen bulge between his legs said otherwise.

Priscilla walked into the library like a conquering hero, grasped the DVD, and walked out with it in her wings. The whole time the librarian watched her, his face a scowl. He glared at her with a look of pure poison until Officer Oni leaned down and began whispering in his ear. Priscilla wasn't sure, but she thought she might have seen her tongue make a few licks and an ear lobe get a suckle. He involuntarily let out a moan and shut his eyes. That'll stew your onions, Priscilla thought to herself. He would be mad at Priscilla, but she would deal with that after his honeymoon with Officer Oni. She crossed the item off her list.

The tape in hand, she waddled home to prepare. She pulled the tarps off all her appliances - it was necessary to cover them so they didn't get rained on. She went to her refrigerator and pulled out two packets of the special meat. She put on her tablet, and tuned it to her cooking program.

"It's Raw. IT'S FUCKING RRRRRAAW!" The chef declared on the tablet.

"Honk! Honk!" Priscilla agreed, hoping the blonde chef would slap that fat man for undercooking the scallops.

She seasoned the meat and put it on a roaster pan, then put it in the oven and set it to bake. The kitchen soon filled with the aroma of cooking meat. She chopped up some potatoes, carrots, and onions, and started coomong them on her range. She was a pretty good cook if she said so herself. This was the first time she was cooking for someone else since she had set out on her own.

With her meal well under way, she went to check the clock. It was almost 6 o'clock. She pulled the tarps off the TV and stereo and got them set up and working, then pushed the old couch out from in front of it and put the tiny loveseat in its place. Oliver's cock would be practicaly in between her ass cheeks for all 82 minutes of the feature film.

With everything prepared, she left her island and headed to the grocery. The Gardener and his randy wife had apparently gone nudist, and Priscilla could see saggy old woman tit poking out from beneath the hedges, shaking in rhythm to the slapping of an unseen old man's hips into her very large ass. She shuddered and continued on.

Oliver met her there, and she took his arm in her wing and set out back to the lake, and a prouder or happier goose girl had never walked the streets of that town. She walked like the proudest wife as she hung on Oliver's arm. The townspeople, normally shrinking away from her as though she were Nosferatu, saw her good cheer and utter contentment and couldn't help but smile at her.

After passing by the Gardener's house - and shielding virtuous Oliver's eyes so as not to corrupt him - she swam into the lake, and after a few attempts she convinced him to strip down and enter the water to swim across. She would take his clothes for him, she promised, and she even thought she might do it and not drop them all off and keep him in his underwear. He finally relented, and enetered the water with a ridiculous gasp of air and a lot of splashing. Oliver was a clumsy thing in water, like all men, splashing and submerging and scaring every fish off. But she was so excited to share a swim with him that she didn't even picture herself as the fiercest naval vessel ever in the Kriegsmarine.

They reached the other side, and with difficulty he convinced her to return his clothes. He got dressed, and surveyed her very open-air home concept.

"You don't have a house?" He asked, with a tinge of pity.

Priscilla shrugged. "Honk," she replied.

He looked at the tarp-covered appliances. "Where do you get power from?"

She pointed at a telephone pole, and a line of extension cords running down it.

"Oh. Okay..." he said.

"Honk," she said, showing him the table with the nice spread. She raced into the kitchen, put on some oven mitts (NOT an easy tasl with wings) and took out the special meat. Oliver helped bring the vegetables to the table, because he was the most perfect gentleman.

Oliver was hungry after all that working, so she did not delay him when he sat at the table. He settled in with gusto to his meal. "It's very tasty!" He exclaimed as he shoveled in food. "I'm surprised you cooked poultry, though."

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"You know, because they are birds and you are part bird...I guess it doesn't bother you. I eat mammals, after all. This is chicken?"

"Honk Honk," she replied, shaking her head.

"Turkey?" He asked.

"Honk Honk," she said.

"A...a duck?"

She stared at him.

His mouth opened in horror. "...goose?"

"Honk."

"N-n-not a goose g-gir..."

"Honk Honk!" Priscilla shouted before he could finish, flapping her wings angrily.

"Okay, okay, okay, sorry..." he said. "I guess I just felt like maybe you wouldn't want to eat a goose, being they are kind of related..."

Olivers didn't get monstergirls at all. "Honk honk," she replied, settling back down and eating some more of the goose. This particular little bastard had tried to take the town's bell. That was her job.

They continued eating, and he told her stories of his day, and of the customers, and the good, polite people and the nasty, unpleasant people. Priscilla was happy to learn that she had really gotten it over on the unpleasant people, but she would have to make their lives worse. As he spoke, Oliver swiftly ate, until his plate was empty, and another, and another.

"That was a great meal, Prissy," he said as he reclined in his chair, clapping his hands above his last empty plate. "So what's the mystery film?"

She stood, and excitedly handed him the DVD case, her mouth open as she leaned in to savor his reaction. He raised an eyebrow and squinted.

"...Carnosaur?" He asked, looking at the image of an extremely realistic-looking dinosaur puppet.

"Honk!" She yelled in victory. She twirled excitedly. This was a total coup. He was utterly surprised, so shocked that all he could do was stare. This was going to be great!

Although...he was staring at it an awful long time. "H-honk?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just kind of an odd..." he began, but he stopped as he saw her face. "Kind of an odd thing that I haven't watched this great of a romance film on a date before. Let's put it in."

"HONK!" She shouted. She raced to the DVD player and pressed play. Then marshalled him to the loveseat. He sat first, and she squeezed in next to him such that she was on his lap. He didn't seem to mind at all.

They watched the movie, and Priscilla watched with rapt attention. Oliver would laugh, which was a pleasant sound and she was glad he was enjoying the movie, but she didn't understand why it was funny. This was a work of art.

They had only been watching for ten minutes when the darkening sky rumbled. A moment later, it was like the skies opened. The rains fell, and fell, and fell.

Priscilla stood and began putting her tarps over all her things. Oliver raced to help her. Goose girls had little problems with rain - it was just God saying it was time to drown, after all. Olivers didn't like rain very much, though, judging by the noises he was making.

"Maybe I should get going," He said as he tapered down the tarp over her refrigerator. "It was a lovely meal, but we can't watch a movie in this..."

"HONK HOOOONNKKK!" Priscilla shouted over the rain. She ran to one of the tarps over a heap of trinkets, and grabbed up the pink Dora the Explorer bumbershoot she found. She opened it and ran back, frantically placing it over his head.

The bumbershoot did well enough, she thought. It might not have covered all of him but it got most of him. He looked at the bumbershoot and was about to speak when he saw her eyes. He could see the absolute terror that he was going to leave her there, alone, in the rain. She couldn't bear another night here, away from her family, without an Oliver to hug her through the night. He smiled that pretty smile of his. "This is perfect," he said. He walked back to the loveseat and motioned for her to join him.

She fell into his arms and they nuzzled beneath the tiny umbrella. She covered him with her wings to protect him from the rain, as he held her close to his chest and made her feel loved. So entangled, they watched as dinosaur puppets ate b-movie actors while a little lean-to to keep the rain off the TV. Despite the downpour they were both warm as they could be, and warmth made one cozy, and coziness led to kissing, and kissing led to other things, as the sound of falling rain became a soothing backdrop. Pretty soon, they were watching each other more than the film, exploring each other's bodies with hands and wings. Their tongues probed each other's mouths then wandered to other areas. She took out her massive breasts and guided his face into them. With zeal he licked her sensitive nipples until she cried out in a very feminine voice, and began moaning. This excited him, so she moaned louder and louder.

They both shed their clothes, and as the rains died they went to the couch for more room for what was coming. He bent her over the arm of the couch and entered her perfect female ass from behind. He thrusted with loud cries, as a goosegirl's holes were tight, soft, and smooth. His thrusts became hard, deep, and furious, and after a spirited effort he erupted into her womb, and she felt her own release rising. When it finally came, she felt it beyond anything she had ever felt. It rose within her, and she almost felt as if it was fundamentally rewriting something.

"OLLLIVERRRR!" she shouted in a voice she did not believe she was capable of. She shuddered and wailed as the waves of orgasm smashed into her like nothing ever had before.

"I love you," he said as he collapsed in top of her, panting.

"I-I love you, too," her new voice said, though it was with great difficulty that she used it. "S-stay with meee, pleese."

He kissed her cheek. "Always," he said.

It was early that morning when she finally awoke. Oliver was under her, on the couch, sleeping peacefully with a big smile. She had been sleeping with her face on his chest, and it had been the best sleep of her life. She reached into her notebook and crossed off the last line. She had gotten an Oliver.

"Hey, Prissy," he said, smiling.

"honk," she said.

"Back to no speaking, eh?" He asked.

She nodded sadly. "Honk."

He put his hand under her chin. "Honk," he said with a smile. They kissed, and her tail wiggled.

"You know..." he said. "We'll need a house out here. So we don't get rained on."

"Honk," she agreed.

"And you'll need to be a well-behaved goose girl from now on," he said. "No more torturing people."

"Honk," she said, staring into his eyes with her sparkling blues.

"And especially no more rakes in the lake," he added with a grin.

She recoiled. "Honk. Honk." She said.