How Nelly Got Her Groove Back: A Satirical Erotic Fanfiction Based on Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights
From the ShipwreckSF Archives, February 2017
Hi friends! As mentioned earlier, I’m sharing and promoting my ShipwreckSF stories on Substack while I query agents. For those of you unfamiliar with ShipwreckSF, it was a monthly satirical erotic literary fanfiction competition that took place at the Booksmith in San Francisco. I loved writing for the show and miss it very much. Anyway, the following story was written for the February 2017 show (read aloud by Baruch Porras-Hernandez), and was my first Shipwreck piece to win first place!
“Siiiiiiiiigh.” Nelly glanced up to witness Catherine at the window, wistfully looking out to watch Heathcliff and Hindley dismount their horses. The brooding men glared at each other as the winds whipped through the moors. Heathcliff suddenly lunged at Hindley, and they began to wrestle. Nelly’s hands shook; she raced to the window as Catherine let out another overly dramatic sigh. “I wish Heathcliff would pursue me in love as much as he pursues my brother in hate.” Catherine leaned back against the wall as Nelly smashed her face against the window to get a better look.
Hindley ripped Heathcliff’s collar, who in turn dove for Hindley’s chest and tore his shirt down to his navel. They shared a withering glance, panting, before attempting headlocks on each other. Thunder rolled through the moors, and it began to pour, soaking the men’s ripped shirts (and bods). Nelly drooled in delight, watching them punch and twist and pull each other into the mud. The mud wrestling continued for only a few minutes before Heathcliff successfully pinned down Hindley. Nelly squirmed in delight as Heathcliff walked in slow motion toward the house, rain dripping down his super brooding face. Catherine’s sigh became an excited gasp, and she and Heathcliff shared a smoldering look before he continued to his room.
Nelly glanced back to Catherine’s melodramatics, watching as she delicately collapsed into a chair. The sighs continued. Catherine rested one hand on her forehead and another in Nelly’s palm, squeezing it ever so gently before dramatically looking back to her. Nelly saw the pain, the love, and the emotional immaturity in her eyes and decided she had to get involved.
“Catherine, listen to me. You can wish for Heathcliff to pursue you as much as you’d like, but clearly that boy is in need of some physical motivation.” Nelly carefully brought Catherine to her feet, taking a deep breath as she felt her loins stirring. “Come with me, we will make this right.”
“But- *siiiiiiiiigh*- Hindley!” Catherine dramatically gestured toward the window as Nelly rolled her eyes and led her to Heathcliff’s room.
He leaned against the wall and let out a whimper-sigh before noticing Nelly. He slouched in her direction. “Oh Nelly,” he cried. “Has there ever been a love more forbidden? Why must I yearn so for Catherine?”
“Oh darling!” Catherine sighed. “You know we can’t be together because of money and my brother and some other soap opera-esque plot point!”
Nelly felt the tension in the room, and in her pussy.
“But don’t you ever want to, you know, do more than smolder at each other?” Nelly whimpered impatiently. “Don’t you want to touch each other? Aren’t you curious about how your world, your very existence will change?”
Heathcliff and Catherine stared deeply into each other’s eyes, then dramatically whipped their heads away as they sighed. Nelly bit her lip in anticipation of their next move.
“Oh, Nelly,” Catherine said. “What even is an existence?”
Nelly held her breath, praying they’d finally just do it.
“To be or not to be,” Heathcliff began. “That is the question. Wuther ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer-”
“OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” Nelly screeched. “JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.” She pushed Catherine toward Heathcliff and grabbed his hands. “Touch her! Grab her! You’re dying to be together!” Nelly stepped back as Catherine’s fingertips brushed Heathcliff’s torso; she met his gaze as he shivered in delight. His fingers gently moved to push her hair behind her ear; he bit his lip as she let out a delicate gasp.
“ENOUGH. FUCKING ENOUGH.” Nelly was shaking, watching from a corner, waiting for them to get it on. “JUST DO IT ALREADY. JUST FUCK. JUST TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF AND TOUCH EACH OTHER AND FUCKING FUCK.”
Catherine and Heathcliff stared at her; Nelly looked down to discover she’d ripped her own bodice in the heat of the moment. Nelly felt her wetness growing and tore her petticoat off as she stormed toward the couple. “You’re gonna fuck. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been watching your bullshit pseudo-flirting for years. YEARS! Can’t you just fuck each other and move on with your lives already?” Nelly hastily ripped their clothes off and pushed the couple together. “Please. Please just fuck. Give me this one goddamn joy. We’re in Georgian-era England, for god’s sake. This is the only good thing that will happen to me this year.”
And so Catherine and Heathcliff touched. They touched each other’s arms, chests, legs, butts, buttholes. They smushed their faces together and quietly moaned, even though they weren’t, like, REALLY kissing.
“That’s it,” Nelly hissed as she rubbed her clit and her breasts. “Smush together. Become a smush machine.”
“What the bloody hell is this?!” Hindley had finally come back inside after realizing no one was watching him take his shirt off in slow motion in the rain. Now he stood, soaked and half naked in Heathcliff’s doorway. “Stop touching my sister! How dare y-”
“DON’T ROB ME OF THIS, HINDLEY,” Nelly screamed, knocking him to the floor. She quickly sat on top of him, her tits bouncing in anger and lust. “I NEED THIS. THEY NEED TO FUCK. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DON’T WANT SEXUAL TENSION, I WANT SOME GODDAMN JIGGLING BUTTOCKS AND POUNDED PUSSY. FUCK.”
Squirming under her majestic juicy thighs, Hindley tried to voice an argument only to be immediately silenced by Nelly re-positioning herself to sit on his face and continue yelling at him.
“YOU AND I WATCHED THIS SHIT HAPPEN. WE LET THIS HAPPEN. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. NOW FUCKING GET ME OFF AND LET ME WATCH THEM FUCK, YOU ARSE.”
Nelly started slowly rocking back and forth as she sat on Hindley’s bemused yet aroused face, now squeezing both of her boobs while staring at the couple. “Fuck. Do it. Just fucking fuck already.”
Heathcliff and Catherine looked at Nelly squirming in delight atop Hindley’s face, then back at each other, and finally went ham in bed. They did the sex in all the ways: boring sex, bendy sex, bouncy sex, British sex, butt sex. Catherine wetted Heathcliff’s whistle, and he wuthered her heights. All the while, Nelly watched and whooped and wore down Hindley’s protests, wiggling into his mouth. As Heathcliff and Catherine let out a final sigh, Nelly screamed with pleasure, “I SHIP IT SO HARD!” and collapsed onto the floor, writhing in delight. It was done: Heathcliff and Catherine had finally fucked. With that, Nelly’s existence was no longer necessary, and so she died.
From that point on, life became a little easier at Wuthering Heights. Hindley never fully recovered from the joy of Nelly sitting on his face and ceased to talk. Catherine and Heathcliff continued to fuck regularly until they realized that they were actually a bad match for each other, and then Heathcliff left to brood someplace else for a while. But every time he’d return to visit Wuthering Heights, he and Catherine would share a smoldering look to hear the echoes of Nelly’s ghost, crying out, “JUST FUCK ALREADY” and “I SHIP IT.” All was well and canon.
Thanks for taking the time to read my silly story, friends. If you like what you read, please support my writing in whatever manner suits you best: share this post with friends, buy me a Ko-fi or leave a generous tip (it’s my birthday week after all). I’ve got another Shipwreck story coming up next- stay tuned!