J. S. Jasko

The Winter Womance
Spicy Fan Fiction:
The Winter Wintercourse

Posted by Ernie the Email | February 2, 2025

It was Christmas morning in Candy Cane Cove in an alternate timeline where all that stuff at the end of the book never happened. Little Liam woke up and raced down the orphanage stairs to open the present that Santa had left for him under the tree. It was Monopoly: Orphan Edition, where every time you pass Go, instead of collecting $200, one of your parents dies.

As the other orphans ate their breakfast of the burned brown bits scraped up from last week’s pot of porridge, Mrs. Soggybottom pulled Little Liam aside and whispered a Christmas miracle in his orphan ear: They had found Little Liam’s biological father and were going to meet him right now at his log cabin in the woods! Apparently his dead parents who were dead were just his dead adoptive parents. What luck!

It took Little Liam like no time at all to get ready because he didn’t own any outdoor clothes or a toothbrush, and then they were off! Christmas magic was definitely on their side that day because they reached the cabin without getting into a fatal car accident.

A handsome and rugged email was sitting on the porch and nursing a mug of coffee, which he drank black because he was so rugged. He stood up and waved as Mrs. Soggybottom and Little Liam got out of the orphan school bus and approached him through the snow.

“Nice to meet you, son,” the email said. “I’m your father, Big Ern. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, and even more sorry that they named you Liam. I would have named you literally anything else.”

“But you’re an email,” Little Liam said, looking confused. “I always thought my source code was human.”

Big Ern crouched down so he was eye level with the boy. “I know it’s a lot to process. Why don’t you go chop some firewood for the hearth and clear your head while Mrs. Soggybottom and I share a word?”

“Do you have any gloves I could wear?” Little Liam asked hopefully.

They all laughed at Little Liam’s optimism and then sent him on his way with a heavy axe gripped in his frostbitten fingies.

Big Ern led Mrs. Soggybottom into the cabin. “May I fix you something warm to drink, Mrs. Soggybottom?”

“Please, call me Joanne.”

“Joanne.” He said it almost like a growl, and Mrs. Soggybottom felt her heart skip a beat, a sign of her nerves but more likely the untreated heart disease.

“So where’s Mr. Soggybottom?” Big Ern asked, a deeper question lingering in the weathered creases of his papery face.

“Oh, he died in some war or something,” Mrs. Soggybottom said. “I’ve been alone for so long.”

Mrs. Soggybottom looked at the email through the milky cataracts in her eyes. They were standing so close together in the cozy cabin now, and then Big Ern took a step even closer.

“I would have never died in a war if I had you to come home to.”

And then his mouth was on her mouth with a crinkly sucking sound.

They lay down together on a bear-skin rug by the hearth and began to undress. Mrs. Soggybottom took off her winter coat, then her winter sweater, and then finally her winter girdle. Big Ern removed his paper britches. She would have loved for the email to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but Mrs. Soggybottom obviously had one of those mushroom haircuts, so she had to settle for just seductively swishing her short bangs from side to side instead.

As they kissed, Big Ern cupped Mrs. Soggybottom’s soggy bottom and squeezed, and it was all extremely sensual. Some birds were watching through the window from a tree branch, and they were really into it, but then it got so steamy inside that the window fogged up and then they couldn’t watch anymore, so they went back to doing bird things.

The lovers were so near to the fire that Big Ern’s edges began to curl, and Mrs. Soggybottom liked it. She ran her dry tongue along his side and got it sliced up pretty bad with lots of tiny papercuts, but she didn’t care. It was all so romantic that she even forgot about her IBS for a minute.

“Joanne,” Big Ern breathed, because nothing was more hot than having a handsome and rugged guy say your own name back to you.

“Big Ern,” Mrs. Soggybottom breathed in response, because she was an equal opportunity lover.

In the heat of their passion, they couldn’t hear Little Liam’s screams outside as he accidentally chopped off a few of his bare fingers with the axe and started bleeding out in the snow.

The fire crackled lazily in the hearth, and Mrs. Soggybottom snuggled deeper into Big Ern’s warm embrace, the two of them sleepy and content from all that intimate interval training they had just done.

Mrs. Soggybottom decided she would stay here in this cabin with Big Ern forever. The orphans would be okay on their own. They had enough scraped-up brown bits from the porridge pot to last another day or two, and someone would probably remember to check in on them eventually.

And if not, well that was okay too. Because Joanne Soggybottom had found true love again, and she was never going to let it go.

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