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Shocked by My Cucumber

Chapter Text

Charles hated grocery shopping. He abhorred the subconsciously manipulative marketing, where everything he wanted was placed at the back of the very top or very bottom shelf. He cursed loudly at the monstrously oversized carts with three of its four wheels rolling horizontally, making him walk like a drunkard wearing sky-high stilettos. He wanted to strangle the people who park their carts right in the middle of the path at precisely the right angle so that no one else can move past.  He loathed parents who let their devil spawn run free and insist they 'help' with the shopping.

Most of all, he hated being judged by gorgeous looking men with nothing but detoxifying fruit in their basket. Who the hell goes into a Walmart with a basket anyway? Hot model-esque sticks of lean beef, that's who. Fuckers (that he'd really like to fuck).

Charles was barely three minutes into his current expedition, when he became engrossed in the choosing of his English cucumbers. They were on sale you see.

English cucumbers at $1.50 each.

That's right. Each.

Not by weight, not by length, not by girth or straightness or vitality.

So please, Mr. Two packs of blueberries, one pack of raspberries, one bag of broccoli and a large bag of assorted bell peppers, please keep your judgmental eyebrows and gawking to yourself when a man is busy fingering for the biggest, individually, shrink-wrapped English cucumber his coinage can buy.

It was not until he was half way down the condiment aisle when it hit him.  Perhaps Charles gave sex-on-stilts a completely wrong (though not wholly unwanted) impression when, while feeling up one contendable English cucumber, he turned to face him and said, "Size really does matter, you know..."

As Charles' luck would have it, he got his chance to explain himself at the Personal Hygiene section where he found Mr. Two packs of blueberries, one pack of raspberries, one bag of broccoli and a large bag of assorted bell peppers, now with added cans of sardines and beans, bent over, revealing his lean shapely ass and a hint of Calvins, choosing his toothpaste.  Charles wobbled (fucking cart) right up behind the sculptured buttocks and coughed to get his attention.

"Look, I understand how things must of looked back there with the cucumbers, and I just wanted to explain.  They were on sale at $1.50 each. OK? Each! This means you pay the same for a short, stubby one. A crooked, bumpy one. A long, firm one. A soft, mushy one. An averge-length, chubby one... So yes, if I'm to pay the same no matter what, I am going to find the longest, chubbiest, firmest English cucumber for my money, thankyouverymuch!"

Naturally, Charles made his speech with accompanying graphic and unadulterated hand gestures.  It must have looked completely inappropriate on the security cameras, and it wouldn't surprise Charles if security was called to escort a deranged man wearing wooly cardigans, flashing and wanking his imaginary, enlarged penis(es).

Mr. Two packs of blueberries, one pack of raspberries, one bag of broccoli and a large bag of assorted bell peppers, now with added cans of sardines and beans stood up and gave Charles a bemused smile full of pristine teeth.  God! Charles should have stayed to check out what brand of toothpaste the man buys, but he was too close to death with embarrassment for this aisle and he scurried off crab-style (again, fucking cart!) to grab a dozen tubs of ice cream, so he can run home to cry and stuff his face with Ben & Jerry's, while rewatching A Bear Named Winnie.

Charles was about to join the queue at the only open cashier when someone reached into his overflowing cart and took out his cucumbers.  "What the fu-" It was Mr. Two packs of blueberries, one pack of raspberries, one bag of broccoli and a large bag of assorted bell peppers, now with added cans of sardines and beans.  It seemed he made a detour back and grabbed enough ingredients to make a hearty meal for two.

"Dinner's on me. Hope you like cucumber salad."

Turns out his name is Erik.  And he buys Aquafresh White & Shine.

Chapter Text

Holy crap.

This.

This has to have been genetically engineered. Or else Charles has really hit the jackpot with this BAMFing freak of nature.

It's a mutant. It must be. Nothing in his comprehension could currently explain the wondrous specimen Charles holds between his excited palms.

This.

This is just so.....long. And firm. And thick. And heavy. And appropriately curved. And big. And perfect. And juicy. And tender. And meaty. And did he mention long?

"...Charles...are you comparing my manhood to cucumbers?"

Wait? Did he just say all that shit out loud?

Damn!

Well fuck cucumbers.

From now on, This is what Charles Xavier wants for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not to mention any snacking in between.

He'll have to remember to add dip onto their next shopping list.