by Kevin Strange
I was happy when everybody’s butts was getting bigger cause I’m a butt guy, myself and there’s some fine lookin’ women out there that just needed a little more caboose to be considered mighty fine in the humble opinion of this here self-proclaimed booty master.
But when I was sittin’ on the pot yesterday reading the latest issue of Buttman magazine and I felt a rip and a tear come from my anus region, I wasn’t none too happy to discover the root of the big butt phenomenon.
We done been infected with slug butts.
The whole lot of us. Every goddamn person in America’s got a butt full of butt slugs.
I got up from the pot and turned round to see what the hell splashed into the bowl after I felt my insides blow up and, yup, there they were: about two dozen fat slugs just sluggin’ up the sides of the toilet like they didn’t have no care in the world.
That’s when I caught a glimpse of my sad ass in the mirror across the bathroom. It wasn’t ever a big ass as white boy standards go, but after everybody’s butts started plumpin’ up, even I started getting whistles from the ladies smoking cigarettes out in front of the beauty shop cross the street from the tire shop I work at. Now it was flatter and more deflated than ever, like them slugs done ate what little bit of fat was in my skinny ass.
Well, I didn’t waste no time. I got a can of kerosene from the shed and dowsed those slug fuckers right there in the toilet. Lit ‘em up bright as day. Ain’t no sombitch’n slugs gonna eat the fat outta my ass and get away with it. Fuck those slugs.
After that, I sat down on my bony ass and had a couple of smokes so’s I could get my wits about me. Then I remembered my buddy Carl from across the lake and his girl, Carol Ann, had invited me over for a butt fuck that afternoon. Carl worked with me at the tire shop and had a hankerin’ for watching other fellas corn hole the ole lady. He told me he liked when I did it cause I’ve got a decent sized shlonger and he said my ball juice shows up real good on his camera.
I ain’t never told him but I’ve got a pretty solid thing for that Carol Ann. What’d Carl expect? Any man climaxes inside a lady’s bottom enough times, he’s gonna develop feelings for her. It’s only natural!
So after I burned up them slugs, I started to wonder if maybe Carl and Carol Ann mighta been in trouble with the butt slugs too on account of I thought maybe it was something we all mighta ate from the Pancake Ranch down the way. Everybody who’s anybody in Hopp’s Hollow eats at the Pancake Ranch.
I gave ole Carl a call but he didn’t pick up his phone. I was already late for the butt fuckin’, so that was a bad sign. Carl always called if I was late to a butt fuck. Ain’t never met a man so enthusiastic about watching other men get busy with his girl. But that ain’t none of my business.
It’s when I got in the car and turned on talk radio that the scope of the butt slug problem became apparent. The radio man was going bonkers about them little bastards up our rectums.
Seems some kinda chemtrail GMO spray contained some mutated slug eggs and done got ‘em all over the whole god damn country’s food supply. Now them artificial big asses were exploding left and right. I wasn’t the only one with a stool full of dead slugs!
But as I drove over to Carl’s, I flipped through the channels. I landed on an AM station I liked where the host liked to talk about Bigfoots and little green UFOs and all that. He was sayin’ it was much more than GMO tinkerin’.
He said scientist up in the mountains was messin’ with some kind of seal that opened a mirror universe and that the butt slugs was some kind of reflected projection of what was happenin’ on the other side. Something to do with blood rites and black magic up there alongside those machines.
He said it was the end of times and that we should all pray for salvation. I didn’t hear no more cause right then I pulled up to Carl’s house and jumped out of the car to make sure Carol Ann was OK.
The town was pretty much in hysterics at that point. Everybody runnin’ around with them slimy slugs hangin’ outta their butts. Few people came gallopin’ up to me pants round their ankles, handfuls of shit and slugs, but I ignored ‘em and went on about my way crossing the street over to Carl’s trailer. Well, I got no more than a foot from the door when I heard Carl a-sobbin’ up something fierce in there.
I knew what the score was.
I opened the door and there he was in a dirty shirt and no drawers, dong and balls out clear as day, his thin stringy hair covered in sweat, slugs sluggin’ their way from his asshole region when I looked over on the couch and there was Carol Ann, deader’n a chopped up sea bass.
She was a big woman to begin with. All of her, not just that big ole arse of hers, but now her belly was twice its regular size and all blowed out from the inside. Slugs three or four times the size of the ones I set on fire in my shitter was crawlin’ all over her and I ain’t shittin’ when I say them bastards was eatin’ the flesh right off her naked titties!
I gripped Carl up by his shirt. “What’d you do to Carol Ann!” There wasn’t no point in hiding my true feelings anymore, what with butt slugs and all that.
Carl just cried harder. “I know you loved her, Bobby Joe.”
That’s my name. Bobby Joe.
“I could tell by the way you butt fucked her. She loved you, too. Or at least your big ole dick.”
He snotted all over me when he sobbed so I let him go.
“This is all my fault! I’ve been cornholing that broad more than usual lately outta jealousy, trying to get her to scream the way she does when you go to town on her romper. It had her all plugged up and constipated. When these slugs started doin’ their thing today I got mine out real quick like, but she couldn’t do nothing to poop those fuckers. We tried our buttfuck lube, even shoved butter up there but them slugs wouldn’t come out! So I got in the truck and went to get her some laxatives. Aw hell, Bobby Joe, when I got back she was just like this! Them slug bastards’s been eatin’ on her ever since!”
I screamed a couple choice curse words I only used for special occasions, then I grabbed up the baseball bat Carl and Carol Ann always kept next to the door in case her ex con husband came over to the trailer all drunk again.
Instead of taking Carl’s head off like I wanted to, I took a swing at them big boy slugs, splatterin’ ‘em all over the kitchen section before I cursed again and sat down next to Carol Ann’s body.
“Now what do we do?” Carl sniveled.
“Now we bury Carol Ann in the back yard like a pair of decent Christian men, then we come back inside and get blind drunk on cheap vodka like a pair of decent trailer park boys. Wait for this butt slug nonsense to blow over.”
And so we did.
And we did.
It took entirely too long to give Carol Ann a decent burial. We fetched a couple of shovels from Carl’s shed, but only one of us could do the diggin’ on account of all the slugs tryin’ to attack us in the back yard. By now there was hundreds of those fuckers the size of small dogs!
But we got the job done and said some prayers while whackin’ big ass slugs to death. Then we came inside and drank all of Carl’s liquor till he stopped cryin’ and I started. We passed out holdin’ each other like a pair of sissy girls.
When I woke up the next morning, Carl was gone.
I puked over the side of his couch and reached for the vodka, but all the bottles were empty. I got up, dry heaved, and walked into the kitchen section to piss in the sink. While I was trying to miss the dirty dishes with my liquor smelling piss stream, Carl kicked the trailer door open.
“Come help me with these son’s a bitchin’ things. Hey are you pissin’ in my sink??”
“Fuck you! You killed Carol Ann!” I shouted back through a hangover mouth. “Help you with what things?”
I dribbled piss in my pants as I whipped my dick back inside ‘em. “Why the fuck are you bringing—”
The things Carl dragged in didn’t look like slugs. Well, they might’a looked like slugs if I was actually able to see the damn things. Carl dropped one on the floor next to the couch, then dragged the other one in. They were damn near the size of the fridge. Huge fuckers. But like I said, I couldn’t get a good look at them. They sort of, danced around the corners of my vision without really moving.
They were dead, so they weren’t going nowhere. Carl had bashed their heads in. He tried to put his hand on top of one of em, but its skin just kind of skirted around him.
“Ain’t that somethin’ else? They’re calling it the ‘shimmer effect.’”
“Who’s callin’ it that?”
“On the radio.” Carl tossed my keys on the table. “I took your car to go out and get supplies, but that didn’t go so well. Have a look for yourself.”
I leaned over the kitchen table to the window, pushed the curtain back and cursed again. The whole trailer park was on fire and them shimmering slug-things was sluggin’ all over the streets, on top of cars and the roofs of trailers.
“Guys from the AM station are broadcasting from the mountains with the scientists now. Said something about this shimmering shit being the slugs’ third form after anal incubation and then hatching out our buttholes, with a fourth form coming that’s even bigger. Like the size of damn houses.”
I just stared at the destruction. It had all happened so quick. I hadn’t even had time to jack off yesterday.
“Bobby Joe, they said, them guys said we ain’t gonna survive the fourth form.”
“So what are we gonna do, Carl? Huh? We just gonna get drunk again? Wait for the fourth form slugs to come up in this here trailer and gobble us up? Huh? Might as well start suckin’ each other’s peckers as good as that’s gonna do us.”
“Put a pin in that idea, Bobby Joe, and save it. Cause I got me an idea that might just save our lives. If’n so, I wouldn’t mind giving that big ole cock of yours a suckin’ if we’re gonna be truthful. But first, let’s get up inside these slugs’ asses.”
Carl pulled out a hunting knife and started cutting a hole in the ass end of his slug. Not an easy thing since the bastard was shimmering around the blade the whole time. But it found purchase, and before long he had enough of its gut laid out on the living room floor that a man could sort of fit up inside of it.
“Why the hell do you want to shove yourself up a slug’s ass?” I asked him once it was my turn to cut out my slug’s butthole. I might have been skeptical, but I sliced myself a good hole anyway. What else was there to do ‘cept wait to die?
“We’re gonna disguise ourselves as slugs, Bobby. If they don’t know we’re human, they won’t get a hankerin to eat us, or so I reckon.”
Was as good enough logic as we was bound to get with the world overrun by giant slugs a person couldn’t look at proper. So we finished cuttin’ eye holes out of the heads of the fuckers and then, together, we laid out our slugs and prepared to climb inside.
It was my idea for us to get naked and oil up with the butt lube we’d often used on Carol Ann. Figured it’d be easier to get inside the damn things that way. So there we stood, butthole naked like we’d seen each other a thousand times before.
“So we just get in these dead slug suits and walk outside like it’s our business?”
Carl nodded. “Don’t see much choice in the matter. We can try to make our way up to the mountains. Them guys on the AM radio seem to be real clued in on all this. We could try to find their station. They’re bound to have a good plan.”
“Better plan than crawlin’ in a slug’s ass.”
With that, we shoved our heads inside. And that’s when shit got real fucked up.
Immediately I noticed there was a lot more room up the slug’s butt than there should’a been.
“Carl! What the fuck?”
My voice echoed. It was pitch black inside the slug. I couldn’t feel the walls that should have been hugging my chest and arms tightly. Panicked, I tried to back out, but there was nothing to back out of. I turned around and around but it was all black.
Suddenly I felt the sensation of falling. It seemed endless. I fell and fell while a kaleidoscope of colors erupted around me. Just about the time I really started losing my shit, thinking about swallowin’ my tongue or pluckin’ my eyes outta the way to get at my brain with my fingers as I fell forever inside the slug’s body, I hit liquid.
And just like that I could see again. I could hear again. And I could smell again.
What I smelled was shit.
Carl popped up next to me gagging and spitting. We were in some kind of water tank. The sides of the tank were pure white. We paddled over to a floating log and tried to grab on, but the sides slid off on our hands.
“It’s shit!” Carl yelled, gagging.
Then the top came off of the tank and both Carl and I screamed.
It wasn’t a tank and it didn’t have a top. It was a toilet, and a giant slug the size of a barn had just been shitting in it. The slug turned around, its eye stalks grew wide and it let out an ear piercing shriek.
“CHARLIE! Get the kerosene! I just shit people outta my ass!”
Kevin Strange is an award winning author and film maker with seven feature films and over a dozen shorts to his credit. He has books published like, ROBAMAPOCALYPSE and VAMPIRE GUTS IN NUKE TOWN, MCHUMANS, and COMPUTERFACE which can be found at KevinTheStrange.com. He loves schlocky B-movies, hardcore pornography, Bizarro fiction and Iron Maiden records.
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