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Andy heaved Ken and Amy out from Barb’s asshole and tied them back to the chairs. He and Barb then fell down to the carpet exhausted. Even on her back, Barb’s new bimbo tits stood straight up. Andy fell asleep with his face against her massive pillows. Barb slept with her mouth wide open, snoring slightly.
Amy fell asleep too. The trauma had knocked her out. Ken couldn’t sleep though. He was itchy and didn’t feel right. His stomach was turning. He could smell the stench of his rival’s cum and his ex-wife’s shit like a NYC curb on slop day at the height of August’s heat. The cum reeked of bleached wheat bread that had been pissed on. It was disgusting. He felt like he needed to vomit and then take a bleach and lemon oil bath. He could feel the bacteria crawling on him. He felt it on his arms, his neck, the back of his knees, and his eyelids. The cut in his foot was way open now and throbbing with infection. He could feel his pulse. It was unnatural.
The depravity of the night had worn off. It was bright out. The sun was rising and the morning was quiet and damp. Andy remembered those cold nights while he was in medical school. He used to wake up early in the morning, study, and then go to university. Finally he’d go to work. Money, women, fame would all come easily. He was on the fast track.
After graduation he worked his way up the ladder of a biochemical company. Then Andy had his own company called ADS. He was inventing shit left and right but didn’t have any corporate backing. He’d invented the non-stick pan, the first fully articulate Japanese love doll with voice box and clenching love canals, and sugar-free lollipops. The income was good. The sky was the limit, until Ken swooped in and bought them up in a hostile takeover. Andy didn’t want to be part of anyone else’s vision. Andy was the one with vision. He swore that day that he would get the motherfucker responsible for this. For years he waited in the shadows for his time to strike.
Now, Andy had some neighborhood kids bike to the toy store to buy Barbie accessories that were Ken’s size: a stethoscope with a little heart on the end, a bottle, a little towel, and a small medical chart. Each item was pink. “What seems to be the problem today?”
“Something is wrong, asshole. I’ve been shoved in a cum-filled asshole by a vindictive psychopath.”
“No, Ken. I’m a psychopath but not vindictive. Your ex-wife is the vindictive one. Anyway, no matter what I am I am bound to help you by the Hippocratic Oath. How are you feeling physically?”
“I’m lethargic. My heart is racing. My foot is swelling,” Ken reported.
Andy put the stethoscope up to Ken’s chest. “Take a deep breath.” While Ken took deep breaths, Andy said, “Well, sir, you’ve been exposed to some retchid fetid squalid putrid shit. This isn’t good.”
Ken looked at the giant doctor who used a tiny Barbie stethoscope with a heart on the end to listen to Ken’s tiny little laboring heart. “They were your fluids, wiseass!”
“Scientifically speaking, some were yours.”
Andy thought his little CEO looked cute down there, pulsing with bacteria. Sure enough his little heart was beating really fast like a hummingbird. Also, his foot was swollen. It looked like some kind of bacterial infection or something.
Doctor Andy got rubbing alcohol and put it on the head of a cotton swab. He rubbed it on Ken’s foot. Ken screamed out and grabbed the stethoscope and twisted it. Clearly the pain was overwhelming.
“That should cure that,” Andy said. “You should rest. Rest up for tonight.”
Ken fell back in his chair, miserable. He was in pain. He was weak. And he was scared of another round of mini-depravity. Nighttime would be his doom. He couldn’t take any more. He looked over at his tiny girlfriend, asleep in the pink toy bed. His heart sank.
He dropped his head on the pink Barbie dining room table. He smelled rotting fruit. He looked up and saw the tiny bananas on the fruit platter had started to go bad.
The moon was full. The light shined through the open window illuminating wide awake Ken at the dining table on the dining table. Barbara was face down and fast asleep. Her skinny ass was naked and out. It glistened, reflecting the moonlight.
The inner walls of Barbara’s asshole were coated in goo. It was a viscous, slimy clearish goop that looked like methyl cellulose or condensed milk but with a brownish hue. The chamber was cavernous, with no end in sight. The opening closed behind them like a hermetically sealed door, something from Star Wars that Han Solo would jump through while cradling his blaster.
***STAR WHORES ASIDE***
Han Solo is running. Blasters are firing at him and he’s ducking his head. He’s in tight leather pants and he’s cradling his blaster. There’s a tight opening and he jumps through it just as it closes behind him. Chewbacca moo-growls, “ Arghghghghghghghggh!”
“Yeah,” Han says, “They’d be crazy to come in here after us. We are safe for now, but we’ve got to figure out how to get out of here.”
“Argggghhh!”Chewie growls again.
“Of course we’ll hurry!” Han looks at the walls. “It’s like corn starch or methyl cellulose.”
Another growl from his big furry alien yeti of a friend. “I don’t like the smell in here either!” Han says with a wry look of his cheek pressed out like his tongue was thrashing into his cheek.
“Wait a minute,” Han says. He fires his blaster into the walls and they start to converge on them. “Holy shit the walls are collapsing!” Han looks into the cave and sees a brown blob coming at them. “This is no cave. Run!”
They run back to the closed up entrance and force their way out the tight sphincter and land in a pool of aqua blue water. Looking back up, there’s a giant human asshole clenching and trying to push the rest of her shit out.
***ASIDE OVER*** (carry on)
Barbara came back from the bathroom and passed out on her canopy bed. She was exhausted from all the fucking, the revenge, and the bimbo transformation. She dreamed of young Harrison Ford kissing her passionately in her bathtub.
Seriously. Who writes shit like that? No wonder Ken was in a ton of trouble. He didn’t know it yet, but we knew that Moctezuma Johnson was writing this character out of the script. He was going to kill the fucker off. Soon the actor playing Ken—Aaron Paul or Ryan Gosling—would be on the couch with Ellen explaining that he hadn’t been told until the day of shooting. He thought his character was a survivor, would overcome adversity. The crowd would ooh and ahh and Ellen would give him a free flat screen television made in Korea. He would thank her and explain that on the day his character died, the whole staff, director, and all the writers hugged him. It was very heartfelt. In a funny lighter moment, Aaron or Ryan would say that when Moctezuma Johnson hugged him, he felt the legendary hard-on against his gut and was like, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”
Anyway, let’s get back to the inside of the story which is currently taking place inside the ass that was so smelly and stinky and laden with bacteria that even miniature Chewbacca and Han Solo wouldn’t stay. Yet Ken and Amy had been in it for all that time and now the ass itself was recovering. Barb was asleep yet acutely aware that her asshole hurt. It was the same pain as hemorrhoids, slightly itchy and slightly burning. Their bodies and their thrashing had caused microscopic lacerations. All that jelly on the outer walls was meant to protect the asshole walls, but Ken and Amy had disrupted that. They had accidentally gotten smeared with it, ingested it, and removed some of it from the anal cavity. Barb’s body was busy working on reconstituting all that goo, so that she’d remain healthy.
Unfortunately for Ken, all that translucent brown goop was having an inverse effect on him. He was now moaning in pain as he failed to fall asleep. “Doctor, help me!” Infection was spreading through his bloodstream.
Pecker and Tools Co.
Biochemical Company – Maker of common pain relievers, antihistamines, kinesiology tape, and birth control pills.
DS Project – The “Dark Science” Project, namely to make dicks and tits bigger with chemical induction. Project leader: Andy Ulhishky
CEO – Ken Berman
CFO – Ted Todur
CSE (Chief Science Engineer) – Andy Ulhishky (former CEO of A.D.S.)
HOSTILE TAKEOVER of A.D.S. January 21, 20XX — WATER’S EDGE, NEW JERSEY
On the television, a pretty flight-attendant-looking woman in plunging neckline and cute bob haircut read from the teleprompter:
It was reported earlier today that the multinational biochemical giant P&T Co. (Pecker and Tools) staged and successfully completed a hostile takeover of upstart company A.D.S. Many American consumers know A.D.S. from its inventive add-ons such as disintegrating post-it notes and sugar-free lollipops. However, consumers in Japan and other parts of Asia may know it more for the fully articulated and highly functioning Artificial Intelligence Blow-up Dolls with auto-clenching love canals.
Auto-Clenching Love Canals? The news reporter asked into the ether. She got a dull look in her eyes like the bukkake news girls staring straight ahead while cock after cock shot loads onto their hair and neat clothes.
The Bar Man grabbed a sleek black remote control and pointed it at the TV. The picture collapsed into a ray of light and then vanished into a blank, black screen. “You can’t watch this shit,” he said. “It’s nothing but bullshit.”
“Argghghghghg!” yelled the hairy yeti-like alien with a laser crossbow darts’ belt slung around his body.
Han, his sidekick, turned away from the TV. “Agreed, my friend,” he said jovially. “No more canals for us, auto-clenching or not. Okay let’s get out of this dive.”
*** [[Insert Ass Photo Here – (ass photo still unavailable as wife’s menstruating)]] ***
Back in Barbara’s house…
Amy was soaking in a one tenths bleach to water solution, hoping that would thwart the bacteria that was already eating away at Ken.
“Ken you’re going to die,” said Andy as he threw the pink stethoscope to the ground.
Ken knew in his heart of hearts that the doctor was telling him the truth. He could feel his white blood cells in a mutiny. The bacteria had overtaken his body.
He watched as Andy went to his ex-wife and injected her with something. She started to balloon up, slowly but surely. She was asleep on her back yet growing larger.
The TV was on in the background talking about how Andy had been awarded acting control of Pecker and Tools now that Ken was missing.
“And I’m going to get your company.”
“What about my wife?”
“Your ex-wife?” Andy laughed maniacally. “The vengeful cunt is going to explode.”
“Why must you destroy everything and everyone?” Ken asked. “Spare Barbara.” Ken felt remorse wash over him. He was sorry for everything he had done to her. She was a sweet, innocent girl. She was never meant for the complex perversions of men like Ken.
“You ruined me years ago when you took over my company. Now I ruin you!”
Andy walked out of the suburban house, leaving them all there. Ken’s ex-wife was expanding. She would bust the house apart and kill them all. Ken knew he was a goner anyway. He ran off the dining room table, jumped onto the chair, and eyed the floor. Any jump to the floor would surely crush his weak bones. Instead he aimed at his ex’s cleavage and ran and flailed himself right at it. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he yelled while flying through the air and landing, like a kid on a trampoline, onto her tit. He bounced off, onto her stomach, and slid down onto the floor. He somehow didn’t kill himself. He could hear her inflating. It sounded like someone blowing up a balloon. He had to wake her up. He had to save her. In some ways, this was all his fault. He scaled up her giant hand, then walked her forearm up to her elbow then her shoulder. Her tit loomed over him like Mt. Everest. He ascended the breast bravely. By the time he mounted the nipple he was way high up in the air and huffing and puffing for each breath. He jumped on the nipple and squeezed. It was too strong. He couldn’t budge it. Instead he scissored his legs around it and squeezed. He exhaled. He squeezed with all his might.
The nipple, reluctantly, gave in and a tiny trickle of breast milk came out. He jumped out of the way, so none would hit him, and he heard the sound of a bag crumpling. Steam came off the areola. Her breasts started shrinking. It was working. He squeezed again and this time the nipple easily splashed milk all over, on him on her, and they both started shrinking. He was saving her. He was her hero. Her eyes opened. Ken stared right at her, blinking. He said, “Barb, I love you. I’m sorry for everything.” She saw Ken on her tit, hearts in his eyeballs, and grabbed him by the head. She squashed him like an elephant a peanut. She tossed his limp body to the side. Her breasts were shrinking. “Nooooooooooo!” giant Babara yelled. She watched her hips continue to inflate. Apparently the breast milk had only made it as far as her own tits. Thus, her tits were shrinking while the rest of her continued to grow. Her body bust through the ceiling then the roof of the entire house. The whole thing imploded, crushing Amy’s tiny little body soaking in bleach in the bathtub as a last ditch effort by Ken to save his bacteria besmeared girlfriend. Barb’s hips were expanding. Her ass was expanding. Her shoulder were expanding.
“The horror! The horror!” Barb said looking down at her own cleavage as it enveloped her. She looked down at her own ass covering the room and that was it: KA-BOOM! PAOWG!
Have you ever seen the cover hit off a tennis ball? Have you ever seen a water balloon pop? Have you ever seen a space shuttle erupt? Have you ever heard any of the three?
That’s what Barb’s ass was like. Like an erupting space shuttle, like a water balloon popping, like an ass paowging! She was a flaming molotov cocktail. She was a hissing nuclear missile.
Just like when a bomb explodes, the air sucked in before the ass erupted and exploded out. Pieces of Barb shot off in multiple directions like a grenade. It exploded into tiny little detritus that splattered in umpteen directions knocking out windows, busting up lintels, breaking through drywall, and causing the whole well-built suburban house to implode and collapse into a burning heap of distress. Cellulite, muscle, tendon, skin, blood, veins, fat flew off like shrapnel into the street. First, the ass exploded and took down the house, but then the body blew. In fact, there was even a denipitation.
Andy, a few streets over, looked back over his shoulder. He checked his documents. He had all their signatures. He would claim the Pecker and Tools fortune. His revenge was complete. He had destroyed Barb, Ken, Amy, and even their house for good measure. He laughed his maniacal laugh, and was in the middle of a rousing crescendo of scalawag when like a ninja star Barb’s nipple frisbee’d right through his neck and decapitated Andy right there on Broad Street. Oh well. So much for plans. So much for revenge.
The kids Andy had hired to buy some Barbie toys earlier biked through the bloodspill trailing blood all over. They didn’t even notice Andy’s head rolling around like a stray football as they were busy dodging giant body-part shrapnel like in a ATTACK OF THE NORTH KOREAN GIANTESSES virtual reality game (trademark Moctezuma Johnson of Girls Carrying Books).
“The horror!” yelled one middle school boy, the one on a small blue bike. “It’s raining cats and dogs.”
“No it’s not,” said the older boy. “It’s raining tits and asses.”
They giggled and peddled. Ah to be young and afraid of nothing again. The joy! The joy!
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