asshole

"So how's your asshole doing?" she said with a smile.

"Do you always start conversations with strangers this way?"

"You wrote about your asshole on your blog a few days ago."

"You read my blog?"

"Religiously."

"You look way too cute and smart to do something like that."

She stepped closer. Looked deep into my eyes. Hers were obsidian.

I woke up in bed, staring desperately around my studio.

She was there. Holding a chainsaw. She yanked on it, and it roared to life.

"You never answered my question!" she shouted, charging forward.

I woke up. Sat up. Felt my ass crack. It was slick with blood and felt sawn open.

A woman's voice came from behind me as the wound pain mounted.

"I like you wider," it cooed softly.

Something with the girth of a boa began sliding into my ass-wound.

I woke up. Shakily got out of bed. Made myself tea. Had a few sips, then felt the urge to shit. I walked over to the pot and sat down.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," a voice giggled.

I wo—