he large catch of blind fish with them. The boat was dangerously overloaded, but Gollum was skilled enough to get them to the slimy island of rock in the middle of the lake that he called home.

He watched Jar Jar eat in rapt fascination. This time he let the morsel of fish drop deliberately, and moved so that when Jar Jar stuck his tongue out to retrieve it, it also lapped Gollum's flesh. He gurgled deep in his throat. Jar Jar looked worried.

"Pleasssse Binkses more, gollum, gollum."

Jar Jar was confused by the creature, but obediently stuck his tongue out and ran it over Gollum's belly. He tasted… interesting, like fish but not like fish. Gollum was gurgling with pleasure, so Jar Jar carried on, wrapping his tongue around the small body. When he licked the lumps on the creature's chest he cried out.

"Preciousssssssssss!"

Jar Jar ran his tongue over them again and they stuck out a little. This was an interesting game. Gollum had another sticking out part, between his legs, that Jar Jar had not noticed before and so he licked down there as well. This made Gollum arch upwards and moan.

"Gollum, gollum, gollum..."

This part was different, warm and slimy while the rest of Gollum was cold and slimy. Every different way that Jar Jar moved his tongue over it made Gollum moan some more, and arch and twist to get closer to him, until he yelled.

"Gollum!"

Then it was not nice, far too salty to lick any more, and Jar Jar withdrew his tongue. Gollum was mumbling something.

"Nice Binkses, good Binkses, yessss preciousss, we like Binkses, clever tongueses Binkses…"

Jar Jar looked happy.

*waits for the next installment*

CG slash =

The glacial air bit into the back of Harry's neck, contrasting sharply with the burning in his flesh. Tiny fires raged underneath his skin, marking it with a delicate smattering of sweat drops that glistened like tiny pearls in the moonlight.

He wandered among the rows of graves, stopping on occasion to carefully read their markers. To his left, a lover's final goodbye was carved into the hard granite, bound eternally into place through the use of spells and enchantments. These last words would never wear away, never break, they would remain the same until the end of time. To his right, a witty epitaph detailed the life of a forgetful wizard. If only I could forget, Harry mused, making his way to the end of the row where he stopped and stared at the grave of his father for the first time in his life.

It felt strange, almost surreal, standing there with his hands on his hips, gazing at a bleak piece of rock that served to remind the world that his father had been a devoted parent and a faithful friend whose life was cut tragically short.

His shovel pierced the ground with ease, tossing up clumps of grass over his shoulder and on to the ground behind him. He continued to dig until the blade struck something solid. With great anticipation, Harry cleared away the remaining dirt, revealing the lip of a wooden coffin, the lid of which was decorated with ancient symbols designed to keep the body inside fresh for an extended amount of time. It was a silly custom to employ the use of these symbols, yet it was a practice that carried on long after everyone had forgotten why it even existed in the first place.

Harry climbed out of the hole and withdrew his wand from his cloak. "Wingardium leviosa," he muttered, directing the tip of his wand towards the coffin. The coffin slowly rose up out of grave and touched down on the ground with a soft earthly thump. For the first time in over fourteen years, the coffin sat exposed to the fresh air, moonlight streaming over it in gentle waves, breezes licking its wooden sides. After all these years, it was finally free.

The lid popped off with relative ease, immediately sending the stench of death spewing forth into the atmosphere. It was an intoxicating combination of decomposing bones, rotting flesh, mildew, and faint traces of his father's pheromones which still managed to exist among the other olfactory stimuli. Harry breathed deeper, saturating his lungs with the putrid scent, and loving every minute of it.

He briefly considered moving the body to the ground, but it was sure to be in fragile state and he didn't want to risk damaging it anymore than it already was. Magic had slowed the rate of decomposition, but James's worm eaten eyes and drooping, holey flesh, told stories of how quickly that magic was fading. At last he came to a decision, and crawled into the coffin.

His fathers' face was much different than the one that graced the pages of his photo album, eyes once warm and shining were cold and dull, a testament to one of the many drawbacks of being dead. However, there were traces of his fathers' former self, a thick crop of black hair which rested on his skull, limp and fragile, but still there, just as Harry remembered it being. Desire began to creep up on him, like a fiendish parasite it wiggled its way under his skin and possessed him with the need to do what he knew was forbidden.

Slowly his fingers fell upon the strings of his cloak and nimbly untied them. He cast the heavy garment to the side and gripped the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. For a moment his world stood shrouded in complete darkness and then as his shirt joined the discarded cloak on the ground he was made aware of his surroundings once again. With the night air now embracing his sweaty chest Harry anticipated a gentle cool; instead he found the heat that burned inside of him increasing in intensity. He shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to question the mechanics of nature, and bent down to brush his fathers' lips with the tip of his tongue. It wasn't as though he expected the body to kiss him back, but the cold, unresponsive lips unnerved him slightly. He shook his head, disgusted with his display of cowardice, and plunged full force at the pale, musky lips. His eyes closed, he pushed his tongue into the bodies' mouth, excitedly probing around the oral cavity, searching for who knows what, but searching nonetheless.

A shiver bounced along his spine as he felt something soft and warm brush up against his tongue. Harry closed his eyes, imaging that his father was warm and alive, and this thing, whatever it was, was the tongue of his father, reaching out to him, needing him, loving him. This fantasy was shattered when his taste buds began to scream in protest at the foul slime that they were being subjected to, and Harry gasped, inadvertently swallowing the slimy source of affection. He choked and hacked until the offending worm flew from his mouth and hit the ground with a splat. Dazed and confused, it slithered out of sight.

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up in the wooden vessel, he toyed with the buttons on his trousers before releasing them from their task and sliding them down to the top of his shoes. A familiar tingle brewed in his loins, enticing his already throbbing cock to press against the seams of his boxer shorts, straining for release. He pushed down his boxers, exposing his cock to the brisk night air, and kneeled down between the long legs of his father.

The slacks his father was buried in had certainly seen better days; the fabric practically fell apart beneath his fingers. All he had to do was tear it gently and soon the flesh of his fathers' inner thighs was revealed. Harry was perplexed as to why they chose to bury his father commando style, but the sight of the withered, decomposing cock that appeared to be as soft as jell-o and just as flabby, seemingly attached to the body by the scarcest amount of connective tissue. This visual feast emptied his head of all patterns of logical thinking. His mouth was drawn towards the flaccid piece of flesh as if magnets of reverse polarity were at play. He indulged himself fiercely with the spoiled appendage, the flesh felt as though it could practically melt in his mouth and the texture was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The taste of death and decay swarmed over him, causing him to gag, but he was enjoying himself far too much, and he pushed onwards, running his fingers up and down the length of his own cock, crying out into the night from the pleasure he was bestowing upon himself.

His cries intensified as did the vigour of his strokes, he came in a blur of pleasure and hesitantly released James's cock from his mouth. He looked down to see that his cum was tangled in the sparse curls of James's pubic hair. Seeing this caused him to grin widely, and he continued to do so until a familiar voice emerged from the blackness. A monstrous flush broke out over his cheeks and he reddened deeper as Sirius Black approached him, his mouth propped open in a gesture of intense shock.

"I - I - I - I -" Harry sputtered, attempting to find the words to justify his actions.

"We'll talk about this later," Sirius muttered. "Get home."

Harry obediently threw on his clothes and ran off to the bush where his broomstick lay hidden away behind an old oak tree. He quickly mounted it and flew off into the night without looking back.

Sirius wandered up to the open coffin and peered inside. What he saw neither spooked nor shocked him. Years of life in Azkaban had allowed him to build up a resistance to most anomalies. True, dear old Prongs had seen better days, but his grotesque appearance was nothing that couldn't be overlooked. It wasn't even all that bad; the look on James's face rather reminded him of the way James had looked as a young man when they caught Snape performing a lewd act with his owl.

As memories of his past continued to haunt him, Sirius climbed into the waiting coffin and turned James over on his back. James has always been best on the receiving end of things and Sirius felt the experience the bond they once shared just one last time. His slacks and underwear were stripped off his body and dropped to the ground nonchalantly. He left his socks on. James always liked it when he left his socks on.

His fingers traveled along the lines of James's mushy buttocks, retracing the contours that he once knew so well. He parted the twin cheeks, chuckling softly to himself as the lumps of flesh actually stayed in place instead of bouncing back as they had done so stubbornly in the past.

A quick thrust brought his cock into the safety of James's rectum where he was immediately greeted by the sensation of maggots wriggling against his cock. He moaned, despite himself, and began vigorously humping James's ass, tearing away pieces of flesh that fell to the silken lining of the coffin and sat there waiting for the insects to come and claim them.

He rocked back and forth, vigorously riding the rotting flesh, savouring the sweet ecstasy of his encroaching orgasm. Just as the walls of skin began to cave in all around his pulsating cock, he found relief and planted his seed within the corpse.

His heavy breathing taxed his lungs, forcing him to struggle for each breath of air that he took in. Once again he flipped James over, this time putting the body back exactly the same way he found it.

A part of him urged to return to the world of the living while another felt compelled to remain among the dead. As he sprawled out in the coffin, he looked up at the stars and wrapped an arm around his decaying companion. He drifted into a dreamless slumber under the night sky and awoke before the first rays of dawn touched the ground. Everything was put back into place and made to look as if nothing happened. He abandoned the cemetery, contemplating exactly how he was going to deal with his Godson, but James Potter was never far from his thoughts, and Sirius would be back.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.

It was 6:00 pm on a Tuesday night, and Donald and Daisy were both in the kitchen, fixing dinner. Donald was getting numerous ingredients out of the fridge while Daisy was on the counter cutting carrots. During this, Donald began to feel very energetic. He had been working long and hard all day, and was in the mood for some sweet love, the likes of which could only be provided by his adoring wife. Donald looked over at his wife from behind, taking notice of her curvy, round buttocks and wide, egg-bearing hips. Unable to hold back his lust, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her midsection, crossing over her stomach, and thrust his groin into her soft backside.

Daisy let out a gasp, soon accompanied by a loud fart that escaped from her large, protruding butt. She dropped the knife, her eyes widened, and her face flushed red with embaressment at the gaseous emission from her anus. Donald moved away quickly, "Daisy?"

"I...I'm sorry, Donald. You pressed my stomach. I couldn't hold it in..." she said apologetically. As she spoke she could feel the large, solid mass within her, resting dormantly within her bowels.

"You feeling alright, honey?"

"Well...it's just that..." Daisy struggled with the words. This was simply too embaressing.

Donald pressed her, "Yes?"

"It's just that I haven't...had...a bowel movement for a couple of days. I've been gassy all day," Daisy finished.

Donald couldn't believe this, "But it's Tuesday night! You know what we do on Tuesday nights!" Images of paddles, leather straps, and hand cuffs flashed through his mind as he said this.

"I'm terribly sorry, sweety, but I just don't feel very well. I feel so bloated."

"When was the last time you went?" Donald asked with frustration.

Daisy thought for a moment, "I think it was last Monday."

"Holy shit, that's over a week. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Donald. I thought I'd be able to go by now. Even today I've tried going several times. I sat on the toilet for three hours!" Suddenly Daisy felt pressure in her stomach. She gripped her tummy with both hands and groaned. Her soft, round buttcheeks resonated as a loud, long fart blasted forth. "Oh God..."

Donald watched this, suddenly feeling sympathy for his little Daisy, "Well goddamn. I know you feel badly, But I've been waiting for this all week. You know how hard I work..."

Daisy sighed in agreement. She, too, enjoyed their Tuesday nights together. Images of paddles, leather straps, and hand cuffs raced through both their minds. Daisy felt so guilty, but what could she do? Her stomach was so bloated and full, and her colon was loaded with compacted turds. How on earth could she possibly endure Donald's pulsating cock inside of her in addition to her own feces?

"If only I could poop out my enormous load AND have sex..."

Donald looked over at her. God, she was beautiful. Her large, bright eyes full of seductive energy, combined with petite bill. Her small, delicate shoulders, her ample breasts. Her slim torso flared out into wide, curvy hips, giving her overall body a combination of an hourglass and pear shape. And her feathers! White and pure as fresh snow. It all flowed and balanced together into a soft, voluptueous figure. Yes, Daisy was truly blessed with beauty. Her angelic form belied the foul contents within her intestines.

Donald thought. There MUST be a solution to this predicament. He thought about the dildos, the whips, the gags. He thought about the straps, the thongs, and the goggles. He thought about the enemas. All would be denied to him tonight...

Wait a sec...enemas? ENEMAS!!! Yes, that's it! That's the answer! Enemas! Enemas are the key!

"Hey, maybe there's a way we can kill two birds with one stone. The enema kit..."

Daisy's eyes widened, "Are you sure? I'm awfully bloated."

Donald nodded, "It'll work. We'll get that crap out of you and then I'll fuck any remnants out myself! Let's do this shit!"

"Oh Donald..."

----------------------------------

Within minutes Daisy was laying naked on the bed, on her stomach. Her breasts were like wet balloons being gently squeezed against the covers. Her buttocks was like a large hill of soft flesh. Donald was filling an enema bag with warm, sudsy water. He had made certain to provide the water with a generous amount of Ivory soap. Bubbles floated about the bathroom. With the bag filled to the brim, he brought it back to the bedroom, noticing Daisy's curvy form immediatly. Her butt was quite big, but was nicey formed, bouncing and jiggling whenever she moved. Right now, as she lay, her butt quivered slightly with nerves. Donald grinned as he remembered Mickey's comment about her ghetto backside, "Baby got BACK!", at the last company barbecue, much to the chagrin of Minnie.

Neither one of them spoke, but Daisy's soft eyes met Donald's as he injected the silvery tip into her rectum. The slick, metallic object had been covered with KY Jelly, and slid easily in between her fleshy cheeks and into her waiting anus. Daisy groaned softly. Her colon and bowels were already sufficiently filled with duck dung, hardened and compacted like cement, bloating her intestines. She knew that at any moment, a torrent of warm sudsy water will flood her colon and flush all the giant turds. That moment came when Donald released the clamp. Daisy's groans became louder and more audible as the bag emptied.

Her stomach, already distended from the constipation, was now growing at an increasing rate. "Oh God, my stomach...I'm going to burst...."

"Shhhh, don't worry..." said Donald as he rolled her over. He rubbed her stomach gently, pressing down in circular motion. Daisy closed her eyes, feeling the water work into her bowels. Finally, all the water was within her, and the cramps set in. Her stomach growled, and Dasiy gasped loudly.

"Oh Donald, I've got to poop so bad. Please, let me go!"

"I'm sorry, Daisy, but you have to hold it in for at least fifteen minutes."

Daisy struggled,but Donald moved on top of her. He felt her large bubbly breasts with his hands. He squeezed and fondled them. They were like gelatin, so soft were they to the touch. Daisy began to moan, but Donald canceled it by kissing her. Atop the bed, with the enema hose stuck firmly between Daisy's bouncy buttcheeks, the couple embraced. For several minutes they groped and grabbed each other, and Donald reached down and grabbed her butt. Her butt cheeks were so large and soft, they could not be held by a single hand. But Donald queezed them anyway, spreading them. Daisy suddenly grunted.

"Oh...my...God. I'm going to poop....NOW!!!" screamed Daisy, and with that the enema hose burst from her anus. An explosion of water and soggy turds shot out from between her cheeks, accompanied by many bursts of gas. Donald quickly got up from atop his wife, and Dasiy shot from the bed towards the bathroom. She sat on the toilet as quickly as she could, turds and water still shooting from her butt like a geyser. Her large, squishy buttocks, pressed outward on the toilet, flowing over the sides. Explosive farts echoed in the cavernous bowl, interrupted every few seconds by a fat, hard turd dropping into the water. Daisy gripped her stomach as it gurgled.

"HHHHHHHRRRRRRNNNNNNNN!!!!!" she screamed through gritted teeth. Her eyes clamped shut as the contents of her bowels burst forth. Donald watched from the door, his penis growing like Goku's staff. After several minutes it was over. Daisy's butt stopped exploding with rocky chunks of poop, and the torrent slowed down to only a trickle. Little toots popped forth from her ass, but eventually Daisy was able to compose herself.

"Oh my...I've never pooped so much in my life. I think I've lost twenty pounds...."

Donald couldn't stop grinning. Daisy noticed his hard, erect penis and giggled, "Did that make you hard, big boy?"

"YES, MA'AM!!!!"

The two lovers returned to the bedroom for some sweet sex, oblivious to the brown splatters of crap covering the bed, carpet, and walls. Donald thrust his penis into Daisy, first her ass, then her cunt, and then alternately with each thrust. Daisy screamed and moaned. But suddenly her eyes shot open as the biggest turd she had ever passed, five inches in diameter, began to emerge from her anus. It forced Donald's penis out of her body, and Donald leaned back and watched in amazement as the beast reared it's ugly face.

Daisy got up from the bed slowly, feeling the gigantic log forcing her anus and buttcheeks apart. It felt so huge, like having a baseball bat up her ass. Slowly, she began to waddle to the bathroom, but Donald stopped her. He grabbed her arm, and as she looked at him, she saw the deviant smile upon his face.

"Oh Donald, please...this log is so HUGE.....I must poop it out!"

But Donald said nothing. With his penis, he forced the turd back into her. Daisy almost screamed, her stomach cramped and her knees bent. She felt her stomach bloat outward again as the turd was stuffed back into her. Then Donald removed his penis, and the turd flowed back out again. When it reached it's original length he repeated the process of forcing it back in. With hard thrusts he continued this, and Daisy was helpless to stop this.

"Donald PLEASE!!!"

Finally Donald stopped, and the turd finally was allowed to drop from her butt. It was three feet in length, and lay on the floor like a foul log. They both looked at it with amazement.

"THAT was inside of me?!" exclaimed Daisy. But then she felt another cramp, and without warning a huge fart burst from her butt. She bent her knees, and a series of smaller turds began to pop out like missiles. They were smaller only in the sense that they were lesser than the giant turd she had just layed. In truth they were each three inches in diamter and one foot in length, and about fifty of them began to fire forth from her anus. Daisy tried to go to the bathroom, but it was difficult to walk because the turds were forcing her buttcheeks apart. Suddenly Daisy felt a hard smack on her right buutcheek. She turned and saw Donald holding a wooden paddle.

"Assume the position, bitch..." he grinned evilly.

"Oh my GOD!" said Daisy, and she turned to run. Turds and logs dropped out of her ass as she ran. Donald followed, laughing maniacly. He spanked her soft, chubby butt with the paddle. Daisy's cheeks jiggled with the blows, disrupting the flow of poop and altering the trajectory of some of the logs. Donald even hit some of the poop-logs in mid-air like baseballs, smacking them right back at Daisy as they shot forth from her butt. All around the house they ran, Donald chasing Daisy, smacking her ass hard every few seconds and deflecting the turds with his expert batting skills. Finally Daisy stopped pooping turds, and Donald stopped spanking her. Her butt crimson and hot, Daisy rubbed it gently.

"I think I'm finally done. My stomach is flatter now," she remarked. Donald saw that her tummy was indeed back to it's original shape, no longer bloated. They were both panting for breath, and returned to the bedroom. They had expended a lot of energy, and so decided to clean the house in the morning. As they got ready for bed, Donald noticed something in the corner. It was a large, oval object \. It's surface was smooth and slick. Donald picked it up, and with closer inspection, he deduced that it was....an egg.

"Dear God...."

"What is it?"

"Daisy, this is an egg!"

Daisy looked at it, "A what?"

"An egg. You laid an egg!"

Daisy's eyes widened, "Oh my God! That must have been what constipated me! That huge egg was blocking my turds!"

"Daisy, we're going to be parents!"

"Oh Donald!"

"Oh Daisy!"

The two lovers embraced and made out and then fell asleep. THE END.

Oh my God, I'm gonna fuckin' throw up!

When I was younger I never really cared for rainy days, stuck in the house all day with nothing interesting do. Days that I would have liked to have spent outside playing tag or baseball were instead spent sitting in front of the television watching what ever happened to be on. As I got older my tastes changed but I still did not care for rainy days. The rain still kept me from doing what I liked to do. Eventually I met you and my taste for rainy days changed. Being stuck in the house was no longer the setback that it used to be sure I missed out on doing things that I enjoyed, but it allowed me to spend time with something that I enjoyed even more. Now instead of loafing around the house rainy days were spent in bed with you. Seeing you lying there with your arms held back and secured to the headboard, a blind fold tied around your eyes would fill me with such a sexual energy. The way your body would wither beneath my touch, the whimpers that would escape your lips as I teased you body with the array of toys that I had at my finger tips. And when we finally began our love making we did it with such energy, me on top and you underneath pushing back against me grinding me on each thrust. Our pace quicken until we both collapse in orgasmic relief. Oh the fun that we had on those rainy days.

I can't believe I read the whole thing...

Honestly, this is cool stuff. I enjoyed it's silliness as well as the fact that it's borderline epic. Sure beats some of the attempts at "ROTS humor" elsewhere.

Ratmankey is to be commended for his sick and broad imagination.

Wow. That's all I have. Who knew Donald was into scatology.

Aren't most ducks?










*quack*

He's also cheating on Daisy.

Mushmouth was especially eager to go to the junkyard that morning. Fat Albert invited him to play in the band. Having no musical ability prevented Mushmouth from joining. To a normal person, this would be puzzling. Sure, Mushmouth could play a very bad piece on a trombone made from PVC pipe and play a harp made from a brass bedpost, but he never really played with the group. Reasoning escaped him through his excitement. He ran so fast that he had nearly lost his orange hat, his long blue scarf and, in all the excitement, failed to notice that his canvas Converse sneakers were on the wrong feet.

When Mushmouth arrived at the clubhouse in the municipal scrap yard, he did not see the rest of the gang. Inside the clubhouse he saw only Bill and Fat Albert there.

“Hey-ba Fa-ba Alba!” Mushmouth said, “Where-ba is everybaba else?”

“Hey Hey Hey!” Fat Albert said in his trademarked manner, spewing out bits of the turkey leg he was eating “Its just us few today!” Bill stood there, silent, arms folded, his wrists jutting out of his undersized beige jacket.

“Well-ba,” Mushmouth said “Are-bu we-bu gonna practice music-ubah?”

“We gonna play a special game today.” Fat Albert said. He smiled, wiped his gigantic face with his orange sweater sleeve. It left a sticky film of Turkey grease and fat.

“I spoke to Dumb Donald last night, and he said that you were riding my bike. And that’s something I don’t like” Fat Albert said.

“But that wubbah me-buh!” Mushmouth said, his lips quivering. “I wubbah home-buh last night! I sweah-buh”

Mushmouth fell to his knees, pleading with Fat Albert to believe him. Mushmouth, though failed to notice Bill was approaching him from behind. Suddenly, Bill grabbed Mushmouth’s scarf and began choking him with it.

“AAACCCHHHH-uba” Mushmouth said, trying to free himself.

Fat Albert stood up and removed his orange sweatshirt which was acting like a thin girdle. Then, bulging like a damn which was about to burst, his expansive gut grew and drooped completely over his belt loops. His back fat poured over his jeans and completely covered his back pockets.

“Remember when Rudy found that wallet on the street and decided to keep it for himself only to find out that the man who owned it was a millionaire and gave Rudy a big reward for finding it because he had a picture of his dead wife in it?” Fat Albert said. “He learned a lesson about honesty.”

Bill began to drag Mushmouth out of the clubhouse by his scarf. Mushmouth began to flail his arms and legs around.

“Then remember when my mama made me that pie and I was going to eat it all by self, but then I realized that my friends would like a slice?” Fat Albert said, following the flailing Mushmouth out of the clubhouse and into the junkyard. “I learned a lesson about sharing.”

“So-buh wu-buh?” Donald said, straining his voice.

Fat Albert stuffed his arm under his gut and his huge pants fell to the ground.

“You gonna learn a lesson about why stealing my bike is wrong! Hey Hey Hey!” Fat Albert said, drool coming out of his mouth.

“Where you want him Al?” Bill asked.

“Put him over there by the used diapers,” Fat Albert said “the smell makes me feel sexy!”

Bill dragged Mushmouth over to the two foot high pile of yellow diapers. Mushmouth, on all fours started frantically looking for an exit. In a flash Bill had run around to close a makeshift chain link gate, shutting off escape. Albert began wiping turkey grease on his nipples with his one hammy hand and with his other hand slid his fingers into his asscrack. He attempted to stick his fingers into his rectum to massage his prostate. But his arms were too short and his ass too huge.

“Oh well” Albert said. He then waddled over to the diapers and jammed his fingers into it. He then sniffed them like a bouquet of roses. Albert began to get excited over the smell of baby excretions, turkey meat and his own ass. “Hey Hey Hey!” Albert said pointing to what would be his crotch with greasy fingers. “I think my little friend wants to play!”

(canned laughter)

“Now Bill, I’m ready!” Fat Albert yelled.

Bill then got down on his knees, shoved himself into Fat Albert’s humongous belly and with great shaking effort slowly lifted his gut with his legs and back, exposing Albert's erect penis.

“Whubbah, Whubbah am I subbosed-buh tuba duba wit that” Mushmouth said.

“If you want to be in the gang, take Albert's Pringles-can sized cock into your mouth!” (canned laughter) Bill said, straining under Albert’s weight.

Mushmouth nervously unhinged his lower jaw like a boa constrictor and let the enormous penis slide into his mouth.

At first, Mushmouth could only handle a little bit. It reminded him of a dare once he tried once where he tried to stick his fist in his mouth and couldn’t. Fat Albert’s cock was so huge that even at his mouths widest, he couldn’t possibly fit it in. No matter how much Bill pushed on the back of Mushmouth’s head, or Albert forcing it in; it would not go. The best Mushmouth could muster was to fit the cusp or Albert’s throbbing, uncircumcised member.

“It ain’t working, Al.” Bill said.

“Ok Bill” Albert said “go to plan B.”

Bill then let his legs give out and let the galactic girth of Albert’s gut fall.

The belly dropped and completely enveloped Mushmouth. His ropey arms could never support the weight, so his body failed and he fell, mouth first, onto Albert’s penis. Instantly, Mushmouth fell the sides of his lips tear, he heard a popping sound come from his jaw and felt Albert’s cock go back into his throat, past the uvula. He could feel the pressure on the inside of his neck. Mushmouth could feel pubic hairs filling his nostrils and Albert’s balls enveloping his neck.

For some reason, Mushmouth noted, Albert’s crotch smelled of bologna.

He was completely helpless. His body began to induce vomiting, but the jerky motions on his penis only served to stimulate Albert more.

(canned laughter)

“Hey Hey Hey,” Albert said rolling his eyes up “It looks like someone has done this before!”

Bill recovered from his near death experience. He saw the naked Fat Albert stuffing a cupcake into his mouth and, like an insect trapped in a windshield wiper, he saw Mushmouth’s skinny, flailing legs. Albert began to sway in and out. Mushmouth hung, helplessly, his legs dragging and twitching on the floor like a semi-dead fish.

“Uh, doesn’t he have to breathe, Al?” Bill asked.

“Nope,” Albert said, chewing, open mouthed on a hamburger “he stole my bike. It’s time he learned some manners.”

“Mushmouth!” Albert yelled into his gut “Maybe this will help your speech problems!”

Suddenly, Albert emitted a loud lengthy fart.

“OOOH! Hey, Bill” Albert said “I think something just came out show me what it is!”

Bill then took a stick and catchers mitt and went behind Albert. He carefully looked on the floor, keeping himself free of Albert’s sphincter. He had gone back there too many times only to be farted upon and covered in whatever leaking fluids Albert expelled. He was lucky, though. This time he found a small poo particle, about the size of his thumb. With the stick, Bill rolled it into his catcher’s mitt. Instantly the warm, fishy and slightly ammonia odor crept into Bill’s nostrils. He threw down the stick and covered his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“WOW!” Bill said, his voice twangy “How can something so small smell so bad!”

(canned laughter)

Albert held out his giant, fatty hand. Bill rolled the excrement into Albert’s hand. Albert then brought his hand up to his face.

“Hey Hey Hey little guy!” Albert said, stroking the feces like a pet hamster. “Where are you from?” Albert brought his hand up to his nose and took a deep breath.

“That’s Mama’s fish sticks!” Albert said excitedly “I love home cooking!” He then pushed the palm of his hand into his nose, pushing the feces into both his nostrils. He then dragged his hand over his face, leaving a beige smear on his mouth, lips and chin. He then began to paint his sweaty chest with his own waste.

“Ooooooooooohhhhh!!!!” Albert growled like a gorged hippo as he twirled his nipple.

“Uh, Al” Bill said quietly “Mushmouth aint moving.”

“Oh yeah,” Albert said, “I forgot I can’t see anything down there!”

(canned laughter)

Bill then picked up an iron bar. He rested it on a sawhorse. He jammed the pole into the folds of Albert’s skin and pushed up. He moved some skin around but it did nothing.

“Hurry up, Bill” Albert said “I got to come!”

With a might push, Bill dislodged Mushmouth from the fat. Mushmouth collapsed to the floor. Bill thought he was dead. He picked up the stick that he picked Albert’s droppings with. He poked Mushmouth, no movement.

About 15 long seconds later, Mushmouth woke up with a deep breath. He began coughing and wiping pubic hairs from his mouth.

“Jebub!” Mushmouth began to say. “Jebub COUGH COUGH Jebub Crybub”

Mushmouth brought himself to all fours.

“And now, “ Albert said “I’m gonna come!”

Albert rolled his eyes up into his head , opened his mouth and drenched Mushmouth with an enormous spew of vomit. At first, it was the recent things he had eaten, the hamburger, turkey leg and bits of his own feces that had gotten into his mouth. Then came the barrage of breakfast: A half gallon of orange juice, eight McGriddles, a basketful of half digested potatoes pancakes, half a birthday cake with candles, and about ten strips of uncooked bacon which landed on Mushmouth’s face making him look like a disease had given him enormous scabs.

The constant stream of vomit lasted for about ten seconds. Mushmouth fell over from the force. It was like being hit by a fire hose of bile.

(canned laughter)

Drenched with semi-digested food, Mushmouth slowly brought himself to his knees. He looked up just in time to see Albert preparing to vomit again. Mushmouth screamed. When the vomit hit, Mushmouth had his mouth open. Mushmouth felt last nights chewed-up pepperoni pizza crusts mixed with milk, a box of chunky gummi worms, mussels, a bacon-heavy salad with a creamy sauce and the fizz of coke. Mushmouth fought hard to resist swallowing, but all those muscles were ripped apart by Albert’s cock and therefore useless.

Mushmouth felt Albert’s vomit slide down his throat. Some of the chunkier bits got stuck in it.

“There,” Albert said, wiping him feces smeared nose and vomit covered lips “that’s for taking my bike!”

Albert then pick up his vomit encrusted pants and put them back on. Mushmouth lay in a puddle of Albert’s chunky vomit and began to weep silently.

Just as Albert began to leave, Dumb Donald rode up on Albert’s bike.

“Hey Hey Hey Dumb Donald!” Albert said, wiping traces of vomit from his mouth. “Where did you find my bike?”

“Find it?” Dumb Donald said “You loaned it out to me! Remember?”

Albert felt ill. He instantly remembered Dumb Donald asking him to borrow it yesterday.

“But I thought Mushmouth was riding it!” Albert said.

“Nope” Dumb Donald said, “I was! My momma was doing my laundry. Mushmouth loaned me his clothing. And I thought I was crazy!”

(canned laughter)

Dumb Donald turned around and walked away. Albert stood there frozen with his own guilt. Just then, Mushmouth crawled up to him, coughing, gagging, smelling of soiled milk and decaying meat.

“Di-buh I just say-buh what I thought he said-buh?” Mushmouth asked.

“Oh-uh!” Albert said.

“Look Mushmouth, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions like that.” Albert said “Are we still friends.”

“OK!” Mushmouth said “No use-buh crybing over spilled-buh milk”


Hi, I’m Bill Cosby. Today the gang learned about jumping to conclusions. Albert felt very bad when he remember that he loaned his bike out to Dumb Donald. Why if Donald hadn’t shown up, Albert might have lost a good friend. But they apologized and everything is OK. So remember, think first before acting and, for Pete’s sake, never eat a birthday cake with the candles still on it!

QUACK