Karen's Butt-Marriage

Karen was supposed to go over to Nancy’s house one afternoon, but she forgot her bag at school and retreated to get it. She entered the schoolyard, but someone pushed her back.

Wondering who it was, Karen saw her husband Ryan knock her down. “I’m sorry Karen, but this is for the best. Pamela needs you.”

He grabbed her arm and led her to a sideroom, not answering any of her questions. Pamela Harding was waiting within, and he stood out to prevent her from leaving.

“Now, Karen, I thought it’d be good for us to have a meeting.”

“Why?” she asked, suspiciously.

“We need to settle our differences. I’m much better than Hannah or Nancy; dish them. You won’t regret it.”

“Why would I throw my friends away?” Karen asked.

“Because I,” Pamela said, rubbing her butt against Karen’s leg, “can fart on you.” She presently did so.

“Disgusting!”

“Oh, you think so now, but you’ve got to realize that this is an act of love. I love you, Karen! And I never want to be separated from you. I dream about you every night: about how great it would be to fart and pee and poop on your lovely body! Can you understand that?”

“No,” Karen said, ready to vomit.

“Oh, but you will. Allow me to sit on your neck, Karen dear.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“If you don’t, Ryan will divorce you.”

“No, not Ryan! Okay, I’ll do as you ask.”

Karen lay prone on the ground, and Pamela sat on her nape. She defecated, letting the feces come out slower than molasses. “It’s a fantastic feeling, isn’t it?” she asked, feeling pleased of herself.

“Oh, stop! Please stop, Pamela!”

“But I’ve only started, princess. And I don’t see why you want me to quit so soon. Nancy practically begged me to poop on her when I told her of my design.”

“I don’t believe you!”

‘She did, and that’s the gospel truth. Ryan can tell you about it.”

“If she did, it was only to save me from this torment.”

“No, she sincerely wished that I would have the heart to fart on her, among other things. But I would take no less than you.”

The gears in Karen’s head were turning. Suddenly, she had an idea. “Hey, Pamela, you love me, right?”

“More than I love myself.”

“Then won’t you let me fart on you?”

“No, that’s repulsive. You don’t care a thing for me, and it would be a waste of time. If you were in love with me, things might be different, but as things stand, only I should fart.”

“Would you let Nancy fart on you?”

“If she was in love with me, of course.”

“Well, by what you said, I think she is in love with you. She begged you to fart on her, right? Someone would have to be madly in love to wish for that.”

“Maybe she just likes the shape of my butt. Speaking of which, how would you like to marry it?”

“Marry what?”

“My posterior.”

“You can marry someone’s butt?”

“Yes, in special courts. Then I can fart, pee, or poop on you every single minute of every single day!”

“Oh, Pamela, that’s…” She started to say “disgusting,” but thought better of it. “Wonderful. Why not? I’ll marry your butt.”

“Really? Honestly and truly?”

“Cross my heart and hope to cry, if it isn’t done.”

“Good! I’ll have the ceremony arranged next Tuesday. And now, turn over,” Pamela commanded, getting up.

“Why?”

“Because it’s time I urinated on your breast.”

Karen smiled. She would hate being Pamela’s butt-slave, but perhaps in the future she’d be able to take her revenge.