Once upon a time, there was a small town on the coast of the sea whose villagers were, to a man, fair and good. However, the women were another story.

 

The townsfolk had been plagued by the debaucherous and lusty creatures for years, and one by one all men, a time or another, had been led astray. Finally the good and proper Cuming Mutha, a wise man indeed, had had enough.

 

He conferred with his fair wife One All Fours (who was only occasionally lusty and debaucherous), and their good friend Don’t Tell My Wife About The Big Cock Chains, and they came up with a plan. The next evening, they left bread and milk by the front doorstep (On All Fours slipped out the nip of whiskey later), and sure enough, the next morning they were greeted by the good fairy Eat My Pussy.

 

“Well?” he said, snapping his wand at them and fluffing golden curls. “What is it?”

 

And so Cuming Mutha explained how time and time again Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring had been brunching with the young men of the town, how Weekend At Abba’s had arranged sleepovers where far too much candy and ice cream were consumed, how Sister Fister had been teaching some of them to box. How even the most upstanding citizens like the Good Shit Lollicock were showing up hungover to work, how the local bars were now full of Snot Rag and Cheese Turd at hours as early as 7 PM, how Shaft had even started a local gossip blog with Cowlick.

 

“Ugh, enough,” Eat My Pussy clapped his hands. “I will solve this problem as I solve all problems.” He paused dramatically. “By holding great, big balls! Minor 69er!” With a flash his fairy godfriend appeared at his side, decked in her finest red gown. “Befit these townsfolk in your finest dresses at once!”

 

Scarcely could one’s eyes believe the scene at Aquatic Park that Monday evening. The women, who on most evenings could be found sweating and flushed in the most used and beer-stained exercise gear available, for once were the belles of the ball in red, and the men had taken after their example. Douchicorn and Resting Slut Face curtsied and then winked at each other as they spied the more revealing parts of their gowns.  Rogue Cow grinned as Bitch’s Bitch told him how slimming red was on him, while Bitch’s Bitch himself blushed when Chicken Bone Her complimented him on his industrial look.

 

The rumors of their finery had brought OrieAnal Express in on the quickest train into town, where he was greeted with merry cries from Roman Showers and Pole Her Bare. Just Emily had eschewed birthday celebrations in favor of the party, Blowfish had decided the whole thing was her birthday party, while Just David, guided by the whispers from his mother into the group’s embrace, had found that Mother Blows Best.

 

“This is not working!” Cuming Mutha groused. “The boys are trying to figure out how many of them can fit under Just Get It Over With’s gown— “

 

“No, Vagina Dentata is still poking out…” On All Fours retorted.

 

“I think Ru Ru Rimmin and Do Her Well are shooting for a porno magazine…”

 

“Only if it’s for a clientele made of seagulls, dear…”

 

“And someone let Cirque du So Lame near those teenagers!” he hissed. “Scarred for life, those poor lasses. We are just continuing a cycle of abuse.”

 

“That’s nothing,” Lost In Foreskin bragged. “I’m gonna recycle this story I have about my red dress for the fourth time…”

 

“That’s it!” Cuming Mutha’s mustache* bristled. “I’ve had enough. We’re not here to fuck spiders.” Muff Daddy’s eyes widened in excitement. Cuming Mutha continued, “This was supposed to correct the lewd and lascivious behavior plaguing our city, and it just fucking hasn’t.” He scrambled on top of a precipice. “Oi, wankers-- you want debauchery? Come and get it!” With that he ran away, and instinctually the crowd gave chase.

 

Yessiryesshesfat was first to dash after him, followed quickly by Miss Delivery and Sir Menage A Lot. It was Ocean Spray, though, who almost got the drop on the crafty Cuming Mutha near Pier 39, but she was led astray by the high-pitched cries of Just Doesn’t Get It. Just Diane was quick to turn in the correct direction, but she paused because she decided she’d much rather run behind Cockamole than ahead of her.

 

It was Boner Malfunction who gripped the squirming Cuming Mutha at last, finding the bag of goodies he’d stashed in the folds of his gown. The crowd dived in and gobbled the snacks up, Wrinklepecker smacking his lips and Tricrapylete wrestling the last portion away from Tears of Semen.

 

“Aha!” Cuming Mutha chortled. “That was caviar and spam! Just you try kissing on someone now!”

 

Mouth Down South winked at him and grabbed Squeal 4 Me. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

 

“Egad!” Cuming Mutha shook his fist in the air. “Will nothing stop these fools!”

 

Fuck Buddy put a kind arm around his shoulder. “You can’t change people who don’t want to be changed.”

 

“Oh, we wanna be changed,” Whorifist winked at him. “Into something more comfortable.” Primal Vagina took charge of slapping him this time.

 

“Yeah man,” Buck Fucka proclaimed. “Sometimes you just gotta let it go.”

 

“The beer never bothered me anyway,” Cuming Mutha agreed.

 

He allowed Meh and Fuck Norris to lead him away. Back Wash frowned at the Jello Shot booby trap Cuming Mutha had set to disable the hashers, electing to disarm it by pointing No Shit and Boob Slap at it.

 

Cuming Mutha looked up as they entered a cool, dark space. “Oh my,” he said. “What a big warehouse you have.”

 

“All the better to store beer in it, my dear,” Hand Pump appeared at his shoulder, leading him towards the van.

 

“Oh, my, what big kegs of beer you have,” Cuming Mutha stroked one gently.

 

“All the better to inebriate you with, my dear,” Cockulus Oculus batted her eyelashes.

 

“Oh, my!” he replied. “What new shoes you have!” He pointed at IDK My BFF Scott.

 

“All the better to drink beer out of!” She gulped in reply.

 

“Oh, my,” Cuming Mutha gasped, looking up. “What a big ship you have!”

 

“All the better to dock with you, my dear,” Backside Banger patted his arm.

 

“Enough! Eww!” Eat My Pussy appeared with a flash. “This has gotten completely out of hand.”

 

“Yeah, this is utterly ridiculous,” Just Jana groused. “This entire fucking trash is like a deranged fairy tale, but there is no plot and no moral to the story. Nothing is the truth, and it’s lasting longer than the last time I got laid, with even more chafing.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Good Handjob For Humanity answered her. “Of course there are morals, it’s like the time Cum Guzzling Cockaholic leapt a security fence, injured his elbow and then didn’t see a doctor about it, and is now willing to do all the household chores I ask. Let’s just say I reward well for his efforts.”

 

“What’s the moral there?” wondered Cosmic Pussy.

 

“Let sleeping fences lie,” Sheep Style answered. “And never tell a hasher the truth about what you’ve done, especially if you’re married to them.”

 

Scrubbing Bubbles nodded, holding up a small baby. “Look, I just found this on trail today. It’s my Trail Treasure.”

 

“And if you do tell someone what you’ve done, it better be good,” Cockagami glared at Twerxes Like Xerxes. “In fact, you sound pretty disgruntled, Just Jana.”

 

“Damn right I am!” she retorted, eyes not leaving his face.

 

Cockagami grabbed at Eat My Pussy’s wand. “Well I hereby declare you Discuntled On The Edge!”

 

“No!” Red Hot Vagina gasped in horror. Just Lauren dived to the outskirts of circle, hiding from Cockagami’s lustful gaze.


“What have you done, Cockagami!” Eat My Pussy shrieked. “Don’t you know… that for each action, there’s an equal and opposite rea---bbit.   Ribbit.”


And they all turned into frogs.

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

*That’s Blossom for you.