Jones Johns' Shiteater Podcast (18+)

Reads: 212  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

18+ type stuff here. I typed this up last night while absolutely wired on Death Wish coffee and felt inspired after watching podcast clips, decided to make it a story while I still had the energy

Jones: [adjusts microphone] Sorry, this is only my third time using this thing.

Homeless Abomination: [unsettling clicking]

Jones: [looks at camera] We’re gonna edit that out. So uhhh, what’s your old career again?

Homeless Abomination: We are the legion which must not be tasted. We are immobile, but our hosts work well. The harmony is comfortable, but not without its own haste. [rummages through pockets]

Jones: [leans towards Homeless Abomination across table] Crazy dude, crazy stuff, what kind of work does that entail? [Coughs]

Homeless Abomination: [still searching his pockets] Work is much to be done, Jones Johns, work is much to be done… your body is contaminated, but to be cleansed is to be free…

Jones: Oh hell yeah, those cleanses can be good time to time, my mom had all kinds of essential oils- but uh, what kind of work to be done? You dodged my question and not be rude, but that shit pisses me off a little bit, you feel?

Homeless Abomination: [reaches deeper into pocket] the work is incomprehensible even by us, it is simply inexplicable.  To defy the meaninglessness would be to defy the work itself… inexcusable to us.

Jones: [coughs again, harder] You’re being pretty vague, could you at least start out by describing one of your days at work for us?

Homeless Abomination: We wake with the taste of our own feces being shared from ass to mouth to ass to mouth in a delectable circle of asshole cuisine… [buries entire arm in pocket] We sit in the Circle of Highest Place from within our cramped back alley dumpsters and from here we crawl into homes… where we continue a cycle of eyepoppingly gorgeous assimilation…

Jones: [glances at his arm and pocket, ignores it and pulls out his phone] Yo, that reminds me of this really cool video I saw on Pornhub of this dude fisting a girl while tripping on acid. You ever tried acid? Shit’s dope, and dope is pretty good. [continues tapping on phone] Almost there just give me a sec, keeping talking about that good work. Cool shit, like door to door salesmanship, right?

Homeless Abomination: Our work, our shiteating circles, and our orgies of assimilated beings are far superior to your mere attempts at the crafting of pornography, Jones Johns. To behold one in your eyes is to glance into the edge of reality itself, and so we shall allow a mere mortal and his podcast followers to observe, just this once. [begins to slowly retrieve his arm from in his pocket]

Jones: [puts phone screen up close to Homeless Abomination’s face] Dude I found my favorite part, check… check this shit out, it’s hot as fuck. [turns found around and breathes deeply] Like, holy shit that is hot hot, you can’t replicate the sheer mass of his arm digging into her ass… sucking his body in like a fucking woman vacuum… it’s… [sobs] It’s gorgeous…

Homeless Abomination: [grunts, and reels back as a geyser of blood and diarrhea bursts forth from within the pocket, caking half of the studio in a runny, slippery layer of stickiness and five indescribable figures emerge from the portals in the floor, piling into a messy circlejerk atop the table.]

Jones: [closes porn tab, scrolls Facebook] Crazy man, crazy. This was a one on one, you’re dodging my questions on specifics on work, and you don’t even appreciate the fisting video. Like damn dude, who are these people anyway? Ya’ll got names or what? [gets up from chair, paces room beyond camera’s reach] But I gotta say, that one guy there, in the middle. [points vaguely towards the man pile] He looks a hella lot like me…

Homeless Abomination: We feel likewise, we truly do… and if you must know our names… you can search for it under the Yellowbooks… [pulls a massive tome from within other pocket and slides it across the table to Jones]

[The dogpile of shiteater circlejerking expands as they each pull more figures from their own pockets, and those who bear no clothing or zipper-cut dicks rip and tear their men from within the taut yet torn pockets of their assholes as they rip the flesh from their scrotums with the tips of their own scat-encrusted, withered fingernails and toeclaws, engaging in infinite circles of eroticism and cannibalism as an undying snake would encircle itself in a ritual of self-destructive feasting. The horizon shrinks and the table stretches into an infinite sidewalk through the cosmic waves of delectable sperm, piss drinking lip lickery and pleasurable pleasure. It isn’t until Jones’ phone is yanked from his fingers that he truly comprehends his fate.]

Jones: [picking at his growing, yellowed fingernails] It isn’t fair. I don’t even know your name and here I am being assimilated by some ass-backwards hobo with a shitty taste in porn and an excellent aura in piss tasting. [expresses confusion in his new taste in dialogue] What the fuck? Who even are you?

Homeless Abomination: [points to the book again] We bear no need to hear you out to know… we know better than you could ever hope to. Did you really think we would sit through this day simply for your amusement? Your reach on the… interwebs… are and will be greatly appreciated once you have joined our orgies. [opens book] Here, in the Yellowpages… any contact or number you choose, it should bear the name you likely seek.

Jones: [opens book and skims, then frantically flips through its pages] The fuck..? The fuck?! [scans through again, slowly] it all says the same thing, every fucking number in here… [sweats profusely as a suspiciously diarrhea-like substance dribbles from his nostrils and mouth] this taste… these smells… these numbers… all the same.. so similarly delectable.. delicious and nutritious…

[The book closes itself and melts into the table with a deep sensation of heat dripping into the air… written in the ink of yellow puss is the name Jones Johns, etched into each and every fake phone number throughout]

[Jones’ arms lengthen, his tongue extends into the air so he can sniff his new brethren… all of them a bunch of little Jones Johns’s, running around, circlejerking, eating each other up, sniffing each other’s fingertips, all engaged in a circle of self-engorgement like the self-destructive snake which is He, Himself, and even God in a moist, pissparty of self-indulgence and humility of pride.The work is incomprehensible even by us, it is simply inexplicable.  To defy the meaninglessness would be to defy the work itself… inexcusable to us.]


Submitted: April 26, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Sophie L Aurora. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

More Horror Short Stories

Other Content by Sophie L Aurora