queen kegel butterface asian long pig

QK and Butterface—Erotic Pulp 2

Thanks to @MystkFish and @MJKingofErotica, I had this little hallucination of Butterface and Queen Kegel that I decided can fit into Erotic Pulp Volume 2 without hurting anything. And since I’m once again on the old pain meds I figured hell, why not share it while it’s timely? So without further ado (join my newsletter! free porn!), I present a little less than proudly, but claiming it nonetheless…

Butterface and Queen Kegel in…

BATTER-DIPPED BREADED ASIAN LONG PIG

(an excerpt from the forthcoming Erotic Pulp Volume 2: Smutpunk Reader)

Queen Kegel rose from her sofa-like seat in the immense, golden, metal-with-crushed-red-velvet throne that occupied a quarter of her central hall. The room was enormous and dominated by a long fire pit surrounded by coarse wooden tables, manned by glorious ghostly warriors eating and drinking, the whole appearing as nothing less than a vision of Valhalla (minus the burly and buxom Nordic gods).

As she stood, all eyes turned and drank in her beauty, and sense of style, and taste, and unadulterated pure awesomeness. The Callieverse was hers to control. Her knee-long red hair swam about her like sentient waves of fiery water. Her perfect hourglass figure was contained in a revealing black corset, Brazilian-cut black panties, and thigh-high black boots, drawn in stark relief to the pale whiteness of her amply-displayed ivory skin.

Her voice, like the agitated motion of her swimming hair, revealed her annoyance as she addressed the figure facing her. The subject of her growing discontent was her twin in all save coloration and face; the perfect proportions were identical, but the skin was composed of a constantly-changing hue that was impossible to place before it blended into the next, some of the colors never having existed before that moment. Her face was invisible to all the warriors present, and only the Queen could see the writhing mass of tentacles that she—it—was wearing for a mask.

The Queen always insisted that Butterface show herself thus in court.

“You overstep,” were Queen Kegel’s words. “Do not presume. I can remove you from existence entirely, with none the wiser.”

A sound like a chuckle came from Butterface’s head area, followed by words that alternated in timbre between rocks clashing down a hill to the tinkling of a mountain stream as they flowed out: “Always I shall exist now, until none recall my tale, my Queen,” she said. “This has come forth from you. Surely you acknowledge I seek only what is in my best interest: to aid you, not to overstep or insult.”

“If I yank you from Amazon, you’d be eternally forgotten in eight months, tops,” Kegel said. “You know how this shit works.”

“Not so,” tinkled the freaky voice, sounding like a cross between a drowning goat and a microphone feeding back. “You have called me Nyarlathotep. I shall outlive you, now. Such tales live on. You’re no Lovecraft, missy.”

“And you’re no Azathoth. The trickle of worship you’d gain from ‘Butterface’ without me wouldn’t be enough to sustain a putz like Yig, much less you.”

“Agreed, my Queen. Thus I again advise you: please do not eat the bottoms-up naked Asian girl from the twitter picture. Your existence has given us substance. You would be seen as a cannibal, a murderer, and a snuff-porn producer, if you should indulge in this endeavor to feast on batter-dipped Asian long pig.”

“Nobody fucked her,” Kegel answered quietly, sitting back on her throne. The warriors in attendance breathed a collective sigh of relief when she sat.

Butterface smirked, then thought twice and wiped the feeling off her tentacular mass around the mouth-parts. “No, but if you think you’re going to sell this without someone fucking her…”

“Shit,” Kegel hissed, knowing Butterface was right. Nobody would buy this if there weren’t some expectation of sex happening, and a naked, ass-up Asian girl is about as much of a guarantee of sex as one can get, at least if one happens to be into that sort of thing, which straight men are. Regardless of the batter and breading, even.

“But if she doesn’t have sex, it wouldn’t be snuff porn, would it?” Kegel asked.

Back to the rumbly voice, like gargling gravel through a trebly megaphone or a little hand-held AM radio. “Well, if there’s sex and murder both, I think it probably would be. Couldn’t you just eat her without sex at all?”

“But this isn’t a murder story, it’s about a feast!” Kegel yelled, her hair flaring up into an absurdly tall halo of screaming, flailing intensity, like those fucking air-compressor waving-arms balloon men that used car dealers love for some stupid reason. “My warriors and I deserve a feast! She was hand-delivered, ass up, battered, floured, and stamped with the pun in my psyche the instant she appeared!”

Butterface raised a hand to where her chin-tentacles were and thought a moment. The voice after this pause was ponderous, like a tuba player mimicking a drunken elephant, harmonized with a piccolo and a gong.

“I guess you could…not murder her to eat? Could you have a soy substitute made with pork flavoring? Then there is no chance of this being considered a piece of snuff pornography.”

Kegel looked at Butterface as she thought, one eyebrow arched.

Butterface’s nubby suckers that were there to serve as eyes for a second until they melted into new bean-sprouty things that immediately grew off in some other direction stared back at Queen Kegel.

It was Butterface who spoke first, mutating as she did into a tall, lanky male, emaciated, skeletal, naked except for a gold and lapis lazuli-inlaid Pharaoh mask. Her/his/its voice was now neutral, that of a non-descript male with small testicles and just past puberty. “On the other hand, you are the ultimate power in the Callieverse. If Queen Kegel wishes to eat a young woman’s flesh, who is to gainsay her? You can just decree snuff-porn to be a fair and legitimate endeavor…”

“All right Nyarly, that’s enough. Let her go,” Kegel said to the unseen servants that attended the feast and presumably held the nubile young Asian girl captive, still in the awkward, attempting-to-escape-out-the-window pose in which she had been forever captured. “Make with the soy pork. And nobody fucks her! She goes STRAIGHT BACK to where she came from!” Her anger gone, she muttered, “After we eat.”

The warriors all groaned, but everybody knew they’d get over it.

“I could always make a planet where the people aren’t sentient,” Kegel said to herself.

“You sure about that?” said the disco ball of tentacles made out of light emanating in the eight crayon colors that had been Butterface as Nyarlathotep as a weakling Pharaoh earlier.

“Just go away for a while!” Kegel snapped. (Kegel snapped, get it? Pinchy! Anyhoo…) And being thus compelled, the disco ball disappeared to some other dimension of the Callieverse.

Or did it…

Queen Kegel pouted, even when her meal was served. “I’m never gonna get to taste a person,” she sulked to herself.

(end)

 

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4 thoughts on “QK and Butterface—Erotic Pulp 2”

    1. I don’t think I’ll ever buy the whole ‘soy fakes are just as good’ idea, but nowadays I guess it’s easier just to cave…sigh 😉

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