Preston shot a worried look at Benny, who seemed to be doing his best to hide in a corner. “Is that bad? How the hell do you even get Dick Sick?” asked Preston.
“The best I've been able to figure is from coming in contact with really old semen—almost always from those shady booths in the back of adult novelty stores. In the really dirty ones, the loads just pile up after load upon load gets ejaculated into the dark corners of the booths where the jizz mopper's mop won't reach. After awhile, this odd sort of mold starts growing on the goo, and when you breath in the spores from that mold, that's when you catch the Dick Sick.
“If I've seen it once, I've seen it a hundred times. That's always the way it goes,” Cooter declared. It was irrefutable fact as far as Cooter was concerned.
Benny gave Preston an odd look and made himself known in the corner. “You go to the nudie booths, Prez?!”
“It was one time! I was bored! I drive by the place every day, and I figured ‘what the hell?’” Preston tried to defend himself, but his argumentative tone gave way to indigence. “Wait, what the fuck are you giving me shit for, Benny? You're the one who told me I should go check it out!”
Benny shrugged him off. “Well yeah, but I didn't tell you to go beat off in the booths. That's sick, dude.”
“It was implied!” Preston argued on.
Cooter interrupted, “If we could please get on with the examination.” He motion for Preston to lay down on a rudimentary-looking exam table.
“Cooter man, isn't that like one of those massage tables?” asked Preston.
“Yes it is; any port in a storm, young man. I got this beauty for a steal off a masseuse who was busted for giving happy endings during house calls. She sold it to raise money for her legal defense.”
Benny burst out laughing in the corner. “You're gonna lay down in a bunch of jizz again, Prez!” He doubled over, braying like a mule at the irony.
Cooter waved off Benny. “This table has been thoroughly sanitized, I assure you. Now, please get on the table so I can take a look at you. Time is of the essence considering the size of your last... expulsion.” Cooter turned to grab some rubber gloves, then paused and added, “Oh and you'll need to remove your clothes, too.”
Preston hit full freak-out mode. “What the fuck, man?! You want me to get naked and lay down on your massage table? The table that launched a thousand happy endings?! And I'm supposed to just go along with this like you’re some kind of legitimate doctor?!”
Cooter looked Preston directly in the eye. “Yes, I do.”
Preston was speechless at the man's matter-of-fact response. He unbuttoned his jeans and removed his shirt. Benny said he had enough of the strip show and excused himself into the hallway. Preston actually felt at ease after his friend excused himself and stripped down the rest of the way and lay down on the table, headfirst with his head in the ring.
Preston heard Cooter instruct him as he leaned over the table, “Uh, this is a medical examination, young man, not a massage. I'm going to need you to prop yourself up on your knees and elbows... And just relax.” He heard a latex examination glove snap.
Preston wondered how he had gotten into this situation, when suddenly the situation got into him. Cooter's finger (he hoped it was his finger) wiggled into Preston's asshole and began to root around; for what, God only knew. Preston tried to keep an open mind and relax as much as possible, but when Cooter got up to his second knuckle, Preston's anus clinched up like a boa constrictor.
Cooter corkscrewed his digit around trying to pry it loose. The sensation tickled something deep within Preston's insides, and he suddenly became nauseous, sick, sweaty and green feeling all at once. His stomach gurgled and churned, his throat got tight, his mouth became sandpaper and a wicked urge to sneeze overtook him.
“Oh fuck!” Cooter felt it coming before Preston could voice a warning. He tried to pull his finger out of Preston's asshole, but his anus had a wicked grip on it. With nowhere to go, Cooter braced himself for disaster.
Preston sneezed hard. His ass farted in perfect synchronization with the sneeze, and he felt a mass vomit up out of his mouth. Then all Preston knew was pain—extreme pain—and through the pain, it began to dawn on him that he was barely able to breathe. Preston struggled to maintain his composure as he gasped for breath through the worst pain of his life as he stared down his nose at the head of a penis that looked like it should be attached to an elephant.
+ * + *
Benny rushed in after hearing the explosive sneeze. He was greeted with a sight he would never forget for as long as he lived. Preston was naked on all fours on the massage table, and for all intents and purposes he looked like he was speared through the ass with a giant penis that cut straight through his body and out of his mouth. He was convulsing like he was... gasping for air!
“Oh shit, dude!” Benny yelled and noticed that Cooter was missing. He scanned the room and found Cooter lying behind the table, his arm covered in mucus and shit. He was in shock but alive. Preston's convulsing was growing weaker and his skin began to take on a bluish hue.
Cooter moaned on the floor like a dying Frankenstein monster: partly from the pain and disorientation, and partly to get Benny's attention. “You need to make it flaccid. You need to go get the, the...” he trailed off and got into a coughing fit. He fought through it to complete his instructions, “the box. The box has the cure inside.” He started into another coughing fit.
Benny looked around the room for a box. There were canisters, jars, tables, stools all around. He was about to ask Cooter to be a little more specific, when he spied it sitting in the corner furthest from them under a work table. Benny understood as soon as he set his eyes on it that it was “The Box with the Cure” because it was so distinct looking from everything else in the room. All the items in this room were cold, steel, medicinal looking objects. The box was antique, wooden and inviting. It just looked special.
Benny opened it. He peered inside and spied the cuddliest looking giant worm he was likely ever to see in his life. It was nearly three feet long from end to end. It wasn't slimy and smooth like most worms, but soft and fuzzy and as thick around as Benny's forearm. The varying colors of brown and white reminded Preston of the mysterious Mogwi character from Gremlins.
“It's a Mung Wyrm,” Cooter said weakly. “It will burrow into the cock that is killing your friend. It will eat away at the cyclospermata that inhabit the dick. Quickly it will go flaccid, and your friend's discomfort will be alleviated.”
“Discomfort? That's not exactly the word I would use, Cooter duder. Preston is choking on a gigantic penis—I think he is a tad more than simply uncomfortable!”
“Now is not the time to argue semantics. Put that worm on your friend's affliction and let it get to work. There isn't much time,” Cooter demanded.
Benny rushed over to Preston with the box. He reached in and grabbed the furry Mung Wyrm. It was warm and soft, like picking up a cuddly little puppy. The wyrm quivered at his touch and Benny could feel its body expand and contract slightly as it breathed. He placed it on the sizable ball sack that was jutting out from Preston's asshole.
The wyrm immediately got excited and poked about furiously, looking for just the right spot to burrow in. When it found a suitable location, it began to force its head—or what Benny could only assume was its head, as it had no discernible features on either end of its body—into the fleshy mass of the cock-like thing sticking out of Preston.
As it broke the skin of the penis, a jelly-like substance peppered with pebble-like material began to ooze out of the incision. The Mung Wyrm slipped inside quickly once it had the skin breached. Within seconds, the penis was visibly deflating. The head of the penis finally shrank enough to let air in through Preston's airway, and he gasped for breath like a person who had been underwater for far too long.
The Mung Wyrm worked its way out of the hole it went in through. The balls were now deflated and wrinkly like the scrotum of an old man; it hung spen
t and useless. The Mung Wyrm was sluggish now that it had fed so well. It wriggled back into its box and took a nap, punctuating its gratification with a burp and very loud snoring.
Preston began to gag on the giant deflated phallus now that he was able to breathe once again. Benny thought it looked like Preston had tried to eat a giant novelty penis balloon. Benny grabbed at the head end of it and started to pull.
“No!” Cooter stopped him. “If you pull it out that way, all his stomach acid and shit from his intestinal tract and asshole will come up through his throat and eat away at his trachea. Take him to the bathroom, he is going to have to shit that thing out!”
Preston was exasperated. As if the humiliation of a day spent shitting and puking up penises punctuated by nearly choking to death on a gigantic dick wasn't enough, now he was going to have to shit out a seven-foot long limp dick. He slumped at the shoulders, resigned to his fate. He trudged to the bathroom and sat on his throne of shame.
He didn't feel like he had to go, so he pushed and strained. His face turned beet-red and he struggled to get the thing moving along. He felt like he was going to start gagging once more, when finally it began to creep out of his asshole. The sensation was the oddest thing Preston had ever felt; he could feel it rolling out of his asshole, while at the same time the end still protruding from his mouth made its way down his throat at the same pace.
Preston returned to Cooter's examination room, naked and defeated, but free from the giant penis. Cooter and Benny were working away at some sort of concoction. There was a mortar and pestle, knives, hammers, and a cheese grater, as well as several opened canisters. They both stopped what they were doing when Preston rejoined them and looked at him wordlessly, expecting Preston to let them know how he felt.
“That, uh, thing was pretty big. I wasn't thinking and I flushed and backed up your toilet. You may want to call a plumber. Sorry about that, Cooter dude,” was all Preston could offer.
Cooter grabbed a glass bowl off the table and offered it to Preston. He told him the golden liquid in it would cure him of the Dick Sick. Preston thought it looked a little bit like butterscotch pudding, but it smelled like old musty socks. He dipped his finger in and took a taste of it—he found it was very salty.
He cupped his hand and scooped out the rest, licking his fingers to get every last bit—he wanted to be sure that the cure worked, foul taste be damned. He wanted to be done being Dick Sick forever.
“What was that?” he asked through a scowled face.
“A simple mix of the ground-up labias of mummified corpses, a paste of the final menstrual flow of a woman before she entered menopause, and some apple sauce. A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, right?” Cooter said with a tad of mischief in his voice.
Preston wanted to puke it all back up, but didn't dare. He swallowed hard to keep it all down. Cooter patted him on the back and asked him if he wanted a lollipop.
Benny began to laugh wickedly. “Nothing like some old pussy and some period juice to chase off a few dicks, huh?” He erupted in laughter and doubled over.
Benny regained his composure after a few moments. They both thanked Cooter for all his help. Cooter was only too happy to have helped such a rare case and waived off his usual fees in exchange for the experience of treating such a unique case as Preston's.
“Are you feeling any better, Prez?” Benny asked as they got back in the car.
“Actually, Benny man, I am,” he said as he smiled for the first time all day.
“Good, Prez dude. Let's go out tonight, then! We gotta get you hooked up with a girl so you don't have to go visit the nudie booths anymore!” He slapped Preston on the back and laughed.
* + * +
That night, they did go out to the club. Preston met a buxom blonde who, it turned out, gave mind-numbing head. They started dating, and after a few months he proposed to her. They got married, had several children, and lived a relatively happy life. Preston never again had to visit the adult boutiques, and never again shit, piss or puked out a dick for the rest of his life.
“Strange Sex”
What if Joseph wasn't the first man to be cuckolded by God? What if there was a cult of adulterated men who would do anything to kill him for fucking their wives into useless shells of nymphoid lust? What if a woman possessed was so utterly tormented, that the only way to save her soul was to perform a Sexorcism? What if a scaticallogically inclined man found a way to pleasure himself with bed bugs? What if a woman fell in love with a dinosaur? What if a seemingly innocent Furry gangbang turned out to be a mating ritual for a tribe of nomadic cannibal were-teddy bears? These questions and many more will be answered when StrangeHouse books takes you on a journey unlike any you've ever seen before with their debut anthology of strange erotic horror fiction, “Strange Sex”.
“McHumans” Kevin Strange
After Cthulhu awakens and destroys civilization as we know it, humans are used as slaves and food by their new slimy, submerged masters. One such young man, Ricky, works at an undersea fast food joint where he’s forced to kill and cook other humans for the Deep Ones to eat. But he has a plan. His restaurant caters to the Big Man himself, and if Ricky’s plan works, he could pull off the unthinkable:
He could actually Kill Cthulhu.
“Vampire Guts in Nuke Town”
Kevin Strange
Guts is a bad motherfucker in a bad, bad world. In Nuke Town, Guts wakes up in a strange motel with no memory of how he got there. A brother and sister duo are the only two humans in sight, but are they friend or foe? As the paranoia sets in, and Guts begins to understand the true implications of a nest of sophisticated, mutated vampires, he must use all the cunning and skills that his years in the wasteland have taught him if he hopes to survive the horror that awaits him in … Vampire Guts in Nuke Town!
“Robamapocalypse”
Kevin Strange
In a dystopian future where Barack Obama is lord and emperor of the only city left on earth after the zombie apocalypse, one young man must fight his way through a tournament pitting zombie against remote controlled zombie if he hopes to stop the evil, half-cyborg dictator from destroying Steel City and the rest of the fabled Obamamerica beyond. Time traveling terrorists, giant robot zombies made of zombies, and Barack Obama like you've never seen him before are but a few of the twists and turns that make Robamapocalypse one of the weirdest, most action packed bizarro stories you'll ever lay your unsuspecting eyeballs on.
This election year, Barack Obama is a giant fucking robot.
“Tales of Questionable Taste”
John Bruni
For fans of the bizarre, the weird, the strange, StrangeHouse Books brings you a whirlwind of eighteen tales sure to amuse, confuse, horrify and leave you questioning your lack of taste. From the warped synapses of John Bruni come stories of the destruction of earth, via a humongous totally nude man in space, a portal to another dimension inside of an office worker's desk, a sordid love affair between two nefarious euthanasia enthusiasts, and many other yarns that span from psychological terror, to comedy, to downright disgusting!
“Dinner at the Vomitropolis”
Jesse Wheeler
Do you like gravy on your potatoes? Do you like dressing on your salads? Do fast-food commercials force you to leave your mattress, in search of processed meat? If yes.... PUT THIS BOOK DOWN. Unless you need a Dietary supplement that is purely literary. Join gross-out author Jesse wheeler as he hosts his very first literary feast for Strangehouse books. Dinner at the Vomitropolis is a three course meal sure to make even the most hardened gore hound sick to his stomach!
“Zombie! Zombie! Brain Bang!”
WHAT IF... zombies were the worst customers to ever enter a fast food restaurant? WHAT IF... the only thing saving you from a zombie horde is a suit of cute little babies? WHAT IF... you traveled through time to see a great pair of tits but ended up kicking off the zombie apocalypse? WHAT IF... all those dead pets came back with a hunger for human fle
sh? Twelve of the most bizzare zombie stories you'll ever read, all jam packed into one delicious, ultra-violent book, Zombie! Zombie! Brain Bang! is guaranteed to suck out your brains and chomp on your guts while you scream with delight.
“Strange Versus Lovecraft”
What happens when a group of the rowdiest authors of cult horror fiction take on one of the most iconic figures in the entire genre? STRANGE VERSUS LOVECRAFT features eleven of the absolute weirdest short stories set in the Cthulhu mythos you’re ever likely to read. From fish-mouthed prostitutes to undersea fast food restaurants and the house raping spawn of Yog-Sothoth, you’ve never read Lovecraft done quite like this. Next generation authors Kevin Strange, D.F. Noble, Jason Wayne Allen, and Jesse wheeler lead this shambling pack of pervert writers toward untold lows as they defile the sacred name of H.P. Lovecraft in this loving send up to the man who brought tentacles into the main stream.
“The Last Gig on Planet Earth and Other Strange Stories”
Kevin Strange
Kevin Strange's fiction has been described as bleak, hopeless, bizarre, and always unpredictable. This is Strange at his most nihilistic. The Last Gig on Planet Earth collects seven tales full of suspense, of dread, of that side of human nature that most pretend does not exist. Strange sets his spotlight directly in its gnarled face and demands it reveal its most twisted secrets.
This collection is sure to leave you repeating, “this is only fiction, this is only fiction, please let this only be fiction...”
“Damnation 101”
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