Harlotsville Ch. 06

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Embers_X
Embers_X
59 Followers

The slowly man stood. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were. He ran his fingers over his bald head, glancing around the room as if someone who had abruptly come back into consciousness after a psychotic fit. He walked over to Betty, his face contorting in immediate recognition.

"Holy..." he began, seeing for the first time the identity of the girl he had just savaged. "...A-Arbach..." he said under his breath. "Betty...oh, my Lord. No. No..."

He began to shake. Betty stared back up at him with heavy eyelids, her vision blurred by tears.

"I'm sorry..." she said with a minuscule voice.

"No. No...this can't...you can't..." the man stopped, looked around the room in desperation, and then gathered his clothes quickly, throwing on his slacks, shirt and shoes, forgetting all else. He ran to the door, pausing a moment, and then he quickly bowed his head.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man," he stammered, blinking rapidly. Before Betty could even question this, the man lifted the beam blocking the door with his bare hands, and without a look back, he very quickly evacuated the Easy Hole.

"W-what do you mean—" Betty called out, but she found that her consciousness was fading fast. The gin finally got the better of Betty's blood, and her eyelids fell.
__________________________________

Eugenia mopped the floor with a solemn expression on her face. She'd been in there for nearly an hour cleaning up. The stench of vomit, cigarettes, cooking grease and sodomy lingered in the air. With both hands, she lifted the mattress vertically, mercifully placing the more vividly-stained side against the wall.

Betty lay face down on the floor a few feet away, stripped nude, her limbs spread out. She grumbled with the first signs of consciousness.

Her eyes were red at the edges, her bottom lip was slightly swollen, and her hair was still caked in muck. A steady stream of brown grease oozed from her crack, collecting in a small pool beneath her.

As her senses slowly returned, she first became aware of a new and disturbing sensation: her anus felt damaged.

An insidious burn began to grip the inner rim of her sphincter, and then expanded, spiking in rapid waves. She groaned deeply, tasting the acidic spew lingering at the back of her throat.

As her conscious suffering began to rapidly accelerate, she could not help but make more sounds—pathetic gurgles and whinnies, unenunciated fragments. Against her will, a long discharge of flatus exited her anus, resonating throughout the small room with horrific clarity.

Eugenia seemed unbothered by these developments. She simply went about tidying the room, and when she was done, she picked up a large mug of water, then crouched next to Betty. "Think you'll be wantin' some of this for a while, love," she said in an unusually pensive manner, placing the mug next to her head.

Betty could hardly move, and her head pounded. Her throat was raw to its pit, and her limbs shook. She slowly reached for the water and lifted herself one elbow until she was just barely able to take a sip.

"My butt," Betty slurred between the rapid burbles of gas firing from her rectal depths. "My butt...my butt hurts..."

"I know, love. It's gonna hurt for days, I reckon," Eugenia said with a long sigh, tossing two white pellets on the floor next to her.

"Thankfully we won't need you again 'til next weekend...that is, if you want to come back...it's up to you...anyway, here's some aspirin. You'll want it."

Unable to make sense of Eugenia's deflated tone, Betty simply grabbed the small tablet and swallowed it, then laid her head back down.

"My butt...oh God Eugenia, it hurts!" she said with a new level of concern as the discomfort reached a crescendo, incinerating her unnaturally enlarged anus.

"You'll live," Eugenia said, trying to sound her usual self. But something about her was different; even in her state, Betty could sense it. Betty saw the girl clutch a newspaper in her other hand anxiously, as if she wanted to do something with it, but she couldn't tell what.

"Oh, uh. Betty. When you get the chance, I just think you should hear the news, about your—"

Feeling an even worse ache build in the far reaches of her bowels, Betty beat the floor with her fists and grit her teeth. She twisted distractedly, feeling the late onset of a massive semen enema brewing inside of her, and her voice sounded truly desperate.

"Oh God...please, help me to the bathroom."

"What?" Eugenia asked.

"It's an emergency, Eugenia! Help me up, please!" Betty pleaded.

Startled, Eugenia pulled the tall naked girl to her feet, partially slinging her over her strong shoulders.

Quickly ascending the flight of stairs, she made a sharp turn towards the private restroom and sat Betty's limp, long body on top of the toilet seat.

Immediately, several ounces of filth-tainted semen noisily propelled out of Betty's obscenely gaping anus. She screeched in further anguish and gripped the sides of the porcelain.

Eugenia seemed taken aback at the velocity of Betty's uncontrollable bowel movement, and of the pained expression that contorted her face, and she opened the door to escape the scene.

"Take your time," Eugenia said quickly, holding her breath as she backed out and closed the door. A seemingly endless torrent of dirty semen continued to fire in lewd bursts out of Betty's wide, slippery sphincter.

Thoughts raced through her mind as she noisily purged her viscera. Though she couldn't remember much about Cleese, she did remember what he said before he left her there in a pool of her own vomit: "I'm so sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man..."



The word "was," in all of its potent finality, hovered above Betty as the last glops fell through from her burning ring. As the motion within her died down, she stared up at the ceiling, crying silently. Deep down, she knew nothing would ever be the same again from this day forward.

She looked down between her legs at the lake of vile mud in the bowl. Floating amidst this waste, to her surprise, was her crucifix necklace. It was covered in her slimy feces.

She had no recollection of how it got there, but a quick inference made her heart plummet to depths she didn't even know existed. And from these depths, a new numbness began to overtake her.

The stately Betty Ann Arbach that the public knew and loved was gone now.

Perhaps, in that fateful hour of neglect, her spirit had departed hand-in-hand with her father's. Now all that was left was "Backdoor Betty," the latest amusement ride in the back room of a cheap pub.

That's all she may ever be, she realized, now that the word was bound to get out. Even Eugenia would have a better reputation than her once this all ran its course, she realized.

Now she had no more tears left. She merely stared blankly down at her lost talisman, which had unceremoniously returned to her amidst her painful evacuation, and her eyes began to glaze over from the fetid odor wafting upwards. The gold cross bobbed there for a moment, then sank beneath the muck.

When she could no longer bear the sight, she reached behind her,

finding the metal lever,

and she flushed it all down.

THE END

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