Skinny Bitch Summer Camp Massacre

Skinny Bitch Massacre: Heather Gets Some Ghost Dick and a Giant Corndog

Summer camp 1989. New Jersey swamp.

Heather, a curly haired SSBBW, is eating corn dogs at a picnic table while reading Gregory A. Douglas' "The Nest."

Chadwick, a conventionally attractive douche, struts over to her. He is wearing yellow and blue striped socks, a white tee and cut-off jean shorts. His mesh trucker hat, emblazoned with an arrow pointing at his groin, features the Wendy's advertising slogan "Where's the Beef?" He is an obvious idiot. Bulging through his shorts, is the veiniest and longest penis New Jersey has ever seen.

Heather is aroused. Why do I want this moron's cock? Lord knows she hasn't had dick in ages. She tells herself, "Look, you're a sloppy bitch, but you have breasts that most men dream of. Let him feed on your massive mammaries and you'll get his fucking manhood."

"What are you reading?" he asks.

"It's about mutant roaches and women making sandwiches."

"The mutant roaches make sandwiches?"

Heather cracks up, while Chadwick stands befuddled. Deflecting, she points at his boing boing boner.

"Sorry, it does that."

Becca skips over, jump roping all the way. The vapid valley girl notices his rock-hard salute, looks at Heather and says "What are you doing talking to her? She's so yuck. Like gag me with a spoon."

"Does it take a spoon? I heard you have no gag reflex Becca," says Heather.

"Shut-up you stupid Greek bitch."

"I'm from Paramus."

"You know what I mean. Like ya know, with your oily curls, you look like Captain Lou Albano."

"How's the bulimia?" Asks Heather while giving fast food fellatio to the corn dog. Chadwick is aroused by Heather's throating of the cornbread ding-dong. Becca is seduced by all the deep-fried cornmeal. Skinny bitch is hungry.

He finally butted in. "Look, I think you should both get with the Chadwick. Am I right?" He asks, shooting imaginary air pistols with his fingers.

Though a dunderhead, if his dangling dick ran the U.N., maybe we could stop the nukes and save the whales. He would get it on with anyone. His only politics are "let's fuck." Heather knows this. Becca is delusional and thinks she is special with her Linea Quiqley workout bod.

Pouty princess Becca shakes her ponytail in exasperation, grabbing the mustard bottle and spraying it all over Heather.

Heathers' anger turns to an evil smirk when she realizes the mustard makes her giant tits, peeking through a slimy and soaked t-shirt, the most glorious thing mankind has ever seen.

"Are you drooling?" asks Becca, as she slaps at Chadwick's chest. He doesn't respond. She grabs his crotch and leads him to the lake.

On her way to the shower, Heather quips "Hey Barbie, just know he'll be thinking about my mustard jugs while he's fucking you."

Becca looks at Chadwick expecting a rebuttal but gets none.

Down by the lake, Becca and Chadwick are getting hot and heavy. She gets down on her knees, unzips his fringed jean shorts and is genuinely shocked by his massive member.

"You're so."

"I know baby. I know."

She smacks herself in the face with his super schlong. Giggling, she takes his entire dick in her mouth. Her cheeks look like a greedy chipmunk preparing for a famine.

As she bobs her bubblehead up and down on Chadwick's cock, she sees what she thinks is the beautiful agony of his o-face. She is impressed with her dick sucking skills. "Mommy said I would never be good at anything. Look at me now mother," she thinks to herself. She could sense his eruption. "You're about to cum baby. Right on my face. Yummy cummies."

Chadwick explodes. A slurry of cum and blood lands on her face. Curious, she rubs some on her finger. "Red cum? I've never had red cum before," she says humming a song that only plays in her head. "Red red cum you make me feel so dumb. Keep me sticking dongs in my bum."

As she moves toward the tip of his penis, a red-hot poker bursts through his dick and through her mouth exiting out the back of her head. The tip of Chadwick's penis and Becca's brain fall in a giallo explosion of saliva, cum and plasma as they plop to the ground.

Heather enters the showers where Carly, a closeted conservative, is already rub a dub dubbing. She catches Carly peaking at her. Though she doesn't mind, she won't give her the satisfaction.

"What?" Asked Heather.

Embarrassed, Carly responded "You should really put those things away. Maybe shower with a bathing suit. Those massive meat-bags are really distracting."

"I don't think a straight girl would say that." said Heather.

"I'm not a dyke."

"It's okay. We should be allies. Fuck the normies."

"I'm not like you. I am normal. I am a good girl," says Carly.

"Does Tanja's vagina know that?"

"We're just friends."

"Sure Carly."

Exasperated, she shakes and blurts, "I don't fluff the muff, okay? Jesus will show me the way."

"To dick?" asks Heather.

"You are truly the spawn of Satan. You know, gluttony is a sin?"

"Are you calling me fat? You're just like my mirror, so you can't be trusted. Bye Carly."

"I will pray for you, you bitter heathen," said Carly as she stormed out the shower. She buttoned up in a schoolmarm sweater, a turtleneck and a pleat skirt. Holding herself tightly and awkwardly, she counts her rosary beads, not paying attention to her surroundings.

A giant shadowy figure, wearing a Betty Boop mask, peers at Heather through the window. He is smitten. This skinny bitch summer camp had never sent him anyone like this. The cellulite, the jiggles, the sight of all that glorious fat female flesh nearly paralyzed him, even in his spectral form. The ghost killer is in love. Dropping his knife, he grabs his erect ghost cock. With the skinny bitches, he never thought twice about murder. "I guess I chase the chubby," he thought to himself. Before he could make a move on Heather, Carly bumps into him, while fumbling with her rosary beads and trying to shake off the Catholic guilt.

"Excuse me sir," she says, as mean as a mousy church girl can, never even noticing his mask.

As she marches to the kitchen, he slowly trails her.

"These skinny bitches," Heather said to herself while finishing her shower.

Tanja, attractive with no effort, and a lanky tomboy with a caramel complexion, is in the kitchen. She is reading existential poetry while flipping through every cabinet looking for some alcohol. She finally finds two bottles with a teeny bit of booze. She shrugs her shoulders and mixes them in a Styrofoam cup. "Call it what you want to call it. I'm a fucking alcoholic."

As she starts to take a sip, Carly slaps the cup to the ground.

"The fuck Carly?"

"I told you about that potty mouth, and the boozing."

"Girl."

"What?"

"You know you get me hot, when you go all judgy white lady on me." says Tanja.

"That doesn't make sense."

"Kinks aren't supposed to make sense. That's why they're kinks," says Tanja.

"I don't know."

"Really? Ask Jesus how my pussy taste?"

"Tanja."

"Eat it now."

Carly shrinks inside herself, fighting with her queer desires. Tanja rips off her track-pants and shoves Carly's maidenhead into her overgrown bush.

"Eat bitch."

Giving into her lust for Tanja's lanky body, Carly drops the rosary beads and gives her cunnilingus. Tanja sprays girl cum all over her face.

"Tanja!"

"You know I'm a squirter."

Carly acts all icky and whines. Tanja licks her own lady juice off Carly's face. "The world is a gross place. Embrace the filth or live in a clean misery."

"I'll try," whines Carly.

Tanja lies back down and shoves Carly's face back inside her. You eat pussy like a Catholic robot."

"What?"

"Did I say stop? Keep on blooping and bleeping Small Wonder."

Closing her eyes while moaning in ectasy, Tanja doesn't see the masked figure approach Carly. He picks up the rosary beads and strangles her. As she chokes and spews saliva into Tanja's cunt, Tanja opens her eyes.

"Betty Boop...the fuck?" she asks herself. Never a hero, she bolts out the door and sprints through the woods looking for help.

Carly was choked to death by her own rosary beads while eating pussy. What would Jesus think?

Wearing a track top and sneakers but no pants. Tanja speeds through the woods and screams. "Help. Anyone, help!"

Heather pops out of her cabin and asks what's going on.

"Carly is dead."

"She stole your pants?" asks Heather.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can see your Busch Gardens."

"Can you not joke for a second. Carly is dead. This Andre the Giant looking fuck-ass, in a Betty Boop mask, strangled her."

Knowing Tanja's penchant for drunken storytelling, Heather nods her head.

"Betty Boop, you say?"

"I know what you're thinking, but I'm sober."

"Are you sure? What could keep you away from the bottle?" asks Heather.

"Getting my muff munched."

"I knew it. You guys are cute."

"Nothing's cute. I'm a lesbian, not a puppy. Carly is dead!"

"Do you want me to help you find Andre the Giant?" asks Heather.

Tanja looked at her rotund ankles and flabby fluffiness and thought: "That fat bitch, with a killer in this summer camp? Hell no, she'd only slow me down or trip over a log."

"No. I'm cool," she said to Heather, as she sped through the woods without her pants.

"You certainly are. Girl doesn't even need pants. Probably thinks my fat-ass will trip on a log," Heather says, as she turns around and indeed trips on a log and falls face first in the mud. After laughing hysterically at herself, and not believing Tanja's killer story, Heather heads to the showers again.

As she gets Zest fully clean, the Betty Boop killer appears outside the window. He wipes off the shower steam. Heather's bountiful blimps are covered in suds. Ogling her, he loses his concentration, slips and falls flat on his butt, ripping the crotch of his pants.

"Who's out there?" asks Heather, peeking out the window. She returns to the shower. As she leans against the wall, the Betty Boop killer creeps up behind her.

Boop pulls his twelve-inch blue cock out of his pants. It's dripping ectoplasm as he grabs Heather's bulbous buttocks and ramrods her. Before she can get offended, her thighs quake as her orgasmic euphoria reaches heights the pretty plump piggy could never have imagined.

She turns around, while still getting hard spectral shaft, and notices the mask. "Fuck me Boop. Fuck my fat brains out. I'm a piggy. Oink, oink, oink, I need your ghost cum.

As Boop cums, a spirit enters Heather. She's so deep in her orgasm, she can't tell the difference between a massive dicking and something phantasmagoric. As she sprays her juices all over Boop's ghost cock, she hears what sounds like insects swarming.

Heather looks behind her. As Boop pounds her tasty and flabby cellulite butt, she notices a giant mutant roach wearing a smock and a chef's hat. It's making sandwiches. As it prepares to put mayo on some sourdough bread, Heather gets irate. "No, fuck mayonnaise," she shouts while her pussy-lips and thighs quiver from the pounding of the twelve-inch ghost dick.

Boop thrusts even harder. Heather closes her eyes. When she reopens them, Tanja is swinging a sword at the roach chef. It immediately turns into a giant bottle of liquor.

"The fuck?" asks Tanja.

Unable to talk, Boop pulls a spirit guide out of his pocket and hands it to Heather. She flips through it quickly. It seems her mind is controlling the roach which became a giant liquor bottle. Like some sort of cosmic playdough, her mind can mold that object to whatever her filthy fat girl brain conjures up.

As Tanja tries to open the giant bottle, Boop grabs her by the neck, still thrusting his ghost stick in flabby Heather. "Skinny bitches must die," he grunts.

Heather wants to help. Tanja sees it in her eyes. "I can't help you. I'm weak. Ghost dick!" Heather cries with hedonistic tears.

Tanja stares at her eye to eye. Although she is having the life squeezed out of her, she lets Heather know "I'm not mad. I get it. Kinks don't have to make sense. Embrace the filth," she says in her final death rattle.

Dropping Tanja's lifeless corpse to the ground, Boop vanishes into a spectral mist which swarms down Heathers throat.

Heather reads the spirit guide further and realizes that only by killing skinny bitches, can she retain the power of the cosmic playdough. Her chunky girl brain has turned the liquor bottle into a giant corn dog. She climbs on top of it and rides it with the nihilistic passion of Slim Pickens in Dr. Strangelove. "I'll miss you, Tanja. The rest of the campers, not so much. But today, things are looking up for Heather. I got some ghost dick, a mutant roach made me a sandwich with no mayo; and now, my lifelong dream of fucking a giant corndog has come to fruition. It's a pretty good day for a fat bitch from Paramus."

The end.