Butterface

by Press, Callie

  Janie stuck her tongue out to taste Butterface’s juices on him. She stuck it farther across his dick and balls, then curled it around on the top of her tongue, tasting the inner pussy lips with every stroke, her whole face now getting slapped with the other woman’s crotch as they fucked.

  “Sheeyit. Butterface kilt me and I’m in heaven.”

  He grabbed Janie’s leg and draped it over his face, kissing and licking all over now that he had the chance. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was eager. Janie had learned a thing or two from Old Pap, but she had almost no idea what she was doing either—she knew she loved feeling him try, though.

  When he did, he had fully situated her in a 69 position, and her head was still in Butterface’s hands. But she tried to do some of the things that Old Pap had done to her, just because she knew how fucking amazing they had felt, how hot it made her to feel that soft, wet tongue in that most precious place, exploring and lapping and nibbling, and then sucking it and rolling it between the teeth and oh yes….

  And then Janie remembered, and changed her thoughts quickly to realizing that she was close, so close, oh so fucking hot and wet and about to come and maybe…maybe that meant….maybe they were too…and…

  “Ah hope this is heaven,” Tommy Joe said against her thighs as he nibbled at her soft, firm flesh. “I thank ah deserve at least this much anyhow.”

  From her perfect kneeling 69 position, with her mouth engulfing Butterface’s pussy and her beautiful little ass sitting on his face, she squatted back, licking up Tommy Joe’s chest, her long hair in Butterface’s hand unraveling with her slow, sexy movement…

  She launched herself and pushed as violently as she could into Butterface’s bare chest, sending her tumbling into a full somersault backwards, off of Tommy Joe’s cock, all the way off his entire body, and she thought of all those nasty things that Old Pap had explained to her about men and their perversions and all the things he was going to do to her for the rest of her life…

  She knew how to finish this, all right. She knew how to finish this, and after the things Butterface had shown her and the weak understanding she had of all that horseshit, it just might throw a little wrench in the works for her at the same time.

  Janie didn’t want no universes made out of her pussy blood. That was a little too weird to have to live with. And she thought it had to work that way. So maybe it had to work that Tommy Joe’s seed had to be in her…

  As Butterface in Janie’s body regained its feet, they locked eyes, her and the real Janie.

  Janie took Tommy Joe’s big, sexy cock in her little hand. Butterface crouched down to retaliate, probably about to leap.

  Janie screamed in shock and pain as she dropped her weight onto Tommy Joe’s rigid pole, forcing every inch of his meaty young cock—not back inside her pussy, but right up into her ridiculously tight, tiny, unlubricated asshole, her bare cheeks slapping his firm pelvis like a gunshot.

  As soon as he was in, before her swelling tears even fell out of her eyes, she lifted his balls and stuck her finger straight up his ass, immediately feeling around blindly for something that could be his prostate.

  Butterface leaped, but understanding lit her eyes in mid-air, so rather than attack, she just landed in what became a bear hug to Janie, because it had already worked.

  He was ejaculating. He had lost his virginity, and placed his virgin seed, up inside of Janie’s reverse-cowgirl, virgin ass.

  Butterface reached out quickly and placed a single finger on Janie’s pelvis. They both looked down at her finger, and watched the subtle motion of his balls as he came.

  Then, again, Janie and Butterface’s Janie-face locked eyes as he finished.

  “Curious.”

  “What?” Janie asked, panting and teary-eyed. She was too exhausted to be scared. She lifted herself awkwardly off his still huge erection, sighing with relief when he was finally fully withdrawn.

  “You changed things. The stupid granularity of this universe…”

  “What you talkin about?” she asked, plopping onto one ass cheek, trying to let air get between her legs. The cool felt fantastic, now.

  “I think you might understand it if I explain it as…you discovered a hidden mistake.”

  “You mean like a bug on a computer?”

  “Yes, that is an apt comparison. This universe is prone to them, being so poorly made, but this one is interesting because it steps outside the foolish linear time that is predominant here.”

  “Is that important? Will you leave us alone now?”

  Tommy Joe sat up as if he had just awakened from a long, drugged coma. In a way, he had. “Hey, what’s goin on? Why’s there still two of yuns? I thought ah was just dreaming ah was dead, but I really am, ain’t ah?”

  Both Janies, in unison, looked at him and said, “Shut up.”

  Chapter 9

  Butterface put Tommy Joe back to sleep, then disposed of JimBob’s body the same way she had disposed of Old Pap: by turning him into dust, and making him blow away. Amazingly enough, for the first time since she had engaged Old Pap as an assistant, she found herself with an advantage to be gained by actually negotiating with one of these apes.

  Even her other aspects, in whatever other universes they happened to be, agreed that this was probably the best way. There must always be an element of chance. If they all just did everything, where would there ever be anything interesting? Why else would they all willingly limit their omniscience, their omnipotence, their omnipresence? It’s not as if it reduced them in any way.

  Why else would they have tolerated such a poorly-designed universe this long? If it had made any waves, it would have been observed and annulled.

  And then the spark, in such an unlikely, hostile place. As far as neighbors went, this universe was about as bad as it could have been. Under nigh-infinite contraints, of course, but everything nigh-infinite, no matter how large, is insignificantly small compared to the infinite.

  The question she faced, they faced, it faced, was—of course—what could be the most interesting way to watch this play out?

  And this is when Butterface stepped outside of this pathetic linear time, and stepped back into before, so that she could put her finger on Janie as Tommy Joe was coming inside of her, which she would not have otherwise done.

  ~~~

  Butterface had dispersed with the haze and remained in Janie’s body double, still obliviously (maliciously?) naked, and Janie sat in an old kitchen chair wrapped in a blanket. She didn’t bother using her mouth to speak, though; Janie heard her as a voice in her mind.

  I only now realized that you had a dream. This explains much. Are you ready?

  “Ready?” Janie said quizzically. “Ready for what? I know I had a dream about you. I don’t remember at all.”

  The nature of this glitch in your universe’s fabric led to us being intertwined, on one small level. For me, it somewhat undoes the… insufficient job that was done in alerting me to this universe in the first place. This is insignificant; it allows me to wear your face. If I desired, I need never have been under this limitation. I found it interesting. For you, it is more significant. You are imprinted with an aspect of an aspect.

  “What does that even mean?”

  You are with child. You can either be destroyed, or you can survive by going elsewhere.

  “Elsewhere?” she asked. “You don’t mean like a…like another universe?

  No. A sufficient distance in this universe will suffice. You need not leave this planet, or indeed even this country. But if you stay with Tommy Joe, all—he, and you, and the child—will perish, as I absorb you and we merge into one. If I remove you to elsewhere, quickly, both you and the child will thrive.

  “Why would you even care? This has to be just a trap! Ain’t it?”

  Did I not tell you, you have been imprinted with an aspect of an aspect? Do you not understand that the seed that grows in you is now akin, a pale shadow o
f a pale shadow, but nonetheless akin, to the seed that grows in me?

  “I don’t trust you. I don’t believe you.”

  You don’t even understand me. Yet you feel within you that all I say is true, for now you are ever-so-slightly more than an ape.

  Janie put her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her face on her fist, staring at Butterface—herself—with a frown. She raised her face and reached into her lap; the empty fist came up with a mug of hot chocolate, steaming and aromatic. “I reckon somethin changed,” she said.

  If you go, I must go. If you stay, I must stay. My presence will absorb yours against either of our wills. You must choose now.

  “What about Tommy Joe?” she said. “He’s my man. I did all this for him. What happens when I leave? Will I ever see him again?”

  No. But he will live his natural life. If you wish, we can leave an echo of you, which would fade and soon die in a tragic death. None would ever know it was not you, but it will not be you. You must choose now. Stay or go.

  She looked at Tommy Joe, sleeping peacefully on the ratty old sofa that JimBob’s corpse had occupied earlier that evening. “He needs to live. Can he be happy?” She looked urgently at Butterface. “Will he be happy if you leave an echo?”

  He will be happy and he will be sad, as is life for all animals.

  Still staring Butterface in the eyes, staring at her for the last time, she said, “Leave an echo of me, then. Let’s go.”

  Butterface extended her arms, and Janie stood. Butterface looked like a doctored picture of Janie, who looked like she had been beaten mercilessly.

  Their beautiful, naked bodies embraced like a woman stepping into a mirror.

  And then they were gone.

  Janie awoke in a small room, on a small, uncomfortable feather bed, enormously tired, snuggling a two year old, red-headed, freckle faced little girl. The entire room was jostling from side to side and a small oil lamp, hanging over a little ramshackle desk, was rocking precariously.

  She got out of the bed and looked out the window. The ground was moving.

  She was in a wagon that was outfitted to look like a bedroom.

  “Mama!” the baby said, holding her arms out.

  “Hush, Alyssa,” she snapped, looking at the rest of the caravan she belonged to—the caravan that belonged to her, rather—trailing behind her wagon.

  Janie remembered it all. Her life here, which had never happened, and yet it had. Her pregnancy here, the labor, the conception with Tommy Joe and Butterface—all of which which had never happened, and yet it had.

  And knowledge. The touch. That touch on her stomach as Tommy Joe lost his virginity inside her.

  The sudden knowledge of what Butterface had done with that touch.

  She knew so much now, and it was far too late to do anything about it.

  Then she looked on the desk. She had a newspaper from the last town they were in. She wasn’t sure what language it was, but she could understand it anyhow. It said that today was November 1, 1840.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late at all.

  In fact, it seemed as though it was still very early.

  Tommy Joe and Janie limped back home in the morning. It was a minor scandal, but nobody was much surprised. They had been a couple forever, and it was assumed by many that they’d been at it for years anyhow. Some folks were surprised that they went down to the County Courthouse and got a Justice of the Peace wedding the day after Halloween.

  But it made more sense when Janie gave birth to their son, James Robert Barnett, nine months later. Unfortunately, Janie Barnett née Anderson died from complications in childbirth at only 19 years of age. Tommy Joe Barnett did his best to raise Jim Bob, who ended up being called Young Pap, but it’s well known that things went amiss with that boy.

  And that’s all on the record.

  -End-

  Afterword

  So here's the problem.

  I have this idea for a quirky, cute, half-funny, half-dirty, seasonal erotica/B-movie horror story called Butterface, who is so ugly that when a man sees her face while he's giving her the old salami, he dies. Sounds simple, right? It's a 6000 word story, like so many eBooks are these days. Guy hears about the monster, guy hooks up with girl, bad things happen, don't have sex and party, kids, or the monster will get you. Every 1980s horror movie.

  I'm starting to think that things never go simply for me. Butterface had other ideas. Because Butterface wasn't content to just be a monster, you see...she had things to say. She has a story, she didn't choose to be misunderstood. She doesn’t even care. Hell, she doesn’t even really notice.

  And then the boys revealed themselves to be, on the whole, just normal boys. Janie revealed herself to be bugshit crazy in a couple ways, and sincere in a couple others, and kind of interesting, and kind of relatable. (Bugshit crazy, but sincere—not kind of relatable, completely relatable for me!)

  I’m aware of the shifting POV’s, and yes, I wrote them and left them in intentionally. I’m aware of the subtle, and maybe not so subtle, variations in narrative voice in different places, and yes, I did that intentionally, too. If you don’t like it, I understand. But on the whole, I’m happy with it, and that some of my experimentations seem to have given it some depth by which I was pleased. As I revised and rewrote, themes appeared, and I made no attempt to consciously add or revise them. I left them as little relics, so I myself can enjoy reading it.

  Yeah—I don’t even really know what is in here. Anyone who has read any lit crit knows it doesn’t matter what the author thinks about their own work, anyhow, if the scholars see something in it. There’s just no way to win that one, so I don’t even try to develop themes any more. What comes out, comes out. It’s not like we know where this shit comes from, right? Maybe we really are just unearthing relics of stories that have always been out there. Wouldn’t that be cool?

  In any event, it’s interested me enough to warn you: be ready next Halloween for Son of Butterface!

  Regardless of all this pretentious yakking, I’m just doing my best. I had fun doing this one. I hope you had fun reading it, too.

  Callie

  10/12/2015

  About Callie Press

  Callie Press is a naughty girl who likes to write about sex.

  Join her mailing list at http://calliepress.net/blog/callie-press-contact/ and get a free eBook!

  Join her on twitter @calliepress and at http://calliepress.net —her blog and website for erotica writers and readers! Her Amazon author page is http://amazon.com/author/calliepress, and you can read her at http://mrblackthorne.com too!