A Metamorphosis

After a night of unsettling dreams, Steve suddenly winked awake. The very first thing he noticed was a foul taste on his lips. It was the most disgusting thing he’d ever tasted, but when he tried to reach up to wipe his lips off, he found he couldn’t move his arms. He couldn’t even feel them; in fact, he couldn’t feel any part of his body but his lips, and even those felt strange and pursed. They also felt huge, like they were his entire being, not just a small part of his body.

The odor was the next thing he noticed. An odor of farts and poops... an odor of ass. But it was a far more powerful ass stench than he’d ever smelled, as if his nose - which he couldn’t feel either, even though he had his sense of smell - had been buried directly in somebody’s dirty asshole. Was that the taste on his lips, too? Ass? Poop?

All he could see was darkness, but Steve felt heat and moisture, and massive walls of flesh pressed against him on all sides. Was somebody sitting on his face? He tried to move, he tried to call out, he tried to wiggle and squirm, but he could do nothing.

As he uselessly struggled, Steve felt a massive pressure building inside of his lips, and a deep grumbling sound behind him. Suddenly, his lips were forced open, and a hot, moist stream of air escaped his lips with a funny sound.

The taste and odor of the foul gas he’d just burped up overwhelmed his senses. It foulest burp he’d ever smelled. It smelled more like a hideous, rancid fart than a burp.

“Here comes last night’s Mexican food,” an enormous voice boomed. The woman’s voice was earth-shattering, even though its tone was soft, as of someone talking quietly to themselves. It was as if a towering giant had spoken in a murmur. “Why do I always overeat?” the woman groaned.

Steve recognized the voice. “Mom?!” He tried desperately to call out to his mother for help, but he couldn’t make a sound.

The terrible pressure was already building behind his lips again, and Steve could hear a low grumbling and bubbling noise that shook through his entire being. He heard his mother groan, and then his lips were forced open again, even wider this time, as a hurricane of the foulest stench imaginable was forced through them, creating a strangely familiar sound. “It didn’t sound like a burp,” Steve thought as he struggled with the hideous taste the belch had left on his quivering lips.

“Pyew, that’s a stinky Mexican food fart if I’ve ever smelled one,” his mother moaned. “Time to go drop the kids off at the pool, hehehe.”

“No, Mom, I’m not farting, I’m burping! Oh god, what’s going on?” Steve thought in a panic, still under assault by the overwhelming ass taste and poop stench of his emissions. “And what kids do you have to drop off at a pool? Liz and I are grown adults!”

Suddenly, Steve felt himself lifted high into the air with dizzying speed, and soon he was being carried, face down, to an unknown location. He was still in darkness, with two massive, warm, sweaty walls of flesh pressed in on him. It was so stuffy and hot between the walls, it would have been unbearable even if the air wasn’t almost entirely composed of his own revolting, ass-flavored gas.

As he was bounced towards his destination, with each bounce accompanied by the sound of a footstep, Steve once again heard and felt the hideous gurgling and bubbling behind his lips. With the next footstep bounce a short, foul belch exploded out of his tight lips, expelling wet flecks of hot spittle that did not taste at all like saliva. Before Steve could even think about what had happened, the next footstep bounce forced another explosive, wet burst of foul fumes and wet droplets between his lips.

Each footstep bounced Steve more, and each bounce forced another disgusting expulsion of odors, tastes, and hot droplets of fluid out of his tight, resisting lips; whoever was carrying him was speeding up into a violent jog. Even more ominously, Steve felt the presence of something huge emerging behind his lips, some soft mass under pressure that it was becoming harder and harder to contain. “Oh god,” Steve heard his mother say in a booming voice as belch after poop-smelling belch was forced through his unwilling lips, “I’m barely going to make it!”

Next, after a dizzying bit of jostling, Steve felt himself falling downward at breakneck speed, and as he braced himself for impact, the giant walls of flesh suffocating him quickly peeled away, revealing a large, strangely shaped pool of water far beneath him. He suddenly came to a stop, hanging in the air, face down, over the odd pool.

Before Steve had time to appreciate the fact that he could finally see, or attempt to identify the bizarre yet oddly familiar pool beneath him, his tight lips were pushed and stretched outward and down to obscene dimensions, and a soft, densely packed log of feces began to slide out of him. Above him, his mother loudly grunted with effort, but Steve didn’t even hear; he was too consumed with his other sensations. The endless cornucopia of unbearably disgusting flavors, the all-powerful stench of shit, the sickening feeling of the ever shifting textures of slime, fiber, and lumps of corn as the log of poop slid through his lips, the stinging, spicy heat of the poop, the paradoxically pleasurable sensation of being stretched to his absolute limits by the poop. All these sensations wrestled for control of his shattered mind. Every sensation of the poop made Steve’s pathetic little mind its bitch, mentally fucking him to the edge of nonexistence.

As his mind was helplessly tossed between slimy fecal textures, indescribable fecal flavors, and the sexual pleasure of stretching for fecal excretion, Steve watched a chunk of the turd break off the log and fall into the toilet bowl, and he finally realized what he had become. “Oh no! I’m my mommy’s anus!”

But how on earth did this happen? “Oh my god,” Steve struggled to think under the relentless assault of the slowly emerging Mexican food turd, “The potion.”

That back alley witch had seemed so friendly when she sold him that dating potion the night before. “Bruh, you’re going to see so much ass with this potion, you won’t even believe it,” she laughed, counting the $200 Steve had paid her. “And not just any ass, my dude. The ass of a woman who you truly love, and who truly loves you. Drink it tonight before you go to bed, and starting tomorrow, your new life as the ultimate ass man will begin!” Somehow, Steve had failed to notice the witch’s nearby friends turning red as they stiffled laughter.

His mother grunted and groaned with effort, and salty rivulets of sweat tricked toward her anus, mixing with the spicy dump she was taking through Steve’s helpless lips. The flavors and aromas of Mommy’s turd were unspeakably terrible, but the overwhelming feeling of being fucked by the turd as it stretched him to utterly impossible proportions, the sensation of being made Mommy’s turd’s little butthole bitch, was more incredible than anything he’d ever felt. As he swam in the feeling of being fucked by that dense, soft, penis-like turd made out of Mommy’s digested Mexican food, even the disgusting sensations that were forced upon him were strangely pleasurable. “Yes, Mommy’s big, strong turd, I’ll taste you, smell you, anything you want! I’m just Mommy’s turd’s Little Butthole Bitch! Ahhh!”

Simultaneously, he felt another bizarre, unexpected emotion: pride. Steve was so proud to be helping his mommy push this huge, stinky turd out of her butt. Mommy’s little anus was working so, so hard to pass Mommy’s turd, he was letting the turd make him its Little Butthole Bitch, all for Mommy. Mommy would feel so much better after pooping! Mommy’s little anus loved Mommy so much.

Proudly submitting his tiny sphincter self to be fucked senseless by the grotesque sensations of Mommy’s Mexican food turd, watching yet another chunk of the beautifully disgusting log of feces break off and fall into the toilet with a splash, it briefly occurred to Steve that he should be resisting these strange new feelings, which were not normal feelings for a human man to have about being his mommy's anus. But the truth was that he didn’t want to resist, not even a little bit. “I’m Mommy’s Anus, and from now on, every single one of Mommy’s turds will make me its Little Butthole Bitch on its way out of her! Yes!!!” he screamed internally, tasting and feeling the little nodules of undigested corn on the surface of Mommy’s turd as it squeezed through him.

When the last of the turd log began to slip out of Steve, he felt an explosion of absolute pleasure and umimaginable relief. He hung open and empty for a moment, then slowly contracted shut. Upon hearing Mommy sigh with relief, his heart swelled with pride to the point of bursting.

Mommy’s proud little anus stared down at the stinky pile of slimy poops he’d helped Mommy produce. The anus was in a state of complete bliss, occasionally twitching with the post-coital pleasures an anus feels upon pooping. Feeling the total warmth of bliss and tasting the loathsome flavors of the feces stains that he was caked with, Mommy’s anus didn’t think much at all. His thoughts began to silence themselves, replaced with the sensation of perfect emptiness that can only be felt by an anus that has been emptied of poop.

“Mommy’s anus... no need think,” the anus lazily realized as it near mindlessly watched and smelled a strong stream of pee spraying out of Mommy’s pussy, only inches away, down onto the pile of Mommy’s turds. “No decide when fart... when poop... when wait. Mommy decide when. Mommy think... for anus. Mommy think... instead of anus.”

His final thoughts faded away into the perfect bliss of simply being, and by the time Mommy was wiping him with a wad of toilet paper, pleasantly digging the feces off of him, Steve was nothing more or nothing less than a totally normal anus, no different than yours or mine. Like any other anus, he felt sensations, and also like any other anus, he had no mind with which to have any thoughts about what he felt; instead, his mommy would have thoughts about the things her anus felt, just like you or I might have thoughts about things our anuses feel.

Steve was a conduit, sending the butthole sensations he felt to his Mommy's mind, and passing poops from Mommy's rectum into the toilet... but he would never again have thoughts or a mind of his own. He was merely an anus, his Mommy's mindless little sphincter, and although he could never say it or even think it, there was nothing else he'd rather be.

EPILOGUE

"Wait... so the potion you sold that guy is going to kill him?"

"No," the street witch explained to her friend, annoyed, "I just told you what it'll do! It's going to turn him into his mom's asshole!"

"And then his mind is going to disappear and he's going to stop thinking forever?"

"Almost certainly. The type of transformation potion I sold him won't magically erase his mind, but it doesn't put any magical protections on his mind, either. There are occasionally weird, exceptional cases of people with strong wills holding onto their human minds indefinitely even without magical protections, but they're very rare. And that guy was a total dope... I bet his mind disappears within his first day as his mom's asshole."

"And then he'll be dead."

"No, he won't be dead! He'll be a living, functional anus! His mom will use him to poop, to fart, to do sexy butt stuff if she's into sexy butt stuff, all of the things a normal, living anus does. He won't be dead, he'll be alive, as a mindless anus!"

"You're just dodging my question!"

The street witch laughed, "No, you bitch! I'm trying to show you that there is no singular correct answer to your question! If you define being alive so narrowly that it means you have to be having thoughts, then I suppose you might say that he'll be dead. Although even in that case, it's possible that he'll still have very slow, very low level thoughts, undetectable even to himself. But even assuming he has no thoughts at all, why should you think he's dead? He still has blood pumping through him, he still has a biological function, he still feels sensations!"

"How can you have feelings without a mind? Ouch!" the witch's friend cried in exaggerated pain as the witch suddenly pinched her arm.

"Your arm just felt that pinch. But your arm has no mind with which to have thoughts about what it feels, so it just passed that feeling on to you, and you had thoughts about it. It will be the same for that guy once he becomes his mother's asshole. He'll feel things every time he's used to fart, to poop, to sit on a butt plug, and his mom will think thoughts about those feelings, like, 'Ooh, that butt plug feels so nice in my butthole son.'" The girls both laughed.

"I don't know... even if I agree that he is sort of alive, it still sounds pretty mean."

"Oh," the witch said with a wicked smile, "It was undoubtedly mean." The two girls laughed together as they walked together into the bustling nightlife of the city streets.