For Better or For Much, Much Worse

Prompt Day #158: Reread the grossest scene in your memory from a work of fiction. Now invent a plot that BEGINS with that same scene, written your way with completely new characters, creatures, and/or other elements. (If that doesn’t work, try making the gross scene the climax). Be careful not to plagiarize, and consider adding a new wrinkle to the picture.


The scene I chose is from Chuck Palahniuk’s Haunted: A Novel of Stories. If you are a horror fan and are not easily disturbed, then it is a great read. But there was a scene early in the book that made me put my sandwich down. I couldn’t eat it and listen (I do a lot of audio books) at the same time. That takes a lot, given my profession. Not much bothers me but this one did. So, I tried opening with a scene like it but I couldn’t do it. This idea came to me so instead, I ended/used it as the climax. Still pretty happy and completely grossed out with myself for pulling it off. WARNING: Do not read any further if you have a queasy stomach or you are easily offended. (or if you know me personally and will judge me by my sick mind!)

For Better or For Much, Much Worse


She’d never used a bidet before but it was soothing now and it was buying her time. She couldn’t go back out there and face the man she’d just married. A man who had always wanted to try anal sex and who she had put off until tonight, their honeymoon when she drank enough champagne to give in, to actually act as if she wanted it just to make him happy.

The water felt nice though. She felt icky and she wondered if all of his deposit had been washed away.

“Danielle!” Are you ok? She heard him calling. She needed to go out there and face him. She hit the button with an icon that appeared to show the bidet flushing. She felt a tube of sorts rise up and gently kiss her ass and then, it began to suck.

“Danielle!” the door knob was jiggling now, he was trying to get in. She tried to stand, no matter how good the sensation felt, but the suction held her where she was.

“I’m fine, Sweetheart, I just need some time to clean up” She called. God, the sucking felt so good. So much better than getting a semen enema. She sat back, closed her eyes and let the bidet do its job. Out of the blue and without warning, she came. It was amazing, like nothing she had ever experienced before. Now that she was relaxed and finally satisfied, she could go back out there and face Brad. She hit the button again assuming it was a simple toggle switch. It only sucked harder. She hit it again and again but it wouldn’t stop. She examined all the console looking for anything that resembled stop but there was no stop. She couldn’t call Brad in to help her with this, it would be so embarrassing he would probably divorce her on the spot.

She decided her best bet was to simply pull herself off of it, go out and tell Brad she had meant to flush the bidet but hit a wrong button and couldn’t get it to stop. She stood up but felt a strange sensation.

Damn him for guilting her into having anal sex, now she felt as if her whole bottom was falling out. She took a step; there was a tugging now. She arched her head around and over her shoulder to see what the problem was and was horrified to see a purplish-red rope connecting her to the bidet. It was like some demonic umbilical cord. At first, she assumed it was the tube like thing that had been sucking on her back side. She pulled harder and an ache crawled far up inside her belly. That was when she knew.

Once she fully realized it was her own rectum that attached her to the bidet, she could see in its folds the clump of sperm her husband had shot up inside her. It looked like a glob of thick spit she would sometimes see lying on the sidewalks in the summertime. There was some brown spackle in the crevices as well. She stared, hypnotized by the sight of her innards stretched out behind her.

“Danielle, seriously, you’re scaring me. If you don’t come out, I’m calling the front desk.” He was jiggling the handle again. She looked around frantic trying to find something, anything to get her out of this mess. But what? What could she do? Even if she managed to get herself detached from the foreign toilet, how would she get the thing back inside her? She had no choice.

“Brad, I’m stuck. I need help.” She called out to him. Unsure of how she would explain her predicament.

The handle jiggled and he hit the door several times. “Unlock the door, I can’t get in.”

“I can’t, I’m stuck”

“Then I’m calling the concierge.” He said and the handle settled down silently.

“No, Brad! Please. Don’t call anyone up.” She cried out embarrassed.

“Then you have to let me in!” He yelled and banged on the door again. She would have to get to the door. She took a deep breath and told herself to just relax (the same way she’d gotten through the unnatural sex. She took two more steps feeling herself unraveling. She stretched and her fingertips brushed the door handle.

“Danielle! I’m serious. What is going on?” Brad was getting mad. One more step should do it and really what was six more inches of unraveled intestines at this point? She lunged and grabbed the handle. She swung open the door. He stood there, still naked, penis flaccid. His eyes wide, he took in the scene. His new wife naked as well, but she had a rubbery tail extending from her ass to the bidet.

“What happened?” he asked stunned.

“I…I don’t know, I came in after, you know and I felt like the bidet could help me wash some of it off and I hit a button. I thought it was the flush button but instead it grabbed me and suctioned my guts out. I…I don’t know what to do.” She was sobbing, embarrassed, uncomfortable and frightened. Brad took a hesitant step towards her.

“What should I do? Should I call 911?” He asked

“No! Please, I need you to pull it off the toilet, get it off of the bidet and then maybe we could just push it back in.” She said thinking irrationally. He took another step and stopped.

“I think I should call”

“No! Please, Brad, I’m begging you, please if you ever loved me just try to unhook me.” She begged. Brad reluctantly approached the intestinal snake attached to the bidet. He reached out, retracted his hand and then reached out again, resolved to help this woman who he had just pledged his life to. He grabbed the spongy, slippery tube in his hand and pulled, gently at first and then firmer. His fingers were enveloped by the edematous red tissue. Mucus and what he thought was probably his spent seed rolled down his knuckles as he tugged. He tried not to think about it.

“Danielle, it isn’t coming out, I have to call an ambulance.” He said, letting go of the thing, noting the fingermarks left in it. He shook the exudates off his hand.

Danielle didn’t answer. Her eyes rolled up and she began to seize. Falling to the floor, foaming at the mouth, her tonic-clonic seizure caused more colon to unravel from her bottom. In the fall, her arm must have hit the button on the bidet that seemed to turn the suction up even more. Brad watched in horror as his bride was being turned inside out in front of him. He reached out and grabbed the violaceous python sliding out of her and tried to stop it. It was too slippery though and he could not seem to get any purchase on it. He had no time to call 911 now, he couldn’t leave her either. What he had to do now was stop the unraveling.

Brad, without thinking more about it, grabbed a section of the pulpy cable closest to her and bit into it. Chewing with his back teeth, trying not to taste it, focused only on stopping the undoing of his new wife. Like a stray dog, he gnawed on the gummy cord until finally it was done. He spit out the mouthful of bloody feces and mucus. Scooping his wife into his arms, he opened the door, and carried her over the threshold.