Broderica and Lady Krumbumbum waded through the muck and mire of the dark moleman tunnels, taking left turns and right turns all the while squabbling at eachother like a burlap sack full of peacocks. As they both took a break from yelling at the other to inhale some unfresh air, their synchronized strides stepped right into a puddle that was actually not a puddle as much as a hole. A deep, dark hole that they quickly found themselves plunging down, elbow to elbow and ass to ass.

PHHLL SBPPLLLLFFFF

With that disturbingly flatulent reverberation, they had landed face down and rumps up, two mirroring isoceles triangles. They clambered up to try and look around, unable to see much of anything.

“Hey, cluckheads! Over here!” echoed a brash, boisterous voice that struck both of them as oddly familiar.

The ladies scanned their eyes around the perimeter, seeing little of where the voice could be coming from.

“Oh for cock’s sake! To your left!”

They both looked to their right, as was customary.

“Other left, cluckers!”

They looked to their left, eyes resting on a small, emaciated figure chained to a wall. Harsh light peaked out over his face from the crumbly ceiling, revealing dark, squinting eyes and a thicc, scraggled beard with a mustache so thicc and powerful it made Broderica jealous for her own lost mustache. Then she realized only one mustache had ever made her so jealous as this. She recognized it.

“We-heh-heh-hell, what the cluck are two lovely ladies like you doing here?”

“We’re not ladies!” whined Broderica, jiggling her boobs around in an unintentionally ladylike fashion.

“If you aren’t a cockhamned lady then I’m not chained to this clucking wall!”

“We’ll decide if we’re ladies or not,” replied Lady Krumbumbum, who wondered why Broderica had had a sudden bought of honesty, and hoped to conceal that honesty within socio-political connotations. It was then that she was struck by the familiarity of this gruff man’s face, and collection of moles by his eye that almost looked phallic in nature.

“Say,” gargled the man through a mouth of mucus, “You two look familiar. Have we clucked?”

Lady Krumbumbum slapped him. “No we haven’t clucked! Why would we want to cluck you?”

“I don’t know,” he spat, directing it politely away from the ladies, “I was just asking.”

“Xavier!” shouted Broderica. For a second, she almost sounded like Sir Broderick the Shitfaced.

She did not notice Krumbumbum roll her eyes and back away in balking disgrosst. “Or, should I say, Biscuit Pisser!”

“Oi! It’s been a while since anybody’s called me Biscuit Pisser!” smiled Xavier, “Who the cluck are you?”

“Does this ring any bells?” Broderica scooped up some dirt and manure and smeared it one her cheeks.

“Wait a second…wait a second…shit all over your face…no, it couldn’t be…Shitface? Cock! Clucking Shitface! It’s you! Cluck! Gimme a hug, Shitface!”

Broderica settled for patting Xavier lightly on the shoulder.

“Come on gimme a hug you old sozzled up piece of chupperware!”

“You just wanna to magic my tits you drizzly old anchovie,” jeered Broderica.

“You’re not wrong.” chuckled Xavier. “I must say, Shitface, you’ve…changed quite a lot since we were lads. I mean, it just never really seemed to be your thing, turning into a woman and all.”

“It’s not! I haven’t had much a choice!”

“That’s what a lot of people say. I’m happy for you, Shitface, I am. And a little jealous, if we’re being–”

“That’s not what I mean! I don’t want to be a woman, Biscuit Pisser. This hamned wizard over her turned us both into women and he doesn’t know how to undo it, cause he’s a clucking idiot!”

Lady Krumbumbum turned around, oscuring her face, magicing needles of adrenaline as Broderica singled her out.

“I know how ya feel, Shitface. This one wizard I knew a while back told me he could help me get rich in five simple spells! After the fifth spell, I had a sack full of cash and stars in my eyes. But then the next day I peeked in the sack and all that was there was dust and cow patties, and all my other assets had been liquified. Literally! I owned like three motels and they just turned into these big wet puddles of cock knows what. Then I look in the mail and what do I see but a copy of a contract for partial ownership If I ever catch that damned Krumbunculus I’ll wring his clucking neck!”

“What’s that, Biscuit Pisser? Did you say Krumbunculus?”

“Yes I’ll never forget his clucking name Shitface never in a million clucking years, we did the ten minute acquantiance thing and everything! Clucking bass turd.”

“Say, ehrm,” chuckled Broderica, pulling Lady Krumbumbum, “What do you think of all this, ‘Lady Krumbumbum’?”

Lady Krumbumbum met Biscuit Pisser’s gaze, face as red as a cherub’s ass after a spanking.

Biscuit Pisser, turning his own shade of red, lurched forward and struggled against his chains with all of his meager might. His veins popped out thiccly from his neck and forehead and it looked like blood vessels in his eyes were bursting.

“You! It’s you! One step closer you clucking bass turd one step closer and I’ll wring your clucking neck I’ll wring it out like a wet towel then I’ll slap it around and rip it in half! Cluck you! I clucking hate you! I hate you! I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you!!”

“Easy there, Biscuit Pisser,” Lady Krumbumbum could scarecly stop herself from erupting in laughter as Biscuit Pisser’s nickname tumbled out of her mouth.

“Hey don’t you clucking call me Biscuit Pisser! Did you know me when I was a lad? No! You knew me when I was a young, gullible, motel owning adult, and you humiliated the cluck out of me! Cluck you!”

“Biscuit Pisser,” Krumbumbum retorted, half to herself.

Broderica butted in. “Hey, seriously, don’t call Biscuit Pisser Biscuit Pisser, okay? He’s very touchy about it.”

“Thank you, Shitface. Clucking thank you. Cluck! I’m so clucking glad somebody clucking understands.”

“Look, Biscuit Pisser, what’s going on? Why are you, my fine sirrah, locked up here?”

“You mean you don’t know where the cluck you are, Shitface?”

“No. No clucking idea.”

“This…is…” Biscuit Pisser inhaled harshly, almsot choking on some saliva, “THE PIT.”

‘THE PIT’ echoed unimpressively, so Biscuit Pisser attempted to whisper it a coupled of times for added effect.

“Okay,” replied Broderica, “And what exactly does that mean, Biscuit Pisser?”

“It means that’s we’re all deep in shit.”

“Do you mean ‘in deep shit’?” posited Lady Krumbumbum.

“No you clucking truffle I mean we’re all deep in shit! This is the gods’ septic tank!”

That one echoed a hood bit.

Lady Krumbumbum was disgrossted. If Jeffrey with a G hadn’t been a hamned warlock, there would’ve been no need for a septic tank.

“Lovely,” sighed Broderica, “is there any way out?”

“Well, if it weren’t for that intrepid moleman all the shit in here would rise us all up to the top of THE PIT the next time the gods took a dump. But that creature is hamned near invincible!”

“Oh, I think he might’ve died,” replied Broderica.

“WHAT?!” spat Biscuit Pisser.

“Yes, I’m fairly sure he might’ve died. Krumbumbum, when you groped the moleman, did you feel any sort of a pulse?”

“Do I look like a medic?” snorted Krumbumbum.

“You look like you groped the moleman is what you look like.”

She slapped Broderica.

“Oooh, fiesty ladies, I love it!” chortled Biscuit Pisser. “B-but, if what you’re saying is true, then we are seriously, royally clucked! If the moleman doesn’t flush out all the shit from here it will fill the tank and rise to the top!”

Lady Krumbumbum inspected a broken nail. “Um. Isn’t that what we want? So we can get out of here?”

“No you idiots! I’m chained up! If that happens, I’ll drown in god shit! Cluck, we’ve got to do something. If only you had waited another couple of months. Maybe by then the band of rats I’ve befriended in here would’ve been able to chew through my chains! Hamn you! Hamn both of you for spelling my doom!”

“Come now Biscuit Pisser don’t be such a louse I’m sure we can get you out of these somehow. Krumbumbum, show him what you’ve got!”

“Yes, please do, I’d love to see what you’ve got, even though I hate you!” Biscuit Pisser spat in her face while implying that she might strip for him.

“Cluck you. Cluck both of you. I’m not showing him anything.”

BBMMBMBMMBMMMBBMMMM

“What’s that noise?” whispered Broderica.

“Oh cock! It’s coming! The prodigal shit!”

“Come on, Krumbumbum, show him what you’ve got!”

“No! I hate him!”

“Cock hamnit woman get it together! Biscuit Pisser, she has the moleman’s keys! She got them when she was groping him, and she can undoubtedly—”

In a scream of fury, Lady Krumbumbum leapt upon Broderica like a leopard and clawed at her face like a bear.

“I! Did not! Grope! The! Moleman!”

BBMMMBMMBMMBMBMBMMBM

“Ladies?” cried Biscuit Pisser. “Ladies, I’m sure this argument makes perfect sense to you, but might I remind you that a tidal wave of shit is going to breech our britches at any moment?”

“She won’t get off me!” warbled Broderica, grasping for Krumbumbum’s keyring, and accidentally grabbing her ass instead.

“Aaack!” she screamed. “Don’t you clucking grab my ass you cockhamned wench!”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Don’t you clucking talk to me about asses!” with a near inhuman fury, Broderica tossed Krumbumbum aside like a blanket and presented the keys to Biscuit Pisser.

“Do you clucking think I can unlock myself, with my arms chained to the wall? You’ve got to open me up yourself, idiot!”

“I am not an idiot,” fumed Broderica.

BMMMBMMBMBMBMMMMMMM

“Yea yea whatever Shitface will you please just unlock me so I don’t drown in shit?”

“Fine.” Broderica found the padlock on Biscuit Pisser’s chains, then fished for a key. “Now…er…which one…no…no…”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“What the cluck is wrong with you, Shitface? Half of the keys you’re trying are obviously too big! I knew you were an idiot but I didn’t know you were also stupid!”

“What in the cluck does that even mean?” muttered Broderica as she attempted to fit a key through the padlock upside down.

BMMMBMMBMBMBMMMMMMM

Broderica had finally fit a key through the padlock the right way around. She tried to turn it, to no avail.

“Hamn. Was sure I had that one.”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

This key started turning. Yes, it was clear she’d found the right one. One more turn, and…

“What the cluck?!” cried Biscuit Pisser.

BFFF

A sharp pain coursed through Broderica’s right temple. She felt blood pour down her neck as she fell over.

BMMMBMMBMBMBMMMMMMM

Broderica looked up to see Lady Krumbumbum looming over her, holding the padlock, cackling.

“Smug vitch,” she spat.

“Cluck you, Broderica! And cluck you, Biscuit Pisser! I hope you drown in shit!”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“How the clucking hen dare you call me Biscuit Pisser!” screamed Biscuit Pisser.

Lady Krumbumbum danced in a circle, holding the key in the air. “Biscuit Pisser Biscuit Pisser Biscuit Pisser Biscuit Pisser!”

“STOP IT!!”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

Suddenly, a door slid open in the far right. A large, lumbering figure emerged, and ran towards them.

“Feathery shit,” gasped Broderica. “The moleman.”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Hey…you!” cried the moleman, pointing at Lady Krumbumbum, who immediately froze in terror.

“Me?”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Yes…you…I need to…talk…to you…”

Bisucit Pisser interjected. “Hey moleman can’t you tell that a tsunami of shit is going to bury us if you don’t get to twerk?!”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Quiet yourself…rude…biscuit man…Now, listen…beautiful lady…for there is indeed…not much…time…before the shit will flow…over us…like foul smelling…lava…”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Ever…since…you…groped me…I have…been rethinking my…life choices…I had never…felt…such warmth…and such love…before that moment…love, for you…at first what was…disgrosst…at your…disturbing…attempts to…I retch now, even…to recall it…your attempts to…there the vomit is again…attempts to…flirt with…me…”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Oh my cock. I actually can’t clucking believe it,” roared Broderica with laughter, “You really did grope the moleman!”

“It was an accident!”

“Okay, moleman groper.”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Look, moley,” said Lady Krumbumbum in her squirreliest voice.

“Please…don’t talk…like that…I may…quite possibly…die…”

“Oh my cock can someone please unchain me before I drown?!” Biscuit Pisser was pissed.

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“Biscuit Pisser, you can’t go around trying to kill me if you survive this ordeal. Okay?”

“Whatever! Just let me out!”

“Fine. Moleman, go ahead and let Biscuit Pisser go.”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

“My…name…is…Eustace…but, for you…my love…I will answer…to any name…”

“Ugh just do what you’re told feathery shit!”

BBMMBMBBMBMBMMMBMMMM

Eustace grabbed Biscuit Pisser and ripped him from the wall, bending his chains every which way.

“You coulda used the key!” warbled Biscuit Pisser as his eyes swam around like goldfish.

BBMMBMBBMFFFSSSSHHHHHHHH

A shit tsunami was upon them. As it gurgled like a towering, malevolent jellyfish, the wave of shit sloshed itself up and over the party. Their ears popped and their eyes stung almost as much as their noses, which felt practically ready to call it quits and fall right off.

Broderica bobbed her head up above the rising wave with laborious gasps. She looked around, seeing Lady Krumbumbum emerge weakly and Biscuit Pisser shoot up like an angry rocket soon afterwards. All their eyes and teeth shone out from their new shitty skin covering.

“Cluck!” Biscuit Pisser spat unidentified liquid out of his mouth, looking ready to hurl. “Alright, everybody, let’s—” a wave covered his head for a moment, “—head toward—” another wave, “—that little exit—” he attempted to point up to where Lady Krumbumbum and Broderica had fallen in from only to be submerged in another wave, “—before this place fills up—” this time he just had to gasp “—and we clucking drown!”

They swam like haphazard, semiaquatic lizards to the hole in the ceiling as the shit water rose higher and higher. Of course this shitty altitude change threw off their depth perception, so that all but Biscuit Pisser ended up bonking their heads on the ceiling of the septic tank instead of gracefully floating through the hole. After a couple of accidentaly fondles on either side, Krumbumbum and Broderica were able to grope their ways to the exit and climb out to safety.

“Cluck!” Broderica spat out of the floor, and laid down on her belly in a mess.

Biscuit Pisser attempted to pull her back up, but was too weak. “Hey! Look, ladies, we’ve got to keep moving! Do you think the shit is going to stay confined in THE PIT if moleman doesn’t drain it? Hen, it’s going to flood the whole arena!”

Broderica and Lady Krumbumbum groaned and moaned and slumped up to their feet like drunken penguins.

“So, I guess we won’t be getting any help from Jeffrey with a G about our…problem,” sighed Broderica, gesturing to her enormous rack.

“No,” replied Biscuit Pisser, staring blatantly, “I guess not. Now quit your vitching and let’s get the cluck outta here!”

Broderica and Krumbumbum staggered to lazy runs alongside Biscuit Pisser, who was moving quite erraticly, like a hummingbird using two pogo sticks as stilts. He turned left, then right, then right, then left, then left, then right, then he turned around and went left, then right, then right, then right, then right, then left, then right.

“Feathery shit,” rasped Broderica, “How much clucking longer are we going to be running? And how do you know where to go? And where are we going?”

“Cock!” Biscuit Pisser shouted as he turned left, then right, then left, “Just quit yapping at me! Cockhamned women always complaining!”