Short Story: A Midsummer Night’s Bottom (NSFW)

(1000 word flash fiction)

An unfortunate waxing incident throws an opera production into disarray, but a nifty plant saves the day and brings a baritone bear and an enterprising otter a lasting love.

**As per the flash fiction draw, this was meant to be a fairy tale, but I bent the rules by making it a tale of people putting on an opera about fairies. PLEASE NOTE: Alliterations abound in this ribald romantic romp.**

Genre: fairytale. Setting: studio apartment. Object: potted plant.

***

I’m kind of at boiling point. I haven’t slept in ages, too busy cramming lines. Just about everything that could have gone wrong with this opera has, and right as we hit production week that goddamn Fuck—sorry, Puck—abandons us to be in some crappy reality TV show. Apparently, that’s what actors aspire to these days. As Assistant Director and defacto understudy, I have to step into the tights the little bastard vacated. I may be fit and flexible, but I’m forty-four. Benjamin Britten—nay, Shakespeare—would be turning in his grave.

Now, to add to my endless list of woes, I need to sort out a crucial problem with my Bottom. Well, not my bottom. Bottom’s bottom. Not that I’m complaining. I was the one who cast Barry the baritone—big, burly bear—not least because I knew of the skimpy little thong that our pervy director wanted him to wear in one scene.

The doorbell rings as I’m trying to squeeze into my fairy costume, the one that that twenty-two-year-old twink was supposed to wear. We open tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be up all night with the Janome.

Burly Barry bowls into my cramped studio apartment, panic in his eyes. “My arse!” he cries, then turns and drops his shorts to the floor. I’m agape. That beautiful, brawny furburger is now two red, rashy bare buns. “I got it waxed and now it’s a pizza!”

Meatlovers, indeed.

Brainwave. “Allie!” I shout, and run out to the large potted succulent on my balcony. Armed with a couple of juicy aloe vera leaves, I bend beefy Barry over my bed and get to work. “You know, a lot of opera queens are gonna be disappointed they don’t get to see Bottom’s hairy bottom now. Your arse nearly got featured billing.”

“Really? My big ol’ butt?” Barry sounds bashful. “I wish I hadn’t listened to those bitches. All that pain and only a pimpled posterior to show for it.”

“Don’t worry,” I soothe. “It’ll grow back… hey, what’s this?” I’ve been rubbing the aloe vera over his bulky buttocks, discreetly working my way towards his cleft, only to find the valley between is still thickly forested.

“Oh, yeah. Wouldn’t let them near my arsehole. I’m way too sensitive in there.”

“Wow… are you telling me that supposedly-straight Barry’s a big ol’ bottom?” I blurt. Fuck it, my face is so close to paradise I’m losing all sense of decorum.

“Bugger off,” Barry laughs. “Barry’s just a bit bi.” He moans as I run a finger through the forest. “Well… actually it’s all boys and no babes these days. But no boners in my bum, thanks. Just a tongue or two.”

It’s emphatic. An invitation.

Electromagnetic force draws my face in and I’m submerged in glorious, sweaty manliness. The bliss is palpable. The bellows coming from this bear as my tongue goes to town have my ferret flexing under my codpiece.

I stand up and strip, flipping the behemoth on his back, revealing a stump of a cock every bit as sturdy as his strapping body.

“Keep going, Ken,” begs Barry, and flogs his foreskin as I lift his legs and dive back down for dinner.

It’s not a degustation, though. I’m a pig at a trough. And it appears to be just what Barry likes.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” he howls, his hairy hole humping against my tongue as he jerks and jolts.

I rise to see the artwork he’s spurted all over the swell of his bushy belly and pumped pecs, and this causes me to splatter him with my own spray of spunk.

Powerful paws pull me close and my slender frame is smothered in soft fur and manly muscle. Bearded Barry’s lips are moist and gentle and he strokes my hair as his tongue wraps around mine. His finishes with a feather-light flourish and settles back with a smile. His eyes glisten in the lamplight and my heart melts.

“I can cover your mounds with make-up,” I murmur, as I massage the chafing cheeks behind him. “But it’s a four-week run and we’ll have to do this every night.”

All of this?” Barry grins and rolls on top of me, launching into Round Two.

***

We’re close to closing night now. My baritone bear has kept up his end of the bargain and diligently comes round each night to submit to me. Recently he’s also begun coming back after the show, jacking up the aircon (it is Midsummer, after all) and spending the night with me buried in his brawny bearhug.

My squashy little studio has never seen so much carnal frenzy, so much tender affection. Allie is looking a little worse for wear after being stripped of her leaves daily, but Bottom’s bottom is well on the way to becoming the hirsute heaven it once was. And while all the guys and gals get to gawk at Barry’s bum in its skimpy little cossie, I’m the lucky bugger who gets to bring it back home with me.

***

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