The Telemachus Story Archive

Butter Ball Parade
Chapter 2
By baboonfan

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The Butterball parade part 2

As Larry Boggs was weeping, he felt the thick straps of the harness that he was attached to pinch him slightly. With his eyes he followed the rope from his harness to an enormous crane. There were three giant cranes, one hooked up to him, one to Upton, and one to Howard. While the other fatboys weren’t hooked up to the crane, they still had their harnesses on. Then Larry noticed why the harness was pinching him. It was picking him up. He kicked his legs and flailed his arms, but his tremendous bulk made him too heavy to even swing the cable slightly. To his horror, he saw that the wall was opening, and that the wind that was blowing in could only be that of places that are extremely high up.

“What are you doing to me!” he screamed at the policeman.

“Why, starting the parade of course!” the policeman said with a nasty grin.

“Parade?!! But we’re naked!” Howard screamed, his voice becoming shrill with panic.

“Yup.” The cop grinned. “The Butterball Parade. You fatasses are going to be the first ones out.”

As he spoke, the cranes swung the three unfortunate fat men out the opened wall. Eyes bulging out of their skulls, the three men looked down and saw that they must have been near the top of a sky scraper! Down below they could see what looked like a blue bottlecap, surrounded by ants.

With a hearty laugh, the cop shouted, “Happy landings, butterballs!” Then he made a cutting motion with his hand to the men controlling the cranes. Then harnesses that were securing the men suddenly detached from their bodies, and the three men began their naked plummet to the ground.

Despite what you may think, none of them screamed. The truth is they were too frightened to scream. The fear they felt paralyzed their lungs the same way their fat bodies did their limbs. The only thing more terrifying to the men than the rapidly approaching ground was that their bodies would occasionally spin in mid-air, blocking their view of the ground.

As the distance between the men and the ground shrank, their view of the ground improved. The little black ants they saw were actually huge crowds of people; more people than those who come out for the Thanksgiving Parade. And the little blue bottlecap was-

BAM! SPLASSSHHH! An enormous tank! This tank must have been built to house blue whales, because even at the tremendous velocity at which the men were falling, they weren’t liquified by the impact. The water must have been a quarter of a mile deep! It also didn’t hurt that they were covered in layers upon layers of fat, to cushion their fall.

As the men sank to the bottom, they were relieved that they escaped hitting the pavement… until they realized that they could no longer swim. Despite the buoyoncy of fat, there was simple too much fat on them. They kicked and squirmed, desperate to reach the surface for a gulp of air, but it was for naught.

Just as the last of their air bubbles were escaping from their mouths, they noticed that the floor of the tank was slowly rising to the surface. The floor was actually built like a metal collander, with the water running through special holes while the solid men stayed on top of the floor.They prayed that it would speed up, their time rapidly running out, but the floor moved at a mercilously slow pace.

Finally the floor reached the height at which the butterballs’ heads were above water level, and they gasped for air, coughing and sputtering up water. As they looked around, they saw the millions of people gathered around the tank and in the street. They wore t-shirts and shorts in the summer weather. Entire families were camped out in the streets, with lawn chairs and coolers full of food and drinks. Their were even vendors pushing their carts through the crowds, selling ice cream cones, suveniors, hot dogs, etc.

The shock from their brushes with death worn off, they grew very embarrassed. All the people were laughing and jeering at them, at their hideously fat bodies, at their shrunken sex organs that were invisible under the layers of their fat.

The three men thought that the worse was over, but they were very wrong. The floor they were on tipped, and they slid over the side of the giant tank, and onto what looked like an enormous metal sheet covered with potholes the size of a football field. Larry wondered what the potholes were for until an enormous rounded metal pole speared itself upward into his ass. Despite the fat padding his ass, the metal assault caused Larry to emit a high pitched squeal, echoed by his friends, who had also found the purpose of the holes. To even further his agony, the titanium steel poles raised themselves upward, the weight of the men’s bodies pushing them further down the poles as they were lifted.

Then, when the poles had reached a height of about 12 feet, the butterballs asses impaled on them like giant pink marshmallows, the poles gave a short, yet jackhammer like thrust upward. This thrust sent the men screaming into the air about ten feet up, and ten feet directly infront of them. The next metal pole shot out of its hole to catch the men in midair. The butterballs woud be given about a minute to recover, then this would start over, with a violent thrust upward, then another sudden penetration. As they worked their way up the field, from the massive crowd came a song,

(Sung to the tune of Hanukkah, Festival of Lights)

Butterball, butterball, The Butterball Parade!

Fat asses fly, in the sky!

Oh listen to them scream!

Butterball, butterball, let the games begin!

They’re dead meat!

What a treat!

Everyone join in!

After the third repeatition of the song, the men finally made it across the field. Luckily they survived without rupturing their internal organs, but their assholes would never be the same. At the end of the metal field was a conveyor belt that they landed on. As soon as the third man hit the belt, it started moving. It led them down the street towards a bridge. As they moved down the street, they were insulted and laughed at and pelted with garbage. Not having enough strength to lift his arms to cover his face, Larry got several mouths full of rotten food, shreds of newspaper, and who knows what else. Finally they arrived under the bridge, and the three got some relief from the burning summer sun. Then they saw the machine.

On this large rectangular machine there were three dastardly cup-holder looking claws, and curiously enough, below each claw was a door opening with a picture of a pink cupcake on it. Dreading the terrible ordeal that was inevitably coming, the butterballs braced themselves.

They heard a small ding, and the doors swung upwards, revealing a cubicle that

contained a large frosted cake. Each of the claws took the cake from its respective container and shoved it into the mouths of the men. When the men tried to spit out the cake that was bigger than their heads, the wicked claws jammed themselves over their mouths, completely sealing their lips with the force of their steel grip. Larry, Upton, and Harry had two choices. Chew and swallow, or choke and die. As they frantically chomped using the small amount of space the claws let them move their lips, three new claws came out of a secret hatch at the top of the machine. A new ding was heard, and the doors swung open, revealing three more cakes. Just as the men were finishing with their last cakes, the first claws moved to make room for the new claws to shove the next cake into their mouths. When they tried to protest the old claws yet again covered their mouths. This constant forced feeding went on for what seemed like half and hour, and by the end of it the three men had frosting smeared all over their faces and tears flowed freely down their cheeks.

As the conveyor belt moved them towards the next torture, each of the three men thought the same thing. “What did I do to deserve THIS?!”

That was an eventful day, for as Larry, Harry and Upton moved onto their next event in the parade, the next three men were dropped outside of the skyscraper to fall into the tank. Each and every man in the giant room was lifted and tossed out the window, to go through each unique torture that the original three men had.

The Butterball Parade lasted for hours, going long into nightfall. After the force feeding the men were subjected to a whirling ride, where they were strapped into a merrygo round device until they had vomited up all the cake. Several events follwed after that including pin the tail on the butterball, the frontwards body luge down an icy side street, a spanking machine (with a giant robotic hand), face painting with a prize to the contestant who made the silliest looking butterball, egg tosses, etc.

By the end of the night, every man who had been in the warehouse lay bruised and filthy at the bottom of the hill where Main Street ended. When the crowds had finished jeering at the former criminals now butterballs, the policeman came back with the cranes.

Larry looked up defeatedly at the cop.

“Is it, finally over?” He pleaded, his voice breaking with exhausted sobs. The cop gave him a sadistic grin that made his blood run cold with terror.

“No butterball. It’s just getting started.” The cranes loaded the fatasses onto several large cattleholding trucks, with six butterballs squeezed into each. Then when the last fatty had been loaded up, the trucks rode into the night.

to be continued...