Powder Slap

“Hey babe! How was work?” I asked my boyfriend as he walked into our apartment.

“Rough,” he replied, shutting the front door behind him.

He appeared to be walking stiffly with a slight limp. He’d just finished working his shift as a line cook. Concerned, I pushed myself out of the over-stuffed velour chair we’d found on the side of the road when we’d first moved in together.

“Awe! I’m sorry sweetie,” I cooed, pulling him in for a hug.

He reeked of French fry grease and stale fast food.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong. I—I would really like you to take a look for me,” he stuttered, his eyes appearing round and vulnerable.

“Take a look?” I asked, feeling confused.

He pulled away from me, casting his gaze toward the ground. “Yeah—it’s my butt,” he said sheepishly.

I paused, trying to compute what he had just said.

“Your butt?” I asked, feeling alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s been—inflamed—all freaking day,” he mustered.

I snorted, laughing from deep within my belly. “Um, okay. I mean, I guess I could look if you really need me too.”

He blushed, shooting me a playful grin. “Okay, lemme get outta these clothes. You get the stuff and meet me in the bedroom.”

“The stuff?” I asked, feeling genuinely bewildered.

“Yeah—you know, like, cream or something,” he stated, as if it were obvious.

I laughed again, feeling a bit embarrassed. We'd been together for almost a year, but this was definitely a first for me. He smirked, letting out a little chuckle as he headed toward our bedroom.

Shaking my head, I went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet under the sink. We didn’t have much in the way of first aid, but I was sure I could find something that would help him.

“What the heck do I need in order to soothe someone’s butt?” I thought.

Then it hit me: “What if it was his actual boo-hole that he wanted me to examine?!” My stomach did a little flip. “Oh, gross!” I thought, trying to shake the image of his incredibly hairy anus slice out of my head.

Taking a deep breath, I let out a nervous laugh. I grabbed a few cotton swabs and some wound cream.

"What else could I use? It was probably pretty moist back there—" I mused."Ah ha!” I exclaimed, grabbing a bottle of baby powder that I found lying on its side in the very back of the cupboard. “This should help,” I thought, turning toward the bedroom.

“Okay! I think I have what we need,” I shouted brightly, trying to mask the internal panic I was feeling.

Upon entering the room, I saw him lying face down on our bed, arms tucked under his pillow, legs spread eagle and waiting. My jaw dropped, along with the supplies I was holding in my hands.

There he lay in all his glory, wearing light grey boxer briefs with his round toosh stuck up in the air like a cat in heat. He was purposely trying to be funny, so at first my laughter didn’t alarm him. It wasn’t until I couldn’t stop laughing that he realized something was off.

My laughter went from snorting, to giggling, to laughing, to shrieking, to tears streaming down my cheeks. Within seconds, I was doubled over, falling to my knees while cradling my sides. Startled, he picked his head up off the pillow. The goofy grin he’d been wearing faded into confusion.

“What?! What is it?!” He shouted, craning his neck to see his backside.

I couldn’t speak. Tears of mirth poured down my cheeks. Every last one of my teeth were exposed as I ugly laughed. It took everything I had not to pee myself while trying to point him toward the bathroom mirror.

“What?!” He shouted again, his eyes getting larger with fear.

“Go—go look!” I managed to stammer while gasping for air.

Fast as lightning, he snapped his body off the bed, jumping up on the bathroom counter, twisting his body so that he could view his rear in the mirror. I ran after him, desperate to witness his reaction.

Frozen in shock, we both stared in silence at the most illustrious poop stain either one of us had ever seen. I flipped the lights on, further illuminating the damage.

“Oh—oh my god. . .” he gasped, his hand flying to his mouth in disbelief.

The stain was the size and shape of a dinner plate. Like a giant brown eye of shame, the stain was so large it could have easily served as a practice target.

He turned and looked at me as we both burst into another fit of laughter. We laughed so long and hard that he could barely climb down off the counter.

After a few minutes of trying to compose ourselves, I finally stammered, “C’mon, let’s go look at this thing.”

He shook his head firmly. “No way! I’m taking a shower first!”

“That might be a good idea,” I agreed, raising my eyebrows.

He laughed again and turned on the shower, throwing the incriminating underwear into the trash can.

“Nope,” I said, plucking them out, “I’m keeping these as evidence!”

He smirked and rolled his eyes at me before disappearing behind the shower curtain. Giggling to myself, I picked up the cotton swabs, cream, and powder from the bedroom floor and waited for him.

Not more than a few minutes later, he waltzed in, dropped his towel, and belly flopped down next to me.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said with a grin.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” I said, climbing behind him.

His rear end was like two round, hairy moons. The crack was dark and ominous. Heat from the shower was still misting from its crevice. I wrinkled my nose, readying my cotton swab, and snorted.

“What?” He asked anxiously.

“I just realized something—you worked grill today, didn’t you?”

“Sure did,” he said, laughing in embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” I replied in shock. “You made all those people’s food while digging away the entire day?! I don’t even know how this could happen! How in the heck did you not notice it had gotten so bad?!”

“Hey, its not like I knew!” He exclaimed, defending himself.

Taking a deep breath, I placed my left hand on his left butt cheek, and my right hand on his right butt cheek, gently parting them. A warm, moist, waft of air made me pull away in disgust.

“Well, it’s pretty raw,” I said, getting closer and examining the sensitive areas. “I’m just going to dab some of this cream on everything, and then put some powder on it.”

“Sounds good,” he said in a tense voice.

“How embarrassing,” I thought as I swabbed his injury with cream.

Lastly, I picked up the powder and shook it liberally. Spreading his voluptuous cheeks a bit further, I sprinkled a little more powder directly on his inflamed anus. It looked like a red, angry, balloon knot. . . I was starting to feel very sorry for him.

Hesitantly, I got a little closer, hovering mere inches from his most private area. Satisfied that I had done a good job fixing him up, I smiled and started to say, “All done!” But before I could even get out the first word, I noticed the baby powder begin to quiver.

Pffffffffffffffffffffft! His rectum sang, releasing a cloud of baby powder and subsequently crop dusting my entire face.

I swallowed, holding my breath and blinking, unable to move.

“Uhhh! Oh my god! What the—no you didn’t!” I shrieked.

He turned to look at me, laughing the second he saw my face covered in white dust. I was paralyzed in complete mortification. His eyes disappeared into crescent shapes, his mouth gaping open while the whole bed shook from his laughter.

When he was finally able to speak, he gasped, “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I had no idea it would do that!”

Tears stung the back of my eyes as I wiped away the powder, spitting it out of my mouth and wiping it away from my lips. Shame and sheer admiration for the comedic brilliance of the entire scenario made me burst into both laughter and tears.

“Oh! Babe, don’t cry!” He exclaimed, reaching out to hug me.

I jerked away from him and grabbed a pillow, swinging it vengefully at his head. What kind of person thought letting flatulence out in front of his girlfriend’s mouth was somehow a lesser offense than his fart unintentionally pimp slapping her with baby powder?!

Although I had no idea how he imagined either scenario was better than the other, there was one thing I was completely confident of: he was definitely, most certainly, going to regret this. . .