| CHAPTER ONE
We adopted a baby jesus only a few months ago and it has already grown accustomed to our butt
holes. Normally it takes close to a year before a baby jesus will go fully inside of its owner’s rectum,
but ours can do it on command. Mary —my current wife who has sausage-colored hair and a tattoo
of a famous basketball player on her right eyeball – calls it a super baby jesus because of this. But the
ad in the newspaper said nothing about him having super powers at all. I don’t think he would have
been given away for free if he did. Super baby jesuses are worth a fortune!
The ad was placed by an elderly couple giving away a litter of baby jesuses to anyone who
could provide them with a good home. And when they said “a good home” all they really meant was
they didn’t want to give them to anyone who would stick them in their butts. But that was no
surprise to us. We were well aware that most older members of the community think it is socially
unacceptable to use the baby jesus as a butt plug. They always shout “Jesus is the son of God, not an
anal probe!” to people at the adult shops downtown. But nobody buys the baby jesus at adult stores
anymore. They charge way too much and it can be quite embarrassing to walk out of the store
holding a wiggle-crying baby jesus in your arms, trying to keep it quiet inside of its plastic bag.
Everyone stares at you in disgust, their mouths dropped open in shock and their eyebrows curled in
anger. They know what you’re up to. They know you’re planning on taking the baby of God home
to put him in your butt. That’s why most people get them through baby jesus breeders. It’s cheaper
and more private. Of course, the best way to get them is from people who give them away for free.
But these are usually people giving them away for pets and don’t intend to give them to anyone who
wants them for rectal exploration.
Mary was the one to find an ad in the newspaper for a litter of baby jesuses. She ruffled the
paper excitedly in my face, screaming “Let’s get a baby jesus! Let’s get a baby jesus!”
I groaned. All year she had been wanting to get a pet baby. She didn’t want to get a baby
version of either of us, though. She wanted a baby version of somebody famous.
I meek-responded, “W-why do you want to get a baby jesus for anyway? D-do you want
people to know we put things in our butts?”
“But they’re FREE!” Mary screamed. “And I’m sick to death of borrowing the neighbor’s
baby jesus all the time!”
“W-why can’t we just get a normal pet baby like we agreed?” I asked. “What happened to
that litter of john lennon babies that your boss was selling?”
Mary crossed her arms pouty-faced. “They weren’t full-breeds. They were john
lennon/andy warhol mixes. But they looked more like andy warhol/ulysses s. grant mixes.”
“Well, w-what about the elle fitzgerald baby that your sister was giving away?” I ask.
“Do you know how old that baby is? She’s had it for ten years! It’s ready to collapse.”
“How long do elle fitzgerald babies live?”
“Ten years if you’re lucky.”
“But baby jesuses only live to be eight years.”
“I don’t care,” Mary cried. “You’ve been promising me a baby all year and I want one now!”
“Well, I guess it would be okay,” I told her. “But we shouldn’t go around telling everyone
we have a baby jesus. They’re just going to think we use it for a butt plug. I can’t handle people
calling me names. Maybe we can tell them it’s just a baby version of me.”
Mary smiled and kissed her arm lightning-fast. “Yeah, we can do that! I think it’ll work! . . .
But you know jesuses perform miracles at unpredictable times. He’ll give us away if he starts walking
on water in the middle of a dinner party.”
I touch her shoulder lightly. “Oh, we’re going to have to make sure to lock him in the
bedroom when guests are over.”
CHAPTER TWO
We got him that same day, met with the old woman on the other side of town. She looked almost
younger than Mary, but she was over a hundred years old. I could tell by the way she was dressed
and the style of her copper hair.
Inside the woman’s kitchen, the baby jesuses crawled over each other like greasy
blubberroaches, squeaking and biting at each other.
“Which one’s the mother?” Mary asked.
The old woman pointed to the baby jesus lying in the center of the baby pile. “That’s the
mother, the one with the swollen nipples.”
We looked at a baby jesus with six large breasts lined down its ribcage. The other baby
jesuses were fighting each other to suck the nipples.
“Well, which one is the father?” Mary asked.
“The father’s dead,” the old woman responded with a painted on eyebrow. “He bit one of
the neighbor’s kids and had to be put to sleep.”
“I thought jesuses were pretty mellow babies,” I say to the old woman.
“Baby jesuses are a strange breed. Sometimes they are very affectionate darlings and other
times they can be nasty and bite all the time.”
“That’s too bad you had to put him to sleep,” Mary said. “Was he cremated?”
“No, my husband wanted him stuffed. It was our first baby, so we were pretty attached.
Once we get it back form the taxidermist, we will put him over there by the fireplace.”
“Oh, that will be a lovely place for it!” Mary said with a big cherry-flavored smile.
“So do you want a boy or a girl?” asked the old woman.
“They all look alike,” I said. “H-how can you tell them apart?”
“From their belly buttons,” the woman said, picking one of the babies up by its leg. “See this
one is a boy because it has a frog-shaped belly button. If it were a girl, the belly button would be
nose-shaped.”
“I don’t understand,” I told her. “How do they reproduce?”
“Well, they lick each other’s belly buttons until the female’s nose-shaped belly button flares
its nostrils and the male’s frog-shaped belly button opens its mouth and releases several sperm-like
creatures that look kind of like wolf spiders.”
“That’s disgusting,” I told her.
“Well, nature can be disgusting sometimes.”
“Let’s get a boy!” Mary screamed. “I always wanted a baby boy.”
“Well,” said the woman, “they are all baby boys in a sense.”
“I don’t care,” Mary said. “I’d rather have a male baby boy than a female baby boy!”
“J-just don’t touch his belly button,” I told Mary. “I don’t want any wolf spiders in the
house.”
Mary picked the one she wanted and wrapped it up in a blue blanket. Her face was brighter
than it was the day we married.
“One more thing,” said the old woman. “You’re not like those weirdos who use baby jesuses
for sex, are you?”
Mary and I looked at each other. My left eye start to twitch a little.
“No, we hate those people,” Mary said.
“Yeah, those people are perverts,” my words rattled out.
“Well, I hope not,” said the old woman. “You know what will happen if you mistreat them
don’t you?”
Mary kissed the baby on the forehead.
“God will punish you,” she continued. “God doesn’t stand for people making a mockery of
his son just because he is in the shape of a baby. If you stick this child in your butt, you’ll damn
yourself to hell.”
“Don’t worry,” Mary said to the old woman, holding the infant tight to her chest. “I know
exactly what you’re talking about. There are all kinds of horrible people in the world these days. It
just makes me sick to think of what they are capable of! I can’t believe that some people actually
have the nerve to use the holy powers of the messiah on anal expeditions! Sometimes I can’t even
sleep at night.”
The young-looking old woman nodded in agreement at Mary. You could tell by the look in
her eyes that she was thinking Mary would be a great mother to that baby jesus. Mary would
provide it with a very-very good home.
CHAPTER THREE
Once we got home, we immediately took turns inserting the baby jesus into each other’s rectums.
And then we fucked on the top shelf in our bedroom closet, Mary’s back grinding into all the dusty
boxes of clothes and cobwebs, my butt cheeks smacking against the ceiling. And with each thrashing
movement, I felt the unbelievably refreshing pain of the butt plug/son of God as it squeezed against
the interior walls of my digestion hole. And as I came, I thought about robots made out of wood
and soil traveling across the garbage landscape of central Wyoming.
We lied still for some quiet moments up there in the closet. Mary shifted her hips a little to
prevent a high heeled shoe from digging out her lower back.
“What are you thinking about?” Mary’s voice came from the shadows.
“. . . Robots,” I answered.
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