Authour's Note: I suggest you imagine this is being read by Stephen Fry. Or Christopher Lee's narration from that Willy Wonka movie. Or the narrator from the Stanley Parable. Or some strange combined version of all three. BODON, as it were. British Organism Designed Only for Narrating.

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One morning, Devin walked into his bathroom and noticed a pimple in the mirror.

Unfortunately, it was on his bottom.

"Aw, crap."

He stepped into the bath, pulled the door shut, and squeezed. The blackhead popped, and he finished his shower.

After stepping out, he took at look at himself in the mirror, at the black stuff spreading across his rear and sinking into his skin, his pores. Now, he thought, it wasn't a problem anymore!

On his way to the car, he looked to his right to see his neighbour McKlursky.

"Howdy, neighbour!" Devin said.

McKlursky hadn't had his coffee yet, so he was a little slow on the uptake. "Mornin', Bra-" he mumbled.

The reason he trailed off, and spilled his coffee on his own foot without noticing, was that Devin's face was slowly being encroached upon by some black substance, one which tinted his cheeks blue and his nose red.

"Whoa, better watch the coffee there, neighbour!" Devin said, and opened the door.

As he got into the car, the goop reached his feet, shifting them into prehensile paws. He didn't even notice the loss of his fancy business shoes as he shifted into gear.

McKlursky was still staring, Devin noticed. Strange. Perhaps there something on his face? He slowed down for a second to check the mirror. No, their certainly was not.

He looked at his watch, and found that he had time for the usual. He took the drive-thru.

The young man at the first window just Devin's his money on autopilot, his sleepy gaze focused on the car's antenna. He only started to pay attention when he handed back the change, and stopped to look at Devin.

"Is this for Youtube?"

"No...?"

"C'mon, where's the camera." The young man bent down. "Is it in the passenger seat? Because that's one good mask. Or are you one of those people who get off on this?"

"Getting breakfast?"

"The monkey thing."

What a strange young man. Devin decided it was a good idea to just drive to the second window. The young woman there actually looked into his eyes as she handed him his food.

"Here you are, sir-"

She stopped, and stared at him. He smiled at her, baring his sharp, long teeth. She flinched. How extraordinary. He reached out, plucked his meal from her unresisting hands, put it on the passenger seat, and drove off.

Traffic was heavy on the freeway. Devin dug out his breakfast, despite his conviction that a "Crunchwrap" was probably not traditional South of the border food. Then again, neither was an iced coffee. Or the delicious little Cinnabon treats.

He looked in the rearview mirror, and wiped some sugar off his red nose.

Some child in the next lane was staring at him. Devin flipped him off, and shifted on the seat as his hips widened. Presently, he turned the radio to his favorite morning station.

There was a parking spot at work near the door, and he was actually early enough to back in for a change! Hooray!

He shut off the car and headed into the lobby, nodding at the security guard, Bonnie, who promptly spit out her coffee. Had he done something wrong? Oh, right.

He tossed the remains of his breakfast into the lobby garbage bin. "Sorry!"

There was someone in the elevator. "Hello, Monetta!" Devin said.

Monetta worked at Hart Investments, on the 12th floor, and he just looked at Devin and left out without a word. Was there something on his face?

The creature in the elevator's mirror looked like a human in some weird slick rubber suit. Except, perhaps, for the wide hips and featureless crotch. From the rear, one's gaze would've been drawn to the large, crimson rear, the wide, feminine hips.

Its feet were more like hands, flexing in a way quite unlike most costumes. And then one would come to the eyes, and note the spark of intelligence, the motion of the brow, the moving of the creature's lips.

It also had a red nose and carried a briefcase.

The elevator went 'ding' as it reached his floor.

"Hey, Neal. Finished the Willis proposal? 'Sup, Diaz. Coffee's as bad as usual? Sophie! You're not usually here this early!" He reached his desk and turned around. "What are you all staring at?"

"Uh...Devin?" Sophie asked.

"Yeah?"

She made a gesture indicating his body. He looked down. "What? Is it Casual Tuesday?"

Her jaw fell open. Devin shook his head at his co-workers' antics. He set down his briefcase as he slid into his chair, his red bottom squeaking on the chair's material, booted up his computer, and started to check his emails.

He failed to notice everyone quietly leaving. At one point someone came up the elevator, and she was grabbed and had the situation explained to her before she got near the weirdo. Who knew what he was up to? He could have weapons! Well, not in an outfit that tight, but maybe in his briefcase! He might've hidden something in the break room! Behind the Keurig pods!

And for a time, the office was silent, barring the sound of Devin typing and the hum of the air conditioner set exactly four degrees too high for everyone except the boss to be comfortable.

And into this silence, Boniqua "Please, please, please call me Bonnie" Raymond emerged, thinking that she was not paid enough for this.

In truth, she was not actually paid to confront lunatics at all. The security company's manual specifically said to secure the scene and wait for police in such a situation. Failing that, it was strongly implied that guards should run away in the manner that would cause the least liability for the company. They were rather vague on the details.

Of course, she would've joined the police force directly if it weren't for her heart. Which, logically, meant that she shouldn't be up there, especially if there was a chance of a scrap.

"Hey, Bonnie! Something wrong?"

Or not.

"Devin, what are you doing?"

"Working...?"

Bonnie would've pinched the bridge of her nose, except it was behind 0.3 centimeters of plastic, and she sure wasn't taking off the hazmat suit for that.

"I mean the suit."

"What suit?"

She pointed.

"What? This is my normal skin! Haven't you ever seen a monkey before?"

Oh what even is this, as her kids would say?

"Look, the police will be here soon. Just come quietly when they show up-"

Bradly's head twitched to the right a little. Uh-oh. The last time she had seen a look like that, it had been the crackhead in the alley next to her mama's apartment building.

"...I'm just gonna go-"

"You can't." He spun and rose from his seat, looking directly at the thin air over her shoulder. She had just enough time to note that he was smooth in front. all over, in fact before he grasped her arm. "No, wait, you have to-"

The next thing Bonnie knew, she was on her back, her left foot kicking a bag someone had left under her desk, and Devin's big red baboon butt was descending towards her face.

This was humiliating, she thought. No one had beat her up and sat on her head since third grade.

Due to his superior positioning, the slickness of the suit, and the cheapness of the office carpeting, Bonnie found it difficult to get a grip, though she gave it the old tertiary education try.

Presently, she gave up. After all, she reasoned, there were worse thinks than having some kinky furry sit on your face while you were in a hazmat suit.

Her faceplate cracked.

Panicked, Bonnie tried to fight him off, but by the time she realized it was making the problem worse, it had cracked much more, and monkey-man's...undercarriage, for lack of a better word, seemed to be leaking something dark-colored, which smeared against her visor.

That was probably bad.

Bonnie decided to hold very still.

It was at that moment that Bradley's bottom flexed. She saw it, as if in slow motion; the muscles rippling under his glossy skin, the was his cheeks smooshed together, the cracks spiderwebbing across the glass before it broke, and the substance which she now sincerely hoped was merely taint-secretions.

This seemed like something of a slim possibility, given the volume being put out.

She tried to turn her head from side to side, which completely failed to keep her dry. In fact, it merely ensured that her face was evenly coated. Lovely. Strangely, she had no problem breathing, although she hadn't had an actual breath of air in some time.

Upon stopping to think, Bonnie realized that the gunk wasn't just on her face, it was in her suit. If her Samsung wasn't okay, she'd kill Devin. That problem certainly wouldn't be fixed by a bag of rice.

She tried once more to shove the monkey-man off, and to her surprise, he no longer resisted! Upon being freed, she scrambled away on all fours, before rising to her feet. "What did you do to me?"

"Made you better."

Confused, she glared at him as she backed away. Strangely, she could see just fine through the liquid. In fact, it felt as though she could see just as well as she would be able to while wearing her spectacles! How extraordinary! The crack in the glass seemed to have been mended.

Upon closer examination, it seemed the seals on her suit were now strictly ornamental. In fact, now that Bonnie thought about it, it had certainly not been rated for any sort of thick liquid on the inside.

She looked for a pair of scissors, or a letter opener, or a staple remover. Anything to pop the suit.

Suddenly, her stomach cramped. Clutching it, she sank to her knees as her waist slimmed right past the size it had been when she met her husband - she was about fifteen years behind on her cardio - and into proportions that would have most people saying "Photoshop".

It promised to make belt shopping rather difficult in the near future.

Somewhat befuddled, she said "I could've sworn I needed those organs," as she unsteadily got to her feet.

This was, perhaps, a poor decision, as the next body part to be altered was her rear, swelling to remarkable proportions, much as Devin's had. This was followed by the suit itself tightening around her body, emphasizing her shape while still leaving a fair amount of room between her skin and the plastic. Her arms even lost some of their flab. Her breasts disdained all this tomfoolery and stayed their original size.

"Uh," Bonnie said.

At this point, a number of police officers entered from the stairs. "There are two of them!" one said.

"I'm not with him!" Bonnie cried.

On second thought, it was a reasonable mistake. Had she seen herself walking down the street, she would've thought she had been the victim of some extreme medical procedure, the sort of thing that would get a two-minute human interest piece on a news programme. Or a series on TLC.

Devin took a step.

"Freeze!" said the officer.

And, she continued to think, she was not exactly normal now, was she?

She could see, she could hear, but she couldn't touch, she couldn't taste, she couldn't smell-

Without any actual thought at all, her tongue unspooled from from her mouth and hung down her body, curling into what felt like every curve and crevice...

Oh yes, thought Bonnie.

That, she could feel.

"Get down on the ground!"

Bonnie looked at Devin, then at the police officers. They shrugged at the same time.

"Sure," they chorused.

ENDF

"Rubbutt"

2016 Eulalie "Nequ" Quentin Creative Commons By-SA-NC Fan stories welcome

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Inspiration for Bonnie's look includes that one guy in the hazmat suit in the Overwatch concept art, and blackshirtboy's "Hazmoo" pic which I can't find, and her last name is based on Usher Raymond because I recently saw a clip of him on The Voice. Inspiration for Devin comes from seriously, I don't even know, man.

For someone who keeps putting folks with long tongues in my stories, I never seem to have my characters actually do anything with them.

I should do something about that.