Bethany, bachelorette party - A Powerful Stranger with a Weird Side

"Bethany, I am SO so so sorry."

"It's fine, Madison," I said trying to make the best of it, and keep my frantic maid of honor from causing a scene. I was upset, for sure, but I didn't want her to take it personally. Madison had gone out of her way to organize a bachelorette party for me, even asking for my input on things I'd like to do, but had clearly missed this key detail. "Honestly Maddie, it's no big deal."

"But you said Cool Keys and I - ughh- I'm such an idiot," sighed Madison, falling into her usual self-effacing hysterics. We stood outside the limo in the liminal space between bar and car, and I put my hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her. Honestly the evening had been going pretty well. The limousine had picked everyone up, we enjoyed a nice spa day, got dinner at Trello's, went to my favorite gelato spot, and were going to end the night with a few cocktails at the piano bar, but, well...

"Did you take us to a strip club?" tittered Desiree, snorting at her own joke.

"Worse," Pharrah deadpanned, "she took us to Kooky's."

It was a lateral move, I suppose: Cool Keys -- KOO-ky's, though certainly not in substance. Kooky's was the diviest of dive bars, a skeevy den for biker gangs and tattoo addicts. The theme was taxidermized animals and alien art, a bizarre combination that had the walls resembling a Hieronymus Bosch painting. I swear I had texted the name "Cool Keys" to my maid of honor, but I guess we did plan a lot of the bachelorette party over the phone. So instead of classily sipping whiskey sours while jazz played in the background, we'd be ending the night surrounded by stuffed animals and E.T. cartoons plus whatever swill Kooky's kept on tap.

The dive bar's green glowing sign cast a sickly tint over our group, and I swore I could smell something foul from within. A sob escaped Madison's lips, and I pulled her into a hug, before turning back to look at my bridal party.

Madison's and my roommate from university, Pharrah, paused to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. It framed the long, tan-mocha legs that earned Pharrah her share of complimentary cocktails. Such devotion from her subjects seemed only natural to queenly Pharrah. She had been the only one in our group not to wear one of Madison's "Bride Squad" t-shirts. Ostensibly, because she said it didn't fit, but I suspected because it clashed with the black, midriff-baring clubwear Pharrah had chosen to wear instead. She pulled idly at the pink feather boa, her one concession to Madison, before deciding to ditch its itchiness behind in the car.

Desiree for her part had gone all-in on the bachelorette party attire. Her hefty boobs stretching out the word "BRIDE" on the highlighter pink shirt Madison had sent her, while burying the word "SQUAD" somewhere beneath. A custom "Bride Squad" hat sat atop her amber head, complete with "Bride Squad" sunglasses (one word over each lens). Not sent by Madison, Desiree had powdered her cheeks with glitter and was currently slurping from a long pink straw with a penis at the top--audibly I might add. We had been good friends growing up, but honestly since high school Desiree had gotten a bit...hard to take? She's the kind of person who thinks they're hilarious and wants everyone to be in on the joke, but if no one laughs, doesn't take the hint and keeps trying to up the ante. Needless to say, the penis straws were something she had brought from home and Desi was the only one using them.

And rounding out our little group was Tahlia, Boe's younger sister. My fiancé's two brothers had been made groomsmen, and not wanting his sister to feel left out, I had asked her to be my last bridesmaid. Time would tell if this was a mistake. She was newly 21, still living at home, and had complained throughout the day about this, that, and the other. Thankfully she had finally stopped after declaring how much she HATED gelato when Pharrah flatly told her, "then it's a good thing it's not YOUR bachelorette party, Tahlia," and had been stewing quietly on her smartphone ever since. She had only raised her brown tresses from her device just now to say: "Why don't we get back in the limo then? Go to the piano bar, or whatever."

"Yeah," sniffed Madison, wiping a bit of mascara from her eyes. "Of course, that makes the most sense. It's on the other side of town, so I'll probably have to pay the limo driver for overtime, but that's okay!! Hopefully they still have the private room open, I'll be out the Kooky's cancellation fee, but I should--"

"Nooo, Madison," I interrupted, making sure to glare at Tahlia, but having no effect on the college brat. "Kooky's is fine."

"But Bethany, I can fix it. This was supposed to be your special day," my maid of honor stammered.

"And it's been--" I began, a slight cramp in my stomach causing me to pause. "And it's been great, but save your money. We can end at Kooky's, have a few drinks, and then call it a night. This can be our crazy bachelorette party story."

"Plus we still need to do --P-R-E-S-E-N-T-S," chimed in Desiree, penis straw at the corner of her mouth. Oh god what could she have gotten me?

"You sure?" tried Madison, "I didn't mean to mess it up."

"Positive," I assured her, my hand once again on Maddie's shoulder. "Now what is this about a Kooky's cancellation fee?"

The "private room" at Kooky's was little more than a partitioned off staging area where live bands might play. Sadly none were here tonight, and we were led by a bored-looking brunette waitress past a trio of folks playing darts, a mustached man sitting alone at the bar, two stuffed opossums, a couple necking in the corner, and the doors to the restroom (each featuring a little green man) before finally arriving at our table.

"Make way FOR THE BRIDE SQUAD!" Madison announced joyfully, before I laughed and punched her in the side. Desiree cupped her hands, making mock trumpet sounds, and Pharrah started to roll her eyes but stopped abruptly and beamed from ear to ear facing the bar.

"Guys, stop it, they're going to think we're so corny," I laughed.

The waitress didn't seemed to mind. She pulled some menus from her black apron, rattled off a series of drink specials, and said she'd be back to take our orders in a minute. The room smelled oddly skunky, like a mix of mildew and marijuana, and I resolved to not breathe through my nose while my fingernail traced the drink section. Mustache guy had wandered over to the partition to ask our waitress a question. She glowered at him, hands stand-offishly at her hips.

"What's the occasion?," he ventured, speaking with an English accent, "are they arriving from a wedding?"

"Not that it's any of your business," the waitress replied harshly, "but no, it's a bachelorette party."

"A bach-el-oor...?"he spoke sounding out the word as though hearing it for the first time, "Ah, I see."

"There's an awful lot of food," Madison mumbled, turning my attention back to the group, "fish and chips, prime rib, crème brûlée?! What kind of dive bar has crème brûlée?"

"Is it PRESENT time?!" sang Desi, holding up a pink and gold package, I hadn't seen her with before.

"Wait, till everyone orders," chided Pharrah, who suddenly sat up straight and declared, "besides I think I need to use the water closet."

I blinked at her odd choice of words, but was interrupted by Tahlia. "Jesus, what's that?" she said, causing everyone to turn where she was pointing.

On the wall opposite my future sister-in-law was the most outlandish pinup art I had ever seen. A blonde done up in garish makeup was sitting spread eagle on the rim of a beer stein, dressed only in black tights and red heels. The sloshing foam had managed to cover up her crotch, but plain to see were her massive breasts, connected by a long brass chain attached to her nipples. The woman's expression was one of frozen ecstasy, mouth agape, eyes rolled back and above her in a stylized font were the words, "Ready to Serve." The lewdness of the display was enough to make Pharrah blush, and even Desi had the instinct to cover Tahlia's eyes.

"That's what's wrong with men, " replied Madison ruefully, then turned to me and added, "all except Boe, of course, right Bethany?"

"Great save," I chuckled, and the Bride Squad devolved into hoots of laughter.

We cheerily roasted the decor for a while, until Pharrah excused herself to the bathroom with a giddy grin. My abdomen seized again, and well, not wanting to spend more time at Kooky's than I had to, I decided to expedite the process. Our waitress hadn't come back and growing impatient, I started asking everyone for their drink orders.

"Shouldn't I do that?" asked Madison.

"No no no, keep telling Tahlia about the heteronormative double standard," I admonished. "Besides what bartender is going to deny a bride at her bachelorette party? What's everyone drinking?"

"Rum and coke for me," said Desi.

"One of their pale ales, I guess," replied Madison.

"Um, strawberry daiquiri?" said Tahlia, and I looked at her confused.

"They don't have strawberry daiquiris at dive bars," I said flatly.

"I heard someone mention it on the way in."

"Who? One of the opossums?"

"I saw one on the table, it was in a fun glass and everything," Tahlia defended, folding her arms. "Just ask! I can have a rum and coke if they don't have it."

"If she pulls this shit at my wedding...," I thought to myself and sighed. "Fine, Pharrah can figure out what she wants when she gets back. Try not to have too much fun without me," and I turned to go find the bar.

On the other side of the restrooms, I emerged into the main area. The bar was framed by a pair of big horn sheep busts and looked moderately well stocked. A grungy mirror reflected the various bottles sitting on a pair of brown shelves, but regrettably there was no bartender. I furrowed my brow and started looking around the venue. A short haired woman was sinking bullseyes over by the dart board, much to the chagrin of her two competitors. The amorous couple in the corner had switched to cuddling, the girl in his lap, both very young and very drunk. And a new patron, some guy in a cowboy hat and boots was watching television on the far side of the room, but as to opposed football or basketball, he was engrossed in a cartoon about a kid whose fingers were turning into cats. I only found our waitress by chance, off to the side. But as I approached, I paused. Something wasn't right.

The brunette was bent at the waist, her fingernails digging into her ankles. Her back was arched in such a way to emphasize her taught buttocks, and her black shorts had been pulled up to reveal her lily-white butt cheeks...that seemed to grow and pulse. As her flesh quavered and jiggled, I could hear her voice softly crying, "please...please help me, I don't know what is happening to me."

Tears were running down her face from beneath her upturned pony tail, and as I moved closer she let out a sharp yip as her shorts audibly snapped off her. Her white panties seemed to disappear thong-like between her expanding glutes, but the torn shorts fabric started to melt and reform, crawling down the waitress's legs. The discordant material seemed to settle, morphing into a pair of shiny red heels and black fishnet stockings. Her shirt and apron undulated similarly before reforming into a series of interlocking rings that wrapped around her legs, clicking into place at the ends of her now naked breasts. Each click causing the butt-baring girl to wince and squeak with pain.

"Please," the waitress tried again, turning her head to see to me but remaining folded over, the middle of the brass chain straining against the back of her knees. "I'm...not...an object."

"It's okay," I said, not sure what to do. "You're going to be alright, let me help you."

I whirled around, wondering why none of the other patrons were responding to the woman's strange plight--before a wave of calm washed over me.

Why was I talking to a Butt Coaster?

Don't get me wrong, it was of fine make. The black and red, well, legs that were facing me rose to a pleasing cushion at the top, its porcelain heart-shaped seat emblazoned with the words "Property of Kooky's" in fine ink. Perfect for balancing a drink or two atop its large and pliable humps. I never understood what the purpose was of the weird torso-like protrusion at the front. A counterbalance perhaps? But then why was it covered in hair at the end. To be fair, I couldn't remember giving Butt Coasters this much thought in the past, or really having seen one before at all. How strange, for a moment there I thought it was broken or...something.

Not sure what else to do, I ran my hand across the top of the Butt Coaster, squeezing the dough-like material between my fingers, first the left side then the right. Palming both sides, I gave it a good shake, delighting in the way it jumped and bounced. I calmed my nerves, not sure why I was so anxious, and continued exploring. A strip of white fabric was stretched across the center, which I started to pull aside only to realize that it was covering up a pair of rather unseemly dents in the valley between the two bumps. I probed a finger inside the top most one, only to recoil in disgust; the interior was slick with some sort of substance. The Butt Coaster seemed to "coo" in response, the sound coming from the hairy part at the far end. Perplexed, I squatted down to find the sound's source and feeling around discovered a third dent on the inside of the counterbalance.

"A speaker?" I wondered, tapping the third dent experimentally. While the outside was supple and slick around the edges, the inside sounded hard.

Someone had left a hair tie in amongst the hair, and the sight of it filled me with unease. Tilting it to the side, I saw the third dent was surrounded by an odd mishmash of other dents and protrusions, the importance of which I felt I should know but couldn't quite place. Two holes beneath the fleshy dent sucked and expelled air at regular intervals, for what purpose I could not say. But stranger still, below that I found a pair of haunted brown eyes, rapidly darting this way and that. Obviously fake, they somehow manage to fix on me, their expression somehow pleading in the bar's fluorescent light. I withdrew my hand, kind of creeped out, and the hairy part fell back into place with another eerie "coo". I still didn't have a bartender, maybe it was like a hotel and you had to ring the bell to get their attention? Or in this case the Butt Coaster. "Only at Kooky's," I thought, standing back up.

Not wanting to get any more junk on my fingers, I avoided the fabric covered holes, opting instead to poke and prod the cushion. The coos however were few and far between, and switching tactics I gave the right bump a good hard spank, hoping to elicit a response.

"Oooh," went the Butt Coaster, louder this time, but only slightly. God I hate this thing.

I exhaled sharply, and started slapping the coaster, consistently getting sound now. A repetitive "ah, ah, ah" intermixed with a low sounding "ooh, I like it rough," started to play, but it was still barely audible and worst of all would stop abruptly any time I let up. Slapping harder, I switched sides, my hand starting to get sore from the repetitive motion.

"(Gasp) harder daddy," the Butt Coaster's inhuman voice teased.

Not sure what weirdo thought this dumb thing needed dirty talk, I was about ready to perform a percussion solo on it when I spotted a brass chain looped around the coaster's stalks.

"Ooh, a cord, maybe this will help," and I grabbed the chain with both hands and gave it a good yank.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

I got the desired effect. The sound was so loud and shocking, it got the attention of half the bar. The Butt Coaster even seemed to gurgle in satisfaction.

"Coming, sorry." A blonde bartender emerged through the kitchen door, carrying plates of sumptuous food (including crème brûlée). She teetered on shaky legs, before setting the food on the counter and producing a blue tray with an odd dorsal-like fin on the bottom. Walking over to the Butt Coaster, she slid the fin into the cushion's center indent (maybe that's what the dents are for?) before starting to deposit the plates atop Butt Coaster's behind.

"One second," she said, and I nodded my head sagely. My lower stomach lurched sharply, but I commanded it to be patient. It was the "early" one after all. My phone buzzed, and picking it up I saw Madison was calling, probably nervous that I had been gone so long. I pressed the device to my ear said hello.

"Hey Bethany, you okay?" It was sweet of her to worry. "You've been gone an awful long time getting those drinks, you want me to come and help?"

"Oh no, thank you Maddie," I smiled frostily. "I'm with the bartender now," I said peering in the blonde's direction. The bartender mouthed, "sorry," as she loaded more plates, and I waved my hand to let her know, "all good".

Maddie continued, "You sure? Cause you know this maid of honor's 'bride or die'."

"(snort) I know Maddie, you're the best. I'll be back soon." We said our goodbyes and I hung up just as the bartender finished her piling.

"Take those...wherever they're supposed to go," the blonde said exhaustedly, giving Butt Coaster another quick slap. "Sorry about the wait, we're usually not this short staffed."

"It's fine," I said, as Butt Coaster waddled off. I sighed in relief, glad to be rid of it, the thing's eyes still vivid in my memory.

"So I'm Val, are you with the bachelorette party? I gotta say, I hope you're not looking to order food, I don't think I can handle much more."

"Guilty," I replied gesturing to my tiara and veil, "and no just a few drinks, sorry for the hassle."

"No, no I can handle drinks," Val answered, heaving with some relief. More than I thought was earned.

She produced a notepad and pencil from her apron, and I started to recount the drink orders, "Yeah, could we get a um gin and tonic, please. A rum and coke, and one of your pale ales--"

"We've got two," Val gestured to a menu over by the side, and I squinted wondering which one Maddie would prefer.

"The first one, I guess," I said, pointing at the sign as Val started to collect the drinks. Unsure if I should head back to my table or not, I opted to wait at the bar for Val's sake. She seemed normal enough, despite choosing to work at Kooky's.

"So when's your wedding?" asked the bartender, making conversation.

"Two months and...five days," I responded after some quick mental math.

"Congratulations, are you ready for it?" inquired Val. She finished the rum and coke and moved on to the G & T.

"Almost," I nodded, suddenly glad for the artificial pleasantries, "my boyfriend's family's Catholic, so we have to do all this stuff with the priest, but the chapel is super cute."

"Aww, nice," she said, setting down the final drink, "do you got all that, or should I get the Butt Coaster to help you carry it?"

"Nooooooooo, that's fine," I said, watching the coaster in my peripheral vision as it scampered around with its tray. I stretched my fingers around the three glasses before realizing my error.

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry, do you have...strawberry daiquiris?" I said remembering Tahlia's insipid request. "I was supposed to ask for one, but it's fine if you don't. I assume you don't."

"Wuh-what?" Val seemed to **** on her reply.

"Strawberry daiquiris?" I said embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I know, dumb request."

But Val didn't seem to hear me. Her hands were shaking and she was staring somewhere into the middle distance. "Oh no... not again," the blonde murmured before her tone shifted abruptly. Unexpectedly responding to my question,"NO DUMB REQUESTS," she said cheerily, "the customer IS ALWAYS RIGHT." And my eyes widened as Val began to disrobe.

Not sure where to look, I held my hand to my face as she dumped her shirt on the counter in front of me. "Val what are you doing?" I asked nervously, but she didn't respond, just unclasped her bra and added it to the pile.

"That's ONE PART RUM," she said, her voice taking on a sweet sing-song tone.

"FIVE PARTS ICE," she continued, "OOOoh...that gives me goosebumps."

I resisted the urge to peek, but couldn't help it. The topless bartender stood at attention, a stupid grin on her face. Her perky breasts were indeed pimpled with gooseflesh, a tattoo of a brass chain curled around her left underboob, but there were no ice cubes to be seen.

"One part SYRUP, one part LIME JUICE," Val continued, and I watched in horror as her naked breasts began to balloon and swell, sloshing as though full of liquid. A bead of something brown and sticky dropped from her right nipple, falling onto the bar below her now cantaloupe-sized tits. A stray thought went by: "if her breasts are doing what I think they're doing, that's way more than a 'part'," but I paid it no mind as Val finished her recipe, climatically.

"And don't SKIMP on the STRAAAAAAAAAAW--," Val's whole body vibrated, undulating on that fateful syllable. Her breasts exploded in size, expanding rapidly until Val teetered over from the weight. On instinct, her hands reached up to cup her swelling assets, but even so, her knockers hit the wood bar with a resounding splat, knocking the assembled drinks to the floor. I tried to dodge them, but my jeans ended up soaked by coke and booze. The dazed blonde lay in the wreckage, slowly growing still. A mix of liquid pooled from her nips, giving off the unmistakeable smell of:

"--berries! (hic)."The blonde collapsed atop her mountainous cleavage.

"Whaaaaaat the damn hell?" I stared in soggy disbelief, before shrieking as Val's head abruptly shot back up.

"AND NOW it's time FOR US to BLEND!" Sing-songy voice still intact, the bartender pinched both leaking mammaries and began to pull them violently, alternating back and forth as she shook. The fluids within her bust started to make a blunt and repetitive sound, like something caught in a washing machine, but Val for her part acted like this was the most lovely thing in the world. I struggled to make sense of it. Is it a latex suit? Some sort of breast-like machine? It all looked pretty realistic, you know aside from...what was happening before my eyes.

The bouncing bartender set her deranged eyes on me, lips up-turned in a smile, and maintained perfect eye contact the entire mixing process. I cringed, not just from her crazed expression, but from an eerie sense of déjà vu when I realized no one else in the bar had even acknowledged the well-endowed drink maker roughly mauling her own tits. Cowboy Hat, who was the closest, had put his boots up on the Butt Coaster, sipping beer without a care in the world.

Val rolled her eyes back with a high-pitched, "GUH-haaAAH," and I was pulled from my dumbstruck revelry as a rope of cold pink slush slapped me across the face. I ducked in front of the bar, but jets of god-honest strawberry daiquiri were spraying through her fingers, arcs of the sweet fluid flying in six directions like a punctured hose. Daiquiri coated both sides of the bar, my hair, my veil, much of the floor, Val's chin, waist, and a small tributary between her cleavage. The barflies remained unaroused, nothing more than idle chit chat interrupting the insanity before me. But in some facsimile of satisfaction, the dripping blonde managed to produce a margarita glass from behind the bar, cupped it to her left teat, and started squeezing the liquid out by hand.

"ALMOST done!" Val said with a delighted pinch.

I ran. I fucking ran!

Whatever freak show this woman and all the other customers were somehow in on, I wanted no part of it. My mind was utterly baffled trying to make sense of what I'd seen. Why was no one else reacting? How the hell does someone make daiquiri with their tits? And why in God's name, did Val say, "oh no...not again"? I charged full tilt past the Butt Coaster and the damn opossums, away from the dull-eyed strangers and their freak of modern chemistry bartender. I barreled headlong, toward the partition, only to collide with the mustached British man as he exited the restroom.

We tumbled to the ground, I on top of him, no doubt drenching him in fruit and ****. His cellphone skittered across the floor. I quickly started to pull myself upright, barely mumbling an apology for fear of more unsettling encounters.

"Where's the fire, love?" He asked with eyebrows raised. I suddenly noticed his fly was unzipped, but I was struck so by the genuine concern, that my eyes started to well up with tears, despite my rush to leave.

"Got-ta...go," I shivered, strawberry dripping into my eyelashes, "can't stay...at Kooky's." I coughed, hyperventilating some as I started to moan.

"There, there," he said, comforting me with his tone but reaching for his phone instead, "the night's still young, you don't want to go just yet."

"Yes, I dooo," my voice came out plaintive and child-like as I stepped away, "it's so weird here."

"No, no, no," he said tapping a button on his device, "you want to stay, and enjoy your shindig."

I sucked in a breath. I guess he was right. I hadn't interacted with the Bride Squad much since coming in. And we'd be heading home soon. It'd be a shame to end the night on such a bad note. But there was a feeling of dread I couldn't shake...something not quite right.

"What about...my clothes?" I choked, holding my arms out as if he couldn't see the mess from looking.

"We'll get you some new ones," he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. "In the meantime..." he paused, typing on his cellphone screen before tapping it with a grin, "you should go wash up. Go ahead, get nice and clean."

I spun on my heels, not sure what I was thinking. I suppose this was all salvageable. A quick trip to the ladies' room, and I'd be right as rain. Yeah. It's always nice when someone can give you perspective. Like how he said I should go wash up, and I agreed I should go wash up. The man gave quality advice.

Mustache tapped on his phone once more, and I preened to let him give me a quick slap on the butt for the road.

Huh, that felt unnatural, but I cooed in response, oddly reminiscent of the noises Butt Coaster had made. "Ugh," that thought made me shudder.

"There you are, bride-y, I knew I saved the best for last," he grinned cheekily as only a European can.

I smiled at him, not sure what he meant, and walked toward the restroom, the little green alien girl almost glowing on the sign above me.

"Oh and remember once you get out, everything at Kooky's will feel normal."

He was kind to try and make me feel better, but honestly I couldn't imagine how that last statement could be true.