Donut Hole

You can fill my hole all night long!

Mitch grabbed his phone and called the escort line. 

“This is Donut Hole,” a woman’s voice said with a sexy whisper.

“I ugh… would like to request your services.”

“I’ll be over within the hour.  Our system can track your address through the phone.  You just sit tight.  Don’t get too hard on me just yet.  I wouldn’t want you to release all your buttercream before I arrive.”

Mitch was at a loss for words.  His rod twitched beneath his chip crumb covered jeans.  Forty-seven years on Earth and the only intercourse he’d ever had was one-sided with an inflatable alien doll he’d redeemed with arcade game tickets.

While frantically trying to clean the grime in his apartment, the doorbell rang.  Mitch pressed his eye against the front door peephole.  A combination of excitement and overwhelming nervousness brewed within his gut. 

“Hello, sweet stuff.  I’m Donut Hole.”  The big-chested woman entered the room at a snail’s pace, surveying the area.  “No need to be nervous.  I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

Mitch looked down at the woman’s right hand; she was carrying a large bucket.

“What’s the bucket for?” he asked.

“Oh, I brought you a bunch of donut holes.  They are just the tastiest treats you can imagine.”

The woman sat Mitch down on his bed and handed him a donut hole.  “Try one.”

The donut hole rolled over Mitch’s tongue, and it was as if time had stopped.  The taste was incredible.  When he came to, he realized the woman had been gorging him with donut hole after donut hole.

“How many have I had?  They are so good.”

“If my math is correct, forty-six.  One more to go.”

Donut Hole dropped the last donut hole into Mitch’s mouth.  He squealed.

“My body is tingling.  Did you spike… did you spite these donks.”  Mitch began to slur his words.  Nothing coming out of his mouth made sense.

The woman’s tongue unraveled like a tape measure.  It kept getting longer and longer, coating Mitch’s body all over with a sticky glaze.  Mitch felt like a bug getting squished.  His head slowly sunk into his chest.  Only his eyes remained.  Arms collapsed into his stomach.  Legs disappeared.

The woman pulled out a small mirror and put it in front of Mitch.  Mitch had been fully transformed.  The last thing he saw before his eyes turned into mush was his shrunken round body.

“You’re a donut hole now,” the woman said, picking up Mitch and dropping him into her bucket.