Slammed In The Butt By My Hugo Award Nomination by Chuck Tingle

Author:Chuck Tingle [Tingle, Chuck]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-25T14:00:00+00:00

The first day of the conference is quite productive, a slew of meetings with several very persuasive foods who are glad to pay for my drinks regardless of the fact that I’m clearly not interested in switching crops any time soon. My main source of income is beets, however, and they always do a great job of showing my why this is a good relationship to maintain, taking me out for an incredible steak dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants I’ve ever had the good fortune to dine in. As a country boy, this is more than enough to keep me satisfied with the way things are going back home.

Still, there is something that continues to gnaw away in the back of my mind, a strange ache that throbs deep down in the darkest, gayest parts of my subconscious. What if I had a relationship with corn? My life is wonderful now, and I respect the hell out of beets, but could it be even better?

When we finish up our dinner my purple companions offer to pay for a taxi back to the hotel, but I decline, opting instead to clear my head with a nice long walk in the warm night air. The beets insist, but I’m steadfast in my decision and finally we part ways with a smile and a handshake.

It’s not a far walk between our restaurant and the convention center, which is directly across from the hotel that I’ve been generously put up in. I’m taking my time, though, strolling leisurely as my thoughts drift this way and that.

No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about the way the light had glistened off of the corn’s beautiful rounded kernels, or even the succulent yet subtle taste that his body would create in my mouth. Suddenly, I find myself with the beginnings of a completely unexpected erection, my hardened member pushing gently against the fabric of my pants.

A farmer my entire life, this is the first time I’ve ever developed feelings for a food of any kind, let alone a vegetable. While the concept is a bit intimidating at first, it’s actually quite comforting the longer I think about it. What would be so wrong for a farmer and his vegetable to take their relationship to the next level?

Nothing, I suddenly realize.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the card that Liplon gave me, flipping it over in my hand as my eyes scan the elegantly designed surface. There is a phone number on the back and, seized by a moment of erotic compulsion, I call it.

I hold the phone to my ear, listening as it rings once, twice, three times. Finally, someone on the other end picks up.

“Hello?” comes the deep voice of the handsome veggie.

“Is this Liplon? The corn?” I question.

“Speaking.”

It suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea what to say, no real reason for calling other than the fact that my own sexual attraction compelled me to. The

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