The Asshole Monologues (Taylor Swift)

[HER_ABHORRED_SHEARS]

The Asshole Monologues (Taylor Swift)

(Warning: Satire. Deliberately stupid and offensive. Will rot your brain into Brent crude oil within 5 seconds. Contains assplay and light, implied scat.)



The Asshole Monologues

VOICE-OVER:

The tape you are watching exists because we, a collective of activists, intellectuals, and feminists, are worried about our assholes.

We are worried about what we say about our assholes. We are worried about what we don't say. There needs to be a context, a community, a culture around assholes. There’s far too much darkness and secrecy surrounding the topic. Assholes are the body's Bermuda triangle. Nobody reports back from there.

So we conducted asshole interviews, which became asshole monologues. Over two hundred women were interviewed about their assholes. Older women, young women, married women, lesbians, single women, college professors, actors, corporate professionals, and sex workers. At first the women were reluctant to talk. But once they got going, you couldn’t stop them.

Women secretly love to discuss their assholes. They get very excited, mainly because no one’s ever asked them before.

This interview is with international singing sensation Taylor Alison Swift.



Interviewer: describe the first time you started using your asshole for sexual pleasure.

Taylor (eye roll): It's a cliche.

Interviewer: Go on.

Taylor: Yeah, so, um...my upbringing was woohoo-hardcore evangelical. My vagina is a place of sin, my clit is the devil's doorbell, all that shit. But none of my pastors or teachers ever said anything about my asshole, which made me think that...well, maybe I wouldn't go to hell if I anally masturbated.

Interviewer: You have to be more detailed than that.

Taylor: Fine. I started sticking fingers up my ass in the shower. First one knuckle, then two. I felt disgusted with myself. Dirty. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't fun, that I wasn't enjoying it. But my ass seemed to suck my finger deeper and deeper, pulling it forward like a mouth, and that mouth was speaking to me, saying *liar liar liar*.

Interviewer: Generally, if you have to say something's not fun, it is. What then?

Taylor: I slid a second finger inside my butthole, then a third, then it was off to the races. For better or for worse, I'd started something that I couldn't stop. I just had to see where this anal journey took me.

Interviewer: what did you use as lube?

Taylor: Soap. It was amateur hour, but we all start somewhere. Most of my early songs suck, too.

Interviewer: did you cum?

Taylor: no, not the first time. Next time I showered, I was braver. I got in deep enough that I could stimulate my G-spot. That was the first time I orgasmed. A book called "Vagina Obscura" blew my mind—the clit's like an iceberg, the surface of a huge, underground network of nerves and bulbs and pleasure receptors, corkscrewing right through a woman's body. I've heard of women who orgasm from having their nipples touched. A woman's entire body is an extension of the clitoris, and if that doesn't prove to you that God's a woman, I don't know what to tell you.



Interviewer: Did you ever experiment with toys?

Taylor: I had to. Once my body started filling out, I was straining my wrist trying to get around my ass cheeks. Having a dump truck for a behind is overrated.

Interviewer: What did you stick up your butt?

Taylor: Whatever I could. I pressed pagers against my butthole. I used massagers and garden equipment and videogame rumble packs. Anything that could vibrate. I had a burner phone that I used to joke was for drugs. Actually, I'd set the phone to vibrate, slide it down into my buttcrack, and then dial myself over and over. I'd shove entire bars of soap up into my ass, hold them there for an hour or two, then squirt them out. The Hilton hotel chain always had the most anally ergonomic soap bars—I wonder if Paris had anything to do with that. And obviously I experimented with bananas and zucchinis.

Interviewer: What's the biggest thing you ever put in your ass?

Taylor: okay, so my mom grew these cucumbers, alright? Huge, huge cucumbers. I pulled one off the vine, it's eighteen inches long and thicker can a coke can—

Interviewer: oh my God.

Taylor: I held it in my hand, and thought "no, Taylor. NO". But the cucumber had a stalk attached that looked weirdly like a handle. It was a perfect fit for my hand, and that decided the issue. So I took the cucumber to the mudroom at my parents' house, lubed it up, and started...trying. (laughs) At first it wouldn't fit at all. Soon I realized I was just making myself tight and anxious, so I decided to forget about it. I drank half a bottle of wine, and masturbated my anus with smaller objects for about an hour. I orgasmed a couple of times, just trying to relax my sphincter. Then, when I was drunk and loose, I picked up Cucumberzilla without thinking, put it at my butthole, and it just kinda...slid in.

Interviewer: how deep did it go inside your ass.

Twelve inches. It took twenty minutes, and a lot of lube, but at the end I felt like I'd climbed Mount Everest. It felt unbelievable, having that monster stretching my shit chute out. Not good, not bad, just...different? You know how there's sweet stuff, savory stuff, and then umami? A flavor that's different? That's how I'd describe butt stuff to the unititiated. The sexual version of umami.

Interviwer: Many women report a similar phenomenon. Your feelings are valid. You are seen.

Taylor: I love the mixture of pleasure and pain. That ambiguous zone is one of the reasons I anally masturbate. My ass is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. It's me, defined. For any Swifties out there, you can understand me and my music as basically an extension of my asshole.

Interviewer: did you go any further than 12 inches?

Taylor: no. My mom called my name, so I freaked and yanked the cucumber out of my butt. NOT recommended, by the way.

Interviewer: yeah. ouch.

Taylor: I threw the cucumber on the floor, intending to put it away before anyone found it. But remember, I was falling-down drunk. After I'd helped mom unload like ten bags of groceries from her SUV, I fell asleep on the couch, and my parents discovered what I'd been up. A glass, a half-empty wine bottle, towels soaked with sweat and squirt, and the cucumber. And not to be disgusting, but...it had obviously been up my ass, you know? I didn't clean myself out with enemas back then.

Interviewer: did they ever mention the ass-cucumber?

Taylor: No, but dinner that night was awkward. Can we get off this subject, please? Oh my God, what is this interview.



Interviewer: who was the first person to use your ass, other than yourself?

Taylor: I don't know if this counts. It happened when I was nineteen. I was at a pool party in Orange County. There was a boy I had a crush on, so I started kind of grinding my ass against him. What happened next shocked me. He grabbed me, pulled my swimming trunks down, and shoved a finger between my butt cheeks. I think he was aiming for my pussy, but it went into my butthole. I had this nasty gross finger worming away inside my ass.

Interviewer: that's sexual assault.

Taylor: I suppose so, but I didn't experience it that way. My asshole is the place I shit from. It's literally the least dignified part of my body. So who cares what happens to it? It's like having a homeless person rummage around in your garbage. It's like, sure, buddy. Knock yourself out. The only thing that matters is if his finger had hurt me, which it didn't. I'd rammed a cucumber as thick as a pool noodle up my turd cutter. What's a finger going to do? Anyway, that inspired a realization. An epiphany. My asshole had been a private place. But then I realized that there was demand for others to use my asshole.

Interviewer: that boy who finger-raped you...was his name John?

Taylor: it wasn't rape. I own my truth. And why do you say that?

Interviewer. You said you were nineteen. "Dear John. Don't you think nineteen's too young. To be played by your dark, twisted games." It's speculated that it was John Meyer...but what if it was a different boy named John?

Taylor: no comment.

Interviewer: did this incident cause trauma? Did it caused you to act out in any way? Are you currently putting on a promiscuous, exhibitionist facade to because "Taylor Swift, anal queen" it's an easier, more comfortable reality for you than "Taylor Swift, sexual assault victim"?

Taylor: This isn't what I thought this interview would be about. Another topic, maybe?

Interviewer: okay, so you mentioned this triggered an epiphany.

Taylor: Yeah. I decided to make my back door available to any man who wanted it. Soon, I was getting buttfucked on the reg. Any guy I had any interest in would get to use my asshole as a cum dumpster. I have no issues with men buttfucking me. If anything, it's my vagina I have hangups about.

Interviewer: alright, let's get right to the point. How many men?

Taylor: you're asking for my body count? That's what we're doing now? Ugh.

Interviewer: it's very feminist to drop your body count.

Taylor: fine. I've had eleven boys inside my vagina, and a sixty-seven inside my asshole.

Interviewer: sixty-seven?!

Taylor: like I said, I'm obsessed with assfucking. I need it. Every night, before I go on stage, I'm in the changing room, getting my butt plowed. When a thick shaft fills my colon, it's like a drug. Well, not exactly like a drug. Coke and h feel better. But I'll say this: I got my shitbox reamed out six hours ago, and right now, I feel fine.

Interviewer: how do you find men to fuck your ass, and how do you stop them talking to the press?

Taylor: most of them are backup dancers, or musicians, or roadies, or stage hands. Payrolled employees who have contractual agreements with 13 Management, my parent company. If they sell their story to press, I will deny it and tactically nuke them from the Earth. It's not like TMZ pays shit to randos with unprovable stories.

Interviewer: how many refuse to fuck you?

Taylor: Ha. They can't refuse. Fucking my ass is a job requirement. I literally have it in writing that they are required to service my physical needs. And at the current stage of my spiritual and artistic journey, that includes lots and lots of anal sex. If anyone in my entourage says no to my asshole, they're gone.

Interviewer: so they're forced to fuck you? Sounds like a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

Taylor: think about it. I am running a business, 13 Management. This business is built around my live performances. If I am stressed or unhappy, I obviously cannot perform at the level my fans expect. This is not an R Kelly situation. I am not a sexual predator, exploiting others for her personal gratification. Anal pleasure is good for business, and good for them.

Interviewer: so it's legal?

Taylor: My lawyer says that anal sex doesn't count as sexual intercourse under Californian Civil Code Section 52.4. It's a legally unorthodox arrangement, but he insists its perfectly valid.

Interviewer: have you ever fucked your lawyer?

Taylor: Ha. No. Getting assfucked by a lawyer is too on-the-nose.



Interviewer: sixty-seven is still a lot...

Taylor: it'll be sixty-eight tonight. I have a new rhythm guitarist who says it's eight inches long and as thick as a TV remote. Not his guitar. That would be hard to play.

Interviewer: Is he full of shit?

Taylor: I'll find out tonight. Mutatis mutandis, so will he.

Interviewer: do you think this makes you a slut?

Taylor: here's something I strongly believe: anal doesn't count as sex. I know this sounds like retarded white girl bullshit, but don't argue. I am my own truth. It's like putting a dude's dick in your elbow or something. Yeah, a little weird, but it's not like actually having sex.

Interviewer: are you ready to spill the tea about Katy Perry? You famously quashed your feud in 2018.

Taylor: oh, it wasn't quite that easy. After she sent me a literal olive branch, I told her that all would be forgiven...if she just did one thing.

Interviewer: oh, no.

Taylor: I'd experimented with girls before, but I was interested in seeing just how far she'd bend before she'd break. I drove her to my mansion, met her at the gate, hugged her, and then escorted her through into the cloakroom. I was wearing a pink tube dress, with nothing underneath. I straddled a lounge, pulled the tube dress up, and told her to start eating my asshole.

Interviewer: and she did it?

Taylor: I didn't think she would. But when I lifted up my ass, and spread my cheeks, she dove into it like a rat into a drainpipe. She'd eaten ass before. You can usually tell with girls. She took a handful of my butt in each hand, pulled it apart, and then her face just disappeared into it. Her tongue went into my shitter so fucking deep. I felt it corkscrewing around in the center of my body. I threw my hips back in my face and started to moan as she tongue-fucked my rectum.

Interview: how long before you climaxed?

Taylor: like thirty seconds. I was losing my shit. My legs were kicking everywhere. My clit felt like it was exploding. I humped the couch all through my orgasm—it still has stains on it. I wish I'd taken a photo of Katy's face as she pulled her head out between my ass.  I had totally fucking destroyed her makeup. Afterward, I looked at my starfish in the mirror, and she'd basically transferred all of her pink lipstick onto my pucker. It was beyond funny.



Interviewer: What happened then?

Taylor: We showered together, and did it again. She used used my ass like a waterslide. First her fingers, then her tongue again, then her fist. I was a fan. I love taking dicks up my back door, but the tongue and hands have more muscles. WAY more. I still feel her imprinted on the walls of my colon. It was like my butt was trying to swallow her whole. She rimmed my asshole and thumbed my clit through two or three orgasms. I don't know how she stayed between my butt cheeks. It must have been like riding a bucking bronco. Then we went to the bedroom and had more conventional sex.

Interviewer: and did you go down on her, and return the favor?

Taylor: do I look like I'm a giving lover? Fuck that. The score at the end of the night was six for me, none for her. Just the way I like it.

Interviewer: That's all we have time for today, Taylor. You've been very forthcoming about your anal obsession.

Taylor: Whatever. Look, this interview wasn't what I was told it would be. I have no idea why you wanted to know any of this shit, and maybe it was a mistake to be so honest.

Interviewer: but once you start discussing your asshole, you can't stop.

Taylor: I guess.

Interviewer: relax. This is what feminism is all about. You're an anal queen. Say it.

Taylor: I'm an anal queen.

Interviewer: do you think your fans will be shocked and disgusted by what they've heard here today?

Taylor: come on. I'm Taylor Swift, and everyone knows I love assholes. One in particular.