Pounded In The Butt By My Bizarre Assumption That Chuck Tingle Books Are Just Covers And Not Actual Books - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

in case buds didnt know i have been on tumblr lately and enjoying that website very much. as dang twitter falls into the gaping maw of the void i might be posting there more often and i will say i REALLY ENJOY not having limited character count.

wanted to repost WORD FOR WORD something i posted over there are a THANK YOU to you buckaroos over here. you are actively supporting my way and i appreciate it so much. the buckaroos here understand the way of sincerity, so i am going to post a CLASSIC TINGLER REVISTED that reflects that, but first here is the post:

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favorite author i have never read

hey there buckaroos thank you for all the DEEP DISCUSSIONS we are having a great time here on tumblr. thought today i could make a post that is slightly more difficult its not all sunshine days ahead and requires a little introspection. LOOK AT US we have all arrived here together through trust and love and i think we can keep this going. chuck made this post on other platforms years ago and i think it was said very well then and led to some good discussion, so i am going to repost here. okay lets go deep bud here we go:

i would like to spend moment today talking about common joke i hear online (and even too my face at conventions). this is jokerman way i hear ALL the dang time: 'chuck tingle is my favorite author i have never read' or less jokerman way but of ‘i have never read his books but i love chuck tingle'.

first of all, THANK YOU buds. this is not way of call out post to make you feel bad, i appreciate your way and understand you are trying to support. this is not attack on your message and from bottom of chucks heart THANK YOU.

BUT i have to say something about this. please consider what you are saying when you post this. would you send this as message to STEPHEN KING or NEIL GAIMAN or NK JEMISIN? i doubt this. it would seem VERY RUDE to message other authors. just imagine trotting up to a writer and saying ‘i would NEVER read your books haha’ but it is sent to chuck all the dang time.

obvious reason buds say it to chuck is that i am queer author with a unique way. yes i write in realm of wild fantasy and erotic pairings, but by saying ‘i have never read chuck BUT' you are really saying 'i am posting my support of this but PLEASE DONT THINK I AM REALLY INTERESTED IN THIS PERSONALLY.' there are similar distasteful jokes that i will not repeat involving saying 'no bud on bud pounds' after a sentence that works in similar way.

is sexual art really that bad? is queer art really that embarrassing? is unusual outsider art really that funny?

it is one thing if your preferred pound is not one of chucks tinglers, that is TOTALLY FINE BUD, but if you are an adult i would say 'is it REALLY that scary to read a book about a way of sex that is not yours? is it that difficult to think that something that seems silly to you could actually MOVE YOU in an important way? do you HAVE to disconnect yourself from lgtbqia art with a 'but i don't read this myself?'

keep in mind, there are gay tinglers, there are asexual tinglers, there are trans tinglers, there are select your own timeline tinglers, there are horror tinglers. TINGLERS FOR EVERY TASTE. the thing that buds are often REALLY saying with ‘favorite author i have never read’ is ‘this is WEIRD and dont be confused because im NOT WEIRD IM COOL DONT THINK I ACTUALLY LIKE THIS’. funny enough even the proudly fun and wild and unique buckaroos will STILL say this line, maybe without taking time to think of what it means or how rude it is?

WHY would you never read a chuck book? because my way is queer? because it is neurodivergent? even if that is not there reason or even if YOUR ARE ALSO PERSONALLY QUEER AND NEURODIVERGENT TOO, think about what the joke is IMPLYING.

is sincerely enjoying something thats kind of unusual that difficult? do we really have to slather it in irony and ‘so bad its good?’ before reposting?

in closing as man name of chuck i will say you can still make this joke if you want buckaroos i know you are just having a good time proving love in your own way. i am not upset with you bud and i appreciate your support in any way you give it. there are some buckaroos who just CANT AFFORD tinglers and that is an important way i understand as well. obviously this conversation does not apply to those buds. but for the rest of us trotting along, MAYBE think about what you are really saying with this jokerman way first, and MAYBE try cracking open a tingler because you might be surprised. its not that scary bud. thank you for listening

being sincere is VERY COOL and VERY PUNK ROCK. i encourage all buckaroos out there to give it a try.

LOVE IS REAL

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alright my PUNK ROCK BUDS lets get trottin with a story about sincerity. thank you for appreciating my way, i appreciate YOUR way so heckin much. please enjoy POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY BIZARRE ASSUMPTION THAT CHUCK TINGLE BOOKS ARE JUST COVERS AND NOT ACTUAL BOOKS

Mumblo Peeps has one last presentation to give if he wants his master’s degree, but to finish it on time would be nearly impossible. Mumblo just doesn’t have it in him.

Fortunately, Mumblo’s friend Jordon is also giving a final presentation, which just so happens to be about the works of erotica author Chuck Tingle. Mumblo is confused on how his friend intends to fill an entire project, since Chuck Tingle just creates fake books covers, only to realize that Chuck Tingle books are, in fact, real.

Now Mumblo is locked into a passionate tryst with the physical manifestation of his bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books, teaching Mumblo that anything is possible if you just put your butt into it.

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POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY BIZARRE ASSUMPTION THAT CHUCK TINGLE BOOKS ARE JUST COVERS AND NOT ACTUAL BOOKS

By Chuck Tingle

To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how I got here. When I look back at my history as a college student, it feels as though I only have memories of barely scraping by, yet somehow I always manage to slip under the metaphorical gate as it closes. My grades aren’t great, but they’re good enough, and now I’ve found myself just days away from getting my master’s degree is media studies and The Royal Academy Of Billings.

As someone who’s just barely been hanging on this entire time, coming down the finish line like this is more than a little stressful. There’s a number of final presentations that need to be done, projects popping up in one class just as soon as they’re knocked down in another. I’m trying to keep a positive attitude as I navigate through all this, but deep down I can already see the writing on the wall. Things are finally starting to crumble, and in these last precious moments of my educational life I’m coming face to face with something I’ve never before experienced: I might actually fail.

Of course, failing isn’t the end of the world. Worst case scenario, I’ll just need to take a few more classes and stay in school a little longer than I’d originally planned. It’s manageable, but I’m certainly not excited about the prospect.

I think all of this as I stare out into space at the campus café, my friend Ben sitting across the table from me just shaking his head.

“You sure spend a lot of time not doing anything for someone who claims to be overwhelmed,” he offers.

“I’m thinking,” I reply.

“Well, class starts in fifteen minutes and you’re scheduled to present your final today,” Ben continues. “So I hope all that thinking has helped you come up with an entire presentation, with well cited sources and a slide presentation to match.”

He’s messing with me, of course. Right now the idea of finishing this project is ridiculous, especially since I haven’t even decided what to do it about. All I can hope for is a one week extension, which is exactly what I’m prepared to ask my professor to do, but even that is feeling like a waste of time.

“I don’t even know if I want to come in today,” I reply, letting out a long sigh. “I’ve already failed.”

Ben’s eyes go wide. “You’ve got a whole week!” he blurts. “Granted you’ll lose a full letter grade for taking the extension, but it’s better than nothing!”

“You think I’m gonna be able to come up with an idea and write an entire presentation in a week?” I counter. “There’s no way. It’s not even possible.”

“It’s possible if you focus and work your ass off,” Ben replies.

I just shake my head. “Not possible,” I repeat.

My friend is clearly frustrated with my attitude, but he’s not letting me off that easy. “Fine,” Ben continues, “You can call this class a lost cause if you want, but you’re still coming in today, because I’m presenting.”

I nod understandingly. Despite all my own issues, I’d still like to be there for my friend and watch as he bestows what is sure to be an incredible research project.

“So which outsider media icon did you choose?” I question.

“Chuck Tingle,” my friend replies.

I nod along, struggling to maintain an expression of acceptance while my mind reels. I love Chuck Tingle’s fake book covers just as much as the next buckaroo, but this is the final presentationand I know for a fact our professor is looking for topics with some meat on the bone. It’d be one thing if there was some guy out there actually writing these books, a real author behind it all, but I’m not sure a few photoshopped images with creative fake titles is anything to write home about.

“So what are you gonna say about Chuck?” I finally question, my curiosity getting the best of me. “I mean, those covers are great but…” I start, trailing off.

“Are you kidding?” Ben replies. “There’s so much there! The meta tinglers, the political tinglers, the current events tinglers. There are asexual books now, bisexual books, trans books; not to mention the progressive subtext of it all.”

I’m trying to follow along, but it’s not getting any easier. “Yeah, but they’re just… covers,” I finally counter.

Ben hears this but it doesn’t quite register, his expression one of unexpected confusion. It’s as though he can’t even understand the words that I’m saying, struggling to communicate in an entirely different language.

Eventually, however, his expression changes to one of panic as he glances over my shoulder. “Oh shit,” Ben blurts. “We better get over there.”

The two of us collect our bags and head for the door, pushing out into the warm afternoon as we hustle across campus. Ben is incredibly smart, but I just can’t help wondering what he’s doing with this project.

Sure, Chuck has come up with an impressive amount of fake book covers, but no matter how many images there are, that’s all there is to it.

We eventually arrive at the lecture hall and head inside. At this point Ben, breaks away from me, focused on a few last minute preparations.

“Go sit down,” he offers, “I’ve got a special guest I need to check in with.”

The statement is mysterious, but I don’t have much time to think about it. Instead, Ben and I split off as I continue onward, walking down the steps of this giant lecture hall and searching for an open spot near the front. The room is packed with fellow students, but I somehow manage to slide into a good spot directly in front.

Moments later, the door opens and our professor steps forth, immediately quieting the room down. Professor Limbo is a handsome triceratops who seems to deeply enjoy what he does. I genuinely feel bad about the fact that I’ve fallen behind in his class because I always enjoy listening to what he has to say.

“Alright!” the suited dinosaur declares loudly. “We are now entering day four of our final presentations. I just want to say how proud I am of the work you’re putting in. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’m constantly surprised by the outsider media icons you select. You’d think there would be some repeats, but that’s rarely the case, and even when there are, you guys always seem to find a fresh take.”

The triceratops strolls over to his desk and picks up a piece of paper. He pushes up the glasses that rest at the end of his horned nose, squinting to read the words before him.

“Ben Alderman,” he announces.

The second our dinosaur professor says this, the side door opens up and Ben steps into the lecture hall, smiling wide and strolling out into the middle of the room. He has an air of powerful confidence about him, greeting our professor and then motioning for the lights to come down.

Suddenly, a projection appears on an enormous screen behind Ben. It’s an image of a man wearing a Tae Kwon Do gi with a pink bag of his head. Across this bag, the words “love is real” have been written in black pen, and below this rests a pair of dark sunglasses that cover his eyes.

“This is Chuck Tingle,” Ben starts, pulling out a set of note cards from his pocket but barely glancing down at them. He’s clearly been rehearsing this for a while. “Chuck is an erotica and romance writer from Billings, Montana. While his real identity is unknown, he has still managed to become one of the most recognizable literary figures in recent memory. This, in part, is due to his creation of…”

Ben hesitates for emphasis, then eventually changes to the next slide, which displays a wide variety of Chuck’s notorious covers.

“The tingler,” Ben finishes.

The whole lecture hall gazes upon this glorious selection of images, featuring all kinds of Chuck Tingle book covers from across the spectrum of his work. Some images feature beautiful unicorns in leather jackets, while others display hunky manifestations of living concepts, their muscular bodies swirling in the air.

Of course, this is the exact point I’d been dreading for my friend.

Chuck is definitely interesting as a creator, but once you’ve seen the covers, what else is there?

“Numbering around three-hundred published works, Chuck’s books range from short stories to full novels,” Ben starts in again, motioning toward the enormous slide projected behind him. “In fact, he has been nominated for a Hugo Award twice! Chuck’s books range in their themes, but they typically revolve around a few key issues.”

I narrow my eyes as I watch the presentation continue, suddenly deeply confused about what’s going on here. As I said before, Ben is normally very good at this type of thing, but making up lies is not at all something I expected.

Everyone knows Chuck Tingle only creates covers for books that don’t actually exist, which is great, but the idea that someone could actually write a book for each one of these artworks is utterly ridiculous. In the real world, it’s simply impossible to have that kind of creative output.

I keep glancing over at our professor, waiting for him to chime in and cut Ben off to state the obvious. The dinosaur seems completely unphased, however, listening intently as Ben continues to discuss the themes that work their way through Chuck Tingle’s writing.

Over the course of the presentation, Ben shows a variety of different slides that mention all kinds of deep Tingle lore. One of them is titled The Void And The Absence Of Self while another displays the title The Ethical Implications Of The Lonesome Train.

I’d be quite impressed with the depth of Ben’s research and the points he’s making, if not for the fact that he’s pulling them out of his ass.

Eventually, my friend finishes and the lights go up.

“I’d love to take any questions the class might have,” my friend offers.

Immediately, a hand goes up.

“Yes! You!” Ben offers, pointing to a woman just a few rows behind me.

“I’m confused,” she replies. “I thought Chuck Tingle was just a meme about fake book covers. You mean to tell me these are real stories… and they’re actually good?”

I’m relieved someone else mentioned the elephant in the room so I didn’t have to.

Ben immediately starts laughing. “It’s funny, there’s a surprising amount of people who think this. In fact, I knew this would be a question after my presentation so I decide to bring someone along who could help us answer.”

On this cue, the lecture hall door opens up and a swirling, manifested concept steps through. He appears as an enormous red circle with a slash through the middle, hovering a few feet off the ground. Within this familiar symbol is the cover of a Chuck Tingle book, although I can’t quite make out the title from here. Even at this distance, however, there’s no question about just how breathtakingly handsome the sentient concept is, his winning smile and chiseled jaw making my breath catch my throat.

“Let me introduce you to the physical manifestation of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books!” Ben announces proudly.

The two of them greet each other with a warm hug, then the sentient concept pulls away to address the class.

“Hi everyone!” the concept begins. “It’s true, I’m the physical manifestation of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books, but most people just call me Jordan. To answer your question from earlier, yes Chuck Tingle books are real, and yes they’re pretty good.”

The class immediately begins to chatter amongst themselves, many of them clearly just as surprised by this news as I was.

Another hand goes up.

“Yes!” Jordan calls out, pointing to the student.

“I’m just curious what the cover is that floats in the middle of your body as a symbol for the fact that Chuck Tingle actually writes books,” they ask.

My bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books looks down at himself and then smiles. “That’s for a title named “Pounded In The Butt By My Bizarre Assumption That Chuck Tingle Books Are Just Covers And Not Actual Books,” he explains. “Which brings me to something that Ben wanted me to talk about. You see, Chuck Tingle books will often have meta commentary, do you know what that is?”

Someone else raises their hand and the living concept points to them.

“Meta commentary would be a reference to something that breaks the fourth wall,” the student explains.

“Exactly,” Jordan replies with a smile and a nod. “For instance, I’m personally aware this is a fictional book, so in this particular tingler I’m the meta character.”

I can’t help but glance around the lecture hall, struggling to determine if I’m the only one who got lost on this last point. Apparently, I’m not alone.

Still, the sentient concept continues onward, answering questions like a pro while our triceratops professor watches with rapt attention. There’s no doubt in my mind that Ben is getting an A on his final project.

Eventually, the living concept finishes and Ben’s presentation is over. At this point the lecture hall erupts with applause as Ben and his friend move over to the side and Professor Limbo steps forward.

“Alright, up next we have a presentation from Mumblo Peeps,” he announces.

That’s my name.

The dinosaur glances up to see if anyone is coming down to the front of the room, but nobody moves. Instead, I stand up to address him from my seat.

I open my mouth to inform Professor Limbo that I’ve decided to not do this project, but suddenly, I stop. The words are right there in the back of my throat, locked and loaded, but I simply can’t do it.

I’m now considering the fact Chuck Tingle actually wrote all those books, sometimes pounding them out over night as a comment on newsworthy events of the previous day. If Chuck can accomplish that, then I can certainly pull together a final project in a week’s time.

“I’d like to ask for the extension,” I suddenly announce. “I know it will drop my grade by a letter, but I think I need it before presenting.”

“Very well,” my dinosaur professor replies, nodding along with a surprising amount of understanding and mercy. “Well, I look forward to seeing what you have for us one week from today. In that case, class is dismissed.”

The lecture hall full of students immediately burst to their feet and head for the door. I follow along, eventually pushing out into the hallway where Ben and his friend, the physical manifestation of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books, are waiting for me.

“Hey!” I gush, running up to them. “That was amazing.”

“Thanks buddy!” Ben replies, “By the way, I’m really proud of you for taking the extension. It’s gonna be a hell of a week, but I think you can get it done.”

I nod. “Well, I was inspired by Jordan here. Actually, I was gonna ask you about Chuck’s writing process, since you’re clearly connected in some way. I know that he writes fast and… well… I’ve got a project due in a week than I haven’t even started.”

Ben and Jordan exchange glances, a brief moment that I can’t quite understand, then my friend turns his attention back to me. “I think you guys have a lot to discuss, actually. I’ll catch ya later.”

With that, Ben turns and heads off down the hallway, leaving just me and the physical manifestation of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers not actual books. I’d already been quite attracted to this sentient concept, but now that we’ve got a moment to ourselves I’m overwhelmingly drawn to him. My heart is pounding hard within my chest, my nerves getting the best of me.

It’s only now that I can clearly see the image that rests in the middle of his circular body, the cover that had eluded me until this very moment.

I gasp when I see it, suddenly realizing the cover features me and Jordan standing in an empty lecture hall, ready to pound.

“Oh, whoa,” I blurt.

“You wanna head this way?” the living concept asks, nodding down one of the nearby hallways that has emptied out completely.

I follow along as the two of us leave the crowd behind, traveling deeper and deeper into the building until finally Jordan makes a sharp turn into one of the empty lecture halls. We suddenly find ourselves in a vast room with high ceilings and plenty of chairs, but I don’t take long to observe my surroundings. My focus is squarely fixed on my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books.

Overwhelmed with arousal, the two of us begin to passionately make out, locked in a frantic barrage of kisses as he strips the clothing away from my body. It’s not long before I’m standing completely naked before him, colorful fabric scattered about as Jordan’s hands continue to roam.

My bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books slowly begins to lower his attention across my frame, starting at my chest and then working his hands down across my abs. He continues dropping his fingers until he reaches my waistline, and which point the sentient concept stops and teases me for a moment.

“I need it,” I gasp. “Please.”

The living concept smiles, then finally has mercy as he crosses this forbidden border.

I let out a long, satisfied groan as Jordan wraps his fingers around my swollen cock, stroking me off in a series of long, graceful pumps. I lean my head back, shutting my eyes and allowing the sensation to overwhelm me.

“Fuck yes,” I moan, slowly pushing back against the sentient concept’s movements as the two of us fall into a pleasant rhythm together.

Gradually, my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books drops down to his knees, gazing up with cock hungry eyes as he continues to beat me off. He opens his mouth wide and consumes my rod, pumping his lips across my shaft in a series of slow, deliberate movements.

I place my hands on the back of Jordan’s head, encouraging him along as the living concept speeds up. Soon enough, he’s hammering his face across my rod, belligerently swallowing my dick in a frenzy of lust. Faster and faster he goes until eventually pulling back in a wild gasp, struggling to collect himself.

Jordan takes a moment and then dives back in, only this time he doesn’t pump his lips quickly across me. Instead, the handsome living concept pushes down farther and farther, relaxing his gag reflex enough to allow my cock past and consuming my dick entirely. The next thing I know, he’s holding me deep in an expertly performed deep throat.

The sensation is incredible, and we stay like this for an exceptionally long time. I’m impressed with the oral skills of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books, but soon enough I find myself craving a penetration of my own. I want him to fuck me, and I want him to fuck me hard.

When Jordan finally removes my rod from his depths I spring into action, climbing down next to the sentient concept and spinning around. I drop to my hands and knees, popping my bare ass out toward Jordan and wiggling it from side to side.

“What are you waiting for?” I coo. “Fuck me.”

I reach back and give one butt cheek a playful slap to emphasize this request.

My bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books immediately dives in, but not in the way I expect. Before I know it he is maneuvering himself behind me, plunging his tongue deep into my butthole and taking a moment to eat my ass.

“Oh fuck,” I blurt, loving every second of this unexpected sensation.

The sentient concept continues like this for a good while and then finally pulls back, climbing up into position behind me. He aligns his enormous rod with my backdoor and then pushes forward with one deep, powerful swoop.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, not entirely prepared for Jordan’s enormous size. He stretches me to my absolute limits, my butthole expanding wide to accept the girth of his mighty rod.

My hands grip tight against the lecture hall floor below, bracing against the weight of my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books.

Fortunately, Jordan is a patient lover, and he takes his time allowing my body to accept his enormous shaft. The living concept stays planted firmly within my ass, strictly unmoving as my butthole gradually adapts. Soon enough, any discomfort begins to slip away, replaced instead by a pleasant and overwhelming warmth.

It’s not long before my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books begins to slowly rock his hips, moving in and out of me in a series of patient swoops. The two of us gradually fall into sync with one another, elevating our speed until Jordan is hammering into me with a confident, steady rhythm.

“Just like that, just like that,” I repeat over and over again, losing myself in the moment as the words spill out of my mouth in a blissful mantra.

I can feel the first hints of prostate orgasm building up within, so I reach down and grab ahold of my hanging cock in order to help myself along. I stroke myself off in time with the living concept’s slams from behind, the two sources of pleasure creating a perfect polyrhythm with one another.

My body is flooding with sensation now, the ache at the pit of my stomach growing larger and larger as it spills out across my arms and legs. I’m trembling hard, quaking with pleasure as my bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books pushes me farther along.

“I’m gonna cum!” I scream.

“Me too,” the living concept gushes, railing away at my asshole with everything he’s got.

The next thing I know, the orgasm hits me hard. I throw back my head and let out a primal scream as blinding pleasure erupts through my body, every muscle expanding and contracting in unison. Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft, splattering out across the flood below in a beautiful, pearly pattern of spunk.

Meanwhile, Jordan doesn’t let up for a second. The handsome living concept continues to slam me with everything he’s got, making sure I’m entirely finished before thrusting deep and holding as he explodes with a climax of his own. I can feel his cum spilling out within me in a hot milky payload, filling me up to the brim and then squirting out from the edges of my tightly packed asshole.

Jordan’s seed runs down the back of my legs in long white streaks, spilling forth as he finally pulls out of me and collapses in a state of utter exhaustion.

“That was amazing,” I gush, crawling over next to him.

We wrap our arms around each other and sit for a moment in the empty lecture hall, struggling to catch our breaths. I feel satisfied in a way that I haven’t in a very, very long time, but also unexpectedly inspired.

“We better get going,” I finally offer. “Now that I see how much Chuck Tingle can accomplish when he sets his mind to something, I’m certain I can do the same. One week is plenty of time to finish this project.”

My bizarre assumption that Chuck Tingle books are just covers and not actual books smiles and nods in approval. “Go get ‘em,” he says. “I believe in you.”