This Kerning Eats Ass And She's Great At It Also We Are Deeply In Love

When Geeli’s friend forwards her a selection of Chuck Tingle books covers, she’s immediately taken by their joyful irreverence. Unfortunately, the unexpected kerning of Chuck’s titles quickly quells any previous goodwill, deeply irritating Geeli and alienating her sensibilities as a graphic designer.

When Geeli arrives at work, however, her annoyances quickly transform into a massive problem. It appears Chuck’s cover artist, Morba, has been hired as the new head of layout and Morba, and Morba is the physical manifestation of the kerning on this very book.

Geeli’s not entirely sure what all this reality-drifting, forth-wall-breaking action means, but she’s about to find out in a hardcore lesbian encounter that will prove love is real, regardless of the way you space your text!

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on living kerning action and sentient lesbian text spacing love.

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AUTHORS NOTE: this would usually be a traditional tingler for only true buckaroo members however since it is talking about 'THIS kerning' in forth wall breaking way it applies to this current moment in the present of our timeline, which means i will put as CURRENT EVENT TINGLER as a technicality. so this is for ALL tier levels now which i think proves love is real, thanks buds please enjoy

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THIS KERNING EATS ASS AND SHE’S GREAT AT IT ALSO WE ARE DEEPLY IN LOVE

By Chuck Tingle

‘Did you see this?’ the message asks as it pops onto my laptop screen, delivered with a digital chime and pulling my attention to the corner.

I’m sitting in the breakfast nook, sipping from my morning glass of chocolate milk and gazing out at the dew covering my yard in a wet sheen. I’d been watching a video analysis of some recent political news, but at this point I’m thankful to have a distraction. Too much of that stuff has a tendency to tie my mood into knots.

I click the text alert and open it up, seeing now that this message was sent from a friend of mine, Cherry. She’s always sending me memes or funny videos, making sure I’m up to date on every current trend that sweeps its way across the internet. If it wasn’t for Cherry, I’d have no idea what was going on in this particular sector of culture, and while I sometimes jokingly say I might be better off, I have to admit Cherry’s forwards bring me a lot of joy.

There are three images attached to this text, which open in unison, and the second I see them I can’t help but laugh. It appears these are all book covers from the author Chuck Tingle, each one featuring some unusual romantic pairing of a gorgeous human with a living object or mythical creature.

The first one is titled Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt. This cover sports a shirtless man turned away from the viewer, his buns popped out towards us while a winged ass flutters around him with a trail of golden dust.

Next is My Macaroni And Cheese Is A Lesbian, Also She Is My Lawyer, which showcases a beautiful woman standing next to a smiling pot of sentient mac and cheese.

Lastly is a book titled Bisexual Mothman Mailman Makes A Special Delivery In Our Butts. A couple stands to one side of this cover, while a mothman in a postal worker’s uniform looms on the other, his eyes glowing with fiery red brilliance.

The sight of these three incredible works prompts an immediate reaction from deep within the pit of my stomach, a sudden eruption of laughter that’s too visceral and instinctual to hold back. Thankfully, my mouth is no longer full of chocolate milk, otherwise it might’ve erupted from my throat and sprayed across the computer screen.

I immediately, start typing back to my friend, speaking the words aloud as my fingers dance across the keyboard before me. “Oh my god, these are so…”

My eyes abruptly catch something on these covers and I find myself trailing off, unable to finish the sentence.

I turn my attention back to the images on my screen, looking a little closer as my initial good-natured reaction begins to wane. As a professional graphic designer, I tend to get a little too focused on the details, lost in the weeds as my attention is pulled to unexpected places.

Sometimes I’ll recognize the typeface in a particular add, identifying it as overused or out of style. Other times, I’ll spot a section of the design that isn’t blended together just right, or a corner someone decided to cut in the hopes that nobody else would notice.

Well, someone else notices: me.

This time, however, my gaze is drawn to one of my biggest annoyances, something that drives me absolutely madevery time I have the misfortune of spotting it — bad kerning.

For those who don’t know, kerning is an element of text design and alignment. In the most basic terms, it’s the amount of space between individual letters. Just typing something in without adjustment rarely makes for good kerning, because it won’t appear visually pleasing. In the worst of situations, bad kerning can make words borderline unreadable.

Whoever happened to design these book covers for Chuck Tingle clearly has no idea what kerning is, and if they doknow, they certainly don’t care. The titles of these three books may look fine to someone who’s not paying much attention, but for me they are graphic design disasters.

“Fuck,” I murmur, the single word slipping out of my mouth in a state of shock that gradually becomes frustration.

Chuck Tingle is a published author, and thisis his text layout?

The kerning on these books is so egregious that it’s making me quite upset, viscerally reacting.

I consider typing something back to Cherry that says as much, but as my gaze catches the current time I find myself distracted by yet another important issue: I’m about to be late for work.

I immediately close my laptop and slip it into my bag, standing up from the table and heading for the door.

My office is unusually bustling today, humming with energy as I stroll through the long hallways towards my desk. There’ve been a lot of changes here at Borson Books, this independent publisher quickly growing in size thanks to a slate of particularly well received titles. Things are looking up, with raises happening across the board and a slew of new hires entering the fray.

As I pass Cherry’s office I stop briefly, knocking on my friend’s open door to draw her attention. She glances up from her desk and smiles when she notices me. “Hey!” my friend offers. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” I reply, nodding along. “You?”

“Just trying to finish up these sales reports for the quarter,” Cherry states, a little exasperated. My friend’s expression quickly shifts though. “You saw those Chuck Tingle books right? Pretty amazing.”

I raise my eyebrows, not entirely sure what to say. My fury with the kerning has dissipated slightly, but I still can’t say I’m a fan.

“Yeah, the books looked pretty good,” I admit, struggling to find an objective angle. Unfortunately, I’m unable to stop my words here. “The text design is atrocious though. That kerning.”

Cherry’s eyes go wide when I say then, her body language shifting to a state of vague discomfort. “Oh, okay then,” she replies. “Maybe let’s not say that so loud.”

I laugh. “I don’t get it.”

My friend hesitates. “Do you not realize why I sent you those?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I thought you were just sharing a meme.”

A booming voice suddenly carries out through the office, interrupting our conversation. It’s my boss. “Alright everyone, before we get going today I’ve got an important announcement. Everyone gather round.”

Cherry rises and strolls out of her office as I follow behind, the two of us making our way into the central area of our office. It’s here that a crowd of employees have gathered, the group of us encircling our boss who stands proud and tall in his usual dark suit. Next to him is an unfamiliar figure, rectangular in shape and floating through the air.

It appears to be a living object, and then second I can read the words printed across her face I gasp in shock. She’s a living book, and her title is This Kerning Eats Ass And She’s Great At It Also We Are Deeply In Love.

I can’t help but notice that my own face is staring back at me from the cover.

“What the hell is going on,” I stammer.

Cherry glances over, her voice hushed so as not to disturb the meeting. “I tried to tell you. Our new lead text designer is the woman who does all of Chuck Tingle’s stuff. I thought you knew that when I sent over those book covers.”

I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of my own likeness on the cover of this book.

“What about the fact that it’s me on the front,” I continue.

Cherry takes a long gaze, squinting her eyes. “It doesn’t look like you,” she counters.

“That’s literally me!” I blurt, raising my voice a little too much and drawing confused looks from the coworkers gathered around us. “I’m wearing the exact same underwear!”

I pull down my collar a bit to show Cherry my bra, but she still seems unphased by this strange coincidence. “Huh,” is all she can offer.

My boss clears his throat, prompting everyone to settle into a low murmur.

“Listen up!” he begins. “As you know, we’ve been making some big moves here at Borson Books. The latest of these in our new hire, who you may know as the text layout artist for Chuck Tingle’s entire tingler catalog. That’s right, Morba Yankin.”

Morba floats forward a bit, smiling and waving. Unfortunately, now that I’ve gotten over my initial shock it’s hard to focus on anything besides the absolutely horrific kerning across her cover.

The space between ‘eats’ and ‘ass’ is enormous, although technically this is called spacing, not kerning.

How could she be the next heard of text layout?

“Thank you so much,” Morba offers. “I really appreciate you all having me as part of the team. I’m looking forward to meeting you, especially the design team.”

My boss addresses the crowd once again, ending this brief introduction. “Alright, let’s get to work!”

Soon enough the whole crew is spreading out, returning to their duties as the chaotic din of our workspace fills the air once more. I immediately head towards my office, closing the door behind me so I can have a moment alone with my thoughts.

So much is happening at once that I can’t help the deep confusion bubbling up within. I’m frustrated by the prospect of this new hire, but also deeply confused by the fact that I’m featured on her cover. Part of me wants Morba to come over here and introduce herself quickly, tearing off the band-aid and allowing us to sort things out, but another part of me is dreading the whole ordeal.

Suddenly, there’s a confident knock on my office door, an immediate answer to my question.

I hesitate, then let out the most genuine response I can muster. “Come on in!”

The door opens and Morba slips inside, closing it behind her. Now that I can see her up close there’s no doubt in my mind the woman on her cover is me, and while this fills me with a sense of surreal dread, my reaction is countered by another startling observation.

Morba is absolutely gorgeous, a beautiful living book who’s been perfectly crafted other than her slightly bizarre kerning. Although, even that has a certain charm now that I’m witnessing it up close. Her uniqueness is alluring.

“I just wanted to say hi,” Morba offers. “Sounds like we’re gonna be working together a lot now.”

I nod. “I’m Geeli. I’m excited to work with you.”

Morba pauses the second I say this, her expression faltering slightly. I was trying my best to stay cool and hide my simmering disdain, but apparently I didn’t try hard enough.

“Is everything alright?” Morba asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I blurt, then realize I have too many questions bubbling up within me to beat around the bush any longer. “Actually, no.”

“I’m here to listen,” the living book offers. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve seen a lot of your work and, honestly, there’s something about it that really bothers me,” I admit. “The kerning is… wrong.”

Morba raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

I nod. “It honestly drives me a little nuts just looking at it.”

The sentient book listens intently. I’m honestly surprised at just how good she is at taking this feedback, not at all offended or upset over these words that others might be rightly angered by.

“Well, I’ll agree the kerning is unique,” Morba continues, “but it’s not wrong.”

I’m trying my best to accept this, and I fully understand what she’s trying to say, but this philosophical leap is simply too far for me to make.

“Evenly spaced is correct,” I suddenly blurt.

“Is it, though?” Morba asks.

“Yes,” I reply sharply.

“But is it?” the living book continues.

I’m a little frustrated now, not sure how to respond.

“Here’s the thing,” Morba continues, shifting gears a bit. “Art and design is all about serving a purpose and making a statement, and sometimes that statement breaks the rules of traditional design.”

“And what statement is that?” I question.

Morba smiles. “That the little imperfections are beautiful. Let’s say, for example, that Chuck Tingle once had a problem with everything needing to be perfectly in line and even. Let’s say he was obsessed with this to an unhealthy degree, becoming a source of chronic pain, and that loosening up on this was part of his personal journey.”

“Wait, is that true?” I blurt, suddenly feeling kind of awkward.

Morba shrugs. “Let’s say it is. Anyway, let’s say Chuck started leaving in little imperfections, like spelling errors and various minor mistakes that don’t really matter, as an exercise in not obsessing over that kind of thing. Let’s say it might have been a huge hurdle for him to overcome, and this process has been really important for his mental health and stress management.”

“Well, now I feel bad for complaining about it,” I reply.

“Don’t be,” the living book counters. “He’s okay. It’s just kinda funny… theoretically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” I reply, suddenly not sure where to go from here.

All this time I’d thought the lack of descent kerning was some lazy, unintended mistake, but now it appears this might be something larger. I’m trying not to feel too bad about the way I addressed this, and Morba’s assurances that Chuck is totally fine with my criticism go a long way, but I still can’t help feeling a little strange.

As my eyes return to the book’s layout, however, a whole new set of questions arise.

“Oh yeah, and why am I on your cover?” I suddenly blurt.

Morba glances down at the front of her own body in shock, then back up at me. She does this a few times, as though something might change within this image. Nothing does.

“You?” she finally cries out. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“What one?” I question.

Morba smiles. “When I look at the person on this book cover I don’t see anyone,” she explains. “Well, I see a person,but they’re hazy and undefined. That’s because they haven’t really been described in the story yet.”

She’s certainly explaining something, but with every word I just get more and more confused.

“Chuck writes erotica, so it’s better if the lead character isn’t defined. Sounds like you’re the main character, though, so you can see yourself,” she explains.

“Chuck Tingle?” I question. “The guy you work for?”

Morba shakes her head. “I work for the Chuck Tingle on this timeline, but the one who decides my cover is on the timeline above ours looking in. He’s writing all of this. See, you seem to think I’m a sentient book, but I’m not. I’m the physical manifestation of ‘this kerning’, as in the kerning on the cover of our book. I’m an idea, and that makes it a lot easier for me to drift through timelines.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I admit.

“That’s okay,” Morba replies. “I’m just… happy I guess. I wasn’t sure who the main character was gonna be, and I’m glad it’s you.”

I’m still not entirely sure what this means, but the weight of this physical manifestation’s words and the sincerity in her expression only serves to fuel the burning fire within me. We didn’t get off on a great foot, but maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I’m here to learn something, to grow as a “main character,” as Morba had put it.

As I gaze at Morba, I begin to see exactly what she meant. There’s a beauty to the imperfection, a bold statement that this physically manifested kerning is perfectly fine with.

That kind of confidence is deeply, deeply attractive.

Morba’s face reveals a similar thought process, gradually arriving on an expression of overwhelming attraction.

“You can’t have an erotica book about kerning without something spicy to fill it with,” the physical manifestation announces.

This time, I somehow know exactly what she means.

The next thing I know we’re rushing together in a moment of unbridled passion, our lips meeting in a frantic barrage of kisses. Morba gets to work stripping me down, pulling the fabric away from my body and tossing it to the side.

A satisfied groan escapes my lips as our skin meets in a moment of pure bliss, the tension that’s been building within us finally releasing in this powerful erotic moment. Morba’s attention starts at the top and then gradually works its way down, tracing my collarbone with her fingers and then gently massaging my breasts below. Farther and farther her fingers creep, eventually stopping for a moment as they dance playfully across the border of my waist.

The living concept teases me here for a bit, taking her time and watching as my hips instinctively push towards her. We kiss deeply once again, the essence of our forms somehow intertwining, and in this moment Morba finally slips her digits even lower to glide them across my waiting clit.

A pulse of trembling sensation washes through me in a wave, the first note of what will eventually transform into a carnal symphony. The forth wall breaking physical manifestation of this book’s kerning begins to move in time with my body, rocking slowly against me as we fall into a pleasant rhythm.

I reach down and begin to rub this beautiful living concept at a similar pace, our bodies working together in a feedback loop of pleasure. Whimpering softly, our voices begin to rise with the building erotic pressure at the pit of my stomach.

The sensation is incredible, but I’m craving something more. In a moment of carnal compulsion, I drop to my knees before Morba, gazing up at her with a fire in my eyes. I’m still rubbing her pussy gently with one hand, but with a quick exchange I push my head forward and dive in with my tongue.

Soon enough, I’m lapping away at my living concept lover, keeping the same pace but using an entirely new set of tools. I work her with a series of deep, slow movements, then begin to focus my attention directly on her most sensitive areas. I move the tip of my tongue across her with rapid diligence, noting the way her body reacts to my technique and adjusting accordingly.

When I find a pulse that Morba likes I stick with it, then refine from there. Eventually, the manifestation of this book’s kerning reaches down and places her hands on the back of my head, pushing me harder against her and taking even more control.

“Oh my fucking god,” she groans. “You’re filling that space just right.”

I can feel Morba’s body tremble and quake, unable to maintain control of her form as its overwhelmed by potent surges of pleasure. The sensation gradually makes its way across her entire frame, filling her completely as the shaking becomes far too unruly to maintain.

“I’m gonna cum!” Morba cries out, completely losing herself in the moment.

The living concept’s body heaves forward, nearly toppling over as I carry her through this incredible climax from beginning to end. I don’t let up for a second, keeping the pace with my tongue and refusing to tire as the pleasure washes through her.

When Morba finally finishes she staggers back, but our erotic encounter is far from over. Her expression is one of potent hunger, a craving to help me experience the same awesome pleasure I’ve just gifted her.

I lay back against the floor of my office, smiling up at this living concept mischievously. With one finger I reach out and make a hook, beckoning my lover towards me.

Morba floats down into position, resting on top as our lips meet once again. The two of us roll around like this for a moment, but eventually the sentient concept begins to make her way down my form, drifting lower and lower until she’s kissing along my stomach.

Up to her old tricks, the living concept teases me by slowing her descent once again, but she no longer has the patience from before. She’s just as caught up in this moment as I am, unable to hold herself back. Morba soon drops down and dives in, licking my pussy as a satisfied moan escapes my lips.

I tilt my head and arch my back, unable to stop the powerful compulsion that rips through me. Morba’s oral skills are incredible and she wastes no time, getting to work as she licks my pussy with rabid enthusiasm. She falls into the same pace that I’d given to her, adjusting in accordance with the reactions of my body until she finally arrives at the perfect speed.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” I sigh reaching down and placing my hand against the back of her head. “Just like that!”

I repeat these words over and over again, the sentence spilling out of my mouth in a blissful trace. With every passing round I grow louder and louder, the tone and volume of my voice matching perfectly with the escalating sensations within my body.

The warm ache that started out in the depths of my stomach has worked its way across my arms and legs, filling me up and consuming every nerve within. Every sense is overwhelmed with stimulation, my body struggling to maintain some sense of control but unable to do it.

Suddenly, the living object leans back. “You know what the title says,” she announces mischievously. “You want me to eat that ass?”

I nod excitedly. The next thing I know, Morba is grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over. I end up in the doggystyle position, my rump popped out towards my living concept lover as she immediately dives back in.

The sensation is incredible, an unexpected fullness as Morba plunges her tongue in and out of my ass. She’s so deep that it ends up pulling ever so slightly at my pussy, the skin taut and gently stimulating my clit in the faintest way.

I can feel the erotic pressure building within me, threatening to erupt at any moment and then finally spilling over in a cascade of orgasmic pleasure. The words that have been spilling from my lips mutate into a frantic, unbridled scream as I lose myself in the moment.

Morba slips her fingers within my pussy, pushing me over the edge as these two distinct sources of pleasure mix together and create something wholly unique.

My muscles expand and contract in a series of glorious waves that pulse across my frame. The sensation is incredible, lasting for what seems like forever until, eventually, I roll over and fall back against the floor of my office in a fucked-silly heap of exhaustion.

Morba floats down and settles in the nook of my arm, struggling to catch her breath. “That was amazing,” the physical manifestation of this book’s kerning states.

“Yeah, it was,” I agree.

“You think it would’ve been better with perfectly even kerning?” Morba continues, already knowing the answer.

I shake my head. “It would’ve never happened.”

“Precisely,” confirms the living concept. “It’s so easy to see the small imperfections in all of us and think that makes us wrong or bad. In reality, it’s the opposite. These are the things that make us unique and special, the things that inspire stories like this one.”

I let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal about your kerning before.”

“It’s totally fine,” Morba offers with a laugh. “That’s exactly my point, we wouldn’t be here without it. Without these little things that make us who we are, we wouldn’t exist. They’re a blessing.”

I sit up and start to gather my clothes, eventually climbing to my feet and pulling them on. Soon enough, I’m fully dressed, albeit a little disheveled.

“I guess we should get to work on some book designs,” I suggest.

Morba smiles. “Well, your first assignment is standing right in front of you.”

I take her in, this time thinking about what the spacing means instead of whether or not it’s correct. There’s something wild and free about this cover, a subtle punk rock flavor that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks incredible,” I offer. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Our eyes stay locked a while longer, this conversation somehow remaining unsettled. In this moment I know that I love her, but the thought of blurting that out seems utterly ridiculous. We’ve known each other for less than an hour, after all.

“Worried about rushing the ending?” Morba questions, her vague forth-wall breaking nature apparently providing some insight into my thoughts.

I nod.

“Don’t be,” she replies. “Just another little thing that makes us strange and unique and beautiful. Besides, there’s not much time left, so if you’re gonna say it… now’s the time.”

“I love you,” I blurt.

Yes, it’s a little out of left field, and the timing is strange, and it doesn’t quite fit (just like the worst of “bad” kerning), but I don’t care.

It feels right.

“I love you, too,” Morba replies.