They had come over a hundred ago and the world adapted, some places more rapidly than others. Humans could shed their gaudy finery at will, animals less readily, although adaptive pressures quickly saw to it that cardinals began to look more like sparrows, that crabs scuttled more and more quickly from the shoreline to the ocean depths. The color red was the best attractant, drawing the predators out of their lairs more surely than a bell would cause Pavlov’s dog to salivate. But not even Shaft could remember the initial shock of their arrival, and though Cuming Mutha would regale the group with stories of children ripped limb from limb at the slightest opportunity, to most of them they were just stories.
So when John Handcock and Gobble My Ass cracked open the door to the abandoned warehouse, it was mere curiosity that led them to call the group’s attention to the sight. Just Get It Over With trembled with excitement at the rows and rows of dresses, each unique but for the universal vivid red cloth they were cut from. Can you blame them, these individuals who had lived their lives in hues of brown and grey? What harm could it seem to be, to Stinky Floss who had not known the violence of the initial invasion? To Tuna on Top, who had never felt the helplessness of an attack? To Cockamole, who had never had her laugh silenced by the massacre wrought by alien predators.
And they were in a sheltered space, far away from the views of any who might harm them—but also any who might provide wise counsel. One by one, they succumbed to temptation, Cosmopolitits donning a form-fitting frock, Banana In Public stuffed into an even bustier garment. Bitch Pimp and Slug, though late to arrive, were soon to leap into the action, and even Tonya Hardon was happy to put on a fluffy tutu. Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring knelt and presented Hand Pump with a coat of her own creation, while Dick Simmons snapped a flattering picture.
Cum Test Dummy stilled suddenly, perhaps sensing a premonition of the danger to come. Wrinklepecker looked up, slowly recognizing that one of the window shades had been left open. They were fully visible, in all of their eye-drawing color in motion, to the outside world. Got Wood made a motion towards the window, as if willing it to be closed through sheer might of his will, but he was far too late.
A subtle growl was all the warning they had. Cirque du So Lame turned at Uber Luber’s sudden gasp, and One and Done tackled Hello Titties just in time, both smelling the rotten breath from snapping jaws that had come far too close. Kitchen Impossible yelped as it crashed next to her, scooting over Handidicked to get out of the way.
“They’re here!” yelled Worst Bottom Ever, pulling Just Mike and My Little Spermaid out of sight around a display case. Fuck Norris dove in next to them, and On All Fours piled on top with abandon.
“You’re going to get us killed!” screamed Bierectional, and Rent Whore slapped him to silence him. PeekaBooby slapped her to silence her slap.
“I knew you rat bastards would get us in trouble,” Soapscum wailed, gesturing at Cum Guzzling Cockaholic as if for sympathy, but for both of them it was far too late. Eat My Pussy was the first to take off, not even waiting for Gingervitis to follow. Weiner I Am darted past them both, but took a turn straight into the jaws of one of the waiting beasts.
“This way!” Screamed Gobble My Ass and John Handcock, and Buck Fucka followed along with Just Doesn’t Get It. Raspukin gleefully knocked over a rack of clothes onto one of the creatures, pulling his hand back at the last moment as one of the hungry maws snapped just where his thumb wasn’t.
“Sacrifice the visitors!” Wrinklepecker shoved Debased in front of him, leading Fap Jack and Pink Cherry Licker to split in a panic. Luckily for Hurls Sarong, Dung Fu Grip had been using his special training and had already taken down two creatures. Crabs happily designated both of them as his special protectors.
By this point most of the group were running through the streets, leading to a spreading alarm through the city. Circle Jerk rerouted himself though the statues of City Hall, pausing to escape detection by pretending to be one of them. Deadbeat wouldn’t give them an inch, bopping one of the creatures over the head with his purse before it took him down.
One by one they were dropping like flies, Reverse Schoolgirl and Just James locked in a platonic embrace. Millimeter Peter and Wee Wee tried to fit themselves into Masterbaster’s shelter, but were immediately repelled by the sight of The Perfect Woman and Dickweed crammed together in an empty hot tub. Mouth Down South tried to hail an Uber, but he had lost his phone and the driver wouldn’t accept cash.
“Here, take that!” Gobble My Ass launched a perfectly formed strawberry jello shot into the melee. The Good Shit Lollicock leapt up and grabbed it in his mouth like a champion canine ultimate Frisbee player, but was swiftly carried off by one of the foul creatures to its den.
“No, it’s for them! They can’t resist the red!” John Handcock bellowed, and Pole Her Bare joined them in lobbing the creations into the devastating massacre before them.
“I think it’s working?” Vagina Dentata’s voice trembled. It was true—the creatures appeared to have a heightened susceptibility to alcohol, and a single berry was taking each one down into a drunken slumber. 9 ½ Wanks sighed in relief and thought she might manage a 10th wank after all. Three Fingers and RMO carefully crawled out of the bunker they had been hiding in.
“Do we have to give them all of the berries?” complained Ska Skank. Dick Ass Mother Fucker watched as she stole the last one and bashed the only remaining creature right in the face with an umbrella. The Uniballer winced in sympathy.
“Well that was fun,” remarked USS Cum on My Face. “Know anywhere good to buy some edibles?”