Howdy y'. All. It is Jeffrey Crainer. I'm not sure which episode of what Night Go you're listening to, but I am speaking to you from April of 2026.
I'm here to tell you we're gonna be in Europe. If you want to see Nightdale Live and you're gonna be in Europe, come check us out at the end of May. We're gonna be in Edinburgh on May 27th. We will be in Manchester on the 28th, London on the 29th, of Amsterdam on May 30th.
Just go to welcome to nightgo.comlive to see the show dates and to get your tickets. This is our newest Nightgirl Live show, Murder Night in Blood Force. It is so much fun. Please come check it out.
Also coming up this month here in April, it is the Return of Alice Isn't Dead. Brand new episodes of our other crazy hit podcast. This is written by Joseph Fink, produced and with music by Dispirition and starring Jekyll Nicole. So make sure you are still subscribed to Alice Isn't Dead, and go get those on April 13 as new episodes come out.
Finally, speaking of other shows, do you hear us talk about other things? We have three other really great chat shows. First of all, there's Good Morning Night Vale for all your Night Vale needs. You can hear Hal, Meg and Symphony talk about every single episode in order of welcome to Night Vale.
Also, we have Random Horror number nine. That is me and Michael Starr, Cecil Walden talking about horror movies one at a time in a random order. And then Joseph and Meg do Best Worst, which is a really fun podcast where they look at hit TV shows and they review the best rated on IMDb, the worst rated on IMDb, and if you're a Patreon member, they will review. The Middle is rated on IMDb, so check out all of [email protected] or just wherever you give you a podcast.
And hey, thanks. Hi, Jeffrey Crainer here and I am so excited to bring you 9th Fell Present's newest podcast. It's by famous erotic writer and true buckaroo Chuck Tingle. And before I even say the title out loud, please know that this new show is not for kids.
Even you cool babies out there shouldn't listen. The title of the podcast, Pounded in the Butt by My Own Podcast by Chuck Tingle. It's Comedy Erotica and it's Dirty as Heck and it uses much more vivid words than Heck. Much more vivid.
The first episode is available now and it stars Night Vale's own Cecil Baldwin. Each episode will feature a different guest reader. We have some amazing folks lined up for you by the way. So now night vale listeners, I'll give you a quick glimpse.
Can you glimpse with your ears with your butt? Either way, here's a fairly clean sample of episode one of Pounded in the Butt by my own podcast by chuck tingle. The TV's on. There's not much talking between two buck rooms.
Good muds and plaid does the big game playing but one of us must choose falls in the dance as the ozone deal. Proven loves me. Proven loves me Love is re. Hi, this is Dr.
Chuck Tingle and welcome to my daytime show. This is a podcast show and that means we have to prove love is real for our listening ears. What a dang good way. So this is my show.
First things first, I'll tell you about the question of who the heck is Chuck? Well, I'm top dog in the writing world and the world's greatest author. Next question. Just kidding.
I can tell you more. Top author Chuck Tingle. This is me. Lives in Billings, Montana with my son John.
He is the talk of the Dangtown. He is so kind and handsome and I wish he could hang the heck out all day. But yes, go dang work. So that is when I'm home alone.
That hit movie name of what the heck, there's bandits in my house. Better than with a can starring Colin Kraken. Also there is Chloe and she is married to son John and she has a nice way. And there are also the neighborhood birds.
They tell stories from the dang wire about what is going on down the street. This is important because there's also devilman next door. His name is Kid Cobbler and he thinks he is the best but he is the dang worst. Which Ted will fall in that snake pit.
That's a story for another day. Don't want to waste time talking on scoundrels when it's time to introduce my big time show. This is for story of new series a name of Pounded in the butt by my own Butt. It is an important tale of love between man and buzz.
So the story asked question what the heck would happen if you cloned your butt and it was handsome? Do you want to take it to dinner and show it a good time? Would you drop together playfully or would you feel the cosmic horror of big time Question which of our butts is the real butt? The lesson now as true Buckrum of Cecil Baldwin reads this important tale.
Alright, so this is Pound in the butt by my own butt by Chuck Tingle. Where does the miracle of science end and magic begin? Some people would say never. That magic is nothing more than something we can't quite understand yet, but eventually will.
Just because a force seems mysterious and exotic doesn't mean that it can't be quantified later on. As a young researcher, I hadn't been around in my field long enough to see any of these enormous changes take place. But I like to remind myself about things in the present that must have seemed like magic to those in the past. Electricity alone could have been framed in another way decades ago, considered the result of hours upon hours of careful black magic.
Of course, I know better. Magic isn't real, nor the various mystical trappings that come along with it. Love at first sight. Or luck, just to name a few.
I'm a staunch skeptic as anyone else with my job, a research assistant at Rubble Biological Labs should be. But even a hardline skeptic like me can't help but feel a little twinge of magic in the air when they first hear the news about Hunter Tuck Island. The now private island was recently purchased by a rather eccentric billionaire, who immediately went to work doing clone research and creating several living copies of himself. At first, the news of the small island colony was met by various scoffs of doubt.
But as time went on and evidence was presented, the findings were quickly regarded as scientific truth. Of course, there are a whole slew of ethical arguments to be addressed here, especially because the clones were not exact replicas, but rather mutants of the original sample, biologically programmed to be less intelligent drone workers. These drones were then used to build an entirely new infrastructure on the island. And I was ecstatic.
I mean, finally, the first massive shift in biology, and I am poised on the front lines of progress. But once the breakthroughs on Huntertuck island became regarded as scientific fact, the ability to recreate such incredible results was quickly locked up tight. And I can't blame them. After all, once we have the ability to create these worker drone clones, the business potential is almost unlimited.
The entire industry would be a goldmine, redefining the entire world's economy. Of course, the government was quick to step in and put a stop to all of this. Regardless of what illegal worker drone clones could do for progress, there were just too many people getting worked up about the human rights of such mindless creatures. And maybe they had a point, maybe not.
But it was an absolutely fascinating new discovery nonetheless. Here at Rubble Biological Labs, we've taken a balanced approach to moving forward. We've used the early results from Hunter Tuck island to create the basis of our experiments, but started over completely with the rest of the research to describe it another way, we've taken a photo of their finished puzzle and now we're working hard to put all the pieces back into the right place. Thanks to a massive loophole.
All of our research is perfectly legal so long as we don't use any exact copies of the Hunter Tuck method, and as long as we aren't hiring any outside test subjects, the only people that we're allowed to test on ourselves. As intimidating as it could be to have a potential clone running around out there in the world, it's really not that hard to volunteer for experimentation because to this day none of the experiments have yielded any living results. That is, until today. I walked into work that morning like I would on any other day, swiping my key card through the laboratory reader and walking past as the automatic door opens.
With a soft kiss, I say hello to the security guards and continue down the long hallway into the depths of the facility until I reach Lab 243, a highly secretive and high clearance area. I swipe my card again and enter. Kirk. Shouts one of my colleagues, Dr.
Porter, as he sees me. He opens his arms wide and stands up from his rove computers to greet me with a warm hug. Today's the big day. I know, I say with a laugh.
I'm up to bat. Dr. Porter motions me over to his lead computer and types in a few quick commands, a bright blue display of clothing schematics popping up onto his computer screen. My eyes go wide the second I see it.
See what is he has planned. Oh, whoa. It's great, isn't it? Dr.
Porter offers an excited smile. The cloning process on the surface is a fairly simple it's fairly simple to accomplish, but not in the way that we want to do it. Anyone can extract some DNA and place it into an egg, creating a new version of you at birth that will take nine months of gestate and then come out as a beautiful bouncing bay. However, for our practical application cloning worker drones, or and other specified jobs for that matter, we need our clones to emerge at the same age as the subject.
In other words, I'm a 22 year old man and we need my worker drone to be as well. The problem with this is that the rapid, almost instantaneous cell growth is far from stable. Instead of fully complete clones, we've been creating strange and disturbing piles of lifeless flesh. Or worse.
If I wasn't so interested in science and human progress, then I'd be horrified, but instead I find myself in utter fascination with every passing experiment. Now, of course, some positive results would be great, but each failed trial is just another brick in the road towards a result. Lately we've been trying to keep the rapid cell growth stable by combining the DNA with small markers from various animals, as well as taking them from different specific regions of the human body. Today's trial, which I have been randomly selected for as the subject, is going to take DNA from my brain.
My ass and a hawk. What a combination. I say aloud with a laugh. Dr.
Porter shrugs. Last time I was in there we tried my arm, my lung, and a catfish. And my question curiously we got a very creepy balloon type thing flopping around. Dr.
Porter shrugs. We had to put it down immediately. When I hear stuff like that, it makes me slightly nervous about the way that we've started playing God here at Rebel Laboratories. On one hand I really do understand the history making application of what we have going on here, but then on the other, it can be a little unsettling sometimes.
I leave and then I meet with our resident nurses for some time who take all the required samples from my body while Dr. Porter preps the hawk and six hours later we meet back at the lab. How's it looking? I asked Dr.
Porter. Good, very good. He nods. The DNA has been synet synthesized.
Synthesize, that's the word. Not synethesized, that's not the word. And is already inside the egg. I look out through a large glass window before us that stares into a sterilized chamber, completely white and almost entirely empty other than a table, a large synthetic egg, and some injection equipment.
It's already n I say excitedly. For how long? Ten minutes, Dr. Reporter says.
Should be ready to come out at any minute now. Now normally the gestation period takes no longer than 10 minutes, so if we don't see any results soon, our chances of success go down rapidly. I lean forward, peering into the chamber with rapt attention. I'm used to failure by now, but that doesn't mean that moments like this are any less tense.
The second turn to mix and soon Dr. Porter and I relax, talking to one another about the next genetic combination that we're trying. It's over. The fact that there are no results at all was probably because of the brain cells, says Dr.
Porter. It's just too delicate of an organ and we never get what we're looking for. When we add that to the cocktail, I know, I start. I think that the brain is our only chance, though we need to look at whatever is happening to the bird DNA.
Other birds have had great results. The hawk is just not happening for some reason. Dr. Porter is about to refute my statement and gets his mouth halfway open before suddenly there's a loud slam against the glass behind us and Dr.
Porter and I jump in, surprise, immediately looking to find a rather large winged butt hovering in the air just inside of the glass. Hey there, says the butt. You think you could let me out of here? I'm freezing my ass off.
The rump chuckles to himself. My partner and I exchange glances of excitement. Yeah, of course, Dr. Porter says, running over to the containment chamber and opening it up.
Welcome. And the flying butt flaps its way inside and then lands on the desk in front of us. Hello. Congratulations.
You're our first sentient creation, Dr. Porter says, extending his hand to the butt, who takes it with his wing and shakes it firmly. Happy to be here, says the ass. But you can call me Kirk's Butt.
You know that you're my butt? I ask. Of course I do, says my brain. At ass I made for your brain.
I know everything that you know. A slight chill runs down my spine. I hadn't realized that all of my deepest secrets would suddenly be transplanted into this butt. I try my best, but I am still just a flaw man with a pension for running out of relationships and taking practical jokes too far.
Don't worry, I'm not going to spill the beans, my butt says with a wink. I'm not. Dr. Porter finds himself glancing back and forth between us, clearly picking up on the vibe that's being established.
After many nights outbreaking with Dr. Porter, he has proven himself to be a killer wingman, and already he's showing his impeccable support once again. It's been a long day, Dr. Porter says, doing his best to fake a yawn.
Your butt can't stay here all night. There's no place to sleep. Why don't you take him home and then we can pick this up tomorrow morning? I give Dr.
Porter a knowing look of thanks and he smiles back in return. That sounds really good to me, my ass says. Yeah, totally, I tell Dr. Porter, then turn to my living butt.
Are you hungry? You know I've never eaten. It sounds amazing, responds my sentient ass. Come on, let's go.
The Continued Adventures of Kirk Kirk. Oh yeah, Kirk and Kirk's Butt. Kirk's butt, which I like making. One word.
Is there space in it? No, there's not. But I like making it Kirk because I think it sounds like Something's Seeing as it is his first meal ever, I decide to splurge a bit on my butts. Come on.
Taking him out to a fancy French restaurant in the hip part of town. It would usually be impossible to get a reservation on such a short notice. Thankfully, I know someone who works here and she's able to pull some strings for us. And the next thing I know, I'm sitting across from my own ass, looking deep within his soulful eye.
I'm not sure what to ask you, I confess. I mean, you know everything that I know, right? Yeah, pretty much, says the butt, his wings folded neatly behind him. He takes a long sip from his wine glass, savoring every moment before setting it back down on the table.
But I've never felt it that, like, right here. Felt what? I asked, confused. I have all of your memories about drinking wine.
I know what to expect when I do it, and I know it's going to taste like but I've never truly tasted it for myself. The butt explains. It's incredible. Whoa.
I say. That is amazing. I'm actually kind of jealous of you now. Really?
Ask my butt why Jealous? Well, I know we're both 22, but at the same time, you have so much experience. Everything is going to be new and exciting for you. My butt smiles.
Yeah, I suppose it is. Like this steak that I just ordered. I laugh. Yeah, you're really interested in food, aren't you?
Well, I am a butt. My butt jokes. I laugh out loud at this, impressed with his similar sense of humor to my own. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm really sitting across the table from someone.
Really gets me like deep down to the core of my being. It's hard enough dating as a gay man in today's world of casual hookups, reckless flings, I'm looking for something more. And incredibly, I think I might have just found it. That's not to say that my feelings and I'm just gonna stop it right there.
This is a non explicit feed and the rest of this episode gets crazy dirty. Hilariously dirty. If you want to hear the rest of this episode, two Explicit for nightmail and more future episodes, you'll need to go subscribe to Pounded in the Butt by My Own Podcast by Chuck Tingle at Apple Podcasts or wherever it is you get your podcasts. And hey, thanks buckaroo.
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