Joe dismisses the other contestants, leaving you, himself, and the cameraman alone.
“Listen up. This’ll be the most disgusting challenge we’ve ever done.”
“Aww… Damn it. What do I gotta eat?”
“Nothing.”
“Whew… As long as I don’t have to be face down in rotting squid brains, I think I can take on anything.”
“Good. You’ll need that kind of attitude if you want to survive.”
“Huh?”
“Imagine the foulest place on earth. It’s humid, dirty, hotter than hell… Well, I could go on for hours. I know this place better than anyone… Well, in a couple of minutes, you’ll know it even better than I do. Ok, here’s how—”
“Uh… Wait a minute,” you say, noticing the irritation in Joe’s face, “that don’t sound too good. Where’s this thing taking place?”
Joe points to his ass. Now, you’re not sure what to make of this. Is he telling you to kiss his ass for interrupting him… or is he actually suggesting that the next challenge will take place in—
“Here’s how it’s gonna work. There are six flags implanted in my lower intestines. You need to climb in there and collect those bad boys and get out before you run out of time. Now, just to make sure it isn’t easy for you—”
“How could this possibly be easy?!” you scream in exasperation. You’ve just been told by the host of Fear Factor to climb into his bowels through his anus and retrieve a set of flags. How could that possibly sound easy, let alone sane? What the hell is wrong with these people?!
“Ahem,” Joe responds, glaring at you. “While you’re in there, I’m gonna be—”
“What’s this about a time limit…?! How could there be a time limit on a stunt like this?”
Joe’s hand quickly obscures your vision as it lifts you up off the ground. His rough fingers tug at the back of your shirt, threatening to rip it and send you hurtling to your death. As you ascend, you can feel your heart drop into your stomach, and suddenly, you have the urge to vomit. Joe’s billboard-sized face comes into view, smiling kindly.
“Hi,” he says, his warm breath causes your diminutive form to rock back and forth in between his fingers.
“Uh… hi,” you respond, unsure of what’s going on.
“Look. No one said you had to go in through my ass.”
“Huh?”
“If you wanna keep interrupting me, then we can make this really short and sweet. I can’t say you’ll fare quite as well, but you’ll get there in half the time.”
Now you’re worried.
With a blur of pink, Joe opens his mouth wide, jutting his tongue out all the way, and holds you directly above his throat. The heat and humidity coming from the massive chasm below you soak your clothes with saliva. You don’t even see the rest of Joe’s face anymore. Gazing far down beneath your feet, you see a long drop down into nothingness—down into Joe’s stomach. Needless to say, you’d like to at least get through this show alive. Being digested alive by a full grown man on national television doesn’t seem like such good fate. Suddenly, as much as you hate to admit it, Joe’s ass is starting to look pretty sweet. All he would have to do is let you go… and that’s it. Poof! You’re gone. Well, it’s less of a “poof” and more of a “OH, GOD, I’M BURNING! DEAR GOD, WHY?! IT BURNS SO MUCH! ARRGHHABLARWwwwrrrah…”
“OKOKOKOKOKOK!” you shout frantically. “I’m sooooooorrrrry!”
Pulling you out, Joe puts you on the palm of his hand. You don’t even notice his dark eyes staring down at you; you’re too focused on his grinning mouth surrounded by stubble.
“Ok. Now, as for the time limit. While you’re inside my gut, I’m gonna be out having a big dinner with friends. So, if you don’t collect the flags quickly enough, you’re in deep shit. Literally.”
“Wait, how much time do I have?!
“Dunno man. Depends on what kinda food the place serves. If it’s Mexican, you mind as well kiss your ass goodbye and say hello to mine.”
“But what if I die?!
“Hey man, I’m only doin’ this for the money, just like you.”
“Hey, hey, hey! I’m allowed to quit, right? 50 grand ain’t worth this!”
“Nope. You signed a contract.”
Joe motions to one of the giant stage hands to come over. Lifting up a massive sheet of paper with gigantic print, Joe smiles impishly.
“See?” he says, sliding his other massive index finger above a circled portion of the contract.
No wonder you didn’t see the text when you were normal sized. Now that you’re at eye level with it, you can tell that it’s proportional to your current state. Thinking back, when you signed the contract, a small smudge did stand out in one section…
”Damn, I should have paid closer attention!” you say, pounding your fist into your hand.
“Once committed to “Fear Factor: Shrinking” a contestant is disallowed to refuse any stunt under penalty of lawsuit,” Joe reads verbatim.
“What kinda lawsuit?!”
“They’ll sue you for everything you got.”
“What the hell?! That’s not fair!”
“Your fault man. Alright enough talking… Let’s get you ready for the shittiest day of your life.”
He drops your body into the palm of another stage hand.
After some fitting issues, you get a wet suit with some treads on the feet for traction. Otherwise however, you’ve got very little to help you. Armed with two lighted cameras mounted on your body, one to catch your reactions and one to document Joe’s free colonoscopy, you have naught else but a pouch in which to collect the flags. Well, at least, you’re not totally in the dark. You’re going to have to breathe in all of Joe’s noxious fumes and touch the slimy walls of his rectum with your bare hands. So far, what you’re about to do hasn’t registered completely, but it’s about to.
The stage hand says, “It’s time” in the most powerful, solemn voice you’ve ever heard.
“Damn, man… You don’t have to say it like that. This isn’t my execution, ya’know…”
“I don’t know about that,” he says in the same exact voice as before.
Joe, dressed in the same clothes as before, says, “Ok. Let’s get this over with. I’m getting hungry.”
Taking you into his latex glove-clad hands, Joe lifts you up the back of his jeans.
“All right man. You ready?”
“Uh… Uh… Uh…” you stammer over your microphone.
“Well, get ready to go where no man has gone before, well, where no man has wanted to go before… Ha! Ok. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Then turning to one of the stage hands, Joe says, “Shit, man. I can’t wait to see this footage.”
Joe’s other hand lowers both his jeans and his boxers in one swipe. Before you lies a dented, hirsute moon. Automatically, you think this is a bad idea and start to struggle against his humongous fingers.
“You keep struggling, man, and you might end up getting squished by accident.”
You stop struggling. Joe’s other hand pries apart the two ton pair of asscheeks, and you rush up toward his anus. Hmm… You’ve never really seen something like this. Well, you have, but never a sphincter bigger than you. This mammoth, crinkled gate to hell appears ready to receive your little body like a sacrifice. Already, you can feel the warm and putrid air of his rectum emanating from Joe’s anus. You feel nauseous, and you know it’s only going to get worse. Slowly, Joe pushes your body into the fleshy hole, gently at first, but then firmly. You keep your mouth completely shut, as opening it now would spell disaster for your taste buds; however, your nose receives the full brunt of what Joe’s intestinal gases have to offer. That urge to throw up comes again stronger than ever, but you manage to suppress it with all your might. Finally, with one thrust of his thumb, you’ve entered Joe Rogan’s rectum.
“Ok,” you hear him say. “Test out your microphone.”
“Oh, dear God! Ohhggghaugf! It’s… HORRIBLE! I think I’m going to… to… *HUURRRLKKK*”
“Well, it seems the microphones work. I’m going to dinner. Have fun and make sure to hurry.”
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