Boofing drugs up your butt isn’t as easy as it seems

Vices By Lindsey Kline

There’s a dozen of us standing under a canopy at a music festival. One of my friends stands in the center, shorts and panties to her knees, ready to take her substance use to a new level:

She was ready to boof.

And I was there to help.

Boofing has a rich history in my social circle. As an immature group of 20-somethings stumbling blindly through adulthood, we sometimes turn to drugs to escape our day-to-day struggle. When we do, we want to optimize the drugs’ effects. Shoving them up our butt was a natural next step.

When I first experienced boofing, all the outside variables were perfectly in place. The setting was a small 4-day camping festival in southern Colorado called Sonic Bloom. The lineup of psychedelic electronic artists inspired a drug-indulgent haven.

Its attendees were ideal — all overwhelmingly wooks. Wooks are a sub-species of hippie, but even filthier, hairier, more doped up and more unemployed. It seemed the wooks had crawled out of their K-holes and washed up on one dusty patch of land to create a kingdom of zero hygiene and substance abuse. We were happy to indulge.

It was Saturday night, and we’d been drinking beers since the brutal sun forced us out of our tents around 8 am. We had the will to keep partying, but the old delivery methods of any drugs seemed far from appealing. Too bloated to chug beer. Too congested to snort cocaine. Too squeamish to shoot liquor.

It was Dakota, a spunky 22-year-old “Basshead,” who offered up the solution: boofing. The running joke of exploiting our poopers for a high was looking less like a laugh and more like a feasible doping option. We went to work researching the risks and benefits, as well as how to administer a boof to our buttholes.

Our investigation didn’t turn up a wealth of information. Without question, the best resource was Reddit’s r/drugs, a beautiful community where degenerates share their drug experiences. As a whole, the members seemed to support boofing as a viable ROA, or route of administration.

They say it takes advantage of the high number of blood vessels and capillaries in your butt. They say this speeds up the absorption process for a stronger come-up and longer lasting high.

The community also taught us that ass-dosing comes in many shapes and sizes, and goes by many different names. Wook culture calls it boofing. Frat boys call it butt-chugging. Those who take the practice more seriously call it plugging.

If you want to “plug” a drug, many recommend using a syringe. This first timer’s BOOFING GUIDE suggests dissolving the substance in hot water, sucking up the water with a syringe, and plunging it pretty deep into your bumhole. This approach did not appeal to us.

Others recommend using a straw to blow it into the recesses of your rectum. A member of our party immediately vetoed this method. Even if one of us was willing to put our lips on the other end of an ass-straw, it wouldn’t work. The vodka, the coke or the MDMA would simply bounce off the butthole and fly back in the face of the blower.

Our last possible strategy was one we’d heard years ago, in some fear-mongering nightly news segment: soaking a tampon.

Unfortunately, I’d never been the type to enjoy foreign objects in my ass. I’d kept an open mind (and butthole) for a rectally imperceptible powder, but lost interest when the boofing shifted to a tampon full of Tito’s vodka.

The majority of the group agreed to abandon the idea… except Dakota. She’d latched on. And because I admired her conviction, I wanted to help.

I filled a solo cup with my top-shelf vodka, tossed a tampon in to soak, and forced the cotton back into the applicator for easy insertion. I offered to push it up her butt, but she insisted on doing it herself.

Dakota was nervous. An excessively drunk woman at our campsite was being a Debbie Downer, yelling about how boofing was deadly. Dakota hunched over, one hand on her knee for support, and one behind her back, forcing a leaky tube into an uninviting orifice.

Vodka was actively dripping from the tampon as she wrung it with her clenched rectum. It leaked down to her vagina, and she screamed every time a torrent of liquor hit her coochie.

She’d gotten about three inches inserted when she decided her pussy couldn’t take it anymore. She yanked the boof applicator out of her ass. Defeated, she choked down the rest of the vodka inside the solo cup.

In the end, boofing’s limited delivery methods made it near impossible to pull off on a whim. Advanced planning might make a boof foolproof, but all that effort would probably be a buzzkill.