A XXXMAS CAROL

"You got it in my eye you sick bastard!" wailed Incontinentia.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over you--I mean me--ha ha," apologized Dr. Nasty. "Let me try again and maybe I'll hit a better spot. Okay?"

"Oh, I can't believe I agreed to do this with you; especially on the night before Christmas," said Incontinentia Buttox as she wiped the salty goo out of her eye.

You mean XXXMas!" said the doctor.

"That's another thing," said Incontinentia as she got up from bed and started getting dressed. "Your constant banter is fucking annoying!"

"You're right, there's too much talking and not enough sex," said Dr. Nasty as he sat back on the bed, enticing Incontinentia to come back for more. "Cum sit on my face, little girl, and tell me what you want for Christmas."

"Shut up. And you better get out of here pretty soon, because my family will be here any minute. I don't want you to frighten my nieces and nephews."

"Children of your brother Biggus?" said Dr. Nasty. "Now his wife is a fine piece of meat to take a ride on, oh my."

"Get out of my house before I call the cops!"

Half an hour later, Dr. Nasty, PHSTD, pulled into the long drive way leading to his massive brick mansion. He was a wealthy man, now in his early forties; years of being a semi-famous porn star had built the large in ground pool behind his house and his popular columns in several adult magazines had filled it with water. In addition to all that, he owned close to 69,000,000 XXX sites on the ever growing smutty internet.

For many years he had been partners in the porn buisness with his friend A Scrub Withercool. In the beginning A Scrub had been a camera man while Dr. Nasty was the director. Both had big paying jobs for Pent Place, the doctor writing fictious porn stories and Mr. Withercool writing editorials on the value of champaigne in sex and on different artificial lubricatives.

But because A Scrub was so adamant about champaigne, he ended up forgetting to use protection on many occasions. So in the end, he died of multiple STDs. It's been six years and nine months today since he expired, the doctor realized.

The ride home from Incontinentia Buttox' house had been a cold one; afterall, riding on a lawn mower left you pretty damn exposed to the late December elements. He could easily afford a nice car, but the excentric doctor prefered the soporific serenity that came with the steady hum of the slow moving tractor.

Shrugging off a chill that suddenly ran up his spine, a dark feeling caused not by the winter wind but by an unknown dreadful premonition, Dr. Nasty ran to his front door. He lived alone, being satisfied with the company offered him by his many priceless nude works of art as opposed to the petulance he found with real people. Of course every weekend a dozen or so expensive strumpets came to/with him, but none were in buisness tonight on Christmas Eve except the few Japanese hookers that lived down the street in the alley behind the stake house.

Stepping up to the front door, the doctor reached for the door knob but then stepped back to admire the iron knockers he had had specially designed: two huge knockers with pointy nipples. In order operate the device one had to grip each breast and push the nipples in at the same time, thus triggering a bell that sounded throughout the whole mansion.

A devious urge came over Dr. Nasty to lick the metallic knockers, insinuating what he would have done to Incontinentia after the eye splatter, had she given him the chance.

"Shwit, my fwucking twongue!" he lisped moments later, trying helplessly to pull his tongue free. Sure enough, it had stuck to the cold iron. But he wasn't worried; this had happened before. All he needed to do was breath heavily on the knockers until they condescended and he could pull his crafty tongue free.

Success was near at hand when suddenly the knockers started to change. With a shriek he jerked back, leaving frozen bits of his tongue stuck to the knockers. With blood seeping over his lip, Dr. Nasty witnessed a horrifying appirition. The two breasts had come together forming a face. Was it a duck? No...Was it a Teletubbie? Not quite....It was...It was...A Scrub Withercool!

The iron face grinned for a moment then moaned: "Ohhh myyyy!"

Dr. Nasty whimpered and covered his eyes in terror. When he finally looked up, all he saw was the two knockers, just like they had always been. Yes, everything seemed completely normal, everything except that the strips of his tongue were gone.

"Prozac OD hullicinations, nothing more," said the doctor as he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

The foyer was pitch black. That's odd, I remember leaving a light on, thought Dr. Nasty. Groping for the light switch, he finally found it after knocking all the furniture over and gave it a jerk. Nothing happened.

"Uncle fucking blackout," he grumbled to himself.

After he had stressed his blood pressure up to a dangerous level from ransacking everything he could get his hands on, the doctor stumbled upon a flash light.

Later that night, Dr. Nasty sat before his massive hearth, warming his bones before the dying embers. The mantle of the fire place was dominated by two provactive nude statues, above which hung the original Venus riding a sea shell. The doctor milked up the last of his clam chowder, the soup he always laced with Viagra. He was about to retire to his self-invented Shower Bed when there came a frightening noise from outside his chamber door: someone falling down the stairs!

"Are you hurt!?" the doctor yelled as he slid down the Mahogony railing that bordered the broad main stair case. He screamed and clawed at the rail to reverse his direction after he caught sight of the man who had taken the fall. It was A Scrub Withercool. He was wrapped in bondage ropes from his head to his feet; and a leather open mouthed cannibal mask kept his head pulled back and his mouth wide open. A Scrub was obviously a ghost because Dr. Nasty could see right through his transparent body.

"Go away!" said the doctor hysterically as he crawled back up stairs. "You died six years and nine months ago today, you creep!"

"Well gee, Dr. Nasty, I thought you'd be glad to see your old under the covers buddy," said A Scrub Withercool.

"You're supposed to be dead!" said Dr. Nasty as he backed cautiously up the stairs.

"Yes, that adds such a warm, spiritual, emotional feeling to this experience," said A Scrub as he hopped one step at a time(his feet were in heavy bondage)closer to the petrified Dr. Nasty.

"What do you want from me?!" said Dr. Nasty.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," said the tangled Mr. Withercool. "I've come to say that it's not too late for you too change; you still have a chance to save yourself from ending up like I did! During the next fifteen minutes, on the minute of each five minute interval, you will be visited by a spirit."

"Four spirits?!"

"No dipshit, it will be three spirits; but I guess if you count me that would make four, wouldn't it? Well gee, this story is kind of screwed up now that I think about it..."

"Have the fifteen minutes started yet?" asked Dr. Nasty.

"Why yes, they have," said A Scrub. "Infact, you have less than four minutes until the first ghost arrives, so I better--"

"Make like a tree and get out of here," said the doctor.

"Remember, it's not too late to change!" moaned A Scrub Withercool mournfully as he floated out through the closed sky-light and joined a parade of spirits flying through the sky, every single one of them in heavy bondage.

"This sounds so exciting," said Dr. Nasty to himself. "What could he possibly mean by change? I'm a perfect role model to everyone."

The doctor was still conversing with himself when a light appeared at the end of the long dark hall behind him. It was neon yellow and irritating to the eyes, and it was moving closer.

"Ohhh myyyy," said the creature as it finally came into view. It was a plump man, clad only in a neon yellow tu tu. Insects wings ridiculously small for his size fluttered behind his back, allowing him to hover several inches above the ground. In his hand he held a dildo shaped wand and on his head rested a rainbow tiara.

"I am the Ghost of XXXMas Past, also known as the good Fruit Fairy Queen," said the creature.

"You're so...so bright," said Dr. Nasty as he sheilded his eyes.

"Listen hun, we only have five minutes so I'm gonna take you on a quick ride down memory lane. Hop on."

"Excuse me?"

"Hop on my back, and we'll fly."

"Wait just a damn minute here--"

"I said hop on," commanded the Ghost of XXXMas Past, poising the dildo wand as if he intended to poke and insert.

Seconds later the ghost and the doctor were flying through the winter night, the latter holding onto the former's back side for dear life. The landscape slowly started to change, and images of the past appeared and faded away in kalidescopic patterns.

"This is where you screwed up, ohhh myyyy," said the Ghost of XXXMas Past.

"Look, I can see myself in High School," said Dr. Nasty. "Ha ha, look at that banana, I must have been the most popular guy in school. Wait a minute, they're not laughing with me, those bastards are laughing..."

"At you, ohhh myyyy," said the ghost. "Let's move on to something else."

"Well look at that," it's my first sexual experience! What was her name...I remember, Euphora Nicholson."

At the time when young Dr. Nasty and Euphora had gone at it in bed, a large beared man had walked in on them.

"I thought you promised not to do this sort of thing anymore?!" the man had bellowed.

"I never promised any such thing," young Dr. Nasty had said.

"Not you, her."

"I've never seen you before in my life!" Euphora Nicholson had replied.

"Right. I must have the wrong room." And with that the bearded man had left them.

"I'm still not grasping what the point of this is," said Dr. Nasty to the Ghost of XXXMas Past.

"Take a look at this," said the neon yellow ghost.

"A court room? I remember that, the time I got arrested for smuggling in XXX and X porn from Sweden. I spent six months and nine days in jail for that."

"So do you see what I'm trying to show you, ohhh myyyy?" said the fairy ghost.

"No, not really."

"Times up, I better get you back before the Present one gets here. I don't want to get her pissed!"

"Her?"

"Good bye and oh my!"

And with that the bright Ghost of XXXMas Past vanished, leaving Dr. Nasty on his own to plummet to earth. A split second before he would have surely splattered on the dusty ground, everything faded to black and then there he was standing in the hall above the stairs where he had started.

The doctor's relief was brief, because no sooner had he puked out the vertigo butterflies than did the sound of a giant's crushing foot stomps shake the very foundations of his house. The front foyer of the mansion was open from the floor to the third story ceiling, and to Dr. Nasty's astonishment, a monster of collossal proportions walked right through the front of wall of his house, sending bricks and plaster and dust discharging every which way.

Lying semi-unconscious beneath a pile of debree, Dr. Nasty felt immense fingers, the pinky as long as his whole body, reaching into the deapths to pull him free.

"I would be mad at you for doing that to my house, but you saved me!" said the doctor in the palm of the giant's hand. "Let me get a better look at you--ahhhh!"

"I am the Ghost of XXXMas Present," the ponderous spirit said. It was a woman, hunched over beneath the weight of a book bag nearly the size of her; thick rimmed glasses rested on the ridge of her greasy nose, and her head was covered by a Ceaser cut of straw.

"Due to my elequent knowledge of current events world wide and skill at brown nosing," the ghost continued, "I have been selected by a series of school officials to make you understand the folly of your present peversities. Get in my mouth; I promise not to swallow you."

Dr. Nasty had little choice in the matter. Once the Ghost of XXXMas Present had clamped her teeth shut, he was left in complete darkness. It was moist and very warm inside; the tremedous tongue on which he stood continuously shifted and contracted, leaving the poor doctor to have to fight to keep his balance so as not to get trapped under the tongue. All sorts of critters buzzed about him, going hither and thither to the different nests in the giant's gums. Then from the back of this oral cave, there came a light.

Peering down into the esophagus, Dr. Nasty could clearly see Incontinentia Buttox and her brother Biggus Dickus and his family enjoying the mirth of Christmas. Where was the sex, the porn, the orgy? the doctor demanded of the images.

The family that was happy without sex for the moment blurred, and when things came back into focus, he saw Biggus' oldest son infront of a computer, infatuated with one of Dr. Nasty's porn sites. That's what I like to see, thought the doctor. From down stairs he could hear Biggus and Incontinentia calling the boy to come down and join the festivities, but the kid ignored them and kept the door locked.

"Present Ghost?!" Dr. Nasty called, choking on a sob. "You've tormented me enough with these images of that which is now; give me some advice!"

The giant's vocal cords thundered and the tongue lurched upwards, sending Dr. Nasty flying down into the abyss of the Ghost of XXXMas Past's throat. Expecting to plunge in the fithy, acidic intestense, the doctor was saved once more from a bad spill, for the next thing he knew, he was back atop the stairs of his mansion.

The front wall of his house was intact and secure, yet huge foot prints were still imprinted on his marble floor. Those bastards from beyond the grave better pay for that, he thought. The doctor suddenly felt very afraid, more than he ever had before. By the dim lunar light that poured in through the sky-light over head, he suddenly discerned a dark figure at the foot of the stairs, staring up at him.

Unsheathing the flashlight that was still in his pocket, the doctor pierced the darkness so as to identify this enigmatic intruder. At the bottom of the stair way, nothing. All was deathly silent save the howling wind outside that had steadily grown in violence since this whole charade began. Dr. Nasty backed up, spewing beads of nervous sweat, and bumped into something deathly cold.

Standing behind him was a spirit that vaguely resembled a porno Grim Reaper. It was tall, nearly seven feet, it's figure covered by a full bodied condom. By shining his flash on the thing light Dr. Nasty could see that beneath the laytex was a skeleton and nothing more. It's face, or skull more likely, was completely concealed by a black bondage mask.

"Are you the Ghost of XXXMas Future?" asked Dr. Nasty.

The thing nodded and beckoned him to follow down the corridor. At the end of Dr. Nasty's hall, a real doctor's office appeared. There he could see himself as a crippled old man, listening to the doctor's report.

"Dr. Nasty, you're only 47 but things aren't looking to good for you," the medical doctor will be saying.

"What ever could be wrong?" Dr. Nasty of the future shall say.

"Perhaps I should sing a song," the real doctor is going to begin. "Gonoccoal urethritis, streptococcal ballinitis, menigo myelitis, diplococcal cephalitis, epididmitis, interstitial keralitis, syphilitic choroiditis and anterior u-ve-i-tis, yes that's you."

"Is there anything you can do to heal me?" Dr. Nasty is going to say.

"Only one thing: remove your testicles and replace you penis with a plastic one."

"Noooooo!"

"Oh Ghost of XXXMas Future, there must be something I can do. Please tell me," demanded Dr. Nasty. In response the spirit gestured with its skeletel hands.

"One word...sounds like...are you giving me clues or are you just scratching your boney ass?" said the doctor. "Wait, I think I'm following you...the word is...chastity!?

The Ghost of XXXMas Future snapped and pointed, signifying that Dr. Nasty had guessed correctly.

"Hell no! You can kiss my meaty ass, boner butt."

The spirit whipped out a kit of bondage ropes and chains, prepairing to leave Dr. Nasty forever shackled. Out side the house thousands of entangled spirits surrounded the house, greedily awaiting the doctor to join them forever, and ever, and ever.

"I was kidding! Give me another chance, I can change. Don't put me in bondage, I want to be the dominant one--I mean--I don't want anything to do with that anymore. Nooo!"

Dr. Nasty looked up with a start. The Ghost of XXXMas Future and all the spirits were gone. Through the windows warm sunlight poured in, marking the beginning of a brand new day.

THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS STORY HAVE BEEN SACKED

THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR SACKING THE PEOPLE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS STORY HAVE BEEN SACKED

AND SO ON