King XXIII To Your Good Health

This novel include graphic sex scenes, some involving minors, rape and forced sex. It is purely a fantasy and is not depicting real people or events. It is intended as a satire and is meant to be both funny and stimulating. The stories have a political slant as you will see. I hope you enjoy them. New chapters will be published as they are finished.

(Mffffffffff)

“We’re here for the sex,” the leader of a rowdy band of women announced at my doorstep one evening.

Actually, when you’re in my business, things like that happen more often than you might imagine. There were five of them this time, girls I’d never seen before but who I definitely wanted to know. Cheralyn was the leader of the group, a short-haired pixie of a girl with a radiant smile in a barely there evening grown, who flashed a bottle of champagne as she entered. Tesa was a tall willowy blonde in a green sheath of dress who sauntered in behind her. The others were Jessie, a slender drop dead gorgeous brunette with milky white skin, Vlaska, a raven-haired beauty with sparkling violet eyes, and Lucy, an almond-eyed oriental in an exotic silk, floral dress.

Lori and Cilla stood behind me as the girls entered. It was their turn now to be concerned about the new competition.

“Mom, who are these bitches?” Cilla said.

“More competition for the cock, Cilla,” Lori said with a wry smile.

Since they’d moved into the mansion, Lori and Cilla had become prized members of the “harem” and jealous protectors of what they regarded as the “harem’s” possession. Most of the other members of the harem had gone out to a movie together, one of those weepy unrequited love stories only women love, and Lori and Cilla had stayed home with me to keep me company.

“We were here in L.A. at a party and were watching one of your movies,” Cheralyn told me. “Someone told us you live nearby and we all decided we need a girl’s night out with your cock.”

“Yipee!” Vlsaka said.

“Yeh boy,” Tesa echoed.

They were all about four sheets to the wind but inebriated women with no inhibitions can be extremely fun.

“Can we see it?” Lucy said. She was the least drunk and the most direct.

Cilla dropped to her knees in front of me and put her hands over my crotch as if she was guarding the family jewels. In a way, I guess she was.

“What makes you think you are worthy to see it?” she asked Lucy. “I prepared for a lifetime.”

“Get up off your knees you little slut,” Lucy said. “I was chugging loads when you were in diapers.”

Cilla took out my cock and began to felate me slowly. The other woman watched as my cock swelled in her hands and mouth. She let my trousers drop to the floor.

“No way, Jose,” Lucy said, aghast.

“The movies don’t do it justice,” Tesa said.

“That’s just not normal,” Jessie said.

Lucy sank to her knees and tried to encircle Cilla’s play toy with one small hand.

“It’s positively a big, giant one,” Lucy said.

“I had that in me when I was 15,” Lori said.

“Yeh, mom, but it ‘broke’ you way up inside,” Cilla said. She was 15 herself.

“Well, it’s not going to break me,” Cheralyn said. “Move over girls, I’m coming in for a one-point landing.”

Cheralyn pulled up her skirt to reveal she wasn’t wearing panties. In one quick move, she’s enfolded me with her thin legs and was gyrating wildly on my hips. Lucy and Cilla just moved down a little to accommodate her. I felt Cilla’s tongue probing my ass while Lucy slurped on my balls. Soon I was surrounded by Cheralyn’s and Lucy’s three friends. Two traded spit with me while another joined Cilla’s spelunking exercises on my rear.

Lori stood watching for a few moments, then shrugged her shoulders and joined in the fun. The orgy with me as the centerpiece went on for four or five hours. I can’t remember how many times I came or how many holes I probed myself that evening. We were all exhausted when Claire, Donna, Loyola, Terry and Piglet return from the movies. Of course, they weren’t about to be left out of the festivities, so round two started with me again as the centerpiece.

I woke up the next morning surrounded by a dozen naked women sprawled on the carpet around me leaking fluids from various orifices. Lori’s ass was in my face, semen leaking heavily from her asshole. Terry must have had a particularly explosive ejaculation during the evening. The carpet near where she lay was sopping wet and the girls lying nearby had moist hair matted around their faces. I reminded myself to call the carpet cleaners later.

I showered and shaved before I went to the office. There was no telling what fluids covered me from the evening before.

I had my driver take me to the office. Donna, up early as usual, insisted on riding along.

“Brad, I don’t see how you keep up with it all,” she said. “All those women, including me, last night. Then, three days ago, you took on the pride of the Republican Party at one of their fund raisers. You must have screwed upwards of 300 women there. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t like to leave any women unsatisfied with my performance,” I said, sinking back into my seat with a groan.

“Well, one was distinctly not satisfied and is demanding to be released,” Donna said.

“Poor little Annie,” I said. “I am glad you caught her just as she was about to shoot me.”

“You’re welcome, but thank that evil Malkin character for preventing her from getting close to you before she’s had her ‘ride’ as she called it,” Donna said. “It gave me time to recognize Annie. Strangely, even she tried to jump aboard before trying to shoot you.”

“Those strange women last night are typical,” I said. “For some reason, they lose all perspective when they see my weiner.”

“It’s a jumbo frankfurter,” Donna laughed. “And it’s that perspective that they try to jam as deep into their sopping wet holes as they can.”

“You, too, I guess,” I said.

“Oh yes, me too. I admitted I am addicted. Don’t think anything less would satisfy me now. I’m spoiled. It wasn’t that way at first. I pride myself on my, uh, detachment. Once attached, however, it’s nearly impossible to detach. I pity all those Republican women going home to their small-dick husbands and having to settle for that after they settled on you.”

“Well, Lori, Cilla and Loyola didn’t settle,” I said. “They settled in.”

“Don’t expect them to unsettle any time soon and as word of your exploits at the GOP party yesterday spread, don’t be surprised if you get a lot more Republican squatters,” Donna teased.

“I welcome all comers,” I said.

“All female cummers seem to welcome you as well,” Donna said.

“What is it about a large penis that seems to excite you all so much?” I asked. This was a question I’d always wanted to ask but never could find the right situation or time.

“Well, I can’t speak for the whole female race,” Donna explained, “but for me, it is like plugging into the epitome of maleness. When it is engorged and swollen to its maximum size, it is like I’m actually touching the Quin Shuan Shulat, isn’t that what you call it.”

“Yes, Quin for short,” I said.

“Shortness has nothing to do with your appendage, Brad,” Donna teased.

“Well, maybe not, but there’s nothing funny about the Quin,” I said. “It exists.”

“Don’t tell me you believe all those stories your mother told you about your family history,” Donna said. “I’ve done some research on Atlantis and like most objective people, I assure you it never existed and no remnant of it exists today.”

“Atlantis was buried into the mantle of the earth after Belial disappeared,” I said. “Cresendyas was lucky to escape with his life and a sliver of the Quin.”

“Brad, I love you to death, but you should listen to yourself when you talk about this stuff,” Donna cautioned. “Cresendyas? Belial? Do you really believe all of this stuff.”

“I believe a lot of people do believe and that’s what has been at the heart of all of this mayhem and murder that’s been going on for millennia,” I said. “What other explanation is there?”

“One a lot simpler than you seem to imagine,” said Donna.

I had to admit that often I had misgivings myself. Being a practical sort, I found it difficult to accept my mother’s claims about Atlantis.

“Well you’ll have time to find out for yourself tomorrow when Mom and my sisters are in town,” I told Donna.

“I’m looking forward to talking to her,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll find out what makes you tick.”

“Probably not, but you may find out what made me dick.”

Creech saw my bloodshot eyes when I got to the office.

“Donna, don’t you watch over this poor baby when you are at the house,” Creech said. “You are protecting him from assassins but letting him fuck himself to death.”

“You try and stop him,” Donna smiled. “You’d do better trying to stop the sun from rising.”

“Well his mommy’s coming to visit,” Creech said. “Maybe she can take the starch out of his dick for awhile.”

‘According to Brad, she and his sisters are what put the starch in to begin with,” Donna said.

“Well, maybe it’s time they washed it out,” Creech said. “If he keeps burning the candle at all ends the way he’s been going recently, Buckner won’t have to worry about killing him. He’ll be dead and buried long before he gets his hands on Brad.

Creech had been rather quiet and dispirited ever since our talk a few days earlier wherein she lamented my never having made a pass at her. I’d tried to give her some space, but she seemed motivated by some genuine concerns about my health.

She was right to be concerned. By mid-morning, a great lethargy overtook my body and threatened to wrestle me to the ground. I coughed a lot and had a definite rattle in my chest. Noticing my gray appearance, Creech called the hospital and asked them to send an ambulance.

“Does the transportee have health insurance?” the ambulance dispatcher asked.

“Yes,” Creech answered.

“I mean really good insurance?” asked the dispatcher.

“What’s good insurance?” asked Creech.

“Oh, the kind that nobody asks any questions about when we call to get paid,” the dispatcher said.

“Well, I don’t know that kind exists,” Creech said. “Aren’t you worried about the patient? He has no energy and he has a gray parlor over his face.”

“Well, are you worried enough to make sure we get paid,” said the dispatcher. “I mean, the hospital will ask these same questions.”

“I just need someone to get here quickly and take him to the hospital?”

“Is he legal?”

“Legal what? You mean like a lawyer?”

“No, we don’t pick up those bastards at all. They sue too quick. No, I mean is he a legal U. S. Citizen?”

“Of course he is.”

“Well, with a name like Cocksure, you can’t be too sure. Sounds like a Latin lover or something.”

“No, that’s just his stage name.”

“An actor, eh? I thought so. None of those lowlifes have insurance.”

“I assure you. Mr. Cocksure is the owner of the company and we have the best insurance possible.”

“And what would that be?”

Creech told him the name of a well known company.

“Christ, you got that piece of crap. You can’t believe the rigmarole they want to put you through before you get paid. This address. Isn’t that down near that big porn studio?”

“This is the porn studio?”

“Christ, this gets better and better. One of our female drivers was picking up someone near there recently and a woman flashed her boobs at her. The driver sued us for job harassment and won. We’re still paying off that mother.”

“Look, I will make sure no one flashes anything at your driver.”

“Well, I was kinda thinking I’d take this run myself. Don’t bother to try to stop anybody from flashing anything.”

“You are coming though.”

“We’ll see whose flashing what when I get there,” the dispatcher said.

Creech decided to drive me to the hospital herself. The admitting clerk was less helpful than the dispatcher.

“Before we do anything, I need to see his insurance card.”

Creech had pulled the card from my wallet and she flashed it to the clerk.

“This card does not have a phone number we can call to check on whether he’s covered.”

“I know,” Creech said. “They just sent us new cards with no phone numbers.”

“That’s because they don’t want anybody to call.”

It took some research, but eventually the hospital staff did locate an older 800 number for the insurance company.

“How did you find us?” the insurance company representative said. When told the number had been located on an old web site, the insurance rep said something about having to “get that fixed.” Then she announced that my sexual exhaustion was pre-existing and therefore, not covered.

“Coverage denied,” she said.

“How can sexual exhaustion be pre-existing?” Creech said when re-connected to the insurance rep.

“We know Mr. Cocksure,” the rep said. “He’s been sexually exhausted since he was 12.”

“He has a great way of showing it,” Creech said. “He screws anything that moves.”

“And your point is?” said the rep.

“My point is that he’s been fucking like a bunny for nearly 30 years, and just now showed signs of sexual exhaustion,” Creech said.

“It takes a long time to show up,” the rep said.

The doctor, when consulted, told Creech to tell the insurance company rep that I had swine flu. Because that’s what he has, said the doc.

“Shit. Piss, mother fuck,” the insurance rep said. “I don’t suppose there is a chance he had swine flu in the 1918 outbreak?”

“I don’t believe Mr. Cocksure was born then,” Creech said.

“He could have contracted it from a relative who had it then,” said the insurance rep.

“No, I don’t think so,” Creech said.

“Goddam, son-of-a-bitch, I hate when we have to pay out undeserving claims like this,” the rep said. “There goes my goddamn denial of service bonus.”

“Mr. Cocksure paid his premiums,” Creech said. “This is service he’s entitled to.”

“No one’s entitled to anything in this country,” said the rep, “If you believe that, then you are one of those cock suckin’ socialists.”

“It makes you a socialist to demand a service you paid for?”

“You ought to attend the training sessions we attend here. Before they send us out on anti-healthcare missions, they explain how entitlements are ruining this country and leading us down the path of socialism.”

“If you are sick and need to be hospitalized…”

“I take it back, lady, you are some kind of goddamn communist. Why don’t you go back to France where you belong if you don’t like this country, a country, I might add, with the world’s best health care.”

“Actually, we rank 37th in the world in terms of health care,” Creech said.

“That’s 37th out of what maybe a billion, trillion. That sounds pretty darn good to me.”

“No out of maybe 200, 300 countries.”

“So we’re in the top ten percent.”

“I give up. Just assure me Mr. Cocksure is covered.”

“Is his cock sore?”

“No, Cocksure is his name.”

“Good, because we don’t support any pubic option. However, I can’t believe we haven’t written an amendment to our standards to deny swine flu coverage to someone with that name, but I guess he’s getting in just under the line. We’ll have that little escape clause filled by supper tonight, you can rest assured.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight after talking to you,” Creech said.

I was admitted to the hospital but just barely. The nurses kept calling the insurance company again and again to make sure my insurance hadn’t been cancelled.

“We have to check,” one nurse told me. “We can’t believe you got admitted in the first place. Usually, the insurance companies try to punish people who get in by cancelling their policy unilaterally.”

“Boss, I thought you said that we had the best insurance money could buy,” Creech said.

“I was going on the basis of a Consumer Reports recommendation,” I moaned, feeling worse than ever.

“They are the best,” one nurse said. “Remember, you got admitted. Most people don’t make it this far anymore. We have to just let them die on the street.”

“I can’t believe health care in this country is this bad,” Creech said.

“Yes, I believe I’d believe in reform if it were not for Obama’s death panels,” one nurse said.

A nun appeared at the door to my room.

“I just wanted to see who was so lucky to get admitted to the Sisters of the Precious Bloody Rag Hospital,” the nun said. “Did you win the lottery, young man?”

“I guess I must have but I sure don’t feel very good.”

“Well don’t let us trouble your head, young man,’ said the nun. “We just want to trouble your other head. We’ve heard some pretty fantastic things about you from our affiliates up in Oregon.”

“Sister, don’t believe a word you’ve heard. I did nothing to those nuns up in Oregon.”

“Sister, that’s not what Mr. Cocksure has assured me,” Creech piped in. “I hear he was quite the cocksman in the nunnery.’

“Thanks, Creech,” I said.

“You told me you took on all cummers,” Creech said.

“Well, we’ll talk about that later, I am sure,” the nun said. “You know, we are married to Christ Jesus but Jesus Christ, occasionally we do get the urge for some dick. We can’t satisfy ourselves with our crucifixes alone.”

The phone beside my bed rang. It was my mother calling.

“We’ll be up to see you at the hospital tomorrow as soon as our plane lands at LAX,” she said. “Tisha and Brenda will be with me and guess what, dear. Penelope is coming, too. You were always sort of sweet on her.”

The four people who’d pimped me out to the nuns in Oregon were on their way to see me, the Bloody Rag nuns here in L. A. were ready to pounce like tent-wearing cougars and I felt like crap, too sick to defend myself. Creech sat in my room and smiled. Revenge is a dish always best served when you have a cold, or the flu.