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WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex
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Donny & Long Dong
Go to
Congress
(A Convoluted History)
by
Hunsi
Book
cover Picture
Click to meet the players
/files/Authors/HumblePie/Pics/dong.jpg
The
time, 1973, in a Galexy far, far away . . .
"That's the place,
pull over diver," Walter said to the cabbie while pulling a fifty out of his
wallet.
"Yes, Sir, the cab
driver replied as he pulled up to the curb that fronted the Kitty-Kat Picture
Studios on Van Ness.
"That'll be
twenty-two fifty, sir," the cabbie then said to the rather smartly suited
man sitting in the back seat. The kind
of guy who looked so tied up in the legalese as to have the Bill of Rights
tattooed on his chest.
"Yeah,
I gotcha, bud. Now, stay put, I’ll be right
back," the lawyery-like guy replied while
handing him the fifty, then stepped out with brief case in hand and made his
way to the door.
Upon entering his
senses were immediately assaulted by the near frantic pace of those scrambling
about as he made his was through the lobby toward Studio One. Then add to that the chaotic sounds of the
Psychedelic rock screaming out over the loud speakers, and it’s easy enough to
see why he felt more the Hatter trying to sell hats than a
attorney needing to reach his client.
It was a crazy and choatic place to be sure, though in truth, not at all
unlike any of the other 70's era porn studios that churned out smut films as
quickly as a kid goes through bubblegum.
Films that played in the arcades for a quarter, and graced the big screen
in the porn theaters that had come to saturate the landscape once our highest court
finally decided that free speech meant just that.
But that was the
time. A revolutionary time where helter skelter didn't just reign, it poured over all that had come
before. Making stars of the girls who
could swallow a foot-long dong whole, and giants of the men who had them. And atop that list of the biggest of the big,
stood my client, Donnie "Long Gong" Wonder, the high priest of smut.
Now, with the intro
done, I think it’s time I tell you a little about myself and why I’ve come to
this sleazy underworld hiding in plain sight.
------- § § § -------
My
name is Walter Smedley, and as mentioned above, I'm
an attorney. A high priced attorney who
has over the years saved many a politican and scandlized industrialists who faced hard time for some miscreant
deed.
In
that regard, both Donnie “Long-Dong” Wonder, as well as those political and
financial magnates I’ve represented over the years are
all very much alike.
There
were all men caught on a hook, and it's mine to save them from the making the evening
meal. And for a hundren
thousand down and a thousand dollars an hour for my time, I’m intent upon doing
just that.
"Where's
Mr. Wonder," I asked the man standing behind the camera as I entered
studio One.
The
man didn't answer, but with a nod toward the on-set bedroom scene where a young
woman lie spead over the bed told him all he need
know. The girl, no more than 20, was crying
up a storm while being tended to by an on-sight nurse. The girl's grossy
distended and obviously impaired anus looked to be the center of her concern
and by the worried look on her face, it looked to be
quite a major impairment indeed.
"Oh
no, not again," I shook my head fearing the worse.
"Naw, she's a legit 20," Donnie said upon exiting the
attached bedroom, still toweling off his long dong as he approach. "I've a photo copy of her birth
certification if you care to see it."
"Damn,
Donnie, use you’re fucking head,” I angrily let him know my feeling while
pointing at the girl. “Look big guy,
that’s not just some ceremonial cannon you’re carrying, that sucker can maim.”
"Gotta keep my fans happy, otherwise competition will fill
in the void," he said with a grin. "Besides, she needed the bucks and
I need to bust a nut. Now, stop acting
the prude and tell me why you’re here.”
"Why
am I here? I’ll tell you why. I got the
“Yeah,
I’m all ears.”
“All
ears? Huh! I
think not, my horse dick friend,” I said to him snarkily.
“Yah,
yah, I got it. You’re pissed because I
didn’t spare the rod and spoil the child, “he said to me with a nod toward to
maimed girl being tended to upon the bed.
“Yes,
speaking man to man that does piss me off.
But as your attorney, it’s this appeals court decision that just fries
my bacon.
“What’s
it say?”
“It
says the trial can go forward. Which
means in 6, 8 months top, you’re gonna be sitting in
a court room trying to keep your ass out of jail.”
"For what? She stated in her dispositon
she did for the money and we showed them the consent document she signed?"
"Yes,
of course, but none of that matters if you’re not of legal age to consent to
having sex, much less having her pooper transformed into a five inch round
drain pipe."
"But
how was I to know that? The birth
certificate she gave me said she was of age, and okay, had I availed myself to
a microscope at the time, I might have
been able to zoom in and see that the 8 in 18 had actually been penned in over
top the 5, but I didn't, so sue me."
"Yeah,
well, they’re intent upon doing just that too.
That is, after you spend the 10 years in jail."
"Stop
being melodrama, Walter. They ain't going to do shit.
Once my army of fans get's wind of it, they'll
rocking the halls of Congress like a 9.0 quake on the
"Run
for Congress? You’re even crazier than I
thought. The system is going to chew you
up and spit out your bones."
"Walter,
I sold over 10 millions copies of my last flick in this State alone. That is a lot of voters, Walter. I think if they were to learn that where were
forces plotting against me, and in way of extension, plotting against their
First Amendment rights to see Mr. Long Gong bust a nut up a girl’s ass on the
screen, I say to those Congressmen, good luck with that.”
“You
can’t be serious!”
“Oh,
I am, Walter, I am. In fact, I want you
to set the wheels in motion, right now. As
I recall, the late Howard Mason’s 45th Distict
seat has yet to be filled. Isn’t that
right?”
“Yup!”
“Well,
they’re coming after me, I’m going after them.
And I ain’t going to let up until they feel
every inch of Mr. Long dong up their ass.
I want you file the paper work by weeks end, while I start whipping up
the publicity.”
“So,
what do you say? Are you in, or are you
out?”
“Holy shit! If you’re not the craziest
motherfucker I’ve ever met. And, trust
me, I’ve met my share.
“Yeah,
well, so, what’s new about that?”
Well,
now, there’s a question for you, my dear readers, one I
had to think long and hard about.
True
enough what he was planning was one fucking crazy idea. But by the same token I had to admit, I
couldn’t have dreamt up a better defense against those who’d do him in than
this wacked out scheme he’d concocted. So . . .
“Hell
yeah, you crazy ass mother fucker, count me in!”
--
Chap
2
The the
next morning I made my way down to the Board of Elections office to file the
documents I had prepared overnight on behalf of my client.
I readily admit I was
prepared for the worst. But nowhere in
my wildiest imaginings could I have foreseen my
ending up on the wrong side of a wrongful death case. The cause of death, strangulation, though not
by my hands, but by the fit of laughter that near throttled the secretary who
was there to receive my petition upon reading the name Donnie ‘Long Dong’ Wonder, Congressional Candidate for Office, written
atop the page.
Though thankfully the
poor lady didn’t succumb, and I did indeed get the documents I had prepaired properly filed.
The same could be said
of Donnie Wonder and his 13 and a half inches long partner, Mr. Dong. Although in all fareness
to me, his mission was far easier to accomplish than my own.
Whereas I fraught with worry
over what people will think of me for taking part in such a crazy scheme, his
mission was simply to present his case to man wanted nothing more than to land
the big score. To be the first to inform
the three million inhabitants of the broader metropolican area his
station serviced of Donnie’s decision to run for office to stop what he saw as
a full frontal assault on the first amendment.
And I do confess, the 15 minute interview made quite the splash. So much so in fact, that telecast was re-broadcast
over a 100 different staton across the land, he final
words making page one from shore to shore.
“My fellow Americans, I ask that you stand up beside me and Mr. Dong in defence of our constitutional assured liberties, else we just
give in and surrender our souls to the Commie Gulag they would have us interned.”
I must say, if was
quite impassioned speech, one that will echo through the halls if infamy
forever and a day. But nothing he said
aroused more passion than when he called upon his followers, his ‘
Well, as I said, his
words caused quite a stir, and as you might suspect, his ‘Liberty League’ grew
by the multiples over the months that followed.
As did his coffers from the selling of some of the nastiest, foulest,
most outrageous flicks he’d ever made. 8
mm Films that now played in every household while the family gather round the
projector eating popcorn and watching some girl get reamed out by Mr. Dong in
full lunatic mode.
The truth is, the more dastardly
the assault the more they cheered, and the more the maternity wards struggled
to keep pace with inflex of young, expectant mothers. The by-product of all those nightly family
gathering around the the movie screen watching the
latest Dong show fuck-a-thon while daddy endeavors to show the kids that it doesn’t
take a schlong as long as a baton to get the job
done.
As I previously mentioned,
it was time of great social change, the likes of which premeated
though other segments of society as well.
Take the world of advertising for instants. Donnie influence upon how products were sold turned
the world of advertising upon its head.
Or should I say Mr. Long Dong’s head.
Paper towels, shampoos, lubricates you name it, when he appeared on a commerical, the products flew off the shelf.
Of course, no one, not
even Donnie was as crass as to stand before a camera to demonstate
the effectiveness of a new sexual lubricant on his own dong. To see him do that, they would have to buy one
of his flicks. But he wasn’t above using
his own dong to sell other merchandise.
Like the Cock Socks he sold by the score, especially the fish-net weave varity, those that concealed virtually nothing at all, yet
somehow met up to his high moral standards.
But that was considered
next to prudent when compared to other changes in the industry. Take for example a black dude by the name of
Willie the Trunk Jefferson. Named so, because his leathery gray cock looked more an elephant’s
trunk than it did a man’s cock.
Like Donnie the Dong,
he too was a very photogenic guy. But
unlike Donnie, he had absolutely no scruples at all. Appearing as he would on
morning kid shows to sell products for his candy and toy sponsers
while milling about the groups of boys and girls waving about his cock.
Needless to say, the girls
and boys could barely keep the excitement they felt all bottled in. And when
the jumping and clapping and laughing in fits would nolonger
suffice, he’d trumpet and let them pat his semi-raised wagging trunk as they
would an elephant’s at the zoo. And all done before a substanically large
TV audience while either beating himself off, or giving pointers on how best to
mouth a cock.
‘Impossible,’ I hear you say. ‘If any of this ever even remotely
possible, it would truly mark the end of civil society as we know it.
The end! Kaput!
Gone, would be the time when a man would stop to help a child cross the
street without asking for her panties in payment; when playgrounds were still
places to play and not brothels to work!
Crazy,
right? Images of a world gone mad! And you’d right to think so, but like I said,
this was a revolutionary time. A time
when helter skelter didn't just reign, it poured over
all that had come before.
And most amazing of all
was the fact that all this crazyness transpired in just
the short few months. From the day Donnie
Wonder’s smut film business became a legal entity, up to the present, now a
candidate for public office.
A short period of time admittigly, but trust me, what a wild ride it’s been. And no doubt will continue to be now that he
has challenged Homer Wickum, his opponent for the
Congressional seat to a televised debate.
I mean, how could I not be here to witness such a titanic event. One that will most certainly generate the
kind of waves that will reshape the political topography like a tsunami reshapes
the shoreline.
Of course, I have no
way of knowing that the final outcome will be, but there is one thing I do know. Like another other challenge Donnie has come
to face, he’s going to jump right into that rink with gloves raised high to the
cheer of the crowd, and when the bell rings, he’s going to start throwing punch
after punch until, Pow! “Game over!”
His opponent consigned to the annals of history.
He would never settle
for less. He never has, and he wasn’t
about to lose to Homer Wickum now. His plan, simple and easy. Just throw blow after blow and send that
red-neck, born again, ex-revivalist preacher back to hallelujah land.
“Did he actually
believed it’d be that ease?” I hear you ask.
Yes, abolutely, in fact it wasn’t but the night before when he
and I met up to rehearse the line-up of verbal punches he was going to deliver.
It was all so sweet,
and I was nothing if not dead certain he’d win the day when he delieve that opening line to the projected audience of over
80 million viewers.
“My fellow citizens,
stand with me and let freedom ring.
Together we’ll drain the swamp and rid ourselved
the ever present deep state, those whose sole reason to exist is to surveil our every move.”
“Well now, was that a
knock out, or what!
And it did just that, only it wasn’t Donnie the Dong who delievered it. It
was Homer the Holly-Roller Wickum delievering
Donnie’s speech – Word for fucking word!
You
see,
noone though to ask exactly who would be addressing
the audience first, nor did anyone bother to look about the restaurant in which
together Donnie and I sat discussing the upcoming debate over dinner.
A very open venue it
was too, one where someone with recorder hidden in a briefcase sitting at a
table behind could easily hear every word they said.
Well, as they say,
stupid is, as stupid does.
Of course, I don’t think
I need tell you that Donnie didn’t win that open Congressional seat, but after
the loss he did going into hiding. Somewhere
in the Marquesas I’m told to avoid prosecute for failing
to examine that 15 year old’s forged birth certificate
a bit more closely.
And
what about me? Well, like Donnie, like you,
I’m just another post revolutionary era surviver, who
somehow makes do in a world where the swamp has never been murkier, and nose of
the deep state never longer. A world in
which an exposed nipple in a 100 million dollar Hollywood movie passes for porn,
and where life is never more the bore now that the high court has once again
made porn a big time prosecutable crime.
--
Part II: Sun Set Over Pape’ete
Bay
Coming your way soon .
. .
Des Ende,
Hunsi
------- § § § -------
