A Troll's Christmas Gift

In a dark dank hovel under a bridge where the Internet highway zoomed overhead lived a gnarly troll. On this particular day in December, which happened to be Christmas Eve, troll was doing what he always did, go online and trash other people’s stories. A tiny little Charlie Brown tree stood all askew in the corner of his hovel, he had no Christmas cards except for ones that he took from other people’s mailboxes.

He sat in his stained t-shirt and greasy boxer shorts, a stub of a cigar between his teeth, one hand working the mouse while the other played with his dicklet (it wasn’t full size). It always made him hard whenever he found a story not to his taste knowing full well instead of going on to another, he gave it a nasty feedback or bombed it under the name Anonymous. He pushed his boxers down to his ankles before hitting the ‘submit’ button, it always made him climax when he did it gave him a feeling of great power. His finger was poised on the button of his mouse while his other hand was furiously pumping away, well as best as you can with a dicklet, when he heard a noise behind him. All of a sudden he felt his chair being spun around violently and it stopped in front of three scathingly gorgeous women, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. The surprise frightened his dicklet so that it popped back in like a turtle hiding in its shell.

“Who the Hell are you?” he screeched. He was obviously pissed at the interruption.

“Listen up Troll,” said the brunette, “we are muses chosen by a large contingent of other muses, the Local # 69 to be exact, to inform you that we are sick and tired of you bombing and trashing our hard work. Do you know how long it takes to inspire some people? No, you don’t or you wouldn’t be so foul.”

The troll crinkled his nose and stared at her with his beady troll eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, now git outta my house!”

The brunette turned to the redhead who was trying to untangle herself from the web of garland that was tossed randomly around the hovel, “Show him Trixie.” With that, the redhead unraveled a rather large scroll that cascaded to the ground and kept rolling until it was almost out of sight.

“Don’t know? I think not, “ said Trixie. “According to the data collected on this scroll you’ve made countless posts on stories that you’ve destroyed for your own entertainment.”

“That had to be from years ago.” Snorted the troll.

“Nope, this scroll is from the past month, you’ve been working hard over the holidays I see.” The redhead then crossed her arms after letting the rest of the scroll fall from her hands.

“Frankly troll we’ve had enough.” The blonde finally spoke up. “Today of all days you will atone for your sins.”

“What are you talking about?” the troll was starting to sweat a little.

The brunette, who was really getting irritated, spoke again. “Do you remember this and I quote, ‘I could write better crap with one hand tied behind my back.’ “

Trixie was really looking forward to this part. “Now’s your chance troll boy!”

Suddenly the troll was sitting facing the computer with one hand literally tied behind his back. His other hand was in mid air ready to type.

“Hey! What’s going on here? This isn’t fair.”

“Sorry troll, not my rules.” Said the brunette.

“Nope they’re my rules.” Laughed Trixie.

Betty, the blonde muse leaned against the monitor. “You’re going to write a story, with our help of course. Now let’s see…how about we find you naked in a closet spying on your sister who is making out with her best friend while your brother butt-fucks you?”

“Oh Betty, that’s brilliant. You’ve covered voyeur, lesbian, anal, and incest all at once!” Trixie danced about excitedly.

The trolls hand started typing the beginning of the story as the brunette, Shirley, jumped in on the fun. “Yes, but it’s against his will, so now we have non-consent even though it gives him a raging hard-on.”

“Hey, this isn’t right, I’m not gay and I don’t even like my brother.” Whimpered the troll.

“That’s why it’s non-consent Bucko.” Laughed Shirley. “You just keep typing while we inspire you.”

Trixie and Betty were standing together looking at the troll’s pathetic body until Trixie whispered something to Betty who in turn squealed with delight in such a high pitch that she broke several of the troll’s cartoon collector glasses. She then pulled up her gown, cause that is what muses wear unless they are naked muses, but that’s a different union. Propping herself up on the monitor she showed her glorious pussy to the troll. It was indeed a glorious pussy with light blonde hair; in fact it seemed to be smiling.

The trolls eyes widened as he looked at her pussy, he felt his little turtle dicklet poke it head back out all the while his free hand typed away. He almost fell over when…It spoke!

“Hey big, smelly and ugly, you know you want Me.” The vagina mocked. “I would love to have that dicklet of yours inside me.”

Sweat was rolling down the troll’s brow and he shook his head in disbelief, the clitoris like a tiny finger was beckoning to him and pointing down to the entrance below it.

Trixie walked over to Betty and began to stroke the insides of her thighs. She then slid her index finger up inside the blonde, which made her squirm and the troll twitch. The redhead then pulled the finest Cuban cigar out from the depths of her cleavage and promptly stuck it up in place of her finger. Betty didn’t seem to mind. After she thoroughly fucked Betty with the cigar, as earlier stated, it was good for Betty too; she then put it in the troll’s mouth.

“A little taste of what your missing troll boy.” Trixie was the twisted one of the group. Gotta love her.

Poor, poor troll. He was terribly frustrated with his free hand typing away, his other hand tied behind his back and the cigar that tasted like heaven in his mouth after being used to get off the most beautiful pussy that was right in front of his face. He was starting to shake now.

Trixie stood behind Betty and started to pinch her nipples only to be mirrored by Shirley, who stood behind the troll giving him the same treatment. He let out a pathetic whimper.

“I think,” Shirley whispered “that troll, after his butt-fucking sessions with his brother, should then be taken out on all fours, with a collar and leash to a big orgy where he then…”

“Yes?” the other two muses asked all impatiently “Tell us Shirley.”

“He then gives Richard Simmons a blow job while Richard is kissing Michael Jackson, with tongue of course, until Michael decides to shove a dildo up troll’s ass. That also covers the BDSM, gay male, toys and celebrity categories.”

“If Michael Jackson was still black we could include Interracial.” Quipped twisted Trixie.

“Yes.” Said Betty “But now we can say we’ve done Scifi/fantasy or erotic horror.”

Another voice unexpectedly interrupted them; it was coming from the trolls lap area.

“Okay you bitches, stop with the teasing, my balls are like zeppelins!” snapped the troll’s penis. What it lacks in size it made up for in attitude.

The muses were wide eyed to see the troll’s rather large and extending balls start to lift him from his chair pushing his head into the ball of fake mistletoe that no one would stand under, his eyes bulged and the sweat poured down his face like maple syrup that flows down the sides of a stack of pancakes in the advertisements. He was in agony and it was great! Alas muses being muses were concerned about getting the story finished.

Then it happened, the spell check alarm went off! Poor troll, he was quite startled by the sound. His tiny Charlie Brown Christmas tree then lost what few needles it had left.

“What the hell was that?” he shouted.

“Spell check troll boy, would have mad a difference if you understood proper grammar and spelling rules.” Snickered Shirley. “Now I have to pluck a hair from your balls.” She started singing “Jingle Balls, jingle balls” before she deftly plucked a wiry hair from his over-inflated balls.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” screamed the troll.

“Oh stop it,” said Shirley.” It’s a small price to pay for your craft.” She dropped it to the ground where it made the sound of a paper clip hitting the linoleum.

“Okay, let’s wrap this up like a Christmas package and get out of here, my host is in need of a New Year’s story and the ideas are whirling around in my head.” Betty sighed.

“Same here.” Said the brunette. “Let’s have him wear a dress and fall in love with a latex/rubber fetishist and that will give us the Cross dressing, fetish and romance categories too.”

“Works for me.” Said Trixie, who was busy making snowflakes from paper cuttings and sticking them around the room.

“Alright troll, wrap it up and hit submit.” Ordered Betty.

The troll was quite relieved and couldn’t wait to rid himself of the bothersome muses. He quickly hit the submit button and through the miracle of the writer’s discretion it posted immediately and the votes started to come in, all were favorable. Public comments came from the greatest writers.

From Edgar Allen Poe: “Quote the Raven, give me a whore!”

Robert Frost posted: “I stopped by the woods on a snowy evening and wanked myself silly.”

Hemingway wrote: “I wish you were my bitch.”

His favorite was from Mark Twain: “That was hotter than Mississippi on an August afternoon.”

The troll could not believe his eyes; tears welled up and rolled down his leathery cheeks. The rush of having something he toiled on given such great reviews and his vote’s put him tops in all categories. They say that the troll’s small penis grew three sizes that day.

“I don’t know how to thank you girls, you’ve made me see the error of my ways. I never knew what it took to write a story, the pains and pleasures involved. I will keep the spirit of Christmas in my heart all year and take a course in writing to improve my skills. I am not the troll I once was, thank you.”

“Whatever.” Said Betty rolling her eyes.

“Just don’t do it again.” Sneered Trixie.

Then it was Shirley’s turn. She took a large candy cane out from under her gown and handed it to the troll. “If you ever do anything nasty again, I’m going to shove this up your ass sideways, got it?”

With that the girls vanished just as suddenly as they came. The troll felt all warm and happy inside, too bad because when he looked again, his scores had dropped suddenly to the lowest possible score.

The troll himself had been trolled.

Merry Christmas Mr. Troll.