Gilligan's Island Spoof

Gilligan's Island: The Viagraberry Bush

The Professor called Skipper into his hut. “Wonderful news! I just heard on the radio that the United States Geological Survey mission to the South Pacific has extended their tour! By triangulating their itinerary against the daily rising of the star Aldeberan, and taking into account the longitudinal variations vis-à-vis the Prime Meridian, I have postulated that…”

“Woah! Slow down there, Professor. Can you give that to me again in English?” Skipper said.

“Simply put, Skipper: Rescue!”

“Rescue!” Skipper breathed in awe, hands clasped together under his chin. “How soon?”

“I have calculated the Survey crew must be within one or two days of our island!”

“Holy smokes! I’d better get Gilligan started collecting wood for signal fires!”

The Professor shook his head. “I would advise against that, Skipper. You and I should handle this episode. After all, you know how Gilligan always fucks things up!”

Skipper began to nod in agreement towards the hut wall when he performed an exaggerated double take. “Professor, can you say that on television?”

“Don’t worry,” the Professor soothed, “this isn’t for broadcast, and no offense is intended against anyone, although if they might be upset by adult situations and language I would strongly urge that they refrain from continuing any further.” Then he winked at no one in particular.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the lagoon….

"One for the basket," Gilligan intoned, "and one for me! One for the basket, and one for me!" He happily picked berries off a bush, harvesting the fruit for a dinner dessert pie. He was pretty tired of the constant coconut cream crap day after day and was looking forward to a change of pace. When he found this bush covered with succulent berries, he figured they would make a fine pie.

His hands moved quickly from bush to basket, bush to mouth as he harvested the berries, when suddenly, his movements slowed. He slapped his hand against his forehead, dizziness evident in his sudden stagger. His eyes crossed, his knees buckled, and he fell face forward onto the sand. His bum slowly rose into the air and he found himself precariously balanced on five points: his hands, toes, and the tip of his now enormous erection that had burst through his pants.

"SKIP-errrr!" Gilligan hollered.

Mary Ann skipped happily through the jungle, her blue eyes bright, her black hair bouncing, her belly button winking. She wore cut off shorts and a shirt tied tightly under her perky breasts leaving her tanned midriff bare. "Huh!" she said aloud to no one in particular, "let's see 'I Dream of Jeanie' get away with this!"

"Skip-errr!" came a call through the underbrush.

"That sounded like Gilligan!" Mary Ann said aloud to herself. "He might be in trouble!" She scurried down the jungle path following Gilligan's voice until she found him face down, flailing in the sand, unable to right himself. He must have been lying on a large rock, or a tree trunk, or something, since his waist was elevated. She bent down to see what was under him....

"Mary Ann!" Gilligan hollered at her feet. "Don't come any closer!"

"Gilligan," she chided. "What have you gotten yourself into this ti-, I-I-I-I've never seen anything like this back on the farm!" She bent down and saw Gilligan's engorged penis buried in the sand. "Not even on our prize bull!"

His flailing finally felled him, and Gilligan toppled over onto Mary Ann's lap. His cock waved in the air, twitching with his heartbeat. Mary Ann watched it mesmerized like a bird under a snake’s gaze. She licked her lips. Her eyes traveled up and down the shaft. It had been a long time since she had been...with a man. Her fiancée was half a world away. She was stranded on a desert isle without a source of passionate release. They wouldn’t even let her jerk off on camera, thank you very fucking much Sherwood Schwartz and the Standards and Practices Committee!

She was terribly frustrated and found herself becoming so very horny. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her shirt. She felt her pussy becoming wet with desire. She gently brushed away the sand from Gilligan's cock.

"Mary Ann," Gilligan said cautiously, "what are you doing?" He was feeling a strange sensation in his veins, a passion he had never known before, not even with the hookers of Honolulu.

"It's okay," she whispered as she lowered her mouth onto Gilligan's erection.

"Oh, boy!" Gilligan hollered as Mary Ann made mouth magic. Erotic sensations surged through his body and he began pumping his hips up and down, feeding more and more of his cock into Mary Ann's wet mouth. She hummed her appreciation as she unbuttoned her shirt, peeling it away to reveal her round white breasts tipped with cherry-red nipples. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Gilligan said.

"I never knew you were such a man, Gilligan! I've got to feel that beautiful thing inside me!" She squirmed out from under his body, stood, and quickly shucked her shorts down her legs showing her shaved slit. She saw Gilligan staring between her legs and giggled. "My fiancée always liked me to keep it bare. No hair in his teeth!” Her eyebrows twitched as the gleam returned to her eyes. "Maybe later I'll show you," she said as she stepped over Gilligan's body, "but right now I need this!" She impaled herself onto Giligan's cock with a sigh and a smile.

Gilligan moaned his delight as he watched his erection disappear into Mary Ann's belly. He began rolling his hips, lunging to meet her downward thrusts as he grabbed her bouncing tits. He pinched the hard nipples causing her to gasp with pleasure. Their bodies thrashed together in the sand. Their loins burned. They moaned ever louder....

Ginger Grant, stunning redhead Hollywood actress, heard strange sounds from the jungle to her left and veered closer to investigate. She followed the low animalistic yet very familiar sounds to a small clearing where she saw Gilligan and Mary Ann in the midst of intercourse. They sounded just like the wonderful Hollywood parties she used to attend. At first she was jealous. That little bitch had last billing in the intro credits, and here she was screwing her brains out with… “Oh, my God!” she breathed. She noticed the size of Gilligan’s cock as it speared her hut-mate’s pussy. It looked enormous, more than enough for two to share! A sly smile spread over her face as she removed her gold lame dress and approached the couple.

"Looks like fun!" Ginger giggled. "Can I join you?"

Gilligan had closed his eyes but opened them at the unexpected question. His gaze roved over Ginger's naked form, taking in her luscious breasts, pale pink nipples, and the coppery cunt covering thatch between her legs. "I didn't think you were a real redhead, Ginger!"

"Of course I am!" Ginger snapped as she straddled Gilligan's face. "Jean Harlow had the below the waist dye job, not me!" She settled her pussy lips against Gilligan's mouth and bent forward to chew on Mary Ann's nipples.

"Yes!" Mary Ann screamed, "Bite them! Bite them!" The added stimulation sent her over the top and her pussy began spasaming with orgasm. The moving muscles milked Gilligan's cock, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum gushing deep inside her. Mary Ann fell back flat to the sand, breasts heaving as she gulped air trying to recover from what had to be the best cum she had ever had. Gilligan's cock slid out with an audible POP noise, still hard and waving in the air like a meaty flagpole.

"Perfect!" Ginger said and crawled forward on her hands and knees until she was over Mary Ann's body. "Let me show you something Rock Hudson taught me, Gilligan. Ram that thing into my ass!" She arched her back, offering her puckered asshole to Gilligan's cock. He didn't waste any time and scrambled up to his knees, burying his cock between Ginger's ass cheeks with a single mighty shove. He gripped her hips and began chugging happily away while Ginger and Mary Ann entwined their arms and tongues in a deep kiss. "Scoot up, honey," Ginger breathed huskily. "I'm in the mood for some of your cream pie!" Mary Ann wriggled along the sand until her pussy was in Ginger's face. "How pretty!" she said just before she plunged her tongue deep inside Mary Ann's shaved slit.

Ginger tongue-fucked Mary Ann, she sucked her clit, she drank Gilligan's sperm, and all the while growled her contentment. Mary Ann moaned her joy as she was eaten out, building towards her second orgasm. Gilligan grunted his pleasure as he pumped Ginger's ass like a machine.

None of the three lovebirds noticed Mrs. Howell approach, her glasses held to her eyes as she observed the orgy in progress. She had not had sex in quite some time now. She missed her gardener so much! And the cabana boy, and the pool maintenance man, and Jeeves the butler on the English estate, and… well, she missed all the comforts of having servants. Now, seeing these three young people fornicating openly, she found her libido rising. She stripped down to just her underwear (one must maintain some decorum among the lower classes) and walked closer.

"Mrs. Howell!" Gilligan said in alarm when he caught sight of her. She wore only a quarter cup leather bra, a pair of crotchless leather panties, and a regal smile. In her hand she carried a short riding crop.

"Call me, ‘mommy,’ dear boy," she said as she stepped over Ginger and straddled Gilligan's upturned face.

"Mmmph-y" Gilligan said as Mrs. Howell's pussy covered his mouth.

She slapped his back and neck with the crop. "Do a good job, and I'll increase your allowance!"

"Mut, ee mone met mahny malloowince!" Gilligan tried to say.

"Then do a good job and you'll start getting one!" Mrs. Howell said with fire in her eyes as her crop lashed out again. "Now, no talking and more licking!"

Gilligan obeyed the command, his tongue lapping the dowager’s orifice like it was his last meal as his cock continued to plumb the depths of Ginger’s sucking bowels. Ginger’s nipples dug little trenches in the sand as she rocked back and forth in time to Gilligan’s thrusts. His balls slapped her pussy, teasing the lips. Her tongue probed deep inside Mary Ann’s sweetly shaved snatch. Mary Ann pinched her own nipples happily, her legs spread wide and quivering.

Ginger went first, enjoying an anal orgasm that tore through her body like an earthquake. Her mouth clamped down on Mary Ann’s clit, sending the young farm girl over the edge into orgasm. Ginger’s clenching anal ring pulled a second sperm salvo from Gilligan’s cock. His orgasm made him lurch up, driving his tongue and nose deep into Mrs. Howell’s cunt, lifting her feet off the ground for a moment, her entire weight supported on his face as she flooded him with her cunt juice.

The quartet broke their daisy chain. Gilligan collapsed onto the sand and began snoring. The women each retrieved their clothing and went their separate ways. As Mary Ann left, she found a basket of berries. “This will make a lovely pie!” she said to no one in particular.

Later, after moonrise….

There were only six at the dinner table that evening. “Gilligan! Gilligan! Where the hell are you!” bellowed the Skipper. “Mess call! Gilligan!”

“I have not seen Gilligan all day. It is most strange,” the Professor opined.

“He’s probably napping” all three women said simultaneously. They looked at each other and smiled knowing smiles without a trace of embarrassed blushing.

“That lazy son of a bitch!” Skipper growled.

The Professor patted Skipper’s arm gently. “Perhaps it’s for the best that Gilligan is otherwise occupied for now. Everyone, we have wonderful news!”

“Yum, yas, what’s all this then?” Mr. Howell asked in a fair imitation of Mr. Magoo’s voice.

“There is a team from the United States Geological Survey in the area and I have calculated that they will be here tomorrow morning. We shall soon be rescued!”

“Yay!” Mary Ann said.

“That’s terrific!” Ginger said.

“Yas, capital news, old boy!” Mr. Howell said.

Mrs. Howell pouted. “What does one wear to a rescue?”

“This calls for a celebration! I was saving this for dessert, but what the hell!” Mary Ann said as she placed a pie on the center of the faux-primitive table.

“Christ, not another coconut cream pie!” Skipper wailed. “I’m sick of that shit!”

“No, Skipper, It’s a berry pie!” Mary Ann said. She gave no thought to Skipper’s foul language. He was a sailor and besides, after the royal screwing she had received earlier, she wasn’t too concerned about proprieties any more.

The castaways divided up the pie and began eating. All enjoyed the odd but good flavor.

“It isn’t strawberry,” Skipper said.

“It isn’t raspberry,” Ginger said.

“It isn’t blackberry,” Mrs. Howell said.

“It isn’t boysenberry,” Mr. Howell said.

“I find it to have a familiar taste. Quite familiar!” He opened his botany text that he happened to have next to him and began scanning the index. “Mary Ann,” he asked, “where did you find these berries?”

“Gilligan picked them in the jungle.”

“I would need to examine the plant for bifurcations and crenellations of the leaf structure to be absolutely certain, however, I suspect that these are the rare tropical Viagraberries, highly sought after by the head hunting Amphalang tribe due to certain special attributes.”

“Head hunters!” Skipper gasped as he held his neck in both hands.

“No Skipper, not decapitation, but rather fellatio.”

“What attributes are you talking about, Professor?” Ginger asked.

As if in answer, there was a sound of three trousers ripping open and the table unsteadily rose on three expanding cocks. “I’m certain of my botanical identification now,” the professor said.

“Wot! Lovey! The market is rising!” Mr. Howell shouted.

“Ahoy! Up periscope!” the Skipper shouted.

“Quite an astounding rate of penile tumescence,” the Professor observed. “Shortly followed by an increase in libidinous tendencies which result in unrestrained copula—“ He did not finish his thought as his mind and body began reacting to the berry’s influence. He leered hungrily, eyebrows twitching.

The women were also affected by the berries. Each found her nipples and clitoris growing ever harder, throbbing with sexual desire. No one suggested undressing. It was automatic. Twelve hands ripped at clothing and the castaways fell on one another in a frenzy of lust.

“The depilated state of your vagina is most arousing, Mary Ann,’ the Professor said.

“Professor, I’m going to fuck your brains out!” Mary Ann responded as she pulled him inside her pussy.

“I’m going to give you the captain’s log!” Skipper said to Mrs. Howell.

“Oh, Captain! My captain!” Mrs. Howell trilled as she spread her legs to receive his cock.

“Oh yasss, little lady. I’m going to make you a star!” Mr. Howell said as he plunged his erection into Ginger’s snapping pussy.

“I’m already a star!” she hissed. As the millionaire’s cock head pressed against the mouth of her womb she added, “I’m ready for my close up now, Mister DeMille!”

Three pairs of bodies thrashed on the sand as the sex-starved six screwed. They cried out their passions, howling at the moon in the throes of orgasm, enjoying a wild orgy until the berries’ final soporific effect took hold and they drifted off into deep slumber.

Later, at dawn, in the lagoon, a small boat appeared. In it were a man and a woman dressed in khakis and wearing pith helmets. They were named Michael and Debbie.

Michael rowed the boat ashore. They stepped onto the sand and looked around, taking in the verdant plant life with a bored regard. This was just like so many other islands they had visited. The monotony of volcanic outcrops had become so wearying. The pair had decided to do something different this time.

“No one will ever see this,” Debbie said. Then she repeated herself for special emphasis, “No one will ever see this.”

“But we will know,” Michael answered. Together they hoisted a post from the bottom of the boat, pounded it into the sand, and affixed a bronze plaque to the top. Then they re-boarded their small craft and departed for civilization.

Later, the castaways awoke slowly, joints stiff from a night of debauchery, bodies still intertwined in positions of past passion. The Professor blearily scanned the sky. The sun was already well up. It seemed like there was something important about this morning….

“The survey crew!” he shouted, disengaging himself from between Mrs. Howell’s legs. He felt a lingering wetness at his asshole as he jumped up. He couldn’t remember who had buggered him, but that wasn’t important right now. He raced to the lagoon with the other five trailing in his wake. On the way he bumped into Gilligan groggily wandering along the path. His clothes were clean and repaired through the magic of the Wardrobe Department.

“Hey, Professor, you’re naked!” Gilligan observed. As he took in the others running behind, he said, “Everybody’s naked!”

“Out of the way, microbrain!” the Professor shouted with a shove as he ran on. He arrived at the lagoon and saw evidence of the USGS team’s beaching, their footprints, and read the marker they had left behind. When the rest arrived, they found the Professor on his knees and elbows pounding the sand, doing a fair imitation of Charleton Heston at the remains of the Statue of Liberty in “Planet of the Apes.” That was his starring performance in the original movie, not that piece of shit with Marky Mark released in 2001.

“They did it. They really did it, and we missed them! God damn you, Gilligan! God damn you to Hell!”

The plaque read: The United States Geological Survey declares this island to be the remotest point on the face of the Earth, and hereby grants the official title “The Ass End of Nowhere.”

###

Sherwood Schwartz and Linwood Boomer chatted over lunch in their offices. Linwood tapped a round canister on the table between them. “What the hell are we going to do with this thing? The execs will never let us run it.”

Sherwood just winked and picked up a telephone. “Honey, get me Bob Crane on the set of Hogan’s Heroes, will ya? Thanks.” He waited a moment as the connection went through. “Bobby boy? Sherwood here. Look, I got that film for your collection we discussed earlier. Have you got the cash ready? Great. I’ll swing by tonight. Ciao baby.” He hung up and muttered, “Millions in reruns around the world and I get bupkiss. Fuck that noise!”