What the Imagination Thinks Up When Sent Nude Photos

This blog post is rated PG-13 for sexual content, language, and adult themes.  Reader discretion is advised, but not required.

Script for “Michael Deviant, Emergency Sex Therapist”

Narrator: Previously on “Michael Deviant, E.S.T.”

(Cut to medical office)
Dr. Deviant: (slaps Mr. Wonkers across face) Damn it, man! I’m a doctor, not a prostitute.

Nurse Abra: (slaps Dr. Deviant across face) Damn it, Michael… you’re technically both!

 (Cut to home living room)

Carrie Anne: Mary? When did this letter from Michael arrive?

Mary: I’m not sure. (reads letter) But it sounds like he needs our help in Brazil. Grab the emergency toy kit and let’s go!

Carrie Anne: (holds up backpack) One step ahead of you, girl.

 (Cut to parking lot of Red Lobster)

Walter: You think you can just ignore me? After what you failed to do for my wife and boyfriend? You ruined my relationships you quack!

Dr. Deviant: (punch Walter in stomach) I did everything I could for you and your loved ones. Now stay away from me or I’ll call the cops!

 Narrator: And now the story continues…

 (Cut to living room of Mr. Wonkers’s apartment. Mr. Wonkers is pacing back and forth. Bedroom door opens and Dr. Deviant enters)

Dr. Deviant: (lower mask) Mr. Wonkers, this is going to be more difficult than I imagined. Your girlfriend has completely repressed her submissive nature. Your lack of any Dominant personality traits has really closed her up. We have her comfortably hanging from the ceiling in an inverted cradle restraint but…

Mr. Wonkers: But what, Doc?

Dr. Deviant: She’s not responding to manual stimulation. We’re going to need to be a bit more aggressive with treatment. I need you to bring me the largest dildo or vibrator you have in your sex toy collection.

Mr. Wonkers: We don’t own any of those.

Dr. Deviant: What!?

Mr. Wonkers: I’m a Mormon and it’s against my religion to…

Dr. Deviant: Yes, yes. Spare me the classic argument – religion and I have knocked knuckles before. Old, dusty tomes dictating what humans can and cannot do for pleasure in the hopes of being rewarded in some grand afterlife, completely ignoring their own story about how God created Adam and Eve buck naked in a paradise… if you don’t think those two were fucking like rabbits before eating that piece of fruit… but yes, let’s refrain from allowing sex toys in our relationships! (slap Mr. Wonkers across face) Do you want your wife to experience sexual pleasure again?

Mr. Wonkers: Of course!

Dr. Deviant: No use crying over milk on the floor now. Do you have an ice-cream scoop?

Mr. Wonkers: Yes…

Dr. Deviant: Does it have a metal handle?

Mr. Wonkers: I think so.

Dr. Deviant: Good! Go grab that and some plastic wrap… and some ice cubes. We’ll just have to perform an improvised toy session on your wife.

Mr. Wonkers: (run off and then return) Will this work?

Dr. Deviant: Yea, I think it just might. Alright, Mr. Wonkers. I’m going to do everything in my power to give your girlfriend the submissive orgasm she desperately wants and deserves. But it’s not going to be easy and it’s not going to be quick.

Mr. Wonkers: Do whatever you need to, Doc. I just want Melissa to feel happy again.

(Dr. Deviant puts hand on Mr. Wonkers’s shoulder, smiles, and re-enters bedroom while lifting mask back to mouth)

 (Cut to airport)

Mary: Well, we’re here in Rio, but Michael isn’t answering his phone. How are we supposed to find him?

Carrie Anne: I’m not sure. Maybe he left a message at the Information Booth?

Limo Driver: (holding sign with their names) Excuse me, ladies, but would you be the Ladies Deviant?

Carrie Anne: That’s us. Did Michael send you?

Limo Driver: Yes, ma’am.   If you’ll just walk this way to my car, I’ll see that you get to your husband most expediently. And please, allow me to take your baggage.

Mary: Why thank you, Mister….

Limo Driver: Jones, ma’am. Xavier Jones.

(Ladies walk towards sidewalk and enter car. Driver pulls away fake mustache to reveal Walter)

Walter: My revenge is almost at hand, you festering boil of a sex therapist. You cost me my relationships… I’m going to cost you yours.

 (Cut to Mr. Wonkers’ apartment. Dr. Deviant enters again)

Mr. Wonkers: Well Doc? Is it over?

Dr. Deviant: Yes, Mr. Wonkers. Melissa had an orgasm. The procedure was a success.

Mr. Wonkers: (hug Dr. Deviant) Oh thank you so much! How can I ever repay you?

Dr. Deviant: (looks uncomfortable) My standard fee paid in cash will suffice.

Mr. Wonkers: (release Dr. Deviant) Oh… yes, of course. (go to wallet) So, what’s next?

Dr. Deviant: Nurse Abra is stroking Melissa to keep her from crashing too quickly from the pleasure. In about 10 or 15 minutes, she should be ready for a visit from you. After that, I’ll write a detailed prescription for you: techniques to practice, toys to purchase, that sort of thing. You’ll need to follow the prescription very precisely… unless you want me to continue visiting every month at $500 a session?

Mr. Wonkers: No. You’re right. I need to get past my inhibitions… for Melissa’s sake.

Dr. Deviant: Good choice. Now if you need…

Nurse Abra: (burst into room) Dr. Deviant! Come quickly! Melissa is peaking towards another orgasm already!

Dr. Deviant: Dear goodness. But how?

Nurse Abra: I’m not sure. I was just stroking her hair and gently massaging her breasts when her breath seized and she began to moan again.

Mr. Wonkers: What’s happening? Melissa? Melissa! (rushes into bedroom)

Dr. Deviant: Why didn’t I see this coming? Of course one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough; she’s been repressing her submissive side for so long. I should have been prepared for this.

Nurse Abra: Doctor! You need to get back in there. Mr. Wonkers isn’t ready to handle this situation alone.

Dr. Deviant: First my failures with Walter’s triad, and now this. Maybe I’m losing my touch. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be an intimate life coach and sexual therapist anymore.

Nurse Abra: (slap Dr. Deviant) Now you listen to me, Michael. You’re the best damn pervert I’ve ever seen. Your hands are gentle, yet firm. You can find the g-spot on any woman, and the prostate on any man. You have helped hundreds of relationships grow into grand pornographic adventures. So quit your bitching, get back in there, and help these two people have the deviant sexual lifestyle they want and deserve!

Dr. Deviant: Thank you, Nancy. You’re always there when I need you. (kiss Nurse Abra on cheek) Alright, time to get that woman over the rainbow bridge as many times as she needs… and her boyfriend is going to help! (run back into bedroom)

Nurse Abra: (to herself as she touches the kissed cheek) Someday… someday you’ll see me as more than your nurse. Someday, Michael Deviant, you’ll see me as I want to be seen… as your third lover.

 Narrator: Next time, on “Michael Deviant, E.S.T”

 (on phone with each other)

Dr. Deviant: Where are my wives, you bastard!

Walter: Now now, asshole. All in good time. Revenge must’nt be rushed.

 (Outside of a warehouse)

Dr. Deviant: Nancy, you can’t go in there. With that much Ecstasy in their systems, you’ll be ravished to death!

Nurse Abra: (touch Dr. Deviant’s cheek tenderly) Then I’ll die helping those I truly love, you grand fool.

 (Next to dead body covered by white sheet)

FBI agent: Dr. Michael Deviant? I’m sorry, but we have an emergency that can’t wait. You need to come with me.

Dr. Deviant: You can take your emergency and shove it up an eproctophiliac’s ass!

Any use of this material without written permission by author is prohibited.
But… if you see some potential for a YouTube series and can do the video work, we could make some magic together.  Comment below with contact information.


2 thoughts on “What the Imagination Thinks Up When Sent Nude Photos

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s