Jesus Christ's Christmas Present to Brent Spiner & Gail's Men (Gail's Vagina)

Gab Share


Now that Jesus has put Gail’s vagina into the rectum of Gail’s men, they got rid of their Gail sex dummies (to make love to in place of Gail) and prefer Gail’s actual vagina instead. Jesus is so clever! Apparently, they got stuck in a semen bubble, which caused them to go into another dimension and so Gail has not heard from them in around a year. Though, to them, it was like the last time they talked to Gail was ten minutes ago.

Dearest Gail,

It began as an ordinary day. Matthew and I swaggered broadly out of the courtroom together, grinning in the afterglow of our recent win against Jesuit agents Loree McBride and Camila Alves.

“That was a mighty fine victory we had, Brent!” Matthew declared in his manly Texan drawl.

“Mighty fine indeed, Matthew,” I replied, “I can’t wait to tell the boys on the bridge.”

We made our way to the entrance of the bridge, arm in arm, our thick buckled belts bouncing together at the hip. I smiled as the doors opened, preparing to announce our big win, but as soon as my eyes laid upon the view-screen my big smile turned into “O” faced shock.

“What on Earth?!” Matthew exclaimed.

Outside the Church of Gail was a dazzling array of lights and colors. One moment it was daylight, the next it was the blackest midnight. The stars, the moon, the sun, clouds and rainbows flashed rapid-fire across the heavens, one after another. It appeared as though we were watching the fast forwarding of time itself right before our eyes.

I immediately tapped the communication badge on my uniform.

“Brent to Engineering. Is Zack Knight there?”

A long pause ensued, before finally a voice answered. It was Zack Knight, panting and out of breath.

“I’m here Brent,” Zack replied. He then paused to take a loud sip of coffee and a long draw of a cigar.

“Zack, take a look outside. What’s going on out there?”

One sip turned into two, then three and four, followed by the sound of cigar smoking and the blowing of smoke rings. The loud slurping and puffing were the only sound permeating the silence as Matthew and I stood waiting patiently. After a full minute, and a loud gulp, we got another response.

“Hey sorry for the wait, you guys, I just got done playing all eight holes with Rule 13. Pretty relaxing, right? All eight holes.”

“Eight holes?” I asked, “you play golf?”

“No Brent,” Zack grinned, and began to explain, before suddenly his voice became distant, “OH FUCK!”

We heard a loud metallic slamming from engineering, followed by the deep warble of a machine powering down.

“What’s going on Zack?” I queried.

“I just now looked at my instrumentation panel. It seems like one of my semen temporal mechanics experiments got a little out of hand. It trapped the entire Church of Gail in a semen bubble. That would explain the time speeding up outside.”

“How would a semen bubble do that?” Matthew asked incredulously.

“Well, anything encased inside a semen bubble becomes sectioned off into its own space-time matrix apart from the normal space-time continuum. Looks like I didn’t properly calibrate the standard deviation on the dielectric of the semen modulator, and it caused time to pass much faster on the outside world. I hit the emergency shut off, so we should be good.”

“Should be good?” I asked, “exactly how much time has passed since we’ve been in this bubble?”

“Brent!” Matthew gasped, “look!”

“Oh, my god!” I said.

Heavy snowfall swirled around the windows, blanketing the church and everything below it in Christmas.

“Oh…” Zack piped up, “well, shit… My bad you guys. I guess I fucked up huh?” He then slurped another sip of his coffee and took a long drag on his Montecristo cigar.

“ZACK!” I cried out, my hands going to my cheeks, “Don’t you know what this means? If it’s already Christmas, that means we don’t have a present for Gail!”

“We can’t announce this Brent, there will be a church-wide panic,” Matthew warned.

His words came much too late. From down below the other decks came a tumultuous uproar of thousands of voices, a cacophony of sound shaking the floor like an earthquake. Matthew and I looked to each other with frightened knowingness, before bolting down to the elevator.

We rode the elevator down to the church promenade. Much to our dismay, the crowd was already far beyond our capacity to contain, having evolved into a full blown riot. Church members ran screaming, dogs were barking, babies cried. A man stood in the center hall with his hair lit on fire, screaming, but nobody seemed to notice or care. Men, women and children alike were stuffing themselves into stores, trampling each other in a desperate race to get a present for Gail. The only way I can describe is it was like Black Friday on steroids. The shouting voices of Matthew and I seemed muted amid the crowd, disappearing like faint whispers.

My heart sank. There was no way we would be able to find a gift for Gail with the entire church “GOIN’ APE-SHIT” as Terrance Jenkins would say. Church members were trampling, smothering, battering and knocking each other unconscious before any single pair of hands could successfully grab just one gift. We were going to need a plan.

Within the hour, myself and the rest of the men were all seated around the meeting table in the observatory. Safely and quietly out of the path of the riots in the decks below, we brainstormed a plan.

“What if we all made our way to Gail’s apartment and made love to her?” Gerard suggested in his manly Scottish accent.

“One at a time?” I clarified.


“Too risky,” I shook my head with a negative.

“What if, we give most sexual Gail the pearl necklace?” Vladimir suggested.

“No, Gail doesn’t like those.”

“What if we send a giant blimp to Melbourne in the shape of a penis with blinking lights that say “Marry Us Gail”?” Hugh suggested.

“We tried that one year on her birthday remember? It was shot down by Jesuit snipers.”

At that point, all of the men began conversing over each other. The room soon filled with the same disorder going on in the rioting decks below. That was when Zack Knight cleared his throat loudly.

“What if…” he began, tapping the ash from the end of his cigar.

All of the men quieted and looked to him expectantly.

“What if we get her [REDACTED]?”

My jaw dropped. I gazed around the room to see the rest of the men had reacted accordingly. That was when the room erupted again, this time in cheers and manly hollering. We were all sold.

“That’s an incredible idea, Zack!” I praised him.

“It is,” he grinned, “I’m glad I thought of it.”

And with that, Zack loudly slurped his coffee.

With not another minute to lose, Matthew and I had returned back down to the promenade in full riot gear. We were ready to make our purchase.

By far the most popular store on the promenade was a business called “Thoughtful Gifts”. It was, indeed, a marvelous gift store and one the men and I had admittedly always purchased from each year when buying a gift for Gail. The items are insurpassable in their quality. It was obvious what we needed to retrieve for our Gail, and no man was to stop us.

A loud clacking sound exploded from beside me as Matthew used his handheld taser to clear a man from the doorway to the store. The man’s body dropped to the ground and I quickly helped sweep it to the side with my leg. We entered the store, carefully treading over the rare pearls and diamond rings beneath our feet. My hands parted an entryway through a rack of million dollar dresses, only for my knee to BANG sharply against a Mercedes-Benz made out of solid gold.

“Are you okay?” Matthew asked.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him, “let’s do this.”

By the grace of God we made our way to the back of the store. We finally laid eyes, and then hands, upon our chosen gift. Clutching the item close to my chest, I ushered Matthew ahead and we paved our way out of the crowded store and back into the promenade.

“Zack was right,” Matthew said, breathing heavily as he took off his riot mask, “[REDACTED] really was the most thoughtful gift in the entire store.”

“True dat,” as Zack would say, “now, we just need to get this present to Gail.”

“How are we going to do that?” Matthew worried.

“We’ll use Amazon Prime,” I replied. As we made our way down the promenade, I stopped by the convenient Amazon Prime drop-box in the hallway, opening the chute. I dropped the boxed item down into the chute, typed in Gail’s address, and slammed the door shut with victory.

“That’ll get it there even faster than Jesus!” I joked.

We both laughed, then heaved a well earned sigh of relief.

“Now that that’s taken care of…Brent, I need to go to the bathroom. Will you come with me?”

“Sure Matthew. I have a full tank myself.”

I threw my arm around Matthew to huddle in close, and we walked off together down to the nearest bathroom.

Finally able to relax and empty my angry bladder, I found myself in the bathroom with Matthew McConaughy. We each stood at neighboring stalls, our elbows touching. Watching my urine stream circle the urinal drain and foam like an ocean tide was like watching all my stresses leave my body through my kidneys.

“I’m glad this year has come to a close,” Matthew said, “another year, another court case with our Jesuit stalkers from hell.”

“Well, I’m glad we were able to prove in a court of law that I am too true to my Texas blood to ever be attracted to Loree McBride! I just went to Longhorn Steakhouse last night for Pete’s sakes.”

“I’m glad too Brent,” Matthew replied, casually glancing into my urinal to make sure the Jesuits hadn’t done anything to my penis, “between the outfit you wore to Longhorn Steakhouse last night, the Texas flag on your bedroom wall, and Gail’s videos attesting to your masculine character, this case was a slam dunk. So,” he said with a sly jokester smile, “where do you think your California Fruitcake clone ate for dinner last night? In-N-Out?”

I laughed, glancing over to Matthew’s penis to make sure it was still safe as well.

“I bet it was Hardeez,” I jested, “oh, excuse me, did I say that wrong? I mean Carl’s Jr!” I bust out laughing.

Matthew laughed with me.

“More like Cuck’s Junior,” Matthew joked back, “Cuck’s Junior and the Beta Burrito!”

We laughed uproarously, and Matthew playfully slapped me across my bottom. My body jerked from the gentle force, causing my penis to spurt more urine into the urinal. Now of course, it’s not uncommon for men who are close friends to slap each other’s bottoms, especially men who are secure in their masculinity, like fellow Texan Matthew and I. However, that was when I felt something strange — a squishy, itching sensation in my rectum. I was about to pull down my pants then and there to inspect myself. Before I could react, there came a loud metallic SLAM.

Vladimir had judo kicked his bathroom stall open with a sudden force, so hard that the door blasted completely off its metal hinges.

“Brent! Matthew!” He shouted from the bathroom stall, “you must see this!”

Without even zipping up, we hurried to Vladimir’s position. The man looked horrified.

“We have the problem Brent! It is Syria, there is problem with Syria!” He exclaimed.

“Oh no!” Matthew gasped, “was there an ISIS terrorist attack?”

I touched Matthew’s arm, “no Matthew, this is much more serious. “Syria” is the nickname Vladimir gave his rectum.” I turned to Vladimir, “what’s wrong Vladimir? Do I need to glove up for this?”

“I cannot pooping! Syria does not seem the same!” Vladimir turned, bent over and parted his glutes to show me the problem.

Matthew cupped his hand over his mouth with shock, “what IS that?”

“It…it’s a vagina,” I determined. I had seen no lack of these each day working as a gynecologist on Church of Gail. This particular vagina seemed familiar, however. I asked Matthew to hand me his handheld scanner, and he did so. I used it to scan Vladimir’s vagina-rectum, and got a startling result.

“It’s GAIL’S vagina!” I exclaimed.

All of three of us gasped.

It was then I remembered the strange sensation in my own rectum.

“Matthew, drop your drawers.”

Matthew didn’t have to be asked twice. We both dropped our pants down to our ankles, then scuttled toward the bathroom mirrors to inspect our backsides for any tampering. To our shock, we both had identical Gail vaginas where our own rectums should be!

“This is unbelievable!” Matthew proclaimed with concern.

“Gail’s vagina…” Vladimir stroked his vagina out of curiosity.

“Could this be a Jesuit trick?” Matthew asked.

“That’s not possible,” I said, “we know Gail’s vagina can’t be cloned.”

“Then it must be Christmas gift from the Jesus!” Vladimir determined, slamming his fist down against the metal bathroom stall with triumphant fervor.

“A Christmas miracle.” Matthew thought aloud with childlike wonder.

“Jesus!?” I called out loudly, gesturing to Vladimir’s vagina, “did you do this? Did you give Vladimir a Christmas vagina-butt Jesus?”

Staring up at the ceiling, we waited for a few moments without answer.

“It MUST be Jesus…,” I thought out loud, examining Vladimir’s vagina-butt in contemplative thought.

Twitterpated, I realized this was the closest we had ever physically been to Gail’s vagina. I’m unashamed to say that, thinking now of my sweet feminine Gail, I began to get an erection.

“Brent,” Matthew said, “what if this is OUR Christmas present from Jesus?”

“You’re right!” I suddenly remembered Luke 6:38, “Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom…” I quoted. “Don’t you see? We were cheerful givers. Therefore, we received in good measure from God! In any case, it IS Christmas. Nothing bad has ever happened on Christmas.”

“This is even better than [REDACTED]!” Matthew cheered.

“This is like [REDACTED], pressed down and running over in our bosom. Vladimir,” I said, placing one hand on his muscular glute, “do you mind if…I see how it feels inside? I mean, this is the vagina of the woman I have been trying to marry for thirty years.”

“I understand Brent,” he replied, without hesitation, “perhaps, we take turns?”

My erection growing bigger, I agreed. We grasped hands and firmly shook on the deal.

“Jesus,” I spoke aloud once more, “if this is sinful, Jesus, I know you wouldn’t allow us to do this. If what we are doing is a sin, stop us right now Jesus.”

We waited another few seconds, just in case. When no red light was given, I happily began to embrace our gift.

Coming upon the entrance to Gail was like beholding a vast, mysterious cavern hidden deep in the overgrown jungles, untouched by the most worldly of travelers and coveted by the greatest explorers. What discoveries were buried inside this natural wonder? As I spread the womanly hair away from the entrance to this heavenly cave, it was not unlike when God parted the red sea for Moses on his journey to salvation. My pink rose of salvation now blooming before me, my face lit up in a glow of childlike wonder, as though gazing into the golden shimmer of a treasure chest. Overcome with awe, I pressed into my parted sea like Moses, praising God.

As my 18.5 inch erect penis slipped into Gail’s inviting vagina, I felt a wave of peaceful relaxation wash over me. My penis was the train, I was the conductor on the train to dreamland. I grabbed Vladimir’s broad shoulders, and thrust this train deeply into its tunnel, causing the Russian President to toss his head back gloriously, moaning like a stallion.

Matthew watched, his mouth agape. Clutching Vladimir’s shoulders like steel handlebars, I moaned for my Gail. I felt my right hand stroke down Vladimir’s deltoid, then bicep, then forearm, before lacing its fingers with his own.

“Gail…” Vladimir moaned in return, clearly reveling in the feeling of what Gail feels when we enter her vagina brain to brain. This, however, was finally real. At least, it was as close to real as we had ever been.

Pounding Vladimir in the bathroom stall like a mighty steed, I imagined myself as Moses growing closer and closer to his Promised Land. As my bare feet kissed the sparkling shore, it was as if God’s fierce oceans suddenly crashed together behind me, bursting with its salty spray, and I felt my warm blast filling Gail’s vagina. As I came, over and over, I imagined the oceans of my semen drowning all of the Jesuits behind us, securing our blissful escape into freedom.

“Thank you, God!” Vladimir and I both shouted in unison, our eyes sparkling. A warm glow came over both of our faces, and meanwhile in Florida I knew that my precious Gail felt it too.

I don’t think what Vladimir and I did in that bathroom stall was homosexual. Truthfully, we have both made brain to brain loving with Gail at the same time before, so this wasn’t much different. Some may say that ejaculating into a woman after another man at least qualifies as bisexual. In any case, there was a vagina between the two of us, which technically satisfies the Golden Rule.

I looked to my fellow man, who was still panting against the wall like a puppy, covered in a mix of our respective semen.

“Vladimir,” I said, “just in case…”

“In Russia, we say “no homo”,” Vladimir replied.

“Of course…” I realized, with relief, “that phrase inoculates men in the United States as well. As long as we say it afterward, we should be safely in the clear.”

“No homo, comrade,” Vladimir smiled.

We locked hands again, and squeezed.

“No homo, Vladimir.”

I sit here writing to you now with my exceptionally long penis bent underneath me, penetrating your vagina between my legs. I quite enjoy this position now. It’s as though we are hugging all the time. I fully intend to sleep this way, allowing your feminine corridor to envelop my heart and penis into true dreamland.

Merry Christmas my love.

Your Husband,

Brent Spiner