"You're a fuck. You're a worthless fuck. Get out."

The strained musings of Robbie Bourbon are a barrage to the senses of Mr. Sex, who hasn't had a solid chance to have sex with any hot babes ever since he tapped into himself to find a greater strength. Perhaps he should have been careful of what he wished for.

April 1, 2017


The body of Robbie Bourbon is being carted into a waiting hospital room. A pair of orderlies are needed to move the massive body as a nurse follows along, taking notes. The orderlies are, suffice to say, starstruck by the former Hart Champion and forever man of the people. So much so they stop the mobile bed carrying the big man and pose for a round of selfies, along with the nurse. The nurse is wearing scrubs, not the sexy kind of nurse outfit you were hoping for in a regular Mr. Sex promo. You rub your dick a little anyway, she might get kinky here in a minute, maybe some bizarre sponge bath scene. Except, of course, this is Robbie Bourbon, not Danny Sex, as evidenced by the presence of the mask on the man's head.

The procession ends as Bourbon's body, laid out and attached to an intravenous drop of some kind, is rolled on the bed into place and the orderlies leave. The nurse attaches a bevy of monitors and other medical supplies to the unmoving body of Robbie Bourbon. She then glances sideways.

"I always wondered, what does this guy look like under the mask?"

Having never seen any of the promos in which Robbie Bourbon flagrantly removed his mask, she peels back the spandex head dress and beholds the punam of Bourbon.

"Huh, what a punam."

The nurse's eyes go wide as she whips her phone out and opens up her Words With Friends app, realizing she has a good word to use now. Without replacing the mask, merely walking off with it absentmindedly, she leaves the unmasked, and now near unidentifiable face of Robbie Bourbon alone in the room. As he lay, deep in a coma, we hear the voice of Mr. Sex.

Mr. Sex: Ah, this will do just perfectly, now won't it? I've needed something like this, the perfect vessel. Virile, strong, durable. We're going to get a ton of hot babes, aren't we? You just keep sleeping in that coma of yours, I'll go to work.

The body of Bourbon starts to convulse.

April 5, 2017


A nurse walks into the hospital room, if only to check on the patient.

"Well, John Doe, we don't have any records of you coming in here, but I guess it's time for your sponge bath."

Score. Hot sponge bath scene. You undo the knot of your pajama pants and slide your hand down onto your cock, ready for a good ole' round of beating off to a Mr. Sex promo. You kind of consider it's peculiar that such a massive clerical error as forgetting a patient's identity after admission into a hospital could happen, but hey, this is privatized healthcare, not like there's any kind of oversight besides the threat of a malpractice law suit, and as long as the hot sponge baths keep coming, who's suing anyhow? Besides, it's been five days. Most of the XWF had forgotten about Robbie Bourbon two days after he lost the Hart Title. The XWF had moved on without batting an eye, the people had to be entertained after all. C'est la vie.

The nurse, a young woman, has a large sponge in hand, the kind usually found in most auto parts stores used for washing cars. She removes the paper dressing that was covering the body of the big man, and begins to scrub his chest, which is notably sexy in a very masculine way. The eyes in the head of the unconscious Bourbon flutter, and open. They dart around the room, taking in light and sight for the first time in almost four days, because it's been five days. The nurse looks up at Bourbon with shock.

"Oh, you're awake! Let me go get..."

Bourbon puts his finger to his lips, but when he speaks, it's evident he's not Robbie Bourbon. He's Mr. Sex.

Mr. Sex: Shhhhhh. Don't say a word. It's okay, I get it, I'm really sexy, I'm really masculine, you're a hot babe, you can finish the sponge bath.

"Uh, I really think I should let the doctors know that a John Doe woke up."

Mr. Sex: I'm not a John Doe. Nope. My name is...

Mr. Sex looks up at the television in his room, which the nurse turned on so she'd have something to watch while scrubbing a bedridden body. Reruns of Full House are on right now. Mr. Sex looks back at the nurse.

Mr. Sex: My name is Danny. Danny Sex. You can call me Mr. Sex. I'm heteronormative.

"Well, I don't know what that means, but if you can wash yourself..."

Mr. Sex: Shhhhh. Don't fret. Do you think I'm masculinely sexy?

"Um, I guess..."

Mr. Sex: That a girl! You're really pretty.

"Thanks."

Mr. Sex: Your boyfriend must be a lucky man.

"Well, we just broke up. He was a jerk."

Mr. Sex: Oh, that's awful! No man should treat a wonderful woman like you like a jerk. You're even giving me a sponge bath.

"Well, it's sort of my job."

Mr. Sex: Well, you haven't stopped since I woke up. Tell me, what's your name?

"Barbara."

Mr. Sex: Barbara? I like that name.

"Thanks."

Mr. Sex: Now, Barbara, I want you to wash my penis.

"Mr. Sex, that's completely inappropriate. I'm here to clean you, but I have to get everywhere."

Mr. Sex: Barbara, you're a beautiful woman, and I am Mr. Sex. Right now, the first thing you need to clean is my penis.

"Well, if you say so..."

Barbara the nurse takes the sponge and slides it down Mr. Sex's torso. She pulls apart the fly in the boxer briefs and pulls out Mr. Sex's impressively humble penis and starts to scrub it. As she does, the penis becomes engorged, enourmous, and enthralling.

Mr. Sex: That's good, Barbara. Use your hands more, and less of the sponge.

Barbara, awestruck by Mr. Sex's blatantly masculine sexuality, starts to wash his penis using only her hands, deeply massaging the penis, tracing veins to the top and back down the shaft of it. Making friends with it. You stroke yourself in the same pentameter, envisioning yourself getting a handjob from a nurse after waking up from a coma.

Mr. Sex: That's fine, Barbara. Just fine.

"Thank you."

Mr. Sex: Use your mouth.

Barbara stops.

"Sir, look, washing you is one thing, but putting my mouth on your genitals is unsanitary. I mean, I don't know what could be in your sperm."

Mr. Sex flashes a coy smile.

Mr. Sex: Only one way to find out. C'mon, it'll be fun, and I won't tell anybody.

Barbara shrugs. It's not every day that a patient so masculinely sexual in nature asks her to put his penis in her mouth. It's not every day she gets a request to take in semen from said penis into her mouth for evaluation. She half giggles, rolls her eyes, and proceeds to give Mr. Sex oral stimulation on his genitals, meaning she's sliding his penis in and out of her mouth deeply and rapidly.

Mr. Sex: There we go, Barbara, there we go. Get in there good and deep.

This is the hottest thing you've ever seen in XWF history. Jon Brown's weird taser video sure was scary, but this, this is hot. HOT. You're stroking off to Barbara, the cute, perky brunette in scrubs sucking off Mr. Sex.

Mr. Sex: You're a hot babe, Barbara. Give me some of that pussy.

Barbara stops sucking cock and giggles. She pulls her scrub top off, revealing perky, natural boobs. She slides her pants down, revealing cute pink panties, which are already crotchless, as though she knew her destiny on this day was to have sex with Mr. Sex. She climbs on the mobile bed and atop Mr. Sex's fiercely friendly penis. With jackhammer force, she bounds up and down on the penis while Mr. Sex looks up in glee. He was having sex.

Mr. Sex: Whoo, boy, you get at that dick Barbara! Ride 'em cowgirl! After this, I'm going to need you to buy me some lunch, I'm a little peckish, I'm thinking Panera, and then I need you to give me a ride. Anywhere, really, because I'm Mr. Sex and I'm going to go get a ton of sex!

"Shut up and keep that cock inside me!"

The door to the hospital room swings open, and we see other patients, doctors, nurses, and a janitor all watching. They're all masturbating, just like you are, at how hot this is. This is some sex happening here.