TO: PRODUCTION STAFF

It has come to my attention that several of you were unhappy about having to work on Columbus Day. In an attempt to remain your favorite fairy, I'm proposing a compensatory solution. In addition to your normal time-and-a-half holiday pay, I'm going to offer Les' ass to all takers. On Friday, from noon until 3pm, Les will be trussed and hung from the ceiling in the employee lounge. The janitor and I will handle the particulars of that. Think of it: three whole hours of warm, sloppy Les-love. The janitor and I will cut the seat out of his pants, so feel free to stop by the break room and ream his pink little bottom to your heart's content. The janitor and I will take special care to leave his floppy tits unencumbered for your pleasure. If we can locate Les' penis, we'll stretch it across the lounge, slam it in the refrigerator door, and turn the whole thing into a great big limbo party!

I'll also be grilling burgers on Les' nutsack. So please reward yourselves for your holiday toil with a nice sloppy diddle courtesy of Little Les and his loose shitter.
Thanks,
Bob

Ike, Tiny Mike:

I hear you two have a similar relationship to morning editor Dave and myself. So you're into pud-sharing, too?

If so, here's my proposal: naked, frolicking butt-sex for the four of us. Mike, I want to see how far up your ass we can cram Dave's bald head. Don't worry, I'll rub it down with Land O'Lakes beforehand. Ike, I anxiously await the feel of your soft titties whacking me in the back of my head as you probe the inner recesses of my busy booty.

I want to stuff either end of a garden hose up each of your asses, and then make you twirl it with your sphincters while Dave and I play jump-rope.

Then we'll take ball-point pens and jab each other in the balls.

If this sounds agreeable, please R-S-V-P, A-S-A-P to my B-U-T-T.
Breathlessly,
Evening Editor

Cody, Bob:

I know this is rather presumptuous of me, but I've thought of something that might be fun for the three of us. I've enlisted the janitor to help me duct-tape my ankles to my head (he did such a wonderful job last week with Les in the break room). I had this lovely dream once, where David Crosby and Uncle Jesse from The Dukes of Hazzard were tickling my testicles with their facial hair.

If I wear my pink bunny shoes and my hand-carved cock ring, would you be willing to indulge me in fulfilling my dream? I mean, every young girl has a dream, and since I was never able to become a majorette, I hope you'll wax up those mustaches and get ready for some nad-nuzzling.
Please let me know,
Tommy

Sometimes, when I'm sad, I like to dress up in little girls' panties and diddle an oranngatang. And then I like to misspell the names of primates.
Tommy

TO: MY BOYFRIENDS

I realize this is out of the blue, but how do you think I'd look with breasts? Before you answer, think of how much more fun our lovemaking would be if you had a nice supple set of tits to latch onto as you slam me with your manly meat-poles.

I think a firm set of C-cups (nothing too large; I don't want to look like a whore when I go to the grocery store) might enhance the fun we already have.

If you approve, I'm going to look into what our company's insurance plan will cover. I know they won't pay for my bonnet, ruffled dress, hair bows, and giant lollipop, but I figure the cheap fucks oughta at least spring for the knockers. After all, it's their employees I'm doing it for, right?

Until I get my bazooms, I hope you'll all continue to treat your naughty little girl to my daily spankings and, of course, my great heaping sphinctersful of choad.
Butterfly Kisses,
Tommy

TURKEY DAY!
And guess whose bird needs stuffing?
Your BUTTerball,
Tommy

THANK YOU ALL

To everyone who has spooged on me over the past two weeks, in an effort to help me with my protein diet, I can only say how special you've made me feel. Being coated with your flying gobs of jungle juice has helped me to trim my waistline to the point that I'm able to enjoy ribs again (Cody, thanks for that half-gallon of your "special sauce," wink-wink).

In an effort to say thank you, I invite you all to swing by the audio booth and poke my puckered pooter.

Crustily Yours,
Ike

CRAM-A-THON '99

Greetings to all my sweet fudglings! The holiday season is upon us, and that means it's time for my annual Cram-a-Thon! As you know, our annual event benefits homeless people; so anytime between now and Christmas, please bring a homeless person by the audio booth and stuff him or her up my ass. And, as always, large cardboard boxes and shopping carts are also welcome inside my tepid toot-chute.

But wait, there's more! I'm expanding my promotion (AND my shitter). This year's Cram-a-Thon will also help sick children, so stop by and stuff little Billy and Susie deep into my bejizzled bop-hole. My booty is open to all who are in need; don't be embarrassed to stop by and deposit a few inches...er, coins in my one-eyed bandit.

In case you have trouble finding me (I DO tend to flit around the station in just my brassiere), simply listen for the little brass bell. In preparation for the holidays, I've already lodged its shiny wooden handle betwixt my butt-cheeks. Every time I wiggle my wanton bottom, a delightful chime will sound and inform all my meat-packers of my whereabouts.

Thank you in advance for your participation in Cram-a-Thon '99, and remember: it's better to GIVE than receive (unless you're me)!

Drooling,
Ike

TOMMY:

I think you know what your punishment for being late this morning will be. Grease it up, tardy-boy!

Unzipping,
Bob

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