Originally Posted by 1handclap

Thank you Santa Chicken!
Thank you Honey Powas the hardworking xmas elf!

Oh hey made these last year courtesy of a raunchy internet poetry program, enjoy with some eggnog...

3 tales of a naughty chicken

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I'm Dreaming Of A Sweaty Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. Chicken sat curiously in the locker room, sipping crusty eggnog. He looked at the robust dojo mat hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Handy had hung it there, just before they looked at each other drunkenly and then fell into each others arms and pounded each others palm.

If only I hadn't been so rough, Chicken thought, pouring a hairy amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Handy might not have got so bound and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away an erogenous tear and held his cleavage in his hand.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a callipygian voice lifted forcefully up in song. "I'm dreaming of a sweaty Christmas"

Just like a place that can't be scratched was their love. Chicken ran to the door. It was Handy, looking feathery all over with snow. "I missed you skillfully," Handy said. "And I wanted to pound your palm again." Chicken hugged Handy and started to sob. "I think you're drunk," Handy said. "I think so too," Chicken said and they pounded each other's palm until they knocked the Christmas tree over.

On Christmas Day, they ate roasted duck beak and lived delicately until Chicken got drunk again.

The Callipygian Terror Of The Snow

It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Handy and Chicken went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Handy hit Chicken in his beak with a big crusty iceball. It hurt a lot, but Handy kissed it skillfully and then it was all better.

Then they decided to make a snow man. "We'll make a really robust snow man!" Handy said. "Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" Chicken said. "That would be more erogenous and politically correct." "I know," Handy said. "We can make a snow duck. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."

So they rolled the snow up drunkenly and made a hairy snow duck. Handy put on a hammer for the palm. The duck was almost as big as Chicken. "It looks feathery," Handy said curiously. "But it seems like it's missing something." "Here," Chicken said and held up a bound nest. "I found this in the locker room." He put the nest onto the duck's head. It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the duck, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a place that can't be scratched was their love.

Chicken screamed delicately and ran but the snow duck chased him until he tripped over a tree root. Then the snow duck pounded him forcefully. "Nobody does that to my little Sweaty Dojo Mat," Handy screamed. She grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow duck through the cleavage. It fell down and Handy kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.


The Battle For The Nest

In the locker room, Chicken pounded his nest. He had been busy with the nest for hours and now wanted nothing more than a feathery cuddle or a hairy massage from his lover Handy. He said this last thought out loud, and all of a sudden his bound Handy appeared at the door, grinning delicately.

"Put down the nest," Handy said forcefully. "Unless you want me to pound that nest on your palm." Chicken put down the nest. He was callipygian. He had never seen Handy so robust before and it made him sweaty. Handy picked up the nest, then withdrew a hammer from her cleavage. "Don't be so callipygian," Handy said with a robust grimace. "A duck bit my beak this morning, and everything became rough. Now with this nest and this hammer I can forcefully rule the world!"

Chicken clutched his crusty beak drunkenly. This was his lover, his bound Handy, now staring at him with a robust cleavage. "Fight it!" Chicken shouted. "The duck just wants the nest for his own bound devices! He doesn't love you, not the feathery way I do!"

Chicken could see Handy trembling drunkenly. Chicken reached out his palm and touched Handy's cleavage forcefully. He was bound, so bound, but he knew only his crusty love for Handy would break the duck's spell.

Sure enough, Handy dropped the nest with a thunk. "Oh, Chicken," she squealed. "I'm so feathery, can you ever forgive me?" But Chicken had already moved in the locker room. Like a place that can't be scratched was their love, he pressed his palm into Handy's cleavage. And as they fell together in a rough fit of love, the nest lay on the floor, sweaty and forgotten.