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At the request of a masochistic reader from LiveJournal, I am posting this here. It was written in response to a challenge for the community ithurtsmybrain to use Chris Keller, Elmo from Sesame Street, and any Oompa Loompa together in a story. I did. It's wrong. Very, very wrong.
Canon-wise, Chris is fantasizing about sex with Beecher that hasn't occured yet.

Quashing Rebellion

by DreadNot

Miss Sally just wasn't doing it for him anymore - not the blonde hair or the pneumatic bust or the thought of fucking her until Nooter screamed for mercy.

Chris lay in his bed with his limp dick in his hand and stared at the mattress above him. He was starting to think that being in Oz had finally switched off his heterosexual urges for good. Fuckin' Beecher. Beech. Bitcher.

Toby. He heard the man whimper in his sleep and roll over, making their bunk bed creak and shift until he finally found a new position and slipped deeper into slumber again.

God, what he wouldn't give to make things right with Toby.

But it didn't matter because Toby wasn't ready to let him. After breaking the man's arms and legs as a tool of his worst nightmare and enemy, Chris couldn't really blame Beecher for not wanting to trust him. It would be the triumph of his life to convince that formerly straight, formerly straitlaced, Harvard grad, mucky muck addict lawyer that he could trust the man who had fucked and betrayed him.

He grinned predatorily at the mattress and the man on the other side of it. If anyone could pull it off, it was Christopher fucking Keller.

But, until then, he was stuck with his limp dick in his hand and a mental hardon that wouldn't leave him alone. He just wanted something to help him let go of some of that building tension. Chris was a dangerous man when he let too many things build up, and jizz was the least and most of his worries at times.

Right now, the spunk that felt like it was building up in his balls like the water behind a kink in a hose was making it very difficult for Chris to keep from rolling out of his bunk, grabbing Toby by the hair and dragging him to the floor to fuck him until he bled.

Not a good way to win Toby's trust.


Chris rolled over and stared out the glass at the occasional flash of a maglight held in a guard's hand and tried to think of something that would get his traitor cock to finally wake up and stand to attention.

No joy.

It was Toby's fault. That man had broken Keller somehow, broken the part of him that could use and abuse for entertainment and move on without a second thought. Toby had somehow brought out something... real in Chris.


He rolled out of bed and stared at the man in the top bunk, inches away from his face. He held his breath, afraid even the slightest waft of air would wake the sleeping man; his sleeping fallen angel.

He snorted quietly, still watching Toby sleep. Sister Pete must be rubbing off on him if he was thinking of a prag as some sort of angel. Bitcher was just another tool, another hole to stick himself in until he moved on to the next hole, and the next, and the next.

Turning away from the bunk to look around for something to catch his attention, something to wake his comatose cock, Chris stumbled and stifled a curse. He pulled his foot back to kick the obstacle and stopped. It was the Elmo doll that Toby had ordered for his daughter. It had arrived, delivered by a sneering Vern Schillinger, three days ago, and Beech had taken it to bed with him each night, clinging to it the way Keller wanted the man to cling to him.

He glanced up at the sleeping man in the bunk, his lips twisting in that smile that had gotten him in the pants of many people, both male and female. He pinched the doll's arm with his toes and brought it up until he could grab it and bring it up to his face. Three nights of sweaty clinging through Toby's endless nightmares had imbued the fuzzy red thing with the man's scent.

Chris felt his cock twitch as Toby's smell went deep into his brain and triggered sense memories of the two of them together - wrestling; his sleepless mind supplied other fantasy/memories of the two of them kissing, fucking.

Oh, you fuzzy red little cocksucker. You're going to help me get through this. He looked down at Elmo's perpetually grinning face and could just hear the high-pitched voice that came when the doll's stomach was squeezed, Elmo wants to play!

I just bet you do.

Chris got back into his bunk and lay there, holding Elmo up to his nose with one hand while his other slithered down his abdomen and under the waistband of his shorts to start trying to convince his little soldier that it was time for reveille.

Toby's scent helped and he found himself getting semi-hard as he continued stroking and pulling, but it still wasn't going to be enough for the payoff.

Tomorrow Toby would give this same doll to his daughter, the very same doll that Chris was holding to his face like some sort of panty thief with a fresh prize from a sorority girl's laundry basket.

The thought of the pleasure on Toby's face when he saw Holly's smile made his cock swell a bit more under his hand. Holly was a fuzzy blonde presence in Keller's mind, while Beech stood out sharp and clear in every detail.

The smiling man sat down in one of the family chairs and picked the blonde fuzz up to read to her. Keller knew that Beech was reading her "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," by Roald Dahl. Chris had looked through it while he was taking a shit. It reminded him of seeing the movie with Gene Wilder when he was younger. Even then, the word Oompa Loompa had stood out for him as completely obscene, which meant that he liked it a lot.

He could just see it, shoving his cock deep inside Toby with an oompa while the man whimpered and wriggled under him, just to pull out and shove it in again with a hard loompa. He grinned and pressed the doll against his face to take another deep breath of Eau du Beech while he stroked his slowly stiffening cock a bit more and let his mind take him wherever it needed to go to get him off.

He bet those little orange fuckers would approve of Chris giving Toby a few hard oompas and a few rough loompas. He could just see them standing around him and Toby while the two of them went at it like animals, all teeth and claws and feral coupling in the middle of Oz's common area.

Oompa loompa doompety duck
Life is more than just who you fuck
Oompa loompa doompety dan
Bang him just as hard as you can

The shaking of the bed woke Beecher up. He lay there staring at the ceiling waiting for Chris to finally finish beating off so he could go to sleep.

He winced and scowled when he heard Chris rasp out, "Toby." The motherfucker was fantasizing about him. It felt like some sort of psychic rape in a weird way and he was glad that Keller was at least done.

When he felt Chris roll out of bed to clean himself, Beecher closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wasn't sure why hearing Keller humming the Oompa Loompa song to himself was so disturbing, but the tune followed him down into an unfriendly darkness.

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