(Monday, December 25th 2017)
(7:00 PM)

Part 3: "Third Wheel"

"Welcome to the first annual Christmas Celebration, all of Duckberg! May all of you have happy holidays!"

This statement was stated an hour ago. Now was the time the party was in full swing. Everybody was hustling and bustling all about, mingling with other guests about the trials and tribulations of the holiday season. Such Christmas sufferings included presents, office gatherings, and (of course) shameless commercialism. However, most agreed that all of this torture was worth it for all of the joy to the world it brought. (Get it?) Anyway, Scrooge was overseeing the catering led by Donald and Mrs. Beakley, who was more concerned about her granddaughter's well-being rather than the guests'.

She may have been old, but she wasn't blind.

(4:00 PM)

The clock struck four when the dully-dressed boys become sharply-dressed men. Huey was dressed in a red-and-white tuxedo with a tightly-worn tie, a pair of black dress shoes, and his signature cap. Louie was dressed in a green waistcoat above a white long-sleeve collared shirt, a pair of green dress pants, and a pair of brown dress shoes. Lena (yes, she was invited this time) was a mint green formal dress with a pair of black-and-grey striped stockings, a pair of purple gemstone earrings, her green-and-white sneakers, and her purple tailsman. Nobody knew of what the attire of Dewey and Webby would be just yet.

Huey was gazing in his mirror's reflection fixing his tie into a Windsor knot, something which irritated Louie...for the 25th time in a row. "Huey, would you stop it already! The tie looks fine!"

Huey turned to face Louie with a mad (as in crazy) expression on his face, "Yeah, fine to you, but not to me! So, no, I will not stop it already!"

"Huey, was it?" Lena was fiddling around with Dewey's iPhone, "Louie has a point...and that's saying something. The tie looks okay, if not fine. Not everything, even suit and ties, will be perfect. So suck it up."

"Ha! Easy for you to say, Lena!" Huey was now on the 27th try.

Lena herself rolled her eyes and, while playing a game, asked a perfectly understandable question: "Why does it matter?"

Huey was somehow on the 31st try when he stopped himself. He tried (and failed quite miserably) to hinder the ensuing blush from performing its humiliation job. "W...well...no apparent reason. You guys know me, I'm a...neat freak."

Louie took the hint rather quickly, stifling any chuckles that threatened to break out. Lena's eyebrows knitted together in suspicion before she scoffed in response, "Makes sense." As she continued to play on Dewey's iPhone, she realized something:

"Speaking of which, where are Dewey and Webby?"

Louie groaned in frustration, exited the bedroom, and marched over to the bathroom, "I honestly have no idea." He began to bang on the door rather loudly. "Hey, Dewey or Webby! Hurry up in there! Webby or Dewey's waiting for you!"

While he saw this (whatever this was) as a "great idea" at first, he was instantly greeted with karmic regret as the door flew open and slammed into his beak. He clutched his bill in pain, whining as a result of such. Mrs. Beakley, who was nearby when the incident occurred, rushed to his aid, as did Huey and Lena (who actually ambled over).

"Louie! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Wait...Dewey?"

The four glanced up and (with the exception of Mrs. Beakley) gasped in surprise at the sharply-dressed sight before them. Dewey was dressed in a navy blue simple jacket above a white long-sleeve button-up shirt with a protruding collar, a loosely worn black tie, a navy blue waistcoat, a pair of navy blue dress pants, and a pair of black dress shoes. He somehow managed to outdo both of the boys by combining both of their garb ideas.

"Oh...my..."

"Louie, I think it would be best not to say the Lord's name in vain," Huey glanced back at Dewey, "but he does have a point. You look good, Dewey."

"Not good. Great..." Lena concurred with Huey.

"You appear quite fine, Dewey," Mrs. Beakley nodded in approval.

Dewey blushed at the compliments thrown at him, "Thanks, guys. I just everybody else feels the same."

Lena chuckled in response, "Don't worry. I'm pretty sure she would."

As if on cue, the door of Webby's bedroom swung open and its sole occupant stepped out in style. Again, the five glanced up and (again, with the exception of Mrs. Beakley) gasped in surprise at the elegantly-worn sight before them. Webby was fashioning a pale pink/blush pink dress with a sleeveless bodice and a purple halter dress skirt. Her additional accessories included a bead of pearls, two golden bracelets with 10 diamonds on each arm, and her signature pink bow in her wavy hair. Becoming the best-dressed out of the two girls was truly an achievement, and they all seemed to agree...especially Dewey.

Mrs. Beakley noticed the look on Dewey's face: a hot red blush, a constantly quivering body, a nervous eye twitch, a pair of quaking legs, and a cascade of anxious sweat drops. All of these symptoms were all of the property of one and one thing only. Taking into consideration the gracefulness her granddaughter seemed to flawlessly emit and the effect it had on her boss's grandnephew...

Dewey was in love with Webby...

...and she didn't what to think of it.

"Mrs. B!"

Bertina looked up from her thoughts and towards a tuxedo-clad Donald, scoffing in disgruntlement at having her personal speculations interrupted. "Yes, Donald?"

"Are you okay? You seem...off."

Mrs. Beakley frowned and noticing something peculiar from the corner of her left eye: Webby taking Dewey by the hand and dragging him off to who knows where. From there, her grimace grew even further. Of course, considering it was the holiday season, she feigned a smile immediately after.

"Yes, Donald... I'm alright."

Four hours later. . .

"So, nobody has seen either Dewey or Webby?"

"No, Uncle Donald."

"Actually, Lena saw them last at the refreshments."

Five hours had passed since the beginning of the party, and four hours since the last appearance of the two children. The party guests were in alarm, completely unaware of the entire situation that had not yet been explained. Donald and Scrooge were at the end of their rope searching all over the mansion and even its 10-mile radius; Huey, Louie, and Lena (although to a small extent) were scared senseless in worry over the well-being of their two friends; Mrs. Beakley...was strangely calm, much to the guests' eventual surprise.

"Mrs. Beakley, how and why are you so calm?" Huey asked out of the blue.

"She did it! She's the murderer! It's always the secretary‒err, butler!"

The accuser/commentator on this party's events instantly felt karmic regret wash over him when he picked up the faint sound of Mrs. Beakley cracked her knuckles in such a placid manner. She then turned to Huey and responded with an equally serene smile ‒ "Because I know where they are." ‒ before turning tail and walking upstairs to locate the two children. Hopefully...

Once upstairs, Mrs. Beakley checked every corner of every twist and turn she encountered. After a while, she slowed to a stop upon hearing faint whimpers and moans coming from Mr. McDuck's hidden library. Her blood ran cold for a second there (Could it be...?) before she shook her head in disbelief (No, it couldn't.) before carefully advancing on the entrance. Placing one ear against the door, the whimpers and moans heard before grew louder, louder, and louder until...nothing. Nothing but silence. Then again...it could be... Huffing a preparatory huff, she took one step back and, with all her might, kicked the door open. She gasped and staggered back in horror at the sight before her.

My grandniece...is mounting my boss's grandnephew.

Indeed, two preteen children were perched atop a piano engaging in...sexual intercourse, for lack of a better term. Their clothes that kept them from strutting around in the nude were violently torn off and torn up, surrounded by a batch of books that laid scattered across the floor. Aside from the natural blushes and sweat drops that they emitted from their bodies, Webby's rose red lipstick (amazingly enough) found itself smeared all over Dewey's completely dampened body. All in all, it was a rather unpleasant sight.

A rather unpleasant sight that was completely understandable to her. A formerly stunned Mrs. Beakley could sigh and nod in resignation.

I knew it...

Four hours ago. . .

Yep. They knew it.

"Webby! Slow down! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!

"Oh, Dewey, you're not going to spend the holidays dead! You're going to spend it legless! And you're not going to spend it legless! You worry too much!"

"I have every right to worry! My arm is going to pop off because of your grip!"

"You'll be fine! Now come on!"

As much as they wished to enjoy the party some more, Dewey and Webby had a party to attend: a private party. Both was aching to experiment with the concept called "sex" some more after researching it some more. Yes, instead of consulting with Mrs. Beakley on the matter, they instantly went to the internet for guidance. The follow websites they clicked on were...odd to say the least. Nonetheless, they proved to be helpful in providing any information they missed. And so, here they were, snaking past the crowd of fun-drugged and sugar-crazed party guests to test some more.

"Where are we going, Webby?"

"Mr. McDuck has a secret library here in the mansion! It should be a great place for our experiment!"

"I sure hope so..."

Eventually, they found it. Entering inside and locking the door behind them, their beaks instantly smashed into each other with Dewey being held up against the door by Webby. He melted into the kiss not soon after, and was somewhat disappointed by her decision to break away not soon after. It seemed she herself was, too.

"Wow. You're really desperate for this."

"Yeah, sorry. I just want to see how this feels."

"Well, we got a lot of time on our hands; the party ends in five more hours, anyway."

"What do you say we get this done, then?"

"... Yeah."

Dewey and Webby ran to the center of the room, stripping off their respective attire and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. They stared at each other's bodies and touch each other's body parts in order to "stimulate" their "arousal". This meant that they were excited about the sexual procedure that would occur next. Once this was done, they both lapped away on their reproductive organs in a "69" position until they "came". Slurping away until they were clean, they then performed the positions known as "missionary" and "cowgirl"; they required the male genitals to be inserted into the female genitals. When the deed was done, the deed was a dirty one, but also a doozy of a one as well. Dewey released his "semen" (the sticky substance from last night) into Webby's womb (the female reproductive center) as well as wails of pleasure that could be easily mistaken for specters floating amok the manor. Smothering him with lipstick provided by Lena, Webby didn't know how this sexual experience with Dewey could get any better.

Then the "doggy-style" position (combined with the "anal" concept) happened...

Dewey was hunched over Webby, his joystick inserted into her prostate. Her rear was leaking with his semen, which dripped onto the floor. Both were huffing and puffing in exhausted pleasure, goofy grins crossing their faces.

"Wow..."

"Yeah, that..."

"How was...that?"

"... Amazing..."

He suddenly turned her over and slammed himself onto the piano's top so he could face her from the bottom (she would be on top). She yelped in surprise at the pressure applied and the speed produced. "Good..." He then pulled her down to plant another kiss on the lips, an action which she was happy to return.

"I love you, Webby..."

"... I love you, too, Dewey..."

BANG!

The two children broke away and gasped in horror at the person who caught them: an equally horrified Mrs. Beakley.

"So...who wants to try out the chocolate and cheese fountains?"

Huey and Lena shot a pair of glares towards the youngest twin. Louie shrugged in mock innocence before the latter rolled her eyes.

"Ah, what the heck. Sure...why not?"

A/N: The sex scene was supposed to be longer. Again, sorry not sorry; I don't condone underage sex.