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The Elixir Of T'mor

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But, as her orgasm subsided, and the pain reasserted itself, pleasure gave way to sheer unbounded terror.

“Wha….what? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

For the face that looked up at her was not that of the High Priest, but the scowling reptilian face of Shar Divatt of Bellerophon.
NOOOOOOO! Is that the right reaction? Now I'm buggered if I know what's going on. What are the Bellerophon lizards up to? And where's Marvin?
 
Douglas Adams.
A hero of mine, God rest his soul. Funniest man that ever lived, imho.

Kind of you to say so, Naraku, but I only wish I had a tenth of his imagination... Babel fish... whales and petunias.. electric monks.

And you were suggesting I write a Hitch-hiker's Guide story!? You've got it! I'm leaking coffee out of my nose - occupational hazard with me, I'm afraid. I was a bit unprepared for the humorous impact.

It was supposed to be like 'Dune' only funnier! :rolleyes: :doh:

Anyway, time for your big moment... ;)
 
6. Fact File: Purifying the Elixir

Centuries ago it had been discovered that pure-bred hominid females of the Kenquilim race were almost unique in that they experienced intense orgasmic pleasure during suffering and humiliation, and that accordingly they released a unique cocktail of hormones into their bloodstream.

These hormones in their concentrated form have, as we’ve seen, quite a surprising effect on anyone who absorbs them into their body either orally or intravenously.

However, in order to achieve the purest form of the Elixir, there needs to be the perfect mix of fear and fantasy, suffering and sexuality, happiness and humiliation. The Kenquilim had tried whipping, racking, running across hot coals, just about any degree of suffering that they could devise, but nothing could achieve that longed-for level of purity that they hoped to achieve.

They decided to travel the galaxy in search of a solution to their dilemma. So it was that four stout-hearted members of the Explorer Clan (whose surnames all began with ‘E’) set off on an epic journey through the galaxy on their vital quest.

They visited Epsilon Ursa Majoris 2, where they discovered that the natives favoured gradually slicing wafer thin layers of flesh from their victims, which was terrifying, humiliating, produced plenty of blood, but was disabling and fatal, and definitely not sexy.

They visited a small planet in the Algol sector, called Urgle. Its inhabitants lived down to their name (Urgulites); led by King Hanging Tree, they were the cruellest and most savage collection of bastards that it is possible to conceive of. The explorers were lucky to escape with their lives. Certainly nothing that they witnessed could be reproduced here, in case it is read by someone of a sensitive disposition, and on their recommendation the whole planet was quietly demolished some time later.

They visited Titawin, but that was more because they wanted to see the Empress’s famous breasts than because they expected to advance their quest. They were not disappointed, the Empress cheered them up no end after Urgle, and they smiled throughout the remainder of their journey. But they were not one millimetre closer to solving their problem.

In their hotel room after a very satisfying day of breast-worship, they conferred about where to go next.

“What about Bellerophon V?” asked Repp Ertor, “I’m told they can be quite cruel.”

“I don’t think so,” Bobb Ender had heard worrying things about the Bellerophonicans. “Power mad, ugly, and sex mad. Our Elixir isn’t yet refined enough to make a trip to Bellerophon bearable.”

“Trouble is,” said Phlee Ebas, “We don’t really know what we are looking for.”

There was silence in the room, except for an occasional slurping noise. “Can’t you drink your beer quietly, Repp?” grumbled Bobb.

By reply, Repp slurped even more noisily. They had been travelling for ages, and, despite the High Priestess’s breasts, they were beginning to get on each other’s nerves.

Bobb frowned, but let it go.

Silence again.

“Aha!” Joll Erai was triumphant, “I think I’ve found somewhere!” He waved his communicator in the air happily, on which he’d been studying the Encyclopaedia Eulalica.

“Where?” asked Phlee.

“There’s a little planet, off on one of the spiral arms, Sol 3. Its inhabitants call it ‘Earth’. The Inchmore visited it, about eight-hundred and fifty of its orbits ago, but it’s a bit off the beaten track, it hasn’t had much attention since then. They did, however, report a very peculiar belief among the natives there. They seemed to believe that the blood of someone who had been crucified had magical powers. They had gatherings where people queued up to drink the blood.”

Phlee Ebas looked puzzled. “’Crucified’? What’s ‘crucified’? I’ve never heard of it.”

Joll Erai hadn’t either. He looked it up.

“’Crucifixion’” he read, after a pause. “’To torture someone or put them to death by fastening them to a cross. Unique to the planet Sol 3, Earth. Usually the victim would be tied to the cross…’”

“Not much blood, in that case,” commented Repp.

“’… but sometimes they would be nailed in place….’”

“Oh goody!” Repp smiled.

“I do wish you’d stop interrupting, Repp! Anyway, if I may continue: ‘To increase humiliation, the victim would be forced to drag or carry the cross to the place of execution, which was often in a highly public place such as by a highway or in a market place. Once there, they would be stripped naked, nailed to the cross, and then the cross would be mounted in a vertical position and the victim would hang there, sometimes for days, until they died.’”

There was a stunned silence.

“Barbaric!” commented Bobb, at length. “Even the Urgulites never sank that low!”

“Do they still do it?” asked Phlee, a hopeful expression on his face.

“No, they seem a bit more technologically advanced now, but hang on! Look! The Encyclopaedia has a modern image from there of something called a ‘web-page.’ ”

He turned his communicator toward them, and they peered closely at it.

“Crux Forums. The Online Community,” read Phlee Ebas. “Look at those girls at the top!”

“By Alph! That’s exactly what we’re looking for! Can you imagine one of the Temple Priestesses on a cross, like that?” declared Bobb Ender. “What about Miss Alice?” A broad smile came over his face, and he sighed deeply.

“I certainly can!” Repp Ertor also seemed to be having a hot flush. “What are we waiting for? Bugger the Empress’s breasts, I’m going to Earth to join the Crux Forums!” He was already heading for the door.

So rejoice, Gentle Reader. You see, just by being a member of these august forums, you are a part of Galactic History.
 
“’Crucifixion’” he read, after a pause. “’To torture someone or put them to death by fastening them to a cross. Unique to the planet Sol 3, Earth. Usually the victim would be tied to the cross…’”

“Not much blood, in that case,” commented Repp.

“’… but sometimes they would be nailed in place….’”
Bloody hell, you guys! That sounds dreadful!
What do you mean it's just what we're looking for? Just pass me that picture again would you?
 
“Trouble is,” said Phlee Ebas, “We don’t really know what we are looking for.”
Bellerophobia 1.jpg

Just a mild case of Bellerophobia, then...
 
Barb is on moderator duty that night as four aliens, all with surnames beginning with "e" light up the electronic queu of aspiring new members on the CruxForums web site.

"Who on earth are these creatures?" she exclaims, rushing to rouse her soft-guttural spoken moderator colleague Mad Iosi from slumber.

"Check their credentials!" he instructs.

"They all appear to have some kind of breast fetish," she replies, self-consciously covering her own with both arms.

"Well! That will never do!"

"Ask them what they hope to find here?"

"They say they seek the finest form of some kind of elixir that is a byproduct, so they believe, of nailing young innocent women naked to crosses to slowly suffer and die."

"Then they have come to the right place!"

"But what if they turn out to be nothing more than unscrupulous real estate developers bent on scourging our planet with unprofitable towers and golf courses, coarsening our native discourse with deceit and barrages of tasteless tweets, and leaving behind a trail of stiffed citizens whom they refuse to pay for services rendered?"

"You're right. We can never be too careful here. I say we turn them over to Erin the Brave. She always has our backs and can recognize trouble in an instant."

"Jolly good! (I don't know what's jolly about it, but like the sound of saying it).

"Alright, pull the levers, advance the levitation switches and beam them up Scottie!"

"Who is Scottie?"

"I don't know ... I just thought as long as we are spouting silly phrases ..."

"Never mind. Erin they are all yours! Put them through the paces."

 
Barb is on moderator duty that night as four aliens, all with surnames beginning with "e" light up the electronic queu of aspiring new members on the CruxForums web site.

"Who on earth are these creatures?" she exclaims, rushing to rouse her soft-guttural spoken moderator colleague Mad Iosi from slumber.

"Check their credentials!" he instructs.

"They all appear to have some kind of breast fetish," she replies, self-consciously covering her own with both arms.

"Well! That will never do!"

"Ask them what they hope to find here?"

"They say they seek the finest form of some kind of elixir that is a byproduct, so they believe, of nailing young innocent women naked to crosses to slowly suffer and die."

"Then they have come to the right place!"

"But what if they turn out to be nothing more than unscrupulous real estate developers bent on scourging our planet with unprofitable towers and golf courses, coarsening our native discourse with deceit and barrages of tasteless tweets, and leaving behind a trail of stiffed citizens whom they refuse to pay for services rendered?"

"You're right. We can never be too careful here. I say we turn them over to Erin the Brave. She always has our backs and can recognize trouble in an instant."

"Jolly good! (I don't know what's jolly about it, but like the sound of saying it).

"Alright, pull the levers, advance the levitation switches and beam them up Scottie!"

"Who is Scottie?"

"I don't know ... I just thought as long as we are spouting silly phrases ..."

"Never mind. Erin they are all yours! Put them through the paces."
:duke:

The future of the galaxy is in Erin's hands! :)
... or perhaps to reinforce our crux'fixations ?
Uh oh....:D
 
@phlebas : You have no idea how much I enjoyed writing that line! :)

The innocence of youth!
You have honoured me dear Wragg. :D

"They all appear to have some kind of breast fetish," she replies, self-consciously covering her own with both arms.

You say that as if there's something wrong with it :confused:

I suspect that Phlee Ebas has a breast fetish which will soon turn into a fully fledged crux fetish!
 
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