doing it in the missionary position... part eight

it is said, ad nauseam, that under great stress, people are capable of much more than they ever suspected. they can summon unknown reserves of courage, strength and willpower. they can surmount nearly any obstacle, through sheer force of determination. they can run farther, swim faster, think gooder and strategize craftier.

dippy and i are not those people.

those people sound like assholes.

i gazed into dippy's eyes. he gazed back.
it was distinctly unromantic, despite, as flapjack so accurately pointed out, so many moons ago, that he was a 'pretty, hairy girl who comes from the sky.'

'you got any ideas, dippy?' i asked.
you never know.
even a fucked starship can get locked into orbit.

'you got any ideas, spacetrash?'

i guess those ships can always fall out of orbit. gravity, you cruel harlot.

'ok, so what do we know? we're on a ship. we don't know where that ship is.' i decided to be practical

dippy decided to chime in. 'the ship has a gloryhole. a big one, in fact'
'true. but we don't know exactly where that 'hole is... they didn't exactly take the straight route up here.'
'if we got there, we could get out.'
'but we don't know where there is'
'pokey will know'
'eh?'
'he walked with us. he can lead us back. it'll be in his memory.'
'have you looked at him lately? he's fucking the electrical outlet right now? that bot's been stuck on an asteroid for fuck knows how long. for all it knows, we might be trying to send it back. and besides, having this robot drag us all around the ship, in total sight of any pirate who is wandering around? i'm sure they'll just let us go by... they won't try to beat us to death at all'
'got a better idea?'

dippy had me here. i didn't. not even close. but i wasn't going to let him win this one. never back down. not even if you are horribly wrong and the other person has the answer that could save you and bring your life back to normal and bring you your robot back. never.

'we could see what the pirates want from us...'
'fuck off.'
'let's go ask them'
'absolutely not.'
'fine then.'
'fine.'

we stared at each other some more.

pokey spurted into the socket and caused the lighting to waver a bit. he shot back somewhat with a spark, rebooted quickly and went off looking for something else to rape.

'you see that?' i asked.
'what?'
'the lights... they went all fuckity after pokey shot his seed into the system.'
'so?'
'so? listen, starclown. maybe we can get pokey to really fuck the lighting, we can have some cover. then bolt down towards the 'hole and get the fuck out of here. the 'hole will have it's own electrical system. it won't be effected.'
'you know how to operate those things? aren't complicated?'
'dippy... this ship is run by pirates... FUCKING PIRATES. if they're stupid enough to listen to the missionaries, then how fucking hard can it be to re-jigger the 'hole? i'm sure we'll figure it out'
'what'll prevent them from following us?'
'you think the managers on that shithole wants a hot, juicy pirate injection coming through their 'hole? fuck no... as soon as we get there, we raise the alarm. they'll shut it down. we'll be safe.'

we stared at each other some more again.

'got a better idea?'
'not a fucking thing' dippy replied.
'well... let's get old pokey to start fucking the brains out of this ship.'

we looked around a bit. coming out of the previously soiled socket was a thick, shielded cable running down into the floor. we tore off the cover, scraped off the insulation into a pleasant vulva shape, and grabbed pokey. he squirmed a bit, but we shoved, drill bit first, into that sparky electric vagina.

sometimes, late at night, when i'd been forced to listen to flapjack abusing himself in the most horrific way, i thought that i'd heard cacophony at its most pure. the slurping, gurgling, splooshing sounds that he'd create haunted me for days afterwards. a lot of people react like cowards to the word 'moist.' they never heard a fucking thing until they heard flapjack satisfy himself.

these sounds, were something else entirely.

electric rape. electric potentials that had no business, and no desire, to interact, were forced to. electromagnetic fields rubbed and burned against each other, with terrifying discharges. sparks begetting shocks begetting lightning begetting plasma. it sounded like electricty was screaming. and it was fucking loud.

all the while, the lights dimmed and flickered, with each pokey's thrusts.

pokey was being forced out by the monopoles in the wire, so we had to keep shoving him back in, both of us, shoulders into his back, getting shocks here and there, like a bystander in a porn movie getting splashed with body fluids unintentionally. plasma leaked on the floor, like a wet spot of pure energy. it spread, further electrifying the room. the room surged with potential... every hair on our bodies stood up, soldiers waiting for orders.

then pokey came.
like thunder. like lightning. like a fucking solar flare. this was insane. the whole room glowed bright white. then darkness.

and the smell of ozone on everything.

the lights were off.
it was time to go.