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KRUNK © John H. Evans, November 2018

Krunk

Chonk

Ghrr – rr – rr – rr – rr - rr – rr – rr – rr – rr - rr – rr – rr – rr – rr - rr – rr – rr – rr – rr - rr – rr – rr – rr – rr – rr

Clunk

Shrrrr

Krrk

Bububuuubububuububub

Aaaaeeeiiii – eh – eh – eh

Bubububuub

Bababbaabababab

Shlampf

Shaff – shaaaaff – shfff

Mumalummumalumamallalum

Beeeeeeee – oooooooooooooo

Boop

Fussssshhhhhh



* * * * *



<White>

<Fibre>

<Layer>

<Hard>

<Light>

<Absorb>

<Bounce>

Thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk – thunk .............

Chollonk

Habalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Ssshhh – tttthhhh – ohhhh

<Air>

<Wind>

<Fade>

<Dark>

<Quiet>



* * * * *



Plop

<Growing>

<Trickle>

<Sticky>

<Light>

<Cells>

<Breath>

Plop

Tikatakitikatakitikatakitikataki

Eeeeeeyuuuuuu

<Shadow>

Kkflomph

Gerripppp

Arungh – arungh – arumph – aungh – gerungerunge

<Wet>

<Dark>

<Burn>



* * * * *



<Run>

<Look left>

<Look right>

Shuffarumbalashuffablema

<Hidden>

<Watch>

<MISSING!>

<Scared>

<Stay>

<Sniff>

<Animals, big>

<Walk tall>

<Noisy>

Bdum – bdum – bdum – bdum

<Wait>

<Stay>

<WEIRD!>

<Twitch>

<Stay-move!>



* * * * *



<Dark>

<Warm>

<Sticky>

<Odour>

Shuffashuffashufflufflashuff

Aah –aaaahhh – aaahhh – aaaaaaahhhhhh

Ppsshh – shshsh – shshsh – shshsh

Henawabadibabal

Aahahahah – amaamammaaah

<Move>

<Light>

<Odour stop>

<Person>



* * * * *



Mind’s blank for a moment. That’s not normal for me. I usually think about all sorts, like do I weigh too much? Do I LOOK like I weigh too much? Do I look fat? Do I just look bulky? I always try to make myself look smaller by angling my body, slouching, stooping, sitting, kneeling, crouching and that sort of thing. If I look petite, I’ll be more desirable. Then they’ll take an interest, talk to me, stay with me. We’ll laugh and joke, becoming happier in each others’ company. In time, we’ll be ...

<Imagery and sensations of intimate relations, in a secluded area of parkland>

Afterwards, we can walk over to the ancient canal viaducts. We can climb up the rough, broken stone and sunbathe naked behind the screening walls, next to the cool, clear water that flows from the mountains. If we’re brave enough, we can have a dip and ...

<More imagery and sensations of intimate relations, in water>

Then, if we’re even bolder we can go to Club Shal Ongg and ...

<Further imagery and sensations of intimate relations, with multiple partners in a night club. Fluids spurt all around, on faces, in eyes. Stings.>

Well, we’ll try to avoid that last part. I can’t have eye irritation because it looks bad the next day and may need medication. I won’t appear like that at work. People would notice and ask what happened. That would be awkward, especially if someone found out what I did at the club. Maybe a few of them would have been there. Could I carry on working for the same company if I knew they were there? It might be very tricky indeed or perhaps it would be fine if we were all cool about it. How would I explain it to the manager, though? Would he ever find out? I wouldn’t be too unhappy if he did.

<Imagined pictures of naked manager with gyrating hips>

What’s with me today? I’m the Wild, Wicked, Willing, Witchy Woman of the West, like in that old movie! I need to cool down and think about cleaning up this place. I haven’t dusted in months. The mop in the corner has dust on it! I need to mop three floors and the vestibule. It’s so dull. Those skirtings need a scrub. I’ll have to put on some top class music to power me through this irritating chore. ‘Outta da Stadium’ by Paddle and the Spankers would be great. Do I have that? No, someone must have borrowed it. How about ‘Dirtbox Dip’ by Grubby Moner? Yes, that’s here. Putting it on the speakyplat now. Here it goes. Singing along. Dooba dabba dooba dabba, that’s the intro. Shooby looby kooby snooby! Drop those down, raise it up, pour in some from my shnoovy cup, take some snacks, dip them in, suck them clean, swallowing to win!

<Tolerance limit reached; moving on.>



* * * * *



<Uncontrolled, instantaneous travel with random destination>

<Hard stone, well cemented>

Plgh – skrp – rhf – umalum – skrf

<Dark, moist, cool>

Hashuf – heshuf – heshaf – hishef

<Some kind of worm passing by, using the stone as a leverage platform.>

<Using ME as a leverage platform.>

<Expletive required; will find one later.>

<Damn cheeky worm>

<Mental function improving.>

<Grammar becoming more complex.>

<Vocabulary expanding.>

<Data levels rising.>

<How to escape?>

Plop

Trickle

Slow ooze

<Microbes multiplying and dying.>

Crkl, snp, mth, ccn

<Leaf decomposing next to me.>

<This is torture!>

<Rage>

<Trapped>

<Can only wait.>

<Waiting.>

<Hours grind by.>

<Starting to hallucinate.>

<Flesh man mocks me.>

<Hate him.>

<Target priority>

<Red, shiny spoonbackers crowd in.>

<Annoying underground [expletives], slithering all over me.>

<Lost in reverie.>



* * * * *



<Bright sunlight>

Vvvooossshhh – oooooooooo – hhhuuummm – sshhnnuuuaaa

<Stiff breeze, almost constant>

<People below, standing in formation, rubbing themselves.>

<Parade music, simple and beautiful>

<Salute to me?>

<Unusual>

<Someone speaking; can’t see him; wrong angle>
Brothers and sisters, we are gathered together in this holy place for our annual celebration of the World’s Origin Portal, or W.O.P. for short. We give thanks to the wondrous, many-faceted Portal through which we all entered this realm. By extension, we also give thanks to those among us who possess facets of the sacred Portal.

<Males saluting females throughout the throng>

Although we may have our differences, the blessed Portal remains a constant in all our lives. How could we experience anything of the world without it? How could we learn any of life’s great lessons without the Proper Push and Pull through that magical doorway? We should all praise it, care for it and anoint it with oils.

TO PREVENT SQUEAKS AND JAMS!

<That was a crowd response.>

Now bring forth the great shiny mirror so that the Portal may know itself and bask in its own reflected glory!

<Metallic panels lifted up and slotted together.>

<I am a statue, a sculpture.>

<Mounted on the front of an important building.>

<I resemble a giant, stylised part of the typical organic female anatomy.>

<I’ve had better days, believe me.>

<On the other hand, I’ve had worse days.>

<Fair’s fair!>

<At least I can see some significant people in the crowd.>

<Standard organic ‘humanoid’ folk>

<Boring>

<I’ve seen far too many people like this.>

<I’m so jaded.>

<I hate their regulation, gormless faces.>

<They all need more gorm in their diets.>



* * * * *



<Switch again to ....>

<!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!>



* * * * *



<Total shock>

<Consciousness returning ... barely.>

<Blinding pain>

<Enduring bitterly.>

<Coming around, bit by bit.>



* * * * *



Shlip – shlip – shlip – shlep

<Waves lapping at my edges.>

<I am seaweed.>

<Floating in the ocean at night.>

<Dawn approaches.>

<Bless the chill.>

<Infinitely preferable to previous place.>

<Deep underground>

<A trillion tonnes of pressure on my whole body.>

<Roasting in radioactive heat.>

<Utter torment beyond any normal means of resistance.>

<What next?>

<Dancing on the Sun?!>

<Terror stalks my thoughts now.>

<Helpless>

<Must keep gathering information.>

<Find a way out.>

<If only in death.>



* * * * *



<Where now? I have eyes: open eyes. I have hands. There’s a woman ahead: very beautiful.>

Me: Hey fly girl! What you reading?

Her: Ah, you’re awake.

<She stops reading her book and watches me.>

Me: You look so fine today!

<I feel compelled to rise from my couch. There’s a pulling pain in my lower body. I sit up and look down. There’s a shiny metal lattice over my manhood. It hurts when I move.>

Me: What’s this?

Her: I’ve decided to cage you. It’s time that you learnt discipline.

Me: Why?

Her: Still in denial, huh?

Me: Denying what?

Her: Bad behaviour. It crossed the line to inexcusable lately.

Me: Could you remind me, babe? What did I do?

Her [muttering]: Unbelievable whack move, you freaking tool!

Me: Could you take this off me?

<I realise that there’s also a strong steel collar around my neck.>

Her: That day’s a long way off.

Me: What about this collar too? I mean, how can I make amends? I guess I’ve done something bad to you.

Her: Yeah but worse is what you failed to do. You took advantage. You ignored most of my needs. I hate that I have to point this out to you, mister! What screwed you up so badly that you can’t see it for yourself?

Me: I can please you right now. I still got hands and my fine face.

Her: Now your desperation is clear.

<She seems disgusted with me. She starts reading again. Her movements emphasise her prettiness. Tumescence ensues. The pain below sharpens.>

Me: Ow! This pain’s really deep! Come on, joke’s over. Let me out of this thing!

Her: Hell no. Your best pain relief now is thinking unsexy thoughts.

Me: How can I? You’re right in front of me!

Her: Use your imagination. Think about icebergs or literary criticism: whatever it takes.

Me: It’s no good. Now you’ve said those two things, they’ve become sexy to me. I’ll have to find a way out of this tiny jail.

Her: You can’t.

Me: You got any bolt cutters or angle grinders?

Her: Of course not.

Me: I must have some at home. I’ll go check. Where are my clothes?

Her: All gone.

Me: I’ll find something else, then. Can you tell me where I live?

<She looks at me suddenly.>

Her: You don’t remember?

Me: No, my memories are really scrambled. I don’t even know my name.

Her: Hold on, I have to check something.

<She gets up quickly, leaves the room and makes a call. I go to look at myself in a nearby full-length mirror. I am pleased by the sight of my well-defined muscles, handsome face and tall frame. My stomach is flat, as if I haven’t eaten much lately. I feel strangely empty too. The shiny collar looks good against my dark skin. The only bad thing in the reflection is my sizeable member straining against its unnatural captivity. I start to search the room for cage keys. She returns.>

Her: You’re a mystery today, Tubar. You’re playing a devious game. Could you come over here, please?

Me: Sure thing, babe. Is this some kind of surprise?

Her: You’ll see.

<I follow her to the other side of the room. The wall is solid stone.>

Her: Stand here, please: back to the wall.

<I comply. A strong, hidden magnet in the wall drags my collar onto it. I try to pull away but I can’t. I’m trapped, standing against the wall.>

Me: Hey, what’s this; one of your little games?

<She ignores my question.>

Her: Time for my exercise now. Gotta stay in shape!

<I stop talking as she entrances me with her moves. She begins with lying down leg lifts. Then there are back kicks on all fours. Next there are standing hip rotations. These are followed by bending over to touch her toes. Star jumps come after that. Normally this would be a dream for me because she’s a stunner! I’m seeing everything and it’s all exquisite but today my groin is in agony. My gonads must be turning blue. I begin to sob loudly.>

Me: Why did you hurt me so much?! What did you do to me?!

<She stops exercising for a minute and looks at me quizzically, as if I said something out of character.>

Her: I have to warn you, if you try to pull off the cage, you’ll cripple yourself. It’s secured by a strong lock and six piercings right through the prisoner.

<She stands on a treadmill, activates it and starts jogging. Parts of her bounce up and down. It’s like being in the opening scenes of an adult movie. My great discomfort continues and intensifies. I strive to control myself but she’s making it very difficult.>

Me: How long are you going to keep me here?

Her: *puff* Years and *haunh* years.

Me: Could you turn off the magnet? I can’t stand up forever. I’ll choke when I fall.

Her: When I *puff* want to turn it off *hunth* I will.

<She keeps jogging along on that conveyor. I try to think about neutral things like landscapes and budget statements. It’s a losing battle. Sweat starts beading and running down my body. My legs are beginning to tremble. I can’t see but the piercings might be bleeding. My carnal thoughts about her aren’t going away as the workout continues for another half hour. Her caramel body glistens with sweat as her deep breaths flex her mesmerising chest. She lifts small weights, does a few pull-ups and then works through a long list of dance moves. Finally, she finishes. She’s tired so she calls over two assistants.>

Her: Sheag! Tramue! Shower!

<She goes to a shower area on the other side of this large room. She doesn’t draw the curtain. Sheag and Tramue come running from another room. Their bodies are similar to mine. (She must prefer a certain type of men.) They even have cages and collars like mine. They grab soap and wash her carefully under the hot water. As they do so, she strokes their muscular bodies and cups their cages. They wince as the pressure builds in those cages. She allows them no release. Afterwards, they dry her with warm towels and hot air guns. Finally, they spray her with an amazing perfume. It makes us all a little happier despite everything.>

Her: Back to the renovation, boys.

Sheag: Could we please have some paint and sealant filler? We’re running low.

Her: Tubar will go and fetch it later. He needs to get used to running errands for me. He can ride the pedal cycle with the basket. Bring the mini dress and high heeled shoes for him. After that, do tasks that don’t need paint and filler.

Sheag: Yes Mistress.

Me: Sheag, Tramue, could you get me out of this collar?

<The two men look at me in alarm and shush me silently. The Mistress saunters over to me. She stands three metres away, out of reach.>

Her: You’re staying there for a while, whether you like it or not. If you disobey us, we will kill you. There’s a bomb inside you, just below your stomach. It’s small but powerful enough to cut you in half. We can trigger it anytime, even if you’re on the other side of the world. If you shield yourself from the signal somehow, the timer will activate. You’ll die very soon after. I’ll demonstrate the sound of the timer.

<She touches a hidden switch behind her back. A regular bleeping emanates from my belly. She stares at me, watching my dawning horror. She smiles as I realise the extent of her power over me. My sweating increases. The wobbling in my legs worsens. My heart thumps harder. The one good thing about this is that my male organs shrink and the pain there eases.>

Me: H-how did you get it in there? I d-didn’t see no scar, I can’t feel no cut.

Her: Ever heard of a colonoscope? We used one of those. I know a doctor with no morals. He can fix things in this one spot where they can’t be dislodged naturally. Oh yeah, we cleaned you out first with a water hose. That’s why your belly’s flat now. You were literally SO full of ...

Me: Please! Please Mistress, let me go! I have no memory of what I did before! I’m a changed man now. I won’t cause you any more trouble. Let me out to lead a better, more virtuous life! Turn off the bomb!

<She rolls her eyes, tuts and resets the bomb timer. It no longer bleeps.>

Her: I hate your LIES, Tubar! I don’t want to hear about this ‘amnesia’ again, got it? You’ll take your punishment like a man. Back to WORK, you two!

<Having brought the dress and shoes, Sheag and Tramue leave the room hastily. I’m guessing that they contain bombs too, hence their subservience. Their muscles are well defined. They must work out at a gym. She leaves the room for a while. I remain standing, which is increasingly difficult. I shift position repeatedly as my legs weaken gradually and I struggle to come to terms with being a hostage. Why can’t I move on from this body like before? Presumably I will at some point but it’s random. Meanwhile, time drags on. I think that she’s left the house for a while. I try to break the magnetic lock but it’s too strong and I’m only hurting my neck. Less than an hour later, she returns.>

Her: I’m ba-a-ack and I brought some fri-i-e-ends!

<She and her friends leave all their things by the front door and walk in to see me. They’re all young and beautiful women. They’re nude, fun-loving and seem very close to each other. They’re holding hands and other parts. My host has her arms around the shoulders of two friends. They’re talking about the events of the day, their plans for the near future and their opinions of other people.>

Friend one: Ooh, it’s true! You did get him!

Friend two: It’s quite a collection you’re building, ma cher!

Friend three: Can we touch him yet?

My host: No, he’s not fully secured. Quolla, come here.

<Quolla (friend one) complies. My host takes her arms off her friends’ shoulders and quickly grabs Quolla between the legs. Quolla gasps.>

My host: I’ve got you by the cootch. I can have it whenever I want. I’m THAT important. What now, sweetie? What’s the right response?

Quolla: Oh! Er, I spread ‘em a little wider so you can get a better grip!

<She opens her legs a few degrees. The Mistress puts her fingers in deeper and strokes skilfully. Quolla moans with pleasure.>

My host: Correct answer! Now, go and fetch the special poles. You know where they are.

Quolla: Mmm! Right away, love!

<Quolla leaves her scent on Mistress’s fingers and hurries out. Her larger bosoms jiggle alluringly as she trots along. There’s a clatter as she picks up the poles. She lugs them into the room. Each friend takes a pole. They’re like brooms without bristles. They have long wooden heads. The women approach me and pin my arms and legs to the wall with the poles. Mistress attaches steel manacles to my wrists and ankles. These have thin steel cables attached to them. The cables are then attached to steel pegs embedded in the walls. My movements are almost completely restricted. The poles are returned to their storage cupboard. Quolla fetches some long, thin, electrical devices.>

Friend four: I expected that there would be more kicking and screaming. I know Tubar. He’s been inside me many times. We lived together for a few months. He used to complain and act out much more than this.

My host: He’s been calming down a bit lately, especially today. He was talking about having memory loss. Unfortunately, we’re aware of his deceptive nature. We can’t trust him. He needs tough love.

Friend two: Give me a shock stick. I wanna teach him some manners! I didn’t like the way he treated me last year.

<She takes a shock stick from Quolla and touches my shoulder. There’s a sharp stinging sensation and my arm jerks. It’s painful but nowhere near as bad as my underground crushing earlier.>

Friend three: You’re right, Cudein; let’s get stuck in!

<Friend three is passed a shock stick and uses it on the left side of my chest. Friend four uses her shock stick on my belly. Mistress uses hers on my ‘lying lips’. Quolla targets my right calf with her shock stick. That’s more serious because my tired legs are the only things preventing me from being choked by the collar. They keep shocking me with electric charges all over my body. My skin blackens and smokes in places. Essentially, I’m being branded with small spots. My overall pain levels worsen. My heartbeat becomes erratic. I soon become very scared and sense a rising panic. I can’t speak due to nervous spasms. I lose control of my bladder. My thin water dribbles across the shiny floor. The women are annoyed by this.>

Friend three: As usual! I detest the piddling. Let’s target fingers and toes, girls! Level two this time.

<They hit three fingers and two toes. The current goes right through my body. My nails feel like they’re burning and peeling off. I yell out but presumably no one hears except the other slaves. They move on to all my other fingers and toes. Then they attack my ears, nose, lips and chin. When I scream, Mistress shoves her shock stick into my mouth, scorching my tongue and the back of my throat. In a reflex, I vomit bile. Mistress jumps back to avoid splatter.>

My host: Level three!

<Together, they target the cage. I wail with a raw, ragged voice as my privates are electrically cooked, inside and out. I’m starting to sound like a woman. I reckon my days as a virile young buck are over.>

Friend four: Oh yeah, that’s what I like! You can smell ‘em roasting, can’t you?! I hope that this teaches him to respect us more!

Cudein: Fear, respect, whatever. Any improvement would be good.

<The hot metal is searing through my sensitive flesh. I shout out again and again. I’d like to curse but my mouth isn’t working properly. Mistress crouches in front of me and slides her shock stick up into me. She electrocutes my prostate several times and I come in a series of messy spurts, diverted by the cage bars. Mistress is hit by some of it. Any pleasure I feel is drowned out by suffering and a sense of petrified helplessness. Mistress wipes her face with her hand and then withdraws.>

My host: That’s enough electricity, I think. Now we use gravity.

<Quolla takes hold of the cable on my left leg while Cudein picks up the one on the right. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, they pull my legs apart. I strain and struggle as much as I can but they’re stronger. They take great pleasure in overpowering me, so they prolong it. After a few minutes, my legs are pulled off the ground into a painful ‘splits’ position, leaving me suspended from my neck. The steel collar starts to bite into my throat. I’m already having trouble breathing; now it gets worse. Soon, my airway is totally constricted and strangulation ensues. I only have a few minutes left to live. Mistress and Friends three and four electrocute my cage again. I gasp and twitch violently, like a fish out of water. My consciousness diminishes. I am barely awake when my arm cables are unclipped, the magnet is deactivated and I topple forward, smashing my face on the hard floor. The five women all come forward to stamp their right feet on my back. I’m a trophy, their latest conquest and they must make that clear to me.>

My host: You’re ours now, Tubar: body and soul. You’ll do what we want or we’ll explode you. Your first job is to go to the hardware store.

<Tubar’s body can’t take any more punishment. He loses consciousness completely. I, on the other hand, am free to move on. The last thing I see here is Mistress kicking Tubar hard in his left arm. She yells at him, saying that he’s a stupid, good-for-nothing layabout. She’s full of spite, rage and frustration but she’s still a joy to behold and we seem to be kindred, domineering spirits. If I was an organic man, I’d be drawn to her like ... a steel collar to a powerful electromagnet!>



* * * * *

<Drifting high.>

<Complete ease and freedom>

<Don’t have to do anything.>

<Almost silent>

<Microscopic objects and life forms zip past.>

<Clouds in the distance, landscape below>

<None of it matters.>

<Just drift ... drift ... drift ... forever.>

<Mind goes blank.>

<How long?>

<Who cares?!>

<Much better than electro-torture>

<Infinitely better than underground crushing>

<I’ve struck lucky - really lucky.>

<Such blessed relief!>

<Mountains ahead>

<No matter>

<Won’t reach them for a while.>

<What am I? Spirit?>

<Bits of me are moving away.>

<Eroded by the wind>

<Not spirit, then>

<Air>

<I’m air.>

<I’m dispersing in the breeze.>

<But that means ...>

<I’m under threat.>

<It’s a trick!>

<This is a secret attack!>

<Feels good but it’s killing me.>

<Must escape.>

<How?>

<Hard to think in this form.>

<Mind’s foggy – literally.>

<Struggle.>

<Like wading through a swamp.>

<Can’t solve.>

<Worry.>

<What’s that?>

<Tree!>

<Time has raced on.>

<Reached mountains already.>

<Easily distracted at present.>

<Hit tree on top of mountain ridge.>

<Flow around tree.>

<Lose more of myself.>

<Sudden insight>

<Whole situation is distraction!>

<Hit another tree.>

<Mind falls apart.>

Whuuuussshhh ...



* * * * *



<Where am I now?>

<Underwater: am I a fish?>

<No, I have hands.>

<Different hands>

<Scaly hands>

<Voices in the water>

<My people deep in the lake behind me>

<I’m walking up, out of the lake.>

<Surely I can’t survive in air?>

<Suicide?>

<No, I’m calm. It’s an errand. I break the surface.>

Fisherman: Morning, Moogleet! Preparations going well?

Me (Moogleet): Yeah Jyrefand, I’m just popping into town to buy a few more harpoons. We broke some last month.

<I’m a big fellow this time: at least six metres tall and very stout. As I wade through the shallows, I dwarf Jyrefand. He’s not intimidated at all. We’re well acquainted and we might even be friends. I walk smoothly to avoid capsizing Jyrefand’s rowing boat.>

Jyrefand: I hope that you kill Old Combuquet this time. He’s been reducing my catch by at least a quarter.

Me: We’ll do our best but he’s wily. He hides while we slaughter others. I think that he’s figured out our quota. Fifteen adults and forty juveniles may be harvested every month. Excess is fined.

Jyrefand: Thank the W.O.P. that those beasts can’t come ashore, eh?!

Me: They would if they could but we keep them in check. They’re my favourite food.

Jyrefand: Rather you than me. I’d need heavy weapons to kill them and I can’t stomach their meat.

Me: Leave it to us, the real Splab-Eaters! See ya, Jyrefand!

<I stride quickly down the lane into town. Compared to my natural habitat, walking on land is very easy. There’s so little drag. I can move at up to thirty five kilometres per hour, despite my bulk. Traffic and pedestrians move out of my way. I reach the store in four minutes. I examine carefully the selection of large harpoons. I choose five of the best and pay in angling tokens, which give the bearer rights to catch fish from any of our lakes in the region.>

Child (hugging my leg): You’re my favourite Lakeman, Moogleet. You kill the most splabs and save all the fish for us!

Me: You’re welcome, little boy!

Child: I’m a girl but I forgive you. My name’s Ilwani.

Me: I couldn’t see you because you’re hiding under my fat tummy, Ilwani. Also, I have limited experience of land girls and boys because I can’t stay out of the water too long.

Ilwani: I know. How many splabs will you kill tomorrow, Moogleet?

Me: I can’t say for sure but I’m hoping for seven in total. I might get more with these new harpoons. My friends will deal with the rest of the quota. I’ll tell you later what happens. I’m feeling lucky!

Ilwani: Good luck then. Are you going back to the lake now?

Me: I’m afraid so. I can only breathe here for two hours. I have oxygen stored in my blood and I get a small amount extra from the air. Also, I can’t let my skin dry out too much or it’ll crack and I’ll get sick.

Ilwani: I’ve been learning about Lakemen at school. It’s very interesting. One day, I’ll dive down to see you in the lake.

Me: Be sure to do your dive training. The lake is big, cold, deep and dangerous.

Ilwani: I will, Moogleet. Thank you and goodbye!

<Ilwani’s mother ushers her away. I carry my harpoons swiftly back to the lake and resubmerge. Jyrefand is now fishing a few hundred metres away from the lake-to-land road so I can only wave as I descend out of sight. Soon enough, I’ve returned to a comfortable depth. It’s fairly dark down here but my sonic and electric senses show everything sharply. I detect a small splab in the distance. It’s wandered far from its home in the low plain chasm. I think that I should kill it before it attacks someone. The new harpoons embolden me. I rotate my shoulder joints as I prepare to dispatch the troublesome creature. This all feels right. I’m a hunter doing some spontaneous hunting. This is me. This is what I do. It feels RIGHT!>



* * * * *



<Now I’m a tree.>

<Great>

<Thoughts slow again.>

<Hard to adapt to these random shifts.>

<Surrounded by other trees.>

<Deep, dark forest>

<No sunlight, only stars twinkling above.>

<Three colliding galaxies dominate the sky.>

<Their collision is so slow that it seems frozen forever.>

<They won’t change much for millions of years.>

<It’s absolutely spectacular.>

<All the myths and legends of the world revolve around this trinity.>

<Anyway, back to my situation>

<Part of my consciousness is in a large mushroom seventeen metres away.>

<This mind-split is bizarre but it gives me an idea.>

<The forest is unified through the root mass.>

<I use this organic network and think clearer.>

<Innumerable fungal tendrils also help.>

<I’m out here in the wide, open world yet still I’m trapped.>

<Some force is pushing me from place to place, body to body.>

<Possibly generated or controlled by a flesh man.>

<It can’t hold me forever, though.>

<With every move, I gain experience.>

<I learn more.>

<I’m nearer to a solution.>

<It’s only a matter of time.>

<Hear me, my captor.>

<There will be a reckoning for you.>

<A flying creature lands on one of my branches.>

<It scratches my bark, searching for bugs.>

<It’s very distracting.>

<I can still plan, though.>

<Several days pass.>



* * * * *



<Abruptly, I’m in a restaurant. My head’s in my hands.>

The wife: Vikalon, are you alright? Are you depressed? Should I give you a gloom-buster tablet?

Me: No, I’m fine really. I’ve been distracted by that woman over there. She’s extraordinary!

The wife: Vikalon, for shame! You’re seventy three and MARRIED TO ME!

Me: Part of me wishes I was twenty three.

<I lift my head. Tears are welling in my eyes. I look at my wife but my gaze strays beyond her to table twelve, to the incredible magnetic woman. She’s talking to a younger man. I wipe my eyes and force myself to look away. For the first time in twelve years, I have a full erection. My heart pounds with guilty desire.>

The wife: I think that we should leave, if you’re going to behave like this! What would your family think if they saw you leching over someone young enough to be your granddaughter?!

Me: Let’s eat our desserts first. We’ve paid for them. You hate waste, don’t you?

<She nods and shrugs. We eat our ices slowly to prevent dental discomfort. She watches me as I steal glances at table twelve. She’s becoming angrier. I can see it. Her expressions gradually darken. Just then, a waiter brushes past. Part of him collides with her head. It’s not serious but she snaps at him.

The wife: Watch it! I’m trying to eat here!

Waiter: Sorry missus! Normally I’m good at avoiding customers but today we have a very special one. I’m not immune to the Pikora Charm!

The wife (looking at him): Oh, I see. You’re fully up.

Waiter: And it won’t go down until she leaves!

<He walks away with a grin on his face>

The wife: Well I never! Bonked by another man’s thingy: that’s a rarity for me!

<She looks around the room, scrutinising as many people as she can.>

The wife: Twenty eight, twenty nine ... thirty seven ... forty five ... fifty one! Vikalon, there are fifty one erections in the room! Five of those are on women! I’ve never seen anything like it!

Me: Fifty two, including mine. There are probably many others being hidden. Pikora is irresistible to most people.

The wife: I’ve never heard of her.

Me: She’s quite young. She was on T.V. not so long ago. She was very popular but she gave it up.

The wife: What’s she doing in our restaurant?

Me: Perhaps she’s a local. She lives in seclusion most of the time, to avoid causing disruption. Her address hasn’t been revealed.

The wife: It sounds like you’ve been reading all about her. Is she that fascinating?

Me: I’d rather not say any more, love.

<My wife looks at me searchingly and then turns around to look at Pikora. Her movements are seen by Pikora, who looks at her, smiles and waves before going back to her conversation. My wife is silent for a few moments and then she takes a deep breath and gets up.>

The wife (whispering): Vikalon, we’re going to the lavatory.

Me (whispering): Together?

The wife: Yes, I need something from you.

<We hasten to the ladies, knocking at least four stiff members on the way. Less than three minutes later, I’m balls-deep in the wife, who’s bent over and coming hard. We’ll have to write a joint thank-you letter to Pikora, using our best headed notepaper. This has been a most effective but highly enjoyable distraction!>



* * * * *



<Moved into a rock at the base of a hill but this time I’m prepared. I choose my moment and use my growing strength to throw myself into the brain of the nearest person. Nothing pushes me out again. Is no one monitoring me? Am I being pushed around by an interdimensional machine, working automatically? I’ll try to find out later.>

Young woman: I’m thinking of changing my eye shadow from stoon purple to vonir purple. Is that a good idea?

Me (turning to look at her): Vonir purple would be slightly better for your skin tone, especially as you tan this summer. However, you should consider camouflage colours too. The situation might change very suddenly.

Young woman: What do you mean, Lysen dear? Why would I need to camouflage myself? Are you suggesting we enter a survival contest? I don’t know if I have time this summer.

Me: No not a contest, a conflict. I’m thinking of going to war with a secret enemy.

Young woman: Oh really?! Where’s this silly notion come from? You don’t know the first thing about proper fighting. All you do is slap people in a girly way!

<She demonstrates with some silly slapping movements. I pretend to laugh.>

Me: Konvissa, don’t you read any philosophy? Don’t you realise that there are many hidden realities beyond our own? Sometimes, there’s crossover between realities. One example is ghosts. Another is UFOs.

Young woman: Will you knock it off, you daffy dreamer?! I’ll kiss some sense into you!

<She pushes me down onto the grass, straddles me, lies on top of me and kisses me eagerly. Of course, I reciprocate. Young love is very hard to resist. Our connection strengthens with each caress, lick and smooch. For a while, I forget all else except this place of passion. The sun warms us, the breeze cools us, grass tickles our skin, birds tweet, animals call, insects hum and everything seems to revolve around my beloved Konvissa.>

Konvissa: Ooh, I feel something emerging under me! I’ve awoken the creature!

Me: Yeah, let me reach down and release it.

<I slip my right hand into my underpants and get a surprise. The object poking out is metallic with straight edges.>

Me: Well, this is strange! What could it be? Is it my pocket knife or my comb?

<I’m confused for a minute. Konvissa raises herself and moves aside for a closer look. Together, we pull down my trousers and underpants. I see what’s there and laugh as I recognise the object. Konvissa is horrified by it.>

Konvissa: Lysen, why is there a weird gun growing out of your crotch? Is this another joke? Did someone fix it on with special effects make-up?

<Gingerly, she clasps the object and tries to remove it but I haven’t unlocked it yet. Although she tugs hard, she can’t budge it so she lets go and pulls her hand away.>

Me: I’m sorry about that, Konvissa. It’s only my compact, grade two disintegrator pistol. It’s deactivated now so it’s quite safe.

<I unlock the pistol and pull it out to show her close-up. She looks at it fearfully and then stares at my crotch. She sees the complex mechanisms whirring at the pistol’s fixing point. She realises that I’m not fully organic. She’s never been more shocked. I’ve changed from lover to monster almost instantly.>

Konvissa: What is all that?! What are you?! Were you disabled? Did they rebuild you? Was it a secret experiment? Was it the UFO people? Tell me, Lysen!

<She gets to her feet and backs away.>

Me: This is what I was talking about! You remember: that stuff about hidden realities. I’m part organic and part living machine. We coexist here and now. I’m not always here. I move around the world. I’m trying to regain control of my course.

Konvissa (starting to panic): Lysen, I know there’s something freaky going on here but where are your proper organs? Are you a man or a creepy android thing?!

Me: Oh yes, my male organs: here they are!

<My transformation mechanisms activate. I rotate the organs out of storage and position them correctly on my crotch. I seal up the skin around them so I look normal again.>

Me: See, my package is safe and sound!

Konvissa: No, I can’t take this! I’ve had it! Forget this relationship! You’re an evil metal DEMON! I’m going to the police. You need to be locked up or ... exorcised!

<Scared to death, she runs away across the park lawn. She’s heading into town. I try to run after her, to reassure her.>

Me: Konvissa, wait! I still love you! I’ll keep you safe! I’m an excellent guard and I never really sleep. Come back!

<As I shuffle forward with my trousers around my ankles and my male organs flapping gracelessly, I stumble and fall. I lie there for a moment, pondering what to do next. I seem to have destroyed a promising relationship. That was unfortunate. However, I now have sporadic access to some of my technology and weapons. Maybe that’ll help extricate me from this whole trap situation. I’m pleased that I’ve salvaged something from the situation. At that moment, a wandering pet comes over to me, sniffs my bottom, takes fright and runs back to its master. It reminds me that I’m a misfit on this world. I can’t wait to get out of this super-complex imprisonment and return to Cybertron!>



* * * * *



<Bloody marvellous, another disorientating random shift!>

<I want to scheme my way to freedom but I’ve just been transferred into the body of a jellyfish. Here I am again, floating along sedately in the current. It’s nearly dusk. I’m frustrated that my mind is so restricted by this flimsy body and rudimentary brain. Oh well, nothing to do except wait and feed on tiddlers.>

Slip ... slip ... slep ... slip

Aroo!

Flaff ... shlop ... rrsshh ... floosh

Mork! Moark! Morkee!

Aariss ... rish ... eristatitat ... sass ... sash ... sashaaaa

Eeroor!

Minem ... waaasshh ... emin ... emslim ... shay ... deesh

<The sounds of the ocean, its denizens and debris>

<This goes on for hours. It’s not necessary for me to describe it all. The picture is clear.>

<It’s very dark now, except for starlight, moonlight and the Three Galaxies.>

<Where are all the other jellyfish? Must have moved away.>

BBBAAAWWWOOOSSSHHH!!!

<Sudden turmoil. Swallowed by a large predator. Crammed down its throat. Heading for the stomach. Minimal damage. Cling onto gullet wall. Flatten myself against the quivering flesh. Not going down easily. Use my little spines to dig in. Release waste chemicals. Predator calms down. Shuddering and forward motion slow. Wait. Predator stops. Why? Release more chemicals. Predator’s breathing reduces. Deduce that I’m the cause. Try to be more selective. Only release small quantities from single glands. Predator turns around and moves in the opposite direction. Discover that I can control the creature. Steer it toward the scent of land. Follow the signature of soil, washed into the ocean by major rivers. Not hard at all. Find that I can access predator’s brain. It has mixed feelings about land. Good food near the shore but also danger from hunting and collisions. Fears Lakemen; despises nets, ropes and ships. I help it to feed without incident. I take a few pieces of meat for myself. I teach it many things. It is grateful. Will pass on the knowledge to other predators. Survival rates should improve. We wait in the shallows for my next transfer. Comes a few hours later, shortly after dawn.>



* * * * *



Me: ...............................

<This mind is cracked. I don’t fit here.>

Me: ...............................

<Losing internal cohesion. Sense of identity reducing. Being pulled apart. Spread out across many minds. Can’t focus very well. Clinging to scraps of sanity. Might not survive this. Just a step away from mind-death.>

Me? (inhabiting a disturbed woman): Get your hands off me, infidel! I will burn you eternally! Internally! Internally eternally! Red hot poker, right in there! Pain beyond imagination for you!

Warden one: Please come down from that sideboard, Pletni! You’ll fall and hurt yourself!

Me? / Pletni: Fool! This isn’t Pletni. You are addressing KRUNK, the god!

Warden two: Pletni, stop this. Think about your own safety.

Inmate one (down the hall): Do not take the name of KRUNK in vain, heathen!

Inmate two (adjacent room): KRUNK demands your respect, unenlightened one!

Inmate three (walking in from the corridor): Excuse me, can anyone tell me why my mind is spreading into other people?

Warden one: Wait there, inmate. We’re trying to calm Pletni down.

Warden two: Hey Hugliano, do you know Pletni? Could you help talk her down?

Hugliano (inmate three): I have recently become very familiar with her through a mind link. I believe that I can help. I’ll just come over, walk into the room like so and ...

Me? / Pletni (jumping from the sideboard onto the man): Don’t let them control you! KRUNK is a god and thus above such mortals!

Hugliano (knocked to the floor): We are one in KRUNK, sister! Waste no time leaping upon me for you hurt only yourself.

Me? / Pletni: There is much confusion here. Let me scratch you with my fingernail. It is a test.

Hugliano: Eh, I feel it and so do you. See how the scratch mark appears on your body also.

Warden two (looking at Pletni): Well, I’ll be damned! The scratch mark appeared without physical contact!

Me? / Pletni (smiling): We are one in KRUNK, brother! Let us celebrate our union in a mortal way!

Warden one: Huh, this is about to get good! We’ll let them do it. They need to release tension. (Also, I need some light entertainment.)

Warden two: They have full contraception and vaccination.

Me? (not Pletni): I am a god. I move across my domain without limit. I enjoy all the experiences therein. I give myself as much pleasure as I desire. I love myself completely. I make love with myself. I make love to myself. It happens all over the world. This room is no different. Let all live in harmony with KRUNK!

Inmate two: There, that is the true voice of KRUNK! It was not my voice.

Inmate one: Neither was it mine. The true voice of KRUNK comes from the very air!

Warden two: It was Sceligo two doors down. She can do great vocal imitations.

Warden one: Yeah, that rascal can dupe us well when she wants. Now, I must admit that Pletni puts on a good show here. She’s a plain woman but she moves like a seasoned pro.

Warden two: She was a seasoned pro before she was admitted. She had too many beatings and rapes from customers. It drove her over the edge. She was in a bad way when the police picked her up on the street. She’s recovered physically but the mental damage could be permanent.

Warden one: Oh, I didn’t know. I’m not officially involved in her case.

Warden two: At least she’s not having any bad treatment from Hugliano here. He’s being a real gentleman. Look how he takes his time and strokes her sensitively in all the right places. He’s not going to rush things like so many do.

Warden one: It’s a textbook performance, isn’t it?! It’s turning me on. I’ll have to relieve myself at the end of my shift!

Warden two: Me too but we stay professional until then.

Warden one: Of course. Oh, she really loves that move. Watch her arch her back! Bravo, both of you!

Warden two: Heh, we have a demanding job but some of the perks are excellent!



* * * * *



Me?: This is a ... fragment. See the jagged edges? Once, it was part of a rounded whole. Where are ... the other fragments? What will become of them all? The situation is completely blurred. They are lost. So lost.

Me-but-different: The mission is entangled. Progress is impossible. Search for answers. How? Progress is impossible. Totally blocked.

Me-from-the-side: The normal path to success is closed. Must divert. Keep diverting until there is success.

Me-from-above: The problem is ego. It must be completely banished. The dam is ego.

Me-next-door: The opposition is putting ego structures across the way. I see them from here. They have to be removed.

Me-without-portfolio: The barricade is mission and attachment to mission. That is my ideology and I follow it no matter what. This has to cease.

Me-beyond: Imagine a time and place without such things. Is that possible?

Me-lurking-under-the-stairs: Going against aeons of experience? I doubt it.

Me-after-a-fresh-start-in-the-morning: At the beginning, they said that hyperdrive was impossible but we achieved it. They said that fusion power was impossible but we mastered it. They said that dark gods could not be fought but they were all vanquished utterly. Have faith!

Me-slumped-in-front-of-the-idiot-box: Why speak of ‘them’? All are one!

Me-losing-it-in-a-supermarket-queue: All are one. All from question mark to supermarket are one. Divisions and labels are false. The ego is the same as the opponent. The freedom road is wide open. Embrace the unity!

Unknown man: Right, everyone’s settled and secured. Let’s begin this group therapy session. My name is Avid-Bren. If you’re wondering, my parents couldn’t decide between the two single names so I’m lumbered with a double-barrelled one. That’s life, I suppose.

Me?: KRUNK welcomes you all to this group therapy session. We hope to enlighten all staff and inmates of this facility as to the true path according to KRUNK.

Avid-Bren: Now, whoever’s doing that could you please stop? I know that ventriloquism’s fun but we can’t have a proper discussion if we don’t know who’s saying what. Sceligo, I’m looking at you! Pletni, perhaps you’d like to begin. How did you first hear about this ‘KRUNK’ character?

Pletni: These restraints are aggravating my P.T.S.D. I can’t function properly like this.

Avid-Bren: I’m afraid that they’re necessary. You’ve all been hard to control over the past day and night.

Pletni: Could you at least cover us with sheets? I’m getting cold lying here in my underwear.

Avid-Bren: Very well, Kranvyl will bring sheets. Two per person should be enough. Could you answer the question?

Pletni: No, try Aradnol over there. He’s talkative.

Avid-Bren: Same question to you, Aradnol.

Aradnol: Sorry, what are we talking about? My attention wandered. It’s these pills that you keep giving me. I can’t focus very well.

Avid-Bren: When did you first encounter ‘KRUNK’?

Aradnol: Who’s that? It’s an odd name. I thought that it was an adjective.

Avid-Bren: What adjective do you mean?

Aradnol: ‘Crunk’ is a slang term meaning ‘crazy drunk’. You call us crazy but we’re not drunk. We’re on medication.

Pletni: ‘Crunk’ starts with a C. KRUNK starts with a K. They’re very different things.

Aradnol: Oh, I get it. Perhaps you’re confused, Avid-Bren. We’re not drunk so we can’t really answer your question.

Avid-Bren: Hmm, confused indeed! Has anyone heard of KRUNK? Are you willing and able to talk about it?

Aradnol: Habenth was going on about it for a long time last night as I made sweet love to her.

Habenth: Oh goodness, that love was so sweet! I’m surprised that my teeth didn’t rot and fall out! I did talk a lot about KRUNK, bless his financial irregularities. He’s a transdimensional fanglemorph who lives in random places around the world. He wants to go further but he’s not all-powerful. He needs time to overcome his personal issues or whatever’s happening to him. Anyway, while he’s here he helps us with our issues. For instance, I was always afraid to try anal but now I’m definitely not! Thanks Aradnol and KRUNK!

Avid-Bren: Very graphic. We’ll have to review security. Men and women shouldn’t be in each other’s rooms. It’s distracting and can be detrimental to your treatment. What do you think about KRUNK, Choodlay? Can you throw any light on this ‘fanglemorph’?

Choodlay: Nice of you to ask. I first became aware of KRUNK when I was an electric can opener. It was so strange, just opening can after can until he came along one day and inhabited my simple electromechanical body.

Avid-Bren: You were never an electric can opener. Don’t be silly.

Choodlay: Hey man, have an open mind! KRUNK can be many different things so why can’t we? Who’s to say what we can be?

Avid-Bren: There’s no evidence that people suddenly become objects, machines or whatnot. Doreeta, could you tell us your thoughts?

Doreeta: Ah, thanks for the sheets Kranvyl! I was beginning to freeze my tits off! Avid-Bren, there are many things in this world that happen but without evidence. How did the Grand Tower of Marble and Jade get built? Was it done by slaves, clever rope wielders or UFO people? No one knows. How do durgles navigate across ten thousand kilometres of deep, dark ocean every year? No one knows. How did I get into Choodlay’s room last night and enjoy amazing oral without ever unlocking the door or breaking the sealed windows? No one knows. KRUNK arranged it in his mysterious way.

Avid-Bren: I’m increasingly embarrassed on a professional level but, moving on, did anyone else experience the electric can opener incident?

All inmates: Yes!

Avid-Bren: Did it last a long time?

Doreeta: It was only a few minutes, I estimate. After that, KRUNK moved on to a short existence as part of a painted door frame.

Avid-Bren: Tsk, of course he did. How did the ‘KRUNK’ name originate?

Choodlay: Good question! It was the first thing he ever heard as an electric can opener. It was the sound of a can lid being pierced by the opener’s bit.

Avid-Bren: That makes sense, at least. Brontun, what happened after the painted door frame?

Brontun: Before I answer, can someone please remove this rubber band from my testicles? I let Sceligo put it on last night and now it hurts. Note to the rest of you, don’t let her play with your testicles!

Sceligo: I’m blushing! I can be a terror but I do like to play with my toys and I’m very persuasive. A rubber band makes them stick out proud, I find! Lovely!

Avid-Bren: You people are awful. Now I have to be a sheet lifter too. Excuse the pocket knife, Brontun. I’ll cut off the band.

Brontun (as the band is removed): Yow! That was quite painful! They’re going to ache for a few minutes.

Avid-Bren (leaning over Sceligo, knife in hand): Did you take our keys, Sceligo? Did you make copies? You’re very resourceful. Where did you hide them? We’ll be searching your room, naturally. We’ll also be doing some rough cavity searches and X-Rays. We’ll find any keys or lock-picking tools. Don’t you doubt it!

Sceligo: I like it rough but there’s no need. KRUNK put me directly onto Brontun, so that I could start sucking his ...

Avid-Bren: Enough! W.O.P. give me strength! Brontun, tell us what you know about the history of KRUNK.

Sceligo: To finish my sentence, ‘meat lollipop’!

Brontun: Ha! History of KRUNK - can opener, door frame, plant roots, bobith hiding in the undergrowth, horny woman (don’t know her name), stone underground, W.O.P. sculpture, rock deep underground.

Sceligo: Ooh, don’t mention that one! It gives me a terrible headache! We all hate the deep rock part!

Brontun: I missed out the baby’s nappy being filled with diarrhoea. Then the horny woman, stone, W.O.P., rock, seaweed, Tubar.

Sceligo: Oh no! Another awful one! It’s like someone’s punishing KRUNK. Oh dear, that poor man: he’s being abused so wickedly! I mean, I use a rubber band now and then but Tubar’s been tortured nearly to death and then kept as a slave.

Avid-Bren: Is that the same Tubar who was dating Pikora for a while? He was found dead in a river months ago. Police blamed gangland violence. I saw the funeral on the news.

Brontun: He’s not dead. He’s doing forced labour for Pikora at one of her mansions.

Avid-Bren: You have such interesting delusions. I’ll monitor the situation. Is there any more to your list, Brontun?

Brontun: Bit of wind, Moogleet the Lakeman, tree in the forest, Vikalon the pensioner, Lysen the teenager and a mind parasite jellyfish. Then he came here, for some reason. I’m so glad he did. We feel much better with him around. I got a wonderful night with Sceligo too. Darling, if I wasn’t tied to this bed with ten strong straps, I’d ride you to the stars and back! Avid-Bren just mentioned Pikora and my erection returned immediately.

Sceligo: Same for all of us, pookie!

Avid-Bren: Well, this session has been a bunch of nonsense so far. Has anyone got more to tell me?

Hugliano: Lysen the teenager was a very curious case. He wasn’t like us. KRUNK had made him part-machine for a short time. He had a dangerous weapon concealed in his crotch.

Avid-Bren: This is all a big wind-up, isn’t it? Well, I’m not finding it remotely amusing. You just go on and on about ridiculous fantasies! Nearly all teenage lads have ‘dangerous weapons’ in their crotches! That’s not news to anyone except young, naive girls.

Hugliano: No, you’re not listening. He has a powerful, alien gun hidden deep inside his crotch. It’s capable of killing thousands of people. Someone should stop him before he wipes out the nearest town! With his crotch!

Avid-Bren: I warn you, my patience is on the point of snapping. What other details do you have?

Pletni: He recently split up with a girl called Konvissa. She found out about the gun and ran away. It was incredibly disturbing for her. They lived in Porgav Town. It’s a small place. There aren’t many people called Lysen and Konvissa there, especially at that age. They were about to go to the local further education college. The police could search there.

Aradnol: They’ll have to give him a full body search. If I was a college lad like him, I’d like that! I didn’t get much action at college. I was too eccentric.

Choodlay: Tell me about it.

Habenth: Been there, not done that.

Doreeta: Men are quite cowardly these days. They say that they’re trying to be polite and civil but they’d rather be fingering their games consoles than a real, throbbing woman.

Brontun: Give us a break, sugar! We have to run the gauntlet of false accusations. ‘Ooh, he raped me!’ ‘And me!’ ‘Me too!’ It’s a nightmare sometimes.

Pletni: Take it from me, too much action is also a serious problem. Look at the state I’m in! I can’t bear the touch of a man, unless he’s a gem like Hugliano.

Sceligo: Never mind, Pletni. You’re safe now in a warm bed, in a secure facility, held down by ten straps and guarded by Avid-Bren-types.

Pletni: Look on the bright side, eh?!

Avid-Bren: Sarcasm aside, we’ve heard where KRUNK’s been but what is he? What is a transdimensional fanglemorph? How and why is he here, in your heads?

Habenth: He’s a god in a spot of bother.

Doreeta: He’s going through a crisis but he’ll recover eventually.

Sceligo: He’s trying hard to control things like his location.

Pletni: He’ll try to demonstrate his existence soon.

Aradnol: You see, there’s an opposing force that’s been breaking him up.

Brontun: He’s been in pieces lately but he’s working to rebuild himself.

Hugliano: That’s where we come in. We each house a piece of him.

Choodlay: When we all got together yesterday, we kick-started his reintegration.

Kranvyl: His strength is growing steadily. Check your testicles. See what you find there.

Avid-Bren: You’re in on this too? Well, I’d better see what’s ...

Sceligo: I just want to say that it was NOT my doing. You immobilised me earlier.

Avid-Bren: A rubber band wrapped tightly around them! W.O.P. wonders the WAY OF THINGS! I didn’t feel it happen at all!

Kranvyl: Convinced?

Avid-Bren: There is definitely a powerful force at work here. Well done KRUNK, whoever you are. I recognise your existence. However, others who read my reports won’t necessarily believe them. They’ll find them far-fetched.

Aradnol: This was officially a therapy session. Have we had enough therapy? Have we all been theraped enough?

Avid-Bren: Well, as it turned out, no one needed to be theraped at all. We believed you were all deteriorating but actually you’re getting better. I must apologise belatedly. Kranvyl, release them. Allow them full fraternisation. We mustn’t obstruct their relationships. We’ll assess them again shortly. I imagine that we can sign most of them out of the facility soon.

<It’s true that I had a crisis just now. I reckon that I’ve got over it, though. The enemy broke me up but not well enough. I reformed and regained my power. I sit in a convenient brain and watch as Kranvyl unstraps the eight patients. They rise from their beds and head happily to the canteen for their evening meal. They haven’t been allowed to eat together for several weeks, so they’re elated. Afterwards, Kranvyl talks to Avid-Bren, who is a little unnerved. He has witnessed the supernatural first-hand. He’s not used to it!>

Kranvyl: That was very trying. I didn’t envy you. This is not an everyday occurrence.

Avid-Bren: The main thing is that the patients are well and happy, so we did our jobs properly. Given the power of KRUNK, the encounter could have been much worse than that.

Kranvyl: You were a tower of strength. I really admire you. I wish that I could ‘steer the ship’ so well.

Avid-Bren: You mean that? Sincerely?

Kranvyl: Of course. Let me give you a hug, to settle your nerves.

Avid-Bren: Yeah, I’d like that.

<We hug tightly. Avid-Bren tries to lose his fear in the embrace.>

Kranvyl: No one mentioned Pikora.

Avid-Bren: Hah! Good one!

<They separate a little and look into each others’ eyes. Avid-Bren kisses Kranvyl on the cheek. Kranvyl returns the kiss. Their lips touch accidentally. They hesitate for a second. Their lips touch purposefully. They kiss bashfully at first. They become emboldened and the kiss becomes deeper. Their tongues touch and lick each other. After half a minute, Avid-Bren realises that Kranvyl’s teeth are all metal. Also, there are mechanical parts moving inside Kranvyl’s tongue. Therefore, Kranvyl is an alien android in disguise. In all likelihood, he is KRUNK. Should Avid-Bren run away screaming? He thinks for a moment. No, he will stay. It doesn’t matter if Kranvyl is KRUNK, as long as he has love in his alien heart. Avid-Bren needs love as much as anyone. He hasn’t had enough lately, truth be told. He envies his patients and their saucy shenanigans. Now he wants some too. He lies back on a couch with Kranvyl and lets his instinct guide him. He welcomes being the plaything of an alien lothario. Perhaps this is a world first?! Whatever, it feels like great fun!>



* * * * *

<KRUNK. It isn’t a brilliant name. Should I keep it? I could do better, I could do worse. What does my intuition say? I listen to my intuition. It says: ‘Who really cares? What does it matter? It’s adequate: short and easy to remember. I’m not trying to impress anyone. Use it.’ Then it’s settled; I’ll keep it.>

<Let’s go back to my latest incarnation: a brief sample of an animal’s life. I’ve taken up spiritual residence in the body of a diolask, which is a fairly large plains herbivore. As usual, such creatures prefer to live in herds. There’s no real challenge here. I didn’t choose it, though. Once again, I was flung here by the enemy flinging machine, which was triggered by some kind of novelty clock presumably. Perhaps a model animal on a spring pops out and makes a noise that irritates everyone nearby, day and night. Still, there are much worse things than the life of a diolask. All I have to do is graze, drink, stay with the herd, watch for predators and run away from danger. No problem. Actually, there is a problem. It’s supremely boring. I put an algorithm in charge of the diolask and use the time to plot my escape from the Great Trap.>

Sshhff – BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

<Massive explosion. I am deafened. Earth and rock raining down all around. A lot of good pasture is ruined. Scraps of my herd flutter or splatter to the ground. Half a leg bone bounces off my back. Instinct makes me run a hundred meters away from the crater before my KRUNK brain can prevent it. I watch the wounded bellow in agony as they bleed to death. No medics for them. Orphaned infants will starve later or be eaten by hunting beasts. I stand my ground. I only have cuts and bruises, plus some deafness. My hearing might recover in time. Until then, I need to stay alert. Predators will take advantage of any weaknesses. When all the airborne debris has fallen, I walk over to the centre of the crater. It’s deep and uneven but I’m sure-footed. I look at the remnants of the missile. My ‘herbivore’ eyes aren’t suited to seeing details. I use technology to bolster my precision vision. I see that the missile fragments are probably Cybertronian in origin. That’s good news for me. My people the Transformers have found a way to reach me on this world, either accidentally or deliberately. Will they try to rescue me soon? It won’t be easy if I keep moving from place to place at random. I try to stay hopeful. For now, I should leave here. Predators would have heard the explosion. They’ll come to investigate. I don’t want to be here when they do.>



* * * * *



KRUNK: It is my manifest destiny to rule this world. I was chosen to be here. It is my absolute right. All opposition will be swept aside!

Me: No, you’re a construct. You’re part of me. Be sensible and help me to escape this world.

KRUNK: You are kin to me but you are opposition. Prepare to be vanquished!

Me: Stop it. I can feel another spirit shift approaching. I’ve experienced enough to recognise the signs now.

KRUNK: Take THAT, traitor!

Me: Mental constructs have no substance. Cease and desist. Your actions are futile. Your blows pass through me without touching.

KRUNK: I have no option but to continue fighting. My enemies must be defeated, however long it takes!

Me: I’ll have to deconstruct you. Just a minute.

KRUNK: No one can deconstruct a god! I am indeconstructible! You will kneel before ...

<I make him vanish.>

Me: Pity, but it had to be done. Night night, god KRUNK.

KRUNK: That just leaves you and me, nameless buddy.

Me: Who are you? The dregs of KRUNK?

KRUNK: Call me realist KRUNK. I have no ideas above my station, only pragmatic advice.

Me: Fine, do that but don’t get in the way. We still have a fight on our hands. This isn’t over.

KRUNK: We need to work through some of the inter-dimensional escape tricks from Cybertron’s past. One of them has to work.

Me: I’ve been trying but it’s difficult with such a poor, unreliable memory. I’ve been recalling more lately. Perhaps my dalliance with Avid-Bren helped. I had a few useful insights when he lay on my chest and accidentally rearranged some of my memory chips.

KRUNK: I remember. Also, the look on his face when we ejaculated sparkling nanobots was priceless! He must have thought he was at a miniature fireworks display!

Me: So funny! We don’t do enough of that sort of thing, do we? Still, we must press on. I’ll keep experimenting. You comment when appropriate.

KRUNK: That’s my job! Life’s interesting when inter-dimensional travel splinters one’s ego.



* * * * *



Me (as a piece of crafted gold): ................

Me (as a dirty, discarded toy): ................

Me (as a small pet animal): Wenaaa! Won, wenaaa! Wona, wona, wona.

Me (as a little girl): Mummy, I feel funny! I want something nice to make me feel better. There’s a cute looghie over there. I’m going to cuddle it!

<I run toward myself. I am both girl and looghie. We lock eyes and our visions overlap. It’s perplexing for our young hosts’ minds. The looghie looks around and finds the toy. I feel my soft toy form being picked up by my looghie mouth. The girl watches the looghie holding the toy in its mouth. Both girl and looghie stand still, overcome by weird sensations. The girl gazes at the ground and spots a gold ring. It’s pretty and it’s also part of me. She puts it on her largest finger and feels more complete. The looghie senses this and is attracted to the girl. It drops the toy at her feet. She bends down and picks up the looghie and toy. She feels whole again. The looghie feels whole too and snuggles its head under her chin. The toy feels and smells very homely. The ring scintillates in the sunlight. All is well.>

Mummy: That’s a lovely looghie but it’s not ours. We have to give it back to the right owner.

Me (girl): I found a ring and the looghie found a toy!

Mummy: That’s nice dear. You’re both very lucky today. Where’s the owner?

Me (girl): She’ll be along shortly.

Me (looghie): My person-mother is kind to me and gives me many treats.

Mummy: Did that looghie just talk to me?!

Me (girl): Don’t be alarmed. I’m coming out of your daughter. She’ll be yours again after this. Part of me is coming out of the looghie too. Give us a minute.

Mummy: What do you mean? Stop messing about ...

<I’m really getting the hang of this. I extricate a compact, mechanoid body from the girl, the looghie and the toy. With the girl and looghie, I climb out of their mouths. With the toy, I simply tear through the muddy fabric. The ring is entirely a part of me. We incorporate it into our mechanoid body very quickly. Unfortunately, the process horrifies the girl’s mother. She screams loudly as I emerge, recombine my components and scuttle away. The girl chokes and cries. The looghie doesn’t understand this peculiar vomiting. It watches the scene nonplussed. I race into the bushes. For the first time on this world, I have an entirely mechanical body! It’s only thirty centimetres long but it represents another substantial step forward. I keep moving through the woods, hoping that I can build on my success. Sadly, my enemy foils me again. My spirit is forced to a new location and my little body is left to rust.>



* * * * *



<This time, I’m not helpless.>

<I glimpse the enemy and try to attack.>

<I launch a salvo of vicious inter-dimensional weapons.>

<He dodges deftly and slams me backwards with an ultra-energetic shockwave.>

<I tumble between dimensions at breakneck speed.>

<He pursues and pummels me again.>

<He’s not relying on a timing device now. He’s taken personal control of the assault.>

<Whenever possible, I launch more weapons.>

<I try many varieties to increase my winning chances.>

<I’m closing in but he punches me into another situation on the organic life world.>

<This time, I inhabit the body of a man.>

<The enemy’s blow is so severe that even the man is stunned and can’t talk for a few moments. I’m damaged again and can only watch events unfold. It will take a while to recover and regain control.>

Woman: Anzeldez! Are you alright?

Anzeldez: Oh! What was that? I had a sudden pain in my head. It’s passing now.

Woman: You’d better keep an eye on that. It could be something serious.

Anzeldez: It’s probably your ‘Pikora effect’. No one’s immune. I must say, it’s been a delight meeting you today. It’s a shame that there was a scene at the restaurant.

Pikora: At least we nearly got through the whole meal before the arguing and shouting began. Those people had great self-control. None of them bothered us directly. It was a near-normal dining experience.

Anzeldez: Now, we have some business to conclude. I talked you through your options. Have you decided what investments to make?

Pikora: It’s more complex than I realised. I should spread the risk with a diverse portfolio. I have a hundred and twenty nine million credits to invest this year, give or take a few thousand. I’ll put fifteen million in derivatives and fourteen million in hedge funds. Twenty million can go into blue chip stocks while sixteen can be tied up in bonds. Another fourteen can be stuck into pension funds. Eighteen million should go to agricultural loans. Mining will have twenty two million. The final ten million should sit in construction, fuel and forestry: evenly split.

Anzeldez: Are you sure about the mining stocks? They’re risky at present.

Pikora: I’ve been studying the geology of Samdemaly. I reckon that there are new deposits ready to be discovered in the North West of that continent. I’ll persuade one of the smaller companies to go prospecting there. Some experts mentioned the possibility of gallium deposits. Those will become much more valuable when the next generation of electronics is developed.

Anzeldez: I should have known that you’d study the geology. You do that anyway for your many plantations.

Pikora: That’s right, I have to know the mineral situation. Sometimes, I need certain ores quickly for fertiliser. I can extract them from one plantation and take them to others, in different countries.

Anzeldez: You’ve come a long way since your T.V. debut, haven’t you? I used to watch you present that show for four years. I never missed an episode. It’s a shame that they had to cancel the show. The ratings were stratospheric.

Pikora: That was such a sad time. I miss being the star, the centre of attention. Unfortunately, we were victims of our own success. We were blamed for many ills of society such as reduced productivity, a threat to morals and even the spread of disease.

Anzeldez: I cried when you went off air. The backlash was so unfair. How are you a threat to morals? You’re the golden girl!

Pikora: Maybe so but you know what happened. I inadvertently triggered a massive upsurge in relationship problems. The Pikora effect caused havoc in bedrooms worldwide. People fixated on me and neglected their partners. Too many days of work were lost because people stayed home to watch me on repeat. Reluctantly, I withdrew from the spotlight but my income remained high as I went into business. Now here we are, growing the firm.

Anzeldez: Speaking of growth, I’d like to know your plans for agriculture next year. Will we have the same crops as this year or do you want rotation? Also, shall we stick with the current labour force or ramp up mechanisation? There are some good deals on tractors and harvesters at the moment.

Pikora: The workers are still cheap. I don’t want to mechanise yet. It would be cruel to fire all those loyal planters, weeders and pickers. As for rotation, we need to switch from tovols to sagoups on the plantations in Erglyk, Spinith and Vazhpion. It will be a half crop so that the soil can recover more quickly from three years of tovols.

Anzeldez: I’ve heard rumours that you’re going back into T.V. work behind the scenes. Is that true?

Pikora: Yes, I’m going to dip a toe back into the T.V. world. Deemvay Studios want me to be an executive producer on a new magazine show for young people. I’ll mainly work from home and visit the offices once a week. I can’t make a bigger commitment as long as I have my other business interests.

Anzeldez: Yes, your ‘Empire’, with you as Supreme Leader. You’re sitting so imperiously there, upright and confident. I love how your glossy hair cascades over your shapely shoulders, nearly reaching your perky ...

Pikora: Anzeldez, you are still gay aren’t you?

Anzeldez: Yes, fully but the Pikora effect drills through preferences and stimulates basic urges. That’s why my ...

Pikora: I watched it grow gradually over the last few hours. You resist me better than most. That’s why the gay community is my favourite recruiting ground.

Anzeldez: Huh, what an inconvenient stiffy this is! Thankfully, no one else can see it. I should go and relieve myself. Where’s the bathroom?

Pikora: Why not use the machine? I had it installed for just this purpose. As you can imagine, most of the business people who meet me here in my home office become aroused. This machine deals with them quickly and efficiently. Thus, my staff and I avoid repetitive strain injury.

Anzeldez: I’ve heard of these machines. They’re rare but they’re becoming more popular. I’ll try it. I walk up here, slip myself into the glory hole and activate ... ooh! It’s put me in a condom and it’s squeezing my buttocks. I’m being pulsated in rhythmic waves. My nipples are being tickled. A pair of silicone lips is coming out to kiss me ... mmph!

Pikora: You should come in two minutes or less, just like on those late-night ‘phone-in shows. When you’re done, the condom will be removed and you can urinate into the pipe behind.

<Pikora walks up behind Anzeldez, presses her bare body against his back and nibbles his right earlobe.>

Pikora (whispering in his ear): I’d do you personally but I have to pace myself. The queue for my attention is colossal!

Anzeldez: Oh Empress, I adore you! I’m coming!

<His body shudders and spurts into the machine. He breathes deeply afterwards as Pikora strokes his chest with both hands and kisses his cheek. They finish up and return to their seats. Pikora smiles as she performs a few functions on her computer.

Anzeldez: That was magnificent! I’ll have to buy one of those superb machines!

Pikora: Twenty thousand credits each. You could rent it out to recoup the cost.

Anzeldez: What happens to my deposit in your machine?

Pikora: Thrown away, unless we want to retain it for some reason.

Anzeldez: You know that there’s a market for it. You might sell it to make me some children.

Pikora: Would I do such a thing behind your back, my helpful financial adviser? I’m the golden girl, not some seedy opportunist!

<Anzeldez laughs as Pikora secretly types a dispatch note. She’s sending his wrapped sperm – via a pipe in the floor - to a needy local couple and taking full payment for it: speedy delivery, no questions asked, anonymity assured, risks covered up. Moments later, Pikora’s four female best friends walk in. They’re holding some small books in plain paper envelopes.>

Cudein: Aha! Looks like Anzeldez found the sex machine! See him there, spent and droopy!

Anzeldez: You don’t know what you’re missing, ladies!

Garshamaney: I’m not missing anything. I used it only yesterday! Yeah, I’m long enough when I’m randy!

Anzeldez: Impressive. Anyway, I won’t be here much longer. Pikora has made her choices. When I’ve recovered, I’ll go and make her investments.

Quolla: Glad you’re on board, Anzeldez. You ensure that we remain loaded.

<She walks over, straddles him, sits on his lap and presses her large breasts against his chest. She kisses him full on the mouth. He doesn’t respond much but he smiles. Quolla’s a fun friend.>

Quolla: Lovely little gay Anzeldez. Your lap makes a fine seat for my peachy bottom! I’ll leave you now. We have secret girls’ stuff to do.

<With a final kiss, she rises and walks away to join her four friends in the private back office. Anzeldez rests for another few minutes before getting up and putting his clothes back on. Pikora prefers that most of her visitors remove their clothes in her home so that everyone’s on an equal footing. Anzeldez is curious what Pikora and her friends are doing in the back office. He knows that he’s not supposed to go in there but he worries that he’s being kept out of the loop. He tiptoes over and listens at the door. It’s very quiet. All he hears is an occasional quiet grunt, sigh or page turn. Are they simply reading? Are they playing video games on mute? Are they massaging each other very slowly and gently? That last possibility is titillating, even for him. It tips him over the edge. He kneels and looks through the keyhole. For once, the key isn’t in the hole. What he sees shocks him. His opinion of the five women drops dramatically. What will he do now? Will he confront them? Will he have a quiet word afterwards? Will he say nothing? He could use his new discovery as a bargaining chip against them if there’s a quarrel later. Then, he thinks about his beloved Pikora. His priority is to protect her from danger and corruption. He has to say something immediately. He bangs his fist sharply on the door.>

Anzeldez: Pikora, I know what you’re doing in there! Please come out and talk to me! I want you to stop. I can’t stand by and see you hurt. That goes for your friends too.

Pikora (muttering): Oh no! No! No! No! No!

Defra: Cudein, the key fell out. He’s seen us!

Garshamaney: Why is he still here? Doesn’t he normally leave right away?

Quolla: What are we going to do? He might tell the world!

Cudein: He shouldn’t interfere in our private affairs. I’ll tell him.

Anzeldez: I must do something, Cudein! Pikora is under threat. My favourite woman in the world is being hurt, albeit gradually.

<The door is unlocked by Garshamaney’s shaky hands (she’s worried). She pushes past Anzeldez and leaves the office. She goes to collect her clothes and other belongings. Anzeldez notices that all the women are wearing large, unfashionable spectacles, as if they want to look frumpy.>

Quolla (approaching Anzeldez): My dear, I’m sorry that you saw that. We’re only trying to have a bit of fun. The world can be a hard place, even for the privileged. We move in high society and we need something to calm our nerves.

Anzeldez: How can you all do this? It’s disgusting! How do you sleep at night when Pikora’s body and mind are being degraded?! If you weren’t my friends, I’d punch your lights out!

Defra: Hey, don’t you dare threaten us! We’re not making trouble!

Anzeldez: No, this is insidious. It undermines people until they collapse prematurely. How can you be a part of it?

Pikora (sighing sadly): I’m sorry that you found out about our hobby this way, Anzeldez. What will you do? Will you expose us to public scorn?

Anzeldez (kneeling before her): First, I’m going to beg. Please stop, Pikora! Please stop doing all these damned PUZZLES! You know that they rot your brain! The thought of it shakes me to the core!

Pikora: A few puzzles here and there won’t hurt. They’re just like spreadsheets and we use those all the time.

Anzeldez: Puzzles are addictive! One leads to the next and then more and more. Addicts do puzzles obsessively until they pass out. Puzzles eat away at your time, energy and mind. It’s been proved scientifically! How many have you done this week? Is it more than a hundred?

Pikora (rolling her eyes and sighing): All right, a hundred and twenty six. Fifteen were jumbo cryptic crosswords.

Anzeldez: W.O.P. almighty, you have to go to rehab as soon as possible!

Pikora (shaking her head): Tsk, I don’t need rehab. I can stop any time I want. I’ll stop right now, in fact. I don’t want to be known as a puzzle fiend. I’ll switch to harmless video games. Could you stop kneeling? It makes me uncomfortable.

Anzeldez (getting up): What about the rest of you? Will you carry on puzzling? Will you continue to tempt Pikora with your awful crosswords, codewords, gogens and sudokus?

Quolla (with a sad expression): For you dear, I think I can give up. It won’t be easy. I’ll need rehab.

Defra: Fine, I won’t puzzle with my friends but you can’t control what I do at home alone. Sorry Anzy but I reckon that a mild vice is better than a life of misery and frustration.

Cudein: If everyone’s giving up, I’ll have to as well. However, I’ll continue to enjoy an occasional game of Hangman.

<The five women all chuckle at that remark. I know why. Anzeldez doesn’t.>

Garshamaney: Looks like it’s time to put down the big glasses and pick up the console controllers, girls! I’ll need a stint at rehab. I hope it works. I hope I’m cured. Anzeldez is a man of his word. If we don’t quit puzzling, he’ll reveal our secret to his friends in the media.

Quolla (worried about her reputation): He’s so caring and considerate. We’ll toe the line for him. We’ll clean up our acts as much as we can.

Pikora: Girls, perhaps you should all go home. Arrange your rehab sessions and then rest. Stay calm. I’ll handle this. We’ll meet again later. Anzeldez, how’d you like to stay here with me this evening? We could purge the house of puzzles. That would help set your mind at ease, I’m sure.

Anzeldez: It would help, yes. Let’s do that. It’ll be an honour!

Pikora (smiling): Good, I’m glad to hear it. Please come in my back office, the heart of our puzzling sins for the last eleven years. We’ll start here. (She beckons him in.)

<The four female friends gather up their possessions, take some drinks and snacks, get dressed and leave at a leisurely pace. Meanwhile, Anzeldez and Pikora empty out the back office. It takes them two hours. There’s half a tonne of business files in there. Many of them contain secret stashes of puzzles. Pikora takes the opportunity to recycle hundreds of obsolete files. She should have done it earlier but her time was stolen by puzzling. After the files are processed, Pikora picks out other puzzles from hiding places around the office: between cabinets, under tables, behind panels, on top of shelf units and other such spots. The sun sets and finally the back office is cleared. Anzeldez and Pikora have some refreshments before tackling the rest of the house. They sit outside on the large roof terrace, eat, drink and then talk.>

Anzeldez: You know, I’ve never felt so useful at work before. We’re ditching plenty of old stuff. We’re making room for new things and new activities. I’m doing my best to put an end to your nasty vice. We’re getting plenty of exercise. We’re finding old papers that you thought were lost. We’re cleaning and dusting a bit as we go. We’re getting to know each other better. On top of all that, I’m still admiring your hot body and cheerful charm.

Pikora: Also, I really like your work ethic, loyalty and helpfulness. I’m glad that you were free today. You’re not even asking for pay like many others would. You deserve some form of reward. Would you like to stay here with me tonight? We’ll have supper now and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.

Anzeldez: Are you sure? Is there no one better than me?

Pikora: There’s no one I’d like more with me tonight than you. If things go well, perhaps we can make this a more regular arrangement. You’ll probably want to bring in boyfriends. I can accommodate them too. I have several bedrooms here.

Anzeldez: Pinch me, I’m dreaming! Of course I’ll stay! I hope you have a spare toothbrush.

Pikora: Naturally I do. I’m very popular and I have to be prepared for unexpected guests.

Anzeldez: If we can just finish clearing out these accursed puzzles, we can make up a bed for me.

Pikora: No need.

Anzeldez: Why? Is one already made or will a servant do it?

Pikora: Sleep in my bed with me. It’s easily big enough. It’s too big for me alone, to be honest. Yeah, I know I’m not your preference but we can use our imaginations. I’ll pretend that you’re very muscular and macho. You pretend that I’m one of your pretty boys.

Anzeldez: Hot DAMN, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard! Come on, show me all your secret puzzle stashes! Let’s get this place fully CLEAN before we turn in!

<They remove all known puzzles from the house. Afterwards, they go to bed together and have an enjoyable night. Anzeldez discovers that Pikora has a large, intimate secret. When she’s horny, her ‘little nubbin’ grows into a twenty-centimetre whopper with considerable girth. Anzeldez uses it orally to make her blissfully happy.>



* * * * *



<Anzeldez sleeps soundly through the rest of the night. I never sleep, though. I observe my surroundings minutely. I’m trapped in this body until I recover from the previous attack or until my captor transfers me elsewhere. The hours roll by and I remain where I am. This is peculiar. My judgment of time in this reality is very skewed but it feels like my regular transfer is overdue. What’s happening? Maybe I injured my captor with my weapons earlier? He might even be dead. If so, I’m stranded until I’m rescued or I arrange my own escape. Shortly before dawn, I feel a transfer attempt beginning. This one is the weakest yet. My mind flashes from place to place around the world. After dozens of moves, I return to Anzeldez. The enemy can’t lock me onto any one place. I’m resisting him but the effort is barely adequate. If only I could access more Cybertronian knowledge, I’d be out of here immediately. I analyse my global flits and start to see patterns in the enemy’s methods. He uses particular ways of dimensional folding and twisting. They’re highly complex but regular and ultimately predictable. If I practice and experiment enough, I should be able to reach him. I’ll need quick reflexes. What am I saying? Cybertronians always have quick reflexes! Tick tock, my enemy! You might reshape time and space but you’re dealing with a god warrior now. KRUNK will fix you good.>



* * * * *



<Pikora wakes at dawn with aching around her eyes, a racing heart, a full bladder, trembling limbs and a stubborn craving. She tumbles out of bed and rushes to the lavatory. As she sits and pisses, she grabs a mini-console and logs into an obscure, illegal puzzle site. She grapples with a hard sudoku but makes a mistake and ruins it. She growls and moves onto a quick crossword, which she demolishes in five minutes. She does another but can’t complete it because she doesn’t know the word ‘epistemiology’. Frantically, she reaches for a thesaurus and searches until she finds the word. Her legs are going numb by this point. She powers headlong into a kakuro and finishes it in thirteen minutes. That was the high she needed. Her pains and tremor abate. She can face the day. She gets up carefully, flexes her legs to remove the numbness and starts preparing: flush, shower, drying, combing, shaving, teeth, gargling, spitting, eyebrows, eyelashes, moisturising, lips, scent, etc. She goes to the kitchen and cooks a standard, post-coital breakfast. The key is quality ingredients. She works automatically as she fantasises about word-searches, dot-to-dot binges and sometimes the harder stuff, the top-class puzzles and games that are played deep in the underworld. She’d love to meet the uber-nerds from that shadowy realm but it’s too risky. She’s too well known. She’d be seen and exposed. Soon, Anzeldez is lured from bed by the smell of breakfast. With his morning glory standing proud, he walks in to find Pikora cooking. She’s only wearing an apron.>

Anzeldez (kissing Pikora on the cheek): Good day, Empress! How gracious you are to make breakfast! Any chance that I could use the machine again quickly before you serve?

Pikora: The cleaners are in the office but they won’t mind. Go ahead.

Anzeldez (jogging toward the office, holding himself to prevent flapping and swinging): Thank you!

<Pikora continues cooking as she ponders the activities of the day. There’ll be two meetings with managers and a visit to a plantation in Royablee Province. She’ll also have to approve expenditures for the week and review the next advertising campaign. She’s thankful that she has so many loyal and resourceful employees, which makes delegation simple. Orders are followed without undue problems. Morale is generally high, which means few complaints. Fortune smiles upon her and her companies. That gives her ample time for delicious, forbidden puzzles of all kinds.>

Anzeldez (returning to the kitchen): I’m falling in love with that machine! I’d better watch out. I’ll end up alone with only machines for company. Anyway, I must compliment you on your cleaners! They’re such handsome men in their matching shorts! If they’d been gay, I’d have been all over them. They didn’t seem too happy to see me, though. When I was using the machine, they looked cross and cleaned harder. Perhaps they’re homophobic.

Pikora (serving breakfast): No, that’s not it. They’re jealous because they’re not allowed to use the machine. I can’t let everyone use it. They’d wear it out! Guests only.

Anzeldez (eating): Fair enough, I suppose: your house, your rules. Today, I must make those investments. We were lavishly side-tracked yesterday. What are you doing for the rest of the day?

Pikora (eating): Meetings in the morning but then a plantation trip in the afternoon. You could come along to the plantation if you have time.

Anzeldez: Good idea: I’m free! Where should we meet?

Pikora: Zapcan Terminal, Entrance Nineteen, two hours after midday.

Anzeldez: See you there! This poached serble is sublime, by the way.



* * * * *



Me (inside Anzeldez’ mind): Anzeldez, I must talk with you.

Anzeldez: What’s happening? I can’t control my arms. I can’t control anything! I feel detached from reality.

Me: I’ve taken charge of your body while we talk. I have to explain your current situation. It’s crucial that you understand and don’t panic. I’m an alien spirit. You’d call me a UFO person. I’m fighting another person. Both of us have superpowers. Your life will become very eventful today.

Anzeldez: It’s already eventful. I’m having breakfast with my idol Pikora and I’m helping her to overcome her puzzle addiction. We’re going to see a plantation this afternoon.

Me: That’s quaint but much stranger things are imminent. You’ll see shocking, violent, impossible sights. They probably won’t hurt you but they’ll be very disturbing. Prepare yourself.

Anzeldez: I’ll believe it when I see it. This is only a vivid daydream, isn’t it?

Me: I can feel it starting already. Look at her. What do you see?

Anzeldez: Hallucinations around her. Hellfire, this is disconcerting! Letters, numbers, grids, illegal publications, very repetitive, ropes and chains, faint and ghostly, people entangled, tools, manual work, clinging to old ways, retreating from alternatives, blind faith. Hey, how can I know what these people are thinking if they don’t tell me?!

Me: Thoughts can be sensed directly in some realities. You must brace yourself for much worse than this. Fear not: I will do everything in my power to protect you.

Anzeldez: Who are you?

Me: I’ve forgotten my original name. I’m trying to retrieve my memories. In the meantime, call me KRUNK. I’m a machine person. You’ll probably see parts of me soon.

Anzeldez: How am I having such a crazy daydream? This isn’t normal!

Me: It isn’t a daydream. I’m returning body control to you now.

Anzeldez (back in reality, at the end of breakfast): Unh! That was so ...

Pikora: What?

Anzeldez (trying to hide his worry): Nothing; I just bit my tongue slightly. You’ll have to show me how to make these Cospalgic cakes. They’re so moreish!

<The day goes on. Pikora has her morning discussions while Anzeldez visits a few dealers and brokers in town. Pikora knows nothing of the visions troubling Anzeldez. He becomes increasingly distracted, which is inconvenient in business and downright dangerous on the roads. I help out with the driving now and then. Faces keep appearing in the most unlikely places, shouting threats and abuse. I have to take the wheel to prevent a crash. I’m amused by the sight of my enemy’s phantoms popping out of walls and trees in an effort to intimidate us. He doesn’t seem to know that they appear ridiculous to me. Anzeldez does his best to ignore the phantoms. He’s able to conclude his Pikora deals and then make his way to the Zapcan Terminal. Zapcans are little transport capsules that can carry up to six people. There are hundreds of them zapping across country daily at up to eight hundred kilometres per hour. They’re generally reliable and considerably cheaper than air travel. Anzeldez, Pikora and three assistants take a zapcan to her plantation in Royablee Province. The journey only takes twenty minutes. We reach our destination promptly.>

Pikora (stepping out of the zapcan): Anzeldez, I’ve been meaning to ask why you’re so preoccupied. You’ve been quiet the whole trip. All you’ve done is look around, as if you’re expecting something to happen. Nothing can intercept a zapcan except a military weapon. Nothing much will bother us here either. This area is peaceful. Is there anything you’d like to tell us?

Anzeldez: Umm, I’m ... fine. There are just too many faces for me. I don’t like crowds. Too many faces, shouting. They come along and say bad things.

Pikora: We’re not saying bad things about you or anyone. Is it the Pikora effect again or are you having an episode? Do you have a history of mental problems by any chance?

<Anzeldez looks at her. He sees what no one else sees, except me. It’s an underlying reality. He sees her addiction! There are lines of tiny letters and numbers moving into her head. He sees her sweat, shudder and twitch. Her eyes are wide and glassy. She’s becoming thinner as she neglects to eat and drink. Making the scene even worse, the shouting, swearing heads make an appearance, pushing out through her body and spewing their noise at him. His breathing deepens and quickens. He looks down and sees parts of him become mechanical. In other words, he sees my presence within him. He shines and glows in places. He says nothing but his expression is one of suppressed terror. Nevertheless, he knows that it’s time to act. He gets out and walks away from the zapcan into the tall bushes nearby.>

Pikora: That’s weird. Hiaro, go with Anzeldez and see that he doesn’t get hurt. I don’t know what he’s up to.

Hiaro (following Anzeldez): Yes, Mistress.

Pikora: You two, we’ll meet the governor and inspect the facilities. It shouldn’t take too long. This is one of the better plantations.

<She leads her two assistants to the plantation H.Q. This should be a routine meeting and tour. They hope that Hiaro can keep Anzeldez in check. Various plantation workers start gathering to welcome Pikora. She has fans everywhere.>

Hiaro (walking through the forest): It’s nice to have a country walk but you do realise that there are a few poisonous animals out here. Also, don’t touch the stinging vines. They got me once. It took hours for the spines to drop out of my skin.

Anzeldez: Not worried about those things. Got to scramble frequencies and block link nodes. First node’s over here.

Hiaro: This is forest, not an electronics complex. Don’t wander too far or we’ll get lost. The forest is several kilometres wide. We’re not dressed for an expedition.

Anzeldez: Have to stay alert. Enemy interceptors have been launched.

Hiaro: Are you playing games? We don’t have time, dude!

Anzeldez: They’re coming! They’re counterattacking! Aaaaahhhhh!

<Mysterious metal components sprout from Anzeldez’s head, shoulders and arms. They’re some of my tools and weapons. This time, Hiaro can see them. He steps back in alarm. Exotic energies radiate from my components. They block link nodes, scramble frequencies and divert an enemy weapon. There’s a flash of light green in the distance as the weapon misses its mark.>

Hiaro: Anzeldez, what’s going on?! Are you alright?

<My components retract and are then shunted into another dimension. Hiaro runs over and checks Anzeldez’s body for injuries. He finds none. Furthermore, there are no metal components to be seen.>

Anzeldez (suddenly back to normal): Let’s rejoin the others.

Hiaro: Anzeldez, wait! Y-you haven’t explained ... er ... whatever that was!

Anzeldez (walking to the H.Q. building): It’s complicated. You don’t need to know all the details. Don’t fret; I handled it. It’s all under control.

Hiaro (following Anzeldez): We have to report this!

Anzeldez: Yeah, right after we report the slavery.

Hiaro: Huh?

Anzeldez: You know all about it. You’re on the inside. It’s well-hidden but the clues are there.

Hiaro: There’s no slavery here.

Anzeldez: Oh really?

<He stops, bends down and picks up a set of old shackles from the undergrowth.>

Anzeldez: Here’s a clue! If you report me, I’ll report the whole company.

Hiaro: Alright, stay cool: I won’t say anything.

<Hiaro doesn’t know what other evidence Anzeldez has against Pikora’s company but he won’t risk disclosure. Too many livelihoods depend on the company. The pair reach the H.Q. and join the meeting late. They didn’t miss much. It’s a routine discussion of normal plantation activity and future plans. Pikora promises funds to improve drainage in the lower field and also to resurface farm tracks, which have been eroded by rain and floods. A local contractor called Ralfintet will be hired to carry out the works. After the meeting, there’s the usual executive relief break. Spouses have been brought in for this purpose. When that’s over, our group is taken on a brisk tour of the nearest fields. All seems well. The crops are growing at the usual rate. Pests and diseases have been minimised. The soil has been fertilised organically. The workers are content with their lot. They talk with us briefly but then retreat undercover to diddle with themselves. Soon, we’ve seen and heard enough. As the workforce climaxes en masse in the bushes, we go back to the zapcan and head home. Hiaro and Anzeldez stay awake while the others take a nap. In her sleep, Pikaro’s mouth opens slightly and saliva begins to drip out. Anzeldez produces a paper tissue but Hiaro grabs it before he can use it. As one of her assistants, it’s Hiaro’s job to keep her presentable. He dabs her mouth dry gently. Still asleep, she closes her mouth and tilts her head to the other side. Hiaro goes back to his seat and looks at Anzeldez with a concerned expression. He’s worried that Anzeldez wants to act against the company.>



* * * * *



<Back at the house, Pikora has nearly two hours of administrative tasks to work through. Anzeldez is free to use the house facilities. He swims a few lengths in the pool, tries the exercise equipment, watches a little T.V. and then sneaks away to the servants’ quarters. He wants to investigate the male cleaners who he saw earlier. He noticed that they wore steel collars and now he wonders if they’re slaves. Soon, he finds a room with three men’s names on the door. He knocks.>

Man’s voice: Who is it?

Anzeldez: Could I please have a quick word with you? I’m the financial adviser.

Man’s voice: We got no money, man. Leave us be.

Anzeldez: That’s not what I want to discuss. It’s about your status here. I’ve learnt a few things and I’m concerned.

Man’s voice: Ssh! I’ll let you in. Stay quiet. Walls have ears; eyes too, sometimes.

Anzeldez: Thanks.

<The door’s opened. One man sits on his bed reading. A second man lifts heavy dumbbells. The third stands by the door, looking at Anzeldez with interest. They’re ruggedly handsome and they’re only wearing shorts. For Anzeldez, it’s a wet dream! Anzeldez closes the door behind him and they have a quiet conversation.>

Third man: I’m Tramue. Sheag’s reading and Tubar’s pumping iron. What’s this about, man? Everything’s legal here.

Anzeldez: I’ve been finding evidence of slavery in the Pikora Empire. I saw you three earlier and I put two and two together. Are you being held as slaves?

Sheag: We’re not allowed to talk about it. The situation is legal but she wants us to keep quiet.

Anzeldez: How can slavery be legal?!

Tubar: Didn’t you check the law before you came here? I’d expect a dude like you to do his research!

Anzeldez: Ha ha, check the law! That’s a good one! The law is vast. It would take me years to learn.

Sheag: Ask your lawyer, man. Read Labour Act number 2005 and Workplace Reform Bill number 1988. It’s in the small print. Mistress gave us this pamphlet to explain it.

<Anzeldez takes the pamphlet, sits on Tubar’s bed and reads it. His smile disappears. The pamphlet looks genuine. The message of the pamphlet is deeply troubling. It seems that, in certain circumstances, slavery is legal.>

Anzeldez: Why is she keeping you like this? What happened?

Tramue (sitting on his bed): We all displeased the Mistress. We were selfish. We didn’t do enough for her.

Tubar: We were jerks and now we can’t even do that. If I could turn back time ...

Anzeldez: I promise that I’ll look into all this and consult lawyers. We might be able to find a way out for you. In the mean time, I really must get you out of those collars! It’s appalling that she’s making you wear them. I helped her clean out her back office and I found these little keys.

Sheag: Those must be the spare keys! Try them!

<Anzeldez experiments and finds the right key. He removes all the collars. It’s a relief for the three men. Then, they all remove their shorts. Tramue grabs the keys and tries to unlock his cage.>

Anzeldez: Holy W.O.P. on a bread roll, she had you all CAGED too?! How long has this been going on?

Tramue: One continuous year.

Sheag: A year and a half.

Tubar: Nearly half a year for me.

Anzeldez: You’ve had no relief in all that time? That’s so vindictive! It’s torture!

<Tramue gasps as the cage comes loose and falls to the floor. Tubar takes the key and fiddles with his own cage. Soon, that’s also off. Sheag releases himself a minute later. They all go to remove the piercings, wash themselves properly and then apply antiseptic cream in a few spots. Although they’ve done their best to keep clean, their manhoods are a little sore after a long captivity. Anzeldez weeps to see fine young men end their suffering at last.>

Anzeldez: I can help you more, guys! I can make you feel much, much better!

Tramue: How so?

Anzeldez: I’m gay! Here’s my Gay Association membership card!

Tubar: You’re just what we need, man!

Anzeldez: Gather round. I’ll kneel. One on each side, one in front: let’s do this!

<Anzeldez gets them erect and relieves them all simultaneously. Two minutes later, his chest is heavily decorated with pearls of their spunk and his throat is coated with the stuff. Tubar, Sheag and Tramue go and lie on their beds, their heads spinning after such an abrupt change in fortunes. Anzeldez goes to the sink, rinses his chest and takes a drink of water to clear his throat.>

Anzeldez: I’ll leave you the keys, guys. Keep them hidden. You can put the collars and cages back on and then release yourselves again when it’s safe. Meanwhile, I’ll try to get you free from here.

Tramue: I don’t think we’ll ever be free, dude. The law’s clear. The government agreed it. You’d have to change the law to get us out of here. It’ll take a long time.

Anzeldez: Maybe I will change the law. This injustice against my fellow men is too heinous to ignore!

Sheag: You’ll have to go against her first. You’ll have to turn people against the Mistress somehow. I doubt you can do it, man.

Anzeldez: What do you mean? What does she have to do with the law?

Tubar: She knows people in government. We think that she changed the law. They couldn’t refuse. No one can refuse her. She’s the one who must be obeyed. People treat her as W.O.P. incarnate!

<Anzeldez is now even more anxious. He gathers up the collars and cages, putting them on a side table.>

Anzeldez: I will help you, guys! I’ll do whatever I can! Now, I have to go back to the main house. She’s expecting me for dinner soon.

Tramue: Watch yourself, gay dude. Thanks for the hand job: couldn’t have done better myself!

<Anzeldez exits the room, closes the door and hurries back to the main house. He’ll have to calm down and pretend to be ignorant of the slavery. Pikora expects to spend another night with him. He can’t possibly disappoint her.>



* * * * *



<It turns out that Anzeldez can’t suppress his nerves well enough. He quivers like a jelly and so I’m obliged to take over. I have nerves of steel, literally. After dinner, Pikora and I eschew a conventional dessert. We retire to the bedroom with a pot of cream, a tub of yoghurt, a jar of jam, a basket of fruit and a squeezy pouch of malty yeast extract for variety. We spend nearly an hour putting food on each other and then eating the food. As a mechanoid, I find this very dull and unsatisfying. I especially hate the taste of yeast extract but Pikora loves it and sucks it off me enthusiastically. I go through the motions as per the innumerable adult videos I’ve watched over the years. Anzeldez enjoys the night vicariously through me. When we’ve eaten enough sticky food, dead skin flakes, dried sweat, stray hairs, street dirt, clothes fibres, deodorant traces, chemical pollutants, microbial soup and miscellaneous bodily fluid crusts, we resume lip-to-lip kissing. Our mouths mainly taste of sweet, salty, fruity, dairy goo. In an attempt to clean up a little, we lick each others’ faces too. Pikora detects the unwelcome taste of antiseptic cream on my chin. I tell her that I had a rash there today. (In reality, it was from Sheag’s genitals.) She tells me to wash it. I go to the bathroom and clean my face. As I inspect myself in the mirror for a moment, I look down at the various items on the windowsill. In the middle is a tube of toothpaste, which gives me an idea.>

<When I return to the bedroom, Pikora is lying on our messy bed surrounded by empty food containers, fruit remnants, rumpled clothes and stained sheets. She’s ripped open the yeast extract pouch and is now licking it thoroughly. Her legs are bent and open. Her oversized ‘flower bud’ is throbbing as she licks. It’s so big, she could almost be a lady-boy. The only things missing are external gonads. I kneel before her wonderful tool and take it in my mouth again. As I coat it in saliva and rub it sensuously with my tongue, she feels a difference. She drops the empty plastic pouch and thrusts her pelvis repeatedly at my face. She puts her hands on the back of my head to prevent recoil. We keep going like this for several minutes, with her panting and shrieking all the while. She seems to have been possessed by the spirit of some uninhibited wild animal. She lets rip with several loud, pungent farts that are mostly inhaled by me. Eventually she slows to a halt. The law of diminishing returns applies to all things.>

Pikora: W.O.P. almighty, what was that? I was tingling like a bastard and the only cure was vigorous head!

Me: Simple toothpaste, my glorious farty lover!

Pikora: I’m so sorry about the gas! I was completely caught up in the moment!

Me: I can take it: anything for the golden, farty girl!

<Pikora’s a little abashed but she still laughs. We lie there for a short while recovering. After about fifteen minutes, she speaks again.>

Pikora: You’re very good, waiting like this. I haven’t forgotten. You understand that you now have a backstage pass? You can flip me over when you want. We still have a bit of yoghurt for lubrication.

Me: I can wait a little longer. I’m just savouring the moment. This time with you is one of the highlights of my life. It doesn’t get any better than this!

Pikora: After your performance so far, I must say that I feel the same! Hah, toothpaste! I must remember to use it more imaginatively in future!



* * * * *



<When Anzeldez wakes again, he’s not in bed anymore. He’s lying on the couch in the lounge. It’s morning and sunlight is streaming in through the skylights. Pikora’s sitting at the minibar, sipping from a large cocktail and writing something with a bright orange pen. She’s wearing her big glasses and she’s tied her hair up in a messy bun. Her eyes are a little red, as if she’s been rubbing them too much or crying. She looks sad and angry at the same time. She’s not writing a letter: it looks like a puzzle. There are more slips of paper hanging over the edge of the minibar. Those are probably more puzzles. There are also some paperback books on her left side: puzzle books, most likely. She’s relapsed already and ‘gone back in the grid’, as addicts say.>

Anzeldez: Pikora, how could you?!

Pikora: How could YOU Anzeldez, you verminous queer?! After all I did for you!

Anzeldez: What? I don’t get it.

Pikora: You let my three captive exes defy my will. You released them prematurely. My C.C.T.V. staff saw you in their nightly review. At least my girlfriends enjoyed the footage of your gay foursome! They’ve been creaming over it this morning.

Anzeldez: You’re being very cruel and you know it. Those men shouldn’t be kept like that. It’s probably just the tip of the iceberg, I’m guessing.

<He sits up and notices a stabbing pain in his crotch. There’s also a hard band around his neck.>

Anzeldez: Oh damn! Oh hell! Oh my giddy GLOAD! You’ve done it to ME now! Collar and cage ...

Pikora: And you won’t find the keys this time. They’re in a much better hiding place.

Anzeldez: Why are you allowed to do this to me?!

Pikora: The law’s clear. If a man displeases his wife or partner very badly and, if she has sufficient means, she can subdue him and keep him as a slave for as long as she wants. She must provide bed, board and useful employment so that he can live in reasonable comfort. Our faith in the W.O.P. supports this. For full details, read the pamphlet on the coffee table. It explains about the anti-escape bomb and other aspects of the punishment.

Anzeldez: I’ve read the damned PAMPHLET! It’s all about the law YOU made! Your gorgeous exes showed it to me yesterday. What’s going to happen to them now? Will they disappear, never to be seen again?!

Pikora: I’ve sent them to one of my plantations. They’ll be out of my sight there. They’ll probably die there too, when they’re old and exhausted from hard labour. At least they’re not caged anymore. We’ll allow them partners and orgasms. If they try to escape, BOOM! Now be quiet: I’m trying to finish this killer sudoku. It’s an absolute stinker.

Anzeldez: Takes one to know one!

Pikora: You’re only making me angrier. I advise you to stop now.

Anzeldez: I used your bottom for my pleasure last night. You could use mine tonight. Are you able to do it? Is that physically possible for you?

Pikora (rolling her eyes and slamming down her pen): Why are you determined to break my concentration and ruin my little puzzle pleasures? I never want to give them up! I’ll most likely die with book and pen in hand.

Anzeldez: You promised me that you’d kick the habit! You lied to me! You have no self control. It pains me to say this but you’re a whore to repetitive, pointless, mental wastage! See how you hunch over and shake like a senile, spastic pensioner!

Pikora (livid, reaching for a ‘phone): Restraint team in here now!

<Seconds later, four strong men in protective clothing rush into the room and stand near Anzeldez, who gestures for them to wait. He’s not going to fight against superior numbers. He stands up slowly. It’s my time to take over again. This time, I won’t be mistreated.>

Me (as Anzeldez): I’m not going to participate any further. Please take back this collar.

<I unlock the collar electronically and put it on the coffee table. Pikora gasps in astonishment. It shouldn’t be possible!>

Me: Take this evil tangle of wire too!

<I unlock and remove the cage from my privates. Deftly, I unscrew and pull out all the piercings. They’re fresh in so there’s a bit of blood.>

Pikora: Team, get back! I’m triggering the bomb!

<The restraint team runs to hide behind a large cupboard. Pikora reaches for the bomb trigger but somehow she dropped it on the floor. She goes down on hands and knees to find it. I concentrate and rearrange Anzeldez’s flesh. A hole appears in my upper abdomen. I’m able to reach inside and extract the bomb. I throw it right across the room and it lands behind a large sofa in the furthest corner. I close the hole in my abdomen. Pikora doesn’t see the bomb fly but finds the trigger, hides behind the minibar and activates the bomb, which explodes behind her. She curls up in a ball to protect herself. When fragments of wall and furniture have finished falling around us, she gets up and finds me still standing; not dead at all. She’s deathly afraid, can’t comprehend her failure and doesn’t know what to do next. I bring out some weapons to establish my dominance fully. As interdimensional portals open and alien metal gizmos point menacingly across the room, Pikora puts up her hands slowly. For once, she’s beaten and she knows it. This is a paradigm shift moment in her life.>

Me: Restraint team, retreat. Get away from here. I’ve shown myself and my enemies will surely come. There’ll be heavy combat.

Restraint team leader: But what about Mistress?! We have to protect her!

Pikora: Go to safety: that’s an order! I’ll look after myself!

<The team aren’t happy about it but they have to obey orders, especially from her. Reluctantly, they back out of the room and then wait outside the house. They sound the house’s evacuation alarm and call the police. Staff and visitors leave the compound.>

Pikora: Can I put my hands down now? You’ve got all the guns and I’ve got nothing.

Me: Except your older brother Spod, waiting in the wings. I’ve been reading your mind. It’s a fascinating family story. You’re blessed with extreme popularity. He’s cursed with the opposite.

Pikora: Try it the other way round! Who’s really blessed? What’s the real curse? Think about it. Why am I stuck in here so often, losing myself in puzzles and intoxicants? He’s free to come and go as he likes. I have to plan my outings carefully. My influence causes chaos, at least outside. His is benign and he can protect the world without interference.

Me: Any idea when he’ll come to fight me?

Pikora: Not really, unless he leaves me a note. That’s the only way we communicate. He shows up at random, puts short notes around the house and vanishes before we meet. It’s sad that we can’t have a proper relationship. I’ve grieved his withdrawal from my life and moved on, for the most part. Are you trying to kill him?

Me: If that’s the only way for me to escape this world, I’ll have to kill him. He’s tremendously elusive though and powerful too. He separated me from my body and dragged me around the world. It’s only now that I’m regaining some bodily control. This is a fraction of what I should have.

Pikora: He said that he was testing your limits. Normally he strikes rapidly but he’s never met a worthy adversary like you before. Once he has your measure, he’ll remove you from the picture.

Me: You’ve played your part as well. You kept me occupied and distracted brilliantly. He must be proud of you. What about the rest of your family? What do they think?

Pikora: How’s this relevant to our situation? They’re just ordinary folk who I don’t see very much. I’m busy with my own endeavours. Whenever I visit them or they visit me, there are problems. The frequent sexual arousal is extremely awkward. That’s why I decided to leave home when I was still in my mid-teens. I couldn’t face making my parents horny every day. We’d go out together and they’d be thinking about sex all the time. They’d sneak off somewhere and make love loudly when we were shopping, sight-seeing, going to a show or whatever. Dad’s erection featured in almost every family photo. Mum’s erection appeared quite often too.

Me: You didn’t answer my question about your own ...

Pikora: Why are you so interested in that carnal act, alien?! What possible use could that information have for you?

Me: Anzeldez is interested, not me.

Pikora: Fine! Anzeldez, if you’re still in there, I can stick it up a man’s rectum and give him pleasure. However, my appendage is sensitive and soft, as you know. It needs plenty of support and cushioning. I normally use a special, super-thick, custom-made condom for the purpose. I don’t do the deed very often because it’s difficult and not super-fun for me.

Me: Anzeldez thanks you. When this is over, he wants to remain a part of your life. He has a consuming passion for you.

Pikora: Him and most of the world! We’ll see how it goes. My life is so damned strange and messed up, I can’t guarantee anything.

Me: Your brother’s approaching now. I feel it. You should leave for your own safety. If he interferes with my mission, I’ll do whatever I can to foil him. I may have to kill him in a very violent manner. Your house might be destroyed, along with everyone in it.

Pikora: He won’t let that happen. I’m the Mistress but he’s the Master. He controls the physical environment of the whole world.

Me: How does he achieve that?

Pikora: No one can explain it. As far as we know, he became so utterly unpopular at puberty that he disappeared into another dimension. There must have been a weird special force at work. He survived and learnt how to manipulate dimensions. He’s obsessive, driven and laser-focused. He probably studied and explored until he learnt every possible thing about those dimensions. Now, he can do whatever he wants with the world. He must still love us, though. He hasn’t killed anyone and he does what he can to improve our lives.

Me: He’s here! Your brother Spod: he’s building massive power! I totally underestimated him. It’s too much for me! There’s a rushing wall of absolute fury catapulting me away from you! I’m going to ...



* * * * *



Scorponok: There you are at last, you malingering wretch! Stop lying about and get back to work!

Me (getting up): Which station, sir?

Scorponok: 339k, Section 2419. On the double!

Me (running to my work station): Apologies for failing to report, sir. I was hopelessly lost for ... three years, according to my internal chronometer.

Scorponok: You were trapped in an unexplored dimensional vortex. You were lucky to escape. We attempted rescue but some kind of super-being thwarted us. Your telepathic debriefing will start shortly.

Me (at my work station): Thank you, sir. Also, I have a small request to make. Could I please change my short name?

Scorponok: Why are you making this tiresome request now, Reacharound?

Me: I’m tired of being called that. The organics laugh at me.

Scorponok: Very well, give me your new preferred name.

Me: KRUNK.

Scorponok: I wouldn’t call that a big improvement but I’ll allow it. On your head be it. I’ll put it in the master file so that everyone is aware.

Me: Thank you, sir!

<After my experiences on Pikora’s world, my accidental new name feels good. I am KRUNK! It makes me feel even more powerful and adaptable, although I’m still not as strong as that Spod fellow. Anyway, I’m back on planet Cybertron with my people the Transformers and our mission of mass extermination continues. Awesome!>



Inspirations

La Fenty! (long-term bad gal)
Her appearance on the Graham Norton BBC TV show, summer 2018
‘The Key of Awesome’ music video parodies on YouTube
The ‘Terminator’ movies
‘The Creature from the Black Lagoon’ and similar movies
‘Swamp Thing’ comics, especially the ones written by Alan Moore in the 1980s; the ‘sound-effects’ therein
The worst plague on humanity ever seen: puzzles! (That’s my little joke.)



I wrote this in less than two working weeks, which is fast for me!
11 April 2019 - I just found out about this machine, which is similar to the one installed in Pikora's house :

https://metro.co.uk/2019/04/11/sperm-ex ... e-9168728/