The Trance Terrors by R.K. Galvez (pdf to ebook reader txt) 📕

Section 32) Obbliogato Abatel  Chapter 14: Abort-Loci and those Long Lost Origen Technicians

 …Les opened the little door for the second time that day. He realized he was on some kind of space vessel. The space craft seemed to be made out of reinforced carbon carpets. The voyage before had been fantastic, if the spandex was a little chafing. An old man was tied up next to Norky. They were both tied by a glowing rope that seemed to be alive. The glowing rope led to a strange Serpent in a tiny suit. The Serpent smiled and turned into a Goat-Snake Man, with snake-tentacle arms. Not back to the House of Arms again, thought Les. He thought he had got through the 1980s. He found the animated sequence a lot easier to follow… Les was stunned, he felt dizzy(my head is spinning...), but managed to swallow a foul sick burp. This weird nausea produced euphoria throughout his body…His sudden erection threw him off balance; he could feel it flowing through him, like some kind of mystic manna from another dimension…He had to pay close attention…

 [Footnote 2] SPLURGE LURGIES: A draft of an Occult4Kidz anecdotal picture book, aimed at twelve-plus edu-literature market in pseudo-hippy communes. The pictures were banned for being poor works of art. And they were also explicit. Pornographers were frightened of these strange muto-demonic copulations…

 …Les tried to battle against the pzionik soul-force, but he got another soul-shock. He did not want to complete the Occult4Kidz work programme. Hubbard was horrified; he had not given Les his permission to become aroused in this way.

 Hubbard knew he would never be able to truly control this queer seer. His mind was playing all kinds of sex magick games… Astral Tantric Viagra was not needed for this occasion…Les had pushed his loincloth towards Hubbard; Hubbard was enjoying the attention. He put down his semen-soaked copy of Dianetics…

Les smirked.

 “You like me really, don’t you?”

 Hubbard panicked and stammered for a moment before composing himself. Hubbard said:

 “Ring any bells, Les? I am not Mal Mulligan you fool! It's an Old One, been done before in loads of different worlds, you know the deal, don’t you, Les? There's only a population of one-hundred people due to the really harsh population laws here. They make the Tories look like hippies out here. It’s a tough one but at least the crime rate stays close to zero and you really can feed the world here. Of course no one has been born for over a hundred years, they only mutually masturbate. And they have all gone a bit crazy trying to live forever; I suppose that’s another drawback. Cyborg-cannibals, eh? Who needs them!"

With that Quagga was gone again. Quagga had possessed Hubbard for that brief moment. Hubbard collapsed like a used husk…He growled as pzionik anger pulsed through his mutated form…Hubbard should have known not to get aroused around Les Barloy…

 …Curse that unhelpful entity, thought Les. But he then felt something he had not felt for aeons. Norky's nuts: The nutty seeds of madness! Les needed a break, he was always had time for a good trip…  

 Les popped a couple…Who knows, Les thought, these seeds might make me a bit more regular…

 [1] I LIKE SPLURGING

 …Luckily for Les, he had never been under pressure before. He checked his make-up and it was looking a bit neo-punkish. ‘A Young Rapunxel’ he was not… Maybe Agent Banks had seen the artwork for ‘The Party’s Over’…Les was always into Talk Talk… He had to do a lot of it while offering his Cherubim Rub as part of his drag act to the regulars…Cthulhu always wanted more, of course…

…And Les did not mind the trashed 1980s manga-whore look, and he secretly enjoyed feeling a bit dirty… His eyes suddenly transformed into minute rectums; small tears of excrement stuck to the corners, and small phallic tentacles would slide out of these tiny rectal passages and lick at these faecal deposits, secreting a white slime as they feasted.

 Les decided to get his breath back and put on his slippers. What else can you do? Maybe a nice cup of tea would assist him. He needed to find out if the Northern Line was working again now. There were no Blood-Harpies on this world...The Goat-Snake Man saw Les and smiled warmly, his eyes full of foul excrement.

   "Ah Mr Barloy, we have been expecting you!"

"You have?" Les murmured. He was getting bored of being surprised by these clichés.

 "Oh yes, Les. Norky's been telling me about you. You might know me as Agent Hubbard. You know me, don't you?"

 "I don't think so!" Les protested, looking truly baffled. Not another blackout after another one night stand, Les thought.

"You must have read my tracts, my magnum opuses on your Earth-Realm?"

 Les pretended to think hard by striking a pose and doing some 1980’s Porn Star pouts; his face was covered in a film of mascara, excrement and ejaculate. Les knew Hubbard would like this tip…

 Les was wrong; this ritual just might kill him…Agent Hubbard liked breaking science; he usually enjoyed breaking the girl and he always had this effect upon his intended victims. Hubbard also had a thing for slamming them in vinyl - it was much cheaper than crypto-genic cryogenics; but Les Barloy was different…

 Les stopped pouting and said,

 "No, I don’t think so. You can't expect me to buy them if you don't give them away for free first, can you? I am broke after all."

 Hubbard hissed. He was a queer agent, if that's what Les claimed to be. Les was crying a lot of excrement. 

“Don’t be a meanie Les, you know me? We played tantric footsie at Cuffley Camp, remember? My big toe went up your arse! I got poo on my toe for you, Barloy! I’m the one who showed you the way, aren’t I?”

"I don't know if you work for the C.O.G., or whoever, but I just want to speak to my friends! Les protested.

 "These wasters of time? Really! Bloody amateurs! I just need to find out where they keep the severed head."

 "Head?"

"The head of Jezu Evadef. In your world they call him Jack Slack. Some kinds in the outer-realm-worlds call him Gumzom. Those pesky exo-planets! A dead soul for hire – we all need to do a bit soul-searching now and again, don’t we? I need him quickly, Les. Will you aid me?"

 "I've never heard of such a soul. I don’t think I can help," Les said, fixing his make-up.

 "These two have, though. Haven't you guys?"

 Hubbard emitted a strange reptilian chuckle, as Norky and the old man groaned.

 ...At that particular juncture in time, Quagga gently penetrated Les' mind. Les enjoyed this casual psychic penetration. It was only slightly painful, but Les had prepared for these things by remembering pointless pop-cultural gossip to lubricate his developing mind for these types of psychic attacks.

 "Slay the serpent bloke, Les. You got to kill that snake thing. It isn’t Hubbard no more; Hubbard’s just succumbed to this demoniacal form. Don't worry, it's not all crazy. You'll be fine. It's just a future mutation. In this realm Goat-snakes are as common as cow-crows. Oh, almost forgot to tell you to watch out for the police state tricks here. If you don't have your I.D. card you'll get killed straight away. They call it Population Control Termination, or a P.C.T., that’s what we call them really!”

 Les nodded. He needed to think on his feet; had cried a huge puddle of excrement. He did not know he was turning into a vegetable-human sexual organ. It was not a vital transformation; he needed to be stronger, he needed a killer millimetre...His mouth was now a mutated Venusian vagina (the five labia trick was old…Mary cried on the wind, as she heard Les Barloy turn on his cosmic tomfoolery…); Les’ tongue had transformed into a tuberous purple-headed penis-snake, dripping lysergic semen.

Hubbard screamed; Les had no idea what was going on. He could only feel it as he was unable to truly see.

 “What are you really?” Hubbard murmured.

The puddle of excrement Les had emitted from his rectal eyes had started to bubble; it was turning into a huge slug, a wriggling, slimy, slug. It seemed to be energized by the lysergic semen.

“I hate sex magickal rituals!” Hubbard screamed, just as the faecal slug slithered towards Hubbard…Hubbard never had known what it was like for excrement to go up his rectum; but he had an idea he was to live just long enough to experience that sensation…

 Chapter 50: Quaggatron PharmBoy!

Les was sitting in The Christchild and Vonderpump...Inner-primate life was timeless, as you know…Les had been drooling and thinking about having unprotected anal sex with Johnny Quagga…Les had also tried to summon Hubbard’s pzionik soul-aura from the deadened dark-ether...

…Unfortunately for Les, Hubbard was also fearful of Les’ libido. His resurrection tricks had scared him off and re-animation was no longer possible. Poor old Hubbard had to keep his anus intact for future rituals; he did not want to annoy anyone else higher up…

…The infernal Christchild and Vonderpump was not in Kilburn anymore; it had always been a kind of travelling social club, which also served as a free range herbalist apothecary for the astral community. It was no longer sub-contracted to the Cheviot Close branch. It had such an inclusive ethos many primitive dances had been arranged there…

 …The tables were made of recycled wood-crystals; but it had retained the usual friendly atmosphere of the local inn. Much of the atmosphere was inspired by lysergic energy…They were also inspired by history…The Old Ones did not move too much. It was an open environment. Casual occultism was encouraged by the owners and many people never left this kind of public house… A soul-exchange was always on the cards…

 One of the regulars was a washed up test pilot from Frinton-on-sea called Tommy Tellman. You may have heard about him in unpublished esoteric pamphlets…Tommy Tellman had long white hair and an immaculate dress sense. In his briefcase, he had files of his previous trade: a failed pulp writer.

 He maintained that his failed superhero characters were ready for Hollywood gloss and soft drink and popcorn commercial success; the soundtrack was whatever was in the charts… But his agent and Astral SpAd, Von RapArd informed Tellman that no-one really understood any of these ramblings.

 However, Tellman said to anyone who would listen that he used to be a Life-Coach Guru - apparently a teacher of Life Coaches. I wondered if he had heard of Johnny Quagga. Tellman had suddenly lost his memory; I suspected he was holding out on me. Les smiled. I sipped my lemonade there was nothing else to sip that did not have lysergic properties...

"Is this someone you meet for sexual gratification?" Tommy Tellman asked Les.

 Les blushed; why did he think of sodomizing Tommy Tellman? Les liked wrinkled genitals, particularly late at night on Hampstead Heath…

 "Oh no, Tommy, I don't think of Johnny Quagga like that. I haven't up till now anyway," said Les.

 Les gave Tommy the eye. He was still blushing. Tommy ignored his subtle advances. Maybe Tommy was unaware of this come on, thought Les. That was pretty cosmopolitan. And extremely innocent of Tommy; Les was probably already dreaming of getting it on with old Tommy Tellman. Les was a bit of a perve in that sense of the word.

 Not a totally nasty conservative perve; but a more of a mixed-up crazy nasty perve who would have anal relations with pretty much any one…I was amazed by this cosmic catamite! Tommy raised his eyebrows and said:

 "I've got the worse writing block ever. My output seems to be two words