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

...Elaine had merged into some of his genetic being after the soul transference had simultaneously occurred with a massively pleasurable orgasm. She re-lived multiple orgasms for a century, or so she thought… The medics thought she might be having another seizure, so they pumped her full of valium. It turned out Elaine had learnt a lot from the Phultor…

Phultor was free to inflict his crazy law on innocents and feast off new life-force energy. Norky had always wanted him to dub his kinetics up a bit more; but you know Phultor. Only thinks of one thing...By sheer chance, Phultor was befriended in the public toilet by Les Barloy. Les was not a kid – though he still looked young; he must have just turned eighteen. Phultor sensed a presence in the cubicle and, after sheathing the Sword of Adonai, Phultor kicked open the flimsy door.

“I don’t normally do this sort of thing”, said Les, pulling up his tight jeans, hurriedly wiping gelatinous globs of semen off his hands with a dainty pink handkerchief…  

 Chapter 1. The Totally Queer Cosmic Dessert…Afters always included…

…Phultor had noticed that Les had no underwear on and his anus looked very clean, just as he pulled up his tight-fitting jeans. He was a true commando...Les was in perfect condition for the kind of sick rituals Phultor experimented in. I wonder if he has tattooes on his feet? That would be a mass turn on...The Phultor was tempted, and his saliva dribbled down his mouth, as he laughed his queer demonic cackle...

“I’m sorry officer,” said Les.

...There was an awkward, slightly erotic silence. Les’ erection visibly protruded from within his tight jeans; Phultor could see through the denim that Les Barloy’s testes had formed into a peachy little testes-vagina. Phultor had an idea of what rituals might be required for this Lord of Light.

 “I’m sure you can let it go. I just had that urge to rub one out. It’s what the posh people say, isn’t it?” Les asked, looking hopeful.

Phultor sneered. I bet he gave that line to all public servants, thought Phultor.

 “You don’t talk much. You remind me of a zombie detective I used to know. What was his name?” Les pondered, trying out his new “thinking” pose.

 That was when Phultor made a run for it; feared seeped through his demonic form. He did not want to be made one with that foul creature. Gumzom always gave him the shivers, despite his disembodied state. The head of Gumzom was very powerful. Surely Gumzom was not on the case; maybe Norky or Trogger, or Ovno or Tipp. But not Gumzom. That thing was gross.

In his hurry to escape, Phultor bumped into Jack Slack. He was going to a kebab house in Wood Green. It was a cosy arrangement. They didn’t mind. Phultor recognized Jack Slack. It was Gumzom in human form, before he died. Phultor would now be able to possess Gumzom and stop the rot! He laughed at his luck, though he had known in the noughties. It was full of a lot of false luck…

Chapter 33 The Next Chapter does not exist...

 Tommy smiled. He had lived in Frinton for a long time. Ever since he had been missing in action in 1947; the government would never guess to look here. He had an idea that Feebuz Apulow, his unborn child, conceived out of wedlock with Lady Goodepayne, had found a way to reverse his abortion. It was a great technique. And wraith abortions were rare.

 Tommy had a feeling – some vague memory in a previous life - that he had made a pact with the undead free-lancers Gumzom and Trogger. He still feared Gumzom, that rotting dead-head he had dug up in his pantry was still scaring him.

Life-Coaches should not get mixed up with this dimensional funk, Tellman thought to himself.

 In his small chalet-ship, he made himself a cup of mescal-coffee. The coffee beans had been excreted by millions of cacti mites before being liberally doused in a secret and well-trusted herbal formula. This type of coffee was extremely rare, and considered a delicacy in some realms. It cost too much, and Tellman only had an emergency supply.

 He had seen his aborted son at the supermarket. He had not felt this way since 1991. It was not all Good Times for him…

 Tnuk Nam appeared through a veil of smoke.

 “I know you’re not here for a cup of tea, Mr Nam,” said Tellman.

 Tellman put down his copy of ‘The Nam’. It was a great source of inspiration for him. It was just as good as any Holy Book...

 Tnuk Nam nodded. In the air, strands of R.T.C. flowed for eternity.

 “Is Les still alive somewhere?” Tellman asked.

 “I think he likes this realm life,” quipped Tnuk Nam.

 Tellman nodded, his cheroot burning.

“Better get on and kill me in this realm then, eh?” Tellman sighed.

Tnuk Nam laughed. He started his ritual; his arms turned into snakes. His purple skin glowed as he started his incantations… Tellman flickered; he felt the centuries slide away…It felt good… He needed a little R&R…Tellman despised Tnuk Nam’s falsehood. Tnuk Nam was part of the Witchcraft-NOT-Satanism school of hypocrites…He had destroyed many realm-worlds without even realizing it…Tellman felt angered; flickering as Tnuk Nam corrupted his rites. He would never understand Magic as a push/pull situation. But Feebuz Apulow appeared from the pzionik void, caked in demon blood, wiping his tiny fang-suckers on a soiled doily. His small face was caked in blood; he was a mutated foetus but he would always be human…

 …The pzionik voice of Feebuz Apulow sayeth:

 “N’kgnath ki’q Az-Athoth r’jyarh

 wh’fagh zhasa phr-tga nyena phrag-

 n’glu”

 Tnuk Nam stopped his mumbled rites and looked up.

 “Oh no, it’s you again!” Tnuk Nam wailed. His skin was no longer purple but a pallid grey… 

Tellman looked at the immortal aborted child; they seemed to be able to communicate without speaking. Feebuz hurled himself at the fraudulent guru…Tnuk Nam screamed as he started evaporating…Feebuz was sucking him up. Tellman smiled, and calmly puffed on his cheroot; he always had a good idea that Tnuk Nam was full of hot air at the end of the day…

 Chapter 620 Old Occultism Blues For Mamma-Poppa [inc. BroSis Stasis Culture]

 Walthamstow market; the crowd moving like conjoined kangaroo people; everyone seemed so energized despite the excrement and lard-ons raining down. Lucky it was just lard-ons today...It was a little bit odd, I guess but the hidden Powers-That-Be were trying too hard. The weather was never what you expected it to be. The C.O.G had landed nearby. The cyborg-maggot-people had just destroyed a few exo-planets. These were made of a metamorphic marrow , so maybe they were never true planets in the first place. The destruction was not televised…Les wiped his mascara away; the ritual had failed, there would never be another pzionik soul-sacrifice. They were destined to re-live everything for eternity…

 Les did not bother signing-on for E.S.P.E.S.A…They needed to go back to Trooluz 9; the sword of Adonai appeared in his hand: a gigantic crystal phallus sword forged in the Seven Hells…Les refrained from strapping it on; he needed to swing it about. He did not realize how large it could get. A strange kind of sweet, sticky, mucus secreted from the blade. Les was becoming aroused again. His loincloth had gone all tight. He did not bother adjusting his turban.

 The sword of Adonai burned a strange neon fire. Les was not sure if he could handle it; he needed both hands to control it. He was used to operating things with both of his hands, but this took some practice…Professor Norkgrub smiled at Les, wiping his seed-shooter with a silk doily.

 “Those cyber-maggot-people are coming to get us,” said Professor Norkgrub, stroking his green crystal goatee.

 “You don’t seem worried!” Les cried.

 Norkgrub smiled his thin zoophyte smile.

 “We’ll come on strong, Les, we’ll keep coming on! We’re Mutant Police, Les, and we’ll clean it up!” Professor Norkgrub cried.

 Les thought the Professor was getting a bit macho in his old rooty age; but Les did like swinging his big sword about. He had always wanted to flash it around Kilburn...

 “I thought you had a tyme-craft?” Les asked.

 Norkgrub nodded. He looked up, and Les followed his gaze. A cigar-shaped vessel appeared in the sky through some kind of pzionik portal. The cigar-shaped craft seemed to be constructed from old shopping trollies and a heavily damage Hawker Typhoon.

 Les saw Tommy Tellman in the pilot’s seat, smoking a cheroot.

 “I see Tommy’s here,” said Les.

 “Of course, we got to have a fly guy, Les!” Norky boasted.

 “We’re going to find another world, aren’t we?” Les asked Norky.

 Norky nodded, his tiny crystal beard glimmered in the soft light. The massive cyber-maggot beings were upon them in an instant; they must have smelled the C.O.G. credentials.

 “At least you don’t have cack in your eyes this time Les,” said the zoophyte.

 “To be honest, I am prairie-dogging right now, Norky! If I scream I will follow through!” Les screamed in terror.  

 Norky laughed and fired his seed-shooter. The lysergic seeds seared the maggot onslaught. Les whirled his huge sword around aimlessly, hacking at some of the cyborg maggot attacks. The cyber-maggot’s foul juices splashed over him, but he continued to swing at them…There were too many of them; centuries must have passed fighting these foul beasts. The cyborg-maggot-people used to be peaceful, but they were sick of time; sick of being harmless…Being nice gets you nowhere after all, does it?

That was when the planet rocked. Les looked at Norky, maggot detritus covering his crystallized leafy face.

 “What was that?” Les queried.

 “I don’t know,” said Norky.

 There was another cataclysmic rumble.

 “No way, Les, I honestly thought it was Walthamstow; it’s just another marrow planet!” Norky cried.

 Les did not understand.

 “We got to slide, my friend!” Norky shouted, as he put his little seed-shooter away and floated up towards the queer tyme-craft.

 Les looked as the planet’s surface started to split; the market façade instantly crumbled. A gigantic re-animated Homo erectus and a gigantic naked woman - possibly the most attractive woman he had ever seen – burst through the marrow planet’s surface. They wreaked havoc in an instant also, they were destroying everything.

“These marrow planets are a bit dud,” said Les.

 Norky whistled to Les, just as Les realized he had floated up on board the tyme-craft. Tellman winked at him, while Norky looked at some cloudy crystals on the console. Norky said,

“We got to sort these colonies out, Les. We can’t have all these vegetable worlds getting in there. Just too silly. The universe seems to be mutating and going fruit cocktail on us!”

 “Who are those creatures?” Les asked Norky.

 Norky smirked as Tellman activated the craft; the marrow- planet slowly vanished from their view just as the giant caveman and the giant woman destroyed the cyborg-maggot-people and the marrow planet in a destructive frenzy.

 “They’re us, just cleaning up. They’re Mutant Police, Les!” Norky shouted.

 Les smiled, wiping his sword on his frayed loincloth.

 “I guess we better find some more worlds, right?”

 Professor Norkgrub and Tommy Tellman laughed loudly, as Les Barloy nervously laughed with them. He was not about to say that New Worlds always tripped him out…