Old Granny Maw Maw sat in her grav latrine, her fat pustulated ass seeping ringworms of incinerated fat and glycerol. She lifted an old mottled buttock and blasted forth with an arsey rendition of "Oh, when the Saints...!". Her copper teeth on the float sidetable recited her an old Hillbilly Earth tale about the days before Eli-X spilled his God-awful seed all over neighbouring Galaxies of ether rot.

On Popsicle planet where folks got froze when they had one last pulse of blood flowin', and the rest home dome where those folks waited till they done got froze, everyone here, even those alien trashy creatures, knew Old Granny Maw Maw by her formal fuck name of Elnora CatWeaze LeJeune. Clattering on the float sidetable, those teeth told an hair-raisin' tale of gumsuckery in the high heals and higher fucksqueals of ancient Terran Hillbilly twang, but it wadn't no authentic hillbilly twang, just some old voicechip hololoops as best as those computerheads could figure out Hillbilly twang.

Oh, it was like my daft head was all opened out to the lush fuck of it - yeah I put my self about all over Terra. I was what you could call a slut, back in them times. But I had moral rectitude, as we used to rhyme it. You couldn't say I didn't deserve what I got and I was mature enough to know when I should keep my mouth shut, too, by all the murder grunts of Sephera. Had my gaping maw undercarriage broken down, requisitioned and remodelled more times than my agent could possibly afford. But I was a working girl. I had the moral majority on my side, for the love of all things anal. I had class.

But what they have done to my grandson. My Eli-X. He used to be at least half human. Now, if I passed him in the street, I wouldn't know him. He would not even smell like one of my own. How they preen him like the boybands of my era. How they vaseline his asshole before he goes on another of his 'epic sexual journeys'. Phooey! They wouldn't know real sex if it came up and bit them on the fanny. I would show them, if I had the time or the inclination, I would show them what sex with a real woman should be like. That would rock the etherdrill back and forth in the toothnerve. That would shoot some spunk into the galactic whore hole.

Onset with Eli-X - his last great overlit porn shoot:- A team of mechanoid labia droids calibrate the erectile angle of his cyber-enhanced penis. Watch how it shines with all the latest augmentations. They have torn off Eli-X's back skin, revealing his ribs, spine and kidneys all the way down to his cored out asshole. Then they laid him down on the supercold slab so that he fused with it, unable to move. In classic holocaust of mind murder fashion, they have brought on the Streiber COMMUNION beings. Four of them encircle our herpes examination table, triangular cross section dildos throbbing at the end of Mylar gloved hands.

One of the 'aliens' faces falls loose, revealing the familiar if haunting bristled chin of his old granny seeking sexual revenge.... He really couldn't tell it was her.  She had on a bootlegged virt face shield that made her face all fuzzywuzzy electro.

The director slug slid on a trail over to his gaggle of eunuch assistants and waved a tentril towards the commotion.  The set had just lit up all neon fakeyfake.  The holocameras were zipping around like little houseflies but with a click of the eunuch number one, Andre Feelme, they buzzed off to the camera spot-on and rested on their little haunches.

"What is the meaning of this", shrilled whined Andre Feelme, groping where his genitals once were.  He waved his feeble arm to the others to come get the intruder.

"Ma'am, this is a  closed electro soundstange, ma'am.  How did you get in here."

A saintly grandma face smiled beatifically at the eunuch.  "Oh my dear, I've made a wrong virt turn somewhere on my geriatric realtime cosmo-walk. I'm terribly sorry, sonny."

The sound of the sweet old granny came through like old-timey molasses. The face was that of a kindly granny from some old-timey holocommercial for "Granny Screwbake's old Time cookies", but suddenly the face went offline, the oldtime granny face was a bootlegged fake face.  What was underneath was a hideous lesion ridden hag's face with shart pointed teeth and riding a grav chair clamped to her lower torso.

"What the Busby Berkeley is going on here, people? " came out the aperture of the slug director, now laying his back appendages sideways due to massive overweight.

The eunuchs had just jacked in Eli with spurt enhancers and the twin
Belonging Kind had just dropped their gossamerstitch robes revealing their
ultimate fuckme fuckme (tm) sexiness.

Eli turned his head, which was hard to do in his fuckme apparatus. He ground
his nose against the shatterproof glass and watched as the Belonging Kind unhitched him from his kit like a masculine Barbarella curtain lifter, he came floating out into their viscid field of vision like over stuffed choux pastry, good enough to eat.  Granny Maw Maw - the most evil bitch  in the pre-Eli-X fucktiverse - slowly ascended on the null grav vibe coiled panther like between her cold meat thighs bubbling with sex sinew got to rot. Her face (well what was left of it (tm)) writhed about like an improperly bleached cum-stained bedsheet pegged to a creaking drier in a filthy cesspool of a hurricane. Twister features you could call her. On her chin that big fat bristle like awriggling grey worm or thin anaemic turd oozing from the pustulated surface of her outer space interstellar maw. Those teeth, too fake, lifted off into the shuttle stage set and clanged around inside the NoGrav (tm) area prepared for lashing of Eli-X fuckjuice to come raining down on the cyber flies of camera eye, like puffing droplets of winter green or cobalt sulphate crystallising like super glue on the retina of Forever Fucked ((tm) - so many marks to trade and so little space for all the fliers).

Gravityless face fucker came at him, her Maw Maw maw flapping due to erectile jism lozenge she sucked on like a parrot in heat, tonguing that pebble around her flaccid dry mouth. Her breasts came out then like thin shrunken victims of all the concentration camps in history EVER and Eli-X couldn't control the spurt of vomit that launched from his worthless wolfshit throat of lointaste (tm). The vomit was laced with sperm and fanny farts from the everliving sex-scene that had been his life for the last thirteen years of fist ground hardcore. He was awake now as if from a terrible numbness, a coma of conscience. He renounced all his Gods and promised to worship only the God of Good Taste (defunct) and live happily ever after in meadows of beauty where little slime dogs ran up the legs of old ladies, humping furiously, Christ save him, save the sanity of Eli-X - Our Only Hope. Eli's mad ramblings ranted on as the Belonging Kind unsheathed forearm knives and Granny's white wrinkled breasts ripped back like politicians promises....

The scene was set for one of the great revelations of the universe and already the spunky ejaculate superether hit counter was going off the fuckin' scale.

Granny yelled, "You ball-less bastards, I'll ride my little boy like a mule that done plowed the field!"

The director slug's aperture hole whistled Cole Porter's "Too Darn Hot". The camera flies flew on cue.  Granny rode the virtual cockhorse incest-like like a hillbilly humping an old goat--not a robot goat, a real animal-type goat!

The eunuch's blocked the scene. Eli was semi-conscious as they humped the cosmic interface until Thunderclaps of Horsehead nebulas exploded into dark matter cum of the universe as the entire Milky Way shot cosmic semen into Andromeada's skankhole.  Well, that was how the story went, years later, told from one space bum to hobo to freakalien to mutant, to space freighter pilot like gossamer gossip apocryphal sextale of the Universe.

After Eli-X collapsed in his electro harnesses, Granny with one withered cyborg arm clicked a substrate surgically implanted in her neck, and zipped out of there like an inverted space fart, just as the slug director passed cosmic gas and whistled out his bunghole mouth-hole, "CUT and PRINT!"

Virtual applause rang throughout the electroholoset.  Eli-X's turbo-heart stopped beating, they thought, just for a second.  Then he smiled a redneck beautiful smile of sex fuck star that was caught on virt-celluloid-fakey forever.  Folks just gettin' by going from one galaxy to another, still talk about it in one form or another.  The story always changes.  They say Granny is living on Popsicle planet now, frozen bigassed solid-solid, but her Cold Pakk (tm) mind still etches voice streams to others jacked in, all the cold corpses honeycombed in the cosmic mausoleum, not quite dead, but not quite alive and fuckin' and annoyin’ the locals.