You look around at what you have achieved in life. Your personal surroundings free of all the domestic bullshit so many freaks and geeks conspire upon themselves. You social life to do what ever the fuck you want to whomever the fuck you want. Your unplugged life of crime that no-on knows about. The synthetic enhancements no fucker thinks you can afford. Your intergalactic fuck factory mentality. Your assignments off-Terra-Firma - whoever knows what goes on in the black zone spherically north of the stratosphere.

Jane Louxis was her Fuck Name (tm) she had business cards that she pulled out of her sopping cuntslice that dried like mosquito wings cut from the old showreels of nature. The way it all used to hang Ever-permanently (tm) stitched back like a girl of twelve suck hole of ultimate cock chime. Ring my fuckin' bell beauty of the stars.

She was a call girl in a Former Life (tm) killed a few numbers in her time (remember Djinn Denis of Randall got her nerves of steel winding all through him like woodrot as he shot about a gallons of sperm marbled blood out of his gaping cockmouth the length of a leather tourniquet round the Suff Clubbers (tm) neck). Quite a trophy room of sexual destruction, she had. Now on her wall of a million scintillating silicon cubicles of data stood a new construct. A space for the head of Eli-X - his Ever Permanent (tm) you know, the thing that gets into all the naked nooks and cyber toothed crannies of Fucky Sucky Valentine from the soda pop wars of national Prime Time Terrestrial Aikido Whore battles.

She had out her mobile Jack Me In and rang up old Eli-X.

He was on the Atlantis when he picked up the vibe cruising along the ether with his cock on show all across the Universal Broadband. He never thought a Love Assassin like Jane Louxis would break his code.....

"I can't say who is calling. Look, I've got to holo to him the Blue Prints immediately! You think neutrino wave phone calls are cheap?"

The software embedded in a jack-in personal assistant clicker tried to decide from parsing the voice stream what to do next. It said across unplumbed galactic space wormed instantly in real time spatial, "You have to unblock your Face ID or No Go, ma'am."

"Okay, just a second." Jane click clacked her head sideways to get a drop down menu, and picked a fakeass face.

"Okay, hold please while we obtain the records…hold please while we grab the face."

She had bought a fake face id codestream from some asshole that went to great lengths to get the best fake face ids that money can buy.

She smiled a smile of pussy evil grin. She got through.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Eli-X?"

"Who is this?"

"Is this really Eli-X, the fuck star?"

"Yes, what's on your mind?"

"Well, I am one of your biggest fans. I suck a cockholo every night wishing it was your silver penis, the biggest one you attach."

"Yes yes, what is on your mind?" he adjusted his greased up bathtowel, "How did you get through?"

Suddenly, Eli-X's jackhole went gravid like angina breathing, he felt pungent materialisation clogging up the ventilation sphincter and soon some daft gray phosphorescence was running down the back of his neck. He felt some thing, some fucking strange rainbow file of utter evil was downloading, pheromone signatures going off the scale. Then the nerves of steel started extruding out of his Broadband Jackport (tm) - an incoming plasma transmission Eli-X wasn't even sure his equipment had been calibrated for. He raced into the bathroom again, nearly losing his footing on the fuck lubricant spattered across the bathroom floor. The bath, still sporting it three naked underage fisters, glugged and bubbled while giggles of ass cream rose from the choir of not-so-fucking-innocents. Eli-X stumbled and spun around in the holo of self analysis - it was like he had projected his given ether about four foot back over his shoulder in Olde Earth Standard Fucklength units.

There she was, unraveling like a holocaust of rainbow indignation, he flesh a livid rosary of chime spun itself about her nerves and already, you could see from that extruded portion of her that she was a killer. A proper killer like you phone down from some central server right into your chemicals, right down to the cellular death you so deserve for being on such an elite list of names. The Shimmer Set.

The little chickies in the oiltub gave not one fuck - they just continued to scimitar each others breasts off and eat the handfuls of immature mammary fat a yellow mousse dessert. Yum Yum. The horrorbrain assassin was nearly out, her uppertorso and arms swinging and clambering and scratching as her thin white ass started to congeal its erotic silhouette of murder.

Eli-X reached for the only thing that had ever saved him in such tight squeezes....

With the last bit of white-feared panic, he held the killerbitch's virthead poking through the aether solid shimmer and grabbed a laserrazor off the bathroom sideboard, next to the holofuckmepretty cum-pearl froz-nitrogen tabs that kept him awake while every cockbait mutant tried to log on to his wee wee stick for a taste of pure starburst climaxmouth oy-boy-joy. Eli's pet mouthhole cursed the three cunts floating in the Caligula tub for ignoring his ever-present emergency, and eli banged a cyborg arm out of the holomirror to slice the fuck out of his virtual rapist however unwanted. The cyborg arm sliced the virt-head and it's neurosensors shot back razor pain down the wormhole gaping like a wide open cunt into broadband relays that bounced calculated pain over time. Pain over time = suffering. Eli's throat hole opened again as a teeny tiny Dr FixMe buzzed carefully down his throat as the virtual blood splatted all over the Caligula tub. The girls showered in it, laughing in French-cunt. Eli's pet mouth chomped off the badly horribly virthead thus sending a killspike back from when it came, if the connection was still good. Eli was pissed like a droid with no eyes. He was seething. The cyborg arm dropped the laserrasor and began wiping off eli's thin but muscular torso. Elli-X dove into the Caligula cum tub to get the virt-blood off.

The three girls giggled, their eyes rolling back from fuckme drugs gone bad.

Jane Louxis, hired assassin of the FEMDOM agency (a wholly owned subsidiary of Decay Hole Conglomerate) went apeshit, her nerves of steel unwrithed from her perfect alabaster of synthoflesh, her chromium plated skeletal substruts jammed into all eight corners of the bath-sloshing box room and she came down on Eli-X like a fucking razorback battering through undergrowth. She was a spider woman, her massive pincers locked in concrete as she came in for the kill, her fangs of titanium and her laser eyes of oil-murked refraction utter vomit in the face of the innocent. She tore through the three fuck-me-pumps idiots lathering about in their own cum-juices, a-slippin' and a-slidin' as the nerves of steel unraveled into their frames and tore off huge sides of rib and whole acres of cunt and thigh meat. The blood bath ensued with Jane's wormlike shimmers of anger coring out all living flesh it found, to the marrow until all that was left of those little bitch whores was a reddish grey soup containing what looked like pasta and carrot cubes. Always find carrot cubes in a good disembowelment.

In the panic of gene battle, Eli-X swam deeper into the lovetub, hunting down the plughole of all anal escape. Out the back passage of the spacetime continuum. Onto greater and better things.

Jane Louxis didn't even think about him zipping down the plughole for fuck's sake. That's why he was the best, the sexiest, longest lived of all the nanoscrotal devices ever to grace the Broadband Fuck Ether (patent pending).

That's his fucking name, fella, Eli-X.