It is late evening, though hardly dark and definitely not quiet. Ibiza is a raucous environment in the club district and even more so around the legendary Amp Room. Music pours through the windows and doors along with the occasional aural signature of novas pissing on the concept ‘laws of nature’.

Guests to the Amp Room vary widely in appearance and origin, though all are there to party. Here comes a gentleman dressed to the nines in an umber eufibre suit, the cost of which would bankrupt all but the most disgustingly wealthy. His companions clothing is quite the contrast, a dull sack of a dress. Perhaps she thinks her hair, strands of multicolored light floating about her, makes up for the fashion crime. They walk with the confidence of veteran partiers to this gathering of gods. Not so the trio of young men shuffling along behind them. Despite having the power to level buildings these three young Germans, obviously newly erupted, chatter nervously as they gawk about, hardly able to believe not only what they are but where they are about to enter. Another and another enter. This one trailing flames, that one built like he should be sporting torn slacks of a plum hue. The perfect, the amazing, the disturbing and the incomprehensible, one and all they enter this, The Amp Room.

A first-time visitor to the Amp Room often marvels at the sensory overload within. The music blasts, often at speeds that would drive a baseline dancer to aneurysm. On the dance floor and its immediate vicinity lights flash with speed and intensity enough to drive lesser beings to distraction. Smells, those common in any club, smoke, sweat and the occasional more…pungent odor, are joined with scents of all varieties: musk, lavender, brimstone, acid, ozone and more all battle for acknowledgement. Then there are those senses a bit more primal, such as lust. For skin is on display as much as any six-figure euefibre creation. Breasts and chests, legs, buttocks and often more are flashed, flaunted and exposed on a nightly basis. Women who would give Barbie a case of low self-esteem. Men who if you called them an Adonis you’d have delivered a base insult. Even with this, some things are out of the ordinary.


“Are we on? Are we on? Okay…go. This is Jasmine Fonua of N! News. We are here outside of the world-famous Amp Room reporting on the remarkable events tonight. With us is nova Stan “Stevedore” Mrse of the United States. Stevedore, can you tell us what happened here?”

“Oh, oh yeah. It was a trip, and it’s not my first time here so I kinda know what goes on here. I like to come, unwind a bit, few times a year at least. You know.”

“Yes, and what made tonight different?”

“Well, it was Camera Night and those are always pretty popular. You know, everyone’s wearing the wireless headsets with a little camera in them? And that gets fed to N! and regular folks can check out what all the hub-bub’s about in the Amp Room. I’d heard they were pretty fun so I made a point to come and check it out.”

“Yes, and Camera Nights are known for actually being a little reserved.”

“Yeah, since everyone’s gotta camera it’s little more obvious, y’know? Gotta dial it back a bit or you’re gonna see OpFeeds of you doing stuff you didn’t want mom and dad back in the world knowing about. You got some of those exhibitor types of course, and anything with them on it gets channeled to the adult portion of N!, but most folks keep a few more clothes on than normal I guess.”

“But not tonight.”

“ Oh fu[beep] no, oh, uhm sorry, I mean heck no. Yeah, all hell broke loose tonight.”

“And who instigated the riot?”

“I dunno if ya wanna call it a riot. Wasn’t no one hurt, nothing busted up. Well, not much.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, that rocker guy, Lemmy? He and some chick showed up while the place was bumping.”

<font color="#000080">You have to strut. You just have to. You’re god. Maybe not the Big G but you’re a pretty bad-ass little g. You’re Old Man Winter but with a better bod and a bigger rod. Jack Frost ain’t got nothing on you. If it’s solid you can freeze it till it shatters. And the new toys upstair means you can do anything. Any-fucking-thing. Snow in July? Did it, with the lightning too. Down goes the temperature upstairs and you’re thinking faster than a supercomputer on speed. Do it across the bod and we can fly now. Fly you skinny bastard, fly!! Walk it, talk it. Dress like you know they want it, cuz they do. They all do. Poor little girls, but Young Stud Winter don’t hang with the flats no more. Olympus has got a cover charge and it’s a node. The Dark Lady gave you the nod and a teacher. Hot for teacher. Hot teacher. Icy hot. Anything. Everything. That’s the deal now. </font>

“Do you know whom he was with?”

“Oh no, didn’t know her”

<font color="#FF0000">This and That walked demurely ahead of the Mister and Miss. Quiet and obedient. As they should be. Of course. Be proper and make the Miss proud. Mister didn’t seem to care. Nothing they did seemed to catch his attention, no matter how hard they tried. Miss had dressed them so nice tonight. So very nice. This enjoyed the tuxedo. It was loose and exhilarating. So different from the leather. Satin and linen. Silk and wool. Lovely blacks and greys. The pewter buttons perfectly matched the buckle to the collar and leash around This’s neck. She loved the leash most of all. This was in perfect harmony with That’s opulent white-satin wedding dress. It was low enough cut that Miss had him wax his chest to keep the picture untainted. His leash was a clean white leather with blue buckles to match his garters.

This looked down to the ground as she walked along, as is proper, but she strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of Miss in the windows to her side as they walk down the street. Just to see the pretties one more time. The Miss always dresses so magnificently and tonight is no exception. Her euefibre is in the form of a two black satin ribbons, one circling up one long shapely leg, across her sex and bottom then up and around her belly. The other circles her neck a few times before dipping down across her back. The two meet in a large bow across her full breasts. Every lush curve of her is on display, with only the smallest bits hidden from view. The ribbon hardly seems capable of holding all of the Miss in. And in each and every second that the viewer watches, hoping for the ribbon to break, or slip…there is ecstasy. </font>


“Go on.”

“He comes in and I guess he talks to some folks and next thing ya know he’s up on stage with some weird guitar in his hands. People cheer, people boo, some folks don’t like his stuff I guess. Me, I like Alejandra, nice lady. But, so, he starts playing instead of the DJ doing his thing and the folks start dancing fast to his stuff or get off the dance floor cuz they can’t keep up. “

<font color="#000080">Back on stage. It’s been awhile. But it’s time to say hi. Pull out the Instrument. Hermes made the lyre, Pan made his pipes. The Frozen Scion of Metal has the Instrument. 19 strings. 3 levers. 8 knobs. 2 proximity adjusters. 4 temp gauge adjusters. And two things he doesn’t even understand if the node isn’t in the deep freeze and making like a superconductor. Hands begin to fly, the voice begins to wail and the Instrument turns into a symphony on speed. </font>

“Was it the music? Was it something about the music?”

“No, that’s when his lady friend starts to do her thing.”

“And what was that?”

“Well, she’s, well, she’s not really dressed, y’know? Not naked, but what she got on doesn’t quite count. Lotsa ribbons and stuff. But she gets on the dance floor and well, starts up. Now, I’m married and all, but a guy can look can’t he? So she’s burning it up and then she makes a beeline for Ed.”

“Ed being the name of the Amp Rooms resident cylinder of jello?”

“Yeah, him. Everyone calls him Ed, so I guess that’s his name. Never heard him talk or anything. But he’s the one people crawl into if they want to…um…., can I say ‘get-off”?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Yeah, I guess he makes you all horny and get off and stuff. Not my scene there. No sir. But she crawls in him. And starts shaking and moaning, I guess. I couldn’t hear her over the music..”

<font color="#FF0000">She glides over to him, ignoring the frenzy of the music but grinding to a sub-beat within it. Hips move side to side, feet cross over one another in a sensuous, sexually charged dance towards Ed. Her brother in ecstasy. He gives pleasure to those within him, she gives pleasure to those without (and within, of course). As she approaches he seems to sense her. He releases his current occupant, some nameless corporate drone who had sold his godhood for a paycheck, and sits motionless , awaiting her. His surface is covered with an ever changing array of sensory and pleasure organs. They come and go, thrusting out from the surface to invite and sinking back within. But the real interest lies within. She reaches out to touch him, his exterior is surprisingly dry, but warm and inviting. She pushes slightly and he opens up for her, taking her within. One small step and she is surrounded. The warmth envelopes her, all over her body. He slides under the ribbon that covers what little she’s kept hidden from view. Over her breasts, down between her legs, over her ass. Over, and in. He enters her everywhere, until he seems as much a part of her as her own skin. No need to breath, no longer blinded by his form, she can see out his many eyes, hear out his many ears, taste the air and take in its aromas. And then it starts. The pleasure. Every inch of her, inside and out is rocked with a rolling orgasm. Not simply the powerful center that wafts outward that she would normally experience. No, her entire form is a thrumming nerve ending, experiencing the slow build, the climactic peak and sensuous recession of orgasm, all at once and over and over again. Her toes feel it, her eyelids feel it, and her hair feels it. And everyone should feel it. </font>

“Is that when the riot started?”

“Well, if you wanna call it that. But Ed starts glowing, or actually she’s the one who’s glowing this weird dark pink light, and then the glow, it kinda flows out onto the dance floor, and off of the dance floor over everyone there.”

“Was it an attack?”

“I didn’t see no one get hurt. It didn’t hurt me, but I don’t get hurt much myself anymore. No, I don’t think so. But I did…feel different.”

<font color="#000080">As he plays Lemmy sees the energy pour out of Ed. She told him what she had planned and he was so happy that she went through with it. But really, when didn’t she go through with anything? Desire and action were not separate entities to her. That’s what she had been teaching him. If one wants and one is a god one does. One must realize that to move from baseline thought and baseline action to nova thought and nova action. But, just as desire and action are melded, then guilt and consequence are melded. Baselines feel guilt from negative desire. Novas desire and act. Thus guilt is an actual thing and not the construct of a society. Guilt is negative consequence. One must control one’s desires, shape them, and avoid negative consequence. Luckily, as Slattern had taught him, negative consequence is easy to avoid when one is a god. And thus freedom is gained. Freedom for her. Freedom for him. Freedom for this great pantheon before him. She was going to show them that now. </font>

“How so?”

“Well, listen, I gotta talk to my wife about this, find someone else to bug now.”

“Wait! Wait!...damnit. Okay we’re out of…wait, Vance!! Andy Vance!! Can we have a word with you?”

“What?! “

“I’m Jasmine Fon…”

“I know who you are. What?”

“We’re trying to understand what happened here.”

“Fuc(BLEEEEEP). Lots of it.”

“Ah, yes. But what was the cause?”

“This little Terat bi(bleep) by the name of Slattern.”

“Is that who accompanied Lemmy Chillmeister to the Amp Room this evening?”

“You got that backward I bet, but yeah.”

“What did she do?”

“She’s an emotional manipulator. And if tonight’s any evidence, a damn good one.”

<font color="#FF0000">It was almost as if Ed knew what she was doing, or she just managed to block out his influence for the moment required to focus completely. Turn inward, take the sexual power that thrummed through her and pour it all into her node. Push it harder than she had ever before. It was almost as if she was outside herself, seeing the energy flow from her. Not just to one, but to all. Desire. Lust. Need. Want. Now. Now. Now. Now. Dancers moving closer, more urgently thrusting into each other. Novas at the tables reaching across, holding hands, caressing palms. Men, women, and the occasional ‘who knows?’. They reach out to each other tentatively at first. Hands touch shoulders, cheeks, arms. Skin on skin. Euefibre parts, lesser fabrics are torn away. More aggressively now. Skin on skin. Sweat on sweat. Reaching. Pinching. Fondling. Grasping. Kissing. Biting. Bodies hit the floor. Tables are cleared and used for more imaginative purposes. Some take flight and add pages to the Kama Sutra. This one takes on a pure electrical form and dives into that one’s nervous system, igniting nerve endings and riding the course of pleasure. Another changes shape and takes her partner and his four duplicates. A group of 4 telepaths sit locked into a group consciousness, sharing memories of their best sexual escapades. Grabbing, Holding. Seizing. Thrusting. Pumping. Preferences giving way to need. Hang-ups dropped. Experimentation is the norm. Good and bad, right and wrong are meaningless, only whatever feeds the need is of consideration. And all across the world, computers tied into this weeks Camera Night at the amproom go black, with instruction on how to access N!’s Adult Only Access Channel. </font>

“So, she….”

“She turned the place into a fu[beep] orgy.”

“Has Slattern been apprehended?”

“No, no. She disappeared, along with Chillmeister, in the confusion. And what would we charge her with? No one was hurt. They disappeared, no one has a clue where they are and to be honest they’ve probably only added one little tale to the legend that the Amp Room is. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to deal with some things right now.”

“Thank you Andy Vance. This has been Jasmine Fonua on N! News.”