MiSTed: Stolen Memories (11/29)
Rottweiler
Part 4 of Mystery Usenet Theater 3000 Presents _Stolen Memories_
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
For those of you who decided to skip Part 3, here's what happened in the
previous chapter of _Stolen Memories_:
Alis' evil sister takes Julian to an unknown location and forces him to
mate with her for three days in attempt to impregnate herself. Since
the
authors never give her a name, Mike and the Bots name her "de Sade". On
the fourth day, she tells Julian to submit to her will or she will allow
a
group of Felistian males to use him sexually. He refuses to submit, and
she carries out her threat. Afterward, she is convinced that, from now
on,
he will obey her every command, out of fear that the experience will be
repeated if he doesn't.
And now we return to the MiSTing.
[SOL Theater. MIKE and the BOTS enter and take their seats.]
> Article 155 of 418
>
> Subject: (repost) Stolen Memories - 4/9 (pre-DS9)
TOM: DebSite #9?
CROW: Hosted by Dichael K. Deylon.
> From: hen...@zipper.zip.com.au (Henry Chatroop)
> Date: 1997/01/08
> Message-Id: <5autje$p...@the-fly.zip.com.au>
TOM: (The Fly) Heeellllpppp mmmmeeeeeee!!!
> Organization: The Zipsters
MIKE: Weren't they on the Ed Sullivan show?
> Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
>
> WARNING - NC-17 FICTION:
CROW: No Chipmunks under 17 inches in height should read this story!
> This story makes references to sex,
> and explores the after affects of rape while also
> discussing life
TOM: The universe, and everything.
> in a Felistian Harem. If reading about that
> sort of thing offends read no further. If not read on and
> enjoy.
>
> The Ed, Red.
CROW: (singing) I see Skyes of Red and clouds of white.
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night.
And I think to myself, what a horrible fic.
> ============================================================
MIKE: All ASCII characters are equal, but some are more equal than
others.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
ALL: Waiting...
> ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
CROW: That sign means you're pregnant with sixty babies.
> Stolen Memories
TOM: I hear that stolen memories fetch a high price on the black market.
> Part Four
MIKE: Felistians on Patrol.
> Julian lay on a soft Harem bed curled up in a tight
> little foetal ball
CROW: Are you ready for some foetal ball?
> - totally withdrawn - catatonic.
TOM: His parents TOLD him not to watch scary movies, but did he listen?
> His
> skin was cold and clammy, taunt over his bones, the gaunt
> cheeks and deep dark smudges under his eyes made him look
> like a living corpse.
MIKE: A vampire?
CROW: No, just a vegetarian.
> Faint red marks marked his skin from
> cheek to hips.
TOM: Julian, have you gotten into mommy's lipstick again?
> At first there were whimpers, tears and racking sobs,
> but now the whimpers and tears had ended.
MIKE: Cry to me, She said, those were her very words.
CROW: Well, who's the crybaby now?
TOM: Todd Rundgren's going to hit you two.
> All Julian seemed
> to do was stare into space
MIKE: Typical Gen-Xer.
> rocking himself back and forth
> while gentle hands moved over his body, bathing him,
> stroking his hair.
TOM: Changing him...
> A soft voice murmured words of comfort
> and sympathy.
CROW: There, there. You're still a regular on the show. Yes, Chase
Masterson is getting more fan-mail than you are, but she won't
have
as successful a career on the convention circuit. Okay, I'm lying
there. But you'll still get to appear on whatever little show
Frakes
is hosting...
> As the days progressed Julian was drawn back from the
> edge of self-willed death and began to respond.
MIKE: His response consisted of a nasty letter that he immediately sent
to
the City Council.
> When food
> was waved near his nose,
CROW: He sat up and begged like a good dog.
> he would open his mouth and take
> it.
TOM: Later, he became mad as Hell and wouldn't take it any more.
> At first he needed someone to move his jaw to make him
> chew,
MIKE: (Malcolm McDowell) I've been through the tortures of the damned,
sir.
Tortures of the damned.
> but slowly he remembered how to eat and went through
> the motions himself.
CROW: Still, his heart wasn't in it.
> Then gentle hands drew him from his foetal ball and made him
> move and stretch his body.
TOM: He's been rescued by Jane Fonda.
> At time passed, his gaunt frame
> began to flesh out again, the hollow cheeks filling out, the
> deep dark smudges under the eyes faded.
MIKE: He's getting over his "Tiny Tim" disease.
> It was a week before a thought connected to the outside
> world entered Julian's brain.
CROW: But that's normal.
> It was one thought, just one.
TOM: (Julian's brain) Think of all the _Ally McBeal_ episodes we've
missed!
> The soft voice that murmured words of comfort and sympathy
> came from a man.
MIKE: (man) Don't be alarmed, son. This cattle prod won't hurt a bit.
> He cringed, plunging back into the hellish
> depths of memory so violent and shameful that he couldn't
> deal with it.
CROW: Hey, no plunging into the hellish depths until you've passed your
swimming test.
> His nurse maid didn't give up though.
TOM: He's Matt Stevens, Male Nurse, and dammit, he cares!
> With every day,
> came his soft, gentle attentions - food, sanitary measures,
> physiotherapy and in his own special way, counselling.
MIKE: (German accent) Zo Joowlean, ven ditchoo staht veeling zis vay?
> Words
> Julian needed to hear and believe so desperately slowly
> registered in his brain.
CROW: I'm betting there's not a long line to register in Julian's brain.
> The gentle care and comforting
> words finally drew him back out of his shell.
ALL: (singing) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...
> As he drifted
> between full and semi-consciousness of his surroundings
> Julian made a very common error.
MIKE: Error 404?
> "Dada.."
CROW: (Julian) ...is my favorite Twentieth Century art movement.
> "Yes, son, I'm here.. It's alright, you're safe now, no
> ones going to hurt you while I'm around."
MIKE: Ward, I'm worried about the Bashir...
> In a rush of words and a stream of tears Julian poured
> out his tale of woe describing the horrific sexual torture
> and pack rape he'd undergone.
TOM: Unfortunately, since Julian had regessed back to an infantile
stage,
he did all this in "goo-goo"s and "ga-ga"s.
> His nursemaid listened and
> petted him soothingly, hugging and rocking him when Julian
> had held out his arms, like a baby seeking a hug.
CROW: C'mon, crib death, what's keeping you?
> Safely
> held in the comforting embrace Julian fell to weeping, his
> body racked with sobs.
MIKE: And men's dress shirts.
> His nurse maid rocked
TOM: Him like a hurricane.
> and stroked him
> murmuring words of comfort and sympathy, absolving Julian of
> all responsibility for what had happened.
CROW: What luck to have a priest for a nurse maid!
> With that
> absolution he took his first step toward healing the mental
> wounds Alis' sister had inflicted on Julian.
MIKE: He got a full-frontal lobotomy.
> His words were
> the ones Julian desperately needed to hear.
TOM: Julian Bashir, COME ON DOWN!!!
> Julian cried himself to sleep in that comforting
> embrace.
MIKE: Y'know what this story needs? A Tribble or a Klingon or
something.
That would liven things right up. Who was that character played
by
the guy from _Fantasy Island_?
CROW: Soren?
MIKE: No, the other guy from Fantasy Island.
CROW: You mean Khan?
MIKE: Yeah, that's the ticket! Khan. Bring HIM in, and right away,
we've
got us a good old-fashioned Trek adventure.
> *******************************
MIKE: Hey, look up there! It's an actual star trek!
> Alistair Mender,
CROW: Mended Alistairs.
> Former Starfleet Commander and Chief
> Medical Officer,
TOM: Now he sells life insurance on TV.
> now First and Preferred mate to the
> Felistian Matriarch watched as his new charge slept curled
> around a long pillow.
MIKE: (Alistair) I wonder if I could get my pillow back without waking
him
up.
> The young man sniffled now and then or
> whimpered, but he wasn't screaming.
CROW: At least not while he was sucking on his nookie.
> That was a mercy.
TOM: Too bad it wasn't a mercy KILLING!
> The
> Felistians in the Harem got turned on by screaming. He'd
> seen them go for men who screamed in their sleep.
TOM: It's a race of furry, gay Goreans!
> He rubbed his tired eyes and looked about. He was dead
> tired, weary to the bone from caring for the poor innocent
> who slept semi-peacefully behind him.
MIKE: Maybe he could unload the boy at a swap meet.
> Until he could be sure
> the young man wouldn't start screaming in his sleep, it
> wasn't safe to leave the bedside.
CROW: So in the future they don't have baby monitors?
> He'd given the young man as through an examination as
> he could with his limited medical equipment.
MIKE: Sure, he wished he had more than a tongue depressor and a used
cotton
swab, but you have to make do with what you've got.
> Supplied by the
> Matriarch years past when she was in a magnanimous mood
> after the installation of her last born kit to the
> Matriarchal line of accession.
TOM: Primogeniture as practiced by dyslexics.
CROW: She had also let him invite his friends over to watch _Monday
Night
Football_.
> Unfortunately her gratitude
> hadn't lasted too long.
MIKE: Yeah, that's women for ya.
> Just long enough to install him in
> her lavish harem and list him as her First and Preferred
> Mate.
CROW: He's First Mate?
TOM: (singing) The first mate and the skipper, too
Will do their very best
To satisfy the Matriarch
And perform at her request
(Perform at her request)
> That had its advantages.
MIKE: Much like owning an American Express card, except with more sex.
> He'd been in dozen of harems
> over the last 26 years since his capture.
CROW: So he's been all harem-scarem, then?
> The Matriarch
> harem was the most comfortable.
TOM: At least he was playing in the Majors. Those triple-A harems were
a
joke.
> Here he got plenty of food,
MIKE: Some food... Meow Mix au gratin.
> the amenities were state of the art and the Harem Keepers
> treated the men with consideration and care.
CROW: And for entertainment, there were the wacky roundball antics of
the
Harem Globetrotters.
> In other
> harems, he'd never known when his next meal would be,
TOM: Or how many mouse heads would be in it.
> the
> amenities were restricted to a mat on the floor, a basin of
> freezing water - not always clean,
MIKE: And access to the health spa on Mondays and Wednesdays.
> a wash cloth and a sand
> pit in the back of the harem for excreta.
CROW: He who controls the spice controls the harem!
> Then there was the advantage of being able to look
> through the huge picture window that covered the east wall.
TOM: Hey, how'd the Great Wall of China get here?
> He could see the Matriarch's gardens below which opened out
> to a positive wilderness.
MIKE: Grizzly Adams is probably out there somewhere.
> The view was spectacular.
CROW: I don't know... that show isn't THAT great. I mean, I like
Meredith
Viara and all, but...
> And
> sometimes, he could see his beloved and her children taking
> their leisure in the sunshine outside.
TOM: Taking turns grooming each other, no doubt.
> He knew she'd given
> birth to at least six of children - kits as they called
> them.
MIKE: Model kits?
> But he knew nothing more than the fact that only one
> of them was `good' enough to be selected as her heir.
CROW: The rest were eventually to become entrees.
> He
> often wondered when he saw women walking below if any of
> them were his offspring.
TOM: Well, it shouldn't be too hard to tell which ones are catlike
aliens
and which are half cat/half human freaks.
> One in particular, he wondered about.
MIKE: The one with four arms and three eyes. She looked just like him.
> Tall, graceful,
> incredibly beautiful with curves enough to make any man look
> twice.
CROW: Even her own father thought she was hot!
> Her skin was the same deep ebon as his, as was her
> long hair, that reached her ankles when loose.
TOM: (singing) Give me a head with hair - long, beautiful hair...
MIKE: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!
> She had no
> fur that he could see,
CROW: Except that mane reaching her ankles.
> but that wasn't unusual.
TOM: (singing) It's not unusual to be loved by anyone.
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone.
> Not since
> the women had started inter-breeding with Terrans.
(ALL laugh uproariously)
MIKE: Okay, who's been tampering in God's domain?
> He'd seen
> more than one Felistian without fur.
CROW: Some of them had even started a "Fur is Murder" campaign.
> There were several
> Felistian/Terran fusion males within the harem.
TOM: They could power San Fransisco for a month, and the only waste
product
was pure water.
> Mindless
> creatures, furless and barbless.
MIKE: We, on the other hand, are full of barbs.
> They were among the most
> popular pets kept at the palace.
CROW: Right after the neon betas and the chihuahuas.
> Visiting noblewomen always
> requested them.
TOM: (noblewoman) Hello, room service? Send up two Felistian/Terran
fusion
males and a Diet Pepsi.
MIKE: Biological impossibilities and the women who love them, on the
next
Geraldo.
> He knew none of them were his, he'd overheard rumours
> about male offspring of noble women being euthanasied at
> birth.
CROW: Jim Henson's Dead Babies.
> Male heirs were something the women made damn sure
> there weren't any off.
MIKE: If there were too many men around, there would be no more going
topless at the local library.
> Sometimes the thought made him grieve
> for the possible sons he'd never known,
CROW: He'd never got to hear his son asking to borrow the car on a
Saturday
night.
> and never would and
> other times he thanked god that his sons wouldn't be cast
> into the harems to spend their days as mindless pleasure
> slaves.
MIKE: Hey, hooker's a good job!
TOM: In fact, "Mindless Pleasure Slave" turned up at #3 on Vent's "Most
Desired Careers" list.
> He sighed, thinking about his children.
CROW: (singing) Are these the little kittens I carried...
> He doubted
> he'd ever know how many of them would survive their life
> tests.
TOM: What the heck is a life test, anyway?
MIKE: It's when someone buys a copy of Life at the newsstand, to see if
they like it enough to subscribe.
> He doubted any would. One in five of the Noblewomen's
> kits
CROW: Do NOT recommend sugarless gum to their patients.
> died during their life tests, and the women passed it
> off as the will of their Goddess. Those who lived are
> destined for greatness.
TOM: Because, logically, it's kinda hard to be great when you're dead.
> Those who don't were never fit to
> take power in the first place. Or so they said.
CROW: On the alt.conspiracies.stolen-memories newsgroup.
> He
> remembered the very last time the Matriarch had sought out
> his company.
MIKE: She needed him to unclog the drain in the shower.
> She'd been extremely passionate, kept him at
> her side, at her beck and call for almost a month. And every
> night of that month,
TOM: She gave him the old "I've got a headache" line.
> she'd cried in her sleep for a kit
> she'd never see again, a kit who'd failed her life test.
CROW: And had to attend community college instead of a big university.
> He sank back onto the bed, eyes closing, his thoughts
> fixed on the Matriarch.
MIKE: Angela Channing?
TOM: (Jimmy Durante) Good night Mrs. Matriarch, wherever you are.
> With a deep sigh he slipped into
> dreams about the love of his life,
CROW: Shelly Winters.
> forever separated by
> customs and law.
MIKE: And War and Peace.
TOM: And Crime and Punishment.
CROW: And meat and potatoes.
> Never to live together, to share their
> laughter and sorrow, to raise their children - kits -
> together.
MIKE: Never to attend Bingo Night together...
> Fated to spend only short moments in time
> together. A week here, a month or two there over the years.
> If only...
TOM: ...Felistians weren't so evil.
(TOM hovers onto MIKE's lap. MIKE picks up TOM and ALL leave the
theater.)
[Door 1]
[Door 2]
[Door 3]
[Door 4]
[Door 5]
[Door 6]
[Dog Bone]
[SOL Bridge. MIKE, TOM, and CROW are assembled behind the counter.
There's an easel set up, and some posters laying face down on the
counter.
MIKE and the BOTS speak directly to CAMBOT throughout this segment.]
TOM: If you're like us - and, hey, who isn't? - you've probably been
asking
"What's the deal, anatomically speaking, with those kooky
Felistians?"
CROW: Yeah. The males have barbed penises, which makes reproduction
among
their own species pretty darned uncomfortable.
MIKE: But somehow, they've overcome this slight obstacle, which flies in
the face of all Darwinian theory.
TOM: And the Felistians aren't the only biologically illogical alien
race
out there!
CROW: Nope. Lots of alien races have survived and even thrived despite
severe evolutionary handicaps.
(MIKE sets up a poster on the easel. The poster shows an alien gnawing
on
its own arm.)
MIKE: Take, for example, the self-cannibalizing Hunchentoots of Donner
IV.
They can only survive by eating their own flesh.
TOM: Once they run out of body parts to eat, they die!
CROW: Screwy, isn't it?
(MIKE sets up another poster. This one shows an alien in an iron
lung-type
contraption.)
MIKE: And then there's the Wheezulites from the Asthmatron Galaxy.
CROW: They're unable to breathe on their own, so they have to rely on
bulky
artificial respirators all their lives.
TOM: Reproduction is nearly IMPOSSIBLE for these poor dopes.
(MIKE sets up a third poster. This one shows a female alien lying on
her
side, surrounded by sick-looking baby aliens.)
MIKE: Things are even worse for the Dairians of the Lactose system.
TOM: They get violently ill when they drink their mother's milk.
(MIKE sets up yet another poster. This one shows an alien bursting into
flames and screaming in agony.)
MIKE: But that's nothing compared to the pitiable Combustians from
Planet
Ignito.
CROW: They spontaneously combust whenever they sneeze.
TOM: And, tragically, they rely chiefly on ragweed for sustenance.
CROW: Let me tell you, allergy season is NOT pretty.
(The yellow light flashes)
MIKE: Oops, that's all the time we have for this little documentary.
See
you all in a few minutes!
(MIKE hits the button)
[Planet Bumper]