Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

My Contest Entry

For The Most Fuckwhacked Fanfic Premise in the World.

Cut for length and content not suitable to all viewers.



To the McSwain! Foundation judges of The Most Fuckwhacked Fanfic Premise in the World Contest.

Submission: Mists of the Forgotten


It should first be said that this is not my story, but that of a friend, Maura "Mama Maur" Longbottom, who sadly is unable to participate directly as her computer recently collapsed under a pile of plushies, cats, and jelly-smeared toddlers, driving her offline for the foreseeable future. This is probably for the best, as it may lead her to clean her house, and also as I may have misrepresented the contest somewhat, leading her to believe that far more sincere efforts of ficmanship were being sought. (Also, should Mama win, she will be expecting a rather substantial cash prize, I'm afraid. I'll let you work that out between you.)

Mama, lacking a computer, penned all her notes in some kind of pink ballpoint, on purple paper. Being too lazy to transcribe directly from this atrocious hash of loopy, rather childish cursive, often half-obscured by terrifyingly anatomical illustrations of her story ideas, I've taken the liberty of summarizing most of her conceptual outline and large chunks of the story itself which have already been written.

The framework of this twelve-book epic is premised on the belief that alternate realities are in fact real and exist in the confines of a snowglobe collection owned by Mama's son Peter. Mama has until now served as a kind of regent for this kingdom, but whimsy dictates that Peter shall discover the globes and begin to "shake them up." Hijinks ensue across the multiverse, dashing characters together from the author's favorite fandoms. From what I can tell of Mama's notes, the entire first book exists merely to lay the groundwork for this premise, and seems to be a portrait of Mama's married life, punctuated liberally by ellipses and the antics of Peter and his clinically diagnosed hyperactive siblings. Meta, I guess you'd call this. After skimming this section, I've come away with a great deal of intimate knowledge about Mama and Husband Bob's conjugal relationship that I'd previously managed to avoid. If you enjoy homespun humor, justifications of cross-stitch as an art, lengthy anecdotes about the trials of being a mother to ADD-stricken children, and thoughtful essays on the misunderstood plushie hobby, I think you'll find this a rich book with which to begin your fan-fictional journey.

Once the snowglobes have been shaken up, however, the real fun begins. Now, it's my own belief that the elusively defined quality of fuckwhackedness is not always propagated so much by story content as by an author's inimitable prose stylings, but unfortunately, I will never be able to do justice to Mama's own style, which combines an almost medical approach to the sexual act with a wealth of fulsome romanticism once limited to a less savory line of bodice-rippers--a truly remarkable achievement. So I will have to limit myself to bare details and hope that this conveys something of the fiction's unique nature. When the story is actually published, I imagine that Mama's story notes will serve admirably to encapsulate her accomplishments and set readerly expectations. (And at this point it occurs to me that I should detour briefly to try and explain Mama's decade-long obsession with Dennis Quaid, but I may be at risk for divulging certain sensitive legal details, so perhaps enough said.)

We begin our story during a snowstorm in the jungles of Peru. This freak event of nature interrupts an erotic shamanic ritual being enacted by Jim Ellison ("played" by Dennis Quaid; see story notes) and Blair Sandburg ("played" by Chris Kirkpatrick of *Nsync; ibid.) in front of their adopted tribe, the Ughaa Mongolala [sic]. Our heroes try to save their tribe from what the author characterizes, with questionable scientific accuracy, as a kind of rapid extinction, not unlike that experienced by the dinosaurs when a catastrophic comet struck the earth millions of years ago. Hard to credit that mere snow would cause such peril, but we have a lot of ground to cover, so let's move on. The rescue effort is aborted when Jim and Blair find themselves drawn into a hyperdimensional vortex and whirled across time and space to end up on the planet Umquat, in a backwater of the Gou'ald Empire which time-traveling Federation forces led by James T. Kirk are attempting to reclaim, due to its pivotal role in future history. The indigenous, human-descended Umquat--race, not planet--bear a passing resemblance to Darkover Comyn, exhibiting strong telepathic abilities which our Blair immediately manifests with unprecedented strength, thus raising him to a position of power in the Council. Intrigue commences as Kirk attempts to negotiate a treaty with Blair, who is meanwhile being prepared for a royal marriage with D'Shara, hereditary princess to the throne of Deryni. (A nomenclative coincidence, as far as I can tell.) As a sidenote, Blair will only be consummating his marriage with Jim's help, in an erotic shamanic ritual reminiscent of disturbing practices from "The Handmaid's Tale." It's not long after negotiations begin that the team of SG1 arrives, transdimensionally transported during gate travel to arrive in this nearly parallel dimension--or perhaps the same one. It's somewhat unclear. Daniel immediately falls in love with Blair, as Jack looks on angrily. Likewise, Blair falls in love with Daniel. Jim looks on furiously. I may be getting ahead of myself, but I think we all know where this is going--Mama's gift for erotic shamanic rituals is never so fully exercised as when she's rendering a foursome in exquisite and acrobatically improbable detail.

Meanwhile, Peter shakes another snowglobe.

Somewhere in Sunnydale, a portal opens in a graveyard. As Spike and Xander are fighting off the vampire minions of a new Master, they stumble and fall through this snowy speculum (I think she was trying for "osculum"), and arrive on Umquad [sic], which soon becomes Umquat, and thus our newest pair of heroes is carried into the royal city in a horse-drawn cage, after a thousand-mile journey involving brutal rape, slavery, and assorted indignities, some of which involve a Rube Goldbergian hose-and-water based contraption whose effects really shouldn't discompose a vampire, given the lack of certain bodily functions, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. And yet Spike cries like a little girl. Of course, one must remain philosophical and respect the internal logic and laws of an author's universe, so we will move on. Spike and Xander, who have taken comfort in one another's arms, cleaned each other's wounds, gently picked lice from each other's hair, and swapped both spit and blood with surprising frequency given their confinement, arrive in the royal city and are put up for auction. By tradition, the royal court must attend, but Blair is something of a commie pinko liberal who intends to repeal the laws of slavery when he ascends the throne. Or perhaps not, as somewhere in the course of the story, Jim has acquired an emerald-studded collar around his neck that brings out the verdant hue of his eyes, and appears to be Blair's consort cum bed-slave. It's possible I missed the sequence of events explaining this relationship--there was a large section of Mama's notebook marred by water damage from, I think, a capsizing aquarium incident. One can only hope this gap is rectified at time of publication. But to return to our story, the royal court shows up for the auction, and Blair is struck from afar by the stunning beauty of both Spike and Xander. The word "lithe" is used several times. He buys the slaves and has them brought to the palace, where they are fed and cleaned and treated in general rather like horses, a similarity best not examined closely. The scenes that follow involve lolling on stuffed pillows, actual grape peeling (razor-sharp fangs), and some truly enthusiastic ass-banging, witnessed by several of our heroic voyeurs via a transparent mirror.

Thus ends, rather abruptly, Book Two.

I'm not sure that I have the stamina or time to forge ahead through the remaining ten books, so I think perhaps I'll just tender this contest entry on Mama's behalf, in the hopes that it will be sufficiently competitive.

Mama wanted me to let you know that, should she win, she retains full copyright, and will be sending you her illustrations by registered mail so that you can scan them and upload them to your web site where her story will be published.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Anna S.
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