Feature two is a clumsy, self-conscious romp done by someone who knows just enough about the English language to mishandle it in a fit of cheap ambition.

Languid, sex-starved Faye is frustrated by her failed attempts to seduce Spike, played here by an unusually phlegmatic Easter Island statue. One by one the men flee the story for the purposes of going down the docks (the leathery Jet makes it clear he's off to “get some parts” and leaves with a “slow swagger”), abandoning Faye to an evening with the misplaced Octopus Motor itself. Within seconds, they're up to their child-bearing hips in barely oblique talk of bodily fluids, while the narrative takes on its newfound responsibility of generating face-saving irony with which to bludgeon the audience.

A wealth of important-looking padding assures the author he's an incisive psychological genius as opposed to a cheap wank merchant. Somewhere along this dismal trajectory Ed smootches her lipless gums against Faye's face. Faye acquiesces to some pretty unsavoury urges, kisses the boneless creature back with gusto and moralises from every pore on the importance of not allowing oneself to become a male sex-toy. In the process Ed's “well developed... ridiculously athletic” body is systematically molested. We're assured that Ed is the proud owner of a complete set of small “budding breasts” and one “virgin slit” from which the liquefied remains of Faye's eviscerated conscience somehow manage to spill like so much of a storm flood from inner Asia.

And then... it's all over. Simple as that. Sorry to have kept you. Faye and Ed decide to have an early night, where neither girl gets much sleep ^_~;;! Actually they do. They continue sleeping even as Spike and Jet return and are introduced with their full names, just in case we'd forgotten all about them on account of the so so hot action. Spike fully realises the dramatic potential of a bout of acute clinical depression before he and Jet barely decide to go out for more sailors. As part of a growing trend we're treated to another crass, self-congratulatory “post-climax gunshot to the head”:

“Sleep well...
Space Cowgirls!”


I won't start, otherwise I'll never finish. Besides, there's the final dose of Ed-boning to administer. If you ever thought Ed was more a prime candidate for a bit of purple-ram attack than the measured, diplomatic Sapphic approach, then this is for you. Introducing “Edward Learns A Lesson”; a veritable blitzkrieg between your legs, it will put your backward sexuality out of the war in seconds, long before you can marshal even the most basic of erections.

This is the heartwarming tale of a man so sick of a tiny girl's “happy ass running around like everything was a fairytale” that he decides to stick his penis into it; and of the tiny girl who “let him”. In a flashback composed of ninety percent mucus we're taken back to a happier time when all Spike hoped for was to watch Big Shot in peace. Unfortunately this hope is shattered almost immediately with the arrival of Ed and the “delicate curve of her tanned breasts.” Somewhat embarrassed at being caught watching television sweaty and trouser-less, Spike attempts to save face the only way he can: by fucking the evidence.

After oozing buttery smarm for a good half hour, Ed is overcome and subsequently dragged back to Spike's personal oil tank for a bloody good seeing-to. In a fantastically one-sided, mechanical “sex” scene that will make you weep, no lack of underwear goes unworn, no virgin sex goes unwetted, no hips fail to buck wildly at their respective ministrations, and no womanly essence goes uncorked. Any female orifice found holding back its “exotic juices” or “honey” forfeits its life within five hours.

Spike literally lives out the creed “touch kid to receive prize”, giving her a delightful treat in the form of some greasy ramrod action in the process. In a hateful anti-climax we learn that Spike wasn't even brutally violating Ed out of a mindless sexual frenzy, but that he was doing it as a calculated act of will. A quick segue later our hero is left in a state which would seem to imply he was “rocked like a hurricane”, however he's only succeeded in missing everyone's favourite show and been left alone with only a sweltering erection for company. In an epitaph written by Satan himself he's gifted the suggestion:

“~Handle It Yourself Space Cowboy~”


Is this The End? No. In fact, with the editor's permission, I'd even go so far to say that this is Only The Beginning. ONLY THE BEGINNING! Next time I'm hoping* to bring you the darker side of the relationship between Popaco and Pochi (pronounced “Chief”). Also much marital bliss between Big Shot's Judy, tiny tiny Gir and a cop named “Cornjob.” Until then, keep concentrating on the Good and the Beautiful!

*No hopes will be honoured.



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"Hentai is the Otaku's Gateway to Boundless Pleasure" ~ Ancient Proverb