Lance Storm and the Medusa Menace (mm scifi mc asfr)

WARNING: This story contains lots and lots of erotic mind control and homosexual content. If you are underage or offended by such material, then you shouldn't have even read this far!

Dream Cast: Brendan Fraser, Keanu Reeves, Will Friedle, and Judi Dench as Colonel Crabbe.

Special Guest Star: Tobey Maguire. Special Appearance by Ian McKellan as the President.

And Richard O’Brien as the Malevolent Doctor Saturn.

This story is copyrighted by the author. Comments welcome at [email protected].

In our last exciting chapter, Lieutenant Eros' clever ruse to defeat the dreaded Lorp invasion earned him a reward of precious leave time. In his absence, Lance Storm and Cadet Timmy occupied themselves planning fun ways to celebrate their beloved hypnomaster and pal's return. None of them were aware that while they cheerfully looked to the future, they were secretly being watched...watched by a shadowy, unseen figure with a hidden agenda that would soon place them all in DEADLY DANGER...

There wasn't often a mail delivery on the distant moon called Ultra-Mega Four. In fact, there was no mail service for a million space miles. So it was quite a surprise when Captain O'Cosmos opened the hatch of his sleek patrol rocket, the Double Moon, and found a package lying outside.

"Hey, guys!" he called to his shipmates in his unique accent, a sexy blend of Irish, Greek and Australian. "Come and look at this!"

As he carried it inside, Chip and Rusty ran to see what the fuss was about. On this dull survey mission of the lonely moon, any change of pace was a welcome one! The captain held the box up for them to see. On the top, in large block letters, was printed:

To: Captain Mel. S. O'Cosmos
Lieutenant Rusty F. Armboy
Lieutenant Chip Carson
From: An Admirer

Rusty scratched his head in bemusement. "Well, now, whaddya make of that?" he said, his accent summoning images of broad Midwestern wheat fields.

Chip's hazel eyes were as bright as his smile. "Open it, Mel, open it!" he cried with typical boyish eagerness.

Mel O'Cosmos laid the large box down on the cockpit worktable and carefully removed the sealing tape, lifting the lid. He pulled out a note, and his buddies crowded close to read it along with him. As they did, a change came over their faces. Their eyes went wide, their breath became quick. Something strange was happening.

Mel began to tremble all over, his athletic figure twitching as if fondled by unseen hands. He tried to speak, but could only gasp.

Rusty, acting like a man with no control over his actions, reached into the box and lifted out a bright purple suit made of some rubberlike material. He, too, seemed speechless with amazement, clutching the costume with hands that suddenly exuded sweat.

Chip, his movements equally stiff, lifted out the other contents of the package - a large ray gun of unfamiliar design. Unable to stop himself, he raised it and turned it around to point directly at himself.

All three men were in the grip of a power they could not resist...


Lance Storm and Cadet Timmy strolled briskly across the clean green grounds of Rocketeer headquarters, enjoying the bright sunshine of a beautiful Earth day. They traded snappy salutes with the other brave spacemen they passed, and Timmy let his gaze linger on some of the muscular forms whose blue spandex uniforms clung so nicely. After all, boys will be boys!

"I hope the colonel has some assignment to fill up the weekend," Lance mused. "Eros won't be back from his leave till Monday. Space outlaws would be cool. Or maybe a nice monster."

"I bet Eros is having the time of his life," Timmy said wistfully. "I sure miss him when he's away."

"Think of it, though - he could go anywhere, with anyone, but he always comes back to us. That's what counts," Lance told him wisely.

"Gosh, you're right! Why is he so good to us? He could treat us like dirt and we'd still love him."

"Now, now, lad," Lance chided. "You know Bad Boy Day isn't till the end of the month."

As they entered Colonel Crabbe's office, they were surprised to see that she looked drawn and pale. Normally their tough, grey-haired commander was a pillar of strength.

"I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you boys," she said gravely. "We've received word that the shuttle Lieutenant Eros was piloting exploded four hours ago en route to Ultra-Mega Four. The ship that investigated found no sign of life. We have no choice but to consider the lieutenant a casualty." She paused, eyeing them with deep concern, waiting for the inevitable reaction. All they did was blink once. Were they too stunned by the news to take it in? "If you boys need anything - grief counseling - suicide intervention - "

"Oh no!" Lance assured her quickly. "We're not allowed to do that!"

"No sir!" added Timmy firmly. "If Eros ever dies, we must treasure our memories of him and be happy together. We're forbidden to feel any other way. We have it on tape."

"He knew our job was a dangerous one," Lance explained. "He made it a permanent, unbreakable command."

The colonel's steely eyes misted. "Take a few days off anyway," she said. "Some downtime will do you good. You can report back when you feel ready. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir!" The Rocketeers saluted snappily and marched out of her office with brainwashed cheerfulness. Colonel Crabbe stared after them for a long moment, glad that she had no other appointments for an hour. It wouldn't do for a commander's men to see her cry.

In the bright metal corridor outside, Timmy looked at his captain questioningly. "Gosh, Lance. Do you really think...?"

Lance considered for a moment. "I guess we both think he is. That's why the Final Orders kicked in. But... Eros' cum created a psychic link when it entered us. He told us he'd know if anything ever happened to us - so wouldn't we know if something happened to him? "

"You're right, Lance!" the teen cadet cried excitedly, his freckled face lighting up. "He's gotta be alive - he's just gotta! And we won't give up until we find him!"


And so it was that an hour later found their glistening rocket, the Starchild, fully erect and ready to shoot off into space once again. "You are clear for orbit 613, repeat 613," came the steady voice of ground control. "Prepare for blastoff."

"Stand by to raise ship!" barked Lance.

"Standing by, sir!" cried Timmy with gusto.

"Energize the cooling pumps!"

A mighty pulse throbbed through the ship like a giant vibrator. "Cooling pumps energized!"

"Clear tangent forward and up!" Lance jabbed at the button that activated their ultra-powerful superdrive, as Timmy pulled the levers with all his might. And with a great roar, they launched into space!

"Oh man," Lance breathed. "That gets me so hot - every time!"

"Is that a hint, captain?" Timmy grinned, slumping down in his co-pilot's seat. He rubbed his tousled head against Lance's big, muscular thigh, and in a second felt his idol's strong hand on the back of his neck, gently but irresistibly guiding it farther. Lance's breathing became deep and shuddery as the spandex parted to free his expanding cock, and Timmy's lips wrapped themselves around it, taking its full length into his eager mouth.

A half day's travel found them at the site where the broken fragments of Eros' shuttle floated in the void. The wonderfully precise scanners of the Starchild were put to work examining the wreckage, and while Timmy tended to necessary ship's maintenance, Lance studied what they told him intently, searching the monitor screens for any clue to what had befallen his lover.

"Lance!" Timmy's voice interrupted. "Televiewer!"

"Not now, Timmy, I think I have a lead."

"But Lance, it's the President of Earth!"

Lance dropped his pen and ran to the televiewer, saluting the kindly, patriarchal old man who governed his world so wisely. "Gosh, sir, this is an honor! I voted for you, you know."

"I know," smiled the face on the screen. "After Eros made that plug for me on worldwide TV, everyone did. Including my opponents. That's why I think it's only right that the government should pay for his funeral."

"Gee, that's swell of you, sir!" exclaimed Timmy.

"It's the least a grateful world can do," the President said gravely. "And it'll keep me from wanting to die myself."

"Oh, you met him in person," nodded Lance. "Listen, there's a tape we should probably play for you. In fact, it ought to be played on every TV and audio channel. Real soon."

"Well, I don't know, boys. That's a pretty tall order - "

"Eros said he wanted it," Lance added shrewdly.

" - but if you beam me a copy, I'll see that it's on the air within the hour. Now, about the arrangements. I was thinking we could evacuate Megalopolis, the World's Largest City, to make room for the reception. It'll be tight, but it can't be helped."

"And the catering's gonna be murder," Timmy worried. "Maybe we should make it a potluck?"

"No expense is too great for Eros," said the President. And what difference does it make? he thought to himself secretly. Without Eros to advise me, the world economy is doomed!

When they had talked out some of the details, the President returned to his duties of state, and Timmy eagerly asked, "What did you mean by a lead, Lance?"

"Take a look at this." Lance led him to the monitors and pointed at one readout. "See that interference? That's nothing natural! Someone deliberately created that to cover up their trail."

"Someone who attacked the shuttle!" cried Timmy. "But how does that help us?"

Lance smiled. "Because he was so busy with that that he didn't notice - this." He tapped a corner of the screen where a small red line blinked on and off. "He wasn't the only one who left the area. Eros' shuttle ejected that sometime before it was destroyed."

"An escape pod?" Timmy's youthful face lit up.

"Let's find out!" Lance turned a dial on the side of the monitor, linking the ship's navigational controls to the path of that hopeful red trail.

"I know he's out there," Timmy breathed fervently. "I just know it!"


Somewhere in a darkened room, a perfect male figure stood silent. "Oh, Eros," murmured a man's passionate voice. "Oh, Eros, my beauty, my love." Slim hands caressed the Orgasmian's handsome face, fondled his lean, muscular torso, ran up and down the phenomenal length of his cock. Eros made not a move nor a sound in response - even when the man's dick plunged into his ass. "You're mine now," sighed the voice in the darkness. "All, all mine... forever... "


The Starchild's thrusters roared as it settled to the barren surface of Ultra-Mega Four. The shining patrol rocket was a perfect twin for the Double Moon, which lay parked just a dozen yards away.

Swinging open the hatch, Lance and Timmy eyed their fellow ASFR ship with troubled eyes. "No hail from them," Timmy observed with concern. "Do you think they're okay?"

"They are on a survey mission," Lance said hopefully. "Maybe they're just out surveying."

Timmy gazed around the bleak landscape. "Not much to survey. Looks like every other planet we visit."

"True," Lance agreed as they strode across to the other ship. "That's why so many aliens want to conquer the Earth. It's the one planet where the rocks don't look like papier-mache." He raised a hand to knock on the Double Moon's hatch, but before he could, it swung ominously inward.

"Uh-oh," said Timmy. "Not good." Exchanging a glance, they drew their rayguns. Cautiously, they stepped inside - and were met by an incredible sight.

Captain Mel S. O'Cosmos lay sprawled on the cockpit floor, his huge muscles quivering and twitching helplessly. His eyes were glazed, his mouth open and drooling slightly. Close beside his captain, Lieutenant Rusty F. Armboy sat slumped against a console, clad from head to toe in a skintight purple body-suit. His hands stroked the material feverishly, pressing it against his slim body, which trembled spastically in response. His Rocketeer uniform lay at his side, discarded. His green eyes were as clouded as Mel's, his jaw slack, and the only sounds that either man made were deep, heavy breathing and long, shuddering moans.

A few feet away, the third member of the crew, Lieutenant Chip Carson, stood motionless. His face was expressionless; his normal healthy skin tone and dark hair had both changed to a uniform grey. His blankly staring eyes shone silver. In his raised hands he held a raygun of unique design.

"Hey!" exclaimed Timmy, regaining his voice after a stunned moment. "That's the Neutronic Robot Ray - the one we confiscated in 'Lance Storm and the Galaxy Pirates'!"

"And this man is now a robot," Lance nodded grimly. He tapped Chip's cheek, which made a hard metallic sound. "Robot, answer our questions. Who did this to you?"

Chip's voice was a monotone. "Un-it did this to it-self."

"Kinky!" cried Timmy. "I mean - but why?"

"Un-it read note de-liv-ered in pack-age and was com-pelled to o-bey."

They turned to stare at the large box sitting on the worktable, a sheet of paper lying draped over one edge. Lance started to reach for it, then hesitated. "Um...robot, recite contents of note."

Chip emitted a few clicking sounds, then dictated flatly:

"Great news, guys. I saved the u-ni-verse yes-ter-day, so I've got some ex-tra leave time. I'll be drop-ping in on you soon. Till then, here's some-thing to get you in the mood for Mas-ter:

"Mel: You now feel me mak-ing love to you, just as if I was al-rea-dy there. It won't stop till I ar-rive in per-son and take o-ver.

"Rus-ty: Put on the suit in the box. It's made of e-rot-ex, the Or-gas-mi-an rub-ber that in-duc-es to-tal ec-sta-sy.

"Chip: Zap your-self with the gun in the box. Your dream of be-com-ing a ro-bot slave is a-bout to be real-ized.

"See ya soon, dudes - Er-os."

"So that's why he came here!" exclaimed Timmy, then grinned. "Well, at least we know these guys aren't suffering. And we can unzap the robot just by putting the gun in reverse. But what about the other two? They're not gonna be much help in finding Eros like this."

Chip whirred again. "P. S. If an-y-one I know comes a-long and wants to re-lease you, this or-der comes from me: Don't e-ven think a-bout it. E."

Lance and Timmy blinked. "Okay," said Lance, "they're stuck this way. But I may know a way they can still help us. Chip, pick up your shipmates and follow me."

"Un-it o-beys." With stiff, mechanical movements, Chip Carson lifted his helpless buddies, his steel body bearing their combined weight effortlessly. They didn't even seem to feel it as he slung each over one shoulder and plodded in Lance's footsteps back to the Starchild. There, Lance strode purposefully across the exercise deck and stopped before a closet bearing a large warning sign:

Danger- Alien Mind Control Devices
For Recreational Use Only

Swinging the door open, Lance nodded as he saw the empty rack where the Robot Ray belonged. He scanned the rows of bizarre devices, fondly kept as souvenirs of their encounters with space's most diabolical villains. After a moment he lifted one out, exclaiming, "Here we are - the Puppetron Helmet! Used by the nefarious Prince Pheriquene to turn the contestants at the Mr. Multiverse Contest into human puppets." With a glance at Timmy, he added, "That was while you were away, Junior."

"Gosh!" the lad lamented. "I miss all the cool stuff!"

[EDITOR'S NOTE: "Lance Storm and the Puppets of Peril," originally announced as the lead story for Thrilling Planets #28, was replaced by "Lance Storm and the Galaxy Pirates" due to readers’ demand for the return of Timmy. Many fans believe that the author’s pointed mention of it here was an attempt to create a demand for publication of the "lost story". It finally saw print in the 1952 Kobold Press anthology, Lance Storm of the ASFR.]

Lance tapped the ornate headgear with its crystal "eye" and twin lightning-bolt decals. "The Puppetron enslaves the body of anyone struck by its beam, but without affecting his thoughts - so we might be able to use it to order these two to act normally, even though they're still under Eros' influence. It'll need to be recharged, though."

"Could we borrow some energy from the Starchild's engines?"

"Exactly what I was thinking. I'll go rig it up. You and Chip stay here - see if you can find out anything useful from him."

"Right-o, skipper!" As Lance headed to the engine room, Timmy looked the robot over, admiring his trim figure. "Gosh, Chip, I hope you don't mind being a robot. There's kinda nothing we can do. You're not upset, are you?"

"Neg-a-tive. Un-it al-ways want-ed to be-come ro-bot."

"Really?" Timmy brightened. "So you're happy now?"

"Un-it's e-mo-tions re-strict-ed to sub-rou-tine. Un-it has on-ly one pri-ma-ry func-tion: O-bey all or-gan-ic life forms."

"Hmm." The tall young cadet looked again at the boyishly handsome face and athletic figure transformed into steel. "So the nearest you can come to feeling happy is obeying commands?"


"Well, darn. It would be a shame not to give you some..."


Half an hour later, Lance returned with the Puppetron Helmet, now glowing with an eerie energy. He stopped short at the sight of his teen sidekick stretched on the floor nude, gasping happily as Chip Carson mechanically pounded a steel cock into his ass. Lance shook his head, chuckling. "You rascal!"

"I'm - helping - Chip - fulfill - his - prim - ary - function!" the youth explained.

Lance nodded. "A kindly and generous thought, lad. But now there's work to be done."

"Okay. Stop, Chip." Timmy pulled himself together and staggered to his feet. "Thanks, it was great," he added graciously to the robotized Rocketeer, who continued to lie on the floor, motionless.

"Now let's see." Lance studied the helmet a moment, then placed it on his head. "The helmet operates by psychic energy, creating a lasting telepathic link between the wearer's mind and the victim's neural network. So all I should have to do is concentrate..."

He stared at the prone figures of Mel and Rusty, still writhing spasmodically. A second later, twin beams of magenta light shot forth from the helmet's "eye", striking the men. Instantly their movements ceased.

"Mel. Rusty. Stand up," Lance tried experimentally.

Immediately the two men rose, standing at attention. They stood impassively, eyes straight ahead, Rusty's trim swimmer's build dwarfed by his captain's massive mass of muscle.

"Okay. Now let's try this: I command you to act like your normal selves."

The Rocketeers remained as they were, unmoving.

"Blast!" Lance swore, then glanced at his sidekick. "Sorry, youngster. I'm upset."

"Try something more specific," Timmy suggested helpfully.

"Hmm, okay. Guys, tell me what you're thinking."

"Rats!" Mel burst out at once. "I wanted to obey that, but I couldn't!"

"Me too," Rusty chimed in. "I have a downright compulsion to be my normal self, but it's like my body doesn't know how."

Timmy snapped his fingers. "Of course! Your minds know what to do, but it's your bodies that are puppetized, and they can't respond to something that complex."

"What about your minds?" Lance asked with concern. "How are you dealing with all this? Um, answer."

"Oh, man, I'm goin' nuts!" Mel groaned. "I've been feeling Phantom Eros' hands all over me since yesterday - my whole nervous system's about to overload!"

"And I've been - " Rusty searched for words - "I've been used by this suit as its love-toy for just as long! If I don't find some kinda release, I'm gonna pass out!"

Having obeyed the order, they both shut up, blank-faced and immobile again.

"Gosh!" cried Timmy. "We have to help them!"

"Just let me think," Lance mused, pacing back and forth, taking care to step over the still figure of Chip. "I need to phrase this exactly right..." After a few moments he stopped and turned to the puppet duo, smiling. "Okay. I order you each to make love to the man here who attracts you most, in the way that you'll enjoy the most."

There was a moment while they took that in. Then Mel strode directly toward Lance, wrapped powerful arms around his big body, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Meanwhile Rusty advanced to Timmy, with a faint blush. Beaming at the cute redhead, the handsome lad reached out to stroke his freckled cheek, then pulled him into a lip-lock. The contact, of course, pressed the erotex against Rusty's naked flesh even tighter, and the combo caused him to cum explosively, with a veritable howl of release. Timmy threw back his head with a joyous laugh. "Oh, no! You lost your cum! Here, have some of mine." He gestured commandingly for Rusty to drop to his knees, and the man obeyed, a look of worship appearing in his eyes.

Meanwhile Mel had moved from Lance's mouth to planting love-bites on his broad shoulders, their blue spandex uniforms slipping smoothly off. Mel's big hands reached around front to stroke Lance's balls and his swelling cock, making him gasp with pleasure. Lance knew that if he chose, he had absolute control over this mountain of muscle; but as Mel's ten-inch rod pressed against his butt-cheeks, he decided to just forget that for now...


Eros stood in the shadows of the underground lair as he had stood for the past eighteen hours - as he had been standing since the moment he was stopped in mid-motion aboard his shuttle, one hand raised in an unfinished gesture, mouth open to speak words that had never come. Now he had no voice; his lithe, muscular body was just an inanimate object. Which might have been a kick, except that while he remained a thing of beauty, and possibly destined to be a joy forever, the power of his body to enslave other men was utterly gone.

He was acutely aware of that as his captor's lips once again slurped on his unresponding cock and balls. The sensation was still an enjoyable one, but it was getting damned frustrating to have no means of release. What would it feel like after a week, or a month, or a year?

There was a sudden distraction as the teleceiver buzzed sharply. Startled, his abductor scrambled to his feet and out of Eros' frozen range of vision. "Hello?" he said cautiously.

"Galaxy Pizza," came a tinny voice, obviously on audio only. "We got your pies."

"What? I didn't order pizza!"

"This is the address, right - Ultra-Mega Four? Uh, we had some trouble finding it, though. It took us more than a parsec, so I guess you got a freebie. Can't say no to a freebie, right?"

"No. You're right, I can't pass this up. I'll be right out to meet you." There was the snap of a connection being broken. Then his captor spoke again: "No, I can't pass up a freebie like this one!" With a disturbing laugh, his footsteps hurried away.

Several minutes later, Eros heard the approach of other voices - voices that filled him with joy.

"I knew it would work! The pizza trick fools 'em every time."

"Chip's calculations were right on the ball, too. With his laseronic vision, he projected just where the alien ship that attacked Eros landed."

"Are you so sure it was an alien, cadet? Look at some of the equipment scattered around this devil's lair. Doesn't it look familiar?"

"By gosh, you're right, Lance - that's ASFR standard issue!"


A second later, two beloved faces were looking into Eros'. "Oh, Lance," said Timmy, wide-eyed, "is that really...?"

Lance's eyes were misty. "It's Eros. The real Eros. But he's - turned to stone."

Timmy placed a hand on Eros' chest. "No heartbeat. He's just...cold."

But alive! Eros wanted to shout. I see you, hear you, feel you! I'm as alive as you!

"We'll take him home with us," Lance said with great tenderness, hugging his young companion comfortingly. "To keep and treasure forever."

Someone already beat you to it! Eros cried inwardly. Have you forgotten where you are? Snap out of it and watch your backs!

"Ahem," said a voice.

Oh, shit.

Lance and Timmy spun around, raising their rayguns - just in time for twin beams of magenta light to freeze them in their tracks.

A tall figure stepped from the shadows, made taller by the Puppetron Helmet perched on its head. Moving into the light, their captor was revealed as an attractive young man, little older than Timmy, with a surprisingly innocent face. And he was wearing, of all things, a Rocketeer's uniform!

"Yes," he smirked. "While you were sneaking into my headquarters, I snuck into yours and stole the helmet. Your friends saw me, of course, but they couldn't lift a finger to stop me, 'cause nobody told them to. I've been watching your every move since before you left Earth. Ask me how."

"How?" they chorused obediently - the only move their puppetized bodies could make. Both were straining every highly-trained muscle, trying desperately to tackle this mocking stranger who stood almost within reach, but those muscles were no longer theirs to control. Their rayguns were pointed straight at him, but their hands might as well have belonged to someone else - as, in fact, they now did.

"I've had secret spy cameras hidden in your ship for days," their controller explained smugly. "It was easy for me - but then, perhaps I should introduce myself. Ensign Dougie Dweeberman, ASFR, at your service." His expression became sour. "You've never heard of me, have you? Tell the truth."

"No," they admitted.

"Of course not," he said with resentment. "And yet I know all about you. I've followed every one of your adventures, ever since the Invasion from Space. I've chronicled all your daring stratagems, your hairbreadth escapes, your two-fisted action...while I sat there in my file room, annotating, cross-referencing, living your wonderful lives through the pages of mission reports. You got all that, and I got - these." He ran a hand lovingly over a row of files, bound in magazine format: "Lance Storm and the Meteor Menace", "Lance Storm and the Renegade Robots", and a score of others, all with gaudy, lurid cover illustrations. He lifted one from near the end of the row, holding it up for them to see. "But most of got him."

The cover art showed Lance, naked, jumping through a hoop held by a nude, magnetically sexy Eros. It brought a lump to Lance's throat: it represented their relationship so well... "You got him," Dougie Dweeberman repeated intensely. "You got to see him every day, to touch him, to love him - and I got to file the reports." He walked right between their immobile figures, to stand before the marble statue that was their shipmate. "But now he's mine - all mine. Mine forever," he sighed, caressing Eros' stone pecs with a sensual hand.

"It's a pity," Dougie mused, turning back to circle his helpless puppets, "that the helmet can't make you act normally. I could've just sent you back to cover my trail. I'd prefer that, really. I admire you guys so much. But since that doesn't work, you'll just have to stay here - for good." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I could let you be my puppet slaves. As you know, the telepathic link lasts forever unless I choose to let you go, over any distance, whether I'm wearing the helmet at the moment or not. It's darned heavy, isn't it?" He took it off and set it on the shelf beside the files, wiping his brow. Timmy strained anew to move even a single muscle, but Dweeberman was right - it was his mind that now enslaved them. The helmet had just made it possible.

"But that would be too much work, y'know?" the rogue Rocketeer went on. "I'd have to keep telling you when to eat, when to sleep, when to pee... Nah, it's just too much effort." He reached over to a shelf and took down a sleek, sinister-looking ray-rifle. "Now this - this is simple. One zap and you're statues forever. Beautiful, immortal dolls of stone.

"Shall we stick with the action pose? You do look dynamic." He ran his hands admiringly over their taut biceps, then shook his head. "No, something even more fitting for you. Something to immortalize your love." He lifted the guns from their helpless fingers. "Kiss and grope each other."

They turned and embraced tightly, their tongues entwining, their hands clutching at each other feverishly - knowing with each movement that it might be their last. Dougie was right in one way - if they were doomed to be stone for eternity, at least they would be in each other's arms.

"Great!" he enthused from outside their range of vision. "Ready - aim - "

He was cut off by a loud, heavy thump. From the corners of their eyes, they saw Dougie drop to the floor, a large bump rising on the back of his head. Then a new voice spoke from beyond their field of view:

"Haaa!" it cried in a twisted mockery of laughter. "The Puppetron Helmet and the petrifying ray are mine! Nothing in the world can stop me now!"

It was a crazed, evil voice that they knew all too well - the voice of their arch-nemesis -

The Malevolent Doctor Saturn!

The Scourge of Space stepped closer to examine his new captives, his beady eyes bright with glee behind their thick space goggles, his cruel mouth grinning like a barracuda’s. "Yes!" he exulted. "Lance Storm - the only man who could ever defeat me! And Eros of Orgasmia - the other only man who could ever defeat me! Both helpless!" He peered more closely at the third figure, pinching a youthful cheek suspiciously. "Cadet Timmy alive? Impossible! I thought I pushed you into a bottomless pit!"

Guess it wasn’t as bottomless as you thought, Baldy! the lad wanted to retort, but his voice would not work. He could only respond to orders from Dougie, and Dougie was out like a light. He and Lance could do nothing but go on kissing and groping; they had received no instructions to stop.

"Well, no matter. When I listened in on your space radio signals, I thought I was just getting a chance to grab some pizza. But this is a scene of which I’ve always dreamed! The mighty Lance Storm, at my mercy at last!" He poked his nemesis in the stomach with a bony finger, then maliciously kicked him in the shin. Lance showed no reaction, of course. "Bah! That’s no fun! Say ‘ow’ when I hurt you, blast it!" He kicked Lance in the ass, and the helpless heroes rocked on their feet, still locked in their compelled embrace.

"Humph!" sneered the fiend. "Well, if you’re so into necking, you can keep right on doing it - while you slowly die of hunger and thirst! And I’ll watch! Now that’s entertainment!" Cackling madly, he pranced over to the stone form of Eros. "And you too will watch, my pretty statue. I don’t know if you’re alive or aware, but I hope you are! Watch this!" The brute hurled himself at Lance and Timmy, shoving, and the clinched pair toppled to the floor - where they continued their helplessly-programmed lovemaking.

"Haaa! It’s too rich!" the villain chortled, doubling over and slapping his thigh. Convulsed with laughter, he didn’t hear the sound of running feet approaching until they were close. Then he leapt up, amazed at the sight of Mel, Chip and Rusty rushing toward him.

"Wait! Who are you? What’s going on?" The Malevolent Doctor Saturn frantically tried to grab for a weapon. But Mel wrested the villain’s own raygun away, Rusty yanked the Puppetron Helmet off the felled Dougie’s head, and Chip grabbed up the petrifying ray from where it had fallen. In seconds, the arch-criminal was helpless, pinned like a baby in Mel’s massive arms.

"You can’t do this!" he groaned. "Not in my moment of triumph! Not fair!"

Chip stoically advanced on the struggling evildoer and tapped him firmly on the forehead with one steel finger, knocking him out instantly.

Rusty now lifted the infamous helmet and calmly placed it on his own head. He looked down at the prone Ensign Dweeberman, and a colorful beam of light shot out to touch the errant archiver’s head. "Wake up, Dougie," Rusty ordered.

The young man’s eyes instantly flickered open, then registered shock and chagrin as he realized what had happened to him.

"You forgot a basic fact about the Puppetron," Mel grinned, "despite mentioning it yourself. Tell him, Chip."

"Pup-pet slaves are con-trolled by psych-ic link, o-ver a-ny dis-tance," the robot recited.

"So all the time you were gloating over Lance," Rusty explained, "he was sending us a telepathic order to come and rescue him! By the time we got here, he’d told us exactly what to do - just as he’s talking through us now."

Tell him to release us from the Puppetron’s power, Lance thought.

"Release them from the Puppetron’s power," Rusty ordered.

"Lance and Timmy," said Dougie helplessly, "you’re released from the Puppetron’s power."

The pair slumped, taking a moment to adjust to having control of their own bodies again. Then they rose to their feet, stretching. "Great work, men!" Lance commended. "You know what I need next, Rusty."

Lieutenant Armboy did: "Dougie, obey Lance as you would me."

"Thanks," Lance nodded. "Now then, ensign, answer this: Is there a way to turn Eros back?"

"Yes," the erstwhile renegade admitted.

"Do it," Lance commanded.

Unable to stop himself, Dougie lurched to his feet and took the petrifying raygun from Chip’s hands. He spent a moment adjusting the various knobs and dials on its side. Then he aimed it at the marble figure and fired a beam of white light.

Color washed across the statue’s surface, its hard stone softening into warm, pliant flesh once again. Eros gasped as his petrified muscles returned to normal, lowering the raised arm and closing his mouth. His gaze swept across the two rocket crews who, together, had saved him. "Thanks, guys," he said gratefully. "I owe a debt to all of you - and you’ll love the ways I think of to repay it."

Lance and Timmy beamed joyfully. The other three could not react without being ordered to, but the eyes of Mel and Rusty did seem to light up. Chip’s eyes, of course, were glittering already.

"As for you - " Eros looked at Dougie gravely. "I’m afraid you’ve reached a point where there’s only one thing I can do for you." Taking the motionless young man in his arms, he gave him a slow, sensual kiss. Then the tiny, retractable barb emerged from the tip of his alien tongue, pricking the soft flesh inside the Earthling’s mouth. A rush of erotic sensation crashed through Dougie Dweeberman’s mind and body, more powerful than anything the human species can cope with. His senses utterly overloaded, he sagged in Eros’ arms. His former victim gently lowered him to the floor, limp as a wet washcloth except for his rigid cock.

"You have what you wanted, Dougie. Enjoy," said Eros softly. Lifting the raygun from the ensign’s slackened grasp, he pointed it at him and fired. All color drained from the slumped figure, leaving only an image in stone - suspended in a state of mindless, orgasmic ecstasy that would last an eternity.

"At the end of the battle with the Malevolent Doctor Saturn," Eros announced, "Ensign Dweeberman was struck by a petrifying ray-blast." He smiled sadly. "I want his record to end that way. He didn’t ask for what happened to him."

Lance nodded. "It could have happened to anyone."


But it had happened to Dougie for a reason. A week earlier, in a private room in a Paris hostel, the young man’s nude body had collapsed in a state of erotic bliss, his head cradled in Eros’ lap. "I still can’t believe this is real," he sighed happily. "That I’ve really met you, that we’ve... When I sent you that letter, and that photo of myself, I never really thought you’d reply."

"How could I resist a face like yours?" said Eros, and grinned as Dougie compulsively shot another load, splattering all over the wall. "Oh, good!" cried the Orgasmian. "Cover up as much of that ghastly wallpaper as possible!"

Dougie moaned and squirmed, helplessly obeying until every drop of cum in his body was violently discharged. His emptied cock continued to twitch spastically, until Eros laughed, "Okay, that’s enough! You’re dry!" He ran a finger across Dougie’s lips, wiping off his own silver cum. "Here, have some more," he smiled, giving the finger to Dougie to suck.

"You know," he continued, "what really intrigued me about your letter - besides the obvious - was when you mentioned your statue experiments. What ever happened to all those white mice and bunnies, anyway? Are they still stoned?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Dougie from around his finger. "I wouldn’t do that to those cute little critters - or to anyone! As soon as I’d taken my notes, I turned them all back to normal. They seem to remember everything, but there were no harmful aftereffects."

"Good to know," mused Eros. "In fact, that’s exactly what I wanted to know. Meeting you has been a real experience, Dougie. Though, sadly, an experience you’re not going to remember when you leave."

"Oh, no!" Dougie gasped. "No, pl- "

"Shut up and freeze," said Eros calmly. Dougie stiffened, his mouth hanging open, blissed out by the wild thrill of being totally in Eros’ power. "You see," the Orgasmian continued, "what you’re feeling right now is the one kind of sexual pleasure that I’ve never had. For me, being dominated by anyone has always been just an impossible dream. But you, Dougie Dweeberman, are that one special man who can make my dreams come true... "


What he hadn’t dreamed, of course, was that Dougie’s obsessive passion would want to keep him stoned for all time. As much as he savored the newfound thrills of domination and petrification, he didn’t want to never see Lance and Timmy again - or to spend the rest of a long existence serving the sexual needs of only one man. For Eros of Orgasmia, the same view would always pall.

Dougie, by contrast, would be perfectly happy never thinking of anything but Eros again, frozen in an eternal state of tongue-whammy. But he really would have to start being more careful. If Dougie had had a life to begin with, he could have really screwed it up.

"Hey!" exclaimed Timmy. "What happened to the Malevolent Doctor Saturn?"

Sure enough, while everyone had been distracted by the flashback, the villain had come to and made his escape!

"He’s getting away!" cried the cadet, just as he always did.

"Don’t worry. We’ll get him next time," said Lance with confidence, just as he always did. "Right now our biggest priority is getting our ASFR comrades back to their old selves. I bet you can’t wait, huh, guys?"

"Tell the truth," Eros added with a sly smile, already suspecting what it would be.

"Um...well, actually," Mel grinned, "being both Eros’ slave and your puppet at the same time would be pretty damned hot, Lance! Couldn’t I stay like this for a while?"

"Yeah, please?" Rusty echoed. "That would be awesome!"

Lance and Timmy exclaimed delighted glances. "What about you, robot?" the cadet asked.

"Un-it has no free will," Chip stated flatly. "But if un-it did, un-it would choose to re-main ro-bot."

Eros’ eyes twinkled. "We’ve all still got leave for a few days. I don’t see why anyone would object."

"Say!" exclaimed Timmy. "We’ve been making plans for the biggest funeral in Earth history! Won’t it be a hoot when you show up alive? It’s sure gonna change the mood!"

"Instant Mardi Gras!" laughed Eros. "I always did like Tom Sawyer. Though Huck was the studly one."

"Can I be Huck?" purred Lance. "I’ll let you take a ride on my raft..."

"Hey, what about me?" laughed Timmy.

"Oh, you can be Becky," Eros promised. "There’s an old pinafore around here somewhere. Everybody gets to play." He thought of the thousands who would be at his funeral. "Everybody."

"Why are you so good to us?" sighed Lance.

"With great power comes great responsibility," Eros smiled. "Now get down on your knees and suck."

All contents of this story have been cleared for release by the Allied Space Fleet Rocketeers. Call your ASFR recruiting center today!

Next issue: Lance Storm and the Funeral of the Century!

Despite this title appearing both in the next-issue blurb and on the cover of Thrilling Planets # 31, the lead story in that issue was actually titled "Lance Storm and the Invasion of the Nastyons".

Subspace Static


I feel that the time has come to protest the change of content which has occurred in recent issues of Thrilling Planets. Where once this magazine was seen as a bastion of quality in the field of science fiction, it has become instead a home for the puerile, the decadent, and the downright un-American.

This sad trend is most painfully evident in the demise of one of your longest-running features, the highly-regarded "Fred of the Martian Legion" series, in favor of yet more stories featuring the overrated Lance Storm. The "Storm" series has become not only wildly improbable, but positively harmful in its influence on the impressionable young reader. This "hero" violates all the sacred traditions of the military, constantly appearing out of uniform and without even a shirt and tie. He allows his own second-in-command, an officer of lower rank (and not even human!), to give him orders! Where is the proper chain of command? And worse, his own superior officer seems to approve! But then, by showing a woman in command of a military organization, the author has sacrificed all credibility already.

Perhaps it is asking too much to even inquire why "Cadet Timmy" is being included in his captain's dangerous missions. Why is he not in school, like any normal boy his age? What are his parents thinking? (In this sad age of broken families, one shudders to ask: Does he even have parents?)

In "Fred of the Martian Legion" you had a superlative example of a series with healthy, traditional family values. Fred was never shown out of uniform - he wore his beloved Martian reds even to bed! He was an upright pillar of propriety at all times, addressing fellow officers strictly by rank, and the young folks kindly as "young man" or "young lady". In his scientifically accurate stories (no absurd space aliens or "ray guns" there!), he gave readers an educational look at a realistic future. He will be missed, and his memory treasured long after Lance Storm is forgotten.

If the editors do not see fit to return to Thrilling Planets the dignity and credibility it has lost, I fear that a decline in sales will be the price of their folly.


Fredric Werthless

Creator, "Fred of the Martian Legion"

Boys! Do you want to join up with Lance? Well, you can! Yes, now you can be a proud member of the STORMERS OF THE UNIVERSE!

For just seventy-five cents, we'll send you an official membership badge of genuine laminated plastic, making you an honorary cadet in the Allied Space Force Rocketeers! And that's not all! We'll also send you an official ASFR training manual, a secret codebook (to translate emergency messages from space), and - everybody's favorite - a pin-up poster of Lance and Eros drawn by the popular cover artist of Thrilling Planets Magazine! All that for just seventy-five cents!

Send your money to:

Stormers of the Universe
Illegible Address
Somewhere in USA

And kids, don't forget your return address!