1997 Aug 24 & 1998 Nov 15
DISCLAIMER: I make no claims about this story so it's hard to disclaim anything but if you wait around for awhile I'll find something to claim and then disclaim it. Or not. I make no claims about future claims. I might talk about clams, though. Wait, changed my mind. I refuse to have any clams in my story. Which means, I'll have to print a disclammer. That would be a first, huh? A fanfic disclammer because of the mention of shellfish in a story. Okay, I'm going with that.
DISCLAMMER: I declammed this story. I wrote a whole section with clams and just erased it. So there.
A STORY WITHOUT CLAMS
Xena looked at Gabrielle and realized it was about time someone said it. "I love you," she whispered.
Gabrielle's eyes shone as she quietly said, "I love you, too. Please symmetrically kiss my breasts."
Instantly, they were naked and there were heated centers, warm wet sensations, lotsa swollen buds and tumescent things and heaving, rippling, sensuous, moaning, passionate thoughts and stuff. Arranging themselves into a physically impossible position, Xena and Gabrielle made love 43 times in a row without a break.
"I'm hungry," said Gabrielle, eating five times more food than a bulimic after a hunger strike, though there wasn't a clam in sight.
Xena grunted, saying in this single guttural sound twelve parchments full of prose. Within this grunt she also postulated the idea that their two souls might live on forever, entwined through the ages.
"Uber my dead body," said Gabrielle.
Suddenly, some dreaded warlord kinda guy rushed out of the forest glade, tried to kill them and Xena beat him off doing all sorts of really cool aerial stuff and fighting and lotsa sword things.
Gabrielle swung her staff, tripped on a rock and twisted her ankle. "I'm hurt!"
"Let me comfort you!" quickly responded Xena, nursing her back to health with a single-minded determination over the next several tense days.
"I'm better," said Gabrielle which immediately caused more nakedness, more heated centers, lotsa warm wetness and other budding, screaming, sighing, moaning reactions amid much symmetrical breast kissing and yet still no clams.
CLAMMER: yeah, you better believe there are clams in here.
CLAM FICTION: REVENGE OF THE CLAMS
by Clamee ClamClam
Xena turned to Gabrielle and said, "It's about time I said this. I love clams."
"Oooh, me too!" sighed Gabrielle, her green eyes sparkling. "Especially really clammy clams."
"You can almost taste the sea when you eat them..." mused Xena, her blue eyes twinkling with fiery, icy, hot sweaty eye stuff.
Instantly, the two got naked and began to make love with sweet symmetrical abandon as a stockpile of clams watched, though they had no eyes. The clams, gifted by Aphrodite with mystical sensing mechanisms, could feel the trembling, throbbing, heaving, bosomy, clenching, clamping, clammy, coruscating, corporeal clamlike actions of the suddenly clam-filled clam clam--
WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THIS STORY? SURE, YOU LET SHELLFISH BORROW THE COMPUTER AND THIS IS THE RESULT. WELL YOU CAN JUST FORGET IT. NO MORE CLAMS. GOT IT? NONE. NADA. ZIP. THIS IS A CLAMFREE ENVIRONMENT FROM NOW ON. OKAY, GO ON WITH YOUR STORY.
"THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL," SIGHED GABRIELLE.
"You left your caplock on," moaned Xena, reaching for a nipple clamp.
"Sorry. I guess I got carried away with your clamorous attentions," replied the bard with an emerald twinkle, drinking a clamato and searching for pearls in the bottle. Xena didn't have the heart to tell her that only oysters had pearls, so she grabbed a grain of sand, ground it between her hands like Superman and stuffed the perfect pearl into the waiting shell of a sea-born mollusky type thing that shall remain nameless.
"Mmmm," said Xena, claming up.
EXCUSE ME, BUT THE CLAMS ARE BACK. AND DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING CLEVER BY CONSTANTLY USING WORDS THAT SOUND LIKE CLAM, OR HAVE THE WORD CLAM IN THEM OR ARE JUST GENERALLY CLAMLIKE. WON'T WORK. NAH AH.
"Let's make love again," breathed Gabrielle, the scent of the sea on her breath as she threw a shell over her shoulder. The shell landed with a soft thud in the sand as the waves washed up on shore, bearing it into the sea. Slowly, like a little shell shaped boat, it dipped and danced among the sparkling waves. A rainbow of fish passed beneath the shell and watched it as it journeyed, wondering where the shell was bound and who could have eaten the clam out of it, which is really a cruel thing to do to a poor defenseless clam when you think about it. I mean, was it bothering these two fictional characters? Nooooo, but they rip open its home, tear it from its soft sweet nest and slide that puppy down their gullets like the sea is carpeted with clams waiting for their voracious, clammy, clamfilled, clamurdering appetites for clam--
I'M PULLING THE PLUG. NO MORE COMPUTER UNTIL YOU CLAMS LEARN TO BEHAVE. SO THERE.
DISCLAMMER: While Joanna is resting (she has a headache) I decided to borrow her clamputer. Just don't tell her, 'kay? Um... there's no disclammer because clams abound in abundant abundance which I persist in persisting to have (I went to the Bat Mollusk school of writing). However, there is sex between consenting members of the same invertebrate species.
NOTE: Joanna is gonna get killed for that Bat Mollusk school of writing joke -- please clam up if she asks who wrote that.
'NOTHER NOTE: This is uberclamfic which means that it encompasses the spirit/ancestors of the original UrClams but takes them to new and exotic settings, locations and eras, though usually near a source of water, cuz clams like that.
by Clamee ClamClam
"What ho!" cried Robin Hood and her band of Merry Clams. "Prithee, what manner of ship are you?" While Robin awaited her answer, the Merry Clams began writhing in undulating, passionate, amorous, clamorous embraces, their warm, wet centers glistening between parted shells.
"I am The Ship Who Clambers Across the Sea," replied the living ship, as she clambered across the sea, as she is wont to do. Really, it's tough to talk her into doing anything other than that. Unless it's clamber across the sea while reaching sensuous peaks with some passing whaler.
"Byte me!" screamed the futuristic cyberpunk mollusk at the clambering ship and the merry clams who really weren't bothering the Sullen Shelled One with Clammitude. Angrily, because no one was intimidated by her, the cybermollusk began stroking the quivering flesh between her parted shell.
Suddenly, a clamurai warrior from feudal Nippon entered, swinging her longsword. "So sorry, but your clammitude dishonors these warriors," she said, her incongruous blue eyes clamping down on the possible clamor that might have ensued had she not had a really sharp sword pointing at their vital parts and a clamigraphy brush which she used to paint sea shanties on their swollen, quivering shells.
The Merry Clams wondered as one entity exactly which parts of a clam are truly vital even as the Ship clambered across the sea yet again, while the sullen cybermollusk played a video game.
"Oh my!" said Mel Clampas, hanging off of Janice Clammington. Both of them had scrolls sticking out of their shells and had obviously been recently involved in a grand adventure. Janice clamped down on her scrolls, fearing Clamisto was hidden in that clambering ship. Not to be outdone, Mel threw Janice to the sand, declared her undying love and proceeded to ravish the smaller mollusk with reckless aclamdon.
A shot rang out and a desperado from the wild west clambered up on her seahorse. She looked around the crowded beach and frowned first at the gathered mollusks then at the growing storm clouds. "I hate inclammant weather," she said as the teacher of the local school of fish held her tighter, rubbing herself against the outlaw until both were moaning; their sweating, clammy desire reducing them to an appetizer right before everyone's eyes.
Suddenly, a spy approached. Deep undercover, they realized that she wasn't a clam at all, but rather was a tuna wearing a mother of pearl disguise. As the uberclams screamed at her to get lost, she glared, yelling, "You're just so damn shellfish, all of you." With that she stalked off.
The gathered clams were silent a moment, then they shrugged, which is hard to do when you're an invertebrate. Suddenly, they all had a sense memory of their ancestors, a Greek warrior clam and her bardly sidemollusk. Since most clams look alike, no one recognized them, so they went back to their undulating explorations of swollen, fleshy tissues between parted shells.
And now, an editorial reply to the viewing of the episode, "Locked Up and Tied Down", by Clamee ClamClam:
Thank the gods that the truth is finally out! We clams have been at war with the Crab Nation for centuries! A species can only hear, "Neener, neener, we gots claws!" so often before there is a complete revolt.
And if you think this is more Clamfic, you're wrong. This ain't Clamfic or Uber Clamfic or fic of any kind. No, this is NONFIC! Waitasecond, does that count as a kind of fic? It shouldn't, y'know. It shouldn't even have fic in the word. I'll bet the crabs put the fic in nonfic. That's just their style. Pinching off bits of other words and sticking it on something that shouldn't have a thing to do with it!
They're the scourge of the deep, crabs are. Nasty little pinchy critters with those spooky eyes whipping around their heads like flying saucers -- like My Favorite Martian rejects only they don't retract. Oh no, they'd never retract them. Cuz they love to watch their victims squirm as they eat them alive.
We clams are a peaceful species. We're the Gabrielles of the deep. Not a warlord among us. Sure, we're kinda slimy underneath our beautiful shells, but we have our blood innocence. Not like the crabs. They patrol the shores with scary music playing in the background, just waiting for an unsuspecting saintly female to be staked out in an cave with a water source. Then they STRIKE! All it takes is the smell of blood to drive them into a frenzy of nibbling! Teeny tiny mouths all chewing at once. Crabbing onto anything they can find. One eye watching the entree, the other acting as lookout.
And you think clams are shellfish? Crabs are the worst! They only care about themselves. Do they share a nibble with their unclawed brothers and sisters? Sheyah, right! I'd like to taste a good unsuspecting saintly female -- I'm not totally closed minded. I come out of my shell sometimes. I mean, I've heard the buzz about how fine unsuspecting saintly female elbow meat is. But I've never had it -- oh no, cuz the crabs are always there first. They've got all those legs (and man, do they lord THAT over us) so naturally they're faster than clams, who just have the one slimy foot. How'm I gonna get anywhere fast with one lousy foot?
But now, FINALLY, XWP had the GUTS to show crabs for the carnivorous, shellfish, sideways scootin', decopadic beasts they are. Food chain? They don't need no stinkin' food chain! They break the law constantly -- the law of nature!
So please, dig deep in your pockets and donate all that you can to CLAMS AGAINST CARNIVOROUS CRABS (or CACC -- the sound a crab makes when it bites off a leetle too much elbow and chokes).
Thank you for listening.
-- Clamee ClamClam
Coming soon: Xena, Destroyer of Crustaceans