Next thing I knew I was rolling with Heddy under the barroom tables, kaleidoscoping past crab feet -- those shellacked shoes the size of Borsolino hats.

Plong! We hit the wall. Crabs don't notice such things, but to a soft bodied Tortoondian human like myself it hurt like hell. But somewhere on that floor my decorum, what little I had, snapped like the stale pretzals on the bar.

Heddy's hormones were on overdrive. That ambrosia-like pink fluid oozed from her nipples, staining her dress, turning on my interspecies lust to runaway-freight-train mode.

"Oh, you brute, you brute," she crooned. Later, much later, I knew the shell rash would bother me in scratching fits of sleepless nights, but for now... all I cared about was Heddy. Heddy undulating like an iron clad mermaid above me, Heddy whooping like a cowboy, Heddy's claws tightening then loosening my Tartoondian thighs into spasms of pleaure, Heddy's gonads quivering like a sack full of golden, nectared eggs. So, so, so alluring. . . Ah, love! . . .

"Hey! This ain't no rumpus room, Creep!"

My bliss shattered, shadowy, suddenly all so far away. "Was it a vision, or a waking dream?", I thought, as I was being dangled by one leg, staring into the waving eyes of one of the dreaded Crab Sea Storm Troopers, as all the drunks in the barroom laughed, spouting great gallumping gobs of green mucus in pleasure at my expense. . .

[Editor's note: see my response for a summary of the story to date!]