This is the worst thing I have ever written
Traipsing the treacherous tiles of Turducken Temple was not a task for the terribly timid. Over the centuries, it had claimed the lives of many an adventurer. Some were cut down by the innumerable traps, and some simply starved before reaching the temple that lay within the temple that lay within the temple, but none had managed to find the center, where legendary treasure lay like a layer of divine stuffing. And it did not seem as though Excel would be the first.
"I'm sorry, Lord Il Palazzo," she wheezed, slumping against a mashed-potato-colored wall. "It seems like your Excel isn't going to make it out of this one..."
She hadn't eaten or seen the sunlight in days. She could barely remember what things like food and sunlight were. As she began to lose consciousness, she could think of was her lord's handsome face, massive shoulder armor, and amazingly fabulous hair...
"Hey, are you all right?"
Her eyes fluttered open again, and she saw a shadow hovering over her. "Lord Il Palazzo?"
"Uh... I don't speak French," the shadow replied.
Handsome face, massive shoulder armor, and amazingly fabulous hair aside, the man who stood above her was definitely not Excel's lord, and thus, Excel decided, not a hallucination. She sat up with renewed energy, yanking on his shirt so she could look her gift horse in the eye. "Do you have any food, mister? Any water?"
"I have some water." No sooner had he pulled out the canteen than Excel had snatched it out of his hands, chugging desperately. "Boy, you must be thirsty, huh?"
Excel spoke only after she had sucked down the entire thing. "Thanks. I was havin' one of those moments when you're asking for whom the cowbell tolls, and the sun and the wind and the rain be damned, you damn well do fear the reaper."
"You don't look so good," he said. "Let me help you up."
Excel ignored his outstretched hand and stood up on her own. She moved to poke him in the chest, but his chest was well-armored, and she ended up tapping it in an awkward gesture that did not entirely convey her intended meaning. "Who do you think you are, buddy? Don't you know that the Turducken Temple is dangerous?"
"I could say the same to you," he replied, just an eensy bit annoyed at her stand-offishness. "Anyway, my name's Gourry."
"Okay Gary, I'm going to make this simple for you. Maybe you didn't know, but this Turducken Temple and all of the glorious treasure within have already been claimed. As punishment for trespass, you're going to lead me to the temple inside of the temple inside of the temple!"
Gourry sighed. "You don't have to pretend like you're not lost. It's not like I'd just leave you here to die. Besides," he added with a cheerfulness that made her want to punch him, "I'm lost, too."
Excel gave into her punchy desires, and they were off.
"Hey," said Gourry, "What was your name, again?"
"That's not the kind of secret a girl like me shares with any ol' commoner," Excel replied, enjoying this rare chance to be haughty. "However, I do intend to reward you for your services, and if my lord is amicable to assimilating you in such a capacity, you may be afforded the luxury of calling me 'Master' as my indentured servant!"
"Uh..." Gourry said, his voice thick with dubious amounts of want. "I don't really know anything about teeth, and aren't you a little young for de--"
Excel interrupted his pun-based stupidity with a friendly-yet-mean punch to the arm. "Hey, Goofus! Is that a light up ahead?"
"Gourry," he corrected. "And yeah, I saw it awhile ago."
"Well, what are you waiting for? That might be it!" She dashed behind him and began pushing.
"H-hey! What are you doing? This place is booby trapped, you know?"
"Duh! That's why you're going first!"
"Okay, okay! Just let me do it, all right?"
Excel backed off, and Gourry went about gleefully setting off trip wires and cutting down the ensuing arrows, poison darts, and legally-required giant rolling rocks. Excel likewise cheered him on, shocked and delighted not to be bleeding from every orifice in her body, as would likely had been the case if she had attempted this feat on her own.
Pulling out a piece of paper, she wrote: "Official proposition for the requisition of ACROSS supplies: Meat Shield."
"I can see it!" he cried, stealing her attention from her paperwork. "Come quick!"
Though the light from the room was not particularly bright, but the splendor of what Excel saw might have blinded her. Time seemed to slow as she and Gourry stared at the glorious thing before them. There, in the center of the temple that was in the center of a temple inside the center of a temple, lay a gigantic gilded plate, and on that plate, the truest treasure they had ever seen... a turducken the size of a mammoth. It must have been there for ages, but one look told her that it remained as tender and juicy as the day it was baked.
"It's so beautiful," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "They should have sent a poet."
"No," said Gourry, pulling out a fork and knife. "They were right to send me."
They ate for a long time, and gradually the poultry diminished into a pile of bones and grease stains. Eventually, the pair could be found in the corner of the room, lethargic and contented, picking their teeth. Excel knew, as anyone of her mysteriously scientific background should, that the sedative effects of turkey were a myth, and yet she couldn't help but notice the marinating haze that coated her mind. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of dungeon-crawling, or perhaps the fact that she'd consumed enough tryptophan to kill a bear, but either way, Excel was relaxed. So relaxed that, without even the vaguest notion of conscious thought, she rolled over to use her newly acquired meat shield (lordly approval pending) as a pillow.
Gourry didn't protest. He liked the strange girl, in the way one loud-mouthed, bossy thing reminds you of another, and he felt sorry for her for being lost in the temple's temple's temple by herself. Besides, he had a pretty good view of her rack from that angle. It wasn't, like, amazing, but it pretty much blew Lina out of the water.
Their eyes met, and there was no real excuse for what happened next. She lifted her head, he pulled her closer, and they kissed, each wondering if the other's lips would taste like turducken.
For the record, they did.
This mutual appreciation of poultry stuffed into larger poultry stuffed into larger poultry should have ended there. They should have backed off, blushing, Gourry with a split lip and/or blackened eye. But the spirit of turducken was within their hearts, souls, and increasingly engorged genitals. They would never eat this well again; this truth sounded to the core of their beings, and neither could deny it. Nothing would ever be the same. The best they could hope for was to celebrate this moment, to enjoy it with the same wanton hedonism with which they had partaken of the turducken, and desperately hope that mere lovemaking could do more than pale against the perfect physical union of a turkey and a chicken and a duck.
Excel's legs were not unlike a wishbone as she straddled him, and she pushed him down in a tender-yet-tenderizing way. She wanted everything, then. She wanted to meet his meat. She wanted to taste of his turkey baster. She tore at his pants like they were a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, and he sprung free just as readily as the eager dough.
"Hey, calm down," he whispered, only barely managing to turn the boiling broth of his lust down to a simmer. "At least let me take this off."
He moved to remove his shoulder armor, but she met him with a glare preheated at 450°. "Don't you dare."
While he recoiled in fear, she returned to her task. 'Hunger' would be a lost concept to most people who had eaten beyond capacity, but Excel was ravenous as she removed his package from its packaging. Only a fool would let the last drumstick go to waste.
Excel set to it, slurping giddily. Gourry's participation in this event was about as useful as a side of parsley, but he was enjoying it, and that's all that matters, really. Until Excel forgot that it was not, in fact, a drumstick in her mouth, and bit down.
"AUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Gourry screamed, shoving her off and scuttling away in terror. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"Oh. Sorry," she replied in a half-apologetic tone that ranged halfway between half-hearted and half-assed.
"'Sorry' nothing!" he yelped, snatching up his pants.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
"Come on, it was just a joke! A visual gag!"
"I'M NOT LAUGHING."
He began redressing, but she clamped onto the leg of his pants. "Hey. Hey. Did the turducken mean nothing to you?"
"The turducken was fine, but you're crazy! We shouldn't be doing this anyway," he added, like a side dish of guilt.
"Oh meatballs! You're completely right!" cried Excel, who had completely spaced anything not related to food metaphor. "But even if we say that, the fact remains that the line of moral boundary was crossed upon this sinful day! The truth of these atrocities must be buried, locked in a safe inside a bigger safe inside an even bigger safe! And for you, foul incubus, for daring to tempt the purity of a holy ACROSS vessel, the penalty can only be death! No, ULTRA death!"
"Or, uh. Maybe we could just forget it ever happened," Gourry suggested meekly.
Excel considered this carefully. "So what you're saying is, what happens in Turducken Temple stays in Turducken Temple."
"Exactly!"
"So we may as well go all the way."
"Good point."
Once this proposition was deemed mutually acceptable by both parties, Excel dehusked her hotpants, that he might cream her corn. This metaphor was somewhat beyond Gourry, but it's not like it was a good metaphor to begin with, so he didn't worry about mixing it as he tested for her internal temperature and moisture.
"Gee, you're already ready, huh?"
"I was the minute I saw that turducken," she admitted, looking a little bashful for the first time.
"Yeah, me too," he admitted with a nervous little chuckle.
As each revealed their overwhelming passion for turducken, the air became as thick as gravy, weighed down by lust. Gourry pressed Excel up against the wall, and perhaps this was appropriate, for this was not an expression of their true feelings, but rather a sandwich of leftover love, love that rightfully belonged to chicken and Lina and duck and Il Palazzo and turkey.
And yet it was too much to hold back. He entered her smoothly, like a chicken being slid into a duck.
Excel gasped with such excitement that you'd think she just saw a huge, glazed ham. Gourry looked her in the eye to make sure she was all right, and she looked him right back to let him know he was a fucking idiot who just needed to plow her already. Just because he was as sexy as a big ham didn't mean he needed to be a big ham about it, you know?
She leaned forward to kiss him, but even as Gourry thrust his hips forward, he pulled his face back. "Nuh-uh, you keep your mouth away from me."
"Oh, come on. Are you really still peeved about that? You're clearly not all that injured!"
"That's not the point," he huffed.
Excel shot him a deadly glare as she wrapped her legs around him. "Do you want me to talk?"
"Suits me fine!" declared Gourry, who had fully intended to tune her out anyway.
"Well, good! But you should shut your pie hole." She tugged down at her top, exposing a breast. "There, put it to work or something."
Gourry frowned. He'd completely wanted to up until she demanded it. "What, you can talk but I can't?"
"It's kind of hard to pretend you're somebody else when you keep opening that idiot mouth of yours."
This attitude was really starting to get on his nerves. Not enough that he was ready to, like, stop or anything, but definitely enough for him to complain about it. "Can't you just pretend quietly?"
"Mmm, Lord Il Palazzo," she moaned, as she was already tuning him out.
"Or at least not call out his name?"
Excel tsked. "Jeez, men are so egocentric. Fine, fine. 'ooh, yes, Gaudy, harder.'"
Gourry decided that two could play at that game. "Ooh, Lin... oh, who am I kidding? There's no way Lina'd be even this big." He kneaded her heaving chest like warm dough. "You're about a C, right?"
"Classified information," she panted.
Excel felt as though she could never get enough stuffing, and though she was sad that her lord was not there to partake of the event, she knew that there were times in life when one could not afford Italian sausage, and white bread would have to do. Of course, an even better stuffing would have both-- she could just imagine Lord Il Palazzo there, the big turkey, and this guy could be the chicken, and she-- yes, she would be the--
"DUUUCK!" Excel cried at the height of euphoria, overcome with waves of ultimate pleasure the color of infinity that still weren't as good as turducken. Gourry might have come too at some point, but she didn't give a shit about that.
Afterward they took a nice post-turducken-and-also-coitus-I-guess nap, and eventually escaped the temple easily, having found the back door. This was not a sexual metaphor; the temple really had a back door. They then went their separate ways, happily resolving never to see each other ever again.
EPILOGUE:
Gourry, having realized there were women in the world even more insane than Lina, confessed his feelings to her right away, and though it took several weeks before she forgave him for not bringing her back any turducken, they lived happily ever after.
Excel confessed her feelings to Il Palazzo, and was promptly dropped into a pit full of angry fowl.
"I'm sorry, Lord Il Palazzo," she wheezed, slumping against a mashed-potato-colored wall. "It seems like your Excel isn't going to make it out of this one..."
She hadn't eaten or seen the sunlight in days. She could barely remember what things like food and sunlight were. As she began to lose consciousness, she could think of was her lord's handsome face, massive shoulder armor, and amazingly fabulous hair...
"Hey, are you all right?"
Her eyes fluttered open again, and she saw a shadow hovering over her. "Lord Il Palazzo?"
"Uh... I don't speak French," the shadow replied.
Handsome face, massive shoulder armor, and amazingly fabulous hair aside, the man who stood above her was definitely not Excel's lord, and thus, Excel decided, not a hallucination. She sat up with renewed energy, yanking on his shirt so she could look her gift horse in the eye. "Do you have any food, mister? Any water?"
"I have some water." No sooner had he pulled out the canteen than Excel had snatched it out of his hands, chugging desperately. "Boy, you must be thirsty, huh?"
Excel spoke only after she had sucked down the entire thing. "Thanks. I was havin' one of those moments when you're asking for whom the cowbell tolls, and the sun and the wind and the rain be damned, you damn well do fear the reaper."
"You don't look so good," he said. "Let me help you up."
Excel ignored his outstretched hand and stood up on her own. She moved to poke him in the chest, but his chest was well-armored, and she ended up tapping it in an awkward gesture that did not entirely convey her intended meaning. "Who do you think you are, buddy? Don't you know that the Turducken Temple is dangerous?"
"I could say the same to you," he replied, just an eensy bit annoyed at her stand-offishness. "Anyway, my name's Gourry."
"Okay Gary, I'm going to make this simple for you. Maybe you didn't know, but this Turducken Temple and all of the glorious treasure within have already been claimed. As punishment for trespass, you're going to lead me to the temple inside of the temple inside of the temple!"
Gourry sighed. "You don't have to pretend like you're not lost. It's not like I'd just leave you here to die. Besides," he added with a cheerfulness that made her want to punch him, "I'm lost, too."
Excel gave into her punchy desires, and they were off.
"Hey," said Gourry, "What was your name, again?"
"That's not the kind of secret a girl like me shares with any ol' commoner," Excel replied, enjoying this rare chance to be haughty. "However, I do intend to reward you for your services, and if my lord is amicable to assimilating you in such a capacity, you may be afforded the luxury of calling me 'Master' as my indentured servant!"
"Uh..." Gourry said, his voice thick with dubious amounts of want. "I don't really know anything about teeth, and aren't you a little young for de--"
Excel interrupted his pun-based stupidity with a friendly-yet-mean punch to the arm. "Hey, Goofus! Is that a light up ahead?"
"Gourry," he corrected. "And yeah, I saw it awhile ago."
"Well, what are you waiting for? That might be it!" She dashed behind him and began pushing.
"H-hey! What are you doing? This place is booby trapped, you know?"
"Duh! That's why you're going first!"
"Okay, okay! Just let me do it, all right?"
Excel backed off, and Gourry went about gleefully setting off trip wires and cutting down the ensuing arrows, poison darts, and legally-required giant rolling rocks. Excel likewise cheered him on, shocked and delighted not to be bleeding from every orifice in her body, as would likely had been the case if she had attempted this feat on her own.
Pulling out a piece of paper, she wrote: "Official proposition for the requisition of ACROSS supplies: Meat Shield."
"I can see it!" he cried, stealing her attention from her paperwork. "Come quick!"
Though the light from the room was not particularly bright, but the splendor of what Excel saw might have blinded her. Time seemed to slow as she and Gourry stared at the glorious thing before them. There, in the center of the temple that was in the center of a temple inside the center of a temple, lay a gigantic gilded plate, and on that plate, the truest treasure they had ever seen... a turducken the size of a mammoth. It must have been there for ages, but one look told her that it remained as tender and juicy as the day it was baked.
"It's so beautiful," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "They should have sent a poet."
"No," said Gourry, pulling out a fork and knife. "They were right to send me."
They ate for a long time, and gradually the poultry diminished into a pile of bones and grease stains. Eventually, the pair could be found in the corner of the room, lethargic and contented, picking their teeth. Excel knew, as anyone of her mysteriously scientific background should, that the sedative effects of turkey were a myth, and yet she couldn't help but notice the marinating haze that coated her mind. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of dungeon-crawling, or perhaps the fact that she'd consumed enough tryptophan to kill a bear, but either way, Excel was relaxed. So relaxed that, without even the vaguest notion of conscious thought, she rolled over to use her newly acquired meat shield (lordly approval pending) as a pillow.
Gourry didn't protest. He liked the strange girl, in the way one loud-mouthed, bossy thing reminds you of another, and he felt sorry for her for being lost in the temple's temple's temple by herself. Besides, he had a pretty good view of her rack from that angle. It wasn't, like, amazing, but it pretty much blew Lina out of the water.
Their eyes met, and there was no real excuse for what happened next. She lifted her head, he pulled her closer, and they kissed, each wondering if the other's lips would taste like turducken.
For the record, they did.
This mutual appreciation of poultry stuffed into larger poultry stuffed into larger poultry should have ended there. They should have backed off, blushing, Gourry with a split lip and/or blackened eye. But the spirit of turducken was within their hearts, souls, and increasingly engorged genitals. They would never eat this well again; this truth sounded to the core of their beings, and neither could deny it. Nothing would ever be the same. The best they could hope for was to celebrate this moment, to enjoy it with the same wanton hedonism with which they had partaken of the turducken, and desperately hope that mere lovemaking could do more than pale against the perfect physical union of a turkey and a chicken and a duck.
Excel's legs were not unlike a wishbone as she straddled him, and she pushed him down in a tender-yet-tenderizing way. She wanted everything, then. She wanted to meet his meat. She wanted to taste of his turkey baster. She tore at his pants like they were a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, and he sprung free just as readily as the eager dough.
"Hey, calm down," he whispered, only barely managing to turn the boiling broth of his lust down to a simmer. "At least let me take this off."
He moved to remove his shoulder armor, but she met him with a glare preheated at 450°. "Don't you dare."
While he recoiled in fear, she returned to her task. 'Hunger' would be a lost concept to most people who had eaten beyond capacity, but Excel was ravenous as she removed his package from its packaging. Only a fool would let the last drumstick go to waste.
Excel set to it, slurping giddily. Gourry's participation in this event was about as useful as a side of parsley, but he was enjoying it, and that's all that matters, really. Until Excel forgot that it was not, in fact, a drumstick in her mouth, and bit down.
"AUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Gourry screamed, shoving her off and scuttling away in terror. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"
"Oh. Sorry," she replied in a half-apologetic tone that ranged halfway between half-hearted and half-assed.
"'Sorry' nothing!" he yelped, snatching up his pants.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
"Come on, it was just a joke! A visual gag!"
"I'M NOT LAUGHING."
He began redressing, but she clamped onto the leg of his pants. "Hey. Hey. Did the turducken mean nothing to you?"
"The turducken was fine, but you're crazy! We shouldn't be doing this anyway," he added, like a side dish of guilt.
"Oh meatballs! You're completely right!" cried Excel, who had completely spaced anything not related to food metaphor. "But even if we say that, the fact remains that the line of moral boundary was crossed upon this sinful day! The truth of these atrocities must be buried, locked in a safe inside a bigger safe inside an even bigger safe! And for you, foul incubus, for daring to tempt the purity of a holy ACROSS vessel, the penalty can only be death! No, ULTRA death!"
"Or, uh. Maybe we could just forget it ever happened," Gourry suggested meekly.
Excel considered this carefully. "So what you're saying is, what happens in Turducken Temple stays in Turducken Temple."
"Exactly!"
"So we may as well go all the way."
"Good point."
Once this proposition was deemed mutually acceptable by both parties, Excel dehusked her hotpants, that he might cream her corn. This metaphor was somewhat beyond Gourry, but it's not like it was a good metaphor to begin with, so he didn't worry about mixing it as he tested for her internal temperature and moisture.
"Gee, you're already ready, huh?"
"I was the minute I saw that turducken," she admitted, looking a little bashful for the first time.
"Yeah, me too," he admitted with a nervous little chuckle.
As each revealed their overwhelming passion for turducken, the air became as thick as gravy, weighed down by lust. Gourry pressed Excel up against the wall, and perhaps this was appropriate, for this was not an expression of their true feelings, but rather a sandwich of leftover love, love that rightfully belonged to chicken and Lina and duck and Il Palazzo and turkey.
And yet it was too much to hold back. He entered her smoothly, like a chicken being slid into a duck.
Excel gasped with such excitement that you'd think she just saw a huge, glazed ham. Gourry looked her in the eye to make sure she was all right, and she looked him right back to let him know he was a fucking idiot who just needed to plow her already. Just because he was as sexy as a big ham didn't mean he needed to be a big ham about it, you know?
She leaned forward to kiss him, but even as Gourry thrust his hips forward, he pulled his face back. "Nuh-uh, you keep your mouth away from me."
"Oh, come on. Are you really still peeved about that? You're clearly not all that injured!"
"That's not the point," he huffed.
Excel shot him a deadly glare as she wrapped her legs around him. "Do you want me to talk?"
"Suits me fine!" declared Gourry, who had fully intended to tune her out anyway.
"Well, good! But you should shut your pie hole." She tugged down at her top, exposing a breast. "There, put it to work or something."
Gourry frowned. He'd completely wanted to up until she demanded it. "What, you can talk but I can't?"
"It's kind of hard to pretend you're somebody else when you keep opening that idiot mouth of yours."
This attitude was really starting to get on his nerves. Not enough that he was ready to, like, stop or anything, but definitely enough for him to complain about it. "Can't you just pretend quietly?"
"Mmm, Lord Il Palazzo," she moaned, as she was already tuning him out.
"Or at least not call out his name?"
Excel tsked. "Jeez, men are so egocentric. Fine, fine. 'ooh, yes, Gaudy, harder.'"
Gourry decided that two could play at that game. "Ooh, Lin... oh, who am I kidding? There's no way Lina'd be even this big." He kneaded her heaving chest like warm dough. "You're about a C, right?"
"Classified information," she panted.
Excel felt as though she could never get enough stuffing, and though she was sad that her lord was not there to partake of the event, she knew that there were times in life when one could not afford Italian sausage, and white bread would have to do. Of course, an even better stuffing would have both-- she could just imagine Lord Il Palazzo there, the big turkey, and this guy could be the chicken, and she-- yes, she would be the--
"DUUUCK!" Excel cried at the height of euphoria, overcome with waves of ultimate pleasure the color of infinity that still weren't as good as turducken. Gourry might have come too at some point, but she didn't give a shit about that.
Afterward they took a nice post-turducken-and-also-coitus-I-guess nap, and eventually escaped the temple easily, having found the back door. This was not a sexual metaphor; the temple really had a back door. They then went their separate ways, happily resolving never to see each other ever again.
EPILOGUE:
Gourry, having realized there were women in the world even more insane than Lina, confessed his feelings to her right away, and though it took several weeks before she forgave him for not bringing her back any turducken, they lived happily ever after.
Excel confessed her feelings to Il Palazzo, and was promptly dropped into a pit full of angry fowl.