An in-gathering of Queer Royalty from across the land was called post-haste. Present were all the Lords and Ladies of the fair kingdom. Chaired by their Royal Highnesses, King and Queen Queer, furious at their son's betrayal, the conference was one of the most important moments in homo-history, trumped only by Joe McElderry coming out the closet; just like Gaybe, no one could possibly have seen it coming. The decision arose that the Fellowship of the Rod should be established. The queers would assemble their allies...
Since the Battle of Stonewall and the founding of Queertopia, 1967, a civil war (cat-fight, if you will) has ravaged the kingdom and plagued its inhabitants. In this world, there are two types of men; those that dwell in Heaven, on the northern Embankment of the river dyx. These fair creatures are accustomed to spending their free time in flares, singing along to Grease and Lady Gaga whilst harmlessly thrusting their hips naively at one another. Their teeth shine a brilliant white, as though they had brushed them with Cillit Bang. Their hair is perfectly coiffed in a way that Cheryl Cole could barely rival. The other type of man that inhabits this world is of a different calibre. They manifest their twisted lives in the gay underworld, Gaydes. On the Southbank of the river Dyx, in a realm known only as 'Vauxhall'. These despicable people could not be more opposed. The sick world in which the devilish queers inhabit sees lines of fairy dust snorted of the back of toilets seats in exchange for acts of naughtiness in the same cubicle. Heart pounding, terror inducing 'House' music is blared loudly throughout the realm. Choking tobacco fumes fill the air and the rejects of the queers work there. None other is so rejected as the infamous (Doctor) Faust(us). The realm rests not between the hellish hours of Friday afternoon until Sunday night. Their greatest enemy are themselves and those that work in the name of good across the river in Heaven. It has and will always be that way, those that dance on the north bank and those of disgrace on the south.
The monarchy often never dibble-dabbled in the conflicts of the people unless absolutely necessary, but the Queen couldn't think of a time which was more important. The vibrating cock shape staff was gone, and taken none other than her one son. The power of the staff had the ability to make men weak and the knees and fall in love with this rubbery inanimate object. By now the family could assume that the Wicked Gaybe of the West was hiding with his accomplices in the underworld, abusing the stave in unthinkable and purely disgusting ways. But we expected no more, his desperation was controlling him, the longing for the rod was apparent. He was, after all, a virgin.
The journey to G-A-Y heaven wasn't difficult, the family were welcome with open arms and had their own karaoke booth, which often the King and Queen utilised as a recreational activity on the weekend. God of heaven was the biggest and best gay icon known to history, she was fabulous and good, kind and generous, benevolent in her nature, and the only woman in the northern hemisphere that any queer could trust... Julie Andrews.
"High priestess (after all, she did start out as a nun), I assume you know why I am here?" the King muttered to her as the family were shown to the royal table.
"Indeed, King Josephine, Gaga and Madonna informed me that one of our own has betrayed us...", she seemed concerned, but this was only apparent in her eyes. The rest of her body remained composed.
"You must understand." said the Queen, "It is not Gaybe that is wicked, it is the rod. It makes men powerful, when I last spoke to Gaybe he tried to destroy the fundamental structure of Queertopia. The staff is dangerous, it does things".
"Call upon the Fellowship Of The Rod, go to Onyx and destroy it. You have my approval and army. God speed, may the force of ABBA be with you".
"Amen" whispered the Prince under his breath, "we'll need to take a chance on a super trouper".
They crossed the Thames, the stench of the river was overpowing, typically Princess Lyna began to weep, as she did so she spun a golden ball of yarn so they were able to find their way back.
The Queen was apprehensive, but she used her sexual prowess to bypass the guards at the gates of Vauxhall. The family stood outside, amongst the stumbling, intoxicated queers. For a moment a mutual understanding of their mission shuddered through them all, they held hands, only for a moment though. They weren't that gay. Then they went in, penetration was imminent...
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