Hey, does EVE come with a time out?

When they put up the cyno, I guess they thought we'd run. 2 phallic Co2 titans popped up (lol) in the midst of the relatively small gang of battleships that had been assembled to counter our roaming gang.
A buttplug and a flying chin, hanging in space above the station undock. Raging like a sex-starved nympho, GavinGoodrich pounding hamfisted in all caps "TITAN BUBBLED OUTSIDE STATION" exploded into every channel. Within 2 short minutes of his request a dozen bubbles shimmered around the massive space ****s. Texts were sent out on our SRS business SMS spammer. Capsuleers flowed into local like blood into our no longer flacid members.

Co2 started to feel a bit of performance anxiety as our dictors circled their balls in tightening arcs, and our turrets pounded into them again and again. A few desperate pilots in a prophecy and a drake warped onto the field and lit a cyno. In the seconds before their ships went up in flames, 4 triage carriers flicker onto our overviews, and one by one they are destroyed in a matter of minutes.

By now, our ecstatic screaming had attracted some attention. Daisho and Dara Cothrom had showed up to join the orgy, with some other random neutrals and a stray hydra or two. Friendly fire claimed a couple of our support ships but quickly settled down as everyone focused their attention on Jowan.

With terror in his eyes as we penetrated his shields, he could no longer stand to watch us watching him being violated. Desperate to finish before it was too late, with 15 minutes on the clock we lit our cyno beacons and redoubled our thrusting, hammering through his armor and scrambling to get as many swinging dreads bashing into him as we could.

Blow for blow with time running out and each second drawing us closer to release, and Jowan to his doom, we were never sure if we would end it in time. 2 minutes were left on the clock and a quarter of his structure when AAA got on their megaphone in local and shined their flashlight in our eyes, like the space police harassing two passionate lovers entwined on a dingy, soiled mattress in the back of an El Camino.

PULL OUT PULL OUT, AAA screamed, but it was too late. We shot the last of our load all over the steaming wreck of Jowans Avatar, dizzy with glee and shouting victorious cries of pleasure. The dripping juices and gaping bullet holes spelled out a message:

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