I am about to question the three spies ...LOL!!!
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
The Elixir Of T'mor
- Thread starter Wragg
- Start date
11. Fact File: The Kenquilim and the Moderators
The whole fabric of the T’morian economy and religion depended utterly upon its priestesses. Without them, there would be no elixir, (or at best, highly inferior elixir) and there would be no tourism to T’mor – mountains, lakes, hotels – these were ten-a-penny across the galaxy. Kenquilim Priestesses – these were peculiar to T’mor.
The Priestesses differed from ‘ordinary’ Kenquilim, and from normal humanoids, in two important respects.
Firstly, they were as close to physical perfection as it was possible to get. Not just well proportioned, in fact, humanoids with symmetrical proportions can look too perfect, like living dolls, but beautiful artistically as well as physically. They were healthy – a sick Priestess was unheard of, and, as part of their training, they undertook strenuous physical exercise – they had to be strong, they had to be resilient, and they had to be fit.
Secondly, they were also slightly different internally. They had better developed endocrine systems, with large adrenal glands, and they also had larger spleens than usual. The larger spleen replaced blood far quicker than a normal spleen, and the endocrine system could saturate that blood with twenty or thirty times the concentration of hormones than a normal human. Therefore they could run faster, jump higher, and sustain physical duress far longer than normal, and (as we have seen) they enjoyed far better sex!
This was primarily an accident of evolution. They came from an island known as the Golden Isle in the Ocean of Tranquility. This island was not at all tranquil due to the fact that the Kenquilim there shared that island with particularly fearsome predators called Moderators. These were fast moving, cold blooded reptiles that showed no mercy to any Kenquilim that they should spot and place on the menu for lunch. There was nothing moderate about them. And the Moderators grew stronger, fitter, and healthier the more they dined on Kenquilim! Only now, looking back, was it clear that the blood of the Kenquilim contained a primitive form of Elixir which was benefitting the Moderators.
So there was an evolutionary vicious circle, prey and predator getting stronger and fitter with the passing generations. The only Kenquilim left on the island were those who could run faster than a Moderator, or outfight a Moderator, and who could breed fast enough to make good any attrition by Moderators. And the only Moderators left were those who could catch an islander.
Eventually, the Moderators lost the battle. The Golden Islander Kenquilim went on the offensive, and decided to rid the island of their foe. They learned how to set traps for the Moderators, and if any moderator should try to attack a Kenquilim, they met an adversary so fit and so tanked up on adrenaline, that the poor Moderator didn’t stand a chance. They died in their thousands, starved to death or killed in traps or in open battle, and soon the Golden Islanders were left with the island to themselves, and with the highest levels of physical perfection and the strongest endocrine systems in the galaxy as their prize for winning this evolutionary battle. That, and a morbid terror of lizards.
It was natural, then, when the Golden Islanders began to spread throughout T’mor, that they should rapidly become the ruling caste. By that time they had worked out how to extract pretty good elixir from the female Golden Islanders. The Golden Islanders tended not to interbreed with ‘normal’ Kenquilim, so it became easy to entirely prohibit interbreeding between those that became Priests and Priestesses and the general riff-raff of T’mor.
Following the return of Bobb Ender, Joll Erai, Phlee Ebas, and Repp Ertor from the Crux Forums, with their triumphant discovery of crucifixion as the perfect method of achieving the ideal mixture of fear and erotic pleasure to make the highest quality Elixir, the cream of the Priestesses had been trained to such a peak of physical perfection that they could be crucified multiple times, experience multiple orgasms while doing so, thus producing sufficient quality Elixir to keep the coffers full, but not so much that it became easy to find and thus would attract a lower price. And the first to be crucified had indeed been Miss Alice, a huge honour for her, and a great pleasure for Bobb, who had produced a series of pictures of her on her cross which had immortalised him as one of the greatest artists T’mor had ever produced, and which had been subsequently used to help train future priestesses towards the perfect crucifixion.
Between crucifixions, they received expert medical attention, which, combined with their own natural resilience, ensured a rapid recovery. The limiting feature was the point at which crucifixion ceased to be terrifying or erotic, and became boring, at which point the quality of the Elixir became too low for anybody but Bellerophonicans, and at that point they would be retired from cross duty, and go ahead to their, ahem, union with the High Priest or with the Overlord, and so a future generation of Priests and Priestesses was assured. Then, all duty done, the Overlord and the High Priest were as good as their word, and the girls went on to live the Life of Riley! Not that the likes of Barb Aria or Messa Aline knew any of that.
That would have spoiled the effect!
The whole fabric of the T’morian economy and religion depended utterly upon its priestesses. Without them, there would be no elixir, (or at best, highly inferior elixir) and there would be no tourism to T’mor – mountains, lakes, hotels – these were ten-a-penny across the galaxy. Kenquilim Priestesses – these were peculiar to T’mor.
The Priestesses differed from ‘ordinary’ Kenquilim, and from normal humanoids, in two important respects.
Firstly, they were as close to physical perfection as it was possible to get. Not just well proportioned, in fact, humanoids with symmetrical proportions can look too perfect, like living dolls, but beautiful artistically as well as physically. They were healthy – a sick Priestess was unheard of, and, as part of their training, they undertook strenuous physical exercise – they had to be strong, they had to be resilient, and they had to be fit.
Secondly, they were also slightly different internally. They had better developed endocrine systems, with large adrenal glands, and they also had larger spleens than usual. The larger spleen replaced blood far quicker than a normal spleen, and the endocrine system could saturate that blood with twenty or thirty times the concentration of hormones than a normal human. Therefore they could run faster, jump higher, and sustain physical duress far longer than normal, and (as we have seen) they enjoyed far better sex!
This was primarily an accident of evolution. They came from an island known as the Golden Isle in the Ocean of Tranquility. This island was not at all tranquil due to the fact that the Kenquilim there shared that island with particularly fearsome predators called Moderators. These were fast moving, cold blooded reptiles that showed no mercy to any Kenquilim that they should spot and place on the menu for lunch. There was nothing moderate about them. And the Moderators grew stronger, fitter, and healthier the more they dined on Kenquilim! Only now, looking back, was it clear that the blood of the Kenquilim contained a primitive form of Elixir which was benefitting the Moderators.
So there was an evolutionary vicious circle, prey and predator getting stronger and fitter with the passing generations. The only Kenquilim left on the island were those who could run faster than a Moderator, or outfight a Moderator, and who could breed fast enough to make good any attrition by Moderators. And the only Moderators left were those who could catch an islander.
Eventually, the Moderators lost the battle. The Golden Islander Kenquilim went on the offensive, and decided to rid the island of their foe. They learned how to set traps for the Moderators, and if any moderator should try to attack a Kenquilim, they met an adversary so fit and so tanked up on adrenaline, that the poor Moderator didn’t stand a chance. They died in their thousands, starved to death or killed in traps or in open battle, and soon the Golden Islanders were left with the island to themselves, and with the highest levels of physical perfection and the strongest endocrine systems in the galaxy as their prize for winning this evolutionary battle. That, and a morbid terror of lizards.
It was natural, then, when the Golden Islanders began to spread throughout T’mor, that they should rapidly become the ruling caste. By that time they had worked out how to extract pretty good elixir from the female Golden Islanders. The Golden Islanders tended not to interbreed with ‘normal’ Kenquilim, so it became easy to entirely prohibit interbreeding between those that became Priests and Priestesses and the general riff-raff of T’mor.
Following the return of Bobb Ender, Joll Erai, Phlee Ebas, and Repp Ertor from the Crux Forums, with their triumphant discovery of crucifixion as the perfect method of achieving the ideal mixture of fear and erotic pleasure to make the highest quality Elixir, the cream of the Priestesses had been trained to such a peak of physical perfection that they could be crucified multiple times, experience multiple orgasms while doing so, thus producing sufficient quality Elixir to keep the coffers full, but not so much that it became easy to find and thus would attract a lower price. And the first to be crucified had indeed been Miss Alice, a huge honour for her, and a great pleasure for Bobb, who had produced a series of pictures of her on her cross which had immortalised him as one of the greatest artists T’mor had ever produced, and which had been subsequently used to help train future priestesses towards the perfect crucifixion.
Between crucifixions, they received expert medical attention, which, combined with their own natural resilience, ensured a rapid recovery. The limiting feature was the point at which crucifixion ceased to be terrifying or erotic, and became boring, at which point the quality of the Elixir became too low for anybody but Bellerophonicans, and at that point they would be retired from cross duty, and go ahead to their, ahem, union with the High Priest or with the Overlord, and so a future generation of Priests and Priestesses was assured. Then, all duty done, the Overlord and the High Priest were as good as their word, and the girls went on to live the Life of Riley! Not that the likes of Barb Aria or Messa Aline knew any of that.
That would have spoiled the effect!
bobinder
ARTISAN
Thanks for the honourable mention.
I have every confidence in Messa.
She is a trouper - and she was well trained.
She looks like she's learning well....
bobinder
ARTISAN
windar
Teller of Tales
I've wondered about that at times
You mean Darwin was on to something?
Well, I'm glad someone here besides yours truly is willing to acknowledge the possibility...
About f-ing time Wragg
The Elixir just doesn't work on some people!Well, I'm glad someone here besides yours truly is willing to acknowledge the possibility...
About f-ing time Wragg
Ain't you the lucky one! Alice! I mean to say, Bob will never speak to you again!
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
It's interesting to learn that the evolution theory is valid thoughout the universe and that the natural selecton worked better on T'mor than it did on earth, where it is still unclear which is the most advanced species.
Only the Bellerophonicans seem to have missed the train. It must be due to the males because the females have the evolutionary advantage of having three breasts.
Only the Bellerophonicans seem to have missed the train. It must be due to the males because the females have the evolutionary advantage of having three breasts.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
In evolution, there are not such things as 'advanced species'. There is only the opportunism of the moment.
Then comes my question to make my point : what is the evolutionary advantage of females with three breasts, if the males have only two hands to grab them?
12. The Galactic Parliament
Count Leonardo Loxuru, Secundus Primus of the Galactic Council, sipped his drink in the bar of the Galactic Parliament building in the centre of Quadrat City on T’mor. It had been, by any measure, a very shitty day in Parliament, with the Galactocrats playing merry hell with the government’s galactic health reform bill, and Loxuru had a headache. It was doubtful if the ‘Adams Special’ in front of him would have a long term beneficial effect on his headache, but it was the short term benefits that had caused him to order what used to be known as a ‘Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster’.
For a few moments after his sip he enjoyed those short term benefits, then, when his eyeballs had properly resumed their correct location in their sockets, he looked at his drinking companion.
“What do we do now, Alan? The Healthcare Bill is dead in the water.”
Archduke Alan Ducatti, Primus Pilus of the Galactic Council, was the most powerful man in the galaxy. He also had an Adams Special in front of him. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so he had taken a larger gulp than was sensible, and it was quite some time before he was able to answer. Not that it seemed to have helped much.
“One vote! Can you believe it? We lost by one vote! One fucking vote! Wait till I get my hands on Rhodes! Where the hell was he?”
At that very moment, as if on cue, his communicator rang, with the familiar jingle of the Quadrat Trading Company announcing that Rhodes himself was calling. Ducatti snatched it up.
“RHODES!!!” he roared, silencing the entire bar. “You FUCKING BASTARD!!! You’ve gone and lost us the most important piece of legislation of this parliament!!!! Members have travelled half-way across the fucking galaxy to get here, you only needed to take a poxy cab! What were you doing, you lazy git? Shagging one of your precious priestesses?”
Loxuru wondered if that counted as ‘unparliamentary language.’ Certainly poor Rhodes didn’t seem able to get a word in edgeways. But eventually Ducatti ran out of breath, and Rhodes could speak. Ducatti, to his credit, listened. Not that it seemed to do Rhodes any good.
“Let me see if I understand you correctly, Mister Rhodes." Ducatti had a dangerous edge to his voice. "You had Bellerphonicans on your planet. You allowed them to sabotage your Madiosi Shield. You exposed your people to the open air even though the shield still wasn’t repaired. You seem…surprised that they were kidnapped. I would have been more surprised if Shar Divatt had failed to grasp a golden opportunity like that! And now you want me to… how did you put it? ‘Unleash Fire and Fury the like of which the galaxy has never seen upon Bellerophon’? And that is your excuse for failing to attend Parliament today? You’ve lost a couple of goons and a handful of tarts and you want me to send good soldiers out against Bellerophon? Grow up, Rhodes. If you’re lacking someone to crucify I’ll be there in a jiffy to crucify you! Because I am in a crucifying mood RIGHT NOW!!”
Count Loxuru saved Rhodes from that grisly fate by presenting Ducatti with his own drink. Ducatti gulped down the rest of his Adams Special in one, and, after a bit of twitching, subsided back into his chair, a half smile on his face. Loxuru picked up the phone, and took it out of the way of eagerly listening ears. “Max? Lox here. Don’t worry about Alan. He’ll calm down. He’s had a bad day. So have you, by the sounds of things. What were you thinking of? I bet you screwed Shar Divatt and thought you’d bought her off with your dick. Yes! I knew it! You are a prize pillock, Max, you have to admit it. You what? You sold her most of your elixir reserve? Honestly....I bet you took elixir, how else could you shag Shar Divatt? Max, how many times have I told you not to mix elixir with business, it addles your brain! Now look what you’ve done! This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!”
He stood for a while, listening as Rhodes whimpered down the phone to him. Eventually, he managed to get him to settle down. “Listen, Max, you are going to have to calm down. We’ll sort this out. But you need to leave it to the professionals. Get yourself an Adams special – it’s worked for Alan. And leave this to me.”
He returned to the bar, replaced the communicator in the sleeping Duke’s pocket, then went on his way. As he left the building, he took out his own communicator, and rang his PA.
“Hi, Sweet Cheeks!” She seemed to appreciate the term, she almost purred with delight, before he continued “Get me Special Agent Erin Bond!”
Count Leonardo Loxuru, Secundus Primus of the Galactic Council, sipped his drink in the bar of the Galactic Parliament building in the centre of Quadrat City on T’mor. It had been, by any measure, a very shitty day in Parliament, with the Galactocrats playing merry hell with the government’s galactic health reform bill, and Loxuru had a headache. It was doubtful if the ‘Adams Special’ in front of him would have a long term beneficial effect on his headache, but it was the short term benefits that had caused him to order what used to be known as a ‘Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster’.
For a few moments after his sip he enjoyed those short term benefits, then, when his eyeballs had properly resumed their correct location in their sockets, he looked at his drinking companion.
“What do we do now, Alan? The Healthcare Bill is dead in the water.”
Archduke Alan Ducatti, Primus Pilus of the Galactic Council, was the most powerful man in the galaxy. He also had an Adams Special in front of him. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so he had taken a larger gulp than was sensible, and it was quite some time before he was able to answer. Not that it seemed to have helped much.
“One vote! Can you believe it? We lost by one vote! One fucking vote! Wait till I get my hands on Rhodes! Where the hell was he?”
At that very moment, as if on cue, his communicator rang, with the familiar jingle of the Quadrat Trading Company announcing that Rhodes himself was calling. Ducatti snatched it up.
“RHODES!!!” he roared, silencing the entire bar. “You FUCKING BASTARD!!! You’ve gone and lost us the most important piece of legislation of this parliament!!!! Members have travelled half-way across the fucking galaxy to get here, you only needed to take a poxy cab! What were you doing, you lazy git? Shagging one of your precious priestesses?”
Loxuru wondered if that counted as ‘unparliamentary language.’ Certainly poor Rhodes didn’t seem able to get a word in edgeways. But eventually Ducatti ran out of breath, and Rhodes could speak. Ducatti, to his credit, listened. Not that it seemed to do Rhodes any good.
“Let me see if I understand you correctly, Mister Rhodes." Ducatti had a dangerous edge to his voice. "You had Bellerphonicans on your planet. You allowed them to sabotage your Madiosi Shield. You exposed your people to the open air even though the shield still wasn’t repaired. You seem…surprised that they were kidnapped. I would have been more surprised if Shar Divatt had failed to grasp a golden opportunity like that! And now you want me to… how did you put it? ‘Unleash Fire and Fury the like of which the galaxy has never seen upon Bellerophon’? And that is your excuse for failing to attend Parliament today? You’ve lost a couple of goons and a handful of tarts and you want me to send good soldiers out against Bellerophon? Grow up, Rhodes. If you’re lacking someone to crucify I’ll be there in a jiffy to crucify you! Because I am in a crucifying mood RIGHT NOW!!”
Count Loxuru saved Rhodes from that grisly fate by presenting Ducatti with his own drink. Ducatti gulped down the rest of his Adams Special in one, and, after a bit of twitching, subsided back into his chair, a half smile on his face. Loxuru picked up the phone, and took it out of the way of eagerly listening ears. “Max? Lox here. Don’t worry about Alan. He’ll calm down. He’s had a bad day. So have you, by the sounds of things. What were you thinking of? I bet you screwed Shar Divatt and thought you’d bought her off with your dick. Yes! I knew it! You are a prize pillock, Max, you have to admit it. You what? You sold her most of your elixir reserve? Honestly....I bet you took elixir, how else could you shag Shar Divatt? Max, how many times have I told you not to mix elixir with business, it addles your brain! Now look what you’ve done! This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!”
He stood for a while, listening as Rhodes whimpered down the phone to him. Eventually, he managed to get him to settle down. “Listen, Max, you are going to have to calm down. We’ll sort this out. But you need to leave it to the professionals. Get yourself an Adams special – it’s worked for Alan. And leave this to me.”
He returned to the bar, replaced the communicator in the sleeping Duke’s pocket, then went on his way. As he left the building, he took out his own communicator, and rang his PA.
“Hi, Sweet Cheeks!” She seemed to appreciate the term, she almost purred with delight, before he continued “Get me Special Agent Erin Bond!”
Last edited:
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Having lost the priestesses there is a serious danger they will not be able to continue the elixir production. In that case they will have to resort to ‘Adams Special’. That ‘Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster’ seems to be almost as good as the elexir, at least in the short term..
"It's the first second choice" as the Secundus Primus of the Galactic Council would say.
"It's the first second choice" as the Secundus Primus of the Galactic Council would say.
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
That's the reason why they couldn't find out who is the most advanced. There isn't any.
However that isn't important. Mankind has discovered that if they proclaim themselves as the superior species, there is none of the other species who contradict them.
Bellerophonican males are rather clumsy. They need all their hands to grab one single breast (if they are Lucky).Then comes my question to make my point : what is the evolutionary advantage of females with three breasts, if the males have only two hands to grab them?
The more breasts there are around the higher the chance their efforts are successful.
Wonderfully done Wragg! Satire at its very best. I laughed, I grinned, I giggled and I snorted, and then I started all over again. This one was the best one yet!
Then comes my question to make my point : what is the evolutionary advantage of females with three breasts, if the males have only two hands to grab them?
Two hands.
+
One mouth.
=
Three breasts
The maths work for me
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Two hands.
+
One mouth.
=
Three breasts
The maths work for me
Unless you need the mouth some 30-40 cm lower. Using the breasts as a grip.
Unless you need the mouth some 30-40 cm lower. Using the breasts as a grip.
They're not handles ... geeze
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Right, I was a little bit talking technical-mathematical.They're not handles ... geeze
Teasing them meanwhile, of course.