The Edge of Tomorrow 2 - 1992
Sex-starved Mutant Vixen Goddesses.... - Stephen Battersby
(page 8/13)

Sex-starved Mutant Vixen Goddesses of the Hyper-Galactic Mega-slime swamps, meet.....

......Ms F Yew of Islington.


The outlandish militaristic uniform was complemented by an equally martial bearing - you might call it an overbearing. Truly this creature was resplendently equipped! Large metal loops on either side of its head (induction aerials perhaps?) and small inscribed plates (ceremonial armour?) completed the regalia, but it was evident that the central element of battle costume was the garishly coloured leg and body garment, known apparently as the "Dun-Ghariz".

That scathing voice, so clearly accustomed to absolute obedience, lashed out again.

"What sort of an attitude is that?"

The Mutant Vixen Goddesses were crestfallen. In some cases, literally so. There they stood in their thousands (presumably theirs, anyway), assorted limbs and organs waving in a rather ineffectual manner. The only sounds to be heard were heavy breathing, panting, or frantically flapping gills. An ignorant observer, applying Human standards to beings with hardly a Human ingredient among them, might have interpreted these eager respirations as a sign that the crowd were extremely horny. This would of course be quite correct; however, the Goddesses were unprepared for such opposition, and it troubled them.

Meanwhile Ms Yew was beginning to look frustrated, as if addressing stupid children. She spoke again.

"Don't you see? You're playing right into their hands, giving them just what they want, the slimy brutes!"

The Goddesses still couldn't understand. Giving slimy brutes just what they wanted sounded like absolute heaven (not to mention all this stuff about playing, and hands). Hadn't they crossed kiloparsecs of mind-numbingly dull space, twiddling their thumbs - or whatever - just for such an opportunity? The overlady Goddess tried again.

"But we only want to have endless /explosive/ steamy/hungry/raging sex with all your males!" She felt that perhaps her translator was short of idiom and erring on the side of literality. Oddly this was not the impression formed by Ms Yew.

"You take my advice sisters," she began with a narrowing of her eyes, causing some of the assembled throng of beings to retreat in fear, "men are pigs!" - and she pointed at one of her plates of armour, emblazoned with the same motto.

Some of the more porcine Goddesses positively swooned at this, and there was a general murmur of approval from the remainder, who were not prone to be fastidious over species. Still, it seemed this fearsome warrior was determined to deprive them of a much needed roll in the compost. A hasty meeting of mutant matriarchy was called to discuss the situation, and they found themselves to be of like mind (though not body, of course).

It was so unreasonable! What could be wrong with sex? Everybody does it (though few indeed with such relish as the Vixen Goddesses), surely? Might they have stumbled on a race where sex was unnecessary? If so, the scientifically minded Ultra-Geek Lords of the Cul-de- sac nebula would be grateful for the news, but since they weren't much good for what the crowd had in mind anyway and it was always hard to get them out of their A'Nurak armour, the Goddesses decided there was nothing to be had out of that.

So in a final appeal, their leader entreated the master sergeant (this, her translator assured her, was the most likely meaning of the title M.S.). "But we're desperate!"


"That's no excuse." Ms Yew was adamant. "Besides, you should know that its a dangerous game these days," and as if to reinforce this statement she produced a small, cylindrical, and deadly looking hand weapon, gestured meaningfully with it in the aliens' direction, and said with a toothy grin, "I always find this effective!"

That was quite enough for the crowd of sticky deities, who fled back to their craft in panic. It was clear that Earth was no place for them; they would have to seek solace with the Many-Tongued Jabber Fiends of the 69 suns. Well, perhaps it would not be a wasted millennium after all.

Watching them go, Ms Yew felt resigned it seemed she had been able to convince them of something at least. She turned away to continue her life's struggle with a sex that would never appreciate what she had done for them.

Stephen Battersby