An Interview With Dr. Sev Sudo
By Sean Marks
QuailBellMagazine.com
The man, the myth, the legend. Today, I set out to interview a pioneer of modern science, a man who now chairs one of the leading research labs on sexually transmitted diseases, and personally contributes to research and development for Daring International Contraceptives. You might know him: Dr. Sev Sudo.
Sev Sudo has a Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, a Master’s in Engineering, and is a licensed sex therapist – that much everybody knows. But did you know that five years ago, he invented a device that uses a miniature Alcubierre drive to communicate with the past? That he is actively providing valuable sex advice in order to change the events in time that have led to our current – dare I say, monstrous – society? Where teen death rates from raging sex drives have skyrocketed, and random mutant rape is at an all-time high, even a minor success from Sev Sudo and his crack team of experts could save millions.
The place: The Sudo Labs in DIC Towers. After speaking with his secretary, I was introduced to his team: Security expert Dan Tollins; laboratory assistant Stacy Hatrick; field assistant Mitchell Saunders; and technician Leven Teewun. Shortly after, Dr. Sev Sudo arrived, inexplicably covered in what looked like cottage cheese, and some blood. It was as good a time as ever to begin my interview.
S.M.: It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Sudo. Thank you for having this interview with me.
Sev Sudo [S.S.]: Oh, certainly. Pardon my appearance, I had a situation in the lab I had to deal with.
S.M.: Is that what the… uh… cottage cheese is?
S.S.: Yes. Actually, it’s overgrown vaginal subsidate from a Yawner. [I went silent for a moment.] One of our interns broke a vial of Y.Coli bacterium, which, if you’ve ever broken a vial of Y.Coli, you’ll know it spreads fast, and then you’re a giant gaping genital orifice spewing bile and phlegm like some kind of bacterial suicide bomber. Well, I guess you wouldn’t really know what that’s like since you’d be dead. Don’t worry though, I was sprayed down with anti-gen after I killed the Yawner.
S.M.:Do you normally have accidents in the lab? It seems as though, on a daily basis, you’re in the thick of danger – really, on the front lines of the war Humanity’s been fighting since the Singularity.
S.S.: Well, I wouldn’t say that we have accidents often. I do find it darkly humorous that we have a “Accident-Free Since” counter that almost never hits the triple digits. I guess you could say there are more accidents than I would like, but fewer than you’d expect from a group of people who study some of the most dangerous diseases, parasites, and bacteria on the planet.
You are right, though, about us fighting on the front lines. Not only is there the ever-present danger of a catastrophic lab accident – the Yawner very nearly could have killed us all, were I a moment too late – but as per our research, we are sometimes meant to go out into the field, and study live specimens in the wild.
S.M.: Living in the post-Sexpocalypse, the government has reminded us every day to absolutely always stay inside the safe zone, because outside of the designated safe zones, all manner of dangerous creatures are prowling about. Your field team willingly goes out there! How do you guys prepare for that kind of risk?
S.S.: Well, for one we have Dan, who you met earlier. He’s been with us for just over a year now, and he is truly the best Security Expert we’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. I should note, his predecessor, unfortunately, gave in to the temptation of sex with two female employees, and we found them Merged in our maintenance shed, where it broke free and caused quite a ruckus in its escape. Almost by providence, on Dan’s first day working here, he was the man who pulled the trigger that put down that monstrosity. We don’t hold any animosity towards our fallen Security Expert, but the event is a testament to Dan’s ability to take charge. When we’re out in the field, he keeps us covered.
And our field assistant, Mitchell, lest I forget, has a tremendous amount of medical expertise. He’s not only a specialist in Hazardous Genderbiology, he can also make a field dressing and apply antidotes and vaccines under some serious pressure. So to say the least, with Dan and Mitchell on my side, I’m rarely worried.
S.M.: You said rarely. Is there something really dangerous out there, maybe? Something your team might not be capable of dealing with?
S.S.: Well… there is one thing, though it’s quite rare.
Have you ever heard of the Matriarch?
S.M.: No. What’s the Matriarch?
S.S.: Well, we have little proof of her existence at the time, other than a few tales and blurry photos. In fact, she’s the Bigfoot of our time, really.
S.M.: But Bigfoot was real.
S.S.: And I assure you, so is the Matriarch. It’s just a theory I have, but I believe there to be a Patient Zero out there, not just some string of coincidences that brought us the Singularity, but an actual human being, so oozingly sexual, impervious to disease and, most importantly, a carrier. I believe the Matriarch is the Singularity. As a theoretical physicist, I’m used to searching for answers, tiny variables that would solve the big equations, and when that sort of thinking is applied to the mystery of the Singularity… well, the Matriarch answers a lot of questions, to be honest.
Well, you haven’t heard of her, but the stories have been going around here and there. Whenever a field party goes out a little too far into the Muck, and comes back monstrous and mutated, rather than killed, she’s whispered amongst the living. A few cameras retrieved – all our field parties bring cameras – and almost all of them document a woman, nude and disheveled but for an elegant robe and stilettos. Sometimes the cameras black out before anything can be surmised. There are other times, though, where upon seeing this woman, there will be trusted, respectable individuals – mild-mannered career scientists - becoming wildly affected, enraged with desire, and turn on their fellow team members. The woman is never clearly seen, of course – just the silhouette of her clothing and shoes and, to cite the source of her name, a crown.
S.M.: And so you don’t believe you would be able to deal with her, if you encountered her in the field?
S.S.: I believe that, if she is who I think she is, we would either be shortly killed or return home to kill our friends and family. That is the level of danger I have addressed to her.
Of course, she could still be a myth or there could be a logical explanation for the evidence we have, but…
S.M.: I suppose, on that note, we should conclude this interview. Thank you for having me here, Dr. Sudo.
S.S.: It’s been my pleasure! Have a safe flight.
----
[Editor’s Note: During transit back to the Quail Bell Headquarters, Sean Marks’ flight mysteriously vanished during a particularly violent storm over the American Ocean. We have not heard back from him yet, though we did receive a message, carbon-dated over ten-thousand years ago: “THE MATRIARCH IS BORN.”]
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.
The Countess on Sex Noises
By The Countess of Bathory
QuailBellMagazine.com
Countess Elizabeth Bathory might be known throughout history as Blood Countess, but she is also hailed as a cosmetics prodigy well before her time. Taking a break from torturing young women for her skincare treatments, she decided one day on a whim to have a conversation with a young Grecian maidservant, who imparted upon her the ancient fortune-telling practice of hiera – or the reading of goat blood. As she was all out of young female goats, she slit the maidservant’s throat instead. This alteration of the ritual opened a window into the future, and questions on the subject of sexcraft appeared before her…
Queefing
Sometimes, when I’m having sex, my vagina makes this noise that sounds like a fart. What is that? How can I keep it from happening?
-Shelly
Magnificent! I’ve only heard tales whispered in the shadows of the most secretive cabals, of highest royalty. You, my dear Shelly, have been blessed with The Voice.
I should mention where the first tales of The Voice emerged. You see, from time to time, my faithful servants will bring to me all manner of outcasts, men and women and children. One day, a strange man, emaciated from his own anxieties, weaved a tale of gods amongst the stars, shapeless and tentacled and indescribable, who plucked him from his place in the future, dragging him through the pinholes of time, where he stumbled into my care by happenstance. These gods spoke in non-tongues, he said, and chanted words unpronounceable by mere mortals, weighted with dark magiks and concentrated insanity.
Shelly, that sound, that pungent, inhuman utterance from your cavity is a blessing, a means through which we can communicate with our dark celestial gods, who look upon us with their many-limbed maws. Embrace this gift, this talent of communication, for you are the window to the eldritch gods, and will beckon their culling upon humanity.
Mistress Francisca on That Time of the Month
By Mistress Francisca
QuailBellMagazine.com
Mistress Francisca is a very special dominatrix. Throughout hundreds of years in history, the “Immortal Mistress” has appeared, always in the shadows of powerful men and women, humiliating some, and empowering others. Outside of her profession, she heralds a wealth of stories of those who’ve taken her services and bowed under her whip, which makes her a delight to have a parties, if those attending can get over her slightly unnerving gaze. Her ageless appearance is legend second only to her skills at making men weep within 5 minutes of meeting them.
I’m always so much hornier during the week of my period, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic with my intimate friend. He doesn’t seem off-put by it necessarily, but more concerned about me and the standard issues that come with the monthly visitor. How should I let him know that the best thing for me would be a tango between the sheets?
- Seeing Red
Sex During Menstruation
Yes, I know your problem well. Men really are the gentler sex when it comes to most issues in the bedroom and this one is terribly common. Personally I find this time of the month is perfect for a stubborn man to think he is getting a reward when it can really serve as a reminder of who is in charge.
As menstruating is a women issue, I feel it’s a time when a women should be celebrated fully. For the entire duration. His pleasure should not even be a minor concern, not that it should ever be a priority but I understand some women make different sexual choices than I. His whole being should be solely focused on you and making your body sing during this time.
Normally after you've had your pleasure during the domination ritual, it isn't uncommon to then reward your man with a smart slap across the cheek accompanied by loving caresses below the belt line, his pathetic mewling a steady soundtrack to his completion. But during this time of the month, his tongue should only be moving in order to serve you with no thoughts for himself at all. While at first he might find this distasteful, consistent and repeated exposure, somet will make him learn to like it, and perhaps eventually grow to enjoy pleasing you in this way. If his skills satisfy you, then you could then allow him to complete if you like, but my reward is typically to let my slave sleep without the shackles during the night. He says he looks forward to my menstruation all month.
I've always found the sight of a man with a red-tinged face quite alluring, knowing that it's the mark of a man who truly worships everything about you. So, good luck Seeing Red, and I hope your endeavors are successful.
Sev Sudo and Manfred Sandelsson on The Great Outdoors
By Dr. Sev Sudo and Manfred Sandselsson
QuailBellMagazine.com
Sev Sudo has a Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, a Master’s in Engineering, and is a licensed sex therapist. Using his expertise, he has invented a device that uses a miniature Alcubierre drive to communicate with the past, so he can provide valuable sex advice and thwart a devastating Sexpocalypse – a singularity of sexually transmitted diseases and sexual ignorance that has ravaged his timeline. If he can help the primitive peoples of the 21st Century overcome sexual ignorance and intolerance, he could save our future.
Sex in Public
My girlfriend and I have been together for a while now, and we try to keep things exciting by mixing it up a bit. I got the idea recently that maybe we should try having sex in public. What’s the safest place to have public sex without getting caught?
-Risky Business
Sex in public is, without a doubt, one of the most recklessly dangerous things you can do, yet it continues to be a commonplace event.
Once, on a routine expedition outside the secure confines of our city, my team spotted a young couple copulating beneath the shadows of an abandoned building. The couple had been quiet, certainly – our scout only spotted them with the aid of her thermal imaging lenses – but even the slightest whimper or moan could bring death out in the open. Unprotected and otherwise engaged, the couple was simply unprepared for the terruptus that fell upon them.
The terruptus, for those that don’t know, is the final stage of an infection that first starts as a harmless bacterial byproduct of lotion. When the bacteria enters through a male’s urethra, it travels down into the scrotum, and infects the testicles, feeding on semen and prostatic fluids. By affecting the muscle tone of the host, the bacteria prevents sexual release, causing intense discomfort and frustration. During this time, the bacteria gestates in the swollen, infected scrotum, gaining in size not unlike a tumor, until the host, under extreme pain and sexual frustration, becomes inconsolable and begins demonstrating violent behavior. A terruptus is easily recognizable by the massive tumorous scrotum, a physical deformity that entirely overcomes the human features of the original host, who in his unstable state, uses what little control and awareness he has to assault others by hitting them with his grotesque feature. Under laboratory tests, we have found the terruptus to be especially violent when placed near pornographic videos or audio recordings.
As such, the wild terruptus we witnessed, stumbling and swinging its monstrous extremity, attacked the engaged couple, knocking the man unconscious and pushing the woman away from the struggle. We believed that the woman would have survived this encounter, as she began running while her partner’s skull was crushed by the incessant hammering of the terruptus massive scrotal appendage, but a pack of the Merged galloped by, likely curious about the commotion, and crushed her beneath their swollen meat-hooves. One might ask why our team stood back, remained witness to this horrible act, but the sheer abruptness of the attack aside, if my team had been blessed with the time to save the couple, surely three Merged and a terruptus would have more than overpowered my paltry team of five. We’re scientists, not soldiers, after all.
In light of that event, and others like it, the mere notion has confounded me - What drives a person to do such a wantonly dangerous thing?
To solve this mystery, I surmised, we would need to find a person who was not only predisposed to commit reckless and dangerous sexual acts, but also capable of surviving the consequences of these actions, in situations where outside interference could quickly lead to death or dismemberment, as is the oft unforgiving nature of this post-Sexpocalyptic world.
Finding Cpt. Manfred Sandelsson
I first learned of Captain Manfred Sandelsson while pursuing the data that eventually culminated in the creation of my Alcubierre drive. Bizarre stories would pop up - here and there - of an unusual ship that appeared during terrible storms and unexpected fogs. Upon analysis of a photograph, it matched a one-of-a-kind voyaging ship, the Stourheart, built in late 18th century Norway by a master craftsman. Legend has it, the Stourheart would vanish into terrifying storms and raging blizzards, always to return with tales of lands that no man had ever seen before. Even beyond the legend of the ship was the legend of its Captain Sandelsson, a man renowned for his sexual conquests and what history books calls the “Seaman’s Sexual Revolution.” Surely, Manfred Sandelsson would be the man I sought to solve the mystery of exhibitionist sex.
At once I suspected the cause, and learned that the unique design of the Stourheart, when met with certain weather patterns, caused a harmonic resonance that would tear the vessel through time and space. In a way, the ship had unwittingly become a time traveling vessel, unbeknownst to its crew. From their perspective, they were merely traveling the unknown seas, but by my calculations, the Stourheart had likely sailed through a wide range of time periods, from prehistoric times to our very own.
Fortunately, my knowledge of theoretical physics and the development of my own chrono-affective device had afforded me a unique opportunity to predict and attend the next sighting of the Stourheart in our time, and so I selected a small group – my security expert, my two laboratory assistants, and myself – to fly a seaplane over to the American Ocean. It would be the first time for many of us seeing the massive ocean since its formation. (It’s hard to believe that some college-aged students didn’t even know of the government’s desperate final attempts to sterilize the more severely affected states with nuclear force.) Sure enough, within a few seconds of my predicted calculations, a storm cloud appeared, seemingly from nothing, within a few miles of the Dakotan Coast, and the great black vessel Stourheart appeared.
When we boarded the deck of the Stourheart, much to our surprise, the crew showed little hostility or concern over our appearance, or the vehicle we landed nearby – in fact, it was as if the crew had seen such strange sights that our anachronistic presence left them unfazed. Even their speech had become decidedly modern. The captain himself wasted no time greeting his guests, but we were perhaps more unprepared to meet him than we anticipated.
Manfred was a handsome giant of a man, with long blonde hair tied back and a beard that would be positively emasculating to even the manliest of men in my time period. His every sentence was punctuated with laughing glee, but at the same time, he held an aura of power, strength, and leadership that never faltered.
The Interview
Sev: We’ve come quite a long way just to answer this mystery, so I’ll get right along to it. What is it about public sex and exhibitionism that is so alluring? Is it the danger, the thrill, or something else?
Manfred: A deceptive question indeed. While the act itself is as common as trout, the agenda remains foggy. I suspect that, whether wet or dry, a great part of slapping fins in open air would be the potential for a crisp wind passing between their unmentionables. Why, there was a time I crossed a mermaid, and having never learned their intimacy, and pondering the positions necessary, I was determined to take her for my own. In the midst of our furious bellowing, completely unexpected, a salty gust of wind assaulted my back, passed through my cheeks like a flatus in reverse, and really lit my cannon fuse.
Sev: Is that all there is to it then? Are you not assaulted by unspeakable monsters during coitus? Perhaps sex on the open seas is safer than sex on land?
Manfred: Oh, hardly! Why, even that mermaid tore three of my crew members to shreds of meat minutes before I seduced her. In fact, now that I think about it, we made love knee-and-fin deep in sloshing bloody tide. Nay, the threat of death rises above the pleasure of sex, friend. That danger is the true man’s way, shouting to his enemies “Look! See here! I’m casting my reel and claiming this spot! If you think you can take it from me, well come at me!”
Standing Firm In the Face of Death
At this, completely unprovoked and with astounding haste, Manfred removed all of his clothes, and mounted the edge of the Stourheart, posing his dominance and endowment out to the dark, crashing seas below. Much to my amusement, and the blushing gasp of my female assistant, he stood full mast. Was he entirely unaware of the horrors that prowl the post-Sexpocalypse, or does he simply not care?
Following his bare posturing, our interview ended prematurely. Although many of my questions remained unanswered, Manfred would provide an unexpected demonstration of his belief. While he stood nude, daring the open sea to attack, the waters churned and roared, and from the darkest depths of the American Ocean, we witnessed something unprecedented. At first, I thought it to be a humpback whale, breaching and slapping the water with its tail, but after a few seconds to register this amazing sight, we realized it was, in fact, a titanic scabiei. 40 feet in length, nearly as much in width, the scabiei looked like some mix between a horseshoe crab and a jellyfish, and as it dove back beneath the water, it arched its rigid tail perfectly towards the sky. Manfred watched this, bare and roaring laughter, as a dozen more titan scabies breeched and slapped the water, and erected their spiked tails. I only realized later that I had been smiling, proud, and tears had rolled down my cheeks.
Final Comments
So, to answer your question, Risky Business – after months of preparation and research, and correspondence with an expert of high-risk sexual activities – sex in public isn’t about safety. It’s a powerful display of dominance, intended to show the persistence of humankind, to say “You may kill me, and you may kill my mate, but you can’t kill the human race.” Sex in public is a cry to all the parasites, the mutants and the monsters, the titanomachy of sexual terror, that says “We will survive.”
So go, Risky Business, and have sex wherever you please, and may fortune favor your bold statement. I salute you, sir.
Mysteriousness Abounds...
Instead of our usual message of sex advice from Dr. Sev Sudo, instead we only got this message:
Studying the Sea, will return?
Hopefully our brave explorer will be back next week with an intriguing tale to tell...
Mistress Francisca on Meeting the Parents
By Mistress Francisca
QuailBellMagazine.com
Mistress Francisca is a very special dominatrix. Throughout hundreds of years in history, the “Immortal Mistress” has appeared, always in the shadows of powerful men and women, humiliating some, and empowering others. Outside of her profession, she heralds a wealth of stories of those who’ve taken her services and bowed under her whip, which makes her a delight to have a parties, if those attending can get over her slightly unnerving gaze. Her ageless appearance is legend second only to her skills at making men weep within 5 minutes of meeting them.
Bringing Home A Significant Other
I’m getting ready to go home and see my parents for a short visit, and with this trip looming in the horizon, my boyfriend and I had a discussion about our relationship and decided now would be a good time to take the next step and ‘meet the parents.’ I’m nervous though – he’s the first boyfriend I’ve brought home. Any advice on how to make the trip go smoothly?
- Parental Pressure
This seems like the perfect time to go ahead and get everything out in the open. When you bring a significant other home to meet your parents, they’re not just meeting a boy or a girl, they’re getting an announcement of that fact that you’re having sex. While most people do this subtly, I think bolder is better.
In fact, now would be the perfect time to go ahead and show up in full BDSM gear. Collar and gimp mask with ball gag for your man, and full latex catsuit with nipple clamps for you. In fact, the tighter it is, the more they can see, so tighter is always better. Bring your riding crop and the full range of vibrators, dildos and butt plugs in your collection.
I won’t go so far as to say a show is in order, but some light foreplay is probably fine. In fact, his cock ring should never leave his penis the whole trip. It’ll make the release once you get home that much better. Having your man serve you as a table, whip marks visible on his buttocks is really the quickest way for your dear mother and father to get to know him, intimately and right down to his very soul. You of course, will feel so much better knowing that everything is out in the open and you never have to worry about hiding anything again! In fact, the next time you’re home for a visit and you leave your vibrator out, you won’t have to rush home to try to get to it before your mom does up the sheets. You can rest easy knowing nothing will ever shock them again.
Manfred Sandelsson on Metal Below the Belt By Manfred Sandelsson
QuailBellMagazine.com
Manfred Sandelsson was the Captain of the Stourheart, a hardy vessel that has traveled far and wide, and survived the unspeakable terrors of waters uncharted. During the voyages of the Stourheart, Manfred and his crew have seen terrible things that would stop a coward’s heart, creatures - awful and magnificent alike - that sane men would scarce believe exist. Also, he bedded a shark once.
Genital Piercings
I've heard all sorts of things about piercings 'down there' but I'm still not sure how I feel about it. My new girlfriend has tons of piercings, including her VCH, and wants me to get a Prince Albert because she said it makes things feel better. I'm all for that and for giving her what she wants, but I'm really kind of concerned [and maybe a little scared of the pain] about piercing anything. What should I do?
- Problems with Pricking
Ah, the forbidden piercing, eh? I’ve seen a book’s range of piercings, where the slightest prick were barely pricked, to where the loins were rent entirely asunder into some indecipherable blob of engorged flesh and twisted skin rolls. Why, I once bed a woman who repurposed fishhooks and netting wire to fashion her womanly parts into what truly appeared to be a man-eating creature. She also chewed the heads off live fish and talked to lobsters as family, but I truly admire a woman for taking sexual creativity up a notch.
I have heard stories of land-lovers partaking in this piercing ritual that we seafarers claim, but doing it all wrong! Sterile needles, fast and easy procedures, antibiotic aftercare – pah! What, do you do this for the pretty jewelry to match your earrings? Absolutely not! A true genital piercing is made to inspire fear to your enemies, show courage to your lovers, and demonstrate your hardiness and courage! If your Johnny and barrels start dripping pus and spitting blood, then it’s mere proof that you’re not fit to use them!
So, Mr. PwP, piercing your cannon is a crucible that all men should undergo, so as you might truly show your woman how much a man you are. Your first step is to throw away all those clean, landlocked ninnies who shuck their services with rubber gloves and needle pistols: What would they know of true manhood? They’ve never worked a poop deck before!
Instead, find yourself a Tyrfing fish, a little-known but terrifying creature of the deep seas. Much like the fearsome cursed sword of myth from which its name derives, a man dies every time the Tyrfing fish “unsheathes” its needle-sharp teeth. This is no mere exaggeration, as even in death, as its teeth loosen from their place in its mouth, the death rattle of the Tyrfing fish can spit these freed needles and their powerful paralyzing venom, like the release of an arrow from a sturdy bow, wreaking its vengeance even from beyond death.
A fine piercing needle can be made from these loosened teeth. A word to the wise, however; let the tooth dry before using it to pierce your seedfeeder or really, any other place. While a dry needle might pull the skin a bit, any remaining poison from the Tyrfing fish would rot your organs and skin in hours. You’ll know the poison has reached you when you feel something both sharp and dull and burning at the site, at which point you should pray the poison reaches your heart before the pain drives you mad. I’ve seen a man who survived for three days after the poison sailed his blood – he screamed till his lungs and nose and eyes bled, he hobbled after others with violent intent, and would kill others by crushing their skulls in, with his own. That’s a story for another time, though.
Grasp your penis firmly by the tip, and with your other hand, slide the Tyrfing tooth into the hole, and shove it right through to the other end. It should come out just below the ridge, then twist the tooth so that the curved arc is pointing in the opposite direction of your manhood – Just be sure not to twist too fast or you could experience something that I can only describe as like the popping of a beached whale after a few days’ rot.
After you’ve finished, your liferod will be barbed like a true seafarer, and your lover will barely be able to tear herself from your lovemaking! Enjoy!
The Countess of Bathory on Hidden Desires
By The Countess of Bathory
QuailBellMagazine.com
Countess Elizabeth Bathory might be known throughout history as Blood Countess, but she is also hailed as a cosmetics prodigy well before her time. Taking a break from torturing young women for her skincare treatments, she decided one day on a whim to have a conversation with a young Grecian maidservant, who imparted upon her the ancient fortune-telling practice of hiera – or the reading of goat blood. As she was all out of young female goats, she slit the maidservant’s throat instead. This alteration of the ritual opened a window into the future, and questions on the subject of sexcraft appeared before her…
Unnatural Urges
I've been having some...unnatural urges lately. I used to feel this way when I was younger, but I just pushed the thoughts out of my mind. Now that I'm older, just out of a relationship, I can't stop thinking about it. What do you do when you're attracted to animals?
- Aroused and Confused
I understand your confusion as there can be some very attractive peasants around, yet, that is no excuse to stoop to that level. Unless of course, your lands can afford the loss of that one animal needed to work the fields. See, once you bring the peasant into your bed, they might begin to think they have privileges. That is absolutely unacceptable. Take the animal from its family, bed it as often as you like, but in the end, you’ll have to put it down. For the good of both the peasant who would of course not want to return to the squalid life it came from and for you, the lord in charge who does not want an uprising. If every peasant began to think they had worth, well, I shudder to think of the consequences.
Now, that’s really all I can say on the matter as thinking of peasants tends to put me off my supper. I must go lie down.
Have a question about sex? Send your question to submissions@quailbellmagazine.com and one of our four resident sex experts will answer and help you figure out all the burning problems you're experiencing in the bedroom!
Sev Sudo on Dangers in the Bedroom
By Dr. Sev Sudo
QuailBellMagazine.com
Sev Sudo has a Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, a Master’s in Engineering, and is a licensed sex therapist. Using his expertise, he has invented a device that uses a miniature Alcubierre drive to communicate with the past, so he can provide valuable sex advice and thwart a devastating Sexpocalypse – a singularity of sexually transmitted diseases and sexual ignorance that has ravaged his timeline. If he can help the primitive peoples of the 21st Century overcome sexual ignorance and intolerance, he could save our future.
Threesomes
I am very, very much in love with my girlfriend, but just like any guy – and I’m sure a good portion of women too – I have fantasies about sex with more than one woman. Now, I’m not stupid, but every once in a while, it seems like my girlfriend might be up for it, and then there are other times where it seems like a completely impossible goal, but I feel like it’s something right within my reach and I just need the right strategy to get it. How would you go about suggesting a threesome?
- An Ambitious Man
We call them The Merged.
Since the Sexpocalypse occurred, and thousands of new and horrifying diseases emerged from the nooks and crevices of genitals worldwide, scientists like myself, and others at my lab, have made great leaps and bounds to keep up with understanding and prevention of as many of these ailments as we can. Dermafusive fasciitis has, regrettably, evaded our understanding.
Dermafusive fasciitis dramatically changes the genetic properties of skin cells, which then seek out like cells and fuse together. The particularly strange detail is that the disease only surfaces during intercourse amongst three or more individuals. Striking unexpectedly, the victims’ skin melts together while in the throes of passion, permanently molding them into whatever position they were engaged. Their internal organs also merge, in a much slower process, until the final product is, biologically, one creature. This second, organ-merging phase is significantly painful for the victims, and many scientists recommend exterminating the creature during this phase, before it becomes aggressive.
The first time I saw a pack of roaming Merged, I vomited. There were three of them, and not one alike in figure. One walked about on four legs, and dangled another pair in front of it like some giant preying mantis; the second waddled around like a fleshy Eiffel tower; and the third dragged one of its bodies behind it like a dog with worms on the family rug. Since then, I’ve seen two dozen more variations, each just as revolting as the others. Like any organism, they must eat to sustain energy, and fully developed Merged will reassemble excess bones and cartilage to form a mouth for attacking and consuming prey. The location of their jaws varies as widely as their figures, but tends to form around pre-existing orifices, especially the buttocks.
You can hear their pitiable wailing from miles away, a mix of pleasurable moaning and horrifying screaming, and as they near closer, the wet thumping of limbs - never meant to withstand the weight of three people – shattered into sandbag-shaped hooves.
We know that, prior to merging, carriers of the disease in both sexes have exceptionally smooth skin, vividly colored eyes, and healthy hair. There is a theory that carriers may be exceptionally vocal during sex as well; that the loud moans of pleasure act as a beckoning to bring in additional partners, in order for the disease to form the Merged, which appears to be its ultimate goal. The carriers are also believed to have insatiable sexual appetites, and comparatively larger sex organs; namely breasts and penises. As you can see, even if you recognized the symptoms associated with a carrier, these very symptoms are designed to sexually arouse and attract on a baser, sub-rational level.
The reason I’m describing this to you, is to help you understand how hopelessly foolish it is to attempt a threesome. That fantasy should remain a fantasy, as the reality – this almost absolutely certain fate - is far worse than your nightmares can fathom. Even the few warning signs we know are merely theory, and are certainly no guarantee that you won’t be infected.
To be perfectly honest, you could be infected already.
Manfred Sandelsson on Bringing Together Two Joys
By Manfred Sandesson
QuailBellMagazine.com
Manfred Sandelsson was the Captain of the Stourheart, a hardy vessel that has traveled far and wide, and survived the unspeakable terrors of waters uncharted. During the voyages of the Stourheart, Manfred and his crew have seen terrible things that would stop a coward’s heart, creatures - awful and magnificent alike - that sane men would scarce believe exist. Also, he bedded a shark once.
Food and Sex
My girlfriend and I are both a bit on the heavier side, and we want to bring our two loves together, food and sex. We’ve tried this once before, but whipped cream wasn’t a hardy enough meal for us. What do you recommend to try to bring food into the bedroom while still being erotic?
- Sex and Candy
Aye, I am – as I believe all men and women the world over to be – familiar with the urge to forge together two cherished activities. Why, a mere thought towards convenience and practicality - that only so many grains of sand fall a day – makes performing one feat with the left hand, and another with the right, as natural as putting one foot forward while the other bears your weight. Sex is such a cherished commodity of any man or woman, and food as vital to life as the blood in one’s veins, that combining the two is a tradecraft universal to every village, port, and coastal city our glorious Stourheart has docked. As such, I have become something of a connoisseur of grub sport.
Like yourselves, when many people experiment with grub sport, whipped cream – milk snow, we call it – is a reasonable starter food, for an amateur. The true grub sportsman, masters of the craft, insist on a stronger, more potent meal for your sexual feast. Consider the senses that engulf a man, the smells and textures and tastes, in the realms of ravishing meal and furious sex.
When imagining the aromas of sex, I can close my eyes and imagine the deeply penetrating airs of the sea. There is a fish of the oriental seas, the Namazu, a catfish as large as a whale, whose every scale is the width of a man. If you find and cook the flesh of this fish, its essence pierces your lungs and stenches your clothes with a sweet oceanic perfume, the likes of which surface to mind the buttery thighs of a wench welcoming you after a long voyage. Apply this steaming meat of Namazu to the hips of your beloved, and it will surely compliment her own bodily character.
To compliment the textures of sex, the gliding of two bodies against one another, the choices are many, and vary from person to person. I am particularly fond of the milky seed of a Leviathan whale – one of the most popular wares I trade – whose smell is subtle and pear-ish, and wonderfully underscore the Namazu’s fumes. Leviathan sperm is thick and creamy, and spread much like a butter, will ignite the passion of your lovemaking.
The final element, the most important to binding feast with fancy, is taste. For this, merely plucking food from ones naked flesh scarcely accomplishes the task. The taste must be accentuated instead, pinched up from its basic form into a truly enlightening experience. Perhaps to your surprise, your lover’s own body can produce the sauce that completes your meal, and so some preparation is at hand. A fairly common catch, the escolar, is the key. After consuming the meat of this oft-called “butterfish,” a person’s bowels begin secreting an orange oil, thick with flavor that explodes in the mouth, and this uncorked sauce flows bountifully for hours. A lick of this sauce with a bite of steaming Namazu, and you find yourself forever unable to separate the pleasures of grub sport.
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