Starship Innerthighs: My God’s Gym

Space…occupying too much. These are the voyages of the Starship Innerthighs. Its continuing mission: to seek out new diets, and new pills. To boldly go where no one has had cheesecake before.

Slutty, Lulu, Jackov, Awhora, Klique, Blondes and Spork, along with some other red-pumps crew, are hurtling through space on a mission to discover how to eject their weight cores or some other galactic bright shiny object.

“Jackov, what’s the status?”
“I’m picking up a reading…you’re not going to like this, Mistress.”
“Jackov, what is it?”
“I…don’t want to say.”
“Mistress, it is most illogical to desire such masochistic infor-”
“Spork! Are you saying it’s bad? Is it true?”
“Let’s just say that your needs outweigh the needs of the few or the one.”
“Security! Take Spork to the brig and bitch-slap her until she apologizes!”
“Belay that order. Mistress, this is an intervention. Right, ladies?”
“Yeah.” “Sure is.” “Blubber lady.”
“WHAT? I’ll kill you!”
“Not with those cankles, you won’t.”
“Security! Arrest security…. Dammit!”
“Mistress, may I recommend that you calm down and have a drink. Perhaps a low-calorie drink.”
“Good one, Spork!”
“That’s my Vulcan Death Snap, Awhora.”
“Bitches! I’ll be in my quarters.”
“Shouldn’t that be halves?”

Mistress Klique ran off to her room, crying. Lulu and Jackov persuaded Spork and Blondes to do something.
“Spork, we’ve got to take her to a gym. It’s the only way. We haven’t seen much action lately, and-”
“Speak for yourself, Jackov.”
“I mean ‘activity’, you Vulvan mind slut.”
“That assessment is accurate. We have been quite sedentary since leaving the Cheesecake planet of Whiptron 4.”
“Right. Blondes, we’ve all got to go.”
“Dammit, Jackov, I’m a doctor, not an aerobics instructor. I’ve told you one, two, three, four times that I don’t do exercise!”
“We noticed.”
“Fine. You win. But you just watch your back at your next physical exam.”
“Awhora, Jackov, Blondes – we are proceeding to God’s Gym. Set a course and engage, Lulu.”
“Aye-aye, Spork.”
“Oy! I spilled whipped cream on myself! What’s the idea up there?”
“Slutty! Put down the dessert. We’re going to get some exercise!”
“You mean, we’re picking up strange men again?”
“Not that kind of exercise.”
“What other kind of exercise is there?”


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