This will not be over quickly.
You will not enjoy this.
We are not your King.

But we ARE your wettest wet dream and your nail-bitingest nightmare. Hide your wives and lock up your daughters!

300 Lesbianidas, riding a war beast of the past, will lead you to the Hot Gates of Vegas. You will drink sweet nectar from the beast's turgid trunk, BUT BEWARE to those who dare to suckle: we have cultivated an arsenal of avian menstruation to rain down upon your armies -- our eggs will blot out the sun.

Our men are with hair, for we have conserved our cream of shaving; your hairless "men" will soon be full of cream. Beg as you may, you, the shivering supplicant will only be spared from the yellow rain of our army if you kneel before us and accept our succulent offerings. You're either with us, or under us.

This!
Is!
SPAAAARTTAAAAAAAA!

Also, our redundancies will be said over again.