Most foreigners to the Breeding Isles think Rapunzel was a young girl’s name. It wasn’t. Rapunzel is a social class—like a stone mason, a gladiator, a lawyer or a ponygirl. Rapunzels are genetically engineered women, born for their life’s work by the fact that they have exceptionally thick and strong hair. The average Rapunzel produces in excess of fifty feet of hair each and every orbit. Rope Prodigies, like Prizenza, who lives on the east end of lower Discordia, can produce nearly 80 feet an orbit—and her hair is thick enough that it can be separated into three or four strands of rope, each strong enough to support the weight of a large man. Normally, bondage is not required to keep a Rapunzel from running away. With so much hair to carry, they wouldn’t have the muscle stamina to run away, even if they wanted. Thus, most Rapunzels are content to live their lives in the home of a weaver, who takes care of their every need. Because of their body type (and the sedentary lifestyle) Rapunzel’s tend to be fat and repulsive beings—unless, of course, they are kept on a very strict diet. This makes Rapunzel the perfect farming animal. A little food, the occasional bath, and they produce rope by the bushels. Prizenza was different in many ways. Even though she produced copious quantities of hair, her body retained a surprisingly high degree of muscle tone, and she had curves in all the right places. She was a new mutation, created from breeding with a pureblood of the Srowidian line. Like a full-blooded Srowidians, Prizenza body oozed a tantalizing sex-lure that could drive men wild with lust. And, also like them, her hair was a distinctive golden red—which is why red rope is the most expensive, although most of it is simply dyed to make it look like it comes from a Prizenza line. Her weaver was an elderly man, famous for the extremely high quality of his ropes and cloth. He’d lost his wife a few orbitss before Prizenza was born—and he was looking for a Rapunzel that could fill more than just his need for hair. He spent the better part of his savings commissioning the new line from the Zylomian breeders—breeding only the best stock of Rapunzels with a pureblood Srowidian. And, as happens only rarely, the product retained all the best qualities of both lines. Prizenza, however, was different from most Rapunzels in another way. She was a mischievous girl who was not content to sit around in her weaver’s hut, waiting for her head to be sheared. She wanted to experience life as fully as she could. And her sexual urges were as strong as the sex-lure that came out in her sweat. Men began to visit her from all over town. At first, her weaver was pleased to have so many new customers. It didn’t take long, however, to realize just how few of them actually purchased his wares. As it happened, her weaver was an intensely jealous man. If he had not been—if he had been more willing to share Prizenza—her story might have been very different. He could have easily quadrupled his profits by selling more than ropes and cloth. But he was an artesian who took pride in his work and his jealousy didn’t give him a mind to share what was his. Prizenza didn’t love her weaver—and even if she had, he could not satisfy all of her needs; but more importantly, she was not the kind of Rapunzel who was content to sit in his hut, orbit after orbit, idly watching the day become night. By the time Prizenza’s isle had made thirty-seven orbits around Nimesphia, her weaver had taken to locking her up in her room, so that strange visitors couldn’t come to call on her in the middle of the night. By the time she was fifty-three orbits old, her weaver had build a high tower to lock her in, so that her scent would not attract so many visitors each night. By this time, however, her reputation was too great, and she refused not to call out to the men who passed by, promising them a ride they would never forget, if they would just climb up the locks of her hair. Since she was the most mobile during the weeks following her shearing, these were always the worst time for both Prizenza and her weaver. On more than one occasion, she managed to escape. Once, she remained free for more than a full orbit, by cutting her hair several times a day. But eventually, the owner of an inn became suspicious of all the hair she left in his trash bins and reported her to the local authorities. A few weeks later, they returned her to her weaver, after quietly sampling her sex-lure several times as their just reward. As the orbits spun around and round, the weaver’s towers grew taller and taller. And Prizenza’s illicit suitors became all the more determined, as her reputation grew right along with the towers. Soon, the towers themselves were a beacon that drew more attention. As the years passed, Prizenza’s weaver became a bitter old man. He still didn’t want to share his prize, even though he knew he would be dying soon; and he was far too old to use her himself anymore. So One day, shortly before the end, he had his faithful maid braid Prizenza’s hair. Then he paid one of the workmen (a faithful, gay fellow, who’d helped build so many of the weaver’s towers) to take Prizenza to the top of the tallest towers and leave her there. Not in the top room, as the weaver had done so many times in the past, but on a part of the roof that was just barely large enough to let her kneel down. Then, as the workman climbed down, and removed the scaffolding, he threaded Prizenza’s long hair through a series of stays pinioned to the sides of the various buildings, pulling it tighter and tighter as he descended. Colored by Trystl; original b/w art by https://conceptsbymiller.deviantart.com/ I’m not sure anyone but me really knows what happened to Prizenza after that. Some story’s say that you can find her bones at the top of that tower to this very day, her fingers still clutching the single-ring at the top—holding herself up so she wouldn’t fall off, as she slowly starved to death. Another version of the story suggests that the workman told a friend where Prizenza was, and that friend climbed the rope that had been made of her hair. Once he reached the top, he cut her hair and they both used it to climb back down; and they lived happily ever after. Other versions follow the same plot of the second story, but claim that one or both of the climbers ended up falling to their death. Still others claim that Prizenza was captured by a younger weaver who was not too jealous to use her skills more wisely. I’ve heard just about every version one can imagine—and to tell the truth, I like some of them better than what really happened. I’d share the rest of her story, but as my lover used to say, I’ve never been one to kiss and tell. So you’ll have to decide how the story ends for yourself. I think I’ve shared enough of Prizenza’s secrets for one day.