Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-17 11:26am



"Logic dictates that I visit the washroom, I will return shortly after 'talking to Harry Mudd'."

Spock turned off the comm and began walking calmly, unlike most species, who had to agonizingly shuffle their way in the event of a brown carrot cooking, Vulcans and half vulcans were able to maintain their strong as steel poise for the entire march, although in the case of extreme gastric stress, it was not uncommon to see a beet red Vulcan sweating profusely but acting as if nothing bothered him.

He laughed to himself for the use of his colloquialism. HE remembered Dr. McCoy coining that particular phrase after the Enterprise abandoned him with those androids. From that point on whenever one of the crew had to go take a dump, they politely excused themselves to go speak to Harry Mudd. The mirthful expression turned to one of pain though, as spot let out a typical repressed anal retenetive Vulcan dump. The Vulcan act of defecation rivaled only Pon Farr in that of Vulcan emotional display, the grimace on Spock's face would have been priceless had it not been in private.

After completeing the evening-long bi-annual ritual Spock emerged rejuvenated, strong. Logic dictated to him that he roll a joint of the finest Orion Spaceweed he had. After rolling the massive cigar-sized blunt he placed himself into a meditative state, which was soon interupted by a knock at the door. Spock inhaled a large puff and then stashed the blunt behind his ears and casually walked to the door.

(Authors Note: Spock comes from an era where everyone in the Federation was obsessed much over substances and casual sex. The 24th century federation is far more perverse and depraved despite being overly critical of their previous generation's lack of inhibition. 24th century feds are so repressed that they feel guilty and that guilt leads to shame and a further need for sick pleasure, sort of like why Hitler had Eva Braun poop on his chest and call him the Bitchfuhrer)

"Ummm Ambassador Spock sir?"

"What is it Ensign Newland?"

For years Spock had ben living at a retirement home on Starfleet's Luna bases, after his work with the Romulans and surviving a horrible novelization attempt to be killed in a William Shatner novel, Spock was finally given the chance to relax for once. The Luna base was staffed largely with incompetent ensigns unfit for starship duty. enisgn Newland had served onboard the USS "Battle of Britain" for some time before his duties began to catch up with him, and he finaly conceded that he was unfit for preserving the Federation.

"Ambassador Spock you might want to uhhh, yknow, behind your ear?"

"Logic dictates that you cease asking questions, do you think a Starfleet MP is going to believe you over me? I would recommend ensign that you quit being a 'square' and get to the point."

"Ummm uhhh Right, ok, well there's a visitor for you waiting in the reception area."

"I was detained by my duties, can you tell me who this visitor is?"

"Its Montgomery Scott sir, says he's come to visit you to discuss old times."

Spock quizzically looked at Newland, and reached forward with his hand, initiating the Vulcan mind meld. After establishing the connection he pulled the joint from behind his ear and took a big rip off of it. The elated feelings of euphoria began to transfer from spocks mind to the young officer.

"You seem to be hungry Ensign, send Mr. Scott in and thenperhaps you should bring some pizzas, and tortilla chips to my quarters immediately."

"It feels like i've had the munchies all day. I'll get on it right away ambassador."

Montgomery Scott's corpus frame squeezed through Spock's door, the funny sounding human still had that bright red expression of inebriation on his face even after all these years.

"Mistair Spock its gud ta see ya!"

"Likewise Mr. Scott, is there any specific reason for your sudden appearance?"

"Oh noa, Stahrfleetz still keepin' me busy trying to figger out why the old Interprize nevair seemed to bloa up as much as these new ones they got. But thair is one thing I wanted ta give you."

Mr scott held out a small holographic projecting device.

"Captain Kairk wanted you to have this. It was recarded aftair he was pulled out of tha nexus by Picard's croo. They passed it on ta me in the hopes I give it ta you."

"Then why haven't you done so already."

"You've been on fricking Romulus for yeers now, I couldn't haif jes wahltzed in past the nootrul zoan and handed it ta ya."

"An excellent point, your logic is almost Vulcan in nature."

"Ya haven't chaynged a bloody bit haif ya, I see you still keep a phatty rulled up behaind yer ear."

"You should try a hit of this Mr. Scott, but be warned that it is quite potent."

"I think I will, i'll just sit hair while you goan lissen to that, the password should be your old service numbair, whatever that is."

Mr. Scott sat down and began smoking, a hundred years of additional science since Dr. McCoy had first prescribed this stuff for his arthritis and still Federation medicine hadn't concieved anything better than a good old fashioned herbal remedy. Spock walked into the other room to play the message in private. He activiated with his old service number, "Authorization Spock Service number 420". The advantage to serving in the early days of Starfleet was having one of the smaller service numbers. The recording began to play, Spock thumbed on his old broken sentence translator as he did back in the day, to better understand Kirkspeak.

(Authors note: To see the translator in action youd better read UPF Cahopter 18: 'This Chapter Sucks')

"Mr. Spock, if you are recieving this message then I must be dead, of course you already thought I was dead but I really wasn't. But that's not important, I bring you this message from beyond the grave to tell you something important."

Spock's eyes narrowed.

"They have the video. I can't say more right now, but if I'm not killed by the crazy mad scientist I will tell you more. Kirk out."

Spock stomped into the living room and snatched the joint away from Mr. Scott, inhaling deeply.

"What's tha mattair Spock, you look like you just got a brown stahr thumb up yoor butt."

"Indeed, in fact that's precisely the problem. It seems that this posthumous message from the late Captain is more than just a final testament."

Spock set down the recording and played it again for Scotty, who cringed.

"I thought that cursed thing was destrooyed with the fairst Intairprize."

Scott and Spock were referring to an adult video made during the Enterprises five year mission. Back then communications were limited between starships and thei rhome ports and there was no such thing as the recreational holodeck. Captain Kirk had taken it upon himself to create the first Intergalactic adult film company, however they come up with only one title, stored in the databanks of the Connie's computer, never to be seen without maximum security clearance. The name of this film, was "Rock Spock's Cock", unfortunately the sight of his hideous hybrid penis made the film nearly unwatchable, event though the nurses and Captain Kirk seemed to enjoy it. Spock silently lamented, perhaps they had done too many hallucinogens back then.

"Apparently it wasn't, we have to find this video and ensure that it is destroyed once and for all."

"But who is going to help us Spock, we doont even have a ship to sairch with."

Spock picked up a set of keys and tossed them to Scotty.

"One of the benefits of a century of civil service, the Vulcan government granted upon me an old Constitution-class as a retirement gift. Its parked out front."

"Aye thats good and all, but what will we doo for croo?"

"I believe Mr. Chekov and Mr. Sulu finally gave into their passions for each other and have an apartment together not far from Starfleet headquarters, and I know for sure that Lieutenant Uhurua became so frustrated at the old glass cieling that she retired and now runs the only senior citizens burlesque show in New Orleans. The five if us should suffice for a command crew, all we need now are cannon fodder."

"Doont ya mean raidshairts?"

"Precisely. The ensigns at this facility consist largely of those people needing a second chance at redemption, i'm sure we can salvage a crew from this particular mess."

"Mistair Spock. Yoo got yahrself a deel! When to we stahrt!"

"As soon as Ensign Newland brings us our pizzas."
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-20 02:31pm

Jem'Hadar Clusterfuck: (slang, vulgar)

Jem'Hadar usually Clusterfuck in groups of three or four, but it can include up to one hundred different scaly spiked bodies, witht he spikes causing great injury. The slang applies to a situation that has gone from bad to worse.

Example: Shit, I was already late for work but then my car broke down and suddenly I was in a Jem'Hadar Clusterfuck.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

User avatar
Darth Fanboy
Posts: 11182
Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-22 06:41am

I seek to disturb everyone, even my co-authors with this one. Warning, spoilers in the title ;-)

UPF CHAPTER 24: The 'Real McCoy' or 'Legend of Fanboy's Taint'

Hey kids, are you ready?




Whooooooooo is unnamed but has infamy?


Deviant, Crude, and always Obscene




The Geriatric Fossil, nicknamed Enterprise Senior by her crew departed Earth's orbit at the blazing speed of 50 kph.

Sulu and chekov manned the controls as they always had, eager for a chance to show the 'youngins' how it should be done. Spock had ordered that the Enterprise depart for the planet Merphon at once, not because it had any relevance to their mission, but that they could arrive in time for the Country Kitchen buffet if they hurried. Even a Constitution-Class ship was capable of superluminal speeds that would have them there in plenty of time to take advantage of the breakfast buffet and the reduced prices. One of the strategies used by the senior crew members of the E-Senior was to arrive at COuntry Kitchen just in time for the $6 breakfast buffet, and merely sip coffee until the dishes were changed for the $9 lunch buffet, thus saving $3 off an already outrageous price for a hot meal.

"Admiral Sulu?" Ensign Newland asked Sulu using his proper title.

"What is it ensign?" He said in that deep asian man voice that made ladies swoon.

"Well if it isn't too much trouble I or one of the other crewmembers would be happy to take over your post sir."

"Now listen ensign, that's the trouble with you young cadets these days, always shirking your duties. I won't back out on my old responsibilities, im used to this chair as much as anyone can be. Tell me, what exactly are you supposed to be doing?"

"Uhhhh, flying the ship sir."

"It's about time you got here dammit, i've been wondering where you've been. Now I can go get a sponge bath!"

Meanwhile, back in sickbay, Spock and Scotty were busy adapting the EMH technology for their own ship. There were a plentiful supply of live-in care nurses, and others who could wipe destitute asses. But it would be critical for this mission that they have a proper doctor.

"Sair, I'll acktivait him if you want, but heez really annoying"

"Perhaps we can change that Mr. Scott, I'm quite sure we can make the EMH more appropriate to our mission. Please activate the EMH."

Scotty cringed as he turned on the power to the holographic doctor.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." He said in that irritating snippy voice. Starfleet had abandoned the EMH design based on 21st century B-list celebrity Andy Dick due to the sharp increase in theamount of patient suicides, so they resumed the design using B-list celebrity Robert Picardo, rationalizing that since he looked and sounded like a total dork, patients would trust him because dorks are smart.

"Wood yoo lissen to him sair? Heez a fukking stiff!"

"We can change that Mr. Scott, deactiviate all subroutines pertaining to substance abuse regulation."

The doctor's image flickered for a second. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency, or would you like to get high? I have a variety of..."

"Now Mr. Scott, deactivate subroutines pertaining to standard starfleet appearance and vocal mannerisms, replace them with that of a 20th Century Earth 'Flower Child'."

The doctor's image flickered again, his image replaced by that of a hippie wearing a tye dye shirt that had a big Starfleet insignia in the center. "You feeling ok man? I got some 'herbal remedies' for whatever ails you."

"Aye, this be an improofmint Mistair Spock."

"We're not quite finished yet, now increase age appearance to that of an older man, make him look more disheveled and then install this program."

"What is it?"

"A memory program from the original Enterprise. Compounded from years of recorded memories and observations."

Scotty installed the new data Spock had given him into the EMH. The image flickered a final time.

"Well Ahll be damned." Scotty gasped. "McCoy!"

"Hey compadres! Spock dude, Scott dude! Wanna Get High?"

"Eet rahlly ees McCoy! ITs good to see you ahld frend!"

The 'Real McCoy' died many years ago, a victim of his own love of Superluminal space skiing. While he survived every trip intact through warp, a sudden stop ended his career quickly. But he was back, in all of his glory.

"Remember Mr. Scoot, while this is alot like our old friend, it is only a hologram..."

The holographic McCoy walked over to the replicator and immediately produced a small bottle of clear liquid.

"...albeit an extremely accurate hologram."

"Duuuuuude, I'm a hologram? Wooooow, like, I always wondered what it would be like if the whole universe was a hologram man, and like, what if we were like, just some sort of crazy show."

"Your logic remains...eccentric."

"Spock dude, I love you man."

BAck on the bridge. Mr. Chekov was growing impatient with some of his crewmen.

"I vill not tolerate Insu-word-ination! This wessel vill be run with wigilance!"

A small group of redshirts laughed their asses off at Chekovs speech, knowing only from historical documentaries the hilarious intracacies of Chekov's voice. Mr. Scott emerged on the bridge to take the helm.

"Mister Scott, perheps you can show these crewmin, about how a starfleet wessel should be run."

"You talk laik yure a bloody freek Chekov!"

One of the crewmen, an ensign Stuart started to giggle, but was smacked by a visibly wasted Scotty, who had resumed his duties after a few hours with his holographic friend McCoy.

"Sahmboooody, mop up that blood." Scotty's speech was slurred, but that never stopped him before. In fact he recalled no fewer than seven times when he had been sloshed on duty during a critical mission. One one event, when Kirk asked him for 'more power' Scotty actually poured a bottle of scotch into the dilithium chamber, in order to 'thin the mix'. Surprisingly this worked, and even though he was reprimaded for treating the E-nil like a diesel sub, he was given a commendation and became the hero of engineers everywhere, when it suddenly became starfleet policy to have a bottle of booze on hand in every engineering section. (Authors Note: This policy ended with the introduction of the Galaxy-class Starship, when it was discovered that by lining critical components with plastic explosives they could magically acquire the same effect. Not wanting the firewater to taint engineers any longer, it was decided that the risk of explosions and dead crewmembers outweighed it.)

"Mr. Scott, a word if you would?"

"Hoo tha fack are yoo?"

The young officer beamed with pride. "Lieutenant Jean Luc Picard sir!" He had legally cahnged his name to emulate his hero some time ago. "I was wondering if you could..."

"Picahrd? Deedn't he suffair a craynial rectal invairshin joost resintly? Tha poor laddy that was with him, hed shooved so fahr up his arse he wos pracktiklee peekin' out his mouf!"

"There's no relation to the late Captain sir, but if you would, I had a new ship design that might help the Federation defeat opponents with superior technology."

"Thees bettair be gud."

"Well for starters the ship is going to be not much bigger than this one, it's going to have fifteen warp cores, and about a dozen heavy planetary phaser emplacements, Also i'm planning on loading up about 100 genesis torpedos and an omnidirection system to fire them with. Perhaps a few planetary shields and a phasing cloak."

"Laddy? Have yoo been jairking it to a tech manual?"

"Excuse me sir?"

"Well fahr one theeng yoor ship would have to be substantially biggair, then there is the fact that moost of your technologee doesn't exeest anymore, or nvair existed in the fahrst place. Where do you come up with this shit?"

"Well sir while I was a fighter pilot stationed at Starbase 12 I...."

"Starbase 12 doesn't have fightairs."

"Yeah they do."

"Laddy, I may be old but I keep up to date with the Fedairation. Starbase 12 is a research station, they have no military ships like that in port."

"They don't? I mean of course they don't! I was on furlough at the time and..."

"Yoor soundin' loik a bloody village idiot! Soombody lahk this crazy laddy up!"

[Many light years away]

Fanboy, Shep, and Falk were joyriding in Fanboy's ship. Slave To No One, an odd ship that he called a "Firespray" class. Shep wanted one.

"So where did you get this thing?"

"Uhhhh, this place called, stores?"

"Bullshit! Tell me where you got it."

"Some Mandalorian sold it to me, said he was giving up Bounty Hunting and taking classes at a community college. Bob, somethingorother was his name." Fanboy stuttered out the last part.

"I don't know what a Mandalorian is, but you expect me to believe you bought this ship from a guy named Bob?"


"Where's he from."

"Listen, ok? I aint never been to any other galaxies, I aint never travelled through no wormhole, lets just leave it at that."

Shep was confused and irritated by the lack of a coherent response. Falk had his questions though.

"So, Fanboy, why was it again you hate gnomes so much?"

"One of them stabbed me once."

"So? I've been stabbed by lots of people, I don't give a fuck."

"You haven't been stabbed where I was."

"Why? Where did you get stabbed?"

Fanboy stood and dropped his pants, Shep and falk had to turn away from the sight of Fanboy's massive cock, which resembled a baby elephant's trunk.

"What the fuck man!" yelled Shep, "Did that Einhander thing screw your brain up or something?"

"Fuck no, quit looking at my dick," protested Fanboy. "Underneath."

Fanboy used his arms to lift and coil his thing out of the way, and underneath his ballsin that ever so sensitive area separating Mars from Uranus, was a visible scar. Falk nearly threw up, but choked it back down instead.

"You got stabbed in the taint?" Falk asked.

"I got stabbed by a gnome in the fucking taint. You realize how much that hurts? Its my one weak spot."

Shep made his way down to the cabin, where he desperately began doing an internet search of Zeonic porn, anything to purge the horrible sight from his mind.

"So that's why I hate Gnomes, because they stabbed me in the taint."

"Will you stop saying taint?"

"Well what the fuck else am I gonna call it? It's a taint!"

"Just don't talk about it god dammit." Falk cursed.

Meanwhile Shep had torubles of his own, the breakfast of Klingon bloodworms had given him a horrible case of rancid ass. Donning a vacuum suit he sought to escape his own deadly device. The fumes had begun to make his eyes water, and corrode his taste buds before he finally managed to seal himself in the suit, for added measure, he found a small compartment with several items marked "Seismic Charges", which looked a lot like Beer Kegs in appearance, Seismic Charge must have been some weird alien lager.. Shep figured that Fanboy's kegs could sit out of the compartment for a while while he let the place air out.

"Hey, Falk, want to see something cool?"

"Just so long as its not your taint."

"Oh its cooler than that."

Fanboy took the Slave To No One into an asteroid field, spotting the biggest one he could find.

"Okay, I got these things called Seismic Charges. These things got more wallop than a fucking Federation capital ship."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"I'm not shitting you! Check it out, aim it towards that big asteroid right there. Ok, get a good target on it and fire!"

Shep was entirely unprepared for the decompression of his little chamber, and even more unprepared for the force that propelled him into space at great speed.

"Fanboy, your seismic charges look an awful lot like astronauts dude."

"What the fuck? Awwww man."

Shep was eventually recovered, cold, and still kinda farty, but otherwise in good spirits after suffering short term memory loss. END CHAPTER
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-09-05 02:12am, edited 2 times in total.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-23 12:51pm

Neutral Zone (slang)

To keep ones distance from others while suffering from bad breath,flatulence, B.O., or any similar foul smelling aspect of bodily function. The term is usually used in polite society where expletives are unfit for conversation and also to limit embarassment.

Example: Oh dear I ate too many deviled eggs today, if you'll excuse me I need to establish a neutral zone for a while.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

User avatar
Darth Fanboy
Posts: 11182
Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-25 12:26am

Genesis Device (slang, vulgar)

The original Genesis Device was a good idea that went bad. This was adapted into a slang term for the action that occurs when someone farts, but accidentally shits themselves. Hence, a good idea (the fart) that went wrong (muddy undies.) May be used in conjuction with 'Neutral Zone' (see previous entry).

Example: After eating deviled eggs I went to establish a Neutral Zone but accidentally created a Genesis Device.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Falkenhorst » 2005-01-26 12:45am

Argh, what manner of blasphemy is this!?!?

Everyone knows that when you shit yer pants when tryin to fart, it's known as a "Shart".

Used in a sentence:

"Dammit I think I just sharted!"

BOTM 15.Nov.02

Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm

"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"


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Darth Fanboy
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Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-01-27 06:59pm

On the Voyager (slang, vulgar)

1. One who takes too long in the bathroom.

Example: Damn, you were On the Voyager for so long I nearly left without you.

2. Someone who is taking a long time to take a dump.

Example: "What are you doing in there?" "I'm On the Voyager!"
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

User avatar
Darth Fanboy
Posts: 11182
Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-03-09 02:40am

What do you get when you combine the an oozing orgy of writhing demonic flesh with science fiction? Why a new episode of the UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC!

UPF: Chapter 25

The Asskicker came out of warp near the colony of Vega IX in response to a distress call from the planets orbital network. Normally these "mercy mission", as Falk called them, were ignored and on no fewer than twelve occaisions had the crew of the Asskicker abandoned hapless crews to whatever fate had befallen them. The 'golden rule' didn't really apply to people who had millions tied up in various black market adult entertainment industries across the Alpha Quadrant. Erotica had to be filmed, it had to be produced, it had to be transported discretely.

Cash however, was tight. Since the Incident at the Gnomish Asteroid the entire black market pornography industry had been under intense scrutiny. The cost of a bribe for customs officials had substantially increased, fewer and fewer crews were bold enough to make shipments, and this led to fewer and fewer customers either willing to purchase the illicit goods or willing to pay the increased prices for said goods. A two hour trill symbiont fuckfest used to run 2 bars of latinum, that same video now was running somewhere between 4-5 bars. For 2 bars you might be able to find some Ferengi amateur lobe fetish tapes but even humans wouldn't buy that stuff, and humans were generally the biggest porn conniseurs in the history of existence.

The colonial administrator of Vega IX had offered a substantial bounty for anyone who could help the colony deal with the abundance of vicious predators that had made it a habit to feed on Vega colonists. It was very tempting, while shep and Falk were millionaires hundreds of times over their accounts had surely been flagged by Federationnumber crunchers, and accessing those accounts would bring their operation unwanted attention. Falk and Shep Industries (or Shep and Falk Industries depending on which of the two you ask) was on the verge of hitting it quite big with their Zeonic lesbian pornography contract. It was not worth risking that chance in order to access some accounts. Then there was the matter of Fanboy, he had been promised a substantial sum for getting the two off of the Gnome Asteroid before that red haired fuckmutant impaled their skulls to his groin. So far they had been able to pay for his services in hookers and LSD, but eventually he was going to want money and right now they hadn't much. Fortunately Vega IX was a bunch of rich overindulged colonists who would pay happily for their pest control.

The three set off with a variety of heavy weapons loaded in the back of Fanboy's ship, the Menace To Yo Mama, and set off for the colony spaceport. "Goddamn," Fanboy said as his stomach gurgled in agony, "Lets hope this place has a decent burger joint. Im fuckin' starving." Suddenly Fanboy's ears perked up, "I hear a distinct sizzling sound, sniff you jerks later!" He sprinted off towards a nearby cafe. "We should just ditch him," said Falk, "we can take his ship and never have to worry about it anymore. Saves us some good money too." Shep shook his head, "We can't just ditch him, he knows too much now. Either we keep him around or kill him. I don't know about you but if you'd like to be the one to put a bullet in his head be my guest." Falk cringed. "Normally i'd just say plug him while he sleeps, but that motherfucker is always hopped up on something! Last week he only passed out once and that's because he got wasted and went for a spacewalk without a space suit. Don't know how he survived that..." "That's what pachyderm-grade animal tranquilizers will do to you Falk." Out of the blue, a shrill scream was heard not surprisingly in the direction fanboy was coming from....


Fanboy held a large bowie knife at the waiter's throat, the edge perilously close to breaking the skin. The poor man stammered out a reply. "N..n..no sir, this is just what you ordered!", Fanboy's eyes seemed to change color as his mood got worse. "I ordered a double cheeseburger, and that implies that you use FUCKING BEEF! This aint cheese and this sure as hell aint beef! What the fuck is it!" The wait, blubbering like a baby tried desperately to explain. "But s..s..sir, this is Vegan IX! The colonists here maintain a strict vegan diet! The cheese is a soy compound and the burger is made of tofu." "YOU TRIED TO FEED ME TOFU! GAH!" Fanboy grabbed the waiter by his collar and chucked him through the diner's pane glass window and onto the street. Fanboy stormed out of the place and began rummaging through his pockets for the keys to the ship.

"What the fuck happened in there?" Shep cursed. "Those motherfuckers tried to poison me! They put fucking tofu in their burgers!", Fanboy was desperately pleading his case. Falk supressed a chortle. "Last week you were huffing paint fumes for six hours a day and now you're upset over tofu poisoning?". Fanboy was irritated but not angered by the almost Vulcan-like logic of Falk's words. "Hey man, its the principle of the thing. We better leave before the cops show up."

Shep started laughing. "Cops? Here? Fanboy this is Vega IX, there aint any cops. This is just an oversized hippie commune full of fucking pacifists that pay a little extra to the Feds each month to live in total autonomy." Fanboy's one good eye widened. "Did you say...no cops?" He lovingly drew his knife and began kissing the blade. "Yes I said no cops, but we're here on business, you can run around skeletonizing flower children later." The look on Fanboy's face was of a child who didn't get to go on the mechanical horse outside of Wal Mart. "Awwwwwwwwwww....man."

The search for the administrative building was a short one, it was the only one not covered in tye-dye designs or organic earthtones and was up to Federation standards for an embassy complex. The doors opened and Falk's jaw nearly dropped at the sight of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Dressed in a buisiness skirt and top yet showing off the cleavage of her ample bosom, which heaved in time with her breath. He tried to angle around the desk to check out the lower half, but could not do so without suspicion. She looked up and saw the three heavily armed men. "Ah you three must be here for the bounty. Second floor, third door on your left as you exit the turbolift. Shep and Fanboy walked ahead, but Falk, mesmerized by the beauty before him hung back, leaning against the table doing his best to emulate Leon Phelps.

"Hey sweet thang, you know if you're looking for a meat substitute i'm sure I could help you find something later on if you aren't busy tonight." Normally Falk's massive repetoire of pick up lines were doomed to fail, but the women of Vega IX were notoriously loose and causal towards sex, he rationalized if he couldn't score here he might as well see if Hipper had any openings over at GALE Industries. Hah, yeah right. I love the ladies too much to ever do that. Still, there was something he wasn't quite remembering about Vega women that he thought for sure was important. Guess it really isn't that important.

"Mmmmm, we don't get too many offworlders, but it begs the question? How do you feel about 'all natural'?" As she said this she leaned forward, revealing even more of her perfect breasts. Falk's eyes nearly fell out of his forehead, he hadn't seen a pair like that since...well...ever. In his many years of working in the underground sex industry he had almost forgotten what a pair of perfect natural breasts look like. He stared intently. "All natural eh? Yes I love the sound of that." The secretary smiled and handed him a card key. Apartment 1337 in the West Building. I get off at 1900 hours, and I finish work at 1800 hours." Falk slid the key into his pocket and took the hint.

Falk joined the meeting a little late, but he hadn't missed much. The colonial administrator, a small scrawny looking man who looked like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in many months. "Greetings offworlders, my name is Axis Kast." Shep 's memory instantly fired up. "I remember you, weren't you in charge of the zoo on Thamasa colony for a while? Yeah I heard about you, you let all of the animals run through the zoo and devour all of the patrons." Axis stood up, "Listen you, you gun toting nut, are a LIAR! Those animals were under stress and if it wouldn't have been for the guests' screaming at being eaten then they wouldn't have been eaten!" "Riiiiiight," said Shep. ", so how did you get this job?" Axis stopped jittering long enough for a series of shivers to overcome his frail form, allowing some warmth to build up in his system. "The Vegans needed someone who would do anything to promote their lifestyle, no matter what. I have no qualms about taking steps other people would call extreme. Our paint-can offensive against celebrities is going well, and we expect a furless quadrant by the year 2400."

By this time Fanboy was pacing the back of the room suffering from withdrawls, wether it was a lack of actual animal-based food or psychotropic drugs no one was sure. He pulled one of his knives and plunged it into his arm and began walking around, letting the blood from his arm trickle onto the carpet.

"Does he do anything else?" Kast asked. Falk began rummaging through a small pack of supplies and pulled out a slim jim. "Fanboy! Fetch!" The processed gas station delectable was tossed into the adjoining lounge and Fanboy chased after it. Axis Kast stood up and began angrily shivering again. "You brought MEAT onto Vega IX! You broke our most sacred law!" "Its either that or he eats the blood of the innocent." Falk lit a cigar as he spoke, only half joking. "I...I see. Well at least the offending produc tis disposed of right? And you didn't bring any more right?" "Yeah, sure." Falk lied, knowing full well that the Asskicker's hold contained approximately 500 kilos of beef jerky.

"Enough of this Jibba Jabba" Shep said in his best Mr. T impression. "We heard about a bounty. You paying cash to take care of the animals right?" Axis began to shiver so hard that seizures began to overtake him, the vegan lifestyle had rendered him unable to store body heat, he grabbed a hemp blanket form behind his desk and wrapped himself in it. It was comical, these vegans had it so bad they could die of hypothermia in a heat wave.

"We don't want anyone to take care of the animals, its not their fault that our presence on the planet has them so stressed they're eating us. But we have to figure out a way to keep them from eating enough of us to maintain a viable colony. Combine the predation with our high infant mortality rate and we're going to be extinct by the time McDonalds switches entirely to Veggie-Burgers within ten years thanks to our aggressive letter writing campaign." "Why the high infant mortality rate?" Shep asked quizzically. "Well infant humans are not suited to the Vegan lifestyle, humanity is so primitive that our young lack the basic ability to subsist off of delicious grain and vegetable diets. Breastfeeding would totally contradict our Vegan ideals and we have to feed them the way we feed adults." Falk cringed. "But isn't the Vegan belief against using dairy products based on the fact that animal milk is meant for the animals? So wouldn't it make sense to allow breastfeeding because human milk is for humans you deranged emaciated fuck?"

"I see no hypocrisy in that." Kast said matter of factly. "I want what is best for my people, and if babies starve to death then that's too damn bad." Falk responded so angrily he was practically shouted. "You have a huge agriculture industry, you must be using pesticides! If you're a true Vegan doesn't that mean the killing of millions of insects goes against your ideals!" Kast did not even hesitate with his reply. "I see no contradiction with that either, besides, insects don't count." Kasts shivering had become distracting, reminiscent of an old 20th century Earth Comedy Routine dubbed "Ministry of Silly Walks."

"None of the animals are allowed to be harmed, the death of an animal brings the death sentence, because wo do not condone killing on this planet. Furthermore I ....." Fanboy stormed up to the desk and slammed the empty Slim Jim wrapper on Kast's desk.

Listen to me you scrawny lettle vegetarian fucker! You will shut your fucking mouth right now and let us leave with our goddamn ears intact or I will string your guts from a light post and count the flies you draw! GOT IT?"

Kast wet himself, the fear only slightly mitigated by the warmth of the urine and the tears trailing down his cheek. Fanboy turned to Falk and Shep and pulled the bloody knife out of his arm. "I'm leaving. Sniff you jerks later."

MEANWHILE: ACROSS THE GALAXY Aboard the Enterprise Sr.

Shift Manager John Clark sat as his command console which he had recently installed in the back of McDonald's "space-thru" number #452. A former member of Starfleet Academy's Arizona Campus, he was involved in a number of cross-infonet flamewars and thus banished from Academy computer systems, resutling in his inability to complete required coursework. So Clark had become a fry cook at McDonalds, eventually working his way top the burger assembly line and finally after fifteen years of hard dedication he became a shift manager at good ol' #452 orbiting the Federation colony of Coronaria, home of the leading Cardio-health institute in the quadrant. Of course he was never able to let go of his dream of being a starship captain, and so he had the back office converted into sort of a captain's bridge.

The man at the "helm", which is where the orders from the garbled speaker came in was called, was Jesse Stamos. Jesse's expression was frantic as he turned from his seat back towards the "captain's chair". "Sir we're being hailed..." "On Screen Mr. Stamos."

"McDonalds #452, This is the Enterprise-Sr. Our order is as follows...200 "Big Mac" combination meals, 175 Double Cheeseburgers, 400 orders of fries in medium containers...."

"My god sir, its a large order!" Stamos panicked as he began processing the influx of data from the Enterprise. "There's no way a Fedeartion starship, even an old connie can make it through the Space Thru!" The station suddenly rocked as the Connie and her aging crew plowed through forcibly, ramming a shuttlecraft out of their way in the process.

"Red Alert Mr. Stamos! Have all non essential personnel and retarded kids on bagging duty, recall all fry cooks and sandwich makers from breaks. This is it people we've got a job to do!"

Aboard the Enterprise Sr

Aboard the Enterprise, Mr. Spock finished transmitting the order. "500 soda, 250 regular, 200 diet, and fifty "sprite". And one apple pie."

"Sair, doo we rahlly need all that food?" Scotty asked.

"Normally i am inclined to agree with your assessment Mr. Scott. But our good holographic doctor McCoy has routed all of the power from our retrofitted replicators and cannibalized several of them for his hydroponics lab in sickbay. AS it stands now we either have to cook for ourselves or take advantage of facilities like this one."

"But tha food is terrible Mistair Spock! Ah'll be on th' crappar fair weekz!"

"Would you prefer a pot of Mr. Chekov's borscht?"

Scotty shuddered and held his stomach tightly, that hiudeous concoction had increased emissions fifty percent after Chekov had provided his special recipe to the ship's mess. It provoked attraction from no fewer than four Klingon starships during the week afterward.

Aboard McDonald's space-thru 452

Clark was running his eyes over his console rapidly trying to find a way to maximize efficiency even as the damage reports came in.

"Fry grease is dropping to critical levels..."

"Salt is holding steady at sixty-eight percent..."

"We've lost power to the shake machine! There's still twelve left to..."

Clark had to take action, this was his time to shine and he was going to make sure his crew remembered him as a hero on this day. "Divert power to the shake machine from the Soda dispenser, let those fuckers drink water for all I care. Reduce meat patty size by ten percent and make it fifteen if you have to! If we run out then Use some of those leftover McRibs from the last time we 'brought them back', mold contamination should create the appearance of cheese. Close an additional register inside the store and use personnel accordingly."

Clark confidently trode out and watched as the rabble under his command shined. He was sure to get promoted now, and before long he'd be running his own Franchise over Risa. He saw one of the burgers sitting next to him, a Big Mac with the top bun left off. HE spit into it, garnering a cheer from the crew. Sure it was poor customer satisfaction, but out of 500 people who would know and who would care? And who was picky enough to peel it apart and look anyway?

Later, aboard the Enterprise Sr

Spock unwrapped his Big Mac....

(Insert dramatic pause and music here)

He absolutely detested pickles, the briny taste was too much for even his Vulcan stoicness to overcome. HE removed the top bun to check for pickles, and noticed a small globule of matter. One need not have been ship's science officer for many years to know that this was a loogie.

"This is Captain Spock, as soon as we have verified that we have been given the correct change lock on and destroy the station. Nobody spits in a Vulcan's burger and gets away with it."

Chekov and Sulu watched from the bridge as the red beam of invicible light struck through the McDonalds and destroyed it utterly, over the explosion they could have sworn they heard Mr. Spock say "Suck it down bitch." But they passed it off as something else.

Back at the god-forsaken meatless colony of Vega IX

Fanboy was walking towards the spaceport, giving menacing looks to anyone that crossed his path, when it finally happened. He got his first look at the vicious animal life of Vega IX. A monstrous Guinea Pig, possibly the size of a hippopotamus. It began rampaging throughout the complex, devouring humans as if they were but seeds, nibbling on their abdomens until they had consumed the precious organs before moving onto the flesh. Guinea Pigs on some planets were prized for their delicious meat. This one, with its distanct orange and white fur covering had been fed well also, a steady diet of overly nutritious plant-fed humans was doing wonders for it.

It would be...delicious.

He grasped a knife in each hand and charged at the large animal, leaping up onto its back and viciously stabbing it, hoping to sever part of the spinal cord. The Guinea Pig thrashed in an attempt to shake off its attacker, but could not as the dug in blades of the knives combined with the inhuman grip of Fanboy (gained through years and years of indulging in the galaxy's finest erotica) would be too much. It became tired and as it slowed Fanboy pulled himself up int a standing poition and tore a large gash in the Guinea Pig's back and stomped both boots down into a vertebrae, paralyzing his prey almost instantly.

About an hour later Shep and Falk were making their way through the spaceport was well, they had heard about an animal attack but had stopped instead to enjoy one of the colony's finer brewing establishments before departing, and they knew since Fanboy was flying his ship they coudl get piss drunk before leaving. But the beer was terrible, and the whacked out ubermoralists who ran the planet had found a way to naturally negate the alcohol's effects without adding synthehol.

"I'm telling you Shep we can't leave yet!" Pleased Falk. "I even got the key to her place right here!" Shep waved his hand and closed his eyes in digust. "I don't care if she handed you her panties Falk, the beer here is terrible the food here is worse and its just full of god awful hippies. Besides she is probably all natural anyway." Falk was a little confused hearing this. "Well yeah, that's great though right? No silicon!" Shep just kind of looked at him and smirked. "You mean you have no idea what all-natural means to Vegans don't you?" "I'm pretty sure it means, giant real tits, and that I'll be happy to suck on them all night long, look I'm going over there right now i'll be back in a few hours as soon as i've got my rocks off." Falk didn't even give Shep a chance to reply as he sprinted off int he direction of the apartment complexes, with the intents of banging the middle out of the busty secretary from earlier. Shep just kept walking towards the spaceport, at least he could get in a few hours of 'Rome: Total War' assuming the disks weren't misplaced AGAIN. All thoughts of that though were interrupted as he came upon a trio of Vegan security guards cowering behind a street light.

"What's the fucking problem? Someone blow up a McDonalds in orbit or something?"

"The man is scarrrrry!" said the lead guard, apparently the only one capable of speech. "He killed that poor defenseless guinea pig that was eating the colonists! We tried to arrest him but he frightened my whole squad!"

"Who did this? Wait...never mind." Shep looked over and was not surprised to see Fanboy sitting near a bonfire roasting fresh meat over the flames on a crude spit. He had removed all of his clothes and was now wearing a loincloth made of orange and white fur along with his demented Friday the 13th mask, and he was coated in blood.

"Aw hell, this planet has finally driven him insane. FANBOY! HEY FUCKHEAD! Listen i'm going back to the ship for a while! Just, at least give me the keys will you? Then if you get arrested for being a goddamn freak I can at least go home."

Fanboy just sort of looked over at Shep, and extremely glazed look in his eyes. "The Hunt...."

"Hunt? What the hell are you talking about? Listen just give me the keys."

"The keys are in wonderland Alice..." and with that Fanboy grabbed his keys and swallowed them, shortly afterwards taking another huge bite of seared guinea pig flesh. "There so many more things to kill out there."
Fanboy said, pointing to the nearby forest.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." and with that Fanboy sprinted off into the forest with his knives. Shep tried to follow but was cut off by a pair of razor toothed squirrels that punced on his boots and began trying to devour him from the toes up. Shep, not being a patient or weak man like the Vegan colonists, pulled out his pistol and promptly shot the little fuckers.

He had to go after Fanboy and get the keys. Or there was no way off this wussy planet, but there was no going into a forest like that without some heavy artillery. He had to put in a call and get some weapons, and hope Falk got his rocks off in time to help him out.

Falk meanwhile had finally arived at the fine lady's apartment. Soon he would be locked in the throes of passion, blissfully unaware of whatever crazy shit Shep and Fanboy were getting into. The door opened for him, and he walked into the living room. "Hello? Anyone here?" he asked. "I'm in the bedroom studmuffin. Why don't you come in here and tell me about that meat substitute you were going to show me." Falk was so excited he nearly tripped over his boner as he rushed into the bedroom, however the sight that waited for him killed that boner quicker than a hollow point round point blank to the temple.

The woman was lying completely nude on her bed, lying in a spread eagle position that was universal for, "Fuck me, fuck me now" Except there was one little thing Falk found disturbing, she was covered in hair. From her pubic mound, down to her legs it looked as if her beaver had branched out and was attempting to conquer the entire lower half of her body, even going so far as to establish two huge colonies under her armpits. If anyone in THIS galaxy had ever seen a Wookie in heat, right down to the ludicrously swollen clitoris, it was Falk. He stood there in shock, she even had residual fur on her chest, nowhere near as thick as a mans but definitely more than a woman should have.

"What's the matter big guy", she cooed, "I thought you didn't mind 'all natural' women." Falk gritted his teeth. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind," he said as he rubbed the aching hard on that strained his pants. But it had been a long time since he had been able to take care of himself, and sometimes the guy behind the camera had to get his fair share also. ", but It'll do for me." Falk figured it wouldn't matter, as soon as he was inside of her and his hands were on her tits he could forget all about how hairy this bitch was and get off.

That strategy failed however, as soon as he crawled on top of her she hooked her legs around him, and he nearly lost his poise from the feel of two hairy pythons constricting around him. "God dammit that's it." Falk got up and stormed out of the room, his lover followed, but he locked himself in the bathroom. "Baby what's wrong? Quit whining and please me! Falk splashed the cold water onto his face and groin, desperately trying to clear his thoughts. She was too thick to shave and he didn't want to hack her to bit, he could cover her in rubbing alcohol and light her on fire but the stench of burnt hair would be too pungent. There had to be an alternative...

Will Fanboy make it out of the jungle alive? Will Falk find a way to screw the hairy Vegan bitch? Will SHep kill them both if he doesn't get off the colony before he goes crazy? FIND OUT ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF UPF!
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-03-09 07:58pm, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
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Darth Fanboy
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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-03-09 02:41am


Falk was absolutely stumped, he was forced to draw on his years of filming experience. Like a porn director, he had to see things from every angleOf Course!, he thought, Porn! That's it!

He walked out of the bathroom grinning ear to ear, the nude wolly human eyeing him suspiciously. "Think you've got it all out of your system now loverboy?" As she batted her eyes. Falk also finally noticed that her caterpillar like eyebrows would have to be dealt with as well.

"I was just thinking that a bottle of wine might loosen me up a bit babe, care to join?"

"Well, alcohol isn't usually permitted here on the colony..."

"No problem, I always keep a couple flasks handy. Not that weak federation bullshit either, good home brewed stuff. Stole the still off a bitch named Antilles."

She finally accepted, taking a big swig out of the flask Falk handed her. She started to feel lightheaded, thinking at first it was just the alcohol taking effect, but she took another deep swig and promptly passed out. Falk quicky set to work, grabbing a pack of razorblades he kept handy in case a coke deal broke out and a bottle of lotion from the bathroom, he set to work carefull running the razor over her body. "Fuck I wish I had a pair of garden shears handy for this bitch..."

About two hours later she woke up and looked over in the mirror


She flipped out, she was now perfectly shaven, and aside from one or two very minor cuts she was absolutely gorgeous.

"I took the liberty of making you look good, you can thank me by getting back on the bed and showing some appreciation."

Falk always carried roofies with him, in case of emergencies, her flask was tainted with an extremely potent substance called DITL (pronounced Dittle), also known as "Portal" or "Eyeslammer" it made ones nervous system temporarily shut down and force the body into a temporary coma and made the person immune to pain, making it the preferred date rape drug of the 24th century. Of course Falk was not down with perverse violations, but he really didn't have any other way of shaving this bitch without resistance. Of course now he had to deal with her screaming, making him wish he had used a stronger dose.

"How could you do this to me! Its taken me years to get like this! I've been all natural for my entire life and now its all..."

Falk slapped her, going against his nature again. He didn't like hitting women, but he enjoyed slapping hysterical people regardless of race or gender.

""Listen bitch, I don't know how they do it here on freaky deaky PETA world. But my girls are always smoother than silk. I don't film girls unless they meet high standards and I sure as hell don't fuck 'em if they don't."

"You're a director? A porn director?"

"Perhaps you've seen Betazed Bitches I-XXVIII?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I'm Falk. Nice to meet you sweet tits."

"*Swoons* Oh, OHHHH Oh my gawd. Oh, this is sooo great."

"If you're going to stutter and not make any sense, you might as well do it over there..." said Falk as he pointed for the bed.

@ Fanboy's ship, The Skullfucker...

Shep switched on the power and dialed in the secure line on his mobile comm.

"Vympel Pyrotechnics how may I assist you?" came the high pitched female voice on the other end of the line.

"Im putting on a Siberian fireworks show, its supposed to be cold out." Shep recited the codephrase, knowing that his voice was going through a modulator analyzing the specific tone and pitch of his voice.

"Please hold.....Okay sir if you would just stay on the line..."

A few minutes passed an a familiar voice came on.

"Sheppard you smut dealing prick! Its been a while, you still flesh peddling?"

"It's a living, things are a little stuck right now though and I need some ahhh, special tools to get the job done, if you know what I mean."

"Say no more my friend, what do you need?"

"We're dealing with a bunch of fucking animals and pacifists, I was thinking of some 20th century stuff to level this place good and proper."

"Sounds about right, well i'm running a special on some Soviet Era stuff, won't be all that cheap but its availiable to my more discerning clientele."

"I'll take it."

"SOunds good, just let me know where Im supposed to drop the stuff off and how you'll be paying."

"Well we're on Vega IX and..."

"Did you just say Vega IX?"

Shep was stunned at the urgency in Vympel's voice.

"Is it true that Axis Kast is in charge of that place?"


"Listen, if you do a job for me, i'll give you all this stuff free of charge and no questions asked."

"Name it."

A day later

Shep had finally managed to get a hold of Falk, who had finally had his fill of the formerly hairy woman who called herself....well her name wasn't important. The two sat outside one of the more secure docking bays waiting for a supply ship to arrive with their cargo. "You say you got Vympel to give you this stuff for free?" "Yup." "You do realize 120mm rounds aren't cheap." "Yup." "Then how the fuck did you get it all for free?" "I'll tell you later, they're here."

The cargo ship landed, fairly large for a private company these days but Vympel didn't deal in what one would call small arms.

Six hours later Shep and Falk had acquired what seemed to be an entire battalions worth of Soviet Era weaponry. Most of the items were delivered to the Asskicker but Shep had asked that some of the more premium items be delivered planetside for "the hunt." Including one t-80U tank with ARENA active defense. Suitable for the large hamsters and roving herds of carnivorus deer.

It was almost as if mother nature was calling out for Shep to restore balance and the instrument of this restoration was an assload of military hardware. The Vegan colonists were too soft and timid that it had allowed the biosphere to become aggressive, Herbivorous forest dwellers soon became top level predators, with a prey source of fat pink overindulged and underprotected humans. Nog had been keen to suggest an orbital bombardment using the main guns on the Asskicker but this was a hunt, not a turkey shoot.

"Now if only Fanboy would show up we'd have some fucking manpower to go along with the firepower? Am I right?" Falk was more than a little upset at the poor lay he had recieved from the hippie slut a while ago, but one wasn't choosy when it came to an easy lay these days. After all if you tried too hard the Zeon Boogeywomen would take you away in the middle of the night like that poor bastard, what was his name, Moriarty or something. Falk had heard details of his death, one of the few things that could make even the most jaded skin-peddler's dick shrivel up like a roll of dimes.

A large green hill just outside the colony edge gave them the perfect vantage point into the forest and Shep and Falk set up a redoubt at its peak, the perfect vantage point to start teaching animals who was boss. A group of what appeared to be hippies approached the hill and asked what they were doing.

"You left wing lunatics have something to say?" Shep said in a grim tone, his hand drawing near to a sidearm."

"We're not like the other colonists." Said an unshaven smelly bastard cuddling what appeared to be a small domesticated non native ferret that smelled of bongwater. "We're tired of seeing all of the others eaten by the predators, and we don't want to be eaten either. Teach us how to fight."

Shep looked over at Falk and grinned. "Ok, we'll teach you. But first let me tell you about a man named Oliver North."

And the hippies looked up at the Shep wide eyed and in awe as they learend of what was to eventually become the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy. A movement that was founded to protect mankind from itself that eventually had to merge in with the shadows as the fat, overindulged pigs of society began to waver in their resolve towards order. While the socialistic left wing liberal pansies had taken the government, the VRWC was far from the loser in the great societal conflict. As Shep regaled the hippies with tales of great men such as Saint North, Saint Liddy, and Saint Goldwater.

"I think that's enough story telling." Falk chimed in. "Now are you worthless little fuckers ready to learn how to handle a weapon for god's sake?" The applause served as a unanimous yes. Those not as enthusiastic would be placed on mine-laying detail.

"You think these meatbags are worth training Shep?"

"Wether they're worth training or not isn't the question. The fact is that now we have some useful cannon fodder and frankly the more of them that are martyred when those fucking animals show up, the more bodies between them and us the better."

Deep in the forest

On Earth it was rare to see a Panda. The large bamboo eating natives of the Chinese wilderness were rare and it was rarer still to find one unafraid of humans. On Vega IX though it wasn't rare to see a Panda and sure as hell wasn't rare to see one that had been feasting on human entrails recently. The red muzzle of the beast was unmistakble, and its teeth had what resembled starfleet uniforms wdged tightly between them.

Strike fast, kill the beast quickly, savor the flesh...

Fanboy sat in the tree quietly, smeared with mud to cover his scent. His knives were wrapped in leaves so that an errant glint of light caused by the sun would not give him away and his ass was clenched tightly to repress what would have been one giant signal beacon of a fart.

The Panda stopped moving as it caught the scent coming from the colony. The delicious smell of pink human flesh filled its nostrils and it inhaled deeply, completely unaware of man's potential to dominate the lower non senitent species. It had not seen a human in its true form, carnivorous, deadly, standing over a grill wearing an apron.

Fanoby leapt from the tree like a bolt of lightning right next to the panda and swung his blade across the Panda's abdomen, dragging it until it ran into the thick bones of the thigh before he pulled it out and made a new vertical slash. After doing this he grabbed the fold of severed flesh and tore it loose like the door of a tent, revealing the meaty insides. Without hesitating, he reached into the Panda's belly and found the spinal cord, crushing it in his bare hand and ending the beasts life without mercy,

He had been stalking this animal for what felt like an eternity, it was the king of the jungle on this world. An undeniable top notch on the food chain. But Fanboy had taken the Panda's life, and with it, the prestige nature rightfull granted man. Satisfied with his trophy, he cut a select piece of steak from the loin, and removed the beasts head. He thought the guys would get a kick out of it if he left in in the refridgerator.

The night after that

The ragtag band of hippies led by Shep and Falk had just spotted an large number of Deer and Hamsters moving towards the colony, it was raining. Shep guessed that it was the first thing resembling a shower that some of these men had been given in years. It was night, and the colonists of Vega IX slept peacefully in their beds, their doors unlocked. This was known because Falk had raided a few of them to help pay for docking fees that were slowly accumulating. But it was also feeding time, the woodland abominations began slowly trickling out of the forest, eagerly hunting for food and taking the chance to examine this new human construction utside of the colony. They could smell the human meat from behind fixed positions as they began to charge.

Then Shep gave the order to fire.

A hail of bullets and mortar fire streaked across the night sky in a dazzling display of light. Animals fell one by one as their bodies were torn asunder by the humans ammunition. Several deer panicked, they had never encountered a hostile prey before and they began turning back only to be trampled by the large hamsters emerging into the fracas. Bullets were having no effect on their hides but Shep, cool calm and collected, began firing tank rounds. the shells impacted against the hamsters and the vile gouts of blood could be seen erupting as flashed lit up the night. Falkenhorst saw a saber toothed squirrel charging towards him, it was so small it had managed to penetrate their defensive line, he pulled a knife from his belt and tossed it into the squirrels furry body, catching its tail but not killing it, he picked up the furry critter in his hand and looked it straight in the eyes.

"You fuzzy fuckers had better go back to nuts and berries. I let you live so you could tell the others, tell them that if any one of you eats one more fucking person I will turn every last one of you fuckers into sausages you hear me?"

Falk then resisted the urge to hit himself, squirrels don't talk. He snapped the bastard's neck with his fist and picked up an AK-47 and began spraying bullets about the field. Only the scavengers would be eating come morning.

The sun rose that morning and the colonists awoke to the stench of decaying carcasses and drying blood. While many were horrified at the display of anti-animal aggression the Reformed Hippies felt a sense of pride in themselves.

"The guns, they saved us!" One of them had exclaimed.

"You have Charleton Heston to thank for that." Said Falk

"Is he a saint too?"

"Sainthood would be a demotion for the Heston."

"There is much we could learn from you. The masses need to be told."

Shep sighed. "The masses don't always understand, sometimes they need to be told what is best for them, and sometimes they need to be reminded that there is more freedom in safety than there is safety in freedom."

About this time Fanboy emerged from the jungle, carrying the insect infested panda head, gnawing on the last few bites of what appeared to be a large panda steak.

"Did I miss anything?"

Shep and Falk stared at Fanboy, who at this point felt confident enough to release the fart he had been supressing. "Didn't think so. Can we leave now?"

"There is still the matter of our fee." Falk said.

"That will be taken care of, and I think I know a way that we'll be able to come out even further ahead."

The trio left the battlefield and made their way to the administrative complex, to the office of Axis Kast.

"You! You heathens! First I find out you are ARMING my colonists and that you KILLED animals? Why if we had a prison system on this planet I'd see that you were locked up! Fortunately Starfleet has jurisdiction here and..."

Shep pistol whipped Kast and the man fell backwards, sniveling like a baby.

"Listen, I don't give a fuck about Starfleet. Lord knows they'd probably drop me off on Telos IV just so they could give me the death penalty. But you, now that's another story. Seems that we have a mutual friend."

Shep pulled a small holo-recording device out of his pocket and set it on the table. The image of Vympel appeared.

"Mr. Kast if you're viewing this it seems my investments have paid off and my associate Mr. Shep is about to bring you back home. Haven't you missed it? It's changed an awful lot since you were here last, we've even sterilized some of the equipment and your old cell is still availiable. I do hope you haven't forgotten."

The recording ended, and Shep picked up where it left off. "Thats what happens when you cross a syndicate member Mr. Kast, especially a wealthy one with access to lots of guns and mercenaries. But I digress." Shep sent up a message to the Asskicker. "Nog lock on to the organic signature at my location covered in the mose ammonia, that would be Axis 'I just pissed my pants because Vympel is going to make me his bitch." Kast. Beam him right into the brig and toss in a couple slim jims for him to eat on the way.


The reformists of Vega IX, now liberated from animal opression set up several meat processing plants within the colony. 'Free' Elections were held and the REpubli- err, Reformist candidate won with a 48% majority due to an archaic election system put in place ages ago. Liberal hippies whined and cried about this but life's tough.

Shep and Falk were granted a large stake of ownership and they now had a legitmate method to launder the money from their pornographic "Empire of Skin."

Fanboy was given some bad acid by one of the hippies and entered a coma-like trance of which he has still not emerged from. It is unclear of wether or not he is dead or just really really fucked up.

LeVar Burton was not in this story, and it is unknown wether he thinks Gates McFadden or Marianaianinainaaianaiaiii Sirtis would be a better lay.

Nog, still suffering from date rape psychosis at the hands of Bashir, deciphering several Federation encryptions prior to the Asskicker leaving the Vega system. The Federation was diverting several ships away from black market porn detail and towards the operations of an insane reject from the Eugenics Wars by the name of Kan (no H but proncounced the same). The galaxy was full of lots of horny people, they needed their fix. With that in mind the crew of the Asskicker set off, on their continuing mission, to explore strange new girls and new sexual positions, to boldly film what no camera has ever filmed...

(cue UPF music)
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Falkenhorst » 2005-03-16 02:33am

UPF 26: Lord of the Cockrings Part 2

"Captain's Log, Stardate 817123.5. The Asskicker has arrived in orbit of the planet Warnex 2, which
is strangely enough marked on old charts as "Middle Earth." We have come here on the urgings of
Darth Fanboy, who has spent the last several weeks in his quarters, apparently without proper sleep
or nutrition, studying the memoirs of the 20th Century porn star Ron Jeremy. According to what
Fanboy has learned, the secret to Ron Jeremy's success was an artifact known as the ONE COCKRING.
Apparently this ancient modality was forged here on Warnex 2 and somehow found it's way to Earth.
It is said to confer amazing virility to the wearer, and render them irresistible to women. Personally I
think this is the only explanation as to how a slimy fatass like Ron Jeremy could have possibly avoided
criminal charges for appearing as he did in his numerous films. Sheppard and I have agreed with Fanboy
that if we can take this Ring for ourselves, it will immeasurably increase our influence and domination of
the porn industry...."

"Well my daddy left home when I was 3 and he didn't leave much for my ma and me, just this old guitar
and an empty bottle of booze...." Falk had the CD player turned up, and Shep and Fanboy were chilling
with the windows down as they rolled down the country road. The Man In Black could be heard just
above the rumble of the White Thunderbird's engine as Falkenhorst cruised across the rolling landscape
of Middle Earth.

"Man, are we there yet?" asked Fanboy. "There's no fucking quickmarts anywhere and I've gotta take a

"Just you hold that shit in. Rivendell is supposed to be right up the road, and if you piss on the seats yer
staying behind on this fuckin rock." said Falk, as he turned the wheel with his black gloved hands and
turned off on a side road. The pimped out classic rolled up to an ornately carved gate next to the road.
Several figures were standing near it dressed in some bizarre native clothing. One came forward and
stood next to the driver's side. He was dressed in pimped out leather armor and carried a bow across
his back.

"I am Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. You have surely traveled here from afar to consult with
Elrond in these grave times. Have you an invitation?" Said the teenage looking Elf, who Falkenhorst
noticed had no facial hair whatsoever.

"More like the prince of smoking wood." cracked Fanboy from the back seat. Falk smirked. Behind his
sunglasses, the trained eye of a veteran porn kingpin had these Elf characters pegged as the kind of
pretty-boys who auditioned to be subs in gay porn.

"We should enslave all these limp wristed fucktards and sell em to Hipper, he'd cream his pants."
observed Shep. Falk explained to the Elf that they were from out of town and trying to get in to see the
big man in charge, using all his considerable skills of weaseling his way into titty bars from when he was
just a young street thug. Legolas seemed to be buying it, but he kept glancing at Sheppard and getting
more irritated as he heard the back and forth conversation he was carrying on with Fanboy about how elves
were pus nutted wankers.

"Those pointy ears, Shep. Do you think they're related to Vulcans?" asked Fanboy.

"I wouldn't be surprised. You know statistically most male Vulcans' first sexual experience is with their
fathers?" said Shep.

At that last crack from Sheppard Legolas had about had it. He stood back and unslung his bow.

"You shall not pass, Falkenhorst. Your smooth words will not fool the ear of an Elf. You and your
blasphemous friends shall not pass the gates of Rivendell."

"Goddamn it I have really got to take a piss, grated Fanboy, squirming uncomfortably.

"Oh no you fucking don't, Fanboy. You do and I'll have your shriveled little pindick for shark bait!"
Threatened Falk.

"Fuck this shit." said Sheppard, one hand creeping down to his holster.

"Hey Legs-and-Ass, whatever your fucking name is. Here's our fucking invitation!" said Shep,
drawing his Colt 1911 with speed born of robbing many liquor stores. Before the elven warrior
could even begin to draw back his bow, Shep's first shot punched a hole through his vaunted elven
armor and exited his back, blowing out a chunks of gore and leaving a hole the size of a coffee mug.
Legolas dropped down on his ass like a sack of shit and lay on the ground gasping and twitching.

"Dammit, Shep, now you've done it!" said Falk as he reached for his miniature AK-47 he kept stowed
under the dash. The other elves drew and fired arrow after arrow, doing little more than nicking the
paint of Falkenhorst's souped up classic car.

"You worthless pieces of shit, fucking up my paint job.." Muttered Falk as he racked the Krinkov's bolt
back and brought it up.

"Come and get some, BITCHES!" he yelled, holding the trigger. Both shep and fanboy curled up and
covered their ears as the little assault rifle roared, filling the car with spent shells from it's fat 75 round
drum magazine. Falk strafed the twitching corpses of the other elves with a few more bursts just for
good measure and tossed the gun down on the seat.

"Fucking assholes." he muttered again, glancing at Shep and at Fanboy, cowering in the back seat holding
his crotch as if it was about to burst. He threw the car in reverse and backed over Legolas, who was
alternately trying to hold his guts in and crawl away. There was a sickening CRUNCH and renewed screams
of pain as his legs snapped like twigs. Falk lined the car up with the ornate gateway ahead of them and
dropped the car into DRIVE.

"Hold on, fellas." he said, and floored it. The car's powerful engine rumbled and they raced ahead, two hard
Bumps in quick succession causing Sheppard to laugh hysterically as they crashed the gates and rolled on
into Rivendell unopposed.

BOTM 15.Nov.02

Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm

"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"


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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-03-22 01:44pm


(authors note: To the person who thinks there are enough stories going on in this universe already, I say "Have at thee sir" ~DF)

-Captains Log Stardate.....uh whats the word if I can't remember the date? Uhhh Supplemental!

We've been dispatched to yet another survey mission somewhere in the arse end of the galaxy, so naturally we'll be going somewhere else. Stafleet has been sending us on these things for about two years now and every time we report back "nothing to see here." Giving us what amounts to an arseload of leave. Many of the crew of expressed interest in seeing if any of those Klingon blokes know how to play footy, Even if they don't, i'm sure that there'll be plenty of action.

Captain Barry, "Bazza", Bogan walked from the ready room on his Steamrunner-classship the USS Queensland. The only ship in the Federation with a large custom built alloy spoiler on the back which Bogan said "decreased subspace drag by a shitload" The bridge also sported a large pair of Fuzzy dice. The crew, made up largely of humans from the Australis colony, affectionately referred to him as "Cap'n Bazza" or "Fuckhead", but this time they failed to acknowledge him at all as half of them were passed out at their stations, a result of the previous nights drinking contests. The USS Queensland had made it a habit to travel to far off parts of space to try and intercept old rugby or cricket matches broadcast hundreds of years ago and whenever they found one they would hold a ship wide drinking contest, usually won by the petite Ensign Sheila.

"Captain Bogan" came the salute from the only sober member of the crew, Lieutenant Killjoy. "Sir, I've written up ciatations for all of the bridge crew and enigeering for their app..." Hung over himself and prepared to deal with a by the book ninny like the Lieutenant Captain BOgan gave a stern "Go eat a dick Killjoy." Normally he humored the Lt. by pretending to skim over the report and then stash the report somewhere in the Queensland's computer archives. They were beginning to take up a very significant portion of the computer sotrage capacity but some of them made for entertaining reading. Including Killjoy's infamous report on the incident where he had been head butted by Chief Engineer Brisbane after the good Lieutenant objected to the presence of several cases of VB stacked neatly near the warp core.

Killjoy kept talking, much to to Captain Bogan's chagrin. "Well sir I figured you should at least know that Ensigns Auckland and Wellington were set adrift again last night." Bogan struggled to supress a laugh and then checked the computer logs. Sure enough the unpopular ensigns, commonly referred to as "Sheepbuggerer 1 and Sheepbuggerer 2" had been tossed into a pair of escape pods and set adrift, with the ship's tractor keeping htem from floating into oblivion. The computer logs also showed a noticeable amount of duct tape produced. "It would probabl be best to let the ensigns simmer in there for a few more hours Killjoy. Just let me handle it. "But sir..." Killjoy protested, "There isn't an indefinite supply of air for them! IF they stay out there for another hour or so they'll have nothing left to breathe!" Bogan heaved a sigh, "Fine, then go get them. But lock them in the cargo bay for a few hours, at least until Commander Irwin has mellowed out." Killjoy nodded and sprinted off.

Bogan walked over the the small mini fridge where the second officer's chair used to be and procured a beer for himself. He couldn't crack one open with Killjoy around without that motherfucker reciting flawlessly the regulations about being inebriated on the bridge, but its not like he was the one piloting the ship. After downing the bottle in one fell gulp he tossed the bottle at the pilot, Lt Commander Bastard. Nobody knew his name, so everyone just called him Bastard. "Hey Bastard! Fly us somewhere" The captain yelled as the beer bottle flew through the air and impacted against the slumbering crewman's skull with a sickening thud before landing to the ground and shattering. The entire bridge had started to become a messy assortment of empty and broken stubbies and cans, cigarette butts had begun to accumulate to and the Captain was considering having Auckland and Wellington clean the place up.

"Captain Bogan! We're getting an incoming transmission!" Came the voice from the helm, the gorgeous Ensign Bondi. The Captain slumped in his seat and muttered, "Then put it on screen woman!" "I can't captain, you have the remote." Bogan reached and found the remote control for the big screen viewscreen wedged in the cushion of his seat, he pointed it at the screen and changed the channel.

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. You will...."

Captain Bogan muted the set and started cursing. "Bloody fucking hell! Fucking bullshit! Everybody wake up we got trouble." After noting the lakc of response from the disoriented crew, Captain Bogan got back on the ship's comm and yelled. "Anyone who doesn't get up right this fucking instants is going to be licking wallaby dung off of my fucking boots until we reach the next port, also I'll cut your vegemite privileges!"

Suddenly the ship went to full red alert, and crewmen were up and at attention, fighting through splitting headaches and blurred vision but damned if they'd let that arshole Cap'n Bazza cut back their vegemite. The crew of the USS Queensland was under attack from a Borg Cube. And the Borg were about to find out what it was like to fight a crew of half drunk pissed off blokes from the Outback.

~Fin 27~

Well this was originally intended as sort of a one shot but I have a few ideas for the USS Queensland and the Enterprise Senior
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-03-31 01:47am

"Fingered by Janeway" (slang, vulgar)

The unpleasant feeling from the splash created in a toilet during a bowel movement, usually cold and accompanied by unwanted moisture on the butt cheeks.

Example: I had been waiting all day to take a shit and when I finally did I was 'Fingered by Janeway'.

Addendum: Usually used in conjunction with the term "Dropping a Depth Charge"

"Dropping a Depth Charge" (slang, vulgar)

A massive bowel movement which creates an unpleasant splashing of water against the exposed buttocks (see "Fingered by Janeway"). Slang is in reference to 20th/21st century weaponry designed for anti submersible warfare which create huge fountains of water at sea.

Example: I was on the toilet Dropping a Depth Charge and suddenly I was being "Fingered By Janeway".
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Posts: 11182
Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-04-01 08:24pm

Skank and Bank (slang)

Term which applies to a brothel owner or pimp who is owed money by one of his employees. The prostitute (the skank) hands over her earnings (the bank). A parody of the slogan used for "Shake and Bake" seasonings in the late 20th century.


pimp-Bitch where's my money?

ho-It's skank and bank! And I helped!
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-04-22 10:48am, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-04-09 07:10am


On the Last Episode of Star Trek: Down Under

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. You will...."

Captain Bogan muted the set and started cursing. "Bloody fucking hell! Fucking bullshit! Everybody wake up we got trouble." After noting the lakc of response from the disoriented crew, Captain Bogan got back on the ship's comm and yelled. "Anyone who doesn't get up right this fucking instants is going to be licking wallaby dung off of my fucking boots until we reach the next port, also I'll cut your vegemite privileges!"

Suddenly the ship went to full red alert, and crewmen were up and at attention, fighting through splitting headaches and blurred vision but damned if they'd let that arshole Cap'n Bazza cut back their vegemite. The crew of the USS Queensland was under attack from a Borg Cube. And the Borg were about to find out what it was like to fight a crew of half drunk pissed off blokes from the Outback.

And now, the continuation....

Captain Bogan grabbed for his boomerang and ran frantically around the bridge trying to wake people up. Several bursts of fire from the Borg ship struck the Queensland and the shields were shot to bits before long. Borg were now beaming into the ship en masse. Nearly slipping in a pile of errant vomit he caught himself on the the tactical console, accidentally firing the phasers in a random pattern. Amazingly, the firing pattern hit several weakpoints on the Borg Cube, previously unidentified by FEderation military analysts. The weak points dealt directly with the collective's pacification subroutines. The besieged Starfleet officers had no idea that the Borg were ripe for defeat.

It sure didn't seem that way in engineering, as Commander Irwin fought through his brutal hangover by beating a pair of Borg drones over the head with his phaser rifle. "Those blokes didn't bring any guns with 'em, so I bloody aint going to act like a fucking pansy and shoot one." Against any other opponent this would be considered a counterproductive strategy, but the Borg were unable to adapt to the kinetic energy of the phaser rifle being weilded by the ship's best Cricket player.

One Borg drone had managed to overpower Chief Engineer Brisbane, and had begun injecting him with nanoprobes. HOwever the Chief's blood alcohol level was so high that the nanoprobes actually began to disintegrate in the Chief's bloodstream and the assimilation process never took effect. Brisbane countered with a boot the the Borg's cybernetic crotch, although assimilation eliminated the need for sexual reproduction, it did not eliminate the pain of a shattered testicle and the borg fell over screaming in pain, his collective Borg comrades winced in pain altogether for but a brief moment and the Aussie crew took the advantage, bludgeoning the Borg with empty kegs, cricket bats, and plain old fists. Engineering was safe for the moment.

The battle for the ship was far from won though. Captain Bogan was racing frantically down the corridors to try and reach the officer's lounge, affectionately dubbed "King's Cross" by the crew. THe USS Queensland had managed to violate every starfleet regulation and ordinance regarding public displays of nudity, the possesion of illegal sexual material, prohibition of alcohol, and the use of illegal sex workers. But the ship also had the highest morale in the fleet, Captain Bogan had allowed the establishment of "King's Cross" with the hopes of concentrating all of the illegal materials on his ships in order to better cover it during an inspection. The converted lounge had two stages for strippers, a sex parlour with all sorts of erotic materials and toys, and a fully stocked bar.

The Borg seemed to be concentrating on that sector of the ship, luckily there had been no Wet T Shirts going on in there when they attacked or half the crew would have been caught off guard in there. As Cap'n Bazza ran down the hall he spotted a Borg and chucked his boomerang at the cybernetic invader's head. The boomerang missed, badly, and didn't return. "Jesus Christ how do those fucking abos do it!" The Borg charged at him, plodding along at a dead sprint of 0.0001 kph. Captain Bogan chuckled a bit and began jogging past his attacker, weaving his way through a cadre of Borg effortlessly dodging their slow motion attacks. But before he could get to the officer's lounge he saw Lieutenant Killjoy disabling the security locks on the doors and allowing the Borg access to the hidden stash of sex drugs and rock and roll.

"Killjoy you wanker! What in the eighty seven Tasmanian Hells are you doing?"

"I've had it up to here with your brash disregard for regulations! So i've decided to let the Borg destroy "King's Cross" and i'll shoot anyone who tries to stop me! Even you Captain!"

"I swear you had better shoot me now or i'll put the fucking leeches on you..."

"Oh no Captain Bogan, that would be against starfleet regulations."

A fucking stickler to the end... Thought Bazza as he gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to stop his mutinous crewman. But little did he know that Killjoy's actions would play into his favor.

The Borg, in their never ending quest to assimilate all things into their collective, began assimilating the pornography and the contents of the Sex shop, as well as the file footage of the numerous lapdances given throughout the Queensland's existence. This informations was processed, categorized and rebroadcast back to the fellow Borg on board the cube. But the accidental phaser attack had disrupted several systems involved in the drone pacification process, and suddenly aboard the cube thosuands of Borg drones were suddenly becoming aware of their more organic functions, and the presence of their genitals. On the cube and on the captive Federation ship, Borg of all species began removing the metal plating covering their crotches and began humping everything in sight, including each other.

It was an orgy of Borg...a Borgy.

Suddenly Borg were running around as if they were mad with lust, MAin Engineering was soon flooded with Borg, only this time they were out to dry hump everything they could. Fallen Borg suddenly became the objects of morbid cybernetic affection as they were humped in their final resting place. Unwilling to be buggered by raving Borg tCommander Irwin had helped the officers in Engineering to escape through JEffries tubes. As they did though an overly amorous Borg got to thinking about how wonderfully warm it would feel to place his dong in the dilithium chamber of the Queensland's warp core.

Lt. Killjoy however was not as lucky as Commander Irwin's group. A Borg of an unidentifiable species crept up behind Killjoy, knocked him to the ground, and began humping him with reckless abandon. The standard issue Mark 4 jumpsuit was no match for the friction and stretching being caused by the aliens two pronged cybernetic beastcock, and the fabric began to tear. Killjoy was crying, but apparently for completely different reasons then one would think.

"It's not fair! YOU've even corrupted the Borg! I hate you Cap'n Bazza!"

Captain Bogan had to admit that at least KIlljoy was taking the butt punishment like a man. Well, like a man who about to become a bitch. He slapped his hand over his comm badge. "Hey Bastard! Have you managed to get out a distress signal yet!" Bastard responded after making an odd "horking" sound usually associated with a dry heave that never came to fruition, one could almost hear the chunks gurgling to the edge of his throat and then escaping back down the esophagus like a rancid toilet flush.


Bastard's message did get through, and in good time, because our frisky Borg friend is getting ready to jam his pecker into the Warp Core any second now.

Aboard the nearest ship..... THE ENTERPRISE SENIOR!

The Enterprise Senior had been pacing through space at a speed that could be best described as drifiting. Spock's hastily assembled crew of some 400 starfleet rejects permanently assigned to the Officer's retirement home had severly hampered their efforts in recovering the wretched amateur porn video recorded on the old Enterprise. Chekov had only made things worse. AS the head of ship's security he had first instituted standard starfleet regulations aboard the ship, which was not an official part of the fleet. But that had failed miserably, as incidents of assgrabbing and tomfoolery had reached maddening levels during the first week of the voyage. So, Chekov had instituted corporal punishment, and when that didn't work he formed an "Ethnic Stereotype Drinking Beatdown Squad" Chekov and his Vodka, Sulu and his Sake, Scotty and his Whiskey, and Uhura with her 40oz bottle of malt liquor had started roaming the corridors of the ship at random intervals, beating the shit out of anyone who fucked up and getting extremely drunk in the process. This had put a fewredeemable crewmen back in line but incidents were still commonplace. One crewman, a savage Finn by the name of Gustav, would walk about the ship jabbering endlessly about things he had no idea what he was talking about while simultaneously masturbating himself. Chekov had put it to a vote amongst the crew and by a lopsided margin it was decided that Ensign Gustav Vasa was to be spaced out of an airlock. Soon afterwards, another retarded crewman who kept calling himself "Assassin X of Section 31" was caught peeking at other people's dicks while using the urinals. "Assenine X", as Chekov liked to call him, was also highly unpopular and one day the wannabe intelligence operative practically dared Chekov to pace him out of the airlock. The face he made as the pure vacuum of space interacted with his lungs was morbidly comical Chekov recalled. After those two incidents CHekov decided that Summary Executions were the only prudent way to deal with the crew, as his great great great grandfather had done as a Colonel in the KGB many years ago.

It only took three days of "Chekov's Death Penalty" to reduce the Enterprise Sr's complement to little more than a skeleton crew. Spock and Scotty were desperately trying to think of ideas of how to better automate the ship. At first they considered giving the remainders of the crew powerful amphetamines so they could pull triples shifts for days on end but McCoy had been hesitant to part with what few he had in his possession, plus the fragile nature of the standard redshirt officer was not what it used to be. What Spock would consider 'breakfast' wouldput one of these poor kids into a deep nightmarish coma where every unconscious minute was made unbearable by constant assault from demonic beings. These demons would consume your very soul if left unchecked, which is why a plentiful supply of Thorazine was kept in sickbay.

Scotty and Spock had decided to ponder the matter with help from McCoy's uberbong, which he had constructed by isolating several of the vents in the E_sr's ductwork and rerouting some of the blowers. The result was an automated bong that could force large plumes of smoke into a pair of lungs with great force. Even Spock's Vulcan lungs were no match, and with each hit he began hacking and coughing uncontrollably. McCoy though, ever the stoner just bowed his head scornfully and muttered "Pussy."

Then Uhura's voice came in from the bridge, she had grown rather wrinkled and plump in her advanced age but still insisted on wearing the short red skirted outfit she had worn back in the day. Resulting in one crewmember happily turning himself in to Chekov's Inquisition. "There's a distress call from another Federation Ship! Seems their ship is under attack and is about to explode. The crew needs to evacuate."

McCoy flicked the switch on his communicator, "Dammit woman we're trying to think here. Now think, where are we going to find a new crew? If only we could find like, an exploding ship and the crew needed a new ship. We could totally use those guys."

Spock and Scotty just looked at the holographic reincarnation of their friend, wondering if the program was too accurate. Spock sent a message to the bridge. "Lay in an intercept course! Ready all transporters!" And with that he grabbed a bag of doritos and made his way for the bridge.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-09-05 01:54am, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Falkenhorst » 2005-04-20 01:21am

Warp Core Breach

Incident caused when one consumes excessive amounts of digestively unstable food or drink, such as Welch's Grape Juice or multiple Polish Sausages, either alone or in combination. Such an event can be identified by a foul smell, and wet brown footprints leading to the bathroom.


"I had just gotten up from the dinner table when I suffered a Warp Core Breach all over the dining room floor."

BOTM 15.Nov.02

Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm

"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"


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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-04-21 09:11pm

UPF Chapter XXVII Part 3: Trekkie! Trekkie! Trekkie! Oi Oi Oi!

Last time on Star Trek: Down Under

Then Uhura's voice came in from the bridge, she had grown rather wrinkled and plump in her advanced age but still insisted on wearing the short red skirted outfit she had worn back in the day. Resulting in one crewmember happily turning himself in to Chekov's Inquisition. "There's a distress call from another Federation Ship! Seems their ship is under attack and is about to explode. The crew needs to evacuate."

McCoy flicked the switch on his communicator, "Dammit woman we're trying to think here. Now think, where are we going to find a new crew? If only we could find like, an exploding ship and the crew needed a new ship. We could totally use those guys."

Spock and Scotty just looked at the holographic reincarnation of their friend, wondering if the program was too accurate. Spock sent a message to the bridge. "Lay in an intercept course! Ready all transporters!" And with that he grabbed a bag of doritos and made his way for the bridge.

And now the conclusion

Borg Drone #6969696969696969 has finally finished unfastening the metallic crotch equipment from himself and was on the verge of opening the dilithium chamber, which would set off the Starfleet brand Re-act-o-core(tm). Normally when faced with a core breach any rational being, even one driven to the brink of madness with lust, would realize that there would be no sweet release if the ship exploded, however the Borg were not just being fueled by their own individual lust (a result of assimilating the Australian Sex Emporium aboard the USS Queensland) but by the combined lust of every drone aboard the Cube, thus increasing the problem exponentially, if it felt good, then do it! (Simpson of Borg). The drone placed his hands on the exterior of the machine and was just about to crack the seal when.....ANOTHER ONE TACKLED HIM FROM BEHIND AND STARTED HUMPING HIM! By removing the metallic protection around his groin he was also forced to remove the butt plating, thus making him a viable target for another drone.

Not knowing that the only reason his ship was still intact was due to the unwanted anal violation of one borg by another, Captain Bogan made his way back to the bridge, where the sensors were just picking up the presence of the Enterprise Sr..

"Lt. Bastard, casualty report mate!"

"Lick my arse! I'm trying to fucking read this computer thingy!"

Perhaps it was the constant disrespect by his crew, or perhaps it was the frustration at the impending loss of his ship, or the apallingly low body count, but Captain Bogan finally decided enough was enough. He moved to his console at the bridge and used his command codes to unlock the secret detonator switch. Every bridge station in Starfleet was lined with micro explosives, this had almost disastrous adverse effects during battles or if the ship took damage otherwise. This provided Starfleet captains with a way of weeding out unwanted crewmembers, once the switch was activated, the computer would log the entry as a power conduit overload.

"Piss Off." Captain Bazza mumbled under his breath as he was about to flick the switch that would liquefy Lt. Bastard once and for all. Suddenly the main screen switched from forward view to the visual link with the Enterprise Sr.. Bazza moved his hand away from the console with a quick reflex. A decrept old woman wearing a short skirt more befitting someone a quarter of her age held an earpiece to her ear (unecessary on a SF ship since 2340) and began relaying a message.

"USS Queensland This is the USS Geriatric Fossil operationg under the callsign Enterprise Senior. We're going to begin transporting you into indentured serv....I mean aboard our vessel immediately, please stand by."

Sweet koala breastmilk, we're saved! Thought Captain Bogan, not knowing of the fucking mess he was getting into.

Meanwhile, Drone #6969696969696969's violation had ceased, the aggressive dronefuckerhad suffered a brain aneurysm brought on by the intensity of his orgasm and fell over and died upon climax. The drone Formerly Known as Azeron fell backwards and his tiny cock (only a viable instrument for penetration thanks to four inches of cybernetic elongation) exited Drone #6969696969696969 with a short wet slurp, as if someone was sucking a large noodle of spaghetti through their nose. Drone #6969696969696969 managed to make his way to his feet, and made his way, bowlegged and slowly, towards the dilithium chamber. He opened the chamber and unleashed his throbbing borg dick, the warmth sending him into a soon to be short lived state of bliss.

Aboard the Enterprise Sr Scotty and Sulu were working frantically, beaming over Australians in groups of five.

"Hoory Oop You Karotty choppin ninja! Sensoors Are reeding a layarge noomber of croo still on tha ship!"

"Go chew a dick fatman." Sulu said in his Far East Asian Deep Man voice, which made all the ladies swoon. "I've got a transporter lock on several large metal cylinders, sensors say its a mixture of hops and barely, a yeast of some sorts."

"Good lord laddy, do yew kno whut this meanz?"

"We'll be ending this mission just like we did back in the old days. Miller Time. And the fewer survivors we beam over, the more there will be for us."

"Normahlly eye'd be rite with ya mistair Sooloo, but we need all of the free laybahr we ken git in hyeer. Besoids, how mooch could an Auztrailyin Dreenk anywahys?"

"That depends, how many bottles of whiskey did it take for your mom to give you FAS you dumb sheep fucking prick?"

"Eye've killed men fahr less yew terry-yacky tuhrd, bloody hell weer ronning oot of tyme! Finish the transpahrting and lets go!"

"Theres still nearly a hundred people on board that ship!"

"Fahr gods sake I'm talking about the alcahaul!"

Scotty raised a mighty scottish arm and shoved Sulu out of the way, panting and wheezing as the phsycial exertion taxed his weighed down musculature. Scotty reconfigured the transporters to lock on to everything inside of the ship with an alcohol concentration of at least five percent. The thinking was this would allow for one quick mass beaming of the Queensland's liquor stores.

What Scotty hadn't counted on was the proficiency of the Australians at consumption. As Scotty energized the transporter, it locked on to the remaining crew members as well...

"Eye've cahnsentrayted the booze ta be beamed intah the cahrgo bay! Singahl Mistair Spock and tell him we cahn go!"

The majority of the 228 member crew were beamed over to the Enterprise Sr. with Lieutenant Killjoy the most notable absentee, as he was still in the midst of a vengeful Borg buttfucking.

EPILOGUE: Cargo Bay of the Enterprise Sr.

hundreds of bottles, cans, and a few kegs of beer and an assortment of bottle of hard liquor occupied the main hold. Soctty's plan had worked, but it had come at a terrible price. Scotty, in his haste, had not taken the time to properly adjust the pattern buffers to finely disperse the material being transported, including seventy four members of the Queensland's crew. Many of the crew members emerged disfigured, with cans and bottles of booze protruding from portions of their body, in an ironic twist of fate. Chief Engineer Brisbane literally had a bottle of beer transported inside his stomach, something that he used to do with great frequency when screwing around off duty, but never with the glass along with it. Other crew members had cans sticking out of eye sockets or shoulders. In one regrettable incident, A crewman emerged transported and merged with a keg, his head drowning inside of the sweet XXXX that he had risked his life to save in engineering as the rest of his body kicked and thrashed outside. Fortunately he managed to drink enough to give him a modicum of space to breathe.

But the most frightening happening had to be the incidental merging of crewmembers with each other. Like a twisted menagerie of siamese octuplets. Arms stuck out of buttocks, legs impaled torsos, faces merged in a grotesque scene not unlike that of an orgy for Carnys.

Spock and McCoy stood solemnly at the door to the bay.

"You have to try Doctor, you're the only one who can."

"I dunno man, they're like, awfully messed up. You sure This isn't just the acid messing with my head Spock dude?"

"I assure you doctor, this is not the acid."

"Aw dammit, okay, we'll you better cover your pointy ears cause this is gonna hurt."

McCoy walked across the bay with a chainsaw clutched in his hands, the sound of the Binford-2810 Double-Action 480 Horsepower Diesel Chainsaw only slightly drowning out the screams of the patients about to be separated.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-04-22 12:02pm


(Authors Note: This is a one-shot SW based chapter that takes place after AoTC and before RoTS)


"Judge me by my size do you?"

"Well I errrr ummmm....."

"Judge me by my size you should!"



In a back alley behind the Jedi Temple, the young Twi'lek prostitute raised her hands to her mouth, cupping them over her mouth to stifle what would have been a loud gasp. Deela had not been a whore for long but she was at least smart enough to know that additional noise could bring unwanted attention, especially where her diminuitive green customer had paid her an additional fifty credits for the discretion required.

She had come to Coruscant to find work as a dancer, hoping to make a small fortune catering to the wealthy elite in the Republic capital and return to Ryloth when her looks started to fade. However Strippers in Coruscant didn't make much money, Twi'lek girls were a decicred a dozen on Coruscant and those who did make a living were usually indentured to one client and only paid modestly. One of her fellow dancers, a Gran, had mentioned that she could make a little extra money on the side. With the ubermoralist and doctrinal conservative Benedict Palpatine elected to the Chancellor's position, there had been a steep shortage of 'working girls.'

Coruscant wasn't a safe place, so she decided to stay within a few blocks of the Jedi temple for a little added security, the Coruscant Fuzz didn't patrol this area much and the Jedi didn't really care much about petty crime in the area. In fact more often than not there were a few Padawans dealing spice on the corners. It was either the best rumour she had ever heard or one of the most scandalous secrets that the Jedi were dealing smack in order to fund their order. But it made sense, top of the line starfighters, lightsabers, and the most advanced computer technology in the galaxy didn't come cheap. The Jedi tolerance around the temple made the area known as "The Red Lightsaber District."

It was getting late in the evening and Deela hadn't even been propositioned, what with most people keeping indooors for the latest reports on the Clone Wars and she was about to go home when a small figure covered in robes approached her, he was walking with a cane, make a tapping sound against the pavement.

"Dangerous out here, it can be, for a pretty girl such as you hmmm?"

Deela looked over at him, about ready to just shrug him off and head home, but something in the back of her head caused her to look over at the pint sized being and respond.

"Its all right, besides i'm looking for some company anyway."

"Found some you have, yes?"

"I don't think we mean the same thing..."

The little alien started chuckling, a bizarre laugh that would have been cute had it not been near a dark alley past midnight.

"Understand you well, I do believe, credits I do have."

Deela was able to limit the shock on her face, nearly offended that he would look at her and assume she was a whore, but she sighed to herself, fully aware that is in fact what she was.

"Follow me, for discretion, extra I will pay."

She had followed him to the back alley, there was a small area that the security cameras of the area did not manage to cover, one of thousands of such places all over the Capital District, but these places were largely patrolled, except here in the Red Lightsaber District. They stopped, pausing behind a dumpster. The small man paid his credits and handed her the extra.

"Paying well I am, for one so new at this."

Deela's eyes widened, "How did you know that I..."

It was then that Yoda removed the hood from over his head.

"Oh I understand now, you're a member of the Council, I see you in the holos all the time. You must be the greatest force user on the council!"

"Ohhh, ummm, yess powerful Yoda is..." Yoda, contrary to popular belief, was not a humble man, but damned if he didn't cover for his lack of force talent with cryptic wisdom that made everyone think he was a genius. MAce Windu, Plo Koon, hell even those fuckers Kenobi and Skywalker were tougher, the only reason Yoda had beaten Dooku at Geonosis was because there is nothing more disconcerting that have a little green dwarf chuck himself at you flinging a lightsaber uncontrollably. Dooku had not been bested as Yoda had reported, but had fled to his ship laughing so hard that he was unable to summon the Force to kill all three Jedi he faced. "...but secret, this encounter must be."

"Don't worry hon, you can trust me."

Yoda sensed her with the force again, this bitch was going to rat him out. Normally that was cause enough to carve her into unrecognizeable body parts with the lightsaber and leave her in the nearby dumpster, pass her off to the authorities as a Padawan lightsaber accident. But living for the better part of a millenium comes with a price, erections came only once every hundred years or so. The Jedi Code forbade attatchment but did not explicitly forbid carnal relations, which was why many Jedi frequented prostitutes around and near the temple, or were castrated as infants like Mace Windu. NOw that would be a shock, Mace Windu had the biggest bantha in the herd but lacked the horns. At any rate, Yoda's raging hormones were in overdrive, he had to get laid, and this was the only decent looking whore on the whole block. He wasn't concerned though, the Force would take care of him.

Deela watched as Yoda began removing his robes and undoing his belt, her face contorted into a discerning smirk as she wondered what it was she could actually do for him.

"Judge me by my size do you?"

"Well I errrr ummmm....."

"Judge me by my size you should!"

Deela finally uncupped her hands from her mouth, the shock of the giant twenty five inch penis with 8 inch girth caused her eyes to nearly force their way out of their sockets. It was like a large green Ryloth Jungle Python sticking straight out of a mound of unkempt greay pubic hair. Her lekku twitched nervously and uncontrollably. Yoda could see the shock on her face and feel her surprise through the Force, it aroused him to no end, almost as much as it would arouse him to stretch this girl enough so that they could land a few LAATs. Deela dropped to her knees and took it into her hands, cupping it and flicking the tip of her tongue outwards to stroke the soft supple skin, but before she could gingerly and tenderly pleasure her client, yoda used the force to push on the back of her skull and suppress her gag reflex, Deela's head slid all the way...

2 Hours later

Yoda had finally finished using the Force to purge Deela's memories of the encounter. He was sorely tempted to take his money back also, but the payment for services rendered provided him with enough emotional attachment so that he was still in line with the Jedi Code. Deela had collapsed and Yoda had tossed her into the dumpster and covered her with her coat, so that her gaping fuckholes would not catch a draft. The passed out Deela would awake in the back of a Waste Management Hovertruck about two kilometers from the temple.

Yoda sighed, it would be another hundred years or so before he could do this again, and his cock had reverted to its regular marginal state. He felt demeaned and embarassed for requiring a prostitute, but it was still better than the estimated 4% of Jedi Masters who molested their Padawans.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-08-28 11:49am, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-13 07:33am


Tuvok's Gambit OR Sven of Nine

"The logical thing to do in your predicament would be..."

"You screwed somebody over for the last time you stupid fuck! Shut your mouth!"

The room was filled with the haze of what seemed like the hundreds of smoked cigarettes that now overflowed in the ashtray. Bound tighty with rope and barbed wire, Tuvok's imprisonment had entered its third day. Chaktoay fumbled with the now empty pack of black market Marlboro 100s, desperately seeking a solution to his dilemma.

Chakotay had made a small fortune after VOyager had returned to the Alpha Aquadrant. While it was Janeway who reaped the benefits from starfleet the private sector had been far kinder to the more marketable Chakotay and his equally marketable partner Seven of Nine. It was largely due to his popularity that many of the Maquis were spared imprisonment upon returning home. In fact, most of the Maquis except for a convicted horse banger who joined the Maquis as a way to evade Federation Authorities. In Ensign Trinity's case it was the prized steed of one Commodore Potter, and the good Admiral had arranged for the poor Ensign to be locked in an escape podwith malfunctioning life support systems and abandoned for a few hours near Talos IV. The next day he was rescued, and delivered to the nearest starbase for his trial and execution. Habeas Corpus, one of the few freedoms that survived following the twenty seven year Bush Administration during the early 21st century, was still in effect.

Chakotay's fortunes had made him a target though. Tuvok, as head of security, had always resented the inclusion of Maquis into his crew and once the Alpha Quadrant was in sight he had begun making his own plans. Logic dictated to him that this would be a sublime opportunity to cash in on years of dark secrets and sordid events. But between Neelix asexually reproducing in the stew, Belanna's klingon sex-toy gaining sentinence and murdering four crewmen, and the potential groundbreaking discoveries in new areas of science, nothing was profitable. Nothing attracted attention except for one thing.

Chakotay and Seven were a couple. But not in the way everyone thought. For you see, seven of nine was not what she appeared to be. It was true she had been but a child before her family had been captured and assimilated by the Borg, it was true that for many years her humanity had been suppressed by the cold mechanical ambitions of the Borg. But there was another part of her that no one knew. Tuvok knew her secret, and that same secret would bring down Chakotay as well. Tuvok knew everyone's secret on Voyager, being head of security he was able to unlock any door on the ship, and while the crew slept he would perform his mind melds on them, sometimes transplanting mental images of himself in the subconscious of females he had an eye for. During his prowling one night Tuvok had discovered Sevens greatest secret, and the reason for her designation seven of nine.

There were trillions of Borg in the galaxy, so for Seven to be one of but nine others was an oddity, especially in a collective that considered all of its members as one cohesive entity. Subdividing into small groups had never made sense. But Seven was one of nine experimental subjects for a secret Borg project. The Borg had been experimenting with new ways to produce superior Queens. While the current one functioned sufficiently, tactical failures at Earth had led the Collective to attempt to develop new queens. HOwever the Borg, caught up in their quest for perfection, made several neglectful errors. In their effort to turn one borg drone into a new Queen, they completely disregarded the Gender, unfortunately the emulation process they were using to translate the Queen program into the subject mimicked the original too well. The biologically male drone suddenly began assuming female characteristics, to make things worse, few of the intelligence upgrades had taken effect. Worser still, only one subject out of the nine survived, the male drone formerly known as Sven.

Seven of Nine was actually Sven of Nine. Seven, was a man...

The EMH had been unable to fully recover her humanity, Tuvok and countless other male officers aboard the ship had flocked to the medical bay during her reconstructive surgeries in order to get a good look at her nude form. All were sorely disappointed as the Doctor sadly stated he could not remove the integrated genital plating, Tuvok silently cursed as he had already made plans to hack the security cameras in sickbay and auction off the archived footage. Women were scarce on Voyager, aside from Janeway anything with two legs and something resembling a Vagina was a hot commodity. But never in his wildest dreams had Tuvok guessed Seven was possibly male! To think of how many sleepless nights he spent jerking off to fantasies of ravaging her womanhood, fantasies which never had a chance of succeeding.

After the return of Voyager he immediately set to work writing his tell all, slowly biding his time until Chakotay was popular enough to exploit. That popularity had just hit its peak when Tuvok confronted him, hoping to potentially blackmail him and spare him the effort. Chakotay, being a paranoid and untrusting bastard had excused himself to use the restroom during their meeting and then flooded the room with Trellium gas. Tuvok, high as a kite and in no position to use the Vulcan nerve pinch, was quickly dragged to the remote cellar somewhere in the Nevada desert, bound tightly.

"You can't hide it forever Chakotay, one of these days Sven's secret is going to come out, and the fact that you knew it is going to come out as well! Then the idol to women, hero of the Delta Quadrant is going to have his woman outed as a man, and your star is going to fall."

"You don't think I know that? I mean sure it was awkward at first but as long as I keep fucking her...ermmmm...him...in the ass and as long as Seven errrrmmm Sven keeps that voluptious rack I can pretend he's a she all I want! Men all over the Federation would kill just for a chance to feel one of those tits!"

"But would the feel the same way in order to grope one of her nuts?"

Chakotay cursed and kicked the chair over backwards, taking a large machete into his hand and turning on a nearby television in order to drown out Tuvok's piercing statements.

"You are lucky I can't just kill you now Tuvok, if I did and that bitch JAneway found out i'd never be able to..."

Suddenly the New Reporter on the TV set began speaking in an urgent voice. "This just in, Admiral Kathryn Janeway, leader of the Voyager Expedition and all around bitch, has been confirmed dead today. The victim of murder in a Tijuana motel. Authorities suspect that whomever did this had an extreme dislike for Admiral Janeway, which narrows down the suspects to everyone in the entire world except for one man who goes by the name Stravo, who has launched a largely ignored effort to hunt down the killer."

Chakotay grinned. With Janeway dead, there was nobody left who had any dirt on him or any of his operations he ran on Voyager. Janeway was too well guarded, when she assumed the position of Admiral she had become so paranoid as to be literally the most guarded person on Earth. But now all that was left in the way of potential threats was Tuvok, and that pointy eared bastard was lying broken and beaten on the floor tied to a chair. He wielded the machete and began putting on an apron similar to what a butcher would wear before climbing onto Tuvok.

"Did you hear the good news? Lameway is gone, gone for good, I guess the news isn't good for you though."

Chakotay raised the blade into the air and brought it down hard on Tuvok's forehead, causing a deep SPLUTCH. Blood trickled into Tuvok's eyes causing his vision to go red, and it stayed red for a short time until it eventually faded to black.

The killing was complete but the job was far from over, as Chakotay began the arduous task of hacking the body into pieces, small enough so that they could be disperesed throughout the desert but large enough so that the carrion eating animals would find them quickly. His secrets now safe, he could begin focusing his attention on his pet project. Restoring the Maquis porn ring.


Author's Note:

Hey SHep and Falk, we gotta make the next chapter super deadly vu because its gonna be UPF XXX!
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-05-25 08:26am, edited 1 time in total.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-15 03:07am

In Commemoration of the upcoming Episode 30 for UPF I'll be doing a few nifty little things for y'alls. Hey Lucas, you going Epsiode THREE coming out, well we gots THIRTY. UPF is the PREMIERE Sci Fi Institution of the 21st century.

Here now is the semi-official UPF Body Count

UPF Deathlist:

-Medical Technician (Episode 2, shot to death by Frankie and Seppo)
-Malcom Reed V (Episode 2, liposuctioned to death by Frankie and Seppo)
-Jean Luc Picard (Episode 3, Died when Wesley Crusher was shoved up his ass by Frankie, Seppo, and Data)
-Wesley Crusher (Episode 3, Disembowled and head shoved up Picard's Ass by Frankie, Seppo, and Data)
-Ferengi Whore* (Episode 4, Overdosed Bajoran Angel Dust by Odo prior to killing Quark)
-Quark (Episode 4, confirmed killed by Ferengi Whore in Episode 7)
-Jake Sisko (Episode 8, shot execution style by Nog while fellating Bashir)
-Julian Bashir (Episode 8, shot in his ruined eye socket by Nog)
-Senator Timothy Jones (Episode 9, assassinated by Gnomes who rigged explosives to his Jet Ski)
-"Fifty Civilians, Numerous Security Personnel" (Episode 9, Killed when Benjamin Sisko went postal with his phaser)
-Benjamin Sisko (Episode 9, finally gunned down by Federation security forces)
-Ensign John Clark****(Episode 12, accidentally disintegrated himself with a phaser)
-Super Doomsday Machine (Episode 12, choked to death on huge ball of Frozen Semen)
-"Two Human Flunkies"* (Episode 13, killed by Narn Gangsters in Ivanova's apartment via chainsaw)
-Gnome Gamma Three (Episode 14 prequel, Hammerblow to the skull by Fanboy)
-Gnome Gamma Two (Episode 14 prequel, crushed to death against a bulkhead by Fanboy)
-Gnome Gamma Four (Episode 14 prequel, spine snapped and then burned to death by Fanboy's flamethrower)
-Gnome Gamma One (Episode 14 prequel, Impaled in the head by a metal spike thrown by Fanboy)
-Gnome Beta Team (Episode 14 prequel, ambushed and killed by Fanboy)
-Gnome Delta Team (Episode 14 prequel, dumped into space by Fanboy)
-Gnome Alpha Four (Episode 14 prequel, beheaded by Fanboy)
-Gnome Alpha Three (Episode 14 prequel, Head caved in by Fanboy)
-Gnome Alpha Two (Implaed by Fanboy's boat oar)
-Colonel Lilliput/Alpha One (Killed aboard the Gnomish ship when the bomb he was duct taped to exploded)
-Crew of Gnome Ship (Episode 14 prequel, killed by Fanboy's bomb)
-Kojikun (Episode 14, executed by Frank Hipper for praising the Gnomes over GALE and recycled into pet food)
-Informant (Episode 14, shot in the head with a disruptor pistol by Zaia)
-Gnome Spawn (Episode 14, devoured by Darth Garden Gnome after it imprinted Falkenhorst as its daddy)
-Misc. Porn Dealers (Episode 14, undetermined casualties from Zaia's first barrage w/ machine gun fire)
-Misc. Gnomes (Episode 14, burned to death by Fanboy's flamethrower)
-Misc. Gnome (Episode 14, Impaled and disembowled by Fanboy)
-Misc. Gnome (Episode 14, beheaded by Fanboy)
-Misc. Porn Dealers (Episode 14, executed by Zaia as she was ensuring victims were all dead)
-Darth Garden Gnome* (Episode 14, shot up by Zaia's SMG)
-Misc. Gnome (Episode 14, beheaded by the Einhander's cock)
-Guinan (Episode 14, sucked into space through a hull breach caused by Data)
-"Squad of Security Guards" (Episode 14, brutally killed by Data)
-Geordi LaForge (Episode 14, stuffed in the matter/antimatter mixture chamber by Data and killed when it ignited)
-Crewmen of the USS Enterprise-E (Episode 14, undetermined number killed after the ship exploded)
-Crewmen of the USS Defiant (Episode 15, undetermined number killed in battle with Zeon forces)
-Crewmen of unidentified Intrepid-class (Episode 15, undetermined number killed in battle with Zeon forces)
-Jabba's Twin Brother (Episode 16, devoured by a Sarlaac)
-Brian Eyci (Episode 16, gunned down by Boba Fett after being expelled from Jabba's bowels)
-Lieutenant Arminus (Episode 19, killed by Riker for insubordination and his body eaten)
-Misc. Gnomes (Episode 19, "Dozens" confirmed killed and impaled on the Einhander's cock)
-Lieutenant Anderson (Episode 19, impaled on the Einhander's cock)
-Unknown Federation Officer (Episode 19, used as human shield by Riker and shot by the HAB)
-Three HAB Operatives (Episode 19, Killed by their Team Leader as a way of showing loyalty to the Great Leader)
-Personnel at Starfleet Headquarters (Episode 19, Undetermined number killed when Frigidmagi accidentally burned down Starfleet HQ)
-Kelly Antilles*** (Episode 21, Shot by Shep for $5 from Durandal)
-Misc. Gnome*** (Episode 21, mistaken for an EL Fudge and eaten by Spanky)
-17th Century Hookers (Episode 22, undetermined number found dead under a pier in Boston)
-Wife of Raymond Cavendish (Episode 22, mauled to death by Raymond Cavendish who was acquitted)
-Undetermined number of casualties (Episode 22, victims of RayCav near Salem during the 17th Century)
-John Proctor (Episode 22, killed from his injuries sustained while battling RayCav)
-RayCav (Episode 22, first incarnation killed by John Proctor's pitchfork)
-Ensign Therese Sanchez (Episode 22, killed and eaten by the RayCav-Possessed Reginald Barclay)
-Three additional survivors of the Enterprise E (Episode 22, killed and eaten by the RayCav-Possessed Reginald Barclay)
-John Clark****(Episode 25, killed when Spock found spit in his burger destroyed the McDonalds Space Station)
-Jesse Stamos (Episode 25, killed when Spock found spit in his burger destroyed the McDonalds Space Station)
-Employees and Customers of McDonalds Space Station #452 ((Episode 25, undetermined number killed when the space station was destroyed)
-Cannon Fodder Hippies (Episode 25, undetermined number killed during battle with wild animals)
-Legolas Greenleaf (Episode 26, shot by Sheppard and then crushed by Falk's Cadillac)
-Elven Soldiers (Episode 26, undetermined number shot to death by Falkenhorst at Rivendell)
-Lieutenant Killjoy (Episode 27, killed while being anally violated by a Borg Drone as the USS Queensland exploded
-Borg Drones (Episode 27, undetermined number killed by Australians aboard the USS Queensland)
-Australians (Episode 27, undetermined but small number killed by Borg Drones aboard the USS Queensland)
-Gustav Vasa (Episode 27, spaced out of an airlock by Chekov after lopsided vote)
-Assenine X (Episode 27, spaced out of an airlock by Chekov after lopsided vote)
-Crewmen of the Enterprise Senior (Episode 27, Undetermined number of executions for incompetence by Chekov)
-Borg Drones (Episode 27, undetermined number killed when the Borg Cube and USS Queensland exploded)
-Tuvok (Episode 29, abducted and killed by Chakotay's machete)

*-Presumed but not confirmed dead
**-In Episode 18 Mr. T pitied some Ten Billion-plus Klingons but did not kill any, but the ass whooping was so bad it was even worse.
***-There is a debate regarding Episode 21's canon status within UPF
****-Two different John Clarks, representing two fabulous possibilities

An undetermined number means a minimum of at least two guaranteed.

Non-sentinents do not count.

Also, reminiscing about deaths that did not take place during the story itself do not factor into this list. So while Quark's death even though it wasn't depicted technically counts, Tuvok's reminiscing about Belanna's sex toy killing 4 crewmen on the Voyager does not.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2008-05-13 01:41pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-15 10:19am

Episode Summaries of the Unnamed Porno Fanfic in commemoration of UPF Episode XXX

-EPISODE I: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Sat Nov 23, 2002

The first episode of the series released from Shep's SECRET FANFIC VAULT OF DOOM(tm). Bashir attempts to smuggle pornography in the Bajor system through DS9 by concealing it within Trill Soup Mix. Sisko encounters an open can enroute to Bajor though and is confronted about the problem by the Kai.

-EPISODE II: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Sun Nov 24, 2002

Smut peddlers Sheppard and Falkenhorst travel to the estate of Malcom Reed V with an interest in acquiring large stockpiles of pornography, and they have no intention of paying for it.

-EPISODE III: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Fri Nov 29, 2002

Jean Luc Picard's gay porn productions have been discovered by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, who decide to dispatch hired guns Frankie and Seppo to pay a visit.

-EPISODE IV: 2002 Untitled Christmas Special, by Falkenhorst and Sheppard, posted Thu Dec 12, 2002

Sisko orders Eddington to do a complete security inspection of the station. Odo and Bashir decide to conceal their shady dealings by framing Quark. In the Star Wars galaxy, Emperor Palpatine uncovers a rude surprise after having his way with a pleasure model Human Replica Droid.

-EPISODE V: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Sun Feb 09, 2003

As the depraved crew of the Enterprise E engage in every form of sexual activity they can, an innocent mistake causes a large volume of urine to enter the ship's ventilation system, creating a rancid smell piror to the ship's annual inspection.


-EPISODE VII: Untitled, by Falkenhorst with material from Darth Fanboy and Crayz9000, posted Sat Jun 28, 2003

Sisko's search for the source of DS9's pornography hits close to home as he discovers Jake in a traumatic state. Meanwhile, Bashir's predations on the crippled Nog are interrupted by Frankie and Seppo.

-EPISODE VIII: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Sat Aug 02, 2003

Sheppard and Falkenhorst hand over the torture of Bashir to their new associate, Nog, who takes revenge on his tormentor Bashir and on Jake, who paralyzed him.

-EPISODE IX: Untitled, by Sheppard and Falkenhorst with material from Illuminatus Primus, posted Sun Aug 03, 2003

A prominent Federation senator is assassinated by the Gnomes. Sisko goes insane after the death of his son and his failure to stop the porn syndicate on DS9 and is eventually gunned down. Tom Paris replaces Sisko, bringing his assistant Stravo along with him.

-EPISODE X: Shit Begins To Happen, by Sheppard, posted Tue Aug 05, 2003

Troi attempts to get back at Worf and Riker by infecting their replicators with a bacteria that induces explosive diarrhea. When all of the replicators become infected however it is up to the crew of the E-E to find a solution to the overwhelming amount of feces they are producing. Admiral Janeway orders Riker to investigate the Gnomes.

-EPISODE XI: The Gnomes Don't Show Up (Yet), But Lots of Others Do!, by Sheppard, Sun Oct 26, 2003

Captain Hyperion crashes a large tanker carrying semen to the Female dominated Principality of Zeon, contaminating the planet Oberon VI. Admiral Janeway makes a powerful enemy in the form of Zeon's leader, the Duchess Marina O'leary. The Duchess dispatches her top agent Zaia with orders to kill Janeway and recover the money spent. Janeway diverts the Enterprise to Oberon VI for cleanup duty before they leave for Gnomish territory. LaForge suffers a grave injury to his loins while doing unnatural things to the ship.

-EPISODE XII: The Clean Up, by Sheppard, posted Sun Oct 26, 2003

After using the tractor beam to remove most of the spilled semen from Oberon VI, an icy cum ball is left to drif tthrough space where it encounters the new and improved Doomsday Machine. Riker "dispatches" Section M led by Andrew Joshua Talon in order to "oversee the cleanup".

-EPISODE XIII: Untitled Babylon 5 Chapter, by Falkenhorst, posted Mon Feb 02, 2004

Tom Riker is dispatched to Babylon 5, where Garibaldi helps him gain access to the station. The Narns show they aren't to be fucked with while playing cards and taking turns having their way with Ivanova. Zack Allan admires the porn ring he has developed.

-EPISODE XIV PREQUEL: You Must Be This Tall To Survive, by Darth Fanboy, posted Tue Dec 28, 2004

A prequel written especially for the fan-favorite Chapter 14. Fanboy lures the gnomes onto a derelict Ferengi Marauder with Romulan porn in an attempt to slaughter them.

-EPISODE XIV: OH GOD NO IT'S BACK, by Sheppard, posted Wed Dec 15, 2004

The fateful meeting at the Gnomish Asteroid takes place, with the heads of the largest porn cartels gathering to divide the quadrant. Riker and his away team are captured when they fail to infiltrate the meeting, which is disrupted anyway by simultaneous attacks from Fanboy and Zaia. Nog decides to attack the GALE Flagship, which frees the Einhander from captivity and allows him to run free aboard the asteroid. Brutal fighting breaks out between the various factions, resulting in many dead porn dealers and many dead gnomes. Sheppard and Falkenhorst hire Fanboy to help them escape the asteroid when the path of their ship is blocked. As the Enterprise waits for word from Riker, Geordi concocts a plan to restore his manhood by using Datas cybernetic cock and balls. When Geordi's attempt to disable Data fails Data goes on a rampage and initiates a warp core breach after murdering several crewmen.

-EPISODE XV: The Violation of Miles O'Brien, by Darth Fanboy and Sheppard with material from Duchess of Zeon, posted Thu Dec 16, 2004

Keiko O'Brien has finally had enough of the brutal treatment she is given by her husband Miles. She knocks him unconscious and captures him using plants before stealing arunabout which will allow her to escape to the Principality of Zeon. In Zeon, she hopes, she could market her vegetable based sex toys earning her a fortune, as well as being granted the legal right to take vengeance on Miles. Tom Paris attempts to thwart her escape but his modern Federation task force is routed by Innerbrat and her trio of refitted D7s at the border.

-EPISODE XVI: The Butt of the Hutt is the Passage to the Gut, by Darth Fanboy with material from Falkenhorst, posted Wed Jan 05, 2005

Jabba the Hutt is suffering from horrible constipation, and it is up to the fledgling mercenary Elfdart to relieve the problem by any means necessary. Inside Jabba's bowels, a terrible secret from the Hutt's past awaits.


-EPISODE XVIII: This Chapter Sucks, by Darth Fanboy with material from Falkenhorst, posted Wed Jan 12, 2005

Worf is ordered to travel back in time to procure the fiercest human warrior of all time. Mr. T is taken back to Q'onos. UPF fans ponder whether or not the franchise has jumped the shark. Berman and Braga enjoyed this particular script.

-EPISODE XIX: The Objective Interim Chapter Beyond the Chapter After Next, by Sheppard with material from Sea Skimmer, Falkenhorst, Illuminatus Primus, Frigidmagi, and Nathan F, posted Wed Jan 12, 2005

Paris meets with Janeway after the disastrous battle with the Zeon while Stravo tries to conceal a semen stain. Riker is debriefed on his escape from the Gnomish Asteroid and his encounters with the Einhander and the HAB. FRigidmagi attempts to kill everyone with knowledge of the HAB but a computer error allows his targets to escape while destroying the rest of Starfleet headquarters. Janeway and Stravo escape to Tijuana while the Great LEader orders Frigidmagi to eliminate the targets or be killed himself.

-EPISODE XX: The Farscape Special Edition, by Darth Fanboy, posted Thu Jan 13, 2005

Crichton is infected with an STD by Chianna, so he and Dargo decide to teach her a lesson. Meanwhile, Moya goes into heat and begins dry humping a passing freighter.

-EPISODE XXI: We're As Broke As Michael Jackson!, by Darth Fanboy and Sheppard, posted Fri Jan 14, 2005 8:50 pm

The infamous UPF bachelor auction. A short epilogue was written by Darth Fanboy and posted two days later.

-EPISODE XXII: Lord of the Cockrings I, by Falkenhorst, posted Sat Jan 15, 2005

Ian Mckellan is replaced by George Carlin after an incident with a sheep. RayCav is born during the 17th century and lies dormant within the bloodline of Reginald Barclay, who becomes RayCav after fleeing the Enterprise E on an escape pod, which crashes on Middle Earth.

-EPISODE XXIII: Logic Dick-Tates, by Darth Fanboy, posted Mon Jan 17, 2005

Spock is enjoying retirement at the Federation Officers retirement home when he is visited by Scotty, who delivers a post-mortem message from Kirk. The message informs Spock that a despicable porno tape made during the original Enterprise's first voyage survived the destruction of that ship. Spock assembles a crew of his old friends and Starfleet rejects and sets off to find the tape and destroy it.

-EPISODE XXIV: The "Real McCoy" or "Legend of Fanboy's Taint", by Darth Fanboy, posted Sat Jan 22, 2005

Spock and Scotty attempt to recreate their deceased friend McCoy using the EMH while dealing with the incompetents that make up their new crew. Fanboy reveals why he hates gnomes and shows off his ship.

-EPISODE XXV: Vegans of Vega, by Darth Fanboy with material from Sheppard and Falkenhorst, posted Wed Mar 09, 2005

As the Federation crackdown on illegal pornography rears its ugly head Falk and Shep decide to make some extra money on the side at the colony of Vega IX. The Vegans are a bunch of vegetarian hippies led by a spineless administrator named Axis Kast. The animals on Vega IX have become violent and agressive with even hamsters preying on humans. The trio parts ways as Fanboy goes out into the jungle to hunt, Falkenhorst chases some ass, and Sheppard calls Vympel Pyrotechnics to procure some heavy Soviet-Era firepower. The Enterprise Senior encounters a McDonalds managed by one John Clark, who learns what happens when you spit in a Vulcan's sandwich. Shep and Falk rally the Vegan colonists to defend their city against a large number of predatory animals.

-EPISODE XXVI: Lord of the Cockrings II, by Falkenhorst, posted Wed Mar 16, 2005

Shep and Falk take their ship to Middle Earth is search of the One Cockring. While driving in Falk's Cadillac they encounter Legolas and the Elven forces of Rivendell. Falkenhorst quickly loses his patience.

-EPISODE XXVII: Star Trek Down Under, by Darth Fanboy, posted Tue Mar 22-Thu Apr 21, 2005

The largely Aussie crew of the USS Queensland is attacked by a Borg Cube, and it is up to the Enterprise Senior to rescue them.

-EPISODE XXVIII: "The Red Lightsaber District!" or "Yoda Needs Ass!", by Darth Fanboy, Fri Apr 22, 2005

Yoda hires a prostitute outside of the Jedi Temple.

-EPISODE XXIX: "Tuvok's Gambit" OR "Sven of Nine", by Darth Fanboy, posted Fri May 13, 2005

Tuvok attempts to blackmail Chakotay after learning that Seven of Nine is actually a man.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-18 06:34am

Continuing The First Ever UPF Celebration, here now is a little sneak preview of what you can expect from the eagerly anticpated UPF DVD Box Set.


Chapter Three featuring Sheppard and Falkenhorst

"Captain Picard, there are some men to see you," replied Data,
who tried to hide his disgust at being forced into Picard's
gay porn holos in order to retain his rank and position on the

"Send them in," replied Picard as he put away the whips and
told Wesley to get the fuck into the closet.

Life was good, ever since Wesley had returned from being
with that Traveller asshole. He was now Picard's bitch,
and Beverly was none the wiser.

Picard cracked an evil smile at that. He truly was
master of his domain.

Sheppard: When we came up with Frankie and Seppo originally they were going to be the two grunt workers for Shep and Falk.

Falkenhorst: We couldn't have the leaders of the best porn syndicate in the galaxy dirtying their hands with the hard stuff eh?

Sheppard: Oh wait turn it up this is the best part!

A deathly silence then filled the room as everyone stared at
each other. It was suddenly broken by a loud banging noise
from one of the closets in the Captain's ready room.

"Frankie, open that door, see what the fuck's in there."
ordered Seppo.

Opening the door, Seppo barely avoided being knocked over by
a sobbing Wesley Crusher bound and gagged in a leather outfit
complete with ball gag in his mouth and a anal plug in his

Sheppard: Bwahahaha! That shit never keeps me from laughing! You knew Wesley was gimping for Picard!

Falkenhorst: Y'know in retrospect killin him off so quickly sort of ruined a lot more potentially hilarious and disgusting scenes...

Sheppard: Picard or Wesley?

Falkenhorst: Both!

Chapter 15 featuring Sheppard and Fanboy

Sheppard: This was your first chapter wasn't it?

Fanboy: That would be this one yes.

"The fuck is this? Computer, locate Chief Miles O'Brien." shouted Paris in frustration, already
feeling the shakes taking ahold, and his gut beginning to gurgle. God damn Neelix and his
food. The little bastard's food had given him Parmellian dysentry four years ago, and every day
since that fateful day his gut always began to act up, requiring 400 mg of antibiotics to keep
it down for the day, so he wouldn't embarass himself while on duty.

"Chief Miles O'Brien is not on this station," came the cheery reply of the computer several seconds
later, causing Paris to curse in disbelief.

"Oh come on now, the fat bastard couldn't have disappeared entirely. Scan engineering for
traces of rotgut and fresh vomit. Widen the search to fit the rest of the station if engineering
comes up negative."

Several more agonizing seconds passed, Paris could feel the gurgle in his gut becoming louder,
and he glanced towards the bathroom anxiously, and then the computer finally replied.

"There are no traces of illegal liquor or human regurgitant anywhere on this station."

"Well, fuck me dead," replied Paris as he came to realize that O'Brien really was gone.

Sheppard: Remind me again why we used Tom fucking Paris?

Fanboy: I have no idea, maybe it's because he seems like a whiny little cunt and its people like that who deserve this sort of mockery?

Sheppard: I prefer the term "poetic license".

Chapter 27 featuring Falkenhorst and Fanboy

But the most frightening happening had to be the incidental merging of crewmembers with each other. Like a twisted menagerie of siamese octuplets. Arms stuck out of buttocks, legs impaled torsos, faces merged in a grotesque scene not unlike that of an orgy for Carnys.

Spock and McCoy stood solemnly at the door to the bay.

"You have to try Doctor, you're the only one who can."

"I dunno man, they're like, awfully messed up. You sure This isn't just the acid messing with my head Spock dude?"

"I assure you doctor, this is not the acid."

"Aw dammit, okay, we'll you better cover your pointy ears cause this is gonna hurt."

McCoy walked across the bay with a chainsaw clutched in his hands, the sound of the Binford-2810 Double-Action 480 Horsepower Diesel Chainsaw only slightly drowning out the screams of the patients about to be separated.]

Falkenhorst: Jesus Christ! Where do you come up with that shit?

Fanboy: Well most of my chapters are either the result of sleep deprivation, binge drinking, or both.

Falkenhorst: So if I were to give you a bottle of tequila and some No-Doz we could have another some twenty chapters by the end of next week?

Fanboy: Maybe.

Falkenhorst: Speaking of which how do you know so much about all of this shit your character seems to keep taking?

Fanboy:.......(utter silence)

"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
-Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-22 10:50am

UPF News In Brief

UPF Shatters Fanfic box office records, surpasses StarCrossed

While the third episode of Star Wars grossed $50 million on its opening day, setting an all time record for films. "The Unnamed Porno Fanfic" grossed $50 in its opening day, setting a new one-day and all time record for Fanfics, topping the $14 grossed by Stravo's hit crossover "Starcrossed" and $8 grossed for Mike Wong's "Conquest". Thought this $50 was generated when the authors used a rolled up copy of the script to beat down and old lady and take her purse (Subsequently spending the money on "wonderfully efficient booze" such as Milwaukee's Best Ice, and Midnight Hobo.) Most of the money was in small coin demoninations of nickels and pennies.

Fans line up for UPF Episode XXX

Die hard UPF Readers, also known as "Unnamed Porno Fans", lined up early for the premiere of UPF XXX, dressed in the costumes of their favorite UPF characters eagerly awaiting a movie that seemed almost inevitable fromthe beginning. Some of the more elaborate cstumes included one gentleman who was wearing a Data costume covered in faux blood. When asked questions about the film the gentleman simply began whistling "Pop goes the weasel" making threatening strides towards the person next to him in line. Another interesting costume was a gentleman who came dresses as captain picard, with a headless dummy swewed into the seat of his pants wearing BDSM gear, a rendition of Picard and Crusher's death in the third installment of the series. One person waiting in line appeared to be dressed as an inebriated Deanna Troi, but it was in fact, Marina Sirtis, who was passed out drunk in a nearby gutter before crawling towards the area where fans waited in line. But by far the most controversial costume could be the fan who came dressed as the infamous Einhander. Einhander, who appears in UPF as a psychotic sex-crazed creation of GALE Industries, is known for his part in UPF 14, where his rampant lethal skullfucking of gnomes struck fear in the hearts of many.

Ron Mexico joins All Star Cast

In what is proving to be a coup for the creators of UPF, an agreement has been made with legendary sweet talker Ron Mexico, effectively doubling already enormous amount of Star Power UPF controls. "The addition of Ron Mexico places the Unnamed Porno Fanfic in a position to maximize shareholder's investments while diversifying our gains in key demographics." Said Darth Fanboy "What's more, the undeniable Charisma Ron Mexico brings to our cast is superior to that of Henry Winkler." Winkler was originally cast in the role of "Shep" before the UPF creator decided to portray himself and was unavailiable for comment.

Falkenhorst refuses to attend UPF premiere, fears extradition

Citing what he calls, "a ludicrous attempt at persecution", UPF co-creator and developer of the famed "Lord of the Cock Rings" storyline Falkenhorst will not be able to attend the premiere of UPF XXX in the United States, choosing instead to attend a separate unveiling ceremony in the town of Fucking, Austria. Fucking is a popular city with English-speaking tourists, who routinely steal city signs from the town. Falkenhorst's refusal stems from a June, 2003 incident in Toronto, Canada where a dispute between Falkenhorst and members of the Canadian media escalated into a brawl, culminating in Falkenhorst's throwing of a molotov cocktail at a reporter for the (fringe newspaper)Canadian Commie Liberal Whiner-Gazette, engulfing the reporter in flames. Charges were filed in the incident but not before Falkenhorst had managed to flee to Europe by way of the United States, where he now resides. Fearing an extradition treaty between the United States and Canada, Falkenhorst has repeatedly vowed never return to the United States until his freedom can be guaranteed.

Not an official chapter but something help whet the appetite for all the readers. I'll be doing some more shit like this until we've complete the final phase of our latest evil plan.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2005-05-25 08:23am, edited 2 times in total.
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"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting."
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Post by MKSheppard » 2005-05-25 02:52am

Chapter XXX Part I:

Only Vin Diesel knows the name to the Unnamed Porno Fanfic

Tijuana, Mexico

“Hmm, you look nice, sweetie,” groweled Kathryn Janeway as she took
a long drag off her unfiltered Marlboro, something that she could only
get south of the border on her monthly trips.

“I sure am, hon. Five hundred,” replied the hooker that Janeway
was solicting. Janeway thought over the cost and benefits of buying
this woman's services. Five hundred ferenginar credits wasn't cheap,
but this woman looked relatively disease free, which was a rarity
in Tijuana, and those trips to sickbay were beginning to attract
unhealthy attention from her higher ups.

“You're hired.”

“Yay, me.” replied the hooker sarcastically.

[30 minutes later]

Janeway unlocked the door to the room where she was staying with Stravo;
as the door opened, the hooker frowned in disgust at the sight of a naked
man tied up with handcuffs to the bed, and happily eating what looked
like shit.

It was with glee that she noted the disgusted look on the hooker's face. Well
now, it was too late, far too late for the woman; she'd taken the money
and she was theirs for the next couple of days.

[15 minutes later]

Stravo felt his manhood become even more swollen as he watched his mistress,
his bright shining star, the unimitable Kathryn Janeway prepare to eat out the
hooker before reaming her out with the double sized strap-on dildo that he
had come to know very well.

Suddenly, the hooker closed her legs around his Kathryn's neck, and he could
hear her gasps for breaths as she struggled to breathe.

“So, Admiral, you thought you could escape blowing off the Principality of
Zeon over our sperm shipment? You thought wrong,” snarled the hooker as
she tightened her legs ever further.

Stravo struggled against the handcuffs on his arms and legs, the steel biting into
his flesh as he tried to rip them off, to save his love from this vile beast that was
killing her.

Janeway's eyes began to bulge out of her sockets, and blood vessels began
to burst on them as she strained and exerted herself, causing Stravo to
begin struggling even harder against his bonds.

“Oh sweetie, don't worry. I'll take care of you,” crooned the hooker, and with that,
she smothered Stravo's face in her generous bosom.

The hooker grinned evilly as Stravo struggled against her suffocating tits,
before lapsing into unconsciousness. Between her legs, she also felt Janeway's
struggles weaken, and then finally stop. A foul stench filled the cheap motel
room as Janeway's bowels emptied, causing the hooker to almost gag, before
her training suppressed the instinct. She'd been through worse as part of her
Zeonic training.

The mark was almost certainly dead, but a bungled assassination attempt in the
past had made Zaia cautious of people who appeared to be dead, so she kept
Janeway in a leglock for a further ten minutes, just to be sure.

[30 minutes later]

“Goddamn, this is one tough bitch,” muttered Zaia as she struggled mightily
to stuff Janeway's body into an ice cooler that she had bought from a replicator
station ten minutes ago.

Dropping Janeway's limbs in disgust, Zaia left the room for several minutes,
before returning with a fire axe that she had appropriated from the nearby fire
extinguisher station..

In a few minutes, she had the former admiral of the Federation in the cooler,
and the room now resembled a bloody rohrsach painting. Wiping the sweat and
blood spatter from her brow, she glanced over at Stravo, who was still unconscious
from when she had breast-suffocated him about forty minutes ago.

Walking into the bathroom, Zaia stripped down to bare skin, and quickly
stuffed the hooker duds into a trash can which she promptly filled with lighter
fluid and lit off. As the filthy clothes burned, she showered, wearing the soap
down to a nubbin in an obsessive attempt to cleanse herself of the stink of
Janeway and Stravo. For some reason, she felt particularly unclean after
touching those two.

Finally, when the hot water of the entire inn had run down, Zaia finally left
the shower, wiped off and put on the clean clothes she carried in her purse.

She also had one task to carry out before she left the sanctuary of the motel
room; and that was to place the diplomatic seal of the Principality of Zeon
onto the cooler. Now no man could touch it and live. The Principate was
very very good at ensuing that happened.

Lifting one end of the cooler, Zaia rolled it out of the room on it's little wheels,
leaving behind Stravo handcuffed to the bed. With any luck, someone would
notice after a couple of days and free him. If no one did, well it wouldn't be much
of a loss.

[1 hour later – Tijuana Starport]

As Zaia boarded the liner that would begin her long journey back to Zeonic Space,
she sighed. This had been a productive trip, but she felt uneasy about leaving that
deficient specimen of manhood alive back in the motel; surely she should've killed
him first.

“Damn it, I'm losing my killer edge.”

Unfortunately for Zaia, and the other 34 men, 42 women, 21 children, and
104 orphans who were being sent to a Federation Orphanage on Trill on the
liner, the head of the ground maintenance section of the Tijuanian starport
was one of Montgomery Scott's bastard children; who suffered from a strange
variant of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome which only affected those children that
Scotty had fathered.

So it was thusly that Charles Montgomery, a.k.a. “Ron” Mexico had forgotten
to bolt the matter/antimatter intake feed splitter back into the warp core after
cleaning it earlier that afternoon. He'd also forgotten to reinstall the various nuts
and bolts he'd removed to get to the feed splitter.

As a result of this, the warp core on the Liner simply came apart at an altitude
of 4,000 meters, and the dangerous matter/antimatter mix combined outside
the safety of the core.

Everyone on the liner, and the surrounding ten kilometers around the spaceport
was vaporized by the fireball of the 1 gigaton detonation. As the monstrous
mushroom cloud rose into the sky, a poisonous rain began to fall over what
was left of Tijuana....

*Sound of the film on a movie projector burning out, causing
the screen to go completely white*

“God damn it, Shep, what the fuck are you thinking?” shouted Darth Fanboy
as he beat the back of Shep's head with a giant inflatible dildo, one of the many
props used for creative thinking during UPF production by the intrepid trumvir
of authors.

“What? What? I haven't killed a shitload of people in the last few chapters of UPF,
people will think I'm slipping!”

Appearing out of the darkness, Falkenhorst threw a jar of Astroglide, which
barely missed Sheppard's head by inches. “You stupid fuck, you should have
thought about that contract we'd just signed with Zaia for the next thirty chapters
of UPF before you killed her off!”

“Yeah man, we had to scalp a lot of tickets to a lot of midnight screenings to
pay those damn fees!” shouted Fanboy as he held up the next UPF Action figure
scheduled for release, the CHOPPING MOTION ZAIA with REALSOUND (TM).

“This is as close as you're coming to taking MY clothes off, male scumbag!”
shouted the figure when Fanboy pushed the button on it's back idly.


“Two, Four, Six, Eight, who do we emasculate?”


“Its my time of the month...to kill you!”

“We had goddamn gauranteed sales in the quadruple digits to the Angry Young
Virgin Brigade on SDN, you fucking twat!” shouted Falkenhorst. “Besides,
it's the closest those fucknuts would get to touching a woman anyway...”
muttered Fanboy in disgust.

“Okay, okay , you fucking bastards! You're fucking breakin' my balls here,
you know that?” muttered Sheppard as he began the RetCon.

[The Night Before Zaia's Death]

A hovertruck's brake suddenly failed as it was carrying a heavy load of donkey
manure through the streets of Tijuana. The driver, fighting to regain control of
the ungainly vehicle unfortunately ran over the intoxicated Charles Montgomery
as he staggered home to his hovel through the streets of Tijuana. Without C.M.'s
“expert” repair work, the Liner made it's way home through the spaceways, and
the UPF trumvirate made millions of dollars off of Zaia-themed merchandise...

[The Fortress of Solitude, at the center of the Fanfic Galaxy]

“Sir! We've detected a Fanfic Paradox!” shouted one of the fanfic archive

“Inform the master!”

Deep within the fortress, the Fanfic Master, Prime Dalton, sat meditating
on the meaning of Fanfics, when one of his cloned underlings interrupted.

“What is it Dalton Two-Three?”

“Master, we've detected massive plotline retconning and paradoxes in...”

Prime Dalton sighed. “Let me guess, Unnamed Porno Fanfic?”

“Indeed, Prime.”

“Their crimes against fanfics have gone too far. They shall not be
allowed to cram even more plotlines into this abortion of a fanfic.
Dalton Two-Three, take the Michael January and apprehend
the monsters responsible for this.”

“At once, Prime!”

Sector 202AB – Near the wreckage of the Enterprise-E

The Asskicker cruised slowly through the debris field from the E-E, every
so often stopping to tractor something into her hangar bay. Even with the kind of
cash flow Porn lords like Shep and Falk had, some things were hard to find, or
too expensive for even them.

Inside Falk's living quarters, which looked like something out of a 1970s pimp
blaxploitation film, the two partners in porn were reviewing the data they'd
recovered from the Enterprise's shattered computer core.

“Hey Shep, listen to this!” shouted Falkenhorst as he began to read a letter from
Captain Riker aloud.
To the Parents of Jessie Stamos,

Your son died bravely in Main Engineering when he gave his life to stop an influx
inverse polarization of the graviton wavefront in the Warp Core which would
have destroyed the ship.....

Who the fuck am I kidding? He was jerking off with a belt tied around his neck
in the Jeffries tube just off of Main Engineering, when he somehow slipped and
choked to death. I guess he had some good qualities....Maybe.

Captain William T. Riker

P.S. The S.O.B. owed me poker money. Please send five bars of gold pressed
Latinium to the following P.O Box....
“That's nothing.” Shep replied as he began reading another letter outloud.
Dear Mr. Jezrianna,

It pains me to inform you of the death of your daughter. She died a heroic and
meaningful death, which was in no way caused by a brutal raping from our
Klingon tactical officer. She was a good starfleet officer, and gave one hell
of a blowjob.

Captain William T. Riker

P.S. Remember, no raping involved...at all...
“Eh, it's sort of weak, Shep. You can't trust those Klingons anyway...”
Falk said in between bites of the hamburger he was eating.

“Whatever. I'd like to see you do better.”

“Easy,” and with that, Falkenhorst began to read outloud once more.
Dear Mr and Mrs Maybourne,

It is with a heavy heart that we must inform you that your son, Ensign Robert Maybourne
died while on shore leave on the planet Risa. Apparently a woman's breast accidentally
brushed against him and he instanteously incinerated into a thousand pieces in a rare
display of spontaneous human combustion.

We will always cherish our memories of having to lock him in the brig for
being a complete fucking idiot. We hope that the two of you never fuck
each other again or anyone else for that matter with the hopes that your
twisted, schizophrenic, and obviously defective DNA does not reach
another generation.

If at all possible, we ask that you consider Sterilization procedures or castration,
and if possible, suicide.

Please visit your Local Political Headquarters for information regarding
forced sterilization and how you can go about leading productive lives in
a Federation Gulga...errr...Colony...

Capt. William T. Riker

P.S. If you have any other children, I will hunt them down personally and
fire them out of our torpedo bay, you two are sick, sick, sick motherfuckers.
After Falkenhorst had finished the letter, there was a long silence in the room
before Shep disgustedly threw a bar of Gold Pressed Latinium at Falk.

“Goddamit, you win.”
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong

"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944

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Darth Fanboy
Posts: 11182
Joined: 2002-09-20 05:25am
Location: Mars, where I am a totally bitchin' rockstar.

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2005-05-25 07:13am

Chapter XXX Part II:


By Darth Fanboy and MKSheppard

[Sunnyvale West High School, 21st Century]

It was a normal day at Sunnyvale West High School. The normal amount of hijinks and wackiness had been offset by the abnormal amount of both teachers and faculty who played hooky to catch a screening of "Revenge of the Sith." All was well and good, what with the summer months not being far away and many of the students looking to graduate ASAP.

At about 11:00 though, during the transition between third and fourth period, several loud popping sounds could be heard from a remote corner of the building. At first most of the students thought that the Heavy Armor Brats, a small but recognizeable gang lead by that hood Skimmer, we're pulling off their time honored end-of-the-year tradition by lighting off a few dozen firecrackers in the gym. As the popping sounds got louder and closer to the classrooms though, some of the students began to wonder what kind of a prank it was...

Unfortunately most of the Sunnyvale West students were jaded, it took a lot to make a Sunnyvale West kid freak out, like when that Wilson kid in the junior RoTC was rumored to have taken home economics. So when Daniel Rodgers showed up to school, apparently bitter of his expulsion mid-semester, people had wondered what the infamous Ninja-man had decided to do.

Rodgers had made it a habit of rolling around doing awkward tumbles in the hallways, always pausing briefly to blow "ninja death dust" (talcum powder" at unsuspecting victims. After one incident where he shook the powder from a box of Mr. Daltons pirzed donuts he was suspended, when he voiced his outrage by saying that the ghosts that inhabited the walls would rise up and kill everyone in the building he was expelled. The Superintendent had been glad to do it too, the little fucker was becoming a pain in the ass.

Daniel though, and a few other former students (who all had the derogatory nickname of "troll") who had been forced into open enrollment at another school district had showed up for the final day of regular classes for the school year. At first it was amusing but nobody thought it was funny when they all walked through the door wearing closed trenchcoats and staring viciously through their sunglasses. Within 15 minutes, Sunnyvale West became a bloodbath. Jocks, geeks, metrosexuals, it mattered little to the rifles of these very pissed off and very banned students. All of them fell before his wrath, all of them. Suddenly, Mr. Football Hero Mike Wong came charging at him with a spear tackle. But Daniel Rodgers was more than just a human now, he was the VisionRazor, he would live under an assumed identity after his work was done here, all of his enemies wer ebeing defeated, almost eveything had been accomplished except to blast every last one of those cheerleaders who mocked his pungent but natural scent. All the jocks fell under his gun, all the other geeks who shunned him for being a jerk, even the drug dealers who wouldn't sell to him because he couldn't be fucking trusted......Suddenly the world was black, and a loud ringing filled his ears.

"Daniel honey, wake up, it's time for home schooling!"

"Awwww but moooooom it's not even noon yet!"

"I don't care young man you get down here right this minute and do some math problems."


"And take a shower right this minute!"

Daniel Rodgers cursed his miserable life, one of these days he would have his revenge on the school that shunned him. Nobody could exile greatness and get away with it. There was plenty of death dust for every last one of them, all of them.

[Zeon Colonial System of Lesbos IV, 24th Century]

A small squadron of ships, each one a different variation of the Peregrine with a different appearance, emerged from hyperspace along with their flagship, a mothership of original design. The pilots were all members of a secretive criminal organization, space pirates in a sense. But these were no ordinary pirates by any stretch of the imagination. These were Raiders, Panty Raiders to be precise, led by none other than the outlaw Lord Spanky VII.

After the disaster at the Gnome-sponsored asteroid meeting, Spanky and his entourage of anime-inspired henchmen fled aboard the flagship Lacy Larceny to their secret rendezvous deep putside of Federation territory, near the Hentai Nebula. Those bastards in the Sicilian Mafia, led by that bastard Soresso, had been muscling in on every niche Anime pornography market that had been the cash cow for Spanky's own syndicate. For years Spanky and his ancestors had controlled the Anime porn market, mainly because it was far easier to exploit animators than it was actors, and one only needed two or three talented animators to be successful as opposed to dozens of actors and actresses. The only real overhead for the operation was in the distribution. That was where the Sicilians had started. At first Spanky had contracted them to provide safe transport for his product, before long they were taking a cut of the profit and not long after that they had begun stealing shipments outright. They had even hired away Spanky's best animator and killed another talented artist that refused their offer of employment. Spanky had hoped that the Sicilians could be defeated at the bargaining table, but when that crazy Zeon commando showed up and "All Hell Broke Loose (tm)" he had been forced to flee. He was sure he hadn't been recognized, which was good, for he was on Zeon's most wanted list.

Also known in some circles as "the Bukkake Baron", and "Lemon Lord", Spanky had another side business that had made him one of the more infamous Porn dealers in the entire alpha quadrant. He was the king of the panty raiders. His daring raids on colonies from every nation, be they Federation, Klingon, Romulan, or otherwise, in known space were legendary. On one of his more celebrated triumphs, he and his gang managed to sneak through the wormhole during the Dominion War and return safely with several cargo holds full of Gamma Quadrant panties. However the real measure of his accomplishments were not one but TWO successful panty raids on Zeon colonies. The Ultrafeminist nation had the tightest border security in known space, but Spanky had managed through a combination of luck and skill to evade patrols both times. During the second raid, a raid which procured the thong bikini of a mid-level government official, his face had been caught on a security camera and it was the Duchess herself who personally ordered that Spanky be declared an eney of the state, a title which usually was accompanied by death not long after it was awarded. Spanky had played it safe at every turn since then, but he knew his luck was running out. Unfortunately, thanks to the damn Sicilian, so were his funds.

So when the mysterious stranger approached him about a new venture into Zeon territory, Spanky had been quick to dismiss it as suicidal but reconsidered when he saw how much was being worth per set of undies. One hundred bars for every liberated pair of ladies' panties. This was a ludicrous sum of money, considering that Spanky had a reputation for being able to get every pair a colony of women had to offer. The money from this operation would be enough to buy even more ships, hire more soldiers, it would be enough to reclaim the birthright laid out for him in the early 21st century by his great ancestor. That had pushed him towards considering it, and when the mysterious benefactor from Starfleet offered the latest intelligence from Section 31 Spanky had decided it was worth the risk.

Summoning his elite squadron as escort for the Lacy Larceny, Spanky had set off to once again infiltrate the Principality of Zeon. As soon as Spanky had departed, a Federation shuttlecraft took off for its port of origin. Inside, Tom Paris smiled. With Janeway dead and most of Starfleet HQ in disarray after the great fire, Paris had been able to secretly loot Janeway's private cash reserves. While the money stopped coming in after the Keiko O'Brien debacle there was still a small fortune. Funded by the treasuries of Federation planets who were pushed into forskaing capitalism and personal fortunes. These treasures and fortunes did not disappear however, they simply lined the pockets of Federation Admirals, Paris had learned of this from his father and decided that Janeway's funds would enable him to get revenge on that bitch Innerbrat, who thwarted his mission and made him the laughingstock of the fleet. Even if Spanky failed, nobody could trace this back to him, and the worst that could happen is that one of the galaxy's many porn dealers would be out of business.

Spanky and his escorts reached the Zeon border and engaged the cloaking devices on their ships, following traditional male doctrine, subterfuge was required in order to reach a woman's panties. Whether it was just one drunken soroity girl during spring break, or a battle hardended nation of militant lesbian feminists. The target was the colony of Lesbos IV, and underdefended outpost which provided foodstuffs to the major hubs of the Principate. Home to approximately 2 million colonists and approximately 25 million pairs of underwear. Everything from thongs to granny panties, every fabric from silk to cotton. Thoughts of lust pushed from Spanky's mind however, this was purely business nothing more.

"This is Leader to all ships, callsigns only, engage silent running until we have reached the target."

The plan was simple, the fighters would engage any planetary defenses and take out transporter scramblers while Lacy Larceny engaged in mass beamings of panties, using highly calibrated sensors to locate every pair. Technology had brought panty raiding a long way from the dorm room hijinks of the late 20th century, further still from the armed home invasion raids made popular by Spanky III, who was eventually captured by the Klingons and sentenced to a life in the Rura Pente rohypnol mines.

"Prepare to assume formation Zeta-One...on my mark...NOW!"

In an instant the escort ships began to break off and seek out their targets, and Spanky's ship was not far from low orbit. Suddenly an alarm Klaxon began blaring, First Officer Ootz (who although resembled Spanky closely was of no direct relation to him) responded at his station.

"Sir Sensors are locking onto us! We're picking up a high output tachyon field blanketing the entire system!"

Spanky stood from his command chair assessing the situation.

"A trap? But how could they have noticed us? Raise all shieldsand break off the attack! Give the omega signal now!"

"Lord Spanky!", responded a nameless underling, "DP is breaking formation and is landing on the surface!"

Spanky cursed, his longtime friend was waltzing into a trap. "Somebody hail that idiot and get him back into space, he'll be killed down there!"

"Sir!", it was Ootz again, this time wearing a welder's mask to shield himself from the potentially lethal Federation-manufactured control panel. "We're recieving a transmission from DP's ship!"

DP's image appeared on the screen. "Lord Spanky."

"Dammit you idiot! It's a trap! Haven't you recieved the evacuation signal?"

"I have milord, and I am truly sorry, it was an honor to be in your service. However, someone made me a better offer."

"You traitor! I swear when I get out of this I will..."

Just then the transmission was interrupted before Spanky could finish his sentence.

"Or you will do what? Stand down scoundrel. This is Admiral Mayabird, by order of the Duchess of Zeon, and under the authority of the SOS:NBA, I hereby place you under arrest for crimes against womankind."

DP had sold out Spanky and his crew to his long time lover and master Mayabird, who had registered him as a legal male resident manservant in the Principality. Although lesbianism was encouraged in the Principality, a woamn's body was her own dominion by law. Heterosexual acts were condoned under the male registration act, provided that the man was registered with the Zeon government and fit with a restraining bolt in each testicle. In order to prove himself to his mate, DP had allowed himself to be registered, and as a registered manservant he now enjoyed the rights and protections of a Zeon Citizen, second class.

Outraged by the Betrayal, Spanky threw a collectible Neon Revelations: Evangelion figurine through the viewscreenm causing it to shatter. The overglorified toy from the late 22nd century suffered the same fate, causing Spanky to grow even angrier.

"Get us out of here! The taste of betrayal is causing me to lose my elitist flair."

Unfortunately the trap had been sprung better than Spanky had thought. Not only had they managed to detect him dspite the cloaking devices, but his ships were now cornered by Mayabird's fleet of ten updated D7s.

"Foolish women! I was hoping to avoid a conflict, but you seem to have left me no choice! All ships prepare for Gestalt configuration!"

Suddenly from nowhere the color of space surround Spanky's fleeing squadron turned blue with epileptic inducing movement within it, the purpose for Spanky's fighters and the mothership was now revealed as they began transforming into new configurations, each of them a part of something larger! Spanky's ship formed the torso, while other ships formed the legs and arms. Spanky's personal ship Super Honor Ronin Warrior Master-Chan was then deployed to form the head of the Mecha.

The combined crew then shouted "Gestalt Mode Activated!" But Spanky noticed something was missing. "Where is the phaser saber? Without it we are without our best weapon!"

"Sir," Ootz replied, "DP's ship forms the Phaser Saber!"

"FUCK! I guess melee attacks are out of the question then, prepare to fire al....AHHHHH!"

Mayabird's fleet had been at first dazzled by the intricate merging of the machines, but they were not about to give the outlaws any respite as they unloaded shot after shot for their torpedo tubes. "All ships, firing pattern Bobbit Five!" All ships simultaneously heeded Mayabirds command, and suddenly a seemingly endless stream of torpedo fire impacted against the robot's crotch. The damage was made even worse, in that it destroyed the interlocking mechanisms of the outlaw ships, the arms and legs broke off and eventually the head fell away also, with Spanky inside of it.

"Ootz! You've got to do something!"

Lacy Larceny's tractor beam locked on to the Super Honor Ronin Warrior Master-Chan and suddenly the barrage stopped.

"What's going on out there?" cried Spanky.

"It's like this, you know how the Zeons made DP a deal? Well they just made me a deal too, you're looking at the new leader of the top Hentai Syndicate in the whole quadrant!"

"You son of a bitch! If it weren't for me you'd still be peddling those homemade yaoi drawings of the Gundam Wing kids to stay off the streets!"

"Goodbye Spanky, look out for your nuts. I hear "space oysters" are a delicacy in this part of Zeon."

As Ootz cut the tractor beam the lead D7 acquired a lock on the small craft with its own tractor beam. As the infamous Panty Raider was pulled in closer he considered his options. Seppuku was out of the question, as he would die in disgrace. The only prudent course of action left to him was to die in honorable combat. He narrowed his already surgically narrowed eyes and drew his Katana from the sheath at his side. Then he disappeared in a column of light as he was transported aboard Mayabird's flagship. He materialized in a corridor, stuck between a dead end and a squad of armed Zeon security troopers in leather corsets.

"Though you have my body imprisoned you cannot contain my warrior spirit, fight me if you must but know that I will not be taken alive!"

As spanky hefted the katana in his hands and prepared to defend himself the security forces fired, the bright blue beams of light stunning Spanky into unconsciousness. He would be taken alive this day, and his nightmare was only beginning.

[The Fortress of Solitude, at the center of the Fanfic Galaxy]

"Sir! We've detected a Fanfic Paradox!" shouted one of the fanfic archive

"Inform the master!"

Deep within the fortress, the Fanfic Master, Prime Dalton, sat playing with his new toys, a UPF-brand Zaia action figure with chopping motion, and a Gnome Soldier action figure.

"Hahaha gnome! Die! That's right! You can't defeat me! Say, I wonder if this top comes off?"

Just then Dalton Two-Three came bursting through the doors.

"My Lord, we..."


"NO sir I didn't see you playing with your dolls again sir!"

"That's good, now what is it Dalton Two-Three?"

"Master, we've detected massive plotline retconning and paradoxes in..."

Prime Dalton sighed. "Let me guess, Unnamed Porno Fanfic?"

"Indeed, Prime."

"Their crimes against fanfics have gone too far. They shall not be
allowed to cram even more plotlines into this abortion of a fanfic.
Dalton Two-Three, take the Michael January and apprehend
the monsters responsible for this."

"At once, Prime!"

"Wait a minute, I could have sworn we just did this."

"We did sir!"


"Just now."

Dalton stood from his seat and *ROB SMASHED* the impudent clone.

"Don't pull that fucking spaceballs shit on me what are you talking about."

"Sir, UPF created a paradox by adding in another plotline, however when you ordered us to stop them for creating too many plotlines, it thus created another plotline, thus causing another alarm."

"Jesus Christ! Don't they know what they're doing? They're fucking with reality itself!"

"It gets worse sir, they're making more money than we are."

[Passchendale City, HAB Capital World]

The flare shot off in the distance, signaling that the gnomes were to be released from their pens. Some four hundred gnomes were released all at once into the private hunting reserve of the Great Leader, a forest area with several areas of open savannah. The Great LEader had never been a patient man though, and as soon as the gnomes were released he began spraying bullets from a replicated MG-42 into the crowd, once regarded as the best machine gun ever manufactured, it was now the primary leisure hunting weapon of HAB higher-ups. The bullets tore trhough the air and gnomes began to fall, injured gnomes falling next to their dead brethren, only to be killed when the unscathed trampled them. After ten minutes or so the gnomes had been reduced by a third and the survivors were now in hiding somewhere in the reserve.

The Great Leader, pleased at the slaughter and thirsty for more gnomish blood (which made an excellent smoothie), continued the hunt alongside of several other HAB rankingmembers. Each of them eager for the hunt.

Author's Note- I couldn't in good conscience go this long without a Mass Slaughter, Gnome or otherwise. ~DF

[Zeon Military Dentention Center, days after the Battle of Lesbos IV]

By definition of Zeon Law, Miles was a Sex Offender, which in the Principate was even more serious than being labeled a War Criminal. As a male offender, the standard sentence was death except in "cases of an extremely heinous nature." Miles' repeated abuse of Keiko (she could no longer call her his wife because her Zeon citizenship included an immediate annulment) over the years qualified him for the worst punishments the Gulags had to offer.

A detachment of SOS Security guards beat him senseless with batons and cattle prods and then dragged him like a dead animal to his cell in the notorious "Y-Block" (Y meaning "Y chromosome") of the Zeon Military Penitentiary. Tossed in his cell, which was barren save for a toilet and a small mat on the floor, Miles finally succumbed to his pain and blacked out, waking up hours later.

"Sssssssttttaaaaarfleeeet.....wake up Sssssttaaaaarfleeeet..."

The low raspy voice woke O'Brien from his sleep, and he turned his head in the direction of the noise, across the hawllway in the darkened cell across from him. "What the fuck do you want?" O'Brien cursed at the figure concealed in the shadows.

"My aren't we feisssssssstyyyy....no need for hossssstility..."

"Well that's all I have, i've got nothing to say to you." O'Brien turned his back on the mysterious prisoner and sat in the corner of his cell, sulking and craving a bottle of tough booze. He was still wearing his starfleet uniform, though it was ragged and burned from the increasingly frequent shock therapy practiced by Zeon's military police. But as badly as he wanted to escape this hellhole he didn't even know where exactly he was, which would prove a problem for him if he tried to escape. There was only one person he knew of who might be able to give him answers.

"Hey you, you rotten fucker across from me. Where the hell am I at?"

"Ssssssssoo now we decccccccide to conversssssssse?"

"Bah, eat me, this isn't my best day you know."

"Oh I undersssssssstand completely. We're being held in the Zzzzzzzzzeon military prissssssssson in their capital. Thissssss particular ccccccellllll block is ressssssserved for the exxxxperimentsssssss."

"I'm Miles O'Brien."

"Milessssssssss, Ah yessssssss they have been talking about you in the lab, ideal tessssst sssssubject."

Miles was disturbed, the words "test" and "subject" being used like that did not bolster his confidence. "So do you have a name?"

"The guardssssss, call me Ssssssparky. They are fond of using Electriccccccity."

"Tell me about it, hey, you mentioned experiments? What kind of experiments?"

"Bacterial weaponssssss, desssssigned for genetic manipulationsssss....ssssexxxxxx changesssss."

And so the mysterious prisoner went on to explain. Ever since the sperm shipments from the Federation ceased in lieu of the diplomatic row between the two nations, the Duchess of Zeon had ordered that the money used for those shipments be diverted towards other ways of maintaining the growth of the Zeon population. Cloning was still an imperfect science, and asexual reproduction would not diversify the genepool, mass male immigration was unacceptable. Zeon scientists had decided to turn towards nature in an attempt to solve the mystery of all-female sexual reproduction. Leading scientists felt that the answer would be found in marine organisms. Many species of fish were Protandrous, meaning that they underwent natural sex changes, Zeon scientists first tried reproducing these chemical changes in humans but were unable to successfully mimic them in terrestrial animals. Other scientists found that the marine bacteria, M. Wolbachia was able to facilitate the gender changing, and that reproducing bacteria and allowing it to colonize a mammal's digestive tract along with naturally occuring digestive bacteria was much more viable than simulating a hormonal response.

"Their bacteria...went....wrong.....it attacked the wrong genessssss.......didn't alter my gender....it altered my ssssspeciessss....conforming it to a ssssssseawater environment"

"That's awful? What species were you?"

"Onnnnncccce a maaaaaan," wheezed Sparky the Dolphin from the blowhole in the top of his twisted skull, as his head began to shake and spasm. He couldn't control it, and he began to chatter uncontrollably. A trio of corset-clad guards rushed into the cell block, stopping in front of Sparky's cell, and began shocking him violently with cattle prods.

"You fucking disgusting cetacean freak! On the fucking floor now!" shouted one of the women, and O'Brien now knew why he was called "Sparky" the dolphin. As the guards continued shocking him, one of them dumped a bucket of rancid fish guts into Sparky's cell. "Eat, you fucking mutant, we've more tests to do on you tomorrow."

O'brien rushed over to the bars and began screaming at his captors. "You cant fucking do that to him! He's Human being! At least he would be if you hadn't fucking mutated him!" One of the guards turned around and jabbed the tip of her cattle prod into O'briens nutsack.

"Back off you gender-deficient worm. Its not like we have a choice, the last time we neglected to shock him sufficiently, he tried to fuck one of the guards in half. Now I don't know how you feel about peritonitis, but if you want to go over there and be his cell mate you are more than welcome to..."

Suddenly alarm klaxon began ringing loudly, and the guards quickly made sure Sparky's cell was locked down before sprinting away. O'Brien's mind began racing, whatever the fuck was going on here, he had to escape. It was his duty as a Federation soldier to attempt escape, not to mention the fact that he had to get his revenge and keep his groin intact while doing so. He had several things going for him, the distraction caused by the alarm, his technical skills, and the disturbing lack of alcohol in his bloodstream. Miles couldn't recall anytime he had been this sober since Picard declared the Enterprise dry for a few weeks following an ugly incident when the ship's barber got blitzed and carved a big "Z" in his dome.

"Essssscaaaaping....are you?" Gasped a very weak but still conscious Sparky.

"Might as well try. You know a way out of here?"

"There issssss a path....through the sssssewersssssss...."

"Great, I'll override the circuits to the power circuit controlling the door and reorute acces to the computer from a local terminal..."

"Once problem.....doorssssssss are simple lock and key.....no electriccccccccity."

"Great, swell, how am I supposed to PICK A FUCKING LOCK!"

"I'm sure we'll think of sssssssssomething."

[Her Royal Residence, Zeon Capital District]

The Duchess had been summoned from bed after a late night session of military planning. Her scientists had assured her that the new bacterial gender alteration weapon would be ready in short time and she had been planning for several attacks in the Drakia and Gor systems before retiring. Only three hours later than her had had hit the pillow was she back in military uniform, being rushed to her office in the Capital building. Innerbrat had been waiting for her when she arrived.

"What's the situation?"

"Ma'am, we've been attacked. The Holy Shrine has been defiled and our most sacred Icon stolen."

It was a rare moment for the Duchess to be caught off guard but she quickly recovered, after her jaw dropped she immediately began putting out the orders. "Order our entire fleet to FEMCON 3 and put every availiable ship on the lookout! A prize to whichever ship returns the Icon, a weeks leave!"

The Duchess gritted her teeth and stormed out of the room to a private chamber. Someone had taken the Zeon Butter Cow, and would pay dearly for doing so.

[Unknown Location, Unknown Ship]

"This is Infiltrator to Penetrator, come in Penetrator." The pilot of the ship turned the dial on his communication system until matching it to the pre arranged frequency, a low voice could be heard through the speakers.

"This is Penetrator, I trust that you have acquired the item?"

"Affirmative, the Butter Cow is in my posession."

"Excellent, the Zeon military is on high alert at this moment, all is going as I have forseen. Wait a short while before making your way here. The first quarter of your payment has already been made."

"You bastard! I wanted half the amount up front!"

"What you want is of no consequence to me until you have made good on your end of the bargain, I have been suprisingly generous already. Fear not Infiltrator, when this transaction is complete you will be a very rich man. Penetrator Out"

Lt. Hitman grimaced to himself as he did a quick sensor scan of the cargo hold. Lord Wong was paying him an absurd sum of money for the prized Butter Cow of Zeon. What he wanted with it or what he could possibly do with it it didn't matter. The fact of the matter is that the money he was being paid would enable Hitman to retire from mercenary work to pursue his own agenda. There were a lot of vital organs in the universe that needed to be forcibly removed from torsos, and he was the one who wanted to do it.

[The Fortress of Solitude, at the center of the Fanfic Galaxy]

"Master, we've detected massive plotline retconning and paradoxes in..."

"I KNOW ALREADY! Just take care of it! DAMNIT!"
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Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
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Post by MKSheppard » 2005-06-06 03:23am

The Unnamed Porno Fanfic: The Lost Years Part 1
(Originally posted on ASVS in 2002 as "Voyage of the
Jolly Roger #1" by Falkenhorst)


Many years before Falk and Shep became the porn crimelords
of Episodes 1 through 30~, they were nothing but a bunch of
two bit hoods robbing starships; this is their story, and how they
became intergalactic porn lords.....

Somewhere in deep space....

Mark Sheppard was reclining in his bucket seat, looking
at a skin magazine. His AK-47 hung on a strap within easy
reach on a bulkhead nearby. To his left, Falkenhorst was
concentrating on piloting their stolen Raider class ship,
the Avenger.

"Man, Shep. That Josie back on Risa, she was a fine lay."
Said Falk, showing a shitfaced grin. Sheppard just smiled.

"Falk, my man. While you insist on spending your share of
our ill-gotten gains on individual pieces of merchandise,
I have taken the liberty of maximizing my experience,
heh heh heh," said Sheppard, flipping the page.

"And then you had to spend the rest of your loot on that
visit to the medcenter after your nuts almost rotted off
from the Rigellian clap, you dumb fuck! Hahahahahhaha!" said
Falkenhorst. Sheppard winced at the painful memory of the
fast-acting venereal disease, but didn't show it.

"And now we find ourselves cruising among the space-lanes in
the vicinity of the idyllic planet of Risa, eh?" Muttered Falkenhorst.
The sensor screen began pinging. "Say Shep, man weapons. I've got
a fat bogey on sensors." Sheppard tossed the Vegan leg magazine
aside and slid the chair forward, keying up the weapons console.

"Target is Antares class, bearing 001 Mark 7, range 5 Light years."
Said Falkenhorst. He reached over, opening several red safety covers.
"Stand by to cloak." The ship disappeared as Falk flipped the switches
from right to left. Deep in the equipment spaces of the small ship,
the cloaking device clunked and clattered and hummed to life. It
always acted a little balky, but it worked. It had damned well better
work, since Falk and Shep had spent many long hours in EVA suits
cutting it out of the shattered wreck of a Klingon Bird of Prey
they had ambushed.

The Avenger's warp engines changed pitch as Falk angled the ship
in and matched speeds with the freighter, which was traveling at
Warp 3. Sheppard reached up and pulled down his custom made HUD,
tapping in a firing solution on a keypad welded to the arm of his
seat. "I'm gonna whack em with a torpedo to the starboard side to
make em drop out of warp, and then I'll nail the comms, shields
and bridge with the phasers." Said Shep.

Falk cursed. Torpedoes weren't cheap, but then again, Phasers
were useless at warp anyway. Sheppard grinned as he lined up the
targeting reticle on the midships starboard section of the freighter.
Shep held the cloaking cut-out switch down for a second, and pressed
the firing button with his other thumb. The torpedo flashed away.
Falk's hands tensed on the controls as he dropped the Avenger out
of warp behind the freighter.

Sheppard repeated the earlier action, uncloaking the ship and
raking fire across the freighter's subspace transmitter and shield
generators before recloaking and letting Falk steer the vessel
around for another shot. The bridge crew of the freighter shat
their pants and screamed in terror as the Avenger decloaked right
in front of them. Shep grinned as he sent 2 phaser bolts tearing
through the freighter's bridge, snuffing out the command
crew instantly.

"I guess that's their last barbecue, heh heh heh," muttered Falkenhorst
as he dropped the cloak for good and powered up the scanners. "Ok.
I'm getting some jolly readings from that ship. Plenty of antimatter
fuel, foodstocks, the lot. I'm gonna begin beaming it over." Said
Falkenhorst. Sheppard nodded and laid his AK across his lap, hitting
a switch that slammed the airtight doors throughout the ship. If
someone from the freighter tried to beam over, they'd have fun
eating lead.

A few minutes later, the cargo was aboard. Sheppard was staring
intently into the HUD, his hands clasped around the firing controls
on it's sides. "Can I waste their asses?" he asked.

"Yeah, if you don't use any torpedoes." Said Falk.

"Ok," said Shep, squeezing the trigger again and raking phaser fire
across the stern of the ship. A series of explosions ripped through
the aft compartments as superheated liquor kegs began blowing up.

"Cool, they're carrying Romulan ale. We should have snatched some
of that;" said Shep.

"Oh Fuck! Sheppard, hurry the fuck up!" said Falkenhorst, his
voice rising in alarm.

"Just what's the problem, eh Falk?" muttered Shep, squinting
through his gunsights.

"Our problem is an Akira Class Starship coming in at Warp 9!" yelled
Falkenhorst, his eyes flashing with fire.

"Oh Fuck." Spat Sheppard, firing off a full volley of torpedoes into
the aft of the stricken freighter. The ship heeled over, spewing flames
and wreckage. "Go GO GO!!" said Shep.

"It's not blowing up-" Falk was cut off as a series of heavy explosions
ripped the freighter apart in a blinding fireball. "They're almost in
sensor range, man! Cloak! CLOAK for fuck's sake!" said Sheppard,
reaching over and flipping the switches. Falk brought the ship around
and hit the throttles. The Avenger disappeared into warp drive as
the USS Michigan began it's first sensor sweep.

15 minutes later, the Avenger was at Warp 6, putting distance between
the Federation ship and itself.

"Man, Falk, we've gotta start planning these hits better. We almost
got wasted back there." Said Sheppard.

"At least that freighter crew will tell no tales," said Falkenhorst,
leaning back in his seat.

"Hah, yeah. And those punkass feds won't get their sensor logs either,
HEHEHE" said Sheppard, pulling another porno magazine from his stash
under a console. The ship sped onward, out and away from the core
of the Federation. Where they were going, only time would tell.
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong

"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944

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