Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[MKSheppard]

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.

[boop]

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

[boop]

“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
maintainers.

“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.

Sincerely,
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.

Sincerely,
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...

Sincerely,
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.”

[Darth Fanboy]

Chapter XXX Part II:

THE PRINCIPALITY STRIKES BACK!

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."

*grooooooooans*

"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
maintainers.

"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..."

"JESUS FUCK! DON'T YOU KNOCK! DID YOU SEE ANYTHING?"

"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!"

"When?"

"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!"

[Ace Pace]

And that is how you 'piss off' every single person in the forum

AWESOME chapter.!

[Singular Quartet]

Dude! Sweet! Worth the wait, and you've nailed every fucker on the forum. Hot damn.

[MKSheppard]

We still got Part III on the way

[Zaia]

*wipes away tear* That's fucking beautiful, guys...*sniffles*

[Junghalli]

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.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YES! DIE GOR! DIE IN AGONY!!!
I doubt the Draka would mind though. Say what you will about them, they're not sexist.

[Darth Fanboy]

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.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YES! DIE GOR! DIE IN AGONY!!!
I doubt the Draka would mind though. Say what you will about them, they're not sexist.

That doesn't mean the good Duchess can't smite them. As soon as she finds the butter cow that is...

Edit: We got everyone on the forum? Sweet, I guess the "Angry Young Virgin Brigade" bit Shep cooked up covered everyone else not mentioned by name

[Mayabird]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*breathes*


AHAHAHAHAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*wipes away a tear or three*

Now I just need to get DP to read the last chapter.

[Mopeyennuui]

We still got Part III on the way

You forgot me as a Zeon ensign who got killed in a random battle.

[Singular Quartet]

We still got Part III on the way

Oh, you fuckers! Well hurry up and get it out here!

[DPDarkPrimus]

Now I just need to get DP to read the last chapter.

Restraining bolts? I don't like the sound of that!

[Junghalli]

Restraining bolts? I don't like the sound of that

To say nothing of where they implant them. This board could use a cringe smiley.
At least now we know why he's called Spanky the Dolphin. Man, chalk up these Zeonite gals as another enemy I would never, ever want to be taken alive by!
Hey, any chance we'll get to see the Principality vs. the HAB? I would truly love to watch that... preferably from a different planet of course.

[Darth Fanboy]

Restraining bolts? I don't like the sound of that

To say nothing of where they implant them. This board could use a cringe smiley.
At least now we know why he's called Spanky the Dolphin. Man, chalk up these Zeonite gals as another enemy I would never, ever want to be taken alive by!
Hey, any chance we'll get to see the Principality vs. the HAB? I would truly love to watch that... preferably from a different planet of course.

The term "Spanky the Dolphin" is not technically used so to speak.

And for anyone who is wondering the head of our legal department is Thief from 8 Bit Theater.

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

And now we know exactly why GALE loves the Zeons so much!

[Duken]

she had been planning for several attacks in the Drakia and Gor systems before retiring.

Thats evil. Even for you guys. Now do it right.

[MKSheppard]

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

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC
EPISODE 0

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.

[Stravo]

At the request of the author(s) and my agreeing that the request has merit what do you, the fans, think of the option of Stickying this fic? And congrats on the new chapter Shep.

[Ace Pace]

At the request of the author(s) and my agreeing that the request has merit what do you, the fans, think of the option of Stickying this fic? And congrats on the new chapter Shep.

Sticky this, or to not clutter this forum,get it into Completed Fan Fics forum.

[Frank Hipper]

...Butter...?

..Cow?


...Butter Cow of Zeon?

[Singular Quartet]

...Butter...?

..Cow?


...Butter Cow of Zeon?

Of course there's a fucking Butter Cow! How could there not be one?!

[frogcurry]

At the request of the author(s) and my agreeing that the request has merit what do you, the fans, think of the option of Stickying this fic? And congrats on the new chapter Shep.

Stick it to the man!

Or alternatively, the top of the forum.

[MKSheppard]

Sticky this, or to not clutter this forum,get it into Completed Fan Fics forum.

UPF will never be completed; it is as vast as space itself, with untold stories
waiting to be told, and sci-fi universes to be perverted.......

[Ace Pace]

Basicly the same as starcrossed.

yet starcrossed is there

[Darth Fanboy]

Just a reminder to all of our fans, we have not forgotten.

Welll Shep and I have not forgotten. Falk is delayed, meanig that Shep and I will have to fuck continuity and the time space continuum like a ten dollar whore. Good thing I have twenty bucks.

ADDENDUM:

MORE READS on FEWER POSTS than "Fast Times". We appeal to the masses, vote UPF for stickyfication.