Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Darth Fanboy]

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC XXXIX: Part Two, "A Convenient Solution" and Part Three, "Academia Nut Kick Ass Guest Chapter"

Las Vegas, Nevada (Early in the morning hours ofSeptember 19th 2007)

A drunken, stumbling, and decidedly broke Shep tried to make his way as quietly as he could along the exterior of the motel towards the door that would lead to his room. Briefly he considering chewing on some dirt or one of the nearby bushes in the landscaping to erase the alcohol from his breath, thinking he might be able to lie and claim that he was mugged. But deep down he knew that even if he were sober, Zaia would still see through the lie and cut him down. At least he could spare what remained of his dignity by confessing.

He reached into his pocket for the key, but moving his arm caused him to lose his balance and he faceplanted into the cracked concrete of the poorly maintained walkway. He lifted his head, and he saw himself standing in front of him, so incredibly inebriated that he was having an out of body experience.

"Hey, sober up you fucking shit." He yelled at himself, or perhaps himself yelled it at he? You see, these paradoxes create terrible confusions in the time space continuum, and sometimes a narrator such as myself ends up writing about things in the first person. I've represented a disembodied voice this entire series, and now i'm taking on a life of my own.

See what happens when you violate the laws of casualty? Anyways, back to our story...

"Hey sober up you fucking shit." The incredibly realistic apparation of Sheppard said to himself, Shep patted his hands on his chest and realized he wasn't having an out of body experience, but the experience was far too vivid for a hallucination.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking right now. I know because I was the one that originally thought it. You're really hammered, but you need to listen good right now for no other reason aside from the fact that it will save your life."

Drunk Shep immediately listened up, even if his evil (or perhaps good?) twin was freaking him out to no end, the possibility of preserving his manhood was too good to pass up.

"Listen, i'm you from the future. Any other time in your life and that statement sounds like complete bullshit, but right now you're the dumbfuck from the 24th century stranded in the past with a woman not even born on this planet hoping to one day go back to the future and cruise around on his refitted alien spaceship. So right now, YES you are not fucking crazy."

Future Shep then tossed the suitcase at Drunken Shep. "There's about two hundred fifty grand in there in the local currency, it's enough to rent a very nice apartment for a year and eat well. Oh yeah, i'd set aside a few thousand though for "emergency expenses."

Drunken Shep hiccuped, and fought back vertigo and nausea as he stood back up. "What kind of emergency expenses?"

Future Shep cringed. "That you wouldn't believe."

"Wait," Drunken Shep interrupted. "Why should we even be having this discussion, you obviously have the time machine, give it to me now and this whole nightmare is over!"

"Because," Future Shep said, "leaving you here with this money is the only way that you will ever hook up with HER." He said, pointing at the door of the hotel room with Zaia inside.

Drunken Shep looked at the suitcase, shocked into a greater level of sobriety by the news. Trapped in time, in a more primitive era no less, for a year on a fixed income, was it worth but one night with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen?

It didn't even take him a heartbeat to answer. "Alright have fun! I guess i'll be back here myself to tell the next me to do what you told me now to ....uhhh tell...uh"

Future Shep held his hands in his head. "Sweet fucking Jesus I can't believe I was this goddamn retarded." He thought for a second, as if pondering something before saying his goodbye. "Don't forget when you get in there to call her sugar daddy okay? All right I gotta run, oh, and you will be very sorely tempted to take that money and run back to the Casino, DO NOT DO IT."

Drunken Shep just waved goodbye and sat down on the ground, attempting to regain his breath by sitting down on the ground next to the suitcase. When Future Shep was out of sight Drunken Shep grabbed the suitcase, looked around and started walking in the opposite direction, making his way right back for the Casino. Without warning, from behind a nearby bush, Future Shep returned and planted a steel toed boot right in Drunken Shep's nuts.

"YOU STUPID ASS HUFFING JACKED UP SHIT SUCKING IDIOT! WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU?" After planting the kick Future Shep turned and started yelling off into the distance , "All right Falk it worked this time let's get the fuck out of here!"

Indeed the plan did work, Drunken Shep crawled to the front door and pulled himself back up to his feet and used his key to unlock the hotel room door, hoping that he would go unnoticed

"YOU SLIMY FUCK!" Zaia screamed as his attempt at stealth failed miserably.



Las Vegas, Nevada (September 18th, 2008)

"I can't fucking believe that you did that, I appreciate it, but I still cannot believe that you would risk altering the timeline, or worse yet destroying everything in past, present, and future just so you could cover your ass after you got drunk and lost all of our money in a Casino!" Zaia said as the one true Sheppard climbed into the passenger seat of the Time machine, with Falk at the helm and Zaia cradling the baby Marina in the back. "Oh, and we really should have a safety seat for her. After we figure out what the gnomes have done and fix everything she and I are going to..."

Zaia was interrupted by a short laugh from Falkenhorst, which drew a sharp stare from Zaia. "I don't see what's so funny about safety considerations for an infant you prick!"

"Oh it's not that," Falk said, still grinning. "What's funny is that you think your kid is going back with you to our time."

"I'd ask you to explain your statement, but I since you are driving I don't want you saying anything that would force me to drive a knife into the back of your skull with the blade coming out between your eyes and spreading chunks of bone and what little gray matter you might have all over the controls."

"You can go right ahead, that will be a lot easier to explain that how it was you had a child while trying to preserve the timeline, I know how Zeon leadership works, you think that because you did something heroic they are going to overlook the fact that you had a one-night stand with a flesh-peddling smutlord because you were drunk and he managed to violate casualty in order to give himself $250,000? You Zeek Chicks are so bent up on your laws against unregulated heterosexual sex that they might clone you just so they can kill you again. Lying won't work either with the interrogation techniques that i'm sure you know. Face it, going through with this mission is the WORST thing you can do to you and your kid. I say we go back, collect a little more cash and set ourselves up as fuckin' kings in an earlier time before every interstellar STD of a species figures out where Earth is and this entire planet goes fucking pinko."

Zaia looked over at Shep, who was far from disagreeing, having buried his head in his hands trying not to think about it. "But...the Duchess, she's my mother! Well nto my birth mother, but she could...." But her own memories put that thought aside, memories of being held to a far higher standard than everyone else, including adherence to the strict policies of the Zeon Code of Law.

Shep broke the silence. "Falk, take us to one of the years in the early 24th century, I don't care which one. We'll leave her off here on Earth and she can grow up in a good home on the government's dime, and then when she's older she'll be around to see Zeon get founded, then her mom can meet her one day and she doesn't have to know what I do and I won't have to leave anything for her in my will, I mean errrrr...uhhh...evidence of her heritage in my will."

Shep expected Zaia to argue against the idea, and he half expected Falk to object to running another errand and wasting their time running around, but the silence returned and nobody objected.




Time Unknown, Location Unknown

THE FOLLOWING PORTION OF THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN BY ACADEMIA NUT AND IS BEING PRESERVED IN FULL FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE. IT IS A CROSSOVER WITH THE "OPEN DOOR" UNIVERSE AND IS CONSIDERED PART OF UPF CANON.

Fanboy clutched at his head, groaning for a moment before he sent out a probative hand to find the one thing guaranteed to cure his hangover. A bit of fumbling later and he had the bottle of twenty year old premium Jack Daniels to his lips. Ah, sweet, sweet liquor, cure to all ills.

So revived, Fanboy looked up and about the detritus about him and discovered that he couldn’t remember what exactly he’d been doing. Lighting a blunt to clear his head, he sat down, half empty bottle of whisky in one hand and a slowly burning bundle of paper and marijuana in the other and he assumed the ‘Stoned Philosopher’ look as he tried to dredge up the still hidden memories.

“Pizza!” He suddenly cried out. “I left the party to go get pizza, but those asshole Romans hadn’t invented it yet!”

Sometimes the way you could really get yourself lost if piloting while inebriated really outweighed the convenience of a time machine. Checking over the gauges, Fanboy realized he didn’t have a clue when or where he was. He didn’t even know if he was in the normal confines of the multiverse.

“Piece of crap,” Fanboy muttered while smacking the completely un-enlightening instruments.

Mentioning bodily excretions did however remind Fanboy of the copious amounts of liquid he had consumed the previous night, so taking another swig from his JD before he set it down on a stack of rolling papers a foot high, he sauntered over to the TARDASS’ bathroom.

One look inside had him exiting at a considerably higher speed than he had arrived at.

Inhaling a long, hard drag on his blunt to help banish the smell, he muttered, “Right… going to need to hold a plumber and a crack team of illegal immigrant Mexican maids at gunpoint for that one.”

He made a mental note: next time he ran into a guy with simultaneous twin and obesity fetishes, he would also check for coprophilic urges as well so he could put the fucker out of the universe’s misery right then and there.

Still, while he would have to watch himself and make sure he didn’t slip and go to bed sober for the next month or the horrors he seen within that bathroom would haunt his dreams, he did still have the rather pressing need to piss.

Glancing at the environmental sensors, he noted that if he stepped outside he wouldn’t immediately die or have something likely to bite his dick off, so with a shrug he said, “Fuck it,” and opened the door.

Stepping out of his TARDASS, he glanced about and discovered that the phone booth shaped time machine had landed somewhere wooded and quiet at night. Glancing about, he walked over to a nearby bush, tucked his blunt behind his ear, and unzipped.

However, as glorious relief began to stream, he noted with some dismay that he heard screaming from somewhere else in the woods nearby. It sounded young and feminine and of the ‘oh help I’m about to be ravished by a tentacle monster’ sort of scream. Sighing, Fanboy finished off, zipped back up, and then went out to examine what was going on.

Moving relatively quietly through the woods, he discovered a small clearing where… where well a young, nubile woman in a school girl outfit was being ravished by a tentacle monster. Well… half tentacle monster. The creature looked mostly human except for the fact that his arms were bundles of extremely long and flexible tentacles, except instead of suckers he had dozens of little human mouths on each one. Currently he had his victim wrapped up like some sort of rope fetish doll and pinned against a tree, her legs wide open to admit his thrusting, surprisingly non-prehensile cock. His little mouths were also spreading a copious amount of droll over her body as they licked and suckled and bit at her sensitive spots, although judging by the thin welts the tentacles could also function as whips. It would also occasionally shut the girl up by plunging a tentacle or two, often wet from penetrating another orifice, down her mouth, but once she could breath again she would inevitably wail like a banshee.

Not one to let shit like this fly, especially since tentacle rape tended to make the victims super horny for their saviors afterward for some logic defying reason, Fanboy decided to interrupt this little moment by charging in.

In retrospect, trying to grapple with a creature that grappled its enemies and raped them probably wasn’t the greatest of strategies, but hey, in his defense, Fanboy was incredibly high and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Rather started, the tentacle monster dropped his victim and turned to get the rather large, rather inebriated man off of him. Despite the ability to tie up and support off the ground the struggling girl, the finger thin appendages were no match for Fanboy’s superior strength and combat training, and with surprise on his side, Fanboy quickly had the monster pinned to the ground, his hands about its throat.

Then the element of surprise turned on him when he got a rather large tree branch, more of a leafy club really, across the back of the head. The girl, her underwear still about one of her ankles and her shirt still completely unbuttoned, started whaling on Fanboy while crying out, “Get the fuck off my boyfriend!”

Fanboy had just enough time to look confused before he blacked out from a minor concussion.

He woke a short time later to a hand smelling rather strongly of feminine secretions smacking him over the face. His eyes flickering open, he stared up at the ‘tentacle monster’, who now that he had his tentacles wound into a tight bundle that acted like a rather flexible arm, looked remarkably like a rather frightened young man.

“Hey man, you okay? Cathy hit you over the head pretty hard,” the kid asked. He glanced over, and Fanboy’s gaze followed to see the girl, still half dressed and with all the parts that were supposed to stay hidden still in plain view, with a distinctly miffed look on her face.

“What just happened?” Fanboy asked, his head still ringing from the unexpected blows.

“Well, you interrupted me just before I got my girlfriend to climax, so now its going to take me an hour to get her back there as she’s kinda pissed now, and she expended all that orgasm mojo in hitting you over the head. Why’d you do that man?” The guy asked.

“Do what?” Fanboy asked, still trying to put two and two together and not get duck.

“Attack us while we were getting it on? Come on man, you don’t get the tentacles unless the gods like you and they don’t put up with rapist fucks,” the guy said.

“Why the screaming? And what gods?” Fanboy asked, the ringing finally starting to fade enough that he could try and prop himself up.

“Man Cathy, you must have nearly added him to the throne you hit him so hard! Come on man, don’t be dense, any girl who likes to play with a dude like me is gonna be into the kinky stuff. Cathy likes the role play and she’s practically bound to a banshee she’s such a screamer anyway,” the guy explained.

“So I just broke up consensual sex between a schoolgirl and a guy with prehensile tentacle arms… alright, I think I need a drink,” Fanboy groaned as he discovered that he was still getting three as an answer to the square of two.

“Sure man. Come on Cathy; let’s buy the dude a beer. I don’t think he meant any harm even if he was an idiot,” the kid asked his girlfriend.

She turned up her nose and said, “He drinks, you fuck! My pussy’s all tight with anger and I need it loosened up!”

He extended out one of his rather long tentacle arms to where she was standing and started playing with her clit while his little mouths made slurping noises.

“Yes dear,” he said with a smile.

Fanboy really needed that drink.

About five minutes later and the three of them, Fanboy leaning on the tentacle guy, whose name turned out to be Tyler, while he tried to clear his head and get his full balance back. Cathy seemed like the kind of girl who really needed a good fucking to pound the bitch out of her if that was how she hit normally. She seemed content to half kiss half suck on one of his tentacles while they walked, and while she had pulled up her underwear, her ample rack was still on display.

Fanboy had to give Tyler credit in that while his girlfriend was a needy bitch, at least he had fine taste in picking a bitch.

Walking down a quiet road on the outskirts of what looked like a thin suburban area around a major high tech metropolis, massive towers glowing with gold and silver light and twinkling with every color of the rainbow in the distance, Fanboy finally had the presence to ask, “So how did you get those things in the first place? Were you uh… always like that?”

“What? My tentacles? Nah, I got them as a gift for impressing Mislaato in a Tzintchian ‘Fuck-Off Duel’,” Tyler explained.

Fanboy stared at him blankly.

“Cathy, you really hit this guy hard. Okay man; let’s see if I can jog your memory. A Tzintchian Fuck-Off Duel is a kind of duel where the objective is to piss off the other guy to the point where he meets the failure conditions. So anyway, this big Asukhon fucker decides that he doesn’t like how I make my money so he gets out and challenges me to a duel. I accept and declare that it shall be in Tzintchi’s name with Mislaato overseeing, which is to say that instead of directly fighting, we plot and scheme until one of us uses the safe word, which in this case was ‘Fuck off you fucking bastard!’. Well… not exactly, but that was the point where everyone agreed he lost,” Tyler explained, half the words going over Fanboy’s head, but he just nodded as if he understood.

“So anyway, the fucker’s all with the petty pranks as I think he invested everything into his fighting prowess and not much else. I get hit a couple of times, things like having a case of cement dropped on me and breaking a shoulder, or the toilet bowl rigged with a hydrochloric acid bomb, but nothing permanent. Me though, I’m clever. I get his sister, his girlfriend, and his mom to all agree to wear gimp masks and bondage rope and nothing else while I fuck them up the ass on the steps of city hall and hold up a sign that says ‘Fuck you Petrov’ for ever bystander and the local news to see. Mislaato was so impressed she gave me the tentacles as soon as I won. It was awesome,” Tyler explained.

Pulling the tentacle out of her mouth, and throat judging by the length she had down there, Cathy said, “I was part of the orgy that celebrated his victory and trying out his new enhancements. We hit it off after that. He’s like a fucking machine now.”

Fanboy just sort of gaped in awe. He needed to know more about these guys, they sounded either insane and/or completely and utterly awesome.

“So what other kinds of duels are their?” Fanboy asked.

“One for each god and one set of victory conditions for each god, plus reversed conditions, for thirty-two different varieties, although most of those aren’t used. There’s Tzintchian Fuck-Off Duels, which are matching wits; then there’s Mislaati Fuck Duels which are basically a grappling contests; then you have Asukhonate Weapons Duels, which are where you try and hurt your opponents with sharp and pointy things; and then you have Reiglish Endurance Duel which is either a long distance race or two people taking turns punching each other, sometimes both. The conditions depend on which god you request to observe. With Mislaato, it’s until someone yields; with Asukhon, it’s until first blood; with Reigle, it’s until knockout; with Tzintchi, it’s to death, and sometimes beyond. You need legal permission to have Tzintchi observe duels as they tend to turn into riots, terrorist campaigns, or vendettas quickly. You can also reverse the conditions, like the first person to draw blood loses. Tzintchian Fuck-Off Duels are always normally reversed as the point is to piss off your foe to the point where they break the condition, but you can play them straight,” Tyler explained.

Fanboy was only sort of half listening as other people were starting to appear on the streets, and not only did Tyler look normal, but Cathy looked modest. There were guys walking around with pricks on display that looked like the belonged to ancient fertility gods, and girls that looked slutty enough to get double penetrated by those ridiculous cocks. There was a guy who looked like he’d been dead and left in a dark damp place for quite some time as he had mushrooms growing on the rot, while a chick with excessive scarring, dreadlocks full of glass and rusty nails and whole human skulls as part of a belt leaned into him and had her hand down his pants.

There were also ordinary looking people walking around doing ordinary looking things, except that some of them were also publicly having sex or other strange things. Not just vanilla sex, there was bondage and a whippings and spankings and doing lines of drugs off of asses. Hetero, homo, bi, ones, twos, and threes, there was every sort of depravity going on. But no one cared, they just stepped around the participants, who usually had the decency to move off to the side of the streets in any case, and it just seemed like a normal day to everyone.

How anyone got anything done was a question that rattled about Fanboy’s head while he also tried to figure out if he wanted to burn this place to the ground or ask for an application form.

“Here’s the bar,” Tyler said while pulling open a door to a boxy little building that didn’t seem to have any noticeable signs that Fanboy understood indicated it was a place to get liquor.

Looking inside, Fanboy discovered a place that appeared like it a strip club designed by H.R. Giger. The place was dark and smoky with burning drugs and there were dozens of little booths where topless women- and some men with really nice racks- in gimp masks lounged with what appeared to be large dildos on the ends of pipes connected to the ceiling surrounded their heads. Occasionally one of the loungers would unzip their masks, reach up and suck off one or more of the dildos. Meanwhile people would suck on the tits of the loungers while not otherwise busy fucking each other or doing drugs.

It was all rather strange and twisted to Fanboy’s perspective, but he didn’t exactly argue.

Tyler and Cathy led him to a table where a particular strange woman had curled up. Literally. She didn’t have legs, she had a lower serpentine body complete with scales and then intentional scarring to simulate the appearance of scales up her back and sides. She was also idly playing with herself while waiting for… something.

Muttering, “Fuck it,” Cathy lay face down on the table before thrusting her hips up and pulling down her underwear, with Tyler immediately penetrating her. Lying there, she said to the snake woman, “Hey Natty, how’s life?”

The snake woman just shrugged nonchalantly, the entire scenario obviously utterly mundane to her.

“Well this fucker we dragged in with us decided to interrupt us about thirty seconds before climax, but it looks like he got amnesia sometime before or after I whacked him on the head so we agreed to buy him a beer. Well before he gets one I’m gonna need a round to loosen up my cunt again. The usual please,” Cathy demanded before tossing a bill of some sort into a bucket filled with other such bills and coins.

Nodding, the snake woman unzipped the mouth of her gimp mask and reached up to begin sucking off one of the ribbed, alien wang dildos, which contained sort of liquid as Fanboy could see stuff flowing through the translucent, neon illuminated pipes this close up. She then thrust her tits in Cathy’s face and in turn Cathy started sucking on one of the snake woman’s nipples.

Fanboy had to admit, a girl in a schoolgirl outfit lying on a table sucking off a gimp mask snake woman’s tits while her tentacles for arms boyfriend fucked her was pretty hot, but it didn’t bring any understanding to him.

“What the…?” Fanboy demanded.

“Have you been stuck in the woods since the first Tangday?” Tyler asked while he continued to thrust into Cathy’s pussy and have his tentacles play with her tits.

“Uhhh… just bear with me here. What’s going on?” Fanboy asked.

“The beer comes from the tits. All the waitresses here have special breast implants that turn their knockers into miniature chemical plants. They can rapidly synthesize the materials they ingest into just about anything, and in this case they produce alcoholic beverages right from the nipple,” Tyler explained.

Finishing up, Cathy exhaled happily before wiping some foam off her lips and patting the breast before her fondly.

Fanboy was quiet as the implications dawned and he asked, “What about other drinks?”

“Rum, vodka, flavored schnapps, whisky, rye, whatever you want, these girls can cook it up in about a minute. Although if you really want to see a show, they’re going to whip up some jizzpagne in about ten minutes. The owner of this place will suck off like fifty guys while getting whipped, wax dripped on her, and mild electric shocks applied to her pussy, asshole, and tits. She’ll then process all the spunk and add in the endorphins released by pain and make a sparkling wine out of it, then sell it off to the highest bidder. Girls who drink that stuff can fuck for days and have full body orgasms for hours,” Tyler explained while giving the thumbs up. Cathy seemed to smile at a fond memory.

“What about if you want your drink cold?” Fanboy asked tentatively.

Tyler shrugged and said, “Tell them. Their implants have temperature controls so you can get ice cold beer or hot cider if you want. You can also get a chilled glass if you want to relax for bit.”

“So you’re telling me I can get any alcoholic beverage I want straight from the tit?” Fanboy asked.

Tyler nodded.

A single, joyous tear rolled down Fanboy’s cheek. He had found his holy land.


Fanboy clutched at his head, groaning for a moment before he sent out a probative hand to find the one thing guaranteed to cure his hangover. A bit of fumbling later and he had the bottle of twenty year old premium Jack Daniels to his lips. Ah, sweet, sweet liquor, cure to all ills.

…wait a second…

Fanboy jumped to his feet and ran over to the TARDASS controls. He wasn’t where he had last been.

“Noooooooooo!” Fanboy cried out in agony. Had it all been just a dream? Or worse, had he actually found such a heavenly place and then lost it?

The universe was a cruel, merciless bitch.


Author's note: end of AN's contribution, now all of the other chapters I write following it will suck in comparison :p.


Aboard the starship Fontaine's Folly, near the center of the Fanfic Galaxy

For the first time in his life, Prime Dalton knew failure. His home, the Fanfic Fortress of Solitude had fallen to the gnomish invasion, and was spitting out fire and flames as Prime Dalton's personal starliner turned escape vessel made its way through the cosmos.

"My Lord," yelled Dalton #86 "we're registering a very large neutrino build up in the Fortress' pulse capcitors! It could be a crossover!"

Prime Dalton nearly jumped out of his seat and double checked the reading on the instruments. "A crossover? between two universes? Now? But the Fortress is damaged and the space-time regulators have been demolished! A crossover now will lead to a...."

The eyes of everyone watching the carnage unfold went blind as the explosions destroyed the Fanfic Fortress of Solitude, The bright whitish green lights sparkled against the dark void of space in an elegant yet chaotic pattern that erased everything in its path from existance, including a small planetoid at the outskirts of the Fanfic System."

"Well fuck there goes Fantastica." Prime Dalton cursed. "I'll bet UPF is behind this, although what sick bastard willing to combine literary efforts with those cretins also deserves my wrath!

"But my lord, at least the explosion destroyed the gnomes! They'll never be able to recover the Indestructible Black Box of Restoration now! So long as we have that then we can restore everything to it's rightful place!"

Prime Dalton crossed his arms, feeling a sense of satisfaction for the first time in a long time. "Good, I do not want to be denied my luckdragon rides. Fetch the Indestructible Black Box from the ship's hold and we will begin celebrating our victory at once!"

"The ship's hold? It's not in there sir," yelled Dalton #411, "I did the whole manifest before we lifted off, there wasn't anything like that in there."

Prime Dalton became livid. "WELL WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO LOAD IT? BRING THEM TO ME!"

Dalton #86 coughed nervously. "Errr, I believe the movements and usage of the IBB are limited strictly to Dalton designated Prime."

"WELL THEN BRING ME THIS PRIME DALTON AT ONCE OR....orrr......ohhhhhhhh....."

"Sir, we've located the IBB!" said Dalton #6969, working feverishly at his sensor console. "It's right at the epicenter of that huge scary looking rift in space at the epicenter of the explosion which destroyed the old Fortress."

Prime Dalton turned around and slumped back into his chair. "Some days it just doesn't pay to be the omniscient immportal being in charge of amateur literature based off of established properties."

[Phantasee]

So I just finished reading every chapter* of UPF (for the first time). I managed to get started once upon a time but I didn't resume until recently.

*Every chapter except Sidewinder's, what the fuck were those? I couldn't read anymore after the first couple.

[Sidewinder]

Every chapter except Sidewinder's, what the fuck were those? I couldn't read anymore after the first couple.

My 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfics are like Tom Clancy's "nonfiction" works, something to keep me busy when writer's block prevents me from starting or continuing other stories. They're even told from a rightwing nut's POV!

[Darth Fanboy]

Well Phant I hate to do this to you but here's another one.

---

Episode -1, Part IX, 3 of 3

And now
will something happen to me?
how did I lose my guide?
you left me all alone

But now is too late
I know is natural but now
what can I do without your presence here?
a never-ending pain


Huddled behind what she now realized had been her mission objective, Fangirl squeezed her arms around her body tightly. Power had failed in the base save for the most vital systems, which did not include the climate control. The temperature had started to drop, and although the cold helped numb the throbbing pain in her ankle, she cold metal of the room pressing against her was most unpleasant. She had sat there hidden for what seemed like an eternity before she heard the footsteps . A slow march that could have only belonged to a Borg drone. She gripped the small phaser, a compact model widely used by Starfleet security officers, and held it in front of her, breifly wondering if she shouldn't use it on herself instead. Her arms shook as she pointed the phaser forward, expecting the Borg to come into her sight at any moment to try and assimilate her.

The Borg did come into sight, but not in the way she had expected. There was another sound of pounding on metal, and the Borg flew through the air into her vision as if it had been thrown by some sort of catapault, Fangirl heard the drone's neck break with a loud crack as it contacted the bulkhead before collapsing to the floor in a heap. The drone, once a Cardassian by the looks of him, twitched for a bit but it's life was ended as a large man weilding a combat knife so big it nearly classified as a sword, the man knelt down and started stabbing the drone repeatedly, severing as many cables as he could in the process.

Fangirl whimpered at the sight, loudly enough to be heard by the Drone's attacker. His face was an instant relief.

"D? Is that really you?"

There was a brief silence as he leaned in and held her before he managed to whisper in her ear. "That answer enough for you?"

She forced a laugh as tears incresingly streamed down her face. Neither of the two saying much of anything. Their shared joy eclipsing their previous argument, in both of their hearts they knew that they were whole again.

"Come on" Fanboy said, "i've got to place these beacons on the cloning tanks here and then we can find our way out. The Rommies are going to launch their final attack soon and there isn't any money in dying for them, which is all anyone around here is going to do unless they're named Shinzon."

"Fanboy becan placing the first of the transporter beacons as Fangirl climbed up onto her one good foot. "You don't have to tell me we need to go fast, While I was hiding I could overhear some of the Cardassians screaming about how they had to get off the planet before the devices kicked in."

That had piqued Fanboy's interest. "Devices? Like explosives?"

"Sort of." Fangirl said as she leaned onto her strong leg and braced herself, gingerly making her way towards the room's exit. "Not exactly a bomb though, some kind of radiation device, Thayla-whatsits."

Fanboy's eyes widened. "You mean THALARON?" To which Fangirl shook her head in acknowledgement. Fanboy responded with a stream of exotic Klingon curses. "HOw big are they? Did they say how many they had?"

Fangirl shrugged her shoulders. "Nope, but I take it that's bad right? Maybe we should skip the transporters and get out of here now."

"It won't matter," Fanboy said grimly. "Those weapons are banned for a reason, even in wartime, if you have enough devices, you can probably kill an entire world, not that there is anything indigenous to kill on this rock anyways but you get my point. We need a ship or we're fucked. Stay here while I scout ah..."

Fanboy didn't have a chance. A lone Jem'Hadar that had just happened to come across the room on a security sweep trying to halt the Borg incursion at that exact second as Fanboy's back was turned placing a transporter beacon. The Jem Ha'dar raised his weapon and fired, and Fanboy never saw it coming.

But Fangirl did.

Pushing off of her good leg she dove into the path of the shot, taking the full impact of the blast in her chest and falling to the ground in a heap. Fanboy turned in time to see his wife take the shot and immediately he drew his last resort pistol, a late 21st century 1500 Nitro Express Revolver that he had acquired at great expense, it was one of the last models of large revolvers ever made, and also one of the last produced before the popularization of energy weapons. The biggest drawback was that it had become next impossible to get ammunition for the weapon and he had but one bullet left, Fanboy couldn't think of a better time to use it. The Jem'Hadar stopped, momentairly confused by the sacrifice made by the human he had failed to notice, it was a fatal mistake. Fanboy's aim was true and the bullet hit the Jem Hadar in his right hand. One second, the hand was holding a weapon, the next second the weapon was on the floor and the hand was little more than a bloody stump of ravaged tendons and protruding bone.

Fanboy followed up his shot with a charge across the room that knocked the Jem Hadar to the floor. He let out a primal and Feral cry as he grabbed the Jem'Hadar's head with his hands and clutched tightly, slamming the back of his enemy's skull against the metal floor. The skull had caved in well before Fanboy had stopped, and a large pool of blood and brain matter was spreading outwards from the barely recognizeable skull. Fanboy's own hands were bleeding from the grip he had held on the Jem'Hadar's head spikes.

His rage spent, he turned to see Fangirl laying on her side with blood pouring from her chest, a nasty side effect of the de-coagulants in Jem'Hadar weaponry. He turned her over and with his hands he applied as much pressure as he could to try and stop the bleeding. He was frantic for a solution.

"D..." she said weakly, using the last of her strength to grasp on to his hand as the blood oozed out under his hands. Accepting that there was nothing left that he could do he took her hand into his own, and clutched tightly. Fangirl tried to speak her last words, but she couldn't. In her last act she pulled Fanboy closer to her and they kissed one final time. She tilted her head back and looked upwards, after a few seconds Fanboy reached down to her and closed her eyelids, helping her get to sleep one last time.

Gritting his teeth, he supressed the urge to pick up the Jem'Hadar's weapon and join his beloved, but the thought was banished quickly. Suicide would not do when there was still revenge to be had, and there was still the matter of the transporter beacons he had not yet placed.


---


"I want the cloning tanks to be dispersed amongst the fleet, in case we lose any of the fleet as we make our escape." Shinzon ordered as he prepared to board the scout ship that would take him back up to the fleet, as Exmodeus' electromagnetic storms were wreaking havoc with the fleet's transporters. "Vkruk where are our ground troops?"

"I have just recieved word that they have begun to engage the enemy Lord Shinzon, but i've already recieved reports that the Borg have begun assimilating as many of them as possible."

"It matters not" Shinzon dismissed. "None of them know anything important worth taking, and not even a Borg can adapt to an unshielded orbital bombardment. Our victory is assured.


Author's note: Part X will be the last part in this story arc.

[Phantasee]

I'm so sad.

What's wrong with you, Fanboy? Why do you have to make me sad? Why can't you just make me fear for my sanity, like UPF is supposed to?

[Darth Fanboy]

Spoiler

Because it is setup for something fuckin' nuts that happens later.

[Sidewinder]

Damn. And I was warming up to the idea of Fangirl as a party girl to join Fanboy and some of my characters in a hedonistic, drug-addled orgy or something.

Now I have the strange idea of Fangirl and Padme Amidala sitting at a coffee table, reading Cosmopolitan or some other trashy magazine and discussing what kind of lingerie they should wear when they greet their husbands in heaven.

[Darth Fanboy]

when they greet their husbands in heaven.

Heaven?

[Sidewinder]

when they greet their husbands in heaven.

Heaven?

Considering how badass Fanboy and 'Scars of Mustafar' Anakin are, do you think Satan and Saint Peter will be able to stop them if they say they want to visit their wives?

(Hell. A landscape of shadows so dark, it consumes the light from the many flames that make its name synonymous with torture, pain, and suffering. It is here that Fanboy and Anakin Skywalker, men with the blood of millions on their hands, find themselves.)

Satan: I am Satan Mekratrig, Lord of Hell! Crawl to me, humans, knowing the eternity of torment that awaits you!

(Fanboy and Anakin go .)

Fanboy and Anakin: Where's my wife?

Satan: Whoever they are, they are now giving pleasure to the Legions of the Hell, either with the caress of their orifices upon a demonic spear, or with their cries of pain and endless despair!

(Fanboy and Anakin go . Five minutes later...)

Satan: Ahhhh!

(Satan's back is broken, his body curled forwards so his head would fit in his own rectum, despite the obvious resistance from his horns, which tore off his genitals on the way in. Sunlight brings a gentle warmth to the damned, for there's a big fucking hole punched straight through the roof of Hell. The suffocating smoke from the hellfires no longer stinks of sulfur, but of tobacco, marijuana, opium, and countless other drugs to make the damned think they're in Heaven.

(Fanboy lights four blunts, and passes one to Anakin.)

Anakin: Thanks.

(He inhales as Fanboy puts three blunts between his lips. Both men go as they watch a huge orgy held upon the corpses of millions of demons, now improvised cushions for those who were damned for lust.)

[Phantasee]

Aw man, I just started reading Scars of Mustafar. I didn't know Padme dies!

[Sidewinder]

Aw man, I just started reading Scars of Mustafar. I didn't know Padme dies!

I didn't say WHEN she died, did I? Feel free to guess if this happened hours after the Battle of Mustafar, due to the injuries Anakin inflicted when he Force choked her; a hundred years later, due to old age, while grandchildren read poems by her deathbed; or somewhere in between.

[Darth Fanboy]

well honestly I would expect Satan to sort of bow in Fanboys presence as he walked by or an appropriate submissive gesture. This is my Gary Stu after all we are talking about.

[Darth Fanboy]

Episode -1, Part X: What You Take With You


"Lord Shinzon, the beamings are complete. The Mercenary has finished his job and the fleet is preparing to bombard the planet." Vkruk said, relaying the latest reports from the Romulan Warbirds in orbit.

Shinzon clenched his fist, and regarded it as he savored the taste of his victory. "Excellent, it's time we made our departure."

Shinzon and his Reman attendants made their way to the bright green Romulan shuttlecraft, as he made his way inside the cloned human nearly doubled over with a terrible cough, and he sturggled to press forward. Vkruk was the only one to voice his concerns. "Your condition worsens my lord. You need to get to a medical facility immediately."

"It matters not," Shinzon said as he spat blood onto the deck of the ship. "The Jem'Hadar cloning technology will be the breakthrough we need. Picard is not an option so long as this war lasts."

"Nevertheless sire, the medics aboard the Scythe can stabilize your condition and give us more time to implement the treatment." Vkruk said, worry evident in his voice.

Shinzon spat again, in the past his physical weaknesses were nothing he couldn't overcome with focus and determination. Now it was something he could no longer ignore. "Just get me into space and get that damned bombardment underway!"



Dizel watched on his viewer as the surface of Exmodeus III grew more distant as his shuttle ascended into the sky above his beleaguered installation. The Romulan Army and their mercenaries had engaged the Borg just as the last of the Jem'Hadar were wiped out. There were probably a handful more of the Dominion foot soldiers down below but even were they to survive the battle, their lack of Ketracel White would doom them within a day. Carefully, he activated the timer on the Thalaron detonator, and took a seat at the rear of the craft.

Looking down in his hands Dizel regarded the detonator for the Thalaron failsafe. Now that his survival was no longer in doubt he had the luxury of waiting until he was out of the blast range in order to detonate the devices. For the first time in a long time, Dizel smiled, believing that with the valuable data he had, he could restore his honor and good standing with the Founders.

"Pilot" he yelled to the cockpit, where his Cardassian pilot carefully guided the shuttle away from the battle in orbit. "Keep us away from those Warbirds but don't get us too far away from the planet. I have to be in range to activate the failsafes!" The Cardassian pilot failed to respond though, prompting Dizel to head towards the front of the ship to confront him directly.

"Pilot you will follow my instructions to the letter! Need I remind you of the justice served by the Dominion...pilot?"

As Dizel arrived in the cockpit he saw that the ship was on automatic, on a course that would have it pass dangerously close to the Romulan Fleet. Frantic, Dizel climbed into the pilot's seat and tried to decipher the controls. In his rushed state, his acute sense of hearing failed to pick up on the heavy footsteps behind him.

"Stand up Vorta, and keep your fucking hands where I can see them." Dizel complied, and turned around to witness the largest human he had ever seen pointing a Jem'Hadar rifle directly at him. "Don't be surprised," the human said, "You've been so busy sending your guards off to die that you made it nice and easy for me to take this ship. If you do what I tell you, I might even let you live."

DIzel's survival instincts kicked in, Vorta were a very compliant species and at this moment compliance was a very good thing. "Of course...but you must realize we are too close to the Romulan fleet! They'll shoot us down!"

"The Romulans aren't going to do shit. Check the sensors if you want, your fleet is toast and those ugly green buzzards out there are going to start disintegrating everything down below in a matter of moments."

Dizel motioned towards the device in his hand. "They won't have to though once my failsafes activate."

The Human regarded the device with caution. "You already activated the Thalaron weapons? How much time do we have?"

Shocked at the human's knowledge of his failsafe, Dizel looked at the small screen on the detonator, it's display in the standard written languange of the Dominion. "Less than five minutes!"

"And there is no way of reversing the detonation?" the Human asked.

"Not unless you want to go back down there, and I don't think you do! Now if you get us out of here I'll make sure you are well compensated!"

"Oh we'll be leaving, but you and I aren't going to the same place." said the Human as he raised the Jem'Hadar weapon.

Dizel screamed and raised his hands up in a futile effort to shield himself as Fanboy shot him repeatedly, blasting the helpless Vorta repeatedly until the body began to smolder.

After the deed was done he sat down at the controls, and made his way to the edge of the system as fast as he could, not wanting to miss the fireworks as the Romulan fleet began to open up fire.



"Shinzon's shuttle is on its way back, and our bombardment has been 100% effective. The Borg and Dominion forces are dead." said the junior Romulan Officer. "The Dominion Shuttle we detected is running fast.

The Scythe's Captain sat down, feeling as if he was exhaling for the first time in years. "Let it go, perhaps whoever was left alive will live to tell the tale of Romulan glory that took place on this world. Still, using our forces in order to keep the Borg occupied so that we could destroy them all for orbit was a terrible price to pay. Continue the firing sequences just to be sure their sacrifice was worth our efforts."

"As you command Captain, I also wanted to let you know that our engineers were detecting strange levels of radiation from the equipment that Lord Shinzon ordered us to beam aboard."

"That whole planet is covered in all sorts of forsaken radiation Lieutenant, I wouldn't be surprised if..." The Captain's sentence was then cut off by a blaring alarm klaxon. "Report!" He demanded.

"Captain, It's coming from the cargo hold, radiation levels have spiked nearly ten thousand percent in the last few seconds!"

"That's impossible only a bomb could...Contact Lord Shinzon and tell him to break off his course now!"



"Lord Shinzon, we are recieving an urgent communication from the Scythe," Vkurk informed from the Cockpit. "He is warning us not to approach the ship!"

Shinzon, still holding his sideswatched on the main viewscreen as his flagship, and every other ship in the fleet were all destroyed by terrible explosions. "All ships have been destroyed! We are detecting unprecedented levels of thalaron radiation at the epicenter of the explosiosn! Altering course to avoid it!" Called one of the Reman pilots.

As he watched, Shinzon knew he had been betrayed.

"Lord Shinzon," the pilto called back again. "We're being hailed by a Dominion shuttle, it is only lightly armed, should we respond?"

"Audio only." Shinzo replied, not wanting to be seen in his weakened state. The pilot opened the frequency and notioned that it was okay for Shinzon to speak. "Unidentified shuttle, stand down and..."

"Save it Shinzon."

Shinzon recognized the voice of the mercenary he had assigned to gain the Dominion's cloning technology. "You! You did this to my fleet!"

"That's right. Funny how your boys couldn't figure out that they were beaming nice big bombs aboard instead of the cloning tanks."

"What posessed you to do such a thing?" Shinzon demanded, wanting an explanation above all else.

"Let's just put it this way, neither of us got we wanted from that base. But that isn't going to stop us from making one last deal."

"The only deal I will make with you is that I will let you choose which slow and painful death you want when I put you in irons and..."

"Baldy you need to shut your damn mouth. Because the data I got from this Vorta that I just killed is probably the only thing you can salvage out of this operation so that you can justify it with your superiors. I'll send it to you right now if you make sure that I get what I want."

Shinzon let his disgust creep into his voice. "And what might that be?"

"All I want is my ship back from where it's being stored on your space station Lagga. After that you won't see me for the rest of your apparently short life."

"That can be arranged should your data be worthwhile enough, i'll have you know though if I ever see you in Romulan territory again i'll have you disemboweled and then tossed into a star."

"I always wanted to go out that way, Fanboy out."



One Year Later



Fanboy's ship landed on the edge of the crater where the Dominion base had once stood. Even with the war over, the journey had taken weeks and during that time Fanboy had gained true sobriety for the first time in months. His depression had reached the point where he had nearly reconsidered making the trip, at one point he had even considered killing himself as soon as he arrived, hoping that somehow his gesture would send him into whatever abyss his beloved was in and return her to the world of the living that she deserved to be a part of.

It took a few hours of talking with a half-drunk Vulcan before Fanboy got it into his head what he needed to do. In his state the Vulcan slackened in his stoic persona and started to ramble about logic.

"The thing about Logic my friend is that, like any other coping mechanism, it has its limits. Logic is a sentient being's way of taking all of the chaos in this universe and giving it a sense of purpose, so that we can delude ourselves into thinking that there is an order to things, and that we have a place somewhere in that order. But the chaotic universe doesn't always conform so nicely, and that is when we lose our sense of purpose. When that happens there is only one logical thing possible to do....survive."

At that point Fanboy had heard enough, and decked the Vulcan for daring to make sense when he was perfectly content to sulk. But there was a nugget of truth in the Vulcan's words that Fanboy decided to take to heart. As he looked over the crater he decided that he would survive, but he wouldn't waste his survival in monotony.

She wouldn't have wanted that.



Author's note: Thus ends the Episode -1 Story Arc. Apologies to my fellow writers and to the readers for putting you through this crap.

[Darth Fanboy]

This chapter was largely written by Academia Nut with contributions from Darth Fanboy, it is set in the UPF Verse and features a character crossover from "The Open Door" Universe.



Unnamed Porno Fanfic XL: The Education of Jonathan Archer

The Daltonian Command Ship turned Refugee Ship Fontaine's Folly...

"Prime, we are detecting an unusual anomaly coming from the nexus of the explosion!

Out of the hole in reality that had once been the Fanfic Fortress of Solitude, something slipped unnoticed and unseen amidst the destruction. Pulled by forces barely within human understanding and traveling along through time and space, it sought out a creature of like minded attitude to bond with.

Floating unseen and ethereal into a pocket of space-time distorted in such a way that it moved faster than mere light would allow, it found a delicious pocket of experience and drifted in, moving closer to a soul in agony, crying out for salvation. The sort of salvation that the invisible creature just a shadow’s thickness away in an impossible direction could offer.

"Jesus fuck what was that?" Prime Dalton said as the image flicked on the viewscreen. "Was it....was it carrying a DILDO?"

"It could have been a vibrator sir. Whatever it was, it looked like it could fill upa set of human intestines rather easily. That is, assuming the bowels were clean." Responded Dalton #2468

Prime Dalton and the other Daltons simply turned towards #2468 with a look of bewilderment on their face.



For her part, Hoshi was a third delirious with pain, a third delirious with fear, and a third delirious with a lack of oxygen. She had thought herself free from Archer when she got that job in South America and he intended to go to the stars, but it seemed that escape from the madman was impossible. That he had hunted her down and demanded she join his crew meant that there was no escape from him or his sick “games”.

He didn’t look it on the outside, but there was something fundamentally wrong and twisted with Jonathan Archer, and Hoshi had known that her last attempt at running had only irked him, so when he had invited her for “dinner” she did not resist, knowing it would only make his psychotic rage ten times worse.

That a Vulcan known as T’Pol had also been there had absolutely terrified Hoshi. He only invited to his games those who had angered him and apparently the stuffy Vulcan had been pushing all of his buttons ever since meeting him, and now that she was under his command…

When Archer had brained T’Pol upside the head with a galley tray the moment Hoshi had closed the door, she knew it was going to be bad.

Now the both of them were stripped, bound and gagged. T’Pol had enormous, oversized vibrators sized for a significantly larger species shoved painfully deep into each orifice and was making little, pathetic sounds while her eyes were locked open with and unable to blink from the drugs Archer had given her. A nasty concoction worked up by that sick Denobulan that passed for a Doctor known as Phlox. Although she wanted nothing more, T'Pol could not look away from the ministrations Hoshi was about to recieve.

What had started ten years ago as a little light rope work and dominance play had evolved into a demented nightmare the day Hoshi had met Archer. It had started with the whips and moved up to temporary piercings, but eventually he crossed a line where it was no longer fun for Hoshi, but by that point she had realized that trying to fight back would get her killed and so she kept quiet, terrified that he would eventually go too far and kill her but more terrified that if she ran he would definitely kill her.

So now a series of ropes connected to eight nails driven through the skin of her back suspended her just off the deck of Archer’s quarters while also tying back her arms. If she stretched out her legs she could just reach the floor and lift off a little to provide some relief to the pressure that felt like it was going to rip her back off. Unfortunately, her legs were having trouble supporting her.

There were three reasons for this. The first was because a tight latex mask encased her face and her only method of breathing was through two straws shoved up her nose, and Archer placed his thumbs over the opposite ends of the straws several times and said things like, “I’m the captain of this starship, I control everything on here, including when you get to breathe. Oxygen is a precious resource out in space, wouldn’t want to use it up too quickly, now would we?”

The second was that in addition to wearing black stiletto heels, a crotch less leotard with attached frilly pink tutu, and a leather aviator’s cap spray painted gold, Archer carried a stiff pink leather riding crop he had used to savagely whip Hoshi across the buttocks until her skin had opened up, causing her considerable agony and making it rather hard to try and support even a tiny fraction of her weight on her legs.

The third reason she couldn’t support herself was that now that she was suffering acute hypoxia and incredible pain, Archer had decided that now was the time to begin penetration, and as such he had pushed her legs apart, making it impossible to get them to touch the floor while also providing no extra support.

And while she hung there, staring down at the puddle of her own blood that was on the floor, suffering the worst depredations she ever had, she felt something touch her mind.

"You poor dear. You once enjoyed it when a partner would tie you up, make you safe and secure, but now it only brings pain you can’t savour."

Hoshi didn’t know what was going on, but she suspected she was hallucinating.

"No hallucination, just a fellow connoisseur of the erotic arts. You remember the days when your partners would respect the safe words, wouldn’t tell you ‘Its apricots’ before shoving a ball gag in your mouth and laughing at your inability to speak."

Hoshi sort of half nodded, half hung her head, but hanging her head not only strained her position but let her see the legs of the bastard currently violating her.

"I can help you though. I can show you a whole new world of experience. And it will be a pity for your partner that he never gave you his safe word. Just tell me that you want this to stop, and I’ll make it stop."

Underneath her mask, Hoshi gasped out an approximation of the word, “Apricots.”

Archer's thrusting stopped almost immediately as the sensations of Hoshi's insides changed to something more akin to fishhooks and broken glass. Gasping in pain, he leaned on Hoshi, putting immense stress on the nails pulling on her skin. The flesh bent weirdly, with an elasticity that should not have been possible while morphing into an inhuman color.

But nothing could have prepared Archer for the next intimate surprise he was about to recieve. HE looked down, and Hoshi’s pussy was starting to whistle rhythmically, while her hips were rocking in a manner reminiscent of someone bobbing their head jovially to a tune. Then her labia minora started to move like lips and sing.

“Vagina dentata
What a wonderful phrase
Vagina dentata
Ain’t no passing craze
It means no penis
For the rest of your days!”

In an instant the hooks piercing his flesh turned to grinding, cutting implements and Archer screamed in agony as he was forcibly separated from his manhood. Blood spurting everywhere, he tried to get away and get to his intercom, but Hoshi’s legs wrapped around him tightly, keeping him close.

With a horrible tearing sound, something pushed out of the latex Vulcan fuck-mask that had ensnared Hoshi, something that turned out to be her tongue. Only now it was of indefinite length and had a series of razor sharp cutting barbs on it that carefully cut away the remnants of the mask, revealing a twisted face and eyes blacker than the void outside the window.

Using her legs, she levered herself up on Archer, who hadn’t fallen over only because she wouldn’t let him. Her pussy now in his face, overflowing with his blood, her clit then protruded out of its sheath like a prehensile pseudopod and a tiny, black insect eye opened open. Flapping horrifically and spray fluid in his face, her vagina said, “Oh honey, you in for a world of hurt now.”

The tongue reached the cords suspending Hoshi and began to cut her loose, the snapping of each strand causing her new "mouth" to gasp in ecstatic pleasure until finally it was all too much and the both of them crashed to the floor.

Too busy trying to hold back the flow of blood from his crotch Archer just continued to thrash on the floor while the abomination Hoshi had turned into got up… sort of. Whatever she was, she was now inverted, with her arms now serving as her legs and her forearms her feet while her head hung upside down and her feet were curled above her like the arms of a praying mantis, her feet having turned into pincer claws. Her regular face was horrifically distended, her whole mouth and nose collapsed into that dread tongue, offering no orifices to breath from.

With horrible slowness Archer’s own severed penis was extruded from Hoshi and then seemed to merge into her body, forming a grotesque, bloody “tongue” for the “mouth” she spoke out of.

Turning to T’Pol, the monster offered consolation. “Do not worry, your relief will come soon, but for now This One has to make sure the good captain doesn’t bleed out on us so that he might learn a real lesson in depravity.”

The snake-like tongue then darted out and slipped into the hole where Archer’s penis had once been and started clamping and tying shut all the little arteries and veins that were currently leaking out his life. He was now catastrophically pale, but he would keep for a while longer.

While the tongue did its painful, messy work, the monstrosity commented, “You, should be grateful Archer. This One would have liked a little tongue that first time you kissed her, but even then you were far too cold and self absorbed.”

Once the job was done, the grossly mutated Hoshi stomped over to T’Pol and used her pincer feet to remove the oversized vibrators, the tongue tickling lightly at the horribly overextended flesh before she said, “As promised. Although you are free to leave whenever you want I do hope you'll stay and enjoy the show, then maybe you and This One can spend some more delicate and quality time together ”

She then turned back to Archer and said, “You’re about to get ten years worth of payback for your sins compressed into one evening's work by a master. Normally I would ask you to enjoy, but it has been decided that you will recieve the same courtesy that you extended to This One.”

Archer tried to scream, but the tongue that had once been his penis was thrust forward, rocketing through the air until it reached his wide open throat. He bit down in an attempt to deflect it but was only rewarded with a terrifying pain. Somehow, though it had been severed, he was still able to feel the searing pain of his own bite cutting into his penis.



Meanwhile, a certain Malcolm Reed sat in his quarters, watching via the camera he had installed in the air vent leading into Archer's quarters. He slowly stroked himself while watching the scene, building up speed when he realized that he was witnessing something truly original. A true deviant at heart, Reed had signed up for the mission intending to start the first ever human interstellar pornography ring, and if this was any indicator of how their travels would go, he was set to become so rich that his descendants would be wealthy for generations to come!



What had originally been scheduled for an evening ended up lasting for the better part of a day, and not even Hoshi's benefactor could keep Archer going forever. Eventually the good captain had passed out from the strain and had collapsed. When that was over with, the mysterious being left Hoshi's body and returned to a discorporeal state. The young woman, now healed from the damage Archer had done, climbed into the bed with T'Pol. Both women were eager to celebrate their newfound freedom from their tyrant of a dom.

The being though knew that a petty man like Archer wouldn't hesitate to exact revenge, and she had grown to rather like Hoshi as well. Floating into the next room, she sensed a strange yet familiar species of life. She had never tried posessing a canine before, and wondered how the beast's differing phsyiology would affect her. With a sinister laugh the being decided to find out, sentient beings could sometimes be so boring.

Now, in her guise as Porthos the Beagle, she would protect Hoshi, and provide frequent reminders to Captain Archer that he was being watched.


Spoiler

Sam Beckett awoke in searing pain, all of his orfices throbbed in excruciating pain and he fumbled around with his penis, surprised to find it intact.

"Sam! Sam! Are you okay?"

"I think so, but what in the fuck just happened?"

"You did it! You leaped! Ziggy says that this Archer fuck was supposed to get tormented so that he wouldn't abuse any more submissives!"

"So all of that torture and shit was...necessary? But I didn't do anything, why did I have to leap into that sick bastard?"

"Ziggy says that the universe is a cruel fucking place and that you need to learn how to deal with it."

"Tell Ziggy to go fuck himself." Beckett said as he looked into a nearby mirror, and saw an attractive and youthful female form. "Hey not bad, maybe i'll take a little extra time getting to know this body." He said to himself. HIs excitement was destroyed when he heard the voice in the other room.

"Kaitie hurry up! We have to go get our Thetan levels checked before we head over for the big party in Clearwater! Oh, and Monty is going to spend the night again tomorrow and I don't want you disturbing us."

Beckett's head fell into his hands. "Fuck..."

[Crayz9000]

Dear gods, Mislaato's loose in UPF...

And just whose body did Sam jump into? I gather he's at the Cruise house, but he sure didn't jump into Tom Cruise because he heard him calling for Katie.

[Darth Fanboy]

Dear gods, Mislaato's loose in UPF...

And just whose body did Sam jump into? I gather he's at the Cruise house, but he sure didn't jump into Tom Cruise because he heard him calling for Katie.

Spoiler

Katie's

[Phantasee]

Fuck me.

[Darth Nostril]

Really not a good idea to read this through right from the beginning in one go.
I'm just going to find a nice dark corner to curl up in and gibber quietly to myself for a while.

[Phantasee]

Really not a good idea to read this through right from the beginning in one go.
I'm just going to find a nice dark corner to curl up in and gibber quietly to myself for a while.

BAHAHHAHAHA! I knew one of you noobs would do it eventually.

[Falkenhorst]

hahah, even now years later I'm still laughing as people scar their minds reading this fic.

[Phantasee]

hahah, even now years later I'm still laughing as people scar their minds reading this fic.

Who are you?

I'm kidding, but man, you guys need to get together and get really drunk, and pound out another dozen chapters, hey? I can help start a donation fund if that's what it'll take (I'm not sure where you are, I know Fanboy's in Cali near Anaheim, and Shep's near DC).

EDIT: Wisconsin?

No fucking wonder! So much is explained.

[Darth Fanboy]

Unnamed Porno Fanfic XLI: The End of the War is Near

Part 1: “Who Are We Now?”


Bethel, New York, August 1969

With the baby Marina now safe in futuristic foster care and her financial situation guaranteed thanks to another grift across time, the search for the Gnomes could continue, but before they could fight the gnomes they still had to find them, not to mention find Fanboy, the hired muscle who gave the ersatz time travelers an edge in physical combat.

At first the task had seemed daunting, but Zaia intelligently theorized that instead of searching for Fanboy, they would allow Fanboy to come to them by choosing the one time and place in Earth’s history he would eventually have to visit.

The Woodstock festival proved Zaia correct, as the lure of consequence free sex with strangers and free hallucinogens drew Fanboy in like a moth to a flame. They found him atop a trio of women, nude save for the incredible amount of encrusted mud, ingesting what would later become known as “the brown acid”.

“What took you guys so long?” Fanboy said in an incredibly subdued tone of voice. It was almost as if the man sounded depressed.

“There were…complications…” Sheppard responded, offering no further information about his siring a child with a militant lesbian assassin and nearly gambling himself into poverty on numerous occasions.

“Whatever man,” Fanboy said, still melancholy. “I know why you’re looking for me, and I know where the gnomes are. But trsut me when I say, you don’t want to go looking for them just now.”

“Since when do gnomes turn you into a fuckin’ pussy?” Falkenhorst accused. “Jesus fucking Christ, all I want to do is fix the fucking timeline and get back to my damn life. I swear there’s a fuckhead at every corner on this trip. Don’t think you’re not included in that statement Shep.”

Zaia remained quiet, her feminine instinct was working double time right now and she had no idea of how to interpret it.

“Fanboy,” Shep said in an exasperated tone. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Gritting his teeth, Fanboy reached underneath one of the unconscious women and retrieved a small device. “Fine then, so this is how it ends…”

Zaia recognized the device immediately. “STUN GRENADE! GET BACK!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, but it was too late. Fanboy slammed the grenade down at point blank range, knowing that he would take the hit as well. It was a sacrifice he made to guarantee the hit though, and the four convulsed with energy and fell to the ground in a heap.

Seconds later, the metallic forms of the converted Gnomish-Daleks arrived to retrieve the bodies.

The Present, as defined by one Mark Sheppard

Shep, Falk, and Zaia all awakened to find themselves in a realm of infinite emptiness, with nothing save for an endless floor of ivory colored marble. They were still armed, which Sheppard found odd even though he wasn’t about to dispute the sense of security his weapon gave him.

Suddenly, a section of the floor began to give way, and from the rubbled a hideous form began to emerge. Its body was that of a great pink fleshy serpent, and its head the mutated and deformed visage of an elderly man. Spines emerged seemingly at random, and a pair of sharp and tiny claws was visible but a meter or so beneath the head. Although he had changed much, the trio easily identified him as Darth Garden Gnome

With their guns drawn, and the Dark Lord of the Gnomish Empire towering over them just meters away, Sheppard and Falkenhorst grit their teeth and prepared to open fire. Behind them, the wounded Zaia held her shattered leg in her hands in a vain attempt to hold it in place and limit the pain.

“Do you really think those TOYS will bring me down? I have evolved into the ultimate life form!” Darth Garden Gnome bellowed as his victory seemed inevitable.

“Go fuck yourself you glob of shit, I’ve picked more dangerous things out of my asshole.” Falkenhorst said as he leveled his pistol and fired a bullet right in between the gnome’s eyes. The shot was true but the projectile was harmlessly absorbed into the postulating skin of the creature.

Darth Garden Gnome laughed again. “Oh hoho….you’ve more resolve than I gave you smut dealers credit for. A shame really that you forsook my offer of wealth unlike your friend in the mask back there; destroying you seems like such a waste.”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Sheppard yelled, emptying all of the rounds from his Desert Eagle into Darth Garden Gnome. It was a futile gesture and Shep knew it well, but it did have the intended effect of keeping the monster quiet for but a couple of seconds as the superficial damage healed itself.

As the last of the bullet holes sealed, Sheppard thought back, wondering just how the greatest adventure of his career had come to this…


The Present, as defined by one Darth Fanboy

The nausea and disorientation from the stun grenade had worn off hours ago, but the uneasiness of selling out his comrades remained. The Gnomish leader, Darth Garden Gnome, had approached him just prior to Fanboy’s departure for Woodstock and had made Fanboy a spectacular offer that he couldn’t resist. Although the decision played havoc with his emotions, he did not doubt himself, because what the gnomes had offered him for his services exceeded anything Shep and Falk could have ever offered.

The Gnomes had brought his wife back from the dead.

They hadn’t resurrected her in a literal sense, but they had used their control of the timeline to spare Fangirl of her fate before he untimely death on the world of Exmodeus all of those years ago.

Once his teammates had been safely delivered to the Gnomes, their leader had made good on his promise. Fanboy had been promised the chance for he and his wife to live a long happy life in the years preceding the Gnomish conquest of Earth in exchange for her resurrection. It was a contest to see which was more important, one girl or the entire world.

The world never stood a chance.


Author's note: Uh oh, does this mean UPF is working towards closing a plotline? What the fuck?

[Sidewinder]

Assassinating your own character, i.e., your own self-insert. Wow. I mean... wow.

I'm curious what Shep, Falk, & Zaia will do when an alt-universe Fanboy inevitably saves them (I doubt the original will, as he doesn't seem big on regret & remorse). Shoot him anyways? Say, "Welcome back... sort of," and not look a gift horse in the mouth?

Also, when the alt-universe Fanboy who did not sellout those three, gets into a fight with the Fanboy who did, who wins? Mind if I write the scene with the Fanboy on Fanboy violence?

[Darth Fanboy]

Unnamed Porno Fanfic XLI: The End of the War is Near

Part 2: “Penance Be Thy Name”

The Present, as defied by one Falkenhorst

Getting paid.

Getting laid .

Getting paid to get laid .

That was the simplified version of the code that Falkenhorst lived by. Notably absent in that code was “fight 20 foot tall raging fucking monster in order to save all of existence from a midget-dominated timeline.”

And yet, there he was fighting for just that ideal, a scything talon of a tentacle ripped through the air towards him, and with all of his strength he caught the fleshy tendril mere centimeters before it could strike his face.

“Daddy always said that women were nothing but trouble…” he muttered to himself as another taloned tentacle shot out towards Zaia, the Zeonic assassin turned-travelling companion that Falkenhorst felt dragged him into this entire mess.

“Shep! I’d do something for your girlie if I were you!”

Reacting as fast as he could Sheppard dove and pulled Zaia out of the way as the blade missed and impacted with the ground where she stood. The enormous gnome before them chuckled.

“Ho ho ho…quit delaying the inevitable and let me skewer you!” he boomed.

Falkenhorst threw up in his mouth a little, and reflexively spat it out onto Darth Garden Gnome rather than swallow it back down.

“Get fucked you midget martian thing!” He screamed as he tore the end of the tendril attacking him, causing it to retract into the body of the beast.

But what really made Falkenhorst angry was that the hired muscle, his motherfucking ace in the hole, decided for once in his life to show initiative on an assignment that had nothing to do with copious amounts of drugs, and it was about to get everyone killed. Fanboy had sold them all out for a skirt, and Falk swore that he would return from his grave to haunt the living shit out of the turncoat mercenary.

And that’s when he saw the girl disappear, and Fanboy start sprinting right for Darth Garden Gnome, twin machetes in hand.


A Glimmer In Time, The Anomaly that was Darth Fangirl…


The argument had been rather one sided. They usually were, but this was much more so. For Darth Fanboy, happiness would have to be put on hold.

“You irresponsible fuck! You had me dragged through time so that you could let everything be conquered by goddamn gnomes? What the hell were you thinking? What kind of life can we possibly lead knowing what’s going to happen? You just don’t fucking get it!”

He wanted to yell back. She wasn’t the least bit grateful at all for being spared death, a cold and lonely countdown on a forsaken world where her remains would lay at the center of an untouchable radioactive abyss. She wasn’t even glad to see him still standing after years of hard fought battles, including those fought within his psyche. She wasn’t even happy to know that he had done it all for her.

She sighed, and then she leaned in and kissed him.

“This isn’t real D, it can never be. It’s all just a fading dream where waking up means certain doom. I know you did this because you love me, but if you really do love me, you’ll set things right.”

Without speaking a word, he made his decision, and the vibrant, breathing woman before him began to fade as the timeline altered itself to reflect upon his decision. As she faded out of existence, he could see her lips moving, and as he read her expression, he cried for the first time since she died.

He drew his twin blades from sheaths across his back; the gnomes had told him just enough of their machinations to end this game. He knew he would succeed, he had no other choice now.

Charging from behind, Fanboy sprinted and heaved himself into the air as he got close to the unsuspecting Darth Garden Gnome. With a bloodthirsty roar he plunged the blades into the back of the monster and forced them downwards, creating a pair of terrible gashes that spilled blood, pus, and a black viscous fluid that burned their air with its pungency. Reaching into the hole, Fanboy located and found a warm wet sack that resembled a placenta, and tore free the contents within. A fleshy mass fell to the ground in a heap of bile and pus, while another more metallic mass made a large clanking sound.

As he tossed them to the ground however, a trio of the scything tentacles ripped through his body, tearing great holes in his abdomen and chest from behind, causing his own organs to spill from his body.

Fanboy cringed and cursed. He was glad that Fangirl was not here to see this part. With the last of his strength, he called out to his once-again allies.

“If any of you dumb fuckers can hear me! Kafff….Kaffff…, DESTROY THE MACHINE.”

The Present, as defined by one Zaia

Recognizing the threat rapidly arising to his plans, Darth Garden Gnome tossed the mortally wounded mercenary aside. He turned around just in time to see the one known as Zaia, hovering over the metallic cylinder.

“Here’s goes nothing…” Was all she said as she lifted her one foot that still worked and slammed her boot down on the mysterious machine.

Darth Garden Gnome watched in horror as her boot destroyed the delicate and intricate circuitry, before he could strike her down with his fading might; he began to fade out of existence. He lost his opacity and a fading tentacle passed clean through Zaia as she stood triumphant, but still unsure of what had happened.

MEanwhile, in the center of the Fanfic Universe...

"SWEET JESUS FUCK" Cried the Prime Dalton. "GARY STU CHARACTER SHIELDS FAILING! SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

[Sidewinder]

"GARY STU CHARACTER SHIELDS FAILING! SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

This is the greatest line in fanfic history, period.