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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:14am
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Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:

It's been done. Alien Ressurection, the Newborn.


That scene was gross. It was also really slack. How could you kill your kid, even if it is a FREAKISH alien/human hybrid that crushed that guy's head (he's the miscellaneous soldier- seen in the The Rock, Clear and Present Danger, Alien Resurection and Broken Arrow IIRC)



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:17am
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I was thinking of something more deliberately prolonged. Jason X also had a similar scene where a girl was sucked through a grating and into space.
In any case, I look forward to seeing the rest of the Star Trek crews' dirty laundry aired.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:35am
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IG-88E wrote:
Fuck, ESB, you beat me to it.


HAHAHA I 0wnz jo0 Iggy!!!!

Ph34r my L33Tn3$$!!!

(Or maybe not...j/k)



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:36am
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consequences wrote:
I was thinking of something more deliberately prolonged. Jason X also had a similar scene where a girl was sucked through a grating and into space.
In any case, I look forward to seeing the rest of the Star Trek crews' dirty laundry aired.


Don't jo0 mean spaced?



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:41am
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No, I look forward to the episode of Enterprise that consists of 45 minutes of looking at the crew's unwashed clothing, because that would be better than the drivel we're receiving.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 11:45am
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consequences wrote:
No, I look forward to the episode of Enterprise that consists of 45 minutes of looking at the crew's unwashed clothing, because that would be better than the drivel we're receiving.


If anyone looks forward to an episode of Enterprise... he could be seriously disturbed. Or at least a glutton for punishment.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 12:44pm
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HAHAH good one, lol.



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

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

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"

UPF: CARNIVAL OF RETARDS

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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 02:56pm
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Shep, the part about the tapes being numbered as well as named was hilarious, IMO. I wonder how he could have gotten 50 tapes of Hoshi and T'Pol, but the one about Archer is disturbing at best.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-24 04:06pm
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well that was.... ummm... interesting?



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To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift. ~Steve Prefontaine
Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht frist and lsat ltteer are in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by it slef but the wrod as a wlohe.

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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 11:37am
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Actually, this whole fic is pretty amusing, he doesn't take himself seriously, hell nobody reading it does, and we all loosen up and feel better because of it!



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:01pm
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Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:
Actually, this whole fic is pretty amusing, he doesn't take himself seriously, hell nobody reading it does, and we all loosen up and feel better because of it!


Here, here! I'm with that! I'm loving this fic!



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:09pm
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Death by liposuction? Fuck, Shep might actually beat STravo for sheer entertainment value!

Or maybe not.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:14pm
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Yes, but in a different vein.

You want epic and awe-inspiring? Read Stravo.

You want gut-busting and crude? Read Shep.

:D



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:22pm
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Ha. true. Could you summarize Starcrossed for me?



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:24pm
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Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:
Death by liposuction? Fuck, Shep might actually beat STravo for sheer entertainment value!


The scary thing is, people HAVE died due to liposuction treatments... :shock: :shock:



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:32pm
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MKSheppard wrote:
Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:
Death by liposuction? Fuck, Shep might actually beat STravo for sheer entertainment value!


The scary thing is, people HAVE died due to liposuction treatments... :shock: :shock:


it's true! The vibrator thing gets rammed into a lung and they die right there on the op table.

HAve you heard of death by enema? It happened... This woman went for an enema, the metal thing pierced her rectum, she got septicaemia and died.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:48pm
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Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:
MKSheppard wrote:
Evil Sadistic Bastard wrote:
Death by liposuction? Fuck, Shep might actually beat STravo for sheer entertainment value!


The scary thing is, people HAVE died due to liposuction treatments... :shock: :shock:


it's true! The vibrator thing gets rammed into a lung and they die right there on the op table.

HAve you heard of death by enema? It happened... This woman went for an enema, the metal thing pierced her rectum, she got septicaemia and died.


I REALLY did not want to know that.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:50pm
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Oops, now you do. :twisted:



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-25 12:50pm
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Thank you very much. [/sarcasm]



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 Post subject: CHAPTER THREE! PostPosted: 2002-11-29 03:34am
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"Captain Picard, there are some men to see you," replied Data,
who tried to hide his disgust at being forced into Picard's
gay porn holos in order to retain his rank and position on the
Enterprise.

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

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

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

The doorbell chimed, and a moment later, in stepped
two rather brutish and hulking gentlemen, their
well-tailored coats trying valiantly, but failing to
hide the fact that the men were obviously bodybuilders.

"Captain Picard, we presume?" asked the taller of
the two, whose hair was completely jet black,
and had a wicked-looking white scar running across
his forehead.

"None other. Whom do I have the pleasure of talking to?"
replied Picard.

"I'm Frankie, and this is my colleague, Seppo." said the
tall man.

The short, thickly built Seppo looked at Picard with a
dangerous, hungry stare.

"We are here because our employer is worried about you,"
said Seppo in his thick New York accent.

"Well, I appreciate his concern, but I'm rather sure
I'm in no danger." replied Picard, beginning to wonder
where this was going.

"He's worried you might get hurt unless you can cough
up 50,000 bars of Gold Pressed Latinum, Picard. Nobody
cuts in on our bosses' business without paying his dues."
said Frankie, shifting his stance.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" stammered Picard.
"And besides, 50,000 is an outrageous sum, even for me!"

Picard began ranting about how Gold Pressed Latinum was
illegal and how the Federation was a moneyless society.
It was nothing new to him, and he was in fact lying through
his yellow french teeth. He had learned to bullshit his way
through these kind of arguments, and he was using his skills
to full effect, or so he thought.

His self-righteous tirade was cut off as Seppo pulled out a
holodisc from his pocket and thumbed it on, throwing it on
Picard's ready-room table.

Immediately a title flashed in the air: ANDROID HOMO FUCK
MACHINE # 5

The scene began showing Data and Wesley stripping down,
then they began fornicating in full technicolor 3D action
with surround sound.

Picards voice trailed off to nothingness.

"Where did you get that piece of gutter trash?" he finally
replied after several long seconds of silence.

"You should know that, frenchie, since you're the one behind
it." replied Seppo.

"Our bosses don't like this kind of shit, and besides, you're
cutting into their bidness. So pay up."

Picard began to stammer out excuses. "I ah....uh....don't
have that kind of money on me. Hell, my business doesn't
even make that kind of...."

"Our prices are negotiatable." replied Seppo with a sharp
tone of voice.

Picard thought this over for a few minutes, with Seppo and
Frankie looking on intently. Suddenly, the door chimed
and in stepped Data.

Picard smiled.

"Wonderful invention, hidden alarm buttons."

His face then hardened.

"Mister Data, these gentlemen have discovered our secret.
Dispose of them, will you?"

"I am afraid not, Captain." replied Data suddenly.

This time, it was Picard's turn to stare in openmouthed
shock for the second time in as many minutes.

"I have had enough of your perverted desires, Captain. And
besides, these men are paying me more for this one job than
you ever paid me in total for my forty appearances in your films."

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

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

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

"That does it. Fuck the bosses' orders."
muttered Seppo.

[The Next Morning - _La Italy Bistro_ , Sussex, England]

Falkenhorst and Sheppard sat in the corner booth of the
Italian dinery sited on the outskirts of Sussex, a few
minutes away from the Estate of Malcolm Reed, now wholly
owned and operated by them.

Unfortunately, they still hadn't hired any servants to
cook their food, and they didn't trust the replicated
crap, so every morning and at night, they would make the
half an hour trip to the town of Sussex to eat in a trusted
Dinery that was known to use wholly organic ingredients.

Sheppard was reading the local rag, and Falkenhorst couldn't
help but notice the lurid headlines splashed across the front
page.

"Guess old Frankie and Seppo did the job, even if they did
exceed orders," commented Falk.

"Can't say I can blame them," replie Shep as he flipped over
to another page in the paper. "Seeing what they saw would
drive me to a murderous rage too."

Falkenhorst took another sip from his Coca-Cola as he scanned
the headlines on the papers that other guests of the diner
were reading as they ate that morning.

"HERO OF STARFLEET DIES IN GAY SEX SCANDAL!" screamed
one of the major British tabloids. Underneath that in
smaller type were the words - "Saved Earth from both
Borg invasions".

"SECURITY TAPES SHOW NOTHING!" shouted another tabloid.

"PICARD INVOLVED IN TRYST WITH SON OF DOCTOR!" yelled
the Guardian, which was still publishing after several
centuries of lies and slandery.

"YOUNG CRUSHER FOUND DISEMBOWELED" proclaimed yet another
tabloid, and upon seeing that, Falk chortled.

"My, my, our friend Mister Data is quite the amateur
proctologist, isn't he?"

"Speaking of proctology," added Sheppard, "I find it amusing
that the dear Captain was found with Mister Crusher's
head stuck up his ass."

"That's physically impossible!" countered Falk.

"I know," replied Sheppard with an evil grin.

All trace of humor suddenly left Sheppard's face
as he spoke to Falk in a low tone of voice. "Are
you sure that the restraining chip you fitted
to Mister Data works?"

"Sure as rain, Shep. Besides, if that doesn't work,
we always have these," and with that, Falk patted
the compact form of the Dympel Electromagnetic
Pulse Gun strapped to his thigh.

"I hope so for your sake and for Humanity's sake," replied
Sheppard.

"Data could become a dangerous sexual predator...the
most heinous rapist of all time!" Sheppard finished
with a shudder.

"We'll deal with that if it comes up, Shep. Now let's just
sit back and let the money roll in from our business."
replied Falkenhorst as he sat back in his seat.



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

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


Last edited by MKSheppard on 2002-11-29 08:14am, edited 1 time in total.
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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-29 03:43am
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That was beyond sick. On the other hand people who I don't like died in nasty ways. Keep it coming.



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 Post subject: Re: CHAPTER THREE! PostPosted: 2002-11-30 01:04am
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MKSheppard wrote:
"Captain Picard, there are some men to see you," replied Data,
who tried to hide his disgust at being forced into Picard's
gay porn holos in order to retain his rank and position on the
Enterprise.

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

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


ROTFLMAO just doesn't convey how hard I laughed at this one.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-11-30 01:44pm
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HEHEHE glad you liked it, Ig-88e.



Falkenhorst

BOTM 15.Nov.02

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

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

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"

UPF: CARNIVAL OF RETARDS

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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-12-02 03:06am
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It saddens me that people we hate are dying at such a slow rate. On the other hand, BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Please, for the love of all that is unholy continue.



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 Post subject:  PostPosted: 2002-12-12 05:43am
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Merry Christmas, hooliganz!!!! hahahah, tonight Sheppard and I have completed another piece of this evil fanfic for your perverse viewing pleasures. Without further ado I present:

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC FROM FALK AND SHEP, CHAPTER 4

Odo sat down at the table next to a nervous Dr. Bashir
in one of the side booths in Quark's.

"You don't look quite well, Doctor. Perhaps the food here
isn't good for your complexion?" asked Odo in the same voice
that had spelled doom for countless scumbags over the years.

"How are we gonna get around this search, Odo? Sisko's really
pissed off; I heard he was going to have Eddington do it
this time, instead of you." muttered Bashir.

Odo muttered a dark curse. Damn Eddington. Fucking Starfleet
Grade A Pansy...

"What are we gonna do?" moaned Bashir, an increasingly desperate
tone of voice creeping into his speech. He took a hefty swig
from his drink.

"Calm down my dear Doctor. We simply frame someone else.
It will require some of your....collection, though."

"WHO?" practically screamed Bashir, only to be put off by Odo
waving his finger in that annoying manner of his.

"Who has the money, and the motive to be running such goods
through the station, Doctor? Certainly not you.....but our
host...." and with that, Odo cocked his head enough for his
eyes to lock onto their host, Quark, who was serving a
bunch of people at the bar.

"What about him?" asked Bashir, dabbling at his sweaty
forehead with a napkin.

Odo cocked his head back around, and looked at Bashir. Could
he actually BE this stupid?

"We kill Quark...." began Odo, and almost immediately,
Bashir shouted him down "No, NO!"

"If we kill him, we'll be getting into an even bigger
mess than with Sisko!"

A shocked look came into Bashir's eyes. "Almighty God,
man, you haven't seen the publications I have, the ones
the feds don't give out...the ones that they make us docs
swear an oath not to reveal!"

"What publications?" asked Odo in a deadpan voice.

"The ones that tell us precisely how much dosage we need to put
into the replicators; my God, man!" exclaimed Bashir, rubbing
his eyes and refilling his glass.

"Dosage? Have you been snorting Bajoran Angel Dust lately?"
asked Odo in a disgusted voice.

"Think about it, Constable! Why are your Bajorans always
so rowdy, along with Humans who've stayed on Bajor eating
their food?"

"It's because Bajor isn't a Federation member yet, and
doesn't have a full fledged replicator system for food!"

"Let's not even get into the truth drugs....." said Bashir
with a visible shudder.

"Or the TORTURE DRUGS...." whispered Bashir, his voice
barely above a whisper.

"Torture Drugs, Doctor? Now you're just being a idiot. Aren't
they banned by the Federation Constitution?" replied Odo.

"That's just bullshit to pacify the Vulcans...just go ask your
underworld contacts about Vaccine #10120, Odo. You'll find out
more than you ever wanted to know...."

A pensive look came over Odo's face. Bashir was telling some pretty
damn tall tales here...He'd check them out later...

"I'll ask, Doctor. But we need this matter taken care of NOW.
Eddington begins his search tomorrow at 0530 hours. Barely
enough time to get this job done..."

Bashir looked down into his empty tumbler.

"Fine, Odo. Do it. Just do the fucking thing."

[5 hours later]

"Ohh, Quark, come in here baby.....Sweetcakes wants you..."
crooned the disgustingly ugly Ferengi whore that was Quark's
main lay these days when he couldn't import high quality
whores from Bajor.

She was so obsessed with making sure her ears were just right
that she didn't notice that the chair across from her was slowly
creeping towards the bed...

The chair then extended a pseudopod and jabbed the whore with
it roughly, injecting a whole gram of Bajoran Angel Dust into the
Whore's bloodstream before slowly backing into the corner, where
it would watch the fireworks...

The only person who knew what had just happened were Odo and
unfortunately for him and the esteemed Doctor Bashir's future
plans, a discreet holocamera hidden in the ceiling...a holo
camera that transmitted it's recordings to Earth every few days
to a computer system in the Malcolm Reed Estate...


MEANWHILE, IN A GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY...

Emperor Palpatine sighed in lecherous contentment as he had his way with the pleasure droid. The HRD bucked and heaved to a heavy tempo beneath him, uttering random selections from it's six million programmed phrases of endearment. No human or even alien females could withstand Palpatine's dark-side enhanced bedroom skills.

In the beginning, he had enjoyed using up nubile young women and then snuffing them, but his twisted, evil mind soon ran short of gruesome diversions. Live females died too quickly under his sadistic attentions. Palpatine screamed Sith curses as he got his rocks off. Angry, incandescent bolts of force lightning began arcing from his loins, slamming into the pleasure droid, which began spouting gibberish as it's circuits were fried. The droid's artificial skin erupted in flames, filling Palpatine's nostrils with the acrid stench of burning polymers and latex. The droid's faux blonde hair sizzled and burned off, it's eyeballs popping and melting as the internal optics overloaded. A twisted, perverted smile warped Palpatine's face as he screwed the pleasure droid to death.

"Fuuuuuuucccccckkkkk Meeeeeeeeeeeee--*zap*sizzle*" the droid's voice trailed off into mechanical sputters as the machine twitched a few times and died. Palpatine got off the bed, gathering his robes about him and cackling evilly as his acidic smegma burned through the droid's insides and started the matress smoldering. As he turned to walk away, a glint of polished steel caught his eye. His curiosity piqued, he leaned in closer to have a look.

Affixed to the forhead of the droid, normally hidden under it's false skin, was a manufacturer's plaque. Palpatine brushed away the soot and read the stamped script:

PD SERIES A-26 # 452610009
TARKIN ADULT ENTERTAINMENT LTD.
INSPECTED 02 27 IY 0023

Palpatine ripped the plaque from the still-warm skull of the pleasure droid and dropped it into a hidden pocket in his robes.
The Dark Side rose like a storm in the Emperor, and he unleashed another barrage of force lightning on the smoking skeleton of the pleasure droid, reducing it to a puddle of melted metal and slag, and completely disintegrating the bed. He left the mess for the droids to deal with.

So Tarkin thought he could muscle in on Palpatine's well established underworld Empire, did he? Although the Emperor controlled the galactic government, he also had his filthy claws deep in the slimy underbelly of the galaxy. Palpatine's agents trafficked in all the most vile adult entertainment imaginable, from alien fuck-a-thons and slave trading to holonet porn sites and millions of brothels on nearly every world of the Empire.

He would tolerate no competition, that was for sure. Nobody had any idea how much of the funding for the vast Imperial War-Machine came from Palpatine's dirty dealings, but it was a sizable percentage. Tarkin would have to be informed of his error, clandestinely, of course. Palpatine keyed the comlink on his throne, and spoke into it.

"Summon Lord Vader. It is a matter of pressing urgency." As he spoke, Palpatine shifted in his throne and unleashed a long, rumbling fart that rolled through the vast throne room and echoed off the ceiling. He smiled in blissful satisfaction. Sex always helped relieve his chronic constipation.

"Uh... What the fuck was that, sire?" asked the young Lieutenant on the comm line. Palpatine even surprised himself when he dismissed the young man's question. He hadn't taken a shit for days, and he was feeling alot better. He began cackling evilly as the horrible rotten stench spread throughout the vast chamber and the small batlike rodents in the upper rafters began suffocating and dropping lifeless from their perches from the deadly effects of his rancid Sith fart.

[END CH. 4]



Falkenhorst

BOTM 15.Nov.02

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

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

-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"

UPF: CARNIVAL OF RETARDS

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