Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-06-18 04:00am

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC XXXVII: "Drunk Driving force of History!" or "Historical Bloopers Part One!"

2004, Somewhere Over the Indian Ocean

"I think it's really neat that you've managed to pilfer all of those Nuclear Weapons out of Iraq, no really I do..."Zaia said sarcastically. "But don't you think that using the Time Machine's tractor beam to haul them around makes us rather inconspicuous?"

[ CUT TO an exterior shot of the time pod, struggling to stay in the air and keep altitude while carrying an enormous payload of nuclear weapons with it's tractor beam. ]

"Aw come on, you know how hard this shit is to find back in the 24th century!" Shep protested.

"I think's she's right Shep. Although I admit those cases of Uranium you got with the North Korean Flag painted on them will be worth huge cash to a 24th century historical museum, but that shit is cutting into our speed. We are barely doing 70kph up here, and my grandmother does 70 kph in her Beep-Chair! I'm cutting the power."

Zaia and Shep both scrambled to stop Falk's reach. "No! Wait!" They each protested simultaneously, but the deed was done. Hundreds of megatons worth of ordinance plummeted into the sea. It feel in just such a way that it feel into a deep and previously unexplored crevasse before exploding, setting off a terrible chain reaction of events and creating a terrible Earthquake. Zaia immediately started recording data with the ship's sensors.

"Shit! That was a 9.3 magnitude Earthquake! The resulting wave are going to..." Suddenly Zaia was revisited by a memory of one of her Earth History lessons back at the Zeonic Military Academy for Aspiring Emasculators.

"The great 21st Century Tsunami occurred in the Italian Ocean, the result of male negligence in building too many settlements near the coastline without the proper procedures in place for advance warning and evacuation. Over thirty billion people died when the subcontinent of India was washed away entirely."

Although the accuracy of the textbook in question was suspect, mainly because the population of Earth at the time was far less than thirty billion and the fact that the Indian subcontinent still existed, there was no disputing that a terrible disaster occurred, and she had been privy to it!

"Oh fuck what else could go wrong."

October 10th, 1871, Chicago, Illinois, USA

"What do you think you're doing you fucking idiot!"

"I said i'd take you back to Chicago! This is it!" Fanboy pulled the large Cuban cigar out of his mouth and yelled back at an obviously irate Bill Murray.

"Yeah but it's the wrong year numbnuts! I need to go back to 2008!"

Fanboy rubbed the back of his head. "Oh man I am so baked."

"Forget it!" Murray yelled. "I'm just going to go make some more of those pizza bites or whatever. Let me know when you've figured out how to get me home."

Fanboy shook his head and cursed, hoping that he was still sober enough to work the controls. Before he did though he flicked the still smoldering remnant of the large cigar out of the machine and into the nearby barn. Unfortunately, it struck the back of a cow belonging to one Catherine O'Leary in the backside, causing it to thrash about uncontrollably as the cigar bounced into a dry pile of hay. And as the TARDASS took off at high speeds, it kicked up a furious wind that added to the already volatile conditions.

The fire grew and grew, until finally it was enough to threaten the city of Chicago, which it did all through the night.

March 23rd, 1989, Prince William Sound off the coast of Alaska

"Now this is a foolproof plan!" Falk said. "Once we get this oil to the post-Peak Oil market in about 2020 we can sell it and make billions!"

Falkenhorst had set the timepod down on the deck of the first Supertanker he spotted and then bribed the crew with copius amounts of fresh whiskey he had stolen and stored in the past, returning to the futre, it had now aged properly and was now a valuable commodity. He and Shep had maneuvered the boat outside of the shipping lanes to covertly begin letting the oil drain.

"Falk i'm all for making a buck, but you were making fun of me for tryying to carry nukes, how the fuck are we supposed to transport a few million gallons of crude oil dumbshit!"

Sheppard covered his ears as Falk remotely detonated the side of the boat with explosives.

"Easy! Falk said, I rigged the transporters up to beam all of this shit up out of the ocean, we'll keep it stuck in the transporter pattern buffers all technobabble-like and then cross trhough the time stream. Hey, where'd your bitch go?"

Shep shrugged his shoulders. "She said something about 'Not wanting to be party to one of the most heinous environmental disasters of the 20th century.' Whatever that means."

Falk shook his head dismissively. "Fine by me, it's not like I was going to give her a cut of the profits anyway. You know she's bad news. Yeah I know I was reluctant to go on this time travelling gig but this could be the most fuckin profitable thing we've ever done."

"Even more than your discount plastic surgery setup?" Shep asked.


"Even more than when you let loose that bacteria on ferenginar that bred in ear wax and made millions selling those cotton swabs as a high tech "cure"?


"Did you remember to rig the transporter so we could finish beaming this shit up once your detonator went off?"


Shep and Falk rushed over to the side of the boat as the oil began to slowly ooze out of the side. Both men had underestimated the winds of the ocean, and the oil was spreading out father and faster than they realized it would.

"Fuck! Falk if this shit goes too far and mixes with too much salt water the transporter isn't going to be able to handle it!"

Falkenhorst surveyed the situation, and without hesitation, lit a cigarette and calmy walked back over to the timepod. "Shep, sometimes it's best just to walk away."

However it was not so easy for Shep. After spending much of his adult life investing in various criminal enterprises, he never felt right unless a job was properly covered up. Running back to the bridge, he stepped over an incredibly drunken helmsman and set the course of the Supertanker to steer into the nearest reef. Satisfied that no one would realize the damage was done by explosives, he ran back to the time pod. When Zaia was sitting in the backseat reading a magazine while Falkenhorst just sat in the co-pilot's seat smoking a cigarette. He climbed into the pilot's chair and punched in a new time destination.

Punching in the time to head forward in time, he decided to visit a relative of his in Louisiana. A distant cousin of his who had served in the old US Army Corps of Engineers used to work on the dams and levees there in the city, and Sheppard had always heard that New Orleans was the place to go for a party, he would invite his relative along also. Really, how much could it hurt if the man had a few drinks on the job?

1341, Somewhere in Europe

After finally returning all of his guests to their respective times after numerous failed attempts. Fanboy decided to relax. He selected a random time and place and then decided to set himself loose upon the nearest whorehouse.

As luck would have it, he ended up somewhere in the year 2254, where he ended up near the Federation Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Unfortunately he had caught a nasty strain of Orion Gonorrhea. It was introduced to Earth by a Federation officer who had caught the disease on the fringe of Federation space and spread it to dozens of local prostitutes, skanks, and hobags upon landing a position as a teaching instructor at the Academy.

The Gonorrhea was particularly nasty, and Fanboy's unique drug-addled metabolism had caused the bacteria to mutate upon contact with him. Still, the doctors assured him that a steady dose of penicillin would cure the disease. With his prescription in tow, Fanboy had decided to head a thousand years in the past, to get as far away from the legacy of diseased genitalia left by one James T. Kirk.

With the TARDASS to transport him, it had only taken a week for Fanboy to visit every brothel from London to Venice.

But, because of his failing memory brought on by years of LSD abuse, Fanboy had forgotten completely about the virulence of his new disease, which had stopped hurting him thanks to the penicillin he had not shared with the women he sexually employed.

Each woman suffered terrible pain, horrible fever, and frequently vomited on their clients. This not only helped to spread the rapidly mutating disease, but also helped to create the vomiting fetish hundreds of years earlier than it would have otherwise. Boils erupted on the skin of the infected, and the great plague eventually became airborne, and spread a "black death" across the continent of Europe.

It hardly mattered to Fanboy though, he had used his refractory periods to decipher the mystery of the jade leaf shaped stones he had acquired from his friends earlier, and assembled them compeltely onto his medallion. The leaves combined to form the shape of a glistening marijuana plant, and the medallion began connecting with his mind, like a computer uploading thousands of terabytes of data into a one gig flash drive and somehow forcing it all in.

"Whoa." He said, realizing that he needed to finish off the gnomes so that he could return to his own time as fast as he could.

Beyond Space and Time, the Gnome Kingdom

"Show me the humans who would defy our glorious conquest!" Darth Garden gnome yelled to the pair of Gnomeks standing before him. One of the Gnomeks opened a small hatch, and a tiny naked man stepped out and handed a series of pictures to his master. The pictures clearly showed Fanboy, Falkenhorst, Sheppard, and Zaia.

Darth Garden Gnome became enraged, these were the four that had destroyed his Gnomish Empire in the 24th century by destroying his illicit pornography exposition. He recognized Zaia as the one who shot his old body to pieces before leaving him for dead, forced to take refuge in that red-haired monster's arsehole before escaping the HAB space station.

"Get me Zor! Tell him to have the Random Alternate Reality weapon ready as soon as possible! We leave for the past at once!"
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-09-17 06:52pm

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC XXXVIII: "What Happens in the 21st Century, STAYS in the 21st Century!" or "What Time Does Your Ride Come?"

Las Vegas, Nevada, United States.

The young stripper, a blonde who had barely just reached the second decade of her life slid down the pole with the grace of a panther stalking its prey. The young lady writhed her way onto the floor, making her way to the end of the runway on her hands and knees towards the large stack of money placed there by Sheppard and Zaia. Ever the Zeon, Zaia had taken the intitiative in enticing the young girl towards her, ever the gentleman and voyeur, Shep did not object as the Zeon Special Operative reached into his jacket pocket and removed a stack of bills made up entirely of Shep's winnings from the frequent bets he had been placing with Falkenhorst, who himself had a crippling gambling addiction and was busy losing thousands of dollars at the Ceasar's Palace roulette tables.

Zaia had agreed to this small side trip to the Las Vegas on the condition that afterwards they would begin the process of restoring the timeline. Privately, Shep wondered if she was warming up to him, or if there was any truth to the rumors of rampant nymphomania in Zeon that he and so many other men fantasized about in the 24th century. But before he could speculate further his communicator began buzzing in his pocket. It was Falkenhorst, calling from the Strip.

He picked up the communicator, cleverly disguised in form and function as a 21st century cell phone thanks to technology stolen from the Academia Nut's time shuttle. "Sheppard here."

"It's Falk." Came the familiar voice of Falkenhorst, which Shep noticed was far more anxious than he was accustomed to hearing from his partner.

"Can this wait Falk? Our travelling partner has a comely young femme in her lap and hopefully i'll be following them to the VIP lounge here in a few minutes."

"Good you're having fun, that's good! I'll make it quick yeah. Listen, I met this guy at the casino..."

"Going queer on me old friend? That cache of shit from the Reed Estate turn you over? Not that i'm going to judge I just need to know if you've been checking out my pecker or someth..."

"Shut the fuck up Sheppard. He's a smart fucker, name is Tannen. Anyways, he's been making a killing at the Sports book over here, turns out that the guy got a hold of a Sports Almanac from the future and now he's got more money than an eighty nine year old woman giving out two dollar handjobs at your dad's house."

"I swear to god i'll fucking shoot you unless you cut to the chase Falk." Shep cursed, no longer in the mood for this conversation as the exotic dancer began to straddle Zaia's lap in reverse, grinding her back into Zaia's chest and putting her body into a grinding wavelike motion that was suited for a slow ride on a mechanical bull.

"Yeah your right, I probably shouldn't talk about your dad AND your grandmother like that. Look, the point is that i'm taking the time machine. Don't worry, i'll come back a second after I left. You probably won't even notice i'm gone. But if I am not at the meeting place out front of the MGM Grand right away it won't take me very long."

Sheppard looked over as the stripper had her finger hooked through the strap of Zaia's dress and was leading her into the rear of the club. Every gut instinct he had was telling him to get the fuck out of that club and stop Falkenhorst before he took off on his own, but those instincts were overridden by a now massive erection that threatened to tear a hole in the fabric of space and time itself, not to mention his trousers.

"Fine, just make sure you are out in front of the Casino right at 3am or so help me I will make it to the future on my own and I will find your grave, dig you up, and shit in your brain cavity." Shep swore.

"No worries man, this is going to be EASY money. I just have to remember 3am, MGM Grand, September 18th 2008 on the dial. I'll pick you up and then we'll go do whatever it is we were doing before this. Can't imagine it's going to make us any money though." Falk muttered.

As if on cue Sheppard heard a loud giggling sound coming from the back, he had to end the conversation now or risk being denied a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness secret Zeon sensual techniques never before seen by male eyes. "Just be there at three dipshit." Shep powered the communicator off and breathed deeply before downing the remainder of a cheap gin martini in one long gulp, a smile began to form on his face as he walked to the back of the club.

Beyond Space and Time, the Gnome Kingdom

"So the Random Alternate Reality Weapon will be on schedule as promised?" Darth Garden Gnome demanded.

Zor, the human collaborator scientist and one of the few humans tolerated by the gnomes, bowed his head"Of course it will, unless for some reason an act of Q replaces all of my trained technicians with the three Hundred Spartans from Thermopylae against a dozen Jaffa led by Teal'c with their..."

"SILENCE!" Darth Garden Gnome bellowed. "That weapon is the key to ensuring our continued domination of all time and space. With humans present in the active timestream we cannot afford to wait. Soon, all creation will be under gnomish control!"

"Of course my leige, but a question if I may?"

Darth Garden Gnome sighed, anticipating another ridiculous scenario. "One, and be quick about it."

"Could 200 gnomes with slingshots riding on top of Bears defeat one Tank provided that the tank is a model from 1953 or earlier?"

Knowing he could not kill the source of his frustration outright, Darth Garden Gnome hung his head low, and sighed.

3 am @ the MGM Grand

"That was...exhilarating." Sheppard said, lighting a large cigar as he stepped out of the cab.

Zaia shrugged her shoulders and exhaled, Shep's witnessing of her indiscretion at the strip club was normally a Third Degree C-Level Offense (A Zeonic term for castration with extreme prejudice). However, her head was somewhere else, and she was in an incredibly pleasant mood not contusive to genital mutilation. "What can I say, i'm a sucker for accents like hers. Besides, who knows if we'll live long enough to see this through. I suppose a prolific flesh peddler such as yourself doesn't go without very often, but as a soldier it is not often that I actually get to indulge myself."

"Well you should indulge yourself more often. A recording of what I saw back there could have made you and I each an instant fortune."

Talk of wealth did not normally entice Zaia, but this time her curiosity was piqued. "Define, 'fortune' for me."

Sheppard ran the numbers in his head, hypothesizing profits in his head was like second nature to him. "Well on this world it might not mean as much what with the free access to pornography. But in our time, without the Federation tariffs and oversight we're looking at enough latinum for say, a small moon, and a luxury stellar yacht to carry you around it in, and a bottle of fine Romulan Ale, or eighty five bad bottles of Klingon Bloodwine.

Zaia gasped at the amount. "Really, there is that much money to be made in your line of work?"

"Yeah, so long as you don't mind being shot at by every crazy Starfleet task force or Feminazi space cruiser. I won't even bother dealing with the Ferengi. You know they even rub their wicked little twig dicks all over their money? What fucking bank, legit or otherwise, is going to take a cargo hold of latinum coated in Ferengi Jizz!"

That disgusting thought had snapped Zaia's head out of the clouds, Shep sensed this and immediately adjusted his collar.

"Err, sorry, uhhh, Falk should be back any second now." Shep stuttered, embarrassed at his gaffe.

"You sure he knows what time to come back to?" Zaia asked.

"Yeah, I made sure to remind him, September 18th, 2008." Shep assured her.

"That's good because I....wait...did you say 2008?" Zaia's face went pale as her expression turned to horror.

"Yeah, we're in 2008 right?"

"With a steel toed boot Zaia reeled her foot back and brought it forward so fast Shep had no time to react, her foot crushed into his testicles with such force that Shep vomited instantly. A pair of middle aged tourists from South Dakota were treated to the unpleasantness of Shep's regurgitated $5.99 Prime Rib Buffet Dinner.

"It's 2007 you moron! TWO ZERO ZERO FUCKING SEVEN."

The one good thing about the terrible pain in his balls, was that Sheppard felt no other pain as Zaia stomped him down on the street in front of dozens of bewildered tourists. The stomping lasted for several minutes until Shep was rewarded with blissful unconsciousness.

Amazon Jungle, Peru, Earth, 1967, forty years ago to the day.

"And you say this is where you found the temple ten years ago Dr. Jones?"

"That's right Mr. Fanboy. But we need to talk, your financial gifts to the university up to this point have been beyond generous. But I'm telling you there is nothing left at the site." Indiana Jones said as the two men trekked through the Jungle to the site of Indiana's discovery of the Ugha tribe's temple.

"That's not what this medallion is telling me Doctor Jones." Fanboy looked at the jade glow of the weed medallion he had successfully assembled. "Something yet remains here in this rubble, something not meant for the Mayans. Something meant for me, my birthright if you will."

The medallion glowed ever brighter as they made their way to the temple ruins. Unseen to the explorers, a larger jade light began to glow beneath the debris.

The rubble began to shake and tear apart, and at first Indiana Jones and Darth Fanboy thought that they were in the midst of an earthquake. They realized their error quickly as stone altar burst forward from the ground and rose above the shattered temple. It was small, and unimpressive, but as Indiana recalled so too was the holy grail. The two men stepped forward to examine the altar and fanboy noticed a small impression in the face3 of the stone the same size as his medallion, with intricate six leafed designs chiseled into the stone around it. He inserted the medallion and as he did a green bolt of energy travelled up his arm and ended at his head. After a couple of brief seconds the shock stopped, and Fanboy paused to shake the cobwebs out of his head.

"That's a hell of a way to make a dsicovery." He said deadpan.

"What was that?" Indiana Jones asked.

Fanboy looked up to the stars, smiled and, in a barely audible voice replied.

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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-11-09 09:05am

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC XXXIX: Part One, "Explanations".

Las Vegas, Nevada (September 18th, 2008)

Falkenhorst straightened out the collar on his slick new suit as the time machine re-entered the 21st century. He was no worse for the wear, and if his grand scheme played out, he would be so incredibly wealthy when this thing was over that he might be able to put in for retirement.

At first he had taken Biff Tannen's advice, but in his greed he had managed to make more enemies at various sports books throughout the 20th century. At first it had been difficult, Falkenhorst had actually managed to place several losing bets and was then forced to travel through time to make the necessary "corrections." Donning a green sweater and headset as a disguise he single handedly torpedoed the Chicago Cubs' 2003 World Championship, used the time machine's advanced sensor systems to deliver intel to the New England Patriots on three different occaisions, and stabbed three weelchair bound race competitors to death prior to the 2012 Paralympic games.

It wasn't the surprising difficulty of the triple homicide that eventually swayed him, but the realization that the eventual socialization of Earth in the late 23rd century would make all of his newfound fortune completely useless. Still, he hid the money in a swiss bank and kept the information close to him.

Disguising the time machine as a black '69 Bonneville that was so god damn shiny you could see your skeleton in the reflection, Falkenhorst made his way to the MGM grand, where he saw Sheppard and Zaia, the latter of which was carrying a small package in her arms and looking very angry at Sheppard.

"Hey. Sorry about that, I know i'm a couple of minutes late but there's no reason to be upset right." Falkenhorst paused and looked closer at the package Zaia was holding, and noticed that it was an infant. "Hey whose baby is that?"

Sheppard hung his head low. "She's ours."

Las Vegas, Nevada (September 18th 2007)

"Okay, so we're probably going to be stuck here for a year or so. It's not the end of the world, I mean, so we wait, it will be fine." Sheppard said, trying to put himself at ease as much as he was the incrasingly irate female next to him.

"FINE? We're stranded in some ass backwards part of the 21st century and you're trying to convince me that there is nothing wrong with that situation? We don't have any money, or a place to live, Fuck we just spent most of our money on an overpriced stripper whose tits were about as fake as your sincerity!"

"You weren't complaining earlier when you were stuffing a few grand so far into her G-String that you nearly got your fingers caught on her cervix." Shep growled.

"Things were different then. For one thing I was insatiably horny, and I thought we had plenty of money, until your buddy walked off with that and the one means we had to restore the timeline and return home!"

Shep knew she was right, it wasn't the first time he had allowed sapphic entertainment to cloud his judgment and let Falk get away with something that nearly impoverished them both. The two checked in to a dive in North Vegas for the night to conserve what little of their precious money they had left. After a short skirmish with a division of cockroaches that Zaia assumed were laying in wait for the eventual Third World War to claim most of this area, the Zeon assassin went to sleep, while Sheppard, unable to rest knowing that he might have to seek out the 21st century Earth Equivalent of his old job mopping semen from crusty adult bookstores.

Knowing that there was only one chance for a quick, painless, and easy solution that did not involve a lot of work. With their last hundred dollars in hand, Sheppard set off for the Casino.

Las Vegas, Nevada (September 18th, 2008)

"All right I get it, I left you guys with jack shit. But this isn't my fault right? Shep DID tell me the wrong date. You aren't going to go all psycho on me?" Falk asked defensively, his adrenaline in overdrive at the thought of having to flee unarmed on foot from a trained Zeon killer, who would most likely figure out a way to emasculate him within thirty seconds of the fight.

"I won't kill you if that's what you are wondering. But had Shep's plan not worked out as well as it did, then he wouldn't be here right now, and neither would my darling little girl." Zaia said as she looked down and cooed at the baby in her arms.

"Yeah...about that..." Falk asked.

Las Vegas, Nevada (September 19th 2007)

Zaia woke up with the harsh sunlight of the Nevada sun stinging her eyelids, and the infamous Obscenity Dealer known as Mark Sheppard nowhere to be found. A quick search of the room revealed that not only had he absconded with the last of their money, but had left no indication of where he was headed.

In a rage she picked up the room's small television and tossed it into the wall in front of her. The cheap drywall failed to hold up against the outdated viewing machine's weight, frightening the pair of heroin addicts in the next room who felt that it was perfectly acceptable to chase the dragon and bliss out at 8:00am on a Wednesday morning. Zaia stood surveying the damage when she heard the door slowly open, the squeaking of unoiled door hinges betraying Sheppard's entry.

"YOU SLIMY FUCK!" Zaia screamed as she charged, intending to drive her knee into Sheppard's testicles so far that the external genitalia would resemble a second pair of kidneys in Shep's lower abdomen.

Resisting the urge to squeal like a child and wet himself, Shep fell backwards into the fetal position, holding up a suitcase as if to defend himself. Fortunately, it managed to attract her interest long enough for her to suspend the attack. "Where did you get that?"

"Just open it," Sheppard said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Our money problems are over, which is good because the liquor stores on this planet during this time are better armed then most Federation Tactical Assault Squads."

Zaia opened the suitcase and smiled big, the suitcase was stuffed to the brim with money.

"I figure there's at least two hundred fifty-kay in there, give or take. Should be enough to rent out a nice place and eat for a year at least."

Zaia was still in shock. "But how did you manage to do this? We only had like, a hundred bucks left!"

Shep's cockiness returned. "Sheppy Pooh's got your back baby. Now lets get out of this dive and find your sugar daddy a fucking steak.

The remark did not go unrewarded, but neither did it go unpunished. Zaia leaned in and delivered a quick kiss on Sheppard's cheek before reaching down and squeezing his testicles, twsiting them around as hard has possible and pulling. This caused Shep to violently expel his previous night's meal of Casino Buffet Dinner and fall to the floor in Agony.

"Refer to yourself as my sugar daddy again and this alliance is terminated."

Las Vegas, Nevada (September 18th, 2008)

Falkenhorst laughed so hard that he snorted. "Shit man, if I had known you were going to have that kind of luck at the Casinos I wouldn't have been so quick to leave you guys behind. But I wasn't asking about the money. Even without the cash I know Shep could have grifted his away to a life of luxury if he really wanted to. I was asking about the kid..."

"Her name is Marina, I named her after my adoptive mother." Zaia said, hoping to cut off any references to her dear child as an object.

"Fine, little Marina, call her Gigglepuke for all I care, whatever. But Shep's been pining for you ever since you two first met, and you work directly for the most powerful ultrafeminist in human history. I'm thinking that there was a lot of alcohol involved, and quite possibly a whole lot of rationalization on your part afterwards. Heh."

"Shep would you take the baby for me so that I can disembowel your friend here?"

Falkenhorst reached for his pistol. "Shep you take that baby and I swear to god I'll shoot you in the kneecap."

"Both of you shut the hell up. Look, Falk, can I talk to you for a second in private?"

If Falk and Zaia's eyes had been phasers, they would have been set to kill and Sheppard would have been disintegrated the second he stepped in between them. He leaned his head in towards Falk, desperately hoping Zaia would not hear.

"I know that you brought some cash back. I need you to give it to me."

Fortress of Fanfic Solitude

It's not that he could not run, nor that the activity in itself bothered him. But the Prime Dalton did not really derive any enjoy the act of running when the cost of stopping to take a breath could possibly be his life.

He had been monitoring the UPF situation, when the entire Fortress of Fanfic Solitude had been attacked and subsequently overran by an army of gnomes. Several explosions had rocked the fortress, creating holes that, although small, were just big enough for the tiny gnomes to enter and begin swarming the entire complex, like a nasty strain of the clap in an unsuspecting nursing home orgy. All through the complex, the sounds of "Dink Dink" echoed in a ghastly requiem.

Alternate reality Daltons from all across the Multiverse threw themselves at the gnomish attack, and although they achieved a lopsided kill ratio (Dalton 300 by his self was responsible for taking out six hundred of the little peckerheads) The odds were far greater against them.

The Gnomish Collaborator known as Zor and his Random Alternate Reality weapon were to blame. Indeed the irresponsibility of UPF's writers, had allowed the Gnomes to create a mechanism where they were not only in control of their own reality, but now the masters of others as well.

The Prime Dalton would not have that. "I want all availiable Daltons to guard the core complex! They must not be allowed to get into the Fanfic Repository! Otherwise the gnomes will be able to change every fanfic ever written! Can you imagine what would happen if they changed Armageddeon so that, instead of Demons, the Earth was being invaded by gnomes intent on raping the world's muffin supply and forcing the enslaved humans to eat those muffins? Shit!"

Prime Dalton tried but failed to avoid trampling the gnomish soldier in his path. Although the result of a gnome being killed was desirable, having his nice new sandals covered in the blood and grey matter of his victim was not. Dalton's foot crushed the gnome's skull like an eggshell, ruining the shoe and also creating a slippery mess that nearly toppled him.

"Fuck!" He yelled, angered that in this desperate hour, his dialogue had been reduced to one liners and short quips consisting mostly of curse words.

"I will never say it out loud..." Prime Dalton thought, "But now, in our darkest hour, UPF may be our only hope left! If they don't kill of the gnomes, then the gnomes will ruin fanfiction forever!"

UPF Authors Note:

More to come on this chapter after I make extensive consultations. Also, if you drink Whiskey and Dr. Pepper and mix it too strongly, you run the risk of never being able to comfortably drink flat Dr. Pepper again. Also also, never ever ever get really drunk beyond your control while wearing face paint, it exacerbates any problems you might encounter.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-06 05:27am

Episode -1, Part IX, 1 of 3

We've never been apart
the day has come
I'm feeling that your sun
shines away from me

Tease me
holding my hands you smile again
I couldn't see you away from me
I do realize it now

Fanboy was no stranger to odd sensations, but this particular disconnection from reality was much different than the others.

He was with Fangirl again, in a cramped but warm shower. They were making love at a frenzied pace, her back pushed up against a wall and her leg bracing her with all of her strength. She clutched him tightly as he thrust upwards. He made no effort to control his pace or restrain his orgasm, but still he could not climax. She beckoned for him; her passion rang out in his ears as she called out his name so loud it would have been heard in the next solar system.

And just when he thought that his orgasm was in reach, she disappeared, along with the shower, his erection, and seemingly everything else.

Now he was standing alone, in a field surrounded by nothing but empty horizons. Above him, the night sky was lit up like a sea of stars, vast beyond measure with no indication that anything else in the world existed. Fanboy stood in this place, and saw that he was alone. He took another quick glance back up at the sky and noticed one particular star was shining much brighter than the others.

The scene changed again, and the effect was starting to make Fanboy feel rather incorporeal. He was now standing in a room, a chamber formed from concrete. In the distance he could hear thunder, and what sounded like the screams of dying men, and when he looked down at his feet he saw only the woman he loved, her body broken and lifeless, covered in blood.

He knelt over her, a void formed in his chest that swallowed all of his screams. He tried to fight against it, and let loose his rage in an attempt to shatter the entire world and undo the tragedy that had claimed his beloved. But there was nothing.

Once again, Fanboy was taken somewhere else; it was a lifeless, barren place. A compulsion overtook him and he made his way towards a ridge overlooking a vast and barren landscape, the site of an ocean dried up ages ago now more suited for a cemetery than water. He sat on the edge of ridge, desperate to figure out where he was when he was startled by a pair of lithe arms wrap around him. He did not resist though, the distinctive scent of his lover filled his nose as she leaned down to his ear. Although he never looked back at her, he knew it could only be her, and she whispered in his ear.

“Wherever we are together, is where I want to be when it all ends.”

His eyes opened, and reality began to return as the images of the dream faded. He was by himself, alone, but there was a buzz about the facility that let him know that there were other beings still present.

An oddly dressed being stepped into the room, one of the few humans that Fanboy had seen on this mission. He was accompanied by a pair of Reman guards.

"Are you the mercenary they call 'Fanboy'?" The human said, arrogance and contempt almost dripping off of his tongue.

"Only the ones I leave alive long enough to learn my name." Fanboy said, unable to resist the posturing that was inherent in his line of work.

The Reman guards made a motion towards Fanboy but the human waved them off. "You reputation precedes you. You've killed no fewer than a half dozen of your cohorts since we left Romulan territory, and I suspect you've also been responsible for at least one or two Romulan deaths as well."

Fanboy was not eager to continue playing games. "Well Shinzon, and I am quite confident that is your name, if your reputation precedes YOU then a few Romulan deaths are probably not going to cause you to lose any sleep."

There was a brief pause and some uncertainty before Shinzon let loose with a smug laugh that made Fanboy want to gouge out his own eardrums. "Not one who is afraid to speak your mind! No wonder you've caused more damage to the Jem'Hadar on this planet than any other mercenary i've brought in. And yet, I have a feeling that this next job I want you to do, you'll do for free."

Fanboy grunted and rolled back over on his cot, turning away from Shinzon and his entourage. "Please, I'd expect a Tal Shiar to try and skip out on the bill, but this is just pathetic. If you've got some extra cirricular work you need done then my fee is going to go up, you want to try and kill me so you don't have to settle by all means, i'd love to see how many of those bat-faced fucksticks you call bodyguards I could take down before you managed to finish me." As soon as he finished the sentence, Fanboy leapt out of his cot, bradishing a disruptor pistol he had picked up from a dead Romulan in the battle before. The barrel of the weapon was aimed right at Shinzon, causing the REman guards to raise their weapons, ensuring that if anything happened to their leader that Fanboy would be shot down without mercy.

"Your reaction is not unexpected Fanboy, but I do like to think of myself as a good judge of character, and I know that there is no rational reason you would choose to accept an assignment without collecting your usual exorbitant fee. Unless, your wife was the mission's objective..."
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2008-12-10 05:29am, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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

Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-10 05:29am

Episode -1, Part IX, 2 of 3

Living in me

You are living in me

I feel you by my side
your living soul wants to run away with me
inside of me

There were hardly any Jem'Hadar left to speak of in the compound, and what few remained were almost certainly busy dealing with the increasing number of their assimilated brethren. Fangirl wondered if the Drones that were once Jem'Hadar found it difficult to resist their previous training, and had difficulty not trying to kill their enemies outright but instead trying to incapacitate them so that they could add to their growing numbers.

It had hardly mattered, the six other mercenary operatives assigned to the mission were now either dead or assimilated, and Fangirl was only counting the minutes until she was next. The group had infiltrated deep into the heart of the compound during what they thought was an attempt by the Dominion to move sensitive materials away from potential attack by the Romulans, they had no idea that the Jem'Hadar were under another sustained attack by a faction of Borg that had miraculously survived their crash landing on Exmodeus III.

In fact, Fangirl's survival was extremely luck born from her terrible luck. During one of the battles a pair of Jem'Hadar had managed to get in close. She had tried to land a roundhouse kick but the attack had been blocked, and her ankle subsequently shattered into pieces. Although she managed to draw a pistol, a .44 Magnum she had stolen from Fanboy, and unloaded three round into his attacker's face and neck the kill did nothing to make her more mobile. The other six had no sympathy, despite her valiant efforts, and had left her for dead. She had tried desperately to crawl to shelter, only to encounter one of the mercenaries later. The Chalnoth had been assimilated, but even had he not been Fangirl would not have hesitated to use her remaining three rounds as she did. Bringing her former colleague down.

Now, with only a small hand phaser unsuited for fighting Borg and heavily armored Jem’Hadar, she crawled into an abandoned bunker, taking cover behind a large round tank of some sort, hoping that the next being that found her wasn't going to try and kill her.

A trio of Jem'Hadar moved along the Western perimeter of the base with orders to seek and destroy all Borg by any means necessary. Five seconds and one small explosion later, there were zero. Fanboy's grenades were perfectly placed on either side of the group, and they absorbed the shrapnel like a sponge soaking in water. Fanboy placed another small charge on the wall itself, and another few seconds later there was a large opening in the side of the building.

Shinzon's intelligence had been correct. The Borg had focused all of their efforts on the Eastern side of the base, deciding to swarm in through the primary personnel and freight entrances that they now controlled. The other sides of the base had become irrelevant to the Borg, thus making that part of the base ideal for Fanboy, who wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as he could.

In exchange for the intelligence, and the transportation to and from the base, Fanboy was supposed to place signal beacons on the Jem'Hadar's cloning banks, so that they could be taken by the Romulans later. For what purpose Fanboy did not particularly care.

The target was supposed to be in the center of the base, and the corridor Fanboy found himself in only traversed left and right. Hearing footsteps coming from the left, he chose to go right.

“Quickly! We have to finish clearing all of this data! We can’t let the Borg or the Romulans get their hands on our research! “ Dizel screamed as Cardassian techs were left scrambling without help as their Jem’Hadar protectors were occupied defending them from the Borg.

“Dizel!” Screamed on of the Cardassians, Our ships in orbit have begun to engage the Romulan Fleet! We have to leave soon or we will lose our chance to escape!”

“Don’t you even think about leaving Cardassian or you will wish that I had fed you to the Borg! Not even your old Obsidian Order could fathom proper Dominion Justice, although it would be tempting to give those cybernetic devils the key to ravaging your quadrant once and for all!” The Vorta yelled back as he continued downloading every last piece of data he had onto a portable hard drive for safe keeping back to his masters. Never before could he have believed that any Dominion fortification could ever have fallen the way his had. Salvaging the data he had gathered was the only way he could avoid being killed and preserve his genetic line.

A bloody Jem'Hadar stumbled into the room and nearly passed out, it didn't take much for Dizel to guess that the trooper's injuries were made worse by a lack of Ketracel White. "There is still life in you trooper! Why aren't you back at the battle fighting for the Dominion!"

The dying trooper looked up at the Vorta, desperately wishing for the strength to rise up and crush him. "The Borg have pushed deeper into the base....they have almost overran the communications array..." The last part of the sentence robbed the Jem'HAdar of all the life he had left in him, but the message had reached Dizel loud and clear. The Vorta immediately began barking new orders to the Cardassian technicians.

"Grab whatever weaponry you can and get down there. I will finish the work here. The Borg cannot be allowed access to our communications array!" Before the Cardassians could protest, Dizel stuck his finger in the lead technician's face. "I know you aren't soldiers, but what do you think will happen if those Borg manage to get their hands on our transmitter? They'll call in even more Borg, and we will all be happy productive members of the collective, is that what you want?"

Cardassian encounters with the Borg had been limited, but the battles that the Federation had fought against the cyborg monstrosities were legendary, and the technology being developed here would make them even more dangerous. Reluctantly, the techs obeyed, leaving Dizel behind.

The assimilated Jem'HAdar were faster than Fanboy had expected, he had killed Borg before, sometimes even for sport. But these abominations were moving with the agility of a Jem'Hadar solider and using advanced combat tactics that normal Borg simply were not capable of. Fanboy and the drone strugged at each others throats for everal seconds until the Borg managed to raise a metallic knee to Fanboy's gut, knocking him backwards, but as he fell Fanboy grabbed tightly on the optical implants on the drones face. The implant tore from the Borg's face, and sparks flew out. But the Borg did not stop moving and as it moved in it kicked Fanboy in the side.

"Pain is irrelevant, Death is Irrelevant. Glory to the collective." Was all it said as it reached down for the final blow, aiming to break Fanboy's spine.

But Fanboy was not about to give up, holding the mechanical implant in his hand he lashed out, smashing it into the other side of the drone's face. Now the drone was completely blind, having it's sole organic eye competely ruined by metallic shards.

"Yeah, well fuck you too." Was all Fanboy said as he continued making his progress down the hall, reclaiming his weapon as he did, moving more slowly than before.. The drone had caught him off guard before he could shoot and Fanboy did not want that to happen again.

If the intel he had was correct, he was almost there, and he hoped beyond hope that his girl would be there too.

"What if the human fails?" Vkruk asked nervously as thoughts of Shinzon's eventual demise raced through his head, the cloned human and failed Romulan experiment had quickly become an Icon for the Reman people, and if he died before Reman independence could be reached then their cause would be set back many years.

"Then we fail, it is as simple as that," Shinzon said as he watched as the Romulan and Mercenary army started to move out, ready for one last assault. "Romulus is expecting results, and now that we have finally cornered the Dominion into a fleet engagement we have no choice but to finish this battle as soon as possible. Has there been any word from our scouts?"

Vkruk did not want to hear that question. "The situation deteriorates rapidly. The Borg are throwing everything they have at the Dominion fortifications and they appear to be winning. Their numbers increase by the hour. With what little information we have, we expect the Borg to have completely overran the facility within the next six hours."

"Assuming that is even their goal, Shinzon mused. "Most Dominion bases possess powerful communications arrays. The Borg probably want to seize that so they can call for help."

"Would the Borg even deploy to this part of space? There haven't been any reports of Borg activity near here for as long as the territory has been surveyed!"

"The possibility of assimilating Dominion technology will lure them here, and something in my blood is telling me that we do not want that to happen. Make sure the warbirds plan for an orbital bombardment as soon as the battle in space is over."

Vkruk cringed, "That will wipe out our entire army, as little as I care for the Romulans and the Mercenaries, that will cost us thousands of Reman lives."

Shinzon turned his head slowly and met Vkruk's eyes. "Better dead than a Borg."
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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

Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-13 10:08pm

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


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."


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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-21 06:26am

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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-23 07:19am

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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2008-12-24 06:39pm

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.

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..."
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2008-12-24 07:12pm, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2009-04-29 04:37am

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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2009-05-02 01:29am

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...

Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2009-10-27 04:41am, edited 3 times in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2011-08-24 06:52pm

Unnamed Porno Fanfic XLII: The Rise of Prime Dalton

"ENOUGH OF THIS FUCKING SHIT!" Screamed the Prime Dalton, tired of being left in suspense-d animation for over two years. "PREPARE THE REALITY ENGINEERING BOMBARDMENT OVERRIDE ORDER TACTICAL CANNON!"

"But sir!" cried Dalton #1492, "The R.E.B.O.O.T cannon is untested! We could lose everything!"

"Do not try my patience you pricksniffing waste of Dalton DNA!" clamored the Prime Dalton. "Berating these fools is all the more frustrating that they are, in essence, me."

The R.E.B.O.O.T Cannon aimed itself at the ever-expanding rift tearing apart the fanfic universe, after two years of nothing new the Stale Waves being emitted from the center of the Rift had begun making life unbearable. Worse yet, Prime Dalton knew that if things were going to be restored he would have to resort to strategy 52 and physically annhilate those parts of reality containing unfinished plot threads, so that their lethal energies could do no further harm.

Prime Dalton, braced on one knee looked towards the viewscreen, and in his best Shatner voice he made his fateful command.



Starfleet Cadet Fanboy sat up in his dorm room, a cold sweat covering his face. "Jesus fuck!", he yelled, instinctively reaching under his bed for the bag of weed he kept on hand when an annoying and grating voice from outside stole Fanboy's attentions. "Hey Twinkletits wake the fuck up!"

Fanboy got up, checked to make sure that his junk wasn't hanging out of his boxers, and opened the door. It was Cadet Phantasee from the Canuck barracks. "Damnit Fanboy you don't look so good, I guess you managed to evade the MPs though. That was quite a fucking stir you raised yesterday."

"Stir?" Fanboy asked as he turned back to find his one good Starfleet jumpsuit that didn't ride up his ass too much for some reason.

"You don't remember? Damn, I know if I had done fourteen lines of high quality Klingon Cocaine and then went streaking across campus, shoulder tackled a couple of seniors, shrugged off a phaser on maximum stun, crashed through the front window to the lobby of the Vulcan women's dorms looking for "Porn Farr", crashing through another window when two more MPs...still naked mind you...started chasing you, sprinting across campus and jumping onto the back of a speeding hovertruck...I think that's when we completely lost track of you."

Fanboy stopped to wipe his nose with his arm and cringed at the streak of fresh blood left behind. No longer picky, he grabbed what he felt what the cleanest of his uniforms (using the tried and proven method, the old college sniff test) and threw it on. "Sounds like any other Tuesday afternoon I guess. Doesn't explain what the fuck you're doing over here."

"Well I was going to see if you had that two hundred dollars you stole from me to buy the previously mentioned cocaine, but also the guys sent me over to get you. We're going to go visit Havokeff while he's on punishment."

(Across Campus)

Cadet Havokeff doodled with the marker on the wall of his dorm room, the intricate lesbian sex scene between 21st century comic book characters Psylocke and Emma Frost delighting him in its quality. With his computer terminal privileges suspended drawing was all he had. A promising engineering student, Cadet Havokeff (or Planet Havok as his friends called him) had earned himself confinement to his quarters when he constructed hard light holographic emitters and covertly placed them on the terminals of the other engineering students. With a simple command he could activate the projectors to create a projection that could interact physically with the other students. The practical applications were vast, but Havokeff did it so he could punch people through the campus internet. When a Junior Cadet named Norade made a particularly insensitive comment about the quality of fellatio that Havok's girlfriend offered to Tellarites and the quantity of feces she would consume afterwards, HAvok used his projector system to fracture Cadet Norade's face in several places.

The knock on the door came and....


"FIRE THE CANNON AGAIN!" Prime Dalton yelled.

"But we just did fire it Oh Powdered Sugary One!" blubbered Dalton #1492, who was subsequently smashed into a pulp.

"I am not accustomed to having my decrees questioned!" boomed Prime Dalton's voice. "And besides denizen fiction is so last decade."


When the Starfleet needed heroes. They had the MACOS. They were pretty much the most ultimate history badasses and there was a good reason.

They were half clone half android cybrogs.

DNA from JAmes Kirk was combined with Data android technogy and then gioven Vulcan training by Spock to be the fighters.

NOw armed with fighters they fly in space to the target. THE EMPIRE.

"Ok guys, shoot down the TIE FIGHTERS. Our missin is to blow up another Death Star." said Leader.

"But LEader," Said Jaysun (the big hero of story), we always do this why dont someone else so I can have sex with green chick.

"Because no one else can JAyson. All the phasers on Enterprise are blowing up the other Empire Planets. Besides we are the MACOs."

The fighters got closer and they all shot down twenty TIES.

"Kids play" said Jayson.


The planet they were firing on was Andor, which was warriors. Warriors needed to be saved to help win the war.

"JAyson I am going to fly into the main laser. If I die you are the new leader, but I will not die because I am a MACO and I will beam myself onto Death Star."

"Ok LEader." said Jayson.

They beamed onto the Death Star but the Emperor was not there. So they planted bombs all over. Then they flyed out again, it was easy because they had the teansporters. While running through the halls they all shot fifty stromtoopers.

"Ok Guys" yelled the Leader "Now we fly to the next mission to get the missles from Cardassians before the Borg assimilate.

"That will be hard but we can do it" said Jayson.

chapter 2

The MACOS, having done sex with girls on Risa. Got to the next mission where the EMPIER is using a dark jedi to kill people. They prepare beam down to theplanet and there are stromtoopers there.

"Ok guys" says the leader "before we beam down the ship is going to phaser the whole planet with stun just like Kirk did to the Chicago planit."

"awesome. But why do we still go down there when we could go blow up the Empire" said Jayson, who got a promotion was in line to be the next leader.

"Because there is a dark jedi down there."

Down on the planet the Dark Jedi was really mad because the stormtroopers all got stunned and were being beamed into prison cells. He tried calling a Star Destroyer for help but it had been blown up by the MACOs in they fighters earlier along with the Defiant.

The MACOs see the Dark Jedi and start shooting and they destroy his lightsaber but he is fast and runs away.

But Jayson chases him because he is not just a clone of kirk trained by spock with Soong tech implanted in Borg Style enhancements, but he is also a Superhuman gentic engineered like Bashir and Khan.

"Where are you going dark jedi" Jayson said as he punched him dead with one punch.

"Good job JAyson you will be a big leader one day in the MACOs" said the leader

"Just doing my job sir. Does anyone want to play 3d chess now?"

Oh and the darth jedi name was Darth Enigma and all he did was yell fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou


The Prime Dalton was unamused as he attempted to hold onto the front of his skull, thinking his brains were going to escape through his eyeballs. "Holy fuck I can not understand any of this shit! Fire again dammit!"


Worf and Jadzia gnawed at each other's necks hungrily as their hands caressed every square inch of flesh they could. Worf appreciated her aggressiveness as he moved his arms in between their bodies and shoved her backwards onto the matterss. There was no need for foreplay tonight as her legs spread willingly, her scent was slightly off but he dismissed it as an overindulgent feminine wash.

"Her stench is raw but it is not as strong as that of a true Klingon woman's, especially after the sweat of battle, but no matter for it will be as delicious as they day I first feasted upon it!"

His barbed and ridged cock, which matched the ridge of his forehead, plunged forward, enveloped by warmth and wetness. Wasting no time he began thrusting, planting his arms by her shoulders and allowing his sweat to drop onto her heaving breasts. His motion was as effortless yet powerful as a real warrior, and Jadzia was at his sexual mercy, or so he thought.

His eyes closed to revel in the scent of sex Worf noticed that Jadzia's moaning had begun to sound decidedly more...male. Looking down, he saw the naked deformed body of Odo, who was so enraptured in pleasure he was no longer able to maintain his Jadzia disguise.

"Uhhh,...wow this is embarassing..." Odo said as their eyes met and an awkward silence hit the room.

After a few seconds Worf cursed under his breath and finally spoke. "You won't tell anyone right?"

Odo thought for a second. "Only if you keep going." And Worf did, with very little hesitation.


The violent explosion of chunder hit Dalton #616 with such force that it injured his neck. "Just keep fucking firing until I say stop..." a very queasy Prime Dalton muttered."



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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2011-09-17 09:37am

Standing before the tribunal of Fanfic Authors, Shep, Falk, and Fanboy stood in chains, the bright lights shining into their faces so as to deny them sight of their captors. Not that it mattered, they were all known well. The Inner Council of Oldy Boys was the highest ranking echelon of the Fanfic Tribunal, and it was here that the three would be judged.

But they were not prepared for the Judge, and they could hear the sharpening of a knife join in with the sounds of his voice.

"fourteen counts of Weapons of Plot Dstruction Possession, sixteen counts of crimes against permavirgins, six thousand three hundred eighty counts of defilement in the third class, six unpaid parking tickets totalling $146, assault and battery of the senses..."

Sheppard recognized him better than anyone. "Hitman? Hitman is that you what the fuck are you siding with these assholes before?"

The maniacal laughter cackled as Hitman leaned forward, his silhouette pitch black against the lights behind him. "Because i'm a sadistic fuck who works for the highest bidder, because I just bought a new paring knife from the ghost of Billy Mays that can slice through the hood of a Mack truck and still cut a tomato, because I am sick to fucking death of your FANFIC."

An attempt by Falkenhorst to retort was silenced by the whizzing sound of a blow gun, and the impact as it struck true against Falk's neck. From behind the voice of one Rob Dalton chimed in.

"You three belligerent fucks have done enough damage, and i'm not especially fond of being as a dipshit cantankerous old galactic administrator. I'm not a dipshit!"

"Yeah!" Chimed in the Ghost of Spanky the Dolphin, "And I do not prepare the purloined pantaloons of provocative princesses perfectly in a pan of pesto peppered with pork!"

"Who the fuck ever said that you did!" yelled Fanboy.

"Silence!" Yelled Hitman. "Fortunately we are in more enlightened times, as opposed to the DEATH sentence, where you have to take an important exam after three weeks of vacationing instead of learning the material. No, we sentence you to cave into cultural pressures and write a UPF Chapter that you never fucking wanted!"

"So you mean like all of Fanboy's chapters?" Shep deadpanned.

"Worrssssssssssssssssse." Hitman said as he did his best Cobra Commander Impression.



Shep, Fanboy and Falk emerged in a column of light on what they thought was the surface of Tribadia, a Zeon-founded colony in desperate need of turkey basters and U-Hauls. Sympathetic with the planet's needs Shep and Falk decided to cut the Zekes in this sector a favor and give them a 25% discount in exchange for access to Tribadian sex leather, some of the most flexible yet toughest material in existence, and harvestable only from the Labia of the planet's massive cetacean inhabitants, the Colossal Fuckwhale. The leather had to be scavenged from deceased beached animals due to environmental concerns.

Unfortunately Fanboy had decided to hide some of his brown acid in the ships bio-computer gel packs and it fucked up the transporters, which sent them into THE MIRROR UNIVERSE. (Oh shit!)

So instead of emerging on the planet, they ended up in an art studio on earth. Three guys were seated around a conference table wearing argyle sweatervests and glasses like the lead singer of Weezer. The three of them would occaisionally all lock eyes and then look down to their hands and purity rings, and then laugh awkwardly for abot sixty seconds.

"Hey who the fuck are you assholes?" Falk yelled.

Confused but oddly unconcerned the beardier of the three guys stood up. "Well greetings guys, Jesus loves you! Over there furthest from me is Phil Kenhorst, our lead animator. "Marky" Mark Sheppard our lead writer...holler! And least but not least is lil old me, Dolph Fanners, or as most people call me...Darth Fanbrony!"

"Oh fuck no..." Shep said reaching into is pockets desperated hoping he was carrying a weapon.

His Mirror Universe counterpart frowned as he adjusted his bow tie. "Ooo someone better throw a quarter in the swear jar! You guys must be fans, well were in an unusually good mood today so lets take you for a tour of the studio!"

Shep turned back to Fanboy and demonstrated his disapproval by slapping him across the face. "I SAID NO MORE OF USING THAT SHIT COLORED TOXIC FUCKING ACID! Every fucking time we end up in some alternate fucking universe or dimension of state of matter. I fucking hate you, you're a worse fucking problem than getting jizz in your chest hair because the girl riding cowgirl passed out and fell off."

"That's awefully detailed Shep." Falk pointed out. "Anyways, Ziggy says that the only way for us to get back home is to take these dipshits out and then create the episode that changes the franchise forever."

"That fucking computer ruins everything," Fanboy said he he lurched forward, his hands poised to strangle his alternate universe counterpart.


Then there was glitter and sparkles and shit and things got really weird.

When reality rematerialized the three Smutlords found themselves in an altered state, they all appeared as if they were animated cartoon characters.

A brightly colored object blazed towards them at amazing speed, flashing all of the colors of the rainbow. As it was about to pass Fanboy took thge opportunity and at the exact moment he reached out with his leg and tripped the beast, causing it to tumble and collapse comically. The pony-looking thing attempted to gather itself having been saved by the laws of cartoon physics, but Fanboy did not relent and followed up his attack by jumping on the pony's back and snapping its neck.

"JACKPOT!" He yelled as he grabbed a nearby stone. With a great deal of effort he managed to extract the left rear femur, and using the stone he bagan fashioning crude sharp tools.

Shep and Falk walked over, their initial disgust overcome by morbid interest.

"Hey buddy..." Falk said. "Watcha doing?"

Fanboy was uncharacteristically focused on his task. "I've heard about these goddamn animals before. They make the extracted gall bladders of the meth lizards of the Orion system look like pixy stix. We can get high as motherfuckers off these things."

Shep's curiousity was piqued. "Are there any side effects?"

Fanboy never turned his head as he began splitting the blue fur and skin at the belly, causing the glittery silver organs to spill out. "It depends on what the thing does...ah here it is."

In his hands Fanboy held the adrenaline gland, which was way oversized for an animal even this large. "All you gotta do is..." Fanboy held the disgusting smelling organ to his mouth and took a huge bite, making sure to suck the precious liquids into his gullet and not spill a drop.

"Nothing gay about that, Falk smirked. Nothing gaaaaaaaaay about it."

Suddenly Fanboy's own skin began glowing colors and he was hovering several feet off the ground.


As soon as it had occurred Fanboy was gone over the horizon.

Shep and Falk considered what had just happened, with no regard for the welfare of the other member of their trio.

"Falk are you thinking what i'm thinking?"

"That we're finally rid of that diseased wreck that calls itself Fanboy?"

"Aside from that, if we're going to get out of here we need some sort of power and we have just been given the means to do so. We need to find as many of these horse thigns as we can and butcher them, one of them has to have some sort of reality warping ability we can use to get back to our own universe."

Falkenhorst cringed. "It's going to be messy, but you're right Shep. But I am not fucking eating raw horse organs, what am I some sort of Communist Chinese?"

"Maybe there's some fucking plant we can ferment then, fuck when I was in the pokey I used to make a decent wine out of those gross cherry tomatoes they would put in the salads."


The Rebooted now more bad-ass Prime Dalton was displeased, his Dominos Pizza Tracker had claimed that the Pizzas had already arrived, but they had most certainly not.

"If those cocksuck gnomes next door took it and ran off again I will have them all executed...AGAIN."

Suddenly Dalton looked over at his kitchen table and saw a nude woman covered in slices of pizza. He recognized her from different fanfics as Christina Hendricks, and her bosom was even hugerer than he had ever anticipated.

"Hey big strapper, just wanted to keep them warm for you." she said as two slices slid off of her massive ta tas and onto the floor. "Ooops, let me clean it up for you."

As she climbed off the table she bent over and wiggled her backside at the Prime Dalton, who was as happy as he had ever been.

. . .

Snuggled safe within his bed, wearing his Legend of Zelda footy pajamas and snuggled with his Teddy Bear dressed as Keith Olbermann, the Prime Dalton smiled as he cuddled his blanky, dreaming the most perfect dream.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm" he said as he talked in his sleep. "Don't throw it out, there's a five second rule."
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2011-09-22 08:31am


The cutest pinkest pony ever sniffed the ground at her feet, a sweet substance coated the blades of grass in front of her.

"Cake!" She cired out. It was close by too. Her eyes scanned the horizon as she saw it, a piece of delicious cake sitting on a bed of grass just a few hundred yards away. While not as fast as her friend Rainbow, who was inconspicuously absent at this moment, she could always run fast for cake.

Her muscles strained as hard as they could and Pinky Pony's grin widened as she drew nearer to the delicious confection, but when she was less than a step away, a mere heartbeat from fulfilling her tastebuds' desire, the ground gave way beneat the pile of grass. It was a very loose layer of grass covering a large hole. Pinky Pony's front legs were insufficient to the task of grabbing and clutching the sides before she fell to the bottom, where a multitude of spikes carved from the bones of Rainbow Pony.

From behind a nearby patch of tall shrubs, Shep and Falk looked out. "I think we got one." Falk said. Running over, they looked down to see the horribly mangled and impaled pony twisting and twitching on the sharpened bones of her friend, her violent thrashing jostled the crude spikes free from their position but did not remove them from her body as a copious amount of blood poured from each wound.

"To paraphrase the great Paulie Walnuts, Falkie, she's fucked up." Shep remarked as he lowered himself into the pit.

"Hey Shep one problem, you know how we're supposed to eat that gland-thingy to gain the abilities. How do we know what fucking powers this one has? What if we eat this shit and end up with the ability to jizz gummi worms or some shit like that?" Falk folded his arms like a smartass.

"Unlike you numbnuts," Shep retorted, "I've been studying our prey these last few days. This one i've been keeping my eye on, apparently it can see the future at random intervals. Not what we are looking for but certainly more useful than that last one who tossed a rope and talked like she had a cock in her mouth."

Falk was excited at the prospect of being able to see the future. "Hey this ones mind, if we keep these powers i'll make a fucking mint from my bookie."

"Are you sure Falk? I mean you might sometimes see the future but this one might make you pretty fuckin stupid also."

"Shep my boy, if stupidity was a superpower then you and I and those idiots we left behind to run the business while we are gone are the fucking Justice League."

. . .

Darth Fanboy had done a great many things in his life, breaking the sound barrier without use of a personal vehicle was not one of them. Neither was leaving a glowing streak with the entire color spectrum glowing from his ass, but that was less of an ability and more of a side effect.

He had already killed a multitude of ponies, increasing his strength and agility incrementally but few of them were of any note. He was the fucking Sylar of Equestria. But as he sought out his next victim something else caught his eye that deserved a further look. Landing in a small meadow, he kept low to the ground.

"I see you you know, you don't need to crawl." Came a soft feminine voice. "I can't have you gallivanting around like a Kangaroo."

Fanboy stood, perplexed by the saying. "Kangaroo?"

A young girl, human in appearance, stepped into view. "Yes, have you never heard that phrase before? It's from 'Mary Poppins'."

. . .


"Balls!" Yelled Satan Mekatrig as he nudged the yoke on his fighter, which in turn was shot down by another fighter from behind.

"NO, NO MORE FUCKING BALLS!" Yelled Captain Mayabird of the Zeon Armed Forces. She was taked with enforcing a moratorium under Zeon Law by which the glorification of Non-Zeon military forces could not be allowed to manifest within her sector, the offense was punishable by TERRIFYINGLY HUGE ASS NAVAL ATOMIC STRIKE Missiles (T.H.A.N.A.S Missiles for short) designed to deliver maximum oppression. Confident that the deed was done, she made haste back to her unit's base, where her restraining bolt-fitted man-toy awaited his punishment for forgetting to remember their 83 1/2 week anniversary.

. . .


James T Kirk pulled his mighty rod from the warmth of his lover, the Princess Leia Organa, and sprayed a massive load that coated her chin and chest. Reaching back he undid his corset, which had become soaked with belly sweat, and tossed it into a corner of the room. His bloated belly as moist as a wet blanket. Unable to support himself any more he collapsed onto the female form in front of him, inadvertantly falling onto the pool of sperm he had left on her. Smelling the salty wet concoction, he sat up straight, realizing his mistake, when he came to another realization also.

Below him, wearing the metal slave bikini he had bought for Leia Organa, was a being that somehow looked human but whose face lacked some of the finer details a normal human would possess.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kirk angrily demanded.

Sheepishly, the shapeshifter confessed. "Odo."

. . .

"Well, are you psychic yet?" Shep asked.

"Give it a minute" Falk said. "I think when I fried it over the fire it makes it take longer to kick in."

Shep cursed and kicked dirt at his comrade. "I told you to eat it like Fanboy did, (that's what she said), you fuckstick! All that extra pus or whatever it is makes a difference!"

Falk spit in Shep's direction. "Bite me, you stupid shit. I hope you look up so that bird has the chance to shit in your mouth."

Puzzled, Shep looked to the sky. "I don't see a goddamn......HURRRRRK!"

Shep gagged and coughed, finally mustering the energy to vomit profusely as the slimy green and brown bird shit attempted to make its way down his esophagus. The bird had been passing overhead at the exact perfect moment. Falk laughed so hard that he fell over laughing, but stopped long enough to have a realization. "Hey i'm kinda psychic now! Fuckin' A!"

"G...gack...good for you asshole." Shep said as he attempted to purge his stomach again, scared that diseased avian feces still inhabited his digestive tract.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little."
-George Carlin (1937-2008)

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2012-01-29 10:31pm


Darth Fanboy, slayer of bongloads, destroyer of kegs, and the conqueror of almost every major hallucinogen known to man, had seen a great many things. Perky little goth girls with skin as pale as moonlight were not among the most unique. But he knew somewhere in his head that his sight betrayed him.

Not to mention the fact that he had seen her before.

Most of the time it would be the glance across the room of a crowded bar, or in the hustle and bustle of a crowded street. But sometimes he would spot her on the battlefield, or in the midst of a high speed chase. Until now, Fanboy just thought goth girls looked alike and really liked floppy hats, but now he was starting to get the insane feeling, was this the same girl each time?

"Probably just the unicorn adrenaline talking.", he thought as he turned around to speed away.

"Oh not so fast my friend," the girl said, and just like that Fanboy was paralyzed in an instant and unable to move as if frozen in time. She circled him. "We're outside time now, it's how i'm able to meet everyone as they move from one existence to the next. Your brain has actually stopped right now, which means all that nasty stuff you have inside of you isn't affecting your judgment. There's no persona here, no ego...just the two of us."

Fanboy was overcome by a feeling of intense sobriety, in between binges he was normally accustomed to a hangover effect that would fell mere mortals. The clarity he felt was different than he was used to, he was alert and perceptive. His senses were functioning at their peak, and his thoughts were coherent and organized as he processed his situation.

He hated it.

The girl moved closer and waved her hand. "You're free to move here, but keep in mind while i'm not reading your thoughts, I do know what your intentions are before even you do."

Fanboy began to move his limbs, cracking his neck. "How is this possible?" He asked.

"One of the perks of an Endless existence." said the girl. "Now, i'm here on business which is actually going to take my undivided attention here in just a moment. Why don't you tell me in as few words as possible why it is that you do what you do? You obviously don't want to be dead, or you would have done yourself in ages ago. You obviously aren't interesting in settling down and taking it easy either."

Fanboy considered her words, the stark clarity in his head was unsettling but it did enable him to cut to the chase.

"I'm tired..." he said.

"Tired? Tired of what? If you're tired then you should rest."

"I couldn't if I tried, staying in one place is boring, doing the same thing every day is boring. What's tiring is going through each day of my meaningless existence looking for said meaning and only being able to find solace in the fact that i'm at least physically capable of feeling something, albeit only if I can distract myself from the fact that..." His voice trailed off.

The pale girl moved closer, "The fact that what? You're almost there, i'm not reading your mind, tell me!"

"The fact that..." Fanboy met the look on the pale girl's face and stopped. "The fact that you have incredible eyes."

The Pale girl was taken aback slightly, but coy with her response. "I see, well there's only one thing you have to do to solve your little problem then..."

Stretching her arms outward, Death looked to the sky. A white pegasus pony flew overhead unaware of the scene playing out below, the sky began to fade from a perfect blue into a deep crimson red. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath before looking back down directly at Fanboy.

"...impress me." she said.

. . .

"FUCKING CUT THE ROPE!" Shep yelled.

Sitting in the top of the tree, Falk obliged, his flint knife just barely managed to sever the crude rope, with unleashed the bundle of spikes as it swung from the large branch. The Unsuspecting pony walking by had no idea that a tight bundle of ten very sharp sticks were preparing to impale her from the side, but she realized it soon as her torso was violently sundered.

"Ten out of motherfucking ten!" Yelled Falk as he hopped down. "Hell yeah!"

Sheppard moved forward to examine the corpse. "I wonder what this one does?"

Looking at the mark on the pony's backside, Shep saw a mark that looked like a book, the cover of the book was shaped into a crude mangled human face.

"That...that doesn't look good."

Shep had no idea in advance that this pony's position was that of the Purifier. The One who kept the idyllic world of pony society separated from madness incarnate, by absorbing the negative energy and malevolence from the world, so the ponies could live in utopia. But now the seal had been breached, and the once peaceful forest began to succumb to death and disease. What once was succor was now slowly devolving into Hell itself.

Darkness creeped onto the land from black swirling portals of actualized hatred, and demons long since forgotten began to manifest from nowhere. The entire planet began to die as seas churned with blood and the skies filled with the smoke, filled with an ash created from the burning bones of what once lived. The air itself took on a putrid stench as the mass extinctions combined with the raw unfiltered rot and pestilence to allow the smell of death to permeate in an instant.

The villages and towns of the Pony world aged in an instant, acid rain poured from the skies and began to dissolve buildings. Weaker structures collapsed outright, crushing those that were inside under a pile of rubble. Horned creatures stitched drums of taut pony skin and played their terrifying melodies on flutes of hollowed pony bone. The succulent meat of the living was consumed at a rapid pace, and great sacrifices were made to dark unspeakable gods of suffering. Survivors attempted to band together and huddle for protection only made it easier for the beings to locate them, and gorge on even greater sums of innocent meat.

For the first time in recorded Pony history there was war. But not between the ponies themselves, but between the mutant hordes that sprung forth through the countrysides who would battle for the right to devour the ponies themselves. Spear and axe met sword and shield and vice versa as the crude metal severed limbs and decapitated heads. Upon the throne of the Pony kingdom, the beings who controlled the Solar and Lunar orbits fell victim to their own sadness, inadvertantly transmitting their fear to all other ponies. The devils themselves emerged into the throne room and slew the once great equines, and their spilled blood triggered a horrible change in the few remaining ponies.

Walking towards Shep and Falk came a pony, whose skin melted into a foul pus and oozed away from the body to reveal a tormented beast covered with sores and what appeared to be chains. Tusks emerged from its mouth rapidly causing blood to spill and mix with the frothing drool, creating a corrosive mixture that burned whatever it splashed upon including the creature's own skin. With a mighty roar the beast called out to its kin, and around the entire world a howl of great mourning emerged forth to herald in an apocalypse as yet unseen in the entire universe.

The Beast raised forth in the air to take the noxious air into its lungs, its front hooves raised towards the blackening sky as lighting struck from behind, creating an inferno which further polluted the sky. As the hooves slammed to the ground upon the dying earth below, bizarre primoridal creatures in varying states of decay clawed up from the ground to live once more. Some of these creatures had vestiges of their former selves, albeit covered with maggots and decay, others were but skeletons given form once more.

Simply existing caused great agony and Shep and Falk fell to their knees clutching their hands together to resist the overwhelming temptation to tear their sensory organs away to cut short what they were experiencing.

. . .

Prime Dalton fought for his life as a great beast of the Aponylypse massacred the assembled Daltons before him. Dalton 2814's power ring failed as a disguting mixture of yellow chemicals robbed him of his strength and opened the way for a final blow as a great hoof crushed his body completely. Dalton 90210 frantically tossed his oversized cellular phone and hair products to no avail. Dalton 187 held his gun sideways but the bullets had no effect as the gnashing of teeth shredded him into unrecognizeable pieces. "BALLS!" Yelled Lt. Dalton of 20515 as he flew his fighter jet at the beast, only for a murderous swarm of smaller demons to oblivion.

"It's finally happened..." The Prime Dalton cringed as he reached for the controls of the R.E.B.O.O.T cannon, only to discover that it had been destroyed. "we have lost control of the fanfic universe..."

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

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

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Re: Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

Post by Darth Fanboy » 2012-01-29 10:31pm


On the day I went away...
Was all I had to say...
now I...
I want to come again and stay...
Oh my my...
Smile, and that will mean, I may...

As the Aponylypse unfurled around him, Darth Fanboy found himself at the crux of a great astronomical shift. One that saw the sprial arms of the galaxy shudder and split apart. The intense graviitational forces tore holes in time and space and threatened to destroy the fabric of time and space, and the once serene galaxy began to reform, it's celestial bodies forming into the shape of a pentagram. Across the universe, countless beings died, and as time looped and swirled out of synch with existence, so to did they die again along with the unborn, those who had died before, and those who were never to be conceived.

Adding to the surreality, Death stood behind him patiently, unblinking and undeterred, intent in her observation.

"Impress me." She said again as she twirled an umbrella, which somehow shielded her from the violently swirling debris.

Looking down, Fanboy saw that Sheppard and Falkenhorst were doomed. Madness had overcome them, and their senses were beyond repair. Screaming in unfilitered horror, the two men had only one last instinct, to somehow kill themselves to end the torment and pain.

"Whatever this was, no living thing can contain it now." Fanboy said, reaching to grab a large blade from it's sheath.

"Doesn't seem like it," Death said as she twisted the handle of the umbrella in her hands in an almost playful fashion. "I guess i'll be turning out the lights sooner than I thought."

And then Fanboy had his revelation. "No living thing can contain it, nothing dead either, but perhaps the dying." He turned. "There was someone I loved once, someone who died but never went away. I think it was you that entire time."

She smirked. "Took you long enough to figure it out, although you're only partially right. She was an image, a creation of dreams and shapes." She stood up and stepped closer. "My brother helped me out with her!",she said proudly.

"She was too real to be a puppet like that." Fanboy said, his hand gripping the handle of the blade firmly as he raised it towards the light of a blood red sun.

"She was real....I am real. But I can be in many places at once, however it doesn't always work for the physical manifestation of one of the enduring forces of the universes to be everywhere all of the time. I experience life as a mortal from time to time, but this one was different, unique beyond any other, because she was created from so many ideas and concepts, things I came across when I first almost met you years ago."

Fanboy turned the blade in his hand so the point stared right back at him, he adjusted his angle. "So the reason I kept seeing her, the reason I risked my life the way I did."

"Each time you nearly died for one reason or the other brought you closer to me, and thus her. I had to go for a while, because you weren't ready yet."

"Ready for what?"

"For this moment."

"To save the universe?" Fanboy asked.

Death laughed. "That's adorable, I only wish it were that noble. The universe will go on no matter what silly, as will other realms of existence and dimensions even I don't much care to traverse. No, what you're doing is as much selfish as it is selfless. This universe will die one way or another, whethers its because of this or because of a slow and cold energyless existence at the end of time. It will be reborn too, and I will be there...she will be there...and, if you want it...you will be there also."

And she looked at him and smiled with the calmest eyes he had ever seen.

"So impress me, and let's see what the rest of eternity has to offer us."

The angle of the blade changed sharply, and Fanboy felt a great power swell up within, and then with as much force as he could muster he brought the blade into his chest. Mountains exploded and geysers of superheated magma shot up around him, the skies burned and oyxgen disappeared. The macabre creatures warring over the broken carcasses of the dead were destroyed in an orgy of violent cataclysm. In the center of it all a dying man tore through the skin of his chest and smashed through his ribs, cutting a deep hole that gushed blood in such a way to attract the few surviving scavengers of the dead. With the hole big enough he let out a primal roar and reached into his chest, and with one last burst of adrenaline he tore out his own heart, crushing it in his grip.

Cause I've seen...OH!...blue skies!

through the tears...In my eyes

And I realize.. I'm going home.

. . . . .

Rob Dalton Prime, confined to his Harkonnen floating chair looked on with digust as his representatives filed the papers. Despite the ultimate Deus Ex that saved the fanfic universe, he had to make a deal with the devil himself. In order to maintain strict control it would be necessary to moderate the activities of the Fanfic Universe more carefully, so that his citadel would never be reduced to a dimensional space equivalent to the size of a kit kat bar ever again.

The treaty with the Germans had been signed. Under the control of the Evil Dread Lady Merkel, and her ever present Chief Guard Thanas, the Germans were given carte blanche to oppress as necessary in order to bring order to the Fanfic Universe...starting with UPF. This would be done in exchange for territorial concessions with their home universe, the BDSM-Fic Universe.

"For starting! All inactive plots lines, from Butter Cows to Ron Mexicos are to be either deleted or to be reconciled with swamp gas explanations. Furthermore! Ze ones known as UPF vill be eliminated! Ze one known as Darth Fanboy iz dead! Sheppard and Falkenhorst are next!" Thanas said as he squeezed his leather gloved fists, much to the delight of Merkel, who stood ominously in the background with a cold straight face, even as she toyed with her right nipple.

. . . . .

Awake on the bridge of the Asskicker for the first time in what seemed like years, Shep and Falk stood up and dusted the...dust...off of their garb. They were back, their crew was back, and the incredibly large shipment of Illicit Betazed Breastmilk was back in containment. Not wanting to spend a lot of time wondering what the fuck happened, or wanting to wonder where the fuck Zaia and the Zeon went off to, they resumed course, hoping that they had come back in time far enough that they could still make the delivery.

. . . . .

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

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

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