A Bad Day on Star Trek (by Dalton)
Posted: 2009-02-06 12:25am
Courtesy of our own Rob Dalton on August 4th, 1999; I present to you, the prehistoric UPF; recovered from my files:
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Ok...this is the nastiest, filthiest most disgusting story I have ever written in my life. It's about Star Trek, yet it's also a violent sex comedy. As a favor, I'll scroll down a bit just in case you don't want to read it.
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Begin :^)
The comm pinged. "Bridge to Captain Picard." Picard started, interrupted on the verge of ecstasy. "What the fuck do you want?!?" he called.
"Captain, there’s some whack shit going on up here. Get your ass to the Bridge."
"Shit. Give me a fucking minute." Picard finished his dirty deed, pulled up his pants and put his soft-core Shakespeare away. He rinsed his soiled hands and left his quarters.
A moment later, he was on the bridge.
"What the fuck is goin down y’all?" he demanded.
"There’s some fucked-up shit out here, Captain," said Riker. "Take a fuckin' look for yerself, bitch."
Picard looked at what roughly translated to a fucking huge-ass ship on the view screen. Wrinkling his nose, he winced at the smell permeating the bridge, finally noticing the empty helm. "Oh, shit. That pussy Wes shit his pants again, didn’t he?" Picard asked. "Shit. Damn it fuckin smells round here. Someone please light a fucking match!" he orderd.
Data stirred. "That would be unadvisable," he said. "A match can fuck up the warp core but good. You know how delicate those pieces of shit are."
"That’s not fucking relevant at the moment!" Picard yelled. "Get this fucking shit out of here."
"Aye, sir," said Data. He beamed the entire console into space. "Mr. Worf?" asked Data.
Grinning evilly, Worf literally blew the shit out of the soiled console. Unfortunately, it also made the fucking huge-ass ship really pissed off.
"Sir, the enemy vessel is hailing us," Worf reported.
"Well, don’t just fucking stand there like the fucking buttmunch cum dumpster you are, put it through, dipshit!"
"Aye sir, you fucking little pussy English cock-knocker."
"Shut the fuck up Worf. I’m French, you dumb piece of Klingon shit!"
"You sure have a precise English accent for a Frenchman, you fucking phony fuck!"
"ORDERS, WORF!" Picard yelled.
"Captain, I sense hostility!" gasped an astonished Troi.
"Well, DUH, you fucking brainless airhead! Why don’t you do something useful and give me a blow job you dumb cunt?!" Picard replied. "Worf, tell those fucking assholes over there to stand the fuck by."
Still grumbling, Worf opened a channel. "Attention alien ship. Our captain’s currently getting his rocks off, so please stand by."
Getting up, Troi slowly slipped out of her slinky blue dress to reveal nothing but blue stockings and high heels.
The alien ship fired one big-ass motherfucking blast.
The Enterprise lurched like a drunken hooker trying to fuck a bedpost. Going to Warp, the crew escaped from some fucking deep shit...for now.
"All senior officers to the conference room," Picard announced. But this time it wasn’t for a meeting. Taking Troi by her ass, he led her to the conference room. "Data," he ordered, "Get some fuckin beer up here and some whipped cream."
"Aye, sir."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ok...this is the nastiest, filthiest most disgusting story I have ever written in my life. It's about Star Trek, yet it's also a violent sex comedy. As a favor, I'll scroll down a bit just in case you don't want to read it.
-----------------------------------------------
Begin :^)
The comm pinged. "Bridge to Captain Picard." Picard started, interrupted on the verge of ecstasy. "What the fuck do you want?!?" he called.
"Captain, there’s some whack shit going on up here. Get your ass to the Bridge."
"Shit. Give me a fucking minute." Picard finished his dirty deed, pulled up his pants and put his soft-core Shakespeare away. He rinsed his soiled hands and left his quarters.
A moment later, he was on the bridge.
"What the fuck is goin down y’all?" he demanded.
"There’s some fucked-up shit out here, Captain," said Riker. "Take a fuckin' look for yerself, bitch."
Picard looked at what roughly translated to a fucking huge-ass ship on the view screen. Wrinkling his nose, he winced at the smell permeating the bridge, finally noticing the empty helm. "Oh, shit. That pussy Wes shit his pants again, didn’t he?" Picard asked. "Shit. Damn it fuckin smells round here. Someone please light a fucking match!" he orderd.
Data stirred. "That would be unadvisable," he said. "A match can fuck up the warp core but good. You know how delicate those pieces of shit are."
"That’s not fucking relevant at the moment!" Picard yelled. "Get this fucking shit out of here."
"Aye, sir," said Data. He beamed the entire console into space. "Mr. Worf?" asked Data.
Grinning evilly, Worf literally blew the shit out of the soiled console. Unfortunately, it also made the fucking huge-ass ship really pissed off.
"Sir, the enemy vessel is hailing us," Worf reported.
"Well, don’t just fucking stand there like the fucking buttmunch cum dumpster you are, put it through, dipshit!"
"Aye sir, you fucking little pussy English cock-knocker."
"Shut the fuck up Worf. I’m French, you dumb piece of Klingon shit!"
"You sure have a precise English accent for a Frenchman, you fucking phony fuck!"
"ORDERS, WORF!" Picard yelled.
"Captain, I sense hostility!" gasped an astonished Troi.
"Well, DUH, you fucking brainless airhead! Why don’t you do something useful and give me a blow job you dumb cunt?!" Picard replied. "Worf, tell those fucking assholes over there to stand the fuck by."
Still grumbling, Worf opened a channel. "Attention alien ship. Our captain’s currently getting his rocks off, so please stand by."
Getting up, Troi slowly slipped out of her slinky blue dress to reveal nothing but blue stockings and high heels.
The alien ship fired one big-ass motherfucking blast.
The Enterprise lurched like a drunken hooker trying to fuck a bedpost. Going to Warp, the crew escaped from some fucking deep shit...for now.
"All senior officers to the conference room," Picard announced. But this time it wasn’t for a meeting. Taking Troi by her ass, he led her to the conference room. "Data," he ordered, "Get some fuckin beer up here and some whipped cream."
"Aye, sir."
