Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Singular Quartet]

I do believe I was the one who commented on the number of storylines, and I do believe that neither I, nor anybody else, gives a fuck as long as a: UPF keeps a coming, and 2: It doesn't end.

[darthdavid]

So funny.

[Master of Cards]

:gets whip get writing:

[Ace Pace]

:gets whip get writing:

Pure genius, cannot be rushed.

*gets the whip and burns it inside Card's exhaust port.

[Darth Fanboy]

"Fingered by Janeway" (slang, vulgar)

The unpleasant feeling from the splash created in a toilet during a bowel movement, usually cold and accompanied by unwanted moisture on the butt cheeks.

Example: I had been waiting all day to take a shit and when I finally did I was 'Fingered by Janeway'.

Addendum: Usually used in conjunction with the term "Dropping a Depth Charge"

"Dropping a Depth Charge" (slang, vulgar)

A massive bowel movement which creates an unpleasant splashing of water against the exposed buttocks (see "Fingered by Janeway"). Slang is in reference to 20th/21st century weaponry designed for anti submersible warfare which create huge fountains of water at sea.

Example: I was on the toilet Dropping a Depth Charge and suddenly I was being "Fingered By Janeway".

[Mayabird]

Fanboy, you are one sick, sick twisted bastard. Now every time I go take a crap I'm going to worry about getting "Fingered by Janeway." Ugh! Unclean! Unclean!

[Darth Fanboy]

Well I can't take all the credit, I owe props to Der Falk.

[Mr. Coffee]

This has got to be one of the most sickening things I have ever read. The authors of this fic are disturbed and depraved. But I respect that in people! I'm going to end up having to buy insurance for my keyboard and monitor against shooting coffee out of my nose when I I read future chapters of this. Bravo, gents, I'm looking forward to the next chapter.


Also, on a side note, if one would have ideas for adding to the evilminded bastardry and debauchery that is UFP, to whom would one foward said ideas to?

[Mayabird]

I got siggified again! Yay!

[Singular Quartet]

This has got to be one of the most sickening things I have ever read. The authors of this fic are disturbed and depraved. But I respect that in people! I'm going to end up having to buy insurance for my keyboard and monitor against shooting coffee out of my nose when I I read future chapters of this. Bravo, gents, I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

Just get a Model M. You'll have to hunt around Ebay for one, but they ignore coffee. Plus, they make an excellent emergency weapon in the even that idiots attack you while you're at your computer.

Also, on a side note, if one would have ideas for adding to the evilminded bastardry and debauchery that is UFP, to whom would one foward said ideas to?

I would assume either Shep, Falk, or Fanboy.

[Darth Fanboy]

Skank and Bank (slang)

Term which applies to a brothel owner or pimp who is owed money by one of his employees. The prostitute (the skank) hands over her earnings (the bank). A parody of the slogan used for "Shake and Bake" seasonings in the late 20th century.

Example:

pimp-Bitch where's my money?

ho-It's skank and bank! And I helped!

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXVII Part Two: RESISTANCE IS CRIKEY!

On the Last Episode of Star Trek: Down Under

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. You will...."

Captain Bogan muted the set and started cursing. "Bloody fucking hell! Fucking bullshit! Everybody wake up we got trouble." After noting the lakc of response from the disoriented crew, Captain Bogan got back on the ship's comm and yelled. "Anyone who doesn't get up right this fucking instants is going to be licking wallaby dung off of my fucking boots until we reach the next port, also I'll cut your vegemite privileges!"

Suddenly the ship went to full red alert, and crewmen were up and at attention, fighting through splitting headaches and blurred vision but damned if they'd let that arshole Cap'n Bazza cut back their vegemite. The crew of the USS Queensland was under attack from a Borg Cube. And the Borg were about to find out what it was like to fight a crew of half drunk pissed off blokes from the Outback.

And now, the continuation....

Captain Bogan grabbed for his boomerang and ran frantically around the bridge trying to wake people up. Several bursts of fire from the Borg ship struck the Queensland and the shields were shot to bits before long. Borg were now beaming into the ship en masse. Nearly slipping in a pile of errant vomit he caught himself on the the tactical console, accidentally firing the phasers in a random pattern. Amazingly, the firing pattern hit several weakpoints on the Borg Cube, previously unidentified by FEderation military analysts. The weak points dealt directly with the collective's pacification subroutines. The besieged Starfleet officers had no idea that the Borg were ripe for defeat.

It sure didn't seem that way in engineering, as Commander Irwin fought through his brutal hangover by beating a pair of Borg drones over the head with his phaser rifle. "Those blokes didn't bring any guns with 'em, so I bloody aint going to act like a fucking pansy and shoot one." Against any other opponent this would be considered a counterproductive strategy, but the Borg were unable to adapt to the kinetic energy of the phaser rifle being weilded by the ship's best Cricket player.

One Borg drone had managed to overpower Chief Engineer Brisbane, and had begun injecting him with nanoprobes. HOwever the Chief's blood alcohol level was so high that the nanoprobes actually began to disintegrate in the Chief's bloodstream and the assimilation process never took effect. Brisbane countered with a boot the the Borg's cybernetic crotch, although assimilation eliminated the need for sexual reproduction, it did not eliminate the pain of a shattered testicle and the borg fell over screaming in pain, his collective Borg comrades winced in pain altogether for but a brief moment and the Aussie crew took the advantage, bludgeoning the Borg with empty kegs, cricket bats, and plain old fists. Engineering was safe for the moment.

The battle for the ship was far from won though. Captain Bogan was racing frantically down the corridors to try and reach the officer's lounge, affectionately dubbed "King's Cross" by the crew. THe USS Queensland had managed to violate every starfleet regulation and ordinance regarding public displays of nudity, the possesion of illegal sexual material, prohibition of alcohol, and the use of illegal sex workers. But the ship also had the highest morale in the fleet, Captain Bogan had allowed the establishment of "King's Cross" with the hopes of concentrating all of the illegal materials on his ships in order to better cover it during an inspection. The converted lounge had two stages for strippers, a sex parlour with all sorts of erotic materials and toys, and a fully stocked bar.

The Borg seemed to be concentrating on that sector of the ship, luckily there had been no Wet T Shirts going on in there when they attacked or half the crew would have been caught off guard in there. As Cap'n Bazza ran down the hall he spotted a Borg and chucked his boomerang at the cybernetic invader's head. The boomerang missed, badly, and didn't return. "Jesus Christ how do those fucking abos do it!" The Borg charged at him, plodding along at a dead sprint of 0.0001 kph. Captain Bogan chuckled a bit and began jogging past his attacker, weaving his way through a cadre of Borg effortlessly dodging their slow motion attacks. But before he could get to the officer's lounge he saw Lieutenant Killjoy disabling the security locks on the doors and allowing the Borg access to the hidden stash of sex drugs and rock and roll.

"Killjoy you wanker! What in the eighty seven Tasmanian Hells are you doing?"

"I've had it up to here with your brash disregard for regulations! So i've decided to let the Borg destroy "King's Cross" and i'll shoot anyone who tries to stop me! Even you Captain!"

"I swear you had better shoot me now or i'll put the fucking leeches on you..."

"Oh no Captain Bogan, that would be against starfleet regulations."

A fucking stickler to the end... Thought Bazza as he gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to stop his mutinous crewman. But little did he know that Killjoy's actions would play into his favor.

The Borg, in their never ending quest to assimilate all things into their collective, began assimilating the pornography and the contents of the Sex shop, as well as the file footage of the numerous lapdances given throughout the Queensland's existence. This informations was processed, categorized and rebroadcast back to the fellow Borg on board the cube. But the accidental phaser attack had disrupted several systems involved in the drone pacification process, and suddenly aboard the cube thosuands of Borg drones were suddenly becoming aware of their more organic functions, and the presence of their genitals. On the cube and on the captive Federation ship, Borg of all species began removing the metal plating covering their crotches and began humping everything in sight, including each other.

It was an orgy of Borg...a Borgy.

Suddenly Borg were running around as if they were mad with lust, MAin Engineering was soon flooded with Borg, only this time they were out to dry hump everything they could. Fallen Borg suddenly became the objects of morbid cybernetic affection as they were humped in their final resting place. Unwilling to be buggered by raving Borg tCommander Irwin had helped the officers in Engineering to escape through JEffries tubes. As they did though an overly amorous Borg got to thinking about how wonderfully warm it would feel to place his dong in the dilithium chamber of the Queensland's warp core.

Lt. Killjoy however was not as lucky as Commander Irwin's group. A Borg of an unidentifiable species crept up behind Killjoy, knocked him to the ground, and began humping him with reckless abandon. The standard issue Mark 4 jumpsuit was no match for the friction and stretching being caused by the aliens two pronged cybernetic beastcock, and the fabric began to tear. Killjoy was crying, but apparently for completely different reasons then one would think.

"It's not fair! YOU've even corrupted the Borg! I hate you Cap'n Bazza!"

Captain Bogan had to admit that at least KIlljoy was taking the butt punishment like a man. Well, like a man who about to become a bitch. He slapped his hand over his comm badge. "Hey Bastard! Have you managed to get out a distress signal yet!" Bastard responded after making an odd "horking" sound usually associated with a dry heave that never came to fruition, one could almost hear the chunks gurgling to the edge of his throat and then escaping back down the esophagus like a rancid toilet flush.

"IM TRYING DAMMIT!"

Bastard's message did get through, and in good time, because our frisky Borg friend is getting ready to jam his pecker into the Warp Core any second now.



Aboard the nearest ship..... THE ENTERPRISE SENIOR!


The Enterprise Senior had been pacing through space at a speed that could be best described as drifiting. Spock's hastily assembled crew of some 400 starfleet rejects permanently assigned to the Officer's retirement home had severly hampered their efforts in recovering the wretched amateur porn video recorded on the old Enterprise. Chekov had only made things worse. AS the head of ship's security he had first instituted standard starfleet regulations aboard the ship, which was not an official part of the fleet. But that had failed miserably, as incidents of assgrabbing and tomfoolery had reached maddening levels during the first week of the voyage. So, Chekov had instituted corporal punishment, and when that didn't work he formed an "Ethnic Stereotype Drinking Beatdown Squad" Chekov and his Vodka, Sulu and his Sake, Scotty and his Whiskey, and Uhura with her 40oz bottle of malt liquor had started roaming the corridors of the ship at random intervals, beating the shit out of anyone who fucked up and getting extremely drunk in the process. This had put a fewredeemable crewmen back in line but incidents were still commonplace. One crewman, a savage Finn by the name of Gustav, would walk about the ship jabbering endlessly about things he had no idea what he was talking about while simultaneously masturbating himself. Chekov had put it to a vote amongst the crew and by a lopsided margin it was decided that Ensign Gustav Vasa was to be spaced out of an airlock. Soon afterwards, another retarded crewman who kept calling himself "Assassin X of Section 31" was caught peeking at other people's dicks while using the urinals. "Assenine X", as Chekov liked to call him, was also highly unpopular and one day the wannabe intelligence operative practically dared Chekov to pace him out of the airlock. The face he made as the pure vacuum of space interacted with his lungs was morbidly comical Chekov recalled. After those two incidents CHekov decided that Summary Executions were the only prudent way to deal with the crew, as his great great great grandfather had done as a Colonel in the KGB many years ago.

It only took three days of "Chekov's Death Penalty" to reduce the Enterprise Sr's complement to little more than a skeleton crew. Spock and Scotty were desperately trying to think of ideas of how to better automate the ship. At first they considered giving the remainders of the crew powerful amphetamines so they could pull triples shifts for days on end but McCoy had been hesitant to part with what few he had in his possession, plus the fragile nature of the standard redshirt officer was not what it used to be. What Spock would consider 'breakfast' wouldput one of these poor kids into a deep nightmarish coma where every unconscious minute was made unbearable by constant assault from demonic beings. These demons would consume your very soul if left unchecked, which is why a plentiful supply of Thorazine was kept in sickbay.

Scotty and Spock had decided to ponder the matter with help from McCoy's uberbong, which he had constructed by isolating several of the vents in the E_sr's ductwork and rerouting some of the blowers. The result was an automated bong that could force large plumes of smoke into a pair of lungs with great force. Even Spock's Vulcan lungs were no match, and with each hit he began hacking and coughing uncontrollably. McCoy though, ever the stoner just bowed his head scornfully and muttered "Pussy."

Then Uhura's voice came in from the bridge, she had grown rather wrinkled and plump in her advanced age but still insisted on wearing the short red skirted outfit she had worn back in the day. Resulting in one crewmember happily turning himself in to Chekov's Inquisition. "There's a distress call from another Federation Ship! Seems their ship is under attack and is about to explode. The crew needs to evacuate."

McCoy flicked the switch on his communicator, "Dammit woman we're trying to think here. Now think, where are we going to find a new crew? If only we could find like, an exploding ship and the crew needed a new ship. We could totally use those guys."

Spock and Scotty just looked at the holographic reincarnation of their friend, wondering if the program was too accurate. Spock sent a message to the bridge. "Lay in an intercept course! Ready all transporters!" And with that he grabbed a bag of doritos and made his way for the bridge.

[dragon]

Ok that was just a little strange but still in the tradition of the story though

[Mayabird]

Sweet Aussie stoners, this is going to get even more entertaining than it already is in a little bit!

[consequences]

So what happens when the "Ethnic Stereotype Drinking Beatdown Squad" is composed of the entire crew,?

[Darth Fanboy]

So what happens when the "Ethnic Stereotype Drinking Beatdown Squad" is composed of the entire crew,?

Lets put it this way, you might want to take you chances with gridfire.

At any rate Falk and I have been collaborating on a new chapter, so another one should be on the way in short order.

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

Pure Golden Genius!


I wonder what would happen to whatever Borg ship is unlucky enough to get Einhandered...

[Falkenhorst]

Warp Core Breach

Incident caused when one consumes excessive amounts of digestively unstable food or drink, such as Welch's Grape Juice or multiple Polish Sausages, either alone or in combination. Such an event can be identified by a foul smell, and wet brown footprints leading to the bathroom.

Example:

"I had just gotten up from the dinner table when I suffered a Warp Core Breach all over the dining room floor."

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF Chapter XXVII Part 3: Trekkie! Trekkie! Trekkie! Oi Oi Oi!

Last time on Star Trek: Down Under

Then Uhura's voice came in from the bridge, she had grown rather wrinkled and plump in her advanced age but still insisted on wearing the short red skirted outfit she had worn back in the day. Resulting in one crewmember happily turning himself in to Chekov's Inquisition. "There's a distress call from another Federation Ship! Seems their ship is under attack and is about to explode. The crew needs to evacuate."

McCoy flicked the switch on his communicator, "Dammit woman we're trying to think here. Now think, where are we going to find a new crew? If only we could find like, an exploding ship and the crew needed a new ship. We could totally use those guys."

Spock and Scotty just looked at the holographic reincarnation of their friend, wondering if the program was too accurate. Spock sent a message to the bridge. "Lay in an intercept course! Ready all transporters!" And with that he grabbed a bag of doritos and made his way for the bridge.

And now the conclusion

Borg Drone #6969696969696969 has finally finished unfastening the metallic crotch equipment from himself and was on the verge of opening the dilithium chamber, which would set off the Starfleet brand Re-act-o-core(tm). Normally when faced with a core breach any rational being, even one driven to the brink of madness with lust, would realize that there would be no sweet release if the ship exploded, however the Borg were not just being fueled by their own individual lust (a result of assimilating the Australian Sex Emporium aboard the USS Queensland) but by the combined lust of every drone aboard the Cube, thus increasing the problem exponentially, if it felt good, then do it! (Simpson of Borg). The drone placed his hands on the exterior of the machine and was just about to crack the seal when.....ANOTHER ONE TACKLED HIM FROM BEHIND AND STARTED HUMPING HIM! By removing the metallic protection around his groin he was also forced to remove the butt plating, thus making him a viable target for another drone.

Not knowing that the only reason his ship was still intact was due to the unwanted anal violation of one borg by another, Captain Bogan made his way back to the bridge, where the sensors were just picking up the presence of the Enterprise Sr..

"Lt. Bastard, casualty report mate!"

"Lick my arse! I'm trying to fucking read this computer thingy!"

Perhaps it was the constant disrespect by his crew, or perhaps it was the frustration at the impending loss of his ship, or the apallingly low body count, but Captain Bogan finally decided enough was enough. He moved to his console at the bridge and used his command codes to unlock the secret detonator switch. Every bridge station in Starfleet was lined with micro explosives, this had almost disastrous adverse effects during battles or if the ship took damage otherwise. This provided Starfleet captains with a way of weeding out unwanted crewmembers, once the switch was activated, the computer would log the entry as a power conduit overload.

"Piss Off." Captain Bazza mumbled under his breath as he was about to flick the switch that would liquefy Lt. Bastard once and for all. Suddenly the main screen switched from forward view to the visual link with the Enterprise Sr.. Bazza moved his hand away from the console with a quick reflex. A decrept old woman wearing a short skirt more befitting someone a quarter of her age held an earpiece to her ear (unecessary on a SF ship since 2340) and began relaying a message.

"USS Queensland This is the USS Geriatric Fossil operationg under the callsign Enterprise Senior. We're going to begin transporting you into indentured serv....I mean aboard our vessel immediately, please stand by."

Sweet koala breastmilk, we're saved! Thought Captain Bogan, not knowing of the fucking mess he was getting into.


Meanwhile, Drone #6969696969696969's violation had ceased, the aggressive dronefuckerhad suffered a brain aneurysm brought on by the intensity of his orgasm and fell over and died upon climax. The drone Formerly Known as Azeron fell backwards and his tiny cock (only a viable instrument for penetration thanks to four inches of cybernetic elongation) exited Drone #6969696969696969 with a short wet slurp, as if someone was sucking a large noodle of spaghetti through their nose. Drone #6969696969696969 managed to make his way to his feet, and made his way, bowlegged and slowly, towards the dilithium chamber. He opened the chamber and unleashed his throbbing borg dick, the warmth sending him into a soon to be short lived state of bliss.

Aboard the Enterprise Sr Scotty and Sulu were working frantically, beaming over Australians in groups of five.

"Hoory Oop You Karotty choppin ninja! Sensoors Are reeding a layarge noomber of croo still on tha ship!"

"Go chew a dick fatman." Sulu said in his Far East Asian Deep Man voice, which made all the ladies swoon. "I've got a transporter lock on several large metal cylinders, sensors say its a mixture of hops and barely, a yeast of some sorts."

"Good lord laddy, do yew kno whut this meanz?"

"We'll be ending this mission just like we did back in the old days. Miller Time. And the fewer survivors we beam over, the more there will be for us."

"Normahlly eye'd be rite with ya mistair Sooloo, but we need all of the free laybahr we ken git in hyeer. Besoids, how mooch could an Auztrailyin Dreenk anywahys?"

"That depends, how many bottles of whiskey did it take for your mom to give you FAS you dumb sheep fucking prick?"

"Eye've killed men fahr less yew terry-yacky tuhrd, bloody hell weer ronning oot of tyme! Finish the transpahrting and lets go!"

"Theres still nearly a hundred people on board that ship!"

"Fahr gods sake I'm talking about the alcahaul!"

Scotty raised a mighty scottish arm and shoved Sulu out of the way, panting and wheezing as the phsycial exertion taxed his weighed down musculature. Scotty reconfigured the transporters to lock on to everything inside of the ship with an alcohol concentration of at least five percent. The thinking was this would allow for one quick mass beaming of the Queensland's liquor stores.

What Scotty hadn't counted on was the proficiency of the Australians at consumption. As Scotty energized the transporter, it locked on to the remaining crew members as well...

"Eye've cahnsentrayted the booze ta be beamed intah the cahrgo bay! Singahl Mistair Spock and tell him we cahn go!"


The majority of the 228 member crew were beamed over to the Enterprise Sr. with Lieutenant Killjoy the most notable absentee, as he was still in the midst of a vengeful Borg buttfucking.


EPILOGUE: Cargo Bay of the Enterprise Sr.

hundreds of bottles, cans, and a few kegs of beer and an assortment of bottle of hard liquor occupied the main hold. Soctty's plan had worked, but it had come at a terrible price. Scotty, in his haste, had not taken the time to properly adjust the pattern buffers to finely disperse the material being transported, including seventy four members of the Queensland's crew. Many of the crew members emerged disfigured, with cans and bottles of booze protruding from portions of their body, in an ironic twist of fate. Chief Engineer Brisbane literally had a bottle of beer transported inside his stomach, something that he used to do with great frequency when screwing around off duty, but never with the glass along with it. Other crew members had cans sticking out of eye sockets or shoulders. In one regrettable incident, A crewman emerged transported and merged with a keg, his head drowning inside of the sweet XXXX that he had risked his life to save in engineering as the rest of his body kicked and thrashed outside. Fortunately he managed to drink enough to give him a modicum of space to breathe.

But the most frightening happening had to be the incidental merging of crewmembers with each other. Like a twisted menagerie of siamese octuplets. Arms stuck out of buttocks, legs impaled torsos, faces merged in a grotesque scene not unlike that of an orgy for Carnys.

Spock and McCoy stood solemnly at the door to the bay.

"You have to try Doctor, you're the only one who can."

"I dunno man, they're like, awfully messed up. You sure This isn't just the acid messing with my head Spock dude?"

"I assure you doctor, this is not the acid."

"Aw dammit, okay, we'll you better cover your pointy ears cause this is gonna hurt."

McCoy walked across the bay with a chainsaw clutched in his hands, the sound of the Binford-2810 Double-Action 480 Horsepower Diesel Chainsaw only slightly drowning out the screams of the patients about to be separated.

[MKSheppard]

Blahahahhahaha! That's insane.

[consequences]

Okay, I'm learning the lesson here I once had to for South Park, 'Never ask how they could make it worse'.

[Mayabird]

Transporter freaks!

Just remember folks, it can AND WILL get worse.

[Singular Quartet]

Well duh, Maya.

[Ace Pace]

Cute.

This isn't disgusting, its cute.

[Darth Fanboy]

Damnit Ace! Now youve forced me to write another Chapter that I would hope disgusts a few people. Lucky for all of you I have something.