Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Darth Fanboy]

Unnamed South African Mental Institute (read: the beach)

"Man don't be snaking all of the good stuff..." whined Dave Chapelle as he picked up the intricately detailed and brightly colored pipe next to him, raising it to his lips and lighting the bowl, igniting the sweet green unnamed substance inside.

"Hey would I do that to you Dave?" said Fanboy, who lay flat on his back covered in a pair of hookers, his nose covered in a mixture of blood and suspicious white powder.

"Yeah you would you crazy bastard! Look at you, you haven't even wrote a chapter of UPF in almost a month!"

"How's season three of your show going" Fanboy said grinning his ass off while pinching the ass of the whore closest to "Santa's magic bag". The whore procured from the bag a suitcase that once belonged to Hunter S Thompson.

"Fuck off." Chapelle said as he stood up in his place. He then undid the front of his bathrobe and exposed himself to two white women a few meters away on the beach and chased them for a short distance before tripping and landing on a hermit crab. Chapelle landed wailing in pain as the small crustacean pinched firmly to his testicles. "Shit///" he moaned "I knew I was gonna get crabs here, but this is ridiculous!"

"Hey Crabfucker!" Fanboy began yelling "I think i'm gonna go back stateside and work on my projects a little more."

"Yeah...ow damnit...you do that! Meanwhile i'm gonna sit here and play with my fifty million dollars till my choclate staff falls off! Comedy Central you suckers!!!!!!!!"

Knowing that eventually Shep and Falk would send in the goon squads eventually to retrieve him, Fanboy stole a nearby jeep and headed towards the nearest town, hoping that he could commiitt a felony ludicrous enough to get him deported, thus saving him money on airfare.


UPF WILL NEVER DIE

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF SHORT-The disgustingness.

"Okay, so three nihlists walk into a bar, the first guy orders a beer and a cactus..." Stewart asked

"Yeah i've heard this one, 'So the bartender says, what a buncha pricks!', tell me something my grandpa doesn't know." said Revprez

There was an uneasy silence between the two men. the awkward silence began eating away at each other. Knowing that the time would pass much quicker if there was some kind, any kind, of discussion going on. The two men were eagerly awaiting their contact's arrival. Two of the greatest minds in galactic history, waiting for the opportunity of a lifetime and yet not one had a thing to say to the other. Stewart decided to break the tension.

"Say, if someone dared you to eat either dog shit or human shit, which would you pick?"

"Say what? That's fucking gross man, I wouldn't eat shit." REvprez shook his head and disgust and flashed a gang sign indicating his attendance of M.I.T (Mental Institution for Tards)

"Yeah I know but what if like, someone held a gun to your head and told you that you had to pick." deadpanned Steward, head of the galaxy-renowned Strategic Defense Instatute.

"Well if some nigga had a gun to my scalp and said he'd bust a cap, sheeeeeeeit, I think i'd have to go with the dog shit then."

"Yeah but, why the dog shit?"

"I dunno man, I guess its like we gotta deal with all kinds of shit, but we don't want to deal with our own shit. I mean we flush our crap but like dogs and cats we gotta scoop up, and that smells nasty but if you own a pet you don't really mind all that much."

"I hear you."

"Plus its like, I mean if you eat someones shit, they're gonna be all like. 'Bitch you just ate my shit man! You're a shit eater!' Aint no dog gonna start talking and raggin' on you for eatin' its shit."

"Okay, so you'd eat dogshit instead of human shit, but if its more acceptable to eat dogshit than human shit then why is it more acceptable to fuck humans over dogs."

"Man I don't like where the fuck this is goin."

"Just hear me out, I mean I totally totally have a holo-girlfriend stored on a portable hard drive, but like why is it more acceptable to eat dogshit, but not acceptable to fuck it?"

"Ummm like, because its a fucking dog man, that's nasty. You're nasty, and I oughta bust a cap in your ass."

"Oh you think its nasty to fuck dogs, then you must have thought what I did to your mother last night was really nasty."

"Why you motherfucker....."

Reverprez and Stewart began sissy slapping each other repeatedly, each of them desperately trying to injure the other though never coming close as they leaned their heads away from each others' lightning fast barrage of sissy slaps, each one capable of delivering a miderate non-stinging blow to the face, potentially wreaking havoc on the frame of a pair of glasses.

"Genetlemen when you are done with your 'who has the not-smallest dick' competition is over let us get down to business...


The two nerds turned their attention towards the shadowy guise and upon discovering his identity, the two super geniuses nodded.

"To what do we owe the pleasure? You must be the one who contacted us about getting super fantasticness." said Stewart.

Revprez ran around incessantly ciuting various rap lyrics until he was sedated by a tranquilizer dart from the guise. "Yes we do have business regarding that individual," claimed the guise, who revelaed his hood to be..........

RON MEXICO!


In the end Ron Mexico scammed them both out of seventy dollars.


The End.


Not an official chapter, but I am bored and a little loopy right now, hope you enjoy.

[Darth Fanboy]

A TREAT FOR LOYAL UPF FANS

UPF MAD LIB #1
(feel free to post your lists in the thread)

1-an alien race
2-a Star Trek planet
3-an insulting noun or derogatory title
4-the name of a board denizen
5-a disease or disease symptom
6-a number between one and five
7-the name of an idiot
8-a type of woman's undergarment
9-a type of pornography
10- a bodily orifice
11-a method of ingestion
12-a mind altering substance
13-name of a fruit or vegetable
14-a color
15-an exotic animal
16-a way of preparing eggs
17-your denizen name
18-a weapon from any time before the year 2005
19-a cool sounding technobabble word
20-a type of sex toy
21-an insanely large number
22-a vulgar word


I' give y'all a while before I post the mad lib itself. Those who send Stravo 1000+ pms requesting that UPF get stickyfied get a free UPF Decal and T shirt* and a free preview of the mad lib

*
decal and T shirt not availiable in the US, Canada, Australia, Europe or anywhere else, sending Stravo over 1000pms is a waste of time and encouraged only if you really have nothing better to do. UPF Industries assumes no liability for the flooding of an Admin's inbox.

[Darth Fanboy]

And Here it is.......!

One day in the far reaches of space, Shep, Falk and Fanboy were trying to unload some _____(1) pornography on some unsuspecting consumers. In order to do that they had to get past customs in the _____(2) system. The screener at Customs, a bitter _____(3) by the name of _____(4) was being extra snoopy, he felt like being a real asshole because he was really suffering from _____(5) quite badly. In order to compensate for his _____ (6) inch penis he enjoy scrutinizing the baggage of incoming arrivals. But Sheppard had a foolproof plan, his luggage had a false bottom line with _____(7)ium, a metal so dense no scanner could detect what was truly there. The false bottom was then lined with _____(8)s until it was full. Falkenhorst had a different idea, and decided to shove an entire tube of _____(9) porn in his _____(10). Falkenhorst knew that thanks to modern lubricants, he could retreive the porn without pain. Fanboy however had _____(11) an entire bag of _____(12) and was royally fucked out of his _____(13). So while Sheppard an Falkenhorst passed customs easily, Fanboy was arrested after seeing several _____(14) _____(15)s running about the room trying to _____(16) a pan full of eggs.

Fanboy was arrested, but the trio of smut peddlers escpaed when _____(17) arrived with a _____(18) and easily defeated the Federation thanks to _____(19) radiation that interfered with all of the phasers generated by a small device no bigger than a _____(20). In the end UPF made _____(21) credits off of the illegal porno, but the experience in customs had taught them a valuable lesson they would never forget. Leave the _____(22)ing strung out idiot behind next time.

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXI: Fight Night, Part One: The Prelude

"Hello fight fans! We're live from the Air Canada Centre in Toronto for the second of SDNWF! Where the flamefests turn into slugfests, where the Moderators wear striped shirts, and where the board itself is the squared circle!"

"And sometimes a Steel Cage also Kuja don't forget that!"

"That's right Cyran! We've already had some incredible matches tonight that have the adrenaline in the crowd at insanely high levels! Let's go to Cyran with the highlight reels!"

"Our first match tonight was a special 'Hardcore' rules Dumpster Match featuring the Mad Russian Fgalkin versus the devout Priesto! Priesto had been bragging before the match that he would finally bring religion to the infamous Minion of Moscow but Fgalkin was not about to be converted. Priesto never even put up a fight and most of this match took place outside of the ring as Fgalkin used steel chairs, the ringside bell, a 2x4, and a rubber chicken before depositing Priesto into a city dumpster and slamming the lid for the win."

Highlights of the bout include several especially hard hits with foreign objects, and Fgalkin delivering his signature combination of moves, the "Hammer" uppercut followed by "The Sickle" high leg kick.

"The second match of the night was a drawn out display of technical skills as Frank Hipper squared off against Verilon for the GALE belt. Oddly enough despite two gay men being in the ring wearing tights the match was far from homoerotic as each man wanted nothing more than to claim the title for his own. Frank "The Tyrant" Hipper seemed to be in control for most of the match but crowd favorite Verilon made a startling comeback when he dodged a running clothesline by Hipper which caused Frank to exit the ring over the top rope. Verilon exited the ring and tossed Hipper into the steel stairs drawing blood but Verilon got cocky and waved to the crowd and Hipper used the moment's distraction to execute a swinging neckbreaker onto the concrete. Both men managed to climb back in the ring to avoid a count out and began grappling and trading punches."

Video highlights include several acrobatic moves by each fighter along with the crowd screaming wildyly.

"But then things went insane. Just as it seemed that Hipper was about to take the championship for himself, The Quake God Einhander Snoman jumped to ringside from the crowd and distracted the Tyrant, who defeated E Sno during the PPV last month in a Ladder match. Verilon saw an opening and drop kicked Hipper out cold! But just as Verilon went for the pin Einhander ran into the ring and used a steel chair to knock out Verilon before laying a few insurance chair shots on Hipper as well. The match was declared a no decision due to interference but Einhander left the ring with the GALE title belt! We'll find out more on that situation next week!

Video highlights of Einhander stealing the GALE title belt

"And in our most recent match, the Left Wing/Right Wing royal ruymble ended in a draw as all participating killed themselves after one of them used an illegal *I*nverted *V*etical *P*iledriver maneuver and things got out of hand. The crowd, mostly moderates and apathists, enjoyed it insanely."

Video highlights of wrestlers in red and blue shirts attempting to butcher each other over comepting ideology, much of it comical.

"Those were some amazing clips Cyran, but now we're getting into the most anticipated match of the night! Finally after months of showboating, trash talking and even some old fashioned named calling the two biggest names in the Star Wars versus Star Trek. Mike Wong a.k.a "Admiral Kanos" will take on the Darkstar Scooter Anderson for the WarsTrek belt in a "Suspension of Disbelief" match. The steel cage will be lowered for this match!"

Cut away to a video montage of Darkstar and Kanos posturing and addressing crowds. Many of Darkstar's accusations are met with boos and jeering from the crowds.

"But tonight's headliner matchup could very well top that one in terms of competitiveness and excitement. Stravo, teller of tale and author extraordinaire is considered one of the most exciting authors of fan fiction on the internet. Rob "Smash" Dalton has been a fan favorite since the dawn of the sport itself! Together, along with their manager Zaia the Golden Star Destroyers have held the tag team titles longer than any other team has ever managed. But last week on this program things got a little testy.

Flashback to last week:

(Stravo and Dalton walk out to the ring with their tag titles, Zaia, wearing a slinky long dress and a feather boa accompanies them carrying the pair of title belts. Upon reaching the ring, Stravo grabs the mic)

"You know I keep hearing each week in the back about how supposedly we're overrated, about how we aren't as good as we used to be. Well I ask all of you LOSERS in the back, if that's the case then how come WE still have the belts hmm?"

(Dalton grabs the mic)

"If there are any losers back there who think they can stand up to us we'd like to see them try, because the competition as of late has been getting rather pathetic. Anyone, any challengers at all, bring it on."

(UPF Theme Music begins playing. 'UPF...Fuck Yeah...Booze and Hookers...Fuck Yeah...' Sheppard and Fanboy with their manager Falkenhorst walk out each with microphones as the crowd begins cheering wildly. Stravo and Dalton look towards the ring apron in disgust. Fanboy raises a mic to his lips.)

"You know, _I_ keep hearing each week about how Stravo and Dalton have taken down every challenger. Yet they continue to dodge us each week! When was the last time you didn't wrestle a pair of jobbers who couldn't fanfic their way out of a paper bag. Its easy to look like champs when you take on Graham Kennedy and whatever unknown hack he takes out there with him."

(Fanboy hands Shep the mic as Dalton runs over to the ropes and starts pointing at Shep, cursing wildly as Stravo climsb the turnbuckles. Zaia looks almost disinterested as a thousand AYVs in the rafters fantasize about her.)

"Wassa matter? Little babies gonna cry? Oh we can't have that now. BEcause everyone on this forum, hell everyone on this board knows that UPF IS THE SHIT! (crowd goes nuts) And if you think we're just going to sit back and let you guys cream puff your way through each title defense then you got another thing coming. Next week UPF takes on the Golden Star Destroyers and it aint gonna be fucking pretty!"

(Falkenhorst says nothing and instead flips off the GSD team in the ring while thorwing UPF T shirts into the stands. Dalton does his best colombian necktie taunt, his usual sign for his signature move "The Daltonator." Stravo grabs his mic.)

"Your little abortion of a fanfic (tm) has gone on for too long. By this time next week UPF will be crushed and it's gonna go down in obscurity on your hard drives while we live on forever! Losers!"

(Fanboy, Falk, and Sheppard rush the ring as the camera fades out on last weeks episode.)

"Sure looks like a great pair of matches! We're going to a commercial break but when we return its the Lex Animata versus g2K! STAY TUNED...."

MOVIE TRAILER COMMERCIAL

Sparky the Porpoise: UPF HOUSE IS RUINING EVERYTHING! *huffs off to inform the Dean*

*The members of UPF house led by Fanboy flee the SOS:NBA sorority house as the coeds, armed by the Duchess of Zeon, open fire with automatic weapons after a failed panty raid.*

*Sheppard is seen standing alone on a raft made of empty beer kegs in the campus pond lying passed out*

*Falkenhorst removes the head off of his gorilla costume while spiking the punch at an SDU outdoor faculty function*

Dean Dalton: I'LL GET YOU YET UPF HOUSE!

The Unmamed Pevert Fraternity: Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

[Darth Fanboy]

Well over in another thread someone remarked that they didn't want their memories of the Muppets ruined, and just as I was about to be evil my conscience showed up after a seven year absence. But, if you hate the muppets as much as I do then enjoy:

MUPPETS: BEHIND THE BLOW*
shamelessy stolen title from South Park*]

Fozzie Bear: Died in an alley with his hand down Animal's pants, after his comedy show routinely bombed he was forced into the vagabond lifestyle, where he developed a taste for low quality speed and cheap booze

Kermit the Frog: Its not easy being green, or smoking green or earning green for that matter. After attempting to smuggle two hundred pounds of marijuana in the back of his car across the Canadian border he was gunned down in a firefight with police after they identified him as someone who wounded two mounties with a large fish hook.

Gonzo: Fugitive in twelve states for fucking chickens. Arrested for looking under women's skirts on crowded subways, was caught when his nose became erect and accidentally molested a Korean foreign exchange student, also addicted to hentai.

Miss Piggy: Starred on the hit TV Show "Fat Actress."

Bunson and Beaker: Bunson plead guilty to second degree murder when he killed Beaker during a lover's tiff, no matter how much lubricant was used the bastard just qouldn't quit squeaking.

Statler and Waldorf: Responsible for the box office flop "Stealth", and the murder of a waitress in the sleepy town of Bumpkin, Idaho.

Rolf: Hung himself in his home after getting his ass kicked by Schroeder of "Peanuts" fame in a piano playing contest.

Yoda: After filming ended for Star Wars ended he lived a life of relative obscurity until the Special editions brought a resurgence of the franchise, and more royalty checks to contribute to Yoda's addiction to hookers.

After a regrettable incident at the Playboy mansion following The premiere of Episode I Yoda cleaned himself up and married Carrie Fisher who had also cleaned herself up. Even though the marriage ended 10 months later they still keep in close contact. Yoda now is authoring a series of self-help books and owns a small vineyard in Temecula, CA.

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF CHAPTER XXXI: Fight Night Part II, The Main Event! or "REVENGE OF THE GNOMES"

The voices of Cyran and Kuja become audible.

"Well shit Cyran that was good old fashioned slobberknocker! Albeit one sided! But the Rajun Canajun put on a fantastic performance!"

"You're damn right he did Kuja, as we look at the video highlights...(cuts to a video replay)

As soon as the bell sounded Mike Wong was alreayd prepared to engage the Imperial Smackdown, he started his assault by landing the "Canon Kick" to the side of Darkstar's forehead before nailing him with a "200 Gigaton Elbow Drop" from the top ropes. Darkstar curled up into the "Wall of Ignorance", which resembled the fetal position a lot more than a wall as Wong tried to hammer away with his boot. The attacks were futile, but as soon as Darkstar stuck his nose out of the position he was greeted rudle by "Providing the Evidence" in the former of a spinebuster. The fatal blow was landed when Wong landed his signature move, the ICS Atomic Drop. Darkstar's failure to wear a cup doomed him, probably because he thought his federation jumpsuit would provide him with the protection he needed, but as Wong's knee crushed the small amount of organic matter that compromised Scooter's genitals everyone could tell the match was over. Although a small band of Darkstar fans up in the cheap seats were celebrating their victory due to their poor vantage point. If only their eyes and brains functioned properly, they might have been able to witness the most lopsided match in history."

"Thanks for the recap Cyran, and now before we catch syphillis from prolonged exposure to this fanfic, lets take you live to our main event! UPF versus GSDA! NEXT!"

"Princes of the Universe" by Queen begins playing obnoxiously loud as the Fans cheer. DALTON and STRAVO, along with their ringside manager ZAIA walk out into the ring.

The two men acknowledge the crowd, with Stravo tossing about 973 more chapters of Star Crossed at the fans but still no ending in sight. Dalton rubs his chest, causing several young ladies and one guy in the front to swoon. Stravo, wrapped in a Feather Boa and Ric Flair tights, starts doing a pose in the middle of the ring as Zaia looks on at the crowd disinterested in everything around her. Their showboating is interrupted as the lights dim.

The darkness is shattered with a blinding orgasm of pyrotechnics and laser lights as the UPF Theme begins. Shep and Fanboy, flanked by their manager Falkenhorst come out to the ring as a group, the deafening cheers of the crowds grow even louder as Fanboy begins handing out small sheets of LSD to onlooking fans. Falkenhorst, covered in lipstick from the two cheap whores he had been poudning in the back area, begins handing out dollar bills that have "Spend me Fuckface!" written on them in permamnent black marker.

UPF...FUCK YEAH

FELONIES...FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN...FUCK YEAH

OPIUM...FUCK YEAH

The GSDA team looks on and Zaia nonchalantly exits the ring, standing near a couple of security guards who are charged with keeping the nasty sweaty wrestling fans away from her. The lights return to normal and Stravo begins waving his Championship belt in the air, Dalton does the same but steps slowly out of the ring. Sheppard and Fanboy play a round of rock paper scissors, Fanboy wins with Scissors and gets to begin the match for his team.

"And we're underway as Fanboy and Stravo seem to be exchanging choice insults! If you're just tunign in this is Kuja along with my broadcast partner Cyran..."

"BROADCAST partner, that's the key term, if we were gay, we would have already been together a long time ago."

"...Well maybe if you would just acknowledge my feelings maybe it wouldn't take so long."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Cyran asked looking very very confused.

"Forget about it. And Fanboy opens the match by attempting to grapple but Stravo immediately goes for a boot to the gut, landing a swinging neckbreaker in quick succession. Stravo gets to his feet and he is countered by Fanboy who uses a leg sweep to knock Stravo off of his feet, Fanboy is the first back up to his feet and immediately he lands an elbow on Stravo's chin! Fanboy looks like he hasn't fully shaken of fthat neckbreaker though as he moves over to the corner to tag in Sheppard.

Sheppard runs into the ring and charges right at Stravo, kicking him right into his own corner. That could be a mistake htough as Stravo is easily able to tag in Dalton though. Dalton Enters the Ring but Shep isn't about to allow that as he charges forward with his shoulder, knocking the big man off the ring apron and to the floor! Dalton crashes into the steel railing! Shep is climbing out of the ring as Fanboy races around to the side to keep Dalton occupied and keep the fighting honest. Falkenhorst meanwhile is trying schmooze a couple of girls near the ring entrace and is completely oblivious to the action in the ring.

Sheppard now is looming over Dalton and..Oh! Zaia just came up from the side and booted SHeppard in the Shin, Shep turns and begins shouting at Zaia who is shouting back. Man that woman is gutsy! Sheppard raises his hand and...He isn't swinging! Turns out he is more of a pussycat than anyone would have thought and...OH MERCY! Dalton just ROB SMASHED Shep from behind with his insanely large fists. Shep has collapsed onto the canvas, just as Dalton was but a moment ago!"

"Women are the decievers Kuja, it would do you well to remember that."

"I'd watch out if I were you, rumor has it that the SOS Champ herself is somehwere in the arena tonight!"

*Cyran gulps* "You mean..MA...MA...Marina is here?"

"That's right! The Duchess of Zeon and reigning champion in the SDNWF Women's division is observing the events from an undsiclosed location in the building."

*Cyran stutters* "HA HA AH OH MY GOD CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT THERE HASN'T BEEN A WOMAN PRESIDENT YET BOY I WOULD SURE VOTE FOR HILARY CLINTON HA HA HA HA! HOW ABOUT THAT WNBA EH? OH I TELL YOU I SURE THINK THAT THE GLASS CIELING IS TOTALLY LAME....*a wooshing sound through the air*...HURRRRRK!"

Kuja looks over at Cyran as DALTON continues to pummel the fuck out of Sheppard, tossing him back in the ring and dragging him towards the corner where he and Stravo beat on him mercilessly as the official holds Fanboy back from assisting. A large dart is evident in Cyran's neck as a pair of women wearing fatigues drag Cyran's body off.

"Looks like Cyran is going to wake up tomorrow without one or more of the parts essential for reproduction, the brutalization of Sheppard continues as Stravo grabs Sheppard by the head going for the Starcrossed DDT and, Sheppard counters! Sheppard Counters by kneeing Stravo in the crotch, turning to Dalton and waylaying him with a freakishly lucky punch. Sheppard should be headed for the other corner of the ring to tag but instead he's, HE'S CLIMBING THE ROPES! SHEPPARD IS AT THE TOP TURNBUCKLE AND...IT'S THE NUKEY NUKEY BODY SPLASH! He landed it on Dalton square but nearly knocked himself out in the process also. Dalton and Sheppard are out cold as Fanboy desperately reaches out trying to encourage his teammate to tag him in! Falkenhorst is handing out business cards to the two women, most likely trying to entice them into another one of his smut films!

Stravo is back up now and Sheppard is halfway across the ring, Stravo, who is currently the legal man in the ring, is in hot pursuit but Sheppard reaches out, and just as Stravo is about to drag Shep back HE MAKES THE TAG! Fanboy jumps into the ring, Stravo is in shock, still reeling from the crotch kick by Sheppard! Fanboy runs back, bounces off the ropes and LANDS A spinning leg kick! But as Stravo falls backwards he managed to tag in Dalton. Dalton and Fanboy are now fighting toe to toe and exchanging punches, but wait. Stravo is on his cellular phone making a call! What in the hell could be going on? Dalton uses the ROB SMASH again and Fanboy buckles under the pressure, managing to break free though of a quick grapple. Dalton and Fanboy exchange glares as Fanboy attempts to evade him and tag in the recovered Sheppard but...SHEPPARD IS DRAGGED OFF THE RING APRON!

ITS THE MODERATORS! Dalton and Stravo's stable teammates have grabbed Sheppard and are draggining him up the Arena entrace and... OH MY GOD ITS THE BANWAGON! The large black GMC Van of No Return! Now it's a handicap match and as much of a professional as Fanboy is, there's no way he is going to be able to take down both Stravo and Dalton on his own! Its taking the effort of about thirty five moderators to contain the nuclear nightmare but they have managed to toss him into the back of the BANWAGON.

Fanboy and Dalton trade punches in the ring, Fanboy Just misses a right hand and Dalton tags in the rejuvenated Stravo, who immediately uses a double axehandle to knock Fanboy to the ground. Stravo then snares Fanboy by the legs, OH MY GOD! ITS THE GSDA DEATHLOCK! NO ONE HAS EVER BROKEN STRAVO'S GSDA DEATHLOCK! Fanboy struggles to reach the ropes but he is just out of reach! Falkenhorst has only just now quit mingling with those two girls and, wait a minute, the two girls are motioning to Dalton, OH MY GOD THEY JUST FLASHED HIM! Dalton is an unstoppable force in the ring but Falkenhorst has discovered his main weakness, BOOBIES! Dalton is temporarily stunned as Falkenhorst procures a large metal briefcase and bashes Dalton over the head with it! Dalton is out cold!

Stravo meanwhile is gloating and showboating in the ring, Fanboy reaches into his pocket and OH MY GOD HE JUST THREW POWDER IN STRAVOS EYES. The crowd is booing incredibly loud at the cheap shot! Fanboy winds up for a big punch and , OH MY GOD Stravo is looking right at Fanboy like a demon possessed! Fanboy is cursing wildly, I can;t read his lips exactly but he seems to be yelling 'My Coke! My Fucking Coke!' I don't know what soft drinks have to do with this, but Fanoby had better think fast because Stravo is doing laps around the ring at speeds usually reserved for Formula One racing cars. OOHH! But The overenergized Stravo is taken down as Fanboy kicks him square in the balls! I can only imagine how much that would hurt! Fanboy tries to capitalize and go for the pin but...ZAIA TRIPS HIM! Zaia trips Fanboy as he is going for the pin! Fanboy looks over and rushes out of the ring to confront Zaia!"

Ringside!

Fanboy: You fucking bitch!

Zaia: Oooh i'm so scared what are you gonna do about it big man! You gonna SPANK ME?"

Fanboy: I could never hit a woman...

Zaia: Pansy

Fanboy: BUT SHE CAN!

[/i]

"And what's this?!?! THe Duchess of Zeon has climbed out of the crowd and just knocked Zaia out with a clenched fist across the Jaw! Fanboy crawls back up into the ring where Stravo is recovering from the brutal shot to the nuts while Marina is walking over towards Falkenhorst, who opens the Metal briefcase he used to brain Dalton. ITS FULL OF HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS! My god, and i'm sure UPF didn't hold a fucking bake sale to raise that money either!

Fanboy and Stravo are now in a one on one match to win the titles for their respective teams, Stravo just getting to his feet and FANBOY HAS GRABBED A STEEL CHAIR! MY GOD! Falkenhorst is distracting the referee with Polaroids of naked women and Fanboy climbs into the ring and NAILS STRAVO RIGHT ON THE FOREHEAD WITH A STEEL CHAIR, OH MY GOD. Fanboy tosses the chair just outside of the ring as the referee turns around. Stravo is out cold and Fanboy is going for the pin ONE...TWO...TH...DALTON MAKES THE SAVE!!!!!

Dalton finally recovered and dragged Stravo over to the corner as Fanboy moves back to defend himself, slapping his unconscious partner's hand Dalton charges into the ring with every intent on murdering Darth Fanboy and destroying UPF for all time! But Falkenhorst has just thrown a piece of paper into the ring, Fanboy has snatched it up and Dalton is charging forward!

In the Ring

Dalton: I would have waited an eternity for this! It's over Fanboy!

Fanboy: "This story is for enjoyment purposes only - I was trying to write a dramatic and tense bit of fiction, not to depict what I think would actually happen if the USS Enterprise met the Star Wars Empire. In 'reality' (strange word to use in this context!), I think that the events here would go MUCH more in Starfleet's favour, but pushing that argument is emphatically NOT what this story is for."

Dalton: What are you doing...Is that?

Fanboy: "Captain's log, Stardate 51102.4. The Enterprise is proceeding with her second shakedown cruise after leaving Spacedock last month. So far we have had few problems, and it appears that we were successful in removing the Borg technology from the ship. Our visitor continues to offer valuable help on tweaking the tactical systems." Picard smiled at that; Worf was rarely happier than when he was practising firing weapons systems."

Dalton: OH GOD NO!!!!!!! DON'T DO IT!

THe Announcers desk

"Dalton seems to have completely stopped and he is clutching his ears and his side in pain, my god what is Fanboy doing to him he is...wait a second. OH NO HE'S READING FROM "PORTAL!" THE DIRTIEST MOVE IN THE BOOK! The referee is clutching his ears but Dalton was caught off guard! I can see blood trickling from his eyes and ears but he refuses to give up! Fanboy is still reading, his mind obviously numbed from excessive alcohol abuse! Several of the fans within earshot are having epileptic fits! My god this is barbaric! Dalton is keeling over from the pain and, YES HE'S TAPPING OUT! The referee is waving his hands wildly in the air to ring the bell! Its over! The Referee has actually pulled the paper from Fanboy's hands and is burning it with a lighter! A mixture of wild cheering and deafining boos are filling the arena! UPF ARE THE NEW CHAMPIONS OF FANFICTION! UPF WINS!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-


"Upf are the champs! Upf are the champs!" Fanboy was muttering incoherently in the lounge aboard the Asskicker, passed out after another long night of brain cell genocide.

"Fanboy, wake up you gutterfuck!" Falkenhorst was swearing, they had been following Fanboy's wild lead to the planet Coedicus III. Now the man who was supposed to guide the way was having awful sounding nightmares, probably as a result of hiding his stash in the ship's warp core. "Listen goddamnit, we're going to be coming out of warp in less than an hour and you better have your shit together by then or else!"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

*cue Star Wars scrolling*

WAR! Well at least, there would be if anyone knew whom to declare it on. After the theft of the iconic Zeon butter cow the Principality of Zeon has been put on high alert in search of their holiest artifact. Across their borders, the Federation of planets has been dealing with weekly assasinations and mishaps, destabilizing the government and eroding the public faith in their "big brother". As the aggression of nations rises so does the tension amongst the numerous underground factions. Drug dealers, smut peddlers, hidden militias, and attorneys are all finding themselves caught up in a swirling nexus of chaos, threatening to engulf the galaxy.

[Somewhere on the Edge of Space...]

The space around asteroid J20767 had been free of traffic for over a hundred years since the last stellar cartographer and been present, making this the perfect place for the Conclave of Gnomes. Ever since the apparent demise of the Liege Maxignome, Darth Garden Gnome, the entire species had become scattered and the leadership remained in a vaccuum. The Conclave had been arranged by the various factions with the intention of crowning a new leader, however this was merely a pleasant way of saying that each faction was ready to vie for dominance over the others. Several powerful factions of gnomes had arisen, none more powerful and influential than the Zionist Faction of Ace Pace, who promised to lead the entire gnomish race to the promised land of Gnomania. Gnomania was the legnedary homeworld of all Gnome and near-gnome species, including dwarves, Hobbitts, circus midgets, and Corsicans.

Ace had a two pronged strategy for his ascenscion to Leige Maxignome, first and foremost he enticed the population at large by promising them a new homeland, where no longer would they be used as disposable soldiers for an Empire of Sin, secondly he brought leaders of various factions into his camp by promising them key positions in his new government. The Zionist faction leadership was confident that after the Conclave, Ace Pace would be crowned leader of the gnomes. Of course there would be many high profile attempts to discover the lost homeland but they would all be halfhearted, funds instead would be diverted to the Gnomish military and they would eventually turn to the task of carving out a new homeland from the territories of the Federation and the Principality that had forced them into their current predicament.

The day had finally come, when every Gnome of distinction had boarded the battlecruiser Sistine Avenger, as a race of nomads the Gnomes no longer had a building to conduct their ceremony in. The white flares had signaled the rest of the assembled fleet once the decision had been made and despite the worst fears of many less conservative observers, Ace Pace had been selected to be the Liege Maxignome. The first time any gnome other than Darth Garden Gnome had been the leader in some time. A broadcast from the Sistine Avenger was prepared from the conference room. "My fellow Gnomes, it is with great elations and a heavy heart that I take the mantle of leadership for our people! Though diminuitive in size our spirit is as boundless as space itself! Upon returning to our promised land we will be as numerous as the stars! My fellow gnomes I ask that...."

Suddenly communications traffic across the fleet scrambled as sn explosion shook the Sistine Avenger. As the rest of the fleet anxiously repositioned itself and awaited a response a terrible drama began to unfold. Ace Pace, knocked to the ground had finally managed to stand himself up, pushing the podium from his path he stormed out of the room along with several guards from his entourage. "Take me to the bridge now, we must dsicover the meaning of this at once." But Ace got the answer much sooner than he had bargained for, and he definitely did not like it.

"YOU FOOL! DID YOU THINK THAT ANYONE ELSE COULD LEAD MY GNOMES!" Only one being was capable of speaking in that voice, only one being ever reffered to the Gnomes as his own posession." As Ace turned around the enormous, hideous, slime dripping and razor bearded bulk of Darth Garden Gnome filled the availiable space. Tendrils began spewing forth from his mass, creating a web throughout the corridor and pinning Ace Pace in Place. "My lord! But we all thought that you had..." Ace tried to stammer out an apology, but no apology could stop the events set into motion. "YOU THOUGHT THAT I HAD DIED? THEN YOU ARE AS STUPID AS YOU ARE IGNORANT. MERE BULLETS CANNOT KILL ME! NOW YOU AND THE OTHER FACTION LEADERS WILL PAY THE PRICE FOR YOUR LACK OF FAITH IN MY SURVIVAL!"

[Flashback!(tm)]

There had been no time to react when the human woman burst in through the skylight spraying bullets at everything around her. In a meeting that was to have established the Gnomes as the undisputed heads of black market pornography in all of known space, Darth Garden Gnome had underestimated the amount of negative attention from unkown enemies. He had prepared for the Federation, and Riker's team had be detained with ease, but the commando raid by the Zeon Agent and the havoc caused by that masked Mercenary had ruined his reputation. But revenge would come in time. More importantly, survival was at stake.

As he detatched his consciousness from his body to begin the gestation of his new body he watched the bullets shred his old form, many of them hitting vial organs. Truly if he had not responded in time he would have been dead for sure. However he was no ordinary gnome and not bound by the flesh. His mind was so twisted and evil that he was able to detatch his mind from his body, he would then use his unique powers as a Gnome Birther to create a new body for himself and implant his sconsciousness inside the new body. Darth Garden Gnome had eaten all of the other Gnome Birthers hundreds of years ago, establishing himself as the sole birther and the only method for his species viable reproduction, making him the de facto ruler.

He had rushed creation of the new body, causing it to be small and weak. To make matters worse it still needed to gestate in order to properly develop. Darth Garden Gnome had no intention of letting himself die as a small mass of barely sentient flesh. Thinking quickly, he used the last of his telekinetic powers to summon a gnome soldier nearby to him. AS his former body died a new figure entered the picture. A red haired demon who called himself, The Einhander. Einhander had chased off almost everyone on the station except for the few surviving gnomes, whom he was hunting down and brutally skullfucking. The summoned gnome soldier was impaled on the beasts cock and that is when Darth Garden Gnome took the opportunity and slithered up the beasts leg and through his asshole. Now he could bide his time until he was developed enough. In this gnome larval stage he was an invertebrate capable of parasitic feeding. Covering himself in a mucous layer, he was protected frim the Einhanders digestive fliuds as he rested deep in his belly.

It had taken many weeks but the body of Darth Garden Gnome grew well ahead of schedule, feeding off of the genetic alterations Einhander had been given by GALE Industries, The Gnome Birther had accelerated through his larval stage in record time, as well as the polyp and ephyra stages. Now he was ready for his final metamorphosis, which would begin the transformation into a fully grown Gnome Birther. He made his escape, through the same cavity that he entered. As Einhander took a mighty dump, Darth Garden Gnome found himself floating in a toilet bowl at some location he did not immediately recognize. After he was flushed, his new form began to congeal and grow in the hot steamy sewage. His final form would be far more powerful than his previous body, and all he needed now was a way to seek out his people, who had left him for dead.

Spewing forth a burst of acidic vomit, Darth Garden Gnome melted a new path through the sewage recycling system and found that he was on a space station, the GLSS Objective Interim. Although he was now in his sentient adult stage he had not amassed a large bulk and could still roam undetected. He scoured the netire station, searching for a way off. An opportunity arose when he crawled into an armory, after crawling along the floor he spotted a large torpedo shaped object. Upon closer inspection he found the designation "Gnome Seeking Missle" stenciled on the side and he knew he had his vehicle. He crawled into the missle and activated the firing sequence, the missle burst from the station almost comically wrecking things in its path. The missile shot out into space from the HAB Weapons Complex, and began streaking towards the Conclave of Gnomes. While biding his time in the missle, Darth Garden Gnome's rage began to grow, and with it, his size...

[The Present]

Ace began to scream as one by one the web tightened around him, his guards died first, the four small but powerful gnomes crushed into a pasted by the web as it closed around them, Ace could feel the sharp splinted bones stabbing into his sides as he became enveloped in his claustrophobic prison. "Master! Please spare me! I beg of you!" Ace could no longer see at this point, as his eyes were now covered as a tendril wrapped around his head, the slime mixed in with the tears running down his cheek. "I THINK NOT ACE PACE! FOR TOO LONG YOUR ZIONIST MOVEMENT IMPEDED MY AGENDA AND NOW I WILL CUT OFF ITS HEAD! NO ONE SHALL OPPPOSE DARTH GARDEN GNOME BWAHAHAHAH!" Ace felt a sightness in his abdomen and his shoulders, tendrils were now pulling his arms free from their sockets and it wasn't long before the stubby gnome arms were torn, another tendril squeezed Aces belly so hard that vital organs now began to ooze from the shoulders. Ace's screaming was finally muffled when a chunk of his intestinal tract became wedged in his throat, and his death spasms ceased shortly afterwards.

In order to keep the remaining hardcore Zionist Gnomes in line Darth Garden Gnome was forced to grow a new Ace Pace the same as he had grown the old one. As he had done millions of times with his previous body he began forcing the necessary genetic and fecal material into his birthing cavity, then with great force he pushed the fetal gnome from his bunghole and it slid into the world covered in a thick viscous fluid. Ace Pace had been reborn as Ace Pace II, but it would take time for him to become as rebellious as his previous incarnation and Darth Garden Gnome would use that time wisely. Then The Dark Gnome began implementing his most diabolical shceme yet. A scheme that would establish Gnome Dominance over all sentient beings. Before the death of his last body, Darth Garden Gnome had personally supervised the interrogation of Starfleet Lieutenant Anderson, a member of Riker's away team, during this interrogation a mind-scan revealed some of the details regarding the Borg's plot to take over Earth using time travel. The Gnomish Lord smiled as the foundations of a great plan formed in his mind...

~THE END of everything you hold dear, bwahahahah!~

With Sheppard's banning and Falkenhorst's negligence I am now in complete control of UPF. MWHAHAHAHAHAH!

[Darth Fanboy]

FAMOUS UPF AUTHOR ARRESTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY

[The Hague] Famed UPF Author and renowned politically incorrect (depending on whose politics) gun enthusiast Sheppard was arrested for crimes against humanity stemming from his co-founding of the Unnamed Porno Fanfic.

Sheppard, who refused to comment on his incarceration, was abducted by UN Blue helmeted soldiers during a promotional visit to Amsterdam. Sheppard was convicted in absentia for several counts of human rights violations for his treatment of Gnomes (citizens of Liechtenstein) on the set of UPF earlier this month but was never extradited due to UPF's massive contributions to the Republican Party. (The recent crackdowns on immorality have made quality 'smut N snuff' such as UPF hard to come by. An outright banning of porn would increase the value by nearly 300%).

Although Sheppard is widely reviled he does have his supporters, several demonstrators flocked to the Hague courthouse to protest the UN's actions, but few people are paying any attention to them.



In other news, Ron Mexico was sighted in Amsterdam, thus increasing the number of Ron Mexico sightings this year to 14.

[Darth Fanboy]

I declare consequences the winner then. Magnifistencical!

THis however is not his appearance, merely another dramatic tidbit to keep you all addicted. Like any good crack dealer, the makers of UPF know that we need to keep our audiences HOOKED.

UPF THEATRE PRESENTS: A Colon's Tragedy

"Sir I have some bad news." said the doctor, who was looking at his clipboard with a worrisome look on his face. One of the nurses then walked over and peeked at the patient's chart, violenty spewing her partly digested breakfast of bacon and egg tacos across the hallway in a vain attempt to reach a restroom. She fell to the floor and clutched abdomen.

"What is it doc?" Asked the patient with a nervous tone, he had come in to get a particulalrly nasty hemmorhoid checked out and from the doctor's expression he was going to leave with the Ebola virus.

"I'm afraid its terrible news. You see, you have an acute case of Bowel Blockage Syndrome. A particularly nasty variant called Trek's disease." The doctor removed his glasses and placed a surgical mask over his face and replacing a pair of torn rubber gloves.

"I've heard of bowel blockage syndrome, but Trek BBS? What's that?" The patient asked nervously.

"It's probably the result of muscular desnsitizing. Tell me, do you spend an above average amount of time on the Internet each day?"

"That depends, how much would you consider above average?"

"Oh about twenty hours or so..."

"Oh I'm not on that much at all!"

"...per week."

"Damnit."

The Doctor was now wearing a full body hazard suit and the patient could see yellow tape being put up in the hallways behind him and he could have sworn he heard sirens in the distance.

"Prolonged exposure to Trek BBS leaves a human being desensitized to the extreme loads of shit produced within one's own colon. The Sphincter just shuts town and toxic levels of feces build up in the person's body. There is only two therapies availiable at this time."

"Give it to me straight doc, I can handle it."

"Well one treatment involves paralyzing the nerves in your butthole, and permanently leaving your bowels open. Its relatively painless."

"Hey that sounds good!"

"Unfortunately you will be forced to live your entire life from the toilet or wear diapers and shit your pants about eight or nine times a day."

"Ummm.... what's the other treatment?"

"Unfortunately Trek BBS desensitizes a person so much they cannot even feel the anal tightness associated with an impending dump. Approximately every morning, and additionally once at night for every large meal like a thanksgiving turkey, you will have to take an ice cream scoop, lube it up, shove it up your ass, and scoop out your rectum."

"Fuck that i'd rather shit my pants!"

"It's your decision, the colon-unlocking surgery will cost $80,000 but your health insurance won't cover it, because it is a new procedure."

"Fuck! How much does the Ice Cream Scoop thing cost?"

"About ten bucks for the scoop and another ten bucks for a bottle of cheap 'anesthesia' if you get my drift."

"Sounds about my price range, by the way doc is this stuff contagious?"

The doctor, now standing in the other room with the door locked while shouting through a megaphone responded. "Science is 99% sure that Trek BBS is only caused by direct exposure to the disease and cannot be transmitted by infected poeple, why?"

"Well I was just wondering if its not contagious why are you out there?"

"Because science is 1% unsure."


Two weeks later


The patient was squatting over his toilet seat, a shot of jet fuel that passed for vodka sitting by the sink. He winced as he inserted the nasty end of the scooper back up his asshole, feeling the stainless steel contours of the scoop as he winced in pain. Even though the Sphincter was densistized, the rest of his butthole wasn't. He removed the scoop and emptied its contents for the fourth time, hoping that the next one would be the last.

~Fin~

[Darth Fanboy]

Hey I did get SOME sleep, and that last post was on Wednesday.

However I managed to cobble THIS together this morning. With a little bit of help from Einhander!

UP THEATRE PRESENTS: A Reenactment of a Scene from THE LION KING as performed by the UPF PLAYERS.

Darth Fanboy as Simba
Zaia as Nala
MKSheppard and Falkenhorst as Timon and Pumbaa

**Start Song: "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" **

Sheppard:
I can see what's happening
(What?)
And they don't have a clue
(Who?)
They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line
Our trio's down to two.
(Oh.)

In a sarcastic mock-French accent
Ze sweet caress of twilight!
Back to normal, but still sarcastic
There's magic everywhere!
And with all this romantic atmosphere
Disaster's in the air

The scene passes from Timon and Pumbaa to Simba and Nala in front of a waterfall.

The Robert Oppenheimer Choir:
Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things

After walking around each other, taking in each
other's movements, Fanboy and Zaia stop and begin downing a pitcher of beer.

Fanboy:
So many things to tell her (That rash...)
But how to make her see (my bedroom...)
The truth about my past? Impossible! (Twelve Felony Convictions...)
She'd turn away from me (After kicking me in the balls)

Zaia:
He's holding back, he's hiding (Typical pig)
But what, I can't decide (Small Dick?)
Why won't he be the king I know he is (How much have I had to drink?)
The king I see inside? (Perhaps i'll have another...)

During the Chorus the following occurs: Fanboylooks at Zaia, smiles, and runs off stage. He runs back on stage, grabs a shot of tequila and falls facefirst through a coffee table. Zaia looks out over the mess and shakes her head. Suddenly Fanboy lunges up under her and pulls down playfully. She immediately starts scratching and clawing and kicks him in the balls. When Fanboy stands back up to apologize, she kicks him in the nuts again. The scene switches to them tussling. They end up play fighting. After tumbling out a plate glass window and down a hill, Fanboy ends up pinning Zaia for a first. She leans in as if to kiss him, and the vomits a nights worth of booze onto him. Fanboy looks startled and stares at Zaia. Close-up of Zaia, who laughs her ass off. Close-up of Fanboy, whose expression changes from a surprised one to a one of disappointment.

The Robert Oppenheimer Choir:
Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things

Can you feel the love tonight?
You needn't look too far
Stealing through the night's uncertainties
Love is where they are

Camera switches back to a tearful Timon and Pumbaa.

Sheppard:
And if he falls in love tonight
Falk sniffles
It can be assumed
Timon hugs Pumbaa, tearfully.

Falk:
His carefree days with us are history

Shep and Falk:
In short, our pal is doomed

They let loose crying full force. The UPF players enter on stage and Fanboy takes a bow, only to be beaten over the head by Sheppard weilding a metal pipe and Falkenhorst with a 2x4

"Hey are there any rusty nails sticking of of that thing Falk?" Zaia yelled. Falkenhorst nodded yes. "Gimmie that!" Zaia grabbed the 2x4 and slammed it over Fanboy's ass, spiking one of his butt cheeks with the rust nails and tearing the delicate flesh that formed his posterior. Sheppard grabbed the bottle of tequila used as a prop and took a swig.

"Jesus Christ I hope I get unbanned soon so I can take back control of this damn fic."

[Falkenhorst]

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC EPISODE 30 PART 3

LORD OF THE COCKRINGS 3

"Stop! You must stop!! The parking lot is that way-- AHHHHH - - THUD!"

Falkenhorst smirked as he backed off of the elf that had been trying to direct traffic and put the car in park, shutting the engine off.

"Ok, everybody out!" he said, gathering his weapons. Fanboy fairly leapt from the car and unzipped his fly and took a long sizzling piss right where he stood... which happened to be directly in the face of the elf Falk had felled with the car. The elf, Queeb Salaron, only had time to feel the acrid alcoholic piss sting his eyes before he expired.

The three porn-lords walked up the steps into the meeting hall, heading for the room where the meeting was going on. Along the way Fanboy stopped to take a dump in a latrine. He ran after Shep and Falk, wiping his ass on the hanging banners and drapes in the ornate hallways as he went.

They entered the meeting room and sat down, taking stock of everyone else present. It was a virtual cross section of middle earth. Representatives from all the free lands were milling around making nice with their hosts, the Elves. Sheppard was looking over the assembled group, telling Falk and Fanboy who was who.

"That obese Jerry Garcia look alike over there? That's Gandalf." He said, pointing to the old wizard, who was hunched over a bong thickly coated with filth and resin.

"Those 4 little shits over there are the Hobbits," he indicated the party from the Shire with a wave of his hand. Beside him Fanboy uttered a low growling noise deep in his throat.

"They look like fucking... GNOMES!" he grated.

"Take it easy, Fanboy..." said Falk, glancing at Shep. "Why don't you go ask Gandalf for a hit off that bong, he looks like he brought some primo shit."

Across the room, Gimli nervously ran his fingers through his nappy beard. Something about the strange hippy looking guy in the group of newcomers made him nervous. He couldn't quite figure out what it was until the man hammered down a heavy shot of smoke from Gandalf's bong and threw his head back and coughed thunderously. A chain around his neck bounced free of his shirt and Gimli saw a string of shrunken Gnome skulls dancing on the chain, which was impaled through their craniums. Cold terror froze him like a rock. Many among the dwarves had heard legends of the Dark Lord Fanboy, passed down over dim eons from contact with their Gnomish cousins. A giant berserker warrior who crashed through the world like a juggernaut, taking his pleasures in the sins of the flesh and spending all his other time grinding the skulls of the small peoples to dust. Gimli barely noticed the slippery mixture of piss and runny shit that was coursing down his legs, soaking his breeches and pooling on the floor around his boots. A foul odor began to rise, but none of the dwarves noticed because they smelled that way all the time.

Sheppard was pointing out Boromir and the ranger Strider, who were deep in discussion with a noble Elf who Shep said was called Elrond.

"Elrond you say?" replied Falk. "There's something about that bastard that looks familiar..." he held up 2 fingers and blocked out Elrond's eyes. Stepping towards him, Falk called out. "Hey, hey you!"

"Yes?" Replied Elrond.

"Agent Smith? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I wanted to work with REAL actors, unlike that Jap-Faced twat, Keanu Reeves." Said Elrond.

"Hey Falk, was that Hugo Weaving?" asked Shep.

"Yeah, this place is like a carnival of retards." Muttered Falkenhorst.

"Ask him to sign my Desert Eagle;" said Shep, whipping out his piece.

Falk handed the gun to Elrond who began embossing his name into the slide with a knife.

"... So we will travel to the tower of Isengard, there to confer with Saruman the White. RIGHT GANDALF!!?!" yelled Strider.

"Huff huff whatever..." mumbled Gandalf, fiddling with his lighter as he and Fanboy hunched over the bong, whispering and laughing.

"Good idea, Strider;" said Frodo, looking up.

"SILENCE, HALFLING!" snarled Elrond, slamming the butt of Shep's heavy Desert Eagle down on the Hobbit's skull, sending him to the ground like a sack of shit.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" exclaimed Strider.

"Just maintaining my rep as an asshole;" snickered Elrond, tossing the gun to Shep who deftly caught it out of the air and slipped it back into his jacket.

"We'll need transportation;" said Strider.

"Ooh ooh ooh you can ride with us!" said Fanboy, jumping up and down like a little kid, his eyes glazed over.

"Excellent. We leave immediately. Said Strider.

"What the fuck, Fanboy..." snarled Shep. "Goddamnit Fanboy these assholes will defile my precious Cadillac!" added Falk.

"But dudes... if you don't play along, you'll never get the One Cockring of Power!" Giggled Fanboy.

"How about we just ice this little piece of shit and take it from him?" Said Shep, kicking Frodo over onto his back and reaching down to grab the Cockring off the chain around his neck.

"No, dumbass..!" said Fanboy but it was too late. The moment Shep's hand touched the cockring, he leaped ten feet into the air with a shriek of inhuman agony and landed, clutching his crotch.

"Shep, the Cockring has a plan of it's own. It'll only come with us when it's done what it's trying to do!" Said Fanboy.

"Which is what? Asked Falk.

"I don't fucking know." said Fanboy.

"Well fuck you too. Let's get going." said Falk. "Help me carry Shep."


The group made their way to the car. Fanboy and Gandalf were in the back seat, along with Strider, and Shep was propped up in the passenger seat.

"What will the rest of us do? asked Boromir as the group got in the car.

"I'm sure you'll think of something; said Falkenhorst as he opened the trunk and flung out 4 bricks of pure Peruvian Cocaine and a box of dildos at Boromir's feet.

"You fucking Hobbits, get in the goddamn trunk. You too, Gimli."

"Arr.. We dwarves don't ride 3rd class!" said Gimli petulantly.

"Well yer not staining my seat covers, you maggot infested little fuck." Said Falk, picking up the little bastard by his helmet and kicking him into the trunk on top of the Hobbits. He slammed the lid down and got in the driver's seat.

"Let's blow this fucking joint." he said.

The Pimped-out Cadillac sped away from Rivendell, heading for Isengard. Unknown to any of the riders, however, there was another passenger. Clinging to the undercarriage was a scrawny, barely clothed little creature whose face resembled that of Vladimir Putin if Putin had been a crack addicted hobo. His name was Gollum.

Once, hundreds of years ago, the creature known as Gollum had lived a somewhat normal life on Earth, if one considers the life of a Hollywood Child Actor normal. Back then he had been known as McCauley Culkin. Famous for his role in the Home Alone movies, he had been relatively well off, until he made the mistake of visiting Neverland Ranch. Several years later, having faded into a life of obscurity, his fortune leeched away by Jacko and drowning his woes in gallons of Stoli Vodka, and sporting a colostomy bag thanks to Jacko's repeated vicious sexual abuses, he was found dead in a gutter at the age of 28.

He didn't die, however, and woke up on the slab and escaped from the morgue. As he gradually slipped into raging insanity and suffering from intense DTs, he began to change. The many doses of Jacko's sexually and racially ambiguous semen took their toll on his already ravaged body, reducing him to a creeping vampirric monster, unable to withstand the light of day. He was also afflicted with a mutant strain of Botulism Toxin, another side affect of his intimate contact with Jacko, which kept him animated, similar to the T-Virus.

Later, after Jacko was exiled to France and took up residence in the former Chateau of the Maquis DeSade, Gollum spent decades roaming the sewers under Hollywood, subsisting on a diet of feces and used condoms. His life as a sewer parasite took him from city to city, and eventually aboard starships, and thence to Middle Earth, where he arrived when he was ejected in a frozen block of shit from the passing USS Enterprise in James T. Kirk's era. He desperately wanted the one cockring back. He had held it once, but he had only managed to rape Bilbo Baggins half to death before he lost it. Ever since then he had been searching in vain. Now he was close on the trail of his precious once again, and once it completed it's latest run of depraved mischief, he would snap it up once more. Bilbo had also had his turn with the Cockring, and had slammed Gollum's ass harder than Jacko could ever manage, leaving Gollum with a permanent limping, lurching gait. However Bilbo had also had a Masochistic side and got a blowjob from an orc which chewed his cock into useless hamburger, destroying any further sexual drive he may have had.


Isengard had changed. A sign hung above the main doors, lettered in Arabic and English. It read: "UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT". Saruman's mutilated body hung from the gate post next to the sign, his severed genitals visible between his teeth. All around the area for miles, crews labored around the clock chopping down trees, forcing a process of Desertification to set in. The tower itself was now shaped like a giant phallus, pointing towards the heavens. At the upper level, just below the overhang of the head, was a floor made up entirely of public restrooms. These were the only restrooms on the entire premises, and they operated on the principle of the "Hot Seat", not unlike navy warships, where the crew rotated sleep shifts in "Hot Bunks".

On the observation platform above, the Leader sipped cognac and reclined on a plush couch as nubile young strippers entertained him. He giggled fiendishly as he admired his own genius design for the bathrooms of his new fortress. They emptied out through horizontal pipes, allowing the sewage to run down the walls and collect in a deep moat surrounding the structure. The moat in turn festered and stank to high heaven on hot days, attracting immense clouds of flies that swarmed around the base of the tower, giving the impression of Pubic Hair. A row of charged bug zapper coils stuck out at random intervals half way up the side of the tower, preventing the flies from disturbing the leader's luxury suites on the upper floors. The Bug zappers were normally run off batteries, charged during lightning storms by a collector rod that was cranked up through the roof. When the batteries were low, hundreds of slaves provided power by turning the generators manually, running like hamsters in giant wheels. He had decreed that every single one of his minions had to use ONLY the restrooms provided, on pain of death. Thus there were always long waiting lines, and an endless stream of human waste was always running down the side of his tower, giving the impression of a giant cock that has just withdrawn from the ass of a partner suffering from explosive diahrreah.

This was the sight that loomed ahead in the distance as Falkenhorst's pimped out Caddy sped down the road towards Isengard.

"Sweet Mercy of the White Christ..." muttered Falkenhorst in combined horror and awe at the giant tower looming before them. He began gagging and wiping his watering eyes as a literal wall of filthy air rolled over the Cadillac as the wind shifted. Downwind of Isengard there was literally a fallout zone of dank, shitty air that began to coat the meticulously hand polished car in a festering green/brown layer as Falk drove onwards. Cursing he quickly rolled up the windows and switched on the state of the art NBC protection system he had installed. The air in the cab cleared quickly, and Falk switched on the wipers.

Suddenly the world began spinning and nobody in the car knew quite what happened as a roadside bomb went off, sending the vehicle swerving off the road and landing on it's roof.

"What the Fuck..." muttered Falk as he reached again for his assault rifle and got ready to roll out of the car's window. He stopped as he saw dozens of legs moving outside the windows. In no time at all the car was surrounded by members of the Fedayeen Saddam.

[Darth Fanboy]

SHEPISTAN RESUMES NUCLEAR POWERED POSTING

(Plutonium City-AP) Despite efforts by Moderators from the EU, the rogue nation of Shepistan has announced that is ready to resume is nuclear enrichment program with the state purpose of producing posts of mass destruction.

The reclusive dictator of Shepistan and national namesake, MKSheppard, made the announcement after the United Nations refused to back a joint US and UK proposal that would have enacted a lasting embargo against Shepistan.

"All the other countries are fucking stupid, and we will destroy every one of them. I have a short list of countries that will be nothing more than large craters after i'm through with them, which will be an imporvement. The UN and EU can kiss my ass, they can try to pry my nukes from my cold dead silos."

UN ambassadors in the United States and Britain pleaded with the security council today, although the Security council voted in a lopsided 13-2 decision against imposing sanctions against Shepistan. Vocal in their opinion was France, the French ambassador stated that "France considers war as horrible and disgusting as we do soap, soft bread, and Americans. We will not condone any unwarranted actions against a sovereign nation that could bring us closer to another war." When the British ambassador noted that the sanctions were in fact warranted, the French ambassador simply told him to fuck off and subsequently shoved a disgusting smelling slice of cheese in his craw.

Russia also opposed sanctions, mainly because its economy has nearly been single handedly revived with the sale of surplus military equipment once used in Cold War Era nuclear weapons. Germany voted against the American plan as well, mainly because they had their balls cut off in 1945.

Kofi Annan, when informed that Dictator for Life Sheppard had personall called for the UN Headquarters in New York to be "rendered asunder via atomic cleansing", simply said "The UN will avoid war at any cost. I hve good relations with the Dictator, who has previously threatened my life before and only attempted to assassinate me once. I had no idea my son bought that Mercedes, I swear."

Shepistan's nuclear powered posts, which nearly ignited a nuclear flamewar over one month ago, left many people wondering if they had seen the last of nuclear powered posting. However recently released US reconaissance photos clearly show several large bunkers and reactors that are housing keyboards, hard drives, optical mouses, and Uranium. All key elements for nuclear powered posting.

[Darth Fanboy]

Just when you thought it was safe to re-enter the fanfics forum...

(a white girl is running away from the camera, she looks back over her shoulder and trips. She is sprawled out on the ground when the camera angle zooms in up close and cuts to black.)

...your sense will be shattered...

(Zack Morris is holding screech tenderly from behind near a window as a storm rages outside)

Screech: Zack i'm afraid

Zack: *puts a finger to Screech's lips* Shhhhhh...don't talk

...your dreams will turn to nightmares...

(A man is tied to a chair, and his mouth gagged by duct tape. Two men wearing what appear to be body armor walk into the room and set a box near him, open the lid, and rush out of the room slamming the door behind him. The tied up man looks on in horror as a small giggling cupcake jumps out of the box and cutely bounces onto the man's lap. The man breathes a sigh of relief when suddenly a large Demon pops out of the cupcake.)

Demon: NOT THE GIRL YOU WERE EXPECTING EH?

(The man begins to scream as he is devoured)

...you will wish you had never been born...

(Stravo runs into a room, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He is covered in blood and ha sever noticeable wounds that look like claw marks.)

Stravo: I think we're safe now baby, but I....OH GOD!

(Stravo sees his lover, Kate Mulgrew, lying in bed with Rob Dalton and snuggling up close to him.)

Stravo: Dalton how could you! You could have had any woman you wanted why her!

As a new season rises so does the body count...

UNNAMED PORNO FANFIC IS BACK!

The new season begins later this month on SDN.

Some fics were better left unwritten...

[Darth Fanboy]

*Prelude to Chapter 32: To Commemorate Stickyfication*

[The Fortress of Fanfic Solitude, At the Center of the Fanfic Galaxy]

Dalton #8675309 hurried down the corridor towards the throneroom of the Great Prime Dalton, progenitor of all Daltons. Prime Dalton had established himself as the bastion of Unauthorized Fiction long ago and became its god in order to prevent the new universes from having adverse effects on reality, and each other. Towering over his mortal counterparts from infinite universes, The Prime Dalton was a being so powerful that he had archived existence itself. However, the news courier that was heading towards his position brought with him terrible news. A black omen that threatened to destroy not only the Prime Dalton, but the entire Fanfic Galaxy as well.

"My l..l..lord," The terrified underling stuttered, "We've recieved new information on Unnamed Porno Fanfic".

The Prime Dalton shifted uneasily upon his golden throne, the place from which he coordinated his entire operation. The bastard abomination created by three of the galaxy's most demented madmen had been a pressing concern in recent days. "Tell Me then," he motioned with a giant hand capable of SMASHing underlings who brought inaccurate or displeasing news. "and it had better be important!"

"Well sir, we've managed to slightly contain some of the damage we inadvertently caused by the 'New Plotline Paradox' but there is a new threat that we cannot ignore."

The Prime Dalton sighed and the mighty hand raised to his head, holding it up as if he were infinitely weary. UPF was writing new chapters in the book of Paradoxes. How the fuck could they be running around on Middle Earth AND be cruising in space at the same time? Then the thought hit him, time...

"Don't tell me..."

"I'm afraid my Lord that UPF has discovered time travel. In an effort to boost sagging ratings and revived their aging franchise, They have set events in motion for temporal distortion. In other words, the anal violation of reality."

"Perhaps readers will catch onto this desperate ploy and be turned away."

"Unlikely sir, intelligence suggests that they will be accompanied by the voluptious Zaia, whose action figure has been sighted in Your Grace's chambers on several occaisions. Also, there will be gratuitous violence."

Prime Dalton's face turned grim. "Then we have only one option. We must Sticky UPF."

"But SIR! If we Sticky UPF the entire Fanfic Galaxy is going to know about this! We won't be aple to stop..."

"Unless we Sticky it nowand make it our number one priority we will never be able to defeat it, it has simply grown too powerful for our conventional methods." Prime Dalton closed his eyes and let out a small breath, for his next order could possibly be as questionable as the previous.

"I also want you to release Dalton 1138."

Dalton 8675309 leaped from where he was standing and felt a small blast of diarrhea coat his briefs. "MY LORD! Errr, I mean, Your Grace, my leige, Supreme One, please I beg you to reconsider, not Dalton 1138!"

"Silence!" Prime Dalton's voice boomed. "He is the only one who is capable. Even if I have no control over him."

Dalton 8675309 shuddered again and slinked backwords. "Thy will be done Your Grace."

"And 8675309?"

"Yes Oh Exalted One?"

"If you mention my Zaia action figure one more time I will see to it that you're on a frontline ship in the final battle of Starcrossed, IS THAT FUCKING CLEAR?"

Dalton 8675309 gulped and ran out of the chamber crying his eyes out. The Prime Dalton, satisfied that his orders would be carried out, returned to the busy task he had at hand. From behind his back he procured the Zaia action figure and began brushing the unmoving plastic hair with his finger as if it were real, nervously fidgeting with the straps that held up her tank top.

"I don't care what they say about you. We'll be best friends forever!" Dalton said as he kissed it tenderly on the head before putting it back in its hiding place.

[Falkenhorst]

Kate Moss snorts 20 lines of Coke in 40 minutes, Career Destroyed

EXCLUSIVE: COCAINE KATE
By Stephen Moyes

THE Daily Mirror today reveals shocking pictures of supermodel Kate Moss snorting a fat line of cocaine during a debauched drugs and drink session with junkie lover Pete Doherty.

As the white powder induces a sudden rush to her brain, she rocks back in her seat and laughs hysterically. The coke is kicking in.

Within seconds she leans forward and again sniffs into a tightly rolled-up £5 note, hoovering up every last grain of the Class A drug.

It is clear from the extraordinary images, captured during a Mirror undercover investigation, that the 31-year-old catwalk queen is a practised user.

Rumours of her drug habits have circulated for years but she has always denied taking Class As such as cocaine.

In a West London recording studio, though, Kate chats casually with Doherty and pals as she absent-mindedly crushes and chops out the chunky lines on the back of a plastic CD cover.

Advertisement

With her blonde hair hanging untidily around her shoulders, the model icon, worth £30million, prepares up to 20 lines of coke in just 40 minutes.

Using a mammoth stash, which she kept safely wrapped in her handbag, Kate - mother of a two-year-old daughter - has no qualms about being seen with the illegal drugs.

Doherty and some of his mates mill around, eager to join the binge and impatiently asking to help prepare the drugs.

Pete Doherty & Kate Moss

LOVERS: Kate with Babyshambles singer boyfirend Docherty

At one point the Croydon-born beauty - the face of Rimmel, Chanel, Calvin Klein and Christian Dior - loses her patience with one of crackhead Doherty's friends and insists: "I'll do it. I'll do it."

She joins in a discussion about cannabis while joints are passed around some members of the group.

As she parties on well into the early hours, Kate chats merrily about daughter Lila Grace, whose father is magazine publisher Jefferson Hack.

Kate, 10 times a Vogue cover girl,looks unsteady and exhausted as the session continues.

Between lines of cocaine, she repeatedly twitches her nose and rubs her nostrils.

On five occasions she expertly prepares the lines of cocaine, carefully using a credit card to cut the powder into neat rows for her, Doherty and the others.

In long, high-heeled black boots, shorts and a low cut vest top, Kate begins the night with shots of vodka and whisky.

She then pours herself large glasses of wine and beer and chain-smokes cigarettes.

The remarkable images were captured last week as Doherty, 26, laid down tracks for the new Babyshambles album.

Punk rock legend Mick Jones, formerly of The Clash, is producing the record and is also seen snorting cocaine from Kate's stash.

In 1998 Kate told a Channel 4 documentary: "I don't do any Class A -especially not heroin - after seeing what it does to people.

"I don't think you have to be in this industry to see that, you just have to look around you."

In the same year, Kate spent six weeks in The Priory rehab clinic. She told the Mirror at the time: "I've been doing a lot of work and too much partying. I wasn't happy with the way my life was going. So I decided to take a step back and assess my life and future.

"I want to be totally responsible for myself. And this is the place where I can get the peace and quiet I need to start the process."

She admitted later that she had spent much of the 90s drunk, and also revealed that she had problems with drugs. She never admitted using cocaine or other Class As.

"In fashion, excess is not for creative purposes, whatever people may say," she said. "It's about escapism. You just have to get out of it to deal with it. I think that's what a lot of people in fashion that I know do it for. I know that's why I did it."

Two years ago Kate confessed for the first time that her drug habits had once left her in the depths of despair but claimed to have cleaned up her act.

She said: "Dabbling is fine but when I was bang on it, that wasn't a nice time. I was miserable anyway.

"Drugs enhanced all the misery and I got into this spiral. I still drink but I don't do drugs."

Yesterday she was with Doherty in New York for fashion week. They lunched at SoHo's Balthazar restaurant.

Of course I can't tell our readers too much without revealing upcoming plot lines, but I can say that she was preparing for her upcoming guest appearance in UPF.

UPF... FUCK YEAH!

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH!

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH!

CRACKWHORE KATE MOSS... FUCK YEAH!

[MKSheppard]

UPF CHAPTER XXXII: "CHRONOTEMPORALPHASEDISTORTION"

Written by Darth "Ron Mexico" Fanboy

Cleaned up and Expanded by Mark "Saint LeMay" Sheppard to
include even more insanity.

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends
We're so glad you could attend
Come inside! Come inside!
There behind a glass is a real blade of grass
be careful as you pass.
Move along! Move along!

Come inside, the show's about to start
guaranteed to blow your head apart
Rest assured you'll get your money's worth
The greatest show in Heaven, Hell or Earth.
You've got to see the show, it's a dynamo.
You've got to see the show, it's rock and roll ....

The Asskicker, somewhere in Zeonic Space....

"We're fucking dead! I knew it!" shouted Falkenhorst, his face turning purple
as he screamed bloody murder as the Asskicker shook and shuddered under weapons
fire.

"Shep, you fucking dipshit, the next time we follow up on that pothead's "leads",
make sure that fucking braindead sonuvabitch isn't out of his mind on god knows
what! Nog, activicate the cloaking device! Lets get the fuck out of here!"

The other day, Fanboy had told his acquaintances in porn of a magical water fountain
full of nymphomaniac sluts who would fuck for free on camera, found only on the
planet Coedicus III. The story was made even more plausible by the fact that Coedicus
was home to a great university which had students from all over the galaxy, even Idaho.

Unfortunately for our smutlords when they arrived at the designated coordinates, they
found that it wasn't Coedicus III, but the Zeonic colony of Smithia. To make matters
worse, Smithia was home to the modern day version of Smith College, the Sophia Smith
Military Academy, one of the largest all-female universities in human history.

After the failed panty raid by the Pirate Lord Spanky which had been foiled by Admiral
Mayabird, and the theft of the prized Butter Cow, the Zeonic military had been on high alert,
waiting to rip into some testicles. They hadn't had to wait long, for after only ten
minutes on alert duty, the Asskicker re-entered real space right smack in the
middle of a formation of D-7s, crewed by graduates fresh from anti-male indoctrination.

Palace of the Amazons - Zeon Prime

NOTE: Listening to THIS is mandatory during the speeches of the Great Leaderess. HAIL ZEON!

The massive building towered into the nighttime sky of Zeon Prime as a symbol of womanly
might, 300 meters high, topped by a hundred meter high statue of the Goddess of Liberty,
completely naked, and in one hand, holding a pair of severed testicles and penis, the other
holding a massive stainless steel sword which also acted as a lightning rod for the entire
complex, and also caused really cool lightning shows during thunderstorms. This was the Duchy
of Zeon's capital building, ordered by the Duchess upon her seizure of power as a way of
disposing of captured men. It was said that each meter of the building had been built with
the lives of a thousand men...at least.

Inside one of the many grand meeting rooms inside the monolith of feminist power, The
Duchess was giving a speech on the theft of the Butter Cow to her handpicked apparatachik,
who controlled the Duchy through a secret police which was everywhere.

The Duchess picked up a glass of water, took a sip, and began her speech.

"The theft of the Butter Cow while important, is merely a sign of the stresses between
our feminist state and the male dominated hierarchies surrounding us. Several Sisters
have asked in public whether it is not possible to slow down our tempo of militarization,
that we are losing sight of what makes us women and superior to men."

"No, Sisters, it is not possible! The tempo must not be reduced! On the contrary, we
must increase it as much as is within our powers and possibilities. This is dictated
to us by our obligations to the women of the galaxy! This is dictated to us by our
obligations to those who suffer under male domination!"

As soon as the Duchess finished the last word, the entire room erupted in enthuastic
cheers. After raising her hand and holding it for several minutes to acknowledge the
cheers, she pushed a hidden button on her podium, which in turn activicated a little
red light which was discreetly placed out of sight from the cameras which were
recording this event for the public.

This was the symbol for everyone to stop clapping and applauding, and had been installed
on the Duchess' orders after a disastrous speech earlier in her reign when everyone had
refused to stop clapping; making her speech run over by several hours.

When everyone had stopped clapping, she took another sip of water and resumed her speech.

"To slacken the tempo would mean falling behind. And those who fall behind get beaten.
But we do not want to be beaten. No, we refuse to be beaten! One feature of the history
of womankind is the continual beatings she has suffered because of her biological
distinctiveness!

She was beaten by Kennedies! She was beaten by Clintons! She was beaten by Hefners! She
was beaten by Flynts! She was beaten by the Berias and Kims! All beat her because of her
weakness. They beat her because she could not fight back! They beat her because to do so
was profitable and could be done with impunity.

That is why we must no longer lag behind!"

Once again, the chamber erupted into cheers. The Duchess took the time to drink some
more water before pressing the button once more.

"In the past we had no motherland, nor could we have one. But now that we have overthrown
the men and power is in our hands, in the hands of womankind, we have a motherland, and
we will defend its independence. Do you want our motherland to be beaten and to lose
its independence? If you do not want this you must put an end to its backwardness in
the shortest possible time and develop a geniuine Sisterhood in building up its economy and
military power."

There is no other way!"

Still more loud cheers. She definitely had this audience on it's feet, although she
couldn't really tell, due to everyone clapping out of fear. The Duchess made a mental
note to have the Society of Hecate check out everyone in this room and their political
leanings afterwards.

"We are fifty or a hundred years behind the advanced nations! We must make good this
distance in ten years. Either we do it, or we shall be crushed!"

With that concluding sentence, the Duchess strode off the podium and into her inner
chambers. Her assistant, a woman known only by the name of Pick was waiting for her.

"Milady, we have recieved word from Smithia that they are pursuing a rogue D-7 whose
appearances fits that of the ship used by the Porn crimelords Sheppard and Falkenhorst."

"Excellent. Put me in contact with the task force commander as soon as possible. I
shall take the call from my desk."

The Asskicker, floating dead in space under silent running

The Asskicker had barely escaped being pounded to dust after it's inital arrival
smack dab in the middle of a Zeonic task force, due to the quick actions of Nog, who
as a Ferengi was adept in the art of running away like a coward.

After activating the cloaking device and both GM-1 and MW-50 boost on the impulse
engines to get away from the middle of the enemy formation as fast as possible, the
peddlers of porn had fled to a nearby unnamed system. Hiding amongst the asteroids,
the plan was to lay low and eventually sneak away unhindered.

In the briefing room just behind the bridge, the two porn hustlers were arguing loudly
over what had just transpired, and who was to blame for this collossal fuckup.

"It was a chance we had to take, or did you already forget about how badly you fucked
up the last time we needed to hire actresses?"

"ANYONE would have thought those were women, how the fuck was I supposed to know they
were dudes in those fucking disugises they had!" shouted Falkenhorst, as he put a hand
on his pistol.

"Well for starters, you should have noticed their giant fucking adam's apples, you
pigfucker!"

Both crimelords drew their pistols in an instant, both seeking to kill each other
in a fit of rage when the entire ship shuddered. Someone was firing on them.

"Nog!" screamed Falk, "How the fuck did they find us?"

Bridge of the ZSS Eunuchizer, 15 minutes ago

"Commander Zaia! We've lost them!" shouted the young Ensign Lindar at her station,
wearing the tight jeans uniform common amongst women in this task force. Zaia had
assumed command of the Smith Academy flotilla shortly after her returning, a reward
from the Duchess for successfully assassinating Janeway.

She now had first pick out of all of the hot academy students and graduates, life was
beginning to look really good. But the theft of the legendary Butter Cow had put all
of the military on high alert, its creamy udder now in the possession of some male fiend,
no doubt.

Many a cloaked ship had been able to escape into the dense asteroid fields along the
Zeon border regions, but Zaia was a skilled hunter, and her prey had a distinct scent.

"Give me the registration number on that ship", Zaia commanded. "Ma'am, the ship is
registered to one Robb Cape Verde, owner and proprietor of the Vega IX Meat Processing
plant.

The name sounded suspicious to Zaia.

"Run that name through the Reverse Ron Mexico name generator immediately."

Many underworld degenerates in need of a new alias looked to the Ron Mexico name
generator in order to create the ultimate disguise, however Zeon technology was
so advanced that they could run a name through a reverse generator.

If in fact the alias was a product of the Ron Mexico name generator, the real name
would be determined.

"I have a result, one Mark Sheppard."

Zaia's eyes widened, he was one of the men she met on the Gnomish Asteroid prior
to assinating Darth Garden Gnome. The ensign continued "Running that name through
our database gives us a match. Mark Sheppard is wanted for 673,212 counts of
Exploiting Women, each one of them carrying a minimum sentence of fifty years and
castration. A known associate, Falkenhorst, is rumored to have over 750,000 counts
against him, Including several counts of third-degree defilement."

Zaia's eyes narrowed, these guys weren't just scum, but they were big time prey.

The bigger the prey the more complicated and dangerous the hunt became. These
guys were professionals, there was no way to track them, unless....

"I want a full sensor sweep of the area, search for any amount of Tetrahydrocannabinol."

When the group had parted ways aboard the Asteroid, Zaia had noticed the hulking
mercenary who had aided Sheppard and Falkenhorst in their escape, he reeked of
Chong's Finest.

It was a long shot, but THC was an incredibly easy chemical to track after the
advanced privacy invading technology was developed during the Second Ashcroft War
in the 22nd century on Earth. After a few minutes, a nameless but shapely Lieutenant
responded from her station. "Mistress Zaia! We have a heavy concetration of THC,
putting it on screen now. The viewscreen of space became inted green as the THC
tracking system began taking effect. Suddenly, in perfect view, was the outline
of a refitted D7, its ventilation system completely saturated with THC, heavily
concentrated in one section of the ship.

"Lock onto that ship and fire, but remember ladies we need to capture that ship!
If the butter cow is indeed aboard then we can't afford to blow it up! Open a
hailing frequency."

The Asskicker

"Son of a bitch! THAT'S how they're tracking us?" shouted Sheppard, fighting
the urge to find Fanboy and put a fucking bullet into his brain.

"That's right, Boss, Fanboy's potsmoke has circulated throughout the ship so
much that the cloaking device is useless. We're sitting ducks like this!"
muttered Nog, hitting the now-useless cloaking device control panel.

The ship was hit again and Nog reflexively winced, expecting the console
to explode in his face. Fortunately for him and the crimelord's minions,
the Asskicker's control panels were of much safer designs than the
Federation tech most of them were used to, with a magical newfangled
invention called the "surge suppressor" being integral to every circuit.

The cloak dropped, with the smell of bacon frying. Apparently the jury
rigged bypass involving some strips of bacon to replace damaged relays
that they couldn't replicate had failed. To top it all off, the shields
weren't coming back on-line.

"Get us out of here! Decoy pattern Trojan!" shouted Sheppard, as he slammed
into his seat and buckled the seatbelt. It was a damn shame to waste their
stock of condoms, but it was better than being castrated by Zeons.

The ZSS Eunuchizer

"Milady, we're detecting a spread of...condoms from the enemy ship! Slowing
down to avoid sucking them into our engine cooling intakes!"

Zaia cursed at this latest ploy to avoid rightful justice by the crimelords.

"Belay that command! Fire forward disruptor banks at maximum spread; we'll vaporize
the condoms!"

"Yes milady!"

"Milady, we're getting a transmission from Zeon Prime!" shouted their communications
officer.

"Not now!" muttered Zaia. Damn bureaucrats always interfered just as she was closing
in for the kill...

"Milady, it's from the Office of the Duchess!"

Zaia groaned at that. Why now? "Put her on."

The Asskicker

"Fuck! Way to waste our prime stock of rubbers, asshole!" shouted Falkenhorst
as he watched Sheppard's flimsy plan fall to pieces before their eyes as the
condoms were vaporized. "Nog! Get us the fuck outta here!"

"I'm trying, boss, but the warp field generator is damaged, I'm not sure
we can safely engage it!"

"Fuck this shit!" shouted Falk as he stormed over to Nog's station and threw the
big-eared dopeball out of his seat. "I don't think we fuckin' asked you nicely",
shouted Falk as he slammed his fist down on the console and began powering up the
warp coils.

Just then, Seppo started shouting from his communications station, interrupting
the chaos on the bridge.

"Hey boss, wees getting a call from the dames on the lead ship. Sez she knows youse guys,
sez her name is Zye-ya or something like that."

Sheppard and Falkenhorst both looked straight up and shouted in unison.

"PUT HER ON!"

"Sheppard and Falkenhorst, I presume?" asked the beautiful, yet vicious assassin
from the Duchy.

"She's just as beautiful as ever!" muttered Sheppard.

"Keep your dick tucked in Shep, this dame was just trying to kill us."

"I've just recieved orders priority one from the Duchess. For your efforts in bringing
quality sapphic erotica to the citizens of the state, you are hereby pardoned of all
sex crimes past and present in the Principality of Zeon by order of the Duchess herself.

However, if you have indeed stolen the holy artifact, then I am still authorized to
enforce the worse-than-death penalty."

The two smutlords looked at each other, puzzled.

"Do you know what the fuck she's talking about?"

"I dunno, I figured you would though." replied Shep.

"Hey babe, we got nothing to hide over here, you can scan our ship all you want, but
we don't have any butter cows over here." added Falk in his best pickup voice,
trying to influence the woman on the screen before them.

Zaia looked over at her sensor officer, who had a reply before the question had
been asked. "He's not lying. I've scanned the entire thing twice and there are only
trace dairy products, a few contraband bottles of premium betazed breast milk,
looks like the good stuff too, and about three small bricks of Romulan goat cheese
but thats it."

Zaia didn't question the results of the eerily precise scan but she knew that porn
dealers could never be trusted. "Sheppard, our sensor scans have confirmed your
statements but I will be beaming over for a visual inspection."

Falkenhorst was visibly irritated at this and shouted "You can visually inspect my co.....",
before Sheppard suddenly slugged him. After shaking his hand to ward off the pain, Sheppard
turned to face the viewscreen. "Sure! Come on over!"

The screen switched off with an image of Sheppard turning around to kick someone on
the floor, obviously Falkenhorst. Zaia turned to her weapons officer, Lusankya.

"If anything happens to me, make sure each and every man on board that ship loses
their testicles."

"Aye Mistress."

Shortly afterwards, Zaia was in a shuttlecraft heading for the Asskicker's
shuttlebay, and upon arriving, she found that the on-duty shuttlebay officer was
an incoherent drunk who appeared to be sleeping on a pile of broken glass and
dog-eared pornography magazines.

Zaia slowly approached the man and read his name tag, it read: "Hi My Name Is: Consequences"

An odd name, but then again nothing about this particular crew was exactly normal,
in fact it was surprising that aside from the near-leathal amounts of bongsmoke
cycling through the ship it was quite functional.

Unslinging the old Martini Henry rifle she had been given as a child, Zaia began to
walk through the corridors of the ship. Since the seizure of power by the Duchess,
every Zeonic child was given upon age 12 one of these rifles with the orders to care
for as if it were her own child.

Since then, many jokes had been told about Zeonic women and their phallic firearms, but
any jester who dared tell such a joke within earshot of one of these women always
learned the hard way about what it meant to fuck with a Zeon. One shot from this weapon
was all it took to render a humanoids brain into worthless bits of spongy and unassorted
matter.

Zaia's rifle even had a name, "The Vagina Demagogue".

She poked at the unconscious man a few times, but got nothing other than a few snorts
and feeble attempts to wave away the poking device. Suddenly she heard footsteps
pounding down the hallway outside the shuttlebay, and she readied herself for an attack.

Could they be this stupid? she thought.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped and the doors opened slowly, stopping halfway with a
squeal of rusted metal, before a pair of hands appeared in the doorway and pushed
the recalitrant doors apart. "Fucking piece of shit, last time I buy something used
from a bunch of Klingon bastards..."

Zaia found herself facing down Sheppard, who was obviously out of breath, panting after
the run from the bridge and forcing the doors open. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said
as he wiped a twinge of sweat from his brow.

"If you'll follow me the cargo hold is this way."

Zaia looked at him with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Was he actually hitting on
her?

"Errr...Thank you."

After about twenty meters of walking through the Asskicker, Zaia had already
seen enough.

Newspapers littered the floors, covering stains fresh and old alike. The mess hall
was infested with what appeared to be large cockroaches. Upon seeing the cockroaches
scuttling across the deck, Sheppard pulled out a disruptor from under his jacket and
blasted two of the larger ones while pretending he hadn't seen anything.

"Would you care for anything?"

Zaia's stomach tied itself in a knot that would make Gordian blush.

"No thanks, just take me to the cargo hold."

They continued moving along until Zaia spotted something suspicious.

"What's that?" she asked as she pointed at a corridor where some wallpaper had been
put up. It was quite obvious where the metallic wall ended and the thin paper began.

Sheppard answered nervously. "Um, I have no idea...The cargo hold is this way!"

Zaia ignored Sheppard and used the barrel of her rifle to tear away the paper, which
revealed a door. Zaia opened to door and nearly fell to the floor as the bongsmoke
rolled out of the room.

"WHAT THE FUCK? Is this some sort of biological weapon?" shouted Zaia as she fought
the halluciogenic effects of the THC, which was appearing in levels previously unrecorded
by Zeonic instruments.

The smoke billowed out into the hallway and in the haze Zaia spotted a large man eating
a mushroom about the size of his head. Judging by the color and pattern o the fungi, it
was a Cardassian Learyshroom, one of the most intense psychotropic drugs in the Alpha
and Beta Quadrants. Sheppard quickly closed the door. "That's Fanboy's room, he's
just a hired hand who we owe a lot of money too that's all. Nothing in there worth
looking for, uhhh, what was it you said you needed again?"

"Several days ago our most precious holy artifact was stolen. The sacred Butter
Cow of Zeon, whose creamy udder and sublime teats gave life to the female race."

"We were searching for the culprits when your ship illegally intruded on our space by
appearing right in the middle of our task force."

Sheppard whistled nervously and tugged at his collar.

"Well ummm, see ah, we were about to make a delivery! I apologize for not making
contact sooner but we figured you'd appreciate the..."

"Spare me the bullshit! We've gone over this entire ship almost and we haven't
seen one pallet of export quality porn! You're almost as stupid as those idiots
who believe in the Coedicus planet of the naked horny college girls!"

Sheppard clenched his fist, and silently promised to himself that Fanboy would
be brutally murdered in some way if they survived this.

"Well I can assure you we don't have any butter cows."

"We'll see about that...take me to the main cargo bay or your testicles will be sold
as fish bait."

With that, Zaia aimed the Martini Henry right at Shep's face, and began nudging him along.

They entered the cargo bay, only to find it half full with a large refrigerating unit
taking up most of the occupied space, next to a few garbage bags full of Trill Soup Mix.

The refrigerating unit looked large enough to house the butter cow, and Zaia immediately
became suspicious. She opened the door and walked in, finding nothing more than a rack
of bottles full of a white subtance. She picked one up and uncorked the bottle, then
she sniffed it. It was in fact, the Betazoid breastmilk that her officer had informed
her of back on her ship. Zaia raised the bottle to her lips and slugged down about half
of the bottle in one satisfying chug.

"Mmmmm, This is a thirty eight isn't it?"

Sheppard raised his hand in protest. "Are you kidding me? First of all that bottle costs
about three hundred bars of latinum, secondly we just bottled it two days ago."

Zaia snickered as she dook another long drink. "I meant thirty eight double D silly."

Sheppard laughed, she had not been referring to the vintage, but of the size of the
breast from which the milk had been squeezed.

"I didn't know you could tell just by tasting."

Zaia nodded her head. "Most people can't, it's one of my innate talents."

Sheppard adjustied his jacket and pulled out a cigar from one of his pockets.

"Do you have any other 'innate talents' I should know about?" he said as he lit
his cigar using a gold plated Zippo.

"Actually I do," replied Zaia. "I can shoot off the tip of a penis with this
rifle here from over a hundred meters out from almost a kilometer."

"I'll be leaving now."

Just then the ship rocked as if it were under heavy fire.

"Hey tell those cunts on your ship to lay off!" yelled Sheppard as the ship began
shaking even more violently.

"You idiot! This isn't torpedo fire at all!"

Zaia grabbed her communicator and tried to hail her ship but to no avail.

Suddenly, over the Asskicker's intercom, Falkenhorst started screaming and cursing.

"Shep! If you're done pulling that shit with that woman, get your ass to the bridge
RIGHT FUCKING NOW! We're in trouble!"

Shep and Zaia raced to the bridge, bracing themselves against the wall as the ship
continued to be handled like a jittery Altar Boy.

When they finally reached the bridge, Nog and Falk were occupying two consoles, going
over the readouts on the screens as if they were watching a disaster unfold.

Suddenly another alarm went off.

Falk turned to Shep and cracked his knuckles.

"About five minutes ago things started going to shit and suddenly the Lesbo ship
disappeared completely off our screens. At first I thought they had cloaked or
something, but the sensor readings didn't look right. Nog over there meanwhile
was trying to hack a few closed circuit security channels on the planet hoping
to see some bush when suddenly THOSE cut out too."

Zaia resisted shooting everyone on the bridge and started going over the screen,
before long she had pushed Falk aside and started punching buttons.

"Something's wrong, none of the Zeon Preemptive Defense Network frequencies are
online either. And the population of Smithia has nearly tripled!"

Zaia scanned the planet further, "Oh my Goddess! They're all less than four feet tall!"

Suddenly another alarm went off and Nog started screaming.

"That's the proximity alarm," Nog yelped.

"Two Cubes coming out of warp right behind us!"

Shep felt the urge to panic in a big way. Even with the Asskicker's uprated
defensive suite and the fact that none of them were lobotomized retards like the
Federation's crews were, two cubes were no easy thing to deal with.

"The Borg?" he asked. Nog shook his head.

"Bioscans are inconsistent with Borg lifesigns. They may be Borg cubes, but they
aren't being crewed by Borg." Falkenhorst lit a cigarette and slammed his fist down
on the console.

"Then who the fuck is it Nog!"

Just then an image appeared on the forward screen. All the beleaguered crew
of the Asskicker could see was the top of a red pointy hat.

"Is this thing on? Oh! Fuck point the camera down you retard! Ok....." came a small
squeaky voice. "We are the Gnomes! Resistance is Gay! You will beam over and service
us bitches!"

Shep and Falk looked at each other as Zaia narrowed her gaze at the Gnome on the
viewscreen, who had put his fingers into a V and was now flicking his tongue
furiously.

"It makes sense," she said.

"Somehow the Gnomes have not only managed to defeat the Borg, but the Principality
as well! We can only assume that somehow the Gnomes have conquered the universe!"

"Sensor logs show that about five seconds before the ship started shaking a massive
ChronoTemporalDistortionPulseField showed up everywhere out sensor could reach."

"Somebody traveled through time, in a big fucking way. But how come we weren't affected?"
Falk said as he began loading his .357 Magnum.

"It must be the sheer volume of potsmoke in the ship. Normally it would dissipate but
in an enclosed environment like this it has just about saturated everything in here
with some sort of anti-Chronoton property!" Zaia said, using technobabble that would
make a Federation officer blush.

"In other words our ship is too fucking stoned to be affecting by the reality changing
event. Remind me when this is all over to eject Fanboy into some godforsaken nebula
near the galactic edge." cursed Sheppard.

"In the meantime we have to get the fuck out of here NOW! Find ourself a nice
little uncharted system and live the rest of our lives on the lam."

"Oh no we aren't!", Zaia said in her authoritative boss-lady voice.

"On the authority of the Principality of Zeon, I hereby commandeer this vessel
for the stated purpose of Temporal Restoration for the Preservation of the
Principate."

Falkenhorst started laughing. "That's a good one! Fucking time travel?
Listen we don't HAVE that kind of equipment, you think that the mess of us
in this antiquated ship can travel through time? I might not be a physicist
but I restored this ship from the frame up and let me fucking tell you there
ain't no way we are travelling through time!"

Zaia raised her rifle at Falkenhorst's head and shot the cigarette he was smoking
out of his mouth.

"There's only one way to find out..."

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

By special request of Darth Fanboy, who hath given me the honor of posting for him, a very special Necroing of the most infamous fic on SDnet!




UPF XXXIII: "When Fanboy writes a Chapter, an Angel takes it in the ass."


JOSS WHEDON KILLED DURING ORAL SEX WITH FAN

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following news bulletins.

Joss Whedon was found dead in his home after being attacked by one of his fans. The culprit, a sci fi fanwho calls himself "Willow's Brother" ate Joss Whedon's genitals after patiently waiting his turn in the "Suck Joss Whedon's Cock"-line. The Kid, whose real identity is currently unavailable, had waited behind hundreds of fans of such television shows as "Firefly" and "Buffy the Vampire slayer" before devouring his icons genitals in what apparently was nothing more than temporary insanity brought on by extreme excitement.

In a statement released through his attorney, the kid stated that "After Serenity tanked at the box office about five hundred people got out of line in front of me, which had me totally stoked. It was still taking a while, and I guess I got just too excited, it was an accident I swear. I should have taken my fangs out maybe I don't know."

The film the kid is referring to is none other than "Serenity", the fetid pile of fanwank based on the short lived shitty television show Firefly, that enough geeks watched that it acquired a cult following. Unlike fans of the more reknowned sci fi television classic Star Trek however, Firefly fans bathed. The combined bathing and shameless appraisal conned filmmakers to believe that Whedon could produce a profitable film. Unfortunately, the fans executives were counting on to purchase movie tickets all downloaded copies on the internet prior to its release and never supported the movie in theaters, thinking that all of the other fans would do so for them and led to a miserable showing.

However, hardcore fans of Firefly and Whedon's vampire-based series "Buffy" and "Angel" were still willing to wait days, sometimes weeks on end in a line to fellate their idol, which led to another tragic incident.

The girl who was to be next in line had a mixed reaction.

"I'm like, totally bummed don't get me wrong, but this sort of helps me out because I was totally stressing over whether or not to swallow you know? I mean, As much fun as it would be to swallow and see if JOss' infinite love could have swelled inside of me how many girls out there can say that the guy who created Angel blew a load all over her face?"

The fan behind her, a male fan in his mid 40's, asked if it was true that Wesley Crusher had been killed. When we informed him that this was the line to suck Joss Whedon's cock and not Wil Wheaton he grew incredibly red in the face and ran out of the room.

RON MEXICO FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT

(Insert that nasty death picture here)

The body of legendary ladies' man and master criminal Ron Mexico was found mutiliated in his upscale Trenton N.J. apartment earlier this morning after police made a welfare check on behalf of several dozen concerned prostitutes. THe one significant mutilation was the carving of a "Z" on his back, buttocks, and testicles. Police attribute this to the work of crack-addicted Zorro Impersonators and definitely not the assassins and agents working for the Duchess of Zeons femme dictatorship.

Mexico, how recently landed a starring role in the highly acclaimed yet highly stale Unnamed Porno Fanfic, was scheduled to report to the set for a new episode sometime later on this week. When informed of the incident, UPF co-creator MArk Sheppard responded with a resounding cheer at the reduced payroll. Mexico's exorbitant contract came during a financial boon for the once again bankrupt media corporation.

UPF Executive producer and head writer Darth Fanboy, who is spending a court ordered stint at the Paul Reubens Masturbation Addiction clinic, quietly mourned the loss of his colleague. "He was a dear friend," Fanboy said. ",and he taught me how to love again. The 'five dollar Wednesdays' he sponsored at his brothel were like heaven to me, and I will always be indebted to him.

Although an autopsy has yet to be performed and dental records yet to be checked, authorities are quite certain that Ron Mexico's career has finalyl ended. But this is not the first time that the famed pimp has been thought dead. During a prolonged firefight which left an entire Hoboken neighborhood shaken and 27 officers and gigolos dead Ron Mexico was declared a victim of police gunfire. However that claim proved to false when Mexico himself mugged Steve Irwin the following week, stealing seventy dollars and a wallet sized photo of his wife Terri which was found the next day covered in semen.

We now return you to the Unnamed Porno Fanfic, already in progress

Bridge of the ASSKICKER!

"When last we saw our heroes, the time-space continuum had been altered by the evil and unrelenting gnomes! Zaia, in her efforts to restore her homeland of Zeon, commandeered the starship of the smutords Shep and Falk, who were reluctant to....GAHHHH!!!"

Sheppard reholstered his Desert Eagle after plugging the Narration officer several times in the chest, it was the preferred method of downsizing aboard the Asskicker.

"Listen babe, I hate to break it to you but Falk is right. The only method of time travel we have availiable is that retarded ass solar slingshot trick and there is no way in HELL you're going to pull that off with our ship!" Sheppard plead.

"That's right," Falk chimed in, "I had to scrounge most of these parts from Klingon scrapyards, not to mention salvage the transmission from a 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme for the warp core!"

Zaia kept the Martini Henry rifle aimed carefully at Falkenhorst's head, keeping a trained eye on the parts of his skull that would explode the most violently. Although she was outnumbered, she was certain the fragmentation from Falk's skull would take out at least two or three of the poorly trained crewmen, who were mostly drunk anyways. That would only leave the hopelessly in love Sheppard and the Ferengi to deal with as actual threats. Her mind raced as a plan formed in her head, the hopelessly in love Sheppard....

"Shep honey..."

Shep'as eyes lit up as if he had just been told he'd inherited the playboy mansion. "Yes my darling?"

"Would you be a dear and try to travel through time for me? I would be so impressed, you know how us girls loooooove to impressed by crazy male stunts."

It was an old Zeon manipulation trick, the male libido was a powerful servants as well as a powerful oppressor. Sheppard kicked Nog out of his console and shouted. "ANYTHING FOR YOU MY LOVE!"

"Shep are you fucking insane! STop this shit right n...."

Falk was silenced as Zaia knocked him over the head with the butt of her rifle just as Shep gunned the engine, pushing the proverbial pedal to the proverbial metal. The Asskicker shot between the two Gnomish Cubes and headed straight for the nearest Star, as Shep put the old D-7 into high gear though the ominous sounds of sputtering and clanging metal could be heard in various sections all over the ship.

The Asskicker had kicked its' last ass.

Sheppard, whose horny attempt at scoring with the girl of his dreams had just died in a sputtering wreck now sobbed as his precious starship drifted nearly dead in space. Falkenhorst rubbed at the welt on his forehead cursing as Zaia retrained her rifle.

"I TOLD YOU! I FUCKING TOLD YOU! GOD DAMMIT SHEP!"

An explosions rocked the ship.

"Was that the Cubes?" Falk asked.

"Negative," said Nog, who was now occupying the sensor station. "They are too far out of firing range, Shep's gambit bought us a little bit of time but we just picked up approximate a metric ton of weight in one of our empty cargo holds. IT wasn't transported on either because our shields were still up."

"Then what in the hell happened?" Shep cringed as he spoke, nursing his blueballs.

Just then a small man wearing thick glasses and carrying a datapad walked into the room beaming with an almost creepy amount of glee on his face. THe man was wearing a long white bodystocking which vaguely resembled a starfleet cadet uniform.

"Wow! It is you! It really is you! The most infamous pornlords of the third millenium! Fhep and Salk!"

(To be continued!)

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part I: Sheppard's Tale


All Sheppard could do was run. The once-powerful media mogul and nuclear weapons proponent was now in a race against time and the first prize was his own life.

Rumor had it that she had killed Ron Mexico, turning down the impressive bounty just for the opportunity. If that was tue, then she would have to go after Sheppard inevitably. With his coffers low and his influence waning, Shep had tried to lose himsel amongst the vast population of a major midwestern metropolitan city. Unfortunately he chose Des Moines, Iowa. An oversized shithole that existed largely on government pork-barrel spending and an overinflated sense of self worth from the men in the Capitol. It only took one night for the bitch to find him skipping out on the bill at a Perkin's restauraunt.

He ran into the alley, suddenly, a stampede of escaped livestock burst into his path and trampled him, nearly crushing him to death. Fortunately he had invaded the hooves of the largest animals and suffered but a few superficial scrapes, cuts and bruises.

Something startled those fucking animals. I'd better hightail it outta...

*Begin playing "Kill Bill" Music*

But before he could finish that thought, there was a bright flash as if a banana with super speed had knocked him on his ass. She stood over him, samurai sword held in the air pointing towards his chest and her face concealed by a motorcycle helmet.

"I always figured I'd be killed by a whore. But then again I used to have prostitutes choke me with a leather strap while they blew me also." Sheppard said, a nervous yet sly grin forming on his face.

With her free hand the assassin removed the helmet from her head, Sheppard saw the chin and features of a caucasian female, but was distracted when the helmet was flung at his crotch with extreme force. The pain caused him to vomit the purloined piece of pecan pie he had procured from Perkins. (groooaaaaaan)

Staggering to his feet and still on the wrong end of the Katana, Shep finally saw the face of his assailant and his jaw dropped.

"TERRI SCHIAVO?!?!?!?!?"

"In the flesh. I know it was Ron Mexico who was running the vegetative sex scheme but I also know you were getting a cut you fucking weasel!"

Sheppard cursed silently, Ron Mexico had been sending him envelopes containing $1200-$1500 a week in money earned from subordinates who worked in hospitals in the southwestern US. The money earned from his "comatose cookies" as he liked to call them had been enough to pay the remainder of his legal bills following the obscenity charges made against his latest porno film "Cock and Awe" (about American soldiers who go to Iraq to convince the women that America is number one!).

Just as Schiavo was about to run Shep through though there was a mysterious flash of light, and through it came a familiar face...

[Meanwhile, at the Fortress of Fanfic Solitude*]

Upon the Golden Throne of Fanfics, there was but one Dalton. Dalton Prime, trhough him all Daltons everywhere could traverse the many realms of fanfiction. To right the wrongs created by sloppy and untalented authors.

But not even the Prime Dalton could stop this, for he must remain within the Fortress to make these powerful, yet necessary, tasks possible. There was only one Dalton capable of correcting this mess, Dalton 1138 was the perfect choice for this assignment. Forged in a realm where the organization of amateur science fiction writing was left only to Gods and Demons, Dalton 1138 was the best of the best. Capable of subjugating entire worlds with his bare hands, no one would stand a chance against him.

However, due to a clerical error, Dalton 1138 was never even contacted, and instead Dalton #14072 was sent instead. #14702 was a respected, but underappreciated Dalton from a world where fanfiction ranked alongside goth suicide poetry and cybersex in thge internet heirarchy. As capable as he was though he was unprepared for the assignment given to him. The Prime Dalton had sent him to the UPF-Verse with explicit instructions to stop any more plotlines from occuring, by any means necessary, also to keep the body count from rising further.

HOwever Dalton materialized in the alley just as Terri Schiavo was about to skewer Shep, as he stumbled to regian his balance he tripped over an extension cord that was running up the leg of Terri's yellow jumpsuit. The 3000 mile long extension cord disconnected her from her life support equipment in Florida, killing her instantly.

"Hey thanks man!" Yelled Shep, "I owe ya!" And with that Sheppard ran off, hailing a passing John Deere taxicab. As Dalton surveyed the chaos in the alley he muttered under his breath. Jeebus fucking Christo, the Prime Dalton is gonna ream my ass with his fist for this one.

The next day Sheppard boarded a plane to New York, where he knew Falkenhorst was operating a little side business, an unlicensed plastic surgery clinic for wealthy yet stingy white women in upstate New York. He had been to the brink of death, and he realized that he didn't want to go out like a total bitch.

It was time to get the band back together.


Where are Falkenhorst and Fanboy? Will the plot ever get back on track? What will happen to Dalton? Find out in the upcoming full chapter. UPF 34 Part 2: Falkenhorst's Tale!

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part II: Falkenhorst's Tale

Falkenhorst cranked up the volume in his iPod and tossed on the white lab coat before exiting his office and dancing his way into the operating room, where a heavily anesthetized patient was deep into the effects of what Falk called his "Special Little Brew". The Brew was little more than a crude mixture of opium and raw ether but none of his patients had complained yet.

"Stuck in the middle with you...." Falk sang along to himself as he picked up the scalpel and began looking over the patient, a mature but not entirely unattractive 42 year old real estate agent from Poughkeepsie. Her husband, a middle management waste of a haircut, had earned a healthy tax return and he had decided to treat himself to a lifelong fantasy. Because his looks had declined he was unable to score with the delicious young virgins that attended the nearby high schools, and he felt that he would never again be able to deflower a young woman, violently tearing away a hymen with his bent and misshapen tool.

That is where Falk came in to play. After the decline of UPF following the cocaine for whores scandal that had shaken Vatican City to its core, resulting in the defrocking of 3 prominent cardinals, Falk had re-entered the United States under an assumed name and began operating an unlicensed medical clinic just outside of Utica. A steady flow of bribes and strategic campagin contributions had helped him in going unnoticed, but even those wouldn't help them if any legitimate authorities found out about what operations he actually performed. Falk had learned surgery from a former battlefield surgeon in SOutheast Asia who also performed deviant sexual experiments on unwilling victims. And while Falk didn't really get off on watching a grown man having his testicles sewed between the cheeks of his ass, he had absorbed what practical knowledge he could and kept it with him.

Falk's cash cow were those middle aged husbands with too much time and money on their hands who weren't capable of getting it out of the house and housewives who weren't getting enough at home. But even though these people had the money to afford proper medical supervision for these procedures, Falkenhorsts operation undercut those prices between 45-70% and if theres one thing about middle class white people its that they fucking love money, and so did Falk. Falk loved money and he was absolutely rolling in it, his once dormant Swiss bank account was once again flooded thanks to trendy new procedures that disatisfied lovers were eager to try. Aside from the usual breast augmentation, nose job, rib removal, and phony Viagra prescription, more and more people were getting botox injections (which Falk harvested directly from dented cans at the grocery store), collagen impants (made from a mixture of marshmallow creme and melted GI Joes), and Anal Bleaching (using real bleach. Anal Bleaching had become so popular that Falk had to hire another hand in order to keep up with the demand. Doctor Miguel had told Falk that he had earned a degree in medicine somewhere in Ciudad Juarez, of course he had told him so in Spanish and provided no references but he was willing to work for $6.00 an hour.

The real cash cow though was Hymen Restoration. For a shade under $1500 Falk and Miguel could reconstruct a woman's hymen so that her husband could tear it apart once again, giving her the painful sensation of having her cherry popped all over again. At first the thought had slightly repulsed Falk, but a guilty conscience could be easily cleared by the feeling of a pillowcase stuffed with untaxed earnings resting beneath ones head at night.

After "prepping" the patient, Falkenhorst pulled a couple of cutting instruments out of a jar full of weird looking blue goo that he had stolen from a nearby barbershop. He figured all he had to do was strech a few pieces of skin down without this chick losing too much blood. His handiwork was just going to get wrecked later that night anyway by her idiot husbands bent weiner anyway, why take pride in something that is just going to get wrecked the next day?

As he began to use the spreader though to get a look inside the patient though, he heard the door open and close behind him in quick succession. He turned around to see his old business associate Sheppard, frantically jamming the door with a nearby chair and nervously pawing a holstered sidearm beneath his coat.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you doing? You could have fucked, I dunno, Called ahead or something!?!?!"

"There's no time for that," Shep tossed a spare pistol, a magnum, to Falk and pressed his ear to the door. "Do you still know how to shoot one of those?"

"I don't know, maybe we should find out!" Falk angrily pointing the gun at Shep, cursing him for storming into his very new, very successful, very illegal business with what seemed like a lot of trouble on his tail.

"Before you go spreading my gray matter all over Mrs. Droopycunt there give me a chance to explain!"

"NO! I'm tired of hearing that bullshit! And whatever crap it is you are in I don't want to get involved. I don't want to end up like fucking Ron Mexico."

"It's too late for that. I was in the same fucking boat you're in right now. But the bastards are still after us, Just a few days ago I was attacked by Terri Schiavo and....."

"Wait...did you just say that you were attacked by Terri fucking Schiavo?"

"Yeah."

Falk lowered the pistol and stared straight down at the floor.

"Whoever's behind this shit have got to be pros. Where the fuck could they have found an extension cord that long?"

"Listen, I got an unmarked RV and about $20,000 left of my original Nest Egg. THe Feds are still looking for us and they, along with whomever is trying to kill us are obvious watching every airport and harbor between Seattle and Miami. We don't have time to fake new passports so we have to get down to Mexico and find Fanboy."

Falk grit his teeth, his comfortable new life was about to be devoured by his old one, but the adrenaline that now coursed through his veins was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"All right, i'm in."

Shep removed the chair from the door and the two retired porn dealers exchanged glances. They stormed out through the lobby, the Hapless Dr Miguel waved at his benefactor not realizing the impending danger. Just as Shep and Falk reached the door the large windowpanes of the lobby shattered in a hail of gunfire. Ducking behind the receptionist's desk they attempted to return fire but saw no one, it was only when Falk risked peeking his head up a little further did he see his attackers. Pointy red hats and all

"Motherfucker! It's the god damn gnomish mafia!"

Twelve diminuitive gnomes in black suits and wearing sungalsses with red pointy hats let loose another barrage of tommy gun fire, catching miguel as he tried to escape to his awaiting volkswagen beetle. HIs body was shredded to an unrecognizeable pulp. BEtween his lack of identifying features and lack of citizenship, the county coroners were going to have a fun time with this one.

Shep and Falk returned fire, catching one of the peckerheads with a round each through the forehead, knocing the gnome off of his feet and spreading chunks of skull and brain tissues in his immediate vicinty. But they were still outnumbered by more than 5 to 1. Falk quickly devised a plan.

"Fuck, we gotta go out the back."

"That aint going to stop them from following us though."

"No, but I've got enough Ether in this building to light Chicago on fire faster than Mrs. O'leary's fucking cow. You still carry C-4 in the trunk of your car?"

"Fuck I can't do that anymore man! I've been using rentals for the past few months!" Shep exclaimed.

"Worthless piece of shit... nevermind, we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way. I got a stash of fireworks down in the basement, I sell em to fucking high school kids during homecoming week. Fucking brats eat that shit up. You keep those assholes busy while I go light a couple of fuses."

Shep didn't even bother to ask how much time he'd have before the explosions set off, making this small pristine neighborhood look like the seventh layer of hell. He stood up and shot quickly at the closest two gnomes, causing the entire cadre to duck. That gave Falk ample time to cut through the lobby and into a stairwell leading to the basement. Hundreds of pounds of fireworks were contained in this room, right below the 'lab' that held hundreds of gallons of ether. Adding to the potential calamity, Miguel had been cooking on the stove and forgot to turn off the gas before being shot to death. The building did not have an adequate sprinklet system, and to top it off the building was made out of a lot of dry wood.

The resulting Inferno was spectacular.

Shep had seen Falk bolt faster than he had ever seen him run before and quickly followed suit. The two men exited through the back just as the gnomes started their pursuit by cutting through the lobby. A Big mistake, as suddenly the building exploded.

There were mixed emotions on board the RV as Shep began navigating the maze of pavement that was the US Interstate system.

"We'll cross trhough Texas, no one will give a shit about us owning firearms there." Shep calmly spoke as he tried to reassure his partner. "Plus I know some Hookers in Dallas. You remember 'One Eyed Betty'."

Falk laughed like he hadn't laughed in a long time. As much as he hated to admit it, the band was getting back together, and the thought of rebuilding the once mighty Porn Empire was tempting.

After a few hours on the road, Falk was suddenly puzzled. "Hey, I should have asked earlier. Why the hell is Fanboy in fucking Mexico? He's as Gringo as it gets."

"Yeha, but he's playing for some Mexican Minor League Hockey team in one of the rural areas outside of Mexico City, runs one of the top Donkey Shows there too."

"I thought those wer eonly in Tijuana?"

"Ah they've been moving the more depraved shit further from the border in an attempt to lure the right wing republican moralists there so they can roll em in a dark alley. But you can't get a fundie to come to your border town when the hottest ticket is Burro Sex."

"Good point, wait.. Mexican HOCKEY team?"

"I don't get it either. But then again there's a lot about this whole business I don't get."


Will Shep and Falk be able to cross the US border and evade the US Government and Gnomish MAfia? Will They find Fanboy? And what mysterious celebrity will be on the receiving end of an actual Donkey's Donkey Punch? Stay tuned for the conclusion of UPF part 34, Fanboy's tale!

*UPF Theme Music plays*

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part III: Fanboy's Tale

The RV limped its way into Texcoco on its last legs, the result of Falkenhorst attempting to navigate after sampling several of the local Tequilas a hundred miles back. The RV had not been designed for off roading, but Shep had to acknowledge that the designers of the Winnebago would be impressed a tthe beating their creation had handled.

Neither Shep or Falk knew much about where they were going, although ESPN had recently published a piece on the "Ogie Oglethorpe of Mexico" who played for the Texcoco Gringos. Shep knew that there was only one person that could be. An internet search proved useless but through his underworld contacts Shep learned of an old bullfighting arena converted to an ice rink after the proprietors illegally emigrated to Canada, bypassing the United States by foot entirely through the use of stolen prototype Nike shoes abandoned by the Crips.

The RV finally died after running out of gas two dingy blocks away from the arena. Shep and Falk grabbed everything of value out of the RV including money and guns and stashed them in small duffel bags. They then torched the RV with a few matches and a couple bottles of the local spirits. They walked through the gate, paying the gate fee along with a little additional fee to avoid having to check their weapons. Refusing to pay the extra fee had gotten more than one caucasian gangster killed in this particular neighborhood. At first Shep was startled to see the small crowd of nearly two hundred cheering and screaming, did they actually like Hockey in this part of Mexico? But after getting his first glimpse of the action Shep realized that this wasn't hockey, unless you considered the old Mutant League games legitimate. One of the players from the visiting Guadalajara team was skating towards the Texcoco goal with the shaft of a stick impaled through his shoulder, before he could get the shot on net however a Texcoco player blindsided him and sent him skidding unconscious into the ice.

"There he is." Shep pointed out to Falk.

Fanboy skated over towards his victim, pulling a shiv out of his waistband and gouging out the eye of the only official on the ice before kicking the downed player with the blades of his skates, slashing him mercilessly. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shep and Falk and turned towards them, stepping on and slicing off three of his comatose opponent's fingers.

"Never thought i'd see you guys down here." Fanboy said as he spit a bloody tooth out onto the ice. Falk looked at the bloody molar, slightly disturbed. "Don't worry" Fanboy grunted with a slight laugh. "That's not even mine, got it off a groupie last night who wanted me to knock out one of her teeth. She said it was quite an honor!" Shep was about to say something but Fanboy interrupted with a huge guffaw. "Hahahah! I was lying! It wasn't a groupie, it was a hooker!"

Shep had already had enough. "Listen you skullfucking psycho. I didn't drive through the nine hells of Mexico just to watch a bunch of cactus fucking NHL rejects gore each other on the ice. I've got a business proposition for you."

"Business eh? Could be interesting. Does it involve the brutalization of wee folk and more erect nipples than a wet T Shirt content during December in Moscow?"

"That's about the size of it."

"I'm in. We'll take my car" Fanboy yelled over to the bench that he was pullinghimself out of the game. Ten seconds later a Capuchin Monkey on ice skates went out onto the ice and began clawing at the flesh of an opposing player.

Out in the back of the arena was a Soviet Frog-7 with a giant penis shaped missile loaded onto it. A small U Haul filled with belongings was attached to the back. "Hop in, There's no air conditioner, but the trailer's full of assorted beers and hallucinogens."

About fifteen miles down the road heading back towards the United States Fanboy turned to Shep.

"Where the fuck are we going?"

Shep thought about it for a second. "IF UPF is to be revived then we'll need further backing. We need to find more cash."

Fanboy thought about it for a moment. "I got it!"


several days later, near an unknown greenhouse in the Wyoming Wilderness.

"So we have a deal, the rocket artillery for ten thousand pounds of my finest grass." said the red headed man in the green toga, flanked by armed guards that looked just like Rocky from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"Hey, don't welch on me!" Fanboy cursed.

"Ah how rude of me. And of course, fifty thousand frozen pizzas and twelve thousand bags of Sun Chips and Funyuns."

"Much better."

Fanboy had managed to find the secret greenhouse of the Ambominable Einhander Snowman. The most notorious drug dealer in the Western Hemisphere. In exchange for the Frog-7, He had acquired a ludicrous amount of marijuana.

"I don't get it," Falk spat. "Why didn't we just sell the Frog for cash? I know we could sell all this pot for a ton of money but this seems to be a little complicated."

"It makes sense," said Shep, "After all there are more buyers for weed than there are for Soviet Weaponry, at least in this country."

Fanboy's jaw dropped. "Sell the weed? Are you fucking nuts? I traded for the pot because smoking pot gives me great ideas! And That would help me come up with a way to raise the money!"

Shep's shoulders sank and his head dropped as Falk hit himself over the head muttering to himself as Fanboy lit up Bongload one of one billion.

Weeks later

Shep and Falk were busy loading up huge crates full of money onto a C-130 for the trip to Switzerland. Falk was giddy with excitement.

"Can you believe Fanboy smoked himself psychic? We won every goddamn lottery in the United States over the course of a month and played the Stock Market perfectly! We're fucking rich again!"

Shep grinned as he chewed ona fine cigar. "Yeah, but you could tell it was wearing off when he insisted we bet a thousand clams on the Kansas City Royals to win the World Series."

"Heheh, it doesn't matter, now that we have this much money, we can finally break every law and taboo we didn't finish taking care of the first time around!"


Somewhere, at an undisclosed Catholic Orphanage

"I don't understand father, it's as if they all just lost the will to live! All Three Hundred Orphans!" Screamed a nun.

"Is it because of Father Alfonzo again? I swear we've moved him through seven different parishes and he still won't stop..."

"I thought that too, but then I discovered that it was every child, even the little girls! It's as if a terrible evil in the world has been reawakened."

"My god, I haven't seen anything like this since...Oh dear heavenly father could it be?"

THe weary priest got down on his knees and prayed as hard as he could that his worst nightmare had not come true.

"Could UPF be coming back?"

[Darth Fanboy]

Because the new chapter wasn't enough, and because I am having a weird episode possibly involving a chemical imbalance in my brain:

UPF INTERLUDE: "Thirty Five Aint Ready Yet" by Darth Fanboy

"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"
"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"
"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"

Patrick Stewart continued rambling like crazy through the pool area of the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, a combination of viciously potent LSD and a horde of Star Trek Fans screaming for a chance to lick his smooth bald head. He had fled to Las Vegas after a group of rabid Trekkie had set up camp outside his home on the grounds that they were "Waiting for orders." But upon his arrival to his Vegas vacation suite he had been attacked by more trekkies. The person who had booked his hotel for him was in fact, a rabid fan and sold him out on the Internet. Thinking fast he had grabbed the small vial that Ian Mckellen gave him on the set of X Men 3.


UPF FLASH BACK O TRON

"This is what I use to make the Tolkien Fans go away Pat, I believe it could help you too."

"Thank you Sir Ian, but why are you doing this?"

"Let's just say that i've found that Lord of the Rings fans tend to bring at least some hot faux-elven ass with them, and I no longer need to avoid them so much. I've been getting more tail than my days hitchhiking between US Truck stops and Bus Stations with Ron Mexico."

"Damn, how come I never get any of the female fans! The female trekkie always want Brent Spiner's phone number. What a ridiculous cocktard. You know he actually put the Data makeup on his cock and balls too?"

"Damn, that's even crazier than Orlando Bloom shaving his vagina on the set."

"What?"

END OF FLASH BACK

The acid had left him in a perpetual state of exalted euphoria that Patrick had hoped would never end. As he ran around chanting the Techno Remix theme song named after his Star Trek character. However, in his last moment of coherent thought before the drug took hold of him like the icy grip of death on Walt Disney, he wondered if William Shatner ever had to put up with this.

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES

"Oh fuck I'm going to come! Jesus Christ! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

William Shatner bounces his rotund ass off of the bedsprings and up into the ample sized woman over top of him. as their combined flesh jiggled in a way that would make even a Jello Mold Blush. As soon as the last of his usless and malformed sperm entered his conquest's body, Shatner traced his fingers down the stretch marks of her chest, all the way down to her dimpled ass cheeks, stopping only to eat the tortilla chip he found embedded into her thigh.

"Damn baby that was wonderful." Said the Shat as he licked his fingers clean of what he hoped was nacho cheese flavoring.

"Same time next week babe?" said Monica Lewinsky.

BACK AT THE FLAMINGO HILTON IN LAS VEGAS

"NO! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Screamed Levar Burton as he woke up from his terrible nightmare.

"What's the matter sugar?" Cooed Whoopi Goldberg from the other side of the bed, holding a rose in her teeth while eagerly spreading maple syrup abound her aging chocolate body.

SOMEWHERE IN A GUTTER IN AN ALLEY OFF THE VEGAS STRIP!

"NOOOOOOO NOT AGAIN!" Screamed PAtrick Stweart, as he emerged from 3 days of slumber amidst a pile of cardboard boxes, crumpled newspapers, and his own feces. The foul stench of his own body odor hit his nose, and caused him to vomit. But after a few moments he realized that the plan had worked. HE had no memory of the past few days, and no Star Trek fans were in sight.

Gathering his composure, he realized he would have to break into the hotel to recover his belongings, knowing in his heart that the Las Vegas police would be looking for him. After all, the last time this sort of thing happened three buildings collpased and several bricks of Grade-A Colombian nose candy were found wedged under his arms, along with twenty seven people suffering from horrible chemical burns.

Patrick Stweart had gone where no British Actor who played a French Spaceship Captain had gone before.

IN THE OTHER GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY

"Admiral Dalla! What are you doing!" Screamed Grand Moff Tarkin.

"Oh come on now Tarky baby, you knew what this was!"

You see, Dalla had a fetish for shaved Wookies. She find the biggest one and shave him completely bald, and then chain it up and Fuck it. And Tarkin walked in on her doing it. It was totally fucking gross. Then, instead of leaving, the old coot just sat there and watched. He had always been into bestiality but the whole concept of the beast being sentient was absolutely revolting to him, despite it being one of the preferred sexual characteristics of 99.94% of the galaxy's inhabitants.

After she had finishedhaving her way with the Shaved Wookie, which she nicknamed BaldyCock, Dalla proceeded to wipe every one of her body parts off with a five dollar biull and then stuffed it down Tarkin's shirt collar. He was so aroused by this he shit his pants.


THE END.



Author's Note: This Interlude was pointless and gross. In other words perfect for UPF. Keep the faith Alive! ~DF

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXV: "Three Million Cocks and so Little Time" or "Fettid Display of Love!"

"Oh Good Christ Yes! Give it To Me! AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Karrie Travesty" screamed in ecstacy as she rubbed her clit with the vigor of a team of midgets attempting to pull an elephant uphill. Struggling for orgasm with one hand as the other penned the latest volume of her Mandalorian dictionary. The tendency to add "A" and "Ah" to the ends of each word linked to the fact that she masturbated and moaned often while composing her literary works.

"Oooooooooohhhh yes, that's it, lick those wrinkles, touch me where it sags funny! Mmmmmmmmmmmm!"

More often than not, she would indulge in her deepest and darkest fantasy. As she lay spread eagle on a table, she would be gangbanged by all three million clones in the Grand Army of the Republic, no more, no less. And as each Mando'a stud filled her with ther identical genetic material, spreading it liberally acoss her face, chest, and buttocks in between each protein infusion. Today would be no different, save for the unusual difficulty she was having in acheiving orgasm.

Normally all she had to do to get wet was "open her inbox" and read the praise of her adoring fans, bolstered by their resolve and confident that they would keep the dreaded Talifans at bay she could then relax enough to be dirty with herself.

"More than three million clones? Preposterous, besides I could never handle that much cock in one day. Even if they were the tiny and easily manipulated cocks like my core readership." She had said privately one day in a moment of weakness to her closest confidant. Dark Moose had at first seemed hurt by this comment, but Karrie reassured him by saying that he definitely was not easily manipulated, and that a smart moderator such as him did not need to be manipulated to see that all Talifans were misogynist assholes that required amateur tracheotomies.

She pulled her fingers out from within her support hose and with a sigh blew the dust off of her fingertips. Today's difficulty was part of a rather disturbing trend. The past few days had been as sexually frustrating as her teenage years had been, the byproduct of being born half hobgoblin and a result so ugly that you couldn't even get molested if you were left unattended at Neverland Ranch dressed as a young boy.

That frustration, which lasted into her thirties, had only been relieved with the help of a young Lance Bass and $500 cash. Although the experience had saved Karrie from the manic-depressive state she had been in, the experience traumatized the aspiring singer, and he privately swore never to touch another woman again.

There was no denying the hunger, she needed to get laid, for real. But this time a fair haired and soft eyed boywhore wasn't going to satisfy her. After her work on the Republic Commando series she knew that she needed a real man, with real strength and a cast iron stomach. She needed a Man...dalorian, but they didn't exist. Heaving a massive sigh, she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, and wept hrself to sleep. Blaming it on Talifans the entire way, she fell to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"Wake up Karr'ika. Your Mando'a is here."

Her eyes opened, if she was dreaming she couldn't tell. Her entire world seemed hazy, as if she had gone without sleep for days and suddenly realized it all at once, or as if she had once again made the mistake of mixing her regular dose of bovine laxatives with grain alcohol.

"Who...who are you?"

And as her eyes shifted back into focus she realized that she was not dreaming, it felt too real. Here she was lying in bed, with a silk sheet draped over her dry cracked skin and liver spotted form, with Jango Fett cradling her in his arms. He kissed her softly and she moaned, a slow trickle of wetness overcoming the dust that had accumulated along her labia. He reached down to her waist and slowly but smoothly grabbed her breast, bringing back up to her chest and taking her leathery nipple into his mouth.

"Jango, is it really you?" She cooed.

"Hush my pet, let us savor the moment in blissful silence." spoke the bounty hunter as he lay her down and began making love to her.

As her legs dvivided and her joints cracked the smell of various ointments filled Jangos nose, but his warrior pose allowed him to block the foul stench and maintain his erection. He urgently, but not eagerly, plunged his manhood inside of her. Before long he had switched positions several times, until finally she was being spooned from behind, her asshole being plowed and stretched at a pace that could best be described as tenacious. She begged and begged Jango to come inside of her, but he refused everytime.

"But why? HAve I not done everything you have asked! I've made you the most popular Star Wars character ever! I'll do anything, just please fill my asshole with your Mandosperm!"

Jango paused for a moment to consider and whispered in his ear.

"Only if you knock off the three million clones bullshit."

She stopped grinding against him, stunned and aghast that her sexual idol could possibly be displease with her work. After all, it was done for him, 500 to one kill rations were not impossible if the one was the clone template of the hunkiest guy in Star Wars history, of which she was the supreme decision maker.

"But..But.."

"I'm not asking you to stop you embarassing worship of Mandalorians, just stop pushing the logistical bullshit and admit that the number junkies are right and I promise to fill your dilapidated anus with a few million Spermdalorians that will trickle down your leg after I pull out."

Her resolve wavered, and finally, she gave in. The prospect of swabbing sperm from her leg and inserting it inside of her so that she herself could become a Kaminoan cloning tank was far too tempting to pass up.

"Yes! Anything! I swear!"

Knowing from the clench of her asscheeks that she was telling the truth Jango obliged. The spent couple broke the embrace just long enough for Jango to inject a heavy sedative into his lover's neck. There would be no pillow talk today. Gathering his clothes he sprinted out of the house and into the door of a waiting limosuine, which slowly cruised away leaving the Travesty Estate behind.

Temuera Morrison grabbed a motion sickness bag he had been saving for the occaision and used it, filling it beyond what its original designers had intended before throwing it out the window and knocking a small child from her tricycle.

"For the love of god! You never said anything about this!" He yelled to his fellow passenger, a man sitting within the shadows of the enclosed limo and its tinted windows.

"You knew the risks when you took this job."

"Even so I know I threw up in my mouth a little when she peeled off her shirt. All things considered though your organization should not have anymore problems with her again.

"Excellent, you shall be richly compensated for your *snicker* hard work."

"I had better be, It took enough Viagra to maintain this erection to keep Bob Dole happy for a year. I swear this bitch is a walking cure for priapisms. "

The shadowly figure handed the actor turned gigolo a briefcase, Temuera Morrison opened it to find it full of hundred dollar bills.

"This is, quite generous." he remarked.

"I would agree with that, however, there is a small price." And with that the shadowy figure held up a video tape. "So long as the circumstances of this arrangement stay quiet, this tape never sees the light of day."

Temuera knew he had been duped, and that if a tape of him tapping the nastiest piece of ass outside of the Bangkok Flea MArket ever got out it would destroy his career. "You son of a bitch."

The Shadowy figure smiled and laughed. "I give you credit, you're the smartest actor I've ever had to work with!"

"I'd tell you that you're the shiftiest businessman i've ever worked with. But I don't even know your name Mr....."

"Now now," the man waved his finger disapprovingly. "my real name is of no consequence. Suffice it to say you can call me Mr. Poe."

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF EPISODE -1 (NEGATIVE ONE): THE ORIGIN OF FANBOY

Author's Note: This is from what I had intended to be a UPF Origin Chapter turned ST Fanfic that has once again turned into an orgin pic, after reviewing some old suggestions I rewrote parts of it and added in a little XXX. After all this is the unnamed PORNO fanfic. There is definitely sexual content in this edition, also the beginning of yet ANOTHER plot thread. Although prequel plot threads only effect the Assembled Dalton Army located at the Center of the Fanfic Galaxy (tm). Thanks and enjoy, and Mark S, if the one character STILL seems too much like RIddick after this, I'll fix it in the next edition.

Shep will continue the main UPF storyline whenever he feels like it, never rush a genius, even a demented one with a penchant for holocaust.

Without further Ado, the origins of the Fanboy character, further explained!

~DF



[Exmodeus III, 2374 AD]

As the Dominion's war of conquest took its toll on the galaxy, the battle lines would make for unusual allies. The highly competitive and significant powers of the Alpha Quadrant found themselves united under a common banner. The United Federation of Planets and Klingon Empire were joined in the human year 2374 with the Romulan Star Empire. A Triple Alliance unlike anything the Alpha Quadrant had ever seen before, one that had the unprecedented ability to be able to wage war with the once unbeatable Dominion.

The Romulans' brought more to the battle than their weapons and soldiers, they brought with them a willingness to engage in warfare the Federation was incapable of and Klingons were unsuited for. One of the Romulans' pet projects, the cloned human Shinzon, had become known as a master of warfare. The subjugated Reman population also made for excellent, and disposable warriors. Last, but cetainly not least, the horde of mercenaries hired by the Romulan Treasury. While it was the bright green Romulan ships and the silver-clad Romulan soldiers that made the news broadcasts, the greatest successes achieved by the forces of the Alpha Quadrant were quite possibly done so by the "Army of the Shadows", the slang name given to the little known fleet of the Romulan Star Empire, the largest collection of Non Romulan forces in the history of the Romulan Star Empire. While the bulk of the fleet was made up of Remans, conscripts of subject races throughout the Star Empire fought and died in their roles as disposable soldiers.

While Starfleet intelligence became aware of the role Remans played in the conflict they were unable to discern much at all about the mercenaries used by the Romulans, but it is known than on the planet Exmodeus III, Romulan-hired mercenaries delivered a crippling blow to the Dominion that made the eventual victory for the Triple Alliance possible. Here now is the story of one of those mercs.

[PWB Kaleh, unknown location within Romulan space]


"And you are certain General Varel, that this intelligence is to be believed?"

"With all due respect Chairman Koval,even though they are notoriously tough to interrogate, Cardassians have little love for the Jem'Hadar"

"If what you are saying is true then we will have to act fast. I'm going to assign you every Xenoflotilla we have to spare, and the funds to recruit more."

"Sir I would prefer real soldiers, Romulan soldiers. Not a bunch of conscripts and mongrels from the fringes of the Empire."

"Let me ask you this General. How many ships would you require? How many soldiers?"

"For this task, a minimum for fifty capital ships, at least one million soldiers..."

"And where do you think that we could draw these assets from General? Even if we sought and achieved backing from the Praetor himself there is no way we could divert that many soldiers from the front lines without alerting the Federation or the Klingons to what we are doing. This isn't Sela's absurd Vulcan campaign, we're talking about a Dominion stronghold. This has to stay in our control and for that very reason we will have to use our more...disposable...assets."

"I must protest this..."

"Relax General, Not only am I placing you in direct command of all of the forces in that area, but you will be assigned the Army of Shadows."

"Shinzon's fleet?"

"I trust that alleviates some of your concerns? I know full well of your distaste for non-Romulans, especially Remans. But I also know of your admiration for Shinzon's combat record. The Shadows will serve you well."

"Yes Chairman, I hear and obey. Varel out."

General Varel stood from his console aboard the RSIS Kaleh, for the last two weeks he had been gathering intelligence based on Chairman Koval's orders and unknown sources. while the first leg of the mission had been less than exhilirating the discoveries made a few days ago by his men were of such severe implications that it could render every other operation being waged against the Dominion irrelevant.

After the Federation managed to mine the wormhole separating them from the Gamma Quadrant the Dominion forces were isolated from the rest of their forces in the Gamma Quadrant. This turn of events was significant to more than just the participants in the Dominion War, but the observers as well. Including one notable and powerful absentee, the Borg Collective.

For many years the Borg had been trying to properly assimilate the distinctiveness of the Dominion, arguably the most powerful faction they had ever faced with many species each possessing unique characteristics. The Dominion cloning technology combined with Borg assimilation would have produced unstoppable drones, what few Jem'Hadar the borg ever managed to assimilate however soon died without a supply of Ketracel White, an organic weakness the Borg had failed on a couple of occaisions to overcome. More frustrating still to the Borg, their attempt to assimilate a founder utterly failed when the changeling assumed its liquid state and escaped the planet it was being held on.

When the Dominion began defeating the Federation in ways the Borg had never been able to accomplish, they took further note. When a portion of their strength became isolated in the Alpha Quadrant the Borg took action. The Borg had never conquered much of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, but they did enjoy many advantages in that area. Now a small portion of the Dominion was isolated in Cardassian Territory. A species that the Borg had easily defeated before, but a species that offered little in exchange for the cost of a war. Now the opportunity had presented itself though, and the Collective decided that an attack was necessary.

But the Borg once again underestimated their opponents, Dominion forces routed the pair of cubes deployed on an attempted ambush of a Cardassian shipyard. But the installation was already on high alert due to anticpated attacks from Alliance Fleets. The battle resulted in atrocious casualties for the Dominion but they managed to defend the expensive skeletal structures for their new battleships. The Borg cube lost control and crashed on a nearby planet, Exmodeus III. On Exmodeus, the Dominion set up a makeshift research facility. What they discovered was a largely intact example of Borg Transwarp technology. This technology, if developed for use by the Dominion, would allow them to bypass the wormhole as a way of travelling between quadrants, and would enable thousands of Dominion ships to invade the other side of the galaxy.

Somehow the Tal Shiar Chairman Koval had learend of the battle between the Borg and the Dominion, and the location of the lab. Koval had in turned ordered Tal Shiar General Varel to investigate the area. Varel had done so and succeeded. Now it was up to him to prevent the Dominion from making any breaktrhoughs, and to acquire the technology being developed for the Romulan Empire.

Many light years away on Romulus, Koval finished encrypting several documents and attachments before sneding them through subspace to his contacts within the Federation. Section 31 had installed him into his position, Section 31 had informed him of the Dominion and Borg battle. Even as the Dominion invaded Federation worlds and pushed closer to Earth the higher ups at Starfleet were still paranoid over the Borg. After the infamous battle of Wolf 359 who could blame them. Even on Romulus there was a sympathy for the fallen soldiers of that battle. In return for the use of the Army of Shadows, Section 31 had agreed that the Romulans would be allowed to share in the technological motherlode this would provide. There were no other fleets availiable to do the job. Koval leaned back in his chair and pondered, wondering what sort of soldiers he would be sending into battle...

[Romulan Recruitment Locus, Unroth System]

The desk of Centurion Hivar had been a busy place lately. As the war began taking its toll on the regular units, the recruting offices had been hard pressed to get as many soldiers into the fight. Citizens had been lining up for the chance to serve with the regular military but another of Hivar's responsibilites was the hiring of well trained mercenaries. To get them to enlist in ground units if possible, to pay for their services as autonomous commandos was another.

Today's group of mercenaries had been disappointing, many of them two bit theives looking for a way to scam the government and even a couple of felons looking to secure amnesty for previous crimes. The next applicant himself had several standing warrants on Romulus for smuggling, arms trafficking, and murder. But in these trying times Hivar had been instructed personally by the Tal Shiar that anyone could be an asset, and he had to at least review each applicant. He signaled for the next applicant to enter his office from the waiting room, while he expected a tough appearing individual the man he saw walk through the door was a human of such an obscene size that it would make a Klingon wince. As the man slowly sidestepped so that his size and his weapons could fit through the door, he looked over at the Romulan officer. Hivar looked up and gulped loudly, on this mans belt already were at least fifty tubes of Ketracel white. Taken from Jem Hadar he had killed, many allied soldiers had begun that practice at the onset of the war and a lot of commanders had approved of it because it did have morale boosting effects among those who believed Jem'Hadar invincible. To see a freelance mercenary with this many tubes though was both impressive and disturbing.

"And how may I help you mister, uhmmmmm...." Hivar fumbled with his papers as he struggled to maintain his compsure. In a low almost bloodthirsty voice, the man spoke.

"My callsign is Fanboy."

"So, Mr. Fanboy...."

"Just Fanboy."

"Right. Regardless of your chosen title I must inform you that the Romulan Star Empire is incredibly hesitant to associate itself with known felons. Especially when said felons have been convicted of murdering Romulan police officers."

Hivar lied through his teeth, on that one, The Romulans hired only the most bloodthirsty fighters regardless of their criminal history. Fanboy simply drew a grenade from his belt and began fidgeting with it, pulling the pin and re-inserting it carefully. Hivar's eyes were fixed to the explosive device. 20th and 21st century human weaponry was familiar amongst all major spacefaring forces as some of the most brutal methods of killing the galaxy had ever seen. Many fringe colony humans with violent personalities and access to replicators tended to own many of these weapons. Unhindered by the pacification drugs in federation foodstuffs, these humans exhibited mankind's darkside.

"I think that my skills would certainly make up for that." Fanboy calmly said as he replaced the pin in the grenade for a final time before setting it down on Hivar's desk. Hivar breathed a short sigh of relief and continued his questioning.

"Im sure they would, but tell me. What makes you think the Romulan Empire is even interested in hiring the services of someone such as yourself? I hear the Federation and the Klingons are both looking for more men."

Fanboy calmly drew a knife from his belt and began caressing the blade with his fingers. "Don't targshit me, anyone in this line of work knows the Klingons don't hire my kind, and the Federation pays about as well as an old lady looking for someone to mow her lawn. You guys have been paying top latinum for some time now leading up to this shit and I want in."

"While your reasoning is sound, even if I wanted to hire you that is impossible unless you have some way of proving your qualifications."

Fanboy holstered the knife and pulled a PADD with several files loaded onto it. "What the hell is this?" Exclaimed Hilvar.

"Just the names of a couple Senators who've been trying to get in touch with the Dominion. Apparently there are a few people in your government who don't have as much faith in the war effort as you do."

"And this data proves it?"

"I'd bet my knife on it."

Hilvar pondered the material. This guy was smart, he could have just turned the material in to the authorities and claimed a small reward. But he was handing Hilvar the means to an opportunity, exposing seditious government officials was the fast track to promotion and a far better assignment.

"Very well then, I shall see to it that this gets to the right people. In the meantime let's discuss the terms of your employment. Do you posess any special skills that could be of use to us? Aside from your apparent ability to kill Jem'Hadar?" Hilvar made a nod in the direction of the Ketracel White belt.

"Destroying the enemy is what I do, you want me to do anything else it costs extra."

Hilvar cosnidered the man for a moment and acqueisced. HE pulled a datapad and began entering the necessary information and transferring clearance codes from his own desk terminal.

"Then make your way to the following coordinates. You'll be directed from there towards the front.

"I have a request for my assignment." Fanboy quit fidgeting and locked his gaze onto Hilvar.

"Well we are quite limited in what requests we can offer, the High Command assigns operatives to targets where the are needed. We cannot publish a catalog and let bounty hunters sign up for whatever job they feel like."

"That's not what I mean. I want to be assigned to the 5th Xenobattalion."

"For what reason?" Hilvar was a little startled, freelancers usually tried to avoid the 5th, Admiral Shinzon was incredibly harsh and unforgiving on the non-Reman soldiers under his command.

"That's where the money is. You've been using those ugly Reman fuckers as cannon fodder for so long it's obvious thats where the real fighting's at."

Hilvar smirked, unable to disagree. "Very well then, if you would care to wait in the observation lounge I will have orders drafted immediately."

Several hours later, Fanboy was on his way to the spaceport, with all of the clearance he needed to link up with his assigned fleet. A high pitched whistle cut through the air.

Unmistakable even after all these years...

Fanboy turned to see a petite human female with deep purple hair sitting atop of a modified Raider-class ship, laughing and pointing at him as if he were wearing the most ridiculous costume ever.

"So did they buy the tough guy act? Or did you have to beg the Centurion to let you join his kickball team?" The woman yelled.

Fanboy shrugged it off and laughed, "Hard-dee har har, i'll have you know that he fell for the same trick you did when we first met if it makes you feel any better." Fanboy reached to his belt and tossed the grenade he had been toying with up to her.

"You mean you used this fake? I guess the Rommies are dumber than I give them credit for." She tossed the fake grenade back to Fanboy, and hopped down off of her ship and walked towards him. Swaying her hips in her skin tight flightsuit, zipper halfway down her chest with a baggy flight jacket and utility belt carrying her personal equipment.

"It's been three years. Thought i'd never see you again." Fanboy said grimly.

"That's funny," She said while her finger gently stroked his chest. "I thought I told you that we'd meet again one day."

"Listen, I'd love to stay and talk but I need to go book a transport before I lose my window of opportunity here."

"Let me guess, Fifth Xenobatallion? Heading out tomorrow to go toe to toe with the Dominion's nastiest bastards this side of the wormhole?"

"Yeah," Fanboy said with a puzzled expression, "how did you..."

She giggled and grabbed his hand. "Looks like we're going to the same dance. Don't you have your own ship?"

Fanboy smirked, "Nothing that would pass any inspections in this part of space, not to mention the outstanding warrants."

"Then it's settled, you're hitching a ride with me, while we're on the way we can catch up."

Fanboy wrestled with the idea for a moment, but his stinginess won out over the bad feeling in his gut and he agreed. This particular woman was nothing but trouble, but then again, estranged wives were bad news in almost every culture. She walked back to her ship, beckoning him with a glance as she turned back.

"At least the sex will be amazing..." Fanboy said under his breath as he resigned himself to his fate.

[Several Hours Later, about the privately owned ship Stellar Nymphet]

"Ohhhhh fuck!" screamed Fangirl as she arched her back into the air, cradling her breasts in each hand while pressing her fingers against them deeply.

Formerly a stripper on the Federation outskirts known as Synammon Whip, she had taken the pseudonym Fangirl after marrying one of her more interested clients suggested she could make a "fuckton more money" by killing sleazy rich folks instead of dancing for them. The marriage/partnership had lasted for had lasted for two years before a legendary tiff over some misplaced funds caused a "Mr and Mrs Smith" style battle that raged throughout the NEw Berlin colony, leavign fifteen dead and scores wounded.

But all that seemed to be in the past as Fanboy's tounge slid inside of her, wrapping itself around her clit and bringing it into his mouth. He toyed with her for a while, sucking on her clit while kneading the flesh of her inner thigh before resuming a series of slow and steady licks. A gasp escaped her lips again, and he quickened the pace of his tongue, flicking it lightly yet rapidly, letting the tip pleasure her with reckless abandon.

Fangirl threw her head back, and pinched at her nipples as hard as she could, grinding her pelvis further into his face. She nearly lost control of her senses when he began pushing his tongue up against her, using a rubbing motion that was driving her wild.

They had put the ship on auto pilot for the longer stretch of the journey, and she had reluctantly offered him a sample of some locally produced Romulan ale. It hadn't taken long for the potent beverage to strip both of them of their inhibitions (not to mention their clothes), releasing pent up sexual desires over three years in the making. Fortunately for her she had a twin sized bed installed in the cargo hold months ago.

Three years it had been since she had been with a man. Her brief flirtations within the Principality of Zeon always entertaining but never satisfying. Zeon had been one of the few nations that managed to keep out of the war entirely thanks to its location, which was good for the Principality but not for an exotic dancer turned killer-for-hire that needed income to fund her crushing gambling addictions and nymphomania. That particular combination of vices had one small advantage. She had bet him a hundred bars of latinum that he couldn't make her come using only his tongue and hands, and even though she was losing the wager, she was winning in her own way.

"That's right lover that's.....oh god, I'm gonna come, don't stop..."

Encouraged by her moaning, Fanboy began suckling her clit harder, intermittently flicking his tounge and revelling in the warmth of her sex. It had been too long, and there were many lost times to be made up for. He moaned her name into her, and the added vibration was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a loud moan that reverberated throughout the ship and her come poured over her lover's face. He lapped it up hungrily, the faint scent and taste of peaches filling his mind with old memories.

Fangirl collapsed and released her grip on her breasts, allowing them to spill back out and across her chest, her small pink nipples erect with excitement and pointing upwards. Fanboy rose from, sitting on his knees between her legs with a massive erection pointing in her direction and an ear to ear grin on his face. After a few moments of blissful silence he regained his sense of playfulness.

"So where's that hundred bars of latinum?"

She half smiled, the room was still spinning and she was quite hot, plus she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Aw sweetie, you of all people should know that I couldn't save a hundred bars of latinum up at once even if my life depended on it."

Most of the time, when you screwed a hardened merc out of a wager, you ended up worse for wear. However, this was not one of those times.

"Considering the...unique...circumstances of our relationship, I guess we will have to work out an alternate form of payment?" He said, with his grin widening and his stare narrowing. Fangirl responded by licking her lips, assured by the same wolf like smile that had seduced her five years ago.

"That would be wonderful love," she whispered as she twirled around on the bed, her soft lips moving towards his cock and her eyes gazing at it hungrily and intently.


[The Next Day, Romulan Space Station Lagga, Edge of Dominion/Romulan Border]

The Lagga had been one installation in a series designed to counter the Dominion after their anticipated victory over the Federation. However as the Dominion began siezing planets by force and it became clear the Dominion wasn't planning on ending its conquest with Starfleet, they became the first line of defense against the Dominion against its' newly acquired holdings in Federation Space.

With enough defensive armament and enough of the new Scorpion-Class defense fighters to make even the largest Jem'Hadar Task Force think twice. About twenty of these installations were installed along the Imperial border regions. However these impressive fortifications left the Romulan Star Navy critically short of soldiers. Hence the formation of the Romulan Armed Xenoforces.

The Romulan Star Empire was not as homogenous as the Senate would have liked. There was a small multitude of weak nations which paid tribute to or were under occupation by the Romulans. These lesser nations donated both trained soldiers and conscripts, munitions, and money to the war effort. Despite the "generosity" that came with these gifts, the Romulan soldiers did not care to associate with their alien counterparts. Also, lower ranking Romulan soldiers would not serve an alien commander. Even one as brilliant as Shinzon, the end result of the Tal Shiar's attempt to clone Jean Luc Picard.

The Romulans organized their alien forces, including hundreds of thousands of Reman foot soldiers, and sent them ahead of the Romulan regulars. At first a mere method of softening up enemy strongholds, the Xenoflotillas and Xenobrigades soon began winning engagements on their own. The Romulan High Command kept giving them the most dangerous assignments and while many died the alien forces kept winning. Eventually their numbers were withered down enough and the entire force was reorganized into one flotilla, commanded by Shinzon. The survivors of these bloody engagements, augmented by legions of the most wicked mercenaries availiable, formed the core of Shinzon's reorganized 5th Xenoflotilla, also known as the "Army of Shadows". Named for their effective cloak-based tactics, and for the secrecy of their assignments, Shinzon's forces routed the Dominion at every turn. This combination of disposability and effectiveness made the Shadows the perfect fighting force to attack the Dominion controlled Exmodeus star system.

Exmodeus was an unimportant yellow star for billions of years until the Dominion War. The third planet in the system was a habitable world. But it was mineral poor and lacked edible vegetation. It was not close enough to the Romulan Neutral Zone for the Federation to consider it strategic, and when the Dominion arrived they were able to claim the system with absolutely no resistance. With the non agrression pact in place between the Dominion and Romulans, Exmodeus had initially been an excellent place to install a shipyard that would provide new ships to the front yet remain secure from Federation reprisals. The Borg had attacked and through either poor intelligence or sheer arrogance sent only two cubes to attack the new facilities, the Dominion Forces ravaged the Cubes, destroying one and forcing a second one to crash on the planet. Jem Hadar soldiers massacred the Borg in ground combat, taking the wreckage for their own.

Now certain elements of the Romulan military realized that there was more at stake in this war, a great prize that could potentially allow the Romulan Star Empire to fulfill the same goals that the Dominion forces were now pursuing.

[Romulan Space Station Lagga, Bridge of the Flagship Scythe]

"Vkruk, I tire of all of this waiting around. Have the remaining troops been loaded aboard the transports?"

Shinzon's voice cut through the air with frustration evident in his tone. Shinzon's right hand, the Reman telepath Colonel Vkruk, checked the small display at his console, and nodded stiffly.

"Admiral, we are ready to launch. Mercenary and conscripted forces have been loaded."

Shinzon took his chair and grinned. Then send the message to all ships, prepare for our departure in one hour. As soon as we arrive in the Exmodeus system we will be engagin the Dominion at Exmodeus VIII to establish our beachhead. Make it clear to the troop transports that our entire ground force will be landing on that planet and not one will be leaving until that rock is ours."

[Darth Fanboy]

I think the title of the second part sums up the action. Part the Third will be on its way shortly.

UPF: EPISODE -1 PART THE SECOND, "CLUSTERFUCK."

[Cargo hold of the Romulan Troopship En'zel]

"YOu've got a lot of nerve for a human, even for an oversized little ape such as yourself!"

The hulking Chalnoth warrior had been pestering Fanboy and Fangirl ever since they had boarded the ship together and assigned space. Fanboy had not helped the situation out much when he made a remark about the CHalnoth's distinct feces-like odor that had left almost everyone in earshot, including members of the Chalnoth's own entourage, howling with laughter.

"Blow it out your snout!" Fangirl had interjected, her own frustration at the Chalnoths overbearing demeanor and stench boiling over.

"Do you humans always let your women fight your battles?" He huffed, "Let me show you how we deal with female arrogance on Chalna!"

The overconfident Chalnoth raised his gauntleted fist into the air and brought it down so hard that it would have turned Fangirl's skull into a disgusting mush. She managed to move out of the way in time to see Fanboy move right into place where she was standing and catch the Chalnoth's hand in mid air, his right arm shaking from the momentum but stopping the fist in the air. Before his adversary could react, he leaned in forward and delivered a massive headbutt that shattered the nose and exposed fangs of the Chalnoth. He then used his left hand to retrieve a sharp instrument from his belt, which he then jabbed in the Chalnoth's vulnerable and unprotected forehead. Fanboy pushed the staggered alien to the ground and pulled a Mark XXVII Desert Eagle, crafted in the late 21st century, aiming it precisely. A crowd began to form around the two combatants and began to cheer and applaud the violence.

"What you have there sticking out of your forehead is a Lurian Razorspike. If you try and pull it out without a properly trained neurosurgeon you're going to pull out your own fucking brains, tiny as they may be. What I have here in my hand is the last model of fifty caliber handgun ever manufactured on my home planet. DO you know what fifty caliber means?"

THe Chalnoth nodded that he didn't, but the nervous expression on his face meant that he wasn't going to risk finding out.

"It means that even though you're wearing some pretty fancy armor there I could still shoot a hole in you big enough to disembark through when this ship finally gets where we're going. You'd better get moving, because you've got less than a few hours before that spike kills you, and i'm not about to go having the Romulans on my ass for killing another merc." When the Chalnoth simply lay there unmoving with anxiety Fanboy fired a blast up into the air that thundered through the area, causing many in the crowd to duck, fearing a ricochet.

"GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET MOVING YOU DUMB FUCKER!"

The Chalnoth slowly made it to his feet and began to stagger out of the hold, desperately seeking the ship's sickbay. Only twenty minutes into a two day trip and the tension was already building up to dangerous levels. The Romulan security guards, only now being alerted to the disturbance, had begun cutting back access to the ship and many of them began wondering outright whether or not they would be able to keep the peace.

Fangirl immediately reclaimed her place next to Fanboy and slid herself under his arm, cooing at him. "You were wonderful, just like old times!"

Fanboy looked down at her and nodded, trying to keep the hurt out of his expression and only marginally succeeding. She noticed almost immediately, rising up on her toes and kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"Forget about it," Fanboy said. Replacing his dour expression with a cocky grin. "You still play Tongo? I hear theres a a bunch of Nausicaans that have a game going on in the mess."

Fangirl's eyes narrowed and her lips curled upwards in a predatory and feline motion. "I carry a deck wherever I go, but first Chalnoth and now Nausicaans? What's next, you going to wrestle a Mugato?"

Fanboy laughed, "You think they have one of those on here? I was thinking of playing roshambo with one of those big blue ugly bastards over there, at least then all i'd have to do is aim for the knee. I saw one of 'em kneeling over the toilet seat earlier."

"Thanks but no thanks for the mental image." Fangirl said, desperately wishing to change the subject.

"You want to know how they shit?" Fanboy asked, prodding his elbow into Fangirl's side.

"I'd rather go play cards with a bunch of Nausicaans. Speaking of which, I think we should go find them before they all shoot each other, how else are we going to win their share of the bounty on the return trip."

"Yeah," Fanboy said grimly. "If the Romulans are even planning a return trip for us. I don't trust that douchebag Shinzon one bit."

"Why not? It's not like he's Romulan, he is human after all." Fangirl said while reapplying some lipstick in preparation for her eventual swindling of dim witted gamblers. Fanboy checked his handgun to make sure it was loaded, it was, before finishing his thought.

"That's what I'm afraid of."


[The War Room of the Command Ship, Scythe]


The meeting began as soon as Shinzon had COlonel Vkruk confirm that the room was secured and that none of the Romulan security guards or political officers seeded aboard the ships save for those loyal to Shinzon were accounted for and isolated from the briefing.


"This, as you know, is the first target of our Exmodeus campaign. Exmodeus VIII has none of the scientific facilities and technological objectives we have been assigned. However, this planet has a Jem'Hadar garrison as well as the cloning facilities for all of the Vorta in this sector."

Shinzon paced in front of the display screen, delivering his message to his Reman subordinates. "We expect there to be few Jem'Hadar guarding the facility, since it is supposed to be top secret. However we do expect them to wage a bitter defense, they will destroy the facility if they have to but they will do everything they can to defend the facility before that.

Shinzon turned towards the table and slammed both of his hands down onto it.

"We have a secondary objective to this mission that the Romulans are not privy too. I want that cloning facility." His words were spoken with a meticulous slowness to them that were just as effective as writing them on the wall with blood. "If we can secure that, then perhaps we'll be able to accelerate Project Nemesis to fruition much sooner."

"Then why not now Admiral?" One of the Reman commanders spoke up. "We have several functioning Nemesis weapons with us already, we could be done with the ROmulans while they are distracted and take back what is rightfully ours!"

Shinzon walked over to the commander and struck him across the face, a typical Reman expression of dissatisfaction, but he hadn't served in the dilithium mines alongside of the man for so many years only to treat him like a dog on the eve of a great battle. "Patience my brother," his demeanor softening almost instantly. "If we were to move now then we would be vulnerable from multiple fronts, there is no way that the Klingons, federation, and the DOminion would ignore us if we were to suddenly remove ourselves from the fight, and we all already know that siding with the Dominion would simply replace our current overseers with masters that will be even more difficult to kill."

Shinzon walked back towars the front of the room and smiled.

"Make no mistake about it. General Kavel and Chairman Koval went out of their way to send us on this mission, because we are at the same time the greatest, and also the most disposable soldiers in the entire military. But their underestimation of our endurance and their overestimation of our loyalty will be their undoing. I promise you."

Vkruk nodded in the corner his consent, and subtley began empathically projecting the same feelings into the other commanders. Vkruk was absolutely loyal to the man that he believed would one day guide his people to greatness, and it was his job to make sure that the other high ranking Remans felt the same way.

"If there are no further interruptions, this is how our first attack will proceed. Because of the undoubtedly tenacious defense and the near certainty of lethal traps scattered throughout the area we will be deploying our mercenary forces first, before sending in Reman Infantry..."


[Exmodeus III, Wreckage Technical Station]


"First Koma'aka, I demand an explanation! The first time only a few Jem'HAdar had gone missing, now one of our Cardassian technicians. What will happen next I wonder? Perhaps one of the Vorta Supervisors?"

Dizel IV, the Vorta leader of the entire Exmodeus Operation, was furious at the latest disaster to befall the Cube TEchnical Survey. OVer the course of the past three days, dozens of Jem Hadar and now a Cardassian technician had gone missing deep within the catacombs of the partially buried ship.

"No explanation can be given, for the guards assigned to the Cardassian are missing as well, and no record of them exiting the Cube site can be given." Koma'aka did his best to temper his hatred for the Vorta, a hatred that was rapidly spreading through the Jem'Hadar ranks across the Alpha Quadrant. Although the Vorta claimed it was due to their inferior and less sophisticated Alpha Quadrant upbringing, the divide between the Founder's bureaucratic emissaries and their most loyal soldiers had been running deep ever since before the Dominion had crossed into the Alpha Quadrant.

"Your excuses do not concern me. I have personally contacted by the Founder on Cardassia Prime and we have been ordered to accelarate the timetable for this project as fast as we can. If you can't provide the technicians with the security they require, then perhaps I'll have to send for a new contingent of Jem'Hadar. I hear there's a handful of Gamma Quadrant bred brigades that are being rotated off of duty on Cardassia, perhaps I should request that they be sent here?"

Koma'aka gritted his teeth. Baiting their Jem'Hadar subordinates seemed to be the Vorta's favorite pasttime. Especial the fourth incarnation of Dizel. "It will not be necessary. My Unit and the others on this planet will be more than enough to secure the cube."

Dizel looked away from the Jem HAdar dismissively, as if to demean him by ignoring him. "Then I suggest that you send more of your soldiers down there, and see to it that anything that might be still down there is taken care of.

The Jem'Hadar First turned and marched out of the room, eager to vent his frustrations with the calming structure that came along with doing his job and serving the Founders. The Vorta sat back down at his terminal, nervously snacking on a small plate of Rippleberries in an attempt to assuage his fears of what might have survived the crash of the Borg Cube.


[Exmodeus III, Cube Wreckage Site]

The Cube had descended through the atmosphere and struck the side of one of the planet's largest mountains. Burying a corner of the cube beneath the surface at the mountain's base.

What the Dominion did not know was that not every Borg aboard the Cube had been killed, and since technical surveryors entering the cube did not bother to list their intended destinations within, the Dominion never realized in time that every missing individual inside the Cube had travelled down to those lower sections buried under the soil. As they slowly disappeared, the enemy within the cube grew stronger. The small enclave of drones that had migrated to the bottom of the ship lay in wiat, monitoring what few working terminals they had, repairing what they could silently. The new drone they had recently obtained would help. Although their connection with the collective was relatively intact, it was weakened. Ever since the incident with the Borg known as Hugh, the Borg had begun installing temporary collective servers, allowing Borg severed from the collective to function as an independent mini-collective while also programming them with the orders that return to the Colelctive and restablishing a permanent collection was paramount. The last transmission, before the connection to the main collective failed, went something like this.


ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 5822: CARDASSIAN COMPLETE. DRONE REDESIGNATED THREE OF FOUR AND ASSIGNED TO REPAIR OF SENSOR SYSTEMS.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT ONE, FAILED. SUBJECT ONE SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT TWO, FAILED. SUBJECT TWO SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO POINT FOUR CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT THREE, FAILED. SUBJECT THREE SUCCUMBING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY IN TWO POINT NINE CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT FOUR, IN PROGRESS. SUBJECT FOUR ADAPTING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY FOR THREE POINT TWO CYCLES, ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL ORGANIC FAILURE OF POINT SIX CYCLES.

ASSIMILATION OF SPECIES 1795: JEM'HADAR, SUBJECT FIVE, IN PROGRESS. SUBJECT FIVE ADAPTING TO ARTIFICIAL ORGANIC DEFICIENCY FOR ONE POINT SEVEN CYCLES, ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL ORGANIC FAILURE OF EIGHT POINT ONE CYCLES.

Several silent proximity alarms alerted the surviving drones and snapped several of them stasis.

[Exmodeus III, Outside of the Cube Wreckage Site]

"I am First Koma'aka, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This, we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember - victory is life."

The other members of Koma'oka's unit responded with a customary "Victory Is Life."

"For the Glory of the Founders, we shall seek out whatever is down there and crush it, as we do all enemies of the Dominion.

[Sidewinder]

Ensign Harry S. L. Kim was NOT a happy man-- after seven years service under Captain Kathryn Janeway's command, his career in Starfleet was flushed down the oversized toilet that was the USS Voyager, followed by his dream of becoming captain of his own ship. He was lucky to remain a man, unlike those who unfortunately became corpses, half-dead cripples, and-- in one bizarre case-- became a woman after Neelix fed him a "delicacy" flavored with synthetic hormones.

After the Voyager returned to Federation space, he resigned his commission and immigrated to Gonghe Republic, which had common borders with the United Federation of Planets and the Breen Confederacy. Owing to its strategic position, Gonghe maintained an impressive army and navy. Kim was sure his technical skills, honed duct taping the Voyager together after Janeway's stupidity nearly broke the ship in half, would win him a commission in Gonghe Navy and-- hopefully-- his own command.

He nearly shot himself when he learned the Navy had disqualified him. It wasn't his fault he failed the drug test! How could he remain sane aboard the Voyager if he didn't use 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine-- ecstasy-- to suppress his urge to grab an ax and hack Captain Janeway to pieces?! If he hadn't set up holograph emitters to create a double of himself to serve as that dog-faced woman's boy toy, he would've shot himself years ago!

Kim stayed his hand when Captain Ai Teppou, a woman mercenary who led the Steel Angel Security Services, approached him with a job offer. He happily signed the contract to become chief engineer aboard the mercenary ship, although at the time he was staring at the blonde's breasts instead of the papers-- Capt Ai's idea of casual wear was combat boots and silky underwear, her modesty preserved only by the Glock 50 automatic pistols at her hips.

He had second thoughts when he realized he was working for a woman whose name meant "Love Guns" and whose idea of a good time was to jump into a gunfight, pistols blazing. By then Capt Ai had sent Kim on ten suicide missions, such as beaming aboard a pirate vessel, shutting down the warp core's antimatter containment field, and-- since the radiation would interfere with the transporters-- fighting his way to the shuttle bay so he could escape before the warp core exploded. Half of his free time was spent in the infirmary, listening to "Love Guns" thank him for a job well done while the medic treated him for cuts, burns, and broken bones, and removed bullets and shrapnel.

He should've known better. The fact that Capt Ai was a "natural" blonde of Asian descent suggested she was genetically enhanced-- such individuals often had a genetic disposition towards schizophrenia or other mental disorders.

At least he was well paid. If he kept it up, he'd earn enough money to buy his own ship... a freighter for transporting fertilizer to agricultural colonies. No pirate would want to steal a load of shit, right? With cargo that harmless, he wouldn't get into any more gunfights, right?

"Attention!" Capt Ai shouted with a smile on her face.

Kim's heart sank when he recognized the smile, the woman's "We're gonna jump into a gunfight, pistols blazing, and we're gonna have fun!" smile.

"Orion pirates have hijacked a freighter, the Shanghai Maru, as it was traveling from Minotaur III to Yitian IV. The freight company-- our client, Evergreen Shipping-- is offering us 18,000,000 yuan to recover the Shanghai and deliver it to Yitian IV."

"18,000,000 yuan..." One of Kim's new comrades, a human mercenary so obsessed with money that the former Starfleet officer thought he was a disguised Ferengi, began calculating the money he'd receive for the mission. "That's five bars of latinum for three to five days' work. Not bad."

"What was aboard the Shanghai?" Kim asked.

"Yitian IV is an agricultural colony. It paid for 500,000 tons of organic fertilizer-- worth less than we're paid for, but to our client, it's a matter of pride as well. So let's strip and clean our weapons in preparation for the coming battle, and go forth shooting!" Capt Ai cheered. Wham! She watched Kim bang his head against his console. "Ensign Kim, are you alright?"

"Fuck me," the former Starfleet officer whispered.

>

LOVE GUNS

An 'Unnamed Porno Fanfic' fanfic by Sidewinder. Based on the story by Darth Fanboy, Falkenhorst, and MKSheppard-- itself based on stories by George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry.

>

The MV Steel Angel originally served in the Navy as the GGV Qilin, a license-built copy of the Constitution class heavy cruiser made famous as the "hero's sword" of Captain James T. Kirk. While Starfleet refitted its cruisers for the scientific exploration of distant stars and planets, the Gonghe Navy refitted its cruisers for long-range patrols-- military missions, which demanded different mission equipment. Under the Warrior Armament, Naval Kind and the Phaser Enhancement, Nuclear Isotope Surge Projects-- commonly referred to by the acronyms WANK and PENIS-- cruisers received enhanced shield emitters and were fitted for reactive armor plates. The now redundant navigational deflector was replaced by a heavy PENIS cannon for attacking hardened targets such as underground bunkers, and a second matter/antimatter reaction assembly installed to power the weapon. A wing mounting two impulse engines and two PENIS emitters-- resembling a 20th century sports car's spoiler-- was fitted between the warp nacelles to improve structural integrity and warp field efficiency. Weighted down by the additional weapons and armor, WANK cruisers were nicknamed "Slow Deaths."

This meant Kim had plenty of time to compose his last will and testament as the Angel followed the Orion pirate ships' warp signature to their base. "To my mother, Mary Kim..."

An alarm howled. "Get ready to rock!" Capt Ai cheered through Kim's helmet-mounted communicator.

"Fuck me!" Kim cursed, raising his PADD to throw it against the wall. He remembered that PADDs cost money, that he was saving money to buy his own ship, and carefully put the handheld computer in the right cargo pocket of his tactical suit.

"My name is pronounced Fukumi."

"Sorry, Chief Hada," Kim said to the assistant chief engineer, a young woman of Asian descent. "I'm having a bad day." Boom! "Ah!" he cried as a photon torpedo hit the ship.

Chief Petty Officer Fukumi Hada smiled as she braced herself. "Cheer up! Our upgraded warp and impulse systems got us to the target 10.7 hours early! This battle promises to be the start of a great day!"

'Is everyone aboard out of their fucking minds?' Kim asked himself. 'Yes, and I'm out of my mind for signing up to be one of them.'

In the bridge, an Orion interceptor squadron swarmed in front of the viewscreen. "Hedgehogs One and Three, armed," the tactical officer reported as two panels opened on the saucer's topside and underside, revealing 48 micro-torpedoes ready to fire.

"Fire!" Capt Ai watched the micro-torpedoes fly in all directions, seeking targets. The interceptors maneuvered to dodge the volley, but there were too many micro-torpedoes. "Oh!" Capt Ai had an orgasm watching the interceptors transform into fireballs. "Yes!" She writhed in her tactical suit. "Scan for life signs!"

"Scanning... One life sign, human male, detected," the tactical officer answered.

"Beam them to the brig! Oh! Ah!"

>

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Kim asked himself.

"We're about to interrogate the prisoners for info on their operations. As chief engineer, you're here to help me assess their defenses!" Capt Ai answered as she led him towards the cell where the captured pirate was kept. "Computer, maintain lockdown but shutdown security field for cell number four." Although the prisoner could-- and did-- spit at the blonde, alloy bars still kept him from laying hands on her. "Good morning, Mr. Saddam Binladen." Capt Ai compared the prisoner's face to the mug shot displayed on her PADD. "Wanted for terrorism by Federation authorities, panty raiding by Zeonic authorities, and piracy by Republic authorities. Zeon offered the highest bounty for your capture-- the militant feminists will sentence you to castration and 50 years imprisonment. But if you tell me what I want to know, I'll be generous and accept the second-highest bounty and turn you over to the Republic authorities-- they'll just sentence you to 20 to 30 years hard labor."

"Fuck you!" Binladen cursed.

"I'm flattered that you know of me, but my name is pronounced Fukuyo."

Capt Ai turned to the young woman behind them. "He was using the insult 'Fuck you,' not calling your name, Nurse Hada."

"Oh."

"May tentacle demons drag you into hell and rape your cunt, ass, and cherry lips for all eternity!" the prisoner cursed.

Kim felt little sympathy to Binladen, but even he didn't deserve what the blonde had planned for the pirate. "Sir, I advise you to calm down, apologize to Capt Ai, and..." The blonde's arm flashed beside him. "Too late."

Capt Ai's pistol targeted Binladen's head. "The Glock 50 automatic pistol's trigger pull is 4.5 pounds or 2.0 kilograms. I'm applying one pound of pressure. Where is your base?"

The prisoner frowned at the blonde. "When I get my hands on you..."

"Two pounds. How many personnel are stationed there?"

"Fuck you inside out..."

"Three pounds. What weapons are you armed with?"

The frown became a leer. "Make that cunt lick my ass as I..."

"Four pounds. Are your comrades worth dying for?"

"Make you scream!"

"Your call." Capt Ai squeezed the trigger, firing a 12.7 x 32.8 mm-- .50 Action Express-- round. The armor piercing explosive bullet pierced Binladen's left hand before detonating, sending shrapnel into his thigh, hip, and lower back.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! My hand! You... My hand! Ahhhh!"

The blonde unlocked cell number four, slid the door out of her way, and kicked the prisoner against the floor. "I've done tests on cadavers. A 12.7 x 32.8 mm round delivers 2,207 joules of kinetic energy, enough to shatter every bone in a humanoid hand. Do you wanna know if a round delivers enough energy to shatter a humanoid male's genitals?"

Tears melted away Binladen's leer. "Please, I'll talk, please..."

17 minutes later, the nurse-- CPO Fukuyo Hada-- had stopped the prisoner's bleeding and taped an antibiotics patch to his hip so the wounds wouldn't become infected. Capt Ai secured cell number four and led the others out of the brig. "Oh!" She detached the tactical suit's groin protector to reach her panties and begin masturbating. "Ah! Gunfire is such a turn-on! Ensign Kim!"

The former Starfleet officer was nervous. Although he lusted for the blonde, he wasn't sure he could fuck her without losing his genitals in the process. "Captain..."

"Take the interrogation records to the Sergeant Major! Begin planning a recovery operation! Ah!" Capt Ai felt cool air touch her vulva, followed by warm moisture as Nurse Hada's tongue reached into her vagina. "Oh, Fukuyo! Fuck me! Ah!"

Kim ran for his life.

>

Sergeant Major Jules Winnfield, the Angel's security chief, had at least ten years experience in land warfare as a soldier in the Gonghe Army. He refused to talk about what he did before he enlisted, but Kim suspected the Sgt Maj had served in other armies and fought other wars-- according to Army records, Jules already had a prosthetic right hand when he marched into the recruitment center.

Kim found the Sgt Maj in the holodeck, using his "knight saber"-- a device projecting a purple energy beam to a fixed length to serve as a blade-- against a swordsman with a similar weapon, but with a blue blade.

"Ahhhh!" the holographic swordsman screamed as his hands were severed. Jules grabbed his weapon and crossed the knight sabers like scissor blades, ready to behead the swordsman.

"Do I look like a bitch?!" the Sgt Maj demanded.

The swordsman's anger and hatred were replaced by confusion. "What?" Jules lowered the sabers, the blades cutting into the swordsman's shoulders. "Ah!"

"Do I look like a bitch?!"

"No!"

"Then why did you try to fuck me like a bitch?!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did, Skywalker. You tried to fuck me. You ever read the Bible, Skywalker?"

"Bible?"

"It's a religious text from Earth. There's a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'" Jules spun like a propeller, cutting the swordsman into a hundred pieces-- he saved the head for last.

Kim was too stunned to speak. Fortunately-- or unfortunately-- Jules sensed his presence and asked, "May I help you... Sir."

"S-Sergeant Major Winnfield, I-I have interrogation records of the c-captured p-pirate. They d-describe the Orion p-pirates' base, its location, its defenses, the number of personnel, and their com frequencies," Kim answered.

"I'll meet you in the officers' lounge to plan the recovery operation. Just give me a moment." Jules stomped on the swordsman's severed head, cracking the skull and spilling the brains.

"Y-yes, S-Sergeant Major." After Kim exited the holodeck, he realized he never told Jules what kind of operation they were to plan.

>

"This is a suicide mission," Kim said, too tired to express outrage.

"It ain't no suicide mission," Jules insisted. "Look, maybe you had a rough time executing combat missions for the Federation Starfleet, but I'm a Je-- a Storm Rider," Gonghe Army Special Forces. "I eat Klingon warriors for breakfast and use their battlecruisers as toothpicks. A B'rel class cruiser and a three interceptor squadrons-- 36 fighters-- don't mean shit to me. 3,000 Orion pirates in a fortified asteroid defended by shields, one heavy disruptor cannon, 21 disruptor emitters, ten photon torpedo launchers, and a tachyon detection grid-- that's just an oversized toilet I'm gonna have to flush."

"I trust your abilities, Sergeant Major." Capt Ai faced the ensign. "The Sergeant Major will lead the CSAR team," combat search and rescue team. "Ensign Kim, you'll obey his commands until the Shanghai is recovered."

"Yes, Captain." 'Fuck me,' Kim didn't say.

The mercenaries had salvaged the fighters' wreckages, piecing together the shattered armor to disguise an assault shuttle as an Orion interceptor. The plan was for the CSAR team to pilot the disguised shuttle into the fortified asteroid and free the Shanghai's crew. Then the Angel would strafe the asteroid to lure away the pirate ships and fighters, allowing the CSAR team and the freighter crew to escape. Once the Shanghai's warp drive was engaged, the Angel would fire her heavy PENIS to destroy the pirate base.

Nurse Hada wasn't trained to surgically alter a humanoid face to disguise it, so the CSAR team disguised themselves by cutting off the dead pirates' faces to wear as masks. Kim could barely breathe under the stench of rotting skin tissue, but he kept silent-- death by suffocation was less painful than death by Jules' hands. 'Fuck me,' the ensign didn't say.

"I don't swing that way," the Sgt Maj deadpanned, surprising Kim. "We've been detected. Hold on to your butts." A B'rel class cruiser-- a former Klingon bird-of-prey-- decloaked in front of the disguised shuttle. An alarm howled as the bird-of-prey's weapons locked onto them.

The B'rel communications officer hailed the shuttle. "Push me," he challenged.

"Shove you," Jules replied. The alarm was silenced-- the bird-of-prey's weapons were no longer locked onto the shuttle. "Thank you for not scratching that itchy trigger finger. I got too much shit on my hands to clean up anyone else's."

"I'd say. Fuck, what happened to your interceptor?" the B'rel communications officer asked.

"A Hedgehog micro-torpedo salvo is what happened. Now let me pass before I whip your ass."

"Chill, man, chill." The B'rel escorted the disguised shuttle towards the pirate base.

"How'd you know the password?" Kim asked.

"Through the Force," Jules answered.

"Through force?"

"Through the Force, as in I'm gonna force my steel-toed boot up your ass if you don't shut your mouth... Sir."

Kim wisely chose to obey.

Jules flew the shuttle towards the asteroid. Kim panicked as solid rock rushed towards the viewscreen, but instead of crashing, the shuttle flew through the holographic rock to land in a camouflaged hangar. "Sergeant Coolidge, guard the shuttle. Smoke them if you got no other choice, but otherwise keep your cool-- I don't want you blowing our cover before we free the Shanghai and her crew."

"Yes, Sergeant Major."

"Ensign Kim, you come with me."

"Yes, Sergeant Major." 'Fuck me.'

A maintenance crew raced towards the disguised shuttle. "What...?"

Jules waved his hand in front of the crew chief's eyes. "Stay away from my interceptor."

"Stay away from his interceptor," the crew chief repeated.

"Keep everyone else away from my interceptor-- the reactor's leaking radiation like Granny's bladder."

"Keep everyone else away from his interceptor-- the reactor's leaking radiation like Granny's bladder."

The Sgt Maj turned to the surprised ensign. "Let's roll."

Kim followed Jules past the mess hall. 'What the...?' The ensign saw two humanoid bodies hanging on meat hooks. A Ferengi "cook" cut a bicep off a hanging body, put it between two slices of bread, and raised the sandwich to his mouth. A second Ferengi grabbed the sandwich, starting a fight with the cook. "Urgh!" Kim covered his mouth and tasted vomit.

"We're almost there." Jules led Kim to where the airlock where the Shanghai's crew was kept. "Hey, Evergreen Shipping just paid these guys' ransom, so we're here to take them off your hands," he said to the guards.

"Great." The senior guard reached for the airlock controls.

Jules put his hand on the senior guard's shoulder. "Alive."

The senior guard frowned in suspicion. "I ain't heard shit about letting no hostages leave the Rock alive."

"Well, you just heard it from me."

"I better call the Boss."

Jules waved his hand in front of the senior guard's eyes. "You don't need to call the Boss."

"Are you shitting me? I need to..." Purple light flashed in front of the senior guard's eyes-- then his head flew off his shoulders.

The Sgt Maj beheaded the second guard. "Damn Force resistant." His knight saber cut down the chains restraining the captured crewmen to the walls. "We're mercenaries, Evergreen Shipping hired us to free you, now act free." Jules turned to Kim. "They've been drugged. Help them get on their feet."

"Why don't we just sneak aboard the Shanghai and beam them out of here?"

"You know better than that. The security system will detect the transporter beam, and the pirates will be onto us like a ton of bricks."

'I'm not a fucking nurse.' The ensign put a crewman's arm over his shoulder. "What's that smell?"

"Semen. Motherfucking pirates have been using the Shanghai's crew as gimps," sex slaves.

"That's a violation of the--"

"They're Orion pirates-- they don't give a damn about the rights of sentient beings."

Kim sadly shook his head. "Silly me."

>

Kok'Suka, "Queen of the Orion Pirates," sometimes regretted moving her base of operations within Gonghe space. Here, the right to bear arms was protected by law, which was a blessing because her pirates could easily buy whatever weapons they needed, including photon torpedoes-- and a curse because their would-be victims could also buy whatever weapons they needed to defend themselves. The Gonghe Army and Navy were a double-curse, inflicting heavy casualties whenever her pirates measured their penises against the military's PENISes-- fortunately, the Slow Deaths lived up to their nickname, and pirates who survived their awesome firepower were usually able to flee. 'Could be worse. At least Romulan ale is legal here.' "Where are the surviving interceptor pilots? I need data on that enemy warship."

Her subordinates faced each other, seeking information. "What were the pilots' names?" "What was the number of the surviving interceptor?" "Where is it now?"

Kok'Suka pushed a nameless technician out of the way so she could check the computer records herself. "Why isn't the maintenance crew working on that interceptor?"

In the disguised shuttle, Sergeant First Class Butch Coolidge watched heavily armed pirates approach, alerting the maintenance crew. One of the pirates grabbed a wrench and threw it, knocking off part of the disguise to reveal the shuttle. "Shit!" As the pirates and maintenance crew faced each other, confused and uncertain of what to do, Butch powered up the shuttle and piloted it out of the hangar. He turned around, opened the bomb bay doors to reveal a Hedgehog, and fired a salvo into the base. "Yipee-ki-yay, motherfucker!" Butch cheered as parked shuttles and interceptors transformed into fireballs.

In the command center, Kok'Suka swore to have the maintenance crew castrated to punish their incompetence. "Recall the bird-of-prey and the surviving squadrons! I want that whatever-it-is destroyed!"

Kim had carried the crewmen aboard the Shanghai-- he was fortunate the freighter was so heavily automated. "Ow, my back!" Bang, bang! "What...?" His hidden communicator beeped.

"Sir, get ready to move," Jules transmitted. "The pirates are onto us."

Kim heard the sounds of battle echoed through the airlock connecting the Shanghai to the pirate base. "Fuck me!"

The freighter captain stirred, recovering from the drugs' effects. "Ow! Why does my ass hurt?" He frowned at Kim. "Who are you?"

"I'm Ensign Kim of the United-- of Steel Angel Security Services. Evergreen Shipping hired us to rescue you and your crew."

"Huh? Rescue?" Beam! "Oh shit! That was a phaser firing, right?"

"Right. Now let's get this ship into warp."

>

Aboard the bird-of-prey, "Captain" Bukkake cursed himself for not blasting the disguised shuttle into subatomic particles. "Where's the whatever-it-is that attacked the base?"

"The Raptor class assault shuttle, Captain? We lost it somewhere in the asteroid field," the tactical officer answered.

'Queen Kok'Suka will fry my cock 'n' balls for this!' Bukkake put his hands over his groin at the thought, as if he could shield his genitals from the Orion woman's rage.

"Captain, I'm detecting an unidentified ship, Constitution WANK class, at bearing..." The tactical officer watched the Angel strafe the asteroid. "Too late."

"Captain, we've lost communications with the Rock!" the communications officer reported.

Bukkake covered his mouth to hide a smile. 'The bitch is dead! This is my chance to crown myself King of the Orion Pirates!' "Full impulse! Get us within firing range of that Slow Death!"

"That's suicide! Our weapons will barely scratch its armor, and that heavy PENIS will blast us into subatomic particles!" the tactical officer protested.

"We'll use warp strafing!" Bukkake watched the tactical officer frown in confusion. "Warp strafing, you know, warping within point-blank range of a target, firing disruptors and torpedoes, and warping away before the target returns fire?"

"That's never been demonstrated to be a valid tactic," the tactical officer stated.

"I'll demonstrate its validity! Warp seven, engage!" Nothing happened. "What the fuck is the holdup?!" Bukkake demanded.

"We're in an asteroid field! It takes time to calculate... No!" the helmsman cried when Bukkake pushed him out of the way to engage the bird-of-prey's warp drive.

Aboard the Angel, Capt Ai noticed a flash as the bird-of-prey crashed into an asteroid, breaking itself in two. "What's that?"

"One B'rel class cruiser-- it apparently warped into an asteroid. I detect four escape pods launching from the cruiser. Should I scan for life signs?" the tactical officer asked.

"Not now. Focus on the pirate base."

>

Jules was a force of nature, spinning like a tornado to cut down nearby enemies, the integral Glock 50 in his prosthetic hand sending armor piercing explosive bullets like thunderbolts to strike down distant enemies. When he finally stopped, he became the eye of a storm: calmly breathing as he was surrounded by dismembered, disemboweled, and decapitated bodies.

"Argh!" A pirate's head turned in search of his disruptor pistol. "My weapon!" He found it beside his head, his severed hand still gripping it-- his remaining hand struggled to pry the dead fingers off the disruptor. "Die!" He sat up to aim the disruptor at Jules, only to watch the pistol fly out of his hand. "I don't understand..."

Jules stomped on the disruptor, crushing it. "What's your name, pirate?"

The pirate-- the only survivor out of the 88 who were sent to secure the airlock-- looked up in confusion. "Brett."

The Sgt Maj reloaded his integral Glock 50. "You ever read the Bible, Brett?"

"Yes," the pirate answered.

"There's a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'" The Glock 50 targeted Brett's head as a blue light enveloped Jules-- Kim had used the Shanghai's transporter to beam the Sgt Maj aboard the freighter as the bullet was leaving the barrel.

"Ahhhh!" the former Starfleet officer cried as the bullet grazed his left hip, hit the console behind him, and exploded, sending shrapnel into his buttocks. "Fuck!"

"Oh. Sorry about that... Sir."

>

"My queen, the Shanghai Maru is leaving Dock Two!"

In the command center, Kok'Suka's eyes burning with rage as the freighter accelerated away from the base. "Evergreen must have hired mercenaries to recover their lost lamb. I must remember to show no mercy the next time we capture one of their ships." She turned to the tactical officer. "Where's the bird-of-prey?"

"Unknown... Wait." The bird-of-prey drifted in front of an external camera, allowing personnel in the command center to see the wreckage. "I'm detecting four escape pods..."

"Summon my personal chef. I want Captain Bukkake's cock 'n' balls for dinner," Kok'Suka ordered. "Deep fried while they're still attached, so he can feel the heat."

"My queen, the Slow Death's heavy PENIS is...!" Boom!

>

"Oh! Yes! Phaser Enhancement, Nuclear Isotope Surge! Ah! Yes!" Capt Ai was between orgasms when she said, "There are 24 to 30 Orion interceptors we haven't accounted for! Ah! Let's leave the area before they return! Oh!" She knew the pirates' survival meant the mercenaries would find more work in the near future.

"Yes, Captain."

Unknown to Binladen or his captors, the Orion pirates had a second B'rel class cruiser at their base. The Klingon Defense Force had contracted Gonghe armaments companies to refit older warships with armor and weapons comparable to the WANK cruisers. Kok'Suka bought a set of armor and weapons from a corrupt Klingon general, and intended to refit the second bird-of-prey. When the heavy PENIS blasted the pirate base in half, this bird-of-prey became Kok'Suka's escape craft-- now it was an instrument of vengeance. "I want the Slow Death's captain for dinner. Save the crew for feasts later," the Orion female ordered her personal chef.

"Yes, my queen."

With its space frame revealed, the B'rel class cruiser resembled a winged skeleton-- an Angel of Death coming to reap the souls of Kok'Suka's enemies. The bird-of-prey, partially disassembled so it may be overhauled before being refitted with WANK equipment, was unarmored and armed only with the photon torpedo launcher-- the disruptor cannons were to be replaced with PENIS emitters. Kok'Suka didn't consider herself at a disadvantage-- without the mass of the armor and disruptor cannons, the bird-of-prey was faster, and quickly caught up to the Angel. "Continue tracking the target, passive sensors only."

"Yes, my queen."

Kok'Suka used the helmet-mounted sight to lock on the Angel, and gripped the joysticks controlling the weapons systems. "Decloak on my mark. Three... two... one... Mark!"

>

The Shanghai traveled in front of the Angel. In the bridge, Jules' head rose, as if he heard something. "Turn around."

The freighter helmsman frowned at the Sgt Maj. "Say again? Ah!" he cried when Jules pushed him out of the way to reach the controls. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jules silenced the helmsman with his fist as he turned the ship to see a torpedo miss the Angel. A second torpedo detonated upon the Angel's shields. "You wanna start shit with me? I'll give you some shit." He faced the captain. "Get ready to open the cargo bay doors and purge the replicators' carbohydrates supply."

"What?!" Bang! The captain's head turned rearwards to see an unexploded bullet embedded in the wall behind him.

"Get ready to open the cargo bay doors and purge the replicators' carbohydrates supply," Jules repeated.

Kok'Suka and her subordinates focused on the Angel, the bird-of-prey violently maneuvering to dodge incoming phaser beams and torpedoes. They didn't consider the Shanghai a threat, and ignored the freighter-- they forgot about her cargo.

Splat! The Orion female frowned at the brown solid covering the viewscreen. "What is this shit?!"

Shit-- organic fertilizer-- was rich in nitrate, an oxidizing agent. Mixing nitrates with carbohydrates can form explosives. Captain Ai understood Jules' plan when the Shanghai opened the cargo bay doors to eject 120,000 tons of fertilizer onto the bird-of-prey. "Fire phasers and torpedoes!" Boom! "Repeat!" Boom! "Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!" She writhed in her tactical suit, watching the bird-of-prey's wreckage tumble out of control. "Scan for survivors!"

>

Captain Ai greeted Jules and Kim when they beamed aboard the Angel. "Welcome home!"

"Did the check clear?" the Sgt Maj asked.

"Yes. Fortunately, the client decided not to deduct the cost of the expended fertilizer from our fee."

Kim knew the blonde had recently fired her pistols-- he could still smell the gunpowder. "That's smart of them."

"We're also getting a nice bonus: the bounties for..." Capt Ai named the surviving pirates in the Angel's brig. "After the Angel is 3R'ed," repaired, refueled, rearmed, "we're having a party!"

>

Kok'Suka smiled as the WANK cruiser captain-- in her mind, a middle-aged human male-- screamed. "You look delicious." She jabbed a fork into the captain's deep fried penis, cut off the head, and put it in her mouth. "A bit rare, but..." She ate the rest of the captain's genitals, enjoying the taste with the sound of his screams.

Binladen laid on the floor beside his queen, watching Kok'Suka eat the fingers of his left hand-- blown off by the armor piercing explosive bullet and ignored when Nurse Hada treated his wounds. "My queen, wake up. Those aren't sausages-- those are my fingers. My queen..."

Kok'Suka's smile widened as she dreamed. "Your cock 'n' balls are a nice appetizer, but I want more... You're biceps. I'll have your biceps for dinner."

'Fuck me, my fathers, and their fathers.' Binladen stopped trying to awaken Kok'Suka-- he didn't want her to eat the body parts he had left.

Whir-click! Kok'Suka awoke with a start when the Kim entered the brig. "Identify yourself!" She saw a platoon of Gonghe Public Security officers behind the former Starfleet officer. "You're a bounty hunter."

"I'm an engineer... for a private military company," Kim corrected, reluctantly admitting he was a mercenary. "I'm releasing you to police custody. Please step away from the door." He watched Kok'Suka comply before unlocking the cell. Whoosh! "Argh!" The Orion female lunged, hit Kim's solar plexus before he could defend himself, and locked her right arm around his head as her left hand drew the phaser pistol at Kim's hip.

Kok'Suka expressed no fear as the police officers' pistols and carbines targeted her. "Get back, or I'll blast him into subatomic particles!"

"Fuck me," Kim whispered.

"I know you can hear me, captain of the Slow Death. Beam the police officers back where they came from, free my pirates, and give me command of this ship, or..." She heard a transporter beam hum behind her, instinctively aimed the phaser rearwards, and pressed the firing button. The phaser beam would've hit Jules as he beamed into the cell, but he quickly turned on the knight saber to block the beam. "Ah!" Kok'Suka cried when the saber cut into her left wrist, making her drop the phaser.

The Sgt Maj held the saber in front of the Orion female's eyes. "Let the ensign go."

"My skin, my beautifully smooth skin! You...!"

"Bitch, you're lucky to get off with just a burn on your wrist. Let the ensign go before I decide to lobotomize you," Jules repeated. When Kok'Suka refused to comply, a police officer's carbine butt stroked the Orion female's head, breaking her nose. "Thank you, officer."

>

A Leary station was a commercial space station where marijuana and opium poppies were grown, ecstasy and lysergic acid diethylamide was manufactured, and Romulan ale was sold, taking advantage of a loophole in laws banning these and other recreation drugs from planets of the Gonghe Republic-- instead of closing the loophole, the government decided to impose double taxes on the Leary stations. Although Capt Ai wasn't a druggie, she rented a penthouse for 48 hours so the Angel's crew may party in shifts-- the mercenaries cheered, agreeing a Leary station was the perfect place to have a party.

Kim wasn't invited to the party-- as punishment for letting Kok'Suka hold him hostage with his own weapon, he was "imprisoned" in the Angel's gymnasium, being retrained in hand-to-hand combat. The Sgt Maj was his instructor. 'Fuck me.'

"I told you I don't swing that way," Jules deadpanned.

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought something-- that's the same as saying and doing something, so you better be ready to take responsibility for what you say and do. Now get ready." Whoosh! "You weren't ready. Try again," the Sgt Maj ordered the former Starfleet officer now lying on the floor.

"I didn't even see you move!" Kim cried as he climbed to his feet.

"That's your problem-- you're trying to see me instead of sensing me. Use your other senses-- sound, smell, taste, touch-- in addition to sight." Jules returned the Glock 17T training pistol to Kim.

"I wonder what the others are doing?"

"The Hada twins are using strap-on dildos to vaginally and anally penetrate Captain Ai. They just had an orgasm together-- big one." Jules smirked, sensing Kim's shock. "Her genetic enhancements don't just make her smarter, stronger, and faster-- they make her lustier as well." The smirk became a nostalgic smile. "If the Je-- never mind." He stopped smiling. "Get ready."

'Don't give up!' Kim told himself. "Oomph!" He climbed to his feet again. 'Four more years!' "Argh!" 'The contract expires in four years! By then you'll have enough credits to buy your own starship!' "Yahhhh!" 'Will I live that long?' the former Starfleet officer asked himself.

"You ain't got to worry about that. Whatever happens, happens because of the will of the Force. Now get ready." Whoosh!

"Ahhhh!"

>

Not the end.

Gonghe is the pinyin-- Chinese phonetic alphabet-- spelling of Gung-Ho, which perfectly describes an average Republic citizen's attitude towards the right to bear arms.

In case anyone's curious, MV means Mercenary Vessel and GGV means Gonghe Government Vessel.