Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[MKSheppard]

By MK Sheppard, Col. Falkenhorst, with Help from Illuminatus Primus for this chapter.

Senator Timothy Jones smiled as he whipped his
Jet-Ski around the pristine beach off the penal
colony of New Zealand.

Ever since the Federation had evicted all the New
Zealanders to Australia in the 2350s, New Zealand's
beaches had become one of the hottest vacation
spots since you didn't have to worry about
offending the natives, since there were none.

Unfortunately, he didn't know that he had been targetted
for liquidation by powerful enemies. Unbeknownst to him,
deep inside his GNOMEicon Jet-Ski, a radio signal was
recieved from a hidden transmitter on the shore, and the
Plasma flow of the Jet-Ski's engine was redirected into a
specially designed buffer where it built up...

Several minutes later, the Jet-Ski blew up with a thunderous
explosion that reverberated all over the beach, and parts of it
were found by Security Personnel up to half a kilometer away
from the explosion site; of the late Senator Jones, nothing
was ever found, as it was found that the plasma explosion had
been directly underneath the Jet-Ski's seat.

[Somewhere in Deep Space]

The modified Klingon Battlecruiser _Kloth's Pride_, the Klingon script
having been crudely crossed out and replaced with "Asskicker" cruised
at half-impulse power, having been converted to a pleasure yacht, albeit
one with enough firepower to cripple most starships.

"Hey boss," mumbled Frankie. "Some shit's gone down on Earth."

Falkenhorst whirled around in his command chair, Sheppard being away
in his quarters, sleeping. The two of them divided command of the battlecruiser
into 12-hour periods, to make sure nothing was missed.

"Yes?"

"This is coming in over the subspace news networks; I thought you'd be interested."

With that, Frankie switched the main viewscreen over to the ship's subspace reciever
array, and the face of the Federation's most famous news anchor, Kelly Antilles,
appeared on the screen.

"Today, in an apparent terrorist bombing, the Federation's most respected legislator,
was killed."

On the viewscreen appeared a picture of the late Timothy Jones.

"Authorities believe that the assassination is linked to Gnomish terrorist groups
upset over his authorship of the Gnome Resettlement Bill of 2367 and the
Gnome Pornography Laws of 2368 that cut off the newly resettled Gnomes from
their primary income, Gnomish Pornography."

"Interesting," muttered Falk. Another player in the great game of interspecies porno.
They would have to be eliminated...eventually.

Turning his attention back to the news, Falkenhorst listened in to the rest of the newscast.

"As well, the Gnome Porn King, who goes by the handle of "Darth Garden Gnome" was
indicted by the Federation Court on 2,451 counts of Gnomish Pornography. He is
unavailable for comment."

"Typical." muttered Falk.

"In other news, tragedy today on Deep Space Nine, where former commander
Captain Sisko, went on a murderous rampage with his Starfleet Issued
phaser, killing well over fifty civilians and numerous security personnel on the rampage
before he was killed by security forces."

Everyone blinked at that, except for Nog, who grinned evilly and uttered
a bone-chilling peal of laughter from his station on the bridge, where
he controlled the _Asskicker_'s weapons.

"Starfleet has already announced a replacement for the late Captain Sisko,
newly-promoted Captain Thomas Paris, son of Admiral Paris, and one of the
famous Voyager crew, who recently returned from the Delta Quadrant just
last year."

The newscast slowly trailed off into irrevelance about the latest stock market
news, until Falkenhorst had them turn the damn thing off.

Sitting back in his chair, he thought about this latest Gnomish terrroist act. The
Gnomes were powerful porno producers, and also produced the most powerful
halluciogenic shrooms in the Federation. And they were going to meet these
stunted little perverts at a secret meeting point they had given them in less than
48 hours.

Falkenhorst's stomach began to churn at the prospect of meeting the most
infamous pervert of them all, the one called Darth Garden Gnome. It was
Darth Garden Gnome who had written, directed, and produced a snuff porno
entirely along the lines of the old rhyme "RayCav's coming for you".

[Deep Space Nine]

Captain Parris stepped off the space liner and onto the promenade of
Deep Space Nine, and tried to ignore the repeated phaser burns all over
the promenade, as well as the still-carbonized remains of dozens of people
still burned into the walls. Apparently the clean-up crew hadn't gotten around
to fixing the mess Sisko had caused when he snapped a few days before..

Behind him, following him closely, was his personal assistant, Ensign Thomas
Stravo, a complete utter loon who actually thought he was Captain James T.
Kirk, and emulated Kirk in every aspect, even right down to the personal
mannerisms and womanizing.

His only saving grace was that he was one of the best men Parris had ever seen
when it came to arranging Porno deals. Too bad he always carried a briefcase full
of Janeway pornography around with him, thinking that people would actually buy it.

Parris tried to stifle an involuntary shudder. He had served for seven years under that
bitch - who the fuck could see her as a sex object?

Ensign Stravo, on the other hand, was already thinking of how to ship his personal
collection of dozens of Holotapes featuring him doing the nasty with Admiral Janeway
to his new duty post.

[END CH 9]

[Singular Quartet]

Alright, that was much better than last chapter. I'll leave considering why just about everybody in the federation is a twisted pervert to somebody else, but either way...

But Stravo liking Janeway porn? Nah, that just doesn't fit (although the Kirk likeness does) What you really wanted was someone by the name of Es Arkaja, the fanatical supporter of JAneway porn on SB.com (Yep, further proof that SB is partly a hive of villany and sin, and this coming from an SBer. Don't worry, must of us hate him anywyas....)

[Rye]

Ahahahahahahaha much better.

Although this rampant gnomophobia is getting rather worrisome.

You know what this needs? DBZ stuff getting the piss taken out of it somehow. DBZs seriously pissing me off atm.

[MKSheppard]

Alright, that was much better than last chapter. I'll leave considering why just about everybody in the federation is a twisted pervert to somebody else, but either way...

Heh Heh. Wait till you see the next chapter, sometime tonight......

Seriously, the kind of shit that bashir had inflicted on Nog couldn't be
wrapped up in a kind of humorous matter....it had to be dark very dark.

[Illuminatus Primus]

But Stravo liking Janeway porn? Nah, that just doesn't fit (although the Kirk likeness does) What you really wanted was someone by the name of Es Arkaja, the fanatical supporter of JAneway porn on SB.com (Yep, further proof that SB is partly a hive of villany and sin, and this coming from an SBer. Don't worry, must of us hate him anywyas....)

Nah, Stravo is so virulently anti-Janeway porn, that we thought it was too funny to pass up.

[Sea Skimmer]

Careful Sheppard, Stravo is a supermod now and as fucking funny as that was he might go Sisko on you.

[Illuminatus Primus]

Careful Sheppard, Stravo is a supermod now and as fucking funny as that was he might go Sisko on you.

Actually, the Stravo thing was ALL my idea.

[Darth Fanboy]

DEATH TO GNOMES!

[Rye]

DEATH TO GNOMES!

Wow, this penis envy thing is getting contagious and murderous.

[Frank Hipper]

Behind him, following him closely, was his personal assistant, Ensign Thomas
Stravo, a complete utter loon who actually thought he was Captain James T.
Kirk, and emulated Kirk in every aspect, even right down to the personal
mannerisms and womanizing.

Did you hear that? I think it was shit hitting a fan somewhere!

[LT.Hit-Man]

Oh shit this just fic just keeps getting better and better

[MKSheppard]

Oh shit this just fic just keeps getting better and better

The LT is laughing?

That means only one thing!

RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!

RUN BEFORE HE DRAGOONS US UP FOR HIS FANFIC REVIEWS!!

[Singular Quartet]

Oh shit this just fic just keeps getting better and better

The LT is laughing?

That means only one thing!

RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!

RUN BEFORE HE DRAGOONS US UP FOR HIS FANFIC REVIEWS!!

Bye, bye....

Anyways... if you do somehow kill someone name dEs Arkajae at some point, I will be quite content.... anyways, keep up this horror of a fic.

[LT.Hit-Man]

Oh shit this just fic just keeps getting better and better

The LT is laughing?

That means only one thing!

RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!

RUN BEFORE HE DRAGOONS US UP FOR HIS FANFIC REVIEWS!!

To late your sorry asses are in a sling this time

[MKSheppard]

To late your sorry asses are in a sling this time

Oh shit!

We expect a Fanfic review from you soon, then!

[Micheal Ryans, Beta pilot]

Fuck, I've missed far too many updates of this.

All I can say is ROFLMAO, and keep it coming.

[MKSheppard]

U * * N * * N * * A * * M * * E * * D

P * * O * * R * * N * * O

F * * A * * N * * F * * I * * C


U * N * N * A * M * E * D

P * O * R * N * O

F * A * N * F * I * C

UNNAMED
PORNO
FANFIC

UPF

[ A cookie goes to whoever can recognize this intro - HINT, Only
ASVSers will get the intro]

Chapter 10: Shit begins to happen

[USS Enterprise-E]

Deanna Troi sat down in her husband's quarters, and screamed
in pain at the pain radiating from her ruined ass. God-damn Riker
and then Worf for having ass sex with her repeatedly, and Worf for
using that damned Klingon Pain stick where the sun didn't shine...

But...there was a way to get back at them, and maybe make all
this fuckery stop, so they'd at least go back to fucking her up the
right hole.

Hobbling over to her personal computer access system, she
sat down on the seat, biting her lip in pain, and began entering
in Riker's personal access code into the computer.

"Computer, Access the personal replicator controls for Riker, William T
and Rozhenko, Worf."

"Working..."

"What do you want to do today?" chimed the computer in an irritating
voice.

Troi could never understand why the damned computer always said that.
Some of the engineers she talked with said it was because the LCARS system
was based off an old archaic earth computing system made by an obscure
company in Redmond, Washington.

"Computer, access the medical database, in particular the one for infectious
diseases."

The computer beeped, then replied; "Password of the Chief Medical Officer,
please."

Troi smiled and entered in turn Crusher's password. All those days of hot lesbian
sex with Beverly were paying off; in fact, she had fucked virtually everyone on
the Enterprise for the last eleven years, obtaining their passwords while they
slept, even Picard's.

It was the sole reason she remained on the Enterprise, even after eleven years
of doing nothing at all except masturbating all the time in her office when she
was supposed to be seeing the ship's crew and faking her logs for the investigators
who kept wondering why the Enterprise had the highest suicide rate in the fleet.

"Password Accepted."

"Computer, insert ten milligrams of the following..."

Troi then thought for a moment, and then decided what to give to Riker and Worf.

"bacillius darkstar into every food and liquid item dispensed from the replicators
for the aforementioned personnel."

The computer then beeped for a few moments and then said "Done."

At that, Troi began to cackle insanely. Oh, they would get theirs soon.

[Bridge of the Enterprise]

Newly-Promoted Captain William T Riker swirled his tongue around and decided
that his mouth was getting too dry. Pushing a button on the captain's chair, he
rang up the galley a deck below.

"Galley, this is the Captain, I'm getting thirsty. Send up a bottle of Jack Daniels
and some ice."

"Captain, you're on dut...."

"I know what the fuck I can or can't do, just send the goddamned shit up before I have
you fucking demoted to scraping off our impulse waste vents!"

Several minutes later, a waiter, dressed in the gold uniform of engineering and ship's
services walked in holding a tray with a bottle of Jack Daniels on it along with
a tumbler filled with ice. He set it across the captain's arms, locking the tray into the
supports on the sides of the captain's chair designed for that purpose.

"Excellent. Begone." replied Riker with a wave of his hand.

Pouring himself a bottle, he gulped down the entire tumbler in a single swig. Ahh...that
felt good, even if there was a strange taste to it...nothing probably, really.

Several minutes later it happened.

Captain William T Riker, holder of the Federation's highest honors, the Golden Sun,
Hero of the Federation, 1st Class, and too many other awards to list, promptly shit
his pants.

A disgusting stench quickly filled the Main bridge as the smell of last night's meal
of chili tamale and liquor wafted from the Captain's pants.

"FUCK! FUCK! GODDAMNIT!" shouted Riker as he realized what had happened.

Standing up, he felt his shit shift around in his pants, some of it falling through
his pants legs to splatter on the deck below.

"Data, you have the fucking bridge!" roared Riker as he hobbled away to the
main head on the main bridge.

[2 hours later]

The main head had quickly filled up with the combined shit of the bridge crew
and was now a disgusting burbling mess of brown mass that pulsed like it was
alive.

All over the mighty ship, hundreds of crewmembers quickly fell victim to the
mysterious disease that had infected their ship through the replicators,
and soon the corridors were slick with brown, red, green and yellow shit (depending
on the race of the shittee in question).

In the main conference room, everyone was gathered around the table, waiting
for suggestions as to how solve this messy problem.

"What the fuck happened?" grunted Riker as he filled another pantsload.

"Unknown," replied Data. "It appears someone has tampered with the replicators."

"Wow, that's a fucking lot of........" Geordi paused in the middle of his sentence
as he too filled his pants with shit. Moments later, the urge to shit having passed
away for a short while, he finished the sentence. "....help you fucker!"

"Please, Geordi, do not be emotional and excitable. I'm sure a solution to our
problem can be worked out in due time." Data said, switching off his olifactory
sensors.

"That's easy for you to say, fuckhead! You're a goddamned robot...unnngh" snapped
Worf as he let loose a thunderous Klingon fart that washed all over the room like
the slow rumble of thunder on a summer day.

"Unng...Uh, sir, I believe I have a solution to our problem sir." replied the Chief
Non-Commisioned Officer of the Enterprise, who had replaced O'Brien as transporter
chief several years ago.

"Well, fucking spill it then!" snapped Riker, then he realized he shouldn't have said
that as a fresh wave of shit splashed down onto the floor all around the conference
table.

"Our ship doesn't have the sewage capacity to...unng...deal with this mass outbreak
of Dirarhhea...unng...however, there is something I read in a technical manual a long
time ago, about the...umf...possibilities of using transporters to remove waste from...
argh..bodies, eliminating the need to shit, sir."

"Well, then fucking do it then!" roared Riker as he let loose a short rapid series of
shits that shot down his pants like cannon shells.

[15 minutes later - Transporter Room One]

The transporter chief stood at his station, trying to fight off the urge
to shit long enough to get it all set up.

"Locking onto the test subject's commbadge...isolating the shit...nnngh...
oooh...beginning beaming procedure."

In the middle of the transporter pad, the first amounts of shit
began to shimmer in and then plopped down onto the pad.

"The test run on Commander Barclay seems to have worked
perfectly." replied Data, who was standing next to the Chief.

"Any ill effects, such as his intestines getting beamed out too?"
came the question from the bridge.

Data raised his tricorder and scanned the pile of shit. "No intestines
detected sir, just pure shit."

"Excellent. Begin the mass beamings."

"Yes, sir, we're commencing at once."

[1 hour later - Main Shuttle Bay One]

The brown gooey mass filled the shuttle bay almost
to the top, the result of beaming the shit out of
almost fifteen thousand intestines and directly to the
largest space on the ship that could easily be opened.

"Begin decompression." ordered the shuttle bay chief officer.

"Aye, Aye, sir, Beginning decompression."

As the Shuttle Bay doors opened, the shit was slowly sucked out of the
ship and into deep space, but at the same time, more shit arrived from
the transporter pattern buffers, so the Enterprise-E began to trail a brown
contrail of shit.

[Bridge]

"Captain...Message from Starfleet Command coming in, sir."

"Fuck," grumbled Riker. "Put it fucking on."

Admiral Janeway's face filled the screen, and her eyes flicked back
and forth across the bridge, noticing the brown stains all over
everything, and the piles of shit that were being beamed out as
fast as they could be made.

"Having a outbreak of mega-dirahhrea, Captain?" asked Janeway,
and as Riker began to protest in reply, she raised her hand to stall
his protests.

"Don't worry, Captain, your secret is safe with me. Why, this reminds
me of the Dirarrhea outbreak we had on Voyager. We had to
deal with it for twenty consecutive days...Of course, I immediately
deleted it from our ships' logs out of embarassment once the outbreak
had burned itself out. I suggest you do so too."

"Fuck, Admiral, What the fuck do you want with us?" growled Riker
as he felt the tingling of the transporter removing another ton of
shit from his body.

Janeway glared at him for several seconds, then replied.

"Captain, your ship has been ordered to sector 202AB to this particular
asteroid belt-"

A diagram of a solar system with a particular asteroid belt highlighted
flashed on screen in a picture underneath Janeway's visage.

"- to look for the leader of the Gnomes, Darth Garden Gnome, and to
locate his secret porno factory, as well as wherever he makes his
psychoactive drugs. If you find him, apprehend him so he can stand
trial for his crimes against the Federation."

"Fuck, can we kill him? I'm in a bad mood from all this shitting I've
done this morning." snapped Riker.

Janeway considered this for a moment.

"That would violate the Prime Direc--aw fuck, I'll let you do it, seeing as
I've violated that piece of shit hundreds of times in the Delta quadrant."

Everyone stared openmouthed at Janeway openly admitting to breaking
the prime directive.

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine." replied Janeway.

"Sir, I believe she has us 'by the balls', as the human colliqualism goes,
Captain." replied Data.

"Fuck it, lets just go and kill something." replied Riker. "Enterprise out."

As Janeway's face blinked from the viewscreen, Data looked up from his
control panel. "Sir, our stealth characteristics are being retarded by the
trail of...shit that we are emitting from Shuttle Bay One."

"Who gives a damn? We're going up against Gnomes, not the fucking
Dominion. Lay in a course, maximum warp for Sector 202AB and
engage." ordered Riker.

[END CH10]

[Micheal Ryans, Beta pilot]

Interesting. And, as per spec, funny as hell.

[MKSheppard]

Interesting. And, as per spec, funny as hell.

And more shit is possibly coming tonight

[Micheal Ryans, Beta pilot]

Interesting. And, as per spec, funny as hell.

And more shit is possibly coming tonight

I await it eagerly.

[SHODAN]

[ A cookie goes to whoever can recognize this intro - HINT, Only ASVSers will get the intro]

I'll try: No Restrictions War Document.


Oh, and *insert random compliment for creating this sickly amusing piece of fiction*.

[MKSheppard]

I'll try: No Restrictions War Document.

Yay, you got it right!

For that I won't kill you in System Shock 3 when it eventually comes out

[SHODAN]

Cybercookie, mmm.

For that I won't kill you in System Shock 3 when it eventually comes out

Of course you won't. But I will kill you, many, many times.

[Agent Fisher]

Gnomes are harder to kill than they appear

[MKSheppard]

Gnomes are harder to kill than they appear

Yes Yes you'll find out in next chapter when all hell breaks loose