Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Kuja]

LOL. I see that Hyperion's claims of jury-rigged lasers are coming back to bite him in the ass.

[Chardok]

But *wipes tear* The contrails of shit in space are pure literary imagery masterpieces. Each turd is, in itself literary history in the making. Please, Shep, Falk, and DF, please let the contrails of shit continue in chapter 12, I beg of you!!!

[Sea Skimmer]

and he could indulge in one of his secret fetishes; fucking the Ship herself.

Yet another way in which TNG could have been... well I'm not sure improved is the right way to put it. And the BODY COUNT remains dangerously low in this fic.

Make sure Hyperion dies or at least has his hands blown off when he attempts to use his phaser as a grenade and forgets the quarter second fuse.

[MKSheppard]

And the BODY COUNT remains dangerously low in this fic.

It's going to kick up really high in UPF 12, which I'm gonna write tonight
as I have nothing better to do

[MKSheppard]

It's going to kick up really high in UPF 12, which I'm gonna write tonight
as I have nothing better to do

Ok, I lied.

UPF CH 12: The Clean-Up.

Captain Will Riker stood on top of the mountain and looked down onto a lake full of pure
spooge and thanked God that he had his hazardrous environment suit on, otherwise
the smell of millions of gallons of man chowder would have knocked him unconscious
right away. This lake was the largest of the thousands of lakes created when the SS
Valdez had spilled it's load of man chowder a day or so ago.

Behind him was Data, who was scanning the lake with his tricorder. "Captain, I detect large
amounts of Sexually Transmitted Diseases in the sperm below; among them are Gonorhhrea,
Herpes, Klingon Clap, Rigellian Syphillis, The Rot, Vulcan AIDS, and Volcano Herpes."

Upon hearing about the presence of the ROT, everyone shuddered and checked their
suits for leaks.

"Well shit, whose shipment was this?" asked Riker, making a mental note never to get
sperm for his games with Troi from these guys. One of Betazoid's bizarre rituals involved
bathing ritually in a bathtub full of sperm. God, it was fucking expensive getting that shit,
especially since Betazed religion dictated that it had to be humanoid sperm, not animal.

"The World Church of the Creator, sir. Run by one Matthew Hale." replied Data without
missing a beat. "They're a semi popular group for mass sperm withdrawals."

"Weren't they a neo-nazi group a while back?" asked Riker.

"Yes, but that was hundreds of years ago, apparently they decided that selling sperm
was more profitable than selling hate tracts."

Riker thought this over for a moment, then decided not to think any more about it.

Tapping the communicator on the front of his suit, he raised the Enterprise. "Enterprise,
this is Captain Riker, lock phasers onto the lake of sperm in front of us, and fire."

Several seconds passed, and then a visibly irritated Riker tapped the badge again.
"Riker here, what the fuck is going on up there? Fire god damn it, you fuckers!"

"I'm sorry Captain, but the planet's magnetic field is interfering with our phasers,
we can't get a clear lock on."

"Then use a god damn torpedo, you fucking moron!" shouted Riker, getting annoyed.

"Unfortunately, our main torpedo bay is undergoing maintenance, because Ensign Azeron
somehow managed to get himself jammed in between a torpedo and the torpedo launcher
hatch. It isn't pretty, from what I've heard."

Riker sighed. "Use the tractor beams, then." Moments later, he suddenly replied, "No wait!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Use the tractor beams to get rid of the other cum on the planet, but leave this lake here."

"Sir?"

"Do it, unless you want to be down here on cleanup detail!"

From their vantage point on the mountain lake's overlook, everyone saw millions of gallons
of sperm slowly float into the air all by itself all over the horizon. This caused Riker to frown.
This was a clear case of cultural contamination. Tapping his commbadge again, he raised
the ship.

"Enterprise, once you get that torpedo launcher repaired and working again, I want you
to level everything in a hundred mile radius around this lake, Starfleet Authorization
Kappa Iota Lambda Lambda."

"And assemble the Hazard Team, section M, and get them down here ASAP. I've got
a mission for them."

Several minutes later, the Enterprise's Hazard Team, Section M; appeared before Riker and
Data. It consisted mostly of the retards and screwups of the Enterprise's crew; to be used as
cannon fodder in any battle with the Borg, etc.

Leading it was none other than Ensign Andrew Joshua Talon, the head of Section M. The
stupid fucker actually thought this was a desirable posting. Riker resisted the urge to giggle
as he told Ensign Talon what Section M was going to be doing.

"Ensign Talon, I have a very important job for you and Section M."

"Yessir! We shall try to do it to the best of our ability SIR!" shouted Talon, and
he saluted with what appeared to be a cheap plastic wand from the replicator.

"See that lake of Sperm?"

Talon nodded.

"It's your job to clean it up; as we can't stick around, because we have to go
to the Gnome meeting in Sector 202AB."

"We Shall fullfill it to the best of our ability! SIR!" shouted Talon in a voice that
made Riker wince, even through the suit.

"Good. Riker to Enterprise, Five to beam up."

As Riker and the other away team members beamed up, several heavy crates appeared
in their place, and Talon opened them; finding the clean up kit proscribed by Starfleet
for such cleanups.

Inside, he found several hand phasers, hoses, buckets, and lots of antibiotics. There
were several dozen MREs and field shelters in one of the crates, along with a few wet/dry
vacs with built-in distengrators along with stand-alone heater units.

Obviously, the phasers were to heat the rocks, the hoses were to suck the cum up
and deposit them into the buckets, and the antibiotics were to clean your mouth out afterwards, and the wet/dry vac with the distengrator was to deal with your bodily
wastes.

As he handed out the phasers to his team members, one of them, Ensign John Clark,
accidentially fired the phaser and distengrated himself. Damn it, why did this always
happen on average of once a mission?

Several hours later, as the Enterprise-E sped away from Oberon VI, leaving behind a continent
steaming hot, with no living life on it to protect the Oberons from cultural contamination, the
sperm that they had tractored from the planet's surface slowly solidified into an icy ball of
cum, and slowly began to drift away into deep space.

[Two Thousand Years later, the year 4325]

The massive engine of destruction churned through space. It had finally reached
it's destination after thousands of years in cold transit between galaxies.

This new leviathan had devastated it's home galaxy, being a thousand times
more powerful than it's predecessor, which had been stopped so easily by
a man called James T Kirk.

This new galaxy, which it's inhabitants called the Milky Way, would stand
no chance against it...

The frozen cum ball, battered and pitted after two millena in deep space, sailed
down the maw of the Super-Doomsday Machine.

Moments later, the massive machine, which had devastated countless worlds,
withstood untold gigatons of firepower, and travelled across deep space
for millena, choked to death on the cumball and died.

[Singular Quartet]

That is easily the worst fate for any thing in existance.

[Kuja]

I can't imagine a more terrible end.

[MKSheppard]

I can't imagine a more terrible end.

Section M of the Hazard Team spending the next 50 years sucking that
sperm out with hoses? *Suck suck suck, SPIT* or the Super Doomsday
Machine choking to death on the icy ball of cum?

[Kuja]

Section M of the Hazard Team spending the next 50 years sucking that sperm out with hoses? *Suck suck suck, SPIT* or the Super Doomsday Machine choking to death on the icy ball of cum?

The second one. Section M deserves what they get.

[MKSheppard]

The second one. Section M deserves what they get.

heheheh

Heheheh you're supposed to use the phasers to protect yourself, attacch
the hoses to the wet/dry vac with the distengrator built in, and use that
to get rid of the cum, and use portable heating units to keep you warm.

But that would be too complicated for Ensign Talon

[Typhonis 1]

The second one. Section M deserves what they get.

heheheh

Heheheh you're supposed to use the phasers to protect yourself, attacch
the hoses to the wet/dry vac with the distengrator built in, and use that
to get rid of the cum, and use portable heating units to keep you warm.

But that would be too complicated for Ensign Talon

_______________________________________________________________________

And here I thought Riker would blast the areas with phototorps as he left

[Crayz9000]

Heheheh you're supposed to use the phasers to protect yourself, attacch
the hoses to the wet/dry vac with the distengrator built in, and use that
to get rid of the cum, and use portable heating units to keep you warm.

That still leaves the question of the buckets.

[Sea Skimmer]

Well that was disgusting

[LT.Hit-Man]

*read the fic over along with the new chapters*
Now this is enteranment at it's finest

[Falkenhorst]

Dum da da dummmmmmmmmm.......


Dum da da dummmmmmmmmm.......


Just when you thought you had gotten your sanity back after reading chapter 12 back around HALLOWEEN, just when you thought the madness was over since shep took off, I HAVE COME TO RUIN YOUR ILLUSIONS, MOFOS!!!

The UPF is back in FULL EFFECT with Chapter 13!


Chapter 13

Tom Riker stepped out of his modified Delta Flyer class shuttle and pressed the red ARM button on his keychain remote. His bosses Sheppard and Falkenhorst had contracted a black market arms dealer to soup up the ship once they had jacked it from the Starfleet Factory where the Delta Flyers had gone into production after the return of the USS Voyager.

The vessel hummed and there was a crackling in the air as the special anti-theft devices engaged, electrifying the hull like a giant bug zapper that could burn a man to ashes in a fraction of a second. Riker walked across the massive landing bay, carrying his travel case.

His intel report had told him all about this place, known as Babylon 5. A giant space station shaped like a Klingon dildo, it was home to roughly a quarter million people, a large percentage of whom were the dregs of society, along with every variety of criminal, arms dealers, drug peddlers and other scum.

Security Chief Michael Garibaldi stood watching the customs area for the man he was supposed to meet. His comlink beeped.

"Yeah?"

"Boss, it's me. The Narns say they have the goods. The deal is going down."

"Good. And remember, Larson, if anything happens to that buy money, I'll put your head up your ass faster than Rabbits fuck."

"Yeah boss." and the flunkie closed the channel.

Coming down the ramp, he spotted a man who fit the description of the guy he was looking for. Turning so nobody could see him, Garibaldi snorted a quick hit of coke and wiping his nose, walked towards the gate.

Riker was mildly annoyed as the guard ran a scanner baton over his suitcase, and it started beeping.

"Sir, I'll have to ask to see your baggage."

"Why?"

"Just open the case." said the guard.

"What, you looking for guns, little man? Here's some guns." Riker swept open his trenchcoat, revealing dozens of automatic weapons and throwing knives and other destructive toys.

"HOLY SHIT!" choked out the guard. Just as he was about to sound the security alarm, Garibaldi came up.

"Relax, Freddy. This guy's OK. Orders from Captain Sheridan." which of course was pure bullshit, but the guard didn't need to know that.

"Come with me, Mr. Riker. I’ll show you to your guest suite." said Garibaldi, ushering the new arrival towards the elevator.


"URRRRRNNNNNGHHHHH YES YES YES HARDER HARDER!!!!"

Commander Ivanova's quarters rang with grunts and cries and the squeaking of much abused bed springs. Commander Susan Ivanova was in a very compromising position, but she was still exercising her customary iron authority over the muscular Narn who was fucking her doggy style. His chain necklace, the Narn equivalent of a crucifix, jangled and swung back and forth as he pounded into her with his monstrous ridged cock.

Ivanova hadn't really liked aliens at first, but as she had become more and more jaded and experienced, fucking her usual squad of human studs every night had grown boring. Another reason, and one she didn't like to dwell on, was that all her constant fucking had really stretched out her cunt. Her voracious sexual desires had actually grown stronger, however, and so she found herself gripping the headboard as the huge Narn squished her tits in his powerful hands and stiffened, pumping several pints of flourescent red Narn jizz into her.

Seeing as she had already fucked 3 of the Narn's friends that night, her bed and some of the furniture looked like the a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

In the next room, Ambassador G'Kar and some other Narns were sitting around a table, playing cards and smoking expensive cigars. These were a handful of the most powerful figures in the Narn criminal underworld. Ambassador G'Kar had invited them to see the sights and taste the drugs and women of B5, and so far they were enjoying their stay. They were interrupted by Ivanova yelling from the bedroom.

"Hey, one of you fucks get in here! I'm high and dry!"

The Narns laughed among themselves and G'Kar stood up.

"Well fellows, you'll be meeting with those humans in a few minutes here, so I think I'll take my turn." With that he excused himself and hurried towards the bedroom. The other Narns at the table laughed among themselves. G'Kar was known to like banging human girls, maybe even more than Narn females.

Soon, there was a knock at the door, and two shady looking human thugs were let in. The Narn crime bosses quickly cut to the chase.

"Have you got the money?" asked one.

"Have you got the goods? Replied one of the humans.

A Narn patted a thick travel case sitting on a bureau nearby.

"Okay, so give us the goods and you get the money."

"Let's see the money first, said one of the Narns.

"Open that case."

None of the Narns moved.

"Come on you polkadot head fucks, either produce some fuckin goods or we walk out of here right now!"

The Narns smiled and glanced at each other and reached as one into their expensive suit coats and pulled out a variety of energy pistols and other lethal weapons like disruptors and burners and even a plasma cannon. The two human flunkies froze, knowing they were now definitely fucked. They had heard of these Narn mobsters, stone killers and expert gunslingers all of them, and it was no surprise that they had got the drop on them.

"Here's how this works, joo-mon, you give us that cash and we give you a little lesson in fucking manners!" said the oldest of the criminals, motioning 2 of the others to drag one of the men into Ivanova's bathroom. They quickly relieved the men of their guns and complied as the Narn crimelord opened the travelling case and pulled out a chainsaw.

The first human watched in growing terror as his companion was chained up to the shower bar. The Narns held him against the wall and forced him to watch. The big Narn flipped a switch on the chainsaw and pulled the cord, adjusted the choke and pulled again. The saw roared to life, filling the small cubicle with metallic roaring and oily smoke, drowning out Ivanova's cries of orgasmic release.

NO NO NO!! babbled the first human as the Narn smiled and revved the saw, slowly slicing into one of the second guy's legs. Screams filled the small room, mixing with the roar of the chainsaw to create a hellish crescendo of sound. Blood splattered everywhere, drenching Ivanova's box of sex toys in the corner, the cowering human who was pissing his pants, and ruining the Narn gangsters' designer suits.

G'Kar poked his head in to see what the noise was, and got an eyeful of gore. He muttered a curse and grabbed a clean roll of toilet paper and got back out before he got sprayed with more blood, and wiped his face and then started cleaning up his nether regions. When he walked back into the bedroom, Ivanova looked at him over her glass crack pipe as she took a deep drag, held and then exhaled.

"What the fuck's goin on in my bathroom, are they raping that guy?"

"No you dumb human cunt, they just sliced his ass off with a chainsaw." muttered G'Kar in genuine exasperation.

"Cool, slurred Ivanova as she smoked herself into a drugged stupor.



Zack Allan leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the surveillance console and smiled. Ever since Garibaldi had gone back to his former routine of cheap sluts, booze, drugs and petty crime, he had been running security on B5. Not officially of course, but in practice. Captain Sheridan had turned out to be an all purpose fuckoff, but he was charismatic and somewhat competent when he wasn't too busy skimming off the top and chasing that hot Minbari piece of ass around the station.

At least Sheridan wasn't a Catholic like the previous CO of B5, Commander Sinclair. He had been raised by Jesuits. Garibaldi had once told Zack (in a moment of drunken honesty) about how Sinclair had been a Priest for awhile, but he was defrocked because he was busted in a prostitution sting for running a gay brothel in his rectory.

Zack smiled evilly as one of the young Earth Alliance crew-women on his surveillance monitors stepped out of her shower and began toweling herself off. That was one of the perks of running security here. He had paid big money out of his gambling percentages to have a respected Security Corporation from the Centauri Republic come and install these surveillance cameras all throughout the station. Zack had a lot of former intelligence agents and a few dozen skilled technicians on his clandestine staff, and they were always at work sifting out the good footage from the security tapes and splicing it into numerous porno movies which were then exported through the black market and human and alien Mafias for sale throughout known space.

Along with his burgeoning porno business, Zack was also collecting protection money from virtually all the unorganized freelance criminals on the station, and he had worked out agreements with the major organized crime syndicates whereby he received a percentage of the profit from their criminal activities on his station.

Just then, the buzzer on the door went off.

“Enter!” said Zach, moving some papers on his desk to cover the Drazi needlegun he always kept nearby. The door opened, and Garibaldi came in.

“What is it?” asked Zach, noticing the heavy stench of whiskey wafting off the balding security chief.

“He’s here. Just so you know.” Said Garibaldi.

“Good. I’ll page him to come see me tomorrow morning.” Said Zach. “Now go take a fucking shower, for Christ’s sake.”


Tom Riker was walking through the gardens, admiring the massive structure of the interior of Babylon 5. He turned a corner and nearly bumped into a well dressed man of dark hair and medium stature. Riker reflexively reached for his massive .50 caliber hunting revolver in his jacket, but he backed down when he saw that this man was non threatening, maybe a businessman.

“Hi, I’m Tom Riker. Visiting the station.” He said.

The man regarded him for a moment, and then smiled slyly. Riker knew his type. Definitely a businessman. He could almost see the gears going round and round in his head. The man extended a hand.

“My name is Mr. Morden.”

Riker shook Morden’s hand.

“What do you want, Mr. Riker?” Asked Morden.

[Darth Fanboy]

HAHA! no one is safe!

[Sea Skimmer]

Very fucked up.

[darthdavid]

Superbley demented, as usual.

[Vertigo1]

This is by far the most insane fanfic I have ever read. EVER! That one chapter with the Enterprise crew shitting up a storm had me literally laughing out loud. Troi is one evil bitch. No wonder Marina Sirtis was perfect for voicing "Demona".

[Myrmidon]

Truly a masterpiece.

[The Yosemite Bear]

can't wait until my contribution gets added in, then again, my good friends don't kill me.

[MKSheppard]

somebody's been reading UPF:

Retarded schoolgirl allegedly pimped out

Boston Herald | Submitted by: Reid Fleming

"Brockton authorities have uncovered a disturbing junior high hooker ring in which a mildly retarded 13-year-old girl allegedly was pimped out by her best friend for as little as $5... The eighth-grader, a developmentally delayed foster child, allegedly has been performing sex acts on junior high and high school students behind a bank and a supermarket, some of which may have been caught on surveillance videos. The girl's best friend, who is also an eighth-grade girl, allegedly set up the trysts, charging between $5 and $30, and pocketed all of the money, according to a source."

Let this be a reminder, that while UPF might be insane and fucked up,
it's not far from the truth. For all we know, Bashir MIGHT really have
been running a secret Trill porno ring on DS9

[Sea Skimmer]

What the shit?

[darthdavid]

I thought there was more fic...

[Falkenhorst]

bahahahhah, just like a crackhead, your ears perk up at the mere mention of UPF, ahhahahahahah