SFH3 Run #1818
: 04/24/2017
: End of Shield St
: Bloqueen
: Do Her Well

“Targets firmly locked, and cannons loaded, Cap’n,” Udder Moron relayed to Millimeter Peter. “Once we demolish his moon fortress, Blowqueen’s Aquavit stores will be fully available for… reallocation.”


“Mm,” Millimeter Peter studied the star maps carefully. “And we’ve fully covered the outer sector? What happened to the scouting group we saw in Quadrant Eight?”


“A group of innocent traders and a couple of families,” Zippercised slapped him on the back. “I inspected them myself, instructed Muff Daddy to take the standard toll, and sent them on their way.”


“Sir, there’s been an intergalactical protest lodged at the Federation,” Fuck Buddy read from her tablet. “Something about pissing in the children’s sand box, stealing their toys and candy, and then taking the ship for a joy ride around Io.”


“Well, you know ABBAA and Fucker,” Zippercised shrugged. “Wee Wee tried to stop them, but then Sleazy got into the cockpit and her hands were full. Look at it this way, we gave them an experience they’ll never forget.”


“As much as they’d want to…” Crabs muttered from the comms station.


“Do you see that?” Don’t Tell My Wife About the Big Cock Chains pointed out into the darkness ahead of them.


“Our systems have nothing,” Whorifist answered, scrolling through reams of data as rapidly as he could.


“I think I do…” Primal Vagina squinted. “Is that… the traders?”

“Impossible!” Zippercised pronounced, but before he could utter another word a strange cloud emerged from the nearing ship and overwhelmed them.


“Alarms!” Millimeter Peter reached for the control panel, but the gas had already somehow made its way through the ventilation systems.


As the smoke cleared, a figure emerged clad in mystical robes covered in symbols. Fuck Buddy coughed and blinked, but found she was unable to speak or gesture. The figure strode forth, touching Miss Delivery and Zippercised, and so awaking them from their slumber.


“My dear Zipper,” Miss Delivery blinked coyly at him. “What is it that makes you such a great Captain?”


“Well, Millimeter Peter is a fabulous co-captain,” Zippercised said, twirling a lock of his hair.


“You sell yourself short,” Miss Delivery cooed. “It’s my birthday, Captain, surely I deserve a special treat?”


“You know my first love is the Cubs,” Zippercised chided.


“But maybe you can let me in on your secret?” Miss Delivery prompted.


“If you must know, it’s my stunning locks of hair,” Zippercised answered.

“Let me massage those locks,” Miss Delivery offered, moving behind him. Slowly and quietly, he raised an electric clipper.


“No, no no!” It was the Dread Space Pirate Blowqueen. Fuck Buddy struggled to move to alert Zippercised, but to no avail. “I won’t have it, Brown Eye, it’s an archaic religion and half of them are waking up already.” He fiddled with some settings on the canister he was holding. “We have to do better with the hallucinations than this.”


A second cloud of smoke filled the room. 


“Ow!” Just Doesn’t Get It cried, rubbing his jaw. “Why’d you punch me?”


“I don’t know!” Backside Banger yelled. “I was frightened.”


“Do you think that smoke was bad for the baby?” Six Tits a Week asked. “We’re in our third trimester.”


“It would be bad, if you were the one carrying the child,” The Perfect Woman pointed out.


“The ship’s no longer on the radar,” Whorifist relayed, while Primal Vagina frantically boosted the ship’s shields.


“Engine room reporting no abnormalities,” Ru Ru Rimmin informed them.


“You’re missing your hair,” Douchicorn told Zippercised. “We could make a wig out of Just Oso if you want…”


“We have no time for this,” Zippercised cut him off. “We must proceed with the plan. Udder Moron—fire at will!”


With that they watched as their superior firepower demolished all traces of the moon base. Deadbeat gathered a small crew together to patrol, taking Got Wood and Dr. Bombardier down with him moon-side.


“Well?” Zippercised asked with bated breath.


“No signs of resistance,” Deadbeat announced through some static. “The Aquavit is ours!”


“Hoorah!” Good Shit cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. Bitch’s Bitch grabbed the nearest bitch he could find and hurried to the bunks, ignoring the fact that it was canine. Code For Penis fired up the grill, and they all proceeded to party the night away.




Roman Showers stared at the still form of Backside Banger, lying unmoving inside a cell with the rest of the ship’s crew. “This deal better be worth it,” she muttered under her breath.


“It will, it will!” Blowqueen came up beside her, Tears of Semen following closely. “A nice little house on planet Mars, lifetime supplies of Aquavit and lutfisk—what more could a man ask for? He’ll be worshipping you for years.”


“And remember,” Backwash said warningly. “We could have done none of this without your interference on their computer systems. Deploying the hallucinatory gas would have been impossible without an inside woman. So be wary of crossing us now, for if you do, you will have no friends at all.”


“When will they wake up?” Twerxes Like Xerxes asked the three figures in biohazard suits beside her. “And is that stuff dangerous?”

“Two hours,” Reverse Schoolgirl answered without looking up.


“And no,” Little Sissy Pants Hasher Boy added. “We’re just working on our Bay 2 Blackout costumes.


“Best that you be outside before then,” Cool Handjob Luke warned the group, testing the lock on the cell door. “There are still some side effects to be worked out of their systems…”


One of the sleeping figures moaned sensuously, while another started sneezing uncontrollably. A third was rapidly turning purple and swelling like a balloon.



Blowqueen gulped, and made fast tracks towards the door. “Call me when it’s over,” he instructed, going to enjoy his evening reindeer meatball.