by A V Kern
The Orb of Innocence wasn’t an orb at all, but rather a pink-colored sculpture of what looked like an adult human butt. It radiated a pink aura that soared into the sky and created the shimmering shield all around us. I poked and prodded at it for a few moments, trying to figure out how to turn it off, but couldn’t make any headway. Then I heard shouts from the corridor.
“…guards are dead? What do you mean the guards are dead? Dodger is going to have our heads…”
“They didn’t check in, sir!”
“Move fast! Go go go!”
“Oh shit,” I muttered. “Quick, quick, Bowie. Think. How do you turn off the Orb of Innocence?”
I quickly realized what I needed to do. Dropping my pants, I jerked off until I was stiff, stroking myself until I had my very own Rod of Penetration fixed between my legs that was more impressive in every way than the one I’d seen Roger Dodger batting around a few minutes prior. As I feverishly tugged, half a dozen armed guards ran into the room and leveled their rifles at me.
“There he is! Get him! Kill the intruder!”
But they were too late. I slammed my stiff cock between the soft buttcheeks of the Orb of Innocence and plowed into it, sinking deep inside with a satisfied groan. Instantly the field dropped all around me, torn apart from the inside, just a second before the guards opened fire and blew my avatar away with green laser blasts. It didn’t matter if Dick Boring died, though, since I’d completed what I’d come to do.
At the post-death Danger Zone screen, I jacked out, flung the spiny attachment at the floor, and sprinted out of the Family Unit as fast as my legs could carry me, praying that Roger Dodger wouldn’t spot me since he was probably the only one who might know me IRL. Everyone moved out of the way of my waving pistol fast, and by the time I reached reception, I’d tucked it away and was sprinting back toward W33b’s pad so quickly that I barely heard the receptionist call after me: “Mr. Laffer? Mr. Laffer, sir! We’ve been looking for you! Where are you going sir? Sir?”
Chapter 8
The battle between Operation Player Fun and the FU Troopers was in full swing by the time I’d gotten back to W33b’s place and jacked myself back into the familiar second skin of my ample-breasted femme fatale avatar. I raced onto the battlefield of Planet Aecheffay, arm cannon blazing under the harsh blue light of the M’lady Moon as Castle Ass-Burger rose up imposingly beyond the pitched, free-for-all-struggle, to join my brethren and sistren in their struggle for ultimate freedom. While lasers flashed and guns banged on both sides of the battlefield with all of the clamoring insanity of a Hunger Games-esque plunkbat match, I saw that plenty of unconventional weapons were in use on both sides as well.
Missile batteries fired real-world inspired missiles into the crowds of Player Fun as black-clad troopers carved their way through our ranks with expensive red laser swords, liquid metal killing machine robots, xenomorph pets, DE-209s, and tiny laughing dolls stabbing with knives. But we had plenty of weird shit on our side too! Blue laser swords, which were more courageous and dangerous by nature due to the way blueshift works, magical liopleurodons, regular liopleurodons, and classically-inspired avatars from every 80s pop culture reference under the sun: soldiers and plumbers and battlecats and mutant reptiles, robots and aliens and battle frogs, bikini-clad princesses of power and pink-spangled rockstars riding pastel-colored ponies with thoroughly brushed manes and colorful bears bearing bared symbols blasting blistering beams of light into their enemies as they balefully stared, with care.
I spotted my friends and enemies leading each faction on the battlefield. Sherman cruised around in a battered DeLorean coated with a thick layer of nerd spooge, firing intense bursts of bullets from his hood-mounted gatling cannon, and when he finally smashed it into LisaFrank90210’s giant pouncing rainbow-kitten bot, destroying both of them, he pulled an even thicker spooge-covered black car with batwing-shaped tailfins out of his pocket and leapt into it to rejoin the fray, while Lisa called on her flying DolphinBot to soar around and engage in aerial combat. W33b did battle in his avatar’s Sakura-inspired giant robot with a single-edged greatsword twice the size that the bot was, and Ap0ll0 roared overhead in his Viper craft, taking pot shots wherever he could find an opening. There was even a rampaging alot, freshly released from its ball, that was made up of twisting, fucking, writhing bodies that oozed with fluids of various colors and viscosities, and I made a mental note to hear all about Sherman’s adventure with W33b in the smut mines once we were done with all this.
I had never been more proud of my comrades in arms than I was at that moment. The cunter army was magnificent. They’d already pushed deep into the FU Troopers’ lines, despite being significantly outgeared, and they fought with the passion of people who believed deeply in their cause, even though dying in a Danger Zone meant losing everything they’d worked for. Freedom was worth it. We might still break through in time to get me or Ap0ll0 to the inner gate, and I was glad he was safe in his Viper instead of down on the battlefield where a stray laser might take out one of the only two people on our side who could solve the final puzzle and claim the O-Face before the FU Troopers. As for me, my suit and reflexes would protect me from laser damage, so I fragged and frakked with impunity. For a short time it looked like we were going to win, but then, Roger Dodger appeared with a roar on their side of the battlefield in his very own avatar: A boring business bro with all the self-expression of a black suit and tie, predictably named Roger Dodger.
“How dare you!” he screamed, his gear-amplified voice booming over the battlefield. “How dare you break into my very own facility to desecrate the last bastion of decency! I’ll kill you all for this! I’ll see you gelded! Prepare to die, you bloody cunters!”
As a sea of upraised middle fingers assaulted him, he pulled out one of the most expensive, impressive, and feared vehicles in the O-Face… more impressive than a Megazord or a Gundam, even, cooler than a giant lizard or a mechanized ape, more powerful and more insidious than any other weapon of destruction, mass or singular: He stepped into a three story-tall censor-bot, wielding a giant metal banhammer in his right hand. I gasped. It must have cost a fortune. Anyone the banhammer touched would have their account bounced from the O-Face for at least a week, and much longer if it landed squarely. I hadn’t even known players could use censor-bots—the only one I knew of had belonged to Shaw’s early co-creator of the O-Face Oggles McGiggle, and he’d only used it to smite annoying trolls. Dodger must have paid off someone very powerful to get his hands on one.
Now he waded into our diverse sea of war-minded avatars, swinging the hammer freely in wide arcs and spraying 451-degree Fahrenheit flame jets from his upraised offhand. Whenever he opened his mouth, a keening, sonic profanity-bleep blared so loudly as to cut out all conversation, and many of the Player Fun operatives covered their ears in pain as they fell beneath the might of his banhammer. It was so sad to see such a powerful tool wielded like this—indiscriminately against ideological foes instead of only to slay bad faith trolls derailing good and free discussions.
I knew what I had to do. There was no way to defeat the banhammer in head to head combat. It was simply too powerful, no matter how valiantly we fought back. I would have to use my most valuable and powerful artifact, that I’d held in reserve for just such an occasion. “To me, Operation Player Fun!” I screamed. Roger Dodger advanced in his robot suit as my troops fell back, surging toward my location, and I activated the most holy one-use relic I had, more sacred than any other in the fight against tyranny: “Activate Cloak of Anonymity!” I shouted, casting the cloak above me with a target of all players in our faction. Instantly it spread out across all of our troops, cloaking each of them and wrapping them in a gorilla suit while also multiplying each of the gorilla soldiers many times over, creating full-size solid replicas of them that identified only as “sock-puppet” and moved of their own volition to engage with the enemy, but which fell away into dust as soon as they were struck. “Time for some GORILLA WARFARE!” I
roared. “ATTACK!”
The faceless, nameless, endlessly-magnified warriors of Operation Player Fun swarmed over the FU Troopers and the censor-bot alike in their gorilla suits, joined by their sock-puppet doubles, four to six extra empty targets for every soldier, blasting and stabbing and crushing and prodding, wearing down Roger Dodger and his cronies with attacks from all sides, leaving them unsure of where to strike and hitting empty suits with 80% of their blows as their own health was whittled away bit by bit. Even the censor-bot was overwhelmed, brought to its knees by a swarm of angry gorillas, and as the crashing fight-bot fell I saw Roger Dodger eject from the pilot seat and fly toward Castle Ass-Burger in an escape drone.
I radioed Ap0ll0 on my commlink and asked for a pickup, and he swooped in and snagged me in the Viper. I radioed again, telling W33b and Sherman to lead the resistance to victory as Ap0ll0 and I struck at the heart of the now defenseless castle.
“Thanks for the pickup, babe,” I muttered as I settled back into the passenger seat, and Ap0ll0 glanced back with a wry smile.
“I’m your babe now, huh? Looks like you’re the babe at the moment, babe.”
“Shut up and fly,” I ordered. Ap0ll0 did.
The Viper flew quickly, streaking over the remnants of the shattered Family Unit army and the cheering, raging gorilla-cunters alike, and carrying us to the very heart of Castle Ass-Burger, where Roger Dodger’s dildo claimants worked furiously to solve the puzzle before we arrived. The tri-pronged doors stood as I remembered them, proud and solid, with no apparent way to enter them. But Roger Dodger had figured it out with his troops.
“What do we do?” Ap0ll0 demanded.
“We have three dildos,” I replied. “The Bronze, Ruby, and Mithril. The prior doors had holes, but these ones don’t.”
“And they’re not just opening on their own for us.” He waved the group of dildos toward the doors to illustrate. They didn’t budge.
“It wouldn’t be that simple. It’s a puzzle, like all the others. What would Captain Minosexaur do? What would Bartleby Shaw have done with three dildos?”
His personal masturbation methods were one of the few things left shrouded in mystery by Shaw, and no one knew why. He had penned lengthy diatribes about how awesome it was to get fucked in the ass by minotaurs in his journals, but never once discussed his method for spanking the monkey, waxing his carrot, choking his bishop, caulking the cracks, or petting the one-eyed wonder weasel. I would know, having searched extensively for any hint of a reference.
“One in each hole?” suggested Ap0ll0, motioning toward his mouth and ass.
“No.” I slowly shook my head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. Shaw was a man, and he wouldn’t have made it so that only women could open the final door. No, Shaw had to have created a dildo puzzle that was open to any human. That’s one thing I admire deeply about the man. He was a hardcore humanist, even a transhumanist, who believes that everyone should have equal rights to do whatever they want to their bodies. He wouldn’t have locked this puzzle to—oh my. I know what we have to do, Ap0ll0. I see it now.”
I took a deep breath and handed him the three dildos.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” He gathered them like a fragile bouquet and looked inquisitively toward me.
“All of them. All three. In my ass. Now.” I dropped my pants and turned around, exposing Felicia McFly’s dainty pink hole to Ap0ll0.
“Felicia, are you sure?”
“Stop asking questions, you idiot! There’s no time. Jam them in my ass. Go go go!”
Ap0ll0 did. My eyes watered as all three unlubricated dildos jammed deep into my avatar’s ass, one after another, stretching me impossibly. I winced with pain and tears came to my eyes, but it was worth it for the O-Face.
“Your… turn…” I groaned.
“Wait, me too?”
“They won’t open unless we both do it, Ap0ll0! There’s no time to argue!”
His face paled, but he dutifully handed me his dildos and turned around to present his own bared, simulated man-ass. I held the three dildos firmly, and one by one shoved them deep inside of him as he groaned in pain. As the third dildo penetrated his firm, muscled behind, all of the dildos melted away in both of our asses and infused our body with a glowing, magical liquid that made us shimmer with ghostly light. We stumbled and gasped at one another in surprise.
“Ap0ll0, look!” I cried. “The doors!”
Amazingly, the doors had become translucent and silver to our new meta-dildo forms, and we rushed together hand in hand into the secret room of castle Ass-Burger where Shaw’s final portal awaited us. But before we could enter the final, glowing gate that would lead the way to Shaw’s last challenge, the avatar of Roger Dodger stepped out of the shadows, to cut us off. He barred the way to the final gate, with his sneering stare and his black-suited, barrel-shaped chest puffed out in front of him. He glowed with the same ghostly light that we did.
“You’ll never win, cunters,” he warned us. “The lewd, lascivious rabble can’t win in the end. You’re crude and offensive and gross. Rude, ill-mannered, and irreverent. You stand in the way of all that’s good and noble in the world!”
“I think you’re wrong about that, Dodger,” I shot back, my voice dripping with venom. “You might not like us, but it’s people like us who give the underdogs their voice! Who stand up for freedom even when we don’t like the flavor of it. We always win in the end. You can’t stomp us out. You can’t kill us. You can’t silence us. You can ban us, shout us down, censor us, and tell people that good, god-fearing Americans only listen to your particular, Corporate-approved, inoffensive brand of pabulum. But we’ll always be back, and we’re the heroes with a thousand and one faces, Roger Dodger. Men like you can never keep us down for long! We’re the wedge that stands in the way of tyranny when those too short-sighted to understand the horrible power of the tools they wield see their own creations turned on them. And the O-Face belongs to us. Not you. Never men like you.”
“Not today it doesn’t,” Roger growled quietly. He raised a glowing artifact before us, and my face paled. “I see you know what this is, Felicia. That’s right. The Brain-Fuggling Fuckalyst.”
Ap0ll0’s sudden intake of breath was sharp beside me. “It’s a myth.”
“I assure you it is no myth,” Roger Dodger said with an evil smile. “When I activate the Brain-Fuggling Fuckalyst, every player in this zone and every item in this zone will be destroyed by tiny fucking fugglers who fuck everyone into a state of such oblivion that their heads melt, killing them and destroying your entire army in one fell swoop.”
“You’re mad!” Ap0ll0 cried. “It will destroy your army too, and all of the items, and all of the dildos!”
Roger Dodger cackled. “You’re such utter fools. You think the army assembled here is the whole of what my wealth and power can present? In hours I could have another army of avatars just this size and just this well equipped camped outside of Castle Ass-Burger all over again. Already my backup troops are moving into position at each of the prior gates, taking up posts at the Tomb of Whores, Planet Zork-Reference, and at the Minotaur’s Labyrinth in Atlantis. You think that your army can acquire the three dildos all over again, from well-guarded and fortified positions, in the laughably weak low-level avatars you’ll be stuck with once I brain-fuggle you all into mush? I have endless resources! Endless power!”
My heart sank. He was right, soul-crushingly right, and it was agonizing to know that we’d come so far, pushed so hard, only to lose once more to the same old song and dance, that those with deep enough pockets win the day over those with skill and passion. I couldn’t allow it. If only I could do something, maybe hit him with my blaster before he activated it, while he was still delivering his villain soliloquy. I cautiously raised my gun-arm while he prattled on about rigging the stock market or whatever, took careful aim, and fired directly at Roger Dodger’s face.
His words died away as the energy blast melted around his head,
deflected by an invisible shield that apparently had created an egg-shaped defense perimeter around his body. He blinked in surprise, shook his head, frowned and tsked at me.
“As though such a simple trick could be my undoing. I’m afraid you’re doomed, Miss McFly. You don’t want to listen to my speech? Fine.” He raised the glowing Brain-Fuggler dramatically, and Ap0ll0 and I winced back.
Ap0ll0 took my hand in his, looked into my eyes, and smiled. “We did the best we could,” he murmured. “It’s everything Shaw would have asked of us.”
“And still not enough in the end,” Dodger said. “Good-Bye, Felicia.”
Roger Dodger’s hands smashed together, shattering the Brain-Fuggling Fuckalyst, and thousands upon thousands of tiny, hooded, naked men fell upon all who were present. They flowed like a wave of mature babies, or perhaps small nude dwarves, rolling over the crowd and sweeping all of us up with their tiny, grasping, thrusting insistence. Wherever they found an asshole or vulva, they jack-hammer fucked like mad, gaining speed with such rapidity that they melted the very bodies of the people they fucked to death. Roger was the first to die, and he fell weeping with laughter onto the ground, disappearing in a pile of writhing fugglers. Ap0ll0 too was carried away and also fucked to death as the tiny fugglers spread in a rapidly growing circle, decimating the battlefield and leaving none standing.
None, that is, except for me.
I stared in amazement at the fuggler clinging to my waist, thrusting in vain and slamming his tiny, stiff cock over and over again into unyielding steel of a protective plate that was locked in place over my nether regions and wincing with each shuddering impact as he found no purchase there.
“The Dark Queen’s chastity belt,” I murmured, staring wide-eyed at the uncomfortable metallic underwear wrapped lovingly around my pelvis. As soon as the Brain-Fuggling Fuckalyst had exploded, my chastity belt had automatically activated as a defense mechanism, protecting me against the brain-melting fuggling that everyone else had endured and which wiped the battlefield clean around me. It was a miracle. I couldn’t believe that the chastity belt had actually saved the day for me! I yanked the last, tiny fuggler off my waist, interrupting his frustrated thrusts, and blasted him in the face with my hand-cannon before stepping up to Shaw’s final, shimmering gate.