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Competition Get your Wasteland #1 keys here! Short Story Competition

Discussion in 'RPG Codex News & Content Comments' started by DarkUnderlord, Nov 12, 2013.

  1. DarkUnderlord Bringing that old Raptor magic.

    DarkUnderlord
    Joined:
    Jun 18, 2002
    Messages:
    25,075
    Tags: Codex Statue in Wasteland 2; Kickstarter; Wasteland

    InXile are handing out Wasteland keys (to the original 1989 classic) like it's Christmas. So many, that we can now promise everyone in the top #50 who donated to our Wasteland #2 statue drive can have their choice of GOG or Steam key. If you don't want yours, let us know and we'll sell it on the black market or something. Otherwise let us know your preference and we'll hand your key over.

    For those who aren't in the top #50 didn't donate - and would like a chance to score their own original Wasteland key, we're having a short story competition!

    Simply write a short story that fits one of the below themes and if the judges think your entry is worth it, you can have your choice of GOG or Steam key (depending on what we've got left).

    Available themes are:
    1. That Terrible Day: Why was Menckenstein banned?
    2. Why Jaesun is a shitty mod and should be demoted.
    3. Crooked Bee: This is your life!
    4. Trash - Strident Superhero or Supremely Butthurt?
    5. Why idonthavetimeforthiscrap has so much time for this crap.
    6. A day in the life of DarkUnderlord.
    7. The birth of Infinitron.
    8. Crispy's™ Revenge.
    9. Something vaguely cRPG related.

    Submit your story by either posting in the comments associated with this thread or spamming it through the Contact Us form. Our judges will decide whether your entry is worthy of a key or not. Note: The judges for each category will be the person named in that category.

    We have fucking boat-loads of keys to give away so get writing!

    UPDATE: Thanks to the generosity of InXile, everyone who donated will now get a key.
     
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  2. Deuce Traveler Prestigious Gentleman 2012 Newfag Patron

    Deuce Traveler
    Joined:
    May 11, 2012
    Messages:
    2,621
    Location:
    United States
    Grab the Codex by the pussy Divinity: Original Sin Torment: Tides of Numenera Shadorwun: Hong Kong Pathfinder: Kingmaker Pathfinder: Kingmaker
    You totally missed an opportunity to do a The Day Roguey Met Sawyer story.... hmmm, then again it would likely be a slash fic.
     
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  3. Mastermind Arcane Patron Bethestard

    Mastermind
    Joined:
    Apr 15, 2010
    Messages:
    20,004
    Doctor Crispy and Mr. Chewy

    Crispy could barely open his eyes. The IV drip on his left was pumping him full of psychoactive drugs. Every cell in his body was screaming with pain. He wasn't sure how he got there, but he would never forget the humiliation. Dark Underlord standing over him like an infinite colossus, his dark visage reaching beyond the clouds, the look of sheer disappointment on his face. Crispy could remember falling from heaven, idonthavetimeforthiscrap cackling maniacally, the rest of rpgcodex's moderators and administrators looking down on him in various states of disgust, disappointment or boredom. They would suffer. They would all suffer...

    ***

    "Password please" requested a bored looking man. Crispy didn't say anything. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis and docked with the man.

    "ID confirmed, please step in."

    Crispy wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Having spent the last 6 weeks on drugs, raving like a lunatic, he wasn't too excited about intentionally turning over his life to his subconscious mind through the aid of drugs, but he simply didn't have the time for proper training. It was either a shortcut or dying a loser, Dark Underlord & Co. getting the better of him.

    "Come in, come in!" beckoned a wavering voice, derangement slithering right below the surface.

    "Prosper" says Crispy, followed by a brief nod. Crispy walks into Prosper's office.

    "Pizza?" asks Prosper, and points towards an empty pizza box.

    "No, I don't eat wheat. Doctor's orders. I'm here about IT."

    "Ahh yes, I believe you were looking for some sort of... male enhancement, was it?"

    Crispy glared.

    "No, I'm here about the recursive personality inducement drug."

    "My dear Crisper, you understand the consequences, right? If your conscious mind is not strong enough, the demons produced by forty years of failure will take over, permanently. You will lose yourself completely. This is a fate worse than death. You will face utter oblivion."

    "As long as there's no level scaling I think I can handle it" answered Crispy dryly.

    Prosper handed him the bottle. Crispy opened it. There was only one pill inside. Crispy swallowed it without a second thought.

    "Oh wait, wrong bottle. That's my gelatinous semen sample. Here, this should do."

    Crispy started choking.

    ***

    Crispy...

    The voices came rarely over the first few days. Crispy had begun to lose hope that Prosper's juju would have any effect. Then it hit him like a lightning bolt. A clone of Crispy appeared suddenly before him. Before Crispy could say another word the clone swept the legs right out of under him, and slowly crawled into Crispy through his mouth. Crispy was sure it was all a delusion but it felt all too real. What Crispy didn't realize at the time was that the first time he would wake up from the drug's effect his apartment would be surrounded by armed swat teams.

    ***

    "ugh..."

    Crispy took the moaning and grunting as indication to amplify the cadence and power of his thrusts.

    Crooked Bee could feel the whole house shaking around her, but she was too scared to do anything other than let out the odd gasp. She clung to her bedsheets maniacly and hoped somebody would drop in and save her from this nightmare.

    "Fuck yeah you fucking bitch, take my fucking dick you whore!" shouted Crispy.

    Crooked Bee screamed as the house collapsed around her. It would be three days before the cops would pull her body out from under the wreck.

    "Ugggh, fuck yeah..." uttered Crispy satisfied. He threw the ziplock bag he was masturbating into in the garbage and closed the Three Stooges retrospective he had been watching. The indicator on his remote detonator was beeping green. Crooked Bee had been the first Codex admin to go down and he figured the cops would be busy for at least a week before they linked the multiple sychronized explosions to his computer shop.

    ***
    "The future, huh?"

    "The future" said Crispy. "With this software package you'll receive automatic broadcasts of every major and minor videogame web site page update. You'll be able to post news items within nanoseconds of their appearing anywhere else. You think the brofists you're getting now are something? Wait 'till you use this. You'll get fisted so hard your ancestors going back ten generations will cum in their graves."

    "Hey thanks Crispy, you're a bro." answered Infinitron. "No hard feelings about that moderator position, huh? You know I had your back, but once Dark Underlord makes up his mind he's impossible to placate."

    Crispy smiled. Scalping Cloaked Figure and transplanting his hair had been a better idea than he could have imagined. Everybody was suddenly so trusting.

    "No hard feelings, bro" Crispy took out his dick to dock. Infinitron whipped out his dick too, for a split second forgetting his unchangeable condition...

    "Sorry bro" says Crispy, "I forgot."

    "It's ok." retorts Infinitron, look of utter dejection on his face.

    Crispy, of course, hadn't forgotten. The insult, he thought, was quite easy to mask as an accident. Much easier than throwing a penny on the floor to see if Infinitron would dash after it. The cruelty of the situation pleased Crispy. So did the two dozen imperial scorpions he had put in Infinitron's software package. It took HAZMAT a week of fumigation before killing them all.

    ***

    "Get me a tequila you fucking whore!"

    idonthavetimeforthiscrap was in a bad mood. First, all the power in his restaurant had mysteriously shut down. It took the power company 6 ours to realize it was a glitch in their system, and they had no idea how to fix it. According to them such a thing shouldn't even be possible. It must take a superhuman computer specialist to pull it off.

    "Bitch are you deaf? Get me a tequila before I break every bone in your fucking body!"

    "Sorry, coming!"

    idonthavetimeforthiscrap grabbed the glass of tequila and brought it to his landlord.

    "My friend Grunker is coming over. Do you think..."

    "No. I won't have any of your fucking friends coming over and ruining my carpet. Don't forget who's paying for this apartment."

    But it's my carpet. And I'm the one paying for this apartment... thought idonthavetimeforthiscrap

    The bell rang. idonthavetimeforthiscrap rushed to the door to open it and tell Grunker to leave before the infernal landlord caught wind of it. It turned out that he did, in fact, not have time for this crap as the door exploded, having been packed with enough C4 to level half the neighbourhood.

    ***

    "Schnell, schnell!" shouted the manic German firefighter. The KKKodex building, and a national landmark, having been Hitler's summer home, was burning intensely. On the lawn, a malnourished looking Australian was rocking back and forth, over and over and over.

    "Crispy... It had to be him..."

    "Who ze fuck are you?" asked the firefighter.

    "Ha ha.. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

    ***

    The police lights were giving Crispy's apartment an otherworldly look. Blooming, one might say.

    "It's a nice night, huh?" asked Crispy.

    "Mmmmmmm" responded Dark Underlord, ball gag in his mouth and tied to a chair.

    "I don't know how you escaped my fire, but you shouldn't have come looking for me. I'm not the man you once knew..." answered Crispy.

    "MMMMMMMMM" Dark Underlord started rocking the chair. Crispy kicks him in the stomach.

    "SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M THE SHERRIF HERE!"

    Crispy turned on the TV, hoping to get a view of the cops outside.

    "And now for unrelated news, the corpse of Doctor Prosper, world renowned pediatrician, was finally dredged out of the San Francisco bay. Experts at the scene believe he had been there for at least four months."

    Impossible, thought Crispy. He'd just talked to Prosper a week ago. Crispy never got to finish his thought, as a black gloved hand grabbed him from behind. Crispy blacked out.

    "Finally, you're awake."

    Crispy looked around. He was tied up and ball gagged, Dark Underlord next to him. In front of them stood a grim looking man.

    "MMMMMMM"

    The man rolled his eyes and removed the ball gag from Crispy and Dark Underlord's mouths.

    "Prosper?" asked Crispy, the effects of the drugs having worn off and his neanderthal strength and skills long dissipated...

    "No, I'm afraid not." answered the man.

    "That's... that's.... that's Dark Underlord" says the man tied next to Crispy.

    "What? I thought you were Dark Underlord!"

    Dark Underlord chuckled.

    "That's just Cleve. I use him as a decoy for situations like this."

    "You're Cleve? But you have no muscles! And you look like you're in your 20s!"

    Dark Underlord put the ball gag back into the other man's mouth before he could confirm.

    "What are you going to do to me?" asks Crispy.

    "Mah nigga, what do you think I'm going to do to you?"

    Dark Underlord began unzipping his pants. Three testicles dropped out.

    "Don't look at me like that, it's not like JarlFrank was using it. Come to think of it, you have something you're not using as well..."

    Crispy screamed.
     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  4. LundB Mistakes were made.

    LundB
    Joined:
    Jan 2, 2012
    Messages:
    4,160
    I suspect this is just a taste of what's to come.
     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  5. Haba Harbinger of Decline Patron

    Haba
    Joined:
    Dec 24, 2008
    Messages:
    1,868,604
    Location:
    Land of Rape & Honey ❤️
    Codex 2012 MCA Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2
    All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. No animals were hurt in the production.

    ADULTS ONLY
    Content suitable only for adults ages 18 and up. May include prolonged scenes of intense violence, graphic sexual content and/or gambling with real currency.


    Show Spoiler
    A Bee Crooked, a Life Warped

    "You are a miserable failure, Homo Sapiens. Try again?"

    The death screen of Grimoire Supermassive Extended Übermensch Trial Version glares at me angrily. I can relate to my late adventuring party. My hair is such a mess that I'd rather be dead too. Would be easier than dealing with this hissing nest of split end vipers. And worst of it all - I don't have anything to wear!

    I'm getting ready to interview the supremely famous game developer and Internet celebrity, Haba Knyllarman. My colleague JarlFrank was supposed to cover this case, but ever since his apartment mysteriously burned down... Well, he never was a stable person in the first place. So not only am I providing him with a place to stay, now I'm also taking care of his jobs! "Never say no to a friend in need" I mutter under my breath as I get back to dressing up.

    But I can't leave this room until my hair cooperates. Gosh! Maybe I should make it a bun. No, too formal. I want to look cute, but still be taken seriously. Maybe I'll just curl my hair with a straightener. I know it's risky because it runs hotter than my curling iron, but my curler is on the fritz and I can't afford a new one and pay for college tuition on a RPG magazine writer's salary. Twist-braid it is! First decision of the day complete. Good job, Bee!

    JarlFrank is huddled in a corner of the living room and whimpering miserably. Definitely too miserable to sit in an office for 20 minutes and ask a few questions.

    "Need anything from the store when I come back?" I asked earnestly.

    "...the legacy of the Reich... in ashes... just like all my ambitions"

    "Alright then, I'll be back in a few hours. Wish me luck!"

    "...why wasn't I born a woman, like you" he cries back.

    "Thanks, bye!" I said, superfluously.

    It was a rainy day, but what day isn't? At least the acid levels have been going down this week. The two-hour drive went briskly. I kept thinking about my eye brows the whole time. I've been having trouble with them lately because of an errant hair that curls down into my eye. I keep plucking it but it keeps coming back stronger and thicker, with a vengeance! I hope Haba doesn't notice. I wore my good jeans today. They make my butt look big. I hope he likes big butts.

    I don't know much about Haba because I don't use Google any more and JarlFrank didn't give me any notes. I heard he's handsome, but few people have seen him because he's so mysterious. A billionaire recluse who's a super hot philanthropic playboy? This I have to see.

    I could see a large black steel, glass and marble fortress piercing the skyline miles before I reached it. It was shaped like the Chrysler building, but with giant statues of naked women on top. It looked scary. Pull it together, Bee!

    The lobby was tastefully decorated, with lots of samurai swords, exotic taxidermied animals, suits of power armour and bottles of vodka everywhere. There was a roaring fire place with a giant portrait of Haba riding a jewish banker above the mantle. He's strangling Todd Howard with one arm and writing assembler code with the other. If Haba looked half as good in person as he does in this painting, I'm going to have a tough time concentrating on this interview! Paintings are intentionally made to obscure blemishes, so there's no way he could look this good in real life.

    "Ms. JarlFrank?" The perfectly manicured blonde secretary called my room-mate's name from behind her desk.

    "It's actually Ms. Bee, JarlFrank is my room-mate and I'm filling in for her. No him, I mean. He is a he, no matter what he says."

    "Okay..."

    "Yes, he has this thing with his sex. Sometimes he likes to wear my dresses and pretend that-"

    "Yes Ms. Bee, Mr. Knyllarman is ready to see you."

    I nervously collected my clipboard and tote from a large leather bench I'd set it on, and followed the secretary down a long marble hallway. The shelves were filled with mint copies of classic cRPG's. Many of them were so obscure that I'd never even heard of them.

    The sudden halt in front of me draw my eyes back to the secretary. Or the back of the secretary, to be specific. She was beautiful, but had a secretary ass to go with that secretary occupation; it was flat like a soggy pancake. It made me feel better about myself.

    "You there!" the secretary shouted with a prickly voice.

    A skinny tattooed man in a janitor's uniform was cleaning the shelves in front of us.

    "Ye-esh m'am?" answered the man, revealing a bald head and a girlish face.

    "What were you trying to do again? Don't you think I can't see the copy you have in your hand?"

    "I just thought I'd..." starts the man, before being cut off.

    "We've had this conversation before Sawyer! Mr. Knyllarman only wants true cRPG classics on those shelves. Throw that drivel back to the trash bin where it belongs and get back to cleaning!"

    As we storm past the janitor who is swallowing his sobs, I catch a glimpse of the letter "E" on the cover of the game box the man was trying to hide.

    Leaving the broken man behind, we arrived at a large steel door with tasteful brass rivets lining the frame. I pushed the door open and misjudged the weight, tripping over my feet and falling like so many romantic comedies. How embarrassing! I'm not only a clutz, but now I'm a cliché. I picked myself up and walked over to the desk where there was a large burgundy leather chair with its back turned to me.

    "Hello, I know you were expecting-" I was abruptly cut off

    "Sit down Ms. JarlFrank."

    "It's Bee actually, Crooked Bee. JF, I mean, Ms. JarlFrank couldn't make it... I'm filling in for her. Him."

    Haba swivelled his chair slowly around. He was turning at a painfully slow pace. If he was any slower, the chair's motion would be imperceptible to the naked eye. "Naked." Why am I thinking about naughty words? Get a hold of yourself Bee, you're an adult! And "naked" isn't a naughty word. What the heck is a naughty word anyway? I was getting ahead of myself.

    "Ms. Bee." Haba smirked with a ghost of a smile.

    "Mr. Knyllarman."

    "It's 'Patron."

    "Excuse me?"

    "It's Patron Knyllarman." I wish Jarl would have given me notes. I'd almost forgotten that he donated just over $3,000 to the Codex Server and Whores Fundraiser in 2013. How could I have been so foolish?

    Haba was startlingly beautiful. He was shirtless, wearing military-style black cargo pants and black leather boots. His pecks glistened like fresh glazed donuts made of pure muscle. Two mysterious dark eyes glanced at me from above his fashionably trimmed beard. Damn he was sexy. I think I was--dare I say it--feeling infatuated. He leaned forward to shake my hand, but not very far. I leaned forward beyond the half-way point on his desk, and still couldn't reach him. I expected him to lean forward more to meet me, but he didn't budge. So I scooted forward on the edge of my chair so that my butt was on the corner of the seat. Still not far enough. I kept leaning until finally I slid off the edge of the chair and collapsed on my heels. Oh no! I was finally in reach, but he pulled his hand away.

    "You failed the initiative roll." Haba said, unfazed.

    "I... um... brought some chocolates for you." While I tried to get up and collect myself, my eye caught a glimpse of Haba's package beneath the desk. Holy cow! He had a beautiful unit. I got flush with excitement. I hope he doesn't notice. I placed the chocolates on his desk.

    "I hope you like them."

    He picked the box up from the corners and looked over the ingredients, his beautiful brown eyes darting back and forth across the label.

    "Milk chocolate?" He said with a scowl.

    "Some of them have nuts in them." Nuts! There I go again. I need to get my mind out of the gutter!

    "Milk chocolate is a waste of time." He unceremoniously dropped it with a faint smack.

    He pressed a button behind his desk that emitted a loud buzzing noise. It startled me, causing me to jump in my seat. A hatch opened on the wall behind him that looked like a laundry chute. He grabbed the milk chocolate and threw it out the hatch. I watched as the box sailed down 22 stories, hitting a street lamp, and bursting open, sending the chocolates flying everywhere. A small, hunched man with a dust pan waddled from the building and swept up the mess. What a jerk! He could have simply said "thank you" and thrown them away afterwards if he didn't like them.

    "I'm a busy man, let's get on with this interview." And he's pushy too! I took out my tape recorder from my bag.

    "Is it all right if I record this conversation?" He rolled his eyes and looked extremely bored.

    "Is that a yes?" I continued.

    "Is that a yes?" He parroted back, in a mocking, whiny voice. I was beginning to not like him. Yet something about him was so alluring. The sex-appeal of his beard was palpable.

    "Okay, first question, after releasing ‘Decline’ and selling millions copies, what thoughts do you have for a future sequel? Have you considered exploring alternative combat modes over the turn-base--"

    Haba stood up slowly, pushing his large leather chair back with his legs, turned around, and slowly lifted one of his legs and rested it on his chair. My God, his ass was perfect. It was like someone molded it using a giant contact-lense case.

    "Do you like what you see, Bee?" He remembered my name! It sounded so sensual hearing it from him.

    "Yes, I do." What was I saying?! Jarl is going to kill me. I can't believe I just said that.

    "Do you want to grab my butt?"

    "Yes." Holy cow!

    "You didn't let me finish..." I was flush again and felt a tingling deep down in my jeans.

    "Do you want to grab my butt... with your mouth?"

    "Yes I do." I wanted to bite his butt so bad.

    He put his leg down and turned around. I could see a bulge in his pants. I was a raging storm of sluttiness. I didn't know what had come over me.

    "We um... should get on with this interview." Finally back on track.

    "Have you ever strangled a man, Ms. Bee?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

    "No. Why?"

    "I have. It's exhilarating."

    Clearly this was a man of adventure. My panties were uncomfortably moist.

    "Does this turn you on, Ms. Bee?"

    "Yes it does." Damn, lost control again!

    "There's a shower in the corner. Go wash yourself because you look unkempt." I was embarrassed, but he was right. I didn't get a chance to shower this morning and my clams were probably clammy.

    "Alright, as you wish, Patron Knyllarman."

    I stepped into an ornate glass shower, taking a moment to appreciate the huge golden relief of God Emperor Avellone in the corner of the room. I disrobed, turned on the water and started washing my big ol' titties. The water was warm instantly and felt nice. There was one bottle of shampoo and one bar of soap with thick, curly hairs jutting out from its surface. This was a man's shower. I quickly lathered my hair and face with shampoo when suddenly the water turned off. I reached around blindly for the faucet until my hands finally found it, but it didn't seem to work. I turned around, blindly fumbling for the door so I could grab a towel. I reached outside and mercifully found a towel on the rack so I could wash this soap out of my eyes.

    I patted my face just enough to open my eyes, only to find that the towel I was holding was actually a giant dong, and it was attached to Haba on the other end, who was by the door, staring angrily. I'm such a clutz!

    "I'm so sorry. The water stopped working!" I nervously blurted out.

    "Are you finished?"

    "I still have soap in my hair."

    "Go back in the shower," he ordered.

    I stepped back inside and waited patiently with my eyes closed. Suddenly a warm trickle of water streamed down my face. Finally! I vigorously started scrubbing my hair, washing the soap into all my pores. The water felt so good, I splashed it on my face and even in my mouth. After the soap was finally rinsed away, I opened my eyes to see that the water I was washing with was a stream of urine from Haba's dong hanging over the edge of the shower. What a gentleman!

    "Thank you for the golden shower!"

    I stepped outside and patted myself dry with Haba's penis. It was thicker than it was long, like a stubby loaf of French bread. And it smelled like bread too. It felt great against my skin.

    "Don't forget to dry out your cake hole." He was right, I almost forgot.

    I started patting my box with his meat log. It felt like heaven. The next thing I knew it got hard, like a petrified redwood.

    "Uh-oh, me sucky sucky." I don't know what came over me. I got on my knees and started shucking his junk like buttered corn at a county fair. I looked up and he seemed stoic, like a battle-hardened hero. Except the battle he was hardened by was my mouth. I couldn't wait for his soldiers to take my gorge. I hope he was enjoying it. I've never had this much meat in my gullet. It was like trying to eat a pastrami sandwich from a Jewish deli that only served in units of oil drums. Holy cow!

    "Are you enjoying it?" I asked eagerly.

    "Nah."

    "I'll try harder."

    I took off my jeans and panties. I felt self-conscious because I hadn't shaved in a few days. I had some-

    "Heads up!" Haba interrupted my inner-monologue just as his balls dropped on my head. Gosh, they were huge! My neck bent awkwardly from the pressure.

    "Wow, these are huge!" I took his testicles in my hands and started playing with them like a slinky, back and forth, back and forth. Suddenly Haba grabbed my arm. I looked up and he was shaking his head in disapproval. I nodded and knew what to do. I got on my back, spread my legs and started shoving one of his balls inside me. I felt like I was giving birth in reverse. It was like trying to sit on a spinning globe. I was so turned on, but there was no way I was getting this thing in me. I looked up.

    "My cock does not scale to your level, ms. Bee!" he answered with a stern voice.

    And then it began.

    With his ramrod thrusting deep into my wunder down under, the sensation of his vein cane smashing my cervix made me quake like a shitting dog. Leaving my panties sunny side up on the floor was the least of my worries as his tallywacker plunged deeper into my vintage golf bag. With my spam castanets now much like a darts team's goalkeeper, he thought it was time to start plunging my black hole. Is now the time to tell him I really need to drop a footlong fudge bullet, I wondered?

    After having my ladytown slammed, he then proceeded to slam my brown eye. With my fishy flaps now much like Pete Burns' lips, he thought it was time to start shoving my rusty sheriff's badge. The hammering of my brown mile was so vigorous, he soon found his family jewels joining his spunk-filled spam rocket deep in my poo pipe. Within no time, I could feel the shitty love mayonnaise slobbering from my rusty bullet hole and all over my open-faced ham sandwich.

    The unrelenting orgasms from his purple beaver buster pounding my bearded haddock pasty made me come so hard, I began sweating like a fat slag in a disco. Now, I've seen more pricks than a second hand dartboard, but the sight of his giggle stick made my shrimp sap dribble like Augustus Gloop at Willy Wonka's chocolate river.

    "Clean this up" he ordered, looking mildly bored.

    I hesitantly grabbed his majestic man-scepter using both of my hands and guided it into my mouth. Suddenly he was face-fucking me with the speed of a crazed drill-hammer. The high speed humping made me black out and as I come to it I was choking on excess amounts of bullmilk shooting down my throat.

    My mouth was so full of throbbing quim dagger and Da Vinci load, the gentleman's relish was foaming down my chin and onto my mosquito bites. The seemingly never-ending streams of penis pudding emanating from his jebend soon had me coated like a plasterer's radio. After struggling to swallow what seemed like a few litres of spunk I coughed my voice free and turned back to him.

    "More?" His silence was deafening. I had to try harder. I reached down and grabbed his ball-skin and yanked on it like it was one of those floppy-skinned Chinese Shar-Pei pugs. I pulled and pulled, feeling his nut crest my bristly taco. I was exhausted.

    "More?" Still silence. How much more could I take? I was enjoying every second of it, but knew I'd hit my limit soon. I tried to attack it from a different angle by climbing on top of it like a yoga ball. I grabbed my toes and stretched my legs like a gymnast; Nikki Childs would be proud. I started rocking back and forth, hoping to fit in a few more centimetres of his girth. No luck. Think Bee, think! Then it came to me: I could use the weight of something heavy to push myself onto his testicle!

    I grabbed the largest thing I could find, which was Haba's penis. Then I started bludgeoning myself over the head with it. I felt my vagina start to tear a little. It was working! I kept hammering myself harder and harder in the face. My eyes started to swell but my lady bits felt tingly. It was pure ecstasy. I could feel my hip bones start to buckle under the pressure of each throbbing thump. His testicle was about half way into my pink-lip deli. Almost there, Bee!

    Finally on the verge of complete exhaustion, I lifted his boner high in the air, balancing it on the tips of my fingers, then let go, leaving it in free-fall towards my face. I couldn't help but smile as the world slowed down around me. I felt like the first time I rode a roller coaster, holding my arms out to my sides and feeling the breeze, except it was the breeze of air evacuating between my face and his dick. Then the oddest thing happened: I had a flashback to the first time my father taught me how to ride a tricycle. I was wearing a floral dress and he khaki pants and a blue shirt because he'd just gotten home from work. He gave me a push down the empty cul-de-sac I grew up in. Then I saw myself when I was 12, at unwrapping my copy of Wizardry 6. And just as quickly as that memory faded, the next one came: the day I received my admin rights on RPGCodex. I was so excited. Why was I having all these memories?

    I dazed off for the briefest moment and then snapped out of it, remembering I was in Haba's office with a giant penis about to hit my head. Then it hit me: my life was flashing before my eyes! Then it hit me, his dick, that is. It hit my head with such force that a shock wave entered my body starting from my temple, traveling down through my neck, chest, stomach and cooch, then back up in reverse order. I started to come hard, gushing everywhere. Suddenly there was a loud crack and a tearing noise. My hips broke and my vagina split into two, tearing me apart all the way to my stomach, like a c-section gone wrong. Except the tear didn't stop! Like an earthquake fissure, it kept ripping through me all the way to my neck, splitting me apart like an extension cord split down the middle. I could see my body and intestines laying on his testicle like a deflated balloon.

    "Oh God, that was amazing!" I couldn't wait to post the story on Codex News, Infinitron will be so jealous! Haba didn't respond.

    "Haba?" Nothing. "Is something wrong?"

    I still had control over one of my arms, so I grabbed his muscled calf and shook it. I heard a snoring noise and realized what had happened: Haba had fallen asleep with his eyes open, that lug! He finally snapped out of it.

    "I want to kiss you, but my body is destroyed. Will you lean over to kiss me?" I asked desperately.

    "No." He said unequivocally.

    Oh well, totally worth it.
     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  6. evdk comrade troglodyte :M Patron

    evdk
    Joined:
    Mar 31, 2004
    Messages:
    11,256
    Location:
    Corona regni Bohemiae
    Codex 2012 Serpent in the Staglands Dead State Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2 A Beautifully Desolate Campaign
    In the public interest I am preserving here the original post for posterity.
    [​IMG]

    You know what to do.
     
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  7. LundB Mistakes were made.

    LundB
    Joined:
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    Messages:
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    You motherfucker. I deleted that because I realised my genuine request would be like a red flag to a bull. Here I was hoping I'd be able to get through this without having to read about myself balls-deep in another moderator or vice-versa, and you do that. Watch yourself evdk, I'd hate to see you trip and fall down the stairs while holding your computer, accidentally deleting all your posts and banning yourself from the dex.
     
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  8. RK47 collides like two planets pulled by gravity Patron

    RK47
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Not Here
    Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
    "LundB, don't struggle. It will only make it worse."
    "No, bro. Anything but that." LundB moans.
    "It's irreversible. The gender transformation is permanent. Ku ku ku, you've also lost your alpha strength. And now I'm the man, and you're the woman."
    "No plz"
    'Ku ku ku, please beg more. I like it when my victims struggle. Now look into my evil eye and obey, white one."
    "No..ahn...my body's numb."
    "Once I defile your body, and marry you - all your money and estate will be under my name. And your last estate will be in a trunk of an old Cadillac in the somewhere at the bottom of the Yellow River. Xie xie, wo de ai ren!"

    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]
     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  9. Gregz Arcane

    Gregz
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    Haba all past sins are forgiven, you are truly a God among men. That's the funniest shit I've read on the Codex in a long time.

    :hero:

    Edit: Hopefully Bee has a sense of humor and doesn't take it personal, that was Codexian poetry of the highest order *wipes tear*
     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  10. thesoup Arcane

    thesoup
    Joined:
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    This is an Austrian you're talking about.
     
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  11. Haba Harbinger of Decline Patron

    Haba
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Land of Rape & Honey ❤️
    Codex 2012 MCA Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2
    Oh well. I could also gender swap LundB, but then I'd have to incorporate pregnancy into the story. And JarlFrank wasn't included either. So the dice fell on Bee.
     
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  12. evdk comrade troglodyte :M Patron

    evdk
    Joined:
    Mar 31, 2004
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    Location:
    Corona regni Bohemiae
    Codex 2012 Serpent in the Staglands Dead State Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2 A Beautifully Desolate Campaign
    Isn't she Austrian? This Fritzlian work of art should be right up her alley, so to speak.
     
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  13. RK47 collides like two planets pulled by gravity Patron

    RK47
    Joined:
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    27,963
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    Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
    And hiver is sephiroth.
     
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  14. Darth Roxor Prestigious Gentleman Wielder of the Huegpenis

    Darth Roxor
    Joined:
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    Location:
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    Nice try, Haba

    but alas

    you are nothing but a fake

    A FAKE, I SAY!!
     
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  15. Haba Harbinger of Decline Patron

    Haba
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Land of Rape & Honey ❤️
    Codex 2012 MCA Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2
    Plagiarism is the most sincere form of flattery!
     
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  16. LundB Mistakes were made.

    LundB
    Joined:
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    Plagiarize,
    Let no one else's work evade your eyes,
    Remember why the good Lord made your eyes,
    So don't shade your eyes,
    But plagiarize, plagiarize, plagiarize -
    Only be sure always to call it please 'research'.
     
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  17. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
    Joined:
    Jan 5, 2011
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    Location:
    Dragodol
    DarkUnderlord

    if im not good at writing, may i still get a key ???
     
    Last edited: Nov 13, 2013
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  18. Lambchop19 Arcane Zionist Agent Literally Hitler Batshit Crazy

    Lambchop19
    Joined:
    Dec 30, 2011
    Messages:
    18,181
    Location:
    Die Reichskanzlei
    A day in the life of DarkUnderlord:

    1pm: Wakes up. Eats a bowl of cereal.
    2pm: Feels the scruffiness of his neckbeard. Thinks about shaving. Doesn't.
    3pm: Receives internet bill in the mail. Becomes insane with anger and bans Vorlourn to make himself feel better.
    4pm: Feels bad and unbans Vorloun. Bans lambchop instead for writing such a crappy story.
    5pm: Receives internet monies from codex ads. Realizes it's not enough to cover his personal internet bill. Extorts money from local jews.
    6pm: Hires a prostitute with extorted money instead of paying bill. Plans to post another donation drive to raise money instead.
    7pm: Realizes that the prostitute he hired is in fact Chris Avelone. Is overjoyed.
    8pm: Goes back to sleep. Has wallet and car stolen by hooker-Avelone.
     
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  19. abnaxus Arcane Patron

    abnaxus
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    Dec 31, 2010
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    14,414
    Location:
    Fiernes
    [​IMG]
     
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  20. Zep Zepo Titties and Beer Patron Dumbfuck Repressed Homosexual

    Zep Zepo
    Joined:
    Mar 23, 2013
    Messages:
    5,172
    Divinity: Original Sin
    A Day in the Life of DarkUnderlord.

    The dark one arose untypically early that morning.
    He hears Beds Are Burning by Midnight Oil playing softly in the background on his iPad and begins to wonder
    why the fuck is Midnight Oil playing in this story, why not AC/DC...anyway...

    Dawn had not yet begun and the only light in the room being a faint glow from the computer monitor.
    DarkUnderlord grabs a warm Foster's he didn't finish the night before (It's Australian for beer!) from the night stand and a
    few keyboard taps and mouse clicks later he has the Codex admin panel up on the screen.

    A large radiation warning symbol with the word "Reports!" below it is blinking rapidly in the upper right corner
    (Years ago a Klaxon would be sounding loudly but DU had tossed his speakers
    away in disgust many years ago). Reluctantly and with a heavy sigh he clicks the button.

    "Image spam" he says, "Really, fucking image spam from Menckenstein". He wonders why one of his shitty mods, Jaesun perhaps, didn't handle this shit.
    He ponders demoting Jaesun but reminds himself that J really is fabulous and may present a docking opportunity in the future...

    He checks some PMs...Oh Christ..Crooked Bee is inebriated again and drunkenly waving the ban hammer about.
    He takes a swig of last night's Foster's and says "Fuck it!" she works for free and sends me naked selfies. She stays...for now.

    Another PM another Complaint. Trash, he thinks, who the fuck is Trash and why would I care if he's butthurt or a superhero or a butthurt superhero?

    Another PM from Crispy who is still butthurt idonthavetimeforthiscrap is the new Sheriff in town.

    Checking his email he sees the local stripper (aka the town whore) has mailed him thinking she might be pregnant and if she is it is definitely yours, DU.
    For one slight moment he ponders having a son....perhaps naming it Infinitron...nah he thinks, that's a stupid name, he yawns.

    He guzzles the remaining warm Foster's lager, climbs back into bed, assumes a fetal position and as he drifts off "Down Under" by Men at Work begins to play softly on his iPad. His last thought before passing out..Men at Work, why the fuck can't it be INXS?

    FIN

    Zep--
     
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  21. Monty Arcane

    Monty
    Joined:
    Mar 24, 2012
    Messages:
    1,582
    Location:
    Grognardia
    The Trash Man - Cleaning Up

    Adults only - contains descriptions of Amsterdam
    Show Spoiler


    He wiped a hand across the grimy window pane, dirty nails contrasting with the neon lights of Rembrandtplein below. The familiar rage began to build as he surveyed the evening crowds polluting his beloved Amsterdam - Germans in sandals, drunken Brits, even a fucking Yank in a Hawaiian shirt. The filth of humanity, enough to boil the blood of any true Dutchman. He quickly swallowed the bile rising in his throat and turned away.... it was that time again. Time to clean up.

    He stripped off the remains of last night's drag outfit and slipped into his combat kit: Black Doc Martens, skintight red leather catsuit, leopardskin utility belt. Perfect for his purposes, never needing cleaning and yet on the streets he blended in perfectly with the Saturday night party crowd.

    "Not bad" he smirked as he peered into an uncracked corner of the mirror. His spiky purple hair contrasted well with the blonde roots and the smudged mascara highlighted his eyebrow piercings in a decidedly sophisticated manner.

    He turned to the crack pipe and expertly fired it up, pouring the life-giving elixir into his system. Veins crackling with energy and brain racing with noble thoughts, he savoured the last hit and headed for the fire escape.

    ****

    He passed Cafe L'Opera, doing his best to ignore the nauseating family groups with their cocktails and croqettes, then turned into a narrow alley and headed briskly towards the canal. But, as the darkness enveloped him, a brash voice intruded.

    "Good evening sir, we're from Texas and looking for the red light....."

    :patriot:

    The sentence was never completed as the Trash Man pounced on his first foes of the night. Two Kwanzanian tourists, plump and shiny, waddling along in elasticated shorts and polo shirts with money belts bouncing on disgusting, kfc-fattened bellies. He pulled his baton from the leg holster and smashed the man's nose into his skull, lashing a backhand swipe into his groin before he even hit the ground. Allowing himself a bit more time with the woman, he broke her jaw before taking out both kneecaps.

    "Train tickets bitch" he growled at the bodies, before disappearing into the shadows.

    ****

    2 hours later, after dealing with some rowdy Italians, a stag party of drooling Scots and an Arab lurking suspiciously in Dam Square, it was time for a well-earned break. An unmarked basement door, the correct name over the intercom and he was in - back amongst his people and gradually relaxing as he recovered from exposure to too many dirty foreigners. Bottles of homemade vodka covered the table besides the drug paraphernalia and the usual gang bang was already underway on the carpet. Waving to an acquaintance as he passed, getting only a raised eyebrow in response due to the three cocks she was dealing with, he headed for the next room.

    "Evening Ronald", he sighed as he sank down into a mouldy bean bag. Ronald held up a hand in greeting as he glanced up from his keyboard. A fine specimen of a man, his large frame was completely covered in a thick pelt of hair which sprouted from the holes in the string vest he was sporting. Not for nothing was he known as 'Gorilla' on the gay clubbing scene.

    "Usual order Trash?", he enquired as he reached into his drawer for two packets of brown powder.

    "Yeah, thanks. Always need a comedown after these nights of community work. Add it to my tab?"

    "Ok, but you'll have to bend over the sofa again, my balls are blue and even the tranny whores are turning me down until I get these lesions sorted"

    "Sure", Trash mumbled, grabbing the bags as he eyed the gigantic oozing member Ronald unfurled. "I guess that discharge saves on lube at least".

    Within moments he was bent over the sofa with his skinsuit around his ankles, receiving a swift and brutal shafting. But he was too distracted to enjoy it, his mind kept wandering as he thought about his beautiful city and how he could further safeguard it from decline.

    "We need to do more, Ron" he insisted as he pulled his suit back over his leaking rectum and stood up. "A tourist or two here or there... it's just not enough. We need a more drastic solution to this moral decay, something to save our city for true Dutchmen like us".

    "Hit em where it hurts", Ronald boomed, sitting down again at his desk. "Where do tourists go, what do they need? If it were up to me I'd take out the airport, Van Gogh museum and those fucking glass tourist boats. Then ban weed sales to foreigners and we'll have our city back"

    "Wow ,ambitious...." Trash mused, thinking through the implications.

    "I'll leave it up to you then Trash, but get the fuck out of here now, ok? I'm a busy man. Do you think RPGWatch runs itself?"

    ****

    It was later. Much later. And Trash was one tired vigilante. That last group of nuns in the red light district had really taken it out of him, perhaps they had time for self-defense classes in their convent.

    Deciding to head for the comfort of home and his smack needles, he strolled past the windows with their dimly-lit hags promising 'fuck and suck' to schoolboys and old men. The windows became dimmer as he reached the edge of the district, passed the trannies and turned down 'Africa avenue'. He ignored the calls of the Nigerian mamas, lost in his own thoughts, and nearly bumped into a small weasel of a man standing in front of a window housing the largest black whore Trash had ever seen. Gigantic rolls of fat dripped over her bikini bottom and her arms were the size of hams.

    But it wasn't her arms the man was looking at. Dressed in black jeans and a dark t-shirt from some old metal band, he was staring longingly at the whore's feet, bulging out of their cheap plastic high heels.

    "Can you help me please?" he whined, in a strange German accent.

    "What the fuck do you want, shitstain?"

    "My name is Jarl and..... I'm just not..... er.... very good at asking zese women for favours, you know?

    "You don't fucking ask them for favours", Trash growled, fingering his baton as he contemplated a mercy killing. "You go in and pay them 50, then fuck that fat ass for the 15 seconds you'll last"

    "That's ze problem, I don't like asking. Maybe if she came out here and rapes me on the street.. that would be ok. Or if I just paid her to lick those toes. It's not easy for me, you know? Let me tell you about my masturbation problems..."

    It was too much for Trash, the red mist descended. He forgot about his rules, his cover, the whores watching. The pathetic gimp had to be neutralised before he wasted any more pure Amsterdam air. Pulling out his climbing winch from his utility belt, he took only a second to fire the cord over the top of a building, grab the German runt around the neck and launch them up to the roof.

    He lashed Jarl to the back of a gable and an old tv aerial and prepared for the coup de grace. "Definitely the last one tonight" he thought, as he stifled a yawn. But as he began to to slice into the soft German flesh he noticed something unbelievable - Jarl was smiling!

    "Yes, yes" Jarl mumbled, "This is how I always dreamed it would end. On a roof above a street of fat black whores in high heels"

    And as Trash stared down at the curious specimen beneath his knife he felt a curious kinship with him. A brief moment of mutual understanding in a cold, cruel world. And as the first rosy glow of dawn touched the rooftops around them, he wondered - could they perhaps be friends?

     
    Last edited: Nov 12, 2013
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  22. VentilatorOfDoom RPG Codex Staff

    VentilatorOfDoom
    Joined:
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    8,398
    Location:
    Deutschland
    I don't like that cliff-hanger Monty. It's a romantic story but it needs a conclusion, man.
     
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  23. quasimodo Augur

    quasimodo
    Joined:
    Oct 11, 2006
    Messages:
    372
    I'm in the top 50, but I don't need a key.
     
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  24. Monty Arcane

    Monty
    Joined:
    Mar 24, 2012
    Messages:
    1,582
    Location:
    Grognardia
    Hi Ventilator - I sympathise with your desire to find out what happened to your favourite characters. It is common industry knowledge, however, that when writing romantic fiction aimed at teenage girls (such as this), it's best to keep them hanging on for the sequel. After all, if it worked for Twilight why shouldn't it work for The Trash Man?
     
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  25. Berekän #11231 Patron

    Berekän
    Joined:
    Sep 2, 2009
    Messages:
    2,993
    So, Crooked Bee showers with her pants on?
     
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