tagHumor & SatireLST3K Ep. 08: The Fandom Menace

LST3K Ep. 08: The Fandom Menace


Welcome all ye princesses, heroes of prophecy, and green muppets with laser swords to yet another episode of LST3K!

This episode is a little longer than those previous, and I'm afraid you know what that means if you've been sucked in with me before — double the pain! The original story has a few spoofish moments of its own, some of which the author admits are intentional. Others, he chuckled nervously over.

Thankfully, I've managed to capture a couple of unlucky souls to share this nightmare with me. Please offer your condolences to Scriptordelecto and Malkor!

( Or their next of kin, as appropriate by the time this is over )

There is only one proper way to introduce this cringe-worthy tale. So, grab a seat, scroll slowly, hum that timeless tune, and make sure you have a barf bag handy.

Not long ago, in a galaxy not nearly far enough away...

Episode VIII The Fandom Menace

Throughout the world, they lurk everywhere. They are the fans who can quote every line of dialogue. They are the devotees who dwell as much in that place far, far away as in the real world around them. They come from every corner of the globe, and from every walk of life — the true believers in the force.

But, just as with that enigmatic magic, there is a dark side.

In mother's cellars and dormitories they lurk, their sexual frustrations merging with their devotion to produce masturbatory tales of woe to strike against the innocent and unsuspecting. Ever mindful of the danger, they craft their fantasy with the necessary care to barely avoid the retributive power of a cease and desist order...

Turn down your lights

(Where applicable)

Malkor: Since this is Star Bores, I say we drink every time we come across any mention of "only hope", "we're doomed" or "oh, dear".

Dark: Sounds good to me. I'm liable to be hurling by the time it's over anyway, so I may as well enjoy the ride!

Script: Break out the shot glasses.

The ship shuddered as yet another laser blast thundered into the shields.

"Captain! We can't take another hit like that! The shields are failing!"

Captain Achilles turned to the concerned woman watching the viewscreen at his side. "Princess Leigh, I don't think we can escape. That Fempire Destroyer has us dead to rights."

Dark: Princess Leigh? Fempire Destroyer? I think we're in for a worse ride than the fictional crew here, everyone.

Malkor: With a name like Achilles, I don't think the Captain will be with us for long. *Mutters* Lucky Bastard...

Cries of alarm erupted throughout the bridge as the strongest jolt yet destabilized the artificial gravity plane. Crew members lurched from left to right, the lucky few grabbing on to something while the rest hurtled from one side of the bridge to the other.

Dark: It's a Klingon attack! Quick — everyone run back and forth while the cameraman shakes the camera!

"The shields are gone, Captain! Captain?"

Princess Leigh regained her feet from where she'd fallen at the foot of the Captain's column, her brow furrowing as she saw the wide-open stare of the Captain's eyes.

Dark: What are the odds? Everyone else is fine, but Captain Achilles takes one in the heel. That's Murphy's Law for you!

"He's gone," she announced.

Dark: Memorial services will be held in ten-forward, with bingo to follow. That is all.

"We're doomed," DP-13 declared, wringing his synth-flesh hands.

Malkor: Everyone Drink, it might make this story more palatable.

Dark: Or knock us mercifully unconscious. Works for me! *Tips his shot glass*

Script: I don't think a case of alcohol would make it appealing.

"Not now, Deepee," Leigh snapped to her over-reactive Attendbot.

Dark: An "Attendbot" named DP... Yeah, we know what it's attending to!

"Helmsman, drop the nose and turn us around. We're more maneuverable. That hulking Fempire Destroyer should shoot right past us. We'll find somewhere to hide and make repairs."

Leigh felt the change in the ship's momentum at the same time as everyone else. "They have us in a tractor beam, Highness," the ship's second in command lamented.

Dark: Okay, I know that said can grow monotonous at times, but this is getting ridiculous.

He then turned to the navigator and ordered, "Charge the pulse generator. We'll break the beam and escape."

"No," Leigh argued. "We're low on power as it is. The pulse generator will suck the reactor dry.

Dark: Sounds like Princess Leigh is pretty familiar with that process.

We won't have enough power to go more than a few pathoms." She moved toward the door of the bridge and commanded, "Activate the pulse generator on my order. When the Femtroopers board us, offer only token resistance, and then surrender."

"But the data we have..."

Leigh cut him off. "Trust me. Wait for my signal. Deepee, my quarters, come."

Dark: Now is hardly the time for that, Princess.

"Of course, your Highness." When she darted off down the corridor, the Attendbot started and hurried to catch up, "Oh, wait for me!"

Leigh sprinted through the plastisteel hallways as fast as her legs could carry her. She knew that the fate of the galaxy depended upon her succeeding in her mission. She could think of only one possible way to accomplish that goal with capture by the Fempire eminent.

She silently cursed the doors to her quarters for the milliseconds of delay they required to open, forcing her to break her stride, and hurried into her room. She reached into her gown to retrieve the data chip secreted in her bra and called out, "Em Eight!"

The little spherical Attendbot hovered out from its alcove, beeping a greeting that Leigh knew without even seeing the translation readout. Once again, she wondered if the little bot had somehow developed beyond its programming to somehow enjoy using its hidden vibrator on her.

Dark: Oh, she's a naughty princess! Bet the droid is uploading live video to YouTube and charging 6 Fempire Credits per parsec.

Malkor: No bet, my... um... friend downloaded that video.

Dark: Self-bleeping porn!

She sighed, "I wish, Em Eight."

M8-69 let out a disappointed sounding beep and hovered over to await orders. Leigh pushed her data chip into his input jack,

Dark: Wasn't that what the bot was planning to do to her a minute ago? Mate Sixty-Nine? *snicker*

and breathed a sigh of relief when a light came on to notify her that the data had downloaded into the bot. "Hover up here, Em Eight."

M8 beeped apologetically in response.

Dark: Could these bots possibly be any more ripped off?

Leigh leaned down and looked at the translation readout. She sighed, "I thought I told them to fix your spacial plane motivator." The battle to escape the Destroyer had prevented Leigh from keeping track of the ship's location, so she asked, "What is the nearest A1 planet friendly to the rebellion?"

Dark: A1 — yeah, it's that important.

Script: Why am I suddenly craving a steakburger?

Malkor: Because it will make the hurling more pleasant later.

Leigh groaned when she read the readout. "Not Lance. Why did we have to be here, of all places?" She knew she had little time remaining, so Leigh swallowed her pride and knelt down where M8s recorder could focus on her without the need for the Attendbot to hover upward. "Record this message, Em Eight."

Malkor: I thought the swallowing happened after the kneeling.

Dark: Methinks you're giving the author too much credit for sexual experience.

M8 beeped his understanding and the recording beam flashed into being.

"A Fempire Destroyer has my ship in a tractor beam and is about to pull it in. I've placed information into this Attendbot that is the only hope of the rebellion. I know you could care less, Lance, but I don't have any other choice. The rebel leaders on Orgasma will reward you for the information, I assure you. You have to help us, Lance. You're our only hope."

Dark: His first name is Lance? I'm already very a-scared.

Malkor: Thank the maker, we can all take another drink. Make this one a double, I need the anesthesia.

Script: Forget the steakburger, I'm too nauseous.

Leigh stood up and looked out the viewport, seeing the Destroyer drawing ever nearer. "Em Eight, get into the escape pod."

DP-13 hurried into the room, at least as quickly as possible for the clumsy Attendbot. "Your Highness, I apologize for the delay. Oh, are we escaping? How grand. I knew you were wise enough to..."

"Deepee, shut up and get into the escape pod. See if you can get Em Eight's spacial plane motivator working right. Em Eight, try to work on Deepee's gyroscopic stabilizer again. You're going to need him down there."

Dark: Try to get your oscillating phalanges into proper functional capacity as well. What the hell? Is she suddenly Princess Scott, Chief Engineer?

Malkor: We canna take much more of this story Cap'n. One more bad line and this whole thing is gonna blow.

Dark: It's been blowing since word one.

DP-13 paused in the process of ducking into the escape pod. "Your Highness, you speak as though you will not be coming with us. And where is down there, if I may be so bold as to..."

Leigh let out a growl of frustration and pushed the Attendbot into the pod, closing the door afterward. She then pressed a button on the communication panel and demanded, "Give me the pulse generator, now!"

Dark: Give me that pulse generator, baby!

Someone replied, "At once, your Highness."

The lights within the ship dimmed as the pulse generator sucked power to disrupt the tractor beam. Leigh felt the lurch of the ship breaking free, and immediately slammed the launch button of the escape pod. The lights on the ship went out as the emergency systems devoted all power to life support. The blue glow of the tractor beam wrapping around the ship captured the second decoy pod she attempted to launch. Leigh watched the pod containing her Attendbots with nervous hope as it rocketed away.


The Femtrooper pulled off her white plastisteel helmet and shook out her long blonde hair. She leaned in closer to the screen and asked, "What is that?"

Dark: It's a screen. Geesh, talk about taking the blonde stereotype to heart.

Malkor: I'm amazed she saw anything through all the white-out.

Dark: That is so wrong *laughs*

Mimicking the other trooper's actions almost exactly, the second blonde revealed, "Escape pod. There are no life readings. Probably just ejecting their dead before we board them. These people find recycling the dead offensive, for some reason."

"Ignore the pod and concentrate on the ship. If it breaks free of the tractor beam again, I will not be amused."

Both blondes stiffened upon hearing the commanding, contralto voice, and immediately pulled back on their helmets. "Yes, Mistress Vulvena."

Dark: Please tell me I didn't just see the name Vulvena.

Malkor: You didn't just see the name Vulvena. As cheesy as this story is, it should be Velveeta.

Script: Calgon... Ahem.


"An important mission? More than just your spacial plane motivator is malfunctioning Em Eight."

M8 emitted a few sarcastic buzzes and beeps.

DP scoffed, "There's no need for such language. I still don't believe you. You've crashed us in this abysmal place where we'll surely shut down. My synth-skin is already burning and I have sand everywhere. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Dark: Don't you mean, "We seem to be made to suffer?"

Malkor: "It's our lot in life" Just like our lot seems to be suffering through this story.

M8 let out a buzz and turned toward a large, unusually shaped dune.

"Where are you going?"

Dark: Straight out of this story if he has any logic processors.

Malkor: Take me with you, please.

M8 ignored the question and moved up to the dune. A puff of air from a nozzle hidden behind a sliding compartment blew away a thin layer of sand to reveal a worn control panel.

DP approached and noticed the control panel. "Whatever you're tinkering with is sure to mean trouble. Come away from there before..."

The Attendbot never had the opportunity to finish the statement, because the earth opened up beneath him. He fell into the darkness with a feminine scream amidst the cascade of sand. M8 sank into the hole as well, his descent at least graceful thanks to his ability to hover.


The Femtroopers snapped to attention as the airlock door whooshed open. The Fempire's elite warriors moved in perfect precision, exactly as they were created to do. The cloned women brought their left hands to their right breasts in a sharp salute.

Script: President Scroob Salute!

Dark: There hasn't been a sillier salute since The Three Amigos.

Malkor: I hope they're careful. A sharp salute like that could put someone's eye out.

Dark: Especially if they're wearing Madonna bras.

Vulvena stepped into the hold of the destroyer and admired her troopers with a smug smile. She tossed her head to whip her long raven-dark hair and flipped her jet black cape behind her with a flourish. She wore form-fitting black plastisteel, and contrasted sharply with the assembled Femtroopers.

Dark: Where's the heavy breathing? Oh, that's coming from the author...

Script: No, that's just me trying to restore the oxygen supply to my brain.

Vulvena reached the Princess' ship and a trooper informed her, "The rebels surrendered with little fight. Perhaps they have grown more sensible as the support for their movement is eradicated."

"The Princess?" Vulvena asked.

"In custody."

"The stolen plans and maps?"

"Not yet located, Mistress Vulvena."

Dark: The new fall season?

Malkor: Even more depressing than last year.

Vulvena scowled and swept past the nervous trooper into the ship. Princess Leigh met her gaze with an equally icy expression. Vulvena swept her hand toward the crew of the ship. "Take these males to the Halls of Collection."

Femtroopers ushered the crew of the ship down the access ramp and out of sight. Princess Leigh steeled her will, knowing that the men would be placed into chambers that immobilized them and siphoned their seed. Leigh declared, "You have lost, Vulvena."

Vulvena walked up to her bound captive with a crooked smile decorating her face. "You underestimate my command of the Aura."

Dark: Doesn't quite have the same ring as force, does it? May the Aura be with you! Sounds like something a stoner who just drank all the bong water would say.

Malkor: *cough, cough* 'ere...

In a flash of movement, the dark Mistress drew her blood-red proton blade and ignited it.

Dark: Proton blade? I'm sure the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man is scared spitless. Who you gonna call? Vulvena!

Leigh had no choice but to stand still as the blade cut through her gown with surgical precision without touching her undergarments or skin. Vulvena absently gestured, and the ruined remains of the fine gown floated to the floor.

Dark: Ignore the physics of the bound captive's gown somehow getting past her bonds.

Vulvena plucked the data chip from Leigh's bra and tucked it into a pouch at her waist. She followed this with a flick of her finger that split the seam of Leigh's panties and parted the cloth of her bra.

Dark: *Lets out a cartoon Boing!*

Vulvena cupped Leigh's breasts in her leather-clad hands and purred. "Exquisite." She then glanced down at the hair between Leigh's legs with a sneer. "How offensive."

Vulvena brought her humming proton blade between Leigh's legs, and the Princess could not help flinching. The weapon disintegrated hair wherever it passed and made Leigh's pussy tingle at the same time.

Dark: Nothing like the smell of burning hair to turn you on.

Malkor: I love the smell of burning hair in the morning...

Script: Did we somehow slip into the fetish category when I wasn't looking?

"Much better. You will be a fine administrator for the Fempire."

"I will never join you," Leigh huffed.

Dark: And puffed and blew... Maybe I should just quit there.

Script: No...by all means keep going. I need all the distractions you've got.

Dark: Don't tempt me. I still have my sock puppet from my A-Team watchin' days.

"Many have claimed such. None have emerged from the presence of Her Perfection making such claims." Vulvena turned to one of the Femtroopers and commanded, "Take her away. Scan the ship and ensure that the data on this chip was not transmitted."


"Well, whadda ya know? Leigh's gay butler and her favorite little buzz-bot."

DP turned toward the voice coming from the darkness. "I know that vocal signature. Master Starseeker?"

Dark: Should have named him Moonwalker. Then we could have had a song and dance number. "Beat it" would be an appropriate soundtrack, I believe.

Script: I was thinking "Bad".

Malkor: Perhaps he is seeking the elusive Brown Star. Well, not that elusive, this story is full of them.

"You're still a genius, I see," Lance Starseeker sarcastically scoffed as he emerged into the light.

M8 beeped something to DP, who looked down at his companion Attendbot and asked, "Master Starseeker is the object of your important mission?"

Lance scratched at two days growth of beard and then smoothed back his hair with a chuckle. "Leigh finally come to her senses and decide she needs more than a plastisteel dick again?"

Dark: Charming, isn't he?

Malkor: "I do declare."

Script: Falls into a Scarlett-worthy swoon.

M8 emitted a series of buzzes.

"What did he say?" Lance asked.

DP's eyes darted nervously from side to side.

Dark: Is it another Klingon attack?

Script: I don't think the cameraman is up for another one.

Malkor: I think the cameraman ran away after the first one. I knew he had a good idea.

The Attendbot answered, "I don't believe I can really translate it, Master Starseeker."

Lance leaned down near M8 and sneered, "I never liked you either." He stood back up to look at DP and gestured toward the smaller bot. "So what's his mission? If it isn't just wires crossed in the bucket of bolts."

M8 beeped an answer and DP translated, "He has a message from Princess Leigh, to be delivered to you, Master Starseeker."

"Knew she'd come around." After a smug chuckle, Lance continued, "So, let me have it, Mate."

Dark: Somehow that doesn't seem the wisest thing to say to a robot that doesn't like you and is armed with a motorized dildo.

Script: And we can all tell Starseeker's the sage type.

Dark: Maybe the herb type, he certainly comes across as a bit vegetable-like.

Malkor: *putting fresh water in the bong* did somebody say herb?

M8 began the playback, but Lance almost immediately ordered, "Freeze it."

"Is there a problem, Master Starseeker?"

Lance chuckled and walked up to the life-sized hologram. "Nope. I just like seeing her on her knees. It's been a while."

Dark: Okay, this is just wrong. Our hero is a bitter perv?

Malkor: With a thing for bad Nickelback songs.

Script: Is there such a thing as a good Nickelback song?

He leaned in and looked down the hologram's gown. "You've still got great tits, Leigh. Okay, Mate, play it back." Lance listened to the message, and a scowl spread across his face. When the recording ended, he shook his head and grunted. "She's out of her mind. There's no way I'm going anywhere near the rebellion. I'm the only Aura Knight left, and the Fempire would just love to find out they didn't get all of us."

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