|Title: A pfhor named Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia||Author: D-M.A.|
The clones were still in the basement.
Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia was sitting in a couch scratching his crotch. Darn groin-plate. It was old by now and the acids his upper acidics were producing had already burned away the soft inner layer of the plate.
He remember the good old days when they used one-day plates of rubber. The acids burned away the rubber in about 27 hours. The rubber became comfortable fluid inside the unmelted layer of rubber. It had a stimulating effect on the genitals. Not sexually, more like a good massage. These plates had become too expensive to produce, so the troopers had to use these new metallic piss-mugs.
And it was killing Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia.
He was supposed to sitt here and wait for the stupid humans to enter the lower level of the facility. When they entered he would open the doors to the clones one by one and blow away the real humans. This could get fun. Sadly though the itching in his groin was unbearable and Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia had a hard time keeping his eyes on the monitors to the cameras which were scanning the facility.
Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia swung out of the couch and began removing his groin-plate after checking that no one was watching. There was a camera outside the controlroom so that he could quickly put the plate back on if someone came.
Much better Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia thought. He put the plate next to him in the couch. It had taken him about a minute to remove the plate. No human could have had time to enter and run across the lower levels hangar for cover on that short period of time. He glanced at the monitors one by one quickly just in case. Everything was quit and peaceful. He sat back in the couch, butt naked and relaxed.
He was following the patterns in the ceiling. He wondered what all the Jjaro symbols meant. One in particular. It reminded him of a naked Pfhor female. The head was a bit distorted but otherwise it was a very close match. His thoughts drifted away a few years back to that time with Dfhor'gum'blhowsuch. She was very pretty and her kneecaps and thighbumps were just about the right size. Her slender figure had moved like an angel to the rythm of his buttclaps. Those were the best weeks of his life. They had sat late into the night in each others arms sharing lower acids while watching the sun go down.
Now he was stuck here in this sh*thole with an army of stupid humans outside just waiting to die. Those humans were really annoying. Did they really think they could win? What a pathetic thought. He quickly shrugged it away. Had not the Pfhor won every battle ever fought? They had slaved the S'pht and Hulks and all kind of other worthless animals. Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia was proud of being a trooper. He quickly grabbed his machine-gun and swung out of the couch in a mocky way. He waved the gun infront of him and pretended to be gunning down a dozen of humans in a glorious battle. He sat down again feeling a bit ashamed for his immature behavour.
Darn, he had forgotten to check the cameras. He checked the time. Five minutes since he last checked them. Some humans could very well have had the time to get in and run across the hangar in that time, but he doubted it. The humans were not very clever after all. They would probably storm in with everything they had and the hangar would be crowded with humans at once. But the cameras were just stearing out over an empty hangar. He layed down on the couch on his stomach with his head to the side so that he could keep an eye on the monitors. He rubbed his groin against the couch. That felt good, the plate had really been killing him, and it felt so good to be rubbing them into the soft material of the couch.
He thought he heard a noise in the doorway to the controlroom, but he didn't bother getting up. He would have seen it on the monitors if anyone had been trying to sneak in. It was probably just a fan-engine starting or something.
Suddenly he felt something thin and sharp against his buttcrack. He tried to turn around to look up but someone quickly put something heavy and hard against his back. Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia didn't have time to react, he only felt a shill go up his spine as the thin sharp pipe was pressed deep into his butt and upward into his belly. He yelped like a puppy as the cold hard pipe went up.
Someone spoke something behind and above him, then something which sounded like human laughter. He had heard humans laugh before. How humiliating! Here he lay naked on a couch with a gun up his arse! He could here the gun go off inside his stomach. Goo was sprayed out in his face and over the couch and at one of the walls. He would feel the gun being pulled out of his arse and he fell down on the floor with his back against the cold Jjaro floor. A tall human stood infront of him. The human had a helmet with a visor plate over his face.
Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia gathered all his last strength and tried to spray an acid piss gland over the human. Unfortunately his upper and lower acidics had been shot up into his stomach and the acid ran out over his internal organs which fretted away by the acid. Well at least I killed myself Pfho'rogh'untic'ff'ilia had time to think before his heart stopped beating.
The rest of the humans entered the facility. The marine was bored. He pressed one of the buttons on the control panel. A door opened in the hangar and let out one of the clones which quickly run out of it's small cell and embraced one of the BoBs. The human was ripped appart from head to toe. His head landed and rolled away into the shadows.
The marine couldn't help but giggle.
He walked away from the control panel to keep himself from blowing up more humans. He looked over at the dead Pfhor and giggled uncontrolably as he walked away and out of the room.
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