Blaster and Mistress: Tanked and Trysting, a misc. games fanfic

BLASTER AND MISTRESS (TANKED AND TRYSTING)

By Quillon42

Several years and an addled instance of adolescence had passed since the preteen-cum-plutonium-plunderer known as Jason Frudnick had conquered the planet-mantle-delving depths accessible only through a crater situated in the boy's suburban backyard. Not unlike a precocious Stephen Dorff, who along with other white bobos had found a similarly infernal homestead aperture, and combated denizens of Hell in the Eighties screamer The Gate; not unlike Long Islanders who unluckily discovered lethal cesspools on their properties, and tumbled in while succumbing to their overwhelming fumes…here too there were youths whose destiny lay in a depression within the Earth.

Jason's own earthy encounter was arguably the most heroic of all time, as through his exploits the boy blazed through several hostile zones, he harrowing the areas of underbosses who might have overseen these subterranean regions for eons, but for his opportune interventions. Though he plowed through with the help of the prototype tank SOPHIA—a Department-of-Defense-echelon kind of munitions vehicle which he also happened to just fucking stumble upon—the hero's objective was modest, indeed. Down in these stygian strongholds, he endeavored not to liberate countrymen captives, nor to free a fair princess, no—Jason sought only to spring the leaping green love of his life…none other than his sprightly frog Fred.

(The overly casual happenstance of a child discovering a warfaring weapon like SOPHIA, after the loss of a beloved pet, led this author to later disappointment in life. Years following his enjoyment of NES Blaster Master, for example, when his mother accidentally allowed his cherished cockatiel to fly away from the house, this author expected instants after the incident to trip upon a frigging ordnance-encumbered space-shuttle-starship to help him relocate said bird…but no such good fortune ever befell him. Such is existence).

By way of this bid for the amphibian, though, Jason had in actuality ended up finding far more than his beloved Fred Frudnick. Yea, beyond said rescue, the boy had discovered another kindred soul, a lively young lady with bangs of blaze and a fiery determination to match the flames of her scalp's follicles. She introduced herself as Yvtrkijz from the planet Signar-El, but before long at all, Jason had become familiar with the female under her Earthen name of Eve. And indeed, Eve played no small role in recovering the toad that originally owned Master Frudnick's heart—she, along with another surface-dwelling whippersnapper named Alex Bufoni, had served as the two indispensable Argonauts in Jason's quest for the green frog.

Once Jason had bested the front-cover canine-countenanced cretin and the shield-wielding, whip-snapping warlord who ran the radioactive underworld, the hero bid farewell to Mr. Bufoni and the latter's pet lobster Plutarch as the two went topside. The SOPHIA overseer then continued along the caverns with Fred and Eve, they seeking to sanitize the remainder of the mantle-mired reaches. Their quest took many months; Jason found in time that Fred's initial curiosity regarding what lay below had given way to overwhelming melancholia, and so the boy retired the reptile's relative to his parent's house, young Master Frudnick entrusting the animal to his mother and father, who entirely understood their son's need to spend the balance of his existence exploring subterranea rather than finishing freaking middle school, for Christ's sake, and applying himself to a healthy, lucrative future aboveground.

As Jason and Eve evolved into ever more powerful protectors of the atmosphere that lay underfoot from the perspective of those on the surface, the two also, of course, developed in a way that was much more banal, yet also carnal as well. As the two neared their late teens, Mr. Frudnick found that a certain "gun" of his, positioned between his sidearm pistol and the grenades on his belt, had shifted in its holster whenever he watched Eve exit the tank to engage in a supply run…then stiffened, most archly, whenever she would inevitably return. Eve, in turn, discovered that the twin cannons she wielded at chest level had become visibly upgraded of late—and that they, too, would somewhat harden when Jason came back to the tank after victorious forays against scheming scads of enemies.

These alterations had caused changes within the heroes as well, and they felt such through imbalances they were sensing, whenever they were near to one another. They were sensations that were new…a mite bit unsettling, yes, but mostly pleasurable to depths that plunged greater than the lowest of underboss lairs.

Simultaneously, there grew to be modifications within the machine that Jason and Eve considered to be one mofo of a mobile home. SOPHIA itself—herself, really—had found over time that Master Frudnick was precious cargo, and to be protected at all costs. Eve, on the other hand, could go suck the cerebellum of the brain boss of the first zone, for all the tank cared.

It was during one small sortie, in the coursings of one of those early areas, that heroics and hormones collided most combustively—and of these three impetuous explorers of the underground, only one would emerge unscathed.

Matters proceeded mundanely at the beginning; there were your usual bulleting turrets, and leaping mechs, and lurking mines. Jason was jaunting on through, confident as ever…and perhaps a tiny bit too cocky for his own good, as to impress Eve the young man began piloting SOPHIA with his knees on the controls, Jason arching his hands behind his head to impress the scarlet-tressed soldier sitting alongside him.

Another instant later and the brash young driver noted from his peripherals yet another errant mine lying right in the foreground through which SOPHIA was about to forage.

Instinctively Jason threw both his forearms against the steering wheel, jerking the mechanism upward to send the vehicle heavenward (or really surfaceward)…

…but then

[SHHHCRRRACCCKKKKKK]

as the mighty mechanical missus found itself impaled from above, the tank taken through by an arrangement of ceiling spikes. Unlike most occasions, the conveyance did not wrest itself free of the ubersharp hazard a second later, but rather the cantering crate remained wedged within those steel stalactites which held it fast.

This, for those who might have perused a poignant Worlds of Power tome covering this NES title, was actually the second such incidence of stasis that Jason and Eve had experienced on the part of a SOPHIA-spearing. The first time it happened, either the major of radiation or his lovely lieutenant (this author cannot remember whom, as he does not have said Worlds of Power book in his possession at the moment, and he doesn't want to pay shipping and handling for the sake getting another copy and checking one friggin' line reference)…anyway, his lovely lieutenant had suggested to the seatmate alongside that they get themselves down through "rocking and rolling"; when one pondered how popular music would assist them in the endeavor, the other said correctingly something to the effect of, "No…I mean this kind of rocking and rolling!"

And then, by hurling the self up and down upon the seat in which that suggester sat, the SOPHIA had verily become a bit more dislodged from spikes overhead to which the craft had been ever so coarsely fastened.

At present, it was Eve, in any case, who had offered up the suggestion of rocking and rolling, to free the warriors' wagon from its skewery snare. Nodding readily, Jason began to bounce up and down in his seat, the old boy determined to juke and jump, as had worked last time, to free their courageous conveyance.

But then Eve's hand, the one closer to Jason, shot out abruptly. Shooting out next was a feverish, famished glare from the lady, a look that was altogether rather licentious. It had been so long that the two of them had been down in this hoppy hell, after all…and the redhead had been feeling restless, given the changes she had been feeling throughout her lately-shapely frame.

Like the last time, the clarification as to the desired pursuit was made.

This occasion, however…with a delicate hand upon Master Frudnick's thigh…

"No, Jason…

And then Eve, turning to her partner in plunder, then climbing atop his lap, she beginning to shed her shiny combat suit before his astonished eyes…

"…I meant this kind of rocking and rolling."

She followed this by coaxing the most delicate gearshift in the vicinity, making it of a sudden the most rigid. Mechanisms all around the pair seemed to whirr and whine in some kind of heartbroken dismay as this virtual Adam and literal Eve of the underground began to move in a manner that didn't involve motion of tunnel-traversing tank treads.

Once each cavern-cruising crusader had wrested the warrior's wear from the other, Jason inserted his Sewer Key decisively into Eve's Dive Mechanism. In the ensuing minutes, the lusting lady Hovered while her riveting ranger Rovered, his P Power increasing and increasing as he pressed along.

"Come, Jason…

"…come on…

"..you can't spell 'Frudnick'…without FUCK."

Throughout their tete-a-tete, Eve continued to goad the plowing pilot onward thusly. His gun hardened all the more as her considerable rose-cream cannons pulsated fully into his face. Jason in response blasted away at her, blasted with heedless abandon, blasted like a plutonium boss.

Through and through, the young man called his mistress's name; called her by her true, original alien apellation…

"Yvtrkijz…

"Yvtrkijz…

"YVTRKIJZ…!"

…all rolling right off the tongue in paroxysms of the heated pique of passion.

At the juncture of Thunder Break between Eve's Wall One and Wall Two, the lady discharged her Hyper beam at the same, optimal instant that her man unloaded his Crusher laser. And then

[ISSSSSHHHHHHHHH]

…

each of the copulating combatants settled back into their respective seats, each visualizing the bursts of blast that appeared all around when an underboss bit the dust, each swearing that he or she could hear it even now in the spike-compromised sanctuary of their tank.

Speaking of which, said protruding impediment, to Jason and Eve's delight

[ERRRRRRRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH]

had become obviated in all the trysting that transpired, as with a mournful groan from SOPHIA itself, their forceful foray of fornication had shunted their ride right off the spikes and

[SSSHHHHHHCRASSSSSHHHHH]

the vehicle came clamoringly to rest on the ground below a second or two later.

The jolting feeling of vertical whiplash that Jason and Eve alike had felt was nothing compared to the ecstatic explosion each had felt within. It was the first such encounter that either had experienced—and given their cooperative history, the combustion in which they collaborated had felt so, so cozy and consummate.

Just as Jason met Eve's pleased, comely countenance with a gratified grin of his own…an eerie creaking all about them announced that a third in this veritable crowd did not share such sentiments.

J-FRUD IS MINE…

…EVE-JERK-JIZZ.

Eve's face scrunched in fluster and anger as she read the words upon the status screen of the SOPHIA, the phrases funning at her, mocking her birth name and calling her out, threatening a fight for honor over Jason.

The girl wanted to whip out her cannons (the actual weapons she wielded, mind you) and fire straight away at the mechanisms bordering her body all around…

…but then a steadying hand from Jason straightened her out. "We can't cripple the tank, E; let me try and talk with…"

But that terrifyingly-possessive Third of SOPHIAs was far beyond reason at this point.

ALL THOSE MISSIONS, the screen continued to spleen at the pair within her, THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALL JUST ME AND FRUD, AS THE REAL, NES EXPERIENCE CONVEYS.

YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST IN OUR WORLD, MISS JIZZ…

…AND IF IT CAN'T BE JUST ME AND FRUD…

…THEN NONE OF US SHOULD BE LEFT TO BLAST ON.

Then the most unsettling of sensations as a strange odor began to waft through the cabin of the careening carriage. The invincible vehicle's inhabitants each began to become more than slightly lightheaded from the smell.

"Oh…oh, no," murmured Jason, as he gathered his hand into Eve's. "It's…carbon…monox…ide…"

Without a beat in between, the hero with the remains of his strength reached again for his lady, then hefted her atop his unclothed form once again. Seconds of post-fucking falling-action had caused him to become flaccid…but he knew from all these years that the alien Eve was a bit of a shapeshifter, and as such could still form around his intimate implement if needed.

"…The only way, Eve…

"…Be careful…out there…"

The top of the tank was still quite torn open from the spikes; P-Spheres would instantly fix it, but unlike in any other situation, here it was an incredible stroke of luck for Jason that there were no such floating globes nearby.

With one weakened hand, Master Jason fondled Eve's caboose, a feeling of arousal erupting from the Frud within as he did. With the other, the hero unholstered the handgun he wielded when seeking out various bosses. Tears flowed from Eve's fluttering eyelids as she fought to urge to succumb to the fumes filling the air, and as she struggled to grasp her blast gear surrounding her seat.

"I…love you."

This from Jason as the two made eye contact one more time, the hand that was on Eve's rear now rising to the hand in which she did not hold her uniform.

Then

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

With what was near to the last of his strength, Jason stiffened sexually one last time, his beloved lever lifting Eve up fiercely with superhuman strength and catapulting her up and entirely out of the conveyance.

An instant later, Jason aiming the gun at the screen, through all the flammable vapors:

"FRUD…YOU…'PHIA…"

[BANGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM]

Eve was still in midair as this last occurred, the erection-enabled ejection making the alien out to be an underground John McClane ascending/absconding from an exploding craft, as was the case with Bruce Willis's character in that deadly Dulles Airport ordeal.

Of course, though, it was none other than Fred Frud's Master himself…who had died hard today.

The girl lay there for several minutes, she still taking in the fact that her entire world now had been blown so wide open. Her eyes continued to emit saltwater as she took in the fact that her life's love had been blasted from her.

Then, about an hour later, Eve forced herself to stand. In truth, it had been two things that made her have the strength to up and move on.

One was something from within in a metaphorical sense. After all those years of vehicular codependency, she was finally free. Though she would miss the Master himself dearly, the Mistress was elated, actually, in her liberation from that lumbering succubus of bolts and gears, that dexterous dreadnought that was SOPHIA the Third.

Otherwise, there was a second sensation within her, something much more physiological. As Eve finished suiting up, she rubbed her stomach tenderly. She could feel a multitude of Jason's projectiles now within her, and she smiled. The lady assured herself that while most of them might have been Multi-Warhead Missiles, one or two of them would surely be Homing in nature, and that they would infiltrate her most intimate of lairs to birth blasters…blasters to inherit the gauntlet that was still extant in this earthen subterranea. The fact that Eve would sire these successors set the alien adventuress at ease, she understanding now that it was not all in vain.

Knowing the way to the Earth's surface, and able with her alien agility to climb up and out of this underground universe for now, Eve increased her pace along, she eager to see how Fred Frud was faring of late.