Preface:

I'm very proud of this.

I shouldn't be, though.

CHAPTER 8

Spooky Spectre Helldream

Commander Shepard suddenly dropped to the floor. His face was in a permanent state of creepy smile, so he slapped himself a few times in the face and once in the floppy wiener for good measure. He felt only bliss… for at least 5 seconds. Then he felt the pain. Oh, the pain.

His nose was broken, this seemed to be true. It hurt real bad, but Shepard was a real man who could suck it up hard (in more ways than one, tee hee). His dick, however, was feeling better than ever! All 2 inches of it was just kind of poking out of his body like a baby prairie dog (prairie puppy?). Now that he actually thought about it, he couldn't really feel his cock at all. Oh well.

Liara was sleeping so hard that even after several of Shepard's patented Titty Slaps™, she didn't even stir. Shepard's face lit up mischievously. This was as good a time as any for some drug-induced hijinks!

If I was to fully explain to you, reader, how many things Shepard has keistered, it would take several days. Let's just say that his asshole's outward affect is leaps and bounds more hospitable than its master's. It seemingly doesn't discriminate between body parts, household objects, writing utensils, Lego bricks, deceivingly small inflatable playground equipment, and other paraphernalia of which Shepard has since taken a brief liking to. Saying "it's like a clown's pocket" would lack subtlety, so I won't say it. But it is.

Shepard raised a hand to the sky (which, because he's in space, is a poor descriptor) as if to summon Mjolnir. What then flew out of his butthole and magically graced his palm was not the hammer of a God, but the vice of a sad, awkward shell of a man.

It was then, dear reader, that the left asscheek that Liara loved so much was malevolently pierced by a large, glowing space syringe of Omni-Gel.

Shepard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. His nose still hurt. His dick still felt like it wasn't there. His veins were still green. Didn't it work? Did I get a bad batch? Shepard's anxiety began to grow.

Then, after about 4 seconds of confusion, he promptly shit his pants and fell face-first to the floor, unconscious.

When he awoke, he found himself in a familiar place. Oh shitballs, he thought. Not this again. Surrounding Shepard was an environment out of a nightmare - spooky ghost trees and spooky ghost leaves in a spooky nightscape made of shadows. He knew this place well. It was kind of like Central Park in New York City, but spookier and not a real place.

Shepard looked down at himself. He was wearing startlingly normal clothes, and he could see a huge bulge between his legs. What the fuck is that? He wasn't even a quarter chubbed. His erect length, last time he checked, was 2.34 inche-

Something flittered across his vision. It took Shepard by surprise, but when he looked up, it happened again. What was that? He heard a voice calling out to him in the distance, familiar, yet unexpectedly spooky:

"Shepard… Commander… ey man, let's dance muchacho… some chimichangas later…"

Our hero shivered. He remembered that voice. No. It couldn't be. He was dead as fuck!

Shepard started running. He was gonna catch this son of a puta if it's the last thing he did on this spooky Earth. As he ran, he saw the fleeting image in front of him of a muscular man wearing a child's hooded sweatshirt and nothing else. He was frolicking through the spooky forest, between spooky trees and past spooky park benches. Shepard chased him as fast as he could, but he felt like he wasn't going anywhere. He looked down and saw that his legs weren't legs at all, but a dolphin's tail. Wha-a-a-at the fu-u-u-uck? thought our mer-hero with a dolphinish accent. Aw, shit. What's he gotten himself into this time?

Shepard hopped through a few hoops held by attractive 30-something women in matching polo shirts before continuing on his journey to grapple his target. As he hopped, he began to see more clear images in the coronae of the few street lamps. He passed a homeless man lying on a bench, furiously jerking it to the funny pages in the newspaper. Shepard empathized. A mysterious woman approached him with a mask of interlocking hexagons spread across her face. "The glass candles are burning. Now is the… hey, who in seven fucking hells are you?" Shepard told her to bugger right off in a British dialect of dolphinspeak before ignoring her and continuing his journey onwards. I've gotta get that fucker! he thought, determined and dolphinlike.

As he continued to hop, a more rapid series of strange and mildly spooky images assaulted Shepard's senses. A man with a dark robe and white skull mask materialized with a shotgun in each hand. He looked around, took one look at Shepard, shrugged, and disappeared. A hot babe with silver hair and a cool sword ran by with a guy in a robe and a metal mask. They both glanced at Shepard. "No, Zireael. This is definitely not the place." The girl sighed and they both kept running. A blonde-haired man in a purple suit stood in front of Shepard with his back turned and said something in Japanese. "I don't speak fried rice, now go back to your own country, dick-ass!" The man wheeled around upon hearing Shepard's racist outburst. "Nani?" His eyes went wide. "B-bakana!" He started screaming as spooky shadow hands from behind Shepard grabbed him and pulled him apart like the pieces of a bitten lollipop. As the man screamed, Shepard hopped on, undeterred.

Shepard was now feeling a bit spooked, but he was a Spectre. Spectres don't fear spooky things! Spectres are the spooks! After unsuccessfully pondering the potential ethnic slur in that statement, Shepard steeled his resolve. I will not be spooked! In that moment, he felt a surge of energy. He looked down to see that his legs had returned to normal, his dick was still big, and he was wearing a He-Man costume. He let out a primal roar. "I HAVE THE POWER!" The whispers started to go away, but he heard a "nyeeh!" off in the distance. Very well.

Our hero, now mobile, broke into a wild sprint. His target, who was frolicking in front of him, turned around, squeaked "oh shit", and promptly got tackled right between the buttcheeks. Shepard was half-chubbed now. He grabbed his elusive prey and flipped him onto his back. Is this the cause of my nightmares? I didn't even feel bad about him.

Back on Earth, when the Reapers attacked for the porn and to wrest control of the world's myriad megachurches, Shepard had to leave some people behind. Well, just one person, really. And he didn't even have to, he just really wanted to. Really badly. Anyway, that person he left behind died immediately in front of him by getting lazered to tiny bits by a Reaper baby. To add insult to injury, he was here now, on the ground, looking at Shepard with puppy dog eyes, trying to make our hero feel bad about the situation. Shepard didn't give 3 milky bird shits about this guy. I mean, does anyone actually care about fucking James Vega?

James looked up at our hero and did a pouty face. "Why did you leave me behind, Commander?"

"Because you suck, fuck-ass!" Shepard twiddled James' weiner a little bit, just to irritate him. James used to love that. "Stop it daddy, that tickles!" He giggled uncontrollably.

Besides the weird penis stuff, which you've begun to accept by now, you're probably thinking, reader, "wait, didn't you say James was shooting up Omni-Gel with Shepard and Ashley like, last chapter?"

You're not wrong.

Anyway, now thoroughly convinced that James was just half-assedly trying to haunt him from beyond the grave, Shepard slapped him on the rump and kept running. He was going to find the source of this nightmare. What our hero doesn't realize is that the source of his nightmare is his greatest fear, and his greatest fear is probably 3 spooky 5 him. Let's see what happens.

It wasn't long into Shepard's searching that he came upon something that didn't belong. This something was a house, well-lit as if the sun was up, complete with a lawn and a couple pine trees. As Shepard hesitantly approached, he saw two children playing on the grass, probably vivisecting worms or making stag beetles dismember and rape each other for entertainment. At least, that's what Shepard used to do as a kid. Who knows what kids these days do for fun? They probably play expensive card games and throw rocks at aliens with their pants down (again, things Shepard also did as a youth). Shepard never played video games because, in his own words, he's "not a faggot" (please realize the multiple levels of irony).

Despite this somewhat spooky façade, our splendorous hero, Commander John S. Shepard, a naturally curious fellow, proceeded to enter this mysterious house, ignoring the two whelps brutalizing insects in the yard. The door was unlocked (as is tradition in strange drug dreams) and upon entering the kitchen, he found that someone had a stew goin'. The olfactory assault of the delightful stew across Shepard's nostrils took him from half-chubbed to 9/16 chubbed. Nice.

Shepard continued through the mysterious spook house. Something was giving him swan nipples, or something like that, and it was clearly bothering our hero. As he ascended the rickety stairs, he began to perspire from the usual places - the nasal cavity and behind the ears - and it made him sneeze. Shepard couldn't put his mustache on what was bothering him, but something was definitely bothering him.

Our hero started hearing a few queer noises. He discovered the source of one of these noises upon reaching the top of the stairs, which seemed to go on forever and tired him out quite a bit (Shepard's out of shape because he can't use biotics in his dreams). At the top of the stairs was a small table, and upon the table was- no. Shepard's dick went inside him so hard it became a (hopefully temporary) vagina. His pelican pricks rose so high that he looked like a cactus for a second, but his outward appearance doesn't really matter because this is a dream (or is it?). Yes, it is. Shut up, parenthetical sidebar narrator. You overuse parentheses (no I don't, shut up). Yes you do, now let me move the plot forward instead of uselessly expanding on mundane shit (yeah, like you don't do that?)... Touché.

Shepard was drenched from his lobes to his labia in a sticky, acidic perspiration (you didn't forget about the Commander Shepard Splash, did you? Also, this is a dream, who gives a shit). Upon this dreaded little harmless table was none other than a small metal top. It was spinning without stopping. Shepard waited for about 30 spooky dream minutes and let out an enormous sigh of relief when it didn't stop spinning. That was a close one. This moment was short-lived for our clumsy hero however, as the force of the air propelled by his sigh knocked the spinning top off of its axis, causing it to teeter and fall over.

It stopped spinning.

Shepard screeched out a fear-fart as he heard a menacing burp from behind him. He turned very slowly to see what looked like a gigantic syringe, filled to the brim and spilling over, of luminescent blue Omni-Gel with muscular arms, legs, a big fat dong, and an angry face drawn on it in red crayon. It brandished its dick wildly like a very short, very fat whip, and spun it so fast it began to pull Shepard and all of the objects in the room towards it. Shepard started freaking out and began to run in the other direction. The stairs he was at the top of suddenly became an endless staircase in a hall of darkness. He could make out a light really far away at what was presumably the top of the staircase. All of a sudden, the staircase behind him began to fill with Omni-Gel, as though it had flowed out of the syringe monster currently pounding on his heels. It flowed upwards so fast that Shepard was now up to his neck in Omni-Gel, and he still didn't get the metaphor!

Just then, Shepard remembered his secret weapon. He screamed "DORUFIN" as menacingly as he could and squeezed his eyes shut. He kept running, but instead of wading through gel, he was swimming. He opened his eyes and saw that his legs had successfully turned into a dolphin's tail again. He swam until he couldn't swim any more, and then kept swimming. The light enveloped him, and he felt a deeply satisfying feeling of safety and comfort. He exhaled and smiled, as his legs turned back into legs, his penis turned back into a penis, and the spooky monster behind him had vanished. He began to weep tears of joy so hard that the tears went down his legs and drenched his pants- no wait, that's not tears. Whatever.

In front of him stood a blue blur that he couldn't make out due to his teary eyes. He wiped his eyes to witness Liara in front of him in a sheer white robe. The world around him was so white it could have been the set of an Apple commercial featuring Justin Long, because Shepard had no other point of reference. Shepard could see Liara's big nips poking through the robe, and it took him to exactly 5/8 chubbed. She beckoned to him. Shepard, an obedient man-slave, obeyed with his tongue out in a doglike pant. Liara made a disgusted face, yet spoke to him anyway:

"It's time to stop. It's time to stop, okay? No more. Where the fuck are your parents? Who are your parents? I'm gonna call Child Protective Services. It's time to stop."

Shepard had no clue what Liara was talking about. He wasn't even listening, either. He was intently curious on one thing, which was the only other thing in the room besides Liara and himself. That wasn't here when I got here. Where does that go? He was thinking, of course, of the shitty looking, forest green-painted wood door directly to the right of Liara. On the door was a nail and a cheap sign hanging from it, which clearly said "PRIVATE". D'you think a pirate lives in there? Our curious hero Commander Shepard fully intended on finding out. Unbeknownst to him, Liara had stripped naked in hopes of currying his favor, but he had ignored her at least 2 spooky dream minutes ago. He walked towards the door while Liara looked incredulously in his direction, before rolling her eyes and sexily sauntering away. Shepard didn't notice. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it with determination in his eyes. The door swung open with a creak.

Before him was… well, I'll just describe it without Shepard's preconceptions. There is a shitty double bed in a kind of cozy-looking, yet messy master bedroom. Upon this bed are two individuals, recognizable as famous actors Leonardo DiCaprio and Marion Cotillard. They are engaging in the act of coitus. They are completely naked. It smells like sweat, blood, and semen. They are making strange noises associated with such an act. But that's not all. Seated in the corner upon a really shitty chair, wearing an old-style dunce cap, is not-instantly-recognizable-yet-famous film director, Christopher Nolan. He is also nude. He is engaging in a sex act with himself (use your imagination as to what the sex act is). Also in the room is Commander She- wait, where's Commander Shepard?

Commander Shepard, dear reader, is now fully and thoroughly spooked. He is so spooked that there is not much left of him to spook. What has spooked him even more is that after witnessing… the thing that he just witnessed… he has gone from 5/8 chubbed to a shocking ¾ chubbed. He is nearly erect at this point. Which, as it happens, makes it hard to run at full speed. Shepard ran out of that room, down the stairs, through the kitchen with the wholesome and pleasing stew goin', out the unlocked door, and through the yard with the (possibly) masochistic children, all with a nearly 5 inch dinkle swinging to and fro. His thighs sported fresh welts from the dick slaps, although the welts were obviously not very large. Still, Shepard has sensitive skin. It stings, alright?

The setting quickly changed back to the normal spooky nightmare forest, but most of the trees were now on fire. Cool, Shepard thought. I have to agree; fire is pretty cool. This lightened Shepard's mood a bit and made him feel a little less spooked. Seeing weird shadow figures, shadow animals, and shadow plants painfully burn to death entertained Shepard. Our relatable hero Commander Shepard enjoys the simple things in life. Who doesn't like barbecues? Communists, that's who. Shepard's a socialist, totally different.

As he ran through the forest, shouting obscenities about other ethnicities (he thought that maybe other races were his greatest fear, turns out he's just an asshole) and apologizing afterwards (Shepard is Canadian, remember?), he began to hear indie music. Shepard stopped, ground his teeth, and jutted his neck forward in a sign of discontent. He hates indie music. Ever since the credits song from the first game was some electronic indie band against his wishes (he wanted to perform an original composition about his sexual exploits for the occasion), Shepard has resented being associated with hipster noises, sights, and smells. Shepard's a big ol' guy who likes big ol' guns and big ol' dicks. Indie music is for pussies! He angrily ran towards the source of the ukulele- and glockenspiel-filled cacophony. When he arrived, he squinted to see and immediately froze in fear.

Standing in front of him, doing a quirky dance to a quirky song, were two of Shepard's spookiest fears. Yes, that's right. I'm talking about none other than Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel.

Tears slowly dripped from Shepard's eyes. Oh shit, please… please don't… I'll do anything… please… Who was Shepard begging to? Well, it doesn't much matter, because his prayers were obviously not answered. Joseph Gordon-Levitt turned and shot Shepard a charming "see, child stars can make it in Hollywood" smile. By the time Zooey Deschanel turned towards Shepard, our cowardly hero was already on his back, trying to drag himself away. He had been captured by their gaze, kind of like getting your soul sucked out by a Dementor from Lord of the Rings. Zooey Deschanel looked at him with her big, cute eyes and opened her cute mouth to speak. No, please… I can't…

"Cchey there, wanna hear us sing a song? It might be kinda weird, but I guess that's sorta neat." She nonchalantly reached a hand into the air in front of her. From under her gigantic bangs, like from a cave under a waterfall, came a ukelele. This wasn't any normal uke; its body was made of a slimy black stone found under an Old God's grave, oozing shadow. It was embossed with a blood-red trim that seemed to bulge and squirm like healthy arteries. The neck and head were black bone, complete with intricate blood carvings of demonic runes demonstrating how to play the simplest C, F, and G chords. The strings glowed like red-hot tungsten, and when Zooey laid her fingers upon them, they gave off a frequency that made Shepard's ears bleed and the world around him a high-pitched squeal. Her hand caught fire. She touched Joseph Gordon-Levitt on the chest, and he immediately began burning as though he was already doused with lighter fluid. She held out her burning hand. Shepard could see bone. He was lying, paralyzed, in a pool of his own sticky sweat, face covered in thick, dried tears, gulping constantly, on the verge of dehydration. Zooey Deschanel stepped forward and touched one skeletal finger to her lip, cutely quirky and seductive. Her entire body caught fire as her retinas turned acid green and pierced Shepard's tear-filled eyes like red-hot knives. She giggled.

Shepard had a full boner.

Commander Shepard awoke.

He had jizzed all over his face.