#planet bomber

[lore-of-the-mushroom-kingdom]

How Wario Got To Planet Bomber

So on page 4 of the Wario Blast Featuring Bomberman manual there is a description about the game's plot. It says "Wario in his search for new lands to conquer and treasures to gain has found the extra-dimensional portal that links his world with the one that Bomberman inhabits." This reveals that the way Wario got to Planet Bomber was an extra-dimensional portal. This could also be how characters can crossover with each other that are from different games.

[bigstepdisk]

saw this doodz in my gallery again and I MISS THEM

[mutedeclipse]

Weirdo blue freakitude supremacy.

That one render in sbr2's menu made me adore this cosmetic combo enough to have it be my go-to...

he should get weird with it in a nonchalant tired way like that actually, like you have no idea how long its been bouncing in my skull to draw him

[saintaviator]

TRISONA 🍊💥🤞

[whataboutfractions]

[oopsalltes]

on the topic can we just talk about how funny it is that plasma uses this organic child as a shield to try and kill white and then immediately adopts them afterwards like. what the fuck happened to their parents?? plasma is a fucking chad

[approximately-32-leafcutter-ants]

i really like megaman games and decide to look up what megaman zero is about and all i can say is...

what the fuck are the elf wars!?!?

[keferon]

Odds of Survival Part 3

Unstoppable forces meets immovable objects.

Or Prowl finds new reasons to be concerned.

———————————————————————

While Prowl had destroyed the bombers attacking their end of the bridge, the other side had no such saving grace.

The opposite end of the sky bridge had broken off from the Commerce Tower and was now swinging downwards, creating a miles long ramp to obliteration.

There was a 4% chance Prowl could technically survive the impact. However he’d almost certainly be reduced to a sputtering spark trapped in a compacted pile of scrap that had once been his frame. Without instantaneous medical intervention, he would most certainly perish even in the event of the 4% survival chance occurring.

4% halved to 2% when Tacnet registered Jazz magnetizing his hands to Prowls frame.

Tacnet spun wildly and without traction. Whatever actions Prowl could have taken to mitigate the incoming damage was removed by Jazz’s inescapable hold. Every possible strategy terminated instantly in a flurry of error messages as Tacnet tried to factor for the impossible.

Physically, Prowls servos moved on their own, driven by some core deep coding for self preservation that had him frantically clawing at Jazz’s back for either a hand hold or escape as Tacnet spat out a single coherent plan:

(Brace For Impact)

The Praxian briefly wondered if he’d crash before they crashed.

The mechs jolted as Jazz made contact with the bridge turned ramp. A fountain of sparks spraying from his pedes as Jazz hit the bridge upright and began skating down the buckling surface.

Jazz wasn’t just passively sliding along either. Prowl felt powerful legs tense and thrusters make quick adjustments to narrowly avoid lethal splinters of braking pipes and metal sheets.

Odds of Survival 5%

Odds of Survival 6%

Prowl watched the impossible as Tacnet slowly ticked upwards. Through some stroke of insanity, Jazz was controlling their descent. Analyzing the white mechs motions, Prowl concluded they were practiced. Unbelievably, Jazz somehow had previous experience with similar circumstances.

On what Fragging planet does somebody regularly go careening down incredibly steep slopes at high speeds with only their own athleticism to keep them alive?!

Skill alone wasn’t enough however, because Jazz was slowly loosing control. As the sky bridge swung inexorably downwards, their ramp was steadily becoming steeper. Prowl could feel one of Jazz’s legs beginning to involuntarily shudder under the continued strain. The obstacles kept coming faster and faster, the visored mech barely keeping pace.

If he dropped me, Jazz has a 23% chance at saving himself.

Prowl caught sight of a chunk of bridge breaking outwards that spanned the total width of it. No getting around it. The jagged edge lifted just high enough to bisect him just below the wings. Prowl turned away.

Jazz leapt.

The deafening vibrations of metal on metal grinding suddenly stopped. An instrumental segment filled the gap.

Gravity ended their short reprieve.

This time when they collided with bridge, Prowl felt Jazz land wrong and then suddenly the sky was whipping past his optics.

Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, moon, bridge.

Tacnet greedily took in their current velocity, rate of rotation, and angle of the sky bridges decent to inform Prowl that Jazz and his combined weight would land on his helm.

Thank you Tacnet, I hate you.

Jazz shifted and Prowls vision went white.

Despite Tacnets certainty to the contrary, Prowl was not unconscious or dead.

ERROR, moon, ERROR. Stars, moon, bridge. Stars, ERROR, bridge, rubble. Stars, moon, bridge, rubble.

They were flipping through the air again.

Jazz landed on his feet this time but couldn’t stop their rolling. Prowl felt fast painful scrapes against his servos and peds.

Stars, bridge, rubble. Stars, bridge, rubble.

Tacnet took in their velocity and rotation again. Calculating their distance to the wreckage at the end of their fall.

Impact Survival 74%

Impact location Doorwings 87%

At least his doorwings were already offlined.

By then, the two mechs were no longer bouncing, but rolling fully across the remains of the bridge. Prowl locked himself around Jazz and braced for impact.

Collision was instant and deafening.

Prowls sense of balance was rubber banding. The instant stop after what felt like vorns of spinning out of control was just as disorientating as the fall itself.

In a lapse of memory, he onlined his doorwings.

Prowl remembered why he left them offline a click too late and sucked in a vent.

Except. They were functioning. The edges stung and the tip’s were badly chipped but both sensors were fully operational.

Blunt helm trauma. He must be having a severe processor malfunction. Prowl unlocked protesting joints and looked over his shoulders at his doorwings.

They were only lightly damaged, fully functional, and only a servos width from the pile of rubble he was being held above.

A black and white arm extended past his wings, buried wrist deep in the wreckage.

Jazz still had a death grip around his waist, visor pressed into Prowls shoulder.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried. If he put his vocalizer against his audial, the sound should carry. The music played out its final notes, leaving the silence of the moon in its wake.

“Jazz?” Prowl tried a little harder, pulling at the servo still magnetized to his back, unhooking his peds to kneel on the rubble. They had fallen into the 90 degree crook of the second cylindrical extension. The bridge had come to rest at last, kicking up enough moon dust to obscure their survival from any searching quintessons. For now.

Jazz slurred something in his native language, before repeating in common, “Gimme a click. I’m gonna throw up real quick.”

Prowl flared his wings, scanning the area. It was a relatively short drop to the moons surface. Once there, Prowl could transform and carry the both of them at speed to the outpost. Clearly, Jazz had no trouble holding onto him.

Speaking of, Jazz finally, slowly began to uncurl from Prowls frame.

He looked terrible. His visor had splintered crack’s across one side, the isolated fragments independently flickering. One horn was stuck pinned against his helm, sparking where shrapnel was jammed into the gap. He was visibly wobbling, and even with an em field Prowl could tell he was badly disoriented.

Jazz stared at Prowl for a while, before looking to his hand still buried in rubble. He tried pulling it free gently and when that didn’t work, got a completely ruined and mostly toe-less ped braced next to it and yanked

Jazz’s hand came free. At the same time something important looking snapped and fell out of his shoulder. The limb going limp.

Prowl didn’t have the bandwidth to process that at the moment.

Instead, he plucked up the chunk of shoulder into sub space. Tacking that onto the growing list of injuries they’d both needed tending to.

Cautiously, Prowl reached up to gingerly touch the back of his helm, fully expecting to feel exposed and crushed circuitry. Instead, he felt several dents, aligned in parallel. Very tender, but most certainly not as damaged as it should have been.

How?

Tacnet answered by mapping the contours of the dents, drawing Prowls optics to the back of Jazz’s obliterated servo.

The remains of the sky bridge shuttered.

Odds of Survival 45%

Prowl got Jazz’s attention and began pulling him towards the ledge they’d need to descend. Effectively deaf, probably blind, down an arm and forced to walk on two severely injured peds, Prowl only felt some relief when he finally wrangled Jazz to rest on top of his alt form.

Watching him struggle down the ledge was utterly disturbing to watch. Jazz limped along as if he was completely desensitized to pain, behaving as if he was more annoyed by his injuries than agonized.

Package secured, Prowl gunned it for the outpost. Even injured, he trusted Jazz to stay magnetized to his frame with whatever he had left to hold on with.

Out of the dust cloud, Prowl was intimately aware of how exposed they’d be. Confident he wouldn’t loose Jazz, Prowl focused entirely on plotting the most efficient route to the outpost.

The moment it came into view, Prowl pushed his engine past the redline as he registered sniper shots firing just past and above them.

Pursuing quintesson wreckers 78%.

Sure enough, a dead wrecker crashed into the moon dirt a short distance to their left.

Prowl managed a drifting slide past the out post gates, losing exactly enough momentum to match the speed of a running mech, then transformed back to root mode in the same maneuver. An exceedingly useful technique when chasing criminals and a damn effective way to shoulder someone on your roof through a door in the most efficient manner possible.

[Bluestreak, I’ve made it inside the outpost. I have an injured mech with me.]

[Heya Prowl! I saw you tearing it up out there with your backpack buddy! I’ve got a few more stragglers to take care of but you’re welcome to use the medic case I’ve got with me in here. I’ll ping the door for you.]

The primary medkit should be in the outpost storage closet. That is unless Bluestreak pulled it into his snipers nest to tend to his own injuries (22%). Or because Bluestreak pulled it there to force Prowl to bring his “backpack buddy” within conversational distance (92%).

He felt a tap at his shoulder, “Are we safe here?” Jazz yelled in the thin atmosphere. Visor flickering worse than before and visibly making an effort to stay balanced upright on eviscerated peds.

Priorities.

Prowl ignored his annoyance. He hit the trigger to pressurize the airlock and pulled Jazz’s good arm over his shoulders to stabilize the other mech. He had easily a dozen lines of questioning queued up in the backlog of his processor, every single one tagged with Jazz as the subject line. As much as Prowl itched to piece together the puzzle of why he was “Like that.” It’d have to wait until they were both in more stable condition. At least now his vents could actually do something to start cooling his overstressed processor.

“For now. We are somewhat safe.”

Prowl muttered quietly in addition, “Against all odds.”

———————————————————————

Bluestreak, seeing Prowl with some very obvious hand prints and very specific paint scratches: “What in the pit did he do to you?”

Bluestreak, seeing Jazz walk in after him with a broken arm, busted horn and an utterly torn up paint job across his back: “What in the pit did YOU do to him?!”

Either one or two parts left, next up Jazz pov.

-SSTP

OH HELL SSTP LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND REALQUICK THIS IS A FIVE STAR MEAL FOR MY SOUL FKKDJFG I JUST. I NEVER FUCKING GET TIRED OF THE WAY YOU WRITE I know I'm probably repeating myself at this point BUT IT'S JUST WHAT MY TRUTH LOOKS LIKE OKAY. EVERY TIME I SEE AN ASK FROM YOU AND START READING IT I GO "Oh M A N the author cooked so hard they should've made Ratatouille 2 about this way of placing words."

[handfulofmuses]

Oh!

This was going to be interesting and the skunk couldn’t help and flash a large, mischievous toothy smile. Another prankster AND a nerd? A prank call that turned exciting - looks like someone was stuck in their creepy animatronics phase. That game usually gives him chills - Rough certainly has screamed more than once playing it.

"Jello, Jello - phone guy here! How’s your Night Shift so far? Just checkin’ in ‘cause we, ahhh, noticed some technical difficulties with some of these animatronics. How’s the fox doing?”

"..."

Picks up the phone anyways-- she knows what she's doing. It's prank answer time!

"Hello, this is Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Elsie Lovelock speaking."

[cupidlovesastro]

tw: serial killers, cults, death, sex, trauma, drugs

disclaimer: i do not condone, nor am i trying to validate any of the bad behavior committed by these criminals. this is just astrological explanations for their unforgivable behavior. if you or anyone else has these placements, i am not saying you are like this or will be like this.

🔪 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 🔪

astrology observations (career edition) #23

astrology observations (happy edition) #22

astrology observations (sad edition) #21

☆ most serial killers have been water signs, and more so cancers and pisces

☆ some of the most notorious serial killers seem to have a mutable stellium (sag, gemini, pisces, or virgo)

☆ all of the famous serial killers i looked at, seem to have leo somewhere in their chart, and usually not in the best planets or houses. ted bundy has a 12h leo pluto, as well as jeffery dahmer, with a 11h leo pluto, and john wayne gacy, with a 8h leo pluto

☆ speaking of leo’s, lot of people in charles manson’s cult had leo placements. which i find interesting, because leo’s are definitely the “i’ll prove that i can do it” types. they’re almost daredevil-ish in a way

☆ richard ramirez was also called “the night stalker”. he’s a pisces and 3h stellium. which if you don’t know, pisces represents night, sleep, etc, and 3h represents talking, communication, speaking, etc

☆ jeffrey dahmer has 11h leo pluto, which i mentioned earlier. this makes sense because dahmer often targeted people who were in a particular community (black people who were also gay). and pluto represents trauma, death, and sex. he sexually assaulted people in that community, as well as killing them.

☆ jeffrey dahmer also has a 7h taurus venus. taurus is a sign who is slower and tends to stay in their ways, feelings, thoughts, etc, longer than others. venus represents love, passion, etc. this explains why he had such a hard time letting go, and was truly infatuation with his victims. his pluto also squared his venus, he struggled to separate from his victims (pluto = obsession/ possession)

☆ 3 out of the 4 serial killers i looked into, has their pluto squaring their venus

☆ john wayne gacy and richard ramirez had very similar charts. sagittarius asc, pisces sun, moon, and mercury, aquarius venus, and 7h lilith

☆ el chapo has his lilith in pisces, and piscean/ neptunian energy can represent drugs. he also has it in the second house, the house of jobs, and money making. his neptune is also in scorpio, and in the 10h. 10h is the house of career and also what you’ll be famous for. he is famous for selling drugs

☆ ted kaczynski (the uni-bomber), has a 12h stellium, and this makes sense because he built a small shed in the woods and lived there, away from everyone. the police even said “tracking him was like tracking a ghost.” and 12h is elusive energy

☆ ted’s most notorious belief was that technology was bad and that it’s ruining society. he has aquarius in the 9h. aquarius represents technology and rebellion, 9h is your beliefs. he also has his midheaven in aquarius. he was known for this beliefs against technology and society

[churino]

Design for Astoria Carlton-Ritz and powerglide

She's our leading lady for the autobot's human allies. He's a niche extranet micro celebrity

After the death of her father Astoria is the CEO of the to the hybrid technologies company. She's spent most of her life in physical comfort, but emotional distress, being very lonely, she wonders if she can find someone that actually likes her, let alone love her

Astoria desires above all to be free from this corporate world she's been tossed into after her father's death and when she meets the autobots she quickly falls in love, first in a sense of admiration but later romantically, and uses her vast resources to help them in secret

But that leads her to question where those resources are coming from

With Nightbird's disaperance her proprietors grew desparate to find her, turning to the aid of any rich folk that would hear them out, they all refused out of knowing the greater purpose of nightbird's creation or having something to grain from the company's downfall, except for hybrid technologies, led by an absent minded woman that didnt even want to be there, she allowed them to use her company's satellites to search the world without really reading the contract, just wanting to end a day of work without more hassle.

When nightbird found out about the satellites, she blew the things out of the sky, which alerted autobots in space to investigate the earth once more, many years after the disappearance of the first expedition to the planet.

After the destruction of hybrid technologies' satellite, nightbird's forces targeted their owners next, tearing down their leadership quite literally, luckily due to runamuck and runabout's incompetence their attack only left humans injured rather than dead, (but of course leadership in such places tends to be quite old so we'll have to see how it goes down in the hospital)

Except for astoria who came out unscathed, rescued by the autobot powerglide as he literally descended from the sky, they remained in hiding till powerglide discovered the wereabouts of the apex bomber and joined up optimus' team, being assigned to join the trottlebots in scouting out the earth, and take astoria with him so she can be on the run and outside of nightbird or the decepticon's reach

Born gifted with the incredible ability to fly, throughout his early life, powerglide was incredibly popular and looked up to, which resulted in him becoming an immature show off. He loves adventure and freedom but is actually really fond of people with sheltered upbringings because they get impressed easily, since he likes making people happy with his stunts. But he never questioned where the power to do these stunts came from,

Having heard of the lost rescue mission to earth led by optimus prime, he was hovering around the planet to record his exploits to his followers when a satellite behind him exploded and took his screen with it, enticing him to go down to earth and explore, taking on the shape of a passing plane, he witnessed the vehicon's attack on a human building and being raised an autobot he came down to rescue the humans in denger where he met Astoria.

Eventually meeting up with the autobots on earth he was tasked with protecting Astoria as she was put in a journey around the world with the trottlebots to keep her out of enemy hands, their relationship eventually turning romantic during this mission.

As he was exposed to more walks of life during this task, powerglide began to wonder where his power came from, the awnser turning out to be, he wasn't actually a transformer, rather the menber of another race of machines, powerglide was a go bot, and, wanting to learn more about his heritage, he left earth for a time, discovering the plight of his people, and powers he never knew he had, by the time he returned to earth he had grown into a more complete person, ready to take the next step with his relationship, as the autobots simultaneously rallied to free the enslaved, with him and Astoria becoming symbols for the worlds coming together, personally financing the creation of the EDC (earth defense command) a joint organization of transformers and humans, working to foster unity between earth and the greater universe

In the time powerglide was away, the trottlebots began unearthing more of earth's secrets, discovering the transformers had been on earth even before the autobots ever stepped foot on planet, and had remained hidden not out of their own choice but out of a conspiracy to keep them hidden that had it's web around every major human group in history, including astoria's own company hybrid technologies, humanity's misterious benefactors, the six clan had ensured the rise of certain peoples and companies by granting them cybertronian technology harvested from transformers that stepped out of line and interacted with humanity, in exchange for supplying the six clan and aiding in their mission to keep the transformers a secret,

upon learning the truth of where her money came from, astoria decided to take matters into her own hands. Meaphotically of course, the autobots still act as muscle(cars)

To take down the conspiracy leaders and their operations, learning in the process that even outside the conspiracy, companies and big money constantly engage with exploitation, realizing her quest to "take down the bad guy at the center of all this" was a little childish and wouldn't magically fix things only after sundac and lord zarak had seen "the light" in their own very diferent ways (lord zarak died)

She took back control of her company and restructured it to be more humane, even though she knows exploitation is a societal issue and neither her or her company can solve it alone regardless of how many changes they personally undergo, she knows she can change the world for the better with the power she does have and that it's her duty as someone from a gifted background to do so. In her old age she's become a pillar for the community of transformers on the earth, hybrid offering housing and jobs for maximals and predacons alike and funding the EDC

[cuprohastes]

The WTF cycle of War with Humans

Most species that get to the point of being part of galactic society as are pretty chill. There's enough room on one planet to colonise for decades even if other species are doing the same. And everone's done the numbers and the cost of even a small skirmish is just not worth the gains.

But there's always someone who just needs to prove they're interstellar bad-asses or want to see what the new guys are up to.

And every so often they pick on the Humans.

When this happens the other species kick back, get some popcorn and start fuelling up the equivalent of Humanitarian Aid for afterwards.

And as for whichever belligerant species tried it this time... They all have the same Analysis: What the actual F-

Stage 1

Having beaten some colonists, razed a couple of more or less unarmed settlements and rofflestomped some farmboys, everyone is feeling pretty good about how these reputed Hellworlders aren't all that.

Sure some of them were an absolute terror but hey we got armour and theyu ain't. Job done, mission accomplished and... WTF was that?

Something huge jumps in system and out, leaving a couple of massive ships, which are travelling way too fast. WTF?

Stage 2

There is some half assed excuse for a spacecraft that just slammed into the atmosphere at around the speed of LOL. These guys are easy pickings. They just destroyed their own... what. Bomber? Troop carrier? WTF is wrong with these idiots? We'll be wiping our cloacas on their homeworld's treasures by the end of the year, yo.

Those ships... massive, big, wasteful and doomed. They're so big you can see them, glowing, making a streak across the sky... in fact... uh... wait, is that thing turning? It's definitely coming this way. And... shouldn't there be bits coming off at this point? WTF?

Stage 3

Now stuff is coming out. But it's coming out in order. Big chonky machinery, followed by... oh is that Humans?! You almost feel sorry for them. Their ship is doomed and they're throwing themselves out. Your superior lens based optics can see they're just... wrapped in cloth, falling. Did they get sucked out while sleeping? WTF?

Then the big ship opens up front ports and makes a sound like every angry soul that was ever condemned to the pits of the afterlife and all of a sudden this thing is flying?

WTF?!

It rips past overhead trailing a sonic shockwave and bombing the shit out of your landing craft, spiralling at twice the speed of sound while laying down some stupendous amount of white hot ballistic mayhem like you couldn't even imagine. And you're looking at it and you still cannot figure out what you're looking at.

Then a human zips past. WTF?!

They jsut spread their stupid arms and legs and they have a fucking curtain or something tied on and... they can fly?!

Then they're stopping, mid air using some sort of... what is that, sheets? They can do that? WTF?

Stage 4

Now you know what the Hellworlders are really like. They came in their own armour with this stupid blocky pattern that made it hard for you to figure what you were looking at, with guns and knives. They shot through the barricades and walls you hide behind.

They were covered in explosive shrapnel shells and they just did this thing where they twisted and those stupid arms suddenly became launchers, and those little orbs came sailing past and then turned your best soldiers into gooey lumps.

You saw the biggest guy in the unit leap out and this one dumb Human just flipped them over and... You wish you could unsee that. You wish with all your soul you could. WTF? Who does that? Even in a war?

Stage 5

Nobody waited for Command to issue an order to surrender. The Humans? You can kill them, but they'll get you and everyone around you. One of them just turned a command vehicle into a doughnut lined with the burning residue of everyone inside.

Then their tanks showed. They don't float. They roar. They claw along with terrifying speed. They go through your defenses without stopping and there's his big artillery piece on top that's turning your fortifications into a historical rumour. They're just... soaking up. All the punishment you can give. WTF?

Clearly you can die in the blood soaked mud or you can surrender. If Command wants to keep fighting they can come down here.

Stage 6

You threw down your weapons and they just... fed you. There's a cot, a blanket, three meals a day for some reason. Three. WTF? The injured are being patched up, nobody is being tortured and after a few months you even get a package and mail form your Szuch. You're even allowed to send them a message back saying that you're OK.

There's even members of the other Starfaring species showing up to check that the pretty nice barracks is... well. Pretty nice WTF? These guys rode a meteor in then threw themselves at you from a mile up and hand-slaughtered the best your military can train... just to have something to do while their giant, air splitting and ground shaking war machines showed up.

And now they're worried you aren't getting enough sleep or food.

Then they send you home and people see your uniform and ask... How did we lose? Are the humans really that bad? I mean come on, that's just propaganda, right? We're going back to show them who's boss... right?

And all you can do. Is stare and think... WTF?

[virid-46]

Bomberman： Sirius... I made a mistake on the Bomb Jump and my bum hurts. I'm glad you came to Planet Bomber... Fly me to the next planet...

Sirius： You'd be better off resting, but I suppose it can't be helped.

[octuscle]

Help!

I'm tired of being a skinny loser with no muscle. I wanna be a confident bro. I'll trade anything!

Really everything? Everything you own? Ever heard of DeepTraining? Actually, you must belong to the mega-rich of this planet to undergo a transformation there…. But IronData is sponsoring transformations for high school graduates, freshmen and sophomores. You just have to get through the selection process first. And you then commit to IronData for ten years after graduation though. And you really have to give away EVERYTHING you own to IronData. In return you can undergo the normal DeepTraining process. And IronData provides you with a starter package. Interesting? Then I send you the link for the application.

The selection process will take place in Lansing, Michigan. At the Red Roof Inn, a rather shabby motel. Not your world. Your R8 Spyder V10 quattro looks a bit lost in front of it. It was a last gift from your parents before they crashed their private jet. A beast. You love it. The motel doesn't have a real lobby. But there are a few fellows standing around. Every now and then, the cell phone of one of them signals and the owner walks wordlessly in the direction of the hotel rooms.

Your iPhone 15 Pro vibrates. "Please make your way to room 322." Okay, here we go. You knock. The door opens. No one there, a notebook on the desk. On the screen a form with the general terms and conditions. Seems to be what you have already received by e-mail. You click "I agree". And then you write on the screen. After that, there are a lot of tests. Intelligence tests. Personality tests. For a full three hours. Without a break. Then a window pops up. "Congratulations, you meet the requirements for our program. If you wish to participate in our program, click on 'Accept'. After that, go to room 118, and the transformation will start in half an hour." Fuck! Now? Right now? No one knows you're here. You didn't sign out anywhere. But this is your chance. You know that. You click on "Accept". And you go to room 118. A voice sounds "Please strip completely naked and proceed through the door." Okay, now there's no way back. The next room looks like a simple hotel gym. "Please put on the prepared clothes." Sure enough, there are jockstraps, sweatpants, a tank top, socks and sneakers. And a cap. And a pendant on a leather strap. You put it all on. There's a mirror. It looks ridiculous on your skinny body. "Please proceed to the cross trainer. The first workout will last 30 minutes. An aerosol comes out of nozzles on the ceiling. The light is dimmed. Loud hip-hop music blares from the speakers. Every now and then there is a command to change the machine. You work out to total exhaustion. Then the light goes on and the music goes off. The door to the first room opens again. You go in. And first you have to sit down. And you look in the mirror… Fuuuuuck!

There is a duffel bag and a sports bag on the floor. At the coat check hangs a bomber jacket. "Please take your personal belongings and proceed to your dorm." Inside your jacket is your wallet. With your driver's license, your ID, with your gym membership card. You remember the terms and conditions. You start your business degree at Michigan State today. You're a freshman on a football scholarship. You have nothing else. Outside the hotel, two more beefcakes are waiting for the bus to the dorm. You fistbump your bruhs. They still have their sweaty clothes on, too. The bus is coming. It's rush hour and you have to squeeze in. You have the sweaty armpit of one of your bruhs in your face. And the other one presses his hard-on against your thigh. Fuck, you can't wait to get to the dorm!

Like most of the hot pictures of bruhs with cap I also found this one @simonsx 

[whataboutfractions]

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Hubris before the fall

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

A decade ago there was a powerful world by the name of Oma that was the crown jewel of the Omak Domain. Rich with natural resources and rare metals, it was able to establish a powerful trade network that generated billions of credits monthly leading to the people of Oma to grow fat with decadence. This led to a rapid degradation of their societal values to such an extent that they believed that they and only they were truly worthy of running galactic trade and began pressuring their neighboring governments to relinquish trade control of their domains to them.

When they finally approached the humans they sent forth a trade delegation to their parliament. This delegation did not present a sympathetic view of their stewardship, nor a presentation outlining the benefits of their management skills in intergalactic trade. No; this delegation strode into the terran parliament and denounced human trade standards as inferior and unworthy implementation between galactic powers.

No strangers to prideful boasting, the humans naturally took great offense to the grand standing of the delegation and cast them out without even hearing their full proposal. In response, the Oma began sanctioning the terran domain; isolating its trade routes and starving it off much needed resources.

For months the human diplomats tried to reach out to the Oma to find a political solution, but each attempt was met with the repeated message “Submit”.

As time passed and riots began to break out across human worlds from the lack of materials, the terran government finally had enough and dispatched a war fleet to Oma. The fleet was comprised of nearly three fifths of their entire naval power and was spear headed by the latest Herald class battleship “Saladin” with the equally famous Admiral Timmins in command.

Being comprised of mainly trade ships; the Omak Domain navy was primarily built around fast moving frigates, destroyers, and smaller patrol craft capable of catching pirates that preyed upon their shipping lanes. They were little more than a speed bump to the well-disciplined prowess of terran armada and was swept aside easily as the human ships made for orbit directly above Oma. Yet even with this encroaching ring of steel the Oma public did not panic.

Unlike their navy, the Omak Domain’s ground forces were substantially better in comparison. They had fought many ground wars to secure trade outposts, mining operations, and subjugation camps and were thusly made up of a hardened collective of veteran soldiers and automated war machines that were capable to five terran soldiers. So when the human fleet finally did position itself in orbit above Oma, the Omak military was confident they would repel any invasion attempts made by the humans; even going so far as to openly mock Admiral Timmins in a direct communique that not one human soldier would live to set foot on their world.

To their surprise Admiral Timmins agreed to those terms and began the battle.

From the launch bays of every terran ship came hundreds of heavily armed fighters, bombers, drones, and reconnaissance craft that swarmed through Oma’s atmosphere. Not a single lander or ground soldier was deployed as the Admiral coordinated a planet wide devastating air campaign of destruction.

The Omak air force was overwhelmed in a matter of hours by the constant waves of enemy aircraft and found itself further crippled as their launch sites were surgically struck from orbit by human warships. When the last of the Omak air power was expended the human air power had complete control over the skies of the planet.

Civilian targets such as cities and towns were ignored; but the precious foundries, factories, and mining complexes that had given the Omak people such wealth were reduced to little more than burnt pieces of metal and ash. The Omak rulers watched as their life blood of commerce was taken from them one continent at a time and sent countless messages to the human fleet for peace. Their reply was always a single word that none of the Omak would agree to.

“Submit.”

By a month’s end the world of Oma was little more than a smoldering crater. Gleaming cities now stood as silent watchers over miles of burnt landscapes and wasted industrial complexes. The people who had only known wealth and power were now left to wander the ruins of their former trade empire as the human fleet still held orbit over the world. Fragments of the Omak Domain attempted to bypass the human fleet to deliver supplies but each attempt was met with the humans either seizing the ship and the valuable cargo or destroying it just as it was about to land.

It didn’t take long for the previously subjugated peoples that had relinquished control to the Omak to begin rising up once more and regaining their sovereignty. Some the newly freed powers sent their own delegations to the human fleet and kneeled before Admiral Timmins; thanking the humans for bringing their oppressors low. Each time the Admiral would thank the aliens and invite them to the viewing decks so they could look down at the burnt world that had once held them so firmly under its thumb.

In a way it was both a gesture of friendship and a warning to all those that would come after; that the realms of man would never take kindly to the hubris of fools.