A Vagina Too Far

But, there are some women out there who need to be convinced that motor-boating isn’t just a sport for sailing enthusiasts. That’s where Captain Phillip Phallus and his dedicated sperm brigades come into play. You’ve already read about some of his exploits, I’m sure. He’s a war hero, for God’s sake.

However, it’s unfair to present only one side of the war between men and women. So now we look to the other side, where the cold-steel resolve and diehard logic of men is replaced by the envious cunning and wraith-like vengeance of women.

"My sweet Major Labia, the time for sitting idly by while our sister-soldiers are ravished is over."

Men aren’t known for their tact, and usually charge into sexual negotiations without much forethought; women however, are patient, calculating soldiers of fortune. When they want to sex it up, they’ve already planned out how and when to win the upcoming battle. They’ll act coy, but the truth is, unless they’re a business major or a bottle blonde, they’re a force to be reckoned with—because for them, the war is never over.

Doctor Speculum: It is finished, Commandant.

Commandant Estrogen: Excellent. We’re bumping up our timetable to Friday then.

Dr. Speculum: Do you think Tyrone will take the bait?

Comdt. Estrogen: Men are weak-minded buffoons. They will come, and when they do, we shall finally end a renegade terror to female nations once and for all!

Major Labia: Reporting for duty, ma’am.

Comdt. Estrogen: Labia, darling, so good to see you again. And in perfect form, I see. Any weaker commander wouldn’t have survived the pounding that you took last weekend.

Maj. Labia: Thank you, ma’am, but I’m still a bit bruised around the shoulders. Harold doesn’t mess around with his heavy artillery.

Comdt. Estrogen: Quite so, but a win’s a win, correct?

Maj. Labia: A costly win.

Comdt. Estrogen: Labia, dear, I hate to do this so soon, but we’re going to need your talents once again. We’ve received positive intel from our girlfriends over at Chi Upsilon Nu Theta that Tyrone’s going to be sending an expeditionary force to their place tomorrow, and Empress Cindy feels this is the perfect time to drag the enemy out of his denim fortress and squeeze him into submission.

Maj. Labia: We’re going on the offensive? But how? We don’t have the right equipment.

Comdt. Estrogen: My sweet Major Labia, the time for sitting idly by while our sister-soldiers are ravished again and again is over. Too long have we allowed male nations to come and go as they please; with each attack, we get a little weaker, further stretched out. Tomorrow, however, we shall have vengeance. We will lure Tyrone into Sunset Valley with faulty intel about our troop strengths, and infect their landing craft with a new toy the wonks have cooked up. It will end their reign of terror permanently.

Maj. Labia: And how am I involved?

Comdt. Estrogen: Report to Sunset Valley and seal up the gorge with everything you’ve got. Details to follow upon your arrival. Dismissed.

Cpl. Cooch: You ever notice how it’s always so dark in the valley?

Pvt. Snapper: And fucking humid as hell.

Cpl. Cooch: Actually, I think it’s comfortably pleasant. Like a Jacuzzi.

Lt. Vulva: Cut the chatter, ladies. We’ve been tasked with the prize mission for this operation: we’re to sneak aboard the Tyrone landing craft and plant the wonks’ new STD bioweapon, codenamed the “Donovano”-something. Eh, name’s not important.

It’s supposed to cripple the infected victims with sores that eventually erupt and permanently scar the victims. Real nasty stuff. The Commandant believes this will devastate their military capabilities and, hopefully, eradicate the Tyrone threat forever.

As usual, timing is everything. Majors Labia and Sphincter are commanding diversionary forces here in the valley and at the Bleak Abyss in the rear, respectively. Now, when Tyrone shoves his craft into the valley and engages Labia’s forces, that’s our cue to flank and plant the bioweapon before the Tyrones can deploy their main army.

Commandant Estrogen estimates Tyrone insertion should be approximately 0130 hours. I suggest you rest up; tonight’s going to be one hell of a ride.

Pvt. Geespot: Shockers! Three groups! Two in the front, one to our rear!

Comdt. Estrogen: Damn. Get Sphincter on the radio.

Maj. Sphincter: Ma’am?

Comdt. Estrogen: You’re about to have company, major. Tighten up your hole and prepare for a shocker run.

Maj. Sphincter: Yes, Commandant.

Comdt. Estrogen: Is Labia on the freq?

Maj. Labia: Ma’am! We’re ready for ‘em.

Comdt. Estrogen: Good, but you’re going to have to let them through. No resistance. We need to make your position enticing so Tyrone lands his craft in the valley, not the abyss.

Maj. Labia: What?! And just sacrifice my troops to their thrusts?

Comdt. Estrogen: Just do it, Labia. Spread out and let the shockers through.

Pvt. Snapper: Do you think I look fat in this uniform?

Cpl. Cooch: No. Now shut up.

Pvt. Snapper: Well, I’m only asking because I was talking to Lisa about it the other day and we got to thinking that maybe…

Cpl. Cooch: Blah, blah, blah. Damn. Lieutenant, permission to shoot her?

Pvt. Snapper: …and then she brought up the idea I should wear green eye-shadow, but not too much…

Lt. Vulva: Denied, Corporal. Those rambling shrieks are what we’re fighting for. Never forget that.

Maj. Sphincter: The shockers are pulling out! Alert the Commandant.

Pfc. Kornhol: Yes, ma’am.

Maj. Sphincter: I hope the penetration we took is worth the scheme Estrogen has cooked up.

Lt. Vulva: Look alive! Tyrone landing craft inbound from the south!

Pvt. Snapper: My God. It’s huge.

Cpl. Cooch: Eh. I’ve seen bigger.

Pvt. Snapper: Slut.

Lt. Vulva: Stow it troopers. Let’s move into position, because as soon as Tyrone engages Labia, we need to be ready to board that craft.

Pvt. Pynktako: Baker Company reporting heavy losses! Our Inhibition cannons are down to 50% strength!

Maj. Labia: That damn landing craft is tearing us apart! If we wait here any longer, they might breach our line and push for Cervix Canal! Get me the Commandant on the radio! Now!

Pvt. Pynktako: I got her! Go ahead.

Maj. Labia: Commandant, we’ve got the Tyrones squeezed in a vice around their landing craft, but they’re still coming hard! Each thrust through the valley means more dead for our side! We might not hold! Permission to use our full strength?

Comdt. Estrogen: Negative, major. Just keep them occupied. Remember, you’re the diversion.

Lt. Vulva: Dammit, we’re pinned down!

Cpl. Cooch: The landing craft is about to deploy their main army. And after that, they’re pulling out. We can’t make it!

Pvt. Snapper: Gimme’ the bioweapon! I’m the fastest! I can rush aboard and detonate it before their craft leaves!

Lt. Vulva: You’ll die with the rest of ‘em! You tryin’ to be a hero, Snapper?!

Pvt. Snapper: Just tryin’ to infect some dick, sir!

Lt. Vulva: Alright then! Everyone else, lay down cover fire! If you got any BlueBall frags left, now’s the time! Good luck, Snapper!

Pvt. Snapper: For the glory of Cindy!

Pfc. Geespot: We have confirmation, ma’am. Lt. Vulva reports the package has been delivered.

Comdt. Estrogen: Excellent! Contact Major Labia and tell her to repel the invaders with everything we’ve got! We’ve given those bastards a free ride long enough! Don’t even allow them to deploy from the landing craft! Push them out!

Colonel Ganglion: Captain, I don’t know what to tell you. We’ve lost so many to the disease—Top Brass is worried we might not have an army to fight with if this continues. And even now you’re showing symptoms. I’m sorry, Captain, but we’re going to have to force a medical discharge on you. You can refuse, but…I don’t know what use you’d be to us. The lesions, the sores…

Captain Phallus: It had to happen sometime, sir. We were just too big, too powerful. Maybe one day we’ll make a comeback. Maybe.