So Many Men
Or: The Crossover from Hell

A Birthday Present for Icy Brian!
(No apologies to The Spy)


Icy Brian sighed as he deleted 2479823562398 e-mail viruses from his inbox and then 98743224 e-mails asking about the fog in the domes in 2300 AD.

“If I had a piece of ass for every piece of crap in my inbox, I’d be the biggest pimp in town,” he said. “Not that I’m not already,” he added as an afterthought.

Suddenly, the power went out.

“Damn,” said the Brian of Icy. “The lights are out, and there’s nobody for me to make out with. DAMN my bad luck! Damn my boyish good looks! Damn, I’m sexy.”

He stood up and walked to the kitchen to grab some fire stick of some sort. He passed the various things in his house that never ceased to amaze him. Computer desk, coffee table, two hot men having vigorous sex on the floor… wait a minute… vigorous sex?

Icy whipped out his staff. “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men pulled apart from their horizontal mambo long enough to give him a hard stare.

“I’m Mustadio.”

“I’m Ramza.”

The one known as Mustadio laughed heartily. “We brought our friends along. I hope you don’t mind.”

Icy flinched. “Devon?”

“No, you big silly! C’mon, boys!”

At that, a whole army of beautiful men began to flood Icy’s living room. Vincent, Sephiroth, Fei, Bart, Billy, Crono, Magus, Squall, Irvine, Laguna, Kiros, Izlude, Kuja, and the Turks filed in one by one, dressed in identical thongs.

“Holy ASS!” Icy shouted.

“Yes, Brian. These ASSes ARE holey,” Ramza said. “Let’s fuck!”

At that, “So Many Men” from Dance Dance Revolution began to play, and all the men began to engage in a massive orgy.

Icy stared at all the thong-ed bodies writhing about on his living room floor. “So many men, so little time,” he said in time to the music.

“What’s the matter? Trying to decide which one to hump first?” Sephiroth called out. “We’re ALL tasty! And we’ve got the hots for you!”

Well, that was all that Icy Brian could handle. He whipped out his big manly assault rifle of love and blew holes in everyone’s head, not stopping until all of the flamboyantly gay men lay dead and bleeding on his carpet. (What did you THINK I meant when I said “Big manly assault rifle of love”? You PERVERTS!)

Icy Brian snorted and tossed his big manly assault rifle of love aside. “I’ll have you ALL know, I’m STRAIGHT! SO THERE!”

He then walked back to his room and grumbled angrily, forgetting to grab a few fire sticks on the way.

“Stupid fucking fanfic making me look like a fucking wacko,” he grumbled. “Who the fuck wrote THIS piece of garbage? It’s not even funny! You ASS! Who the hell wrote this unfunny piece of trash?”

Of course there was no answer, because in fanfic land, the author has the final say in what happens and stuff. HAHAHAHAHA

“Oh, no,” Icy said. “You forget, mystery fanfic author, that I own your ASS and I can easily find out who you are. And stop making me say ASS in all caps, you ASShole!”

“Oh… oh damn,” the fanfic author said from her computer, skittering away in ph33r.

Icy glared around at the fanfic community. “Anyone ELSE want to try to stick me in a lame-ass story that will become the butt of all the LoF’s jokes for years to come?”


“You’re damn right,” Icy said, and then the fanfic ended because the author was too busy plotting bitter, spiteful revenge to continue the fanfic any further.

“Oh no she isn’t,” Icy said, dragging the culprit into a spotlight with a noose. “I’ll make sure she never writes another yaoi again! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Eep,” said Krazy Sam.


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