>Be inkling girl on your birthday

>race out of bed to see the great present your parents said they got for you

>It's a box nearly the size of you

>tear into it like a wild animal

>holy fuck

>It's a goddamn Heavy Splatling

>the same one you've been eyeing through the window at Sheldon's every day

>you thank your parents profusely then start practicing wielding your new weapon while the power supply is charging

>it takes nearly all your effort to swing the heavy gun around

>you feel powerful

>battery is finished and you eagerly plug it in

>a tenative squeeze of the trigger causes the barrels to spin, torquing the gun in your hands and creating a strong vibration from the drive motor

>you don't feel just powerful

>you feel like a fucking GOD

>time to go to work

>enter the day's turf wars at the local area

>lots of interest in your new piece

>jealousy? Intimidation? Probably both

>game time begins

>you hoist the Splatling off the ground and run out of the start gate and begin inking some turf

>footsteps around the corner

>spin barrels up to max

>three enemies come around the corner

>you barely see the look of panic on their faces before you release the trigger

VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT

>they disappear in a torrent of blue ink, discarded weapons, and clothing

>spin the gun down, feel the adrenaline in your veins

>you've never done THAT before

>you ride out the rest of the match as a paragon of mayhem and destruction, leading your team to victory as the MVP

>you head out of the arena and move to a staging area bench

>only when you sit down do you notice your legs trembling and feeling damp

>did you get hit and not notice?

>doesn't appear that way

>only when you "accidentally" brush against yourself do you realize

>you're horny as FUCK

>uh oh

>give yourself a few minutes and a cold drink and you seem to be back to normal

>that was strange

>next battle begins

>get two back to back eliminations and hold middle single handedly

>oh fuck it's happening again

>you have to start bracing the gun on the ground in between shots just to stay standing up

>each burst vibrates your whole body as you fend off the waves of enemies, making you even weaker in the knees

>good thing you wore the layered skirt today otherwise you feel like you'd be pretty conspicuous right about now

>last 10 seconds of match

>try to get some last coverage and also avoid collapsing and start pleasuring yourself on the spot

>over confident dualie user come around the corner yet again

VRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT

>the huge ink tank bumps your thigh, transmitting all the vibrations of the burst to your legs

>K.O.

"Mmmmmmph!"

>you feel yourself go over the edge as you bite down on a knuckle to keep from screaming across the entire field and alarming everyone

>your legs finally give out and you collapse on top of the Splatling as you shake uncontrollably

>you spend the next few minutes drapedon your belly over the Splatling's ink tank, panting with your tongue out and a stupid smile on your face

>that was so wrong

>but felt so right

>after a few attempts to stand up, you finally manage to drag yourself and your weapon off the field

>you can still barely stand and your heart is pounding

>with that you decide to head home early

>you smile and think you yourself on the walk home

>and you almost considered getting the dualies...

>finally make it home

>parents ask why you're home so early

>say you had some really intense games and got tired

>they seem super happy you're having so much fun

>if they only knew

>you tear down and clean the Splatling them take a cold shower yourself before bed

>about a half hour passes lying in bed without a sign of sleep

>roll over and look at Splatling in corner

>you really shouldn't

>but you're totally going to

>you grab the gun, detach the giant ink tank, and sit it next to your pillow

>you hook up the power supply and engage the clutch to keep the barrels from spinning

>your heart is pounding partly from excitement and partly from the fear of getting caught

>you squeeze the trigger as little as you possibly can

>without the gearbox and barrel assembly the motor itself is pretty quiet

>well looks like round 2 is happening

>you eagerly discard your shirt and underwear and rest the gun's handle between your legs

>you barely squeeze the trigger like before

>hoooooooooly shit

>It's a thousand times more intense than before

>and way more concentrated on where you want it

>you pull the gun tighter to your chest, the cold metal like ice

>you increase the motor speed just a little bit, then back it off again as you ride the edge for what feels like an hour

>finally decide to finish yourself

>a last bump of the trigger sends you over

>you press down harder on the wider top of the grip

>you bite down on the end of one of the barrels as you have the second most intense orgasm of your life

>second most because you accidentally bump the trigger right before it ends

wrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

>the motor revs up to full speed

>even faster than earlier without the barrel and gearbox stopping it

>it's like being in one of those paint mixers at a hardware store

>another even more intense orgasm hits you

>you push back so tightly the wide end of the soaking wet grip pops inside you

>you fully scream into your pillow this time

>good thing you sleep with a fan on

>you're still breathing heavy and twitching even ten minutes later

>grab the handle of the gun

>its fucking soaked

>lick your fingers clean

>eh, why not

>bend over, running your tongue over the grip and enjoying your bittersweet taste on it

>take the end into your mouth and clean every bit until you pull off with a "pop"

>much better

>holy shit you just lost your virginity to a minigun

>looking back you wouldn't have it any other way

>pull gun tighter to your chest

>best night of sleep you've ever had