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>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
>cleaning the gun again was a bit of a pain though