TOS    |   TNG    |    DS9

DONE KIRK?  by German Round Robin

Gillian Taylor virtually skipped to the transporter room. She was raw between the legs, but in the good kind of way that made you itch for a little hair of the dog that bit. It had been a long time since she'd been with a guy with no fins or flippers. Now 'blowholes', that was another story....

She giggled at her own dirty mind as she passed her orders to the attendant--the Oceanographic Institute in what was once part of France.

He entered the coordinates. "Dunkirk?" he confirmed.

Her eyes widened. "Why, yes, I have! But how'd you know?"    


REACHED SULU by Underhanded

They were side by side at attention, but Kirk was looking away. Chekov seized the moment to cop a feel--as if he'd not gotten enough last night. He slid his hand over to the wery nice package, down between the legs and lower--cupping him under his sac. His shoulder slumped as he reached back a little further and a little further still.

Sulu choked. Kirk turned. Chekov whipped back his hand in time to conceal the act, but not the motion.

"Mr. Sulu, is that Russian influence on military posture?" Kirk clipped.

Chekov waxed indignant. "No sir, Japanese!"


DOCTOR SPOCK, by Degree Missing

Uhura lay back in the stirrups. "There's something there; I can feel it."

He put down the speculum. "I see nothing."

"Look harder." She ran two fingers over velvet lips, and spread her pussy wide open.

He leaned in and the smell overtook him. He stuck out his tongue ran it up, circled, and back.

"Oh, Doctor Spock! I don't think you should be touching me like that; you're so baaaaaaaad." With the tip of delicate nail, she thrummed her clit and shivered.

As Spock licked and sucked, he realized his mother was right; clearly he should've become a doctor.



Jim cornered McCoy the second the sickbay office door closed. "Well?"

McCoy shook his head. "He's out of immediate danger, but something will have to be done within the next few hours."

Jim's face set in a way that McCoy knew so well. "I'm going in there."

McCoy grabbed his arm. "Don't bother. It won't do any good.  Apparently Vulcans don't copulate outside of legal marriage; it just isn't done.  And apparently Vulcans have some pretty antediluvian ideas about what does and doesn't constitute a legal marriage.  Well, I don't guess I have to tell you that; you saw all that hokey ritual and sexist talk in the arena."

Jim balked.  "I won't accept that.  You said a few hours.  We don't have time to make itback to Vulcan, and I won't let Spock die over some outdated traditions."

"Relax, Jim; told you, he's cooperating.  Ancient drives and customs or not, he's still that same irritatingly logical pointy-eared calculator he's always been and he knows that too.  He says that Chapel'll do fine.  Christine was there with us; he told her what he needed and you know her; she was more than happy to help.  She's getting ready as we speak.

I thought we'd get Lt. Kavolous to perform the ceremony; he's an ordained minister. I know the captain ordinarily would, but under the circumstances--" His voice trailed off uncomfortably.

Jim squared himself. "Quite right, Bones. It's Spock's life, his business, not mine apparently.   But are you sure he said Chapel?  It--seems so unlike him."

"Positive; I was there.  I know, it's not how I think of him either, but I guess you never know.  He even asked Christine to bring two rings and flowers. The whole shebang.  Who would have guessed that he's a romantic?"

The door whooshed and Chapel walked in her dress uniform carrying an enormous bouquet of Triffidian orchids and two velvet boxes.

"Nurse Chapel, you look lovely," said Kirk. Any bitterness he might have felt
stopped well before it made it into his voice. After all, they were both his friends, his people, and as long as Spock lived it would stay that way. Anything else he might have thought or hoped fell by the wayside compared to that.  After all, Starfleet may have promised him the moons, but it never promised him love or personal happiness.  A captain had to rise above such things.

Chapel beamed.  "Thank you, Captain. But you'd better go change yourself. Ten
minutes." She pushed the bouquet toward him and set the boxes down before him on the desk. "Will these do?"

Kirk looked. Two identical plain bands--his and his.

Kirk's face twisted. "Bones, I thought you said he was marrying Chapel?"

"IN the chapel, you lunkhead, not to her! Congratulations, Jim, you're getting married!"



Kirk broke off the stalactite and looked for cover.

"Captain Kirk, where are you?" Roc's falsetto wouldn't fool anyone.

Kirk fixed his stance and rebalanced the make-shift weapon. It was an odd formation; it reminded him of a giant... a giant....

Oh shit! He'd been meaning to stargram Boyz R' Us and order the Super Sticker 9000. Ever since their MANicure sessions had gotten out of hand--or so to speak--Scotty had been eager to take on more.

Kirk rubbed the stalactite, a little knobby--but that could be good. He'd try not to break it in the fight.    

NOT UHURA! By Duke Ellington

How many can you get? 0-9: Don't Know What Kind of Blues I've Got.
10-14: Drop Me off in Harlem.
15-19: Mississippi Moan.
20-24: Wall Street Wail. 25-28: You're Just a Lucky So-and-So.
All 29: Take the A Train!

Kirk saw the caravan first. He heard one of the men refer to a horse as "Ko-Ko". He tried to have Spock call it in the ultrasonic range, but the beast didn't seem to notice.

Then he got the idea for the black and tan fantasy. He sent two men to gather some of the giant feathers scattered everywhere over the dunes. Using the ones in shades of purple, azure and black, he turned the sophisticated lady that was his Chief Comm Officer into a breathtaking black butterfly.

Not that a captain should think those things about a subordinate officer, but she looked like a satin doll. Uhura could put any man in the mood. He wrenched his mind away and took a rain check for the next time he had a little solitude. I'll see you in my dreams,

"And when they come up here?" she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Do nothing 'til you hear from me," said Kirk.

The moon accented the mood, indigo light bathing her from behind. She closed her eyes and let herself go with the rhythm. Bang that drum, ring dem bells, swing those hips. Uhura started the Creole love call, "A Song of Distant Hearts." This was her big break into vocals--it was all so right, like April in Paris, this was sublime. Oh yeah, this was the high life!


It was just another misty morning on the production lot. "Thanks for coming Nichelle," he said.

"No trouble. Since I've been with NASA, I don't get around much anymore. You said we needed to redo something with my vocals? The whole song?"

He grimaced. "No, actually, your vocal got cut."

Nichelle tried to hide her hurt. "You're dubbing someone else in? I let a song go out of my heart--"

He interrupted, "It don't mean a thing, baby. Just politics. She's someone's girlfriend or something--promised a break."

Right. The Mooch. Nichelle was not in a sentimental mood for someone else's bedroom tactics. Who knew where or when she'd have another shot? She sounded bitter. "So what am I here for?"

"We need a couple reaction shots."

"Without a song?"

He shrugged.

She was above all a professional. And it had been a nice daydream while it had lasted. In a mellow tone she said, "Fine. Move over. I'm ready." As long as she knew she had talent, there was something to live for.

Nimoy watched her compose herself for the shoot. Had he had his way, her vocals would have stayed. She's got it bad.    


Swinging by his wrists, McCoy let himself slip away. They might kill him, yes, but torture is only what the mind makes it. He slipped back to the Melkots and the taste of Spock's mind in his; Spock had made it all unreal. He tried to recapture that conviction, but a
violent pain ripped through his pecs, wrenching him solid again.

He slipped back further, to memories of their first night, the glories of mindbond over corpus and the absolute certainty that came with Spock within him.

As the oblivion of their orgasm washed over him, McCoy became again unreal.    



(sung to the tune of…well, you know)

Just beam right up and you'll hear a tale,
A show 'bout a long space trip,
That started off with nothing but
A well-known title and a ship.

The mate was a cocky ladies man
Who bragged of a big trombone
The counselor would play with him
'Cause he could make it moan.

He could make her moan.

The ratings started getting rough,
He had to change his act.
If not for a little more sex appeal
The series would be scrapped.

The series could be crap.

He made the rounds with his slide trombone
And tried to raise a smile.
From Minuet--the hologram,
Breanna O (and her goats!).
Etana Jol! Soren and Beata too,
Sucked the 'bone on Riker's Isle!

He even 'boned the ship's doctor,
Though he had to host a trill.
The surgery was not so bad,
But the trill cum made him ill.

The first mate and the counselor,
Will do whatever they must
To make the others cum-fortable,
In their flying ship of lust.

No lube! No dong! No vibrators! Not a single luxury,
Without a Risa catalogue, it's primitive as can be.
So join us here each week my friends,
You're sure to get a smile,
From all the stage-struck ingenues,
Being 'boned' on Riker's Isle!    

ODO, I DON'T!  By Criminal Intent

Naked, Miles lay on his back trying to will himself to sleep.  Keiko came rushing in, her hair about her shoulders, her sensuous curves not quite contained by the lines of her white lace lingerie.

"Oh Miles!  It's no good here; we have to get out.  It'll destroy us!"

She'd been on edge for months; like always, he had no idea what to say.  He tried the path of least resistance, extended his arms, clutched her to his chest.  To his very pleasant surprise, he felt her body relax.

It was like the woman he used to know.  "Oh Miles, you make me feel so safe and protected."  Her hair brushed softly over his chest and her body caressed his stomach as she suckled first one nipple, then his navel, then lower still.   She could still make him hot in a nanosecond.

He groaned, held helpless by her mouth.  He tangled his fingers in her hair, clutched reflexively at her scalp and his arms spasmed as he tried to restrain his own strength.  It had been so long since she had come to him like this and he was already on warp core overload.  Despite himself, he pushed her down.  She went willingly, but his little Keiko was stronger than she looked.  Slender muscles tensed and thickened beneath his hand; her neck her head rippled gold.  Gold--and transiently colloidal.

"You!"  Miles jerked to a sit.

"I'm afraid so, but isn't it nice?"  With a shimmer, Keiko became Odo once again.

Miles's head swam.  "What have you done with Keiko?"

"Why--nothing yet.  I was saving her for Kira.  Do you think I should?"

This was too much.  "Odo, I don't!  You tricked me!  I never have--  Never, ever--"

Odo shimmered again.  Now Benjamin Sisko knelt between his legs.  Apparently it was true what they say about Black men.  He should have listened to Julian more.

"I know," soothed Odo, "but it isn't all bad, is it?"  The lube seemed to come out of nowhere and the touch was a surprise.  It was cold and shockingly intimate.  Miles jumped as it spread and dripped.

"It's actually quite nice."  Continuing to swirl and circle with his finger, Odo took Miles back into his mouth.  He worked patiently, waited until the breathing changed, and then Odo inserted a finger.


"Shhh!  Molly's probably asleep by now.  You don't want her to see you like this, do you?"  He jerked the ankles in the air and yanked Miles flat on his back.  "Or like this."  He jerked the legs higher still.  Holding his dick at the ready, Odo selected his position.  He teased and taunted and with the lightest pressure, inserted just the tip.

Miles shivered and surrendered.  "Promise you won't tell Keiko?"

Odo pushed a smidgen more.  "I swear on my mother's bucket."

"Okay. "  Miles spread his hips.  Odo thrust.

"Oh…oh…OH, O-DO!"