STEPHEN'S TERRIBLE TITLE MICROFICS
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.
COME TO THE CHAPEL by
Heed My Words
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!"
GREAT SCOTT!
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,
butterfly.
"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.
THE UNREAL MCCOY
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.
RIKER'S
ISLAND
(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.
"Keiko!"
"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!"