1 comments/ 14173 views/ 3 favorites Holodeck Repairman: Short 01 By: herminius2 Obviously, I don't own Star Trek, it's characters, copyrights, or settings. This is protected parody/fan fiction. * Holodecks and Transporters. Those two pieces of tech give us more trouble than anything else. Keeping the holodecks of Earth from eating the spoiled inhabitants of the Federation's capital world, its leaders and Starfleet officers, is my job. Some other poor bastard has to keep the transporters running and not duplicating. Though I hear the main tool he uses is a phaser set to disintegrate. I prefer to be somewhat more...technical in my approach. The Bolian Member of the Federation Council hadn't been seen for two days when I was called in. She'd gone into the holodeck and hadn't come out. The door was locked with her Council override, so no Starfleet engineer would break in. I am not Starfleet. Breaking through the lock wasn't hard for an ex-Orion Syndicate engineer. I went in alone and came out with her two hours later. This is the story of those two hours. It was dark and smoky. After confirming I couldn't shut the program down, I let the door close (blackmail material's no good if everyone knows about it). A couple of typed commands to the control keyboard I kept strapped to my wrist and a mask appeared over my mouth and nose, letting me breathe easy. I could create, even if I couldn't destroy. I didn't bother with night-vision glasses because before the Syndicate got me caught, they had sprung for the operation to let a human see in the dark of Klyten II. The Bolian legislator was bound to a table, spread-eagle, steel bright against her completely naked blue skin. Her figure, long admired by those with a taste for bald blue women, was lined with pale white marks that suggested someone had been beating on her. Her hefty tits were remarkably unmarked and her completely bald pussy drew my eye. The puddle beneath her groin made it clear that she'd enjoyed her beatings. The absence of waste was also interesting, but I didn't know, or care about Bolian physiology to know what that meant. Her mouth was held open by a ring gag, pink tongue flicking as she tried to speak, but all that came out was unintelligible mumbling. I stepped forward and reached for the gag. Then there was a bright red line along the tanned skin of my hand. My hand twisted catching the crop as it tried to withdraw and pulled hard. A squirming bundle of blue woman fell into my arms, this one dressed in a bright red leather corser and identical to the one tied to the table, except for the fact that her skin was unmarred, except where my hands gripped her tightly. A drop of blood fell from my hand, the crop intended to mark Bolians had given my hand a nasty cut. The safety protocols were off. Which I hadn't detected on entering, for some reason. I had her wrapped in my arms for a moment, her bright blue eyes on me and her naked tits pressed against my chest, her wet pussy on my leg. Sanity reestablished itself. I tossed the crop behind me, shoved her to the ground and stepped back towards the imprisoned woman. I had the gag out of her mouth by the time her doppelganger rose. They spoke together "Do you know who I am!" It was a demand, not a question. "I know who one of you is. And I know the safeties are off. And I know the program's locked. And I know that you've been in here for two days and missed the last meeting of the Archaeological Council. And I have a solution to resolve this little problem, open the door, toss you both out and the real one doesn't disappear." The buxom blue women were on opposite sides of the metal table, but faced me with identical looks of outrage. "I am the representative of Bolarus IX! I can't go out there like this," they waved down at nudity and leather respectively. "Well, one of you is. I don't know which one it is and I don't care, you've got a meeting to make." I typed in another few commands and they were identically attired in their official uniforms. The real one must have been dehydrated and the fake one was programmed to think she was real as neither of them noticed that the clothes would vanish as soon as they stepped out of the room. I warned them that I would be busy repairing it for another few hours. They stepped out of the door I opened. I heard a screech as the representative of Bolarus IX was suddenly naked in front of her staff. I heard the screech and saw her tight blue ass shaking in the breeze as she spun towards the door I was closing in her face. Her dominant holographic double reappeared as I locked the door. "Well, well, well, so the representative of Bolarus IX, council member for the Bolians likes to be tied down and beaten by herself. Narcissistic and submissive all at once. " I purred as I circled the holographic dominatrix. A quick glance confirmed that her pussy was sealed, as a Bolian's always was until she was sufficiently aroused to be ready for sex. An autonomic, not controlled function of their physiology, a fact I'd seen exploited in several unpleasant interrogations during my time with the Syndicate and that was exploited in several extremely pleasant holoprograms I've debugged and enjoyed. The crop that had reappeared with her hand lashed out. I stepped into the blow, letting her arm impact my side and trapped it there. I drove her back against the table. "Bad girl. Attacking me. You need to be punished, as you must know, as you're a copy of that submissive bitch." I whispered in her ear. She moaned, "Noooo..." "Yes," I answered, before bending my head to the side of her neck where her usually thick skin was second thinnest and pushed softly on the nerve cluster there. She moaned. I bit it, very softly. The crop fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. I pulled back and stared at the raised seam down the center of her face. "Admit it." I said, coldly. "N—" she began. I scraped a short nailed finger down that seam from bald head to lip, getting under her skin for the first time. The sudden sensation ran like lightning through her. She shook against my body. "Sorry, what was that?" I asked. "I deserve it," she whispered. "Good girl." I spun her around and bent her over the table. I prepared to take the steps necessary to arouse the Bolian bitch to the point of opening for me as I lacked either the drugs the Syndicate had used, or the multiple partners most Bolians used to arouse a female to the point of being bred. I didn't need to. Maybe it was the hand I wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her head against the metal table and pressing on the thin skin of her neck, or maybe she was programmed to react that way, but given how much of a copy she was, I like to think that I'd found her on buttons. I unsealed the crotch panel on my work suit (and pulled off the cup I wear. For some reason, I get kicked in the balls...a lot, even on Earth), letting my cock fall out, bouncing off her blue ass and ground myself against her, she whined and tried to push herself back, around me. "Don't move. You take what I give you, no more and no less." I commanded in a voice directly modeled off my immediate superior in the Syndicate. She froze. I moved around the table, positioning her how I wanted, bent at the waist, tits hard against the cold metal, hands spread, gripping the sides, unrestrained, but unmoving. Her head hung free, over the end, a rough grip lifted her chin so she was looking forward. I kicked her feet further apart, leaving her in the second lewdest and most helpless position I knew. I picked up the crop and swung it vigorously through the air. She flinched at the swishing sound and twitched when it came down hard on the metal table an inch from her ass. I left it there, within easy reach as I stalked around the table, cock swinging like a pendulum which had hypnotized the blue babe. She didn't reach for the crop, or my dick. "Open your mouth." I commanded, while behind her. By the time I reached the front of the table again, her mouth was hanging open. My cock twitched. I kept going. A whine escaped her as I didn't grab her and fuck her face hard and rough. I resealed myself. "Time to get back to work." I said. She didn't move, but did speak, as I hadn't forbidden her to. "But—" she began, a hint of her old pride in her voice. Two fingers in her cunt stopped her bitching. The slick lime colored fluid that acted as a lube was dripping from her by the time I finished playing with the little nerve bundles that filled her pussy. Blue fingers had gone white gripping the edge of the table and her moans filled the air with unmelodic, but cock-stiffening music. I dragged my thumb across her cunt and slid the fingers up her back, along her skin and the leather of the corset that marked her as a dominatrix, then grabbed the back of her neck hard. Hard fingers bit into her neck, the odor of her sex filled her nose and the air as my other hand guided my cock into her sopping pussy. The musk was pleasant, not the aphrodisiac it was for Bolians, but nice. My cock was thicker than the average Bolians, rubbing against multiple nerve bundles at once, driving her even further into an orgasmic trance. I removed the hand on the back of her neck typing in a few commands as I thrust into her tight pussy. What I'd summoned thumped into the table beside her ass and the ground behind us which she didn't even notice as she was a bit busy. I paused for a moment. "Do you deserve to wear this leather? Are you really a mistress?" I asked, my hands grabbing the top of the corset and using it as a handle for a number of savage thrusts. I do love dominating the dominant. I had to repeat myself twice before the questions made their way through the fog of her pleasurable submission. I actually had to stop thrusting, which took most of my considerable self-control before she answered that she didn't deserve it and didn't want it. Though at that point, she'd have said anything to get me going again. Not that I had much resistance to that notion. The knife I'd summoned cut through the leather of her corset, but not the skin underneath. I stepped back and pulled hard on the corset. At some point when I wasn't looking, her hands must have released the table, because she spun over as I pulled the corset loose, landing her now-naked back on the cold metal of the table. I was inside her again before she had a chance to react. The crop had been knocked to the ground, but the knife was within her reach, she didn't reach for it. "You can move now," I permitted. "In fact, I command it." Her hands moved...to my back. Her nipples damn near cut into my chest as I met her eyes and enjoyed the ecstasy in them. Her legs wrapped around me, drumming on my ass. I pulled her backwards, vertical and then over onto the cot I'd summoned behind us. "My pleasure is the goal, remember that." I commanded. "Yes, sir." She whispered in my ear, before rising up and riding me. Her hands went to her throat and she pushed hard, writhing atop my cock like a dancer. My hands enjoyed her bountiful tits. Heat rose from my toes and flowed from her tits into my hand, from my brain down, pooling at my cock. I roared and rolled her, filling her with my cum. I kissed her for the first and last time as I spilled my seed in her. A Bolian should have required much more stimulation to come. She didn't, which did wonders for my ego. I enjoyed the feeling of her cunt milking my cock until the afterglow faded. A few typed commands solved the locked program and she vanished. I rolled aside before I fell in a puddle of my own cum, the only thing besides me that was real. A quick cleanup and playing with the records (and copying the program & its parameters into my personal database) later, I was done and headed out to be yelled at by the legislator's staff. They didn't understand why I couldn't stop smiling as they yelled. If they hadn't been standing in front of a portrait of the woman I'd just fucked senseless, sorta, I might have done a better job of remaining serious. Holodeck Repairman: Short 02 Besides fixing physical flaws with holodecks, I also debug the occasional holoprogram and, even more occasionally, testify about whether some particular piece of evidence is real, or holographically generated. It was this last one that bought T'pen, agent of V'shar (Vulcan Internal Security) to my home. I designed my home myself. The internal defenses are quiet impressive, and far better hidden than the omnipresent hologenerators. "These files have come to my attention. I suspect they may be forgeries and wish to make sure before I do anything. It would be most unfortunate were it to be discovered that false accusations to be made against Solen." She explained. I didn't bother to hide the fact that my eyes were wandering over her catsuited form, enjoying the lithe power coiled there. She lacked the absurd bust so many of her fellow Vulcans had, but had the look of a weapon, dangerous, ready to pounce. "Of course. Would you like something to drink?" I asked, pushing a button on the massive desk I sat behind. She shook her head sharply. "I am here to work, not socialize." "Well, when you show up without an appointment, at night, you can see how that might send mixed messages." I countered with a smile. The door behind her chair opened, though it didn't need to and a woman (holographic) with a bust that more than made up for the security officer's...attributes paraded inside wearing nothing but a filmy skirt and gold. The skirt fell from a gold belt to her ankles, but was in two distinct pieces. Every movement set it swirling around long tanned legs. The gold jewelry set off her tanned skin perfectly and the heavy jewels set in her earrings drew the eye (at least those not trapped on her bare and pierced breasts) to her pointed ears. A glass of champagne was on the tray she carried. She placed it on the desk by my control console. "Anything else, sir?" she asked. "Not right now." I waved a hand and she vanished. "I am a Vulcan. Attempts to make me uncomfortable with holograms, or your fantasies regarding Vulcans, or anything else are pointless." T'pen said sharply. "She's not a Vulcan." "Obviously. Sh—It's a hologram." The Vulcan was flustered, though she didn't actually flush. I'd seen her eyes ogle, or glare at, the holograms larger breasts. Jealousy? Maybe, or maybe wishful thinking. Either way, it was time to set her straight. "Yes, but the woman she was based on was Romulan. An officer of the Tal Shiar who fell out of favor with her superiors. They sold her to the Syndicate. We ran into each other when she was 'working under' one of my fellows. She made a hell of an impression." That was all true, if incomplete. "Regardless. The reason I am here now is not to socialize, but because this evidence is of a...sensitive nature—" "Yes, yes, your organization has been trying to discredit Solen and his emotionalists—" "Dangerous hedonists!" she cut in, quite passionately for someone with their emotions under control. "For quite a while and now you've got something you think will do the trick and want to make sure you aren't about to hand him the PR coup of a lifetime. Cult leader to religious dissident in one frame job." I continued as if she hadn't spoken. "As a member of the V'shan, I wish to ensure that my evidence can pass even the most rigorous inspection before I present it." She snapped. I didn't mention that that wasn't the same thing as wanting to ensure that her evidence was true. I restrained myself to asking to see this evidence. After some hemming and hawing over how sensitive it was and how I should take every precaution to keep it from leaking out, she passed it over. I spent the time she was whining amusing myself by examining her pouty lips and imagining the uses I could put them too. The recording in front of me began playing. A man I recognized as Solen was fucking someone. A trim frame was riding him, matching his upward thrusts with downward ones. The identity of the cult leader's partner was unclear, but her active participation couldn't be denied, not to anyone watching and listening to her moans. The scene played as I typed in commands as fast as my fingers would move. "I know Vulcans are repressed, but sex isn't a crime even among your people, or I'd have spent a lot more time in penal colonies than I have." I commented as my system failed to produce a voice match for the noises the woman was making. "Watch." T'pen snapped. The Romulan wench re-entered the room, stalking through T'pen and my desk, then sinking to her knees, before regaining her hard-light body. The Vulcan didn't react though her sharp ears must have caught the sound of the hologram freeing my cock and filling her mouth with it. Finally the view altered sufficiently to let me see the figure riding the Vulcan hedonist. I didn't recognize the woman, though she was obviously either Vulcan or Romulan and had a figure closer to my toy than the agent opposite me. My system was running the ID check before I typed anything. My cock jerked in the Romulan's mouth, scraping it almost painfully against her teeth as the identity appeared on my console. I paused the playback. "His mother?" Indeed, it appeared to be S'var. At over a hundred she had held up well. Her beautiful features were framed by hair black as night and far longer than most Vulcan's let there's grow. Though at that moment it was stuck to her sweat slicked body as she froze, mouth open atop her son's cock. "You see why this is so important! If his teachings are revealed to be the ramblings of a man made mad by abuse, then they can hardly be taken seriously!" She provided the exposition as if she wasn't sitting across from a man getting blown as he listened to it. Though she was kind enough to snap halfway to her feet and slam her hands down on the desk, providing him a new angle on her delightful frame. For a moment the only sound was the jangle of the Romulan's jewelry and the impact of her flesh on his as she fucked her mouth with eight inches of human cock. "So, it's not an accusation, but a smear campaign." I said, copying the entire file into my stores and ejecting the medium she'd brought with her in a single, hopefully undetectable motion. "It's revealing what Solen is all about." "I can see why he would be. Vulcan's only get better with age. I knew one in the slave pits. Her emotional control had been surgically removed. After I did a really good job on a Syndicate op I was rewarded with a night with her. Wow. I mean, I still get shivers. That woman had the most incredible lips and well, I don't have to tell you the advantages of having a stronger than average partner. The positions she could get into and get me into. And her ass! Mother of Night I—" I was mostly messing with, her, though everything I said was true. But as I spoke, I'd gotten into it. The copy of that Romulan bitch blowing me, in front of the real Vulcan agent might have had something to do with it as well. "Enough. I'm not here to hear your puerile sexcapades. I need to know if this recording is real, or holographic. How long will that take?" She asked. The Romulan's tongue teased the head of my cock for a moment before she buried my cock in her throat, pushing so hard I could feel her nose against my stomach. I moaned. T'Pen rose. "Enough! I will return tomorrow and we will discuss this when you can be civilized." She spun. Her ass was perfect, hidden only by the thin fabric of her catsuit. I moaned again as the Romulan's throat closed around my cock, milking it, without any need to breathe (an advantage of the hologram and the non-breathing). "That won't be necessary. I knew it was a fake from the start. It's good, but not good enough." I said, all business. From the neck up. With a few exceptions for some parts of even my big (okay, bigger) brain. "What?" She turned back to face me, hiding that delectable ass, to my disappointment (which the Romulan wench under my desk dealt with quite efficiently). "Come on, you're not an idiot. Though the holowork was good, the writing was abysmal. 'Take me, like I took you all those years ago, outside the Pon Farr even!' Just...no. Now if you'd hired some Romulans, or even Cardassians to write your porn—oh, I'm sorry, 'evidence' then you might have done better." "I did not—" she began. "Of course, this, along with the holoartifacts that make it identifiable as a fake can be resolved." She froze. "But that raises a different question. What's in it for me?" After a long moment she spoke again. "What do you want?" I stared at her. "A show to go with my blowjob." "You can create anything you care to with those holoprojectors." She snapped. "Real is always better." The holotongue on my balls didn't change my perception of that, even if she was programmed to blow me just as I liked it. With a bright flush that rose from the neckline of her catsuit, she reached for the fastener. I always keep my deals, as she knew. Her body was a tight killing machine, more than capable of crushing my fragile human self in an instant. My cock jerked in the Romulan's mouth as I grew ever closer to orgasm. A finger spun. Obediently the V'shar agent spun, revealing her beautiful body to my eyes and the holocameras capturing every inch of her. A touch of a command and the Romulan was replaced. By the time she turned back to face me, I had her holoduplicate bent over my desk and was balls deep in her tight Vulcan cunt. This time the flush went from her cheeks down to her lips, down to her lower lips. A fascinating image, though nothing compared to the vision of me fucking her almost naked doppelganger. I wasn't going to last long, not under those circumstances. My hands gripped her hips firmly as I hammered into her. The filmy fabric she was wearing because I'd piggybacked her creation on the Romulan was bunched under my hand and rippled making the flesh I was fucking alternately visible and invisible. Moments later I roared as I flooded her womb with my seed. I collapsed back into my chair, letting my slimy cock slip from her wet hole. I locked eyes with the real woman. I spoke, though I didn't need to. "Clean me." T'pen jerked as if slapped, and only a fast command froze the holoduplicate in place. The misunderstanding had provoked obedience. Now I was going to force the issue. "You heard me." The agent walked forward, ripped the skirt from her doppelganger. Her hard hand cleaned my cock and chair...ungently. My cock twitched under her ministration. "Come back in a week. I'll have your recording and we can discuss...final payment." For an emotionless Vulcan, she swore eloquently with silence. I decided not to tell her that I would be taking my recording of this little encounter to S'var. She would negotiate a good price for the blackmail material. Balance in all things. Especially fucking. Otherwise you land on your ass, instead of in someone else's. Hey, it's the wisdom of an ex-Syndicate engineer, what did you expect? Holodeck Repairman: Short 03 Obviously, I don't own Star Trek, it's characters, copyrights, or settings. This is protected parody/fan fiction. * I was in the mood for soft and warm. Whatever bastard was out there selling defective holo-fairytales to the underage had had me running around like a Klingon with an unbloodied blade, five minutes before the end of battle. Ordinarily I wouldn't have been bothered with such things, as folks selling holoporn to the kiddies wasn't my problem, thank the universe. The business with Sleeping Beauty could have gotten really messy if the idiot teenager had reached the evil witch who cursed the beauty (facing an insurmountable barricade, she'd done the modern, sensible thing and gone looking for the person who made it, not a magic sword to cut her way through). Unfortunately, the skill of the author was more than balanced by an incredibly complicated series of bugs and problems putting everyone who used them at risk, not that the purchasers would believe it. Too many lies about the dangers of improper holodeck use. I was wiped out and wanted soft and warm. I hauled my ass down to the second deepest room in my large home (the deepest being schmuck bait for anyone who thought they could steal from me) and typed in a few commands. All Your Dreams, was the holoprogram that had gotten me my job. A plague throughout known space (except among Ferengi) the program, created by a Betazoid (who was subsequently murdered by a mob on his homeworld, horribly offended at the notion of a machine with telepathy) read your mind and gave you exactly what you most wanted, whatever it was. It was also incredible addictive. Though most holodecks were hooked into replicators, so people wouldn't starve, their disappearance was noted. Getting folks out was what had really started my career, even if I tossed them into the tender care of medical as soon as they were out the door. My copy, necessary for my studies into various methods of dealing with AYD, had been altered not to be able to read my mind. It was, however, quite able to read the mind of the Cardassian spy who'd come to steal from me. Her dreams of power, treason and wealth had given me the codes necessary to convince the Obsidian Order that she had suicided secretly to avoid capture. As far as she was concerned, she was the absolute ruler of the Cardassian Union, Greatest Power of the Alpha Quadrant (she actually pronounced the capitals) aided by her husband and ally...me. I slipped in as soon as the aerosolized aphrodisiac had dissipated. My holographic duplicate vanished. And before I could go more than three steps through the angular golden architecture, a chained Klingon warrior summoned me for an audience with her eminence. She greeted me at the door, almost naked in the heat of Cardassia. Her breasts were bare. The skirt she wore fell almost to her knees, but that was it. The Klingon's eyes were locked on her large grey breasts as he announced me. A wave of her hand dismissed him. The other grey hand pulled me in and to her lips. Strong hands, hers and mine, pulled my clothes from my body. Hard nipples pressed against my chest like little diamonds. I knelt and slid her silk panties down sleek, smooth legs. A kiss on each thigh preceded the rather rougher removal of her skirt. I could smell her arousal, the drugs and my hands, having done their work. Come to that, I could see her arousal dripping from her. We moved together to the large bed that dominated her bedroom. Brown eyes met mine for a moment, white teeth flashed in a grey face and her hands pressed me down until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. My hands visited her firm ass, pulling her into me. A kiss on her stomach provoked a moan. Or, maybe, it had been the two fingers teasing her pussy. Legs spread, she mounted me on the edge of the bed. Nimble fingers lined my hard cock up with her cunt. My head spread her lips and she moaned as the cock of the man she loved filled her. When her hips rested on mine, we kissed, enjoying the moment. She rode me, slowly, her hands resting on my shoulders for leverage and mine enjoyed the bounty of her athletic body. Her tight cunt massaged his cunt and her skin was surprisingly softer than it appeared. After a few pleasant minutes, I rolled her over and took my turn doing the ecstatic work of fucking. Her hand clutched at my back as did grey legs, wrapped around me like a sexy spider. My lips remained locked on hers, carefully ignoring the buxom blonde Risan slavegirl masturbating in the corner. The Cardassian woman's hips humped against me, fucking me back, matching me, thrust for thrust. She moaned under me, clutching me tight, pinning me against her soft body. Her orgasming pussy clutched my cock just as hard as her limbs clutched my body. It damn near ripped the seed from my cock as well. We lay there, as my cock slowly softened in her cum-filled pussy. After a few minutes, we managed to disentangle sweaty limbs and lay side by side. A wave of a grey hand summoned the Risan woman from her self-abuse. She produced a towel and carefully cleaned us both, before we cuddled together and went to sleep.