3 comments/ 40774 views/ 3 favorites The Trouble with Tribbing Ch. 01 By: Marie Marshall [This story is an affectionate homage to the late Gene Rodenberry, and to the fine cast of the original TV series "Star Trek". Nothing in this story is to be taken as representing the actual sexuality of any of the actors in real life – it's just meant to be a bit of fun. Any resemblance between characters in this story and the fictional crew of the USS Enterprise is entirely intentional, however! The Star Date and the spatio-sexual coordinates have been changed, in the interests of Art, and with the permission of Star Fleet and the Vulcan High Command. The author will enter into no correspondence with any Star-Trek enthusiasts who just want to quibble about technical details.] Extracted items from personal log – Yeoman Janice Rand. For what it's worth, we have been at warp 7 for four days. No sign of any Klingons, and we're too far from Romulan space to worry about them. It's been a week since any alien entity teleported aboard the Enterprise, using a technology unknown to us, and took over the minds of several expendable crew members, the entire engineering section, and the ship's computer; only to be thwarted by the Captain, who got Mr Spock, the Vulcan Science Officer, to make a spatio-temporal by-pass device out of a twentieth-century light bulb. Heck – life can be boring on a star-ship! Today the Captain made a clumsy pass at me, which I side-stepped. I made an excuse to leave the bridge [tip: always have an aluminium-foil memo sheet in your hand if you're going to wander around the ship avoiding work – that or a tri-corder] and slipped into the turbo-lift. I found Lieutenant Uhura already in there. "Where to, Janice?" "Uh........ astrometrics." "What a coincidence. That's where I'm going," she said. Then she reached for the turbo-lift controls, which were over on my side, and as she did so she leaned past me. Her uniform was stretched tight over her breasts, and I started as their tips brushed against mine. She looked up at me and smiled. I must have gone as red as a dying zeta-class super-nebula! What is happening? First the Captain, and now the Communications Officer. It must be the new perfume I picked up during our lay-over on Atarxes III. I never realised before just how beautiful the Lieutenant is. If it comes to that, I never realised before that I appreciated her beauty. Perhaps she picked up some of the same stuff at Atarxes III. One thing's for certain – the Captain, doesn't wear it! When we got out of the turbo-lift, I turned left. "Astrometrics is this way," said the Lieutenant, pointing to the right. She slid her arm through mine, and propelled me in the right direction, leaning in towards me, and making us both walk slowly down the companionway. She had this way of looking up into my face, from underneath her eyelashes, which was kind of disturbing. I mean it felt as though I had a stomach full of Ecosian butterflies. As we walked, she talked. She liked my hair in its current style – it wasn't regulation, but she wouldn't tell anyone about it. What colour would I call my eyes? Blue? Blue-green? Blue-grey? Rigelian turquoise? Did I know how cute I looked when I blushed? I made an attempt to answer, but she put a finger-tip gently to my lips to silence me, and I caught a brief zing of the scent she had put on her wrist – yes, it was "Hyper-kitten", from that Zeon parfumerie in Atarxes III. I made a mental note to check our schedule, to see when we would be back there. The life-support systems on the Enterprise maintain a constant twenty degrees Celsius, but when we walked into astrometrics, arm-in-arm, I felt as though I was on the surface of Vulcan. Our uniforms are one-piece, and close-fitting, but I wasn't supposed to be perspiring in this environment. Technically it wasn't possible. The crew members in astrometrics turned to look at us as the automatic doors opened. They looked puzzled. "Well, Janice ............" said the Lieutenant, indicating the computer terminals, star-chart displays, and sensor-consoles, with an elegant hand gesture. I thought to myself, "She's like Elaan of Troius – she only has to let her tears fall on my skin, and I will be her slave!" "Janice!" she repeated, with a smile that was gently mocking. "We're in astrometrics. You have some work to do here?" "Er.... I forget. It's not important. I mean, I need my tri-corder," I stammered. "It's in my quarters. I'll go and get it." I meant to make that an excuse to get away, but Lieutenant Uhura turned with me, reinserted her arm through mine, and we made our way back to the turbo-lift. On the way to the crew accommodation deck we had company in the lift, so nothing happened; except that the Lieutenant surreptitiously stroked my thigh with one long, ebony finger. How did I feel? Just then I didn't know quite how I felt. The attention that she was paying me, the automatic responses my body wanted to make, excited me greatly, but made me so afraid. I had never known anything like this before. But wait, hadn't something like this happened – almost happened – before? That Vulcan girl at Starfleet Academy – what was her name? T'Poo? T'Poink? I recall she had asked me to excuse her if she was being illogical, but she was going through the female equivalent of Pon Fa! Nothing actually happened, though, really........ the next day she ignored me anyhow........ My face turning bright pink, I held out against most of the Lieutenant's moves as, still arm-in-arm, we got to the door to my quarters. I put my back against the door, and folded my hands primly in front of my lap, as if making a tiny, barely adequate shield over the lowest part of my abdomen. The Lieutenant leaned casually against the bulkhead. There was a pause. "Well?" she said. "Huh?" "Janice, dear, your tri-corder! We came for your tri-corder!" "Oh....er....I'm off-duty now. There are some things I need to do. I'll get it and come back later!" I stammered. Lieutenant Uhura smiled, caressed my cheek, and said she would see me later on in the mess room. Then, blowing me a kiss, she walked back down the corridor. No, what she did was she sashayed – she actually sashayed – down the corridor, looking back now and then, flashing me her brilliant smile. She didn't usually sashay, did she? Once inside my quarters, I breathed in deeply, and let go my breath slowly. I relaxed. I could smell the tang of perspiration, and I could see in the full-length mirror that there were dark patches forming under my armpits – this was weird, because Starfleet uniform is supposed to wick moisture away from the human body and let it evaporate. There must be something wrong with life support's environmental control settings! But I could detect another scent, delicate, familiar, woman-specific, and when I lifted the skirt of my uniform tunic, I could see that another dark patch was forming on my pants. I was aroused. Instantly, although there was no one else in my quarters at the time, I felt acutely embarrassed. I got a fresh uniform from the replicator, then undressed quickly and tossed my soiled one into the recycling hatch. Then I stepped into the sonic shower, and felt the warm vibrations caress my whole body, stripping away all the unwanted excretions, all the dead skin, all the residual bacteria that the ship's bio-scanners had not dealt with today. When I stepped out of the shower, I felt clean and lemon-fresh. I slipped on the new uniform – at once the molecular structure of the fabric began to attune itself to the temperature of my skin and the ambient temperature of my quarters. I felt comfortable again. But still, I reached for the minute canister bearing the Zeon pictogram for the words "Hyper-kitten", and applied some of the perfume to my wrists, behind my ears, and the back of my knees. I had more than an hour spare, so I sat on my recliner, and must have dozed off. Suddenly I became aware that a panel on the ceiling of my quarters was beginning to vibrate – it was the service inspection cover for this batch of Yeomen's quarters, and led to a Jeffries Tube above. The retaining-rivets in each corner popped out, and fell to the deck with a clatter. The panel slid to one side, and a figure dropped lightly down. I stifled a cry, as the intruder brushed some swarf from her legs and skirt, switched off the ultra-sonic screwdriver she was carrying, and smiled at me. I said her name. "Uhura!" "You locked your door," she said, as if by explanation. "And I couldn't wait until meal break, just to see you with half the ship's company watching! I wanted to be alone with you, Janice. Darling." She advanced towards me. I retreated, but only one step, because my calves came up against my bunk. She put her hands on my shoulders, and then moved one of them behind my neck, pulling me close to her. Our bellies were pressed together, our breasts tip-to-tip, and I could feel her warm breath on my face. "You know, Janice," she said, softly. "You really are a beautiful girl. I don't know when this happened, but I think I'm in love with you!" In reply, I could get nothing out except her name again, and suddenly it felt wonderful on my tongue. "Uhura." I no longer thought of her by her rank. She kissed me. A simple touch of lips upon lips. It was the first time another woman had kissed me, and the experience was – well – exotic. It was like something from a totally different planet. She pressed her mouth gently to mine again, this time flicking the tip of her tongue between them once, twice, very briefly. I responded. I met each flick with a flick of my own, until we were exploring each other's lips and tongue with a gentle, curious, full passion. Starfleet female uniform is one-piece, except for footwear. It opens across the back, from right shoulder-blade to left buttock, and although it might sound awkward to a civilian, a cadet in the Academy usually has mastered the knack of reaching behind and describing a diagonal with the thumbnail, within a week of her induction ceremony. But when Uhura reached behind me, and slowly drew a fingertip across my scapula, my vertebrae, and my lower back, I shivered in nothing short of ecstasy. It was as though I had never felt anything like it, and what with that, and the pressure of her belly against mine, I almost came on the spot! I felt as though I was being peeled, not undressed, as I stepped out of this uniform – only freshly taken from the replicator – and stood naked before Uhura. She gently pushed me backwards, so that I had to sit on my bunk, and then she undressed herself, never taking her eyes off me. When she was naked, she did the oddest thing – she stepped back into her boots! "What in the Final Frontier are you doing?" I asked. "Pulling rank!" she said. "Lie back on that bed, Yeoman Rand, and prepare to receive orders!" I did as I was told, and reclined on the bunk, propped up only by my elbows – I was not yet relaxed. Then, with something like a war-cry, Uhura took a running jump, and leapt into the air. She seemed for a minute to soar above my bunk, then I realised that she was going to body-slam right down on top of me! I couldn't get out of the way – I screamed and flinched! At the last moment, like a leaping cat, she landed, on hands and knees, safely straddling me, and gave out a peal of merry laughter. Everything on my bunk-side table had gone flying – tri-corder, communicator, text-display, and a stress-ball! She looked down at me, with a smile of sheer delight, and then brought her face against mine, and we kissed. Then we simply locked bodies, twining our limbs round each other, kissing hungrily. My whole body was alive and electric everywhere she touched me, everywhere her skin came against mine. We clung to each other, then pushed apart, to allow our hands to wander over each other. We began a mad, moaning scramble over and round my bunk, exploring each other with fingers, lips, and tongue. At one point we were all-ends-up, licking each other's love-mound – I felt the tip of her tongue on my clitoris, and one of her fingers slipping inside me. Ooh! And then – eek! – the tip of another finger slipped inside my bottom! I had hold of her breasts at the time, and was making little circles around her nipples; but, in reaction to that fingertip going in, I must have pinched her, because she yelped. She began to make a low growling in her throat, and gripped me as though we were wrestling. As she changed her position, I thought she was actually going to get me in a leg-lock, because she grabbed one of my feet and hoisted it up. But instead she slipped between my legs, so that we came close together, womanhood to womanhood, and she began to push and rub hers against mine. The friction was incredible. We were both soaking wet down there in our lower decks, from both lick and natural lubrication, so we could take that friction. I moved against her. She moved against me. Slowly and rhythmically at first, but then gradually faster, until we were jiggling frantically together. She slid one free hand along my body, and found that she could reach my breasts, and began to knead one of them. I was practically screaming by now, because the feeling was so intense. Uhura herself was crying out in Swahili – I didn't understand a word, but they were clearly sounds of passion. Then my body simply couldn't take any more. The sensation between my legs hit warp ten, a phaser-shot stunned me, a photon torpedo went off in my head, and a Klingon War-Bird uncloaked dead ahead. Whoop! Whoop! Red Alert! Gimme an O! Gimme an R! Gimme a G! Gimme an A! Gimme an S! Gimme an M! Whadya got? Oh my! Oh my! I came round, to find myself cradled in Uhura's arms. She was kissing my cheek and forehead, murmuring, and singing a little lullaby – in Swahili, of course. Later, I made my way to the mess room. When I walked in, everyone cheered! They stood up and gave me a standing ovation! What was going on? I got a tray of food from the replicator, spotted Uhura sitting at a corner table, and made my way over to her. I passed Mr Spock's table. He looked at me and raised one eyebrow. I passed Nurse Chappell's table. She caught me by the wrist. "Janice, where can I get some of that perfume?" she said, before she let me go. I passed Mr Sulu's table. He rose and gave a polite, Japanese bow, but he was smiling one of his wide grins. "Janice-san," He said. "Really nice 'kai awase'!" "What on Kronos is going on?" I asked Uhura, as I put my tray on her table and sat down opposite her. She didn't look up. Looking intently at her plate, answered very quietly. "When we knocked all those things off your bunk-side table, the communicator got switched on!" "No!" I gasped. I realised what that meant. "Oh yes!" she said. "The whole thing was patched through the ship's com system! Some of the crew have even started calling it the 'come system'!" We ate in silence. Under the table I slipped my hand into hers. She squeezed it in return. "Oh well........" I said "All command officers to their posts!" came a voice from the com system. "Lieutenant Uhura and Yeoman Rand to the bridge." There was a bustle for the turbo-lifts. When we got to the bridge, Uhura went to her communications console, and I took up the Yeoman's stand, to the right of the Captain's chair. I stood at ease, hands behind my back. Technically at ease, that is. Without looking up, the Captain addressed the Ensign at the helm. "Mr Chekhov, remind me where we're bound." "The mining colony on the second planet of the Polygon System, Keptin." "How long will it take us?" "At varp seven, about a veek, Keptin." "Six days, fourteen hours, eleven minutes, and thirty-six seconds," said Mr Spock. "He's got a darned pocket-calculator for a brain!" grumbled the ship's doctor, but the Vulcan simply ignored the remark. "Increase to warp nine," ordered the Captain. "That should cut a couple of days off the journey." There was more muttering. The Engineering Officer said something about, "She'll no' take it at warp nine!" Somebody else quipped, "Yeah, but we know who would take it!" I went red, but I heard Uhura make a sotto voce reply to that quip, and the comedian shut up. "Go to warp nine," Commanded the Captain. "When we've made our stop there, we'll return to Atarxes III. Some of the crew might benefit from some more ...... shore leave." He smiled sideways at me. I wish he wouldn't keep doing that. Mr Spock raised an eyebrow again. I wish HE wouldn't keep doing THAT. I stared straight ahead. I could hear music in my head. An orchestra. A woman's voice singing, wordlessly, in high register. "Aaaah aaaahh, ah-ah-ah-ah aaaah......." Bongos. The Trouble with Tribbing Ch. 02 [This is another tribute to Star Trek, starting where the first story left off. I have borrowed unashamedly from the original episode "City in the Sky", because Leonard Nimoy has such a memorable line in that episode. I have also borrowed from E E Smith's classic "Lensman" series of sci-fi books – and see if you can spot where I have saluted "Barbarella" and "The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy". Again, the Prime Directive has been followed to the letter, and no sentient alien entities were hurt during the making of this story. NB, The Surgeon General has determined that Dargolian Tiger Weed is bad for your health.] Extracted items from personal log – Yeoman Janice Rand. We left the mining colony on the second planet of the Polygon System two days ago, and our present course was back to Atarxes III, to pick up an emergency consignment of the fragrance "Hyper-Kitten pour femme [and all contingent sub-species]". Our stay in the Polygon System was tedious and uneventful, except for the discovery of a mind-devouring alien in the mining tunnels, which threatened the lives of all the miners, and all the crew of the Enterprise, until Mr Spock did a Vulcan mind-meld with it, and taught it to sit up and beg. Ho hum! Indebted to Mr Spock's ingenuity, and despite the feelings of certain crew members [Lieutenant Uhura and me!] that the Atarxes III mission is now of supreme importance, the Captain agreed to divert the starship's course so that we passed close to the spectacular Amethyst Nebula. As this nebula had never been examined at such close quarters before, our Science Officer was anxious to conduct as full an analysis as possible of all the relevant data. We went into standard orbit around a small, M-class planet, and he spent several hours gazing into the viewing-hood of his scanner, occasionally muttering "Interesting", or "Fascinating", and sometimes even "Intriguing", while Uhura and I hopped from one foot to another! She kept looking at me, and her look seemed to say, "Just you wait until the end of our watch, Janice". Wow! Suddenly all the ship's alarms went off, and someone called "Red Alert!" A ship had de-cloaked off our port bow. The Captain's immediate thought was Klingons, and he bristled. Up to now we have only ever encountered cloaking technology in ships from the Klingon Empire, but the vessel now materialising on the forward view-screen was certainly not one of theirs. It was blue and sleek, with a red upper-section on its nose cone, and two large nacelles hung below its forward section. That reminded me of something for a moment. No sooner had it de-cloaked than it engaged us in a tractor-beam. The Captain ordered "Full Astern", but with the matter / anti-matter pods straining to burst, the Engineering Officer came on the com channel with an agonised, "Captain, she'll no' take much more o' this!" Reluctantly, the Captain ordered "All Stop". A strident voice came over the communications relay. "You have invaded Kalonian territory, and our sensors show that you are engaged on a spying mission. This is clearly an act of aggression, and will not be tolerated. Your ship and all its crew are hereby under arrest, and subject to Kalonian military jurisdiction." Well, the Captain argued the point [he always does] and threatened them with photon torpedoes [he always does that too!], but a well-aimed salvo from their forward disruptors took out our entire weapons array, so that was that. "Resistance is useless," came the strident voice. I thought, "Why is no one ever pleased to see us?" The voice continued: "We have passed to your ship's computer the co-ordinates to which you will beam an away-team. The away-team will consist of Captain Kirk, Science Officer Spock, Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Chekhov, and two anonymous and expendable crewmen. Oh yes, and both Lieutenant Uhura and yeoman Janice Rand." "Why those particular people?" demanded the Captain. "Your away-teams always consist of the vital members of your command structure," answered the voice. "You always leave the ship without its commander, without its best brain, without the one person who knows the only cure for Romulan Flu, and without your entire navigation team. And you always take two anonymous and expendable crew-members. You are quite clearly an inferior and barbaric species. As for Uhura and Rand ....... well ......we have our reasons. You have two of your earth-minutes to comply, or your entire ship will be destroyed." "Captain," said Mr Spock. "The co-ordinates they have given us are precisely three-point-zero-seven kilometres above ground level!" "One minute and forty seconds!" said the voice. "It seems we have no choice," said the Captain. "Mr Spock, Dr McCoy, Mr Sulu, Mr Chekhov, Lieutenant Uhura, Yeoman Rand – you're with me. We'll pick up two other crewmen on the way. In the turbo-lift, Lieutenant Uhura's hand found mine. With one finger, she traced a little circle in my palm – the universal sign amongst all bi-manual species for the promise of sex. For one moment my mind, freshly trained at Starfleet Academy, remembered that amongst the swamp-dwellers of Toizarus 19, it also meant "I want to put my third tentacle in your ear", but one quick look at Uhura's face knocked that thought clean out of my head again! Since the incident with the open com-channel we had been, well, shall we say "an item". Boredom during off-duty periods was no longer an issue for me! From the transporter room, we beamed directly to the given coordinates. To our surprise, we arrived in a city, suspended far above the surface of the planet. Mr Spock raised an eyebrow. "Truly the most fascinating example of sustained anti-gravity levitation I have ever seen, Captain," he said. As if on cue, in walked what I took to be a female Kalonian. I couldn't help it – my eyes were drawn straight to her bust, which stood out high and proud in front of her. "Truly the most fascinating example of sustained anti-gravity levitation I have ever seen," I thought. She was tall – taller than any of us, even Mr Spock. Despite her blue skin, she had to be the most ravishingly beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair, piled on her head like choux pastry and cream on a "coffee tower", was crimson. Her eyes were the shape of almonds, and were perched on perfect cheekbones. Though her mouth was small, her lips were full, and nestled below a slightly retrousse nose. Though she was clothed, she appeared to be naked, as the golden-hued garment she wore clung to every part of her body like a thin coat of paint, except for a cape, which floated like a wisp of cloud behind her. Her stomach was perfectly flat and, despite the fact that she had no navel, wonderful to see, leading down – oh my! – to a clearly-defined cleft. I was smitten. I forgot all about my lover who was standing next to me, but as the Kalonian woman approached [her eyes seemingly fixed on me alone] I began to feel Uhura seethe with jealousy. When I shot a glance to my right, however, I saw that she too had been transfixed by our captor. "I am Arktura," she said. "I am Head of the High Council of the planet Kalon, which you have dared to invade. You are our prisoners, of course, but I promise that if you cooperate, your stay here will not be... too unpleasant ... For some of you, at least. You will be treated fairly, and may regard yourselves as our guests, if you wish." The Captain stepped forward, jutting out his chin [he always does that!]. "We are from the Federation, and value our freedom above all else," he said. "What if we refuse to cooperate?" In answer Arktura touched a device on her wrist. There was a noise – "Poing". I was expecting that; whenever anyone alien does something to us, there is always a noise like "Poing". On this occasion, its effect was instant. The expendable crewman was rendered anonymous, and the anonymous crewman was expended. The Captain started forward angrily, but was restrained by the Doctor, who growled in his ear, "Jim – no!" "Your ship's doctor is very sensible, Captain," observed Arktura. She made a gesture, and several more Kalonian women entered, all dressed as she was, apart from the fact that they had no capes, and all bearing objects we took to be weapons of some kind. Except for Uhura and me, the away team were herded out of sight. "And now for you......" said Arktura. She touched her wrist-device again, and I braced myself for oblivion. Poing! I was still there, and for a moment I thought I was naked. But when I looked down, I found that although my Starfleet uniform had gone, I was sheathed from neck to ankles and wrists in a covering of shimmering green. It felt amazing, like the gentlest of caresses in places that needed caressing, like a firm, supporting hand in places that needed support, and like nothing at all where freedom was needed. Sometimes it felt like all three at once! My breasts had certainly never known anything like it. They stood prouder than they ever had, like Arktura's though not so magnificent, supported by the fabric of the clothing, whilst my nipples were teased into erection as if by a cool breeze! I looked over at Uhura. Her covering was bronze. Her breasts seemed to have been moulded into perfect cones, like the anti-matter pods on a Tholian freighter, and her nipples were standing out like the bulkhead-lugs on the engineering deck of a starship! She was looking down at herself, hardly daring to believe what had happened to her. She ran her hands over her own body and shivered! I would not have been able to take my eyes from her, had it not been for the presence of Arktura. At that moment, the proud Kalonian seemed to be the most fabulous woman in the entire Alpha Quadrant! "These clothes are of Kalonite," she said. "It is a substance which we produce on this planet. It serves for just about every purpose, but it surpasses all other fabrics when it comes to adornment for the female body. Or so we find. How do you like it?" "Beautiful," murmured Uhura. "I feel so beautiful." I felt the same. The fabric seemed to stimulate every nerve-ending in my body. I tried to pull myself together. "Er ... where are all the Kalonian men?" I asked. "I didn't see any." Arktura pursed her lips. "You aren't interested in seeing them, are you?" she said. "N-no!" I stammered. "I – I just wondered, that's all." "We have no time for men. We have some on the planet's surface. They either mine Kalonite, or serve as a crop." "Crop?" "Yes. When the time comes for reproduction we send a squad of our female soldiers to harvest the necessary item. When the crop becomes unproductive, it is mown." There are times when I am really glad I'm a girl! She clapped her hands, and more female attendants appeared, this time unarmed. Arktura turned to the Lieutenant. "Go with them." It was an order, to be sure. "These are my personal handmaidens. They will see to your comfort, and ... instruct you in our ways and customs." Uhura was led away, looking back, first at me, and then at the Kalonian woman. When we were alone Arktura turned to me. "Now, Pretty-pretty," she said. She touched the device on her wrist, and a soft music filled the air. She touched it again, and the lights dimmed slightly. Then she walked up to me, and put one hand round behind my waist, drawing me to her. Her other hand found mine, and we twined fingers. She began to lead me in a gentle, swaying dance, gently rubbing herself against me. "You are so beautiful," she said. "Your skin is the palest pink, and that hair is like gold-pressed Latinum! And oh! That cute little what-do-you-call-it ... navel!" Her gentle rubbing was beginning to drive me crazy. She could tell, as she increased the pressure as we danced, forcing me backwards towards a couch. "It is one of the properties of Kalonite," she said. "We found that it heightens bodily sensations. Oh, Pretty-pretty, I want you so much!" And with that she forced be backwards onto the couch, covering my face with kisses, running her hands up and down my body – I'll swear she had three or four extra hands, but that must have been the effect of the Kalonite! I felt as though I was making gallons of wetness down in my lower deck, as she wrestled me onto my back. Stars! – she was amazing! "This is how we do it on Kalon, Pretty-pretty," she said, and proceeded to trib me. Well, of course we do that throughout the Federation too – so I have found out from Starfleet database once Uhura introduced me to the practice – but on this occasion the practice had been made perfect! I don't know whether it was the thrill of being dominated by the Head of a Planetary High Council, or the fact that she was the most incredibly beautiful woman I had ever seen, or even the properties of the Kalonite clothing through which our bodies rubbed, or maybe it was simply that she had got me sexed-up to Warp Ten. Whatever it was, I found that I was immediately on a total high. The pressure of her lower deck against mine went on and on and on. I seemed to be held permanently on the absolute threshold of an orgasm, and my whole body zinged like a hand-phaser on overload. There was nothing I could do, except grit my teeth, clench my fists, and hang on until I could bear it no longer. "I want to come!" I begged. "I! Want! To! Come! ... Make! Me! COME!" She did. It was like crashing head-first into an asteroid! Oh wow! As we lay in what was too damned hot to be called "afterglow", I felt down between my legs, expecting to find the Kalonite garment soaked through. To my amazement it was quite dry. Our mutual moisture had somehow been dissipated by the material. This was amazing stuff. Arktura stroked my cheek, and whispered to me. "Pretty-pretty, I want you to be my consort – my lifetime partner," she said. "I want you to rule the council with me. I want to take you publicly before the council and declare you as my bride!" I thought, "What the hell – screw Starfleet. Lieutenant who?" Yes, I'm ashamed to admit it, I was willing to forget my lovely African lioness! So later that day, that's what she did. The council was summoned, along with all the most beautiful Kalonian female dignitaries and aristocratic ladies. The Council Chamber must have held several hundred blue-skinned, crimson-haired women. Arktura had changed into another golden-coloured garment, even sheerer than the first, if that was possible! I had been poinged into a silver one to match it, and crowned with a sliver-Latinum coronet. We made our entrance from behind gossamer draperies, and descended a staircase. In the middle of the Council Chamber was a bed, and all the Kalonian ladies formed a broken circle round it. "This is Princess Janice," announced Arktura. "Imperial Heiress of the planet Urth, and High Priestess of Starflit." It was pure starcow-droppings, but I didn't object to it! "She is my chosen bride. Does any woman dare to deny my right to take her?" There was silence. We continued to descend the staircase, and Arktura leant over to me and whispered to me. "After you have tribbed me, it is our custom that you must also do the same to all the other members of the Council." I almost missed a step. We reached the bed. Arktura lay down in what I felt was an overly submissive manner for her. I got the idea that I was supposed to take some sort of a lead. She raised one leg – I took it over my shoulder, and gently climbed on board her. I thought, "Let's see if I can remember the description from the Vulcan underground Pon Fa manual!" and I began to rotate my aft sensor array against hers. Oh that Kalonite stuff! If I thought it was amazing when she tribbed me earlier, this was mind-blowing. I found that as the dominant partner I could dictate the intensity of both her and my pleasure. I went for warp speed! Arktura threw her head back in bliss, and the crowd of women watching us began to coo and gasp in appreciation. I began to think that maybe I would be able to see to the lot of them after all! OK, to cut a long story short, I picked the moment when we were both going to hit that asteroid, and I went for it! Who was shouting? Who was screaming? Who cares? My orgasm was like being hit by a phaser-blast. I woke up in the sick-bay of the Enterprise. It turns out I actually had been hit by a phaser-blast – on stun setting of course, but I had a prize headache nonetheless! Looking down at me were the concerned face of Dr McCoy, and the rather smug face of Captain James T Kirk. The Captain gave me the following potted explanation. Once they were all down on the surface amongst the Kalonian men, Mr Spock had got a couple of pieces of wire from somewhere, made some sort of device, blah-di-blah the usual. Then he'd done the Vulcan neck-pinch on a couple of the guards. Everyone had escaped, met up with some guy called Durex-Durex, leader of the Kalonian underground, overpowered a few more guards, "rescued" Uhura, found the planetary power-source, and – bingo! Arktura and the Council had been deposed, and the Kalonian men put back in their rightful position of "equal" power. Good grief – hadn't this smug son-of-a-Betelgeusian-Megabitch never heard of the Prime Directive? After the Captain had gone, the Doctor said I had a visitor. Uhura. He left her alone with me. I didn't know whether she had heard what I had been up to with Arktura, but if she had heard it didn't seem to have made any difference. She took hold of my hand, and told me in sign language that she wanted to put her third tentacle in my ear [my brain was still a bit fuzzy from the effects of the phaser blast – and everything]. I looked at her, sheepishly. Baaa! "I still love you," she said. "And I managed to salvage a couple of those Kalonian cat-suits. We could try them on later, if you like... Pretty-pretty!" Gulp! So she did know! "Could we book the mess-room, and invite all the female crew members to come and watch?" I suggested. She called me a dirty name, but said she'd think about it. I wonder if she has had the amount of practice that I've had? Maybe she's had more! Cue orchestra. Cue high soprano. Cue bongos ...