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Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment
Star Trek is not mine and I make no claim on it


Personal log, stardate whatever.

Woke up this morning and couldn’t find my vibrator anywhere. These Galaxy class starships really do keep themselves squeaky clean.

I tried to replicate another. But the *&#!!@!* machine just said, “Pattern not found”. And replicator programming never has been my strong point. What am I going to do now?

My first day on the Enterprise and already I can tell I’m not going to like it here.

I am gonna be in such trouble. All through today’s orientation sessions I just kept looking at the ship’s talent. Couldn’t keep my mind on work at all. There was nobody promising in my newbie group, just two other women and a couple of really vacant Security types. But the First Officer was another matter. Now there’s a big guy. I kept looking at his beard and thinking, would it tickle? And where? I made a point of being last out and doing my best butt-wiggle as I left the room, but the Ship’s Counselor grabbed my arm in the corridor and told me to keep my smutty little mind off her property.

Wasn’t much better in Engineering. Turns out the Chief Engineer is blind, wears a VISOR contraption that can take your temperature and tell you what you had for dinner yesterday, or something. A blind engineer — bet he’d know exactly what to do with his hands. And I couldn’t help admiring his butt — all round and firm so his uniform was stretched really tight across it. Very grabbable. I was so-o-o tempted to just reach out and squeeze... He kept giving me funny looks, though — at least, I think they were funny looks, it’s hard to tell with that wraparound whoosiwhatsit on his eyes. Wonder if he could tell how erect my nipples were? Good thing Starfleet supplies a regulation corset, or everyone would have noticed.

The Captain came in while we were in Sickbay for our routine medicals. He’s smaller in stature than I’d expected the great Jean-Luc Picard to be, but what presence! Talk about bedroom eyes. French, too. Is it true what they say about Frenchmen, or just propaganda? But that sharp-cheeked CMO seems to have him sewn up, so it doesn’t look as if I’ll be finding out about l’amour any time soon. Maybe it’s just as well. Captains and Ensigns don’t really go together too well.

Personal log, day two

Dammit, I wish I could find my vibrator! I really need a buzz in the mornings.

This ship is amazing. The Head of Security is a Klingon. Pretty damn intimidating, too, with those eyebrows and that glare. Sitting in that introduction session I could just feel the two vacant guys curdling with terror at the idea they might get something wrong. The other female newbies, too, even though neither of them is assigned to Security.

All I could think was, I wonder if his prong looks like his forehead? All ridged and knobbly. Imagine sliding up and down a pole like that!

But then, they say Klingons tend to draw blood when they mate. I’m all for a bit of scratching and biting, but when it gets to broken bones, call me inhibited, I’m outta there. Besides, I couldn’t quite reconcile myself to the smell. I have no problem with sweat an’ such, but lilac ? Ick.

After lunch we went to Operations. Like I said, this ship is amazing: this time the head of department was an android.

It’s an odd-looking creature, really. Nicely proportioned, but nothing special. Now, if I were building an artificial man, I’d make it a bit more dashing. Blond and rugged, maybe, like something out of an old science fiction movie. But this Data seems to know what it’s doing. Very calm. One of the other girls is working in Ops, she was so relieved after the Klingon!

How would I feel about being under an android? Dunno, really. I guess it might be okay. Someone told us in the bar that it—that he, Data, doesn’t have emotions. That might be useful, in a boss. He’d only judge you on performance, wouldn’t take an irrational dislike to you or impose his own values...

I’ve just had a thought.

I wonder.

Commander Data did say, if we had any problems...

Personal log, day three

Damn ship! I’m gonna have to figure something out soon or I’ll go crazy.

So I spoke to Commander Data. Explained that I had a little personal problem, asked if he could come to my quarters and help me. After all, I figure if anyone on this ship knows how to program a replicator, a walking computer will.

“A vibrator?” His head twitched in a mechanical sort of way. “A mechanism or instrument that causes oscillation. An electromagnetic device that converts low direct current to pulsating direct current or alternating current. A—"

“A mechanism,” I interrupted him before he went through the dictionary.

“Ah,” he said. “A vibrating electrical appliance used in massage. Of course. Have you examined the ship’s replicator catalogue for an appropriate model?”

“I did that,” I explained, “but there was no listing for what I had in mind. There were only glove pads and that kind of thing.”

“Then you require assistance in programming the replicator for an unlisted device,” he concluded. “Please define your requirements.”

And suddenly I found it very difficult to say... I mean, okay, this was a machine I was talking to, but he looked just like a man (except for being gold), quite a cute one actually, now that he was up close. But in the end I managed to tell him what I wanted it to look like.

“A penis? Ah. You require a tool for sexual stimulation.” While I tried to stop blushing — heck, I thought I was blunt — he strolled over to the replicator — really nice buns, I noticed — and started pushing buttons. Thirty seconds later, there was this tingly materialisation sound, and he handed me a, uh, tool for sexual stimulation.

I looked at it. It was... perfect! Something like twenty-two centimetres long. I’d be guessing if I gave a circumference, but I couldn’t close my hand round it. Straight and firm, and beautifully sculpted, a head like a tulip flower, a little ridge running down from the tip, a texture like velvet spread over steel. A lovely gold colour. And a little switch at the base for selecting between three speeds. I couldn’t wait to try it out!

“Is that satisfactory?” the android asked. I nearly hit the ceiling — I was so entranced, I’d forgotten he was there. But I told him it was exactly what I’d had in mind and I was very pleased with it.

“I utilised the specifications for my own genitalia to create the replicator pattern.”

I looked back at what I was holding. “You mean, you have one... just like this?”

“Yes. Would you like to try it out?”

“You can do that?” said I, shimmying towards him. “I mean, you have the capability for... sex?” Those yellow eyes didn’t seem so strange anymore, and from this close his lips looked awfully kissable.

“I was referring to the vibrator,” he said. Oops. “However, I am programmed with multiple techniques, a broad variety of pleasuring. I surmise that you are currently experiencing considerable frustration. If you wish me to assist you in alleviating it, I am at your disposal until 0700 hrs. Dr Crusher is taking the night shift on the bridge.”

I nearly slid down his legs to the floor. But I managed to croak out a “Yes”.

“Accessing,” he said, then he took the vibrator out of my hand, lifted me up and carried me to the bed. I lay there and watched him undress. Oh boy! All gold, all over, from his smooth chest and strong arms to that tiny, adorable little butt and — he wasn’t kidding about the replicator pattern either. What a sight!

I started to struggle out of my uniform as he was folding his clothes, but he moved so fast I’d barely got started before he had his hands on me, smoothing the jumpsuit down over my arms and peeling it right off. He had the Starfleet regulation corset off me in seconds, and then he was straddling me with his firm balls resting on my pubis, and massaging my breasts with his hot golden hands. He tweaked and teased my nipples until they stood up in sharp points, it felt so good it hurt, then he pressed my breasts together and brought his mouth down, sucking and pulling on each tit in turn, his tongue wet and warm and alive on me. His magnificent cock was heavy on my stomach, and as he moved, his balls rubbed between my legs. I spread as wide as I could, clamped my legs over his and pushed at his thighs until he got the message — I didn’t want to wait. I wanted all of that gorgeous golden tool inside me. I told him so.

“Obviously I was correct. You are sexually frustrated,” he said as he repositioned himself.

“Not for much longer,” I replied, as the tulip head of his tool pushed against me.

I felt that flower-head pulsing at the entrance to my vagina, lifted my hips right up off the bed to take him inside. I could feel every millimeter of that magnificent shaft sliding up into me, and the tension built up inside me as if it was going to burst right through my skin, but he was not going to hurry. It was like being cleaved right open, but I was so wet he didn’t have any difficulty forging a path. Right to the hilt — he shifted position so that the base of his shaft grazed my clit with every slow thrust. I wanted him to ride me faster, harder, yet at the same time it felt so good I didn’t want him to stop doing it to me just the way he was, real slow and purposeful. Long, slow strokes. Long, s-l-o-w... There was an explosion building deep inside me, he was stoking it with every movement. Then he withdrew, almost all the way, and stopped, and I clutched at his thighs and tried to pull him back in but he wouldn’t move and then —

Whoosh! hard and fast and deep, and I felt the explosion starting, and I must have come half a dozen times as he fucked me, I was screaming and shuddering and hanging on like I’d die if I let go. Broke three fingernails on his back.

And that was only the first time. Having a male — a tireless, unflagging, exceptionally well-programmed male — at my disposal until 0700 hrs was something I surely was not going to waste. After all, he did say multiple techniques. So there was fast and there was slow and there was on top and underneath and behind and sideways and upside-down and over the chair and up against the wall and in the shower and on the floor and all of it was incredible!

Finally he picked me up and laid me out on the bed and, oh, my, he licked me. Starting at my mouth, working down around my jawline and my left ear and down my neck, and down over each breast, the tip of his tongue flickering like a hummingbird’s wings, then laving all over, broad and flat and textured like wet velvet, then slithering over my nipples like an inquisitive Morrican silkvole. He mouthed his way centimetre by centimetre over my stomach and just when I thought he would hit the spot he veered sideways and started on my thigh, licking all the juice off like he was a cat cleaning me, only I could feel myself getting wetter all over again, and spreading my legs wide open, pushing my hips up trying to get him to put his mouth where it would do most good.

When I finally felt the hot tickle of his miraculous tongue on my clit I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Oh, he was so good, sucking and stroking and teasing and pushing me beyond what I’d ever thought I could stand. And his hands went everywhere, until I couldn’t figure out which pleasure was coming from where. Then, with his mouth still hot on me, I felt something entering my soaking wet cunt, cold and hard and purposeful. He was using the vibrator, sliding it up and out, filling me and tonguing me and fingering me all at once, and then he flicked the switch to maximum and I started coming and coming.... At 0659 I blacked out.

Personal log, day four

When I woke up, I was not alone. The big bearded First Officer was standing beside the bed looking concerned, and the Chief Medical Officer was waving a tricorder over me. Wonder what she found? Are tricorders configured to register sexual exhaustion?

Seems I’d missed showing up for duty...

I spent the rest of the evening doing some hard thinking, and I’ve decided to leave the ship. I’d been assigned to conn rotation, and I just know I’d never be able to keep my mind on my work, with Lt Cdr Data sitting right next to me. Probably end up crashing the ship into a planet, or something. So I went to the Captain and asked to leave. I’m being transferred to the Hercules tomorrow.

And there’s a certain replicator pattern that’s coming right along with me.



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