Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The incident had occurred a little over a week ago. According to regulations, McCoy knew damned well that the captain and first officer should already have come in. So he was well within his rights to demand that both present themselves to Sickbay. It was regulations, after all. No exceptions. But he hadn’t survived this long aboard the Empire’s flagship by being a fool. Kirk was already spitting nails, threatening to gouge his eyeballs out if the Enterprise’s CMO even came close.

He could either force the pair in for the procedure and face their wrath should they be able to reverse their current conditions, or he could flaunt the regs and be reprimanded if Imperial Command got wise. It would be a loosing gamble regardless of how he chose to play the cards he'd been delt. Which was why the doctor was not all that eager to place his bets. He would wait and see if anything changed within the next couple of days. Hopefully the situation would resolve itself one way or another, without him needing to intervene. If it didn’t, though… Well… McCoy didn’t want to end up in the agony booth simply because Kirk and Spock couldn’t be reasonable and allow him to perform a simple medical procedure. One that forty-three percent of the crew already endured every week.  

Who knows, they might enjoy themselves if they just laid back and let McCoy do what needed to be done. The Vulcan could certainly stand to relax. And McCoy would no doubt enjoy the show, he thought, feeling himself harden. Kirk and Spock had objectively been attractive before, but since the glitch with the transporter, they had become such pretty lovelies. Who knew what Command would do if Mr. Scott didn’t manage to reverse the process? It didn’t seem likely that the admiralty would let either of them keep their current positions. Maybe he’d offer one of them his protection if it came to that, sweet darlings.

“Doctor.”

Speak of the devil. Although the doctor supposed that wasn’t strictly speaking true anymore. Spock didn’t look like a hobgoblin so much now, more like an elven maiden from one of the bedtime stories he’d read Joanna a lifetime ago. The formerly austere Vulcan first officer was now a pretty slight thing with perky little tits.

“Well, this is a surprise,” McCoy tried to suppress a grin, leaning back in his chair.

Chapter Text

The Vulcan quirked an eyebrow. "That seems unlikely, doctor, since I was required to present myself to Sickbay two days, nine hours and approximately fifteen minutes ago."

"And why didn't you then?" McCoy drawled, lazily swirling around the amber liquid in the tumbler he was holding. Thankfully the man didn't appear drunk.

"For the same reason, I suspect you have yet to summon me. I calculated that there was a significant statistical chance that Mr. Scott would return the captain and myself to our normal states before our current conditions would become an issue with Command," Spock replied crisply. McCoy being here was not ideal, but Spock had decided that coming at this hour would afford the greatest chance of privacy. Little as the Vulcan trusted the man, Spock had calculated that coming to Sickbay now would have the most considerable chance of avoiding an unwanted audience.  

"Well, to be honest, darling, I was planning on giving you a couple more days. Why the sudden rush?" McCoy smirked, tilting his head to the side. Spock decided to let the darling go. Given the reason for his visit, Spock concluded that there was nothing to be gained by antagonizing the doctor by participating in their usual snipping.

"Mr. Sulu has taken it upon himself to notify Command of the situation," Spock replied. There was no use in keeping this from the doctor. He'd find out soon enough.

"Damn it," the human exclaimed.

"Indeed. Once you have finished my treatment, I recommend sending the captain a formal summons. Perhaps reminding him that the grace period you provided us to find a solution has expired," Spock suggested evenly. McCoy at least had the good grace to try to suppress his laughter.

"Damn fine idea, Mr… Lieutenant Commander," McCoy quickly corrected himself.

"My body may have changed, Doctor, but I assure you that I remain the same individual," Spock responded.

"Well, Command may have different feelings about that," the doctor responded. However, Spock supposed that he could concede that the human made a fair point. "I suppose you'd like to get this over with."

"If we could," Spock answered, following the doctor into one of the treatment rooms at the rear of sickbay. The Vulcan couldn't help but glance at the large, darkened reflective glass wall at the end of the room.

"Unlikely there will be too many observers at this late hour. I imagine that's why you chose to come now," McCoy noted, following Spock's gaze. "You can undress behind the screen in the corner. Then, once you're done, you can put on one of the robes from the shelf back there."

Spock moved behind the screen wordlessly. He was surprised to be afforded the privacy of a screen or a robe. Though he supposed this helped bolster the fantasy that what was about to happen was a medical procedure. There was no medical reason for this. His people had quietly decried this practice for decades, but to no avail. Spock shook his head. Dwelling on these thoughts would only delay the inevitable and since Spock had no choice procrastinating was illogical. He'd tried to explain as much to Kirk, but the captain had refused to listen to him, seething with anger. The captain's protests were unlikely to save him from his fate. Instead, they would likely lead to Kirk being hunted down by his own security team and dragged to sickbay, where he would be held down and forced. At least this way, Spock told himself, he could maintain a small modicum of control over the situation. Spock quickly disrobed, folding his uniform and placing it on one of the empty selves left for this purpose. He grabbed one of the dark blue robes and promptly slid into it. The fabric was soft and thin, almost silken. It barely reached mid-thigh. Taking a moment to center himself, Spock fastened the small strings on the right side of his waist and stepped back into the treatment room proper.

"There you are," McCoy commented, standing by the counter and quickly drying his hands. He tilted his head towards a reclining chair equipped with a pair of stirrups. "Up you go."

Irrationally, Spock found he regretted his decision to never witness any of these procedures. He couldn't help but feel he would have somehow been better prepared, which was absurd. He could never have reasonably predicted the events that led to this moment. Without another word, Spock walked over to the chair and sat down on the side, lifting his legs and swivelling in the seat until he could lay his legs in the stirrups. Spock was startled when McCoy walked over and casually started clamping the attached restraints across his ankles.

"I don't require restraints, Doctor," he hissed.

"I'm afraid you do. It's standard procedure on all imperial vessels, Lieutenant Commander," the doctor insisted, ignoring his protests and locking a second set of restraints across his thighs, effectively ensuring that Spock would be unable to close his legs for the duration.

"I was not aware of that," Spock replied. Of course, he had never really looked into the details of the procedure, but he doubted McCoy would risk making up such an easily verifiable fact.

"Well, you've never shown much interest in paroxysm therapy, so I don't see why you would be. Tell me, Spock, have you taken the new equipment out for a test drive yet?" McCoy asked as he finished restraining Spock's wrists.

"That is none of your concern," Spock snapped.

"Careful, Spock. You wouldn't want me to think you're getting emotional, would you?" McCoy taunted before shaking his head and grinning down at him. "I was actually asking out of more than just prurient interest. I was trying to get some idea of your level of, shall we say, expertise. Based on your reaction, I'm guessing the answer is uninitiated?"

"That is correct," Spock replied, trying to get ahold of himself.  

"Well then. I'm going to proceed with manual stimulation. There are mechanical aids we can use down the road, but they can be a little too intense on someone without much experience," the doctor informed him walking around to the head of the exam chair. "Before we begin, would you like a blindfold?"

"Is that required?"

"It's not. We can forgo one if you'd like. A lot of girls prefer them, though. Say it helps them to let go and relax and makes it easier for them to enjoy the process," McCoy explained.

"I would prefer to be able to see, for now," Spock decided. Then started as McCoy began needing his shoulders. "Why are you touching me there? How does this relate to the procedure?"

"I'm trying to help you to relax. This isn't going to work if you're all tense, Sugar. So simmer down. This experience doesn't need to be unpleasant," McCoy assured him, continuing to massage his tense shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Spock squeaked as the doctor released his shoulders and reached into his robe to start massaging his newly formed breasts.

"Playing with those pretty little tits of yours, obviously. The transporter gave you just the perfect handful," McCoy answered. He tutted softly as Spock started ineffectively pulling against the restraints. "None of that, Honey. This will help you get in the mood. It doesn't feel so bad now, does it? There doesn't need to be any pain unless that's something you enjoy."

"This isn't necessary," Spock snapped.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much," McCoy responded, switching to gently twisting and pinching his nipples. "Tell me, Spock. How is the sensitivity now compared to before the change? I'm curious if you've noticed a major difference. Well?"

"Yes, they seem more sensitive now," Spock gasped after McCoy pinched his right tit a little harder, growing impatient for an answer. Then, humiliatingly enough, Spock felt the first stirrings of wetness between his legs.

"Good girl," McCoy praised, slowly teasing his nipples.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor finally relented, pulling his hands out from underneath Spock's robe and patting his arm as he made his way to the stool at the base of the exam chair.

"And look at that, you've already started self-lubricating. And you thought playing with those lovely little tits wasn't necessary," McCoy admonished, running a hand slowly up Spock's left thigh as he leaned forward to examine him. "You've done an excellent job getting wet for me, sweetheart, but I like to add some extra lubrication, especially for beginners. "

Spock watched McCoy grab a bottle and squeeze a liberal amount on the fingers of his right hand before rubbing his thumb against his fingers to warm the gel. Somehow he was still shocked when he felt the doctor delicately separate his labia, exposing his clitoris and vaginal opening. "Look at that beautiful pussy. That transporter accident was certainly generous. I suspect if I'd been with you, I would have come out looking like my aunt Edna, but you are just the prettiest little thing, aren't you?" Spock couldn't contain a gasp when the doctor's slick finger began circling his clitoris.

"And responsive too. It won't be too long now. Just lay back and relax while I take care of you. It will feel really good, sweetheart," McCoy promised, gently rubbing Spock's throbbing clitoris. The Vulcan couldn't help the flush which began staining his cheeks.

McCoy rottated his hand deftly, inserting a finger into Spock's vaginal opening and slowly beginning to finger him before withdrawing, only to return with two fingers. Then, he quickly repositioned his left hand so that he could use it to resume caressing Spock's now swollen clitoris. Spock was willing to admit that the sensations were quite pleasurable. He gasped as McCoy crooked his fingers and began stroking a particularly sensitive spot inside the Vulcan's vagina.

McCoy continued diligently for several minutes until finally, Spock felt his bound thighs begin to tremble. "Look at you. You're getting close, aren't you, Spock? Go ahead and cum for me, honey," McCoy cooed. And suddenly, pure bliss started radiating from Spock's sex, shocking him with its intensity. McCoy continued fingering and caressing him through his orgasm. "Such a good girl."

Finally, the doctor withdrew his fingers and gently patted Spock's thigh again before standing up to wash his hands. Spock lay gasping, closing his eyes and trying to regain his composure. Suddenly, the Vulcan felt McCoy run tender fingers through his hair. "You're alright, darling. Just breathe. Give yourself a moment to catch your breath. I'm going to undo the restraints now. You can get up whenever you are ready. There's a small sonic just down the hall if you'd like to shower before putting your clothes back on."

Spoke lay there for several moments while the doctor walked back to the counter, presumably occupied with filling his chart with what the Vulcan didn't know. What exactly did one typically write after fingering a patient to orgasm? Finally, Spock stood up, carefully tugging his robe down.

"Spock?" the doctor stopped him as he retrieved his clothing from behind the screen and prepared to leave the room.  

"Yes, Doctor?" Spock responded.

"Sulu must have some confidence that you two will be stuck this way for at least a while if he dared to go to Command behind Kirk's back," McCoy pointed out.

"I suppose so, though Mr. Sulu has not always been known for avoiding brash decisions," Spock replied noncommittally.    

"I supposed you're probably right," McCoy conceded. "Shall I pencil you in for the same time next week?"   

"That would be fine, Doctor," Spock replied, tucking his uniform closer to his chest and exiting the room without another word.

Chapter Text

Stardate: 2266.169 22:38
To: James T. Kirk, Captain
Copy: Imperial Command - Medical
From: Leonard McCoy, Commander (CMO)

Subject: Mandatory Paroxysm Therapy - Overdue

Captain, as you are well aware, Imperial Military Policy states that all female personnel must present themselves to Sickbay at least every seven days for paroxysm therapy, regardless of their rank. Even taking into account the 3-day grace period I afforded you and Commander Spock in the hopes that Lieutenant Commander Scott would be able to reverse the effects of the incident on stardate 2266.159 quickly, you are now overdue for treatment. Since Mr. Scott seems no closer to finding a solution, you are required to present yourself to Sickbay no later than 18:00 hours on stardate 2266.170. While I realize your gender change was unexpected and no doubt upsetting, mandatory treatment of hysteria of all female crew members is essential to maintaining smooth operations. Feel free to drop into Sickbay at your convenience or contact Nurse Chappel or me to set up an appointment.

Dr. Leonard McCoy
Chief Medical Officer - ISS Enterprise

Jim threw his PADD in disgust, watching it bounce against the wall before it tumbled to the floor and landed with an unsatisfying thump. Stupid reinforced piece of junk. Forget the Tantalus field. Jim was going to cut that pervert’s dick off and stuff it down his throat as he slowly watched the fucker bleed out. Essential to maintaining smooth operations his ass. Everyone knew what these so-called “treatments” were really about. He’d even witnessed “live shows” in the observation rooms a time or two, though Jim much preferred to enjoy session recordings in the privacy of his quarters, preferably with his dick down Marlena’s throat. His time on the Farragut had robbed him of any exhibitionist tendencies he might otherwise have had. Enjoyable as some of the procedures were to watch, being in the same room full as a bunch of crewmen rubbing themselves through their uniform trousers always set Jim’s teeth on edge.

Though there had been a cute yeoman who’d transferred off the Enterprise a couple of months ago, Jones or Smith or something equally banal. Whatever her name had been, she’d moaned very entertainingly. Scott had pestered him about attending one of the “shows” all afternoon, not going so far as to call the captain chicken shit but certainly implying it. The drunken Scotsman was lucky he was as good as he was, or Kirk would have pushed him out of an airlock years ago. Finally, he’d relented and dragged Marlena with them, settling in the back row of the observation room’s auditorium-style seats and reaching under the raven-haired girl’s skirt to slowly finger her while M’Benga had worked the little blond yeoman on the other side of the glass wall.

He’d requested a copy of the session that night after thoroughly fucking Marlena. That recording had become a favourite in Jim’s porn collection, and he used it often when he wanted some quick stress relief. The memory of Marlena squirming beside him as they watched the other girl cum, never failed to get him off.

The thought of being in that girl’s place, though? That made the starship captain want to throw up. He couldn’t believe that Spock would let McCoy or one of his lackeys do that to… him… her…. Whatever. When the Vulcan had told him that he … or rather, that she intended to go to Sickbay voluntarily, Jim had nearly had to pick his jaw up off the floor. When his first officer informed him of Sulu’s petty treachery, Jim couldn’t say he had been all that surprised. Sulu was a loyal subordinate by imperial standards, but the man would have been a fool not to take advantage of Kirk’s change in circumstances. Even though he was furious with his security chief, Jim could grudgingly understand. When a way of moving up the ranks had fallen into his lap, he certainly hadn’t hesitated to use it. Though when Scotty changed them back, he would undoubtedly make Sulu regret the decision.

What he couldn’t understand was Spock. How the Vulcan would willingly submit to that… Spock’s argument that at this point, it was now inevitable reeked of cowardice which, quite frankly, Jim hadn’t believed that the calculating Vulcan was capable of. Jim would never willingly spread his legs like a little bitch. Never again. He’d slit his own throat first. Better yet, he’d slit McCoy’s throat.

He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, never able to really fully fall asleep. At one point, he’d even gotten up and retrieved his discarded datapad, pulled up his personal collection of vid files, and hesitantly reached into his boxers out of sheer desperation. The night after the accident, he’d experimented. He’d admit it. He’d been curious. I mean, what man wouldn’t be? He’d assumed that Scotty would change them back within a couple of days, so why not play with his new body while he had the chance? But, unfortunately, he’d been somewhat underwhelmed and disappointed by the experience and hadn’t bothered to try again. And since every passing day that Scotty failed to find a solution only increased Jim’s anxiety. Well, frankly, he hadn’t been in the mood.

But masturbation had always been an effective means of wearing himself out, so Jim had moved his hand between his legs, running a finger up and down his slit experimentally. He’d just managed to find a motion and rhythm that felt somewhat nice when the vid he’d been watching ended and the next vid automatically started playing. A familiar Sickbay treatment room appeared on the screen, and what little arousal Jim had managed to stoke was drowned in ice water. He barely reached the bathroom in time before he violently retched the contents of the night’s dinner into the toilet.

By the time morning rolled around, James T. Kirk felt like complete crap. The trip from his quarters to the bridge was uncomfortable, as it had been since the morning of the accident. An unsettling combination of crew members unwilling to meet his eyes and others leering at him as he passed. Jim kept a mental tally, intent on making the latter group pay for their lack of respect. He was in a foul mood when he finally reached the bridge and found himself lashing out more than once throughout the day, particularly at Spock and Uhura. Eventually, he retreated to his ready room and decided to work on some overdue reports, but he could barely concentrate. All too aware of each passing hour. His head pounding, he slowly put his head down on his desk and closed his eyes, willing the pain at the base of his skull to fade away.

He hadn’t even realized he’d drifted off until the sound of the door opening jolted him awake. Sulu walked through the door with a grim but determined look on his scarred face, flanked by four large security officers.

“Captain, I need to ask you to follow me,” Sulu placidly informed him. Fuck… how long had he been asleep?

“Oh do, you, Mr. Sulu? I think what you need to do, lieutenant, is get the hell out of my office,” Jim snapped.

“Please don’t make this any more complicated than it needs to be, Captain,” his chief of security admonished. “I have no desire to create a spectacle.”

“I said out,” Jim snarled, reaching for his dagger.

“I’m sorry things have to happen this way, ma’am,” Sulu sighed before turning to his team. “Take her.”

Jim fought, managing to stab the first lumbering idiot to reach for him, but all too soon, it was over, two of Sulu’s goons were holding him by the arms. Somewhere deep down, Jim knew he was in fact making a spectacle of himself. But he couldn’t just let them… His cheeks burned as he felt the eyes of the entire bridge crew on him as Sulu and his men bodily dragged him out of the room to the turbolift. The trip to Sickbay somehow seemed to take forever and be instantaneous at the same time. Jim struggled even harder as they pulled him towards the treatment rooms he knew were in the back, promising dire consequences if Sulu and his thugs didn’t let him go right the fuck now!!! But they simply ignored him.

McCoy was waiting for them when they finally reached their destination. “I see things went as well as expected,” the doctor drawled.

“You are a dead man, McCoy,” Jim promised. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Strap her into the chair, please, gentlemen. You’ll probably need to remove her boots before putting on the ankle restraints. ” McCoy gestured, not acknowledging him or even deigning to respond to the treath .Jim fought with everything this strange new body had, but all too soon, he was laying back in the chair bound, legs spread obscenely open. Though he noted with the tiniest amount of satisfaction that Hendorff was clutching his nose, blood pouring down his face. “Hold her head, please, if you would. Considering her current state, I’m afraid I’ll also need to gag her.”

The two other guards pinned him down by the shoulders while Sulu’s stepped behind him and clamped his hands on each side of Jim’s head like a vice. “I don’t suppose you’d consider opening up like a good girl, would you, Captain?”

“Fuck Y…” Jim screamed, realizing his mistake as McCoy seized the opportunity to jab a phallic-shaped gag into his mouth, quickly securing the device with Sulu’s wordless assistance.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I can take it from here,” McCoy dismissed the others. He walked away for a moment and then returned with a pair of scissors.

“You decided to make things so much harder on yourself than they needed to be, Captain,” McCoy tutted, reaching over and beginning to cut off his clothes. “Now, now stop your squirming. I wouldn’t want to cut you accidentally, darling.”

Once McCoy finished stripping him, leaving his uniform in tatters on the floor, he set down the scissors and considered him for a moment before nodding to himself. Jim yelled uselessly through the gag as McCoy adjusted a blindfold over his eyes.

“Yes, I think that’s for the best. It’ll keep you from getting distracted and upsetting yourself more than you already have,” McCoy declared, patting him condescendingly on the knee. “Now, don’t you worry. Just try to relax. We’ll get you all sorted out in no time.”

Jim continued to struggle in his bonds, knowing it was futile. These damned chairs were built to hold even Vulcans and Andorians, so the chances of a human breaking the restraints were laughable. Still, Jim couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know why you’re carrying on so, little darling,” McCoy chuckled, and Jim startled at a squirting sound moments before his pussy lips were pulled apart without warning, and he felt slick fingers begin gently rubbing between his legs.“You’ve always been such a hedonist. You’d think a dirty girl like you would appreciate all the attention.”

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Do we need to go through this every time? It’s not like everyone hasn’t seen what a little slut you are.

The fingers fondling him withdrew, and Jim shuddered as he felt something firm and unyielding being pressed against him. He whimpered despite himself when it started powerfully vibrating.

“Let’s not pretend you’re not going to enjoy this, you naughty little slut.”

The vibrations ramped up, and Jim couldn’t suppress a broken sob. Fingers invaded his body, fucking him roughly. Jim screamed into the gag, suddenly feeling like it was choking him. He thought he might throw up again. Gagging on his own vomit while McCoy diddled him to death, wouldn’t that be a fitting end? He struggled against the cuffs holding him down, but it was useless. No, no. no…

“No!” Jim screamed in impotent rage, the blindfold feeling wet against his face as he tried desperately to get free.

“Afraid so, I’ll bet you managed to draw quite a crowd too. The way you carried on. Let’s make sure to give them a good show.”

No. No. No. Please… His body clenched in protest. But the fingers kept going. Garrovick delighted in the pain he caused Jim. The man fingered Jim brutally, aiming directly at his prostate and refusing to stop until Jim had cum all over the navigation console. Always such a drama queen. Everyone knows you love it, Jamie. Stupid little slut.

 Oh, God. Fuck. Jim’s breath came in tiny pants. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to pass out.

Suddenly the vibrations stopped. He was dimly aware of a loud banging sound coming from somewhere behind him, and then he felt the gag being pulled out of his mouth. He felt a pinch on the side of his neck accompanied by the distinct whooshing sound of a hypo. What???

Fingers gently started carding through his hair. “You’re alright. You’re alright. Take some deep breaths for me. It’s alright. You’re okay. That’s it. In and out, in and out. Good, that’s good.”

“What did you give me, you miserable old sawbones,” he sniffled.

“I see someone is starting to feel more like themselves,” McCoy laughed but continued running his fingers through Jim’s short hair. “It was just a benzodiazepine to help calm you down. Not sure if you noticed, but you started having a panic attack there.”

“Hilarious Doctor. Untie me,” Jim demanded, pulling against the restraints.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling. We still have some business to attend to,” McCoy sighed.

“Bones,” Jim whispered, the long forgotten nickname slipping unbidden from his mouth. He hadn’t called McCoy that in years, not since before he’d dispatched Pike.

“It’s not going to be any easier if you put it off. And at least now, you’re nicely dopped up. The drugs should help you to mellow out and relax,” McCoy reassured him.

“I can’t,” Jim hated the way his voice broke. He felt so fucking tired.

“You have to. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to help you,” McCoy assured him. Jim felt him reach behind his head. “I’m going to take off the blindfold now.”

Jim blinked, momentarily blinded. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the mirrored wall behind them.

“You don’t need to be concerned about that anymore. The privacy shield is down,” McCoy reassured him, reaching down to wipe away Jim’s tears. Fuck he hadn’t even realized he was still crying. What the fuck was wrong with him.

“Privacy shield? We have privacy shields?” Jim exclaimed. He honestly couldn’t remember signing off on that.

“Sure do. It turns out that most of the crew find actual medical emergencies to be a bit of a boner killer. Did you hear a loud clang right after we stopped?” McCoy asked. Jim just nodded. Because yes, he’d been out of it, but he vaguely remembered that. “That was the privacy shield slamming shut. I deployed it once I realized you were in severe distress.”

“I wasn’t… I was … angry. I am angry.” Jim started.

“Darling, you were hyperventilating. Do you honestly think that that was the first flashback to ever happen in this room?” McCoy cut him off.

“I…” Jim hesitated.

“I won’t ask about the details, but I’m working under the assumption that the spectators and or the name calling set it off?” McCoy surmised.

Jim closed his eyes, sagged in defeat and nodded. What the fuck had McCoy given him? Truth serum? Some good shit, apparently, because, at the moment, he didn’t even feel like murdering the man.

“Okay, well, let’s be sure not to do that again, then,” McCoy patted his arm, walked to the other side of the room, and started rifling through one of the cabinets. He finally pulled out a clear glass bottle filled with some kind of golden liquid and walked back toward Jim.

“What the hell is that?” Jim demanded suspiciously.

“That is a reasonably expensive sandalwood massage oil I picked up in a little shop right outside of Atlanta the last time I was home. I save it for very special girls. You should feel honoured,” McCoy smirked, pouring a generous amount into his hand before setting the bottle on the tray beside the end of the exam chair. He rubbed his hands together, warming the oil while he headed back towards Jim’s head. Then, reaching down, he began needing Jim’s neck and shoulders.

“McCoy,” Jim started.

“Smells nice, doesn’t it? I figured you’d prefer it over one of the more flowery scents,” McCoy continued, ignoring his protests.

Fuck. McCoy was really good with his hands. Jim sighed as the doctor worked out a particularly nasty knot from his right shoulder.

“That’s it, relax. That’s good,” McCoy whispered after a few minutes of this. “It’s just the two of us now. So you just lay back and let me take care of you.”

“Bones…” he groaned.  

“I’m going to start rubbing those lovely lush breasts now. “ McCoy slowly dragged his hands down to cup his breasts, gently running his hand over them, taking care to caress the nipples. Jim couldn’t entirely suppress a moan.  

“What the hell was in that hypo,” Jim whined. Just something for his panic attack, his ass.

“Nothing that’s going to hurt you,” McCoy reassured him, gently circling his fingers over Jim’s nipples. “Don’t you worry about that right now.”

The doctor slowly worked his slick hands down Jim’s body, pausing every once in a while and going back to teasing Jim’s now hardened nipples. Finally, the doctor moved to the end of the chair and started caressing the inside of Jim’s thighs.

“You know Spock finally came in yesterday. That crazy Vulcan hadn’t even tested out that pretty new body yet. Can you even imagine? I’m betting you did, though,” McCoy chuckled, continuing to rub his upper thighs lightly. “I’m mean, I certainly would in your position. The novelty of having my own set of titties to play with would have kept me entertained for at least a couple of hours.”

“Of course, you would, you kinky bastard,” Jim couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh, are you claiming you didn’t, Captain?” McCoy arched a skeptical eyebrow, moving his hand up a fraction and rubbing his thumbs along the crease where Jim’s legs met his groin.

“I might have,” Jim grumbled.

“And did you pray tell, discover anything you found particularly enjoyable?” McCoy asked, his ridiculous accent going particularly thick.

“I couldn’t really get into it,” Jim admitted. Fuck… If Scotty, correction when Scotty changed them back, he was going to make the doctor give him some of this shit. Jim could think of a couple of instances where whatever ever the fuck McCoy had shot him up with might have come in handy.

“Well, it can be a little less straightforward than what you’re used to,” McCoy admitted. “Let’s see if we can figure out what feels good, shall we?”

Jim worried his bottom lip as McCoy moved his fingers towards his pussy and gently separated his lips. Then, the doctor began gently running a finger around his clit, and Jim couldn’t suppress a little groan.

“That feel nice, darling?” McCoy whispered.

“Yeah…” Jim nodded.

“That’s good. Did you touch your clitty while you were exploring?” McCoy asked, continuing to rub lazy circles around Jim’s clit.

“Yes,” Jim confessed, feeling absurdly shy about admitting it for some reason.

“That’s good too. Did you like it? Some girls, well, they find that too much direct stimulation is uncomfortable.”

“I guess. The first time, I couldn’t get into it. But when I tried last night, it started to feel really good when I varied how I touched myself,” Jim told him, cheeks flushing.

“Last night?” McCoy laughed, taking the opportunity to lightly run a finger over Jim’s clit.  

“I couldn’t sleep….” Jim stammered.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Orgasm is a great stress reliever. Besides, I’m glad you told me. It’s much easier to make you feel good when I know what you like,” McCoy reassured him, taking extra care now to vary his touch. “I’m going to start fingering your pussy now.”

“Do you… Do you have to?” Jim squeezed his eyes shut. He hated how small his voice sounded. McCoy’s fingers stopped for a brief moment before continuing to languidly play with his clit.  

“It’s not strictly speaking necessary. I don’t have to if the idea upsets you. I can make you cum today by playing with your clit,” McCoy assured him.

“Please… I think that’s part of why….” Jim begged, humiliating tears falling down his cheeks.

“I understand, darling. We only have to do whatever makes you feel good,” McCoy soothed. “Close your eyes and try to enjoy yourself. You’re going to feel so much better once you’ve cum.”

It took a long time, but eventually, Jim started to feel heat pooling in his belly. He panted, squirming in his bonds. “That’s it. Just let it happen, darling,” McCoy cooed, gently kissing his inner left thigh and speeding up his touches ever so slightly. Jim’s toes curled, and waves of pure pleasure started radiating from his core.”That’s it, that’s my good girl.”   

The doctor continued gently rubbing Jim’s clit all through his orgasm. When it was finally over, Jim just lay there gasping for breath. He was distantly aware of McCoy moving away to clean his hands. He returned with a washcloth and a small bowl filled with water and started cleaning Jim up.

“See, that wasn’t so terrible, was it? Now, before I remove the restraints, I think we should have a little chat,” McCoy declared, setting the bowl aside and dragging the stool at the end of the chair beside Jim and sitting down.

“We’re done here. Let me go,” Jim swallowed.

“Not until we get a couple of things straight, Captain. Now, while I realize you were very upset when you were brought in, I did not appreciate the threats to my person.”  McCoy began. Jim opened his mouth to respond but stopped as McCoy raised a finger. “I was, after all, only doing my job.”

“Yeah, as if you didn’t get off on every second of this,” Jim snapped.

“I’ll admit, I enjoyed it. But isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, Captain? I seem to recall providing you with some very exciting material for your private collection. But that is neither here nor there. Now you might well decide to kill me after you walk out of here. But I’d like you to keep something in mind,” McCoy insisted.

“And what’s that?” Jim grumbled.

“If it’s not me, it will be someone else next time. Someone who isn’t as understanding as me,” McCoy smiled. Jim scoffed. “Do you really think they would have put down that privacy wall? Darling, they wouldn’t even have removed the gag. They would have left you choking in the dark, gasping for breath while they used a vibe on you. The more terrified a girl is, the more some of those fuckers enjoy it. Now I can go over there and fill out that chart. I can say that you experienced a panic attack and had to be sedated. I can say that being watched and degraded causes you severe anxiety. I can indicate that you have an irrational fear of being penetrated. Now, I’m not saying this would give the next asshole a roadmap on how to hurt you, but… Well, you know how some people are.”

“Yeah, some people are awful. What’s the alternative?” Jim whispered, his heart hammering as fresh tears fell. He was trapped.

“Your file will say you had an allergic reaction to the gag. So I closed the privacy screen and administered an anti-histamine. Once you recovered, we continued with the session. I will, of course, keep detailed private notes about what actually occurred. But those will only see the light of day should something unfortunate happen to me,”  McCoy answered cooly.

“I can’t control everything that happens, McCoy. If M’Benga decides to get ambitious, that’s not under my control,” Jim reminded him. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening.

“You’re a resourceful thing. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Besides, that isn’t all I have to offer,” McCoy eyed him hungrily.

“Go on…” Jim prompted, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t going to have a choice.  

“We’ll schedule your follow-up appointments later at night when it’s not busy. You will come to your appointments without any fuss. You will undress like a good girl and let me tie you to the exam chair. In exchange for your good behaviour, I will put down the privacy screen for you and medicate you so you can stay calm during our session. And for now, penetration will be off the table. We’ll work our way up to that.”  McCoy proposed. Jim felt bile rising in his throat, but as much as he wanted to strangle McCoy, the alternative…

“What time do you want me here,” Jim muttered, refusing to meet the doctor’s eyes.

“You wait right here while I finish your chart, and I’ll go set something up. Once that’s done, we’ll get you out of here,” McCoy replied, brushing Jim’s tears away once more before walking away. Jim nodded, closing his eyes and wishing the world away.

Chapter Text

Kirk had done herself no favours fighting Sulu and his team the way she had. The observation room wouldn’t have been any fuller if Kirk had sent out engraved invitations to witness her degradation to all hands. Scuttlebutt was that the session with McCoy had not gone well. Kirk had continued fighting until the very end, even kicking that oaf Hendorff in the face and breaking the large man’s nose. McCoy had gagged and blindfolded the captain, a reasonably standard punishment for any woman who didn’t docilely lay down and accept paroxysm therapy, regardless of the reason. Then apparently, things had taken a turn for the worse.

The audience was somewhat unclear on precisely what happened. Some said Kirk had had difficulty breathing, some claimed she’d started to vomit, and others swore the captain had begun seizing. The only thing consistent about every account Nyota had heard was that doors had slammed shut a few minutes after McCoy had started working on Kirk, obscuring the observation windows and spoiling what had promised to be a very entertaining spectacle. But eventually, Kirk had left Sickbay, flushed with puffy red eyes and dressed in a set of borrowed scrubs. So Nyota presumed that McCoy had resolved whatever the problem had been, finished Kirk off and sent her on her way. At any rate, security hadn’t been back for the captain the following week, so Nyota could only assume that Kirk had eventually seen reason or, at the very least, come to understand the harsh reality of her new situation.

Nyota almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She’s seen too much carnage left in Kirk’s wake to truly pity her. She had no idea why Marlena still seemed to have a soft spot for Kirk. But then again, perhaps Kirk had shown Marlena something in private that no one else had gotten to see. Though Nyota was highly dubious about Jim Kirk’s hidden debts. So far as she’d seen, he’d been a cruel, capricious man, intoxicated by his own power like so many others. Now almost three weeks a woman with no solution to reverse the transformation on the horizon, Kirk was getting a crash course in how the other half lived. Nyota couldn’t help but feel it was the universe dispensing some form of poetic justice. Or maybe she was just jealous because Kirk had gotten to publicly claim what could only be hers in private.

Kirk was resilient; Nyota had to concede. Even after being dragged, kicking and screaming off the bridge in full view of the entire crew and being forcibly taken to Sickbay for treatment, Kirk had still walked onto the bridge the next day determined, paused and scowled at the assembled personnel until everyone had saluted. Then, she’d taken a moment to stare them all down before returning the salute, strutting over to the captain’s chair, and taking a seat, bold as brass, almost daring anyone to comment. And she’d done so every day since without fail. Kirk had shown a sense of determination and strength of character, which Nyota would never have credited Kirk with before the transporter malfunction. So maybe Marlena had a point after all.  

Nyota surreptitiously watched Kirk quickly peruse a PADD before signing off and handing it back to a waiting yeoman. Kirk had lasted much longer than Nyota had ever thought she would. Her illicit lover had insisted that Nyota was underestimating the Enterprise’s captain. The communications officer had been sure that someone would make a play to take out Kirk. You could literally smell the blood in the water. And she had been right. What she hadn’t anticipated was both Finney and Chen being quietly and effectively dispatched within the space of a week and a half. So, for now, the smaller sharks were content to circle. To wait and see what would be left of Kirk and Spock once Fleet Command was done with them.

Nyota couldn’t see how Kirk could possibly keep the Enterprise. Women simply didn’t rise to that level of command within the Empire. Most likely, she’d be moved to a meaningless administrative role at headquarters and made some admiral’s woman. If she wasn’t just demoted outright. She’d become a trophy on a more powerful man’s arm. Someone who would happily preen at the idea of subjugating the once great and powerful James Tiberius Kirk. Marlena still had hope, though.

“You don’t know her like I do, Nyota. She’ll fight,” Marlena had insisted.

“I’m sure she will, but she’ll lose,” Nyota had dismissed the idea. Women didn’t command starships. It wasn’t done. “She can’t win this fight.”

“The thing is, Nyota, I think she might. Jim Kirk, of all people, might actually be able to do it,” Marlena had breathed excitedly before pulling Nyota in for a kiss and ending the discussion. Marlena’s child-like enthusiasm for the idea was nearly endearing. Enough apparently to pull Nyota into another one of Marlena’s schemes.

The computer whistled, signalling the end of alpha shift. Nyota shook her head, pulling herself out of her musings and ceded her chair to Lieutenant Alden before making her way to the turbolift without another word. A turbolift that Kirk entered simultaneously.

“Lieutenant,” Kirk nodded perfunctorily.  

“Captain,” Nyota acknowledged. She was surprised the captain was deigning to take the lift with her, but since Kirk made no move to indicate she should leave…

“Where to?” Kirk asked.

“Heading to Sickbay, thank you, ma’am,” Nyota replied, nothing an almost imperceptible flinch on Kirk’s behalf but the other woman just nodded, grabbing the turbolift’s handle and locking in their destinations. Kirk was shorter now, Nyota noted. The captain had had a good three or four inches on Nyota before, but now only an inch or two separated them. The captain hadn’t transitioned to a woman’s uniform yet. Instead, she’d simply taken to wearing her gold vest over a smaller gentlemen’s uniform pant. The vest fell a little lower on her hips, and considering Kirk’s now ample bosom, the effect was probably much more provocative than Kirk hoped.

The transformation had left Spock tall and thin but softer. A delicate Vulcan maiden with small pert breasts, a tiny waist and a flat stomach. Indeed quite pretty if you enjoyed those kinds of almost waiflike features in a female. Kirk, though was another story. As a woman, Kirk had a classic hourglass figure, large plush breasts and a gorgeous bottom which the black uniform pants hugged and displayed quite nicely, in Nyota’s opinion. Voluptuous was the word that came to mind looking at Kirk.

The turbolift glided to a halt, and the doors slid open. Nyota waited for Kirk to indicate how to proceed. Precarious as Kirk’s future might be, she was still her commanding officer for the moment. It wouldn’t do to unnecessarily piss her off. As the captain, Kirk took priority, but she wouldn’t necessarily want to turn her back to a subordinate. As a woman, Nyota wouldn’t have ever been perceived as a treat before, but now... Kirk motioned for her to go first, giving her a lingering once over before exiting the elevator herself and heading towards the general direction of the officers’ quarters.

Curious. Nyota wondered if the appreciative look was genuine or if Kirk was just using it as a cover, not wanting to walk out first. Kirk had never been shy about displaying his fondness for the ladies, so Nyota supposed that the captain’s gender change wouldn’t necessarily have affected her preference in bed partners. Despite what the Empire’s propaganda would lead everyone to believe, being female didn’t necessarily guarantee that you preferred male bed partners. Nyota herself was certainly proof of that. Not that she couldn’t appreciate a firm chest and a square set of shoulders from time to time. She simply tended to prefer women’s softer and rounder bodies when it came to her lovers. Besides, relationships with men were always fraught with domination and power struggles; women were just… less complicated.

Nyota gave Nurse Chapel a quick nod as she entered Sickbay. Wordlessly, Chapel returned her greeting, acknowledging her arrival by tilting her head toward the paroxysm suites letting her know to go on in, before continuing with whatever she had been doing before Nyota arrived. McCoy was already waiting when she walked into the suite.

“Afternoon, Lieutenant Uhura,” McCoy greeted, waving her over to the designated changing area.

“Doctor,” she replied, walking over to the screened-off area and quickly changing out of her uniform and boots. Next, she slid on one of the skimpy robes provided. Though Nyota supposed she shouldn’t complain, the Enterprise provided them at least. She knew that wasn’t the case on all ships. And McCoy at least splurged on nice modesty garments, not the inferior versions made of cheap scratchy cloth used on most of the vessels that even bothered providing their female crew members with anything. Though Nyota suspected the indulgence had more to do with McCoy enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on his hands when he reached under the robes to caress his patient’s bodies than any genuine concern for the women of the Enterprise. Regardless of the reason, Nyota couldn’t deny that the silken fabric did feel pleasant against her naked body. She stretched languidly before heading towards the reclining chair in the center of the room and settling into it.  

“And how are you feeling today, lieutenant?” McCoy asked, deftly securing the chair’s restraints around her limbs. Nyota wishes the damned things were optional. She knew some women found they made it easier to let go, but she personally just found them distracting.

“Just fine,” she answered, rolling her shoulders. God, she hoped McCoy wasn’t feeling overly chatty today. She’d just assume close her eyes and fantasize that she was on leave and had rented some pretty thing to pleasure her.

Maybe the pretty blond, blue-eyed harem boy she’d bought for an afternoon the last time they had visited Risa. Marlena had been off with Kirk that day, so Nyota had gone looking for her own diversions. She’d been looking over the female slaves in one of the more secluded pleasure houses when one of the slave boys had caught her eye. He had been beautiful, of course. All the pleasure slaves on Risa were. But there had been something about this one’s cocky and defiant swagger that had just made Nyota want to put him on his knees. And she had, shoving his face between her legs, forcing him to service her with his tongue and his fingers for long hours while his own sex had stayed locked away in a cruel-looking metal cage. Yes, that memory would do nicely.

“It’s been a mad house here. Have barely had a moment to myself. You just come from bridge duty?” McCoy inquired, settling down between her legs and coating his fingers with lube. Because, of course, he wanted to talk. She sighed as he lightly began caressing her slit. McCoy had deft talented hands. Out of the entire medical team, McCoy was by far the most adept at using his fingers to pleasure a woman’s body, in Nyota’s opinion. He also seemed to get his jollies simply from watching his patient’s pleasure. The same couldn’t be said of most other doctors, who took sadistic glee in tormenting their patients, some through humiliation and fear, some via actual physical pain. So unless someone shared one of those particular proclivities, it was preferable to manage a spot on McCoy’s limited patient list if one could. Honestly, the man would be perfect if he didn’t insist on gossiping like an old woman. “Must be interesting up there these days.”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Nyota muttered non-comital. Apparently, lying back and tuning the doctor out was out of the question right now. “Things were exciting the first couple of days, but they seem to have stabilized for the moment.”

“Oh, come on, Uhura,” he scoffed, using his thumb to work her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her. “You can’t tell me watching Kirk sweat it out until the Fleet admirals decide how to handle her and Spock hasn’t been entertaining.”

“I…” Nyota stuttered as McCoy’s fingers hit that spot inside her just right. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That was, after all, what you wanted when you convinced Sulu to notify Command, wasn’t it?” He demanded, his fingers making an obscene squelching sound as they pumped in and out of her pussy. Shit, shit, shit. How could he know? She forced herself not to glance over her shoulder at the observation wall, knowing Sulu was undoubtedly sitting there greedily watching McCoy molest her. Likely both aroused and infuriated, looking at McCoy touch what the man perceived as his but unable to give up a chance at seeing the woman he obsessed over this way.

While the security chief’s infatuation could be tiresome. It sometimes had its uses. For one, it kept all but the most daring out of the attached observation lounge lest they incur Sulu’s wrath. Today, though, she hoped futilely that the man had stayed away for once. She and Marlena didn’t need the man getting wise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sputtered. McCoy couldn’t know. They had been so careful.  

“Please, we both know he could never have gotten that message off this tin can without your help, darling,” the doctor jeered, rubbing his thumb deftly back and forth across her clit.

“Why would I question the ship’s second officer sending a communication to Command?” She panted, her hips starting to tremble, wanting to squirm and thrust but unable to do so because of the bonds.

“Please, darling, we both know you could easily have brought this to Kirk or Spock,” McCoy shook his head, sliding his fingers from her pussy and moving to run a slow, teasing finger around her clit without touching it directly. Fuck, she’d been right there. McCoy removed his fingers entirely, patting her thigh lightly before reaching beside him into a small trolly of tools she’d only seen him use to store lube before. He riffled around for a while before pulling out a small thin brush with soft fluffy bristles loosely packed at one end. Using his left hand, he carefully separated her pussy lips, exposing her clit. Even though Nyota had been expecting it, she gasped when the wicked little brush flicked against her clit. The bristles were soft. Too soft to provide enough stimulation for her to cum.

McCoy continued for several minutes, slowly flicking the little brush back and forth across her clit, pausing to circle around it every few strokes. Nyota’s clit and cunt were both throbbing helplessly, her entire groin area sore and tender after preparing so long for an orgasm that just wouldn’t come. She pulled uselessly at the restraints.

“None of that, now. You’ll just hurt yourself,” McCoy admonished, without pausing the gentle torment. This was making her so hypersensitive. It was unbearable.

“Please,” Nyota begged. “Please, I can’t anymore. It’s too much.”

“I’d imagine it is,” McCoy agreed. “And frustrating, I’d bet.”

“God, please. Why?” Nyota whimpered.

“Because I wanted your attention, Uhura. I assume I have that now?” McCoy growled. She nodded desperately. Anything to stop this fucking teasing. How did something so soft ghosting across her pounding clit feel so good yet unsatisfying? Her clit was pulsing so hard now it hurt. McCoy got up and walked around beside her, stretching his right arm so he could continue the torturous tickling. Nyota was practically sobbing. “As I was saying, that message wouldn’t have gone out without your say-so. And since we all know you’re not especially eager to do that poor besotted fool any favours, I’m guessing you put a bug in his ear to contact Command so early.“

Finally, McCoy stopped, and Nyota was able to catch her breath. She could feel her clit throbbing furiously in time with her racing heart. Fuck, she thought. Don’t give him anything he doesn’t already have. “So what. Say I did. What’s it to you, McCoy?”

“Well, Kirk and I have an understanding,” McCoy shrugged, moving back towards the foot of the bench. Bending down, he started fiddling with the end of the exam chair, securing an adjustable arm to it. Nyota watched with growing trepidation as the doctor attached a fairly impressive wand vibrator to the attachment. He then moved and adjusted the apparatus so that the bulb of the vibe rested against her clit. Next, he clipped some ties to the bracket holding the vibrator, attaching the other end to some anchor points on either side of the chair, ensuring that the toy would not go anywhere. “And breaking in a new captain will be a real pain in the ass. I’d have preferred to avoid it if at all possible.”

McCoy turned back to the trolly, pulled out a black dildo gag, and walked back over to Nyota’s head. She shook her head in silent protest.

“Well, that’s up to you. But, if you really haven’t been enjoying our sessions, I can certainly see that your next session is set up with someone else. M’Benga maybe. He was just telling me about this new lube he’s developing using some Vulcan nettles. Apparently, it takes days, sometimes even weeks, for the burning and itching to subside,” McCoy mused.

Fuck. Shivering, Nyota opened her mouth obediently and lifted her head so he could more easily secure the gag.“That’s better. Good girl,” he whispered, kneeling close, whispering in her ear. “The other thing is that, well? Jimmy and I were close once, years ago, before we climbed the ranks, and everything got in the way. You know how Starfleet is, the things people have to do to get ahead? The sacrifices they have to make. The things they have to give up? And even though we drifted, like I said, we had a détente, Jim and me. And over the past 2 weeks, I’ve had to do regrettable things to that woman, things that made her… Things that hurt her. Things she may never forgive me for. This upsets me, Lieutenant. Especially since those things might have been avoided if Mr. Scott had been allowed to find a solution without interference.”

McCoy reached between her legs and switched the toy on. The vibrations were so powerful they shook her entire body. Fuck she was right there again. “Now, I wanted to ensure that you and I had adequate time to talk today, so I went ahead and doubled your regularly scheduled time. You have about 45 minutes or so left on your session, but as I said earlier, we are just swamped today. So I’m going to go ahead and leave the vibrator on while I catch up on some paperwork, darling.”

Nyota squealed, screaming into her gag and pulling against her bonds in protest. She wasn’t going to last another 5 minutes without cumming. Oh no, no, no, no. McCoy knew exactly how unbearably sensitive Nyota got right after climaxing. How her clit couldn’t even stand the slightest touch for the first couple of minutes after she came.

“I know it’s unlikely you’ll last the entire time. I’m sure it feels like the sword of Damocles is hanging over that poor clit of yours. But you never know, darling, you might manage. So give it your best try. If I were you, I’d spend some time reflecting on how Kirk and Spock have spent the last 2 weeks waiting for word on their fates to come down from Command.”

“And one last thing before I head out. I’ve heard whispers that the transportor logs from the day of the accident are somehow hopelessly corrupted, unsalvageable, they say. Rumour has it that that’s the reason Mr. Scott hasn’t been able to make any progress. Now I know you were involved in notifying Command, but If I find out you had anything to do with the rest of it. Well, you’ll wish I just sent you to M’Benga, darling.”

With that, McCoy turned his back and left the room. Nyota cried as she began to orgasm for what would no doubt be the first of many times.

Chapter Text

"He knows," Nyota murmured, face buried in the crook of her neck. The darker-skinned woman's body trembling in her arms. Nyota had sought Marlena out looking for comfort after her appointment with McCoy. She'd sobbed uncontrollably, uncharacteristically needy and clingy, desperate for her lover's reassurance and touch. It had taken Marlena hours to calm the other woman down. She'd slept in Nyota's quarters, carefully holding the other woman and rubbing her back until she'd fallen asleep, still clinging desperately to Marlena. Thankfully Kirk hadn't been very demanding of her time since becoming a woman, preferring to remain locked away in the Captain's cabin alone.

It had been a risk spending the entire night with Nyota, but Marlena had counted on the fact that Kirk didn't view either of them as rivals. Outside of the odd femme fatale assassin, Kirk had never considered any woman a potential threat. And she'd known Marlena and Nyota long enough to discount either of them as secret honeypots or spies. So it was unlikely that Kirk would use the Tantalus field to spy on either of them. Even if the captain did, Marlena supposed she could always play it off as having to console a friend as Nyota had been in no mood for any entertaining pursuits after her visit to Sickbay.

"No, he doesn't. Not really. He was only fishing. And you told him nothing, mon trésor," Marlena reassured her, kissing the other woman's temple.

"Marlena,  I don't want you to go," Nyota whispered.

"I have to, Nyota. I will draw far more attention if I don't," Marlena reasoned.

"But he…" Nyota began again. Marlena shook her head. How she wanted to castrate that pig McCoy for doing this to her lover. But she had already coddled the other woman too much.

"He knows nothing, Uhura," Marlen growled.

"He knew about the message to Command," Nyota insisted, an adorable stubborn pout forming on her face. Marlena would take it. Obstinance was better than the fearful despair Nyota had been exhibiting since last night. It was progress.

"You are the Communications Officer. Knowing you were involved in sending a message is like knowing Chekov was involved in setting coordinates. He made some educated guesses, nothing more. We have no reason to assume he knows anything more," Marlena insisted. "We need to hold steady because there's no turning back now, my love."

"I know," Nyota sighed. "Just be careful, please."

"I always am," Marlena laughed, taking Nyota's face in her hands and giving the other woman a quick peck on the lips. "But I really do need to leave now, or I will be late. And you have bridge duty soon. I'll try to come back as soon as I am able. Hopefully, no more than a couple of days, beloved."

Nyota gave her a dubious look but didn't protest any further, turning away and walking over to the mirror at the far side of the room to put herself back together. Marlena slipped silently out of the room.

She hated that she had to leave Nyota while her lover was still so shaken, but she had already spent longer with her than was prudent. While sapphism wasn't illegal within the Empire, it was certainly frowned upon. The general consensus was that it was fine for two women to take pleasure in each other's bodies, desirable even just as long as they were doing it for a man's enjoyment. But two women sleeping together for their own gratification? That wasn't only a waste, but it was clearly also an indication that the pair of females in question didn't understand their place. It wasn't unheard of for some pathetic neanderthal to take it upon themselves to forcibly remind women like her and Nyota of their real purpose.

It was one of the many reasons Marlena had not discouraged Kirk's interest. She'd smiled coyly and laughed at his jokes, welcoming the captain into her bed until the man became her shield and, on occasion, her sword. Marlena had realized a long time ago that, at the end of the day, it was easier to find and attach herself to a powerful man, making use of all the sundry advantages such a relationship provided than to try to avoid male attention altogether. She'd even briefly toyed with the idea of convincing the captain of also taking Nyota on as his woman. Kirk might have been persuaded, intrigued by the idea that two women in his bed would only increase his sense of virility and power. But Nyota was another matter entirely.

She knew that Nyota didn't necessarily object to men in principle. Her love had confessed to the occasional male lover. Generally, some sort of slave or prostitute that Nyota could use and then discard once she'd had her fun.

They had even once shared a gorgeous male slave during an afternoon layover on Starbase 5. Marlena smiled at the memory. The captain and first officer had been called away to meetings with the local admiralty all afternoon. So Kirk had given her a handful of imperial credits and told her to amuse herself. She and Nyota had visited some shops on the base's promenade and had picked up a couple of alluring silky yet tasteful pieces she thought the captain would appreciate seeing her in later. Once that had been taken care of, she'd dragged the other woman to a lovely and discreet pleasure house to purchase an afternoon of entertainment.

They'd booked a suite for the afternoon and then selected the ensuite entertainment from a glossy catalogue of artfully posed slaves. The boy they had ended up choosing had been a pretty young thing with an unruly mop of dark curls, striking green-blue eyes and a surprisingly large cock for his slender frame. They'd had him delivered to their rooms fitted with a snug cock ring and bound tightly to the bed. They had then proceeded to trade off riding his very nice member and sitting on his face for the rest of the afternoon while they'd kissed and caressed each other's bodies. Marlena had to credit the small boutique brothel; someone there had taken the time to teach the boy to use his tongue exceptionally well. Marlena had cum several times as he'd expertly eaten her out while Nyota had ridden him with reckless abandon, using his bound organ as little more than a living dildo.

They'd had a minor argument over the boy towards the end of the afternoon. Nyota had simply wanted to dismiss him once they were done. On the other hand, Marlena had voted to feed the poor little thing and maybe even to allow him some sexual relief. After all, the boy had been very sweet and obedient all afternoon. So ignoring Nyota's protests, she'd ordered some drinks, a plate of fruit, and cured meats and untied the boy. Marlena had sat at the table in the suite's sitting room, settling the thin slave at her feet and while she'd quietly eaten, pausing every few morsels to feed the grateful boy from her hand. Exasperated, Nyota had finally opted to join them, sprawling lazily in one of the other chairs. Marlena was reasonably confident the slight tremor she'd felt from the youth had been genuine.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to please you, Mistress. But, please, is there something I can do to better satisfy you?" the boy had whispered, trembling, keeping his eyes demurely on the ground. It might have been artifice to manipulate them, but Marlena had doubted it. The boy hadn't been a free whore contracted to work in the brothel. He'd been property. The nasty brand, cruelly seared into the delicate flesh of his left wrist, left little doubt of that. A paying customer leaving the room displeased with him would undoubtedly have led to significant pain and suffering on his part.

Nyota had melted a little at that. She'd placed a long, manicured finger under the boy's chin and tilted his head to meet her gaze. "You pleased me just fine, little one. I'm just a bit cantankerous by nature, but my darling girl is right. You've been a very good boy and deserve to be rewarded." She'd reached down then and released the cock ring before guiding the boy to straddle her leg and ordering him to hump it until he climaxed. Nyota had gently carded her fingers through his dark curly hair, petting and praising him until he'd cum, against the soft black leather of her boot, softly gasping, "Thank you, Mistress." He'd dutifully licked up the mess he'd made without being told. Poor sweet little thing.

During her more fanciful moments, Marlena hoped against hope that the boy had eventually ended up being bought for private use. Preferably by someone rich and handsome who would keep the attractive young man as a pampered pet. She'd even fantasized about her and Nyota buying him and keeping him as a cabin slave once or twice. She could almost picture him naked, eyes modestly averted, kneeling in the corner of a cabin they would somehow openly share, forbidden to touch himself, cock hard and leaking while they made loud, boisterous love on the bed. But that was just a silly indulgence, a little daydream.

The boy had likely already been sold to a less savoury brothel, where he would stay until the sheen of newest wore off of him again, and then he would be passed down to somewhere even worse, somewhere that would require him to perform more and more depraved acts. Again and again, until eventually, his body finally gave out. And she and Nyota well… They would have to continue contenting themselves with stolen moments in dark, hidden rooms.

An arrangement with Kirk would have been their best chance at being together somewhat publically. But while Nyota might enjoy dominating the occasional slave boy or gigolo, she rebelled at the idea of submitting herself to any man's desires.

Probably one of the reasons she'd reacted so strongly to McCoy's uncharacteristically harsh treatment yesterday. Marlena still privately wanted to stab the man for doing that to her Nyota. She was only somewhat mollified by the idea that the doctor had been acting out of some twisted sense of outrage on Kirk's behalf rather than any outright maliciousness. The man's fondness for the captain might prove helpful with her plan's down the line. After all, Kirk would need allies in the days and weeks to come.

She made it to Sickbay just moments before her appointment was scheduled to start. Nurse Chapel dismissively waved her toward the paroxysm suites. She quickly changed and laid back on the exam chair, waiting for McCoy to arrive. He walked into the room looking harried several minutes later.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Moreau," he greeted, face flushed as he hurried over to her. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I ran long with one of the Klingon prisoners we picked up last week. Unfortunately, things got a bit… messy, so I thought I'd best clean up before our appointment."

"That's fine, Doctor. I know that you're a busy man," Marlena smiled easily. She kept smiling as he secured the chair's restraints. "I don't doubt that the mess was worth it. Your reputation does, after all, proceed you, Sir."

"Are you trying to make an old doctor blush Miss Moreau?" McCoy laughed, settling down on the stool between her spread legs. "I may have gotten a few interesting tidbits out of the creature. Those Klingon bastards may take some extra effort to break, but once they do, they sure do sing prettily."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. I'm sure Starfleet command will be pleased," Marlena congratulated him. She sighed as he deftly began massaging her.

"I'm going to use some toys today to speed things along and make up some of the lost time," he apologized, reaching for a small handheld vibrator. For a moment, Marlena worried she was about to receive the same treatment Nyota had, but that was ridiculous. Why would the doctor decide she was somehow been involved in Kirk's recent troubles? She was the captain's woman. Turning Kirk into Starfleet wouldn't benefit Marlena.

"Of course, though, I will miss those talented fingers, Doctor," she replied, flirting a bit as he turned on the toy and gently circled it around her clit, sending delicious sensations through her body.

"Awe, thank you, darling. I'll make it up to you next time," McCoy promised. "I might even give you a little extra time. While I have you here, I wanted to ask if you've seen the captain recently."

"I… Not as such. She hasn't really required or wanted my presence since the accident, Doctor," Marlena replied neutrally. McCoy liked to talk while he worked. It wasn't unusual for them to chat during her sessions, gossiping about the comings and goings of the crew until Marlena no longer had the wear with all to speak. Then McCoy would simply fill the silence with a stream of reassuring praise. He did this, Marlena guessed, both to put his patients at ease and as a means of gathering intel. She certainly hadn't expected this line of questioning.

"I expected as much," McCoy sighed, gently massaging her clit with the toy.

"Kirk has mostly kept to herself while she's been off duty," Marlena answered. That was pretty much the consensus. Kirk continued to perform well as captain but stayed locked inside her cabin outside duty hours. Marlena suspected Kirk was spending the time incessantly watching her rivals and Starfleet Command via the Tantalus field, waiting to strike. But she kept that particular morsel to herself. She moaned as McCoy's devilishly talented fingers slid into her pussy and began playing with her sweet spot.

"I've heard the same," McCoy agreed, continuing to skillfully finger her while he teased her clit with the vibrator. "I wondered if you might do me a favour, Lieutenant?"

"Doctor?" She asked breathily, glancing at the window behind them. Sometimes she wishes she could rent McCoy and his wicked fingers by the hour.

"I took measures to give us some privacy for our little chat," McCoy swallowed nervously. We'll this was a fascinating development.

"What can I do for you, Doctor?" Marlena panted despite her best efforts. This toy and the doctor's fingers were an inspired combination.

"Do you suppose you might look in on her from time to time? This transition has been… difficult for her, and she might benefit from a friendly face. Someone who could guide her in navigating her new life and support her through the rest of the… difficult changes ahead. I would consider it a personal favour, Miss Moreau," McCoy flushed. Marlena just stared at him. This wasn't simple nostalgia cleverly cushioned in anger over losing a meaningful tactical relationship. McCoy was openly declaring that he cared about Kirk and what happened to her. Willingly giving Marlena a weakness to exploit against him in the hopes that the carrot of the CMO's favour would be enough to dissuade her from using it against him. Well then.

"I can do that, Doctor," she gasped, biting her lip. Her hips started to involuntarily thrust, despite the bonds around her legs.

"Good girl," McCoy breathed, letting out a deep, shaky breath.

Marlena orgasmed hard and fast as McCoy kept diligently working her through the aftershocks before finally setting the vibrator aside and sliding his fingers out of her pussy. She closed her eyes, slowly coming down from the pleasure.

"I very much appreciate your willingness to help, Lieutenant and your discretion," McCoy murmured, rubbing her inner thighs. Oh, this was going to work out better than she'd hoped. The doctor had just given her the perfect excuse to worm her way back into Kirk's life. As a friend, a confidant. All under McCoy's banner. He's so worried about you. He insisted I look in on you.

And McCoy didn't know it, but he just needed a little push to join Marlena's cause. "It's my pleasure, Doctor. Though you may want to consider looking in on her yourself," Marlena suggested, finally opening her eyes and looking back at him. "As you said, she is going to need support."

"I very much doubt that she would appreciate my presence. I'm afraid that earth has been well and truly salted," McCoy shook his head sadly. Oh, my. Marlena wondered if it had indeed just been friendship between them or if the doctor had always carried a torch for Kirk. Feelings he'd long repressed because while being a lesbian was dangerous, being a sodomite was practically painting a target on the back of your head. Now though, James Kirk was wrapped up in a nice, pretty, socially acceptable feminine package.  

"Then perhaps a grand gesture would be in order, Doctor. Women like that, you know," Marlena slyly responded.

"I doubt that anything I could provide would make up for what I've had to do to her or the sting of losing the Enterprise. Ji… She loves this stupid tub," McCoy dismissed her.

"I'm sure I can help persuade Kirk that you were doing what you had to, in time. And you are right. She does love this ship. So imagine how grateful she'd be to someone who stood beside her and threw their support behind her staying exactly where she belongs," she whispered. This was risky, but she'd already come so far. This was another opportunity that Marlena knew would never come again.

"Are you out of your goddamned mind, girl?" McCoy bellowed. "They will never let a woman command the flagship of the Imperial Fleet."

"She isn't just any woman. She's James T. Kirk. The same James T. Kirk who defeated the infamous Kobayashi Maru," Marlena insisted.  

"She cheated," McCoy snorted, shaking his head fondly.

"Of course she did," Marlena purred. "The captain doesn't believe in losing. She doesn't accept that there are situations she can't turn into a Win. She just needs our help remembering that. Besides, what's the most supporting her would cost you?"

"I'd looked like a damned pussy whipped fool," McCoy growled.

"So what? Even if she loses, she'll know you stood behind her, and I'm sure she'll be touched. And if she wins, you'll have the ear and the gratitude of the captain of the imperial flagship," Marlena coaxed.

"And what exactly is in this for you, darling?" McCoy asked suspiciously, quirking an eyebrow that distinctly reminded her of their Vulcan first officer.

"The same thing Kirk has always provided me, Doctor. Protection and Proximity to power," She answered glibly. "And besides, if she succeeds, it can only be good for my career, right?"

Marlena didn't mention what it would really mean. What it would mean for all women if James Kirk could maintain control of the Enterprise. It would only be a matter of time before others started quietly pushing to follow her example. Before, some of the more progressive individuals within Starfleet Command used her as a banner head to overhaul some of the Empire's more antiquated policies. And if any woman stood a chance of maintaining control of the Enterprise, it was Kirk. Kirk who could quietly dispose of her most vocal detractors at the push of a button, leaving only those who supported her or those too frightened to oppose her in charge of deciding whether she retained control of the Enterprise.

The accident with the transporter had been a gift. A glitch with no real statistical chance of even happening in the first place, much less happening again. So Marlena had seized the opportunity. First, she'd decimated the transporter logs, practically destroying any chance Montgomery Scott had of analyzing and reversing the process. Then she'd sent Nyota to whisper in Sulu's ear, making sure Sulu's communique pointed out that while he sympathized with Kirk and Spock's situation, any further experimentation by Mr. Scott would border violating the Imperial ban on gender reassignment technologies.

McCoy looked at her critically. "Oh, You are a devious one, aren't you? I see why Kirk likes you."

"Only when I need to be, Doctor. So do we have an agreement then?" she demanded.

"Damn it," the man laughed, shaking his head. "I suppose that we do. I'd shake on it, but you're still a little tied up. You know that vibe got you off much faster than I'd planned. But, we still have some time. So why don't I make you cum again? To celebrate…"

"That sounds lovely, Doctor," she sighed, laying back and closing her eyes as McCoy began fingering her and teasing her with the vibrator again.  

"You'll look after her? Regardless of how everything turns out," McCoy asked, a touch of pleading in his tone.

"Of course, I will," Marlena assured him. She'd help Kirk as best she could. After all, she didn't particularly relish the pain this was causing the captain. But if anyone could understand having to make unfortunate sacrifices to win, it would be Kirk.           

Chapter Text

It's not that he'd been putting off sending his report to Command. That was a damned lie. He'd very much been dreading sending out his God damned report. Even though he'd known it was unlikely that Kirk could ever forgive him for having her dragged into Sickbay kicking and screaming, it had felt like that report would deal the killing blow to what had been left of their dying friendship.

Jim seemed to have come to a strange sort of morbid acceptance of her fate. She'd been anxious but quietly subdued when she came in for her second session, refusing to make eye contact. She'd looked tired like she hadn't been sleeping well.

Strangely their first session had been less awkward in some ways. Sulu and his team had forced Kirk into the chair the first time, and McCoy had stripped her. While the experience had undoubtedly been traumatic, it had been over and done with before Kirk had time to dwell on what was happening. The second time, however, Kirk had had to walk into SickBay under her own power, and McCoy had had to ask her to undress and lay down on the exam chair. By the time McCoy had finished attaching the mandatory restraints, the captain had looked like she was going to be sick.

McCoy knew he was good with his hands. That was also the general consensus from the ladies of the Enterprise. He had a damned waiting list to get on his patient roster. But it had taken half of the session just to get Kirk to relax despite the cocktail of drugs he'd administered, designed to keep her calm and pliant.

This week, McCoy had been smarter. He'd had Kirk meet him in his office beforehand and handed her a generous glass of bourbon. Then, McCoy had given her the hypo, and they'd sat and had a drink while the CMO had given her an informal report of the Enterprise's medical division while they had waited for the drugs to take effect. While mixing alcohol with the narcotics he'd given Kirk wasn't necessarily advisable, things had gone much more smoothly once they'd gotten to the suite and started her appointment. At the very least, she hadn't cried this time. Of course, most of the members of the medical corp might have preferred that, but Leonard supposed he was an odd duck.

He didn't particularly like hurting the hysteria patients. Women who preferred pain with their pleasure had a myriad of other doctors to choose from. As you might expect, the profession tended to attract all manner of sexual sadists. The treatment mandate provided an unlimited supply of beautiful, unwilling bodies to torment. McCoy, though, just liked making women squirm and lose control. He enjoyed watching the blood flush across their chests and how their hips started pistoning involuntarily when they were about to cum. He relished the breathy little moans and whines they made when the pleasure became just… too much.

Female Hysteria, or Womb Sickness as it was sometimes still called, was a strange diagnosis and an even stranger field of study. The underlying theory was that sexual frustration caused a slew of assorted maladies in women, from depression and anxiety to seizures to fertility problems. The diagnosis was so pervasive within the Terran Empire that it required mandatory treatment, probably tripling or quadrupling the size of Starfleet's medical corp.

What continually perplexed Leonard McCoy, though, was that it was a condition that, as far as he could see, was caused by the men of the Empire not being able to keep their women satisfied. It was a genuinely bizarre paradox. Most men believed that women existed solely for their sexual pleasure, so much so that they showed little interest in learning to reciprocate that pleasure. So an entire medical specialty had been built around the idea that doctors could administer "pelvic massages" to afflicted patients and relieve their frustration.

It was staggering how many of his patients had never orgasmed in a man's company outside of their appointments. And even more pervasive, this idea that a woman's pleasure wasn't necessary. He'd seen many girls throughout his career who had no idea how to bring themselves to completion. Girls raised in strict traditional households who knew how to suck a man's cock by the time they came out but hadn't the slightest idea how to touch themselves. Ridiculous.

He'd quietly started providing treatment for that a few years ago. At first, he'd simply sent his patients off with orders to masturbate. However, he'd quickly realized that wasn't particularly helpful to women who had already spent years not knowing how, so he'd begun sending those patients back to their quarters with small packets of lube and a quick set of fairly detailed written instructions. That had been marginally more successful, but he'd eventually realized that most of these ladies had years of conditioning to overcome. They'd been trained to supplant their own pleasure for a man's since they been little girls.

So he'd given them a man to focus their pleasure on. He'd started sending those patients off with audio recordings containing detailed instructions on how to touch themselves, peppered with praise and reminders of how pleasing and beautiful they were. Run your fingers slowly down your breasts. That's my sweet, beautiful girl. Now slowly circle your nipples with your forefinger, just like that. So good for me.

Those had seemed to do the trick. McCoy had managed to ween a few ladies of the recordings over time, though many had confessed that having someone lead their masturbation simply made it easier for them to find release. And he supposed that that was the important thing.

McCoy knew he was playing fire in that regard. That a great many men would consider these additional treatments as encroaching on their property. But, Hell, they were sending him their women in this condition in the first place. He didn't see how sending them back to their quarters with at-home strategies to treat their frustration was any worse than sticking his fingers up their pussies once a week.

Not that he was doing that to Kirk much these days. Whatever had happened to Kirk in her younger years had certainly done a number on her. McCoy could venture a guess. Two men being in an openly homosexual relationship was an open admission that they wished to be treated like women and were weak. It was basically asking someone to castrate you and then stab you in the eye. That being said, many men, especially older men, would gleefully force a younger subordinate to bend over for them. That was viewed differently. It was considered an act of domination, a show of power. McCoy had known Jim Kirk for years, since just after her time on the Farragut. She'd been a very attractive young man, and even then, she'd been ruthless and ambitious. He could see why Jimmy's CO would have targeted her, to put a young upstart in their place, most likely publicly. McCoy didn't know the details. All he knew was that after Tycho IV, the Farragut's captain and two hundred other crewmen had been dead.

Jimmy wasn't the sort of person to let an attack on her person go unpunished. Which is why McCoy had felt that he had to protect himself. And he'd used the only leverage he had, the worst leverage possible. Maybe the Moreau girl was right. Perhaps he could help balance the scales. He supposed he did owe it to Jim.

Son of a bitch. He poured himself a double shot of bourbon, turned towards the console on his desk, opened up the message from Admiral Archer and started typing.  

Stardate: 2266.196 17:35
To: Jonathan Archer Jr, Admiral
Copy: Imperial Command – Starfleet, Imperial Command – Medical
From: Leonard McCoy, Commander (CMO)

Subject: RE: Fitness Report – Lieutenant Commander Spock/Captain James T. Kirk

Admiral,  

I am responding to your request to assess the fitness of Lieutenant Commander Spock and Captain James T. Kirk after the transporter accident which occurred on stardate 2266.159. This incident resulted in Spock and Kirk's DNA being changed at a genetic level, causing them to rematerialize from transport as females.

From a physical standpoint, Lieutenant Commander Spock has lost approximately 3.5 centimetres in height and roughly 15 kilograms of body mass. Captain Kirk has lost approximately 8 centimetres in height and roughly 20 kilograms in body mass.

From a psychological standpoint, Lieutenant Commander Spock seems to have taken the change in stride, attended mandatory therapy and has been performing her duties with the Vulcan efficiency I have come to expect from her. I've seen no changes in her capabilities in performing her duties, though I have some concerns about the stress of maintaining both the first officer and department head positions.

Captain Kirk initially showed resistance to mandated therapy. I believe this to be consistent with her character before the accident. The ruthlessness, cunning and fighting spirit always exhibited by Captain Kirk seem unaffected by the physical changes in her body. Therefore, I believe her reaction was consistent with what I would expect from James Tiberius Kirk. However, she has since grudgingly accepted the mandated therapy.

From a performance standpoint, I have seen nothing to indicate that her gender change has affected the performance of her duties. If anything, she seems more determined than ever to serve the Empire and eager to prove her metal.

It is my assessment that if a rigorous schedule of paroxysm therapy to manage stress is employed, there is no reason that Captain Kirk cannot continue serving as Commanding Officer on board the Enterprise. Accordingly, I recommend increasing her number of mandated sessions from the standard once to twice weekly.

My recommendation regarding Lieutenant Commander Spock is similar, except that I would encourage you to consider narrowing her responsibilities to a single focus, so she is not overwhelmed. But regardless, I would recommend increasing the frequency of her paroxysm therapy as well to help alleviate the stress created by either position, be it department head or first officer.

Dr. Leonard McCoy
Chief Medical Officer - ISS Enterprise

…

Damn it. Maybe he was, a pussy whipped fool. He attached the pair's latest medical reports and, at the last moment, vids of Spock and Kirk's latest sessions. Then downing the rest of his bourbon, McCoy pressed send. He needed to get his head examined. That's what he needed to do. If Archer's head didn't explode, Komack or Fitzpatrick's certainly would. They'd been sitting up at headquarters waiting for him to send in a recommendation telling them that, of course, Spock and Kirk were too delicate and fragile to keep their current positions. Instead, he'd practically written a manifesto. He was going to end up stationed on some deep space station in the bowels of the Empire. That was if Spock didn't murder him first.

Pretty and dainty as she now was, Leonard had no illusions that she couldn't still rip him in two. He felt somewhat badly about throwing her out of the metaphorical airlock, but if this had any chance of succeeding... Well, there was zero chance that Starfleet Command would allow Spock and Jim to both keep their positions. It would be one or the other, and hopefully, this way, Spock could at least continue to lead the Enterprise's large science department. If they took the captaincy from Jim…  Well, she'd have nothing to fall back on.

Maybe they'd disappear him to one of those shifty prison camps at the front, he thought morosely as he poured himself another glass. God damn damned Kirk. God damned Kirk and her pretty tear-filled eyes, her big tits, her sweet, breathy little moans and how she worried her pretty pink bottom lip just before she climaxed.

McCoy nearly jumped out of his skin when his station beeped, letting him know he'd received a reply.

Stardate: 2266.196 18:17
To: Leonard McCoy, Commander (CMO)
Copy: Imperial Command – Starfleet, Imperial Command – Medical
From: Jonathan Archer Jr, Admiral

Subject: RE: RE: Fitness Report – Lieutenant Commander Spock/Captain James T. Kirk

Thank you for the detailed assessment, Doctor. We are reviewing all the attached materials and other evaluations and will be making a decision within the next two weeks.

In the interim, please proceed with your medical recommendations for both Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Commander Spock. And please provide Command with regular ongoing detailed reports on both their progress.  

Admiral Jonathan Archer, Jr
Imperial Starfleet Command

…

Holy Christ. Forget Spock. Kirk was going to kill him, Or if he was reading the tone of Archer's reply correctly, maybe suck his cock. And if Leonard McCoy was honest with himself, he'd let her. But at least he'd reciprocate.