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Kirk V

The electro-crystal whirring of the transporter.  That strange moment of non-being as the transporter technology sent his essence whizzing down to the planet.  The world took form before he did, so he’d seen the distinctive tall, jagged frost covered mountains in the distance, and the dark, stone walls of the Ramerhaam palace, and then he’d started to feel wrong  as he became aware of a weight and a mass on his chest, and as he materialized he looked down to see two large, round mounds straining against his shirt even as strands of long hair blew into his eyes.

He looked at Spock– why was Spock so tall now?  The security detail, Janice Rand and Uhura, all of whom had gotten taller, and then back at — did he have breasts?  Small hands.  Slender little wrists and arms.   He felt a cool breeze blow across his bare belly; he wore his same uniform, but with all that extra mass on his chest it didn’t fit anymore and left his mid-rift bare.

“What’s going on?”  Rand whispered.  “Who is she?”

Kirk tried to brush the long hair away from his face, but the strong wind kept blowing it back across his eyes.  “Spock?”  He said, putting a hand to his throat as he heard the chirping sound of his new voice.

Spock examined Kirk the same way he would look at a specimen in a jar, then raised an eyebrow.  “It appears the transporter has experienced a non-standard outcome.”

Kirk slapped at his hip, reaching for his communicator.  The belt had risen up on his now wide, round hips, but hung lose across his slender waist, and he had to reach around to find it.

“Is she the Captain?”  He heard Uhuru ask.

She.  For the first time, someone referred to him a she, and he felt his stomach turn queasy.  “Cut the chatter,” he said, as he flipped his communicator open, and it squawked.   Across the way, he saw the Ramerhaam delegation approaching, their flags snapping in the wind, the armor flashing in the sun.  Well, there would have to be a delay..

‘Kirk to Enterprise,” he said, trying to put some man in his little voice.  “Scotty. Beam us back up.  There’s been an– incident.”

“Who is this?”  Scotty answered, sounding furious.  “Get off the Captain’s channel!”

“Scotty, I don’t have time–”

“This is first officer Spock,” Kirk heard a deep, manly voice cut in.  “Beam the party back up.  There has been an unexpected transporter outcome.”

“I–  I can’t,” Scotty said.  “As soon as I beamed you down, the whole system shorted out and caught fire.”

“Shorted out?”   Kirk said, watching as the Ramerhaam delegation drew closer.  “How long until you can get it up and running?”

“It may take days.”

Kirk nodded.  Okay.  Then, he would just have to find a way to make it work.  The Ramerhaamians had discovered one of the richest deposits of dilithium crystals in the galaxy, and he had been tasked to secure a treaty and trade partnership.  “Keep us posted,” he said.  “The delegation is here. Kirk out.”  He threw his shoulders back, feeling his breasts bounce, but ignored it, ignored the wrongness of this body, the way his hips seemed to sway, his legs felt too long, his butt felt too big, never mind his bare belly.  He had to go, to do, to complete his mission.

“Send a shuttle,” he heard Spock say, then Spock called, “Captain!  Wait!”

Spock giving orders?  Kirk hid his displeasure.  They would have to talk about this.  But right now, he had a mission, and so he walked up to the delegation and made the gesture of greeting he’d been taught, putting his hand over his heart and feeling something soft and round–  so wrong– then raising a fist in the air.

The Ramerhaam men laughed, and then Kirk noticed the way they were all looking at him– or, rather, at his body, letting their hungry eyes slink up and down his shape, lingering on his breasts.   His skin crawled, and he resisted the urge to cross his little arms across his breasts, and instead stood as he usually would, looking their leader right in the eyes.

“Captain…”  he heard Spock say.

‘That’s enough,” Kirk snapped back, his little voice rising to an even higher squeak.

Once again, the men of Ramerhaam laughed.

Kirk felt unsure, locked their in their hungry gaze, being laughed at, but he decided to brazen it out.  “I bring an offering of peace and mutual prosperity from the Federation,” he said.

The men all laughed again, except for the leader, whose face grew dark and whose eyes burned with rage.  “Why is this female speaking?”  He asked, looking past Kirk to Mister Spock.

“Excuse her,” Spock said.  “She doesn’t know her place.”

My place?  Kirk glanced back at Spock, furious.  He ignored the long hair blowing into his face, and turned back to face the sneering, arrogant face of the Rameerhaam diplomat.  ‘I am Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise, and I am the—”


Kirk saw stars, felt a burning on his cheek, shook his head as he struggled to process what had just happened, that this man had smacked him in the face.

“Shut up!”  The man bellowed.  “Women do not speak in the presence of men!”

Kirk saw his security detail reach for their phasers, but an autogun behind them they hadn’t even seen fired a spear that slammed right through the chest of one of them– Bradley– and he fell to the ground, dead.

Kirk’s own hand went to his phaser, but before he could find it he felt his face slapped again and again, and then a man’s powerful arms around him.  He struggled helplessly, stunned at how small and weak he’d become, and the man lifted him off his feet and turned him around so he could watch as his crew were disarmed.

“The penalty for a female who disrespects a man,” the diplomat said as he held Kirk in his arms.  “Is death.”

Kirk’s eyes met Spock’s.  He saw the cool, Vulcan determination, and Kirk felt his heart flutter.  Then, the man holding him lifted Kirk, tossed him over his shoulder and carried James T. Kirk kicking and writhing into Ramerhaam Hall.








Kirk IV

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When they got to Rand’s room, Kirk sat on her bed, tucking his long legs under him, accepting a glass of wine from Rand, who climbed on the bed and sat near him, giving him another sisterly touch on the arm.  “What will you do now?”  Rand asked, sipping her wine.

The way he’d tucked his legs under him, the way he walked, gestured, even the way he spoke all carried traces of his time training and serving as a slave girl.  Rand wondered if he even realized how naturally feminine his mannerisms had become.

Kirk took a slug of his own wine and felt it warm and sweet as it poured down his throat.  He reminded himself to slow down.  He couldn’t handle alcohol as well as he once did in this smaller body.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Resign?  Ask for re-assignment?  Find some way to get my body back?  Build a time machine?”

“You can’t resign,” Rand said.  “You love Star Fleet.”

“And I love the Enterprise.  I love her crew.”  He idly brushed a strand of his golden blonde hair away from his face.

“So stay.  Be a part of her crew,” Rand said.

Kirk took another sip of wine.  “This is all so wrong,” he said, the anger bubbling up in him.  “I am still James T. Kirk!  I am still the rightful captain!  How can they take the ship away from me?  It isn’t fair!”

“There are a lot of things that aren’t fair for women,” Rand said.

“I’m not supposed to be a woman!”  Kirk spat.  “I’m not supposed to have to deal with this kind of sexist nonsense.”

“But now you do.  Maybe it will make you a better person, just like you said—”

“Better?  Ha.  But not the Captain.  Probably never again.”

“You don’t know that,” Rand said.  “You have to stay strong!”

Kirk drank some more wine.  Sighed.  “You’ve been so good to me, Jan.  So loyal.”  He reached out and touched her hair, then her cheek.

“I will always love and support you,” Rand said.

“Jan.” Kirk cupped her cheek, then his eyes went soft, and he leaned in, meaning to kiss her, but Rand pulled away.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “You know I’m not into other girls.  I told you before.”

Kirk sat back, burning with shame.  He looked away.  “I’m sorry.  I — I forget myself.”

“Let me get you some more wine.”

Kirk got up and went to Jan’s mirror, looking at the young woman in the mirror.  He threw his shoulders back, turned to the side and examined his figure.  Rand brought him a second glass of wine.  “What are you thinking?” She said, meeting his eyes in the mirror, standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

‘I’m still trying to accept that is me,” he said, shaking his head.  “Trying to figure out if I can be me in this body, with this face.  What do you think?  Can this pretty girl be James T. Kirk?”

Rand sat in a chair and crossed her legs, regarding James Kirk as he looked over his figure in the mirror, turning this way and that, still trying to wrap his head around the reality that he was now one of them– a female.

“Yes,” Rand said with a little smile.  “But you said it yourself.  You can’t be the same old James Kirk.  You have to be a new one, one that accepts that she is now a woman.”

“I’m not sure if I will ever get used to the idea.”

They talked.  Kirk got angry, then cried, and Rand did hold him then, as a friend holds another friend, and then they drank some more wine, and finally they hugged goodnight, and Kirk stumbled back to his own quarters and flopped into the bed, passing out almost immediately still wearing his new uniform.

He woke sometime after midnight, his bra seemed to choking him, and sitting up, he reached back to find the zipper on his dress, slipping out of it and then out of his bra, sighing with relief as the pressure on his chest and ribs eased, and he felt his breasts sway free.  He put his hands on the small of his back and stretched, then went to his closet and pulled on his old robe, which now hung on him like an over sized coat, but which was soft and comfortable and reminded him of home.

He drank a glass of water and another, then curled up in his reading chair, pulling his legs to his chest, biting his pinky finger, thinking about Rand, her smile, how much he wanted to kiss her, and how empty it had made him feel when she’d said no.

His mind drifted back to the day of the transformation, when he’d suddenly found himself a woman.







Kirk III

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“I am James T. Kirk,”  Kirk started, trying his best to tune out the sound of his tea kettle voice, “and I am, as Doctor McCoy testified, a woman.  We meet here today to judge my fitness to serve as captain of the star ship Enterprise, a position I have held for two years.

“And, why, I ask, has my fitness become an issue?  Not due to my performance, nor due to my health nor for any reason for which their is precedence for removal of a star ship captain.  My fitness has become an issue because when star fleet named me captain, I was a man.  And now, as we can all see, I am most certainly a woman.  Or, I have the body of a woman.  But has it changed me mentally?  Has it made me somehow different from the man appointed captain of this ship, and who served in that role with distinction?”

He took a few steps and turned slightly away from the cameras, as if pondering, though he had worked the whole speech out.  He didn’t see all the eyes of the tribunal drop to his behind, then his long, bare legs.

Kirk turned back to the cameras.  “Am I the same man I was inside?  That’s the question, isn’t it?  Because, if I am the same man, then there is no reason to make a change.  The man I was has done this job.  Is he still in here, in this body?”

He nodded, paused, and then said, “The answer is no.  I am not that man anymore.”

He saw the looks of surprise on the faces of the old men, and hid his own smile.  “Oh, the psyche evaluations say nothing has changed.  And I have all my memories and training.  But I am not the same James Kirk.   I am now a woman, and I have lived as a woman, and I can not claim to be the same man I was; however, I can insist that I am now a better person!”

He was getting excited now, and he paced, glancing at Rand, seeing her nod, glancing at Spock and seeing him allow a momentary flash of emotion to creep through.  “I am uniquely qualified to captain this ship because I now understand my entire crew.  I have lived as a man in a man’s body, and I am now living as a woman in a woman’s body.  My crew consists of men and women.  The various species that populate our universe most frequently exhibit sexual differentiation.   Who better to contact those new civilizations than a person, a captain, who knows what it is to be male and female?  Captain, and, yes, at one point, slave girl?”

He punched his fist into his palm.  “Star Fleet made the right choice when they assigned this ship to me, and I say that choice is even better now that I stand before you, a young woman, ready to be the first female to captain a star ship in this, the greatest federation, the universe has ever known!”

The crew stood and applauded.  Kirk stood at attention, his big, brown eyes sparkling with pride and hope.  When the applause died down, the leader of the tribunal said.  “Excellent speech, honey.  You did very well.  This tribunal has determined that Captain James T. Kirk will be replaced as Captain of the Enterprise. ”

“What?”  Kirk said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“She will retain her rank and pay grade, but will be reassigned in the chain of command to a subordinate position as determined by her new commanding officer, Captain Sean Finnegan.”

Sean Finnegan?  My tormentor from my academy days?  Inside, Kirk felt his stomach turn, felt himself grow sick, but he retained his mask of calm.  “Thank you,” he said.  “I will serve with honor.”

“Very good, Miss Kirk.  You are a lovely girl, and I am sure you will be an asset to the crew.  Good day.”

As soon as the screen went blank, crew members came up to console Kirk, and he heard them, but only from a distance.  His body felt suddenly like a prison, and the tight, constricting dress, the feeling of his bra straps digging into his shoulders, it all brought back to him the sudden, shocking reality that he had lost his ship, he was no longer captain.

Eventually, as people began to disperse, Rand appeared, gathering him into her arms for a sisterly hug.  “I’m so sorry!  It’s so unfair.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kirk admitted to her in a small, almost whisper.  “I never expected to lose her.”

“Come,” Rand said, taking his hand.  “Let’s go to my room, and we can drink some wine and talk all about it.  Would you like that, sweety?”

Kirk nodded.  ‘Yes.”  Holding Rand’s hand, he followed her from the room, eyes down, feeling like he’d lost everything, and that he would never know happiness again.










Kirk II


As Kirk turned the corner to the hearing room, trying his best to put behind him the memory of getting checked out by the men on the elevator, he saw Janice Rand waiting for him outside the door.  He instantly felt a sense of relief, and they shared a smile as Janice rushed up to him and gathered him into her arms for a hug.

“Look!  We match!”  She said, holding the red sleeve of her dress next to his matching sleeve.

Kirk touched her on the elbow.  “Thanks for being here for me!”

“Of course.  We’re besties.  You ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Kirk said, once more tugging at the hem of his uniform, feeling hyper aware of his bare legs.

Rand grabbed his hand and said, “Don’t let them see you doing that inside.  It makes you look insecure.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Thanks.”  He hugged her again.  She’d been a godsend since his change.  Some women in her position probably would have reveled in seeing a former lover who’d scorned them turned into a woman, but Rand had been right there to help him, supporting him relentlessly as he struggled to deal with his new sex.  He was lucky to have her as such a good friend.

He walked into the hearing room.  Familiar faces sat in a semi-circle facing a series of screens:  Doctor McCoy, Nurse Chapel, Spock, Scotty.  Rand took a seat in the gallery, where a small group of her young women friends waited.

Kirk looked at the screens, where the withered, craggy faces of the Starfleet Commission arranged to determine his fitness for command waited, looking bored.  Not a single woman, Kirk noted, without surprise, but the first time in his life ir seemed very relevant that this decision, like most, would be made only by men.

Kirk took a position in the center of the room.

“Captain James T. Kirk, this tribunal has been gathered… blah … blah… blah… it’s decision will be final.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” Kirk answered, cringing at the sound of his high-pitched little voice as it came back to him over the room’s sound system.   He turned and went to his seat, facing another challenge– sitting in his mini-dress.   He found what he’d learned was the right distance while practicing with Rand, then kind of knelt into the seat, keeping his knees together.  The last thing he wanted to do was give the whole room a crotch shot to look at.

Doctor McCoy went first, putting up some x-rays and brain scans.  “So, in conclusion, medically speaking, Captain Kirk is a perfectly healthy young woman exhibiting no signs of physical or mental trauma.  In the opinion of this doctor, she is fit to serve.”

It felt strange hearing himself referred to as a young woman, a she, but Kirk figured for the time being he would have to get used to it.  Meanwhile, he gave McCoy one of his trademark crooked smiles.   Thanks, he thought.  Thanks.  It means the world.

Scotty testified as to his conduct since the change, particularly as it related to his behavior on Ram V, where he’d first been turned into a female.  “The Captain behaved in a manner consistent with her personality and leadership style throughout the mission.  I didn’t see any change at all in her mind. ”

Finally, one of the zombies spoke. “According to your report, this young lady agreed to serve as a slave girl.  Is that correct?”

Young lady?  Kirk didn’t like the sound of that, nor the inquiry alone the lines of his time as a slave girl.  It couldn’t bode well.

“You have to understand–” Scotty started, but the inquisitor cut him off.


“Yes, sir,” Scotty answered through gritted teeth, gripping the arm rests of his chair.

The men looked at Kirk, letting his eyes fall across Kirk’s body, lingering along his long, bare legs. “Slave girl,” he snorted.  ‘Hmmpf.”

“Wait,” another skeleton said, seeming to wake from a stupor.  “Did you say she agreed?  Or, was she forced?”

Scotty swallowed and glanced at Kirk apologetically.  “She agreed, but–”

“That’s enough.  I’m ready to make a decision.”

‘I’ve heard enough,” the others agreed.

The three put their heads together and started murmuring.   Kirk could tell it wasn’t going to go well.  He stood.  “Excuse me?” he said.  His voice sounded small, apologetic, feminine.

The men ignored him.

“Excuse me!” Kirk shouted, trying to put some power behind his tea-kettle voice.  Rand shook her head.  This would not go well.  He was still acting like a man.

The men all stopped, looking at him angrily.  “Young lady,” the lead inquisitor said.  “I’d advise you to sit yourself back down, shut up and know your place.”

“I know my place,” Kirk said.  ‘It’s on the bridge of the Enterprise.”

“Young lady,” the man repeated.  “You are out of line.”

“With all due respect,”  Kirk said.  ‘I am entitled to make a statement at my hearing prior to a decision being rendered.”

The skeleton zombie frowned.  “Very well.”  He waved his hand.  “Make it quick.”

Kirk took a deep breath, throwing his shoulders back, his chest out.  This is it, he thought.  Your whole career and future are on the line.  Time for Kirk to do what he does best.  Time to Kobayashi Maru these geezers.







Let There Be Blur on Earth!



Happy New Year everybody!   I feel like 2017 saw an unprecedented- at least here in America– continuation of the blurring and redefining of gender norms and identities.  There transformations have come about as a result of the species evolving, and largely due to the continued evolution in the roles available to women.

Of course, throughout history there have been strong women who defied the gender roles expected of them.  And throughout history there have been versions of masculinity far outside the lines of what it became in America for at least the last hundred of so years.

Since recorded human history there have been cultures where men were expected to be passionate and emotional, where men danced and made wore, where men wore what to modern American eyes looked like dresses.

To open our eyes to history is to realize that what it means to be a man or a woman has always changed and evolved.

Social evolution is out greatest asset, as we can change our social customs to match our evolving world in a generation , whereas the biological evolution take a lot longer.

Sadly, we still have those who fear change; these are usually weak, fear bound people terrified of their feelings who cling to artificial modes of past conduct as proof against the reality, observed so long ago, that the only constant is change.

Let’s have a great year evolving, daring, experimenting and above all else dancing!  There has never been a better time to be YOU!