Want the look? Buy the wig!
In the morning, James Kirk showered, fixed his hair, pulled on his bra and panties and then wiggled into his little red uniform. He fixed his hair again, then pulled on his boots and headed out to report to his new duty officer, Lieutenant Harriet Lubbuck. His stomach knotted up once more of indignity of it all, assigned to Health and Morale. A man with his skill set? He’d taken advantage of Spock’s suggestion and gone to dinner with Chekov, and having a man with him had made all the difference. But reporting for duty was something else entirely. He couldn’t show up holding some man’s hand for support.
He arrived. Of course, Lubbock kept him waiting, so he sat primly in the outer office, knees together, hands in his lap. Finally, Lubbock’s secretary told him he could go in, and Kirk got up and headed in, taking a position in front Lubbock, who was seated behind her desk. Kirk stood at attention and said, “Captain James Kirk, reporting for duty.”
“At ease,” Lubbock said, looking Kirk over. “Sit.”
Kirk sat and looked at Lubbock. She had once been pretty. He could see that, and she still had a certain attractiveness to her, though her face was etched with lines of worry and command, and her eyes were cold. “Miss Kirk,” Lubbock said. “Welcome to the Barbies.”
“Pardon me?” Kirk said, surprised to hear the term come from Lubbock’s mouth.
‘Oh, I know what they call us,” Lubbock said. “Don’t act so surprised. In any case, you certainly fit the description. You look like a Barbie doll come to life now, Captain.”
“You, too?” Kirk said. “Isn’t there anyone on this ship who isn’t obsessed with how I look? “I didn’t come here to discuss my appearance?”
“Your appearance matters very much. I demand all of my staff dress and comport themselves with excellence at all times. Your uniform is impeccable, but your hair is sloppy, and you will need to start wearing make-up.”
“Star Fleet does not–”
“I require all of my female staff members to wear make-up, Miss Kirk.” Lubbock’s voice had gone cold, hard and commanding. A bit of the West Texas accent she spent years hiding snuck back in. “It is a part of a female officer’s proper decorum, and serves to help boost the morale of our crew. You will not arrive to your duty station without proper makeup. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Kirk said, suddenly feeling nervous and afraid. Lubbock’s tone triggered his training, and it was like one of the harem mistresses was giving him orders again. ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Lubbock eyed Kirk, an amused little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I had heard you’d changed, but this is really quite something.” She looked at him, pleased. “Sweetie, we are going to get along fine as long as you remember to be a good little girl, is that understood?”
“Of course, Lieutenant,” Kirk said, his voice rising to a higher pitch, his speech pattern growing slightly more childlike in response to the command he be a good little girl. His hands started fluttering as he spoke. “As you wish.”
“I’ve sent your duty schedule. You’ll be training to teach yoga and dance aerobics at the gym, and assisting with party planning and hostess duties.”
This can’t get any worse, Kirk thought, but the smile on his face grew brighter. “Thank you, lieutenant. I’ll do my best!”
“Of course you will. Report now to the gym. Well, dear, that will be all. Dismissed.”
Kirk stood, smoothed his skirt, and left.
Lubbock shook her head as she watched him walk out, his hips swaying from side to side, one arm dangling out in the most feminine manner. So, it had been true. The aliens had changed him and not just his body.
Kirk went to the gym. He hadn’t been here since the change, and as he walked in he glanced through the glass to the free weight area and saw men– big, strong men, lifting weights, their bodies slick with sweaty. One of them glanced at him and Kirk gasped and turned away, feeling his heart racing, his skin blushing. He crossed over to the front desk for the fitness rooms, where the group classes were held, and soon he found himself directed to a fitness studio where a small group of women was stretching and chatting. He saw the instructor and wanted to run: Melody Gregorious, a pretty little Greek girl with a super tone, fit body. He’d spent more than one night getting to know that body, and now he walked up, feeling like his breasts were ten feet in front of him.
Melody, who’d been talking to one of the students, turned and saw him and said, “Oh. My. God. Are you seriously James Kirk?”
Kirk realize with a start that he was now looking eye to eye with the cute little woman, and he smiled and rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not,” he said, jarred by the realization he also now had a softer, higher pitched voice. “It’s me.”
“You’re so pretty,” Melody said, looking at him, her face pained. “I’m so sorry. It must be terrible.”
Kirk shrugged, shaking his head.
“You were such a man, and now look at you. You’re one of the hottest girls on this whole ship. I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you.”
“I see there is still no filter,” Kirk said, realizing that all the women in the room had stopped and were listening.
“What? Oh! My god! I’m sorry! That was rude, wasn’t it?”
“Can we just maybe focus on the task at hand?” Kirk said. “I am here to train as an aerobics instructor?”
“Of course, sweetie. Of course. You can observe today, and maybe I will work with you after class. It’s a lot of dance, modern but also ballet, so I am sure that will be new and uncomfortable for you.”
“Actually,” Kirk said, remembering, “I am a trained dancer.”
“Yes. it was part of my… service.”
His mind went back to that first day on the planet. He’d been led to the harem quarters. The door had swished closed, and he’d found himself surrounded by women, mostly young, some older. They glanced at him and then went back to what they were doing. He was just another girl to them. One of the older women came up to him and said, “Come on. Time for your training.”
Kirk followed, wondering what his training would entail, but not too worried about it. Whatever they made him do, he wouldn’t be here long enough for them to ingrain any habits. He was sure Spock would get him out. The woman led him to a room and indicated for him to sit down in a padded chair with armrests. The room was sparse, with just a screen mounted on the wall and a control panel with blinking lights.
“What’s so funny?” The woman said.
“It’s just– I find it ironic that harem’s have boring instructional videos, just like every other job. That’s all.”
The woman only smiled and gestured toward the chair once more.
Kirk sat, and as soon as he did metal bindings sprung out, pinning his wrists and ankles. “I’m not going to try and run,” he said, but then he felt a metal cap rise and snap into place over his head, and cold, metal probes press against his temples. “What’s all this?”
“We don’t literally train our girls anymore,” the woman said, lighting a cigarette and going over to the control panel. “We download everything directly into your brains.”
“Wait! No!” Kirk struggled against his bonds.
“Let’s start with that walk of yours.”
“No! Please!” Kirk said as his mind began to fill with images of women walking in bare feet, flats, heels. If it was changing him, he didn’t sense it. It just seemed like he was watching a montage. The women all moved so gracefully, it was actually quite impressive. He relaxed. Maybe it didn’t work on humans.
“And your speech patterns.”
This time his mind was filled with the sounds of women talking, but all of them breathy and flirty, with high pitched voices like tea kettles. Very sexy, and he felt calm and peaceful as he listened to them, even happy. He had always loved the sound of women’s voices, anyway.
“And now, how to dance.”
His mind began to fill with images of women dancing, all different styles from all over the galaxy. A warm calm came over him, and he even found himself smiling. Dance was such an amazing art form.
“There,” the woman said, snickering, almost to herself. “Now you love to dance.”
I always loved dancing, Kirk thought, smiling. Ever since I can remember! He imagined himself dancing for a room full of men, for his crew, and the thought thrilled him more than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He loved dancing for men, driving them wild with lust, making them slaves to his gorgeous body! It was the best feeling ever!
He giggled as he imagined the whole thing. The machine didn’t work! There was no way they could change him! He was James T. Kirk, and he always would be!