Kirk XI

kirkchekov

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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.”

“You?”

“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.

Kirk laughed.

“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! dancerhappyfancy

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!

 

Boy Meets Girl

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So, perhaps the scene that most separates Boy Meets Girl from other male  to female body swaps comes in the second episode, when Danny, now living in the body and life of Veronica, discovers her box of sex toys and decides to experiment with his new body.  Cut to him looking pleased and dazed, smiling, satisfied.

Later, he claims to find more pleasure using his “bunny” than he ever found as a bloke (the show is British).

And yet, the very same character, still identifying as a straight man, flees in terror at his boyfriend’s advances, and once he does allow himself to be pleasured by another man he is shocked and ashamed of what he allowed to be done.  So, he finds he is okay with having a woman’s sexuality and needs, but not to have them fulfilled by a man.  Later, he gets in a relationship with another woman and falls in love with her.

This show explores identity complexity beyond the it’s hard to put a on a bra, it’s hard to walk in high heels scenes we usually get (though we also get those scenes!)  Another fascinating development comes after the character has a nervous breakdown.  He starts drinking too much, rebels against his woman’s life, and starts telling everyone he is a man named Danny.  End result?  Mental Institution.

Finally, faced with electro shock therapy he feels will erase his memory and make him think he is and has always been Veronica, he relents and determines to be her.  He watches videos of her to learn how to talk and move like her, and he adopts as best he can a feminine persona, smiling, being sweet and accommodating, taking care of his hair, make-up and clothes, and learning to walk and move gracefully in his heels.

He tries, but he finds it hard, very hard, to be feminine, and ultimately comes to believe he can’t live like that, a feeling I suspect many women who watch this will relate to.  It is not being female he finds hard, but being feminine.   This problem also hits home with his boyfriend who doesn’t listen, pushing a marriage proposal on him and then completely ignored his body language and tone that clearly convey– I am not into this at all!  Like many women, Danny feels he is clearly conveying his feelings, only to be ignored.

So, there is some depth and darkness with the show.  I was a little disappointed with the ending– I love the tease, but the show just seemed to stop leaving a lot unresolved.  And, I would have liked more exploration of Veronica’s life as Danny, but all in all this is one to watch!

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Kirk X

kirkspock

The door to Kirk’s room swooshed closed, and he collapsed onto his bed with a full body sigh.  It was– the whole thing– unbelievable.

FINNEGAN!

MEN!

How could they think they could treat him the way they did?  The groping, the ogling, the condescension.  I am James Kirk, he thought.  One of the best captains Star Fleet has ever seen.  And a crewman just slapped me on the ass?

Don’t they know who I am? 

Could a change in body completely undue all the great work he’d done?  Could it unmake him?

There could be no doubt about it anymore.  Yes, it could.  Yes, it had.

And now, assigned to the Barbies?   It was the worst, most humiliating assignment possible for him.  Finnegan was a genius at abusing others, that was for sure.  But what could Kirk do?  He had no recourse.  Finnegan was his commanding officer, and he had his orders.   He’d lost control not only of his ship, but his life, and it felt like someone had kicked him in the belly, repeatedly.  He thought he might throw up.  He had no way to gain control unless he– resigned?

He sat up, clutching his pillow to his chest.  Yes.  That’s what he would have to do.  It was the only path left to him to save face.  Resign from Star Fleet.  He would go somewhere on the far fringes of the galaxy, change his name, become a whole other person.  He looked at the communicator on his desk.  He had to tell to Spock.  It wouldn’t be right to just ghost on his old friend.  He summoned up his courage and resolve, and tapped out a brief message: Spock.  Please come see me when you have the time.  We need to talk.

He clicked SEND, and then he noticed a message in his Inbox, from Dr. Janice Lester.  The Subject Line read Hey, Girl.  Had word spread so far?  So fast?  She just wanted to taunt him, no doubt, and so he deleted the message, and then cleared his Delete Box as well.

He was hungry, but after getting groped and then slapped on the butt, he didn’t feel safe going out into the ship alone anymore.  He knew it was weak, or made him feel weak, but he just didn’t have the energy, so he sat down, opened up a file and started to write his letter of resignation.  It hurt, more than anything he’d ever done, but even as he typed he could feel his breasts pressing against his biceps, heavy and soft, reminding him of his sex, and all the limitations it placed on him.

He’d finished the letter and started to go back over it, looking for typos, clearing up a few sentences, when his doorbell buzzed.  He looked to see Spock outside, and said, “Enter.”  The door opened and Spock stepped in, leaning on the wall, regarding Kirk with those cool, blank eyes.

Kirk swallowed and met Spock’s eyes.  “I guess you got my email?”

“I did,” Spock said.  He kept leaning there on the wall, looking at Kirk, who started to feel– antsy.  Uncomfortable.  He looked away, fidgeting with his hair.

The silence continued on, and finally Kirk said, “Well?  Aren’t you going to say anything?  This is goodbye.”

“No,” Spock said.  ‘It isn’t.”  Finally, he walked into the room.

“What do you mean?”  Kirk said as Spock approached, towering over him.

“Sit down,” Spock said in a deep commanding voice.  It was clearly an order.

Despite himself, Kirk found himself sitting, knees together, hands in his lap.  Obeying Spock sent a euphoric, tingling sensation through his whole body that scared him.  “Spock, what–?”

“Don’t talk.  Listen,” Spock said, and just the tiniest bit of anger seemed to seep through his voice, his expression.

Kirk started to talk back, but before even a sound got out of his mouth Spock’s jaw tightened, and Kirk just closed his mouth and sat there, hands in his lap, staring up at Spock with wide, frightened eyes.  Spock had never spoken to Kirk like this, had never acted liked this toward him, and it rattled him, confused him.

“You are not going to resign,” Spock said.  “You are going to march down to your new duty assignment, you are going to meet your new commanding officer, and you are going to execute your new duties with the same degree of passion and excellence as you have displayed throughout your career in Star Fleet.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Kirk peeped, sounding like a child who’d just been scolded.

“Really,” Spock said, “I do hope you will get these feminine emotional outbursts under control.”

“I– I will,” Kirk said, and then not understand why, he apologized.  “I’m sorry.”

Spock sat across from Kirk now.  “Good.  Now, tell me how I can help.”

Kirk felt his heart flutter.  “Help?  Oh. Um.  I don’t know.  I’m not sure, I mean, you’re busy, and I am probably just being foolish.”

“Are you having trouble with the men?”

Kirk nodded.

‘The male of your species can be rude and aggressive, insensitive.  The scientific explanation for the behavior remains muddled and controversial.  However, what I can state for certain is that your breasts to waist ratio, your birthing hips, radiant skin and hair all convey to the males on this ship that you are a fecund female, ripe for producing off-spring, and as such they will be attracted to you and seek to mate with you if possible.”

The blunt talk, the description of his body– Kirk felt himself flush.   Did Spock really think all these men wanted him to have their babies?  It seemed– gross and absurd. “Spock?  I don’t think–”

“What if we could find a way to shield you from males eager to impregnate you?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can try to arrange for you to have an escort at all times when you need to go to places where harassment is likely to happen.  The mess hall in particular.”

Kirk shrugged and shook his head.  “No.  I’ve been kind of doing that with Rand, but  I see women walking alone on the ship, eating alone sometimes.  I can’t let myself be, um, more of a girl than a girl?”

“They were raised as females.  They have learned how to deflect and reject male attention.  Also, few present as ripe an opportunity for mating, or as inviting a female form.  I’ve decided.  We, your friends, will arrange to make sure you don’t have to spend much time alone in public.  I will make arrangements and send you a schedule of your available escorts.”

Kirk felt himself melting, a warmth spreading through him that Spock was being so protective, caring, and even as clinical as it was, hearing Spock talk about his body and his fertile female nature gave him goosebumps and once more filled his head with the pleasant confusion of emotions.

“Spock, I just, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Kirk said, twisting his hair around his fingers, crossing his legs and pushing his shoulders back.  “You’re such a good friend.”  He reached out and touched Spock on the knee.

“As a female,” Spock said, “You will naturally respond to my gestures of caring and protectiveness by becoming aroused.  I hope you understand that these are biological reactions programmed into you now that you are female.”

“Biological?  Aroused?”   Kirk’s eyes went wide with shock and pulled his hand off Spock’s knee like it was a hot stove.  “I was just saying thanks.”

“You were displaying the behaviors of a female in heat,” Spock said.  “But do not worry.  I will not tell anyone, and– well—”

“What?” Kirk said, surprised to see the calm, commanding Vulcan suddenly tongue tied.  It was–  Kirk found it endearing, and he smiled brightly.  “Tell me!”

“The human side of me likes it.”

 

Kirk IX

He’d been prepared to die that day as he headed off to his trial, where he’d been given two choices: 1) death and 2) to become slave girl to the Rammerham.  Death had seemed the easy, obvious choice.   He’d lay down on his narrow cot, still not used to the soft, shifting nature of his new body, and calming his breath, had begun to say goodbye to everyone, to everything, to all the people who had mattered most.

“Captain,” he heard the deep, familiar voice say.

“Spock?”  He answered in his soft new voice, sitting up, covering himself with his tiny arms as best he could.  “What are you doing here?”

Spock kept his eyes on Kirk’s new face, curiously regarding the young woman who sat before him.  “I have come to consult with you about your impending trial.  As my,” he glanced at the guards, “property, I have a legal right on this planet to your protection.”

Kirk caught the glance and nodded.  “Of course.”

The door opened and Spock entered.  Kirk stood, craning his neck back to look at his old friend, and he felt small– and naked.  “Good to see you.”

“And you.”  They sat on the bunk, side by side.  “Forgive me for what I am about to say.”

“What?”

“I feel I need to ascertain the truth of your identity.  This situation has complicated negotiations, and there are many probabilities to suggest you could be an imposter.”

Kirk nodded.  He understood.  He could barely believe he was this girl, so how could anyone else?  “What do you want me to do?  Share some secret from my past?  Tell you codes for the Enterprise only the captain would know?”

“I can obtain absolute certainty through the use of the Vulcan mind probe.”

Kirk hesitated.  Spock had mind probed him before.  That was true.  But it seemed– he felt more vulnerable now.   Spock would see his plans, and he would try to stop him.   Yet, maybe there was a chance this could all be fixed.  If anyone could do it, Spock could.   Kirk looked up at Spock and nodded.

Spock gently places his fingers along Kirk’s face and head, and Kirk his skin tingle at the man’s touch.  Then, the Vulcan began to press his awareness into Kirk’s brain, so soft and gentle, and yet so firm.  Kirk had resisted, pushed back, but then it was almost like he could hear Spock whispering, relax.  It will be okay.  Let me in.   And Kirk had; he’d released, with a soft sigh, and then he’d felt his mind merging with Spock’s, their essence flowing together, and entwining, and Spock glimmered like a diamond, shining so bright, and Kirk felt safe and protected, and when the mind meld ended, a tear rolled down Kirk’s cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking Spock’s hands and squeezing.

Spock did not respond to Kirk’s emotional display, but stared down into his eyes and said, “You must not accept death, Jim.”

“What choice do I have?  I can’t live as another man’s slave, let along a slave girl.  You know what he’ll expect of me.”

“It will buy us time.  It will give me a chance to free you.”

“But what if you can’t?  Or what if before you do I become his– mate?”  Kirk’s voice cracked at the last word.

A hard, angry fire filled Spock’s eyes for a moment, but he quickly regained control of himself.  “I will not allow that to happen.”

Kirk’s heart fluttered, and he got that tingly feeling everywhere.  “Oh, Spock.”

“You must trust me.  I will protect you.”

“Okay,” Kirk said, now openly weeping.  “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at his tears.  “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s because you are a female,” Spock said, standing.  “Your biology makes you more prone to tears.”

Spock left.  The guards came and escorted Kirk to the courtroom, all the way ogling his body.  He had not been used to men looking at him like that, and it made him feel queasy and sick.   He was made to stand in the center of the room, and he glanced around to see Spock, Uhura, Rand and the rest of the landing party watching along with a large number of the men of Rammerham.  The judge came in wearing a horned helmet and some kind of animal fur cloak.

“You spoke in the presence of a man after being ordered to silence.  I find you guilty. The sentence is death. ”  He raised his gavel, pausing, waiting for Kirk to beg for mercy.  But, he couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t bring himself to beg these savage pigs to allow him to serve as a slave girl, and so heartbroken that he had to betray his word to Spock– poor Spock!– he merely dropped his head and stared at the floor, waiting to hear the gavel pound and sound the end of his life.

“Wait!”

Kirk looked up, shocked, to see that Spock had risen.  “As the owner of this female, I offer my life in her place,” Spock said.

“No!”  Kirk screamed.  The crew all around Spock was staring at him in shock, looking back at Kirk, their eyes wide.

“Are you sure?”  The Judge said.   “There will be no appeal.  My judgement is final.”

“I am sure,” Spock said.  “I can not allow her to die.”

“Very well, then I do hereby–”

Kirk stared at Spock, tears once more pooling in his eyes, and he sank to his knees, and cried out, “Let me join the King’s harem!  Please!  I beg you!  I want to serve him as his slave girl!”  He sank forward until his forehead was on the ground, prostrate before the judge.

“Very well.  It pleases me greatly to see this arrogant female humble herself before the great King.  I will be merciful.  You are now the property of the King, and you will seek to serve him in every way.”

themoment2

The guards picked Kirk up off the floor and led him away.  He kept his eyes down, his hair falling around his face like a  curtain.  He could not stand the thought of looking at any of his crew now that he was a harem girl, a slave, another man’s woman.

 

Kirk VIII

finneganankirk3

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“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Kirk said, sitting cross-legged on his bed in just his bra and panties, eyes closed.

“You need to look your best,” Rand said as she plucked another hair from his eyebrows, making sure they looked perfect.  “When you meet the new captain.”

Kirk shivered as memories of Finnegan’s pranks and bullying came back to him.  Half filled buckets of water on top of doors.  Cold soup in his bed.  And, as an older cadet, he’d forced Kirk to do thousands of push ups and sit-ups.  “He used to call me a sissy,” Kirk said, softly.  ‘I’d be straining, my arms like jello, chest burning, trying to get that 100th push up done, and he’d scream “you little sissy!  Do it, or I’m going to make you wear a skirt!”

‘Oh, honey!” Rand patted him on the knee.  “That was years ago.  I doubt he even remembers.  All done!”

“Thanks.”  Kirk got up and went to his mirror, frowning at the chic, slender brows Rand had given him.  He regretted it now.  It just seemed like a declaration of femininity, and every XX chromosome in his new body cringed at the thought of meeting his old enemy as a woman, because she knew what he would be thinking.  He adjusted his bra straps, reached in and adjusted his breasts, fitting them into the cups more securely.

Rand watched.  She loved seeing him get ready, fussing with his bra.  It even gave her a thrill to see him pick up his little red dress, stepping into, wiggling it up over his hips.   She smiled as she went over and put a hand on his hip, zipping him up, just the way she would do it if she were his boyfriend.  She kissed him on the side of his pretty head and said, “You need make-up.”

“Absolutely not,” Kirk answered, stepping away from her.  “It’s bad enough he stole my command.  I am not going to make myself pretty for him.”

“Pretty is power for a woman.”

“I’m not a woman.”

Rand looked at the swell of his breasts, his wide hips.   “If you say so.”

‘I do.”

She didn’t want it to end on a negative note, so she gave him a hug, then took both his soft hands and stared him in the eyes.  “I know you’re going to do great.”

Kirk smiled, eyes dropping to the side.  “Thanks,” he said.  ‘I mean, for everything.”

“Don’t forget your tricorder,” Rand said.

“Oh!” Kirk’s eyes went wide.  “i can’t believe I almost forgot it!”  He took the slender strap from Rand and slung it across his body, the strap settling between his breasts, the tricorder resting on his round hip  “Why Finnegan ordered me to start carrying one, I can’t even.”

I can, Rand thought. watching Kirk walk out the door, his hips swaying.

Kirk arrived at the Captain’s office.  His old office.  The secretary smiled at him when he walked in, and he was sure he saw some contempt in her eyes.  “Captain!”  She said.  “You look lovely!”

“Thanks,” he said, hiding his annoyance behind a bright smile.  Rand had  assured him it was normal for women to compliment each other, and he’d accepted that it was just rude for him to respond to such compliments with a shrill, Stop telling me I’m pretty!  Still, no one gushed with compliments like that for male officers, and if he was stuck as a woman, he felt that was something that needed to change.  “You’ve never looked better!”  He gushed back.  “I miss your smile!”

‘Oh,” she said.  “You.  The Captain will be with your shortly, dear.  You can take a seat.”

Kirk sat with his knees together, his tricorder in his lap.  of course, Finnegan kept him waiting, and he found himself nervously twisting his long blonde hair around his fingers.  At one point, he looked over to see the secretary watching him, an amused little smile on her face, and he felt girly and feminine and stopped twisting his hair, looking away in shame.

Finally, 10 minutes late, the door to Finnegan’s office opened and Errol came out, Finnegan slapping him on the back as he exited.  He looked at Kirk sitting there, knees together, and said, “Nice legs, cutie.” swaggering out the door.

Kirk cringed, but then stood up, knees together and without using his arms, smiling what he hoped was a confident smile– Rand had drilled into the importance of smiling regularly now that he was female– and meeting Finnegan’s eyes.  “Captain James T. Kirk reporting for re-assignment, Sir.”  The little girl voice that buzzed in his ears made him want to cry, and he had a flashback again of Finnegan forcing him to do sit ups, his abs burning as he strained, and Finnegan screaming, “10 more you pussy!”

Finnegan looked Kirk up and down, mentally undressing him, and then a smile spread across his face, pure shark, as he said, “Come into my office.”

Kirk clutched his tricorder strap with both hands, glancing at the secretary with a “help me” look.  She just smiled.

The lights in Finnegan’s office were dim, and the room smelled of cigar smoke and whisky.  As soon as the doors closed, Finnegan wrapped his arms around Kirk and held him, Kirk’s soft breasts crushing against the man’s hard, flat chest.  The hug went on too long, and Kirk wanted to break free, but he didn’t want to make Finnegan mad, and besides that his slave girl conditioning had habituated him to doing what men wanted.

Finally, Finnegan stepped away, letting his hand trial down Kirk’s arm, and then he looked Kirk up and down again, shaking his head.  “Whooo weee!  Are you ever easy on the eyes!  Wow!  And you’re James Kirk?  Or, you used to be?”

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said, trying to keep his voice calm.  “As a result of a transporter—”

“Oh, I read the report,” Finnegan interrupted.  “And Errol told me you were,” he made the hourglass shape with his hands, “but, I mean.  Look at you!  You’ve got jugs like a Bovanian Prostitute.”

“Sir?”  Kirk said, feeling like someone had punched him in the gut, his self-consciousness about his large breasts doubling as he struggled not to cross his arms over his chest.

“Cut the Sir, stuff,” Finnegan said.  “We’re old friends from the academy!  We have a prior relationship, right?  The rules are different for old friends. You want a drink?  I guess now it would be white wine?”  He kept looking over Kirk’s body, lingering on his breasts.

“No, thank you, Sir,” Kirk said, glancing back at the door, feeling claustrophobic, wanting to get away from this man, this situation, this woman’s life.  He tilted his head back to meet Finnegan’s eyes, but the other man was staring down at Kirk’s  breasts.  “Captain,” Kirk finally said, the frustration spilling over into his tone.  “I’m up here.”

“By the moons of Hordor, your tits are amazing, Kirk.  Guess it was all those push-ups, right?  Push UPS!”  He made a gesture underneath his own chest.  “What are you, a C cup?  Maybe a D?”

Kirk couldn’t believe what was happening, though he knew it happened all the time in Star Fleet.  He’d heard the guys talk.  And, truth be told, he’d bent the rules, flirting and having affairs with women all over Star Fleet, though he had never been this crude, disrespectful and — “You’re being a pig!”  He shrieked.

“Whoa!”  Finnegan said.  “Don’t let your panties get all twisted up.  Just having some fun with an old friend!  Wow!  You haven’t changed, have you?  Still no fun.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, I just feel awkward about my situation–”

“I bet you do.  Jimmie!  Those tits of yours!  Who wouldn’t feel awkward with those melons bouncing around? Am I right?  God.  Look at you!”  He laughed, slugging back a couple fingers of whisky.

‘Given my extensive experience and training, I believe I would best serve the enterprise as navigator, and–”

“Yeah.  No.”  Finnegan said, his eyes still roaming over Kirk’s body.  “That’s not gonna work.  I’m assigning you to Health and Morale.”

“The Barbies?”  Kirk said, feeling like he’d just been kicked in the stomach, resorting to the derogative term people used to describe the crew members, usually all women, responsible for planning events to boost morale as well as working in the fitness center.  They were all perky and cheerful, and mostly very blonde.  “I don’t know that I’m well equipped to be in Health and Morale.”

“You are very well-quipped now, young Miss Kirk.  Blonde.  Big tits.  All you have to do is walk down the hall in that short little dress and you improve morale for the guys.  And some of the girls, right?”

Kirk fiddled with his tricorder strap, struggling to speak out for himself, again fighting with his slave girl conditioning that made him want to shut up and obey powerful men.  “Sir, if I can–”

“Dismissed, honey.  But, my office door is always open to you.  So’s my bedroom door if you know what I mean.  Now, turn around so I can get a look at that caboose of yours.”

“But I–”

“Dismissed, young lady.  Now, out you go!”

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said, softly.  “Thank you, sir.”

‘I guess I was right about you,” Finnegan chortled as Kirk turned and walked away, feeling the man’s eyes burning a hole in his behind.  “You really were a pussy.  Or, at least you have one now, right?  Hahahaha!”

Kirk just took  a deep breath and plunged out the door, gasping with relief to be away from that man, that bully, that pig!  “That bad, hunh?”  The secretary said.

Kirk just sighed and shook his head.  “The less said the better.”

“Welcome to our world,” The secretary said, unable to resist the urge to take a little pleasure in seeing a man have to put up with — men.  “You’ll get used to it.”

“I guess. But is that a good thing?”

Kirk left the offices and headed back to his room, cringing, humiliated, ashamed.  How could he let a man talk to him like that?  Yet, what choice did he have?  Memories of past humiliations flooded into his brain, and time on the Shore Leave planet a robot Finnegan had appeared, tormenting him,  pulled right out of his wounded sub-conscious.  And now he was to be one of the Barbies planning parties and leading aerobics classes?  The whole crew would laugh at him now.  Why is this happening to me?  He wondered.  What did I do to deserve this?

Well, at least it couldn’t get any worse, he decided, and just then he felt a passing crewman reach back and pinch him on the ass.

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Hockey Player to Figure Skater.

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Stephen Spielberg once said that he begins with the assumption that every story has been told.  So, his goal is just to tell it better.

It is in that spirit that I set out to add my own addition to the hockey player to figure skater genre, which has been explored in both traditional and TG incarnations.  To start with traditional, we must begin with the classic skating romance, The Cutting Edge.    In this film, a tough guy former hockey player from a blue collar family gets one more chance to win gold.  The catch?  He must learn to figure skate and partner with a notoriously nasty and unpleasant young woman who is so annoying and hard to work with that not a single male figure skater on earth will partner with her.

The gender role issues come into play in various ways along with class.  The guy is ashamed of what he is doing and hides it from his family.  When he reveals his new life as a figure skater to them– under pressure– his uncle asks him “are you going to have to shave your legs?”

In the figure skating world, he becomes an agent of rebellion and change. He rails against the classical music his partner wants to use in their performance and which the movie portrays as standard to the feminine world of skating.  He demands they perform to rock music instead and wear more modern costumes.  Yet, the movie also reveals the skill and dedication that figure skaters possess, as he struggles to master the skating techniques needed, and we see the female skater take a beating when they try to learn a new move, getting up fall after fall, showing her toughness.

Yet, when they compete playing hockey, he clearly dominates her, enforcing the traditional roles.  Girls dance on ice.  Boys fight.

Flash forward to The Cutting Edge III however, and what do we see?  A total reversal as the male figure skater has to pair up with a female hockey player.

Ice Angel is a TG movie in which a hockey player is reincarnated as a figure skater and has to learn to accept and respect himself as a woman and a figure skater.  It’s actually pretty groovy.

So, here I go, and how will mine be different?  Well, my hope is that if I am true to myself and follow my gut, I will create something new within the genre simply by being me.  I have also done a lot of research, and my hope is that I can mix and combine elements from The Cutting Edge, Ice Angel and Ice Princess into something new and yet still true to the conventions of the genre.

Finally, I have a secret weapon: my frequent collaborator Anonymous, who always has some awesome ideas, and who commissioned this story in the first place.

Ultimately, though, what fuels this writing is one of my trust passions, and I hope to melt and destroy the notion that either activity, figure skating or hockey, has a gender.  In fact, both require hard work, sacrifice, pain and discipline.  And if you think figure skaters are more vain than hockey players, you haven’t met many hockey players.   Some of them spend as much time on their hockey hair as they do their skating.

Look for it in a week or so.  The title: Jumps and Spins!

 

Kirk VII

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Check Out My TG Fiction on Amazon!

Kirk walked back to his quarters, feeling shaken, the incident with Errol playing over and over in his mind.  The man’s hand on Kirk’s breast, his thigh, the unwanted kiss.  It made him shiver, and he hunched over, feeling self-conscious, vulnerable in his short dress, his long legs exposed, and the eyes of the men constantly caressing his figure.

Plunging into his quarters, he sighed with relief as the door wooshed shut, and he could finally relax, no longer feel embattled.  He sat down at his desk, knees together without even thinking about it, and tossed his long, blonde hair.  Who had done this to him?   He started to cycle through the names and faces, trying to figure out who had not only motive but means.  Nothing.

He checked his messages, he found orders to report to see Captain Finnegan that afternoon, as well as messages from Spock, McCoy, Uhura and Rand, all checking up on him to see how he was doing.  He realized he could still taste Errol, and he got up, disgusted.

How am I doing? He thought.  Terrible. He gargled some mouthwash, trying to get the taste of Errol out of his mouth.   Spit it out.  Gargled some more.  Then he thought he could smell Errol’s sweat on his body, and he didn’t know if this was all just female hysteria or not, but once the idea got into his mind he felt disgusted and dirty, so he took a quick shower, and then sprayed himself with some of his old cologne.  He felt like crying. Screaming.  How am I doing?  How do you think?

The only one he trusted to share his feminine struggles with was Rand.  They’d been… close before his change, and she’d been there helping him adjust to his new life even from the beginning.  The others, he needed them to continue to see him as the man he’d been, and would be again.

Should I ask Spock to help me investigate?  Kirk wondered.  The thought made him feel warm, and he imagined himself in Spock’s powerful arms, looking up into his–

No!  Kirk pushed the thought away.  He’d been struggling with his feelings for Spock, ever since, back on Rammerham, Spock had rescued him.

*****

The warrior had carried Kirk to a cell and unceremoniously plunked him on the floor.  He sat there in his little red uniform, staring at the long, shapely legs spread out before him, the small, dainty hands, the full, heavy breasts.  He was stunned.  It all seemed impossible.

After a time, he got to his feet, standing unsteadily.  His whole body felt wrong.  His legs were too long, he had what felt like a mountain of hair piled on top of his head, and of course there was impossible weight of his chest.  He walked around his small cell, trying to get used to the feel of walking in this new body, in these boots, these clothes.  He found himself tugging constantly on the short dress.  He felt naked.

The cell wasn’t much.  A cot, a toilet, a sink.  Looking up, he saw a camera following him around the cell, and he imagined the guards, the men, ogling him, and he crossed his arms over the swelling of his soft, new chest.

What had happened?  Why had he transported down in this body?  He looked in the mirror, and quickly looked away.  The face he’d seen?  It was– beautiful. Feminine.  Young.  It shocked him to see her with her big,  wide eyes, and full lips, and to realize that kissable face was him.

Death.  The guard had told him the penalty for a woman to speak was death.

Well, how am I going to get out of this one?  He wondered.  And where was his crew?  He examined the bars, looked for any means of escape.  Found nothing. He lay on the cot, trying to pull his dress down, to keep his legs together, so the guards wouldn’t have anything to look at.  He’d never had to worry about it before, but he’d never worn a tiny little dress, either.  He decided he needed to think through the situation, wait for an opportunity to present itself.  Was it the stress?  The shock of finding himself in a new, female body?  He didn’t know, but he plunged into a deep, troubled sleep and only woke up when he heard a man bellow, “Wake up!”

Kirk snapped awake, initially confused by the weight of his breasts bouncing on his chest, the sight of his long, coltish legs, exposed by his dress.  Then it all started to come back to him, the slap, being taken prisoner.  He pushed a few strands of hair away from his face with his slender hands and sat on the edge of the cot, his knees together.

The man leered at Kirk, letting his eyes roam across his body.  Then, he met Kirk’s eyes and smiled, like a shark.

‘I am a Federation Officer,” Kirk started, wincing at the high-pitched sound of his voice.  He didn’t even sound like a woman, but a girl.

“Shut up! The man said “And listen to me if you want to live.”

“I want to talk to my ship,” Kirk continued.

“No,” the man said, setting his briefcase down, adjusting his suit.

“I have rights!”  Kirk had meant the words to come out forceful and commanding, but instead he had sounded like a teen girl about to have a hissy fit.  He cringed, putting his hands to his throat, feeling his breasts pressed together between his arms.

“You are a woman, and you have no rights on Rammerham,”  the man said.  “This isn’t your precious Federation, with all of your absurd notions of equality.  However, in the interest of avoiding an interplanetary crisis, I am here to offer you a deal that will save your life.  So, do you want to listen or do you want to die?  Nod or shake your head.  I think that is your custom?”

Kirk felt ashamed of his voice, and so he just nodded.  Besides, talk of the Federation reminded him he’d come here on a mission.  He needed to do what he could to salvage that operation, even if it meant he had to put the little issue of his sex change aside for the moment.

“Good girl,” the man said.  “So, here’s what’s going to happen.  You will called before Khan Rammerham.  He will sentence you to death.  You will beg for your life, and offer to join his harem and serve him as his slave girl.  It will help if you can cry.  He likes to play the hero.”

Harem?  Slave girl?  The words sounded impossible to Kirk’s ears.  He was a man.  Had been a man.  How could?  What?  “A slave girl?  Harem?  Me?”  He said softly, his eyes wide.

“Khan saw you on the video.  You’re sexy.  Got nice tits and a hot temper.  He likes this in his women. ”

The man picked up his briefcase and walked away, leaving Kirk there feeling more vulnerable and disrespected than he had ever felt in his life.   Slave girl?  A tight, strangulated laugh escaped from him.  It was all so insane.  Like the plot of an old 21st Century Fan Fiction.

No, he decided, shaking his head.  No.  If it came down to it, he would rather die than agree to join Khan Rammerham’s harem and- pleasure him.  The thought– revolted him. Sickened him.  A slave girl?  A harem girl?  How all of Star Fleet would laugh at that news.  No.  Jim Kirk was not meant for that end.

Where are you Spock?  Scotty?  He wondered.  I need you to get me out of this.  He lay on his side, fighting against a strange and powerful impulse to cry.  He pushed the feelings inside, refused to acknowledge them, and instead focused all his will on one thing: his impeding death.  He would not lose his nerve.  He would not agree to his own utter humiliation.

A short time later a group of women arrived, primping Kirk and dressing him for his trial.  They took his hair down, brushed it, made up his face and dressed him in traditional Rammerham female attire.  He just let them do what they wished, thinking the whole time about the trial, and how ashamed he would be to die as a woman, but that it would be better than to become another man’s pleasure slave.  It seemed an impossible sitation, but he would Kobayashi Maru it.

but this time, the Kobayashi Maru manuever would end in one death:  his own.

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