Blogging More in 2018!

kirk

 

James Kirk did not like the way his uniform fit.   As he looked at himself in the mirror, he turned to his side to examine his profile, turned back to face himself directly, then turned around and looked back over his shoulder.  He groaned, tugging at the hem of his little uniform, trying to pull it down lower on his thighs, but it was all futile.  The little red mini-dress hugged his now full breasts, and clung to his wide, round hips.

He couldn’t hide his figure, and boy did he ever want to.   He could even see the outline of his bra through the materiel, and when he let his eyes drift down to his long, coltish legs in the dark tights, and then the high boots that encased his rounded calves, he felt sick at the thought of walking out of his quarters and facing the crew like this, as a she, in this body.  With these breasts.  He shook his head, looking at them perched on his chest.

He was pretty sure the girls had issued him some kind of push-up bra that lifted them and made them seem even bigger than they were, presenting them to the world like an invitation. When they’d taken his measurements they’d teased him about his d-cups, promised him most of the women on the Enterprise would be jealous of his breasts.

Maybe, but he felt pretty sure the women were going to love the irony of seeing him, the playboy captain, now with an hourglass figure, and forced to wear the same demeaning uniform as a woman.  How many of them had he flirted with, hit on, and now he was as pretty as any of them, and they had to laugh when they saw him.  He knew it.

As for the men?  He knew what they would be thinking when they saw this body.  He turned to the side again, looking at his curves, the way his behind swayed and rose, so inviting, and the way his breasts hovered in front of him.   He shivered at the thought of the men checking him out, looking over his shape, the same way he used to do when he was still a man.

I am a man, he thought, tugging on the hem of his dress again.  I will always be a man.  I don’t care what body I find myself in, what uniform the Federation makes me wear. I. Am. A. Man!  He felt the bra straps digging into his shoulders, the weight of them heavy in the cups of his bra, and he became aware of the tightness of his dress, the feeling of the tights on his smoothly shaven legs.  His head spun.   Could he still be a man with this tiny waist?  These small arms?

But I am, and I always will be.  The intercom buzzed, and Spock’s voice called out, “Captain?”

“Captain here,” Kirk responded, his new voice sounding like a little girl’s, especially compared to Spock’s deep tones.  Kirk grimaced, hating the way he sound, wondering why his body had to be so extremely womanly, so intensely feminine.  But, of course, that had been no accident.

“I just thought it prudent to remind you that your hearing begins in ten minutes.”

“I am aware,” Kirk answered, annoyed that he sounded to his own ears like a petulant child.   He searched for the right placement, the right tone. “I mean, I know.”

“It would not look good if you were late to your hearing.  There is a belief among human males that one of the qualities of a female is the need to take a very long time to get ready.”

That’s because it does take longer for us to get ready, Kirk thought, hooking his hair behind his ear.  He realized he’d just thought of himself as a woman, but he pushed the thought away.  “I’m leaving now.”

Over on the counter in front of his bathroom mirror he saw a selection of cosmetics he’d been issued been issued along with his new uniform: mascara, blush, lipstick, nail polish.   He’d insisted he didn’t need them, but the girls had placed them in his basket anyway, insisting it was regulations.

There was no regulation requiring him to actually use them, to paint his face.  It would be hard enough to get the High Command to take him seriously dressed like a waitress, he thought, let alone if he painted his face just like some girl.

And yet the woman on his ship had always worn make-up, had felt pressured to wear it even when it was impractical for their jobs.  Had he been part of that?  He’d never said so. never told any of them they they had to make themselves pretty, but had it been in his attitude?  Had they known he valued them based on their attractiveness and felt the only way to get ahead was to be pretty?

He’d think about it later.  Once more tugging on the hem of his little dress, Kirk bounded out of his quarters, quickly measuring his steps to keep his breasts from bouncing, and then he did his best to assume the air of command he’d honed for all these years, to walk and compose himself in a way to say– I am still Jim Kirk.  I am still your Captain.

As the cool air of the deck washed over him, and his nerves jangled at the thought of his upcoming hearing, he felt his nipples getting tight and hard, pushing at the stiff cups of his bra.   He got on the elevator and took a position between two security officers, each of whom now towered over him, making him feel that sensation that he was a child once more.  He didn’t wan to re-enforce it by speaking, but he had to, and so he said, “Gentleman” and tried not to wince at the pretty little voice that came out of him.

“Sir,” the officers responded.

Sir.  Kirk felt good to hear that word.  Sir.  He was still Captain James Kirk.

And then he sensed it, the eyes of the security officer falling to his behind, burning a whole in it.  He wanted to say something, to reprimand the man, but his body tensed up, and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to acknowledge that he was a woman, and that he was being mentally undressed by a man, and that it made him feel– scared.

—————————————————————————————–

Okay.  Just a little fanfic interlude I had intended as a paragraph, but which turned out longer.  Anyway, as we pass from the holiday season into the New Year, I am publicly pledging to write more often!!!!!  I think for a blog to be vital and useful to the reader, it has to be updated regularly, and look for that to happen!  Including with some awesome fan fiction!!!!

I am seriously thinking about doing a Rey is Darth Vader series.  What say you?

 

 

 

 

And then Kirk almost made out with a Klingon (Spoiler Alert)

kirkboobs2caps

    The ship heaved.
     Uhura was thrown out of her chair, against the rail, against Kirk.  But this time she caught him.
     She snagged him with one arm, and the rail with her other hand, and held them both against the tilt.

     She felt the ease and power of doing it, felt her incredible strength and his small astonishment in her arms.
     He clung to her for a moment on simple reflex, and then leveraged himself out of her arms, touching her arm for an instant in a display of gratitude.
                                       

In my 20s, I threw my original copy of Star Trek, The New Voyages, in which the above story appeared, into the garbage along with all of the other books I had which portrayed sex changes and what I would now call gender fluidity.  The story featured an adventure in which Captain Kirk, Uhura and other members of the crew have their sexes reversed by alien technology controlled by one of Kirk’s old foes, a Klingon named Kang.

I found the aspects of the story in which Kirk found himself in these kinds of typical female situations fascinating and erotic.   I played the images over and over in my mind;  Uhura, big and broad shouldered, powerful, catching the dainty little Kirk in her arms, he looking up at her, shocked and giving her arm a little touch, and, I always added in my imagination, blushing as he realized how good it felt being held in her powerful arms.

This was an era when the women in adventure stories seemed to spend a lot of time being caught and held, rescued, carried after twisting an ankle, and I loved the thought so much of Kirk being put into that position. Other little details pleased me as well, details that may only have made into a story written by women imagining what it would be like for a man; at one point Kirk discovers that he can’t reach all the controls in a shuttle craft because they were never designed for someone of a female’s size in mind, and in another case he struggles to find phaser belt small enough for his slender waist.  He hides one of the little hand phasers in his cleavage.
But most of all I reveled in the adventure story reversals, especially those involving sexual dynamics:

“You look quite precious.”  Kang ran an appreciative eye over Kirk.  “Ravishing.”

 
      Kang did a slow survey of Kirk, suddenly reached out and lifted Kirk’s chin.

     Kang shook his head.  “You will walk or I will carry you.”  He shot out a hand and grabbed Kirk’s wrist, started to drag him along.

     He was on his feet, pulling Kirk up to his knees, finding his chin again and tilting his face up.
Being ogled.   Physically dominated.  Condescended to as Miss Kirk.   It all thrilled me in ways to this day I don’t understand, and my fantasy life became filled with these kinds of images, leading right up to one of the most fascinating parts of the story.    The Enterprise escapes from the alien planet and along with the Klingon ship, which has now become an ally with every member of the crew but one having been turned into a female, returns to star base. Jim Kirk begins to believe that he is stuck as a woman, and he starts to wonder what life will be like, especially… sex life.

He pretties himself up as much as he can allow himself to given his lingering male attitudes, goes to a bar and see if maybe he can hook up with someone.  A man hits on him.  He is flustered.  Kang shows up and rescues him from the awkward situation, they flirt and leave the bar together, planning to “explore an aspect of the problem.”  It seems Kirk is about to spend a night on his back, curling his toes, but then his boyfriend– oops.  I mean first officer– Spock shows up and puts the kibosh on Kirk’s silly, girlish impulses.

So many times I played out the end of the story differently.   Kirk, a horny young woman, supermodel beautiful we are given to believe, essentially becoming the female version of his old self– a slut, in the double-standard terms of our times– and the struggles and trials that would face him.

I love this story and read it many, many times, always adding my own little twists and additions.

And then one lonely night, half drunk, I tossed it in the trash.  Single in my mid-twenties, living at the time in a trailer in the woods of North Florida, where traditional hetero-relations were the only thing accepted in public, and anything else could get you fired, beaten or worse, I felt lonely and wanted someone to love.  I felt like something was wrong with me, and if I could just stop reading these stories, stop allowing myself to entertain these gender fluid fantasies, I could become normal and be happy, accepted into normal society.  I would throw away all my stuff I had that was, I had decided, twisting my mind, and I would make myself normal by pure force of will!

Well, I didn’t..   Books thrown away, I still kept returning to those ideas that had been woken up in me, kept playing out those fantasies.  A few years later I began going to used book stores and searching for this book and others I had thrown away–  like Thorne Smith’s Turnabout, and eventually I found and bought a copy for 1.95, a crumbling, yellowing copy I still have to this day.
I love what I love, and I dream what I dream.  And today I accept that even if some people still don’t.  And when I do write my own TG stories, I like to imagine that sometimes my story is the one someone finds for the first time, and reads, and realizes that they are not alone, that someone out there has the very same dreams and visions.

The story is entitled The Procrustean Petard, written by Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath. It appeared in the collection, Star Trek, The New Voyages 2.

Check it Out on Amazon!

Turnabout Intruder: Thoughts and Speculations

turnabout

“She could have had as rich a life as any woman.  If only… If only….”

The last lines of the last episode of the original Star Trek television series, and the first body swap story I remember ever seeing.  I was young– pre-teens, and I loved Star Trek, which was in constant re-runs on the UHF stations that broadcast out of Detroit back in the 1970s.

Growing up without a father, I had chosen Captain James T. Kirk as a hero and role model, so it was a strange and fascinating thing to see this episode in which he found himself trapped in the body of a woman.  My hero?  my role model?  A girl?  Yet, early in the episode, the characters who put Kirk in that body still refer to him as a he, despite the female form.

Aha!  That excited and interested me.  He was still a he, even though he was a girl?

The episode raised a lot of questions that I had never really consider, particularly in the court martial scenes. “You claim to be Captain Kirk?”  Lester asks, smirking and laughing at the red-haired woman wearing some kind of weird mod pantsuit.

“No,”  Kirk answers.  “I claim that whatever makes James Kirk a unique entity is being held in this body.”    What I heard him saying, though I didn’t have the words, was, “I am not my body.  The thing that makes me who I am is not this woman’s shape.”

The essence of a person, their gender, their THEM, was independent of their form.  Being, to borrow philosophical terms later in life, was independent of essence.

The iconic nature of the role reversal that lit up my young mind.  Kirk, in the woman’s body, being carried around effortlessly by the man, like the women on the covers of my mother’s romance novels.  Kirk on his knees after being physically over-powered by his former male body.  Kirk, reaching for and grabbing Spock’s hand.  Placed in a woman’s body, Kirk was forced into a woman’s traditional role, pleading with the men in his life to rescue him.  In the end, of course, he saves himself through action, as men are supposed to do, but it is not as a man that James Kirk saved himself; it was as a woman, and that to me seemed to suggest that biology was not, as some would suggest, destiny.

Though I believe it may have been an attempt at a feminist statement, the episode has since been condemned for being sexist, retrograde.  The woman in Kirk’s body is prone to fits of hysteria, loves to file her nails and proves incapable of commanding a star ship.  At one point when she complains about the lack of opportunity for women,Kirk agrees with her that life is unfair for women, but with the kind of dismissive “Whaddya gonna do?”  attitude that is still far too prevalent.   The last lines of the episode are specific.   She could have lived a life as rich as any woman.  Not, clearly, as rich as any man, which was the real issue.

Still, I feel it holds up well both as an exploration of the cost of gender bias as well as a exploration of a body swapping gender reversal.  In the end, Lester’s ultimate defeat and punishment is to be trapped in a traditional gender role– to be dependent on a man for her care and protection.  What could be a more powerful statement against the notion of domestic bliss as the be all and end all for women than the image of a woman, broken and weeping with despair at the thought of being stuck marrying a doctor who wants her to just stop striving and be his wife?  And that was back when television shows portrayed that every woman on Earth creamed her jeans at the thought of marrying a doctor.

If you haven’t seen it, or haven’t seen it lately, check it out on Amazon or Netflix,  Sandra Smith is great as Captain Kirk:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0708485/