STAR TREK: BROKEN BODICE
A parody by Micky Budarrap
Disclaimer: Star Trek, its characters, locations and plots are not my creations and are used without permission. No profit has been or will be made by their use in this story.
“Broke Bodice” is not intended for consumption by minors. If you are below the adult age in your country, state or county then read no further and delete this file from your computer. By reading this disclaimer you agree to take full responsibility for continuing.
The author does not encourage or condone the enormously disrespectful and frequently criminal things that are done to women in this story. The activities performed in this fictional work should never be inflicted on people in the real world.
This is a work of fiction that features rampant exploitation
of women in parody of the depictions of species and societies in Star Trek.
Where the TV shows and films only suggest for cheap titillation value, “Broken
Bodice” takes it to its sleazy conclusions. The story focuses on the perils and
misadventures of Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next
Generation), T’Pol (Star Trek:
Additional: The characters Leah Brahms (TNG: Booby Trap), Oliana Mirren (TNG: Coming of Age) and Bronwyn Gail Robinson (TNG: The Outrageous Okana) were portrayed by Susan Gibney, Estee Chandler and a very young Teri Hatcher.
For a clearer idea of what these characters look like, check out www.memory-alpha.org and use the search feature to find the characters by name.
Feedback can be directed to Mickt80@hotmail.com.
EPISODE 15: FALLEN HEROINES
Leah Brahms was one of the most famed engineers in the Federation. Officially she had been only a “junior member” of the Galaxy class engine project but the statuesque young woman had far exceeded her mandate, designing much of the reactor and warp nacelles of one of the most powerful designs in Starfleet. Her star had risen high with that success, with Brahms taking up to the role of Project Lead designing the engines of the Intrepid and Sovereign class before the age of thirty.
With large expressive eyes, a small cute mouth and long brown hair she normally kept bound up in an elaborate bun, Leah Brahms was a beautiful as she was brilliant. Her slim figure would typically be wrapped in one of her signature suits: she looked spectacular in teal and was fond of the old powersuit-shoulders that probably went out of fashion some time in the 1980s.
Accompanying Brahms was Lieutenant Bronwyn Gail Robinson, or BG for short. Steady and graceful in all things, BG was and olive-skinned beauty with a thick mane of dark brown hair long enough to run down her back, and deep and dark bedroom eyes. A recent promotion had transferred her from transporter operations to a role in the sciences, the result of much effort and devoted service to Starfleet.
Walking on the other side of Brahms was Ensign Oliana Mirren. Having been rejected in her first application to Starfleet, the dark-eyed redhead had focused her effort and determination like a laser beam, scoring top marks on her second attempt and now the twenty-one year old was assigned to Starbase 3, where she had met BG.
Lieutenant Robinson and Ensign Mirren
had been assigned to transport Brahms to her next assignment: a tuning of the
engines of the USS Sutherland. The
two week journey in their Runabout had proven slightly more complicated than
planned.
The three women were completely naked. The uniform that Ensign Mirren had struggled so hard to earn had been peeled from her trim body, leaving the twenty-one year old’s soft and supple breasts, small firm rump and neatly trimmed thatch exposed. BG Robinson’s brand-new sciences outfit had been ripped away, revealing a mouthwatering figure topped off with ripe melons. Her tan tan-lines showed that the Lieutenant rarely chose to reveal that lovely figure. Now, of course, she had no choice.
And Leah Brahms’ designer suit was nothing but a memory. Her clothes had been stripped from her lovely figure piece by piece. Her long legs trembled beneath her dark triangular thatch and her nipples quivered as her boobs jiggled with each step she took.
With their hands secured behind their backs the three women staggered nude through the jungle. A tropical rainstorm had left the three human women wet and shivering, their nipples painfully erect on the tips of their tits. Brahms’ elaborate hairstyle and long since come free, her dark hair plastered down her back nearly to her womanly ass.
The trio were flushed with humiliation. Not only had they been captured, not only had they been stripped nude, not only had their hands been bound so that they could not cover their breasts or pussies. There was worse.
Robinson tried not to look at her own tits. Brahms, on the other hand, stared in disbelief. The twenty-one year old Mirren walked with her eyes shut, whimpering slightly in discomfort at what was happening to her boobs.
Loops of cord had been tied around their bare breasts. Three lines connected their aching, throbbing boobs to the fist of the man that had captured them. With a jerk of his hand he urged them to follow, the three beauties gasping and staggering forwards as they were yanked forward by the tits. A woman had to possess breasts of at least a certain size before a leash could be securely wrapped around her globes, and unfortunately for Leah Brahms, BG Robinson and Oliana Mirren, these women were blessed with ample enough bosoms. The three nude women were tit-leashed and there was nothing any of them could do about it!
For three hours they had been led on this humiliating jungle trip, their captor yanking on their tit-cords whenever one of the three heroines slowed. The Ensign, the Lieutenant and the engine designer were forced to follow with yelps of discomfort and tears of humiliation, trying to step carefully around the heavy foliage and thick roots of the forest floor while keeping a fast enough pace to prevent the man who held their leash from giving their breasts another sharp pull.
The afternoon sun had disappeared behind moisture-heavy storm clouds by the time they reached the clearing. Oliana Mirren looked around herself with wide brown eyes. “Where’s the shelter?” she demanded. “What have you done with it?”
“Dismantled,” their captor answered. He kept his back to his nude captives, confident that they would not be able to overpower him. That confidence was well-supported. Not only were his three lovely captives bound and tit-leashed, but over the past two weeks he had brought down each of the three Federation women by hand, forcing them to the ground and tearing the uniforms from their squirming helpless bodies. The three females watched the man’s back cautiously, eyeing the muscles that were abundantly visible beneath his bare skin.
“Dismantled?” Robinson’s beautiful features were now filled with her concern. “There’s a storm coming! You always give us shelter and rest between hunts!”
“There will be no more hunts,” the man intoned. To emphasize his point he yanked on the leash, making Leah, BG and Oliana all gasp as their breasts were lifted and pulled. “You have disappointed me, ladies.”
Leah Brahms looked up at their captor with tear-filled blue eyes. “You’re not,” she began in a tiny voice, “You’re going to kill us?”
The powerfully built man turned and approached the trembling scientist. She tried to retreat, her long bare legs making small steps backward, but a jerk on the leash about her boobs made her stagger forwards, almost into his arms.
“No, Miss Brahms,” the man said quietly, lifting one hand to the quivering young woman’s face. His fingers traced her jaw and neck before sliding down to her bare breasts. Leah shut her eyes in embarrassment as her boobs were squeezed even within her leash. “You know, I think you’re all a little bit bigger now. It must be the Ladysnare. Or the Cavetrappers.”
“Don’t you touch her,” Mirren ordered, the Ensign trying to appear commanding and failing thanks to being naked, tit-leashed with her hands tied behind her back.
Their captor looked at the redheaded Ensign with disgust. “And now you find fire to fight with. Too little too late, Oliana.” He stepped away from the trembling Brahms, walking around the clearing and dragging the three young women after him by their breasts, yelps and gasps coming from their open mouths. “This area is safe, mostly, from the threats in the jungle. You already knew that. And in this safe zone you should find more than enough food and fresh water to survive. Of course the border of the safe zone is unmarked, so you’ll just have to learn the hard way where safety ends and peril begins.”
A rumble of thunder and a gust of cold, moist wind washed
over the three nude Starfleet women. As if reminded, their captor added “And if
the rain bothers you, there is even a cave to take shelter in.”
He let go of the women’s leashes. The two brunettes and the redhead sighed with relief, bare legs trembling beneath them and boobs quivering as they leaned forward to ease the discomfort in their aching tits. Robinson found the courage to speak up. “You’re going to just leave us here?” the dark-haired Lieutenant demanded. “You’re not even going to untie us?”
“Bronwyn Gale Robinson,” the man said deliberately, “You three are excellent at wiggling out of knots. I practically trained you to do it.” He looked away from the three lovely naked women. “But now I have found quarry that will prove much more satisfying than the three of you, I am sure. Far more satisfying.”
The muscular figure shook his head in disappointment. “All you had to do was head for your runabout,” he muttered. “You couldn’t even get half of the way there. I could take all three of you down before you made the quarter-mark! Pathetic. I expected more from Starfleet.”
But as the man spoke the three bound and naked women behind him exchanged
knowing glances. For the first time in a week Leah Brahms’s face showed
confidence, a look in her blue eyes that told BG and Oliana
that yes, there was a chance.
A low-toned chuckle from their captor drew their eyes to his back again. “You wouldn’t be thinking of that shuttle of yours?” the muscular figure said confidently. “You believe that without me on the hunt maybe you could avoid the dangers of the jungle and reach it.”
He turned around, taking his time to look up and down Brahms, Robinson and Mirren’s faces and naked bodies. “I’m sorry ladies, but you lost the game.” He lifted a remote control in his hand and pressed a button on it.
Behind him, through miles and miles of thick forbidding jungle, a Starfleet shuttle resting in a clearing was consumed in a blindingly bright fireball. Its frame was torn to pieces, burning hull fragments flying high towards the storm clouds and its blasted warp engines sent bouncing and burning through the forest.
The explosion’s size was enough for the three women to see, hear and feel it even with miles of jungle between them and the blast. The destruction of their small ship, their only means of escape, sent a shockwave of despair through the nude trio. They could see the red glare of its demolition over the tree line.
BG Robinson could not stop tears from running down her olive cheeks, her ample breasts quaking as she held in sobs. Mirren simply broke down and wailed, the twenty-one year old’s slim figure doubling over in despair, her long red hair falling across her dangling tits.
Leah Brahms simply sank to her knees, completely nude, tit-leashed and with her hands bound behind her back. Her mouth opening slackly in disbelief and her blue eyes staring in defeat, the designer of the mighty Sovereign and Galaxy class engines stared as their only hope of escape, the one chance she had possessed to save herself and her friends, went up in flames.
The captor ignored their despair. “Goodbye, ladies.” With the push of another button the man disappeared in a cloud of green transporter light as he was beamed away.
The stormclouds tore open above
them. Dense sheets of rain dropped onto the jungle. Mirren,
Robinson and Brahms were caught in the open, bound and naked, and were quickly
soaked from head to toe. Hair stuck to bare skin, nipples stiffened to
sensitive buds and gooseflesh appeared on their long limbs. But none of them
moved to find cover. The three naked and defeated women could only stare at the
fading glow on the horizon as their own hope of escape from this jungle hell
burned.
Kneeling in the freezing rain, her bare breasts heaving as she tried to hold in sobs of despair, Leah Brahms found herself thinking of the hunter’s words. Whatever unfortunate soul the hunter had chosen to be his next quarry, the stripped and humiliated scientist prayed that the woman would be more fortunate than herself.
+++++
“Alright, let’s keep it short and sweet.” B’Elanna Torres ran her hands down the slick elastic of her catsuit, feeling it cling to her taut athletic body as she walked. The twenty two year old was flanked by her companions, one lean yet full-chested and the other mouthwateringly voluptuous, both walking alongside her with sexy hip-swinging steps. “I don’t want to spend any more time on this jungle-choked hell-hole of a planet than absolutely necessary.”
B’Elanna Torres, Deanna Troi and T’Pol walked three
abreast through Starheart’s
cargo bay. Each wore a blue-and-white skintight uniform and a baseball cap
bearing the words Moonlight Bounty.
This was the name of their delivery company, a front for their operation to
earn latinum and purchase women from Ferengi slavery.
A month of effort had paid off with Starheart having just completed another run to the Federation
border, delivering forty females to freedom.
With their trans-warp experimental ship they were faster and more secure than their competition, charging top dollar for making deliveries and still find themselves buried in work. Their latest delivery had brought them to a jungle-covered world on the edges of Ferengi territory.
“Under other circumstances I would like to study this world in greater depth,” said T’Pol, “The scans of the surface indicated remarkably dense flora and fauna populations.” Over the Vulcan’s shoulder was a heavy satchel, its straps running down the middle of her chest and separating her luscious elastic-clad breasts. Each of the women carried a similar satchel: today’s deliveries, their contents sealed and private for the sake of their client.
“And it’s not just dense, but diverse,” Deanna Troi added as the three women halted at the cargo bay door. The lush-figured counselor touched the controls, ordering the door to open. “There’s plant life from over fifty different biospheres. I’m surprised that they don’t wipe each other out.”
“That just means more hazards.” B’Elanna Torres straightened, pulling her uniform bottom up tightly. The elastic material lovingly hugged the Klingon’s snatch, giving Voyager’s chief engineer a well-defined cameltoe. “Melika?”
The hologram appeared beside them, the beautiful Andorian teenager’s slim long-legged body clad in a holographic representation of Starheart’s skintight uniform. “I’ll take care of the house while you’re out,” Ensign Melika promised, flicking back her long blonde hair with a quick smile. “Just make it quick. We have another delivery for Ferenginar,” the gorgeous alien added, tipping her slim antennae towards a crate in the rear of the cargo bay.
B’Elanna considered the large box with a grimace on her attractive features, her lips tightening. “You know, maybe we can afford to take our time on this planet after all. Unless you girls are in a hurry to strut naked in front of a few hundred Ferengi again.”
Smiling at her stunning Klingon companion Deanna smiled cheekily. “And I was so looking forward to walking behind you.” The Betazoid could sense the tiny tremor that passed through the twenty-two year old as B’Elanna blushed, then fired a playful grin back at the women who shared her bed. While none of them liked being nude on display for the Ferengi, they didn’t pass up the opportunity to enjoy the sight of the other women’s lovely bodies.
The cargo doors opened. They had settled Starheart down on a concrete landing pad in a large clearing surrounded by dense forbidding jungle. The trees and leaves and vines were so thick it was impossible to see more than twenty feet. The three women walked out into the humid jungle air and immediately felt the moist heat. Each shifted their satchels’ slings over their shoulders as they looked at the impossible terrain.
“There’s our ride.” Torres pointed at a circular hover-platform ringed by a safety handrail, hanging a few inches above the grass as if waiting for them. The three catsuit-clad beauties stepped onto the platform. The Maquis considered the machine’s simple controls with her dark eyes. “It’s automated. Just one destination.” She pressed the execute button and the hover-platform rose into the air, carrying B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol over the jungle canopy towards the delivery point.
Deanna leaned on the handrail, her tits making delicious shapes in the tight fabric of her catsuit top as she looked down on the thick greenery blurring beneath them, lush and thick and peppered with dense masses of colorful flowers. “It’s actually quite pretty,” the raven-haired Betazoid observed as the platform carried them over the jungle. “And this certainly beats walking through that rainforest.”
“The terrain is almost impassible,” T’Pol agreed, standing at the handrail with her hands clasped behind her back in a typically Vulcan posture, her magnificent boobs thrust forward, nipples making two bumps against the thin fabric. “A day on foot or merely minutes in the air.”
B’Elanna removed her satchel from her shoulder long enough to adjust her catsuit top, the Klingon shifting the lovely orbs of her tits inside the confining material. “Feel the moisture in the air? See those clouds? I hope we can finish the delivery and get back to Starheart before it gets too wet around here. There’s a reason they call it a rain…”
Sheets of freezing water were suddenly pouring down on them. The jungle trembled as the storm struck the foliage, the clouds releasing their rain and soaking the three airborne passengers from head to foot.
“…forest,” Torres finished lamely, looking down at her full chest to see her now-wet top rapidly becoming transparent. Her nipples were now easily visible, two big brown circles tipping her tits, and her cameltoe was becoming even more prominent. The Klingon didn’t want to think about what the wet was doing to her firm ass. Undoubtedly the fabric would cling lovingly to her athletic rump. T’Pol and Deanna sighed, wrapping their arms around their waists in the cold as their outfits also become soaked through.
B’Elanna changed the subject. “I’m still not happy about that mansion you two decided to buy on Ferenginar.”
“Assets make Moonlight Bounty more believable as a front company,” T’Pol answered, the Vulcan steadfastly ignoring how transparent her catsuit was becoming, “And you cannot deny that should we have to ‘store’ a large number of women before transporting them back to the Federation, a private air-conditioned structure is a better option than simply leaving them out in the street.”
“B’Elanna just doesn’t like house-hunting,” added Deanna, her lovely dark eyes on her Klingon companion.
“You’re damn right!” declared Voyager’s chief engineer. “I’m not a fan of Ferengi real-estate agents staring at my ass all day.”
“It was not your posterior that had their attention,” observed T’Pol.
“I know,” admitted Torres, “You two got ogled just as much.”
“I think she means the Ferengi were also staring at your boobs as well,” Deanna pointed out with a sly smirk.
“Stupid planet,”
B’Elanna cursed, folding her arms in front of her catsuit-clad
breasts, the rain making her top nearly see-through.
+++++
The hologram named Melika turned, her long blonde hair falling to swish past her tight white-and-blue clad ass, and headed for the entrance back to Starheart’s core compartments. “I could kill some time running diagnostics,” she mused to herself, her pert and puffy-nippled tits jiggling slightly in the tight elastic of her top, “And maybe watch a movie or something until they get back. I’ve been meaning to get through all of Vulcan Love Slave.”
But before she could depart the cargo bay a faint humming sound behind her drew Melika’s attention. Casting her pale blue eyes over her surroundings her gaze was finally drawn to one of the cargo crates, a delivery scheduled for Ferenginar just after this drop-off. The metal box was producing a low hum, and it was growing louder.
To her credit the Ensign immediately suspected the worst.
The hologram worked lightning fast, using her nearly-direct interfaces with the
ship to target Starheart’s
transporters on the suspicious crate to beam it away. Unfortunately the trap
was designed with exactly such a response in mind.
The transporter energy fed the trap within the box. As the beaming process began the crate produced a sharp cracking sound, as if there had been an explosion within its metal skin. Melika leapt back in shock with her round boobs bouncing inside her elastic top. The crate actually jumped a little with the detonation and now the air was filled with an electric crackling noise. The Andorian’s blonde locks tingled as static affected the cargo room.
Then the lights went out. Melika gasped as she felt her holographic form shimmer, fade and then reassert itself. As the lights came back on she sighed with relief, one hand pressing to her hammering heart. “What was that, a pulse bomb?” the teen said breathlessly. “I’m lucky it didn’t fry my holographic matrix!”
“Unscheduled shutdown,” announced a feminine voice through the ship’s speakers. Melika took a few seconds to recognize it as her own. “Drives attempting to reboot. Peripheral systems resetting to baseline configuration.”
The Andorian’s pretty blue eyes widened. “Baseline configurations hey!” she objected loudly as her uniform vanished, leaving her gorgeous blue-skinned figure completely nude. Her hands clamped over her bare breasts, her pale nipples poking against her palms as the holographic Ensign found herself suddenly baseline: a hologram bare of costume or uniform.
Her white eyebrows dropped in an annoyed frown and her hands pressed harder against her boobs, the teenager’s soft titflesh pressing upwards in a cleavage. “Clothe me!” She ordered. Then her lips opened in an ‘o’ of shock. “I’ve got no access!” Melika gasped. She settled her hands on the curves of her hips, tapping one bare foot in impatience. “Computer, restore Melika program’s operational settings.”
“Please enter your command code,” the calm feminine voice said.
Melika’s beautiful blue eyes rolled at the inconvenience. “Override bravo alpha romeo echo eight zero zero eight five,” the teenaged Ensign said.
“Denied. The hologram registered as Ensign Melika does not possess command clearance.”
“What? Right, you dropped me to baseline and I’ve lost my clearance,” the blonde realized in dismay. “Okay, I’ll code myself into the core manually.” The Andorian strode towards the door that led to the rest of Starheart’s compartments, and bumped tits-first into the cold metal when the entrance refused to open for her. Melika pointed a blue finger at the barrier, her bare breasts shaking with her frustration. “Computer, open the door!”
“An electrical discharge has damaged the internal cargo bay door. Please inform maintenance.”
“I’m maintenance!” the Ensign wailed, her nude blue body trembling with her annoyance. Her blue eyes flashed towards the still-open cargo door, through which the mysterious jungle could still be seen. “At least close the cargo bay!”
“Denied. The hologram registered as Ensign Melika does not possess command clearance.”
“Listen computer, that crate didn’t just explode itself! This was a trap! You have to warn the others!”
“Maintenance has been
informed of the damage.”
“Oh shut up,” the blonde beauty complained, sitting down crosslegged and folding her arms beneath her bare breasts,
her pale nipples pointing upwards slightly. “I’m beginning to hate the sound of
my own voice.”
+++++
The rain had slackened off by the time the hover-platform reached its destination. Deanna’s imperiously beautiful features carried a frown of annoyance as she stepped off the platform and felt her feet squish down into mud. “Let’s make the delivery and get this over with,” the counselor said in a voice that was almost a whine.
T’Pol cast her brown eyes across their surroundings, the Vulcan standing calm and demure despite wearing a now see-through catsuit that lovingly hugged her pussy lips and left her erect nipples easily visible through her top. “I imagine they are awaiting our arrival.”
“There’s something over there.” B’Elanna Torres pointed to a round device half-buried in the mud and grass a dozen meters from the landing site. It was about three times the diameter of a bowling ball, silver and smooth with a glass circle mounted at its peak. As the three brunette beauties approached the glass circle illuminated, projecting a hologram above it: it was a man.
The twenty-two year old Klingon immediately recognized the figure. “Torfik!” Torres had her phaser out in a second, scanning the jungle that edged the muddy clearing in which they stood.
“That weapon will not work here,” the hologram announced, watching the Klingon’s wariness with amusement. The points on his ears and the severe lines of his forehead showed he was a Romulan. Only his face was clear, while the rest of the hologram was darkened by a simple robe that fell around his broad shoulders. “Neither will your communicators or tricorders. Welcome to the jungle, B’Elanna Torres.”
Deanna and T’Pol had also drawn their phasers, taking their cue from Torres. “I’m seen this Romulan before,” Troi said, her black Betazoid eyes scanning the jungle’s edge as her empathic mind did the same.
“He was on Ferenginar,” B’Elanna said, Voyager’s chief engineer still watching the jungle cautiously. “When Golga was advertising us, this Romulan Torfik looked me over and decided he wanted to buy me. He didn’t bid high enough.”
The hover-platform that the three women had rode here suddenly rose from the muddy ground. Before any of the women could react it was away from the clearing, disappearing over the jungle canopy. There would be no easy ride out.
“The Maquis and the Cardassian Union were both willing to spend significant amounts of latinum to secure Torres,” Torfik agreed, “Far outside of my price range. So I was very relieved when I discovered that you and your companions had survived your dramatic escape from Ferenginar. That gave me another chance. So I invited you here with a delivery.”
“What do you want?” T’Pol queried.
“Who cares?” interrupted Torres, gauging what direction they had taken to arrive here and turning towards the jungle, “We’re going back to Starheart.”
“That’s all I want you to do.” Torfik’s coldly spoken words made B’Elanna halt in her tracks. “If just one of you can make your way back inside your vessel, you will be free to go. It has been temporarily disabled, as it would give you an unfair advantage to have a ship flying overhead clearing the jungle with a few phaser blasts. But if you can reach it, you should find it simple enough to restore your ship’s systems.”
“There’s a catch,” B’Elanna guessed.
The holographic Romulan spread one arm to point at the thick greenery behind him. “The jungle. You will find it filled with obstacles. Also, I will be waiting for you. Nothing in the jungle will kill you,” Torfik added, “But you will find it will… hinder your progress.”
His flickering image looked directly at Torres and smiled. “I will see you up ahead, B’Elanna.” The Romulan’s hologram disappeared.
Deanna broke the seal on her satchel, one of three they had been ‘delivering’ to this world, and opened it. “Bags of lead dust,” she said glumly, lifting one out and squeezing its softness in her fingers. “Just to make us think we were carrying something.”
“My tricorder is inoperable.” T’Pol was checking the equipment clipped to her belt, finding each piece of high-tech gear completely useless. “My communicator as well. We cannot contact Starheart, or anyone else.”
An experimental pull of her phaser’s trigger told B’Elanna what she feared. “And Torfik wasn’t lying about our weapons not working. We detected some background tetryon radiation from orbit but I didn’t think they would be so well-tuned. These things are no better than paperweights now.”
“Just us and the jungle,” breathed Deanna with trepidation.
Torres holstered her useless phaser. “We’re not getting anything done here. Let’s move.”
+++++
“I don’t recognize any of this flora.” Torres’ dark eyes were narrowed as she advanced cautiously through the foliage. “Who knows what’s poisonous or toxic. Don’t eat any berries, don’t sniff any flowers and stay clear of thorns.”
“When I was aboard the
“Painful?” T’Pol queried.
“To everyone,” Troi confirmed, “It was… well, never mind.”
The thick jungle was proving to be as difficult to traverse as it had appeared from the air. The three Starfleet officers made slow progress amid the tree trunks and dense foliage, lifting their long legs to step over heavy roots and rotting logs and pushing back branches and bushes to clear the way. Every time they brushed against the damp foliage droplets of water would fall on their catsuit-clad figures, and the ground beneath their feet was often soggy and clinging.
“I have never met a Romulan before,” T’Pol said, a refugee from the 22nd century when it was not known that the Vulcan and Romulan species were related. “At least, none that I knew were Romulan. But what does he gain from hunting us?”
“The hunt,” B’Elanna answered simply as she led the way, ducking beneath a branch and unknowingly showing off her firm ass to her companions behind her, “He’s a pig.”
“A pig who’s going to be waiting for us,” added Troi, the Betazoid’s skintight outfit already showing a few minor rips and tears from branches and bushes, revealing milky pale skin beneath the blue-and-white fabric.
“Keep a lookout, Deanna,” T’Pol warned. “Your empathy may be the best way to detect Torfik.” Then the science officer lifted her haughtily beautiful face with a look of surprise, her eyes caught by something up in the jungle canopy.
“A Vulcan polar bloom,” T’Pol pointed, “It only exists in the cooler regions of my homeworld. Torfik must have cultivated them here.” The plant to which she pointed was a network of vines hanging over the higher branches of the trees ahead of them. A number of large flowers of various shapes and colors sprouted from the vine.
The Vulcan shook her head. “Only to other plants. It wraps around trucks and branches to steal moisture and nutrients from them, and its seeds are sticky and often cling to animals who deliver them to new territory to grow.”
“Like a bee carrying pollen to other flowers,” Troi suggested. They pressed on, moving beneath the flower-covered greenery hanging on the branches above them.
T’Pol was very wrong about the flower-heavy vine above them. Just as a Romulan may be mistaken for a Vulcan, a plant that seems to be a Vulcan polar bloom may actually be a Romulan Ladysnare.
“Chances are we’re going to have to fight our way past Torfik at some point,” B’Elanna was saying. “Unless we want to use our bare hands we should try to find some weapons. Keep an eye out for sticks or branches we can use.”
Halting for a moment to check the foliage around her feet for potential weapons, T’Pol did not see the vines descending from the tree above her until it was too late. A tendril slipped beneath her left armpit and flicked around tightly, ensnaring the Vulcan’s arm and shoulder and hauling her up into the air!
“Help!” T’Pol’s self-discipline made her cry for help surprisingly calm. Deanna was able to get one hand to the science officer’s foot but the Ladysnare was pulling her upwards too quickly, yanking her free of the Betazoid’s hold and pulling T’Pol high into the canopy. Suspended by one arm the science officer’s long legs kicked helplessly and her ample titflesh shook inside her tight see-through top. She reached up with her free hand to pry at the vine but found its grip surprisingly strong.
“Dammit!” B’Elanna looked at the trees and branches around them, trying to find a way to climb up to release her friend.
“T’Pol, look out!” cried Deanna, pointing. The Vulcan turned her face in time to see a large blue flower snake down and plant its petals firmly over her mouth and nose.
“Mmmmph!” T’Pol moaned as the Ladysnare pumped its cloying, mind-numbing fragrance directly into her lungs. She jerked, her baseball cap falling from her short dark hair. The Vulcan pried at the flower’s petals with her right hand but couldn’t pull the bloom from her face. Her full breasts rose as she involuntarily took a deep breath of the muscle-relaxant the blossom was releasing. Almost immediately the science officer’s eyes rolled, her kicking and struggling slowing as the compound ate at her will to fight.
“We’ve got to get her down! Give me a boost!” Troi and Torres huddled together but before they could act they spotted more vines creeping down towards them, thin green tendrils seeking out their warm bodies. The Betazoid and the Klingon retreated, hoping to keep clear of the Ladysnare’s hold.
“We can’t just leave her there!” Deanna cried.
T’Pol’s brown eyes settled as the Vulcan struggled to maintain control of her functions. Unable to fight or speak she looked down at her two companions, the Ladysnare’s tendrils creeping ever-closer to them, and knew there was only one thing she could do.
B’Elanna and Deanna instantly knew what T’Pol meant. But neither liked it. “We have to go,” Torres insisted, one hand on the Betazoid’s arm. “If just one of us reaches the ship we can come back for her.”
“We will rescue you!” Troi promised with a shout as B’Elanna pulled her away from the Ladysnare and its encroaching tendrils. T’Pol felt a fresh burst of fragrance push into her lungs and her vision was filled with spots. When it cleared her friends were gone, having no choice but to continue the journey to Starheart without her.
With other possible prey having departed the Ladysnare returned its attention to the long-limbed, heavy-chested Vulcan already in its grasp. Its vines traveled around her body, securing both of T’Pol’s arms above her head. Two more blooms were lowered to its limp and unresisting captive, the blossoms twitching and sniffing as they circled her lush helpless body. Even through her drug-induced stupor the Vulcan watched the new flowers with a mixture of fear and curiosity. With her arms bound up by the vines she could not pull the tranquilizing bloom from her face, let alone defend herself from more of them. The blooms bumped uselessly against her chest, seemingly drawn the swell of her breasts.
T’Pol was about to receive an intimate lesson in just how different a Romulan Ladysnare was from a Vulcan Polar Bloom.
A vine slid down into the neck of her uniform. T’Pol shivered as she felt it roam downwards, blindly groping inside her cleavage. The tendril pressed and poked her generous jugs before sliding between them, traveling down to her flat stomach and finally emerging from the waist of her outfit. The vine curled and tightened, gripping the front of T’Pol’s uniform and pulling it upwards. The fabric was bunched together, her flat midriff bared as the plant pulled her top up to her breasts.
The generous underswell of her bosom threatened to pop free, her soft titflesh jiggling as the plant adjusted its hold on the Vulcan. T’Pol groaned inside her dope-delivering mask as her top was pulled at. Then with a sharp yank the tendril ripped the Vulcan’s uniform open from neck to waist, the torn fabric falling open and leaving T’Pol bare-breasted.
The Vulcan’s melons were full, soft and ripe, tipped with big brown aureoles that quivered as she wiggled uselessly against her restraints. The two waiting blossoms seemed to quiver in excitement, sensing the two exposed tits before them. Like its Vulcan ancestor the Romulan Ladysnare stole moisture and nutrition from other species. This plant now had two moisture-laden globes trembling before it, exposed and vulnerable.
The two flowers closed in and clamped down over T’Pol’s bare breasts. The Vulcan groaned, her Orion-conditioned body responding to the intimate contact. The blooms shifted and tightened, sucking slightly to get a firm grip of the Commander’s ample melons. Their petals closed, tightening their hold on T’Pol’s titflesh. The woman wriggled sexily in her restraints, helpless as the blossoms shrank their sucking grip on her boobs until they were clinging only to her large brown teats.
T’Pol’s brown eyes widened as the plant began to suck on her nipples! The blossoms moved about, pulling her tits up and down, left and right, pushing her nips into the soft flesh of her boobs and then pulling out so that her globes stretched into cones. And all the while they were sucking on her teats, teasing her aureoles, seeking the nutrient-rich moisture within. The Vulcan’s self-control broke and she moaned in pleasure, feeling heat swell between her hips. The sex-slave conditioning she had received was too strong and the plant’s firm hold on her tits was pushing all the right buttons. And worse and the hormone treatments she had received from the Vorta Papila, T’Pol’s breasts were more than ready to lactate.
With a wail of defeat T’Pol felt her nipples spurt cream. Her teats tingled as they surrendered a tiny spurt each to the Ladysnare, the flowers absorbing at the Vulcan’s rich milk. With vegetative patience the plant sucked and sucked at T’Pol’s udders, teasing short but tantalizing bursts of cream from her teats.
Hanging helpless in the Ladysnare’s grip T’Pol moaned. All she could do was let her head loll back and her eyes roll in her head as she was milked.
+++++
Unaware that their elegant companion had been reduced to a moaning dairy cow, B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi continued their journey through the jungle.
“Torfik must have genetically engineered the plants here to slow us down,” B’Elanna said as she broke a pair of bamboo shafts from where they had grown and handed one to Deanna. The two beauties were now equipped with crude spears. “Who knows what else we might run into!”
“He must have access to significant resources to have set all of this up.” Troi walked alongside her Klingon companion, the two catsuit-clad Starfleet officers continuing their slog through the jungle. “Romulans can live for centuries. He could have spent decades setting up this sick game of his.” The Betazoid trailed off, her dark eyes going distant as she sensed something.
“Torfik?” questioned Torres.
“No,” breathed Deanna, “Something else…”
A deep throaty growl from the bushes behind them made the two brunettes turn. Barely visible through the dense foliage was a broad and muscular shape, prowling on all fours as it moved through the jungle. It halted as the Starfleet officers spotted it, its large form indistinct in the greenery but clearly threatening.
“What is that?” whispered Deanna.
“Just keep moving.” B’Elanna led the way, the two women walking a few paces on. As soon as their backs were turned the creature padded after them, its deep-set eyes watching their wiggling bottoms. Torres looked back and again the beast halted, this time clear of the bushes. She got a good look at it.
Millions of years of brutal evolution in a hellish environment had created a powerful predator. Nearly ten feet long from nose to tail, the beast must have weighed close to three hundred kilograms. Its muscular body was coated in plates of tough hide and its head was crowned by horns that curved back to flank its face, making it impossible for other predators to strike at its neck and throat. Its feet were broad with claws snicking in and out of their sheaths. Its tail was thick and stout, like that of a dinosaur, but short and tapering quickly to a narrow tip.
“It’s a Jungle Fiend,” B’Elanna said quietly, “A Klingon predator.” Every time they tried to move away the creature followed them, easily keeping pace with the two women, and every time they turned to look at it the monster halted, looking over the Klingon and Betazoid with threatening eyes.
“Torfik said nothing here would harm us,” Troi said, but the fear in her faint voice revealed that she didn’t really believe what she was saying. “What do we do?”
“It can’t follow both of us,” answered Torres after moment’s thought. “We toss our spears at it and split up. One of us has to reach Starheart. You remember the way?”
Taking a deep tit-lifting breath to calm herself, Deanna nodded. “Let’s do it.” The two women turned and hurled their spears at the monster behind them.
Deanna’s throw struck it on one paw without enough force to penetrate its hide while Torres’ spear stuck fast in the monster’s shoulder. As the creature recoiled and hissed the two women bolted off, heading into the thick jungle in opposite directions.
The eyes of the Jungle Fiend followed their fleeing forms, its ears pricking at the sound of their rapid retreat. With predatory precision it gauged their speed, seeing on one side an athletic fast-moving Klingon leaping over roots and ducking beneath branches, while on the other it saw a voluptuous Betazoid struggling through the jungle foliage, her hands awkwardly lifted to shield her face. With a growl of anticipation it set off after Deanna Troi, its eyes locked on the counselor’s wiggling womanly ass.
The Betazoid sensed its attention focus on her and she redoubled her pace, her breath already coming in quick panicking gasps. Her raven-black hair flying she glanced back to see the beast loping after her. In mid stride it turned its head, bit down on the spear in its shoulder and yanked it free before snapping it in two with its mighty jaws. Swallowing her terror Troi sprinted on, knowing in her pounding heart that there was no way she could outrun the monster.
The empath sensed the beast closing in on her. Forewarned by her psychic senses Deanna dove to the ground at the last second. The Jungle Fiend pounced at her and just missed, a swiping paw knocking the Betazoid’s baseball cap off. The brunette rolled to her feet and set off into the thickest of the jungle at a sprint, hoping the animal’s bulk would slow it in terrain where her five foot three frame could move more easily. The Fiend skidded, turning to track the fleeing Betazoid, and resumed the chase. Troi kept her senses tuned to the beast pursuing her, hoping that it would warn her a second time.
But the Jungle Fiend was an accomplished predator. Now that it knew how surprisingly quick the full-figured counselor could be it did not make another pounce. Instead it simply maintained the chase, charging through the foliage with twigs scraping harmlessly on its thick hide and branches snapping as its bulk rammed through like a bulldozer. It kept its curvaceous prey in sight, not closing in but just letting her run on.
After a grueling three hundred meters through the thick jungle Deanna was panting for air, tits rising and falling quickly in her wet and nearly transparent top. The rough terrain made it feel as if she had ran ten times the distance.
The Betazoid realized what the Fiend was doing: it was tiring her out. The animal could easily keep up this pace for miles and it was content to let the Starfleet officer run herself ragged. It would make her that much easier to take down in the end, and with every yard Troi ran she grew more tired and more likely to make a mistake.
Then she made one. Deanna slipped and hit the mud tits-first. Even as she scrabbled to get her feet beneath her she sensed the Fiend closing in and this time she couldn’t slip out of its way. Its large paws came down on her hips, the rough padding on the bottom of its feet gripping the elastic material. Troi screamed in fright and heaved forward, trying to run. As she lunged for freedom the animal’s paws pulled her uniform’s pants and underwear down to her knees and left the counselor’s thighs, ass and pussy bare. A fresh squeal of terror escaped the twenty-nine year old’s soft lips.
The fabric bunched around her knees made her stumble. She barely stopped herself from falling again, one hand grabbing a nearby broad tree trunk for support. Then Deanna was pressing her back against the trunk as she found the Klingon Jungle Fiend’s monstrous face only a foot from hers. The beast growled threateningly, its sheer closeness cutting off any path of escape.
Troi let out a squeak of terror, her dark eyes wide as she stood before it with her neat bald snatch exposed. With a deep purring sound the Fiend looked over its prey, turning its large head left and right. Then it reared up and set its large paws on Deanna’s shoulders.
Her eyes shut in fear but there was no pain. It did not attack her with its claws and teeth. Instead it let its weight drag on her uniform, its rough-padded paws getting a surprisingly good grip as it pulled and tore at her top. As the Fiend fell back to all fours it left the Betazoid’s top shredded across her shoulders and chest, her generous tits popping out of the ruined elastic, the brown circles of her nipples rising and falling with her panicking breaths.
The Fiend rumbled its approval at the sight of Deanna Troi’s bare breasts. Finding herself half-naked in the monster’s presence the counselor lifted her hands to cover her tits, squeezing her ample titflesh into a generous cleavage. The Klingon beast growled deeply, clearly annoyed by the Betazoid’s action. Empathically sensing the source of its anger the Starfleet officer forced herself to uncover her tits, standing nude before the monster. Immediately its angry growl ceased.
“My god, what does it want from me?” Troi thought in horror. She cringed in fear as it reared up again, this time planting its paws on the tree trunk on either side of the counselor, blocking off her routes of escape and putting its massive jaws so close to her face that she could feel its hot breath on her bare skin. Quivering in terror she turned her face away, shutting her eyes helplessly.
The Jungle Fiend opened its toothy mouth, its tongue lolling out. With a firm deliberate stroke it licked Deanna Troi from her bare left tit, up her collar and neck to her face. Its tongue was broad, wet, hot and rough. Shaking in trepidation the Betazoid endured silently as the monster lapped at her bare breasts, the firm pushes of its tongue making her tits rise and fall, the rough organ teasing her aureoles and quickly making her nipples stiffen to erectness.
Deanna gasped in unwanted pleasure as one heavy lip flicked against her right teat, stimulating her Orion-conditioned body. Regardless of her fear and distress Troi’s body was excited by the contact and the proximity of this powerful beast. “No please, no no no please no,” the lush-figured officer silently begged as the Fiend ran its tongue up her bare tits in long powerful strokes. Now it was not just fear of the monster she was fighting, but fear of her body’s conditioned response to it.
The Fiend dropped back down to all fours, leaving Deanna’s bare breasts warm and slick with saliva, heaving with her terrified breaths. The animal’s sensitive sense of smell had alerted it to another interesting part of its prey’s anatomy. Sniffing and purring the Jungle Fiend leaned forward to butt its cold nose against Deanna Troi’s bald snatch. She yelped, arching her back, thrusting her tits upwards as she felt it investigate her clitoris.
Again the monster’s tongue emerged, this time to lap at an
even more sensitive part of the Betazoid’s sexy figure. The
It retreated again, eyeing Deanna Troi as she stood naked, panting and terrified before it. The Jungle Fiend padded to one side, its tail curving downwards and its very tip shifting and throbbing with interest. As her dark eyes fell on the Fiend’s tail the Betazoid realized that the stout and powerful limb was not a tail at all. This armored predator was most definitely a male.
It was too much for the twenty-eight year old to bear. Since her misadventures began the dark haired beauty had been fondled by greedy Ferengi, reamed by a brutish Gorn, suffered the indignity of being a Cardassian Gul’s bedroom plaything and had been fucked with military precision by multiple Jem’Hadar. But now Deanna Troi was now being ‘courted’ by an animal! Worse by a hulking Klingon beast!
Sheer fear made Deanna try to run. The elastic around her knees ended her escape attempt with a humiliating fall to the mud, her tits hitting the ground hard and making the Betazoid cry out. As she tried to crawl away the Jungle Fiend advanced, one heavy paw pressing down on her back and forcing her back down. The globes of Deanna’s breasts flattened against the forest floor, bulging out of either side of her ribs. Crying in the horrible knowledge of what was about to happen Troi struggled vainly, but her wriggles and kicks only succeeded in spreading her pale thighs and exposing her delicious snatch to the animal’s heavy curving cock. It jabbed at her tightness, seeking out the tight channel between her legs, and found it.
Her dark eyes went wide as she felt the Klingon Fiend’s penis stretch her pussy lips. Then her beautiful features locked in pleasured disbelieve as its broad tool slowly and relentlessly pushed deep inside her. With a hideous growl of satisfaction the beast filled Deanna Troi’s vaginal canal with its dick. Glands behind the head of its cock swelled, filling her tightness like a plug and ensure that there was no way that she could wriggle off that monstrous organ. It was inside the counselor and it was there to stay.
“Oh gawd noooo!!!” wailed Deanna in humiliation and defeat. Her long cry turned into a short huff of exhaled air as the beast thrust into her, the energetic pumping motion pushing the air out of her lungs. “Uh!” she gasped, “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh uh uh uh ah ah ah ahhhh aaaahhhh!!!” The Fiend built up a rapid rhythm with short and quick thrusts, eager to have its way with the lush-bodied Betazoid.
Her Orion conditioning was too deeply ingrained for Deanna to fight. She felt her hips rising, her knees working beneath her until she was on all fours with her ass pressing upwards. This posture, with her bottom lifted and her generous tits dangling beneath her gave the Fiend mounting the Betazoid deeper and fuller penetration of her delicious pussy. The sensation of its massive cock completely filling her vagina made the busty brunette quiver with ecstasy.
“Aaaaahh! Aaaaaii! Aaaeeeiiii!!” Troi cried, the globes of her tits swaying and dancing beneath her. Encouraged by the counselor’s passionate screams the Jungle Fiend rose higher as it mounted her, thrusting hard with its hips while its enormous paws reached around her body to steady itself, batting clumsily at the brunette’s lovely tits.
The Klingon monster growled and began a series of fast and
shallow thrusts, so quick that they made Troi’s
dangling breasts vibrate. The
“This can’t be happening!” cried the lush-figured Betazoid, realizing with horror that the animal had cummed inside her. “This just can’t be happening to me!” Deanna wailed.
Meanwhile the beast slumped forward, paws dropping on either side of her mostly-naked body and its weight pushing her back to the muddy ground. The curvaceous brunette could only pant and groan beneath its bulk, her mind overwhelmed with pleasure and humiliation. The sensation of the monster’s broad cock stretching her vaginal cavity was unbelievable. Deanna Troi, counselor of the Federation Flagship, daughter of the Betazoid Ambassador, had been stripped naked, mounted and inseminated by a Klingon animal!
When the Fiend drew the slackening organ out of her each ridge and bump tormented Deanna’s thoroughly reamed pussy. It emerged from her tightness with a pop and Troi slumped to one side, rolling onto her back, her bare breasts rising and falling rapidly with her breathing.
The Fiend padded around its mate, purring with satisfaction as it surveyed its conquest. Deanna Troi had been run to exhaustion, stripped, mounted and seeded. The Klingon beast settled its bulk down beside the Betazoid and lay one heavy paw on her heaving chest, signifying that this lush female was its possession. Then it gave the counselor’s generous melons another powerful lick.
“Oh gawd,” groaned Deanna as the Fiend began to lap at her exposed breasts, “It thinks I’m its mate?!?” Its broad tongue pushed her tits left and right, the roughness of its organ scraping her aureoles and teasing her erect nips.
To her growing disbelief the beast settled its enormous mouth over the counselor’s left breast and began to suck. “Oh god no please oh gawd!” Troi moaned as sheer suction pulled her tit into a cone shape within the Fiend’s mouth. It sucked hard, its tongue working around her nipple, teasing the Betazoid’s soft titflesh.
Troi didn’t dare try to hold off the powerful monster. She didn’t have the strength or the courage to risk injury. She could only lie there as her breasts were suckled upon, tugged left and right and up and down, pulled away from her body before being pushed back against her chest. She arched her back, for a moment pulled off the ground by the suction being applied to her tit, before being returned to the soil with a thump.
Deanna cringed in shame as her right teat squirted milk. The purr of satisfaction from the Jungle Fiend as it tasted the counselor’s cream made her quake in humiliation. “Please don’t!” the big-breasted Betazoid begged as the monster shifted from tit to tit, sucking her boobs and teasing out squirts of her rich milk and pushing the helpless Troi closer and closer to yet another orgasm.
To the counselor’s growing horror the monster seemed to enjoy the flavor it was teasing from her tits. It sucked harder and deeper of her breasts, sheer suction lifting the nude brunette from the forest floor. “Uhhh aaahhh!” Deanna cried out as her right breast stretched upwards, pleasure and discomfort merging in her ecstasy-wracked body, “Aaahhhh AAAHHHH!!!”
Deanna Troi wailed in orgasm as she was lifted off the ground entirely, her body weight supported entirely by the tit being sucked upwards by the Jungle Fiend’s mouth! Her hands grabbed desperately onto the beast’s horns, easing the incredible distress in her boob, but that only allowed the monster to lift her higher into the air, rising on its hind legs as it eagerly and powerfully sucked at her nipples.
“AAahhhhhaAHAHHH!!” Deanna’s cries rose and fell as her voluptuous body was lifted into the air, dropped so the monster could switch tits, and lifted again. Over and over the Jungle Fiend hoisted Troi upwards, the powerful sucking on her nipples causing the counselor’s melons to surrender her milk. Each squirt made pleasure explode in her body and mind. Her hands remained helplessly locked around the predator’s horns and her bare legs kicked uselessly as Deanna Troi, counselor of the USS Enterprise, was milked in mid-air.
Then the Fiend’s powerful lips disengaged from her tits and
Deanna Troi fell panting and moaning to the forest
floor. She lay flat on her back, her hands pressed to her aching boobs and her
dark eyes shut as ecstasy and humiliation rolled through her.
The Jungle Fiend decided its panting, full-figured mate had enjoyed enough rest. Growling in anticipation the beast repositioned its body above the helpless and terrified counselor and jabbed at her tender pussy with its cock. The twenty-nine year old brunette whimpered as her nether folds were parted, her voluptuous body jerking from her kicking feet to her quivering tits as she was thrust into. This time she was on her back, her legs spread wide and her vision filled with the monster mounting her. Its forepaws pushed her hands away from her chest, pinning her arms to the forest floor and forcing the busty Betazoid brunette to bare her breasts. Those exposed tits began to bounce as the Klingon Jungle Fiend resumed its pumping, thrusting its broad organ deep into the counselor’s tight kitty.
Deanna Troi began to wail in earnest as the Jungle Fiend took every advantage of the counselor’s beautiful, ripe and helpless figure.
+++++
The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time the Romulan Ladysnare was finished milking T’Pol’s generous breasts.
Her well-endowed bosom, expertly treated by the Vorta Papila, worked ceaselessly to replenish the Vulcan’s supply of milk. After hours of cruelly slow milking the plant had finally exhausted T’Pol’s ample boobs. Her once proud and firm breasts had been robbed of most of their volume, still obviously large but deflated as they hung with her nipples still firmly gripped by the Ladysnare’s blooms. At long last the blossoms released T’Pol’s tits, letting them hang soft and depleted, mere shadows of the glorious globes they had been before.
The
The hours of captive milking had taken their toll on the stunning science officer. Considered by many to be the Mother of the Federation, one of the pivotal figures in human and Vulcan history, T’Pol now hung limp and topless in the Ladysnare’s vines. Her rolling eyes refocused, her head hanging down as she turned her face towards her only depleted chest. “Mmooooh,” objected T’Pol in a moan as she took in the sight of her deflated udders.
But the horrific plant was not finished with its beautiful prisoner. Vines had been toying around T’Pol’s hips, bottom and pelvis for the last hour, seeking to find some way past the elastic fabric of her pants. Now tendrils encircled the Vulcan’s ankles and retracted upwards, slowly pulling T’Pol’s long legs upwards so that she hung from her feet and her wrists with her firm ass hanging beneath her. “Mmmmph,” she objected faintly, l dazed from the tranquilizing fragrances that the bloom over her mouth and nose was still delivering to her lungs.
Tendrils played around the waist band of her pants. The vines above her had great difficulty in pulling downwards but they were excellent at pulling upwards, and now the Vulcan’s long legs were pointed towards the canopy above. Tendrils slid beneath the elastic of T’Pol’s pants and began to peel the garment up her trim thighs.
First exposed was the Vulcan’s round firm bottom, her cheeks wiggling with her weak and helpless struggles as she felt her ass being bared. Then the fabric was dragged up higher, baring her snatch. T’Pol’s pussy lips pouted out from between her thighs. The vines yanked again, peeling the science officer’s pants up to reveal long thighs and calves and ankles and then the garment was stripped away. The Vulcan’s long legs fell free, leaving her hanging by her arms again but now wearing nothing but the shredded remains of her top hanging in tatters around her shoulders.
“Mmmphh,” T’Pol complained as she found herself completely naked in the Ladysnare’s grip. Weakened by the plant’s doping aromas she could not resist as vines crept around her legs again, taking firm hold of her trim thighs. Slowly T’Pol’s long legs were spread, her knees lifted upwards as she was forced to expose her perfect bald pussy.
“Mmmmpphh!” Now the Vulcan’s objections were louder at this new indignity being inflicted on her helpless body. But if T’Pol knew what was to come she would have been complaining even louder.
Her lovely dark eyes fixed on a new vine descending from the canopy. This one ended in what appeared to be a long skinny flower-bud, tight and narrow and six inches in length. It descended with snakelike grace, turning left and right but always closing in on the helpless Vulcan, or more specifically towards her vulnerable pussy.
Now she lifted her voice. “Mmm! Mmmmmphh! Mmmmpphh!!” T’Pol objected, eyes locked on the vine as it approached her hairless folds. She struggled weakly, tensing her stomach and wriggling her hips, trying to make her pussy as difficult a target as possible. The vine snaked forwards, pressing its long bud against her stomach and using her trembling body as a guide as it traveled down towards her opening.
T’Pol’s eyes shut tightly as it slid down along of her sensitive vaginal lips. “Mmmnnn,” she moaned, her Orion-conditioned body responding to the intimate touch. But the bud was not interested in the Vulcan’s pussy. Instead it traveled lower, further, sliding between the cheeks of her ass.
“Mmmooooooo!!!” T’Pol moaned in distress as she realized what the plant was targeting. She wiggled furiously, ankles kicking pathetically as she vainly struggled to keep the long narrow bud away from her ass. Her struggles spurred a response in the plant. It punished her efforts by smacking the disobedient Vulcan on her aching tits. “Mmph! Mmph!” Her yelps were muffled by the bloom over her mouth and nose. Tears popping into her eyes the Vulcan ceased her struggles, obediently growing still as the Ladysnare slid its probe between her buttocks.
With horror the science officer realized the true humiliation that was being inflicted on her. Where the Vulcan Polar Bloom used spores that stuck to passing animals to spread its seeds, the Romulan Ladysnare had a more evolved way to ensuring its progeny would be carried to other territories. It was filling her ass with them!
T’Pol’s shoulders shook with sobs of defeat as she was violated. The Starfleet officer had been ensnared, drugged, stripped, milked and now she was taking it in the ass, all so a mindless plant could spread its seeds over a larger area. And there was not a single thing T’Pol could do about it.
By time the Ladysnare was finished dozens of seeds had been planted in her rear. T’Pol’s head was rolled back, tears of humiliation running down her cheeks. She jerked as the seeding vine withdrew from her well-sown ass. A second later the vines around her thighs released her, letting the Vulcan’s legs dangle. The Ladysnare was finished with her, lowering T’Pol from the jungle canopy back to the ground.
Her feet touched the forest floor and her legs buckled
beneath her, too weak from the drugs to support her weight. T’Pol
slumped, offering only the weakest struggles. As a final farewell the Ladysnare pumped a fresh dose of tranquilizers and
aphrodisiacs deep into the Vulcan’s lungs, making her eyes roll back in her
head in a rush of pleasure. When its vines released her naked body and
slithered back up to the canopy the science officer was in no state to fight or
flee but could only lie on the forest floor, stripped, milked, impregnated and
defeated.
+++++
It had taken hours of trekking through the dense jungle but B’Elanna Torres had finally reached the clearing where Starheart had landed. Spotlights had been set down around the ship, shining bright beams on the vessel’s sleek hull and making it easy to spot in the darkening afternoon. “If I can just get onboard,” the twenty-two year old Klingon thought, “I get her in the air, snatch up T’Pol and Troi and then we’ll be out of this hell hole!”
Torres crouched in the thick foliage, a new bamboo spear in her hands. Her blue and white catsuit was taut around her athletic frame, stretching magnificently around her firm ass as she crouched, her eyes on the clearing around Starheart’s landing area. “This is too good to be true,” she realized. “Torfik is going to be waiting for me out there.”
Regardless of the risk, the Maquis knew that this was her best chance to get aboard the ship and rescue her friends. It had hurt to be separated from Deanna and T’Pol, and B’Elanna did not fully trust Torfik’s assertion that none of the creations in this jungle would harm her companions. She had an inkling suspicion of what had happened to her full chested Vulcan and Betazoid companions, although at the moment was unaware of just how thoroughly the science officer and the counselor had been humiliated by the things in the jungle.
Slowly B’Elanna crept forwards. She kept low, staying in the dense foliage. She gauged that Torfik would be out there, somewhere, watching for movement, staying close to the one place where he was certain his prey would come: Starheart itself.
“What I need is a distraction,” the Maquis thought. A glance around the forest floor found her what she was looking for: a chunk of old wood, hollowed out by rot and insects, something that could be thrown. The sound of it dropping through the canopy and bouncing off of branches might be enough to draw the attention of Torres’ hunter away from her.
She picked up the chunk of wood. In the fading light B’Elanna’s eyes did not see up the coil of rope it was weighing down.
The rope slithered. Somewhere in the jungle a counterweight dropped. A noose of twine shrank around B’Elanna’s feet and snared her around the ankles. The Maquis was yanked off her feet, landing on her ass with a whoop of shock and losing her grip on her makeshift spear. Then the rope pulled on her legs, dragging her across the forest floor and causing her top to ride up to bare her midriff and expose the lush lower swells of her breasts. Then the rope was pulling her upwards, away from the foliage and into the air.
B’Elanna Torres, chief engineer of the starship Voyager, found herself suspended in mid-air by her bound ankles! Immediately the Klingon was wiggling against her bonds, her firm and full-chested figure gyrating sexily. Her hips swung left and right, her rump wiggled about and her breasts jumped inside her elastic top as she tried to kick and struggle free of the rope around her ankles. With an athletic flexing motion she bent at the waist, performing a vertical sit-up as she reached for the rope around her feet, pulling at the knot.
One foot was almost slipping free, but the shape of her boots was making it difficult the pull the rope away. In desperation B’Elanna popped the clasp of her boots and felt her feet start to slip out of her footwear. Once again Voyager’s chief engineer wiggled and struggled upside-down as she wormed her way out of her boots. Unfortunately her footwear was maintaining its hold on her tight elastic pants, and her struggles were quickly peeling them away from her long, lovely legs!
“Dammit!” cursed B’Elanna as she inched out of her bindings, in the process feeling her pants slide down to mid-thigh and baring her white panties. “This is absolutely ridiculous!”
But it was about to get rapidly worse. Someone whistled out of the jungle and stuck with a painful stinging in B’Elanna’s right tit. “Aaaahhh!” the Klingon gasped, staring with dark eyes at the tranquilizer dart that had just struck her in the boob! “Torfik is here!” she thought, yanking the dart free and continuing her struggles.
Her feet came free of her boots and elastic pants and B’Elanna Torres fell to the forest floor, her long tanned legs fully exposed. She struggled to her feet, all her determination focused on making the run to Starheart, but the projectile had already done its work. A debilitating dose of chemicals had been delivered into her bloodstream. B’Elanna Torres had already lost.
But Voyager’s chief engineer was not going to give up without a fight. In a heartbeat she was bolting through the foliage, her athletic legs pumping and her panty-clad ass wiggling as she ran for the safety of Starheart.
She was only meters from the ship when a second tranq dart struck B’Elanna’s left buttock. “Ow!” she yelped, staggering as the chemical slackened her muscles. Again she pulled out the dart too late, feeling her legs failing beneath her. The twenty-two year old dropped to her knees, her head spinning. Her hands dug at the forest floor and she pushed onwards, her firm ass in the air as she crawled pathetically towards Starheart and safety.
Torfik had an excellent view of B’Elanna’s panty-clad snatch as she crawled away from him. “You’ll make an excellent trophy, Klingon,” the Romulan smiled as he strolled after her, holstering his tranquilizer pistol. The Maquis could hear his footfalls in the damp soil. Summoning up the last of her strength Torres waited until he sounded close enough and then sprang back up, turning and swinging a fist at the smirking Romulan’s face.
But her balance was skewed by the drugs and her co-ordination and grace were gone. Torfik stepped back and B’Elanna’s fist slipped through the air in front of his nose. The momentum of the punch made her turn and stagger into his arms, slumping backward against his powerful physique.
The Romulan was bare-chested, wearing only trousers, boots and a belt and bandoleer loaded with equipment. The Romulan was incredibly fit, his upper body and arms toned and muscular, more than surpassing B’Elanna’s strength even if she had not been drugged. Torfik held the Klingon against him, feeling her body wiggle and writhe helplessly as the chemicals weakened her further. “Shhhh,” he whispered, knowing that B’Elanna could no longer offer any resistance. He took advantage of the moment to grip her breasts through the thin elastic of her top, squeezing, lifting and massaging Torres’ boobs.
She lifted her fists and thumped them against his powerful arms but the Klingon now lacked the strength to do any damage. “Bastard.” Even her curses were in a weak voice, her dark eyes half-closing as the drugs made her docile. Worse her Orion-conditioned body was thrilling at the sensation of hands on her breasts, pleasure swelling unwanted within her, her nipples growing erect until they poked through the fabric against Torfik’s palms. The Romulan slid one hand down to her panties, rubbing the material over B’Elanna’s bald snatch. “Oohhh,” the Maquis moaned, her puffy lips fondled through her underwear. She let out a little yelp of shock as her underwear was ripped from her hips, baring her lovely bottom and perfect hairless pussy.
With a satisfied smile he turned Torres around in his arms, his hands gripping the elastic material over her breasts. The drugged twenty-two year old would have fallen if not for his fingers on her tits. The Romulan’s smile broadening he pulled hard on the elastic fabric of her top.
Torfik’s Vulcan ancestry and excellent physical condition gave the Romulan great strength, more than enough to shred the Klingon’s top and tear it away from her shoulders. With a quick ripping motion B’Elanna Torres was standing naked before him, wearing only her Moonlight Bounty baseball cap.
Her legs buckled beneath her and the twenty-two year old dropped to her knees. She found herself swaying backwards as she knelt, her naked body well-presented for Torfik’s amusement. He looked down at the kneeling Klingon, bare breasts heaving, bald pussy exposed and dark eyes defiant even in defeat. “You Romulan dog!” she cursed, lifting her chin despite her humiliation, her arms limp at her sides.
“This dog just took down the Klingon bitch,” the Romulan sneered. Then B’Elanna’s dark eyes widened as she watched Torfik unbuckle his trousers.
He drew out his organ. The Romulans penis was already erect, pulsing eagerly in the presence of the nude and kneeling twenty-two year old. The Romulan batted Torres’ cap off and twisted of a handful of her dark hair, pulling her face towards his tool, and pushed his dick into B’Elanna’s mouth.
She didn’t have the strength to bite down on his meat. “Mmmpphh!” B’Elanna complained at the salty taste of the Romulan’s penis as he pulled her head forwards and back, deeply probing her mouth. The Klingon tried to shut her mouth and push his meat out on the rearward stroke but she only succeeded in tightening her lips around his shaft, heightening his pleasure as he forced Torres to fellate him.
Her arms were limp at her sides, weakened by the drugs and by the knowledge of her helplessness. Even so her deep brown eyes glared angrily at Torfik as she was forced to suck on his cock. With his hand in her hair the Romulan kept B’Elanna moving back and forth with a quick rhythm, her bare breasts jiggling with every humiliating stroke. Her nipples were now fully erect, two narrow dark bumps poking out of the soft curves of her shaking tits.
Torfik pulled his meat free of B’Elanna’s mouth. Before she could even gasp with relief the Romulan slapped his cock across her face. Torres flinched, her helpless anger and humiliation growing deeper as the penis on which she had been sucking only seconds before was smacked across her attractive features. This embarrassing assault continued for more than a minute, the Romulan smiling as he savored the sight of B’Elanna Torres, naked and on her knees, cringing as he whacked her face with his hard meat.
His sneering smile grew even wider as he reached down and grabbed the young woman’s soft tits. Torfik stared Torres in the eyes as his fingers tightened and relaxed, feeling out the heft of her boobs as he got the best possible grip on her globes. Then the Romulan lifted B’Elanna up by those two sensitive handholds. The young woman gasped, eyes shutting in a mix of discomfort and pleasure as she was pulled up onto her shaky legs, held up by her boobs.
The Romulan stepped close to her, hauling Torres up by her tits until she was standing on her toes. Now that she was positioned at the correct height, Torfik slid his erect cock between B’Elanna’s trim thighs. Helpless to resist, the Lieutenant could only stare in hatred as the Romulan lowered her with excruciating slowness onto his meat. She felt his hot organ stab against the lips of her pussy and then push against her opening, worming upwards, parting her folds and sliding up into her channel.
B’Elanna Torres gasped again, her dark eyes rolling in pleasure. This intimate contact was exactly what her Orion-conditioned body responded to the strongest. She could feel his cock inside her and a part of the Klingon loved it. And as every terrible inch of his tool slid into her, Torfik stared at the twenty-two year old’s face and savored every twitch of pleasure and shame and humiliation on her beautiful features.
With Torres now impaled on his dick Torfik moved his hands from her breasts to her bottom, pulling the athletic young woman closer still and pushing his tool even deeper into the twenty-two year old’s snatch.
Lifting her by her ass Torfik
began to fuck Voyager’s chief engineer,
sliding her up and down his meatstick. The Romulan’s
enormous strength was more than enough to set B’Elanna’s
breasts to bouncing, Torres’ tits dancing on her chest as she rode Torfik’s tool. The Maquis found herself leaning backwards,
feet leaving the ground so that her entire weight was supported by the
Romulan’s hands beneath her bottom, her breasts leaping
as he vigorously banged her.
“Oh! Oh! Ooohh!” B’Elanna moaned, shaking her head so that her dark hair flew about her face. She knew that this would only spur Torfik on but drugged as she was she had no hope of fighting the natural impulses of her well-conditioned body. She writhed, tits rolling left and right, mouth opening in an ‘o’ of pleasure, her feet kicking helplessly with every thrust.
Without warning Torfik drew his meat from the woman’s body, setting her back on her shaky legs and turning her around. B’Elanna was helpless in his arms as she felt herself being repositioned so that the Romulan could take her from behind. Once again she felt his meat slid up into her pussy and begin to pump. This time she was leaning far forwards, her bare breasts jiggling beneath her body. Torfik pulled her arms back behind her, clasping both of her wrists in one hand so that he could reach around beneath her to fondle her bosom with his free fingers.
When B’Elanna came it was with a helpless wail of defeat, arching her back as she thrust her hips rearward, feeling her snatch clench tight around Torfik’s organ. But the Romulan was nowhere near done with her. Even as Torres gasped and groaned in the aftermath of climax Torfik continued to pump in and out of her, quickly forcing the twenty-two year old towards a second orgasm. She was forced down onto her knees, her swaying tits brushing the soil with her nipples as the Romulan’s relentless thrusts kept her lovely breasts bouncing in a rapid rhythm.
Torres’ second orgasm was a low and deep throaty moan, her will to fight eaten away by the pleasure. Even then the Romulan was not finished, pumping relentlessly into her snatch, his weight bearing down on her and forcing the Klingon’s tits against the mud. Little gasps were all she had left as Torfik continued his work, thoroughly fucking B’Elanna Torres into submission.
At long last the Romulan reached his peak. He drew his meat out of the young woman’s tightness, easily turning B’Elanna onto her back. As she panted and gasped from her ordeal Torfik pointed his cock at the defeated Klingon and pumped vigorously, firing his seed over her bare breasts and face in hot sticky streams.
Captured, stripped, fucked and now splattered with cum B’Elanna Torres groaned in humiliation. Grinning at the sight Torfik reached down to slap playfully at the Lieutenant’s bare breasts. “Can’t have you getting pregnant,” he teased. “Future hunts wouldn’t work well if you were carrying extra weight in your belly.”
“What?” B’Elanna gasped, “You’re going to hunt me again?”
Torfik stared into the defeated Starfleet officer’s eyes. “I don’t want to hang your head on my wall, B’Elanna Torres. You and your heavy-chested companions have made today a very interesting day. I want to have more interesting days.”
+++++
It was nearly nightfall by the time B’Elanna Torres, Deanna Troi and T’Pol were led back to the clearing where the hunt had begun.
The three Starfleet officers were completely naked, their blue-and-white Starheart uniforms left in tattered shreds in the jungle. With their wrists now bound behind their backs every inch of their asses, plump tits and bald delicious pussies were left bare as they were pulled along by their leashes.
The cord that ran from Torfik’s hand did not tie around B’Elanna’s neck. Instead it wrapped tightly around the Lieutenant’s bare breasts. The proud high globes of her tits were forced forward uncomfortably by the line that looped around both of her boobs. Whenever she slowed Torfik would give the cruel tit-leash a tug, squeezing a gasp from the twenty-two year old and forcing her to pick up the pace.
From Torres’ wrists a second leash led to T’Pol’s generous melons. The Vulcan’s breasts had recovered
quickly after her milking, already restored to their ample glory. But her
impressive rack had only made it easier for Torfik to
bind.
Last in line was Deanna Troi. The
pale-skinned beauty was bound in the same fashion as her companions, the
counselor’s wrists tied behind her back while her soft and full tits were squeezed
and lifted by the cord wrapped around them. She staggered awkwardly behind T’Pol, a
cord connected the Vulcan’s wrists to the Betazoid’s
boobs.
Like Brahms, Robinson and Mirren before them, Torres, Troi and T’Pol were being educated in the humiliation of Torfik’s tit-leash. Not for the first time the Romulan yanked on B’Elanna’s boobs. The Klingon yelped and stepped forward quickly, causing T’Pol’s leash to pull uncomfortably on the Vulcan’s melons. The science officer mewled and also hurried up, unwittingly yanking on Deanna Troi’s globes and making fresh tears of humiliation pop into the counselor’s beautiful dark eyes.
The saucy convoy reached their destination: the same clearing where they had began their jungle hunt this morning. Where there had previously been a muddy clearing was now a clean-looking prefabricated dome, sheer white with only a single entrance. “You will find food, water, bathroom facilities and cots within,” Torfik announced, pulling the three bound nude beauties steadily towards the dome’s entrance. “Get your rest. Tomorrow the hunt begins again.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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