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:
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 27: YOU ARE CORDIALLY ARRESTED
There was a stir in the sprawling markets at the edge of the Ferenginar capital. Merchants paused in their sales and customers halted in their search for goods as every man’s gaze was drawn to one figure walking among them.
There was a woman wandering the market. Ferengi cultural laws forbade females from wearing clothing in public, and as a result most members of the fairer sex tried to stay indoors as much as possible. But this female had chosen to brave the outdoors, and she was wearing nothing to conceal that she was a particularly fine specimen of womanhood.
Her legs were long and her thighs slim, her waist narrow, her stomach flat and her arms slender and graceful. Her slimness was deeply contrasted by a round bottom and a heavy pair of soft, generous breasts that bounced deliciously with every step she took. She was tanned and had short dark hair that left the points of her Vulcan ears uncovered. Her face had a haughtily beautiful cast to it, a face that was born to lift up in aloof confidence, with dark angular eyes and plump lips that naturally pouted as if made for kissing.
T’Pol, one of the most revered Vulcans in her people’s history, walked the streets of Ferenginar wearing nothing but a pair of boots and a belt slung low around her curving hips. But most Ferengi couldn’t tell one Vulcan from another, so to the many men who stared at the Starfleet officer as she walked sexily down the street T’Pol was just a great pair of legs and a fantastic set of tits.
She walked with a confident and sexy strut. The Vulcan’s already delicious figure had been further refined by Orion conditioning, tuning T’Pol for a life as a bed slave. One aspect of that conditioning had trained her muscles to make her walk in a particular way, her ass wiggling, her hips swishing and the brown circles of her nipples bobbing on the tips of her tits on each step. She drew every eye in the market as she walked between the stalls making her purchases.
Outwardly T’Pol gave no indication of being uncomfortable with her nudity, but that was a façade. The Vulcan had never fully acclimatized to being naked in the presence of Ferengi, or any men. But she hid her embarrassment behind her haughty demeanor, lifting her chin imperiously and walking through the crowd as if she hadn’t a care. Transactions froze in her wake and buyer and seller alike stopped to stare at T’Pol’s jiggling breasts and swaying ass, or to admire her perfect hairless pussy: another effect of her conditioning was that she no longer needed to shave.
In one hand she carried a shopping bag in which she deposited her various purchases. A set of power adaptors from this stall, a holo-novel from another. Alien merchants were prompt to give her attention and slow to finalize sales, happy to keep the lovely Vulcan lingering bare-chested in front of their stall for as long as possible.
The purchase of a roll of fabric made one salesman eye T’Pol beyond merely staring at her tits. “Are you planning on making clothing with that material, female?” the Ferengi queried.
To answer the Vulcan gestured to her own bare breasts. “Do I look like a female that disrespects Ferengi customs?” The man nodded in appreciation at T’Pol’s boobs, accepted her latinum and gave her the fabric. Slinging the roll over her shoulder the Vulcan sauntered on, leaving a mute trail of men in her wake as they stared at the beautiful woman’s wiggling ass.
The sight of one particular stall made T’Pol halt in surprise. The nude Vulcan changed course, walking over to the seller with hip-swishing, boob-bouncing steps. “Peace and long life,” she said, lifting one hand with her fingers split in the ancient greeting of her people.
The man behind the stall was a Vulcan merchant, a rarity on Ferenginar. His impassive demeanor cracked as she saw T’Pol standing absolutely naked in front of his wares. “Live long and prosper,” he answered, lifting one hand a little too quickly. His Vulcan willpower came in handy as he fought the urge to stare at the science officer’s tits. “Can I interest you in Vulcan fruits and vegetables?”
“Yes. Yes you can,” T’Pol said, turning root vegetables and ripe melons over on the store as she inspected them. “It has been a long time since I saw food from home.”
As the
“I would query as to your name,” the merchant said, his eyes finally pulled to the glorious sight of T’Pol’s udders dangling and swaying as she felt and checked the fruit. “You have a startling resemblance to a Vulcan historical figure.”
“I am frequently told as much,” T’Pol answered lightly. She straightened, and the Vulcan merchant almost sighed in disappointment. Meanwhile the men behind T’Pol did sigh in disappointment. “Do you have an ongoing supply of such produce from Vulcan?” When the merchant nodded, the short-haired brunette continued. “Then I would like a sample tray delivered to this address. Make it two of everything.” She produced a chunk of latinum and handed it over to the Vulcan as she relayed the necessary information.
The man nodded, scribbling down the address T’Pol provided. “Is this afternoon sufficient?” he inquired.
“As long as nothing is wet.” T’Pol lifted one finger to the clear sky, a rarity on humid and stormy Ferenginar. “Rain is predicted for later today and Vulcan produce is easily ruined by excess moisture.” Then with only a tiny trace of a smile T’Pol turned and walked away from the stall, her farewell the sight of her wiggling bottom.
The Vulcan woman sighed in satisfaction, the breath making her breasts lift and fall deliciously. It was looking to be a good week for the Moonlight Bounty delivery company. T’Pol, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol has rescued the surviving crew of the USS Sutherland, three hundred young women now safe in their estate awaiting transport off the Ferengi homeworld. The normally austere T’Pol felt that this victory deserved some minor celebration, and enjoyed the notion of a taste of home this afternoon when the fruit was delivered.
“And he was not so bad looking either,” T’Pol considered, thinking back to the Vulcan at the stall. “I wonder if he watched me leave…” Then she shook her head. “I am becoming illogical since being with Deanna and B’Elanna. But it is a good illogical,” she added mentally, smiling at the thought of her two brunette companions.
With the money they had earned from their delivery company Moonlight Bounty they had purchased an
estate in the Ferengi capital, a place to call home. Troi and Torres would be waiting for her.
Lost in pleasant thoughts T’Pol did not see the armed Ferengi approaching her until she was surrounded. She halted with a start, her eyes wide as she looked down the barrel of a Ferengi phaser.
“FCA enforcement,” one of the armed and uniformed Ferengi sneered. Like most of his species he was a short and skinny figure of a man, his small build made comically heavy-set by his armor and his gun, both appearing far too large for him. His jug-eared head, however, wore an expression that was fiercely serious, as did the other five men from the Ferengi Commerce Authority who were pointing phasers at T’Pol’s bare breasts. “Drop what you’re carrying and put your hands behind your head.”
The market was built on soil and mud. T’Pol looked about at the unsanitary ground and couldn’t find a safe spot to put down her groceries or the roll of brand-new fabric. Meanwhile a space had cleared around the Vulcan and the FCA guards with onlookers gathering at the border, watching with interest as the beautiful heavy-chested woman was challenged by the armed group. “What is the meaning of this oooh!”
The Vulcan cried out in discomfort as her arms were grabbed from behind and yanked back by a pair of Ferengi. Her purchases fell unnoticed to the dirty ground. One man shoved the back of T’Pol’s leg and forced the Vulcan to drop to her knees, her bare breasts jiggling with the impact. The sight caused a murmur of appreciation from the crowd.
“Am I under arrest?” T’Pol
demanded, then gasped as her belt was yanked from her
hips with a whiplash sound. The
“As co-owner of the Moonlight Bounty delivery company you are charged with breach of Ferengi commerce law,” one of the FCA enforcers sneered, gazing down at the captured Vulcan. “Get her on her feet.”
A hand took hold of her short dark hair and pulled upwards. With a cry T’Pol was forced up to her feet, her head pulled back and her back arching, forcing the lovely brunette to thrust her muddy tits forward. One of the Ferengi grinned, reaching out to wipe the muck from the Vulcan’s soft melons, admiring the way her supple orbs shifted under his fingers. His eyes glanced at the merchandize T’Pol had dropped and then returned his gaze to the deliciously proportioned science officer. “Leash the exhibit,” he ordered, “And take her to the Tower.”
Another leering Ferengi stepped up to T’Pol, brandishing a length of cord in his hands. The Vulcan jerked back, trying to keep her neck away from the leash. But the cord was not intended for T’Pol’s neck. Instead of a loop it ended in a figure-of-eight.
The woman known in the Federation as the First Modern Vulcan yelped in distress as the leash was looped around her right breast and tightened. Her boob was thrust forward, the volume of her generous titflesh preventing the leash from coming free. Then it was looped around her left tit and clasped between her melons, leaving T’Pol’s heavy breasts bound.
“I demand legal representation eeeeii!” The Ferengi pulled on the leash and T’Pol
staggered forward, her boobs bound and her wrists locked behind her back. All
around her she saw grins of appreciation and heard whistles at the spectacle of
the naked Vulcan being dragged back down the street by her boobs, her long legs
making awkward steps as she tried to keep up while easing the discomfort in her
bound tits.
“Team one to command, we have Exhibit A in custody. I repeat, Exhibit A is in custody.”
+++++
Deanna Troi awoke with a soft smile, her dark eyes looking up to the ceiling of her bedroom. She stretched, the bedsheets slipping away from her voluptuous five-foot-three figure. The counselor’s generously proportioned body was clad in a short white chemise made out of such fine lace that it was almost transparent.
Once upon a time the raven-haired beauty had been the ship’s counselor aboard the USS Enterprise, the pride of Starfleet. The daughter of the Betazoid ambassador and a Starfleet officer holding the rank of the Commander, the curvaceous twenty-nine year old was now committed to freeing women from slavery under the Ferengi, having briefly suffered the humiliating experience herself.
After an unpleasant few weeks Deanna Troi was enjoying a lazy morning, sleeping in late and only rising when she finally got tired of being in bed. The luxury of her sloth made her smile wickedly, stretching her pale limbs and arching her back, her boobs threatening to spill out of the low neckline of her chemise but not quite reaching freedom.
Her black Betazoid eyes looked over her well-furnished bedroom. One wall was floor-to ceiling glass opening up to a balcony, with a view overlooking lush riverside jungle strewn with colorful wildflowers all year long. The estate they had purchased was positioned on the river nearby restaurants and shops that also took advantage of the scenery. Troi had learned that dining at those restaurants were a lovely way to spend an evening, provided it didn’t rain. And provided that she could ignore all the Ferengi customers that would stare at her naked body.
The glass balcony door was open and the curtains gently shifted, a warm breeze blowing in. Troi slid back down beneath the bedsheets. “Just a little more sleep,” the brunette murmured to herself.
But Deanna Troi was going to get out of bed a little earlier than she hoped for.
Armed Ferengi rushed in through the balcony entrance while others kicked in the bedroom door. Deanna shrieked in fright, sitting up and clutching her bedsheets to herself as the counselor found herself suddenly surrounded by phaser-toting men.
“Ferengi Commerce Authority, put your hands up!”
Troi obeyed with wide dark eyes, her hands lifting and her bedsheets dropping a fraction to reveal just how low the neckline of her chemise was. The Betazoid’s milky orbs heaved with her startled breathing, the dark rings of her nipples almost peeking into view.
One of the Ferengi checked a datapadd, comparing the startled women in the bed with an image from FCA records. “This is her.”
“What is this about?” Deanna demanded. Then she yelped as an enforcer grabbed a handful of her bedsheets and ripped them away, leaving the counselor covered only in her skimpy lacey undergarments. Her pale legs folded at the knee as she involuntarily tried to shield her body. Then two Ferengi each grabbed the Betazoid by her milk-pale calves and dragged her off the bed. With a short shriek of surprise she hit the floor on her round rump, her boobs bouncing inside her chemise and almost popping free.
Troi cried out in distress as she was dragged out the balcony entrance on her ass. Her chemise rode up, revealing lacey white panties. “What are you doing?” she demanded as the Ferengi grabbed at her voluptuous figure, taking rough hold of tit and hip and pulling her over so she lay on her full chest. Her arms were yanked behind her and her wrists secured with cuffs. Finally she was pulled onto her feet and marched briskly down the balcony steps into the garden, her lacey garments twisted awkwardly around her voluptuous figure.
“The business you co-own is charged with multiple breaches of Ferengi Commerce Law and you are under arrest,” one of the FCA enforcers declared as he pushed Deanna along, making the Starfleet officer’s tits tremble with her uneven steps. Her bare feet skidded on the garden path as she was marched out the estate’s side entrance and into the street.
Passers-by halted at the sight of the raven-haired beauty
being frog-marched into the open, clad in her lacey undergarments her
imperiously beautiful face filled with helpless outrage. “What are you talking
about?” Troi demanded as she was forced to turn,
facing the leader of the team that had arrested her. “What charges?”
“Among other things,” the Ferengi leered, “You’re wearing clothing in public, female.” He grabbed the bodice of Deanna’s skimpy underwear and pulled downwards. The fragile lace tore away from the counselor curvaceous figure. Troi gasped as her breasts were bared, the Starfleet officer standing in the street topless with only her lacey panties to cover her modesty.
But they only lasted a few seconds. Another Ferengi behind her grabbed the
waist of her underwear and pulled hard, snapping the brunette’s panties off her
wide hips and leaving Deanna Troi standing naked in
the street. A gathering crowd of Ferengi shoppers watched the sight of the beautiful
Starfleet officer blush and tremble with smiles of appreciation, savoring the
sight of her round bottom, bald snatch and large supple tits tipped with big
brown nipples.
The ambassador’s daughter quivered in shame, her dark eyes dropping to look at her own nakedness. With her wrists cuffed behind her back she could do nothing to cover her nudity. Her heavy, soft melons and perfect bald pussy was displayed for every man in the street to see and there was absolutely nothing Troi could do about it!
The Ferengi behind her grabbed her upper arms and forced Deanna to straighten. The leader of the group produced a tit-leash, brandishing its figure-of-eight collar before the Betazoid’s startled face, and then began looping it around Troi’s breasts.
“Oh gawd this isn’t happening!” the Commander whimpered, and then squealed as the leash was tightened around her soft globes. Her tits poked forwards uncomfortably, her brown nips pointing forwards like little cannons. Then a jerk on the leash made Deanna stagger forwards, flushing pink with humiliation as she was marched through the street.
“Where are you taking me?” she cried, trying not to listen to the murmured comments and whistles of interest from the many men watching her humiliating ordeal.
The Ferengi didn’t answer, instead switching on his
communicator to report his success to his superiors. “Exhibit B is in custody. We’re
on-route to the front entrance of the estate.”
+++++
B’Elanna Torres lifted her hands to her hair as she felt hot water stream down over her naked body.
Voyager’s chief engineer was enjoying a long hot shower. “Perfect way to start the day,” she smiled, her tanned figure turning as water traveled deliciously down the slopes of her proud high breasts. The half-Klingon possessed a taut flat stomach, firm athletic ass, trim thighs and a build that was strong without sacrificing beauty. Her breasts were surprisingly full and soft, and presently were positioned directly below the shower faucet. The warm water made her brown nips soft and large as they jiggled on her tits, her breasts quivering as she scrubbed shampoo into her dark hair.
Torres closed her eyes, her hands moving from her hair to
slide down over her lovely figure. She cupped and lifted her breasts against
the water flow, then slid her palms down her waist to ride her curving hips,
then traced the curves of her firm ass with her fingertips. B’Elanna tipped her
lather-covered hair under the faucet, washing foam down her neck, between her
breasts and down to the bald perfection of her hairless pussy, before the suds descended
her long athletic legs.
She heard the bathroom door open but didn’t bother to turn. The steam from the shower would have obscured her view anyway. “So you finally decided to crawl out of bed, Deanna?”
Then the shower door was shoved open and B’Elanna was pressed tits-first against the glass wall. “What the?!?”
“FCA! Don’t move, female!” Suddenly the bathroom was filled with armed Ferengi. Pressed against the shower’s glass wall B’Elanna wiggled uselessly, her breasts flattening deliciously against the transparent surface. Her brown teats squeaked on the glass. Then the sensation of a phaser barrel pressing against her naked back made Torres freeze. More guns were pointed at the Klingon’s naked chest as more men positioned themselves around the shower, training their weapons on her as they admired the view of B’Elanna Torres’ naked and wet body.
“You’ve got to be kidding! Hey!” she objected as her wrists were yanked behind her back and cuffed. B’Elanna jerked and wiggled, her tits making squealing noises as they rubbed against the glass wall of the shower. Then Voyager’s chief engineer was pulled out of the shower and shoved through the bathroom door, falling awkwardly to her knees in the corridor outside. A hand grabbed her damp hair and pulled her up with a yelp of distress, forcing Torres to stagger along with her captors with tit-jiggling steps.
The estate was a cluster of buildings around a central courtyard, where they were clearly forcing B’Elanna to go. “You Ferengi pigs! What are you doing?” Torres’ complaints died as she was pushed into the large courtyard in the middle of the estate, the naked Klingon staring mutely around her.
B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol had gone to great expense to rescue the remaining
crew of the USS Sutherland. Having
saved them from a lifetime of service as sex slaves they had brought the three
hundred women here, to their estate, to await transport home.
And now those women were captive again. Ferengi enforcer teams moved quickly through the estate, capturing and cuffing women and dragging them to the central courtyard. Cries of fright and shrieks of outrage could be heard as, out of B’Elanna’s sight, more girls were arrested. The morning raid had caught most of them in their beds, and so most of the females being herded into the courtyard were dressed skimpily in bras and panties or short simple shifts.
But those would not last long. “What are you aaahhh!” screamed a teenaged Ensign as her
simple white chemise was ripped away from her body. She flushed in
embarrassment, trying to turn her nakedness away from her captors. Her
humiliation was doubled as printed on her bare breasts and buttocks in big
black letters were the words FOR
Many women had already been ‘processed’ and now kneeled in
the courtyard, shackled and naked. Humans, Andorians, Trills and Deltans, women
from many species across the Federation were now in the hands of the Ferengi
Commerce Authority. Armed FCA thugs surrounded the kneeling group, at least a
hundred men, watching over their captives with phasers
ready. The previous evening these women had been looking forward to freedom, a
trip home to the Federation, and now those hopes were dashed. And, like the
Ensign, each of them wore the words FOR
The dark eyes of B’Elanna Torres the met
the blue-eyed gaze of Elizabeth Shelby. The blonde captain of the USS Sutherland knelt naked at the front
of the group, her bare breasts thrust forward thanks to the bindings pulling
her arms back. On her left was Lieutenant Robin Lefler,
the green-eyed beauty also bound and naked, her pretty features lowered in
embarrassment as she stared at her own bare breasts. On
“I’ve told them that we’re Starfleet officers,”
“Then that will be one more mark against Moonlight Bounty,” one of the FCA men
answered, “If true. But you wouldn’t be the first naked female claiming to be
Starfleet. Any brothel girl will say it if they thought it would free them.”
A slap on her firm rump made B’Elanna step forwards. Her slick and soapy figure was shoved into line and Torres was forced to kneel with the rest of the group. “What’s happening B’Elanna?” asked Ensign Hedril, the eighteen year old’s pink nipples rising and falling rapidly with her fast and nervous breathing. She was blushing hard with embarrassment, turning her body left and right as she vainly tried to hide the “FOR SALE” sign on her boobs from her Ferengi captors. “I thought you said we’d be safe!”
“This is a mistake,” Torres said, “We’ll work it out. This has got to be a mistake,” she told herself.
Voyager’s chief engineer watched in naked indignation as the Ferengi began to sort the females into groups. One by one the women were forced to stand and turn, shoved around by the Ferengi so vigorously that their breasts bounced. Asses were fondled and tits were squeezed, making the young women flinch and shut their eyes in shame. Captives were forced to open their mouths so that their teeth could be inspected. Then each female was sent to one side of the courtyard or the other. Quickly B’Elanna could tell how they were being sorted. Those possessing the most beautiful features were on one side. The women with less pleasing attributes were sent to the other.
Thanks to vigorous Starfleet physical requirements the vast
majority of
“They’re already planning how they’ll sell us,” muttered Torres in helpless fury. Then it was her turn and the athletic twenty-two year old was pulled to her feet and slapped hard on the ass, making her tits shake as she was forced to step forward.
“Good skin, athletic build,” commented a Ferengi auditor. He reached out to grip one of B’Elanna’s breasts. Voyager’s chief engineer thrashed, pulling her tit out of the man’s hands. With an annoyed nod he directed one of the guards to hold Torres still. Gripped firmly by her upper arms B’Elanna was helpless as the Ferengi squeezed and lifted her melons, testing them for softness and firmness. “They’re real. Sensitive too,” he noted as the twenty-two year old trembled with the sensation of fingers around her teats. “Turn her around.”
Voyager’s chief engineer turned, blushing in shame and anger as she was sized up like a piece of meat in front of the Sutherland’s female crew. Her dark eyes shut as Ferengi hands massaged her ass and fondled her thighs. “Very nice,” the auditor noted as B’Elanna was turned again, nude and full-frontal for his appraisal. “Pretty despite being a Klingon half-blood.”
“Klingon?” one of the FCA enforcers asked. The short and over-armored Ferengi marched over, grabbing Torres’ chin and forcing her to turn her face towards him. With one glance he released the Klingon’s face, his eyes traveling down the twenty-two year old’s firm and delicious figure. “Didn’t you read the briefing? Or notice this one hasn’t got slave markings?” He pulled out his communicator. “Exhibit C is in custody. Bringing her out.”
“Exhibit C?” Torres gaped. “I’m a piece of evidence?”
Instead of an answer, the Ferengi produced a length of cord that ended in a peculiar figure-of-eight.
The female crew of the USS Sutherland, now naked, shackled and on their knees, watched with gasps of sympathy at what was tied around B’Elanna Torres’ bare breasts. As she bit her lip in discomfort and pleasure at the sensation of her udders being bound, the twenty-two year old turned her thoughts to their only hope of rescue.
“Melika,” B’Elanna
thought, “I hope you’re paying attention!”
+++++
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s only hope of rescue was, at that very moment, on her knees with her lips wrapped around the shaft of an erect cock.
“Mmmm,” Melika murmured as she bobbed her head up and down the holographic organ, her blue eyes looking up at the stunningly handsome face of a Trill male. She disengaged her lips from his hardness, pumping his shaft with one hand while she looked upwards archly at the man. “A hologram using a hologram for sex?” she teased playfully, her free hand fondling her breasts through her tight elastic uniform. “I’m sure there’s a law against that somewhere.” Then the teenager resumed her work, bobbing and sucking on holographic Trill dick.
Melika had sole use of Starheart’s bridge at the moment, and had used her privacy for a little play time. The same holographic emitters that projected her own presence she now used to create a playmate: a Trill male, modeled with a particularly athletic eighteen year old body, with rock-hard abs and pecs over which two lines of black Trill spots traveled. Tailored for her own tastes, Melika loved the way those spots traced his magnificent muscles.
The holographic male looked down with a loving smile as the Andorian suckled on his organ. He was just an image, nowhere near as sophisticated as Melika herself, and completely obedient to her whims. She didn’t need to fellate him but it gave her a little thrill to do so.
She had also programmed him to know exactly what she wanted. Gently the Trill drew the teen’s face back from his cock, reached down and pulled the girl up to her feet. With an enthusiastic smile Ensign Melika gripped the waistband of her top and peeled her uniform upwards, gyrating her hips as she stripped. The eighteen year old’s round blue boobs pop free and bounce as she wedged her top over her head, leaving her chest bare. Wrapping a muscular arm around the Andorian’s slim waist the Trill leaned in and planted his mouth over the Ensign’s pale right nipple.
“Ooohh,” moaned Melika, arching her back and presenting her breasts to be sucked. Her blue eyes rolled as his kisses and bites traveled over her two perfect chest treats, her peaches lifting and shifting and jiggling as they were attended to. Her large pale nipples grew erect, stubby towers poking a clear inch from the blue curve of her titflesh, her silky skin tingling with pleasure as her super-sensitive body responded. Her stiffness only made her teats easier to catch between the Trill’s teeth. “Ohh aaahhh!”
The male hologram’s free hand slid down the teen’s flat stomach, pushed inside her waistband, brushed through her trimmed blonde thatch and found the delicate folds beneath. “Oh yes,” mewled Melika, pushing her pants down to reveal her firm teenaged bottom and to fully expose her snatch to the man’s attention. His fingers worked diligently at her nether lips, teasing and stroking her to excitement even as his mouth continued to work magic on her rapidly rising and falling breasts. Her hands slid over his sculpted chest, enjoying the contours she had herself programmed to perfectly match her tastes, and Melika felt orgasm approaching.
“Okay Bigboy,” she moaned, her blue eyes moving from the Trill’s impossibly handsome face down to his erect organ, “Time for the main event.”
The holographic male followed the programmed queue to perfection. Melika’s illusionary top was torn away from her body, the tasty handfuls of her breasts jiggling with her stripping. Next her bottom was ripped from her legs, her naked body swaying and her erect nipples bumping against the Trill’s marble-hard chest. Now completely naked, the eighteen year old leaned against her lover, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, and then lifted her long slim legs to wrap them about his hips.
Melika’s blue eyes shut in intense pleasure as she felt his cock nuzzle her tender folds and then push upwards deliciously into her tight pussy. Her lips opened in a cry of delight as she was filled, her back arching and stiff stubby nips pointing towards the ceiling. She felt his hands grip her hips and she nodded with eager need.
The Trill began to pump, his powerful legs flexing, driving his length up into Melika’s snatch and then sliding it out a few critical inches before pushing it back into her. The teenager squealed in ecstasy, throwing her head back and thrashing, her long blonde hair flicking around her naked body and her bare breasts bouncing vigorously with each thrust.
Melika climaxed, and it wasn’t going to be for the last time. She squealed and scratched the hologram’s back with her fingernails but he continued to energetically bang the blue-skinned blonde, making the teen’s supple peaches leap with even greater energy. She grabbed the back of his neck, staring at the Trill with hungry intensity as she ground her hips against his, rejoicing at the sensation of a cock filling her pussy. Then the Andorian leaned back limply again and let the hologram take over again, thrusting into her and making her wail in pleasure as her pale nipples danced in figures-of-eight before the Trill hologram’s face.
Suddenly Melika’s eyes opened wide. “What?” She half-twisted, still being relentlessly banged with her tits jumping, but her attention was elsewhere. “Intrusion software?! I’ve got to eeeiiiaaAAAHHHH!!!”
Melika might have been able to counter the FCA’s software program infecting her systems, except that she orgasmed at that precise moment. The teenager shrieked in ecstasy, grabbing at her own breasts and squeezing hard, unconsciously twisting her teats between thumbs and forefingers as her nethers convulsed in an explosion of pleasure.
The invading program won.
Suddenly Melika was on her knees,
fully clothed again, bobbing her head as she eagerly sucked on the Trill
hologram’s cock. “Mmmm,” she murmured, “A hologram
using a hologram for sex? I’m sure there’s a law against that somewhere.”
Sixty seconds of Melika’s operational run-time had been deleted. This had thrown the artificial intelligence backwards one minute, replaying the last sixty seconds she had lost.
Once again the teenager was lifted to her feet, eagerly pulling her top up to bare her breasts for the Trill to suck. As before Melika slid her pants down slightly, exposing her blue bottom and providing easier access to her nethers for the man’s fingers. Repeating herself the Ensign let him rip her uniform away, leaving her completely naked, and Melika eagerly wrapped her limbs around the Trill so his cock could get inside her.
And then she did it again. And then she did it again. And again. And again.
Troi, Torres and T’Pol’s only hope of rescue was trapped in a programming loop, obliviously repeating a cycle of sucking, stripping and fucking, climaxing over and over. Melika wasn’t going to be riding to anyone’s rescue. The only riding she would be doing was on the cock of a Trill hologram.
+++++
Another yank on her tit-leash made T’Pol stagger, her long legs quickening as she tried to keep up with her captors. The Vulcan’s plump mouth was open in a silent ‘o’ of humiliation as she was forced to walk, completely naked and surrounded by Ferengi guards. And beyond them, trying to catch a peek of the gorgeous woman being marched nude and bound through the streets, were Ferengi civilians enjoying the show.
T’Pol knew where they were going, having traveled this route before. They were taking her back to the estate that she, Torres and Troi had purchased. Outside the main gate another group of FCA enforcers were waiting, looking slightly comical with their heavy armor and oversized phasers. But the two captives they were guarding were a more serious sight.
B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi stood side by side, their faces bowed in defeat. The Klingon and Betazoid wore nothing but the shackles on their wrists and the cruel leashes tied around their generous breasts. Seeing T’Pol’s arrival, also nude and leashed, the engineer and the counselor both groaned in dismay.
“All three in the bag,” grunted the head of the arrest team, the Ferengi rubbing one giant ear as he looked over the three lovely brunettes, now arranged in a mouthwatering line. “Bring out the rest.”
“The rest?” T’Pol stared at the estate’s main gate in dread. “Oh no.”
Troi, Torres and T’Pol watched as the female crew of the USS Sutherland were marched out into the street. While they had been spared the humiliation of a tit-leash each and every one of them was naked and shackled with wrists behind backs and breasts thrust forward and jiggling as they awkwardly followed the Ferengis’ cruel instructions. The words “FOR SALE” and “SOLD” were clearly visible on their breasts and bottoms, a sharp reminder that these women had freshly been purchased from slavery. Now it seemed likely that they would return to it.
The progression of naked and humiliated Starfleet women seemed to go on for several minutes as the three hundred females were marched out. Some had joined Starfleet to escape harsh lives, others to make a difference, others as a stepping stone in careers in sciences, engineering or medicine, and some had just wanted to see some action. But all of them were now forced into the streets of Ferenginar completely naked with their hands tied behind their backs, every inch of their unclothed bodies on display!
“Let’s make this quick,” one of the FCA enforcers ordered, drawing out a strange probe, slim with a pronounced bulb at its tip. “I want all of them searched thoroughly for contraband.”
“Searched?” B’Elanna said in confusion as other uniformed Ferengi unclipped similar probes from their belts and spread out across the crowd of nude and shackled women, “Can’t you just scan us hey!”
The Klingon’s complaint became a yelp of shock as a guard behind her grabbed her dark hair, forced her to bend forward with her boobs dangling, and positioned the probe in his hand at the pouting lips of her vagina. “Wait a second you’re not going to ooohhhh!” A long low moan escaped Torres’ lips as the device’s tip was wiggled into her tightness, its bulb stretching her sensitive folds.
“You barbarians!” cried out Deanna as she too was forced to lean forward, presenting her snatch. The counselor’s curvy body tensed and wiggled as a probe wormed up into her passage, the brunette crying out in distress and pleasure.
“Logically all you need is a tricorder
and uuhhhh ohhh!” T’Pol’s calm and measured tones gave way to throaty groans
as the Vulcan’s snatch was invaded by a sensory device, the
They were not the only women to be ‘searched’. The enforcers were pushing the other naked captives into queues, each wide-eyed with shock and pink-cheeked with humiliation as they underwent the same degrading search. Starfleet officers were forced to lean forward, thighs spread and tits swaying, as probes were pushed into their lovely snatches. Worse, this embarrassing ordeal was taking place on the street in full view of the growing crowd of Ferengi bystanders!
“Oohhh, you bastards will never get away with aaahhhh!!” B’Elanna let out a shudder of disbelief and ecstasy as the probe in her snatch began its scan cycle, vibrating between her legs. She lifted herself on her toes, involuntarily offering her pussy to the device as it scanned and stimulated her super-sensitive kitty. T’Pol and Deanna joined her, the three heroines moaning in unwanted pleasure even in the depth of their humiliation.
Ferengi spectators were lining the street now, watching with sharp-toothed grins and many with recorders as the women underwent this new ordeal. An Asian Ensign squealed in disbelief as pleasure flooded her invaded vagina. Robin Lefler wiggled, tits swaying left and right as her pussy was probed. The eighteen year old Hedril watched with terrified wide eyes as the girl in front of her was scanned, a Starfleet officer forced to endure a humiliating examination of her vagina, and the redhead trembled as she knew that she would be next.
“You can’t seriously justify this!” Elizabeth Shelby’s voice
was strident with outrage but cracked at the end, her own helpless nudity all
too plain to see. The blonde’s breasts jiggled as an FCA enforcer grabbed the
Captain by her arm, pulling her over and forcing the complaining woman to bend
forward. “There’s no sane reason why Oh
my gawd aaaahhhh!!!”
What made their ordeal so much deeper was that each and every one of these women had been carefully conditioned to the heights of sexual sensitivity. The vibrating probes in their kitties were hitting all the right buttons. Every woman being ‘searched’ mewled in pleasure, their too-responsive bodies quickly climbing towards orgasm.
Before she reached her own peak the probe in B’Elanna’s
pussy was pulled free, popping out of her tender lips. “Oh thank gawd,” she moaned, “I almost aaaeeeiiii!!” The Klingon jerked, tits flicking
forwards and her mouth and eyes opening in orgasm as the vibrating probe was
thrust into her ass!
T’Pol and Deanna also squealed in climax as their probes were shifted from vagina to anus. Yelps and screams and shrieks of pleasure could be heard across the street as the women of the Sutherland, now super-sensitive sex slaves, orgasmed in response to the probes inside them.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol gasped in unison as the sensors were withdrawn from their passages. The trio sank to their knees, their own scans completed, and panted bare breasted as they looked at each other in humiliated disbelief. The Betazoid flinched as another Starfleet officer reached climax, unwillingly orgasming as her nethers were scanned. Her empathy forced the counselor to experience what the other women were undergoing, and it was overwhelming.
With a team of probe-wielding Ferengi
at work it took nearly ten minutes for every female present to be scanned.
Ensigns wailed in distress, tears running down their cheeks as the teenagers
were forced to bend over and endure the search. Leah Brahms bit her lip and
shut her eyes as she cummed, pink nipples hard erect
nubs at the dangling tips of her trembling breasts. Every officer and crewwoman
of the Sutherland experienced the
humiliation of the vaginal and anal probe, every one of them cumming as their Orion conditioned bodies responded to the
vibrating devices.
The last few women struggled the
most, tits jumping on their chests and bare legs lifting as they vainly tried
to kick the FCA enforcers away. But their sexy struggles and shouts of
resistance were entirely futile. A final few shrieks and squeals of pleasure
could be heard as the remainder of the Sutherland’s
women were forced to climax as they were scanned.
“Search completed,” one of the enforcers reported, “Nil weapons, trackers or other devices detected. They’re safe to move.”
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol all yelped in discomfort as their tit-leashes were yanked, pulling the three heroines from their knees to their feet. “We’re moving,” a Ferengi told them, and they began their long and humiliating journey.
+++++
The Betazoid, the Vulcan and the Klingon were kept in front, the prize of the day’s arrest. The other women followed, their heads bowed in shame as they were forced to march nude and shackles through the streets of Ferenginar. More than a few of the teenaged crewwomen were crying in disbelief at this new humiliation.
It didn’t take long for word to spread. First men at stores and cafes watched with surprise, then onlookers gathered on the footpaths. Within ten minutes a hovercraft was floating over the scene, observing and recording the spectacle for the daily news reports.
A spotlight shone down from the vehicle, moving over the
three hundred naked and tit-stamped females before steadying on the three
brunettes in the lead. As they lacked the humiliating markings it was clear
these were the culprits, the ones that the FCA had homed in on. The three
former Starfleet officers trembled in shame, but were grateful that the true
extent of their humiliation wasn’t known. If the Ferengi were aware that the
women behind them were the crew of the USS
Sutherland, that the crew of a Federation starship had been stripped naked
and shackled and forced to march naked in the streets of Ferenginar, they would
have had a much larger audience.
When a captive slowed she was slapped in the ass, or in the case of the three Starfleet officers a short yank on her leash made her pick up the pace with a yelp of distress. They were kept in lines, rows of bare bottoms wiggling and sets of breasts shaking as they were forced to keep a brisk pace. Humiliation burned in each and every woman as they walked naked through the streets, delicious bodies utterly on display for the men who gathered on the footpaths to watch.
Then it began to rain. Cold droplets blown by a sharp wind splashed on bare skin, the first light shower quickly becoming a downpour. In minutes each woman was completely soaked with hair plastered to cheeks and naked curves shining with moisture. Three hundred pairs of nipples hardened and became erect in the cold.
“Where are you taking us?” demanded Deanna, her dark eyes shutting in discomfort as her handler automatically pulled on her tit-leash and squeezed her breasts a little tighter.
“The
B’Elanna’s eyes widened. “That’s an hour’s walk from here!”
“It would be more logical,” T’Pol said, shifting her shoulders as she tried in vain to settle her leashed breasts into a more comfortable position, “That if the Ferengi Commerce Authority would simply beam us into custody instead of marching us on parade.”
“The parade is the point.” Deanna Troi’s voice was filled with despair. “They say we’ve broken their laws. They want to remind everyone of what happens to people like us. They’re making an example of us,” she finished bitterly.
Walking three abreast Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna continued their humiliating trek. Despite the rain Ferengi still gathered to watch the passing beauties, drinking in the sight of the naked and humiliated parade in the street. Rarely were so many females nude in one place.
“Any of them for sale?” a bystander shouted from the footpath.
“After the trial,” yelled an FCA soldier in reply.
“Trial?” breathed B’Elanna, “These animals are going to put us on trial?”
+++++
The
The Klingon, the Betazoid and the Vulcan shivered, their exposed bodies trembling in the cold rain. An hour’s march had left the three brunettes cold and weary, their naked skin covered in gooseflesh and their nipples stingingly hard in the cold. Her dark hair plastered to her cheeks and neck, a nude and soaked B’Elanna Torres watched as the crew of the Sutherland was led away. A row of bare asses wiggled as the stripped and shackled Starfleet officers and crew headed off at gunpoint, surrounded by more than a hundred armed Ferengi. The once-proud and valued women of the fleet had been stripped of their clothing and dignity, their defeat watched by a distressingly large number of Ferengi on the sidewalks. Most of the spectators had been protected from the rain by umbrellas, protection the nude women did not share.
“Where are you talking them?” Torres demanded, cringing in anticipation of another sharp and disturbingly pleasurable yank on her tit leash.
It didn’t come. “The assets of Moonlight Bounty are to be frozen until the outcome of the trial,” explained a Ferengi auditor. The wiry alien’s eyes were moving from the three naked beauties standing shackled and soaked before him to the small datapadd in his hands as he punched in their information. “Your slaves will be stored and liquidated later and the latinum value claimed by the Consortium.”
“You mean they’ll be sold if we lose,” Deanna said pointedly, her boobs jiggling as settled her naked shoulders.
“Yes, if you lose, of course.” From the tone of his voice the Ferengi didn’t place much faith in their chances.
“What charges do we face?” T’Pol queried, the long-limbed science officer’s teeth chattering slightly before she closed her plump lips tightly. The Vulcan was poorly handling the cold and the rain, her lovely biology more suited to the hot and arid conditions of her homeworld.
“I’m just responsible for the confiscated funds and assets,” the auditor answered, “But I believe the charge is making a profit while being female.”
Troi, Torres and T’Pol gaped in astonishment. “You stripped us naked, chained us up and paraded us across the city because we made a profit?” exclaimed Deanna. “The most admired activity in Ferengi society?”
“You’re females,” shrugged the auditor, gesturing to the three heroines’ lovely naked figures. “It is kind of obvious. Can you try to look less outraged?” The Ferengi lifted his datapadd, pointing it at Deanna, and pressed a button on the device. A tiny lens flashed, illuminating the delicious curves of the brunette beauty’s voluptuous figure.
Troi blinked and stepped back, boobs shaking. “What was that?”
The Ferengi auditor turned the padd, taking a snapshot of an unprepared B’Elanna Torres and an equally surprised T’Pol, the device’s flash briefly lighting up the athletic Klingon’s delicious tits and the lean Vulcan’s heavy boobs. “Mugshots,” the Ferengi answered, filing the images to the data he was assembling. “I am obliged by law to warn you that any attempts to escape, covertly communicate with outside aid, or otherwise disrupt the Ferengi legal process will result in punitive measures being taken, primarily in the form of fines.”
“You can hardly take any more money from us,” T’Pol said, rolling her lovely eyes.
“Fines would be extracted from your frozen assets.”
The news shocked the three Starfleet officers. The three hundred women they had been about to deliver back to the Federation were now hostages. B’Elanna, T’Pol and Deanna had to be obedient and respect Ferengi law if they were to have any hope of preventing those women from ending up naked on the auction blocks of Ferenginar as punishment.
“This is ridiculous,” B’Elanna grumbled, her stunning unclothed figure turning as she looked around herself. “Are we going to get a lawyer at least?”
“A lawyer who represents a female has a fool for a client,” the auditor quipped. The Ferengi joke, a mangled relative of the human gag, did not go over well with the three Starfleet officers. B’Elanna, Deanna and T’Pol just stood there, naked and the shackled and shivering, their nips stiff buds on the tips of their tits.
“Actually I’m glad you asked, because that’s a problem for you,” the Ferengi said. “You won’t be allowed into the hearing without representation, and of course you won’t get representation without paying the required fees. As your assets have been frozen, your ability to pay those fees is presently zero. It’s a catch-22 that frequently applies to females making a profit because by law we have to claim the ill-gotten funds. You’ll have to pay using money honestly earned.”
T’Pol shifted her cuffed wrists behind her back, searching for a more comfortable position. The movement made her shoulders wiggle and in turn made the Vulcan’s bare breasts sway on her chest magnificently. “Then how will we secure funds to pay for legal representation?”
“They mentioned that in the briefing. Hang on.” The auditor tapped a button his datapadd, scrolling through the information. This process took time, as he frequently lifted his eyes from his screen to look over Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s gorgeous nakedness. “There it is. The casino Hello Latinum was selected to raise the funds.”
Deanna’s lovely dark eyes narrowed in skepticism. “Why would a Ferengi casino pay for our legal fees?”
“They aren’t,” the Ferengi said, as if the idea were ridiculous. “They’re going to employ you. One night’s work.”
Naked, handcuffed and their bare breasts firmly leashed, T’Pol, B’Elanna and Deanna exchanged a look. “Well,” Torres said optimistically, “Working at a casino can’t be any worse than where we are now.”
+++++
The door hissed open and B’Elanna Torres staggered through it. As it slammed shut behind her a spotlight fell on Voyager’s chief engineer, making the twenty-two year old shield her dark eyes with her arm.
A night’s rest and a good meal that done much to restore the Lieutenant’s confidence. Being clothed again was an added boost. Torres had been provided with a black and yellow Starfleet uniform, the old style that was well known in the quadrant despite having been replaced by newer outfit designs. It was a welcome change from nudity, but B’Elanna knew enough of the Ferengi to suspect that her clothed state was only temporary.
“Say hello to B’Elanna Torres!” A woman’s voice came from a speaker system high above, a sexy and slinky voice that toyed with the words she spoke. “She attended and dropped out of Starfleet academy before joining up with the Maquis terrorists and ended up on Ferenginar, all by the tender age of twenty two. She is fit, combat trained and has demonstrated great determination and spirit. Also a great ass and surprisingly nice tits for a Klingon! We’re very pleased to have B’Elanna as our first contestant here at Hello Latinum!”
B’Elanna had been pushed into some kind of multi-leveled arena. The centre was a deep pit, circled by a slightly higher level, which was circled by a slightly higher level, then another. The levels were connected by shallow ramps but someone as fit as Torres could climb or drop from level to level without too much difficulty. The outer wall was tall and impossible to climb, its surfaces completely smooth except for the outlines of a few closed doors, one of which the Klingon had just been shoved through.
More than a dozen sensor drones hovered in the air above the arena. They were spherical machines about the size of a baseball with a glowing red eye at its center. Each of the drones watched the newly-arrived Torres with robotic intensity. Then as one they all turned, looking towards another entrance.
The metal slid aside and T’Pol was shoved through. The Vulcan had also been provided with a 24th century Starfleet uniform, hers in the black and blue of science personnel. Her haughty but beautiful features turned away from a spotlight that illuminated her long-limbed, generously-breasted figure.
“Contestant number two is T’Pol, the famed First Modern Vulcan, considered by many to be the Mother of the Federation and considered by more to be drop-dead gorgeous. Just check out those plump cocksucker lips! Vulcan physiology and training makes our ample-chested T’Pol a prime contender. Consider your bets carefully, gentlemen!”
“Bets?” T’Pol queried, her brown eyes moving across the many hovering drones observing her.
“Looks like we managed to find a casino even more perverted than Mox’s.” Settling her hands on her lovely hips B’Elanna regarded the robotic spheres with distaste. “Pathetic.”
A third door slid open and Deanna Troi
staggered out into the light. The Betazoid’s voluptuous figure was clad not in
a regular Starfleet uniform, but in a figure-hugging lavender jumpsuit with a
low neckline. It was an outfit she had frequently worn while serving aboard the
Galaxy class
“And lastly we have none other than the beautiful Deanna Troi! Daughter of the Betazoid ambassador, Deanna studied trans-species psychology and quickly rose in Starfleet to sit on the bridge of the USS Enterprise, the Federation flagship, as both the ship’s counselor and diplomatic officer. We’re told that this is merely a quality replica of the original, but I’d like a side-by-side comparison to say for sure, preferably sans clothing. Am I right boys?”
Deanna straightened, taking in her surroundings with large
dark eyes. Troi, Torres and T’Pol
all displayed lovely pairs of bumps tipping their breasts as their nipples
poked against the fabric, and the enticing cameltoes
each woman presented were firm reminders that they were wearing no underwear.
“I can almost sense the people watching us,” the empath
said, “They’re close by, probably in an adjacent chamber.”
The hovering drones descended, circling the three lovely brunettes, their glowing red eyes drinking in the sight of their beautiful bodies clad in their figure-hugging uniforms. B’Elanna swiped at one of the drones and they drew back slightly from the Klingon, relying on their zoom features to get a detailed look at the Lieutenant’s firm twenty-two year old body.
“Place your bets!” ordered the unseen announcer, “Remember there are multiple stages with increasing rewards along the way! Who will be first? B’Elanna? T’Pol? Or Deanna?”
“What are they talking about?” T’Pol questioned. The Vulcan looked around the arena with a raised eyebrow. “Do they intend us to fight each other, and wager on the outcome?”
“They’re deluded if they think we’ll make a spectacle of ourselves for their entertainment,” B’Elanna asserted, unaware of how much of a spectacle she and her companions were about to become.
“Look at the size of this place,” Deanna pointed out. “This is far too much room for just three fighters. Maybe… oh god,” gasped Troi, her black Betazoid eyes going wide as she sensed a new and terrifying presence. “That’s not possible!”
“What is not possible?” T’Pol said, and then all three of them were staring in horror as something emerged from the pit in the arena center.
Mottled brown and grey tentacles rose, dozens of thick, powerful limbs blindly groping at the air. Below the forest of tentacles was the creature’s body, a multi-ton fleshy mass of tissue that rumbled and pulsed with its excitement. It rolled over, revealing in its center a massive fang-filled mouth easily large to encompass a grown man, or a sexy female Starfleet officer. It turned that gaping mouth to the ceiling and roared, reaching upwards with its tentacles.
“It’s a Betazoid Pleasuresaur,” Troi whispered. “They’re supposed to be extinct!”
A tentacle swept out and grabbed at Torres. It was a clumsy grab, smacking the twenty-two year old hard across the chest and making her roll on the floor. As she scrambled up the Klingon saw that her top was ripped slightly from the blow, revealing a swell of cleavage.
“Oh, we almost had a tits-out moment from B’Elanna Torres!” declared the female announcer, her voice showing no concern at the peril these women were facing. “Nearly an upset! The best odds are for the slower-moving Deanna Troi to be the first to have her breasts bared!”
“These barbarians are betting on which of us is stripped first whooop!” Deanna’s complaint turned into a yelp as she ducked beneath a swinging tentacle. The Pleasuresaur’s central mass shifted and suddenly its tentacles were all moving towards the three heroines.
“
T’Pol was sprinting in the other direction, circling around the arena as quickly as her long legs could carry her. She ducked beneath a swiping tentacle and then leapt over a second. A third flashed forwards, trained on the Vulcan’s wiggling ass. “Aahh aaahhhh!!” cried out the science officer as her round bottom was soundly struck, making her arch her back and thrust her generous melons forwards. She staggered, forcing her long legs to steady as ran onward.
Surprisingly it was Deanna who was faring the best against
the monstrous Pleasuresaur. Its many limbs swept
about, homing in on the sound of her footfalls, her breathing and her scent,
but the voluptuous Betazoid would step aside, duck and roll, or halt in the
middle of a sprint, and the tentacles would race past her without making
contact. Troi’s empathic senses forewarned her of the
creature’s intentions, giving her the psychic equivalent of eyes in the back of
her head. Despite being not as strong or as fit as her Vulcan and Klingon
companions, the heavy-chested, wide-hipped brunette
had not yet been touched by the creature.
B’Elanna’s dark hair flicked around her face as she looked over her shoulder in mid-run. Tentacles were closing in behind her. More blocked her path in front. The twenty-two year old dove from the level she was on to the one immediately below, the Pleasuresaur’s limbs whipped through the air inches behind her. Diverting one of its tentacles from the chase for T’Pol, the creature lashed out and ensnared Torres’ left ankle. With a shout of anger the Maquis was hoisted into the air upside down, her lovely figure thrashing and wiggling.
The female announcer’s voice was triumphant but surprised. “And Lieutenant Torres is the first to be ensnared! The long-odds bet has come in today! It was expected the Klingon would hold out the longest!” As the announcement was made many of the robotic drones closed in on the captured Klingon, their mechanical red eyes watching as her struggles made her breasts leap and wobble insider her torn top, B’Elanna’s soft titflesh threatening to break out into the open. “And from the look of this Torres might be the first to let her chest puppies out!” Hearing that prediction with a gasp, the twenty-two year old wrapped her arms across her bosom but continued her sexy wiggling as she tried to break the tentacle’s hold on her ankle.
T’Pol’s full-speed run ended as she saw a tentacle sweep out ahead of her, blocking her path. She skidded and turned only for another limb to wrap around her slim waist. The science officer struggled with the tentacle, trying to turn her Vulcan strength to her advantage, but only found her wrists wrapped by another agile limb. With a whoop of fright T’Pol was lifted into the air by her arms, her long legs kicking. “And that’s T’Pol caught!” declared the commentator, “Leaving only one of our heroines still on her feet!”
Deanna Troi leapt over a slashing tentacle and dove aside to avoid another, her tits leaping and threatening to spill out of the low neckline of her jumpsuit. Her empathic senses had saved her so far, giving her the split-second warning the jumpsuit-clad Betazoid needed to keep her voluptuous figure out of the Pleasuresaur’s hold. But her empathy could not save her from what would happen next.
She was sprinting from a chasing tentacle, glancing over her shoulder, when she tripped over a round metal object: an observer drone floating barely above the ground, something her psychic senses could not detect. With a scream Deanna fell forwards onto her chest, but her tits never hit the ground. A tentacle swooped beneath her, wrapping around her curvy body so that her arms were pinned to her sides, her boobs pressed up by the tentacle constricting around her ribs. She wailed in fright as she was lifted into the air of the arena.
“And Deanna Troi is caught because of interference from an observer!” said the announcer in amazement as the squealing counselor was hoisted aloft. “Will the judges allow this? Of course they will!”
B’Elanna dangled upside down, her athletic figure wiggling sexily as she struggled to break the monster’s hold on her ankle. The Klingon’s breasts were almost visible through the rip in her top, two lush mounds bouncing and wobbling and begging to be released.
Next to her was Deanna Troi, her arms pinned to her sides by a tentacle wrapping around her waist. The tightness of the limb wrapping around her was pushing the Betazoid’s melons upwards. This worked well with the low-cut neckline of her lavender jumpsuit. “We’re seeing nipples!” squealed the female announcer as Deanna’s brown teats began to peek over her outfit’s neckline. The swell of the counselor’s breasts was mouthwatering, two jiggling orbs that were just on the edge of spilling out into the open.
“It’s neck and neck between Deanna and B’Elanna!” As the commentator spoke the drones circled the Betazoid and the Klingon, their red mechanical eyes locked on the two women’s tits. “Whose boobs will taste freedom first? Betazoid or Klingon? Vanilla titties or caramel? The Hello Latinum casino hopes you bet on the right pony!”
Not far from her companions T’Pol was suspended by her wrists, long legs kicking uselessly. Tipping her haughty face upwards the gorgeous Vulcan tried to work her fingers around the tentacles holding her arms, hoping to apply her one remaining weapon. Her fingertips pressed hard against the creature’s flesh as she attempted a Vulcan nerve pinch.
The monstrous Pleasuresaur did not collapse unconscious. Instead its enormous maw opened wide in a roar of anger and it lashed out with a tentacle, smacking the Vulcan hard across her ample tits. T’Pol shrieked in distress, her legs kicking uselessly from the discomfort. The blow had ripped the chest of her uniform and the Vulcan’s bare breasts bounced into view.
The many drones around the chamber turned and locked their red eyes on T’Pol’s udders. The generous swell of the Vulcan’s boobs, the round brown rings of her rough aureoles and the stiffness of her nipples were covered from multiple angles. More sensors focused on her face, the science officer’s haughty features filled with shock and shame, her plump lips parted and her brown eyes wide as she looked down in humiliation at the sight of her breasts bared for all to see.
Very faintly through the walls of the chamber, the three women could hear the laughter and cheering of the audience as they savored the sight of the First Modern Vulcan so thoroughly shamed.
“And T’Pol takes the lead! What an upset! Just when all eyes were on B’Elanna and Deanna, the Vulcan whips this pair out! And what a pair they are!”
Meanwhile Deanna Troi furiously tried to escape the tentacle holding her aloft. The raven-haired counselor’s curvy body wiggled and gyrated, unwittingly showing off her voluptuous attributes. The ongoing battle between her plunging neckline and heaving bosom reached its conclusion as her tits popped free of her uniform’s top, brown nipples and soft pale orbs exposed.
“But Deanna Troi is quick to follow!” declared the announcer. “The moons of Betazed are a truly romantic sight!” The counselor’s black eyes widened in deeper shame as the hover-drones turned to her milky udders, drinking in the view.
“Oh no you don’t!” objected B’Elanna, her hands firmly pressed over her round boobs. The Klingon hung upside-down in the Pleasuresaur’s grip, the twenty-two year old swinging left and right. All around the Klingon were hover-drones, their red eyes watching for that critical moment when the Lieutenant’s tits came out. So far she had been able to spare herself that humiliation. “I won’t give you pigs the satisfaction whoooop!”
Torres’ defiance became a cry of shock as a tentacle slid into the neck of her uniform and traveled down her back, worming and sliding between the fabric and her bare skin. The sensation made her spasm in revulsion, her body gyrating sexily. Meanwhile the tentacle bound itself in a snarl around the material at the small of her back. Finding good purchase, the beast released her ankles and then gave the Klingon a hard shake, letting the woman drop so that she was suspended entirely by her uniform.
Her one-piece Starfleet outfit split open with comical ease.
The fabric ripped, the Klingon’s weight causing it to
peel inside out. The former Maquis fell a few feet only
to jerk to a halt by the pathetic remains of her outfit still clinging to her wrists
and feet. B’Elanna Torres found herself suspended by
her hands and ankles from the shredded leftovers of her uniform, displayed in
an emabarrassing hog-tied positioned with her bare
breasts dangling and swaying beneath her nude body! “Oh you bastards!”
The red eyes of a half-dozen drones zoomed in on the Klingon’s lovely figure. “Torres is coming in last, but she’s showing us a lot more than her companions have! Who would have thought the Klingon’s chest puppies were so big!” B’Elanna’s breasts jiggled enticingly beneath her, and many of the sensors watched the dance of her big brown nipples with red-eyed interest.
The Pleasuresaur moved its
captured prey about, bringing T’Pol and Deanna close
to one another. The two wriggling brunettes were a mouthwatering sight, their breasts
bared and bouncing as they writhed and bucked, trying vainly to escape. T’Pol stiffened as a tentacle reached out for her chest.
The monster touched its limb to the Vulcan’s right tit, lifting the supple
melon and letting it drop. Then the Pleasuresaur
moved its attention to Deanna, running its tentacle over her globes and making
them jiggle. “Oh, the Pleasure likes
what it sees,” the announcer declared, “And so do we!”
A rumbling sound built within the creature’s body. Tentacles arched up and then snaked out quickly into the Vulcan and the Betazoid’s uniforms, slipping between fabric and their bare backs. Both women flinched and wiggled at the slimy contact, providing the floating sensors a marvelous show as their breasts shook about. Meanwhile the Pleasuresaur’s tentacles reached the small of their backs and twisted around, getting a grip of their uniforms. Then the monster pulled hard.
Deanna and T’Pol both cried out in shock and shame as
their outfits were torn from their bodies, leaving them naked from neck to
thighs. The arms and legs of their uniforms remained in place but their
breasts, pussies and asses were on full display!
Meanwhile B’Elanna Torres was suspended like a captured animal, her own uniform snared around her hands and feet as she hung naked and furiously wriggling with sensor drones hovering all around her, capturing every detail of her humiliation. Her struggles finally loosened the fabric twisted around her ankles and the nude Klingon dropped, her hands slipping free next. She hit the ground on her ass with tit-jiggling force, then rolled aside as a tentacle rushed to grab at her naked figure, and came up running.
“And sexy B’Elanna has slipped free and is on the run! Get us some slow motion footage of her ass, someone?” The twenty two year old was providing a great show, her athletic legs pumping and her bare breasts jiggling, and tentacles closing in on her firm wiggling rump. Sensor eyes all around the stadium focused on her, drinking in the sight of Torres’ boobs as they bounced with her stride and watching her firm rear in motion.
One of the drones was too close to her path. With an angry snarl B’Elanna grabbed at it, catching the baseball-sized floating sensor, turned and threw it back at the Pleasuresaur as hard as she could. Wildly spinning as it tried to arrest its motion, the drone flew into the monster’s maw and struck one of its enormous curving fangs.
The beast roared in discomfort. Deanna and T’Pol were suddenly released from the tentacles that held them, the counselor and the science officer dropping to the floor. Then they were on their feet and running as well.
“All three are on the move again!” declared the announcer, “Just look at that upper body action!”
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol raced up the ramps of the arena, creating as much as distance as they could between the Pleasuresaur’s groping tentacles and their sexy naked bodies. Sensor eyes zoomed in tightly on their round asses as the three Starfleet officers’ rumps wiggled sexily with their haste, and even more drones closely following the jumping orbs of their delicious tits.
Then T’Pol felt a tentacle wrap around her ankle and she fell forwards onto her melons with a cry of distress. Another caught her other leg and the Vulcan was dragged back with a scream of defeat, her fingers scratching at the ground and her sensitive boobs rubbing on the floor.
B’Elanna was jabbed hard in the back by a tentacle, knocking her down. The Klingon rolled with the fall and was rising when another tentacle wrapped itself around one long athletic thigh. With a scream of outrage the twenty-two year old was lifted into the air, kicking and flailing, her naked figure closely watched by the many drones.
Deanna alone reached the outer wall of the stadium and found that she had no place to go. She turned with a swirl of raven-black hair only to discover her other paths blocked by a trio of tentacles. They circled her, arching up like snakes. The Betazoid’s bare back pressed against the wall and her breasts rose and fell quickly with her panicked breathing. Sensor eyes magnified their view on the lovely counselor, zooming in on her puffy brown nipples and her bald snatch, just visible between her thighs.
Then the Pleasuresaur struck. Deanna shrieked as a viper-fast limb wrapped around her legs. Another wrapped around her breasts, capturing her melons and squeezing hard. “Oh, that’s gotta hurt!” quipped the announcer. Troi wailed and grabbed at the tentacles gripping her boobs, trying to loosen their grip on her sensitive jugs, and then wailed again as the five-foot three woman was lifted up into the air and carried back to where her companions waited.
“After a few seconds of excitement our three competitors are once again ensnared,” the arena commentator said. “As you can see the Pleasuresaur is rearranging its hold on our heroines into… yes, that’s the classic ‘ready and unwilling’ position.”
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol each found themselves suspended in the air in humiliating postures. Tentacles wrapped around calf, knee and thigh and pulled, forcing the three heroines to spread their legs for the watching drones. Three perfect bald snatches were exposed to their mechanical eyes. Another set of tentacles wrapped around each brunette’s ribs, holding her upright and also pushing each officer’s breasts upwards, reminding the audience of distant observers just how soft and supple Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol’s boobs were.
But there was one small respite: their hands were free. Troi covered her snatch with one hand while wrapping her free arm across her bare breasts, trying to hold onto what little dignity and modesty she could. “You heartless monsters!” she cried.
B’Elanna grabbed at the tentacle wrapping her middle, struggling to free herself. “I swear you won’t get away with this!” the Maquis cursed. Her efforts to escape only succeeded in making her tits tremble with her futile efforts to escape.
T’Pol’s fingers grabbed at the tentacles binding her legs, trying to pry open the creature’s hold. “What kind of entertainment is this?” the science officer gasped, her tits heaving. Her attempts to free herself were useless. The Vulcan, like her Betazoid and Klingon companions, was held helplessly in the air with her long legs spread wide.
“The warm-up rounds sure have been exciting!” The female announcer’s voice was chirpy and enthusiastic, completely uncaring of the three Starfleet officers’ ongoing humiliation. “We’ve seen our heroines captured and stripped naked, and bets have been won and lost based on which of our lovely ladies got it first. But the show is just getting started. I hope you’ve placed your bets on which will be the first,” the commentator said triumphantly, “To feel her pussy get stuffed full of cock!”
“Oh my god!” screamed Deanna, wriggling with tit-bouncing fury and completely failing to squirm free. All three heroines renewed their struggles, kicking their feet uselessly and grabbing at the tentacles binding them. “Oh no, here they come!” the Betazoid cried as three new tentacles rose from the Pleasuresaur’s hideous body. These were not grey but a dark purple, narrower and pulsing with the monster’s excitement. They moved with slow and snakelike grace towards the three brunette’s nethers. The heroines redoubled their efforts to escape, three sexy bodies writhing and wriggling with new energy.
“Oh no you don’t!” B’Elanna screamed, covering her hairless snatch with one hand and grabbing the invading tentacle with the other, halting its advance.
“This is monstrous!” complained T’Pol in a yelp as she clamped her hands over her smooth bald pussy.
“Please stop this!” begged Deanna as she caught the purple tentacle homing in on her vagina with both hands, cringing as it wormed in her grip but holding on as tightly as possible. As one the three brunette beauties fought to hold off the tentacles seeking to enter their beautiful bodies, straining with all their strength. The sensor drones continued to hover around them, soaking in their nakedness, watching each trembling breast, quivering lip and jerking leg as they fought to save their dignity.
It was Deanna Troi that failed
first. The slick tentacle in her hands slid slowly forwards, inching towards
the voluptuous brunette’s vulnerable pussy.
The daughter of the Betazoid ambassador whimpered as she felt the organ part her nether lips, then held her breath as it nuzzled upwards into her passage. “After stiff resistance, Deanna Troi is the first to feel it!” exclaimed the announcer. Just then the tool in Troi’s pussy swelled its muscles, expanding to fill the counselor’s super-sensitive snatch. Deanna’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent scream of shock and pleasure.
Her hands went slack. Almost immediately the Pleasuresaur assumed a steady pumping rhythm, pistoning its tool in and out of Deanna’s tightness with mechanical regularity. Troi arched her back with a cry of ecstasy, her face turning towards the ceiling and her leaping breasts thrusting forwards. The five-foot three brunette bounced on the monster’s cock, her curvy body displayed magnificently for the many drones around her. “Look at those melons fly!” the commentator said even as more of the spectator drones closed in on Deanna’s bouncing tits. The Orion conditioning that had been supposed to make Troi a receptive sex-slave now made her wriggle and buck in pleasure as she was penetrated. The counselor emitted a high-pitched squeal of ecstasy, her voice rising and falling in pitch in time to her fucking.
Next it was B’Elanna’s turn. The twenty-two year old Klingon’s grip was stronger than Troi’s, and Torres kept a firm hold on the tentacle trying to worm its way into her tight vagina. But her grip was broken, along with her dignity, when the Pleasuresaur drew back two tentacles and delivered a pair of cracking blows to B’Elanna Torres’ bare breasts!
“Yaaaaahhhaaiiieeee!!!” the Lieutenant wailed, her tits lifting and bouncing from the force of the two cruel blows. B’Elanna’s back arched and her hands involuntarily pressed over her aching boobs, squeezing and protecting the stinging orbs, soft titflesh almost spilling between her fingers.
During that moment of weakness the Pleasuresaur made its move, sliding its tool up into B’Elanna Torres’ pussy. The Klingon gasped, dark hair falling around her face as she looked down with wide eyes at the sight of her nether lips parted wide for the monster’s orgam. Then the Pleasuresaur’s tool pulsed and swelled, filling her canal completely. The Lieutenant’s eyes rolled with pleasure as her Orion-conditioned body responded to the intimate exploration. Then her athletic body began to bounce as the Pleasuresaur pumped in and out of her, eagerly fucking Voyager’s chief engineer.
“That’s two down and only one to go,” the announcer exclaimed, “But how long can T’Pol hold out? And does she really want to?”
T’Pol firmly believed that she did want to hold out.
“Yaaahhh!!” the short-haired beauty yelped, her Vulcan grace in tatters leaving her unable to contain herself as her breasts were struck. “Yaaaaiii! Aaaaaaiiieeee!!” T’Pol arched her back and tossed her head, crying out loud with each sharp blow to her tits. Her boobs bounced and jiggled, knocked left and right across her chest by the cruel hits. The woman’s long legs kicked uselessly as she bucked and cried in distress and pleasure as her conditioned body responded to the blows, filling her mind with ecstasy. Tears appeared in T’Pol’s eyes and her soft full lips parted with her humiliated howls. But she desperately held on, protecting her pussy despite the frequent blows to her breasts.
The Pleasuresaur expanded its targets to include the Vulcan’s round rump. “Oh! Oh!” T’Pol yelped as her bottom was struck soundly, repeatedly and relentlessly. She writhed and wriggled and tossed her head as blow after blow was delivered to her lovely posterior and magnificent breasts. And every second of her humiliation was captured by the evil red eyes of the sensor drones that hovered around her. Tears ran down her proud cheeks and her nipples jutted erect from her bouncing breasts as she was smacked again and again, but her hands remained firm over her vagina.
Seeing how stubborn its prey was, the Pleasuresaur
adjusted its tactics. Two tentacles slid towards the Vulcan’s gasping and
writhing body and wrapped themselves around her elbows. Then, to T’Pol’s tremendous dismay, they pulled her hands slowly
away from her pussy. “Noooo!!!” cried
With wide brown eyes she watched the creature’s organ nuzzle
up against her tightness and then wriggle quickly into her passage. An instant
later the tentacle swelled within her vagina, stretching the Vulcan’s vaginal
lips, and then it began to pump. The science officer’s eyes rolled back in her
head, her full lips opened in an ‘o’ of pleasure and her ample melons jumped as
the Pleasuresaur got to work.
“And the Mother of the Federation goes down! You’ve got to give her credit for trying, and even more credit for those great tits! Zoom in on those, will you?”
Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol yelped in unison as they bounced atop the Pleasuresaur’s pumping cocks. The tentacles around their waists retreated, no longer required as the three heroines were suspended by the limbs wrapped around their thighs. Naked and held aloft, the three Starfleet officers were helpless to do anything but move in time with the fucking they were enduring. Three sets of breasts leapt with each thrust. Three pairs of long legs kicked uselessly. Three pussies stretched as they were filled with meat. A trio of voices were lifted in helpless wails of defeat as the Pleasuresaur thoroughly fucked the three captured Starfleet officers. And every second of their torment observed and recorded by dozens of floating sensor eyes.
T’Pol cradled her aching tits with her hands, her melons jumping against her palms as the organ in her snatch pumped vigorously into her. Troi bit on her knuckles, her elbows pushing her boobs together. B’Elanna ran her hands through her dark hair, her eyes rolling in absolute pleasure. The conditioning the three heroines had received on Ferenginar had given them bodies both resilient and super sensitive, and now those bodies were on full display as the Vulcan, the Betazoid and the Klingon were driven helplessly towards orgasm.
“Uhhh aaaaahhhh!!!” T’Pol screamed as she cummed, squeezing her breasts tightly.
“Oh-oh-oh uuuuhhhhhh!!” groaned an orgasming Troi, flinging her hands wide and exposing her bouncing tits to the cameras.
“Ah, ah, aaaiiieeeee!!!” squealed B’Elanna Torres as she hit her peak, her hands pressing against her violated snatch, her upper arms pressing her boobs together in an eye-opening cleavage.
“What a show these lovely ladies have put on for us tonight!” delighted the commentator, “But there’s still more to come!”
Deanna’s black Betazoid eyes widened with horror. “Oh my god!” she screamed, pointing at the base of the tentacle pumping into her tightness, “Eggs!”
T’Pol and Torres looked down in terror. Sure enough the purple organs driving into their pussies were swelling with the mass of eggs, three bulges moving steadily towards the three brunette’s nethers. Each egg had to be the size of a baseball and was moving in a muscular pulsing rhythm as the pumping motion of the tentacles fucking the three women pushed them steadily towards their destinations.
All three women grabbed at the tentacles parting their nether lips, and all three discovered with wails of defeat that they didn’t have the strength to pull them out. The relentless pumping rhythm, driving their super-sensitive bodies steadily towards yet more orgasms, could not be stopped.
“Pinch them off!” B’Elanna gasped, her boobs leaping between her arms as she squeezed the tentacle in her pussy at tightly as she could with her fingers, “Don’t let those eggs into you!” Her companions obeyed, each woman grabbing the Pleasuresaur’s slimy cocks as tightly as possible in the hope that they could choke off the path the eggs would follow on the way to their vaginas. Each heroine clenched their pussies, readying themselves for the battle ahead.
“Look at the determination on their faces!” the announcer said even as the hover-drones circled the three humiliated heroines, their red eyes focusing on asses and pussies and bouncing breasts. “Let’s see if they can turn the tide here!”
The eggs pulsed steadily up the length of each fucking
tentacle. As the thrusting continued Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol
found their positions shifting slightly, with the Vulcan leaning forward more
so that her swaying udders dangled, while B’Elanna was forced to lean backwards
with her dancing nipples pointed towards the arena’s ceiling, and lastly Deanna
found her legs spreading even wider, the tentacles around her ankles forcing
her to straighten her knees.
The Pleasuresaur’s eggs reached their nether lips and were halted. The three Starfleet officers fingers were tight around the tentacles banging them, preventing them from swelling wider to allow the monster’s seeds to continue. Sensing this resistance a rumble grew in the monster’s body. Its pumping motion slowed as it devised a way to defeat the blockage.
The three heroines squirmed and cringed as the Pleasuresaur’s tentacles explored their bodies. Slimy limbs moved over thigh and ass and hip, then belly and breast, then over bare shoulder and flinching face. The creature blindly groped the three Starfleet officers, trying to worm its tentacles around their arms so as to pull their hands away, as it had done when violating T’Pol. But the Vulcan, the Klingon and the Betazoid pressed their arms tightly against their sides, giving the creature little to no room in which to wiggle its tentacles around their wrists. The posture caused each woman’s arms to press her breasts together magnificently.
Finding its attempts thwarted the beast resorted to another tactic. “Yoooww!” cried out B’Elanna as a tentacle smacked across her bare breasts, lifting her melons.
“Aaaiiiieee!” squealed Deanna as her tits were slapped hard, bouncing from the impact.
“Ooohhhh!” moaned T’Pol as her udders were sent bouncing with a cruel blow.
Tentacles flicked around the three heroines as they were struck again and again on the breasts and buttocks, their boobs and bums smacked over and over. They flinched and bucked and cried out loud, backs arching and tits leaping as the Pleasuresaur sought to defeat them with humiliating discomfort. Yet the distress was mixed with pleasure as their Orion-conditioned bodies reveled in the treatment, fresh ecstasy warming their hips and making their hearts race.
And then the monster added something new to the mix. Tentacles snaked towards each woman’s face. With their eyes rolling in pleasure they did not see the organs coming for them, and with their mouths open as they panted they were easy targets.
“Mmmmppphh!” Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol objected in unison as their mouths were stuffed with the Pleasuresaur’s thrusting tentacles. The Vulcan’s attention was so distracted by this new assault that her hold on the tool buried in her pussy slackened. The Pleasuresaur took advantage of that moment of weakness. With a single powerful thrust it pushed its egg up into T’Pol’s vagina!
“Mmmmmmmppphhh!”
“Always the first in new territory, T’Pol is the first to take it!” the announcer said, “Wouldn’t her shipmates be proud?”
“Mmmpph!” complained Deanna and B’Elanna, watching their friend’s defeat with sympathy and outrage in their dark eyes. But they had their own problems at the moment.
The tentacle in T’Pol’s mouth drew free, leaving the Vulcan to gasp and mewl in the aftermath of a mindshattering orgasm. That organ snaked through the air in search of a new target. It found one in B’Elanna Torres’ firm athletic ass.
The Klingon felt the tentacle probe her asshole and she almost leapt, flinching and emitted a muffled shriek around the organ in her mouth. That break in concentration was all the Pleasuresaur needed to press its advantage. With a muscular thrust it pushed its egg into the twenty-two year old’s slit and upwards, stretching her nether lips wide. “Mmmmpphh!!” Torres moaned. The brunette looked down in disbelief at the sight of her vaginal folds parting to allow the egg entry. With vigorous pumping motions the tentacle pushed its seed deeper and deeper into B’Elanna, driving the Lieutenant to greater and greater heights of ecstasy.
By the time the egg was launched into her womb, B’Elanna Torres was arching her
back and squeezing her tits, her long legs spasming as
she climaxed.
“A suitable reward for a life of crime!” the commentator declared. “And that only leaves one left!”
Deanna’s black eyes were wide with fear as tentacles circled around her. Also there were sensor drones watching her naked violated body, waiting for any weakness, hungry to capture the exact moment that the counselor was defeated. Her voluptuous body trembled but her hands were firm around the tentacle in her snatch. She could feel the bulge of the egg trying to squeeze through her fingers, insistent in its desire to reach her vagina.
Troi’s posture caused her arms to push her bare breasts together, her melons poking forwards invitingly tipped with the brown circles of her nipples. They were easy targets for the Pleasuresaur’s tentacles. Two limbs snaked down and clamped over Deanna’s tits like suckers!
“Oh! Ooohh!” gasped
“Aaaiiiiieeeee!!!” With a high-pitched wail of defeat Deanna grabbed the tentacles lifting her tits, easing the discomfort of being hauled up by her boobs. But now her hands were no longer pinching off the purple phallic organ in her snatch, leaving the Pleasuresaur’s path to her womb unprotected. Without mercy it thrust upward.
“Oooohhhaaaahhhhh!!!!” screamed Troi as she felt her slit stretch to allow the monster’s egg into her vagina.
“And Deanna Troi gets what’s coming to her!” rejoiced the announcer. “The long shot really came in tonight! The odds were strong on Deanna getting that curvy Betazoid figure knocked up first!”
The beast pumped up into the counselor’s snatch quickly, thrusting deeply into Troi’s pussy and pushing its egg higher and higher in her vaginal canal. Her eyes widened, her legs kicked and her mouth opened in a silent howl of distress as the sensation blew her mind. It was simply too much for Deanna’s super-sensitive body. She climaxed, the egg surging up through her spasming pussy and deep into the counselor’s womb. A long cry of humiliation escaped the imperiously beautiful Starfleet officer, her head hanging and her dark hair falling across her bare heaving breasts.
Then Troi was lowered to the arena
floor, alongside T’Pol and B’Elanna. The three
thoroughly-violated Starfleet officers lay naked on the ground, breasts heaving
as they panted for air, hands pressed to the slight bulges that swelled their
normally flat bellies.
“This isn’t how I imagined working in a casino,” T’Pol moaned, lying flat on her back with her perspiration-tipped breasts rising and falling rapidly and her long legs spread to ease the throbbing in her much-abused pussy lips.
“I’d prefer to be waiting on tables,” added a gasping B’Elanna, the Klingon’s long legs curled beneath her, her firm ass in the air as she pressed her hands to her aching slit, her tits flattening against the ground. “Or even pole dancing.”
Kneeling with one hand on her belly and the other cradling her melons, Deanna lowered her head. “That was almost too much,” she answered weakly, her dark eyes rolling with remembered pleasure. Then she let out a whoop as one of the Pleasuresaur’s tentacles pushed her over onto her back. “What is it doing!?”
B’Elanna’s waist was looped by a tentacle, lifting her so that the Klingon was positioned on all fours with her ass in the air and her breasts swaying beneath her. “It’s not going again, is it?” the Lieutenant gasped.
“It cannot possibly!” objected T’Pol as she was pushed onto her back. Tentacles pushed at her legs, spreading them wide. The three brunettes were positioned in a neat line, naked and terrified and too worn out from the vigorous fucking session to resist the monster’s demands.
When any of the three tried to cover their tits with their hands, the Pleasuresaur would bat aside their arms with its tentacles, forcing them to leave their breasts bare. B’Elanna yelped in distress as the creature caught both her wrists in one powerful tentacle and pulled back sharply. This left the Klingon kneeling with her hands behind her back, leaving forwards heavily so that her tits dangled like delicious fruit. “What is this perverted thing doing!?” the former Maquis demanded.
Then all three women shrieked in fright as tentacles plunged down to press against their vulnerable pussies. Their recent impregnation fresh in their memories and their bellies swollen with the monster’s young, each dreaded the thought of once again feeling the Pleasuresaur’s cocks inside them.
But that was not the creature’s intention. Instead its limbs wriggled and nuzzled against the three heroines’ pussy lips, firmly diddling them. The intimate pressure and energetic wiggling movements produced a marvelous sensation that was particularly effective on the three Orion-conditioned women.
“Oh by Surak,” moaned T’Pol, her plump lips open in pleasure and her eyes shut tight in shame, “What is the meaning of this?”
B’Elanna let out a distressed yip as the beast flicked her dangling breasts with a tentacle, making her dangling breasts sway left and right even as another tentacle wriggled against her snatch. “I’m going to lose my mind,” the Klingon moaned, unwittingly pushing her nethers back against the limb stimulating her pussy.
Deanna Troi arched her back as her breasts were also flicked by a playful tentacle, the two milky orbs rolling across her chest. On instinct she tried to cover her tits and the Pleasuresaur easily knocked her hands aside, leaving the counselor bare-breasted so it could continue to play with her melons. “It’s a Betazoid Pleasuresaur,” the counselor groaned, her hips wiggling as a tentacle played with her slit, “It doesn’t just sense emotion. It feeds on it.”
B’Elanna’s dark eyes were wide . “You mean it’s snacking!?” she exclaimed, then let out a low moan of pleasure as a tentacle wrapped around her dangling tits and squeezed them like udders. Another limb wandered over to vigorously rub the Klingon’s brown nipples, making Voyager’s chief engineer mewl like a kitten.
“It must be uuuhhh, providing its young with nourishment.” T’Pol’s head rolled left and right, mimicking the movements of her breasts as they were pushed across her chest by one of the Pleasuresaur’s tentacles. “They must be feeding off our pleasure even now,” the Vulcan moaned, her long legs closing involuntarily only to be pushed open, the monster mercilessly diddling the science officer’s snatch. Like her companions, T’Pol’s expertly-conditioned body was already recovering from the vigorous fucking session and had restored the Vulcan’s pussy to its former tightness.
The sensor drones hovered over the three heroines, savoring the spectacle of T’Pol, B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi naked, impregnated and fondled by the Pleasuresaur’s groping limbs. “The Hello Latinum casino hopes you’ve enjoyed the show so far gentlemen,” the commentator announced. “We’ll be serving the main meal now, and the bar and gaming tables are open for business. We’ll come back to our lovely ladies once it’s time for the final round. Don’t worry, they aren’t going anywhere.”
+++++
In a warehouse owned by the Ferengi Commerce Authority, Elizabeth Shelby waited in sedated storage.
The blonde Captain of the USS Sutherland and the women of her crew had not been provided with
any kind of prison uniform. Only the words FOR SALE printed on her bare breasts
and SOLD on her bottoms offered any coverage, and that
was very little. But at the moment none of
The sedated storage kept each prisoner drugged and docile, minimizing the chances of escape or riot. The warehouse was filled with low simple cots, and presently each one of them was occupied by a naked member of the USS Sutherland’s crew. The masks on their faces tranquilized, watered and fed them, while additional life-support fixtures nuzzling against their pussies and asses dealt with their wastes.
Despite her helpless and humiliating situation,
The young woman lying in the cot beside her was not so serene. “Mmmmm!” mewled Ensign Hedril through her mask, her eyelids fluttering as she fought the tranquilizers keeping her sedated. Her sedation made restraints unnecessary, so long pale legs were free to kick and her hands able to unconsciously clutch at the bouncing delights of her breasts.
The reclaiming systems that should have been firmly in place between the Ensign’s legs had been removed. Instead there was a Ferengi kneeling between the redhead’s thighs. Holding her legs apart, the jug-eared alien pumped his cock into the eighteen year old’s pussy, parting her tender pink lips and driving her Orion-conditioned body into convulsions of pleasure. She squealed in her sleep, cumming helplessly, her teen snatch spasming around the Ferengi dick filling her. Her breasts jiggled, the words “FOR SALE” bouncing and her nipples almost vibrating with the vigorous speed of the fucking.
The cute eighteen year old redhead was not the only member of the Sutherland’s crew whose sleep was being interrupted. Across the warehouse Robin Lefter moaned and wiggled as her bare breasts were squeezed. Mounting her was a grinning Cardassian, his rod lodged in the Lieutenant’s kitty, his pumping slowed as he savored the sight the naked Starfleet officer writhing and groaning as her tits were massaged. All about the warehouse unconscious women were being used, their breasts squeezed, their thighs parted and their pussies filled with the cocks of many species: Ferengi, Gorn, Cardassian, Romulan, even human.
As ‘assets’ of Moonlight
Bounty, Shelby and the young women under her command were destined to be
sold at the conclusion of the trial. But for the moment they were in storage,
essentially worthless. So the Ferengi operating the
warehouse had found a way to make a little pocket money off the gorgeous assets
slumbering in their facility. The female crew of the USS Sutherland were being used as
unconscious, unaware whores, prostituted out to whoever could pay. Native Ferengi and alien crews on shore leave were free to have
their way with
Leah Brahms mewled at a jet of water hosed across her naked body, washing away Gorn semen that had been spattered across her breasts, thighs and belly. The jet struck her hyper-sensitive pussy and the once-renowned engine designer arched her back, reaching orgasm even while unconscious. The Ferengi warehouse worker, whose task was to clean off those women who had ‘serviced’ clients so they would be ready for the next set, moved the stream lecherously from her pussy to her nipples and back again, his big-eared head tipping as he listed to Leah’s muffled but exquisite squeals of pleasure. When his shift was over, the Ferengi decided, he would visit this particular human female.
It was a minor mercy that Elizabeth Shelby and her crew
would never know how their Ferengi captors had used
them as prostitutes. It was even smaller considering that after the trial these
women would be returned to the market, their naked bodies ogled, sized up, and
sold to the highest bidder.
+++++
The fate of
For the next four hours Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol were helplessly fondled by the idling Pleasuresaur. The three Starfleet officers moaned and mewled, pussies intimately played with, breasts gripped and squeezed, nipples rubbed and flicked. Their nude bodies were frequently repositioned, T’Pol forced onto all fours with her boobs dangling beneath her, B’Elanna flipped onto her back with her long athletic legs spread wide, Deanna pushed on her side with her soft melons pressing together and one pale leg lifted high by a tentacle, forcing the counselor to bare her snatch.
The Pleasuresaur’s young grew with frightening speed. Rather than absorbing physical nutrition from their unwilling mothers, the creatures nestled in Torres, Troi and T’Pol’s wombs fed off the pleasure that blazed through their lovely bodies. And the three brunettes were magnificently tuned to such a task, their Orion-conditioned erogenous zones making them perfect nurses for the Pleasuresaur’s brood. As the hours passed their bellies swelled, their normally taut stomachs developing the width and curve of a woman nine months pregnant!
Pleasured beyond words and resistance, the three heroines simply lay there and moaned as their bodies were relentlessly stimulated. And every second of their ongoing humiliation was captured by the many hover-drones floating around them, hungrily watching the three nude brunettes.
“Welcome back to the show gentlemen!” the announcer declared suddenly, “When we left off Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna had just had the eggs of a Pleasuresaur parked in their pussies! While we’ve been away, its young have been incubating and we’re glad to say that the show is about to resume!”
The hoverdrones scattered, moving to the outskirts of the arena and leaving the air above the three nude and mewling women vacant. A circular port in the center of the ceiling opened and a phaser cannon muzzle lowered into the arena. It turned on the fleshy mass of the Pleasuresaur below.
Low-intensity phaser shots sizzled down into the beast’s hideous body. With a howl of outrage it retracted in on itself, tentacles abandoning the three Starfleet officers to flail around its stung body, trying vainly to protect its bulk from the cannon’s bite. More shots hissed down into the Pleasuresaur’s mass and the monster retreated back into its pit, automated doors quickly sealing off the entrance behind it.
“They’ve driven it off,” moaned Deanna and in relief, her hands pressed to her pregnant belly.
“I think I’ve had enough tentacle-on-Klingon action for one lifetime,” complained B’Elanna, lying alongside the voluptuous Betazoid, running her hands up and down her normally trim athletic body but finding her stomach swollen with the Pleasuresaur’s young.
“But clearly there is more to come,” added T’Pol, the Vulcan’s long-limbed, heavy-breasted and pregnant-bellied form lying next to her companions, the three impregnated beauties arranged in a neat line.
The hover-drones closed in again, their mechanical red eyes
running over every sweep and curve of their nakedness. Cradling her aching
boobs Deanna looked around at the watching drones. “If I had to guess I’d say
they’re waiting for whoooop!”
“Uhhhhh!!!” groaned T’Pol, her back arching so that only her feet and shoulderblades touched the ground, her tits wobbling as she clutched at her pregnant stomach. The tanned curve of her swollen belly was trembling as something moved within.
“Ooooohhhh!” B’Elanna moaned, her long thighs rubbing together and her eyes shutting in a mixture of distress and pleasure. She could feel the Pleasuresaur’s spawn shifting wormlike in her womb. “I think, I think, I think it’s coming out!”
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol all cried out in unison as each felt something push down their vaginal canals. They arched their backs and tensed their legs, their bottoms leaving the ground and their breasts rolling up their chests to point towards their faces. With humiliated cries each felt their nether lips swell.
“And they’re crowning!” declared the announcer. “This is where it gets interesting!”
Something pushed its way through Deanna Troi’s pussy and emerged into daylight. It was shaped like the tail of a rattlesnake, narrow and ridged, and its convulsively shook left and right, making its mother squeal with unwanted pleasure. T’Pol and B’Elanna shrieked simultaneously as their own offspring pushed their tails free and wriggled them.
The three heroines cummed, bodies spasming in helpless ecstasy. “Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol are really putting their hearts into it!” the commentator said. “Gentlemen, we’re at the last round of bets. Will T’Pol’s Vulcan physiology expel the Pleasuresaur first? Or will B’Elanna’s rapid Klingon metabolism get her to the head of the pack? But don’t discount Deanna Troi: her species evolved on the same world as the creature that impregnated her! Compatibility may make our big-breasted Betazoid bimbo the first to finish!”
Slowly the Pleasuresaur’s young began to worm free of their mothers’ wombs. Inch by torturous inch the larvae’s long segmented bodies wriggled out from between each heroine’s tight pussy lips, thrashing and flexing to push it along. Each movement tortured their unwilling incubators with ecstasy.
“Ooooohhhhh!” T’Pol complained as segment after ridged segment moved slowly out of her pussy. The Vulcan’s legs spasmed, spreading wide as her hands flashing down to press against her inner thighs, holding her legs open even wider.
“Aaaahhhhh!!” shuddered B’Elanna Torres, kneeling as her offspring wriggled its length out of her womb with ecstatic tremors and spasms. The former Maquis arched her back, displaying her breasts to the watching sensor drones as she moaned and groaned at sensation of birthing the Pleasuresaur’s young.
“Aaaaiiieeee!!!” wailed Deanna Troi as the larvae in her womb wriggled and thrust forward, sliding its ridged sections out of her vaginal passage in single long fast rush. The counselor gave birth with a howl of defeat that grew higher and higher as the widest portion of the creature’s body wiggled out of her. Then her scream fell into silence, the voluptuous Betazoid driven unconscious by the intense pleasure. Her ‘child’ squirmed in a wet mess on the floor between her trembling thighs, finally free of its mother’s womb.
“And Deanna Troi crosses the finish line!” exclaimed the announcer. Hover drones moved around the defeated Betazoid’s naked form, observing the slimy mass of worm that had just wriggled out of her abused pussy. “Ancient Pleasuresaurs evolved to fuck her Betazoid ancestors. It’s not surprising her body is the perfect womb for them!”
The unconscious Troi didn’t pay
any attention to the commentary, and no longer struggled. Her only movements
being the fast and deep rising of her bare breasts as her body took in
much-needed oxygen.
T’Pol was next. Her pussy spasmed as the larvae inside her wriggled and twisted and then pushed its four-foot length out of her tightness in a single go. “Uh-aaahhhhhhh AAAHHHH!!!” Her screech of pleasure rose to an incredible high pitch and then broke off, the Vulcan joining Deanna in unconsciousness as she underwent a mind-blowing orgasm. Her offspring wriggled and flexed between her legs, having emerged from the womb of its unwilling mother.
“And T’Pol makes two! It looks like junior was a little more than our favorite science officer could take! Time for beddie-byes!”
B’Elanna held out until last. Then the Maquis’ eyes opened wide and her lips parted in a howl of distress. “Oh no ooohhhahaaaaaaAAAAHHHH!!!” With short spasms her offspring jerked out of her pussy, each ridge stretching her nethers and sending a burst of pleasure through her super-sensitive body. Torres bucked, arching her back, clutching her tits and spasmed her spreading legs as the creature pushed the last of its length out of her snatch. Like her companions B’Elanna was driven unconscious by the overwhelming pleasure, sinking to the floor and quaking in the aftermath of the incredible orgasm, her brown teats trembling on her breasts and her thighs shaking.
“Three for three!” exulted the announcer. “Mother and child, isn’t that a beautiful sight?”
Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol lay naked and slime-smeared on the arena floor. Their bare breasts heaved as they unconsciously sucked in air and their long legs remained spread involuntarily as hot pleasure pulsed between their thighs. The sheer ecstasy of this final humiliation had blasted each of them from the waking world, too much for their conscious minds to bear. Their waistlines were narrowing quickly, their Orion-conditioned bodies resiliently recovering after their pregnancy. In moments there would be no sign that each had possessed a swollen pregnant belly.
“Well it’s been an exciting night, but our lovely ladies have an appointment in court tomorrow and need their beauty sleep. Who knows? Maybe after the trial they’ll be back for an encore! The Hello Latinum casino is already taking bets on what fair and just punishment is going to be doled out for them, so don’t miss out on the chance to put your latinum on your favorite pony!”
The three Starfleet officers were mercifully spared having to hear the
commentator’s humiliating last announcement. But the Pleasuresaur’s
offspring was not done with them. The three larvae wriggled up over the naked
bodies of their mothers and curled their wormlike-forms around them. Tails
rubbed intimately against pussies while they butted their heads against the
three brunette’s breasts. The spawns’ small sucker-like mouths gripped and
plucked at the officers’ nipples. Even while unconscious their super-sensitive
bodies could produce pleasure for the young to feed upon.
The threeheroines mewled
helplessly in their sleep as the beasts they had just given birth to toyed with their breasts and pussies. Thighs rubbed together
and hips involuntarily shifted, pressing snatches harder against the creatures
rubbing tails. Even in their sleep they could not escape this humiliating
torment. And all the while the sensor drones floated around the scene drinking
in the sight of Deanna Troi, B’Elanna
Torres and T’Pol, naked, helpless and utterly
defeated.
TO BE CONTINUED
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