loSTAR 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 28: INJUSTICE
Their humiliating night’s work in the casino gave the co-defendants of the Moonlight Bounty delivery company enough latinum to afford to hire a lawyer.
Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol sat on three chairs in a small windowless meeting room. In accordance with the customs of their Ferengi captors, the three female Starfleet officers were naked. They had been given a day to recuperate after their night at the casino and their Orion-conditioned bodies had quickly recovered: the Betazoid, the Klingon and the Vulcan’s waists were narrow, their stomachs flat and their pussies trim and tight, showing no sign that the three brunettes had been impregnated and forced to give birth only a day beforehand.
There was no table in the room, only a single chair opposite for their legal representative. All three Starfleet officers waited in the same pose, seated with one long leg folded over the other to cover their pussies and their arms folded in front of their bare breasts as they tried to recover a tiny shred of their former modesty.
The door opened and a Ferengi hustled in. He wore clothes of a single color and a simple cut, lacking the usual jewelry and expensive dyed fabrics that successful Ferengi wore and his face had a youngster’s softness.
In his arms he awkwardly carried a stack of datapadds. He sat down opposite the three nude beauties. “Just give me a minute,” he admitted, trying to re-arrange the order of his padds. “There’s a lot of material to go through and the FCA only provided the law college with the files this morning.”
“Law college?” T’Pol said in a flat
voice of disbelief. “You’re a student?”
“My name is Eryd.” He got up from his chair, one arm wrapped around his datapadds while the other was awkwardly offered to shake hands. One by one the three heroines awkwardly offered a hand in return, keeping their other arm firmly across their bare breasts, three sets of tits pushed up into mouthwatering cleavages. Once he had shaken their hands Eryd sat down again. He seemed too disorganized to pay much attention to the gorgeous bodies of the three women sitting nude before him, which suggested he was very disorganized.
“You get discount rates for student counsel,” Eryd explained.
“We’ll take a student lawyer,” B’Elanna said, lifting one hand to her companions to stem any objections. “We’re a little short of latinum right now and standard rates are a little out of our price range.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.” The Ferengi Eryd flipped to one datapadd. “First of all, you three are not getting separate laywers? It’s highly recommended.”
“Short of latinum,” Deanna repeated quickly.
“Alright.” Another padd came to the top of the pile. “And it indicates here that you haven’t hired any private investigators or researchers to help reinforce your case? It’s a common practice and Ferengi courts allow it.”
“Latinum,” T’Pol explained, abbreviating their explanation to a single word. Neither she nor B’Elanna nor Deanna wanted to spend any more time ‘earning’ money.
“Right,” Eryd said. He pulled another datapadd up. “Well, you’ve been informed of the charge: making a profit while female. The case against you is very solid, unless any of you can confirm that the actual owner of Moonlight Bounty is a male and that you are his property. Or employees. That’s how it works in the Federation, right, with females employed? Is there a man involved?”
“We couldn’t make any claims that we could support,” Deanna said uncomfortably, nervously unfolding and refolding her arms and unwittingly offering a brief glimpse of her soft brown nipples, the cherries topping the plump desserts of the Betazoid’s pale breasts.
“Then it doesn’t look good. But the prosecution is offering a deal.” The Ferengi rummaged through his padds. “They’re interested in an inexpensive and speedy trial, so… not that padd. Wait, I’ve found it. The prosecutor’s office wants to get this over quickly so they’re willing to accept a guilty plea in exchange for a reduced sentence. The deal on the table is sixty years indentured service, split evenly three ways so that’s twenty years each.”
B’Elanna uncrossed and recrossed her long legs, the Klingon’s tasty snatch briefly visible between her firm thighs. “I don’t think I want to ask but what do they mean by indentured service?”
“Well, the Vulcan and the Betazoid have a certain resemblance to Federation celebrities,” Eryd explained. “They would probably be sentenced to high-end jobs like Silver Brothel or Distant Star pleasure cruises. But because of your criminal record as a Maquis, B’Elanna Torres, you would probably end up in one of the industrial zone brothels here on Ferenginar.”
“That is absolutely unacceptable,” T’Pol said flatly, her arms tightening around her anything-but flat chest, two bulges rising up from inside her cradling hands.
“What about the women we bought?” queried Torres, apparently ignoring T’Pol’s objection, “Our assets. They would be sold off?”
“Of course, all of your assets would be liquidated.”
“We won’t be taking that deal,” Deanna confirmed. None of
the women were willing to see
Eryd rubbed one ear and grimaced.
“If that’s the way it is, then we go to trial.”
“I have a question,” T’Pol said, her normally elegant and unruffled Vulcan exterior now revealing a slightly nervous side. “During the trial, will we…” She hesitated, biting her plump lips in trepidation. “Will we be naked?”
+++++
The Court of High Finance, also the highest court on Ferenginar, was located in the upper levels of the
One half of the circular chamber was the functioning side of the court: there was a panel of Ferengi judges clothed in rich latinum-and-jewel studded robes, a double-row of jurors waiting for the trial to commence, and the prosecution team’s table piled high with datapadds and a small army of Ferengi lawyers seated behind it. There was also a place for the lone defense lawyer, nervously tugging at his obviously-cheap jacket in the presence of so many wealthy and successful Ferengi.
The other half of the courtroom was a tiered gallery from which the public would watch. The forward row was occupied by journalists with sketch-pads, while the rest were a mix of civilians and law students. Apart from a few alien journalists the room was entirely occupied by Ferengi, and they were exclusively male.
There was an empty chair in the front row of the viewing gallery, booked for a female journalist from Earth. She had made it ten courageous steps outside the Federation embassy before running back indoors with boob-jiggling steps, having over-estimated her tolerance to Ferenginar’s Females are Unclothed in Public laws.
“This court is in session,” declared one of the judges. “Mister Nimik, the prosecution may begin.”
Nimik, the head of the Ferengi Commerce Authority’s team of lawyers, stood and tucked his orange fingers into the lapels of his jacket. “I would like to direct the court’s attention to Exhibits A, B and C.”
The large and ornate doors to the courtroom swung open, allowing T’Pol, B’Elanna Torres and Deanna Troi to enter. The three Starfleet officers were unescorted and also completely unclothed. An appreciative murmur spread through the public gallery at the sight of the three gorgeous brunettes as they made their nude advance into the centre of the courtroom.
The Vulcan, the Klingon and the Betazoid were spared gravity shackles this time: instead there were metal yolks at their shoulders, looping around their necks and wrists and forcing the three heroines to keep their hands lifted to head height. From the way they kept perfectly abreast it was clear that the yolks had grav-guidance systems built in, pushing and prodding the ‘evidence’ in the right direction and keeping the trio on the humiliating route set down for them. It also ensured that Troi, Torres and T’Pol each walked with their heads bowed in embarrassment with their bare breasts swaying and quivering with each degrading step.
“The jury shall inspect the evidence,” the prosecutor
directed.
The Ferengi in the jury enjoyed an extremely close view of T’Pol, Troi and Torres’ naked bodies. “Members of the jury, can you confirm that Exhibits A, B and C are in fact female?”
T’Pol’s Vulcan self-control trembled as hands massaged her round ass. Deanna Troi rolled her dark eyes in humiliation as her soft and sensitive pussy lips were diddled. B’Elanna Torres bowed her head as her round breasts were squeezed and lifted. Each woman was outraged at the treatment but didn’t dare speak out. The Ferengi were fond of fines as punishment, and their only assets were Shelby and her captured crew. If they struggled it would be the women of the USS Sutherland that suffered the consequences.
The three Starfleet officers had an abundance of delicious flesh to play with. As breasts were squeezed, asses fondled, thighs explored and snatches probed by orange Ferengi fingers, the prosecutor lifted a datapadd in his hand. “I have here a medical certification and a certified scan confirming that Exhibits A, B and C are all biologically and genetically female. The only physical augmentation these women have undergone is Orion sexual conditioning and metabolic enhancement.”
“So these are real?” asked one juror, his hands around B’Elanna Torres’ breasts. “I was sure the Klingon had implants,” he said to the Ferengi beside him.
“If the jury is convinced, this court accepts that the Exhibits are, in fact, female,” announced one of the judges. With that decree T’Pol, B’Elanna and Deanna’s gravshacks shifted, forcing the three women to leave the jurors’ ranks. They moved quickly, eager to get away from those groping hands, each brunette flushing with embarrassment.
But instead of going to the defense attorney’s table, the three Starfleet officers found their gravyolks guiding them to the centre of the courtroom. There they were made to stand in a neat line, right in the heart of the chamber without so much as a table to hide their nudity. Their yolks lifted slightly in their gravity fields and tipped forward, making Troi, Torres and T’Pol stand on the tips of their toes while leaning forwards slightly to ease the discomfort of their bindings. This position made their generous breasts dangle slightly.
“This is so embarrassing,” Deanna empathically transmitted to her companions, and she could sense both the Vulcan and the Klingon agreeing vehemently. But the Betazoid could only sense approval from the Ferengi in the chamber as they looked over the delicious naked curves of the three bare-bodied Starfleet officers.
“I enter into evidence exhibits D and E,” prosecutor Nimik continued. “Exhibit D is a credit statement from the Ferengi Banking Guild certifying that that the Moonlight Bounty delivery company, to which Exhibits A, B and C are connected, enjoys a green credit rating thanks to being a profitable business and an excellent record of loan repayments. Exhibit E is a statement of purchase of a riverside estate in the name of Moonlight Bounty. I would have the court accept that the business these women run possesses a substantial base of funds.”
Minutes became hours as the prosecution team went through their evidence. T’Pol, B’Elanna and Troi remained on tip-toe, standing naked before the judge, jury, legal teams and the spectators in the gallery, every inch of their delicious bodies on display. Soon their calves ached from the awkward position. Trying to shift into a less uncomfortable pose accomplished little but making their dangling breasts sway enticingly.
Exhibit after exhibit was introduced by the Ferengi Nimik. Most were simple transaction receipts, showing that the three heroines had made purchases with funds from their business. The prosecution was building a case that Moonlight Bounty had made a profit, and after months of work making deliveries and purchasing slaves Troi, T’Pol and Torres had left an enormous paper trail that proved exactly that. And females on Ferenginar were no more allowed to make a profit than they were allowed to wear clothing.
The case against the three naked heroines was strong.
+++++
After nearly three hours of exhibits the prosecution introduced its first witness.
“Yeah, I wass the warehousse ssupervisor when the delivery from Moonlight Bounty arrived,” answered a hideous Gorn seated in the witness booth, his voice a reptilian hiss. “A shipment of computer partsss about three monthsss ago.”
“During the course of your transaction with Moonlight Bounty did you ever see a male employed by or operating the business?” questioned Nimik.
The witness shook his ugly face. “Only females.”
“Did you get a good look at any of them?”
The giant Gorn nodded. Even while sitting he was taller than the Ferengi prosecutor. “One with brown hair and ridges on her head, maybe Klingon. She had the thumbprint padd for proof of receipt.”
“Is Exhibit C the female in question?” pressed the prosecutor.
The Gorn’s turned to look at the three heroines, yolked and forced to lean forwards slightly, tits dangling deliciously. This toothy mouth was fixed in a grin. “I’d need a better look.”
B’Elanna gasped as her gravyolk yanked her back, breasts jumping on her chest. Then the twenty-two year old was forced by her yolk to turn and walk towards the witness.
There was an appreciative silence in the courtroom as Voyager’s chief engineer walked completely naked to the witness stand as every man in the viewing gallery admired the firm perfection of B’Elanna Torres’ bare ass. Her gravyolk made her steps slightly awkward, her trim thighs working a little two hard beneath her glorious rump, her pussy lips offering a delicious peek as they pouted between her legs.
The Nausicaan leered as B’Elanna, naked and trembling in helpless outrage, was marched to within a foot of him.
“Wasn’t really looking at her face,” the witness admitted, his eyes traveling up and down Torres’ nude body, drinking in the sight of her bald snatch and proud high melons, presently rising and falling with quick indignant breaths. “Can you turn her around?”
Torres’ dark eyes shut as her embarrassment deepened, the twenty two year old forced to turn with her gravity restraints. In such busty company as T’Pol and Deanna Troi, it was easy to overlook the half Klingon’s assets. But now, as she unwillingly took center stage, her breasts swaying gently left and right, every eye in the chamber was locked on the spectacle of B’Elanna Torres’ soft but generous tits. The outraged expression on her face only made the twenty-two year old more sexy.
With a good long look at the Maquis’ ass, the Gorn nodded. “Yeah, she’s the one.”
“Let the record show,” Nimik declared, “That the witness has indicated Exhibit C, a female, as an operator for the Moonlight Bounty delivery service.”
“Mr Eryd?” one of the judges queried, “Do you have any questions for this witness?”
The student attorney for the three heroines looked up from his datapadd, apparently startled by the query. “Not at this time, your honors,” was his quick reply, then his big-eared head was bowed again as he tapped buttons on his padd.
“Why does he not cross-examine the witness?” T’Pol demanded mentally as she watched B’Elanna being marched back towards them, the three nude brunettes again assembled in a line three abreast.
“There’s no point,” Troi thought back. “What’s he going to say? Is he going to try to prove that a man was in charge of the company? We haven’t pointed the finger at anyone. We can’t make that argument.”
The Gorn was the first of many witnesses. One after another dockworkers and warehouse staff and shift supervisors took up the stand, and each identified Deanna, T’Pol or B’Elanna as among the females they had seen. Most required a closer and more lengthy look at the nude Starfleet officers before confirming it. None of them indicated any hint that a man had been in charge of Moonlight Bounty. With each witness Nimik’s case grew stronger.
By afternoon B’Elanna, T’Pol and Deanna had been closely ogled by more than a dozen witnesses, each taking his time as he drank in the sight of their round tits, bald pussies and delicious bottoms. “Thank you for your time,” the prosecutor said as a pot-bellied Cardassian dock boss left the stand, having been able to identify all three brunettes. After a very close examination from the front and from the back, of course.
While the judges conversed between themselves for a time journalists maneuvered in the crowd for a better view. Visual scanners were not permitted but there were many talented sketch-artists among the journalists, quickly and skillfully sketching the sight of Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol nude, shackled and awaiting their fate.
“We have some time left today,” one of the judges said finally. “Mr Eryd, are you able to call your first witness?”
The nervous junior attorney stood up quickly. “I can, your honors. The defense calls Enforcer Doloph of the Ferengi Commerce Authority.”
There were some mildly interested whispers in the gallery as the witness entered the chamber. Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna each recognized this Ferengi. He had led the force that had arrested and marched them tit-leashed and naked through the streets of Ferengi. His hand had not been the one yanking their boobs but he had not stopped the humiliating yet pleasurable tugs on their leashed tits either.
The pure latinum ceiling of the chamber didn’t draw more than a grunt of surprise from the Ferengi soldier. Doloph had not brought his phaser but still wore his slightly comically over-sized armor as he tramped to his chair behind the witness stand.
Eryd tapped a datapadd in his hand. “Enforcer Doloph,” the Ferengi started, then stopped to hurry back to his table to get the right padd.
Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna all rolled their dark eyes and sighed, causing three pairs of udders to lift and bob saucily. At last their student lawyer returned to the witness. “Enforcer Doloph,” he began again, “You are… you are really good at what you do.”
The grizzled and mean-faced Ferengi grimaced at the student lawyer. “Is that a question?”
“Sorry. Would you call yourself good at what you do?”
“Yes,” Doloph answered simply.
“You’ve arrested in many criminals during your time in the FCA?”
“More than I can count.”
“And dangerous criminals? Not just naked unarmed females?”
Enforcer Doloph eyed the lawyer, annoyance showing through his stony face. “Gorn. Nausicaans. Klingons. Romulans. Some with military training, some with improvised weapons, many with phase-disruptors and lot of them in organized groups. Why are you smiling?”
Eryd tried to hide his grin. “I’m sorry, but my little brother is a fan of Marauder Moe and you remind me of the character. I’m sorry,” he repeated, but there was laughter in the jury and the public gallery at the reference. Marauder Moe was a Ferengi cartoon series with merchandized action figures, an aggressive armored pirate who was far more physical than your typical Ferengi.
Surprisingly Doloph didn’t seem offended. His only response was a tiny flicker of a smile at the edge of his mouth as the Ferengi enforcer sat comfortably in his oversized armor.
“And you have served in the FCA enforcement branch for how long?” Eryd asked.
“Twelve years. Before that I served as shipboard security, but got a job in FCA enforcement to be closer to Ferenginar and my family.”
Prosecutor Nimik stood up. “Your honors, I would like to ask if the representative for the defense is going to ask a question pertinent to this trial some time today.”
Eryd lifted his hands to ear-height. “I’m just establishing that Enforcer Doloph is an expert in his profession. In fact, an expert witness. I can’t see how the FCA prosecutor would argue otherwise, as the FCA put Enforcer Doloph in charge of the arrests.”
The Ferengi judges looked at one another. “We’ll indulge the line of questioning but it had better become relevant quickly, Mr Eryd.”
The young Ferengi nodded. “Enforcer Doloph, if you had to arrest three criminals with no history of violent crime and no serious security measures at their place of residence, how would you do it?”
“Sweep them up with a transporter,” Doloph answered. “It minimizes the risk to our people and collateral damage in firefights.”
Eryd gestured to the gorgeous naked figures of T’Pol, Deanna and T’Pol. “But these Exhibits were arrested at gunpoint, and then made to walk to their place of confinement. Why is that?”
The enforcer rapped his fingers on the witness stand. “I was ordered to make a physical arrest.”
“Did you recommend a transporter capture?”
“I did.”
“Your recommendation was ignored?” Eryd queried. His tone was not pressing, just asking. The student attorney didn’t seem to have it in him to hammer a witness on the stand even if that was his intention.
“Yes, it was,” Doloph answered flatly.
“And I suppose you requested air support as well. Like a shuttle to carry the captives to confinement?”
“Yes.”
“But instead you were told to walk.” Eryd turned, taking a few theatrical steps towards the jury as he continued. “You, the three exhibits and three hundred other females were marched for an hour across the city.” He turned back to Doloph. “How many men were needed to guard them during this trip?”
“Fifteen teams,” was the armor-clad Ferengi’s short answer. “Just over a hundred and forty personnel.”
“Was that just to stop the girls from running away?”
The shoulders of Doloph’s armor shifted in a shrug. “Slavers see these sorts of transfers as opportunities. We’ve had problems before. Prisoners are easy targets as they tend to go along with their ‘rescuers’ and the FCA doesn’t invest much in recovering them. Not worth it.”
His eyes moved from Deanna’s bare breasts to T’Pol’s lovely orbs to B’Elanna’s swaying tits, the first and only time he would look at the three nude beauties. “Women with bodies like that are worth a lot of latinum. That draws attention. Three hundred women draw a lot more, and any slaver with half a lobe would have guessed where we would be taking them and would have been able to set up an ambush along the route. We had to be ready in case of an incident.”
Eryd looked Doloph in the eye. “Was this the first time you and your men were put in danger so someone could score political points?”
The prosecution team was immediately on their feet. “Objection your honors! The defense is attempting to blatantly misdirect the jury by putting the FCA on trial.” There was a murmuring from the spectator gallery. The front row of journalists all had their heads bowed as they took note, probably for the first time not sketching T’Pol, Deanna and B’Elanna’s naked bodies.
“What I am trying to do,” Eryd answered, “Is detailing the circumstances surrounding the arrest of the Exhibits. Your honors, I request that my last question be removed from the record. I’m nearly done.”
“Tread carefully, Mr Eryd,” one judge warned, his jug-eared head bobbing.
“Enforcer Doloph,” the young Ferengi attorney asked, “In your expert opinion, did you notice anything out of place about the arrest order that was issued for Exhibits A, B and C?” he asked gesturing back to the three dark-haired Starfleet officers standing naked and shackled in the centre of the chamber.
The older Ferengi was silent for a moment, staring hard at
the young lawyer. It wasn’t an angry stare but a measuring one. “Yes,” he
answered in the end. “Females making a profit is an
offense correctable without needing an arrest or trial. The FCA sends an
auditor and they tell the business to clean up their act. But no such warning
was issued to Moonlight Bounty. We
just went straight to arrest…”
“Objection your honor!” interrupted lead prosecutor Nimik. “The defense has established that Doloph is an expert at slapping criminals in gravshacks but that’s hardly the same as an expert in FCA warrant protocols!”
“Objection sustained,” the judges agreed.
“You’re right, that’s the wrong question.” Eryd tipped his big-eared head. “In twelve years as an FCA enforcer, have you ever been sent to arrest subjects for a similar correctable offense, without the FCA having already sent a warning?”
“Never,” Doloph said. “The FCA doesn’t like freezing businesses and their assets unnecessarily, it disrupts the economy. Violent crime, theft offenses, smuggling, those are another story. But not for this.”
Eryd stepped back. “That will be all, Enforcer Doloph.”
As the student lawyer walked back to the pile of datapadds at his table, there was a different feel in the courtroom. The army of legal professionals on the prosecution team were checking their padds, flashing cautious looks towards Eryd. Nimik’s team was no longer then unstoppable legal juggernaut they had appeared to be for most of the day. The spectators in the gallery were discussing the last witness’s testimony among themselves, no longer so focused on the delicious sight of the three ‘Exhibits’ naked bodies.
Standing utterly nude in the courtroom beside her equally naked
companions, the beautiful Deanna Troi closed her eyes and bowed her head
towards her own exposed breasts. “Thank you, Marauder Moe.”
+++++
“That was unnecessary grandstanding,” head prosecutor Nimik said sharply. “And also, riddled with courtroom clichés.”
“I was waiting for a you
can’t handle the truth, myself,” B’Elanna added
with a smirk.
The Ferengi lawyer was comfortably seated while his team remained standing behind him in a dense group, like well-dressed hitmen except with datapadds instead of weapons. In front of him was Eryd with his armful of datapadds, his three ‘exhibits’ standing behind him. The court was done for the day, and in the meantime a meeting was being held between the two sides.
B’Elanna Torres, T’Pol and Deanna Troi were still naked but their yolks had been replaced with inactive gravshacks. This gave them the freedom to fold their arms in front of their breasts, pushing their boobs upwards in eye-opening cleavages. Each brunettes stood with her thighs shut tightly, trying as best as they could to hide their lovely slits.
“It appears our student lawyer has struck a nerve,” observed T’Pol, the Vulcan wrapped in an aloof and regal calm, even though she was wrapped in nothing else.
“Don’t even pretend to understand our laws, female,” Nimik
snapped, eyes quickly moving up and down the science officer’s slim but full-chested figure. “If you did you wouldn’t be wearing those
shackles.”
“Grand Nagus Zek is pushing reforms that have rubbed conservative Ferengi the wrong way,” Eryd explained quickly to his clients. “There are many challenging his position, promoting themselves on platforms of old school Ferengi law. Your conviction would promote that agenda.”
“A prosecutor with political ambitions?” Deanna questioned. “That’s a bit of a cliché too, isn’t it Mister Nimik?”
The Ferengi head of the prosecution narrowed his eyes at the three brunette beauties, lifting one hand to rub his ear as he looked across Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna’s naked bodies. “There is a new deal on the table. You change your plea to guilty. Each of you will serve ten years indentured service.”
One of his staff handed over a datapadd. “Distant Star pleasure cruises has agreed to take all three of you on, despite some criminal history,” he added, looking directly at B’Elanna Torres’ smooth hairless pussy. “You will get fifty weeks of work a year, weekends off, and you’ll be limited to one client a night. Distant Star treats its girls very tenderly,” he added. “You’ll also get to see some truly beautiful sights during the trip. Many of the girls’ bedrooms have very large windows, I’m told.”
T’Pol looked over the padd, holding it strategically in front of her heavy melons. “This is your idea of mercy?” she suggested skeptically.
“In addition,” the prosecutor continued, “The assets of Moonlight Bounty will not be liquidated but will remain in your possession. Your ship, your estate, your slaves and currency will all go to storage of your choice and will be returned to you when your ten years are served. No interest or adjustment for inflation,” he added, as if such an idea was an insult.
“So if we chose to store our ship and our slaves on a planet in the Klingon Empire,” asked Deanna, “Or the Federation, or with the Sapora government you wouldn’t object?”
The prosecutor shrugged. “That’s the deal.”
T’Pol, Deanna and B’Elanna exchanged glances. “We would like some privacy to discuss this,” Torres said.
Nimik shrugged, casting his eye over the three nude Starfleet officers again as he departed. His team trailed out after him, leaving the beautiful trio alone with their attorney.
“We should take the deal,” Deanna said immediately. “This
gets
“And I have to admit Distant Star sounds a lot better than an industrial zone brothel,” B’Elanna added.
“If I could serve the function of Devil’s Advocate,” T’Pol said delicately, “Refusing the deal could have significant benefits. Obviously Eryd’s questions have revealed certain political agendas of individuals in the FCA. From Enforcer Doloph’s response, a rift could easily form between high and low rank personnel due to this political self-interest. If we plead guilty, we justify the prosecution. But pleading innocent, even if we are eventually found guilty, could sustain doubts that would have significant long-term implications for reforming Ferengi society for the better.”
“Or they could be forgotten in a month,” retorted Torres. “I have to side with Deanna. We have to take the deal.”
T’Pol sighed with relief, her generous tits rising and
falling with the breath. “I am pleased to be out-voted in this matter,” she
breathed. “Shelby and her people deserve better than a life of humiliating
servitude.”
Eryd nodded and headed for the door, activating its speaker. “My clients have made a decision.” The prosecution team re-entered the room. Nimik regarded the three bare-bodied heroines with a knowing smirk.
But the three Starfleet officers did not blush or cover themselves. They didn’t give the prosecutor the satisfaction as they stood upright and proud, the round treats of their breasts uncovered. Deanna spoke. “We’ve decided. We accept your offer.”
The Ferengi prosecutor lounged in his chair, shaking his head. “No, not here. Tomorrow in the courtroom is when you’ll accept. In front of the judge, the jury, the spectators and the reporters you will plead guilty to the charges and volunteer to serve the fair and correct sentence as recommended by the FCA, as payment for your crimes against Ferengi society.”
Troi’s imperiously beautiful face lifted. “Very well.”
“See you tomorrow,” the prosecutor smiled as his team shuffled out. The Ferengi climbed to his feet and headed for the door, but halted before leaving. “You know, I might buy some tickets for Distant Star pleasure cruises. I hear they’ll be getting some prime pieces of tit in very soon.”
The door hissed shut behind Prosecutor Nimik.
“How much time would I have to serve for murder?” asked B’Elanna politely.
+++++
Troi, Torres and T’Pol had once ventured into a casino on Ferenginar on purpose, fleecing it of captive women. Within its walls they had seen females of many Federation species paraded about in humiliating ‘uniforms’, little more than leggings and long sleeves that left each woman breasts, bottom and snatch bare for the pleasure of their customers. But the casino-issued outfits the trio wore now made those costumes seem dignified by comparison.
A Starfleet combadge was a small arrowhead-shaped device with an adhesive back, capable of sticking to the breast of a uniform. Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol now each wore a pair of badges on their nipples as well as a third attached just above their hairless slits. They were wearing nothing else.
The three heroines trembled in embarrassment as they stepped forward onto the
casino stage, covered only by those tiny strategically-placed badges. They were
too small to entirely cover the brown rings of their aureoles, did not truly
conceal the folds of their pussies between their thighs, and did nothing to
protect their round asses. If anything they highlighted what these beauties had
once been: proud Starfleet women now reduced to sexy playthings. The combadges on their nipples bounced with the movements of
their tits as they advanced, shutting their eyes in humiliation as every
Ferengi eye in the chamber turned towards them.
The casino-ship had a vast internal compartment as luxurious and expensively decorated as any they might find planet side. Its customers, mostly Ferengi but with a smattering of men from species all over the Quadrant, now turned from gaming tables and gambling machines and dining areas to look with appreciation to the sight of Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol so scantily clad on the center stage.
“Distant Star pleasure cruises has the good fortune to present to you tonight three lovely new entertainers!” declared a Ferengi announcer, not on stage but easily audible across the large chamber through the speaker system. The brunette trio exchanged shamed looks as they stood almost-naked on stage, tits rising as they each took in deep breaths of trepidation. “The athletic lady with the ridges is B’Elanna. The pointed-eared skinny one with the big tits is T’Pol and the pale one with the curves is Deanna. They’ve got fire, they’ve got logic, and they’ve got the diplomacy that makes them work together. And together they were Moonlight Bounty, a delivery company that made a few unfortunate choices that left these ladies with nowhere to go but here.”
The three beauties shuffled uncomfortably closer together, each one acutely feeling the eyes of so many men on their barely-covered bodies. T’Pol’s plump lips opened in concern as she glanced down at her barely-covered teats, while Deanna settled her hands on the plump roundness of her womanly bottom. B’Elanna lifted her chin, looking away in embarrassment but still maintaining a look of defiance as she stood with her magnificent body on show.
But the announcer had more to tell. “I also have the pleasure of announcing we’ve just finished the installation of our holo-emitters in this very chamber! And what better way to celebrate than to combine our state-of-the-art entertainment system with our three newest entertainers?”
Deanna’s black Betazoid eyes were wide with concern. “Oh god, what are they planning?” Beside her Torres flexed her fingers at her sides, fighting to urge to cover her inadequately-protected breasts, while T’Pol had to make a conscious effort to close her full-lipped mouth and try to rebuild her façade of cool self-control.
“These three lovely ladies have had many misadventures,” the announcer continued. “So we decided we could use our holoemitters to recreate some of those exciting moments. Let’s see what our girls have been up to.”
Holographic emitters around the stage powered up. A wall of shimmering air rolled towards the trio as the illusion manifested. The holowave washed over them, plucking the combadges from their teats and kitties, making each woman yelp in objection as they were suddenly left completely naked, and then the show began.
T’Pol’s lean long-limbed figure
was wrapped in color. Suddenly the Mother of the Federation was wearing a
splotchy black-and-white coat of body paint from her feet to her neck. The
exception was her breasts: the Vulcan’s melons had been holographically
painted bright pink. A bell on a collar around her neck completed the costume,
leaving the
Force fields grabbed her body and forced the Vulcan onto her hands and knees, her pink tits jiggling and dangling above a bucket that had appeared on the floor beneath her. As she gasped wide-eyed at this indignity another hologram shimmered into view beside her. It was a massive Gorn, his compound eyes shining and his broad tooth-filled mouth grinning as he ducked down to grip T’Pol’s bare breasts in his powerful hands. With strong squeezes and tugs he began to work on her udders, pointing her teats into the bucket as he mock-milked the normally regal and elegant Vulcan!
B’Elanna Torres yelped as she was hoisted into the air, her arms and legs suddenly wrapped in sticky fibers and pulled back away from her bare chest and kitty. The twenty-two year old wiggled sexily, making her tits bounce on her chest. But the hologram that appeared floating in front of her bosom stilled her struggles. It was a slimy worm-like creature that she found all too familiar. “Oh god no!” she cried out just as its tail plunged deeply into her pussy and its mouthparts clamped onto one of her big brown nipples.
It was a holographic reproduction of a Cavetrapper larvae, the offspring of a creature that captured females to serve as incubators for its young. After birthing they would suck from their “mother’s” teats, which was exactly what Torres was experiencing! The Klingon squealed in unwanted pleasure as her left breast was stretched up and away from her body, even as the larvae’s tail wiggled in her super-sensitive snatch!
Deanna Troi was forced down on her knees, her wrists swiftly yanked behind her by force fields. Her mouth opened in a gasp as she felt another hologram manifest behind her, a broad bulbous mass that pushed deep between her pouting pussy lips. “Oh my ooohhhhh,” she moaned as she felt it slide into her and swell, filling her passage and sparking impossible pleasure in her Orion conditioned body. Involuntarily she pressed her hips back against the object, and gasped in shock as she felt her bottom press against a set of soft buttocks mirroring her own. Twisting at the waist, the counselor looked back to see who was behind her. It was herself!
Deanna Troi was kneeling ass-to-ass against another Deanna
Troi, a perfect holographic copy of her own voluptuous body and imperiously
beautiful face. The two gorgeous brunettes were both on their knees, wrists
shackled together and bare breasts thrust forwarded, the two counselors
connected by a double-ended dildo buried in both of their vaginas! “No wait,
this is impossi-
ah! Ah! Ah!” The daughter of the Betazoid Ambassador began to yelp as her
double’s hips pumped back against hers, driving the oversized phallus deeper into
her snatch. Ecstasy blossomed in her body and she found herself gyrating her
body in time to the thrusts, her breasts flicking generously forward and back.
“How could they mooouuuaaahhh!” T’Pol’s question, undoubtedly pertinent and logical, became a moan of pleasure as the Gorn working her tits grabbed both her nipples and pulled them down hard. Her breasts surrendered, releasing two narrow jets of cream that splattered down into the bucket beneath her. Helplessly thumping the stage floor with her palms, T’Pol wiggled sexily and parted her full lips to moan as she was milked.
“These bastards!” panted B’Elanna as the larvae detached from one nipple long enough to group around and find its erect and waiting twin. “These twisted little ieeeeeeeee!” The twenty-two year old let out a distinctly un-Klingon squeak as the worm sucked on her other teat, stretching her boob and forcing her nipples to release her milk into its hungry mouth. Its body wiggled in satisfaction, its tail worming about in Torres’ kitty and driving Voyager’s engineer into spasms of ecstasy.
“This can’t be happening!” wept Deanna. With holo-shackles linking her wrists to those of her double behind her, the counselor was forced to arch her back and present her breasts as she unwillingly banged her ass against the buttocks of her doppelganger. Pleasure swelled in her hips, making her body respond with faster and deeper pumping, her full soft breasts leaping vigorously. “They can’t possibly know that these things happened to us!”
Troi could feel an orgasm approaching, unbelievable pleasure
boiling up inside her and threatening to burst. “They just can’t!” she wailed, “This can’t
be happening again!” Suddenly understanding appeared in her dark eyes, her
full lips opening in shock. “This can’t be real! This must be a-”
+++++
“-Nightmare!”
Deanna sat up on her small cot, one hand pressed between her bare breasts against her hammering heartbeat. Across the small cell she shared with her companions B’Elanna was also sitting up in bed, her tanned tits heaving as she panted for air. Both heroines’ skin was beaded with perspiration and they stared at each other in shock.
“You too?” Torres breathed, pushing her dark hair back over one shoulder and then nervously slid her hand down to her snatch to be certain a Cavetrapper larvae was not worming out of it. To her relief her kitty was completely free of monsters.
“Me too,” shuddered Deanna, leaning forward with her tits pressing against her thighs as she hugged her legs, feeling a chill wash over her. “How could we possibly share the same dream…” Her hands lifted to her head, pressing through her thick dark hair. “My empathy,” the Betazoid said, her breathing slowing. “We share our thoughts so often. We must have unconsciously shared that nightmare.”
“I think T’Pol did too,” B’Elanna added, her voice dropping. Deanna looked over to the Vulcan’s cot and gaped.
The
The Betazoid and the Klingon watched the Vulcan for a moment as she wiggled, meowed and pulled on her own boobs. “Maybe we should wake her up?” suggested B’Elanna.
Deanna lowered her knees, sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap and her arms pushing her boobs together. “I could stand to watch this for a little while longer,” she said, her eyes on the writhing T’Pol.
Torres rolled her eyes, one hand idly moving down over her right breast as she looked back towards the science officer’s sexy show. “You know she does this in her sleep pretty often, right?” she asked, unconsciously plucking at one of her own teats. “You do too, in fact.”
“You’re doing it right now,” sighed Deanna. As B’Elanna realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had been playing with her tit, the counselor climbed out of her cot and walked over to the still-wriggling Vulcan with hip-swaying, tit-jiggling steps. “Okay T’Pol, time to wake up.” She shook the science officer by the shoulder, making her own boobs jiggle in the process. “Wake up. T’Pol!”
Deanna risked a light slap to the Vulcan’s face, which T’Pol ignored. Her plump lips opened in an “o” of ecstasy as her fingers tightened around her nipples, twisting and pulling, her back arching. With another sigh Troi climbed onto the Vulcan’s bunk, straddling the naked woman so that her weight forced the science officer’s lean arching body back down to her mattress. “Play time is over, now wake up!” The counselor swung back either hand and smacked both of T’Pol’s tits hard.
With a gasp and a jerk the Vulcan roused, sitting up sharply
and finding herself tit-to-tit against the
“Um, yes, I was,” the suddenly blushing Vulcan said, lying back with her hands protectively moving to cover her mysteriously aching nipples.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Troi soothed, leaning over the Vulcan, unwittingly presenting a delicious sight of her full dangling breasts, only inches above T’Pol’s own still-heaving melons. “B’Elanna and I had the same dream.”
“But how… your psychic abilities,” the science officer realized, quickly putting the pieces together. Her fingertips, however, stayed over her still-erect teats.
“The sun’s coming up,” B’Elanna announced.
The three heroines moved over to the window of their cell, a wide low-set opening without any sort of security bars. At more than eighty stories above the ground it had been judged that any attempt to escape by a window would be folly. So the brunette trio had an unobstructed view as the sun climbed over the horizon and the new day began.
The glow of morning fought against the clouds of overnight rain. Thunderstorms were globally common on Ferenginar, and this early in the morning they couldn’t tell if the day would bring rain or shine.
But it was a beautiful sight nonetheless as Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol stood at the wide window, their elbows on the frame and their breasts propped up on their arms as they watched the sunrise. Light washed over their faces and full chests while their round asses poked out behind in a lovely line. “We’ve had a pretty good run,” Torres admitted, “When you think about it.”
“We prevented the Jem’Hadar from gaining a foothold on Vulcan,” T’Pol said.
“Shut down a vicious Reman arms smuggler,” Troi agreed.
“Stopped a Romulan plot to infiltrate the Federation,” added B’Elanna, “And brought down any number of scumbags along the way.”
“Don’t forget the women we saved,” Deanna said.
“And the women we will save,” finished T’Pol. “Shelby and her crew will be back in the Federation next week thanks to what we will do today.”
The
“But maybe sleeping with a thousand Ferengi during those ten years will,” B’Elanna suggested.
“Seven thousand, five hundred,” corrected the
Torres laughed and silenced the Vulcan with a smack on the ass. “A little less precision please, T’Pol,” Voyager’s chief engineer said.
The Enteprise’s science officer smiled at her companions, not minding a little spank from her friends. She turned to face them, the sunlight tracing the lovely curves of her breasts and slim waist. “Deanna, B’Elanna,” the Vulcan said softly. “Since we met, everything we have…”
Then the gravity shackles on their wrists activated. In the same gasp B’Elanna, T’Pol and Deanna all felt their wrists forced behind their backs, securing tightly. The three women were pulled off balance and fell to the floor, wiggling in protest at the remote activation of their bonds.
The door of their quarters opened and armed FCA guards tramped in. “Time to get moving,” the Ferengi in the lead said, looking down with a sneering smile at the three naked brunettes, tits flopping as they tried to roll onto their chests. “Get them on their feet.”
B’Elanna Torres mewled out an objection as Ferengi hands grabbed onto her tits and pulled her upwards. T’Pol cringed and wiggled as her generous orbs proved too-convenient handholds for another man who dragged the Vulcan up by her throbbing boobs. Deanna Troi managed to roll onto her chest but the pale-skinned voluptuous beauty found no protection there: a Ferengi reached beneath her, fingers grasping and squeezing her soft and ample udders and she too was forced to her feet, pulled up by her sensitive jugs.
Panting from the shock of the guards’ surprise entry and the sensation of being hauled upright by their super-sensitive melons, the Klingon, the Vulcan and the Betazoid were forced to stand still by the Ferengi hands tightly around their breasts as more FCA men approached. These ones held gravity-yolks, the same kind they had worn in court.
The three three beautiful bare-bodied brunettes looked at each other in sudden dismay. The trial was about to resume. It was time for them to enter their guilty plea.
+++++
“Your honors,” Eryd said, holding only a single datapadd today and looking rather underdressed because of it, “The Exhibits A, B and C have a statement to make.” He stepped back, giving his gorgeous clients room in the center of the Court of High Finance chamber.
Commander Deanna Troi, the daughter of the Betazoid ambassador, counselor of the USS Enterprise, stepped forward before the court. With her hands lifted in her gravity-yolk, every inch of the twenty-nine year old’s lushly proportioned milk-white body was exposed from her lovely curving hips, her round womanly bottom, her perfectly smooth snatch to her soft and ample breasts.
T’Pol, the legendary First Modern Vulcan, Commander aboard
the NX class
B’Elanna Torres, Maquis rebel and chief engineer aboard the USS Voyager took up her position on the
other side. The twenty-two year old Klingon’s athletic body showed no fear or
nervousness, her firm legs steady, the delicious orbs of her breasts high and proud
and her attractive features resolute. Her trim thighs were close together as
she set her feet and lifted her chin, daring the men in the room to look over
her delicious nakedness.
This was their moment of fate, their surrender to cruel
Ferengi law. But it was less of a defeat than a sacrifice. In giving up their
freedom, Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol would be sparing Shelby and her crew the
humiliation of life as sex slaves. The three beauties were not fearless: far
from it. The reality of the degrading sentence ahead of them bore heavily on
the three naked and shackled Starfleet officers. But they were Starfleet officers, and they were determined to follow their
hearts and do the right thing, no matter the cost to themselves.
Behind the trio the courtroom door opened and in hurried a
Ferengi wearing the brightly colored uniform of a
“Your honors,” the counselor started, curvaceous, shackled and stunningly naked before the court, “After much thought and consideration my co-defendants and I have come to a decision.”
The quick-footed Ferengi courier was heading for the panel of judges, waving a latinum-bordered letter in his hand. The judges’ eyes peeled away from the gorgeous naked bodies of T’Pol, Torres and Troi and locked onto that distinctive letter, immediately realizing who must have sent it.
“We, the defendants,” Deanna said, her beautiful dark eyes flickering to one side to watch the courier run past her, “Have considered our activities with respect to Ferengi law. We understand the court’s actions in bringing us to trial in this esteemed presence and the disruption we have caused to Ferenginar commerce.” The messenger was holding the letter up, offering it towards the judges long before he came within arm’s reach. “With this in mind we have decided to change our plea from not guilty to…”
“Oh shut up,” one of the judges scolded Troi, grabbing the letter out of the messenger’s hand. The buck-naked counselor gaped and then shut her mouth, taken aback as the dramatic moment was suddenly snatched away from her.
The Ferengi judge examined the seal and his beady eyes widened. Quickly showing it to the other men on the panel he broke the seal, unfolded the letter inside and read it silently. Murmurs moved through the gallery and the journalists shifted their attention from Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna’s lovely naked bodies and to the judges instead as they passed the letter between them.
The Ferengi seated in the middle of the judge’s panel scratched the back of one ear nervously. “An audit is to be performed on this trial to determine if the proceedings are unnecessarily wasteful,” he said helplessly.
Prosecutor Nimik stood up. “The FCA didn’t inform me of any audit!”
“Because it didn’t come from the Ferengi Commerce Authority,” answered another judge, still reading the letter. “This is the order of Grand Nagus Zek.”
The three heroines exchanged confused looks. The Grand Nagus was the ultimate financial authority on Ferenginar. Twisting in their bonds so that their boobs swayed from side to side, the Betazoid, the Klingon and the Vulcan could see that everyone in the chamber shared their surprise at this turn of events.
The Ferengi judge carefully placed the letter down as if it were precious. With a nervous swallow he lifted his voice. “Please permit the Auditor to enter.”
T’Pol, Troi and Torres turned to look back over their shoulders. The posture produced a delicious view of round rumps, slim waists and the side-curve of each woman’s left breast. But not a single man in the courtroom was paying attention to the three beauties as all eyes turned to the courtroom’s enormous doors as they parted and allowed the Nagus’ nominated Auditor to enter.
+++++
She was blonde.
The slim-legged, narrow waisted young woman walked forwards, the antennae rising out of her platinum hair and the perfect blue of her silky skin revealing her to be an Andorian.
“Melika?” breathed B’Elanna.
But this wasn’t the Melika the three heroines knew. Where the holographic teenager that served as Starheart’s computer interface had long pale hair falling almost to her perfect ass, this woman had a shorter haircut that fell just reached the back of her neck and framed her face.
Her features were more mature, her face not having all the puppy-fat softness as the cute teenaged Melika, and her breasts were fuller and rounder. Those heavier tits were easy for the three heroines to see as the Andorian beauty was completely naked!
All Melika wore was a set of officer’s pips on her slim blue shoulder, attached with cosmetic glue, a Starfleet communicator likewise adhered to her left breast, and her boots. Her hips swished confidently as she walked in, the mouthwatering handfuls of her breasts jiggling slightly with every step, the white circles of her nips quivering deliciously. The young woman sported a trimmed triangle of white fur above her little slit. Her bright blue eyes were calm and sure, and her pretty mouth had a touch of a smile on it.
With absolute confidence and apparently uncaring that her incredible body was completely naked in a room full of Ferengi, the Andorian lifted her beautiful face. “I have been selected by Grand Nagus Zek to perform an audit of this court,” she stated, settling her hands on the tasty curves of her bare hips. “Ferengi society is based on economics, in the belief that this is the most efficient and correct method with which to govern. This court is the highest on Ferenginar but still must abide by Ferengi law.”
One of the judges opened his mouth to speak but shut his lips quickly, not willing to interrupt the Nagus’ selected Auditor.
“In the execution of this duty I will be asking questions outside of the typical courtroom process,” the blonde young woman continued. “So if you have an answer then please, speak up, even you in the galleries. While I do hold a rank in Starfleet, I am not here in that capacity.”
To demonstrate the point Melika gripped her commbadge and carefully pulled it away from her breast, her titflesh briefly stretching before the glue gave way. She left it in the hands of the nearest Ferengi, who happened to Eryd. He gaped at the little arrowhead-shaped communicator and then clenched his fingers around it nervously.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol stared in open-mouthed disbelief. It was impossible for the holographic Melika to leave Starheart. Without its emitter systems the photons and forcefields that maintained the illusion of her presence could not sustain themselves. The only way for the Andorian to be here was if she were flesh and blood.
The stunning Andorian beauty
standing naked before them could only be the real Melika that the holographic Ensign
had been based on!
The blonde bombshell turned, in the process providing every man in the chamber with an excellent view of her mouthwatering figure, her slim legs, pert ass, blonde bush and soft enticing tits on display. “First, can someone define profit?”
The courtroom was silent. Then a Ferengi at the back of the galleries lifted one hand. “Yes?” the blue-skinned beauty pointed, the movement causing her boobs to shift ever-so-slightly together.
“Profit is the surplus of incoming assets and monies over outgoing expenses and loss of assets,” the Ferengi said as if reciting from a textbook.
“And what is loss?” The blonde followed.
“The opposite,” one of the prosecution team said. “Expenses exceeding incoming monies and assets. Although there’s a difference between net profit and gross profit, Ferengi law generally defines profit as the part you actually get to keep.”
There was some nervous laughter in the galleries and Melika smiled at the lawyer. “Correct again. Ignoring the fact that I am a woman,” the naked Andorian said, asking the impossible since the gorgeous blonde’s femininity was so clear to see, “Suppose I purchased the Vulcan over there for one bar of gold pressed latinum.”
Now the laughter was louder as the crowd tried to comprehend the idea of such a beautiful, long-legged full-breasted woman such as T’Pol being purchased for the tiny sum of one bar.
“I then sell her for two bars. My profit is one bar, correct?” Melika looked around as she watched Ferengi heads nodding. “But suppose there are other expenses. I have to move her, train her, check her for diseases. Suppose I spend two bars on this. What then?”
“You expended three bars and only received two,” Eryd answered. “You’ve lost one bar and failed to make a profit.”
Melika nodded. The stunning Andorian beauty walked over to where Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol stood nude and shackled. “Betazoid,” the blonde asked, “Moonlight Bounty received payments for making deliveries?”
“It did,” Deanna replied, lifting her face and wishing she weren’t so humiliatingly displayed with her yolk forcing her to tip forwards slightly at the shoulder, her milky breasts dangling like delicious fruit.
“And those monies were spent primarily on slaves?” Melika pressed, pacing left and right with her eyes on the judges and the gallery, while their eyes stayed on her cutely wiggling bottom and bobbing tits. “Thousands bars to date?”
The
“Did you sell those slaves again?”
Troi’s dark eyes locked on the Andorian. “No.”
“Do you put them to work?” Melika queried, her blue eyes turning to give the jury and judges a knowing look, which most of them missed as the rest of the Andorian’s incredible figure was there to look at as well.
“No,” the counselor added again.
“Did you make any money from them at all?”
“No money at all.”
There was a quiet voice at the back of the public gallery spoke. “They’re operating at a loss.”
The head prosecutor stood up. “That’s hardly the point if the profit is made!”
“Profit is what you get to keep,” countered Melika. She looked back at the three women, her blue eyes going from Deanna’s naked form, across T’Pol’s slim but heavy-titted body to B’Elanna Torres’ athletic figure. “Klingon, you purchased an estate which you used as a residence, correct?”
“That’s right,” the twenty-two year old said, her dark eyes wide as she regarded this new and different Melika.
The blue-skinned blonde folded her slim arms beneath her breasts, the two treats on her chests pushed together and lifting, pale nipples pointing forwards. “But the slaves you recently purchased were also there. Why?”
“We had to put them somewhere,” Torres answered, shrugging her shoulders and involuntarily making her tits lift and slap gently together. “The ship wasn’t big enough to transport all of them in one go without stasis pods, and we don’t like using them in case something goes wrong. Also, it’s expensive to purchase storage space in a Ferengi warehouse.”
T’Pol’s brown eyes were filled with the light of understanding. “The purchase of the estate was a necessary expenditure.”
One of the judges on the panel cleared his throat. “I see where the esteemed Auditor is going, and it is clear why the Nagus ordered this audit. Can the prosecution show that these three,” he said, gesturing to the naked and shackled T’Pol, Troi and Torres, “Made actual profit from the slaves they purchased?”
“The slaves themselves are an asset,” the prosecutor said, “They themselves are profit!”
“Did they put them to work?” Melika challenged. “Did they sell them for a higher price? Because if they fired them into the sun or threw them out of airlocks or even freed them, no profit was made. Slaves require food, housing, training and security, all expenditures. And the crime that this court is examining is the making of profit.”
The judges nodded amongst themselves. Prosecutor Nimik sputtered and then jerked his hands at his assistants,
who began scouring their datapadds for something in
Ferengi law they could use to save the case. Eryd’s
eyes moved from the gorgeous Melika’s bare breasts to
the communicator in his hand, so recently attached to one of those breasts. The
spectators and journalists and jury members whispered among themselves. And in
the center of the chamber the nude and shackled Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna
stared in silent gratitude at the stunningly naked Andorian,
or more accurately at her mouthwatering ass as Melika
was facing the judges.
“The Auditor does not need to continue,” the centermost judge declared. “As no functional profit can be shown to have been made by the Moonlight Bounty delivery company, its co-owners cannot be prosecuted for the crime of making a profit while being female. Guided by the Grand Nagus’ Audit, this court finds that the charges are to be dropped.”
The courtroom exploded in shouts and questions. The gravyolks were remotely released from around Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna’s wrists and necks. Suddenly free the three Starfleet officers immediately embraced each other in joy and relief, bare breasts flattening together. Ferengi journalists got hand cramps trying to sketch the wonderful view quickly enough.
“Thank you,” Melika said, plucking her comm badge from Eryd’s fingers and then walking past the Ferengi, her firm blue ass wiggling as she headed for the exit.
“Thank you,” repeated Deanna, kissing the student lawyer on the cheek before following the Andorian, her soft boobs bouncing with her haste.
“Thanks a bunch,” B’Elanna added as she planted a kiss on the young Ferengi’s other cheek and followed, her firm thighs pumping below her perfect bald snatch.
“And live long and prosper,” blessed T’Pol, before planting
her full pouting lips on Eryd’s mouth and kissing him
before she too departed with a saucy hip-swinging strut. The student lawyer fell
back into his chair, stunned speechless.
+++++
Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres, T’Pol and Melika
headed down the steps in front of the
“You’ll be relieved to know that due to the case being
thrown out, you will be reimbursed for the cost of your representation,” Melika explained, finally blushing at her nakedness. Despite
her earlier confidence it was now clear that the Andorian
was far from shameless, her hands now firmly covering her poor chest puppies. “That
casino is going to be paying through the nose after what they did, and all the
profit they made from the bets will be confiscated and passed on to you. As
well as the footage they recorded,” she added.
B’Elanna looked the Andorian up and down. “You’re the real thing, aren’t you? Not a hologram like our Ensign Melika aboard Starheart.”
“The original and the best, I like to think,” the blonde smiled, “And it’s Lieutenant, by the way.” She gestured to the two pips on her naked shoulder.
“I like what you’ve done with your hair,” Deanna complimented, leaning back to look at the Andorian’s cutely-cute short style. It left the smooth blue skin of her back and her perfect little bottom uncovered, unlike their Ensign Melika’s much longer hair.
“It actually wasn’t my choice,” the Lieutenant answered wryly. “People seem to think I look like some Andorian holo-slut that’s been turning up in holobrothels all over the quadrant. Apparently she’s really popular. Since I cut it short, they don’t see the same similarity.”
“Uh,” T’Pol said with
uncharacteristic caution, remembering that their Melika’s
program had been broadcast across the quadrant by Sela,
the blue-skinned teen punished by her matrix being provided free to holosuites everywhere.
Before she could continue something at the bottom of the stairs caught Melika’s eye and the Andorian was running down the steps, her blue ass wiggling and her breasts bouncing in her hands.
Another woman was running up the steps, her own small but tasty tits jumping as she ran into the Lieutenant’s arms. “I knew you could do it!” the other woman said. She was a young and slim Trill with short dark hair and spots that ran down from her temples, down her neck, past her small but well-shaped breasts, over her hips and finally down her slim legs. “I just knew it!”
“Good thing one of us knew,” Melika answered with a laugh. Arm in arm with her female companion, she presented the younger woman to the three brunettes coming down the stairs. “I think you three already know Ezri Tigan.”
“Ezri!” exclaimed Deanna, recognizing the small and unbearably cute Trill. The three brunettes had rescued Ezri from Auction Dome, where she and several other teenaged Trill schoolgirls had been on sale as slaves. The pretty teenager had actually been their very first purchase, the beginning of their secret crusade to save women from Ferengi slavery.
Troi spotted the Starfleet combadge attached to the young woman’s breast and the pip on her shoulder. “You joined Starfleet? Congratulations!”
“She a very promising Ensign,” Melika smiled. The Trill beside her would have blushed at the compliment but she was already pink with embarrassment at being naked on the streets of Ferenginar.
“I met Lieutenant Melika at the academy and recognized her from Starheart,” Ezri explained, self-consciously turning her naked body away from the street and covering her cute bum with her hands so that passing Ferengi would be denied their view of her nakedness. This posture left her pussy and pink-nippled breasts on full display for the other four women. “We started talking, and decided that we should try to find you.”
“Good thing that you did,” B’Elanna breathed, “We were about to change our plea to guilty. The prosecutor offered us a deal that would spared Shelby and her crew.”
“Where are they, by the way?” asked Troi.
“We’ve been in contact with your ship and my counterpart onboard,” Melika said, her blonde eyebrows lifting as she mentioned her holographic double aboard Staheart. “We know the Sutherland’s position and are making arrangements to transport Captain Shelby and her women back to their ship. But a lot of this was sheer luck, I’m afraid.”
The blue-skinned beauty lifted her hands to her pale hair and stretched, yawning, the movement making her lovely tits quiver. “I’ve been up for thirty hours straight. It took us that long to get to speak to Grand Nagus Zek and convince him to risk an audit. We convinced him that the successful prosecution of you three would be very damaging to the reforms he’s trying to push through.”
“Thirty hours?” T’Pol gasped. The Vulcan exchanged a look with Torres and Troi, the three women’s dark eyes all wide. “If they hadn’t made us work for our legal fee in the casino, if we had gone straight to trial, we would changed our plea to guilty before you reached us! We would have been on our way to who-knows-where by now!”
“You would have been too late to save us,” Deanna realized with a shocked expression.
“When you think about it,” Ezri said with a cheeky grin, touched with a blush as she kept her hands firmly on her equally firm bottom, “You three actually saved yourselves.”
Torres, T’Pol and Troi exchanged amazed looks as they stood
nude on the steps of the
Melika touched the commbadge attached to her tit. “Melika to Solstice, five to beam up. Energize.”
As blue transporter light gathered around the five naked
women, the Trill teenager lifted one nervous hand, her boobs lifting as she
drew in a breath. “Shouldn’t we have gotten some clothes on before beaming
aboard?” Ezri managed to ask before they were
snatched up and delivered to the transporter padd
aboard the starship high above.
+++++
On the dark side of a gas giant in the Dekiw system, hidden in the enormous planet’s rings, was the USS Sutherland. Its mighty warp engines, enormous navigational deflector and the multitude of windows in its hull were dark. But not for long.
The Nebula class starship’s systems powered up one by one. Lights appeared within the many windows scattered across its saucer hull. Running lights illuminated its name and registry numbers. Its nacelles lit up with a blue glow and its hydrogen ram scoops blazed red. A crew had returned to the Sutherland to bring her to life, to return the Nebula class cruiser to the Federation.
Nearby were two ships, the Nova class USS Solstice and Starheart. The two vessels were tiny and sleek compared to the giant Nebula class cruiser they tended to. But between them the two ships had been large enough to carry the three hundred women of the Sutherland’s crew back to their vessel.
Captain Elizabeth Shelby ran her hands down the front of her uniform, savoring the feeling of finally having clothing over her bare skin. Her hard work in rising so quickly in Starfleet at such a young age had been cruelly rewarded with seemingly endless nudity, humiliation and the exploitation of the blonde’s slim body. Now she was dressed again, and surrounded by the women of her crew.
With a nervous glance around in case any of her subordinates
were watching, the blue-eyed blonde pressed her hands against the underswell of her breasts and adjusted her bra. Two bursts
of pleasure warmed her tits as she shifted her peaches. Her conditioned body,
she was told, would always be more sensitive to contact, as would the bodies of
the three hundred women of her crew who had undergone the same biological
‘tuning’. Drawing her hands regretfully away from her breasts,
“At the very least,”
“Primary systems operational, a few glitches reported from
sensors and communication,” Lieutenant Robin Lefler reported,
the cream-skinned beauty likewise wearing a long-missed uniform over her sexy figure.
“Engineering estimates we can achieve seventy percent of main power. Impulse,
weapons and defenses all operational and we have more than enough warp speed to
get us back into Federation territory for full repairs. And we have a lot of
parts that need replacing.”
“The Solstice will
keep you company for the duration,” Melika promised.
The Andorian Lieutenant, along with Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol, joined
“Or Starheart,” B’Elanna Torres said, settling her hands on her sexy elastic-covered hips. The Klingon, as well as her Betazoid and Vulcan companions, now wore blue-and-white Starheart uniforms, the tight material lovingly hugging their tasty figures. “Honestly I wouldn’t mind a little vacation on this pretty ship of yours, Elizabeth.”
“I second that,” T’Pol added politely, her hands clasped
behind her back, the Vulcan’s generous boobs pressing forwards against the thin
material of her catsuit. “I did not have the
opportunity to study its systems as well as I had hoped during our last visit.”
The science officer’s full lips pursed with the memory: she and B’Elanna had
found themselves trapped naked within the inactive warp core, their bottoms
pressed together and their bare breasts flattened against the walls of the
reactor. It had been a very close look at the technology, but T’Pol would
prefer to study it with her clothes on,
thank you very much.
“What’s important is the Sutherland
is returning under its own power,”
The USS Sutherland’s powerful impulse engines glowed red. The enormous oval of its saucer turned as it began to crawl out of the gas giant’s rings, the Solstice and Starheart hanging off the larger ship’s flanks.
“You should see this girls,” came
the voice of the holographic Melika onboard Starheart, “It’s a beautiful sight.”
“So were we,” said Lieutenant Robin Lefler nervously. The green-eyed beauty touched her hands to her chest, where beneath her uniform the young woman had carried the words “FOR SALE” printed on her tits, only recently washed away. She had to draw her hands away quickly before the temptation to fondle and squeeze her super-sensitive breasts became too great to resist.
“We’ve been able to reach an agreement with the Ferengi Nagus,” Lieutenant Melika stated. “Captain Shelby, what you and your crew underwent on Ferenginar will be kept private and the records sealed. There are a lot of promising officers on this ship,” the Andorian said, turning her lovely blue eyes across the women on the bridge, “And my superiors are adamant that no one’s career is going to be damaged by scandalous footage turning up later.”
“It’s more than just some naughty pictures,”
“I know. I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Melika admitted, “But upon review of the Sutherland’s sensors and records Admiral
Alynna Nechayev is of the
opinion and you and your crew performed as best as anyone could have expected
under the circumstances. The bio-weapon that was unleashed on the Sutherland was the most sophisticated
and horrific thing our specialists have ever seen. It constituted a ‘Kobayashi Maru’ no-win scenario. Your solution was the best that
could have been hoped for.”
“I bet they won’t be putting this Kobayashi Maru test into use at the academy,” whispered the redheaded Ensign Hedril, remembering her own experience being stripped nude and mounted by one of the altered members of the male crew, her slim thighs spread and her round breasts squeezed and sucked until she wailed in ecstasy.
Deanna Troi looked around the familiar contours and structures of the Nebula class starship’s bridge, so similar to the Galaxy class that she had served upon. “I wish I could stay longer, but we have work to do.”
T’Pol pursed her pouting lips. “With who?”
+++++
As it turns out, their appointment was with everybody.
The large saucer hull of the Sutherland contained many comprehensive facilities, including a large recreational activity chamber. Its ceiling was several decks high, giving it the feeling of an auditorium. In it nearly the entire female crew of the USS Sutherland gathered, and when Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres and T’Pol entered the three hundred women began to applaud.
The Betazoid, the Klingon and the Vulcan looked across the faces of the women they had saved from slavery in astonishment. All three felt a sudden rise of pride, the certain knowledge that not only had they made a difference but that they were being recognized for it.
Captain Shelby took her place at a podium at the head of the chamber, gesturing for the three women to approach. Suddenly nervous in their skin-tight catsuits, the heroines headed towards the stage.
On the way they passed the Melikas: both the real Lieutenant Melika as well as her teenaged holographic double were present, the computerized version transmitted from Starheart and projected through the rec room’s holographic systems. The two Andorian beauties, one clad in a Starfleet uniform and the other in a tighter blue-and-white Starheart outfit, smiled at the sight of the three heroines walking past them.
The eighteen-year old Melika,
however, shot a slightly envious glance in the direction of the other Andorian.
The more mature Lieutenant Melika sported a cute
short haircut and a fuller, more generous pair of breasts. With a snap of her
fingers the holographic teenager adjusted her hair to match and made her tits
swell inside her tight uniform, making her figure mirror that of the gorgeous
Lieutenant.
Meanwhile Troi, Torres and T’Pol stepped up onto the stage, their elastic clad asses well presented to the admiring women in the crowd, and then turned and stood in a neat line before Captain Shelby.
“Deanna Troi,” the blonde said in a clear voice, “Step forward.”
The voluptuous twenty nine year old obliged, drawing in a deep breath that did wonderful things to her full breasts within her catsuit top. Her pale features trembled with a nervous smile and her beautiful dark eyes remained on the Captain.
“You took the oath of a Starfleet officer,”
The brunette twenty-two year old obeyed, biting her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture as she stood on stage, her stunning athletic figure clad only in her figure-hugging catsuit.
“You’re a person who always held to your beliefs,” the Sutherland’s beautiful blonde Captain observed, “Even when that meant going against the Federation’s policies at great personal cost when you joined the Maquis. In light of your courageous actions, I have been informed that a full pardon of your crimes has been authorized. When you choose it, the Federation will have a place for you. T’Pol, daughter of T’Les, step forward.”
As B’Elanna blushed and lowered her face in amazement, her crimes as a Maquis terrorist suddenly washed away, the short-haired and haughtily beautiful T’Pol stepped forward. Her slim body and legs contrasted the generous fullness of her ample tits as she stood beside her companions, her hands clasped behind her back above her round bottom and her elastic outfit stretching over her full assets.
“Your examples helped form the ideals that the Federation and modern Starfleet stand for,” Elizabeth Shelby said with quiet admiration. “Scholars argue about whether you were truly such a remarkable woman, or if you merely acted the way you did out of necessity. The truth is in the actions you have taken with these two women. Courage, hope and justice define you.”
The Vulcan’s full pouting lips parted in mute amazement at the praise she was receiving. Meanwhile two young women moved quickly onto the stage: Robin Lefler and the Cairn Hedril. The eighteen year old redhead was carrying a simple case which she flicked open, offering it to the Captain.
“Starfleet cannot publicly acknowledge the incredible work
the three of you have been doing,”
Shelby, Lefler and Hedril each lifted a small metal object from the case.
“Deanna Troi, B’Elanna Torres, and T’Pol daughter of T’Les,”
The three heroines stood frozen in astonishment as Shelby, Lefler and Hedril gently attached the medals to the breast of their uniforms. They were a stylized arrowhead, like the classic Starfleet insignia but winged and gleaming silver.
The women of the USS
Sutherland had endured shock after hardship after humiliation. Each one of
them had felt invisible hands tear their clothing away, and chamoflaged
cocks plunge up into their spasming pussies. All of
the three hundred females had been captured by slavers, stripped naked,
shackled and sorted for sale. To Captain Shelby herself they had tasted Ferengi
cock as they knelt nude in on the streets of Ferenginar.
They had been stored like meat for sale, conditioned for their futures as sex
slaves, their bodies now hyper-sensitive to any touch to their breasts,
bottoms, thighs and pussies. Every last women had been marched naked through
the Ferengi capital, wrists bound behind their backs and the words “FOR SALE”
and “SOLD” printed on their tits and asses as they endured the humiliating
parade.
Now the women of the Sutherland made themselves heard with cheers and applause. Hands were lifted into the air and young women jumped in excitement, breasts bouncing inside their uniforms. Each of the three hundred women owed their freedom to the three heroines on stage and they celebrated them with clapping and shouts.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol accepted the acclaim with humble
amazement, and felt for the first time how truly valued they were.
+++++
With
But they certainly had the teenaged Ezri’s full attention. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, her cute mouth open in astonishment and her hands unconsciously moving to cup her uniform-clad boobs.
“It’s not just that they’re bigger,” the unseen speaker was saying, a young woman from the sound of her voice, “But they’re also so much more sensitive. You wouldn’t believe it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t speak so bluntly, Peri,” said another unseen girl.
“But it’s amazing. All you need to do is squeeze and… Captain!”
Shelby and the three brunettes rounded the corner, bringing into view the two girls that Ezri had been listening to. The pair snapped to attention, saluting smartly and standing upright, their slim figures straight as arrows and their breasts pushing proudly forwards against their uniforms.
“At ease, Cadets,”
Standing next to Ezri were two teenagers, both clad in Starfleet uniforms. One was a Bajoran from the crinkles on the bridge of her nose and the short chain looping from one ear. She had long strawberry-blonde hair and large green eyes, and a face that the three brunette’s found immediately familiar.
The other was a Deltan, her head smooth and bald and her
face gorgeously pretty with blue eyes that sparkled with friendliness. Both
eighteen year olds were deliciously slim, yet each sported a pair of breasts
that rivaled T’Pol’s pair for supple size. Ezri, far less well endowed that these two girls, seemed to
regard their chests with a mixture of disbelief and envy.
T’Pol’s Vulcan memory provided her with their identities. “You were with us on Vulcan with the Jem’Hadar,” the science officer said in surprise. Her brown eyes moved to the single marked pip each girl had on her shoulder. “Cadets?”
“With the Vedik’s permission I left our Holy Order and joined Starfleet,” the former Bajoran acolyte said quickly, her hand lowering from her salute but her posture still at attention as the redhead nervously stood in the presence of Captain Shelby. “After meeting you three and seeing the cruelty of the Dominion I wanted to make a difference.”
“I felt the same way,” the Deltan Peri L’Fin added. “I recognized Krysta in my academy class and we ended up sharing a bunk.”
“A bunkroom,” corrected Lanlee Krysta with a slight blush on her pale cheeks.
The empathic Deanna Troi quickly sensed that the Deltan had let the truth slip:
the two full-breasted teenagers had indeed shared a bunk. She decided not to
mention it. “I suppose you recognized Melika at the
academy, just like Ezri did?”
As the gorgeous Deltan and Bajoran nodded, B’Elanna looked closely at the redheaded Cadet. “Your name is Lanlee Krysta?”
The green-eyed eighteen year old nodded. “Vedik Lanlee Milos is my older sister. She tries not to draw attention to it, or give me preferential treatment. Honestly she was harder on me than the other acolytes. But she has given her blessing to my decision.”
“And we’ve made another one,” the Delten Peri added. Her blue eyes twinkled and her pretty features shone with admiration for the three women that had rescued her class of schoolgirls from the clutches of the Jem’Hadar. “We would like to join your crew.”
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol exchanged quick looks of disbelief. “You want to join us?” Troi said in astonishment. “You’ve been paying attention to the kind of things that happen to our little team, haven’t you?”
The Deltan and the Bajoran both nodded. “What you do is so good and so right you deserve help. We understand that Starfleet can’t provide you with official support so we’re willing to resign if you’ll accept us into your crew.”
“They’re crazy,” Ezri said, then the slim Trill folded her arms in front of her small but tasty chest. “That’s not a professional diagnosis. Crazy or brave,” she added.
The three brunettes considered the offer. Now it was easy to
remember the two Cadets: both had been among the ‘Class Three’ prisoners taken
by the Jem’Hadar, flat-chested girls that had been
considered second-rate for the Vorta Papilia’s experiments due to their small bust size. Thanks
to the Vorta’s treatments the
“Well,” B’Elanna admitted, “We could use a few extra hands aboard Starheart. At the very least someone to take care of the ship when it’s parked. We’ve had trouble with that, remember,” she said pointedly to her companions.
“Aid in any form is most welcome,” agreed T’Pol.
Deanna Troi smiled warmly at the exquisite Deltan and the stunning Bajoran. “We’d be honored and thrilled for you two to join our crew.”
The two Cadets’ faces lit up with enthusiastic smiles. “We
have much to do,” Lanlee Krysta
said, her previous temple-trained poise fighting her girly enthusiasm. “I can’t
wait to get back onboard Starheart.”
“Neither can I.” Deanna’s beautiful dark eyes turned to Ezri. “So are we on our way, or are there any more passengers to pick up?”
“Me?” Ezri gaped, pressing a hand to her chest between her modest boobs. “Um, I don’t think so. Sorry,” she apologized.
“I believe the counselor was only teasing you,” T’Pol observed.
They were only an entrance away from one of the Sutherland’s many transporter rooms. Hedril was manning the console, the same station where the Cairn redhead had been stripped and mounted by a transformed member of the crew then the vessel had been infected. She smiled at the sight of the heroines entering. Then her blue eyes widened.
Peri and Krysta popped off their commbadges and rank pips and then got to work removing their uniforms. Hedril stepped back and tried to hide a small excited inhalation as she watched the gorgeous Deltan and delicious Bajoran peel their tops off, revealing that both teens possessed delicately narrow waists but each sported a pair of full luscious breasts, presently wrapped in lacy bras. Next the two girls bent over, boobs jiggling in a vain attempt to escape their cups as they slid their pants down their slender legs.
Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol watched with both confusion and interest as the two teenagers folded up their uniforms, placed their badges and rank insignia on top of either pile, and then offered them to Captain Shelby. “Our departure from Starfleet is not meant as a rebuke of the service,” Lanlee Krysta said with a smart salute that made her teen tits jiggle in her bra. “But working on Starheart is an opportunity neither of us can pass up.”
The blonde
Lanlee Krysta and Peri L’Fin, one redheaded and the other bald but both mouthwateringly gorgeous, joined Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol on the transporter padd. They stood five abreast, hands by their sides as they waited to be beamed back to Starheart.
“You’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that!” Ezri whispered into Hedril’s ear. The redhead blushed, finally pulling her eyes away from the suggestively-dressed teenagers and back to her station.
“Energizing,” the Cairn said, taking one last look at the
women that had saved her from slavery. “Do what you do best, like we know you
can.”
+++++
Due to the delicacy of Starheart’s organic components, the five women beamed directly to the small ship’s decontamination chamber.
The hologram Melika was waiting for them, her hands on her elastic-covered hips as she tapped one foot impatiently. “Do I have to explain what happens next?” the blue-skinned eighteen year old asked with a coy smile.
The three brunettes gripped their catsuit tops and pulled them upwards. The tight material rose, struggling over the swollen mounds on their chests but peeling up, letting the Vulcan, the Klingon and the Betazoid’s breasts bounce into the open. The Deltan had an easier time, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, allowing the cups to fall away from her soft round boobs. The redheaded Bajoran behind her had a little more difficulty, leaning forward with tits jiggling as she tried to work the clasp. In the end she smiled in thanks as Peri stepped behind her to unclip and remove her companion’s bra, revealing that her magnificent chest treats were tipped with large pink nipples.
All five beauties leaned forward, asses presented and bare breasts dangling and swaying as they pushed skintight pants and lacey panties down long, slim legs. Melika snapped her fingers, making her blue and white catsuit disappear. Her breasts, now matching the larger proportions of the real Lieutenant Melika, bounced as they were freed of the elastic and a tiny white triangle of pubic hair pointed down towards her delicious slit.
Their clothing was loaded into a compartment in the wall where it would undergo a lengthy cleaning process. Meanwhile B’Elanna Torres, Deanna Troi, T’Pol and their new arrivals Peri L’Fin and Lanlee Krstya stood naked in the decon room. The equally nude Melika grinned mischievously at the sight. “Here we go!” the holographic Andorian warned.
Gobs of sticky goo were fired from apertures in the walls, splattering over each woman. The newcomers flinched and gasped, then laughed at each other’s reaction as their teen breasts were splashed with soapy disinfectant. The women began to lather, rubbing their hands over their naked bodies.
Ripe udders dangled as they rubbed their palms down their long thighs. Bottoms
were massaged to create a thick lather. Titflesh rose deliciously as they
worked their fingers over and around and underneath their boobs. Then six pairs
of tits jiggled as the women vigorously scrubbed the soapy mess into their
hair, or in the case of Peri L’Fin
her bald scalp. Slits were delicately soaped up as the six women settled
fingers between their legs for a thorough cleaning.
The young women aided each other’s decontamination, B’Elanna and T’Pol taking turns soaping up each other’s back, while the Bajoran and the Deltan teenagers did the same for each other. Deanna Troi allowed Melika to assist her, the blue-skinned beauty rubbing her hands up and down the Betazoid’s snow-white back. Then the counselor returned the favor, lathering up the blonde’s blue skin even as the Andorian massaged her own supple tits, building a layer of foam up across her melons.
“But you don’t need to decontaminate,” Krysta said to Melika as the Andorian teen industriously rubbed her blue boobs with soap, “You’re a hologram!”
“I’m not going to be the odd one out,” the Ensign replied with a cheeky grin.
“You know, Melika,” B’Elanna commented as T’Pol rubbed her hands up and down the Klingon’s smooth back, “I think I liked it better when you had long hair.”
Her white eyebrows dropped in a cute frown. Then the Andorian snapped her fingers and her short blonde hair, a copy of the style worn by Lieutenant Melika, suddenly lengthened until it was nearly reaching the teenager’s perfect bottom. “But I’m keeping the bigger boobs!” snapped Melika, and then smiled shyly as she returned to soaping up her newly enlargened toys.
“You may want to brace yourselves,” Deanna warned, standing with her legs spread and her arms lifted.
Seeing B’Elanna and T’Pol do the same, the other women mimicked the Betazoid’s posture, baring their sexy soapy bodies. “Why?” asked the Bajoran Lanlee, her red hair now plastered down her back. “What’s going to eeeeeep!”
Jets of cold water sprayed out of tiny holes in the walls, ceiling and floor. The young women were bombarded from all sides, soap suds blasted off their naked skin. Lanlee and Peri both squealed as their full breasts, left over-sensitive by Papilia’s treatments, were struck by hard jets of chilled water. Deanna, B’Elanna and T’Pol shut their eyes in pleasure as more streams struck their bottoms and snatches, stimulating their Orion-conditioned figures. With her blue eyes rolling in joy Melika spread her arms wider, her melons dancing as they were struck by multiple jets.
The wash cycle ceased and the drying cycle began. Warm air was fired up through small ports in the floor, washing up and over the naked bodies of Starheart’s crew. The women vigorously rubbed their hands along their arms and legs, flicking moisture from their skin, and then leaned forward with dangling boobs to position their hair directly in the air flows, aiding their drying by running their fingers through their locks. The five women unwittingly struck sexy poses as they enjoyed the warm air of the drying cycle.
At long last the decon sequence
was finished and a section of the wall slid aside. “All done girls,” Melika said, “And remember the fifth wash is half price!
I’m going to get us moving in the right direction and start touching base with
our delivery contacts. I’m sure we’ve got a lot of jobs waiting.” The
holographic teenager flickered and disappeared, her attention focusing on Starheart’s
operations.
The three brunettes led the way with Peri and Lanlee following. “Bunkrooms are back through there,” B’Elanna pointed, “Krysta, Peri, you remember where they are?”
“Absolutely,” the Deltan said promptly, shooting a questioning look at her Bajoran companion. Lanlee shook her head with a shy blush, to which the bald Peri pulled a disappointed face. Whatever the Deltan teenager had wanted the Bajoran redhead wasn’t agreeing to it, not until they were settled and had some privacy anyway. “Let’s find our racks,” Peri announced, heading down the corridor with the former acolyte moving in step.
“Shouldn’t be hard for them to find their racks,” breathed B’Elanna in amazement. When they had first met on Vulcan, Peri and Krysta had been slim flat-chested girls, beautiful but lacking up-top. Now both teenagers carried a soft and full pair of breasts, large enough so that they were visible even from behind, the outer curves of their tits wider than their slim ribcages.
As they headed off Melika appeared beside them, the blue-skinned teenager matching pace with the slim but full-chested Peri and Krysta. “Hey, you know what?” the Andorian suggested. “I’ve been thinking of uniforms for you two. The standard catsuits are getting old, so I’ve been thinking we could whip up something new, maybe with a skirt, a light and comfortable top. Might throw in a little red for color too.”
“Redskirts?” Peri said enthusiastically. “That could work!”
Troi, Torres and T’Pol watched as the Bajoran and the Deltan walked away, tits swaying gently with each step and their tight teen asses wiggling above their long slender legs, with Melika’s blue-skinned bottom matching them move for sexy move.
Deanna Troi sighed at the sight. “So that’s what pure
courage looks like,” she commented, her dark eyes on the three teenagers’
wiggling rumps.
“We’ll have to break them in soon,” Torres observed, then cast a wicked little look at her companions. “Maybe we could let them handle the next Ferenginar pickup. I’m sure those girls can handle a few dockworkers.”
“I’m sure the dockworkers would love to handle them,” added T’Pol, still watching the two departing teens from a distance. For the first time the full-chested Vulcan was feeling slightly envious of someone else’s boobs, her hands unconsciously lifting to her own magnificent melons. The science officer had nothing to worry about, but Krysta and Peri were truly an awe-inspiring sight.
“We’re making a difference,” Deanna said with confidence. “That makes everything seem worthwhile.”
“It’s good to know that your efforts are appreciated,” admitted B’Elanna, “Even imitated.”
“Just as long as they don’t get into trouble,” T’Pol added with a thoughtful expression. “But I’m sure Lanlee and L’Fin will enjoy many uneventful deliveries.”
“And I’m sure that assumption is based on cold hard logic,” Torres countered, “As well as our own experiences.”
Deanna, T’Pol and B’Elanna gathered together, smiling at one another, standing so closely that their bare breasts almost touched. “Well then, back to work,” Torres said lightly. “We’ve got deliveries to make, slaves to rescue…”
“Streets to walk naked down,” added T’Pol.
“Ogling men to ignore,” Deanna contributed, “If we can.”
“Traps to fall into,” said Voyager’s chief engineer with a wry smile.
“Shackles to break out of,” the counselor of the Federation flagship mentioned with a roll of her dark eyes, “After a lot of wiggling.”
“And wicked men to bring low,” the
“A real adventure,” finished the Klingon with a wicked smile.
With absolutely nothing covering their lush figures, the three heroines looked at one other with confident smiles, strengthened by the certainty of the good that they were doing. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get adventuring.”
THE END
Thank you to everyone
who has gone to the trouble to email me about the story. Feedback is fan
fiction’s oxygen and Broken Bodice wouldn’t have gotten this far without
support.
I hope that in Broken
Bodice the fans of Star Trek, or at
least the ones that like the idea of Troi, Torres and
T’Pol getting bare-breasted in every other scene,
will have a story where they can read and have a little fun with the things
that Star Trek suggests but never uses. I like to think that the story has done
what it set out to do, which is get Deanna, B’Elanna
and T’Pol’s tits out twenty eight times.
Our three heroines
have been naked in deserts, jungles, snowfields, courtrooms, cities, starships
and even space itself. They’ve faced thugs and criminal masterminds, lawyers
and spies, animals and plants and sometimes just cruel coincidence, all of them
dead set on getting our girls out of uniform and keeping them there, but they struggled
on and prevailed against the odds.
My only regret is that
I wasn’t able to include the Borg. Or wrestling in chocolate syrup. With Borg.
Star Trek: Broken
Bodice is finished, in the long-time Trek tradition of The Human Adventure
Continues, but with boobs. Our heroines and their new crewmates are set to have
plenty more misadventures, but you’ll have to use your imaginations.
If you’ve come this
far and put up with this much, maybe you can throw me an email at Mickt80@hotmail.com and tell me what you
think. Hope you’ve enjoyed the story,
Mick T Budarrap