DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of DebbieB and is copyright (c) 2000 by DebbieB. This story is Rated PG-13.


What Are Big Girls Made Of?



It was a rare occurrence, but Spock couldn't negate the evidence his own eyes gave him. Christine Chapel and Nyota Uhura were… He shuddered at the word. Giggling.

Spock kept his eyes in front of him, carrying his plate of tofu surprise to the furthest corner of the officers mess. The two women were normally not prone to such undignified displays, but they sat at their table, huddled together over what appeared to be a message padd. He tried to ignore their whispered conversation, but either the mess was too empty, their whispers too excited, or his hearing too good.

"Are you serious?" Uhura took the padd from Chapel. "OhmiGOSH. I can't believe it."

"Miss Bobbi and I were roommates as undergrads. She swore she'd send me tickets as soon as the show came through this sector."

"But, Chris, this is so incredibly…incredibly…" Uhura hesitated, suddenly at a loss for words.


"That's it. Cool. An oldie but a goody. Definitely cool, Chris."

The rest of the conversation was lost as a crowd of junior officers from the shift change entered the mess. Spock looked down at his tofu, trying valiantly to ignore his curiosity.

* * *

"Aw, come on, Spock. You must be at least a little curious."

"On the contrary, Doctor, I find it impossible to be less curious about your plans."

McCoy scowled, tossing yet another version of the same civilian outfit on the bed. "I wish I could find something to wear."

"Perhaps your uniform?" Spock could barely contain his annoyance at McCoy's stalling tactics. "Doctor, I thought you were to meet Captain Kirk planetside ten point three minutes ago."

McCoy slid into the closet, pulling out a shimmering green tunic and silver pants. "Whaddaya think? Too flashy?"

"It would depend on the occasion," Spock added drily.

"You're right. Don't want to look desperate." He tossed the outfit on the bunk next to the growing pile of discarded fashion statements. "It's not every night you get free front-row tickets to the Hot Box Revue. You're gonna love it, Spock," he added from inside his closet. "A real, old-fashioned, honest-to-goodness burlesque revue, with showgirls and comics and…"

"I did not plan to attend the revue."

McCoy peaked out of the door, dressed only in his undershirt and shorts. "You damned well are going to attend the revue. Not only is this the hottest ticket in the quadrant, but the invitation clearly said senior staff. That means you, buster."


"But nothing. You're going. Captain's orders."

"You are not the captain."

"He told me to tell you. Now behave, and throw me those platform shoes will ya? Yeah, the ones with the glitter in the heels."

* * *

Chapel was beginning to get nervous. She'd never had Uhura's stomach for adventure, and this adventure was turning out to be a little more than she had planned for. "Ny, do you really think this is a good idea?"

Uhura laughed, and pushed at the padding in her bra. Not that Uhura needed much help in that area, but it was a look they were going for here. "Chris, you heard what Bobbi said. We're helping her out."

"Hey, I just signed up to watch this show, not participate."

"Ladies, we are ten minutes from curtain. Do we need any help with our faces?" Miss Bobbi came through the dressing room door, all feathers and sequins and padding. Chapel had known her back in the days when she was just plain old Robert Clark Edwards, aspiring singer and pre-op transvestite. Now, as Miss Bobbi, there was no other description for her but Diva.

"Bobbi, I'm not sure I can go through with this," she said as she waited for the false eyelashes to dry.

"Chris, babycakes, you'll be faboo. Trust me, I know a good drag queen when I see one. And barring that one little technicality of already being female, you and Uhura are just made for drag."

"Was that a compliment?" she whispered sotto voce to Uhura.

"Oh, yeah." Uhura continued applying the eyeliner.

Miss Bobbi laughed, swaying her ample figure over to the dressing table. "Listen, ChrissieCakes. The only thing you have to do is go out there and shake the stuff God gave you. You're just window-dressing, really, just warm bodies to fill in for those bitch queens Nirvana and Butella." Without preamble, she began to add bits of glitter paste to Chapel's eyelids. "Imagine them calling in sick with all those lonely space boys here, looking for a good show?" She took Chapel's chin in her hand, mainly to stop the nervous woman from squirming as she applied more glitter. "Totally unprofessional, that's what I say. I don't know what I would have done if it weren't for you two filling in at the last moment." She reached over the mirror to pull a neon green wig from the shelf above. "Hold still, Pumpkin. Let Bobbi do your hair."

Chapel held perfectly still as the wig was placed over her own slicked back hair. Once the finishing touch was in place, she surveyed herself in the mirror. On a clear day at noon, she wouldn't have recognized herself at twenty paces. She turned to Uhura who had donned her own platinum wig. "How do I look?" she asked.

Uhura grinned through silver-painted lips. "Like a star, darling. Like a star."

* * *

McCoy and Kirk had already had several drinks by the time the orchestra began to tune. Spock had considered suggesting they take an anti-eth pill, just in case, but had decided against the thought. The two human men definitely had their "gonna-have-fun-no-matter-how-sick-we-get" expressions on. There was no need expending energy uselessly.

He turned his attention to his surroundings. The Hot Box Revue traveled throughout the galaxy, performing in various venues to sold out crowds. The facilities on Deep Space 23 were less than elegant, but were sufficiently large enough to handle both the make-shift stage and the massive audience.

He thought longingly of the newly expanded station science library, silent and empty at this hour of night. He had intended to spend his leave studying the findings of the Hermes 3 deep space probe. Not, as it were, sitting in a crowd of highly-intoxicated humans, waiting for a burlesque show to begin.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed, and Spock found himself subjected to tired jokes, easily-deconstructed magic acts, and a troop of dancing poodles. He looked over to Kirk and McCoy, who seemed to be enjoying the show immensely. He wondered what response he would get if he excused himself.

"Oh, man, Spock. They just don't make entertainment like this anymore," McCoy howled as a poodle hopped onto the back of another poodle, which then jumped through a flaming hoop.

"That is fortunate," he said under his breath.

"Well, if you think this is good, just wait. The best is yet to come."

* * *

It didn't help that her boobs were right under her chin. Chapel's heart was pounding so hard she could hardly breathe. The push-up bra sent her ample bosom skyrocketing right up to her throat, cutting off the flow of air. The yip of poodles onstage did nothing to calm her panic.

"Don't worry, sugar lips," Miss Bobbi put her hands firmly on Chapel's bare shoulders. "Just remember to be loose. Broad moves, lots of shoulder. Remember, you're a drag queen, not Maria von Trapp."

"Bobbi, I don't think I can do this."

"Well, honeybear, you don't have much of a chance to change your mind. We're on now. Remember. You're a *drag* queen!!"

* * *

Finally the poodle act was done. Spock tried to distract himself by repostulating T'Nir's theorems in his head, but the odor of dog and alcohol was quite compelling. He hoped this "fun" would end soon.

The Master of Ceremonies bounded on the newly-cleaned stage, microphone in hand and spotlight bouncing along with him. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can tell you enjoyed that last act. I tell you, Madame Fifi and her Fifettes are just great, aren't they? Even if their star is a bitch!" Rim shot. Laughter. Spock cringed. "Seriously, folks, I know you didn't come here to see me. So, without further ado, I give you our headline act, Miss Bobbi and her Kit-Cat Girls"

A scream of trumpet drove the third theorem straight from his mind as six scantily-clad women slinked on to the stage amidst wild applause and whistles. A tune he could only describe as "catchy" began in the back ground as the women began to dance.

The center woman, obviously Miss Bobbi, stepped into the spotlight. She was quite possibly the tallest human woman he'd ever seen, with a strong face and ample figure. For the first time, Spock noticed the whiskers and tails the women wore. "Pet me, Papa, Papa pet me right," she began to sing.

Spock watched in amazement as the women mesmerized the crowd. Even McCoy had calmed down, just staring with an amazed grin at the showgirls. The choreography was simplistic, mostly bumps and grinds and revealed cleavage. But eventually, it brought the dancers off the stage and into the audience to interact with the crowd. He was startled when a tall female with an enormous…green wig…took the spot right next to Dr. McCoy, who had the aisle seat.

The dancer's face was painted cat-like, and she winked and flirted with McCoy. Spock couldn't help noticing thinking he'd seen her somewhere before. But that wasn't possible. He certainly didn't associate with showgirls.

The dancer leaned over McCoy to stroke Kirk's chin, then winked at Spock and actually purred. Before the men knew what was happening, she was gone, back to the stage and the chorus line.

Spock felt like he'd just been punched.

"Great, aren't they?" McCoy laughed.

"Yeah, Bones. You'd never know they were all men, would you?"

Spock's eyebrows shot straight into his bangs. "Men?"

As the music ended and the applause swelled, Kirk and McCoy turned wide eyes to Spock. "You didn't know?" His look of utter surprise sent them into howls of laughter.

Soon, he thought. Soon, he would be in the science library and he could put this entire night out of his memory.

* * *

The diner was practically deserted at this time of night. Chapel, Uhura and Miss Bobbi had skipped out of the post show party early, hoping to have a bit of time for some girl talk.

"So what did you think of your first night as a superstar, ladies?" Bobbi took a bite of cheesecake and washed it down with black coffee.

"Incredible," Uhura laughed. "I swear, I thought I was going to die when Chris went right up to the Captain, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock."

Chapel choked on her coffeecake. "I have no idea what came over me. It's like, the minute that spotlight hit, BAMM, I was Lola the Showgirl."

"You girls were a hit. And that Vulcan was just toooo adorable, CutieChris."

Chapel began to laugh again, and then to cough. "You just keep your mind out of the gutter, Robert. He's not that kind of a boy."

"Pity," Bobbi pointed just past the empty tables to the sidewalk. A lone Vulcan in Starfleet blue was crossing the street.

The three women burst into spontaneous fits of laughter. Spock paused, hearing their laughter, then nodded and continued on his way.

Uhura lifted her coffee cup as they watched the retreating science officer disappear into the night. "Ladies, I would love to propose a toast."

The others lifted their cups in toast as well.

"To show biz," Uhura said.

"To show biz!"