My Big Fat Vulcan Wedding

T'Ryl

See, I knew there would nothing on this holovid to be ashamed of. I knew it could not be that bad. Wait a minute. Is that me? No, it can't be me doing that? I know that I must be seeing things. I am going to hit the replay button. OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! IT IS ME!!!! AND I AM ... with ...

* * *

A buzz at my door jars me from my rather erotic holovid. Turning off the holovid, I call out "come," hoping my face is not as flush as I feel. Deeply, I inhale, slowly exhaling as I watch the door slide open revealing my favorite Bantuan, Nyota Uhura. "Ny," I say as I manage a smile.

"Hi there, Chris," she replies, with a beaming smile.

In her right hand I notice a small blue metallic bag. "What in the world is that?" I ask, pointing to the bag.

She waits until the doors are fully closed behind her. "It's your..." Her dark skin deepens to what I know to be a blush. "...thong." Her words came out almost as a whisper, so low I have to almost read her lips to understand.

"My thong?" I ask. That is not part of the regulation uniform. Yes, I own one, but I only wear it when... I blush dramatically as I think of those passion filled nights with my 'Spocky Poo'. "How did you end up with them?"

"Scotty gave them to me, it seems he 'won' them," she recounted.

"Won them ... when?" I asked, suddenly remembering Leonard asking to borrow some of my intimate apparel for a 'game' he and the captain planned for Spock's Bachelor Party. I have been so kind to give him the thong, a black lace bra, a silk negligee with matching fish net stockings. IT was all suppose to be in fun... Something about teach Spock the finer points of disrobing... With a giggle, I thought to myself, my lover boy needed no help with that. Indeed not; he had his craft artfully mastered, fine tuned to the point it became orgasmic in its own right. But oh how I wish I had been a fly on the wall of Spock's Bachelor party. Tearing myself from my memories I told her, "Never mind I remember now."

Gracefully she smiled as I took the bag. "So you feeling better?" She looked at me with concern. For once she was the nurse and I, the patient.

"Well, I was until I starting to watch the most interesting video," I explain. Peering back to the holovid player and again dying to know what else was on the tape.

Again a beaming smile adorned Ny's features. "Yes, it is pretty wild ... especially the ending ... but if you don't remember..." She laughed, "who am I to spoil a good movie?"

She remembers everything? How lucky or unlucky for her, I wish I could even partially say the same. "Well, please sit, I have a feeling I rather not go down this memory lane alone."

With a nod I watch as she takes a seat on my bed. I move to the player and continue the program. Its automatic playback memory took us back to the same spot I turned it off at.

Again I gasp as I watched a perfect example of Vulcan manhood, showing his wares to me... VERY UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL. God I know I've seen that face before. I know Spock has told me who he was, but for the life of me I can't remember. Oh my God he is built EVERYWHERE. I assume his, for lack of a better term, package is why he chose the profession he is in. With a piece like that to shoot off at the universe, he was just blazing for action. The more I watch the more and more my clouded memories unveil themselves.

* * *

A masked fireman entered the room and hopped up onto the center table eleven 'ladies' were seated around. His fire hat masked his ears and hair, as the sparkling mask cover the majority of his eyes. He was dressed in a long yellow NYC 20th century fire jacket. Red leather pants the only hint there was something under them. Slung over his shoulders was a hose, the nozzle resting against his lower torso. Slowly as a lively, upbeat tune played the fireman's hose began to bounce on its own accord. Or something under it was causing it to move in such a fashion. "Who's Christine?" his husky voice beckoned the crowd. Giggling, Nyota and Janice pointed to Christine Chapel. With a nod he told her, "OK," with a gleam to his eye he pulled the hose until it fell from his body. All but the nozzle that was definitely attached to something. "Christine, kindly give me a hand and pull my hose."

With a gasp she rose to his side, pulling the hose to find it attached to a hard shaft. Instantly she blushed releasing what exactly the hose was attached to. But she did get it off, not with out 'copping a feel' though.

After the hose dropped to the ground, he continued his bump and grind. As he removed the overcoat one button at a time he made sure he bumped in a fashion that would cause his goods to take a peak at the onlookers. With it too discarded his smooth chest glistened from the added oils. His shaft carefully hidden under a layer of leather, which protruded from pants. It was raised full staff. One hand reached down to the hose as his feet stepped over it in a fashion it would come up between his legs if he were to lift it. As he pulled it up his other hand reached behind him, taking the nozzle. After gyrating and 'sawing' the hose between his thighs it stuck. With a swift motion he placed both hands on the front, taking the hot red pants with it, as he was freed.

Left only in his mask and hat Janice gawked at the magnitude of his manhood, whispering to Ny, "I wonder if all Vulcans are built like that?" Only to have a warning glance in return from the communications officer.

Coming with in millimeters from Christine's face with his thighs he charmed his snake in very interesting ways. "Well," he asked, "aren't you going to unmask me?"

Still shocked from the close proximity of the charmer's wares, she slowly reached up to unveil... She startled as she saw the point tips of his ears. As she watched the hat drop to the floor her other hand shook as she removed his mask revealing the upswept eyebrows... Whom ever this Vulcan was he was no Spock... in more ways then one.

"Whhhh Whooo arrrr are you?" Christine managed to stammer as his sardonic half smile gazed down at her.

"I am Strov. The Forge of Vulcan." Before she could form a response Christine could feel a whisper of hot, spicy breath against her neck. "And I am Stonn, The Mount of Seleya," the first Vulcan purred to her. Nyota, unseen but heard on the tape muttered. "I'm changing my name to Seleya when we get back to the ship!" The raucous shrieks filled the room as each woman began to chant. "Seleya! Seleya!" Christine could feel the perspiration beading along her forehead as she watched in aghast as she ran her tongue along her parched lips in anticipation of the next attraction. Her next words had escaped her lips before she could think. "If only Spock were here. . . " The room dropped into total silence as the First Officer strode into the room clad in top hat and tails. Lights dimmed as music filled the room. A sultry male voice began to sing -- "I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do. I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money and any old music will do." The roar from the room's occupants was deafening! The two Vulcans parted allowing Spock full access to Christine and the rest of the room. Spock swayed before Christine, his hips gyrating as he began to slowly slide the tux jacket from his shoulders. His eyes never left hers as he allowed the garment to fall behind him and continued swaying to the beat. His arms were bare underneath the jacket, the shirt sleeves had been cut away, leaving his pecks to bulge unrestrained as he reached for the cummerbund's clasp Christine gasped as the muscles of his abdomen rippled the fabric of the cummerbund as he slowly released the clasp. Moving his hands down his hips then slowly up his midriff and chest he sparked a fire in her that threatened to spontaneously combust as his self caress continued. His nipples began to rise beneath the shirt's fabric as he casually pulled the tie from his neck and tossed it on Christine's lap. His hands resumed their caress of his chest and then tore the shirt open as the accompanying song reached a crescendo. Buttons scattered at Chris's feet unnoticed as the pace of the beat slowed again and Spock's sways turned to lustfully slow gyrations. His hips jutting forward drawing her full attention to his eminent arousal.

"Oh my God!" Christine moaned as he torturously slid his thumbs between the waistband and his burning flesh rotating hip hips in as mesmerizing dance.

She reached for the glass of punch on the table only to be met by Spock's hand clutching the glass. His lips turned up into a slight smile as he took the glass from the table. "You are thirsty?" As he spoke he brought the sparkling drink to his chest and allowed the contents to dribble drop by drop onto his chest. "Allow me to offer you a drink."

* * *

Jim Kirk watched in sheer appreciation as the holovid of the evening's festivities played for Spock and him in his quarters. The Vulcan had confessed that a great deal of the evening was a blur. A fact he could not quite grasp since he had consumed only punch. The portion of the vid displayed a drinking game which involved the consumption of a shot of alcohol inverted on a bar coaster. The participant was required to retrieve the drink by flipping the coaster and glass, drinking it and following a ridiculous set of tasks requiring a minimal amount of coordination to complete. Mr. Scott had consumed more then his competitor, Lieutenant Masters from Life Science, and was now reaching into a small brown bag. As he watched, a look of utter gripped horror Spock's face, he saw Christine's G String in the Chief Engineer's hand. Kirk's voice could be heard from a distance. "Fifty credits to ya if you get them without using your hand, Scotty!" The glee shone in Scotty's eyes as he approached the runway of the stage; far be it from him to back down from a challenge or fifty credits. The Orion dancer on stage slithered herself against a pole on center stage. The only thing left of her costume was an exact copy of the G string Scotty had slipped into his pocket. "Lassie, would ya be needin' a hand?" He held the ten credit chit in his hand as he leaned into the stage edge. The dancer's head turned and acknowledged his offer as she swayed towards him. As she rhythmically moved her hips closer the Scotsman leaned further in and grasped the G string in his teeth and slowly lowered them down her legs. She stepped out of them and snatched the chit in one smooth move and the room roared with applause.