“It’s past closing time,” the barmaid told Kirk once again, her gravelly voice beginning to sound quite exasperated.
Kirk, now alone in the dimly lit tavern, stared gloomily into his half-empty mug of the local ale. He had to face the ghastly truth: he, James Tiberius Kirk, was dateless. Although a curvy blonde had been flirting with him earlier in the evening, a Ferengi had sidled up to her and jingled a pocketful of latinum, and off she’d gone with the Ferengi instead. Life definitely wasn’t fair.
He heard a sound like handfuls of thrown pebbles as the barmaid scuttled out from behind the counter and approached him. She was a Horta, a silicon-based species that resembled a giant tortoise of solid stone, with no visible head, and fringed all around with numerous small appendages like a millipede’s legs. The only way Kirk could tell she was female was by the universal translator’s rendering of her voice.
“I am called G’Dera,” the Horta introduced herself. “If you are having some difficulty, perhaps I can assist you?”
Kirk took another swallow of ale and laughed sarcastically. “I don’t think so. Not unless you can persuade that cute blonde to come back in here.”
“Sexual frustration. I understand.” The barmaid bobbed her entire stone body in a bizarre approximation of a nod.
Finishing off his ale, Kirk thumped the mug down on the table and glared at the Horta. “What would you know about sexual frustration?”
“I experience the condition often. There are no other Hortas on this planet.” Several of the tiny tentacles reached toward Kirk and began to stroke his legs, just above the Starfleet boots. “But I have found that interspecies mating can suffice to relieve it.”
Holy crap, Kirk thought, I’d have to be a lot drunker than this before a Horta would start looking good. He hastily stood up, reaching for his communicator.
“G’Dera, I really need to get back to my ship . . .”
More of the small appendages, tentacles or whatever they were, curled tightly around his legs and threw him off balance. The communicator dropped to the table with a loud clatter as Kirk fell to the floor. He lay on his back, completely unable to move as the Horta’s tentacles pinned him flat.
Well, most of the tentacles were holding him down. The others were busy removing his boots and pants.
He tried to reason with her. “This isn’t the way humans mate. We don’t just throw someone to the floor and get down to it. First we take some time to build a romantic relationship . . .”
Kirk was rudely interrupted by a sound like rocks shaking in a box, no doubt the Horta equivalent of laughing out loud. She had plainly seen enough of human mating behavior, and Kirk’s behavior in particular, so that excuse wasn’t going to fly.
He tried to think of something more useful to say, but by now he’d become quite distracted by all the little tentacles caressing his cock and balls. Despite their somewhat sandpapery texture, they didn’t feel painful at all. In fact, damn it, they felt distinctly pleasant. G’Dera had obviously been with human males before. He found himself becoming hard despite his best efforts to the contrary.
“You are ready to mate,” the Horta announced, and without further ado, she lowered her large stone body to cover his. Kirk felt his cock being surrounded by a cool, smooth cavern that tightened precisely around him to produce an exact fit. Then she started sliding up and down on top of him, the alien vagina wet and slick with what seemed to be some kind of natural silicone lubrication.
And she was clearly enjoying it, too. Kirk began to hear soft pinging noises like vibrating crystals, the Horta’s cries of pleasure. She moved faster above him, the firm strokes eventually bringing him to an unavoidable climax.
G’Dera reached some sort of orgasm as well, with a sound like shattering glass that echoed through the deserted tavern. A few seconds later, she let him up, and Kirk — still shuddering a bit — began to pull on his pants and boots.
“That was very good for me,” the Horta purred in her gravelly voice. “I will not experience sexual frustration again for at least thirty minutes. Do you think you could stay here a while longer?”
Kirk made a frantic grab for his communicator.
“BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!”