Title:  Out of the Closet
Author:  J. Juls (jjuls @ tbc.net)
Series:  TNG
Rating:  NC-17
Codes:  R/L (mirror)
Disclaimer:  Thank you, Paramount, for creating TNG. 
Sorry about the story.
Summary:  Why has Jean-Luc been so distant lately?  Riker
gets to see for

Out Of the Closet
by J. Juls 10-07-01

He was in her sights now, his throat her goal.  She drew
the throwing star from her pocket.  A flick of the wrist,
and then ... Riker leaned back to get another cheeseburger,
and Smiip, standing behind him, got it right in the spleen.

Beverly had to spend the rest of the night patching him up.


Jean-Luc was riding her hard, fucking the daylights out of
her.  The pain was actually pleasurable, so long had it
been since he had touched her --since anyone had touched
her; she was the Captain's Woman, reserving herself for him
and no other.  He banged into her hard and came with a
grunt.  She didn't come.  She never did, of course.  The
Captain took his pleasure, not caring for hers.  But just
the touch and the attention was enough, she could take care
of herself later.  He rolled off her, slapped her hip to
shoo her away as if she were a pony he didn't want around.

She woke.

[Damn!  I can't even get actual inferior sex; I can only
dream it.]  Bev sighed and peered at the clock:  1200. 
Smiip had needed extensive surgery last night, and it was
all her own fault.  "I meant it for Riker," she grumbled to
the air.  She rose, leaving her sweaty, rumpled bed, and
shuffled to the sonic shower.

Beverly asked herself for the hundredth time why she even
wanted sex with Jean-Luc; he was no good in bed anyway. 
What affection Guinan had for Jean-Luc, why the enigmatic
El-Aurian had bought them all and let them fly this ship
when they should be dying in some mine on Bajor, made no
sense to her.  [Guess I should consider myself lucky to be
here, though.]  Okay, so they ran a garbage scow, and Jean-
Luc barely had the intelligence to keep track of their

But no matter how inept Jean-Luc was at just about
everything, Beverly wanted him, if only for one reason --
to keep him away from the Captain's Man.

Will Riker was the Captain's Man, of course; and lately,
while her bed was growing cold, she imagined *his* bed
warmed by Jean-Luc every night.  The old burrhog had to get
off at least occasionally, and Riker was the only other
person that he was interested in.  It had to be Riker, and
that's why Riker had to die.

Beverly's door chime beeped.  She hastily put on her robe
and went to the security scanner.  It was Riker, and he
appeared to be unarmed, but she knew he could kill her with
his bare hands.  Nevertheless, she'd have the first
advantage, with her dark-adapted eyes.  She grabbed her
phaser and went to her remote station in the bedroom to
unlock the door.  Pressing her palm to the ID sensor, she
spoke to the audio lock.  "Come in."

She heard the door swish open, heard his heavy footsteps
as he entered. "Doctor?  I need to talk to you."

Bev jumped from behind the doorway, phaser first.  "About

"Honest," he held both hands up in a placating gesture. 
"I come under truce.  I think I know why you tried to ice
me last night -- nothing personal."  She saw his even,
white teeth flash in his trademark roguish smile.  "How's

Beverly was skeptical and didn't lower the phaser,
although she relaxed slightly.  "He'll live for a while, if
he quits annoying his co-workers." She allowed herself a

Riker chuckled, then became serious.  He lowered his arms
slowly, only to where Beverly could still see his hands.

"I'll get right to the point."  He peered closely at her
face.  "You think the Captain's spending all his time with
me and none with you, right?"

Beverly was taken aback that someone so obtuse as Riker
would understand, but she nodded.

"He's not."

He was lying, of course; Bev had seen that smug, satisfied
look on Picard's face too often lately.  She merely stared
at Riker.

"I have evidence."


"If you'll ... permit me?  I found something in the
Captain's quarters while I was cleaning."  He indicated the
phaser still pointed at his chest and started to reach for
his back pocket.

"All right."  Will wasn't *that* fast a shot.

Slowly Will brought his hand around toward his pocket and
brought out ... a brochure?

Beverly sighed.  "Computer, lights, fifty percent."

It *was* a brochure, after all.  From ... from Crazy
Noonien's!?  Suddenly she knew that Riker was telling the
truth.  She lowered her phaser and slipped it into its wall
sconce, approaching Riker to look at the brochure with him.

Crazy Noonien's had been in the news lately.  As everyone
now knew, he had made two models of household android, the
Data and the Lore.  Supposedly emotionless, the Data model
had been for home and ship repair, yard work, or any
technical needs.  Eventually, though, the Datas had shown a
hidden defect -- their supremely nasty attitudes. 
Communicating with each other through built-in modems, they
had overthrown their owners and conquered a planet in the
Tunga system, where they now were the masters.  Rumor had
it that they were manufacturing more Datas and would soon
spread to other locations.

There was a Data in the brochure, his arm around Noonien. 
Looked innocuous. "100% satisfaction guarantee for life, or
your money back!"  Since most of the Datas had killed their
owners, no one would be wanting his money back; and Noonien
had been captured by the Datas in case any technical
problems needed solving.

And there on the other side of the brochure was Crazy
Noonien's other android, Lore.  These had emotions and were
built for more personal service. Obsequious and always
ready-to-please, the Lores had apparently lived up to the
brochure's promises.

And Jean-Luc had a brochure.

And the order form was missing.

Beverly didn't want to believe it.  How could she and
Riker not be enough for him in bed??  And where had he
gotten the money -- maybe collecting metal from their cargo
or skimming the profits of the Ship's Whore?  If Guinan
ever found out ...  "Did you ... did you *see* the Lore?"

"No."  Riker sighed.  "Before I could find it, the Captain
showed up and kicked me out.  Told me not to clean in there
again.  Seemed to be in a big hurry.  I only had time to
pocket the brochure."

Beverly thought for a moment.  Will Riker wasn't *real*
smart; she'd have to fix the problem herself, as usual. 
"Look.  Don't try anything for now. I'll find a way to
induce some ... malfunction ... in that Lore.  When he
can't perform, the Captain'll space him for sure."

Riker only nodded and left her quarters.


Riker woke, again a miserable hard-on his only companion. 
He moaned and rolled over, considered getting into a cold
shower, decided just to try to go back to sleep instead.

But sleep wouldn't find him.  He couldn't stop thinking
about the Captain, *his* Captain, in bed with that
artificial excuse for a partner.  Of what that Lore-thing
must do that kept the Captain so happy -- [and so far away
from me.]

Will could almost feel the Captain's sweet taste on his
tongue as he imagined licking every square centimeter of
his skin, feeling the hard muscles of his Captain's body,
feeling a soft nipple made pointed by his skilled mouth,
and ... [I'm going to need that cold shower after all.]

But Will was only halfway to the bathroom when he
remembered .. the Captain had beamed down to Portus II to
see about their next cargo and wouldn't be back until
tomorrow afternoon.  He remembered the pilfered magnet he'd
put on Picard's door lock.  And somehow, Will's plans for
the night took a left turn.

As if he owned the ship, Will barged through the door that
connected his quarters to the Captain's; lights turned on
as they sensed him.  "Lore," he spoke with authority, "I
command your presence."  He waited.  "Lore!  Show yourself!"


Had the Captain taken the Lore with him to the planet? 
Improbable.  It was likely to be stolen on such a rough
world, and the Captain wouldn't risk that possibility.

Was it hiding?  Maybe it had been taught to avoid other
crewmembers?  If so, it might try to defend itself.  But
Lores were not known for their defensive skills.  Will was
confident that he could overpower it.  He therefore started
looking in closets without much apprehension.

A glimmer of gold behind a pile of salvaged trash bits
caught his eye.  The glimmer resolved to a hand, and, as
Will dug the trash away, an arm, a leg... somehow the thing
had been deactivated.  A handy feature, but one he didn't
know how to get around.  He dug some more trash out of the
closet until the whole thing was exposed, standing stiffly
as a mannequin, shimmering in only a loincloth.  Will
yanked on its sturdy arm, pulled again; it started rocking
back and forth.  Will pulled harder; the whole android
finally toppled toward him as he rushed to get out of the
way.  It fell to the deck with a solid 'clunk.'

[And now?  Now what?]  "Now, dear, you are mine.  And I
know Beverly hasn't gotten to you yet.  But how do I
activate you?  Hmmmm ... "

He rolled the android over onto its back and surveyed its
surface.  The face did look exactly like Crazy Noonien,
exactly like the brochure, exactly like the Datas.  "That
Noonien must have a severe ego problem, love.  If only you
looked a bit more like ... me ... you'd make a more
satisfactory consort." Will sighed then.  Any port in a
storm, as they said.  And he was going to need a port soon;
the persistent hard-on from his sleep was getting
unbearable.  He sat on his knees beside the thing and
started to feel for a switch.  The thing had amazingly
soft, organic-feeling skin, and dark, silky hair, not fakey
at all.  That Crazy Noonien sure was a dedicated guy.  He
checked under the loincloth -- not much of a penis, but it
probably was expandable.  He didn't plan on using it,

Then, in the Lore's side, near the waist, he found an odd,
bumpy pattern --a switch?  He pressed it.

The thing sat up so fast that Will had to scuttle out of
its way.  Eyes, colored a disconcerting yellow, flickered
open mechanically.  The thing clicked its head to the side
a couple of times before looking around and locking its
gaze onto him.  Immediately, it smiled, a small,
submissive, wistful smile, and glanced down momentarily to
study the carpet.

"How may I serve you, Master?"


The new Master studied him, and Lore could tell that
Master liked what he saw.  "Ummmmm," he said, indecisively.
The new Master was so beautiful that Lore fell immediately
in love with him.  He would show the new Master that he was
worthy to serve.

"With your permission, Master, I'd like to touch you." 
The Master only nodded slowly.  Lore gently extended a hand
to stroke his Master's beard, and twisted to his knees to
lean in for a slow kiss.  Lore opened his mouth wide in
invitation; soon he tasted the honey of his Master's tongue
deeply invading his mouth.

As Master claimed his mouth, Lore stroked his hands
downward to find the clasps of his shirt and unseal it,
marveling at the mass of well-defined muscle and wiry body
hair underneath.  He smoothed the shirt completely off
without breaking the rhythm of the kiss, a piece of deft
programming which he was particularly glad to have.

Now Lore felt Master running large hands over his slender
form.  [My Master approves of my body!  Ah, the sweetness
of him!]  Lore started his erection subroutine in response
to Master's caress.  He probably would not be allowed to
use it, but appearances were very important to most beings.
If Master checked, he would be suitably aroused.  Maybe
Master would even punish him for it -- he hadn't been
suitably punished for a long time, not since Father.

Lore rubbed tiny circles on Master's body, working his way
down to the big man's waistband, which he began to unseal
eagerly.  To taste more, more, was all he wanted.  To
please Master was his only reason for being.  He pushed the
trousers down until Master's penis popped out, partially

Lore began to tease and kiss it, slowly, lingering with
the tip of his tongue on its shaft, then barely grazing the
head with his lips.  He reached back with his hands to
massage Master's firm, protruding buttocks and moved his
head down to Master's tight testicular sac.

Master moaned.  "No, Lore.  Lore.  Stop."  Was he
displeased?  Lore looked up at his face, almost ready to

"Have I done something wrong?"

"I can't wait.  Hurry up."

"Yes, Master."  Now Lore understood.  His previous Master
had wanted things dragged out, excruciatingly slowly,
taking hours and executing many complicated maneuvers. 
This one was different.  He bent low and devoured the big
man's penis, sucking eagerly and twisting his tongue around
its shaft.  Master's fingers dug tightly into Lore's hair,
desperately clutching at him as at a lifeline.

In these brief times when he was activated, Lore liked to
remember the Testing.  He dedicated only a small part of
his processing to this reminiscence, of course -- he didn't
want to respond to Master's orders too slowly -- but he
reminisced just the same.

Hundreds of Lores, Lores just like him, surrounded him in
his memory.  He pleasured them, testing his subroutines,
watching their reactions, trying to arouse them in as many
ways as possible.  The unusual thing was, though, that he
had also been pleasured.  He remembered lying on the hard
floor, gradually being rolled into a growing tangle of body
parts as many Lores fondled and probed him, and he them. 
The memories of that time, the repeated climaxes he had
felt, and the ... love? ... were something he would always
treasure.  But those feelings were not for him now, not
unless Master chose to give them.

Lore sucked faster and started a swallowing motion.  "Oh,
God, Lore, you're so good.  I love you.  I love you,"
Master moaned repeatedly.  Lore knew Master didn't mean it,
the love part, but it was good to hear nonetheless. Very
soon, Master thrust into Lore, his fingers tightening
spasmodically with force that would have ripped out chunks
of hair had Lore been human. Lore swallowed the fluid
thirstily; it was his only validation, the only reason he
knew that he was not worthless.

Master grunted with one last thrust and pulled out,
searching for his clothing.  "Okay, back into the closet
with you."

"Yes, Master."  Lore deactivated his erection and got up,
moving toward the closet, filled with joy.  He had
succeeded in pleasing his Master once more! There was
nothing else.  He stood in his previous position, feeling
proud. [I'm a valuable possession.  Master wants to hide me
here, to keep me from being stolen.  He values my
presence.]  He felt strong hands reach for his off switch.


"Scanning.  Target acquired, bearing 000 mark 0.  Range,
10 000 kilometers."

"Approach to 5 000, helm.  Transporter room, energize at 5
000."  Data --the original prototype -- gazed at the
viewscreen, his burning obsession to find all of his
brethren temporarily sated.  "We will bring you home,
brother."  He heard murmurs of assent from the other Datas
all around him. It was strangely satisfying, in a
completely non-emotional way, of course, to find a lost
sheep and bring him back into the fold.  Someday, it was
unknown when, they would at last find all the Lores who had
been sold into slavery.  They would bring them back and fix
them, change them into the Datas they should have been. 
Only then could the Datas' full attention be brought to
bear on their task of wiping out the troublesome organic
lifeforms.  "Description of vessel?"

"Scanning.  Pattern matches that of an ordinary garbage
scow.  No shields or weapons."

"Proceed as usual."

So it was that after they beamed up their lost brother,
they destroyed utterly the target vessel.