========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Mike34 Star Trek/Next Generation MF
From: fr582@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Max S. Wojtylak)
Date: 5 Jul 1996 20:27:34 GMT



STAR TREK / THE NEXT GENERATION: Nothing More Than 
Feelings

By Uncle Mike


     As the Enterprise watched from its position just outside 
the Aldebaran cluster, the giant star erupted like a kitten in a 
microwave. Great spurts of matter and energy squirted out on 
all sides. Then a halo of pure force, glowing white-hot, pulsed 
out of the central point and expanded as it quickly spread, 
engulfing one by one the planets of its system.

     As the halo neared Ryos-Caneb, homeland of the squid-like 
creatures who had declined Star Fleet's offer of rescue, the 
bridge crew stared in agony, desperate to spare themselves 
the sight but unable to tear themselves from the awful 
tragedy unfolding on the giant viewscreen.

     It was over in a split-second as the deathly bubble 
swallowed the planet whole and moved on, only to dissipate 
seconds later as it reached the far limits of the system. The 
bridge was silent. Even the throb of the controls seemed to 
hush in respect to the gallant jellyballs.

     Captain Picard's bald head was bowed like all the rest 
when a voice next to him cut through the quiet.

     "I sensed ... fear. And pain, and then agony, and then really, 
really sharp pain, and agony and fear all together. And then ... 
nothing," Counselor Deanna Troi informed everyone. She 
squeezed her eyebrows together to emphasize the feeling. "It 
was ... really bad. I mean, really bad."

     Jean-Luc Picard's head snapped up and he glared at Troi. 
Everyone else on the bridge was looking at her, too, eyes 
bulging.

     Delighted to have an audience, the shapely counselor went 
on. "And it stopped very suddenly," she said, looking around to 
catch everyone's eyes. "I think they all went very fast. Of 
course, I can only sense emotions, so I don't know exactly how 
what they were thinking, but --"

     "That's quite enough, Counselor," Picard snapped. Troi 
stopped short, and the rest of the crew let out their 
collective breath. Soon the bleeps and bloops of the controls 
seemed to rise back to their usual level and everyone bustled 
about in the normal way. Troi had settled back into her chair 
when Picard handed over his chair to No. 1. As the captain 
passed by Deanna, he muttered out of the side of his mouth: 
"Counselor, see me in the ready room. Now." He was moving so 
fast Deanna had to jump up to follow him; even so the swoosh 
of the door almost nabbed the hem of her short skirt as she 
entered the room behind him.

     "Yes, Captain?" the raven-haired counselor said, settling 
into a chair in front of Picard's desk and crossing her legs. 
"Do you need something?"

     Picard's fingers drummed on the desktop. "What I need, 
Counselor --"

     "Please, call me Deanna."

     "What I need, Deanna," he went on, almost spitting out the 
name, "is to understand why you feel -- no pun intended -- 
why you believe it necessary to come out with the most 
ridiculous statements in moments of crisis."

     Deanna's eyelashes fluttered as she leaned forward, her 
large breasts almost falling out of her low-cut top. "What do 
you mean? It is my job as ship's counselor --"

     "It is your job to counsel the crew. IF they ask for it. It is 
not your job to state the obvious and act like you're coming up 
with some profound insights. It is not your job to disrupt the 
operations of this starship with your silly ideas. It is not --"

     Deanna rose and walked to the far wall, then turned around 
to face him. Her face was flushed. "Silly ideas? Silly ideas! If 
you mean the music --"

     "Yes, let's discuss the music," Picard said, pointing a 
finger at her. "Mood music on a starship? Muzak, is that what 
they used to call it? This is a Star Fleet vessel, not a cruise 
ship, for Earth's sake. Whatever made you think we needed 
background music?"

     "Well, I still say the crew performed much more smoothly. 
And if they'd followed my instructions and changed the 
tempos with the time of day, it would have been even better."

     "The time of day? The time of DAY! Deanna, we're in the 
middle of the universe! There is no night and day. The crew of 
the Enterprise has to be ready for anything at any time. I don't 
want my bridge crew nodding off to -- what was that singer? 
Perry Como? -- when they should be keeping an eye out for 
who knows what."

     "Well, it could have worked if you'd only let me keep 
trying. And I still think it wasn't nice of you to order the 
entire last day's schedule. Honestly, I didn't even know there 
were that many different recordings of "Feelings." I almost 
think you intended that as a personal insult."

     "Almost? Deanna, you ninny, of course it was an insult. 
Why is it your empathic powers can tell me some glob of 
protoplasm two light-years away is having a hissy fit, but 
you don't know that the people you live and work with think 
you're an insufferable nincompoop? What good is having a 
half-Betamax ... Betazoid, whatever ... on board if she's only a 
half-wit as well?"

     "Captain, I sense that you're angry with me," Deanna began. 
Picard tried to cut her off, but she talked on over his 
objections. "No, let me finish. Please. I sense that you are 
working out some kind of aggression. Perhaps we should talk 
about this -- in my quarters? I could have the replicator make 
some coffee -- or would you prefer tea? Earl Grey, isn't it?"

     "Yes, hot ... But no, I don't want to talk it over. And not in 
your quarters. Deanna, I'm not the one with a problem here. 
You are. I have had enough of your nonsense. Do you know that 
the rest of Star Fleet calls the Enterprise 'the starship with a 
heart?' The last time I went to a captains' conference, they 
all kept asking me to 'tell me how you FEEL, Jean-Luc.' And 
Admiral Carlson wanted to know if I'd felt anything good 
lately ... 'or felt UP, I should say,' he said. Do you have any idea 
what he was talking about?"

     "Admiral Carlson?" Deanna paused thoughtfully. "Oh, you 
mean Bobby?"

     "Bobby!" Picard half-rose from his chair. "You call a full 
admiral Bobby? Deanna, how did you ever manage not to be 
thrown out of Star Fleet?"

     Troi smiled and raised her eyebrows. "I'd be glad to explain 
it to you, Captain, but I must suggest that I think it would be 
better in my quarters."

     "Anything you have to say to me you can say right here," 
Picard insisted.

     "Well, all right," the counselor said. "If you really want to 
know..."

     Reaching behind her, Deanna undid the gold clasp and shook 
her head; her long black hair billowed out. "Actually, I had 
been wondering how long it would take you to ask. My last 
captain figured it out much faster."

     Picard opened his mouth to reply, but his jaw just hung 
open when he saw what Deanna did next.

     With a tug, Troi pulled her tight-fitting top up and over 
her head. Her breasts were barely contained by a thin black 
bra. The tops of her boobs bulged out above the shiny triangles 
as she bent down to undo the clasp of her skirt and let it fall 
to the floor.

     Next she stepped out of the skirt and walked up to the 
desk, raising one slim leg and resting the heel of her boot on 
the top.

     Picard's eyes were staring at the tiny patch of black 
material that molded itself tightly to her labia, not at all 
covering the lush thatch of dark hair above it. 

     "My boot, Captain," Deanna purred, breaking in on his 
reverie. "Please?"

     "Hmmm? Oh, yes, I ..." Jean-Luc grasped the leather sides 
as Deanna eased her foot out, then did the same as the other 
boot plopped on to the desk. "I mean ... Counselor Troi, what is 
the meaning of this?"

     "Who's being obtuse now?" Troi asked playfully as she 
undid her bra. Her breasts popped free, sagging only slightly 
despite their size. She lowered her panties to the floor and 
walked around the desk to stand before the Captain.

     "Um, Captain, I believe you're overdressed," she said, 
trailing a finger along his cheek. Picard's face reddened. 

     "But, Deanna, you and Will --"

     "Yes, yes, Will and I," she said, lowering herself to her 
knees. "And Bobby and I, and T'sien Lo Jr. and I, and half of 
Star Fleet and I. This is what I do, Jean-Luc. This is why I 
haven't been bounced out by some captain before. They've been 
too busy bouncing me!"

     With a giggle, she reached out and touched the captain's 
crotch. His cock was already pressing against the soft, 
elastic material, bulging out and straining the seam. With a 
practiced move Deanna pulled down the slacks and Picard's 
penis bobbed into the open, stiff and long. "I wondered why I 
never saw any visible panty line," she said as she lowered her 
head.

     Picard watched in shock as the ship's counselor pursed her 
lips and slipped them around the head of his cock. A groan 
escaped him as she took all seven inches down her throat. Her 
cascade of hair tickled his thighs as she bobbed up and down, 
sending tingling sensations through him. She had an expert 
touch. Her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his shaft 
as she swallowed him, then came up with her soft, supple 
hands following behind. She ate his cock like a candy cane, 
licking the sides, sliding her tongue around the head. 

     "Deanna, I --"

     "Hush, Jean-Luc," she said. "I sense that you're about to 
cum." And he did, shooting a stream of hot jism down her 
throat.

     While Picard fell back into his chair, Troi swept the 
trinkets and gadgets off the desktop before crawling onto it. 
"I told you we'd be more comfortable in my quarters," she 
whispered, "but, any port in a storm, as they say."

     Picard protested that he wasn't ready, but Deanna just 
pointed down. Indeed, he was hard again, excited by the lush 
vision of the counselor's naked body. Even on her back, 
Deanna's breasts stood out, with the thick nipples erect and 
waiting to be nuzzled.

     Maddened by lust, the captain tore off his shirt and shed 
his slacks and boots. Eagerly he crawled onto the desk above 
her and tried to enter Troi at once, but she held him off.

     "Not so fast, Captain," she said, her breasts jiggling as she 
shook a finger at him. "You may be ready, but I'm not. ... I'm not 
wet enough," she said when he gave her a puzzled look.

     "Well --" Picard's hard cock pressed into her thigh. "Make 
it so, Counselor."

     Troi giggled. "Make it so yourself, Jean-Luc," she said as 
she pressed his head down to her already musky cunt.

     The captain was clearly unused to it, but under the 
counselor's expert tutelage he soon was lapping at her, 
spreading her labia with his fingers to press his tongue 
inside. Deanna rolled her hips underneath him as she warmed 
to his touch. At last she took his head in her hands and lifted 
it up.

     "Now, Deanna?" he asked.

     "Now, Jean-Luc," she sighed in reply.

     The captain scrambled up. Briefly he suckled her large 
nipples but his patience was at an end; he had to enter her. 
His licking had lubricated her well; his cock easily slipped 
inside and filled her hot, wet tunnel.

     With a moan Deanna spread her legs, taking him in up to 
the hilt.  Their tongues met in a dance of passion as Jean-Luc 
began to push his cock in and out, Troi's hips rising to meet 
his thrusts.

     Picard had always thought he preferred women on the 
slender side, but now the gentle give of Deanna's soft flesh 
thrilled him as his hands roamed over her. She held him 
tightly between her legs and he seemed to be completely 
enveloped in her cushy breasts and thighs. His old cock had 
always been a fast shooter, but now it seemed to have time-
traveled back to his youth, for it stayed hard and thick, even 
as a wave of orgasm turned Deanna's cunt into a whirlpool.

     "That's quite a phaser you've got there," Troi said huskily. 
"I see you've got a full charge!" 

     In reply, Picard drove his cock into her faster and faster, 
drawing forth another pulsing orgasm. Like all Betazoids, Troi 
was silent when she came, but her body was a maelstrom of 
motion. Picard held onto her like a cowboy on a bucking bronco 
in that holodeck rodeo Riker had showed him.

     Perhaps orgasm intensified Deanna's empathic powers, 
because she chose that moment to tell Picard, "You're 
wonderful, Jean-Luc! Will never lasted this long -- or was 
this long! Oh, Jean-Luc, yes, I want it all!"

     Eager to oblige, the captain slammed his shaft into the 
counselor. Slickened by sweat, their bodies slid back and 
forth on the desktop as they thrust at each other. Finally 
Picard let out a shout that echoed off the transparent 
aluminum windows. "I'm cumming, Deanna! I'm 
cummmmiiinnnggg!"

     And his cum shot out of him at Warp Nine, filling her tight 
cunt.

     It was several minutes before they recovered. Deanna 
gently rolled Picard off of her and slipped back into her 
uniform. She waited for Picard to do the same before she 
slipped through the door to the bridge.

     As it swooshed open, the scent of their love-making 
whisked out behind her. Data, the android at the helm, only 
sniffed curiously, but the humans -- and even the odd alien or 
two -- recognized the odor and looked up.

     Troi went through the bridge and disappeared into the 
turbolift as Picard strode across and reclaimed his command 
chair.

     Riker, who had been following Troi's backside with his 
eyes, swung them back onto the Captain. "Have you and the 
counselor had a productive chat?" he asked with a sly grin.

     "Yes, indeed, No. 1," Picard said briskly. "You know, I never 
understood before how valuable a counselor can be to a ship's 
operations. Now then, are we done with our sensor readings 
here?"

     "Yes, Captain, we're ready to return to Starbase Nine."

     "Make it so, No. 1."

     "Make it so yourself, Jean-Luc," Riker mumbled to himself 
as he stepped up to Data's station.

     "What was that, No. 1?" Picard called out.

     "Nothing, Captain," Riker said. "Oh, by the way, Captain, I 
believe you may want to check your communicator. I think 
there's a slight malfunction in it; it seems to go off 
sometimes when I don't think you intend it to." 

     "Indeed?" As the captain spoke, Worf the Klingon let out a 
loud guffaw behind him. Before Picard could turn around, the 
husky officer had muffled his laugh with a beefy paw. 

     "Permission to leave the bridge, Captain," the Klingon 
barked.

     "Why, Mr. Worf?"

     "I have an appointment with Counselor Troi," he said, 
bending his head down over his console to hide his expression.

     "Counselor ... Oh, well," Picard said with a sigh. "Make her 
... I mean, make it so."