My Mistress – the Captain – reached forward and touched my cheek. I felt my flesh tingle at her touch. It was not just an emotional response – my skin was changing. The Captain drew back in alarm and confusion.
“Astrid?” She asked uncertainly. “But… the Borg… You died…”
“I have no memory of that, “I answered, carefully. If she wanted me to be Astrid, then I would be Astrid.
“No,” continued the Captain. “Astrid was shorter. But you have her face… and hair.” She ran her fingers through my now much longer hair and I was aware that it darker. Almost raven black - the opposite and complement to the Captain’s own.
“And you’re wearing her uniform. She was just an Ensign when I last… when… No. You’re wearing the Ensign’s uniform that we gave to Minya.”
I smiled at the Captain reassuringly – smiling with the smile of her… friend? Lover?
“My God,” whispered the Captain, realisation dawning. “Is this my fantasy? But I’m not… I mean, we never…”
“Would you like to?” I asked hesitantly.
“Oh yes! More than anything,” the Captain responded, eagerly taking me in her arms and pulling me close.
I felt the thrill of a new lover’s embrace and knew in that moment that I would do anything for her. That is the curse of my existence: an intense feeling of desire and love that makes each new connection earth shattering and unique, but which is rarely reciprocated by the men - or even the women - who take their pleasure from me.
The Captain began kissing me with an intensity and a lustful abandon that was exhilarating. I could only surmise that this face that I now wore belonged to a more carefree time in her life, when she did not have responsibilities and an mage to live up to in front of her crew.
Our lips were fused together and our tongues explored each other’s mouths. I ran my fingers through her soft blonde hair and she ran hers through my lustrous ebony mane.
As we continued in our embrace, I felt a tugging at the waist of my stretchy uniform top. I felt a thrill as the Captain exposed first my midriff and then my breasts. They tumbled free from the pushed-up top and I felt the Captain’s gentle delicate fingers touch and explore them. The shape of my physique does not change and so I guessed, from the human women that I had seen, that my breasts must be somewhat larger than those of her friend. But the Captain did not seem to mind.
Reluctantly, it seemed, she broke away from my lips and I was left with a feeling of loss and anticipation. Her head dropped and she began to feast on my sensitive breasts. She licked and sucked and chewed at my hard nipples and I gasped with pleasure as I again stroked her hair and pulled her close to my breast.
“Oh, M- Captain,” I breathed.
“Call me Jeri,” she mumbled against my breast.
“Oh… Jeri,” I responded. She was a client now in my mind. I would call her whatever she wanted.
“Oh, Jeri,” I repeated. “I love you.”
The captain straightened, looked me in the eye with uncontrollable longing and crushed lips against mine once more. This time, she pushed me back onto the desk of her ready room and cradled my head with one arm, whilst she kissed me with her lips. I felt a delicious thrill as, with her free hand, my blonde lover began pushing down my stretchy pants.
She exposed my sex and I could not resist touching it. It felt soft and furry, but neatly trimmed. Just the way the Captain liked it, I surmised. I helped her to push my pants all the way off.
“Its at times like this,” murmured the Captain, taking her lips from mine for a minute, “that I long for the glamorous days of a few centuries ago, when Starfleet uniforms were not so formal and women wore those little dresses.”
I nodded, smilingly, as Jeri seemed to think I knew what she was talking about. |