tagCelebritiesPon Farr

Pon Farr

byl8bloom©

May you enjoy this ST fanfic, and please do leave feedback. Kindly respect the copyright, thank you. I laboured for hours to write it.

*

I was born on February 14, 1967. I am human on my mother's side. My dad is a Vulcan. Growing up in Chicago, I did look a little different from the other kids. Luckily in the city there are humans of all different colors, with variously shaped eyes, noses, and so on. If anybody asked about my ears or eyebrows, I would tell them what my parents had told me (which I later found out was a big fat lie). "I'm part Chinese," I would say. "When I was little there was an accident with an electric rice-picker."

And my dad always simply wore a hat.

Luckily I was good in sports, which is a magical social insulation from ridicule. I was stronger than the other girls, even stronger than many of the boys. I played baseball on the guys' team through high school, dabbled a little bit in gymnastics.

But my favorite sport was tae kwon do. The fighting ability seemed to be in my blood. Ancient weapons fit very naturally in my hands. My favorite was the labrys, the double-bladed ax. It seemed to symbolize my heritage.

After high school my life was pretty ordinary for a middle-class American woman. I went to college, got a degree and a professional job. The only thing that was different was that I never had any particular interest in finding a mate. I watched my friends get married and settle down from a sort of detached perspective. I was happy for them, but had no particular wish to do the same.

Don't get me wrong, I dated from time to time. I'm reasonably pretty, a good cook, and can hold up my end of a conversation. Sex was fine, I could take it or leave it. But things never seemed to work out.

For one thing, men weren't prepared for my physical strength. Once when I came, I squeezed the poor man's dick so hard that tears of pain came to his eyes. He never called again. In addition, aroused human males are kind of smelly. Not exactly a turn-on.

This year on New Year's Day I started to feel a little strange. I was oddly irritable, even though it wasn't my time of the month. "Must be the champagne," I thought. "Some kind of hangover."

But the next day other symptoms began to appear. I had trouble concentrating at work. As I wrote the tedious reports for which I was famous in the company, I found myself making mistakes in my logic. I would put down the project and move on to a different one. Later, when I went back to the previous job, I found all kinds of irrational errors. "What is wrong with me?" I wondered.

After a couple of weeks of substandard work, my boss called me in to her office. "Kelly," she said. "You've always been a terrific employee and I don't want to put you on probation. But is something wrong lately? Something you want to talk about?"

Tears stung my eyes. "I don't know," I sobbed. "Maybe I just need some rest."

Becky looked concerned. "Tell you what," she said. "Why don't you go see your doctor and get a referral for a psychic evaluation." My head jerked up. Does she think I'm nuts? I thought.

She saw the look on my face. "I know that sounds extreme," she said. "But this will enable you to take paid leave. I'd like to keep you as an employee here. And I'd like to see the old you come back."

"Thank you," I bawled. I grabbed a Kleenex off her desk and blew my nose. "Th-thank you."

In a way I was relieved to get rid of the pressure of work. I saw the doc, filled out the HR paperwork, and went home to be moody and bitchy. I did remember to write my boss a nice thank-you note, telling her I was trying to work things out. I intended to return to work, and my normal life, as quickly as possible.

Then I started to dream. In the dream I was making love to a dark-haired Vulcan. Actually we were snarling and fucking like wild animals. His silver chainmail shimmered against his muscular physique. The armor scratched my skin. I didn't have to handle him gently. He was way stronger than me, something I had never experienced. Brutally he pounded into me, taking his fill.

I woke up more aroused than I had ever been in my life. I masturbated with my fingers, thrusting hard. I pinched my nipples and dry-humped the bed. I did everything I could think of to get off, but when I eventually came, I was not satisfied. It seemed like there should be something better.

My therapist told me I was subconsciously attracted to my father and experiencing cognitive dissonance.

A few days later I went to the dojang, thinking to work off the tension. I was feeling almost mean, not common for my nature. I sparred with the ranking black belt. He seemed a little surprised by the vigor of my attack. After an hour, he took me aside. "Miss Koss," he said, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that!" I snapped.

His eyebrows went up.

"I'm sorry, sabum-nem," I said. "I'm fine."

I left in shame for having spoken so rudely to my teacher.

By the twenty-third of January I was coming apart. I was off my feed. Food that I used to love was odious to me. I was so bitchy that I tried not to go out in public. What few groceries I required, I had delivered.

And the dreams became more intense. Always the same Vulcan was my lover. In dreams he brought me to mind-shattering orgasm and sweet release. But upon waking I was insatiable.

I was very near to prowling bars to stalk a mate, any mate. I couldn't bring myself to do it for fear of hurting someone. I went to Lover's Lane to buy some toys. As I browsed the dildoes, I looked for the ones that seemed most durable. "Can I help you, miss?" leered an employee. Coldly, I visualized smacking his face hard enough to break his jaw. He stammered some apology and went away.

I went to visit my mom. "What is wrong with me?" I wept in her arms.

"I was afraid this would happen," she said.

"What!?" I demanded. "What is going on!?"

"You are at a special crossroads, my daughter," she said. "You may know that human women reach their sexual peak at age forty."

I nodded to show I understood. I had heard that in biology class ages ago.

"But you are also Vulcan," she continued, and she began to cry as well. "You are experiencing the Pon Farr."

"No!" I protested. "That only happens to men. This can't happen."

"Nonetheless, it is happening," she said sadly. "Have you tried meditating?"

"It is too late," said my father as he came into the room. "She must go."

A feeling of dread trickled down my spine. "No, no, no..." I began to whisper.

They explained to me that, when I was born, they had selected a Vulcan mate for me in case this would ever happen. They had figured, if I never experienced the Pon Farr, there would be no serious consequences. Sohnok was on the planet Vulcan and I was on Earth. Were I never available, he would have many Vulcan women from which to choose.

And if I did have the condition, they thought they could catch it in time, and treat it with drugs, or meditation. When I passed through my teen years, my twenties and thirties, my parents had heaved a sigh of relief. They never expected the onset so late in life, especially for a female. But I was no longer living under their roof; with no daily contact, the early signs had gone undetected. And now it was too late. I would have to go through with it.

My father sent for a ship to carry me to the home I had never seen. Before I boarded, my parents gave me one last piece of information: my name. They had called me Kelly so I would fit in with the rest of the humans. My real name was T'Kel.

I left Earth on February sixth. The journey was brief and uneventful. I spent my time masturbating, trying not to be so bitchy, and working out in the holodeck gym.

I also spent a lot of time gazing at my mate's picture. Not surprisingly, his face was that of the lover in my dreams. I wondered about him; what his life had been like. I wondered if he would dislike me for being half-alien. Or, maybe, he would find my foreignness erotic. I could not wait to get my hands on him. I could not wait to smell him.

We came into orbit around the planet. The long-awaited contact could now take place. I took several hours bathing and decorating my body, hoping I was attractive. I stood before the viewer.

To my shock, my mate's face did not appear. On the screen was a young Vulcan woman. She was beautiful. And she looked like she was made of ice.

"Who are you?" I wondered.

"I am T'Val," she declared. "I challenge you, T'Kel, to the Kalifee!"

For a minute I could only stare.

"You..." I was stunned. "...you want to be Sohnok's mate?"

She gave a sharp nod and signed off.

I guess my mate had a girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon beaming down, I met with the high priestess. She explained the rules to me. "The kunat kalifee is a fight to the death," she intoned. "Only one of you will survive to become Sohnok's mate."

I gulped. "But I—"

"You were not granted permission to speak!" she snapped. I shut up. This bitch was tough.

Unexpectedly she gave me a break. Because I was half-human, I was to be granted a little extra time before the battle. This would give me a chance to grow accustomed to the thinner, warmer atmosphere of the planet. It would also give me some training time.

The battle was set for my birthday, February 14th.

In those few days, I trained as if my life depended on it. It did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our uniforms were some kind of lycra; painted to the skin, they granted complete range of motion. Across from me, T'Val finished warming up. I am no slouch, but she was a tad slimmer than me, and built like a brick shithouse. No wonder Sohnok wanted her.

The priestess regarded the scene with a cold, regal eye. Beside her knelt Sohnok. His face was expressionless.

The honor guard shook the bells. My opponent approached the arena as if born to it. She moved with confidence. I tried not to remember that she was a full-blood. She would be stronger than me, maybe quicker. Here on Vulcan, I was the weakling.

But I was chemically imbalanced: half-crazed with the Pon Farr, and the libido of a human woman at her sexual peak. I too had a certain advantage.

We circled, eyes locked on one another. Carefully I studied her movements, trying to keep my own without pattern. My hands were empty; she held a thin strip of leather, a weapon I had never learned.

She whipped her ahn-woon in an ever-increasing circle. Like bolas back on Earth, the threat whistled through the air. I tried to dodge but the leather wrapped around my bicep.

As she reeled me in, my front snap kick caught her under the chin. Her body fell away in a graceful arc, landing flat on her back. Unfazed, she sprang up like an Olympic gymnast. Quickly she regained her stance.

We circled again. T'Val had lost her weapon when I kicked her. I stepped in to kick her again but she was too fast. Her arm shot out in the fastest block I had ever seen.

She yanked me down.

The next thing I knew we were engaged in a sweaty judo match. Her legs locked around my waist as if she would cut me in half. God, she was strong!

She gripped my neck, trying to choke me to death. Stupid. Never occupy both your hands. My fists shot up in front of her chest, breaking her hold and hitting under her jaw, hard. Her teeth rattled.

I threw her as far as I could, gaining a moment to pick up my lirpa. It wasn't the same as my labrys back home; it had a single blade on one end and a cone-like club on the other. Out of the corner of my eye, T'Val scrambled for hers as well.

I made a swipe with the blade and she sucked her belly back just in time. My next effort split her uniform across the ribs. She bled but refused to cry out. She attacked with both hands braced on the staff of her lirpa. The shock of the weapons colliding vibrated through my arms.

T'Val switched her grip and barreled forward as if to rip my guts out. I let her own momentum work against her. As she lunged, I swung the blunt club around, breaking her arm. She made a noise of pain this time. The madness pounded in my head. I broke her other arm.

She tried to keep fighting. It was pathetic.

When she stumbled I tripped her without much trouble. I thrust the blade within an inch of her neck. "Move and you die!" She lay back, looking up at me, panting.

I addressed the court. "Victory is mine!" I yelled. "Sohnok is mine!"

"NO! Kill or be killed!" barked out the high priestess.

My lips curled back in rage. "FINE!" In a blur of motion I dropped my weapon and grabbed my opponent's head. With a quick twist I snapped her neck. Instantly, she died.

My howl of rage echoed through the sky. All the anger and frustration boiled over. In just six weeks my entire identity had been stripped away; against my will, I had become a monster. I had just killed someone!

"You bitch!" I shouted. "You and your goddamn traditions!"

Sohnok rose. He approached me where I stood by the dead girl. "They are your traditions as well." He pointed to the body. "She died with honor."

That really sent me over the edge. "YOU BASTARD!" I screamed. "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

Tears were pouring down my cheeks. I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. He wasn't expecting that. His head turned with the force of the blow.

He grabbed my uniform and tore off the front of my shirt. My naked breasts heaved as I panted hard. The skin of my chest was flushed with exertion, anger, and ... lust...

Blood roared in my ears. The meal I had craved was right in front of me, at last. I grabbed him by the ears and yanked his face to mine. In a rough kiss I stabbed my tongue into his mouth.

Instantly he grabbed my ass in a vicious squeeze. Finally! A man who could stand up to me! We went down in the sandy arena, tearing each other's clothes off. Beneath the ceremonial robe, he was naked.

It never crossed my mind that we were copulating in front of who knew how many people. Or maybe they had left. I didn't know and didn't care. I meant to have what was mine.

I attacked his wiry, muscular frame with fervor. I wanted to feel every inch of his body. Frantically I grabbed his thighs, feeling the cabled muscles. I bit his shoulder. The smell of him was ambrosia. I was delirious.

Quickly he forced his cock into my searing, soaking cunt. I bucked my hips and rolled us over. He rolled us again, regaining his position on top. Shocks went up my spine every time he thrust. Animalistic grunts filled the air as we scuffled. I gripped him with my legs, anchoring his torso to mine.

Sohnok pinned my shoulders and nipped at my tits. He banged me harder in a renewed burst of energy. I could feel his massive member swelling inside me. He was going to come.

Then he canted his hips and reached down. Fiercely he pinched my clit, just as his own body began to quake. My long, drawn-out scream rang loudly through the air. The orgasm burned through me like a nuclear explosion. His sperm flooded my vaginal cavity, branding me as his mate. He shouted his triumph.

Time stood still. We seemed to be hovering in that moment, drifting in air.

Then I was floating down, down, down from that exquisite peak. My head lolled back. I was covered with sweat, mixed with sand and a little blood. I could feel Sohnok's expression leaking out from between my thighs.

Somewhere in the distance, the bells rang again. The priestess spoke: "It is finished." They brought Sohnok a robe, and one for me. Someone helped me to my feet; I could barely walk.

They took me to a room somewhere and laid me in a warm bath. Somebody's hands washed my skin and hair. I was barely conscious, lacking the energy to be grateful. They laid me on a bed, and I slept.

Hours later, I awakened. The sun was going down. It had been one hell of a day.

A knock sounded at the door and Sohnok came in. His face was calm. If I didn't know better I would have sworn his eyes held a remote suggestion of affection.

He gave me the dozen red roses he held in his arms. I gazed at them in amazement. Earth roses. How he got them, I'll never know.

"These are for you," he said. "I believe the expression is ... 'Happy Valentine's Day.'"

How sweet of him to remember.

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