tagCelebrities & Fan FictionHolodeck Repairman: Short 01

Holodeck Repairman: Short 01


Obviously, I don't own Star Trek, it's characters, copyrights, or settings. This is protected parody/fan fiction.


Holodecks and Transporters. Those two pieces of tech give us more trouble than anything else. Keeping the holodecks of Earth from eating the spoiled inhabitants of the Federation's capital world, its leaders and Starfleet officers, is my job. Some other poor bastard has to keep the transporters running and not duplicating. Though I hear the main tool he uses is a phaser set to disintegrate. I prefer to be somewhat more...technical in my approach.

The Bolian Member of the Federation Council hadn't been seen for two days when I was called in. She'd gone into the holodeck and hadn't come out. The door was locked with her Council override, so no Starfleet engineer would break in. I am not Starfleet. Breaking through the lock wasn't hard for an ex-Orion Syndicate engineer. I went in alone and came out with her two hours later. This is the story of those two hours.

It was dark and smoky. After confirming I couldn't shut the program down, I let the door close (blackmail material's no good if everyone knows about it). A couple of typed commands to the control keyboard I kept strapped to my wrist and a mask appeared over my mouth and nose, letting me breathe easy. I could create, even if I couldn't destroy. I didn't bother with night-vision glasses because before the Syndicate got me caught, they had sprung for the operation to let a human see in the dark of Klyten II.

The Bolian legislator was bound to a table, spread-eagle, steel bright against her completely naked blue skin. Her figure, long admired by those with a taste for bald blue women, was lined with pale white marks that suggested someone had been beating on her. Her hefty tits were remarkably unmarked and her completely bald pussy drew my eye. The puddle beneath her groin made it clear that she'd enjoyed her beatings. The absence of waste was also interesting, but I didn't know, or care about Bolian physiology to know what that meant. Her mouth was held open by a ring gag, pink tongue flicking as she tried to speak, but all that came out was unintelligible mumbling. I stepped forward and reached for the gag. Then there was a bright red line along the tanned skin of my hand. My hand twisted catching the crop as it tried to withdraw and pulled hard.

A squirming bundle of blue woman fell into my arms, this one dressed in a bright red leather corser and identical to the one tied to the table, except for the fact that her skin was unmarred, except where my hands gripped her tightly. A drop of blood fell from my hand, the crop intended to mark Bolians had given my hand a nasty cut. The safety protocols were off. Which I hadn't detected on entering, for some reason. I had her wrapped in my arms for a moment, her bright blue eyes on me and her naked tits pressed against my chest, her wet pussy on my leg. Sanity reestablished itself.

I tossed the crop behind me, shoved her to the ground and stepped back towards the imprisoned woman. I had the gag out of her mouth by the time her doppelganger rose. They spoke together "Do you know who I am!" It was a demand, not a question.

"I know who one of you is. And I know the safeties are off. And I know the program's locked. And I know that you've been in here for two days and missed the last meeting of the Archaeological Council. And I have a solution to resolve this little problem, open the door, toss you both out and the real one doesn't disappear."

The buxom blue women were on opposite sides of the metal table, but faced me with identical looks of outrage. "I am the representative of Bolarus IX! I can't go out there like this," they waved down at nudity and leather respectively.

"Well, one of you is. I don't know which one it is and I don't care, you've got a meeting to make." I typed in another few commands and they were identically attired in their official uniforms. The real one must have been dehydrated and the fake one was programmed to think she was real as neither of them noticed that the clothes would vanish as soon as they stepped out of the room. I warned them that I would be busy repairing it for another few hours.

They stepped out of the door I opened. I heard a screech as the representative of Bolarus IX was suddenly naked in front of her staff. I heard the screech and saw her tight blue ass shaking in the breeze as she spun towards the door I was closing in her face. Her dominant holographic double reappeared as I locked the door.

"Well, well, well, so the representative of Bolarus IX, council member for the Bolians likes to be tied down and beaten by herself. Narcissistic and submissive all at once. " I purred as I circled the holographic dominatrix. A quick glance confirmed that her pussy was sealed, as a Bolian's always was until she was sufficiently aroused to be ready for sex. An autonomic, not controlled function of their physiology, a fact I'd seen exploited in several unpleasant interrogations during my time with the Syndicate and that was exploited in several extremely pleasant holoprograms I've debugged and enjoyed.

The crop that had reappeared with her hand lashed out. I stepped into the blow, letting her arm impact my side and trapped it there. I drove her back against the table. "Bad girl. Attacking me. You need to be punished, as you must know, as you're a copy of that submissive bitch." I whispered in her ear.

She moaned, "Noooo..."

"Yes," I answered, before bending my head to the side of her neck where her usually thick skin was second thinnest and pushed softly on the nerve cluster there. She moaned. I bit it, very softly. The crop fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. I pulled back and stared at the raised seam down the center of her face. "Admit it." I said, coldly.

"N—" she began. I scraped a short nailed finger down that seam from bald head to lip, getting under her skin for the first time. The sudden sensation ran like lightning through her. She shook against my body.

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked.

"I deserve it," she whispered.

"Good girl." I spun her around and bent her over the table. I prepared to take the steps necessary to arouse the Bolian bitch to the point of opening for me as I lacked either the drugs the Syndicate had used, or the multiple partners most Bolians used to arouse a female to the point of being bred. I didn't need to. Maybe it was the hand I wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her head against the metal table and pressing on the thin skin of her neck, or maybe she was programmed to react that way, but given how much of a copy she was, I like to think that I'd found her on buttons.

I unsealed the crotch panel on my work suit (and pulled off the cup I wear. For some reason, I get kicked in the balls...a lot, even on Earth), letting my cock fall out, bouncing off her blue ass and ground myself against her, she whined and tried to push herself back, around me. "Don't move. You take what I give you, no more and no less." I commanded in a voice directly modeled off my immediate superior in the Syndicate.

She froze. I moved around the table, positioning her how I wanted, bent at the waist, tits hard against the cold metal, hands spread, gripping the sides, unrestrained, but unmoving. Her head hung free, over the end, a rough grip lifted her chin so she was looking forward. I kicked her feet further apart, leaving her in the second lewdest and most helpless position I knew. I picked up the crop and swung it vigorously through the air. She flinched at the swishing sound and twitched when it came down hard on the metal table an inch from her ass. I left it there, within easy reach as I stalked around the table, cock swinging like a pendulum which had hypnotized the blue babe.

She didn't reach for the crop, or my dick. "Open your mouth." I commanded, while behind her. By the time I reached the front of the table again, her mouth was hanging open. My cock twitched. I kept going.

A whine escaped her as I didn't grab her and fuck her face hard and rough. I resealed myself. "Time to get back to work." I said.

She didn't move, but did speak, as I hadn't forbidden her to. "But—" she began, a hint of her old pride in her voice.

Two fingers in her cunt stopped her bitching. The slick lime colored fluid that acted as a lube was dripping from her by the time I finished playing with the little nerve bundles that filled her pussy. Blue fingers had gone white gripping the edge of the table and her moans filled the air with unmelodic, but cock-stiffening music.

I dragged my thumb across her cunt and slid the fingers up her back, along her skin and the leather of the corset that marked her as a dominatrix, then grabbed the back of her neck hard. Hard fingers bit into her neck, the odor of her sex filled her nose and the air as my other hand guided my cock into her sopping pussy. The musk was pleasant, not the aphrodisiac it was for Bolians, but nice.

My cock was thicker than the average Bolians, rubbing against multiple nerve bundles at once, driving her even further into an orgasmic trance. I removed the hand on the back of her neck typing in a few commands as I thrust into her tight pussy. What I'd summoned thumped into the table beside her ass and the ground behind us which she didn't even notice as she was a bit busy. I paused for a moment. "Do you deserve to wear this leather? Are you really a mistress?" I asked, my hands grabbing the top of the corset and using it as a handle for a number of savage thrusts. I do love dominating the dominant.

I had to repeat myself twice before the questions made their way through the fog of her pleasurable submission. I actually had to stop thrusting, which took most of my considerable self-control before she answered that she didn't deserve it and didn't want it. Though at that point, she'd have said anything to get me going again.

Not that I had much resistance to that notion. The knife I'd summoned cut through the leather of her corset, but not the skin underneath. I stepped back and pulled hard on the corset. At some point when I wasn't looking, her hands must have released the table, because she spun over as I pulled the corset loose, landing her now-naked back on the cold metal of the table. I was inside her again before she had a chance to react. The crop had been knocked to the ground, but the knife was within her reach, she didn't reach for it.

"You can move now," I permitted. "In fact, I command it."

Her hands moved...to my back. Her nipples damn near cut into my chest as I met her eyes and enjoyed the ecstasy in them. Her legs wrapped around me, drumming on my ass. I pulled her backwards, vertical and then over onto the cot I'd summoned behind us. "My pleasure is the goal, remember that." I commanded.

"Yes, sir." She whispered in my ear, before rising up and riding me. Her hands went to her throat and she pushed hard, writhing atop my cock like a dancer. My hands enjoyed her bountiful tits.

Heat rose from my toes and flowed from her tits into my hand, from my brain down, pooling at my cock. I roared and rolled her, filling her with my cum. I kissed her for the first and last time as I spilled my seed in her. A Bolian should have required much more stimulation to come. She didn't, which did wonders for my ego. I enjoyed the feeling of her cunt milking my cock until the afterglow faded.

A few typed commands solved the locked program and she vanished. I rolled aside before I fell in a puddle of my own cum, the only thing besides me that was real. A quick cleanup and playing with the records (and copying the program & its parameters into my personal database) later, I was done and headed out to be yelled at by the legislator's staff.

They didn't understand why I couldn't stop smiling as they yelled. If they hadn't been standing in front of a portrait of the woman I'd just fucked senseless, sorta, I might have done a better job of remaining serious.

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