BEST TNG SINGLE PERSON STORY
Title: TOY
Author: R.Schultz (cousindream@MSN.com)
Series: ST: TNG
Code: Crusher/by herself
Rating: NC-17/R for graphic sexual content
Spoilers: Anytime after first season AFTER Wesley has left
Disclaimers: This Star Trek universe belongs to Paramount. Trust me, Rich Guys. I'm not depriving you of any money by writing this thing. Which story is all mine by common-law copyright.
Summary: This story concerns a solitary (fictional) adult female involved in self-gratification with the aid of a device of that future era. It mentions other forms of sex, but the biggie here is one woman (Bev Crusher) not needing the help of anyone else.
Warning: If this bothers you, go. If its illegal to read this Treksmut because you are underage, or if it is illegal in your locale or country, please read something else somewhere else.
Re-written Nov. 2000 for the Femme Fuh-q Fest archive. Apx. 3000 words long.
Will be archived by the ASCEM. May be archived elsewhere, if notice given of where. All
comments may be sent to: cousindream@MSN.com
It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, a headlong decision, a sudden purchase. Now I was
back on the ENTERPRISE, my Shore Leave long past. Now it was the end of Alpha shift, now I
was back in my cabin.
Staring at my carryall, sitting innocently on my small kitchenette table. Not on my bed or night
stand, no, not hidden. Inside this innocent dark green tote were my purchases from the planet
below. Inside this carryall was the purchase that had obsessed me throughout my uneventful
work day.
To look at it, there was nothing special in it. But I had been building up to this moment for the
last nine T-hours. Wondering. Hoping. Anticipating. Waiting.
My palms were damp, so I wiped them on my uniform pants. Putting off the moment I would
retrieve my special present for myself. Teasing myself by pretending it didn't mean that much to
me. Listening to my heart sing in my inner ears. It was nothing special. Certainly.
I moved to open my carryall, eager to retrieve my souvenirs.
First was the wedge of local goats cheese, into the cabin stasis box. Such large bubbles, so nutty
the taste. The three bottles of local wines went onto the floor. A few music holos from
Pre-Troubles Terra. Something to flavor the evening with a special friend.
Maybe listen to La Boheme or The Second Romulan, soaring into the darkness, the holo playing
as Deanna explained and gave insights into the play or Opera.
Perhaps a breakfast. (Jean-luc pouring, exuding grace, presenting small split French loaves with
two strips of FahEk for each of us. Nearness, strength, Alpha male).
There was more in the carryall. A new blouse, swirls of transparent lime. Obviously best to
wear a double-ply halter with this see-through luxury.
A new coffee, and a new spiced cream to go with it. A rounded triplet of green gelsoaps already
making my carryall fragrant. New casuals for my feet, neck and hair scarves of the same gauzy
pattern as my new blouse.
The carryall is brought into my bedroom, casually placed on the bed. Inside my new novelty. I
will play with my new bright blue purchase. After a bath. After my dinner. Teasing myself.
Enjoying the anticipation.
Dinner was a sprinkle of diced Talarian Ham over Asparagus. I barely tasted it. I was looking
forward to my new...lover...the way a bride does for her new husband. My skin was pins and
needles.
The new bath gel felt soft and barely oily on my skin, the fragrance making me smile. In the
warm comfort I felt immeasurably feminine, a creature of desire and fulfillment, warm and wet.
Almost without noticing it my hand has cupped myself and I am masturbating. I am staring at
the side of my bathtub, and remembering another time I lounged in fire and desire.
My purchase then had come up from a planetary surface, and I had opened it while enjoying a
scented tub of luxury. Now it sat in my wardrobe, in my secret box of treasures. Once it had
made each night a progressively sensual series of sexings between it and myself.
So lovely, so anatomically correct it had been, so delightful in its swirl of brown and cream, with
a few striplings of blueberry color on its surface. Sitting erect, on the edge of my bathtub.
It had seemed predestined that the first thing I did was kiss this faux-cock. Take this
multicolored dildo between my teeth, lick it, swallow it. Taste its surface, feeling its girth and
length and taper in my adoring mouth. Savoring the taste of peppermint and jazzy orange it had.
The toy had gleamed in the yellow-white light of my bath suite. Slick, tempting, ready. The base
had attached itself to the edge of my tub in spastic increments, each tightening seeming to make
it stiffer in my hands. Then it was seated, and I could toss the control on the ledge at the head.
Straddle it, caress it, feel my electric heat as I carefully brought myself to its harlequin-colored
erectness. A quick spray with the lube, then I felt my knees give way. Then it was entering
me....
I was hypnotized by it, amazed at how it filled me. I was drawn, destined to make it my own.
And me, its. I savored it a long time that first time. Feeling every centimeter, ever nodule, every
bulge and vein of its maleness. It was so good. I think I was in love with it during those long
minutes I spent unmoving that first time. Finally I could stand it no more and I began to work
myself on its colorful rigidity.
Ogawa told me the next day I did not appear as if I had had a moments sleep. I nearly hadn't, but
then few women willingly want to sleep through their honeymoon.
Now... Now I had a new anticipation.
I cupped myself harder, vaguely pawing my bead, my clit, until it sent a jolt up me every time I
touched it, made me groan as I pressed and circled on my center. Remembering. Relishing the
new...object d'art ....waiting for me in my carryall.
I was going to go into the bedroom, open my item, pull out my lube, and take me, it, into a world
where screaming became the only possible thing to do. All that could be necessary for me to do
when I went into core overload. I was going to have my new toy, or rather it was going to have
me.
For one night I was not going to converse with myself. I was going to grunt and sweat with this
toy. Not open myself to someone else. Not risk more pain. Not tarnish my reputation. (And for
what, I always wondered? Why is that so valuable? We are all tarnished, according to my
Fathers precepts, and my Grandfathers).
Tomorrow I shall play that never-ending dialogue again. Tomorrow I will attempt to find new
reasons not to become especially close to someone. Tomorrow. Tonight I was free and safe of
risks. Tonight I had my new Blue Monday toy, straight from the JisHallik Works of Risa. And a
pretty pence it cost, too.
The HairShell dried my red glory, I licked my lips, feeling my groin tighten and begin growing
warm. In front of my mirror I cupped myself again, judging myself still an attractive, and sexy
woman. Enjoying the heat spreading from my clit every time I flicked it.
It waited for me. Naked I sat tailor-fashion on the bed, reading the instructions on its Padd
carefully, hurriedly. Only understanding every fifth word, willing myself not to quiver. Knowing
it was simplicity itself. Risa didn't make Toys that required Geordi to reconfigure them.
Explaining how to alter, how to initiate, how to terminate in a dozen different ways.
I eased it from its stasiswrap. Caressing the slender blue length of its masculinity. It could even
be used in that fashion. Inert. A new and brightly colored object like any other pseudo-masculine
toy.
A face came all unbidden to my mind from long ago. My first sex toy, a hard plas cylinder, able
to purr and rock. Sam, Seamus, we were on five blankets brought ashore from the little fishing
skiff. He'd thought he might love me, use me, and he'd reluctantly agreed to use my little toy.
Afterwards it indeed was no problem for him to convince me we were something more than
friends. It hadn't been bad, it was pleasing. But what I remembered best was the toy.
I knew I was wet, one hand confirmed it, and I forget all about getting a lube. I lay back on my
soft burgundy sheets, telling the computer to lower lighting, more, until it felt.....seductive.
Sensual, secretive, a rendezvous between myself and my new lover. An object whose only
function was to pleasure a woman. I felt in the lap of luxury.
I let the Toy play with my thighs and belly, allowing a minimal humming to tickle my skin, my
bodies lips, there, tease the entrance to my vagina. Knowing I had all night, determined to make
this first night memorable.
I squeezed the base and it became faster, but not louder. The first time I touched the end to my
clit, my teeth clicked together and my heels rose from the bed. Again, and my legs spread wide.
A third time and I closed my eyes. Nothing really extraordinary so far...but I knew the best was
yet to come.
I remember my husband, Jack, on... Plegor Animisa, slopes of snow, and skiing, long before
Wesley was born.
Jack was there beside me, casually using my soft black dildo to tease my clit, the both of us
laughing into seriousness as we worked me into a slow gentle prelude to the nights lovemaking.
Both of us adapting ourselves to my use of these toys, fitting them into both our sex lives.
Back then when I discovered that my choice of colors indicated the desire to experience a black
man, I immediately threw it away. During the months-long angry separation between Jack and
me, back then, before we were engaged, I had met Mayhew. It was only a weekend. He shaved
his head with a dap, his skin was the color of obsidian, and he enjoyed licking the backs of my
knees and insides of my elbows.
Then after Jack, long after his death, I'd taken a flurry of short-term lovers. Too little pleasure,
unfortunately. Long ago that was.
Millimeter by millimeter I began to insert my new Toy. Letting my muscles ease out of the way,
shivering as my body tightened on it as it went inside me. By will I kept myself open, almost
relaxed. By will I let it fill me, shivering with the chills sex gives me. How long I lay there, my
legs straining, I do not know. Holding the base, keeping myself impaled, enjoying the vibrations
it gave me.
Then I grasped the control, thumbing my Blue Monday into a state of bare life. It ... moved.
Within me.
The illusion was total, complete and sudden. One nanosecond I had just another male-shaped
toy inside my body. The next ...
I had a small animal moving within me.
I could feel it stretch itself slowly, comfortably, there, in my belly. Its back arched, I could feel
the pseudo-paws, tell it was lying on its side. Its tail split a kilo of times, easing itself into a
pliable film anchoring itself in my groin, in my sex, there, between my legs. My anus was
covered and made warm. My puffy lips enclosed, feeling the vibrations more directly. I felt it
cover my clit, making me think of warm milk. Soothing, coating, liquid, anchoring. Fondling
my vagina through the anchoring film, it felt like I was masturbating through fine satin panties.
Enjoying the jolt I got when my thumbnail touched my lust bead.
Then. It. Moved. Again.
Its ... feet kneaded me in the side of my vaginal tube, its bulky tail worked against the rings of
muscles at my entrance. It felt too BIG, so LARGE inside me as it ... moved. It was slender as it
had been before, but now it was a quivering creature barely at rest.
Then it raised its head and began to twist so that it lay on its back. It built heat, faster and faster, washing over my belly and flanks as its lovely fantastic pseudo-feet worked at me from my
insides.
It ...
Was quiescent when I finally regained my mind. I kept shuddering in post-coital spasms as my
senses returned. I'd curled into a foetal position, the nails of one hand carving aching half-moons
into my palms. Eyes stinging from my sweat, my breath ragged. My nipples complaining and
rock hard. I think I'd mauled them as I came.
The creature now lay quietly inside me, only a vagrant curling of front paw and head reminding
me of my near future. I was shaking, grateful the toys sensors had known enough to respond to
varied stimuli and lower its intensity and motions. Then I realized my hand was grasping the
base with a death grip. My own personal fail-safe.
In moments I was once more on my back, taking my hand away. Realizing it was too energetic
for right this moment. I found the hand controls and dialed to a more ... sedate pace.
I could feel every movement inside my belly, I had to stare, not able to believe that none of its
movements were visible there to my naked eye. Panting. Feeling my ring of muscles
rhythmically milking at its base.
It twisted ... all the way around. Its head questing, its paws playing with my insides, its tail flexing back into my milking entrance muscles. It tried to stretch as a cat might, then it began
to lift feet and knead at me. Falling to its back. Again.
Rubbing its back against me, as the next wave broke against my mind. Fire in my guts and
thighs. Electrical tremors shaking my lower belly, my nipples spiking under my rubbing fingers.
Itching, prickly heat all over the bottom half of my body. As it shook itself, and as its paws tried
to walk up my insides.
By instinct my skittering finger found my clit, triggering, almost making me believe it was
spurting in its own cum. Inside me the Toy twisted slowly over and over, paws poking my
insides. I came ......
This time I returned to awareness lying on my other side, unable to see, gasping for air. Knowing
I'd reached the end of my strength. No more toy. Find life, go back to life, let my breasts recover
and soften. I lay there confusing memories with visions.
Seeing Jean-Luc this time, replacing him with Riker, going back to Jack, then letting my mind
fade around imaginings of the Captain softly working me, bringing my thighs rigid with his
tender mouth and fingers.
The creature was still in me. The controls ... Where? No matter. Thumb it down. With both
hands, a counter-twisting motion, the device relaxed. Its anchor-film retreated inside its base,
the animal become just another inert toy, and I carefully pulled it out of myself. My legs and
groin were soaked.
Like a holonovel of the pornographic kind, I knew I was staining and wetting my sheets. It was
so glorious....
I knew Tasha would have invented a dozen dozen, a kilo of games for the toy. It was she who
discovered my anal wish and gave me ... both fun AND joy with my fantasy. Able to combine
hilarity with eroticism. Natasha would have made each night memorable for a month with this
toy.
At times I let myself know I missed her most of all. My blond Valkyrie, my hero with the forty,
fifty scars I could discover when I searched her soft skin with patience and love. Modern
medicine made scars difficult to discover now.
The first time I saw the shining pieces of metal, remnants of the explosion that killed her years
before we met, my universe had turned cold with the realization I could lose my Tasha. In the
end I lost her love. Why had I turned away from her like that? I understood now I did not want
to depend on someone else that fervently or completely. I'd run from love and its insecurities.
I'd not enjoyed that particular discovery when Deanna helped me arrive at it.
The surety came on me then. Remembering the faces that had swum into my mind as I reached
for these astonishing self-gratifications.
I held the toy, inspecting it, swallowing it, tasting me on its shaft, smiling. The creature looked
now as it had been when I bought it. Just another vibrating, purring toy, similar to a trillion
others. Bright electric blue, but still....
I realized at that moment what I had done, there, in that little shop. I was restless, uneasy. I
wished another safe, discreet, hidden answer to my body's desires. Another something to let me
keep my distance from people ... who might love me. Who might hurt me.
Sweet Natasha Yar had a dozen outfits built around that electric shade of blue. It was the blue
that first caught my eyes in that shop. The blue ... remembering. My one-time lover.
Maybe my glands were telling my mind it was time to share with someone, anyone. Wes would
be no problem now that he was off to the Academy. My cabin was large, my life needed filling.
I was in a solitary bed.
But I didn't need to sleep alone tonight. Smiling, I realized I had the ultimate of conversational
icebreakers lying against my thigh. Wondering how I would like to play this scenario for
maximum dramatic value. Who with.
Bring in a new bottle of wine to my guest, my new toy lying invitingly between two glasses.
Such a sight was sure to elicit a few comments. Then a few seductive double-entendres, a kiss
on the arm and shoulder, then.... Better change my sheets.
I changed my bed, worked my naked body into a long electric blue robe (Oh, Tasha...if only...).
Put one of my new wines to fast-chill and reached for my comm badge. In seconds I could hear
a voice at the other end of my call. I smiled.
Deanna, dear? I'm here all alone, and I've a new wine to sample, as well as a new Monteverdi
and a new Sinatra. We can sip the wine, listen to antique music and....
...I can show you what else I got this time. Yes? Certainly. Twenty minutes then. Ill be waiting
for you.
THE END
