Title: WHAT'S WITH THE GET-UP, TOOTS?

Author: J. Juls (jjuls@tbc.net)

Series: TNG

Codes: Crusher/Pulaski

Rating: NC-17

Summary: When Beverly has an annoying physical problem, she finds a solution from an unexpected source--her old enemy, Kate Pulaski. But will the asking price be too high?

Note: Written for the Femme Fuh-Q Fest - http://www.oocities.org/femme_fuhq_fest/

Disclaimer: Bev, Kate, and all that good stuff owned by Paramount and whoever bought them most recently. Sorry everybody!

WHAT'S WITH THE GET-UP, TOOTS?

Red Alert! Red Alert! All hands to battle stations!

Beverly struggled across Sickbay, almost falling as the inertial dampers went out of alignment. A patient appeared at the door, clutching his crazily-bent forearm against his chest. She half-floated, half-walked to him in the fluctuating gravity and tried to grab the knitter out of its niche on the lab bench. But it wasn't there!

"Dr. Hill? Dr. Selar? Have you seen my knitter?" Who could have taken it? Alyssa helped her convey the injured ensign to a diagnostic bed. Beverly searched her pockets for the missing item. It was supposed to be on that bench at all times! Where could it be? "Alyssa. Do you know where the knitter is?" Not waiting for an answer, Beverly searched frantically through drawer after drawer. All she found was meters and meters of gauze, rolls of gauze, everywhere. "What is all this gauze doing in my Sickbay?" The gravity began to brown out; she started to float as lights flashed red and pink inside her head. The gravity cut on full again, then went out completely, then on full. Bev felt a series of dull shocks in her lower abdomen. Her eyes closed.

She was lying on her bunk, coming, a torpid, sluggish orgasm. Wasn't going to do her much good. Still, she kept her eyes shut and rode it out as long as possible. It was all she was going to get for the foreseeable future.

Beverly couldn't face the thought of getting out of bed. [I wouldn't really have to,] she thought. [We're just stopping off at Terra IX for shore leave. I could lie here all day; who'd notice?] Eventually, though, she clawed her way out of the jumbled blankets, if only for Wesley's sake.

As it turned out, she found a note on her computer from Wesley. He had gone to the holodeck with Br-na Spolq' and was going to watch the Parisses Squares tournament on Terra IX as soon as they arrived. He wouldn't be back all day. The note also begged for permission to stay overnight in Br-na's quarters. She'd consider it later. That Br-na Spolq' could be quite the little brat sometimes; she didn't know whether she wanted Wes hanging around with him. Still, Wes could be insufferable sometimes, too. It was just part of that age.

Bev replicated herself a black coffee. That wasn't enough, so she got another one. Now she felt wound-up and jittery, but the fullness in her belly didn't go away. [What would I do if a patient came to me with these symptoms?] Of course, she'd run a full scan on her. But if Beverly knew--and she did know--exactly what was wrong, she'd tell the patient one thing: go home, get in bed, and masturbate until your fingers turn blue.

[Huh!] Bev knew that was what she should do, but she had one itty-bitty problem: she was too embarrassed. She felt that someone was always staring at her, watching everything. Maybe the ship's computer. Oh, sure, it was irrational as hell, but every time she got in bed with herself and tried to relax, it was like the computer would spy on her and go blab to Jean-Luc all about it. Orgasm should be from intercourse. With a man. In the missionary position. That's what her Grandma had always said. Bev hated herself for being so uptight, but what could she do? [I'm just too old-fashioned for my own good!]

She tried not to worry; she knew the miserable feeling would go away in a few days. Then she'd have a whole month before she had to worry about it again. On the other hand...

Maybe she could find a man on Terra IX. Her thoughts traveled back to the last man she'd been with, that sweet young thing at Starbase G-6. Yes, well-endowed, and with stamina! She wasn't bound to get that kind of quality too often; no, usually her experiences were desperate and disappointing. She blushed when she thought about how she had propositioned Jean-Luc during the Tsiolkovsky incident. Ahhhh, the Ready Room. She had been ready, all right, ready to sweep all that clutter from Jean-Luc's desk and go at it, right then and there. Somehow he had resisted her charms; she'd never forgive him for that. Oh, there'd be payback for *that* someday, big-time. She just had to wait for her chance....

Instead she had ended up having a quickie in the Sickbay storeroom with Ensign Smeeeep. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. No consideration for her needs at all! Even in her maximally-horny state, she hadn't been able to climax. After all, a gal needed a certain amount of stimulation. Still, it was a good thing she'd stayed horny; that was her only impetus for curing the intoxication--who wanted to stay that miserable forever? She could imagine herself fucking Jean-Luc, banging her clit against him over and over as his long tool found her G-spot, coming like there was no tomorrow...and there wouldn't be. The ship would have been obliterated by that stellar fragment. Still, what a way to go!

Beverly got up to take a cold shower. She knew why she couldn't stop thinking about the Tsiolkovsky--because she was just as horny now as she had been then--even worse, in fact. She got in the head and peeled off her sticky, soaked underwear; she definitely was ovulating. Yes, a cold shower to take the edge off, then off to Terra IX to begin the hunt.

Bing! Target locked! Two strapping young stallions, maybe longshoremen or cargo pilots, swaggered into the place--with two, one could take over where the other left off. They even looked like they'd washed recently. This was her lucky day! She smoothed her hair and crossed her legs, revealing a long triangle of thigh as the slit in her narrow red skirt fell open. Setting her gaze on kill, she waited for one of them to glance her way. But her line of sight was blocked by a blue Starfleet uniform. It sat at her table, too close, and she almost had the hypospray of nerve gas out of her pocket when she recognized who wore the Science blue.

"Why, Doctor Crusher! I must say, I was surprised when I traced your commbadge here. How are you enjoying life aboard the flagship?"

Beverly sulked. "Doctor Pulaski." Noncommittal. She had first met Katherine Pulaski several years ago, when she had held a series of courses on her memory-erasure technique. Bev personally thought all the test subjects were shills, but maybe she just didn't understand what Pulaski had done. Either way, she didn't expect to ever have to use the technique. In the years since, she had met Katherine occasionally at seminars and the like, and the old bag had seemed to get more obnoxious on each meeting.

"I'm just fine, thank you for asking," Katherine said with that pompous smile of hers. "But I actually didn't look you up to make small talk. I have a proposition for you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Bev saw the hunks leave the bar, looking for better pickings, no doubt. Almost unconsciously, she squeezed her crossed thighs together, trying to ameliorate the miserable swelling of her loins. With nothing better to see now, she stared absently at Pulaski.

Beverly saw in Katherine's face the shadow of what had been great, almost luminous, beauty, dimmed by years of being a bitch. Tiny lines marred the skin around her alluring eyes and in the corners of her sensuous mouth, lines earned no doubt from many stern reprimands to her students...and to her superiors. Three ex-husbands, and each one a pussy-whipped Milquetoast. Katherine's chutzpah was unmatched among Bev's acquaintances; it was a wonder she hadn't been thrown out of Starfleet by now.

"Take a holo; it'll last longer."

Beverly jumped back, startled. "Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, Dr. Pulaski. I'm afraid I haven't been feeling myself lately." She felt the urge to squeeze her thighs together again and was lost for a moment in the tiny relief it brought, like a droplet of water on a glass-smooth pond.

"I'll bet you haven't," Pulaski replied with an enigmatic grin. "I'll bet nobody else has, either."

Now what was *that* supposed to mean? Well, she might as well ask Pulaski about her little proposition, if only to get rid of her ASAP. "Okay, Doctor, may I ask why you wanted to see me?"

"Certainly. And I hope you don't mind my being frank."

[Ahhhhh, franks.] "Of course not, Doctor." This was going to be good.

Pulaski took a swig of her beer. "As you know, Beverly--may I call you Beverly?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I'm ten times the doctor you are. I can operate circles around you; I'm competent in areas you've never even heard of. And I was first in line for assignment to the Enterprise when she shipped out last year."

This last revelation was a shock to Beverly. She could only stare at Katherine.

"Your posting to the Enterprise was sheer guilt on that old fool Picard's part; deep down, you know it. I would've thought he'd rather have a competent doctor aboard ship when his crew's lives are at stake...but I suppose Selar and Hill are professionally adequate, so that's enough for him."

Beverly just sat, in shock. Her disbelief at what she was hearing was only exceeded by her curiosity--why was Katherine saying all this to her?

"When he killed, or, so sorry, I mean when the 'accident'..."Kate held up her fingers, miming quotation marks, "...killed Jack, he was overwrought! I should know; I helped him through a few nights when he was keyed up and needed his mama."

This revelation was too much for Beverly. She could only listen, stunned, enthralled.

"Needless to say, I was massively pissed off when you got *my* plum assignment! Though not particularly surprised." She shrugged, stopped to take another gulp of beer. "Picard always knew how to pull strings with those admirals at Starfleet Command."

Beverly only stared, dumbstruck.

"But I have good news for you, that's what I wanted to tell you about! Because *I* know how to pull strings at the 'Fleet, too, better than Picard. I give those admirals what they want; they're all a bunch of wusses, those desk-jockeys. You know how it is. Just hold what they want out on a string, make it a little closer, make it a little farther, wait them out. Even you can understand that, can't you?"

Beverly managed a nod. She could play men if she had to, although her desperation sometimes took over. Katherine had apparently escalated the process to a fine art.

"I happen to know there's a job opening. Head of Starfleet Medical."

Some ambitious, striving, vain part of Beverly was overcome. "Head of Starfleet Medical?" This was the ultimate status job. Just thinking of the young interns at her beck and call, on her desk, behind her desk, in the laboratories--so many laboratories...and all the things, and people, that money and status afforded one...but wait! She had to keep her job on the Enterprise, if only to prevent Pulaski from taking it. Because that was obviously what the old bitch was after.

"Now, both our ships are here, together. Who knows when that'll happen again? And I want your job on the Enterprise, and I can get it. I could probably take it from you against your will, but it would take a while. I'd have to soften up *different* admirals from the ones I've already softened up. And we all know how tedious that can be." Kate stared at Beverly--a long, appraising stare, as if Beverly were a sloat at the Blarus IV livestock market. "But if they offered you the Starfleet job, and you stated your wish to be reassigned...it could be a win-win situation, don't you think?" Pulaski sat back and downed the rest of her beer, leaving Bev to think it over for a moment.

"I don't know, Kate...may I call you Kate?" Mocking. Her ambition warred inside her with her dislike of Pulaski. She felt jealous passion to guard her own job, everything that was hers, to keep it away from Pulaski. Yet, she knew the truth...Kate could and would take that job, eventually. And then Bev would be left with nothing. At least now she could have the Starfleet Medical job. Pulaski interrupted her pondering.

"Go back and look at your computer now. There's a job offer from Admiral Benza himself in your mailbox. It's legitimate."

Beverly couldn't decide, probably because the swelling in her groin was taking all her attention. How could she make any important decisions in her condition? If only she had a few days...but the Enterprise was due to leave for Odet IX tomorrow afternoon; they were preparing samples for urgently-needed plasma plague research on station Tango Sierra.

"I know!" That crafty smile was back on Pulaski's face. "Why don't we have a little bet?"

"A bet?" Beverly wasn't really a gambler. Alarm bells went off in her head, but they were muted by the hot blood rushing in her ears.

"I know about your little...problem." Kate's voice became lower, confidential. "By the way you're acting, and, may I say, I can smell it on you, too. I can help you take care of it."

After her initial surprise, she became curious. Okay, so Pulaski knew. Bev supposed she was broadcasting desperation to everyone in the area. But still, what could Kate do that Bev couldn't?

She rolled her eyes. "So, are you going to rent me a boy? Or find me one? I was taking care of that myself before you interrupted me."

"No, nothing as...banal as that. I'm a do-it-yourself kind of gal."

How full of surprises! But Kate was sooo presumptuous, not to mention arrogant.

"I hope you don't mind if I'm...frank with you, too, Kate."

"Of course." Kate looked happy, eager for conflict.

"You just don't turn me on. Or I should say, you *really* don't turn me on. I mean, you're okay looking and all, but...I just don't swing that way."

Pulaski shined an encouraging look on her. "And, besides irrelevancies, was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"I mean it, Kate. My stars, I know my own desires. Believe me."

"Once you've had Kate Pulaski, you never go back. How do you think I bent all those admirals to my will? They weren't all male, you know."

That little statement stopped Beverly in her tracks. One of the drunk humans fell off the bar. "You call this Worp-flozzz? I've never had such terrible Worp-flozzz in my life!" the fat Ferengi yelled.

"Look. Go back to your quarters and think about it. Look at the job offer. Talk to the Admiral if you want, what the hell? If you like, be at my quarters on the Repulse in one hour, and be cooperative. I promise to turn your universe inside out. It's guaranteed! If I can't melt that ice pack around your sticky little cunt, if I can't burn the frost right off, I promise I won't go for your job. If I can, you go to Starfleet Medical and leave me your job on the Enterprise. What do you have to lose?"

Pulaski breezed away, whistling an old sea chantey.

She rubbed, pulled, squeezed, felt herself climbing higher, higher, but just as she ascended the final peak, she got that feeling of embarrassment that brought it all crashing down around her. She moaned with intense frustration; sat up, more bloated and swollen than ever.

There was nothing to do but to head for the Repulse.

"Ah. You are going to Deck four as well." Bev whirled; she had been so involved in her own misery that she hadn't noticed anyone else in the turbolift. In fact, none other than Data stood before her.

"Um, hello, Mr. Data."

"Greetings, Doctor. I am here to visit the Repulses's Second Officer. We are reviewing strategies for long-range sensor operation that should maximize gain in the output circuits while, at the same time, minimizing strain on the input viewing chip cluster."

[What?] "Ummm, that's, um, good, Mr. Data."

"And I assume you are here to discuss the plasma plague containment device parameters with Doctor Pulaski. Her insight into technical problems, I have heard, is often most helpful."

"Ah, yess, we're going to discuss...plasma plague." [Whatever. Just get me out of this turbolift!]

"Intriguing! Commander LaForge and I will be looking forward to reading your report." The door opened, just in time.

"Well, don't be so shy, step on over here!" Kate's voice came from the bedroom area. Bev winced. Not too romantic. This was hopeless; she should go home now.

Beverly entered Pulaski's bedroom to find it bathed in a lurid red light, the bed laid out with what appeared to be Bolian silk. More cliches! Still, she wasn't leaving, was she? Her curiosity had gotten the better of her after all. "Okay, Kate, wherever you are. What do we do next?"

Katherine then appeared from the head, wearing a flowing Betazoid robe. Purple and green paisley, it looked pretty flowsy, to say the least. Silently she began to unseal Beverly's top. Bev just stood there and let her do everything. It wouldn't pay to cooperate. Bev's breasts were already free, as she hadn't worn her regulation tractor-beam bra to the bar. Kate kissed them lightly, tenderly. [Hmmm, seems so gentle for such a crusty old bag.] Kate then slipped Bev's top off her shoulders, off her hands, tossing it delicately to one side, before she started on Bev's skirt. It unsealed and dropped around her ankles with almost no effort. Lifting her carefully around the waist, Kate set her down on the bed and knelt at her feet, slowly removing each shoe in turn and then kissing each foot before holding her like a baby and gradually rotating her to lie on the bed.

Bev watched as Kate got out some massage oil of unknown type. She had to admit, it smelled very fragrant. She allowed herself to float off into fantasyland as her feet were rubbed in little circles, a centimeter at a time, almost making her forget about her aching sex. Eventually the massage proceeded up past her ankles to her knees, the backs of her knees, to her thighs, and then...the little circles skipped where she thought they should go; Kate climbed up to straddle her and began working on her hands. Adding more fragrant, slippery oil, Kate worked her way higher, up her arms to her shoulders. [She's probably going to pan-fry me next!]

By the time Kate finished on her shoulders, Beverly realized she had to get up and use the head. Amazing! Kate must have been rubbing for hours! But she didn't act any the worse for wear. Bev excused herself reluctantly and dragged herself in for a quick pee. Glancing down, she saw the livid flesh of her folds, all violet red and engorged and glistening. When, oh, when was Kate going to get around to it?

She emerged from the head. "Doctor, I think..."

But Kate silenced her with a baleful stare. "Not now, Beverly, you'll spoil the mood. Just shut up and let me do what I have to do, okay?"

"What!? I..."

"You have to give it a fair shot. That was part of our bet, right?"

Beverly acquiesced. "All right. I suppose so." She reclined again on the bunk. Kate mounted her again and (finally) started working on her breasts. It wasn't exactly what she wanted, but at least it was getting closer.

Kneading around the outer portions, exploring underneath, coating their whole surface with more of the slick oil, finally working her way up to the nipples, Pulaski was bringing her closer to the mountaintop. Beverly seemed to see sharp points all around her, her nipples working up into sharp points, her arousal starting to shape itself into a sharp point as well, working itself upward with every pull of her nipples. She tensed up, gutteral sounds issuing from her throat, trying, then finally she felt Kate's greasy hand on her clit. Moaning, she tried to concentrate, building. She doubted Kate would win her bet, even if this did work; the orgasm would be mundane. But at least mundane was better than this. She tensed, tensed, then...nothing. It all went away as she sighed in bitter disappointment.

Kate sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on a towel. "Hmmm, I guess I didn't know how bad your problem was."

Bev stared dully at her. "So, do you give up?"

"Ha! I have not yet *begun* to fight!" She looked around the room. "It's just time to move on to Plan B."

Bev watched Kate with as much amusement as she could muster while Kate grabbed a chair and another bottle of something-or-other. She moved the chair back behind Beverly's head and popped open the cork on her new magic substance.

The next thing she knew, Kate was on her, mouthing her sex in earnest. Beverly felt a strange serenity radiating from her crotch outward and was surprised by her orgasm, which hit her out of nowhere and pulled a small word of exclamation from her lips. Not a bet-winner by any means, it at least drained some of her misery away. Kate didn't stop but soldiered on stoically. Once the dam had burst, so to speak, Bev had a much easier time pushing herself over the edge for the next one, and the next one, and the next one. They were good, solid, but not exceptional. Looked like her job was safe. And she was getting relief into the bargain!

Bev felt almost normal now, almost flat. She was just about to call off Kate's little game when Kate took a break to get out some more of the raspberry juice. She sprinkled a bit over Bev's sex this time and then retrieved a funny-looking device from the bedside table.

Glad for the respite from Kate's cunning cunnilingus, Bev sat up to examine the thing. It was basically a short, squashed X with two straps attached. Kate dropped her robe--while Beverly averted her gaze--and fastened the contraption around her butt and waist, but Bev couldn't understand what in the world it was for. Then Kate turned it on. Guiding Beverly's arms above her head and holding her wrists with an iron grip, Kate eased toward her.

Something grabbed her clit and wouldn't let go. Beverly's eyes rolled back into her head and her back arched of its own accord. She gasped, but that first sensation was nothing compared to the tingling force that spread her lips apart and slid inside her. She moaned with the twin stimulations and gulped to catch her breath, getting more of the raspberry scent that seemed to go right through her.

"It's a twin tractor-repulsor beam," Kate gasped. Apparently her half of the device worked as well. "Picked it up on Lilith VI."

Beverly couldn't think at all as the ice-cold force of the repulsor beam filled her with a custom fit, stretching her to the breaking point while it impacted against her cervix and hooked around to search out the special zone inside her. Kate began to pull out, and as she did so, the tractor beam on top stretched Beverly's clit with exquisite pain/pleasure. Bev orgasmed almost immediately, more intensely than before, and now it was accompanied by colored flashing lights and a sense of knowing something, some secret about the universe. There was another level going on, she thought, that she had been unaware of up until now. But there was no time to digest this knowledge; it went as fast as it had appeared, and Kate was still on her, churning away at her, churning up her body and mind in unbelievable ways.

She didn't know how long they had been going like this. She tried to reach out to Kate, to have her slow down so she could make sense of the amazing insights she seemed to be having. But Kate wouldn't have any of it, still holding Bev's arms in a vicelike grip. All Beverly could do was keen pathetically while Kate continued to whip her into an emotional whirlwind. She closed her eyes to shut out the colors and the spirits that were appearing everywhere, but they sneaked in behind her eyelids, wouldn't leave her alone. She had to open her eyes to let them out. She had to keep her eyes open, stare at Kate, stare at Kate....

Suddenly Kate's wizened face became even more so, and Bev felt the wind knocked out of her by a revelation: that Kate was the Crone of ancient mythology, that she stood at the root of the universe, of all that had ever existed. Kate was stock-still as Beverly and the Repulse and the station and the sun and the galaxy and the universe all whirled about her graying head like a crazy carousel ride, and the thunder that filled Beverly's ears filled everyone in the universe the same way, and she had to drown it out, cancel it out, by screaming at the top of her lungs, because Kate was..."*Mother! Mother! Maaaaah*"...and then howling, wordless, torn from her, pure emotion. At that moment her climax beat her hard, repeatedly, sucked her in and down with it into depths where she cringed, helpless, under Kate's all-encompassing Presence. Finally she was washed up gasping, alone, while her muscles continued to convulse, her uterus clenching tightly and not letting go for what seemed like hours. She passed out.

He was in the holodeck as he often was, playing Dixon Hill. When Beverly walked in, he and his secretary were just having a discussion. They both looked her way in surprise.

"Hey, what's with the get-up, Toots?" they both asked simultaneously.

"I, um...I lost a bet."

END

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