Title: A-Mutt Time

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

Series: ENT

Rating: NC-17

Codes: T/Porthos , T/S

Summary: T'Pol lends her shower to Hoshi, and then things start to get strange.

Note: Written for the Femme Fuh-q Fest, http://www.oocities.org/Femme_Fuhq_Fest . Got the Vulcan words from http://www.pinette.net/chris/startrek/vlg.html. Don't know whether they're official, but whatever.

Disclaimer: Enterprise owned by Paramount. Resistance is feudal or something. Dog training manual owned by doodly-doo dog trainers of Alpha Centauri. I mean me.

A-MUTT TIME

by J. Juls 06-01-02

My cabin door swishes aside. "Oops, sorry, T'Pol. I forgot about how Vulcans never lock stuff."

Lieutenant Sato pauses outside my quarters. Overall, she looks disheveled, as humans often do. Her face is more pink than usual for her species, and she is sweating even more profusely than most humans do. As her eyes adjust to the illumination level of my quarters, she becomes even more disquieted.

"Oh, wow, T'Pol, I mean, I'm *really* sorry, I'm, um, um, can I come in? No, I didn't mean to say that. Um, I guess I'll just leave, um, okay, um."

"That will not be necessary, Lieutenant. You may enter."

After hesitating a moment, she hastens inside and presses the door switch, glancing at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but toward me. Then I remember. What curious customs humans have regarding the body!

"Lieutenant."

"Ummm, yeah?" She addresses the wall.

"The body observed is only the body. It is the body touched, and through it the mind accessed, that is a matter for privacy."

"Okay, I, um, I see your points. Your point." She blushes -- unsightly red.

Earthers! Their behavior is beyond baffling. I decide to clothe myself in an informal tunic rather than bear more human emotion. The smell of her stress hormones is becoming irritating.

"How may I help you, Lieutenant?"

She is much more calm now. "Oh, yeah. Ma'am. I feel really dumb about this, but, I ... well, I just found ... a big, huge, gigantic, ugly *bug* in my shower. And I was ... hoping you could get rid of it for me, I mean, I don't want to ask Trip."

"Odd."

"Because you won't say anything, and he'd make fun of me." Her face contorts with strange human emotion once again.

"Ah." Humans! So annoying! "I have an alternative solution."

"Huh?"

"Vulcans do not shower. Our bodies produce no noxious secretions. When dirty, we scrub our skin with dry sand -- a much preferable method of cleansing to your wasteful human ways. Therefore, you may use my shower, as I cannot leave right now. Captain Archer will soon be bringing his canoid lifeform here for a training session, so I shall be otherwise occupied."

"Training ... you mean Porthos?" The confused look is becoming a permanent part of Sato's features.

"Yes, that is the creature's name."

There is a knock at my door. I proceed to open it; Captain Archer is here as expected, with his creature, which bounds into the room and leaps upon my bunk.

"Heyyyyy, T'Pol, hope you don't mind trainin' Porthos. But with yer superior Vulcan intelligence and all that, I know it'll turn out better than if a dumb ol' human like me tries. Here's the trainin' manual and dog food extract." He briefly pauses to wink and smirk at Lieutenant Sato -- odd. "Ch-ch. How ya doin', babe?"

She blushes again. "Captain." He leaves.

***

Lieutenant Sato proceeds to the head. I examine the tube of dog food extract -- disgusting -- and then peruse the dog training manual.

[Training Your Earth Dog]

[Congratulations on your purchase of an Earth dog. Many years of friendship can be enjoyed by you and your pet if you follow these simple training steps.]

I hear the shower start.

[It is first neccessary to establish trust with your animal. To do so, you will use the enclosed dog food extract.]

I examine the small tube of ingredients. The label claims that its taste is irresistible to Earth dogs. Charming.

[The first step is to remove all of your clothing. This sets an atmospehere of companionship to the dog, who doesn't have any clothes on either.]

"Logical." I remove my tunic and lay it aside.

[Now recline on the nearest comfortable surface. This shows the dog that you are its buddy.]

"Fascinating. All species of Earth animals must be as emotional and illogical as humans." I recline on my bunk.

[Pour a small amount of the dog food extract onto your hand.]

"Unacceptable. I don't touch food with my hands." I read further.

[If, for any reason, you do not wish to touch the dog food extract with your hands, pour it onto your genital area instead. These are the two bodily areas that dogs like the most.]

"Logical." I squeeze approximately 23 milliliters onto my genital area.

[Now call the animal to you: "Here, _______. Doggy doggy doggy!"]

"Here, Porthos. Doggy doggy doggy." Surprisingly, the animal bounds onto the bed and sits before me, sniffing the air intently.

[Indicate that you would like the dog to lick the extract off your hand. Remember, it's all about trust between you and your pooch!]

I motion to the area of dog food extract application. Surprisingly, the earth creature is intelligent enough to start licking it! I begin to look at the manual for the next training step. But first, an unfamiliar, unquantifiable, indescribable ... sensation. And a vision.

T'Mar, my childhood friend, her hands held in the desert sand until they burned -- don't touch. It is for your mate. She cries, primitive emotion unleashed. I run from the screams, hide in my room. Emotion. Don't touch. It is for your mate, for his Time.

The animal stops, smacking its tongue. The extract is gone. I'm paralyzed with shock over the image I have just recalled. Because, until just now, I had no memory of the scene. I ponder this sudden recollection. Logically, the genital area is for procreation, for a mate in his Time. It is not needed otherwise. There is no need to touch, no desire to touch. That would be an emotional act, a lack of logic. The genital area is no different than a knee, or an ankle, or a finger ... I squeeze more extract over myself, and the animal begins to lick again. The sensation intensifies; I am in the desert, the sun burning my face, burning my body through to the core. The heat is unbearable. I begin to perspire. Vulcans don't perspire.

The animal stops again. No! More! It can't end now! My hand squeezes the last of the extract. I know instinctively that some resolution will be found in only a short time. The dog continues. The intensity of sensation is overwhelming to me now, but it cannot stop. I am losing control ... "Mosha! Wani e itisha! Choto! Oyaka!" I can't find words now, am able only to wail; please, let it be over!

I hear the door to the head slam open; I look. Lieutenant Sato appears, soaking wet and naked from the shower. "Subcommander, what's going on? Are you all ... ?" She trips over my ornamental lirpa to land sprawled on my bunk, on top of me. Porthos yelps and runs away.

For a moment, time seems to stop as her human embarrassment and confusion overwhelms my controls. I strengthen them.

Sato looks from me to the dog to me. To the dog. To me. I sit up and pull away from her, self-conscious for no apparent reason -- it might be residual emotion from her touch. "What are you ... ?" Her human countenance registers great emotion ... shock, apparently. "Ummmm, sorry, I heard you, and I couldn't find a towel ... "

"Vulcans don't use towels." Why are we speaking of towels, when mere seconds ago, I was ...

Then Sato reaches some type of realization. "It's *him* isn't it? Archer! The little shit! Let me see that 'dog training manual'!"

She peruses the instruction manual for a moment, her state of undress forgotten, her face becoming more and more livid with red human blood. "Ohhhh, ohhhh, I could just *strangle* him! Probably him and Trip thought it up, that pig. But why? Why?" She throws the training manual to the floor as she sits on her heels on my bunk, lost in thought. Then she looks at me.

"Subcommander?"

I hold out a hand to silence her. "T'Pol."

"T'Pol. Uh, I don't know ... how to say this, but ... don't they teach you on your planet, y'know, teach you about, um, certain stuff?" I see her glancing toward my genital area, which I note has become enlarged and bright green -- in all probability a side effect of the misery I am now experiencing.

"You speak of the genital area." I'm telling her, not asking.

"Uh, yeah."

How do I explain to her without divulging the secret, our shameful secret? In fact, I do not truly understand all details of the Vulcan mating Time. The elders tell females only that all will be made plain in due course, by our mates. "It is a ... private matter on our world. Not to be discussed."

"But they don't tell you about the birds and the bees?"

"We have neither birds nor bees on Vulcan, although we have species that fill similar niches, up to a point. Vulcan ecosystems differ from your Earth ecosystems in various ways which ... "

"Oh, puh-leeeeez, T'Pol!" She buries her face in her hands for a moment, and then stares frankly into my eyes. Sighs. "Why don't you just ... lie back like you were before, and let me show you."

I weigh the alternatives for several seconds before lying back. Infinite diversity, they say. "Proceed."

Her lips touch my inflamed flesh, and immediately the embers of my fire are reawakened. Each movement of her hot tongue across my body fuels them, sparks them to life, until I burn once more. She licks me, the flames lick me, and all is lost.

***

Ah, what a wonderful day it's been in Sickbay! Those humans are so fun and interesting! Why, that lovely Trip was in here earlier for a stubbed toe; he's so engaging! He talked up a storm, and even gave me some Earth beer. He ... hey, where's my Terellian snapping beetle?

***

Yes, he's here! Here at last! I run to answer the door. "Captain! I'm so, um, I mean, nice you could make it. Come in."

"Hey, Mal!" He swaggers in, every inch of him a delicious studmuffin.

"I thought I'd start things off with a bit of pate de foie gras and a delightful Montrachet to accompany it. Let me go get ... " Wait, is there somebody behind him? Noooooooooo, it's ... !

"I hope ya don't mind if I brought Trip to our little soiree! He gots a 24-pack of PBR!" And indeed, Tucker does carry a large amount of the loathesome beverage. Jonathan, for his part, seems to be lugging some electronic equipment -- a viewer, from the looks of it. "Hey, look, Trip, braunschweiger!"

Trip barges in. "Mmmmmm, braunschweiger! I used ta eat that at my cousin's place up at Minnesota." He grabs a knife and scoops indelicately at the pate. "But ya gotta spread it on Wonder Bread with a coupla big ol' chunks o' butter, that's how they eat it in Minnesota anyhoo. Ya got any Wonder Bread?" I hear a pop-fizz as Jonathan opens a can of some beer-like substance. Trip is wandering around, searching my cupboards for Wonder Bread. As though I would allow such a substance in my quarters. He licks the pate off the knife. "Dang, kinda weird-tastin'."

"Hey, guys, check it out!"

Trip runs for the other room. "Ya got it workin'?"

I peek in, then close my eyes, unable to look further at the viewer. The scene is of T'Pol's quarters, the Subcommander herself standing near her bunk, wearing only a revealing tunic.

"Boy-howdy! And ya said Hoshi's there, too? What a hottie!"

"Yep, whatever you did worked!"

"Ah, Phlox'll never notice that the bug's gone. That alien bumphead has too many dang weird pets, anyhoo."

"Logical," T'Pol's voice says from the tinny speaker.

"I'm making Travis a copy too, since he has to work on the bridge."

I close the kitchen door and prepare to eat dinner alone.

END

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