Mother's Son: A Star Trek Adventure

(For Story with Images see PDF Below)

Captain’s Log—

I’m not a woman. I’m not “Miss Kirk,” as Kang calls me. I am Captain James T Kirk, and I’m a man who has been trapped in a female body. I woke in this body one day ago after being lured to a mysterious planet by a false distress signal. I am not alone. Many members of my crew have also been changed. Sulu sits before in the body of a young woman, with narrow shoulders and a long, slender neck. Behind me at the communications station sits Uhura in the body of a man- a brawny rock of a man with bulging biceps and big, powerful hands. The bridge is the same—flashing lights, beeps and boops, the image of that infernal planet on the screen in front of me, a Klingon ship in the distance. And yet everything looks and feels different, beginning with my captain’s chair, which now swallows me in this smaller frame. My feet dangle above the floor, and I resist the urge to kick them occasionally. I refuse to cross my legs. I can’t do anything that might make my crew think I’m beginning to think and act like a woman.

The Enterprise remains trapped in a force field. The alien technology still plucks groups of my crew from the ship, returning them as members of the opposite sex. Many of us look like we could have been our own sisters or brothers– we are recognizable despite the changes. Bones had a lot to say about XX and XY chromosomes. He said these are our bodies, just with our genetics rewritten. He even called me “sister” at one point. He told me I was too pretty to lead.

He is wrong.

This is not my body. I am a man, and I will continue to do what I have always done: lead the best damn crew the Federation has ever seen, XX chromosomes be damned.

Chapter One

Security Man Collins tossed and turned in his sleep. “No. No,” he whispered in his new, little girl’s voice. It was the same nightmare he’d been suffering since the change. He was on the planet with Captain Kirk and crew– a plum assignment despite the running joke among the red shirts that such as assignment was almost certain death.

A flash, a bang, and then as if no time passed, he found himself rising from the darkness of a deep and unnatural sleep. Right away he knew there was something wrong. There was a weight on his chest that made it slightly hard to breath. The dream blurred and he saw himself as he were watching the scene from a security camera– he was a tiny little blonde woman in a black outfit, sitting up, his eyes wide with shock as he clutched his breast, the breast he couldn’t possibly have–  the scene blurred. He left the room where he’d found himself. His training had taken took over, and he’d blocked out the wrongness of this body so he could focus on his primary mission: to protect the captain and the rest of the team. Where was Kirk? He needed to find them.Then, he froze. An alien robot approached, arms outstretched, scanning him with its eyes and then grabbing him, lifting him. He screamed, a high-pitched scream like a girl in a horror movie and then crash! A big, powerful man came out of nowhere and knocked the robot over, catching Collins and cradling him in his arms. Collins took in the rugged face, the powerful, square jaw. It was the most interesting face Collins had ever seen. The man—was she Breen? He had green eyes. Eyes that stared into Collin’s eyes as the man said “are you hurt?” The voice was deep and rumbling, as warm as chocolate.

Carried like that, feeling so small and protected, hearing the concern in that deep voice-- Collins had felt something he’d never felt before–  that feeling—a pang-- it shook him, scared him… That man, he… he….

“No!”

Collins woke from the dream and looked down to confirm that, yes, he was still a woman. He was that little blonde from his dream. He held up his arm, disgusted at how small it was, how smooth and devoid of any muscle. Wrist so tiny; hand so soft.

Since the change, each time he woke he went through the same process of trying to refuse he was a woman, his mind reeling at the impossibility, yet he couldn’t even breathe without his body insisting the accept his new sex– the rising and falling of his breasts mocked the idea he could still be a man. He’d had a rock-hard chest his whole life and had never felt his chest sway and bounce and jiggle. Now, even such a simple act as breathing sent tremors through his tits, his nipples seeming to float a foot above his ribcage.

He felt the tension rising and thought. Yes, here comes phase two.

Anxiety.

He’d never even knew what people were talking about when they said they suffered from anxiety, but he did now. Was that just part of being a girl? Or, was it a normal reaction to finding yourself turned into a girl? He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know what was normal in this situation. The feeling of anxiety grew, and he found his breath growing faster and more shallow, his cheeks growing hot. It was always the same. The question rose up in him and consumed him– how am I going to tell my  father?

Pop Collins. All man. Former military. Former Cop. Former amateur boxer. Rugged and tough. A man’s man, and he’d raised his son to be the same. How am I supposed to face him like this? Hey Dad, remember me, your only son? The one you expected to carry on the family name? Well, I’m a girl now. You know what? You’re right. I do have mom’s tits. In fact, I look just like her. I could be her sister. What’s that, Dad? Sure, I’ll be glad to help mom in the kitchen. It’s where a girl belongs, after all. Plus, it’s good practice for when I become a wife.”

Lord, he thought, shifting positions, feeling his strange body sway in response– His body. It moved. It wasn’t just his chest. His ass was big and soft and jiggly– even his thighs. His body felt like it was made of Jello. He forced himself to take deeper breaths, trying to calm himself, but the image of himself- his new self– wearing a house dress and helping his mother frost a cake popped into his mind and he shuddered with shame even as a series of new and more immediate fears flooded his mind– he saw himself in the little female Star Fleet dress that the women wore, his legs shimmering in nylons. He imagined himself in the hall passing one of his former conquests as she smirked and then giggled with her friends… he saw himself re-assigned as an administrative assistant, filing his nails at the desk outside Scotty’s office…

“Stop!” He said out loud, cringing at the sound of his squeaky little voice. “Just stop!”

His alarm beeped, and then a robotic voice announced: “You have thirty minutes before your shift.”

“Thank you, computer,” he answered. His heart started to race again. He hadn’t left his room since the change, ashamed as he was of his body, his voice, his face. He felt self-conscious, insecure—feelings like anxiety he’d rarely experienced in his life as a man. He’d always been the biggest kid in his class, and he’d been popular, cool, one of the guys. Even before he’d hit puberty girls had fawned over him, blushing if he gave them as little as a smile. Now? He sat up in bed and felt the weight on his chest shift and settle. He was afraid to walk down the hall like this, let alone face the rest of the redshirts.

He sat up and took a deep breath. There was a saying that was bandied about during training for the security team: courage in not the lack of fear. It’s being afraid and doing the right thing anyway.

Chapter 2

“I need to face this like a man,” he whispered, then almost choked on the thought.

He took a shower, doing his best to avoid looking at himself.. Lathering up with his familiar bodywash offered some comfort—it smelled of leather and oak. It smelled like a man, and he was glad he could at least cover himself in a cloud of masculinity. Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off, tossing the towel on the floor when he was done.

By force of habit, he ran a hand across his chin, feeling for stubble, but he felt only smooth, soft skin. Something in him ached for the loss. The first time he’d shaved had been such a proud moment. His father had shown him how to do it– they’d used shaving cream and an old-fashioned razor. It was a moment that said he was becoming a man.

Now, he had a smooth, peach-soft face just like his mom. His sister. Like any girl.

He went to the closet. Next to his old uniforms hung a row of black jumpsuits just like the one the alien pervert planet had put him in. The captain in his wisdom had allowed for all the Changed to wear the jumpsuits instead of the proper uniform, which was good and bad. It was good because Collins would never agree to wear the little dress the women wore. If Starfleet ordered him to wear a dress, he would resign. That he’d already decided.

It was bad, though, because, well, the coverall fit like a glove and left very little to the imagination. It was like a second skin, but it was still better than a dress. He would have preferred a sack.

He supposed if he were a woman he would put on a bra under his clothes, but he was never going to wear a bra. Never. He didn’t care how big he was up top. He wouldn’t wear a bra; men don’t wear bras.

He stepped into his outfit, pulled it up, zipped it up, feeling the soft fabric mold to this soft little body. Then, he fought with himself over the decision whether to see how he looked. He’d turned off all the mirrors in his room since the change.

One quick look when he’d first gotten back to his room after the change had almost short circuited his brain. SHE was not him. He couldn’t be HER. What he’d seen was a pretty girl, which was bad enough, but he also now looked like his mother’s twin sister. His brain reeled and he felt like he was going to faint when he’d first seen her in his mirror.

He couldn’t face himself. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Pausing at the door, he closed his eyes and mustered his courage. How should I act if I see someone I know? Haha. There was no if. He would see people he knew even before he got to the security office. He decided he would avoid eye contact, just hurry along and pretend he didn’t see anyone. Hopefully, no one would say anything.

Closing his eyes, he took one last deep breath, then waved his hand over the activator. The door whooshed open, and he stepped into the hall. Right away, he felt his breasts swell, his nipples getting hard. No. No. Come on. Shit. He tried to will his throbbing nipples down the same way he used to will down a boner, but his boobs ignored him, his nipples just getting harder, poking at the material of his coveralls. Meanwhile, he was rethinking his plan to hurry along– his quick steps were sending tremors through his breasts, making his booty bounce, and he felt like his wide, round hips were swaying. He avoided eye contact, which was easier than he’d thought. He was now at least a foot shorter than the men, and even the women he passed were all taller than him.

How freaking short am I? He wondered, feeling like he was not just a girl but a child. The corridor seemed bigger, the ceiling higher, and the sense that he was now a child only added to his sense of self-consciousness and anxiety. He slowed his walk, tried to control the swiveling of his hips. He’d once strode down this hall like a battleship, and people had just moved out of his way. He’d been 6’4” tall and 230 pounds of muscle. Now, petite, he instinctively wove around the other crew members, avoiding them– then he saw her, him.

It was another crew member wearing the black jumpsuit, wearing a female shape– he couldn’t help  but look up at her– him– and he immediately recognized the man she had once been. His heart did a flip, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. It was Doctor McCoy. He paused, unsure what to say, how to act, part of him wanted to tell McCoy how sorry he was this had happened to him, to them, while another part of him, by force of habit, checked out McCoy’s figure, noting the doctor now had a very nice pair of tits. “As you were,” McCoy said, continuing to walk down the hall, a wry smirk on his face. “I’m sorry I–” Collins blurted out, gesturing toward McCoy’s chest.

“Not a problem,” McCoy said, then leaned in and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “we’re both going to have to get used to it.”

McCoy walked on and Collins blushed. In the hell of bad timing, he looked up to see Benny– one of his former lovers. Their breakup had been ugly and his fault. She recognized him, had overheard McCoy’s comment and had that cat who ate the canary look on her face, total glee as she gave him the once over. “Collins?” She said, now moving a little too close, forcing him to tilt his head back to look up at her. “You’re so cute,” she said, touching him on the arm. As a man, he’d tended to date tall, leggy women. Cassie was 5’10” and now towered over him, accentuating the sense he was a child. Being seen like this by a former lover made him aware of every new curve, of his tiny frame and slender arms, the appalling emptiness between his legs. Unbidden, the thought popped into his mind; she could kick my ass.

Consumed with shame, utterly humiliated, he just wanted to get away from her and tried to step around her, but she grabbed his arm. “If you want to talk about being a girl, you know, makeup tips or something, give me a call.” She let her eyes drop to his erect nipples, and the gleeful look in her eyes said more than words ever could. He couldn’t stop himself and draped his free arm across his breasts, not wanting her to see him experiencing something so—female.

He tried to pull free, but she held him, just to show she could, and then let him go.

Collins hurried away, though he could feel Benny’s eyes as she stared at his ass. His mind conjured up the memory of Breen’s cradling him in her arms– he’d felt so safe– and then  he plunged into the elevator, sighing with relief that it was vacant, that he wasn’t going to be pressed into a crowded elevator with all the big people surrounding him.

His eyes stung, and for one awful moment he thought he might cry, but he managed to fight back the tears. He managed to fight the urge to run back to his room and hide under the covers, to take a mental health day, to – run run run.

No. He would facr this. He had no choice. Once more, he thought of Breen and how good it had felt to be held in her arms. He wondered how she was dealing with being a man. Somehow, he was sure it wasn’t as hard for the women.

To be continued.