Butt Trek: The Search For Chris Pime - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

if theres one thing ol chuck (worlds greatest author) has gotten used to over my time as PUBLIC FIGURE its buckaroos tryin to guess what is under the mask. this puts me in interesting position because on one hand i understand this pull of the unknown and can appreciate its importance. it is fun to have a dang mystery box sitting there in front of you and wonder 'what the heck is that an ice cold chocolate milk or will i look inside and see the endless cosmic void?'

DANGER is entertaining after all and if you are walkin that tightrope you are always going to be a little entertained. in same way of milk vs void, you dont know what will happen if one day worlds greatest author takes off mask and i am just who i say OR MAYBE I AM TROMP HIMSELF (do not worry i am not tromp). this is less frightening for me because i know my trot is my trot, but i appreciate that others are not certain of this like i am. this tension any. mystery is FUN and i understand this.

however, other side of this coin is simple fact, I ENJOY MY PRIVACY and wear dang mask for that reason. i trot along two spectrums as bisexual buckaroo and autistic buckaroo, and these ways are not VISUALLY APPARENT even though i talk on this a lot of worlds greatest author chuck, so making guesses about my trot under the mask is TECHNICALLY trying to out a queer person.

WHOA. BAD NEWS.

this makes pastime of guessin who chuck is a classic but uncomfortable way with many complicated angles. yes it is fun, yes it is problematic, but i think it is also inevitable consequence of putting on a dang mask. you cant just set that mystery box in front of a bud and tell them NOT to guess whats inside thats against human, dinosaur, bigfoot, unicorn and living object nature. so this is long way of saying 'if this is your way of pokin around and havin a little fun, thats okay bud i get it'

i have heard lots of guesses over the years and some of them are close and some are far away. just between us buckaroos the TRUE answer pretty exciting for two reasons. ONE yes i am actually a known bud in other ways than just trot as masked man chuck and TWO i am actually who i say i am for most part and i think buckaroo would get kick out of learner how true my way really is. when buds say chuck is pokin jokes about being autistic and bisexual i just laugh and laugh and laugh and think 'whoa you do not realize how only one doin a bad trot is YOU trying to silence my spectrum ways'

sometimes buds guess i am involved with game name of HIVESWAP which i do not much like because someone from this game said similar ABLEIST thing to chuck which was very problematic and unkind, so i do not like that guess too much. sometimes buds think chuck is other chuck, author of books name of I CHOKE FOR FUN: THE CHOKING STORY and YOU PUNCH MY I PUNCH YOU BACK: MY WAY AS A FIGHT MAN which is kind of neat because i enjoy his books. sometimes buds try to figure out who SAM RAND THE MUSIC MAN is and think that is me (nice try buddy you have missed but also please respect sam rand).

and sometimes buds go down rabbit hole thinkin i am handsome chris pine (NO COMMENT) i will leave it at that buckaroos

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After Captain Chris Pime loses control of his shuttle and slips through a timeline rift, the Outerprise-T, commanded by John Luke Picardo, is sent to investigate his distress beacon on the far side of the galaxy and several realities deep. Upon approaching the strange, unexplored world, the crew learns this planet is an alternate reality Earth, a place where they’re seen as mere parodies of a popular science fiction canon.

Captain Picardo beams down to search for Captain Pime, but what he discovers is a modern day Los Angeles where dinosaurs, unicorns, bigfeet and living objects are no longer integrated into society, but are creatures of fantasy instead. He also encounters a masked author by the name of Chuck Tingle, who sounds strangely familiar to Captain Chris Pime.

Soon enough, these two characters are locked in a hardcore anal encounter that could change the fate of the Federation forever. Could a galaxy renowned starfleet captain, a famous blockbuster actor, and the world’s greatest author Chuck Tingle all be the same person?

This erotic tale is 4,500 words of sizzling human on sentient dinosaur space captain action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, cream pies and Chris Pime love.

(Originally released on Oct 6th, 2020)

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BUTT TREK: THE SEARCH FOR CHRIS PIME

By Chuck Tingle

Stardate: 173467321476 Charlie 32789777643 Tango 732 Victor 73117888732476789 764376 Lock.

Our ship has finally tracked the signal to a planet that is exceptionally distant from our home world, and in more ways than one. Not only has this beacon been emitting a distress call several thousand lightyears from its origin, it’s also taken us through six (fortunately stable) timeline rifts along the journey.

Despite all of this distance, we are still the closest ship in The Federation fleet, and I’m happy to be of help to our friends on the Outerprise-G.

“Captain Sporg,” I offer, addressing the acting captain of our partner vessel as his face appears on an enormous screen before me.

“Captain John Luke Picardo,” Sporg offers in return, his expression flat.

Of course, I know he’s happy to see me, but Sporg is part of a distinct unicorn species who rarely, if ever, show their emotions. I know he’s worried about his friend and lover, Captain Chris Pime, and that he’s likely uncomfortable in his currently upgraded position of power. He’d certainly never let on, though.

“We’re getting close to the planet now,” I inform my old friend.

“This is excellent news,” Sporg replies. “The crew of the Outerprise-G extends our gratitude to the Outerprise-T, and I would like to personally extend my thanks to you, Captain Picardo.”

“Well, don’t thank me just yet,” I reply. “We were close enough to this beacon of yours to take a look, but so far what we’ve discovered is a little strange. It might not be so easy to find Captain Pime after all.”

“This is understandable,” Sporg offers with a nod. “When analyzing the rift that Captain Pime accidently slipped through in his shuttle, our science team made some rather unusual discovers. Not only did this timeline tear send him to another layer of reality, but our analysis of the rift allowed for some startling discoveries about our ownexistence.”

He’s piqued my curiosity. “How do you mean?” I question. “This might help explain those unusual readings.”

“Are you aware of The Parody Paradox?” Sporg continues.

I’ve heard the words thrown around a few times by our science officers, but my understanding of them is certainly limited.

“I could use a refresher,” I reply.

“As you know, timelines are created out of a near infinite set of variables, brought into existence due to parallel choices or circumstances in the past. If you are in a hallway with the choice to take a left or a right, each one of these decisions will create a new timeline,” Sporg offers. “The variety of these timelines is unfathomable, which leads to a number of rather intriguing realities. Even more interesting, however, is the relationship between these timelines.”

I nod, following along. “Of course. We’ve had our fair share of timeline adventures in the Enterprise-T.”

“Adventures that seems quite serious, no doubt,” Sporg replies. “What we’ve discovered, however, is that our reality is a parody timeline, an unauthorized, but legally acceptable commentary on another reality.”

“Excuse me?” I blurt, utterly floored by this news.

“It appears that all realities have these commentary timelines, which is what we call The Parody Paradox, similar and sometimes overlapping with Rule 34” Sporg continues. “We believe Captain Pime has been stranded in a reality where life is slightly less heightened… more serious.”

“He’ll have a hell of a time fitting in then,” I offer. “Let’s hope he’s found a way to assimilate without drawing too much attention to himself.”

“Captain Chris Pime has always been quite the actor,” Sporg opines. “He shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Well, thank you for this information, Captain,” I reply. “It explains a concern we’ve been having on our end. As we approach the planet, our scans have revealed it is an alternate reality Earth. We’ve been monitoring media transmissions and discovered a number of television programs and movies based around our own lives. The canon is called Star-”

Suddenly, the video screen crackles loudly, drowning out my voice for a moment as I attempt to reveal our findings to Sporg. Moments later he returns, the interference disappearing as quickly as it arrived.

“What was that?” the unicorn questions. “You cut out for a moment.”

“It’s called-” there’s another brief interruption in our transmission, the massive display before me flickering as a brash static blast rings out through the ship’s bridge. It disappears at the end of my sentence. “- Trek.”

Sporg shakes his head from side to side. “I’m afraid there’s a malfunction in your transmission. It’s preventing you from saying this name out loud,” he explains. “To assume this is a random occurrence would be highly illogical.”

“That is strange, isn’t it,” I observe with a nod.

Suddenly the unicorn realizes something, his expression flickering ever so slightly. “It appears your existence as a parody in proximity to this reality is keeping us from revealing its name. I can thereby logically assume we are currently being observed by entities beyond this timeline. It would be wise to proceed with caution.”

I can say with some objective certainty that I’m an intelligent man. I am, after all, the captain of this starship, but nothing compares to the raw power of Sporg’s intellect. Instead of diving in deeper with the philosophical implications of what he’s telling me, I decide to focus on the mission at hand, following the distress beacon and hopefully finding Captain Chris Pime.

“Thank you for this information, Sporg,” I offer. “I’m preparing to beam down to this alternate Earth very soon. I’ll be in touch.”

The screen disappears, revealing the wide open expanse of space beyond. There, in the middle of this vast darkness, is a planet that looks startlingly similar to my own home world.

If they only knew, I think to myself, shaking my head from side to side. The Outerprise-T is fully cloaked at the moment, resistant to any technologies that might otherwise reveal our position. It’s a tiny example of just how much is out there we have yet to understand.

“Sir, the transporter room is ready for you,” offers my friend and second in command, Riber, breaking my concentration. The large, smiling bigfoot pats me warmly on the back and winks confidently, “I’ll take good care of her while you’re away.”

I watch as the bigfoot strolls over to my captain’s chair, swinging his leg over the back and mounting it from behind. “Let’s put on some football,” he offers, nodding toward Lt. Commander Handsome Computer, who swiftly pulls up the big game on our ships enormous display screen.

The Anchorage Mariners are playing, which should keep Riber occupied for the next few hours.

“Very well, number two,” I offer in return. “You have the bridge.”

I turn and make my exit, heading out into one of the long, seemingly endless hallways that stretch their way around the edge of the Outerprise.

I’ve been on plenty of these away missions before, but there’s something about this one that puts me on edge, my heart elevated and my breathing heavy. To sooth my soul, I stop off at a nearby replicator on my way.

“Milk. Chocolate Soy. Hot,” I announce, watching as the machine creates a warm mug of the delicious beverage. I take the cup and slam the whole thing down, letting it wash over my tastebuds with sweet warmth before I continue onward.

I’m feeling better now, but still worried. Not only is Captain Pime an important part of The Federation, he’s also a friend.

I step into the transporter room still humming with anxiety.

“Everything alright, Captain?” my chief of engineering, George La Forge questions.

“I have to admit, I’m worried about Chris Pime,” I offer.

“You’ll find him,” George continues. “We’ve tracked his beacon down to the area of a single city block. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding him.”

“Understood,” I reply, focusing up.

I step onto the transporter pad then nod to George, who presses a few buttons and flips the switch. My body is overwhelmed by a familiar tingle as a wave of blue light washes over me. It grows so bright that I close my eyes, and when I open them again I find myself standing in an alleyway. It’s a hot afternoon, but fortunately our transporter has blessed me with a fitting, short-sleeved disguise instead of my usual Federation uniform.

I walk through the alley a bit before stepping out into the sunlight, taking in my surroundings. I’ve arrived in Los Angeles, California, and so far this earthly location is similar to how I remember it as a child all those years ago.

The longer I observe, however, the more I begin to notice a few distinct differences. As I watch the inhabitants of this world strolling about, I realize there’s not a single dinosaur, unicorn or bigfoot to be found. Back on my own timeline, Earth is covered by a variety of friendly humanoid species, the lot of them coexisting in harmony ever since the great bigfoot integration, when these majestic creatures made their way out of the woods and into our hearts. Dinosaurs, of course, had been around for even longer, and were even some of the pioneers of modern space travel.

Even more alarming, however, is the fact that none of the objects around me appear to be sentient. Whether it’s the cars that drive by or the ideas manifesting in people’s heads, not a single one of them appears to have any self-awareness.

What a world.

I begin to casually make my way down the street, passing by restaurants and gazing through shop windows. I’m thankful for the limited area of my search, but this particular district has provided me with a plethora of options. Activity is humming around these parts, and I can only assume that Captain Chris Pime is working hard to blend in.

Looks like I’ve got my job cut out for me.

“There’s a lot going on down here,” I say into the communicator on my lapel. “I’ll find him, but I’m gonna need some time.”

There’s no response.

“Hello?” I repeat.

Still nothing in return. I realize now that whatever meta energy was interfering with my Sporg transmissions earlier might still be keeping these worlds separate. I can still teleport back when the time is right, thanks to a miniature transporter of my own, but this would explain why Chris hasn’t sent any verbal messages regarding his whereabouts. The meta energy on this planet is just too strong.

Of course, that just begs the next question. Why is Captain Pime’s homing beacon still working? What is it about this simple signal that allows it to slice through all that meta distortion.

I vaguely recall George La Forge mentioning something about the beacon that was unique, an older file type layered into the binary transmission perhaps, but he didn’t seem concerned.

As I continue investigating the area I notice a small crowd of people congregating around a bookstore. They’re chatting excitedly about something, clutching books in their hands as they stand on tip toes, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone within. Stepping closer, I can see the store itself is full of patrons, but they’re not shopping. Instead, the group is gathered close, listening to the live reading from a man who sits at the center of it all.

I can’t get a good look from here, but after a few of the folks inside wander out, a bookstore employee waves me and the others in to take their place. We carefully push through the room, making our way to the back wall and searching for a good place to post up.

Eventually, I arrive at the perfect spot, my sightline clear and direct as I watch this scene unfold.

The man speaking is wearing a white uniform with a red belt wrapped around his waist. On top of his head is a light pink bag, and across the front of it the words “love is real” are scrawled. His eyes are covered with dark sunglasses so it’s difficult to get a read on his expression, and he speaks with a distinct, sing-song cadence that rapidly jumps between a low growl and a high-pitched warble, sparsely punctuated by a few excited screams.

As strange as all this is, there’s something about his voice that gives me pause, a vague familiarity that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I notice a large poster hanging on the wall behind him, which reads, live reading and Q&A this afternoon with the world’s greatest author, Chuck Tingle.

“Unable to keep the smile from spreading out across my face as I lay back against the soft couch behind me,” Chuck finishes reading, closing up his book and then nodding happily.

The crowd begins to clap as a representative from the book store steps forward to address the crowd. “Thank you all for coming,” she announces, struggling to throw her voice over the cacophonous excitement of the mob. “I’m sorry to say that if you didn’t arrive for the books signing and Q&A session earlier, you missed your chance. I’m sure Chuck will be back soon but, for right now, he needs to get going. We dohave all the tinglers you could ask for if you’d like to keep shopping, and we still have some signed copies left for purchase.”

I watch as the masked man stands up and shuffles toward the back door, waving goodbye to his loving audience along the way.

“We love you Chuck!” someone calls out.

“Love is real!” Chuck cries in return, pumping his fist in the air before slipping out through the back door of the bookstore.

Immediately, I spring into action. I turn around and push my way back through the crowd, making my way out of the shop and then continuing up the street. I swiftly retrace my footsteps, returning to the alley where I’d been transported just a few minutes earlier.

My eyes frantically scan for any sign of Chuck Tingle, and I’m pleasantly surprised when I catch a glimpse of him shuffling away, escaping down one of the quiet neighborhood streets nearby.

“Hey!” I shout, trying to grab his attention.

As Chuck glances back over his shoulder to spot me he only picks up speed.

I break out into a sprint, running over to the masked author.

“Chuck!” I cry, slowing down to join him. “Great reading.”

“Dang! Thanks buckaroo,” the man offers in his unique way. “Would you like me to sign a book? I know they said ‘No dang signs!’ but I think one is okay.”

“Actually, I just wanted to say hello,” I continue. “I have a feeling that we’ve met before.”

Chuck stops and turns to face me. “I don’t think so, probably was my reverse twin,” he continues.

I shake my head. “I’m fairly certain we’ve had our share of adventures.”

Chuck hesitates before letting out a long sigh. He glances up and down the block, making sure nobody is coming from either direction, then reaches up and grips the bottom of his mask. He slowly pulls it up, gradually revealing exactly the face I expected to see underneath.

The scaly green dinosaur smiles wide as he reveals himself to be non-other than Chris Pime.

“What the hell?” I blurt. “What’s going on here?”

“I’ll explain everything,” the familiar prehistoric creature and starship captain offers, “but first we need to get out of here.”

The next thing I know we’re hustling over to a bright red convertible that, apparently, belongs to the captain. We climb in and Chris throws it into drive, peeling out with a loud roar.

Soon enough, the two of us are winding up into the Hollywood Hills, the wind tickling our faces and the sun beams down warmly from above.

“So you’ve been hiding out on this alternate Earth as a writer?” I question, trying to get to the bottom of my strange discovery.

Captain Pime shakes his head. “Most people know me as an actor,” the Raptor replies.

I narrow my eyes, not quite sure if he’s messing with me. The captain always did have a wild side, so it’s often hard to tell whether he’s joking or not. “An actor?” I repeat back to him. “You’ve only been gone for a week.”

Chris’s eyes go wide, his gaze jumping back and forth between me and the road ahead. Now it’s his turn to question whether or not I’m messing with him. “It’s only been a week on your timeline?” he asks.

“How long has it been on this one?” I counter.

“Over ten years,” the raptor replies. “I’ve had a whole career.”

“There’s no other dinosaurs here,” I observe. “Doesn’t anyone notice you’re a raptor?”

The handsome, scaly creature shakes his head. “When I’m working as Chuck I wear the pink bag, when I’m working as ‘Actor Chris’, I have a very realistic, prosthetic human face. It’s in the back if you wanna take a look at it,” the raptor says, motioning behind us.

I turn around in my seat and spot a pale human face lying flat across the back seat of his convertible, the eye holes staring back at me with their sickening hollow sockets.

“Ugh,” I blurt.

“It’s much more handsome when it’s on,” Captain Chris Pime offers. “This timeline is crazy. If you’re a good looking Chris it’s kinda hard not to get a job in Hollywood. There’s a bunch of us.”

“Are any others secret dinosaurs?” I question.

The captain shakes his head. “But one is a sentient motorcycle. I’ll let you figure out who.”

Suddenly, the raptor slows down and takes a sharp right, pulling up to a large gate that slowly swings open upon his arrival. The next thing I know, the two of us are pulling up to the front of his glorious, multi-million dollar mansion. We climb out of the car and take in a spectacular view of the city below.

“Is this from the writing or the acting?” I question.

“Acting,” Captain Chris Pime replies.

“Then why do the whole Chuck Tingle thing?” I continue.

Chris lets out a long sigh, as though this is a question he’s been waiting to answer for a very long time. His mood shifts slightly as he strolls over and takes a seat on his front steps. The dinosaur pats the ground next to him, motioning for me to come over and sit.

I follow his lead, joining Captain Chris Pime on the stoop.

“When my shuttle lost control and I went through that reality tear I was terrified,” he offers. “I was relieved to find another version of Earth, but when I realized the meta energy here was strong enough to block out my communicator, I figured the only choice was my emergency beacon.”

“That’s how we found you,” I reply with a nod.

The dinosaur seems unenthused. “I knew the beacon would need some meta energy to slice through the static, so I imbedded the signal within an eBook. I titled the book Space Raptor Butt Invasion, which seemed pretty meta since I’m… you know… a space raptor.”

“You invade butts, too,” I reply, nodding along.

“Exactly,” Captain Chris Pime continues. “Well, the book blew up, and this whole writing thing took on a life of its own. It got my signal out there, but since publishing that story I’ve realized how much I really love storytelling. I want to be a writer.”

“But you’re a Starfleet Captain,” I counter.

“I know,” the dinosaur confirms, shaking his head. “As you can tell, I’ve changed my mind about a rescue mission. If I could undo my distress signal I’d take it all back, but Space Raptor Butt Invasion is more popular than ever, the signal is already out there.”

It suddenly hits me what the captain is saying. “So you’re not coming back with me?” I continue. “Sporg is looking for you. He misses you.”

I can see the captain tense up as I say this, my words clearly hitting a nerve. “You know, on this timeline me and him are fictional characters,” the dinosaur informs me. “And we’re just friends, not lovers! You’re much older here too, but just as handsome.”

I laugh. “That’s absurd.”
 Captain Chris Pime takes a deep breath and lets it out, staring out at the sprawling city of Los Angeles below. “I like to follow my gut, but I’ve learned that when you follow your gut as a starfleet captain, you endanger lives. When you follow your gut as an actor or a writer, people fawn over your creative choices.”

“What’s your gut telling you right now?” I question.

The dinosaur glances over at me, a strange look in his eye. The next thing I know, he’s leaning over and kissing me deeply on the lips. I meet him in the middle, allowing a sudden surge of arousal to wash over me.

“What about Sporg?” I question suddenly, pulling back.

“You know our arrangement,” the captain replies.

With no excuses left, I dive into the moment fully. The next thing I know, Chris Pime and I are all over each other, passionately making out right there in the sun on his sprawling front deck. We begin to tear away at one another’s clothing, stripping down and tossing the fabric to the side.

I let out a soft whimper as the dinosaur starfleet captain explores my body with his scaly claws, tracing his fingers gently across my exposed skin. I enjoy the topography of his chiseled body in turn, starting with his muscular chest and then working my way down to his incredible abs.

I watch as Chris Pime’s cock grows larger and larger before me, swelling like a glorious green rocket. I hesitate before containing onward, withholding my attention while the prehistoric creature aches for more.

“You want me to stroke this dinosaur dick, captain?” I coo.

Chris Pime nods in return, deeply focused.

“You want me to boldly take this cock where no cock has gone before?” I tease.

The raptor suddenly laughs and rolls his eyes. “Please. Plenty of cocks have gone there.”

“Good point,” I reply.

Having mercy on my reptilian lover, I reach down and wrap my hand tightly around his rod. Captain Chris Pime leans his head back, reeling from the sensation as I begin to pump my fingers up and down his length.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, pushing his hips back against me as we fall into a groove together.

As nice as this is, it’s not long before my aching desire pushes me onward to even greater heights of erotism. I open my mouth wide and take the captain’s rod between my lips, falling into the rhythm that we’ve already established as I continue to get him off. I begin to feverishly suck Chris Pime’s dick, bobbing my head up and down across his rod while I play with his hanging green balls.

Of course, this pace was much easier to keep with my hand, and soon enough I’m forced to pull back with a gasp, struggling to collect myself as spit dangles between my lips and the head of his shaft in a long, semi-translucent strand.

When I finally get back to work, I take a slightly different approach. I take the captains rod into my mouth, but I refuse to pulse across his length. Instead, I just swallow Chris Pime’s cock deeper and deeper, somehow relaxing my gag reflex and allowing him all the way down into my absolute depths. The next thing I know, the raptor’s dick is fully consumed in a stunning deep throat, my face pressed up hard against his abs as I maintain this position.

The dinosaur reaches down and places his hands against the back of my head, holding me here and savoring his position of dominance. We continue like this until I run out of air and pull back again, a fire in my eyes.

“Fuck me,” I demand. “I need that cock up my ass.”

I crawl up onto the deck next to him, popping my ass out toward the dinosaur from the dogglestyle position and wiggling my rump from side to side. I reach back and give one cheek a playful slap, egging him on.

Chris Pime climbs down into position behind me, aligning his enormous rod with my puckered backdoor. He doesn’t plunge right in, however, showing respect from captain to captain as he awaits my signal.

I prepare myself for his insertion then gaze off with confidence, lifting one hand and pointing it forward. “Engage.”

Captain Pime obeys my command, pushing into my butthole with one deep, confident movement. I let out a started yelp as he enters me, not entirely prepared for the glorious penetration but swiftly falling into a pleasant groove.

We immediately find a pulse together, out bodies grinding in harmony as the raptor captain slams me from behind. His dick is enormous, but he knows exactly how to use it and paces himself accordingly. I’m utterly filled to the brim, but it’s not enough to become unpleasant.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” I groan.

“I… love fucking that… ass,” he offers, unconsciously falling into his actor’s voice.

“Is that what you use for the movies?” I question.

He nods. “It’s… a little… staggered… in unusual places. This is how… you act.”

“More!” I demand, getting off on this Federation dirty talk.

“What… a tight asshole, I… love pounding that… hot butt,” he continues.

I reach down between my legs and begin to beat myself off in time with the slams up my backside, these two distinct sources of pleasure swirling together like a Bomulan Ale with a shot of Taldeberan Whiskey dropped in.

“Oh fuck, set wieners to cum!” I cry out.

The orgasm hits me hard, flooding across my body in a powerful explosion of carnal sensation. Every muscle within me expands and contracts in unison, quaking hard as the climax tickles every nerve ending. My eyes roll back into my head while several payloads of hot white jizz erupt from the head of my shaft, splattering across the deck in pearly patterns below.

Captain Chris Pime never lets up for a second, railing me with everything he’s got until I’m entirely satisfied. The second this happens, however, the dinosaur pushes deep and holds tight, erupting with an orgasmic blast of his own.

The cum spills into my butt with several mighty pumps, filling me up to the brim and then squirting out from the edges of my tightly packed anal seal when there’s no room left. I comes running down the back of my legs in long streaks, covering me in the captain’s seed.

When Chris is finally finished he pulls out of me and falls back in exhaustion, breathing heavy as the two of us cuddle up together once again.

“That was amazing,” I offer. “You’re one hell of a captain.”

“I know,” Chris Pime offers confidently in return, his gaze transfixed on the glorious view before us.

I can tell there’s a lot on his mind.

“You really don’t want to come back to the Federation, do you?” I question.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve got a really good thing going with my acting career, and the writing is even morefulfilling. I love exploring the stars, but now I get to explore my soul.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, offering a silent gesture of understanding and empathy.

Captain Pime takes a deep breath. “But… I miss Sporg.”

I nod. Their relationship is the envy of the Federation, one that I could only dream of achieving if I ever find that special someone. I can see why Chris Pime is so torn.

Suddenly, an idea strikes.

“You know, time passes differently down here,” I offer. “Sporg is worried about you, but I’m sure he could wait another week, especially if I let him know you’re okay. That should give you approximately… ten more years to act and write.”

Chris Pime’s eyes go wide. “Captain Picardo, you’re a damn genius!”

He wraps his arms around me in a loving hug.

Eventually I release and pull my clothes, then thank him again for a good time. I take one last look at this strange alternate Earth, then start the process of beaming myself back aboard the Outerprise-T.

“Have fun! Your secret’s safe with me!” I call out as I dissolve in a plume of blue light. “Just don’t do anything stupid like write a book about this!”

Chris Pime laughs as I disappear completely, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.