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"Shhhhh. Be quiet. And don't touch anything."
"It can't be anywhere else. Shine the light over here. We might be able to open it."
Crouched in the darkness of the TSU Hall of Artifacts, the two students tried to pry the casing off the Romulan cloaking device.
"I can't believe I came along on this. They couldn't possibly have written them down--"
"President Gifford says everyone has at least one. And this bunch writes everything down. It's just a question of finding them."
With a loud screech, the metal gave way.
Mary reached into the compartment and retrieved a heavy book.
"Well, open it!" Sue demanded.
Mary reverently turned back the cover, revealing an elaborate title page.
"I knew it!" Mary whispered triumphantly. "Look. The first one is coded Spock/Wildcat!"
"But it's by Jungle Kitty! Why would Professor Kitty write a story about Spock and Wildcat?"
"I don't know. Let's see what it says."
With trembling fingers, Mary turned the page and they began reading.
Unable to wait a moment longer, Spock grabbed Wildcat and threw her on the bed, all of his cool restraint lost in the heat of the moment.
"Spock!" Uhura cried, leaping off his lap.
"I am sorry, Nyota, but I am unable to concentrate on love-making with that feline scratching at my leg."
"Her actions were adversely affecting my sense of balance, making it impossible to perform the ka'm'ani wan a'la'yu. And the quartermaster is already questioning your constant requisitioning of chairs."
"Here, kitty, kitty. Come here, Wildcat. Sweet kitty-cat."
A smug orange tabby sauntered over to the communications officer and stretched happily under her gentle hands.
Gathering his calm, Spock headed for the doorway.
"I am going to consult with the captain. I believe he was successful in taming Captain Brandt'sdog."
"I don't understand," Sue said. "Why would Uhura want Spock to put on a Bill Gates mask?"
"I think Professor Kitty is still a little miffed about that dream Wildcat had," Mary replied. "The one where she met William Shatner and he turned into an evil real estate developer."
"Turn the page. Let's see what else is here."
In a galaxy full of beautiful, sexy, intelligent women, Kirk had found the only one who could satisfy him, and her name was Kitty. Jungle Kitty.
She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. He had looked all of his life for a woman like this, but his search had only led him to the loneliness of one empty tryst after another, on so many alien planets that he'd lost count. And finally, he'd found the woman he'd always wanted.
Knowing that his guilt was obvious on his face, he glanced across the room at Spock. His t'hy'la. His bondmate. How could he have let this happen? He loved Spock with all of his heart, and thought that he had never known such happiness as what he'd found with Spock these last six months. He knew now, however, that he had only been deceiving himself. There was no way out--he loved Spock, but he knew that his life would never be complete without... *Kitty*. Unless...
Would it be possible? Would Spock agree? The Vulcan had learned so much, come so far, since they had been bonded, but to ask him to do *this*, well, it might be too much.
Finally, Kirk decided that he had to ask. To do otherwise would be dishonest to both himself and to Spock, and he knew all too well that his t'hy'la would see the truth in his heart. He could never keep a secret like this.
His elegant hands still poised over the Vulcan harp, Spock stopped in mid-phrase and looked expectantly at Kirk.
"I have something that I must tell you."
Spock frowned, obviously aware of Kirk's torment. He placed the harp gently on the floor and came over to sit by Kirk on the sofa.
"What is it, t'hy'la? You are troubled."
"I don't know how to say this..."
Becoming very still, Spock said, "You have found another."
Kirk's eyes grew big. "How did you know?"
"You have been preoccupied since your trip to Orion. Although I was uncertain as to the reason for your change in behavior, it is now very clear. Is it a man or a woman?"
"A woman. She's... incredible. She can sing and dance, and her skin is the most unbelievable shade of green."
"Yes. I'm so sorry, Spock, but I just can't help myself. I... love her."
"Of course." Spock's control slipped for just a moment, and he looked away. When he faced Kirk again, the Vulcan mask was firmly back in place. "Am I to assume that you wish to break the bond?"
"Then logically, you have no solution."
Kirk rubbed his hand across his mouth. It was now or never.
The Vulcan studied him for a long moment. Finally, he said, "What do you propose?"
Spock was unable to suppress his shock. "You wish to bring her into the relationship with the two of us?"
"Very well. For your future happiness, Jim, I will try. Before we pursue this any further, however, I must prepare us for the fal-tor-tri."
"Yes. It is an ancient Vulcan ritual, also known as the san'dwich. We will touch minds, and together we will prepare for the addition of a third bondmate."
Kirk nodded, and soon he felt the familiar sensation of Spock's warm fingers on the side of his face. He closed his eyes, expecting the soothing sensation of Spock's orderly thoughts as they mingled with his own. He was surprised, therefore, when Spock withdrew almost immediately.
Spock's expression was severe when he opened his eyes.
"It will not work, Jim. I refuse."
"You have already been with her. I saw the evidence within your memory. And she..."
Spock stood, and stepped to the side of the room. Although he faced the wall, his back and shoulders were rigid, and Kirk knew that something had gone horribly wrong. Following, Kirk put his hands on the other man's shoulders and gently turned him around.
"What is it, Spock. What did you see?"
"She likes her men hairy, does she not?"
Kirk took a step back. "Oh my God, Spock, surely you can't let this--"
"I cannot allow it. You must be smooth. I am the hairy one."
Suddenly realizing that Spock was right, Kirk turned sadly away. How could he have not seen it before? Jungle Kitty would insist that he stop shaving his chest, but he just couldn't do it. Not even for her.
He sunk back onto the sofa. "I'll... call her. Tomorrow." It would be hard, the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, but he had no choice.
For James T. Kirk had sworn, years before, after the terrible incident when he had dropped a joint on his chest, that he could never allow a single hair to grow there ever again. And although the memory of his torment had become dull over the years, he knew that he would never be able to smoke another joint in peace if he were to allow the hair to grow back. Spock knew. His t'hy'la.
"I'm sorry, Spock. I forgot. Sometimes you know me better than I know myself."
"Indeed. Now, if you wish to accompany me to the bedroom, Mr. Sulu has provided me with a sample of his latest `crop' from the arboretum."
Nodding, Kirk smiled, and together they walked into the bedroom.
"I don't understand! Why would the faculty be writing Mary Sue stories for each other?"
...By you. Here's a two-part challenge.
The Dare: We dare you to write the first line of a story about yourself and your favorite Star Trek character and post it to ASCEM.
The Response: We challenge other writers to complete the stories. Be sure to include an alien ritual.
We did this to (for?) each other as a joke. We strongly suggest that the writers get the permission of their particular Mary (or Marty) Sues before posting the stories.
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