The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine
TOS Original Series - Spock, McCoy
Rating – R
Warnings – women touching men, men touching men, sex, nudity, swear words, slight S&M, slight
drug use, sex toys, and horrible cliches.
Disclaimer – Totally non-profit. Totally just for fun. No malice is intended.
The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine
Do people have a tendency to dump on you?
your group have more cavities than theirs?
Do all the hippies seem to get the jump on you?
Do you sleep alone when
others sleep in pairs?
Well there's no need to complain
We'll eliminate your pain
We can neutralize your brain
You'll feel just fine
Buy a big bright green pleasure machine!
Planet Xtmprsqzntwlfd was known for two things: its utter and complete hospitality, and its cornbread recipes. A first time visitor chowing down on slice after slice of Grandma Tootenfrau's hot butter cornbread with
sweet syrup and crispy bacon might think they were enjoying a bit of the famous hospitality.
He or she might also think that Grandma Tootenfrau actually existed. He
or she would be wrong.
Grandma Tootenfrau's massive, apron-covered bosom existed only in the corporate
boardrooms of the Powercoil Rocket Corporation. The hospitality existed in nightclubs,
street corners, dim motel rooms, and the odd back alley.
McCoy suspected that Kirk knew all four types of places intimately. They'd beamed down and McCoy had just taken his first bite of cornbread when he noticed that Kirk had disappeared. The cause was likely a hospitably-dressed (meaning rather nude) Xtmprsq girl across
the street. The Captain was partial to blue skin, especially when it encased
feminine thighs that looked as if they could straddle the Enterprise's warp core.
The doctor glanced across the street. Yes,
the girl was gone as well.
"Ass," McCoy muttered, applying it both to Kirk and himself. He should have known better. It was physically impossible
for Kirk to stay vertical during shore leave. Unless, as the Captain was fond
of pointing out, he lay on his back, and then it was nine solid inches of vertical.
McCoy was also suspected that Kirk couldn't count.
He meandered down the street. Everyone
was in couples except him. Happy couples.
Kissing couples. Dressed couples holding hands. Naked couples holding other things. There was even a happy
McCoy looked closer. Two bodies,
but three heads. He wasn't sure how to count that.
Fully engaged as he was in feeling sorry for himself, he didn't notice the Xtmprsqzntwlfd
Welcome Wagon until it nearly ran him over.
The doctor jumped one way. The Welcome
Wagon careened the other into a small tree.
"Hey!" McCoy yelled. "I was on the
sidewalk!" He ran up to the driver. "What
the hell were you doing on the sidewalk?" Belatedly, he added, "I'm a doctor. Are you hurt?"
The driver was oversized for any species.
He glared at McCoy who, very very belatedly, took a step back.
From the rear of the wagon, McCoy heard, "Blossom, get us out of here!"
The driver barked, "This idiot got a look at me."
The rear doors opened. The doctor
was grabbed and hauled inside.
"Hey!" he cried just as Blossom threw the wagon into gear and floored it. McCoy was flung around the interior of the wagon.
From his now upside-down perspective, he saw two more men, one of which was holding
a weapon on him.
"How ya doing?" asked the one with the weapon.
"This is the Welcome Wagon?" McCoy asked.
"Sure," said the man. "Welcome to
Xtmprsqzntwlfd. Did you get your cornbread?"
Blossom took a corner hard. McCoy
fell over, but this time, right-way up.
The man got a better look. "Buttercup,
Blossom, we've got a problem."
The third man had been looking over Blossom's shoulder out the front window. He asked, "What is it now?"
Weapon Man nodded towards McCoy. Buttercup
"Shit," he said.
"What?" Blossom called from the front.
"You might have said this guy was Starfleet before we jumped him," Buttercup
"What does that matter?" Blossom retorted.
"It matters because there's a big fraking Starfleet ship in orbit. Big fraking ship means big fraking trouble."
Weapon Man gestured at McCoy's belt. "What's
"Toss it over here."
"What are you doing?" Buttercup asked Weapon Man.
"He's a doctor. He's probably got
"No," Buttercup said. "We went to
the ten-step program. You've been off it for three weeks. Look me in the eyes. You don't need it."
"Just one little—"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off when the wagon took a corner on two
wheels. McCoy tumbled into Buttercup. Weapon
Man slid to the back of the car.
In the confusion, McCoy managed to press the homing signal on his communicator. He'd just returned it to his belt when the wagon came to an abrupt halt. He fell into the front seat.
Blossom picked him up by his shirttails and hauled him outside. Sunlight flashed into his eyes before he was carried into somewhere dark.
Blossom plunked him down into a chair.
A woman's voice said, "Pink Daddy's not going to like this."
She turned on a small lamp. McCoy
was in some sort of nightclub. Tables filled the room, packed between a bar at
one end and a stage at the other.
The woman looking him over was human, if he ignored the horns and tail.
"He got in the way. We had to bring
him along," said Blossom.
"He's cute," she said, bending forward to get a better look.
"Be careful," said Buttercup, who had just come in with Weapon Man. "He's Starfleet."
McCoy had had enough. In a gruff
tone, he said to the woman, "Let me guess. You're George or Phil or Hubert."
She looked at Blossom. "Did you
hit him on the head?"
"No, he came that way," Blossom said. "Hurry
up and give us the package. We had to borrow a car and I don't want it parked
out there too long."
"I don't have it. Pink Daddy's not
here yet," she said.
"That gives us some time then," said Weapon Man as he took a seat beside McCoy. "Time to amuse ourselves."
Buttercup pushed in between them. "You
can go longer than three weeks."
"What's going on?" asked the woman.
"Good question," McCoy muttered.
"Starfleet here is a doctor and he's got drugs," Buttercup said.
She put her arms around Weapon Man. "You
don't need that stuff."
"What stuff? I'll give him a double
dose if he'll shut up," McCoy said.
"Hey, you don't know what this man's been through!" Buttercup said.
"Three weeks is awesome," the woman said.
"You can do it," Buttercup said to Weapon Man.
"We're all here for you. Remember the first step...I am a good person. What's the second?"
Weapon Man took a breath. "We all
"Right, and the third?"
"Today is a new day."
"And the fourth?" Buttercup persisted.
"My friends are my rock," Weapon Man said.
"We're your friends, dude. We are
so here for you," Buttercup said.
Weapon Man took a shaky breath. "You
guys are the best."
"Oh my God," McCoy said.
The woman gave Weapon Man a kiss. "I'll
take Starfleet off your hands if you tie him up first."
"That's a good idea," Buttercup said.
"Wait a minute," McCoy started, but Blossom's huge hand came down on his shoulder.
"She's doing you a favour, Starfleet. You've
seen too much now. You're what you call a liability."
"You'd better get rid of that uniform," the woman said.
"But—" McCoy started, but then he was upside down again. Blossom held him in one hand and ripped his clothes off of him with the other. McCoy heard the clatter of his med-kit and communicator falling to the floor.
The woman got to her feet and looked McCoy over.
"What do you need two balls for when you've only got one--?"
"Pink Daddy!" Weapon Man said suddenly.
A giant fluorescent blowfish had entered the room.
"Hide him!" she whispered.
Still carrying McCoy, Blossom dashed through a doorway. McCoy was carted down a hallway and into a small room. Blossom
tossed him onto the floor, then thought better of it, put him upright in a chair, and tied him to it.
"Don't move," Blossom warned.
"Like that's even possible."
"Don't make me remove your tongue."
Blossom left. McCoy pushed and pulled
against the ropes until he heard footsteps.
The woman, alone now, came into the room.
She stood in front of him and gave him another look.
"May I at least know your name?" McCoy asked.
"I'm Amber. How big do you get when
McCoy stared at her. "Pardon me?"
"For the act."
"I'm in an act?"
"I'm not leaving you here alone while I'm on stage. I've had too many guys take off on me like that."
"I've entered a madhouse," McCoy said.
Amber took his penis in her hands and hefted it.
"Nice, but we're going to need Mister Spikey so the people in the back can see."
She gave the end of his penis an affable kiss before getting up and going to a dresser.
She returned with a pair of black boxer shorts and a large green dildo. "Let's get you into these."
Tied as he was, McCoy couldn't do any more than watch in abject horror as she
slipped the boxer shorts up his legs. "Lift up," she said, swatting a cheek.
"I can't. I'm tied, remember?"
"Sarcasm is not polite, Starfleet," Amber said.
She returned to the dresser and came out with two pairs of cuffs, one with a longer chain. She slipped those over his ankles, the smaller set over his wrists, and then untied the ropes.
McCoy, thankful for any sort of covering, allowed her to pull the boxers up. Unfortunately, she didn't stop there.
She clipped the dildo to the inside of the boxers and pulled it so that it was
sticking up through the fly.
Amber laughed. "It's easy. You just sit in the big chair on stage. I'll
dance around you and sing the Erection Song. I wrote it myself. Later, after Pink Daddy leaves, we'll have sex."
"I only came for the cornbread."
"I could take a picture of you if you want, for your friends," she said. McCoy suddenly remembered the homing signal on his communicator.
"That's ok. I think they're going
to get an eyeful."
"Really?" she asked, tapping the end of the dildo. "Will they be that close to the stage?"
"Where is my med-kit and communicator?"
"Buttercup has them."
"This is going to get interesting," McCoy murmured.
"Come on, Starfleet. I don't want
to be late for my cue." Amber took him by the hand. He could only shuffle in her wake.
They went down another hall. A bright
light at the end revealed part of the stage. As they neared, McCoy saw a big
chair and a man at a microphone.
"Welcome to the Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine," he said. "I know you've all been waiting for our very own Amber, Mistress of Bright Green Pleasure. Here she is!"
He balked, but the man leaving the stage said, "New one tonight, Amber?" and
gave McCoy a kick out into the spotlight.
"Poor baby," Amber said, leading him by the dildo to the chair. "I'll kiss your ass better later."
There was no hiding. He was in the
middle of the spotlight, facing a packed house. Every table was crowded with
people, two-eyed, four-eyed, some six-eyed, and all of them looking at him.
The music began. Amber eased into
his lap, careful not to impede the view of Mister Spikey. She pressed the base. It lit up.
She took off her top and started her song.
"I beg your pardon, this is no flower garden.
This is my baby's hardon."
McCoy wondered if it was possible to die of mortification.
"His first erection required some detection," Amber sang. "He was shy. What a sweet guy."
She lifted the edge of her skirt. The
"Upon reflection, his wonderful erection caused a section of his pants to blow
sky high. My panties I did show him, a wink I did bestow on him. But I was a maiden and prone to cry."
Amber spread her legs, quickly closed them, and then opened them again to a round
of applause. McCoy caught a glimpse of sparkles as she jumped off his lap.
"His wonderful erection required some correction, his tumefaction would not fit
where my secrets lie." She wiggled her backside.
The crowd cheered.
"If my baby's erection was to give this maiden any satisfaction, the interaction
would require a helping hand, by and by."
She whipped off her skirt as the music went wild.
The audience pressed forward, pounding on the tables and yelling encouragement.
In only a shiny g-string, Amber slithered around McCoy, fondling the chair, his
thighs, and, at last, the dildo. Red to his hairline, McCoy looked away. And discovered another person on stage.
A tall man in a feather mask stepped in beat towards them.
"In increments of counteraction, and mathematical exaction, my baby's beautiful
erection began to make me sigh."
Amber straddled McCoy. As she leaned
back in apparent bliss, the man in the mask put his hands under her back to support her.
McCoy felt her startle. She glanced
around, then shrugged and continued singing. "Such abandon, I did gladden, oh
his movements did madden me right to the quick. What was forbidden, now bestridden,
I was ridden, it did the trick."
She shouted the last line to be heard over the crowd. The man in the mask leaned forward and said in McCoy's ear, "Doctor, prepare to run."
It was Spock.
Somehow it was possible for McCoy to get even redder. "I. Can't. Run,"
he hissed. "Look down."
"I am endeavouring to give you some privacy."
"That's not me. That's Mister Spikey."
Spock hesitated. By now, both Amber
and her song were rising to a crescendo. McCoy felt as if he were being hammered
into the chair.
"I...would...not...install...lighting...in...my...genitals..." McCoy said between
Amber shrieked. The audience leaned
forward, collectively holding its breath. Amber cried out a final, "YES!" The music crashed, and then silenced.
There was a moment of quiet before people began rising to their feet, clapping
and calling, "Encore!"
Amber got to her feet and bowed. "Audience
participation time. Who wants to play with my baby?"
"I will have the honour," Spock said.
Out of the corner of her mouth, Amber asked, "Who are you?"
"I work for Pink Daddy," the Vulcan whispered back. "He's looking for the package and thinks that you have it."
"What's in the package?" McCoy asked.
Spock glanced at McCoy's lap. "I
would say that you are in a better position to answer that than me."
As Amber sidled off the stage, Spock leaned forward and added, "The Captain is
in the audience, but the Prime Directive forbids direct action. We must blend
with the culture."
"Jim's here too? That's just dandy,"
McCoy mumbled. "Damnit all to—"
The blare of music cut him off. Several
people in the front tables shouted, "Get going already! What's wrong with you? We paid for a show!"
The emcee reappeared. "Thank you
gentlebeings for your patience. The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine now proudly
presents..." he glanced at Spock and McCoy. "The Demon Prince and his Prisoner
of Love." He covered the microphone and said in an undertone, "Make it good or
Spock bent down. For a second, McCoy
thought the Vulcan was going to kiss him.
"Doctor, simulate physical pleasure while I attempt to free you from your bindings."
"Screw the Prime Directive. Beam
me the fuck out of here."
"A moan would be most appropriate at this juncture," Spock said as he went to
his knees. "Is your toy attached to your person?"
"It's not my toy."
Spock felt into the fly. McCoy tried
to pull back, but the Vulcan was only unhooking the dildo.
"This is boring!" someone called from the audience.
Spock leaned forward and pressed his face into the front of McCoy's boxers. The doctor stared in astonishment until he realized the Vulcan had done so to hide
his fiddling with the cuffs at McCoy's ankles.
"We can't see!" someone else yelled.
A movement backstage caught McCoy's attention.
The emcee had been joined by the pink blowfish.
"Pink Daddy's here," the doctor whispered.
"Say something," Spock said in a muffled voice.
"He will not interrupt the show."
Anxiously, McCoy said, "That's good...don't stop...yes, that's...ACK!"
The last had been unintended. Spock's
lips had touched him...there.
The ankle cuffs dropped off. Spock
looked up. McCoy thought he saw a glint in the Vulcan's eye.
But then Spock was on his feet and hauling the doctor to his.
"Run," Spock said.
And ran into Blossom.
Suddenly he was upside down again. Blossom
carried him down a set of stairs and into a room.
"Look what happened because of you!" Blossom said, throwing McCoy to the floor.
He struggled up. Weapon Man lay
on the floor. Buttercup hovered nearby.
"He got into your drugs, Starfleet," Buttercup said.
"Fix him," Blossom said.
"I need my med-kit, these cuffs removed, and my clothes," McCoy said, wondering
where Spock was. "Pink Daddy's looking for his package and he's not happy."
Buttercup and Blossom exchanged a worried look.
"Who had the package last?" McCoy asked.
As one, the other men looked down at Weapon Man.
Blossom handed McCoy his med-kit. "Hurry,
"My clothes and--" McCoy said, holding up his bound wrists.
Blossom looked at Buttercup who said, "I don't know where his clothes are."
Blossom snapped the cuffs. He took
off his shirt and draped it over McCoy. It hung down to the doctor's kneecaps.
"What's in the package?" McCoy asked as he pulled out a scanner.
"None of your business," Blossom said.
"Do you want your friend to live?"
"He's dying?" Buttercup asked, a catch in his voice.
McCoy held his ground.
Buttercup gathered Weapon Man into his arms.
"We don't know what was in the package. Honest, Starfleet. Pink Daddy just wanted us to take it to a friend of his."
McCoy eyed him, then Blossom. Both
men looked distraught.
"All right," he said. He snapped
his med-kit shut and stood up.
"Fix him!" Blossom said.
"He's fine," McCoy said. "He's full
of Dulcolax. He'll sleep it off,
but I don't think you want to be around when it works out of his system."
Blossom took a threatening step. McCoy
looked behind him and said, "Hello Pink Daddy."
The men turned.
McCoy bolted. He ran back down the
hall, turned a corner, and smacked into Spock. They collided hard and fell into
McCoy pulled the door closed just as footsteps ran past. Then he realized that Spock was underneath him.
"As rescue attempts go, this one sucks," McCoy said as he shifted off of the
Spock sat up and pulled off the mask. "Doctor,
the correct direction to run from the stage would have been into the audience where the Captain was. The incorrect direction was towards the rather overlarge gentleman, which, for some unknown reason, was
the direction you chose."
"Are you saying this is my fault?"
"Yes," Spock said.
McCoy tried to roll up the lengthy shirt sleeves.
Spock took over.
"I don't need help," McCoy started, but the Vulcan continued rolling.
"I don't suppose I could be beamed up now," McCoy tried.
"Yes. I will follow you after I
have ascertained the Captain's wellbeing."
"I'm sure he's fine. He always is."
Spock didn't comment, but as he pulled out his communicator, McCoy said, "About
what happened on stage...did you mean to do that? Or did you slip?"
"As you seemed ill-equipped to give the audience what they desired, I deemed
my action to be logical and justified."
McCoy frowned. "I think I've just
"When I said ill-equipped, I was referring merely to your acting ability. Or lack of. For that reason, I could
ask for a refund of my cover charge."
"You got your money's worth with Amber's performance."
"On the contrary," Spock said. "I
paid to enter the nightclub in pursuit of you. I was promised participation,
and you failed to deliver. You are an over-modest person."
"Over-modest? Didn't you see what
I just went through?"
"You have gone through very little. You
sat in a chair with an appealingly-coloured toy in your underwear."
"Spock, I'd like to call you something that starts with b and ends with astard."
"Doctor, when can I expect the service I paid for to be delivered?"
"I should call your bluff if only for the chance to see you hightail it out of
here faster than a cheetah on fire."
"Are you sure that's what would happen?" Spock asked. McCoy saw that glint again.
McCoy opened his mouth, and then closed it.
"Over-modest," Spock said.
He had barely got the words out when the doctor grabbed him and yanked him forward. McCoy kissed him, and it was not a modest kiss.
"Stick that up your sock," McCoy said.
The door opened. Two unshaven men
in grubby work clothes and backwards baseball caps eyed them. One said, "Which
one of you is Starfleet?"
"Who the hell are you?" McCoy asked.
"We're the owners of the Welcome Wagon.
We heard one of you got a ride you didn't want. We came to apologize."
"You're the Welcome Wagon?" McCoy
got to his feet, but had to keep looking up to see them.
"Yeah, we ride around. We give out
cornbread. Anyhoo, we're just wanted to say we're sorry and all."
"And the guys who stole your wagon?" McCoy persisted.
"We got them, though one of them is, well, we're not going to touch him just
yet. Your Captain delivered Pink Daddy into custody earlier, so everything's
hunky dory if you want to stick around."
"I doubt that," McCoy said.
"Your choice, but there's a pretty good show out on stage right now. Your Captain really gets into the spirit of things."
The Welcome Wagon men left. McCoy
glanced at Spock. "He's not."
But of course he was. Kirk was on
the stage with Amber, sitting in the chair and singing the Erection Song while she bounced in his lap. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and Mister Spikey lay unneeded on the floor.
"I do not believe the captain needs my assistance," Spock said in a perfectly
"Rub it in," McCoy scowled.
"If you wish," Spock said.
The next day, McCoy was late for his shift in Sickbay. It was rumoured that the First Officer was late on the Bridge as well, though no one could get any of the
Bridge crew to confirm it. It was also rumoured that the First Officer's new
nickname had something to do with a coloured pleasure machine. But the rumours
didn't give a source.
Kirk showed up in Sickbay looking pristine, as though he'd done nothing more
on shore leave than attend a church service.
"Bones, Xtmprsqzntwlfd is a nice planet.
We should go back there someday."
McCoy muttered something. Ignoring
it, Kirk said brightly, "Your communicator never did get back up here though. That's
going to come out of your pay."
The doctor said something else. It
could have been Bite Me.
"Just a suggestion, Bones. The next
time you hit the locator on your communicator, keep it with you. Don't take it
and your clothes off and go chasing some girl. Stick to cornbread."
Kirk turned to leave, but curiosity overcame McCoy's sense. "You didn't, by any chance, find out what was in that package of Pink Daddy's, did you?'
"I did. After all the hoopla, I
thought it would be something special." Kirk shook his head. "But it was only Grandma Tootenfrau's cornbread recipe. I
gave it to the Welcome Wagon guys."
Kirk went out. Just before the doors
closed, McCoy heard the captain sing, "In increments of counteraction, and mathematical exaction..."
McCoy sat down at his desk and muttered, "Ass!"