Fantasy Making of a Starship Captain

Taylor was in Missy Burns' quarters.

He knew he shouldn't be there.

But he felt so lonely, and so depressed.

And so when Missy invited him to come by her quarters and talk about what was bothering him, he couldn't resist.

Mark Stratford had told him that Missy was the Captain's woman. Taylor didn't know if that was true or not. He also suspected that Missy had some designs on him. Maybe he shouldn't go.

"Don't," said Be Cautious. "That woman is trouble. I can smell it a lightyear away."

"But we're surrounded by enemies, and we have no one to talk to," said Desperation. "I feel so lonely!"

"She's just like all the others. She wants something from you."

"Well, maybe I want something from her."

That would be hard to believe, at first glance. Missy was in her late 30's, just a few years younger than Sarah Blade. But somehow she actually looked older than Sarah. Sarah had pump, moist cheeks and looked ten years younger than her actual age.

Lieutenant Commander Missy Burns looked ten years older. Her skin was taut over her face, and lined. She looked like a woman who had lived through many experiences. There was also something inherently hostile about her facial features. She always looked like she was snarling, even when she smiled.

But she had bright, wavy blonde hair. Her breasts were not large, but she had a slim figure. She was not particularly attractive, but her personality, her attitude, was sensual. It was hard to explain. Under normal circumstances, Taylor would never have been attracted to her. But here, where she was the only friendly face... it changed the equation.

And so Taylor sat uncomfortably on her bed, right next to Missy, who petted his hair like he was a cocker spaniel and insisted he tell "Mama Missy" all his troubles.

Taylor explained what had happened in engineering, and how it wasn't his fault.

"Of course it wasn't your fault," said Missy.

"You agree with me?" said Taylor.

"Of course! You're fresh out of the Academy. You're not qualified to do anything," said Missy. "They have you working in the kitchen now, right?"

Taylor nodded.

"That's the perfect place for you to start!" said Missy.

"Scrubbing the sinks and floors?"

"Yes, Mike!" she said, touching his shoulder experimentally. "That's something you can be good at doing! Tell me, Mike. You can scrub floors well enough, right?"

"I suppose."

"And can you competently scrub sinks?"

"Yeah, of course-"

"Then it's a perfect match for your skills!" Missy was smiling now. "You get those sinks and floors sparkling clean, really clean, and you'll impress Cook. You impress Cook, and next thing you know, you'll be spooning vegetables! And after that, there's the fryer, the laser cooker... the sky's the limit, Mike!"

"But... I didn't go to the Academy to become a cook," said Mike. "I could have entered as an enlisted man if I wanted to do that."

"Mike, let's be honest," said Missy. "You're not cut out to be a Survey Service officer."

"I'm not?"

"No," said Missy, smiling as she fondled his back. "You're cute, and you're smart, but you're just not officer material. It was obvious from the moment you stepped aboard. Why do you think you're working in the kitchen now? Do you have any other explanation?"

Taylor opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head.

"Make the best of it, Mike. Tell you what. You do a good job, and I'll put in a word with the Captain. When the mission is over you can transfer into the enlisted ranks, and have a long, distinguished career as a regular crewman. How does that sound?"

Taylor's mouth dropped open.

"Just think about it, Mike," she said, smiling at him.

Taylor didn't know what to say when Cherry called him over the holocom. She was now the assistant weapon's officer on the Sulaka. And he... he worked in the kitchen.

"So how are things there, Mike?" she asked. She saw his expression. She knew something was wrong.

"Not so great, Cherry."

"What's wrong? Have they sent you down to engineering? Ship maintenance?"

The words stuck in his throat. He couldn't say it. Finally he said, "Yeah, Cherry. They have me working on ship maintenance."

"Oh, don't be such a worrier! They started me on maintenance too. It took a few weeks before they learned to trust me. Now I'm learning to fire the megajoulers! You'll be on top again soon, Mike, you'll see."

On top again.

Cherry paused, and looked a bit concerned. "Mike?"

"Yes?"

"Has there been anyone... in your life?"

"Anyone?"

"A woman, Mike."

They had left things very ambiguous after they had parted. Cherry had told him that she would miss him, and look forward to seeing him at the first opportunity, but she also had told him that if he saw an attractive woman, she wouldn't get angry with him if he "flirted a bit" with her. Immediately that told Taylor what Cherry planned to do with her newfound freedom.

"No, Cherry, there's no one."

"Mike?"

"There's no one. And you?"

Cherry paused, just a moment too long. "There's a guy in security. His name is Patrick Crenner."

"Cherry!"

"Mike, we just had a few drinks, that's it!"

But Taylor had his doubts. There was something in the way Cherry had said it, something in the way she had hesitated, which told him something very, very different.

"Sure, Cherry." What did it matter? Once this cruise was over, his Survey Service career would be in ruins, and Cherry wouldn't want anything to do with him anyway.

They spoke a bit more before Taylor signed off. After he did, he debated whether he ever wanted to speak to Cherry again, given his embarrassing circumstances. It was simply too painful.

Taylor had thought that his standing on the ship had reached absolute rock bottom.

He was wrong.

One day, Chief Martini, the cook, told him that the shipwide cleaning detail was short a man, and he ordered Taylor to go and join them. Several minutes later, Taylor found himself roaming the hallways of the Charleston with an electropack on his back and a sonic cleaning mop in his hands, as he mopped the floors of the ship, deck by deck.

If working in the kitchen was humiliating, cleaning the corridors was torture. At least in the kitchen Taylor had been (mostly) out of sight of the rest of the crew. Here he was out in the open, for all to see, the Ensign who cleaned floors.

Various crewmembers came by. Some gave nasty grins. Some laughed derisively. Each time someone laughed, Taylor's head sunk lower and lower.

And then Commander Kinneret came by, chewing on a pickle. "Hey... you." He had apparently already forgotten Taylor's name. "You're doing good work." He looked around at the floor. "Spotless. Really. Fine job." And then he walked on. Kinneret's pity (false pity?) struck Taylor like a body blow.

The next to come by was Chief Ashanti. She walked casually, wiggling her hips. When she saw Taylor, she gave him a shit-eating grin and winked, giving up a thumbs up sign.

Finally came the Captain, arm in arm with Missy Burns. When he saw Taylor he looked startled, at first, but then he smiled. "So, you've finally found something that suits your talents, have you, Cadet?"

"Yes, sir," Taylor was forced to say.

"I haven't heard any complaints about you in days. I think you've finally found your forte. Good work," said Hauslohner, and then he walked on with Missy.

Taylor struggled to take breath. It was all so degrading.

And then a minute later he jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was Missy Burns.

"My quarters, at ten," she hissed.

Then she was running back the directions she had come from, and was gone.

Taylor knew full well why Missy Burns wanted to see him at ten o'clock at night in her quarters. But he felt so worthless that he felt compelled to come. Any kind of sympathy, any kind at all, was a port in the storm. Taylor felt so miserable that he would turn to support from any corner that would give it.

"Don't do it, Mike!" said Ambition. "It's too degrading!"

"This is what we are," said Inadequacy. "We can't deny what we are. All we can do is try to make the best of it we can."

And so he showed up at her quarters at the anointed time.

She was wearing a sheer black dress. He could see her breasts and pubis, cloaked in dark shadow. It was oddly attractive.

She was also wearing a lot of makeup; her cheeks were red, she had dark eyeliner, and she wore bright pink lipstick.

She looked like a sex vampire. There was no doubt in Taylor's mind what he was here for.

Taylor let it happen. He let her kiss him, and undress him, and she undressed herself. He took no action unless she demanded it. He was like a living, breathing sex doll, letting himself be used however she wanted. When she told him to get between her legs, he did; and when she told him to start thrusting, he did; and then he went faster or slower, to suit her tastes and desires.

After her needs had been met, and, incidentally, his as well, they lay together on her bed.

"That wasn't bad," said Missy, playing with his chest hair.

"That... wasn't bad?"

"For a first time," said Missy. "It's obvious that you have no experience. You're a virgin, or you were until tonight, am I right?"

"No," said Taylor, feeling offended.

Missy looked surprised. "Well, then you're almost a virgin. It's obvious. Don't worry, I'll teach you how to please a woman properly." She sighed. "It seems like you can't do anything right, can you, Mike? That's why you're mopping the floors, isn't it? You're the only Ensign in the Survey Service who is mopping the floors."

Taylor looked away.

"Oh, have I hurt your feelings, little boy? But that's what you are, Mike. You're only 21 years old! You're still basically a child, a child in a man's body. Oh, I'm sure you were good at solving equations in the classroom, or kissing 21 year old girls who didn't know any better, but this is the real world. You have to get a grip on reality, Mike." She turned his head to face her.

"Kiss me."

Mike bit his lip.

"Mike, I gave you an order."

"Don't do it, Mike! Get out of there!" said Ambition.

Mike leaned upwards and pressed his lips against hers. They kissed for a long moment.

"That's a good boy. Don't worry, I'll train you," Missy promised. "When I'm done with you, we'll be able to say that you're good for at least one thing."

Ambition lost the battle.

Taylor already felt degraded by having to clean the floors of the Charleston. But Missy deepened his psychological despair every time they had sex. And yet Taylor kept going back, again and again and each time it got a little worse.

Somewhere along the line, and Taylor didn't actually know when, he found himself regressing back to childhood. Missy started calling him little boy, and, at her urging, he found himself calling her... Mommy.

Taylor could never have imagined himself falling this low a year ago. Nor six months ago. Not even a month ago. But his ego had been worn down so far, so much, that he felt nearly completely worthless.

Missy smiled as his transformation was nearly complete. She stood before him in her Survey Service bra and panties. "Take off my clothes, little boy."

"Yes Mommy," said Taylor. He reached behind her to undo her bra, but found himself having trouble with the electronic clasp.

"Is it too confusing for little boy's fingers?"

"Yes Mommy," said Taylor. He had undone Cherry's Survey Service bra in the same way dozens of times, but for some reason, his abilities seem to have constricted.

"I'll do it. You work on my panties. Do you think you can manage that, little boy?"

"Yes, Mommy."

As Missy took off her bra, Taylor removed her panties. Missy's brown pubic hair was in contrast to the blonde hair on her head. And it looked like it had been mowed. It stood out barely a quarter inch from her skin, as if it had been trimmed, or hadn't been given the right fertilizer to grow properly. In general Missy was very thin, painfully thin, and her tight skin hugged her rib cage and hips. She didn't have a lot of meat on her. She looked like she had been cooked and baked until she was dried, like beef jerky.

Missy lay back on the bed and spread her legs. "All right, little boy. Now do what Mommy taught you to do. Do what you do best."

Taylor obediently got between her legs. He liked and loathed her nasty smile. She lifted her knees. She mockingly offered him her cunt, and he took it, inserting himself inside of her. Within moments she was gasping as he thrusted.

But there was one final humiliation yet to come.

"What are you, baby boy?" she asked, as he thrusted.

Taylor continued to thrust.

"Say it!" Her dark eyes were hard, commanding

"Worthless," Taylor muttered.

"I can't hear you!"

"Worthless!"

"Again!"

"Worthless! Worthless! Worthless!" Taylor knew what she wanted. Each time he thrusted he said it. He saw her eyes alight in pleasure, as if his debasement fed her orgasmic energy directly.

"I'm worthless!" (Thrust!) "I'm worthless!" (Thrust!) "I'm worthless!"

Even as he was so badly humiliated, Taylor found his sexual arousal building to a peak. To be used, to be used so badly, excited something deep within him, something he didn't want to admit.

And then the moment inevitably came. Taylor cried out, and so did Missy, and they both came.

Taylor came to quickly internalize it. He came to believe he was worthless. Cherry tried to call him again, but he refused to take her calls. He was a nobody. He was ashamed to even talk to her. He worked his job, cleaning the floors on the ship, he had sex when Missy demanded it, and he slept very uneasily at night.

"You have done well," said Galactic Despair.

"Thank you," said Taylor's Inadequacy. "I had help."

"Yes, you did," said Galactic Despair. "All we need now is for him to be drummed out of the Survey Service."

"I don't see any possibility of him getting a passing grade from Captain Hauslohner, do you?"

"No," said Galactic Despair.

"Why was he so important anyway? Why did you put so much effort into seeing him fail?"

"Let's just say it was a matter of galactic importance. From certain factions who... let's just say they want to see the galaxy recreated in an even better way."

Inadequacy looked confused.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that our work is nearly done."
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