From ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com Thu Sep 11 11:15:57 1997 Path: Supernews69!Supernews60!su-news-feed2.bbnplanet.com!su-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!su-news-feed4.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsfeed.meganews.com!news.cyberg8t.com!not-for-mail From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford) Newsgroups: alt.fan.q,alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: The Q Who Fell . . . pt.II Date: 11 Sep 1997 18:15:57 GMT Organization: GiffStein Lines: 194 Message-ID: <5v9cgt$rhf$1@nntp.cyberg8t.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: host21.riv.cyberg8t.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: Text/Plain; charset=US-ASCII X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.99.8 (x86 32bit) Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6540 alt.startrek.creative:63026 I was privileged to read "The Q Who Fell to a Nearby Location and Became Just a Human Being," quite a while ago, and was very flattered that one of its lovely and talented authors paid myself (Giff) and atara (stein) the ultimate compliment of letting us win. But the best laid plans of TrekSmutters often go awry, and for some reason, I didn't think things would go quite the way Q expected when he went after his Johnny. Given the recent arrivals on afq of a few people, I've added a bit to my original ending. Thanks to T'alara, Naomerci, and Rillita's writers for letting me play in their sandbox, and extra thanks to Mercutio for helping polish this up back when I wrote it. This is a work of parody and no insult was intended to any of the writers depicted within, as I respect all of them, consider many of them my friends, and am married to one of them. By the time we get through with them, Paramount probably wouldn't recognize Its own property, but I should mention the Great Studio of the Galaxy and how they own bloody *everything*, for if I fail to do so, It might swell with righteous wrath and smite me for being naughty in Its sight. This is for all of the fanfic writers out there who laugh at themselves, and who in doing so, maintain their sanity and a sense of perspective. The Q Who Fell to a Nearby Location and Became Just a Human Being II or; AFQ Night on the Enterprise. By Ruth Gifford Jean-Luc Picard tugged at his uniform. Strange, but he had this vague memory of being . . . orange and having green hair? No that was an impossibility, and Picard's tidy universe had no room for impossibilities, especially ones like not being bald. He looked around his quarters and for a moment his artificial heart stopped. Q was sitting in one of his armchairs looking smug. "So you're back?" Picard asked warily, thumping himself on the chest. "Really need to get that looked at," he muttered to himself. Brilliantly observant as usual *Mon* Capitaine." Q was suddenly behind Picard, his hands gripping the Captain's upper arms. "Let's cut out the small talk, darling. I'm going to teach you all about your hidden desires, hurt quite a bit, fall in love with you, and we'll live happily ever after. We'll have fights because I'm a Leo and you're inferior, but that's OK. As long as GiffStein keep having kinky sex (and trust me, those women are . . . energetic) we'll reap the rewards. Occasionally you'll get messed up and I'll be a jerk because Ruth feels this absurd need to work out her worries through fanfic, but you get messed up all the time and I *am* a jerk, so that's no problem. He paused, and then continued. "You can call me Sir." Picard was about to do what he always did, namely stammer that he'd never done this, that this was close to impossible for him and, did Q need to know where his riding crop was? He was interrupted by a flash of bright white light. Three women, one of them Vulcan, one who looked half Orioneese, and one very small Human, all of them quite lovely, appeared. This was getting more and more interesting. "What?!" Q said, sounding just a little frightened. "How did you get in here? You're not supposed to be in this subplot!" "It's a long story involving a legal contract, a couple of jars of hot fudge and the fact that your brother is a wimp," the short Human said. "But that's not important right now." Picard looked at the women; they looked back. Then the four of them together turned and looked at Q. "Let me try to understand this," Picard said, smiling. "I'm either stuck with you for the rest of my life (which being as infatuated as you undoubtedly will be, will be rather long) or I can keep meeting interesting, fascinating, gorgeous women?" "Uh . . . " Q stammered, hurt by the expression on his Johnny's face. "You know," Naomerci said speculatively to Rillita," Q is kind of a jerk. Especially when he has his powers. He isn't any fun to comfort when he has his powers." Rillita looked at Picard. "My writer does have this backstory . . ." The two then glanced at T'alara. "I've never found all the interest in him to be logical at all." she sniffed with what would have been disdain if she would have admitted to having anything so base as emotions. "And the only way to comfort him would be to cause him to lose his powers again, which is a tiresome, overdone plot, quite unworthy of my author." "Have you heard me do Shakespeare?" Picard slyly asked the three women. "You do Shakespeare?" "*And*," he added looking at T'alara, " I know how to t'hav'la'rel." The Vulcan woman's ear tips turned bright green. She had forgotten all about Picard's two mindmelds, which, among other things, would have given him an intimate knowledge of the Sex Secrets of the Ancients. "When I'm in Pon Farr, I get you all to myself," she said. Picard looked at the other two, and, when they nodded, said, "very well." "Do you still have Borg nightmares?" Naomerci asked, her face gentle with sympathy. "Yes," Picard said quietly, a faint hint of pain crossing his elegant face. "But I try not to let them get to me." "A challenge . . ." the Human woman murmured. This would be far better than Q, who wept at the drop of a hat (particularly if the hat was one of his). In any case, her writer had done almost 1,000 pages of him -- it was time to move onto something more interesting. "OK," she said. Everyone, including Q, looked at Rillita. "I have just one question," she said firmly. She looked at Picard, who immediately lowered his gaze respectfully. "Ma'am?" "Where's your riding crop?" The words broke the stillness and tension in the room, and all three women crowed around Picard. He looked at Q, his gorgeous hazel eyes alight with triumph. Q snapped his fingers and two women who looked remarkably like sisters appeared. "You can't do this to us," the shorter of the two yelled at Picard. "How am I going to work out all my S/M angst now?!" "How am *I* going to come up with pop culture journal articles that shock my colleagues?" the other woman asked in disgust. "Oh, dear," said Naomerci. "It's GiffStein. This could get interesting." "I'm going to have to write non-TrekSmut now and try to sell it," Giff wailed. She started hyperventilating. She fought it for a moment and then looked at her wife. "You know . . . there is that Voyager episode that the kids erased . . ." her voice trailed off speculatively, allowing her writer to get more ellipses in. Stein nodded thoughtfully, and they both turned to Q. "Can we interest you in a no nonsense starship Captain that wear even better nightwear than your dear Johnny does?" Stein asked. "This'll be great!" Giff enthused. "A whole new show to work with!" Q suddenly brightened. "I like it. You think she's any good at topping?" Giff got a fiendish look on her face. "If not, I know this Starfleet engineer . . ." Q snapped his fingers and the three disappeared. Picard looked as his three new friends. "Ladies, I'm all yours." The End "Oh yeah?" one of the four women watching from the shadows muttered. "I mean I *love* Voyager, I really do, but I have *plans* for Q. Complicated plans that will keep people guessing." "*You* have plans?" her friend asked. "How about *me*? I have a whole list of James Bond titles just waiting to have stories written for them." "Well, I think they let Q get off *far* too easily," the youngest of the four said. "Then again, maybe he'll lose his memory when he gets to Voyager." The thought seemed to cheer her up. "Bugger that!" the final woman said, her Aussie accented voice low but intense. "How do you think *I* feel? This parody business shouldn't be handled by amateurs. Someone bring me a bottle of red, I have *work* to do." So what is in store for our ever-growing numbers of afq writers and their subject? Will Q be a dad, fall head-over-heels in love, be tortured, or just be made fun of? I'm sure *I* don't know . . . . -- *************************************************** * Ruth | Visit GiffStein Productions * * Gifford | http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ * *-------------------------------------------------* * alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated * * Your One Stop Spot For Spam Free TrekSmut * *-------------------------------------------------* * Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself! * * http://www.capital.net/users/rjs1/asce * *************************************************** "I'm usually not that coordinated. It almost looked like I had athletic ability on that. It's pretty scary." Dodger Catcher Mike Piazza telling it like it is.