Title: Of Perky Starfleet Bottoms (#5, The Drabble Bin)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: The Chair
Summary: A look into the life of a certain lecherous chair. Senseless crack.
Previous Drabbles: The Old Four | Those Neighborhood Hoodlums | Trapped | A Cage of His Own

The chair makes itself comfortable for every hot tush that nestles into its wide lap. For those less-than-stellar bums, however, it is an agonizing experience of painful springs and lumpy padding. A certain nameless Lieutenant once sat in the chair when he thought no one was paying attention (whether on a dare or simply to test its prestige for himself, no one knows) and paid the price with unexpected hemorrhoids and back ailments for two weeks. To this day, he shies away from the chair like it’s taunting him to come back and try again.

While the chair is glad to be of service to many, it also harbors a severe prejudice against non-loungers: in particular, against one non-lounger of the Vulcan variety that treats the chair solely as an instrument of necessity and not as the awe-inspiring throne or fun plaything it can be. The chair has, on several occasions, attempted to dump said Vulcan onto the Bridge floor, albeit rather stealthily, in the middle of a ship attack (or that one time during a repair phase), but the Vulcan has the bad habit of clinging like a tenacious burr. Therefore, in retaliation, the button-array built into the chair’s arm often malfunctions or seems, in general, defective when used by the First Officer, much to his befuddlement.

But enough of the travesties of its life. There is joy too.

Of all the perky Starfleet bottoms available, there are two in particular the chair adores. First is the Captain’s, whose person, privileged by title alone, belongs solely to the chair. There is hardly anything more titillating than James T. Kirk parking his cute, uniform-clad butt in the chair, where he undoubtedly feels like he is graciously and lovingly being welcomed home. Kirk may even ponder if the manufacturing company accidentally installed a heating system into the mechanism of his chair, though its schematics say nothing descriptive pertaining to “seat-warmer for delectably young captains”. Despite this strange mystery of too-cozy starship furniture, Jim appears so pleased he stays relaxingly sprawled in the chair for long periods of time, and the chair’s purpose (to enjoy the subtle slip-slide caress of its occupant) couldn’t be better-served.

Then there is Doctor McCoy, the man who is known ship-wide for having the most gorgeous backside in all quadrants of the galaxy. To say the chair wants the doctor in any position possible (leg over the side or cradled like a napping baby or, hell, even backwards) would be an understatement. Yet much to its disappointment, McCoy only occasionally visits the chair; but when this rare and wonderful event does occur, he unknowingly satisfies every dirty fantasy the chair has conjured and desperately survived by up to that point, for there is nothing prim or proper about Doctor McCoy’s style of sitting down. If the chair was sentient (well, more sentient than it is at its current level of appreciating fine posteriors), it would gladly make certain the doctor has every incentive to stay seated for eternity. Alas, when McCoy leaves (abrupt abandonment, per usual), it curses the man as the worst of teases.

There is, of course, an epitome of “best chair experience ever”: this has yet to happen but the chair remains stubbornly optimistic. It is not designed, surface area-wise, to accommodate two people at once, but it firmly believes Kirk’s ingenuity, coupled with the sheer magnitude of McCoy’s attractiveness, will override the limitations of physics and allow for the most fortunate of circumstances. It looks forward to this day while, in the meantime, enjoying the two men separately with careful patience. But if it goes crazy once in a while from the lack of Kirk-McCoy double-action (spinning in a mad circle, thereby flinging the trespassing Vulcan back to his science station), well, who could blame it? There would be nothing so fine as two lovely asses in a very experienced, very willing Captain’s chair.

An Hour Past

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• Beyond the Call of Duty (#27, The Drabble Bin) – from September 24, 2020
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