Pairing: K/S, S/Mc, S/Sc, S/Ch, S/Su, S/C, m/m (Herkules/OCC),
Warnings: Humor, Tuppertrek-Series
Summary: Intergalactic games with a special discipline
Disclaimer: The characters in this story don’t belong to me. I only borrowed them for some fun. No moneymaking, no violation of copyrights are intended. The story is mine and it is just fanfiction. If you are under age, please stay away. If you have a problem with this topic, then look elsewhere for your entertainment. English is not my native language, so please be patient with my mistakes. Thanks to lady Charena for the beta. For all remaining errors, blame me.
"Ladies and Gentlemen and - or multisexual beings, esteemed audience here in this stadium and at home in front of the vidscreens, people from all planets - a warm welcome to the sex err sixth day of the interplanetary Olympic Games. We do not send from Bielefeld, Wanne-Eickel or Shi’Kar, but from the planet Athenika, the birthplace of the gods and the games. The Olympic stadium is sold out with 100 000 visitors. My name is Orgasmus Fickopoulus. Be ready for a really galactic competition. We crown the king of the kings, the god of the gods, with other words the strongest, best and most powerful of all athletes. You know: To have it hang is no world miracle and therefore today it should stand, stand and stand again. We will know it in an hour: Who is the hero of these games? To whom belongs the laurel wreath of the winner? The losers may comfort themselves with mud punch (with vodka) from our sponsor “Alcoholica - with us every Alien gets happy", their names will tomorrow already be forgotten. But the winner eternal glory is promised, the reputation of his power shall ring out and never die away up to the most backward corner of our galaxy. Welcome now our three final participants with thundering applause. We greet James Tiberius Kirk from the planet Earth."
God, what a puffed-up bletherer who likes to hear himself talking and never can hold the breath, Jim thought when the stadium speaker finally had ended and the competition participants were called in one by one. Just for safety he once more pushed his talisman, a tiny teddy bear, which was in the bag of his pink bathrobe. He then entered the stadium. Applause welcomed him. But as he put his robe down catcalls could be heard. Jim shot furious looks into the audience. "I will show it to you all" he mumbled to himself. "I’m better than anyone else."
"And now the local hero and favourite, Hercules, the son of the Zeus. Can you see those muscles?” The applause became louder as a giant of a man stepped into the stadium, a “the last you will see is my smile” expression onto the face. If it’s true what one says about the relation between the size of the nose and a certain other part of the body, Jim thought. This guy had a nose to split the wind with and a smooth chest. Obviously he lived after the motto: Good shaved is halfway won. Self-assuredly Hercules waved into the audience, which bawled for several minutes when he undressed. It is true, Jim noted quietly and not without envy. An the other hand of this nose he gladly could dispense.
"Welcome we now as last competitor the secret favourite from the planet Vulcan, Mr, Spock. I’ve to admit the black suites him very well,” the moderator obtained.
"Spock"? Jim turned around, surprised. The Vulcan actually strode into the stadium. His typically motionless facial expression on his face and a black evening gown which let him look damned sexy on his body. He methodically put his gown down and folded it carefully. The audience howled.
"Spock, what’s this about?" Kirk hissed. "What do you do here"?
“I can ask you the same question, Jim,” the Vulcan replied. "As far as I remember you wanted to visit a class reunion of your academy comrades. This does not look to me like a class reunion.”
"I always wanted to go to the Olympic Games but you would have never permitted it," Jim replied defiantly. "In addition, you call this a meeting on Vulcan?” he added poisonously.
"The originally scheduled competitor has failed because of his Pon Farr. This falls under forbidden doping. I was asked to step in for him, I could not deny this duty to my planet," the Vulcan replied with dignity.
"Oh yeah? And I shall believe you this? You ever have wanted to cheat on me. Just admit it!"
“The competitors may not talk with each other,” a referee hissed. Jim threw poisonous looks at Spock, but did say nothing more.
"I’ve slipped down now,” announced the moderator, "and report directly from the battlefield. The rules are known. Who from our three competitors is able to make most of our volunteer competition objects happy in one hour may be celebrate as man of all men. Sponsoring contracts, advertising contracts, invitations into highest circles, film offers and so on, he would become a made man. A man, oh yes. Dear spectators at home on the screens, be assured that you will see everything, really everything. We take it from every side. Except one perspective of course but from inside I really wouldn't like to see this at all. It could became a bit slimy with the time. But everyone will come, I’m sure, come onto his expense, I mean. Dear spectators, we immediately will be back. Please take the offers of our sponsors into consideration."
"We will welcome in the meantime our voluntary competition objects here in the stadium. Sirs, the applause is only for you. We thank you that you have volunteered yourself. Absolutely voluntarily and free of charge like I want to emphasise. This is true Olympic spirit. Of course everyone was tested in detail what certain... thresholds regards to ensure an equality in chance for our competitors. To increase the attraction of the competition every participant got representatives from different age, physical stature and races. Of course only men, certain traditions must be hold on despite all modern age. Don't you think so? Ah, I hear, our audience at the screens of the whole known Galaxy also is back. The tension increases, ladies and gentlemen. Only still a few minutes till the competition begins. Please, volunteers go on your positions. 20 for every participant. You, esteemed audience, can distinguish them at the different clothes. Rosa for the earthly participant, black for the vulcanic and blue for our strong Hercules. To avoid unfair stimulation or deterrence by the sight of naked skin, all volunteers will remain clothed except for a certain part of the body of course and unlike our competitors -- we as audience after all want to have also something from the competition, don’t we? Sirs, please, let the trousers down and get down into position, I hope you are prepared well. Yes? Fantastic! I know the position is a little uncomfortable primarily for the last ones in the row. However, it will be worth-while, I am sure. Dear audience, should you be encouraged through the sportily performance of our brave competitors to own activities please be quiet and discreet -- and afterwards clean up. So, just a short commercial spot and then we are ready.”
Jim stared at the volunteers kneeling in front of Spock. These figures somehow seemed familiar to him. "Bones? Scotty?” he asked doubtingly.
"Äh, Jim." McCoy raised his red head.
"Aye," Scotty mumbled besides him, lowered head.
"You call this a visit with your aunt Jutta?" Jim hissed furiously.
"Err," McCoy cleared his throat. "Who doesn't want to the Olympic Games for once? But as a competitor I’m unfortunately not good enough. So we’ve reported just as volunteers.”
Jim looked the row looked further along. "Sulu? Chekov?"
"We Russians have invented the games, Captain," Chekov defended himself. "So one has to be part of it."
Jim stared in the meantime at the fifth man in the row. The lowered face seemed also familiar to him, although hidden by a beard. "Christine?" he asked doubting.
"Christian is my name," came it back mumbled.
“The competitors may not speak with the volunteers,” a furious looking referee ordered Jim.
"But she’s a woman and this is forbidden anyway. They all only want to steal my husband and this one especially. She ever had the hots for him,” Jim protested, however vain.
“Another infringement of the rules and you are disqualified,” the referee hissed.
"There we are back again, Orgasm Fickopoulus live from the big Olympic stadium of Athenika. The tension increases immensely now. Here in the stadium the excitement is almost grabbable with hands – or what ever. I’m sure, you also feel it at home in front of the screens. For those who just have switched on now, we’ll soon experience the king competition of the 166th Olympic Games of galactic calendar. And there it goes, the countdown starts. The competitors have three minutes to heat their sports equipment with some handy-work. Local hero Hercules is already ready for take-off as I see. Finally some hard facts! Very impressive, aren’t they? Our starter from Vulcan also already shows an impressive hardness. Really not bad. One almost would like to be volunteer himself here. Unfortunately, unfortunately, we reporters are not allowed to participate but perhaps the winner is willing to give an exclusive interview afterward, very exclusively. Our earthly participant seems still to hang somewhat. How I already said: Hanging usually is no world wonder. But perhaps it will work soon. We want to keep our fingers -- or what ever you have instead – crossed for him. Still a minute, Sirs. Soon we will see the cream de la cream of the galactic manliness in action. We hope for a fair but hard competition. Still 30 seconds. Please, go to the start positions. Trained referees of course will take care well, that no-one strikes out too early or does break the rules otherwise. Apart from the competition equipment the use of all other body-parts is forbidden. Five, four, three, on the start, ready and push."
"Spock, you can’t!" Jim shouted at the Vulcan. He hesitated briefly -- and then pushed into McCoy.
"Ah, ahhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Ladies and gentlemen and asexual beings. The competition has started. A lightning start from Hercules, the son of Zeus. He already has hit his first bull's eye."
"Already two and number three also seems to be near:”
"There he has him already. What a rapid start. Is the galactic record probably in danger? For memory, dear audience, he stands at 52.345 minutes. If one of the participants should have made all 20 of his competition objects satisfied in less then an hour the competition will be finished. Otherwise this one is the winner who has made most in an hour."
"Oh, Spock! Yesss!"
"Also Mr. Spock has pointed for the first time. Look at the different techniques of the two athletes, dear audience. Very aesthetic the deep push-technique of the Vulcan participant. Hercules tries it, however, with short, intense pushes. But this doesn't seem to work with number four. Still there is not much to see.”
"Aye, oh aye!"
"The Vulcan is coming up. Number two is finished. Meanwhile the earthly participant still pauses at the start. Seems to be a serious, technical problem. Failing just at this highlight is really regrettable. But perhaps he still comes. Better late then never, don't you think so?”
"Oh holy mother Russia, da, da!”
"Spock has come up on Hercules. Both are at number four now. The son of the Zeus seems now to change his tactics. He also changes to the deep technology, we keep our fingers crossed for him that he has success with that. Number four seems to be a particularly difficult candidate. It has passed only eight minutes of the competition, dear ladies and gentlemen. A thrilling and hot head to head thrusting seems to come along. Only the human Kirk still has problems.”
With open mouth and tears in his eyes Jim stared at Spock and his partners. "You traitors," he cried.
The guy kneeling in front of him turned around. "Shut the hole, we want to have some fun, too,” he demanded but Jim didn't look at him at all.
"En guard !!!!"
"Double hit from Spock and Hercules! Simply marvellous. Yes, this is top-level sport on the highest standard. Both candidates change to number five. But what is this? A foul at the Vulcan!"
With the cry “he belongs to me” Jim rushed at Christine and shoved her aside, ignoring the whistle of the referee. "Take me, Spock! Make it to me, only me, not them! I’m much better than them.”
Another two referees rushed to them and dragged him from the Vulcan. "This is my husband!" Jim yelled but he was struggled roughly to the ground.
"Outzsch!" Jim looked around confusedly and rubbed his sore cheek. “You’ve hit me," he noticed and looked up to Spock, accusingly. Spock stood in front of the sofa on which Jim had slept. His hands now behind his back.
"I am sorry, Jim, but you did not wake up, so I felt forced to use drastic actions.”
"I have dreamt," mumbled Jim and blinked, still caught a bit in his dream, as he realised that this had left him not quite without real consequences. Spock also had noticed this because he handed him the sofa cushion.
"The contents of your dream did not have escaped me," he replied a bit too pointed for a Vulcan. "Therefore I felt forced to wake you. You should not make certain remarks in the presence of our children.”
"Oh." Jim blushed slightly. What might he have said? The dream somehow had really been a bit unusual. He looked at Tommy and Sarah, who spellbound watched the intergalactic Olympics Games on the vid-screen, like they did since days now? To his disappointment, because for once he again would have enjoyed seeing a beautiful love movie. Ever this exercised athletes – he felt a bit... old. If Spock now liked these types better then him?
"They have heard nothing," Jim noticed and got up. "Let’s go upstairs," he suggested and rubbed himself on Spock. "And organise our own Olympic Games. I have an idea for an interesting, new competition and we must exercise much.”