Confessions of a Talking Pig

BY : Odon
Category: Star Trek > Voyager
Dragon prints: 2515
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Voyager, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Title: Confessions of a Talking Pig

Author: Odon.

Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager

Pairing: Torres/Seven.

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete.

Series/Sequel: No.

Summary: Remember “Fair Haven” - the episode that broke the hearts of J/(insert favourite character)’ers everywhere? There’s a line where the Doctor says, “I’ve been hearing a lot of confessions lately.” But exactly what kind of confessions did he hear?

Warning: This story contains coarse language and lurid confessions of homosexuality between women.

Disclaimer: No profit is intended in the writing of this story. Star Trek: Voyager, its characters are the property of Paramount and Viacom.

Feedback to: odon05@hotmail.com. Archiving and downloading is allowed as long as you credit the author.
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CONFESSIONS OF A TALKING PIG

“It was a miracle Father,” said the voice from out of the darkness. “Once I was but a humble bartender, with no more knowledge of what lay beyond the boundaries of our tiny village than Mossie Donegan’s Talking Pig! Then one day as I was strolling peacefully down the road to the train station I had this sudden revelation, a gift from the Almighty Himself. It was as if all the knowledge in Trinity College was poured into my head. My mind was opened up to a whole new world of poets, writers and philosophers. Of Jane Eldon and Sean Gogarty.”

“That must have been truly wonderful, my son,” said the Emergency Medical Hologram, silently cursing Ensign Paris to the hottest part of Hell. Why couldn’t he have made this confession booth bigger? No wonder that HD25 Isomorph had gone nuts if he’d had to spend his entire existence in a cupboard like this.

“Yes it was wonderful indeed,” continued Michael Sullivan. “It made me feel an inch taller. It was then that I met her - Katie O’Clare. A wanton, auburn-haired beauty with a fire in her eyes, the devil in her hips, and a thirst for coffee like no woman I’ve ever met.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows wriggled like a logic-struck Vulcan. “Yes?” he said, eager for details on the captain’s sex life. Purely in his role as Voyager’s Chief Medical Officer, of course.

When the Doctor had first found out about Tom Paris’ latest holoprogram ‘Fair Haven’, he’d instantly realised his suitability for the role of the village priest. What with his natural authority and brilliant insight into humanity he was ideal for the part, though Ensign Paris had muttered something about modesty, humility and a sympathetic nature. ‘Well!’ Doc thought with indignation. ‘What would Mr Paris know about those things?’

“We were dancing a feisty jig together and then, all of a sudden, all I could see was her. Hang on a minute, how did that happen? The room was full of people!”

“Never mind that,” snapped the Doctor impatiently. “Get to the sin!”

“She told me that she had not had a man in six years. She opened my trousers and began using her mouth in a manner no decent Catholic girl should__”

“Doctor, report to Sickbay. I require your assistance.”

“Damn! I mean . . . those who cheat on their wives are damned, my son!”

“What wife?” asked a puzzled Sullivan.

Doc frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be married?”

“You know Father, you’re the twentieth person in three days who’s asked me that!”

* * * *

The Doctor materialised in Sickbay to find Seven of Nine waiting for him, looking somewhat worse for wear. Her hair had come loose from its tight bun and her dermaplastic biosuit was in shreds.

“Seven, what happened to your clothes?!”

The statuesque Borg raised an eyebrow. “I was about to ask you the same question.”

“What?” Doc looked down at his robes. “Oh yes! Lieutenant Torres adjusted my program to give me the appearance of an Irish priest from the nineteenth century. The clothes suit me quite well, don’t you think?”

“You look absurd,” replied Seven, showing all her usual tact.

“Hmmph! So what happened to you?”

“I was strolling in the woods in Ensign Paris’ new holoprogram. He said it would help ‘clear my mind’. Suddenly I was tackled from behind and thrown to the ground, my clothes were torn from my body and I was bitten, pawed and licked all over.”

“What was it?” asked the Doctor in alarm. “Some kind of wild animal?”

Seven pondered for a moment. “That is a valid description.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“I ate my assailant.”

Doc couldn’t help smiling in approval. Seven’s deadpan style of humour was improving, no doubt due to his excellent social lessons.

“You really should be more careful, Seven,” said the EMH, picking up a dermal regenerator. “A beautiful young woman like yourself shouldn’t be wandering around alone like that.”

“I was not in any danger,” replied Seven arrogantly.

“I don’t know about that,” said the Doctor, a smirk twisting his photonic features. “I have it on good authority that our captain has finally decided to break her long-held vows of celibacy. She’s looking for a lover who’s outspoken, confident, highly intelligent, and taller than she is. You’re lucky you weren’t attacked by a ferocious sex-starved redhead!”

* * * *

Doc heard the confession booth creak ominously as if a large object twice its size was trying to squeeze inside. He rolled his eyes. “What is it THIS time, Seamus?”

“Father, I need your counsel! I’ve broken the Sixth Commandment!”

“I see,” was the Doctor’s dry response.

“It’s my own fault Father,” Seamus wept. “The Good Lord blessed me with a fine wife. I’ll never forget the day I met her. I was on me way to the Fair in Dooleen . . . or was it Kilkee? Ah, there's some fine trout fishing to be had in Kilkee this time of year__”

“Never mind all that! Whom did you commit adultery with?”

“I met her in Sullivan’s. Oh but she was beautiful, Father. It was as if the Lily and the Rose were staging a competition on her face. The fullness of her lips, the paleness of her cheeks, the massive size of her bosom - it was enough to make a man faint! As I watched her toss those rings with elegant perfection, each one neatly impaled on the upright thrust of the peg, I felt stirrings in a part of my body that had not been upright for many a year.”

“Hmmm,” said Doc, profoundly unimpressed. “And the name of this tavern floozy you caroused with?”

“She called herself ‘Seven of Nine’.”

“WHAT?!” shouted Doc, fuming with jealous rage. “Adultery is a very serious sin, my son! I think a severe penance is in order! We’ll start by self-flagellation down the main street of Fair Haven with a whip of spiny blackthorn, followed by bathing your wounds in ice-cold salty water, then rolling in red hot coals__”

“I’ve already been punished for my sins, Father! After we had finished our love-making the lass said I was inefficient, and that she would have to ‘redesign my parameters’. So she gave me this!”

Doc jumped back in shock as a massive Borg limb smashed through the divide of the confession booth. Various tiny probes on the end of the appendage vibrated and spun threateningly in his face.

“Seven of Nine to the Doctor. Report to Sickbay at once.”

“Gladly! Seamus . . . uuuh . . . say ten Our Fathers and tell your wife you had an unfortunate encounter with an extremely mischievous leprechaun. Computer, transfer me to Sickbay immediately!”

The Doctor got stuck into the former drone the second he appeared in Sickbay. “Dammit Seven, I’ve just been talking to Seamus! You’ve given him a Borg arm!”

Seven gave Doc a haughty look. “That was not his ARM, Doctor. I enhanced his__ ”

“I don’t want to know!” said the EMH hastily. “What’s the problem this time?”

“I damaged the human components of my body while adopting an unusual position.”

“What kind of position?” asked the Doctor, scanning her with ill grace. “Mmm. A few strained ligaments and some stress on your exoskeleton. Nothing that can’t be put right.”

“I was hanging upside down in Jeffries tube 37-Alpha.”

Doc gaped. “What on Earth were you doing?”

“Lieutenant Torres and I were attempting to join two normally disparate elements into a mutually beneficial coupling through tactile stimulation of various sensitive regions, resulting in an inevitable yet highly satisfying overload of cortical function and verbal coherence.”

“I see,” said the Doctor, completely confused by this technobabble. “Well I suppose you and B’Elanna can achieve a lot when you stop bickering and start applying your mutual talents.”

There was an amused twinkle in Seven’s eye. “Indeed.”

* * * *

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” said the voice of a young woman, unsuccessfully trying to copy the rolling lilt of Fair Haven’s natural inhabitants.

The Doctor raised his eyes heavenward. Not even Mr Paris could create a hologram with an Irish accent that phony. Clearly his latest visitor was a Voyager crewmember. “And what is this sin?”

“I have been unfaithful to my boyfriend,” said the voice which, despite its awful accent and repeated fits of giggling, seemed strangely familiar to the EMH.

“I see,” said Doc wryly, noting that his confessor didn’t sound very repentant. “And how did this happen?”

“I was strolling down the main street of Fair Haven, enjoying the sun and gnawing on an unusually-shaped potato that I’d bought from Liam O’Dell the Grocer when I saw HER, that walking six-foot icicle of an ex-drone, go off into the woods as if she expected to find Perfection lying in some glade like the Holy Grail; the light shining from it like the sun she believes shines out of her Borg ass. I know at your sermon you told us not to harbour ill thoughts toward others Father, but I confess that I followed her with the firm intention of doing something wicked and evil. But as I crept along behind that Borg my eyes were drawn uncontrollably to her buttocks that were rolling against eacher her under that skin-tight biosuit. I could feel the pounding of my eight-chambered heart, the blood fever burning in my veins. Father, I just couldn’t help myself, I could see those round perfect cheeks just begging for me to sink my teeth into them and so I threw myself on top of her, I had to possess that wonderful ass! I thought, ‘You can’t do this, think of Tom!’ but I couldn’t stop. I thought, ‘This petaQ Seven of Nine, you can’t stand her!’ but I couldn’t stop Father; resisting that beautiful Borg ass was futile! We scratched and clawed and bit and licked each other and had exquisite mutual orgasms and we hadn’t even got past foreplay yet! Then we were on the ground, among the fallen leaves, eating each other’s pussies under the trees, listening to the sound of Captain Janeway’s orgasms as she screwed her holographic boyfriend by the lake. Oh the passion! The perfection! The efficiency of a Borg-enhanced tongue! The complete absence of pizza crusts digging into my back! The assimilated knowledge of 70,000 sexual positions! The things you can do with an unusually-shaped potato! “Oh Kahless!” I screamed. “Oh Omega molecule!” Seven screamed. “Oh Coffee Beans!” Janeway screamed. And then when it was over I gazed lovingly into those stunning blue eyes, kissed that exquisite mouth goodbye, licked that perfect swan-like neck and nibbled those gorgeous earlobes for the last time, but whenever I moved to go she’d make me come again. It went on like that for hours. I don’t know if you know what it’s like to make love to Seven, Doctor, but it was the best sex I’ve had in my entire life!”

For the first time ever, the Doctor was completely speechless.

“And then,” added B’Elanna in a wicked tone. “I decided to come here to confess . . . because it’s almost as much fun talking about sin as it is to actually commit it.”

Doc turned purple as his personality subroutine threatened to overload in a fit of holographic apoplexy. “I-I think it’s OUTRAGEOUS that a senior officer on this ship would behave in such a manner! But what more could I expect from someone whose ideal man is Mr Paris! The last person that beautiful, innocent young woman needs to introduce her to the joys and pleasures of love is a short-tempered, unfaithful warp plasma monkey, that even Gre’thor sent back for a refund, who bites like a snapping turtle and has got the forehead to match!”

Doc realised he’d made a major mistake when the door to his confession booth was physically ripped from its hinges and thrown from one end of the church to the other by an enraged half-Klingon screaming “ARE YOU CALLING ME A TURTLEHEAD?!”

“Lieutenant Torres, I didn’t mean it! I was just getting into CHARACTARRRRRRGH!!!” the Doctor cried as B’Elanna’s fist slammed into his mobile emitter.

* * * *

Captain Janeway entered Sickbay with a smug smile on her face, trying unsuccessfully to conceal her peculiar bow-legged walk. There had been times over the past six years when Janeway had questioned the wisdom of remaining celibate, but not after her first stupendous orgasm with Michael Sullivan. Of course, that kind of ecstasy could only happen once, but the other 6,598 times they’d made love over the past three days hadn’t been too bad either. Once she’d adjusted her lover’s subroutines to give him the sexual stamina of a rutting Arcaarian bull and to worship her as a Gaelic Love Goddess there’d been no problems (though just wait till she got her hands on the wiseass who’d programmed that Chakotay tattoo to appear on Michael’s forehead!).

Unfortunately her crotch was now rather sore. Still, one discrete wave of the Doctor’s dermal regenerator and she could go back for another marathon sex session.

“Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram.”

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” said a voice from nowhere.

Janeway frowned. “Doctor, where are you?”

“I’m down here!”

The captain felt something nudge her ankle and she looked down, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Captain Janeway!” squealed Mossie Donegan’s Talking Pig in the familiar voice of the Doc. “I want to complain about Lieutenant Torres! She’s gone too far this time!”


THE END.


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