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Pinocchio	By : MKK Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 1486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine or the characters created therein; I write these stories purely for entertainment and receive no money or profit from them.

Chapter List
- 1-Pinocchio
- 1
'The Fairy looked at him and laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the puppet, very confused and anxious at finding his nose growing so.
"I am laughing at the lies you have told."'
"Pinocchio," by Carlo Collodi, 1967
*****
Elishoran Tolan'ku was angry - quietly but blindingly angry. The angrier she became, the more calmly and composedly she behaved, so much so that not a single customer in Quark's bar would ever guess that anything was amiss. Every strand of her feathery blue hair was in place, every nostril in her forehead was twitching normally, every speckle adorning her eye-crests flashed and sparkled in quite the usual Tolavian fashion. But Elishoran was furious. One level above her, the Cardassian tailor, Elim Garak, was wining and dining the young human doctor; one level above her, Elim Garak was practically undressing the handsome human male with his eyes even as his fingers tapped out a gentle rhythm on the doctor's uniformed knee. Elishoran saw it with her own multi-lensed eyes, and what she couldn't see, she sensed - and the more she sensed, the angrier she became, until she was almost a paragon of icy disdain as the Ferengi waiter arrived to refill her glass. She saw the Cardassian and the human rise and, practically arm in arm, walk down the stairs and toward the open doorway of the bar. She saw the Cardassian's hand gently come to rest on the small of the doctor's back as he guided the doctor through the door, and she saw that hand hover just over the seat of the doctor's black trousers as the two men disappeared from view.
"We're pleased with ourselves, aren't we, tailor?" the solitary visitor from the Gamma Quadrant seethed into her drink. "We're not at all the lonely old man we pretended to be - far from it, we're enjoying the companionship of this pretty doctor every chance we get, aren't we?" She smiled an evil little smile. As befit her people and their customs, she had paid a call at Mister Elim Garak's shop soon after arriving at the station known as Deep Space Nine. On her world, clothing served not only as a protective covering and a means of preserving modesty, but as a form of social expression quite unmatched anywhere in the quadrant - travelers were expected to bring back armful after armful of ornate, expensive garments from every place they visited, as trophies of their adventure and as gifts for those left behind. It was a way for those staying at home to vicariously experience the journey and to share in the happiness of the lucky giver, and while Elishoran found it somewhat bizarre to imagine herself and her sisters donning the garb of these strange two-eyed aliens, it was a custom she followed religiously. Garak's shop was recommended to her, once she made this custom known to the leader of the station, and to Garak's shop she went, to place an order that would probably keep the proprietor in latinum well into the next biennium.
And in Garak's shop, she fell instantly and passionately in love with the gray-skinned, blue-eyed alien who greeted her. His mellifluous voice was like spring rain on Virixinus, and those ridges on his forehead, so like her own eye-crests and yet devoid of ornamentation, just cried out to be kissed and caressed. In fact, as befit her strong feminine aggressivenes, Elishoran persistently attempted to do so, until the Cardassian pushed her away and gazed apologetically into her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Miss - Miss, but among my people, ah... We don't do that sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?" Elishoran tried again to wrap her arms around the beguiling creature's neck.
"What you're trying to do. Really, my dear, flattered as I am, I must ask you to stop."
"But why? On my world, when a female is attracted to a male, especially one as obviously potent and virile as you are -" The Cardassian looked both flattered and pained.
"Potent? Virile? Miss-"
"Elishoran."
"Miss Elishoran, I have the sad duty of telling you that I, and Cardassians in general, are neither potent nor virile - in fact, our race is in danger of dying out, we males have so little interest in sex and so little capacity for it." Elishoran was dumbfounded. "Among Alpha Quadrant races, in fact, we are well known as being spectacularly - No, I can't say it." He looked down at the floor, embarrassed. Elishoran placed a gentle, feathered hand on his arm and he hesitantly raised his eyes to meet hers. "We are well-known as being spectacularly under-endowed." The Tolavian was shocked; she had naturally already taken the liberty of groping Garak's trousers, and what she felt there had certainly piqued her considerable interest - the blue-eyed one seemed to read her thoughts. "No," he sadly shook his head," no, you don't understand. It's a fake." Elishoran gasped, and Garak again cast his eyes down.
"I'm so sorry," she tried to soothe him, as he wiped a tear away with the back of his hand. "I'm so very sorry - I didn't know..."
"It's all right," he swallowed, trying not to cry. "I seldom even think of such things, of what I can only wish for and never have. But your sudden interest in me, your attempts to woo me - well, they can only lead to unhappiness and frustration in the end - for both of us." He took a handkerchief out of a hidden pocket and dramatically blew his nose. "In fact, until you came into my shop, I had successfully managed to tell almost no one about my little 'problem,' shall we say. As you may know, I'm the only Cardassian on this station. So I avoid close companionship of any kind as I live out my lonely, sad existence." He sniffled again.
"But - but - I thought I had seen you in the replimat with a young man -"
"Oh, you mean Doctor Bashir," Garak nodded. "Yes, he counsels me about my - difficulties. But there's really nothing that he or anyone else can do about them - I'm sadly cursed to live out my life as an impotent, inadequate Cardassian male." A fresh round of tears threatened to overtake him, as Elishoran patted his trembling shoulders and tried to comfort him, afterward almost doubling her already substantial order with him and regretfully leaving the little shop.
She observed Garak several more times in the following week, and each time, she marveled at how well he managed to cover up his "difficulties" with laughter and conversation. In fact, she vowed to personally thank Doctor Bashir for the compassion he was showing the unfortunate Cardassian; she noticed that he was even going so far as to share late-night intimate suppers with him at Quark's, as well as holosuite adventures that were undoubtedly designed to bolster Garak's abysmally low self-esteem. Elishoran had never seen such a demonstration of care from one's physician, and though she still felt an almost overpowering attraction for the mesmerizing gray-scaled alien, she understood that any more expressions of interest on her part, any more demonstrations of unsolicited affection, would only reopen the wounds he was trying so hard to heal. So she stayed away from him.
Two nights before she was due to briefly leave the station for a visit to Bajor, another Cardassian arrived on DS9. Elishoran, nursing a drink alone at Quark's bar, didn't even look up when the swaggering, uniformed creature sat down near her and ordered a glass of kanaar. "Are you new here?" he asked, and she raised her eyes and stared into his face, also gray, also blue-eyed, but wearing an encouraging and rather arrogant smile. "Care to join me for a drink?"
They drank, they talked, they agreed to return to his rooms for another drink. Elishoran was at first taken aback by the invitation, then decided that perhaps this Cardassian male, too, needed comfort, sympathy and understanding for his lack of sexual ability. She told him so as she reclined on the sofa in the guest quarters, watching him undress. "I'm sure I'll like your real one just as much as that fake one," she murmured sympathetically - that was doubtful, as the fake one was indeed rather impressive, but she did her best to convey a chaste concern.
Gul Dukat, momentarily stunned, could only stare at her wordlessly. Then, as she explained what Garak had confessed to her and how depressed he had become, he threw back his head and laughed until the tears streamed down his face. Elishoran pretended to laugh too, but inside, she vowed that she would never be lied to or laughed at by these aliens again. Dukat, between breathless bouts of mirth, told her not only about Cardassians in general but about Garak in particular, and how he was rumored to be allowing Doctor Bashir many more house calls than even the average Cardassian's stamina would normally be able to sustain. Elishoran nodded, agreed she had been a gullible fool and had been taken advantage of for her money, and then laughed some more.
But as Garak and Bashir disappeared down the corridor, her final night on the station before the official visit to Bajor, she resolved to help the Cardassian with his flaws - one of them, anyway. Why be humiliated and angry, after all, when she possessed the means to punish the Cardassian using the very problem about which he had so elegantly lied? "Very well, Elim Garak," she smiled into her tea, "you win. You lie so convincingly that I never would have doubted you. You play upon my sympathy and compassion so well, and have been so kind to me and so gracious in refusing me, that I only wish to be kind and gracious to you in return. So from now on, your very lies will serve to cure the problem over which you so sorrowfully wept. From now on, every time you lie, your 'under-endowment' will correct itself. You'll grow, my deceitful friend. You'll grow, as will your confidence and your stamina. And, if I know you and the frequency with which you lie, you'll never have occasion to cry over your inadequacies again." She smiled, paid for her drink, and left to board the shuttle for Bajor.
*****
"I'm going as fast as I can, Garak," Bashir panted, as he wrestled with the stubborn neck of his uniform. Garak, already partially undressed and lying on the bed, watched him hungrily. "I don't see why you couldn't at least lend a hand."
"I'd much rather watch YOU tonight. I'm feeling a little - I don't know - guilty, maybe."
"Guilty? You? What for?" Bashir, finally undressed too, lay down next to him and wrapped his arms around his waist.
"Well... I never told you this, but that woman from the Gamma Quadrant had quite a crush on me."
"You mean the blue visitor? With the feathers?" Garak nodded. "I don't blame her," Bashir mumbled, nuzzling against Garak's neck.
"I of course told her I wasn't interested, but she seemed so lonely, just sitting there watching us all the time..."
"So what are you suggesting?" Bashir smiled. "That you're beginning to reconsider?"
"No, but we could have asked her to join us for dinner."
"True. So why didn't you?"
"Because she makes me very uncomfortable - she was so demanding and forceful about everything -"
"Poor darling - don't worry, I can protect you."
"No, but Doctor, the truth be told -"
"Yes?" Bashir lifted his head to look into Garak's eyes.
"I was afraid she'd fall for YOU next."
"I promise you, you have nothing to worry about," Bashir placed one hand on each side of Garak's face, drew him close, and kissed him firmly on the lips. "I've given up blue-haired, three-eyed, crested... whatever she was."
"Thank you, doctor."
"And what about you?"
"Hmm?" Garak asked.
"Have YOU given everyone up for me now?" Bashir was smiling, but his eyes were suddenly serious.
"Doctor, I assure you that I never for a moment gave that woman any encouragement - quite the opposite, in fact -"
"I'm not talking about her - I'm talking about ANYONE."
"No, Julian. There's no one. I've been completely faithful to you and always will be." Garak smiled and drew Bashir tightly against his chest, as the most intriguing little twinge ran through his groin, and the image of Ensign McKean, in just the position yesterday that Bashir was now beginning to assume, flashed across his mind. Life was good.
And life continued to be "good" the next morning, as Garak, invigorated rather than fatigued by the energetic lovemaking of the night before, hosted Ensign McKean in his quarters for a late breakfast. Bashir, at work in the infirmary, had left with a smile on his face, and Garak had promised to meet him for lunch. But when McKean showed up with a torn jacket and the most beguiling expression of hopeful interest, Garak had had no choice but to invite the young fresh-faced Starfleet officer inside for a cup of tea and a little morning conversation.
"Did you make that?" McKean asked, eyeing a particularly ornate tapestry draped across a chair.
"Make? No, my dear boy, I bought it - at a very good price from a Rigellian trader who owed me a favor."
"It's beautiful."
"Thank you - as are you." Garak sat back, sipped his cup of tea, and watched the young man speculatively. Perhaps the encounter that week in the shop had been a fluke, brought on by the boy's homesickness and his fascination with Cardassians - perhaps Garak had been no more than an interesting diversion to him, a way to pass the time. Garak couldn't help smiling, however, at the thought that a man his age had been very well able to provide an energetic "diversion" for one so young and so attractive - so attractive in that blond blue-eyed way that was such a contrast with the doctor's smoldering dark handsomeness. McKean watched him and likewise smiled.
"Something funny?"
"No, not really... It's just that I'm amazed how quickly we've gotten to know one another. Here we already are, having tea in my quarters..."
"Yes, having tea in your quarters... I have to tell you, I had never seen a Cardassian until I was stationed here, Mister Garak."
"I trust we - don't disappoint?"
"No, you don't disappoint," McKean smiled, rising and placing his hands on Garak's shoulders, then sliding his palms up and gently massaging the neckridges as Garak nearly purred in satisfaction. "But - I'm sorry, I invited myself in here this morning - maybe you're busy."
"My dear boy, I have absolutely no plans for the rest of the day," Garak breathed, closing one hand over the ensign's strong hand. "Absolutely no plans - you're free to stay as long as you like and help ease my loneliness." A thoroughly delightful little twinge caused him to shudder with pleasure as McKean straddled him and continued to massage him. Garak closed his eyes and sighed. Just who or what had given him this most unexpected gift? Did it even matter?
*****
"Yes, it matters!" Bashir shouted, causing Garak to glance around the replimat in alarm. "You told me you were going to meet me here for lunch - I waited for you for an HOUR, Garak! I paged your room, I paged your shop, I looked for you in Quark's - and now you show up here for dinner with some incredible story about praying in the Bajoran temple?!" Bashir was livid.
"Well... I WAS praying," Garak sheepishly tried again, all the while wishing that Bashir would stop shouting, get down on his knees, and - no, on second thought, this wasn't the place, despite the lovely sensations Garak was presently experiencing. "I've been feeling especially good lately and thought the Prophets might have had something to do with it."
"Feeling 'especially good'?" Bashir sulked, taking a vicious bite out of his sandwich. "What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, doctor - I can't explain it. I just feel so young and healthy, so full of life, and - and - virile."
"Virile?"
"Yes, virile - as if I'm bursting with passion and energy. Surely you must have noticed last night." He smiled; Bashir, despite himself, smiled too.
"Well, you WERE a little lively, I suppose."
"And not just lively, doctor." Garak winked conspiratorially. "I had a look at myself in the mirror. If I may say so, I'm not exactly badly endowed, even for a Cardassian."
"Oh, you're not, are you?" Bashir scolded with mock seriousness. "That's a pretty high opinion you've got of yourself, Garak - you're not THAT good." Garak only smiled.
"And besides, don't change the subject on me. Where WERE you at lunch? What were you doing?"
"I was - exercising."
"Oh, I see. Because of all that energy bursting from you." Garak nodded. "Funny - I think there was a springball tournament in the gym today - so you couldn't have been exercising there."
"I wasn't. I was - exercising - in my room."
"Alone?"
"Alone." Garak closed his eyes and began to tremble. "Doctor, fascinating as this conversation is, I really must insist we continue it in my quarters. All that pent-up energy with nowhere else to go, you know." He jumped up and began pulling Bashir to his feet. "We can eat afterwards."
"Afterwards? After what? What is it we're going to do, Garak?" But the Cardassian didn't answer, as he continued dragging Bashir toward the door, oblivious to the stares of a few of the other diners. Bashir sighed resignedly and let himself be pulled along.
*****
"Will you please stop waving that thing around me? I'm exhausted." Bashir, sprawled across the bed, closed his eyes and sighed loudly. Garak continued to examine himself in the mirror mounted just inside the bathroom door.
"Doctor - Julian - wouldn't you say there's something a little unusual here? Come and look."
"Oh please, Garak, let me get some sleep," Bashir groaned.
"No, doctor, I'm serious. I look - different - somehow."
"Different than what?" Bashir muttered, eyes still closed.
"Just different - as if I've grown a little bit down there, these last few days." Garak began to preen as he turned yet another angle to the mirror.
"Come on, Garak - I believe Cardassian males stop growing - down there - when they're probably about eighteen years old. Surely you can't be serious."
"Well... It DOES seem incredible. But then again, there's no denying the evidence." Garak grinned broadly, turned his hips yet another few degrees in the mirror, then nodded at his reflection as he returned to the bed. "Say what you will, doctor, but those vegetables you've got me eating must be doing the trick - I'm a new man. Bigger and better in every way -"
"GARAK! I'm trying to SLEEP!" Bashir sputtered, pushing him away. "Do you want me to have to go back to my quarters?" Garak had a fleeting vision of Bashir tiredly limping down the hallway in one direction while Ensign McKean, blond and rosy-faced and perspiring from the gym, approached from the opposite direction, then decided that such thoughts were disloyal toward his new lover and best friend. But, oh, the temptation... Still, Bashir in the morning was a lovely sight to behold, and Garak wouldn't be able to behold it if he drove the doctor back to his room. He closed his eyes, drew Bashir closely against him, and tried to sleep.
*****
Would the lecture never end? Sisko, bursting with news of his most recent trip to the Gamma Quadrant, as well as the recent visits of several Gamma Quadrant residents to Deep Space Nine in turn, droned on and on. Garak had never yet been able to refuse an invitation to one of the Commander's semi-private briefings, so he composed himself and attempted to look interested. Still, he was wretchedly uncomfortable. At breakfast that morning, he had barely been able to keep his hands off Bashir, especially after the doctor had begun questioning him about McKean and the young officer's frequent visits to Garak's shop. Garak had repeatedly denied ever even speaking to the young man about anything other than the latest Federation trouser styles and lapel sizes, and the more he denied, the more he felt the most maddeningly delicious pulses running up and down his groin. He had thought he was going to lose his mind until Bashir, finally convinced, had approached him and wrapped his arms around his neck. Garak slammed him down among the toast and the breakfast dishes, and the last thing he recalled the amazed doctor saying was, "Maybe it DID grow a little, at that."
But now it was mid-afternoon and Garak continued to fidget and squirm. It wouldn't be so bad if only he could find a comfortable position, but his trousers were stretched too tightly and his back hurt. 'I must have eaten too much for lunch,' he thought, as he settled into yet another corner of the chair. Sisko's interminable lecture showed no signs of stopping. "And what I find most fascinating are the telepathic abilities," he was saying. "Some races, similar to the Federation's own Betazoids, can merely sense the emotions of others and, in a limited way, transmit some of those feelings. Other races, from what I've been able to determine, go so far as to transmit much stronger emotions to others - I've even heard rumors that actual physical manifestations can occur... Naturally, the more powerful the race, the less forthcoming its admissions of its own abilities. It's a mystery, in fact, that we have only begun to solve."
"Please, let's not try to solve it this afternoon, Commander," Garak groaned to himself, as his eyes came to rest on Doctor Bashir, seated on the opposite side of the room. Next to him was - Garak flinched. What was McKean doing, sitting with the medical staff? And why did Bashir lean over to speak to him? What were they saying? Garak craned his neck forward but of course could hear nothing, so he tried to focus again on Sisko's lecture, which was at last drawing to a close.
And none too soon - Bashir had leapt to his feet and stormed out of the room, just as the Commander finished. No one noticed him leave, though, as polite applause broke out for Sisko - no one noticed but Garak, who swiftly rose and followed Bashir into the corridor. "Julian, wait!" he shouted to the doctor's retreating back, but Bashir was far ahead of him. He struggled to catch up, but the tightness of his trousers made running difficult and he settled for half-jogging along the corridor instead. He saw the doors to the infirmary hiss closed and he headed for them; they opened at his approach and Bashir, already at the computer console, swiveled around to face him.
"Well, if it isn't the jolly gray giant," he snarled.
"Very funny," Garak patronizingly obliged. "Doctor, I saw you talking to the ensign -"
"I wasn't aware you had company during your 'prayers,' Garak."
"What are you talking about?"
"Or, no, I beg your pardon - you said you had been exercising. Yes, that seems a much more appropriate description of what you must have been doing that afternoon - although I'm sure there were a few prayers said too, a man of your age and all..."
"What is THAT supposed to mean?"
"Never mind." Bashir turned back to his work. "If you'll excuse me, Garak, I'm really quite busy just now."
"Doctor - Julian - I don't know what you were told, or how you came to any of these ridiculous conclusions, but I can assure you, the ensign and I have no personal relationship whatsoever. Yes, he shows some interest in me because I'm a Cardassian. That's not MY fault, and I've certainly done nothing to encourage it!" He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations presently engulfing him. "And besides," he faltered, trying to keep his balance, "what would I want with a youngster like that as compared with a mature, handsome, skillful lover like you?" He smiled hopefully; Bashir ignored him. "Well, if you insist I go, I'll go. I feel foolish even discussing this with you - we sound like a couple of teenagers. Will I - see you later tonight?"
"I doubt it, Garak."
"Tomorrow, then?"
"We'll see. I don't like being lied to. I really don't like it at all - I used to think it was rather funny, but now all it does is annoy me."
"Julian, listen to me." Garak approached him and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Listen carefully. I have NEVER lied to you," a twinge, "and I have never laid one hand on Ensign McKean," another throbbing twinge, "and if you continue treating me this way, I'm going to go to Commander Sisko and ask for help relocating to Bajor or to Earth." A final, decisive shudder passed all through him, and Garak could take no more. "And now, will you PLEASE stop whatever it is you're doing and come to bed?" Bashir glanced up in surprise.
"I don't recall saying anything about bed, Garak."
"Neither do I, but if we don't get to one soon, I can't be held accountable for my actions... I have GOT to get these TROUSERS off!" This last was shouted just as the nurse entered from the corridor; Bashir leapt to his feet and quickly guided his friend towards the doorway.
"Yes, Garak, I'll change that dressing just as soon as I can - Nurse, please see that we're not disturbed." She nodded, confused.
*****
"You see? It IS growing."
"Don't be silly, Garak." Bashir, leaning against the edge of the examination table and pulling up his trousers, threw a quick glance in the Cardassian's direction. "It looks perfectly normal to me."
"Seen many of these before, Doctor? On a Cardassian, that is?"
"You know what I mean - you look exactly the same as you did yesterday, and last week, and last month -"
"You barely looked at it last month - you were too shy."
"Was not."
"Were too."
"Was not."
"This is getting us nowhere," Garak sighed. "There's only one way to tell for sure. Would you please measure it?"
"What?!"
"Would you please get your scanner and MEASURE it, I said. A simple enough request."
"Garak, I have nothing to compare you to - it's not as if I've taken such measurements of you before."
"Then this will be our benchmark, in a manner of speaking." He slid to the edge of the table and looked down interestedly at himself. "I wonder how big Dukat's is..." Bashir, busily trying to locate a mediscanner, began to laugh.
"Maybe we could ask HIM to come in and be our benchmark."
"Maybe we could," Garak agreed, not really listening. Bashir approached him and held the gently whirring instrument near his groin.
"Hmm... hmm... Very interesting. Very interesting indeed."
"What is?"
"The last person to use this equipment didn't wipe off his or her fingerprints." Garak looked nonplussed, then began to laugh out loud as the double entendre dawned on him; Bashir grinned, embarrassed. "That's not exactly what I meant to say."
"Never mind that - what does it say?"
"Precisely what I thought it would say. You're well within what I assume are Cardassian norms. Garak. You're not small by any means, but certainly not the prodigious creature you seem to feel you're becoming."
"How long is it, doctor?"
"That's a rather personal question, Garak... Oh, all right, I was just kidding. One hundred thirty millimeters."
"Is that good?"
"It's not bad," Bashir grinned. "But it's not terribly unusual even among humans - don't look so disappointed - and I certainly don't think it's unusual among Cardassians."
"Then why are my trousers getting so tight?" Garak began to uncomfortably refasten them.
"It's my guess that it's not what's in the front but what's in the back that's stretching them, my friend... Have you kept to that exercise program I recommended?"
"Religiously." Another delightful pulse shot through him. "Well. doctor, I'd love to sit and chat all day, but duty calls. I have a little work I wanted to finish up in my shop." McKean had promised to stop by to pick up his jacket. "You'll excuse me?"
"Certainly, Garak," Bashir, smiling, watched him go. "I'll come see you later."
"Please do," Garak replied, limping slightly out of the infirmary. Even before McKean's visit, there were a few alterations he needed to make to his own wardrobe, the sooner the better.
*****
"I assure you, madam, this brocade is of the finest Tholian silk." The finest, most inexpensive Ferengi knockoff of Tholian silk, anyway, and what did it matter? Garak felt so wonderful at that moment that even the irritable Bajoran harpy presently running her oily hands all over his delicate fabrics appealed to him. Then again, he had no wish to be divested of the very organ that had been favoring him with the most satisfying sensations of late. Could it really be true? Could it really be the case that all his libido had needed, all this time, was a good dose of replicated Earth carrots, spinach, and broccoli? Intriguing - and Doctor Bashir was a genius for prescribing them. Garak grinned happily.
"What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing, madam. Except - are you aware that you have the most lovely, porcelain skin?"
"Hmpf," she sniffed, glancing at Garak suspiciously but not entirely angrily. "I was told you had a silver tongue, Mister Garak."
"Not at all - I simply recognize beauty when I see it."
"Hmpf," she snorted again. Garak held on to the corner of the counter for balance. "Now tell me - if I were to have a dress made from this material, how long would that take?"
"Well, that's difficult to say - I've been rather busy lately, and then of course we'd first need to schedule a fitting..." He eyed her plump figure with interest.
"I'm free now for the fitting. I would need this dress by early next week."
"And you shall have it, madam. The sooner we can begin, the better." That was certainly the truth. "Step into my fitting room, if you please."
"How, may I ask, are you going to measure me? By hand?" Her expression was threatening, but her eyes held a definite glint of hopeful anticipation that Garak did not fail to detect.
"Why certainly, by hand - it's the only way to ensure a proper fit - I don't trust scanners for this level of precision."
"Neither do I."
"Then please wait for me in the fitting room while I find my tape measure... Yes, that's right, it would be much easier if you let me measure you in your undergarments... I'll be right with you."
*****
"Garak," Bashir panted, as he lay sprawled across unrolled bolts of fabric in the Cardassian's storeroom, "that was incredible."
"It was, wasn't it?" Garak grinned happily.
"I don't know what you're doing differently, but... it was incredible, is all I can say."
"Thank you, doctor." Garak closed his eyes and laced his fingers behind his head. "Aren't you glad you decided to pay me that visit after all?"
"Well, yes, but I didn't just come here for the sex, you know. I came here to talk. I get the distinct impression that you've been lying to me more than usual lately, and I don't like it. I don't like what that means for our friendship."
"Lying to you?" Garak opened his eyes, aghast. "Doctor, since we've begun seeing each other so regularly, I find that I'm almost INCAPABLE of lying to you!" Oh, that felt good - too bad Bashir was so obviously exhausted.
"Well, that's good to hear, even if I don't believe it." Bashir rolled over onto his side and pillowed his head on his arm. "What did you do all day?" he drowsily asked. "Anyone come into the shop?"
"No. No one - I was bored silly, and very upset about our conversation earlier." That felt even better, and Garak shifted uncomfortably. "Doctor - are you VERY tired?"
"Oh, please, Garak, " Bashir groaned. "At least allow me a little nap first..." He paused. "You don't want me to measure you again, do you?"
"Why, yes, as a matter of fact," Garak agreed. "That's not a bad idea. That would explain - certain things."
"Well, I haven't got my scanner with me so I guess that means you'll just have to let me rest." He rolled over onto his other side.
"I'VE got a scanner, doctor - a tailoring scanner. And also a tape measure."
"Oh PLEASE, Garak - can't you just use those on yourself?"
"I want you to do it. It would be more accurate."
"And more fun too, I suppose," Bashir sighed resignedly. "All right, Garak, give me the tape measure. Just lie back... This won't hurt... a... bit..." He was silent, and Garak opened his eyes again to see Bashir trying manfully to stifle his laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"This is!" he burst out. "I'm sitting here practically naked on the floor of your shop, holding a tape measure up against your -" He exploded again into giggles, which served only to annoy Garak. "Hold STILL, I said - I thought you wanted an accurate measure!"
"Not if you're going to laugh at me, doctor," Garak indignantly replied.
"I'm not laughing AT you, I'm - there, I'm finished. One hundred and forty millimeters."
"Then I AM growing!"
"What do you mean?"
"You said I was one thirty just this morning."
"Oh, Garak, that was with a medical scanner; this is a tape measure, for crying out loud - I'm sure there's a ten-millimeter margin of error." He began to snicker again.
"All the same, I want you to measure me every single day from now on till I know what's happening."
"I'll tell you what's happening," Bashir sighed, reclining once more on the piles of fabric. "We've got a highly egomaniacal Cardassian who thinks he can grow just by willing it... Are you SURE no one was in the shop today?"
"Why do you say that?" Garak asked nervously.
"That dress hanging in the doorway. It looks like you've just started on it."
"Oh! Oh, yes, I have - an order came in."
"That's beautiful Tholian silk."
"Isn't it, though?" Garak lay back to admire his work, stretching happily as another burst of well-being washed over him. "The finest Tholian craftsmanship. I'd be honored to make you a shirt from it someday."
"Why, thank you, Garak," Bashir smiled, snuggling against him. "I may just take you up on that."
"Doctor - it's getting cold here. Why don't we go back to my quarters?"
"An excellent idea, but remember, Garak, I'm still very tired."
"Yes, yes," Garak, relieved, hurriedly pulled Bashir to his feet. "What I need now more than anything is a nice soft bed and some warm blankets." Oh, how lovely and invigorating that felt - "Please hurry, Julian!"
*****
"What I need now more than anything, Mister Garak, is the truth." Ensign McKean was stern. "Are you or are you not in a relationship with Doctor Bashir?"
"Why do you ask?" The Cardassian's expression was guarded.
"Because I'm not planning to jeopardize my position here by antagonizing one of the senior officers."
"Senior officers?" Garak smiled and continued unfastening his trousers. "My dear boy, Doctor Bashir is not even thirty years old."
"But he's on the command staff." McKean pulled his shirt back on. "And since you refuse to tell me just why he's so interested in my visits here -"
"Wait!" Garak held up his hand. "No, Doctor Bashir and I are not in a 'relationship,' as you put it. We're good friends and enjoy a little conversation, nothing more." He closed his eyes and waited for the delightful surges to subside.
"Then why does he get so angry when he asks how often I'm in your shop?"
"Because - because he thinks I've been working too hard lately, and he doesn't want you to burden me," Garak lied, then closed his eyes again and started breathing a little faster. "Now, if you please, we've only got about half an hour till I need to open up the shop again. Lots of business right before the Gratitude Festival, you know."
"I can imagine." McKean sank back down to the floor but continued watching him. "I'm still not sure if I believe you, though, about the doctor."
"I would never lie to you," Garak lied again, and then, when he could take no more, he lunged forward and grabbed McKean around the neck, wrestling him to the ground. The more slender human struggled halfheartedly for a little while and then began to laugh, his laughter subsiding within a few moments as he gasped instead, "Wow, would you look at THAT?!"
*****
"One hundred sixty millimeters," Bashir proclaimed, rolling up the tape measure, a quizzical expression on his face.
"One sixty? Wasn't it one hundred forty just a day or two ago?"
"I guess so, " Bashir assented, leaning back on the bed and folding his arms behind his head. "I have to admit, it IS a little odd. Is it the same tape measure?"
"Yes, it is." Garak likewise leaned back against the pillows. The two men lay in silence for a while, as Bashir closed his eyes and began to doze. Garak looked over at him, irritated.
"Aren't you even going to let me say I told you so?"
"All right. Go on - say it."
"I told you so, Julian." Garak smiled broadly. "It IS growing. Despite all your objections to the contrary, despite Cardassian biology itself, I'm growing and feeling better every minute."
"I'm happy for you," Bashir yawned. "But now will you please let me get to sleep? I go back on duty in less than six hours."
"An arduous schedule." Garak rolled onto his side and pulled the warm human tightly against him. "And what a pity - I still feel so energetic." He was answered by a gentle snore from Bashir, and he tried to stay still and let drowsiness overtake him too - but it was no use. Wide awake rather than sleepy from his earlier exertions, he longed for something to occupy his mind in the quiet room. HIs glance came to rest on a portable communications unit placed on a nearby table, and he gingerly slid to the edge of the bed to retrieve it. "At least I can check my mail," he thought to himself. The messages, however, were mostly station-wide announcements and the usual advertising from Quark's. There was also a communication from the entertaining Ensign McKean, promising to keep his 'fitting' appointment for 1000 hours the next morning. Smiling, Garak simply replied, "Please don't be late - G." The final letter, however, was a message from a name Garak didn't immediately recognize. Elishoran. Where had he heard that before? Puzzled, he began to read.
"Please excuse my boldness in using your personal communications code, but I was wondering if you were free for dinner tomorrow evening. I will be returning from Bajor on the midday shuttle. I am eager to see you again. Please reply. Elishoran."
Elishoran... Elishoran. Garak was stumped. Could it be a former customer? Or an OO operative under an assumed name that he was supposed to remember? Who in his recent acquaintance had been on Bajor... Of course. He nodded to himself. Elishoran, the visitor from the Gamma Quadrant, the blue-haired feathered entity with the insatiable crush on him, the woman he referred to in his own mind as "the blue lady." No, he had successfully discouraged her once and had no intention of relaxing his guard; the woman was absolutely brazen. At the same time, he had no wish to anger her; she had already placed a substantial order with him and could no doubt be persuaded to spend even more.
"My dear Miss Elishoran," he typed, awkwardly leaning one elbow on the mattress, "how nice to hear from you again. While I would have loved to dine with you before your return to the Gamma Quadrant, I find that my schedule does not permit it. The Bajoran Gratitude Festival is only days away and I must spend nearly every waking moment working in my shop. But I wish you a pleasant journey and hope that we can meet again in the future. I also thank you for your previous order from me - please don't hesitate to call on me if I can be of any assistance to you. Your friend, Elim Garak." He lay back and enjoyed the brief throb that passed through him once he had sent the message. Wonderful. Bashir, snoring more loudly now, didn't stir. Garak sighed with regret - and then a thought occurred to him. The pleasurable sensations he was so often experiencing were a mystery to him, a welcome mystery but still not something he had so regularly been granted in the past... And something else he had also not experienced in the past was the delightful discovery that he was growing again after all these years. Could the two be related? Could all the twinges and pulses and throbs be a signal to him of his miraculously increasing, ah, 'manhood'?
"Doctor!" he hissed, roughly jostling Bashir. Bashir groaned but didn't open his eyes. "I suppose I can do this myself just as easily," Garak decided, reaching for the discarded tape measure. He was already undressed, so with a few adjustments in his position on the bed, he was ready to measure himself. "Hmm... hmm. This can't be right." He seemed to be reading a length of about one hundred and seventy millimeters. But hadn't Bashir just told him one sixty? Perhaps he was measuring incorrectly... A few more squirmings, and the results were identical. He gave up and lay back again, pulling Bashir closer against him, while he idly speculated on whether the dear doctor would mind being measured in his sleep...
"Garak, damn it! That tickles!" Bashir suddenly shouted.
*****
"All right, I'll see you tonight for dinner," Bashir said, turning to leave the shop.
"Yes - I mean no, not exactly. We'll have to eat in your quarters, or mine. I'm trying to avoid someone." Garak continued folding fabric on his worktable.
"Who?"
"The blue lady - remember? From the Gamma Quadrant? She was away visiting Bajor and is coming back today. I refused a dinner invitation from her, so I can't very well let her see me eating with you."
"All right," Bashir smiled. "Tonight, in my quarters. I'll make sure I'm sufficiently well-rested beforehand - oh, and maybe I'll even cook something myself. I always did have a little talent in that direction."
"Yes, your cooking is delicious," Garak replied, shuddering for not one but two reasons this time, the memory of Bashir's special interpretation of pasta primavera and the usual localized throbbing in his groin. "Julian!" he suddenly called out, as Bashir reached the doorway.
"What is it?"
"I forgot to tell you something this morning. I've made a little discovery. You of course remember how differently I've been feeling lately, how -"
"'Lively'?"
"Yes, lively. I think my growing is linked to those feelings. Every time I feel more than especially good, I think I grow a little bit."
"Oh, Garak, I just don't think you can really be growing. I'm probably just measuring you at all different stages, sometimes even when you're a little bit - aroused." He backed away slightly.
"I don't think so - I don't think that's the only reason. I've had at least five of those sensations already today. I'll bet if you were to measure me now -"
"Garak! I'm LATE!"
"- I'll bet if you were to measure me now," Garak repeated, "you'd find I was telling the truth."
Bashir sighed. "That's a funny expression for you to use - telling the truth. And besides, why can't you just measure yourself?"
"I've tried, but you do it so well..." he cooed. "And I want to convince you anyway."
"Oh, okay, fine - into the fitting room!" Bashir ordered, grinning.
"I've got to lock the shop door first." Garak ran for the control panel, then froze. Through the clear glass panels in the door, he could see Elishoran out on the Promenade, speaking to one of the Bajoran shopkeepers. Damn - she appeared to be making her way toward HIS shop now. He ducked back behind the doorway, but it was too late - the Tolavian had spotted him. She hurried over to the door, which Garak slid open just a crack.
"Mister Garak! I wanted to see you! I'd like to place another order with you. I leave in two days and wanted to purchase more of that beautiful clothing from you."
"I'm honored, madam. But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me tonight. Something has just - come up."
"Oh?" She raised an eyecrest, puzzled.
"Yes - I don't - feel well, at the moment. I need to lie down."
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Elishoran sympathized, as Garak struggled to keep from falling to his knees, the sensations were so extraordinary. "Perhaps we can talk later."
"Perhaps. If I'm feeling better." He bowed. "But I wouldn't want you to catch what I've got."
"Mister Garak," the Tolavian smiled, "I don't think it's physically POSSIBLE for me to catch what you've got. But please don't let me keep you from your bed."
Garak coughed dramatically. "Thank you, madam. I do hope to see you again." He closed and locked the door, then raced back to the fitting room, where Bashir was adjusting a scanner. The doctor never even knew what hit him as he went sprawling against the table.
"Garak!" he shouted, flailing wildly for balance. Garak only smiled.
*****
"There's such a concept as too much of a good thing, Garak," Bashir muttered, aiming the mediscanner at the Cardassian's midsection. "There's definitely something unusual going on. You're one hundred ninety millimeters this time, even in this minimally aroused state." Garak grinned in satisfaction. "Stop smiling- this is NOT good. This, in fact, is getting to be positively eerie."
"I find that statement ironic, coming from you - you're the one who was most insistent that I couldn't possibly be growing."
"Well... you CAN'T be. I don't think. But according to this instrument, you most definitely are." Bashir turned and entered the data into the computer. "And it seems as if the growth is accelerating."
"Seems so." Garak yawned. "I'd like to go back to my quarters now, doctor - I'm exhausted."
"Heavy schedule?"
"Yes, the upcoming festival has left me swamped." And the additional fitting his Bajoran customer requested had left him pleasantly lethargic as well.
"Any more orders from our feathered friend?"
"No, she hasn't been back. A pity, though, in some ways." Mainly financial, but no matter. "I understand Commander Sisko is holding another reception for her tonight, and then she returns to the Gamma Quadrant and I can finally stop hiding out from her."
"Any more orders from the ensign?"
"The ensign? Which ensign?" Bashir simply gazed at him. "No, no more orders from him. HE hasn't been back either." McKean had, in fact, been entertaining Garak in his quarters just that morning, and Garak closed his eyes in pleasurable reminiscence.
"Why did you do that just now?"
Garak opened his eyes again. "Do what?"
"You closed your eyes and starting shaking a little bit. Was this another one of those 'twinges' you were telling me about?"
"Well... since you asked - yes. Yes, it was."
"Let me see." Bashir again aimed the mediscanner at Garak's groin. "One hundred ninety-five... Garak, something very odd is going on here."
"Oh, but it feels wonderful." Garak began pulling his clothing back on.
"Tell me a little more about these twinges. When, exactly, do you experience them?"
"There isn't any one particular time," Garak said. "They happen at random, without warning. Daytime, nighttime, here, in the replimat, in my shop..."
"Hmm." Bashir fell silent. "Are you eating anything different? Taking any unusual supplements you haven't told me about?"
"I'm eating more vegetables, if that's what you mean. And I intend to keep doing so, if this is the result. Now, if you're finished here, I've really got to go. We'll talk later." Bashir nodded. "And doctor - don't look so worried. I couldn't be happier."
"I don't know, Garak. This is starting to bother me."
"Well, it doesn't bother ME. Thank you again, doctor!" Garak bowed and left the infirmary, nearly backing into Elishoran Tolan'ku walking past the doorway. "Miss Elishoran!" he beamed happily. He was in too good of a mood to let anything cause him discomfiture. "Good afternoon!"
"Good afternoon to you too, Mister Garak. Are you coming to my reception tonight?"
"No, alas, I'll be working late in my shop and won't be able to join you." A tremor passed through him, both pleasurable and somewhat painful as he began to strain against the front of the larger, looser trousers he had begun wearing. "I have so many orders to finish before the Festival, and I'm still not feeling up to my usual standards."
"Well, from what I can see, you surpass your usual standards - you look positively glowing." She reached out a feathered, clawed hand to grasp at a neckridge, but Garak took hold of her wrist.
"But I feel awful." He let go of the wrist, coughed, then nearly fainted at the sudden burst of arousal. "I was just going to go lie down, as a matter of fact."
"That's too bad. I'm very sorry to hear of your unfortunate illness. I had hoped to be able to get to know you much better. Much, much better. Despite your impotence, you would have been highly prized among females of my race - I had even hoped to take you home with me as one of my nesting partners."
"How wonderful that would have been," Garak choked, trying to keep his balance. "I sincerely regret that I am unable to accommodate you."
"I regret that too. Well, good day, Mister Garak. Get well soon."
"Thank you." He began to walk away from her, but the extreme tightness in his trousers and his groin caused him to slightly hobble instead.
"Is something wrong?" Elishoran called out. "Are you having difficulty walking? Are you in pain?"
"No, nothing is wrong," Garak replied. "It's just my back - it's a little stiff." Another pulse shot through him. "I'll be fine. Nice to have met you again." He hobbled away in the opposite direction, trying desperately not to wince as various acquaintances nodded to him in the corridor. Once alone in his quarters, he peeled off the trousers and stood, gaping at himself, in front of the mirror. "Doctor Bashir - medical emergency!" he shouted in the direction of the comm system,.
*****
"Two hundred thirty millimeters, Garak," Bashir gasped. "That's - that's really quite extraordinary."
"Isn't it, though?" The Cardassian refastened his trousers with an angry tug. "This isn't funny any more."
"I never said it was."
"I must confess, I had welcomed this at first - had even begun looking forward to it, but now... What am I supposed to do, wrap myself around my waist?" Bashir stifled a sudden burst of hysterical laughter at the image as Garak continued, distraught, "If this keeps up, I may require surgery, you know. And soon."
"Well, I'll hold off on that until we figure out what's causing this.. Please concentrate, Garak." The Cardassian had begun to uncomfortably pace the room. "When exactly do these feelings overtake you? Just what are you doing each time? Standing up? Lying down? Does anything hurt? Do you feel a burning sensation?"
"I don't KNOW!" Garak whined, flinging himself into a chair. "I just don't know. I never gave it much thought before now. All I know is that I've begun getting these pulses, and each time I do, I feel them radiating all through me till I can't take it any more."
"Well, keep concentrating." It was now Bashir's turn to pace. "WHEN do you feel these 'pulses'? What are you doing? Do you feel them while you're sleeping? While you're eating?"
"No," Garak replied thoughtfully. "Never while I'm sleeping... Now that you mention it, it occurs to me that I don't think I've ever actually felt one while I was alone, either. I've always been with someone else."
"Doing what?"
"Not what you're thinking. Usually just - talking. Sometimes just by communicator." He fell silent as he tried to remember.
"Talking." Bashir sat down across from him. "Just talking. Well, we're talking - do you feel anything now?"
"No."
"Keep concentrating. Think. Think about what you did in the shop yesterday... Did anyone come in?"
"A few customers."
"Did you talk to them?"
"Of course. But nothing happened." That wasn't true, of course - he had enjoyed a very stimulating little chat with Ensign McKean, who had been arguing with him about the doctor once again... Come to think of it, the feelings he experienced then were exactly the same ones he was experiencing now. He shifted his weight.
"What's the matter?" Bashir's sharp eyes had noticed his sudden discomfort.
"Nothing - I was just thinking... No, nothing unusual happened yesterday." Another pulse.
"Well, this is getting us nowhere," Bashir sighed. "Let's go all the way back to the beginning. Just when did these sensations start?"
"I don't even remember. I wasn't consciously focusing on them; I only gradually came to realize something was happening."
"I think you first mentioned them around the time our visitors from the Gamma Quadrant arrived," Bashir proclaimed with sudden understanding. "Garak, you DID! Remember? You started telling me you were growing, around the time you told me about that blue-haired woman in your shop..." He was becoming more and more excited. "Garak, that's IT! She infected you with some sort of organism. She must have."
"It seems an awfully strange disease to transmit."
"We have no way of knowing WHAT sort of diseases they can transmit - obviously, our medical scans are still woefully inadequate." He grew thoughtful. "Still, I'm puzzled by one thing - the fact that you keep getting these pulses only when you're around others. I can't understand that at all. You've been growing continuously, yet are alone for so much of each day in your shop."
"Yes, I am - I wait patiently for you to come in and relieve the boredom." The twinge this time was nearly intolerable, and Garak rose from his chair and lunged for the surprised doctor. "But can't we discuss this later? I really don't think I can just sit here and talk much longer."
Bashir pushed him away impatiently. "Garak - what are you doing? Are you experiencing these feelings again?"
"I ALWAYS experience these feelings for you, doctor." That was certainly the truth, but Bashir continued to elude him.
"But you're becoming more and more agitated, the longer we discuss this. What is it about our conversation that's been triggering these moods? What IS it?"
"NOTHING, doctor, absolutely nothing. Now will you please come back here and stop making me chase you around the table?"
"Is this what you do with McKean? Chase him around? Attack him without warning?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about,' Garak panted. "'Attack him without warning,' indeed. The ensign is a customer, nothing more." He inhaled sharply, lost his balance, and stumbled, grabbing hold of the back of a chair for support.
"You're lying, Garak." Bashir watched him, both irritated and concerned, and then repeated more slowly, "you're... LYING, Garak. LYING. Every time you've seemed to have one of these episodes in front of me, I've had the feeling that what you were saying was a lie. A LIE, Garak!! Don't you see?"
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean," the Cardassian panted again as he slumped down into the chair.
"It's all crystal clear to me now. I can't quite believe it, of course, but at least it's clear now. You only experience these twinges when you're in contact with others, when you're LYING to others."
"Ridiculous."
"Is it? Try it and see. Tell me a lie. That shouldn't be too difficult for you."
"Doctor, I'm not in the habit of telling lies - OW!" he shouted, grabbing none too gracefully at the front of his own trousers.
"You see? You SEE?" Bashir shouted back, triumphant. "Garak, have you ever heard of an old Earth story about a puppet named Pinocchio? Who was punished for telling lies? Somehow, you've been turned into Pinocchio!"
"I'm aware of the reference, doctor. But as far as I know, Pinocchio was never afflicted with a wildly growing wooden -"
"That's not the point. Listen, we've got to think now. This is serious - somehow, someone or something did this to you, and we've got to figure out who or what it was." He rested his chin on his hand. "Based on the timeframe I've come up with, there's little doubt that this has to do with the visitors from the Gamma Quadrant. Have you had many dealings with them? Many conversations?"
"No, not really - except for Elishoran, of course."
"Elishoran?"
"The blue lady." Garak stood up again and began to pace restlessly back and forth. "She was so difficult to get rid of - she came into my shop one day and within minutes was all over me, kissing me, groping me, squeezing my neck... Oh, but it can't be her. I told her I was incapable of returning her affections, and she believed me."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly. She shows nothing but sympathy and kindness toward me now."
"All the same, I don't think there's anything to lose by having a brief chat with her. I think the reception has already started, so get dressed and we'll go find her."
"And just what will we ask her?" Garak demanded as he strode toward his closet.
"Well... I'm not really sure. We'll think of it when we get there."
"I really have nothing to wear," Garak complained, rummaging through the suits neatly arranged on the rack. "Every single one of these trousers is too tight - I can't even close many of them now."
"So wear a long tunic and leave the fastening open. Let's go."
*****
The reception was a glittering affair; Bajoran guests and Starfleet personnel mingled comfortably with the motley assemblage of visitors from the Gamma Quadrant. Elishoran dazzled all onlookers with her newly frosted blue plumage and glittering eye crests. Her laughter tinkled like bells at a remark from Constable Odo, who graced her with a grudging smile of his own. Everywhere she looked, she saw humanoids and other creatures decked out in the height of fashion of their respective worlds; as someone intensely interested in such things, she highly approved of the colorful panorama spread out before her. Until, that is, her eyes came to rest on an individual who had just entered the room. His long, drab coat was closed all the way down to his knees and looked as if it had never been pressed; underneath, he seemed to be wearing some sort of loose pajama pant. The Cardassian! She smiled, both happiness and malice radiating from her face, and glided toward him.
"Good evening, my dear Mister Garak. I see that you were able to join us after all."
"Yes, but only for a few moments - I'm still very sick," he coughed, then looked as if he were about to double over. Elishoran silently watched him. "I only wanted to see you before you left so I could ask you a question. That is, Doctor Bashir wanted to ask you a question -"; the doctor was engaging in a brief flurry of words with Ensign McKean at the punchbowl, " - ridiculous as it will probably sound to you."
"Why? What's the question?"
Well... you see... Miss Elishoran, have I offended you in some way?"
"Whatever do you mean, Mister Garak?"
"I mean, have I done anything to anger you? Are you unhappy with your purchases?"
"No, Mister Garak, your work is excellent and your prices are fair."
Garak looked both relieved and puzzled. "Thank you. However, I've been experiencing an unusual - illness - lately, that seems to be linked somehow to your arrival from the Gamma Quadrant."
"MY arrival?"
Bashir had finally joined the two and overheard Garak's remarks. "Not just yours, of course - the arrivals in general."
"What are the symptoms of this illness?" Elishoran asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I really don't think this is the place to -" Garak began, but the blue-feathered Tolavian stopped him.
"Well, then, let me see if I can guess the CAUSE of this illness. Mister Garak, you are a liar, an unrepentant, unreformable, pathological liar. And among my people, there is no greater insult than that of being lied to or laughed at - and you, sir, have done both." Garak was speechless. "My congratulations to you, or to the good doctor, whichever of you finally surmised the cause of your distress. And now, gentlemen, if you'll let me rejoin the reception, I wish you a pleasant evening and farewell." She swept past the two men and back toward the center of the room, but Garak grabbed hold of her sleeve.
"Please - you can't just leave me like this! I'm already almost triple my usual - length," he faltered, as Elishoran's musical laugh rang out again.
"Well, then, my congratulations! Your problem seems to have been solved, through your own great skill as a liar and a deceiver."
"My problem?"
"Your inadequacy. Your lack of stamina for a sexual relationship. I assumed, Mister Garak, that I was being told the truth about a subject as personal as that. So I took it upon myself to help you. I trust my assistance proved most welcome?"
"No - I mean yes, but - no, it was NOT welcome, Miss Elishoran - I can't continue to grow like this, or -"
"Why, then, the answer is simple, Mister Garak - you have only to stop lying."
"But I CAN'T!" Garak wailed.
"That, sir, is probably the most truthful thing you've ever said to me. Farewell." She again started to stride back into the reception area, but this time it was Bashir's turn to take hold of her feathered arm.
"Please, Miss Elishoran - Garak meant no harm to you. I don't know how you were able to cause this effect in him, but please, I'm asking you to reverse it."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll have to report this attack on Garak to Commander Sisko and our security staff -"
"No!" Garak shouted; then, more quietly, "no, I assure you, that won't be necessary. I don't want my condition broadcast to the entire station; I think Miss Elishoran and I can come to an agreement on our own." He, with some difficulty, straightened up and faced her. "Whatever you want from me, I'll do it. I won't lie to you or refuse you any longer."
"I don't want you THAT way!" she replied indignantly. "If you didn't wish to mate with me, Mister Garak, or if my manners made you uncomfortable, I would have appreciated you honestly telling me that fact and not hiding behind this intricate web of deceit and evasion. Your mockery of me was intolerable."
"I wasn't mocking you," he pleaded with her. "I would never do that to you. I was simply trying to spare your feelings in the only way I knew how."
"And?" Elishoran prodded him.
"And - I didn't want to anger you and lose your business in my shop. I was afraid telling the truth would only have infuriated you."
"You're making progress, Mister Garak. Very encouraging progress. So this is what I'll do. If you continue to tell the truth, if you in fact tell the truth when a lie would be much easier to tell, I will reverse the effects of your condition gradually."
"How gradually?"
"Gradually. If, however, you continue to lie -"
"I won't. I won't lie, I promise you." Garak nearly sagged his shoulders with relief. "And will I - return to my former... size?"
"Perhaps," Elishoran conceded. "Perhaps."
"How will I know you won't reverse the effects too far?"
"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you, Mister Garak? Ah! Here comes that charming young ensign - perhaps you can test your new resolution with him." She glided away, leaving Garak, Bashir, and a confused Ensign McKean standing together in the alcove. Bashir, still looking a little dazed, roused himself and, with a slowly forming gleam in his eye, addressed his rival.
"Well! I'm glad to hear that Garak's been so helpful, Mister McKean - are the wardrobe alterations proceeding as planned?"
"Sir? Yes... yes, the alterations are perfect."
"Is that true, Garak? The fitting sessions are going well?"
"Y- " Garak stopped. Elishoran had turned and raised one eye crest at him. "They're not fitting sessions, doctor - they're frequent episodes of casual and mutually enjoyable sex." McKean's mouth dropped open. Bashir smiled.
"I see. Well, that's good to know; I suppose if I have any further questions, I have only to ask Garak. Right?" McKean hurried away. In his place waddled the Bajoran matron who had received the special "by hand" fittings from Garak the previous week; Garak closed his eyes in horror at the conversation he knew would ensue. Had Elishoran guided her in his direction as well?
"Mister Garak! I wanted to thank you. The dress is simply marvelous - all my friends can't stop looking at me."
"No doubt," he replied; it was true that she cut a most attention-getting figure in the shimmery imitation silk fabric; it seemed to hug her in just the wrong places and magnify her not inconsiderable bulk two or three times over.
"And I think the best part of all is that Tholian silk is so very slenderizing - don't you agree?"
Bashir coughed; Garak, pained, tried desperately to think of a suitable response. Surely Elishoran's people weren't advocating intentional cruelty against innocent beings for the sake of honesty... And then he had it. "Yes, madam," he bowed, "genuine Tholian silk is indeed VERY slenderizing." He smiled triumphantly.
*****
"We don't have much time, doctor," Garak chided him. "Any day now, and I'll finally be all the way back to my previous state."
Bashir, still drying his hair with a towel, walked into the bedroom. "It's not as if your previous state was so objectionable to me, Garak."
"No, but I rather like this one too," he preened, glancing at himself in the mirror. "Just the right combination of length and width and vitality and -"
"Garak, Elishoran left on the ship days ago. Maybe she really can't affect you once she's beyond the wormhole - maybe you'll stay this way permanently."
"I hadn't thought of that," Garak smiled. "A nice parting gift, if so. I had assumed I was under her power till I was all the way back to the way I started."
"Maybe not - and maybe you can even go back to spinning your usual 'web of lies ond deceptions'."
"Not tonight, doctor," Garak lazily answered, pulling Bashir down onto the bed with him. "Tonight, nothing but the truth. I love you."
"Garak..." Bashir breathed, until the comm system signaled him loudly and ruined the moment.
"Doctor Bashir to the infirmary. Gul Dukat insists upon seeing you, sir. He's returned to the station with an unusual complaint..." Bashir's eyebrow rose.
"A complaint? What do you mean?"
"Well, I think you'd better come and see for yourself," the nurse whispered. Bashir detected the faintest hint of a smile in her voice, though. Or had he only imagined it? "He seems to think he's - shrinking, sir."
"Shrinking?! You mean -"
"Yes, doctor." In the background, Dukat's outraged howls were most definitely not imaginary.
- 1
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Pinocchio