From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE Intro (Picard/Q, m/m, m/f, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 07:42:14 GMT
Distribution: world

Thanks/Notes/etc. on "My Fair Jeanne":

As a departure from adding my usually chatty intros to the head of the
story I thought I'd do things this way for once. This project has been
much more ambitious than my prior efforts and several people share the
blame (sorry, deserve thanks) for that fact. These are by no means
necessary to the story itself, so if thanks and notes aren't your
thing, feel free to move straight (ahem...) to the story.

Thanks and Such: This story is heavily influenced by Atara and to a
lesser extant by Christine. Atara's influence is pretty obvious as far
as content; if one of the later scenes looks extremely like something
from "With or Without You", well, I only borrow (it's not stealing when
you have permission) from the best. She also proofed the story (any
punctuation errors are still my fault, don't blame her), had a hand in
teaching me that semi-colons are used for more than just making winking
smileys  and made some suggestions that made this a better story (Thank
you Beloved).  Christine's influence is more in the way I look at a
certain character (who would that be?) and I owe her many thanks for
that ("are you looking for Atara? I'm Ruth" said in the bathroom before
"The Tempest"; sorry we didn't have more time to talk). I also have to
thank Thomas Moore for listening to me go on at length about this one
and for making intelligent observations from time to time. He's also
responsible for LaForge's comment about Troi (it was a fine MST3K
moment). Mega applause to JdL and PS for maneuvering a pair of
opinionated, stubborn, frequently pompous characters into the sexiest
homoerotic relationship *I've* ever seen on mainstream TV. Not bad for
two straight (presumably) guys. Thanks also to Victoria Lloyd, lead
singer of Clairvoyant (formerly Murmur, formerly Charmed Circle) for a
song called "Seven" which I listened to a lot while writing this (once
you hit the big time dear, remember that you'll need a full time, well
paid Tarot reader :-)  ). If you like the story, all of these people
deserve credit; if you hate it don't blame them, my name is the one 
under the title.

Random notes: Pronouns are a bit of a problem in this one (you'll see
what I mean right away). I made various decisions regarding their use
and hopefully things will make sense. I actually did a little research
in "The New Our Bodies Ourselves", while I may be female, but I still
need to refer to an owners manual now and then. As far as timing, this
takes place after "Generations"  and therefore the ship involved is the
yet unseen NCC 1701E.

This will be my last effort for a while. Between moving, finding a job
(anyone in the Riverside/San Berandino area know of a data entry
position?), learning how to be a stepmom and...ah...my relationship, I
may not have a lot of time to write. Then again...there's one more
Picard/McNeil thing, another Q story, a Picard/Crusher tale...oh my so
little time, so much TrekSmut...

Ruth









From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 1/7 (Picard/Q, m/m, m/f, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 09:23:28 GMT
Distribution: world

Paramount owns the rights to all things Star Trek, but since they seem
to have a blind spot when it comes to this sort of story, I feel free
to write the things that I do. If they don't like it, they can fill the
need themselves; I'd pay *big* money to see even an R version of this
filmed (I'd love to see who would get cast as Jeanne).  ;-)

 Standard warning: this contains sexual situations, homosexuality and
gender-confusion (of course it does, we're talking Q here). 

As usual, your comments are eagerly welcome.

As with everything I do, this is for Atara, who got me started on asfs,
Picard and Q, and (most importantly) the most meaningful relationship
of my life.

			


			My Fair Jeanne
			By Ruth Gifford
			(c) 1995



The tiny speck of light would have been very hard to see, even if the
man in the bed over which it hovered were awake to see it. He wasn't
awake;in fact he was very happily asleep. Asleep and dreaming of a
woman. Who she was wasn't really important to the man (if indeed he
even knew), but what she was doing was very important. This somewhat
faceless fantasy woman had her mouth wrapped around his penis and was
skillfully bringing him close to an orgasm.

The tiny speck of light had a thought. *Is that how you *really* see
women, Jean-Luc? Where is the high-minded man of morals now? Or do
morals go out the window when you're getting...what is that word?....a
blowjob? Disgusting term that, really quite degrading. Speaking of
degrading...* The light seemed to brighten for a brief moment and then
it disappeared.

***

It wasn't much, but it was enough to wake him up. Jean-Luc Picard
rolled over in bed and felt an itch or a tickle against his ear. As he
drifted up out of sleep, the tickle got worse. Groggily he brushed a
hand across his ear to find...hair. Picard was instantly awake. He lay
there quite still for a moment, evaluating the situation. Opening his
eyes,  he realized that he was in his bedroom, everything was as it
should be, and yet something was horribly wrong. His other hand moved
up to his head, but it only confirmed what had happened. "What the
devil?" he muttered as he sat up. He immediately realized that his
voice sounded strange, more high pitched than usual. Once again he
froze, trying to come up with an explanation other than the obvious.
Then he opened his eyes and looked down. 

Breasts. He could hardly miss them, they were outlined plainly by the
thin silk of his pajama top. They weren't big breasts, but he was
really not in a state to judge. The state he was in could best be
described as one of shock. Somehow this was no dream, this was all too
real. He buried his head in his hands, but even that gesture brought no
comfort; a strand of hair brushed across his fingertips. He cautiously
felt his head; the hair was short in front, longer in back. It would
hang below his collar at its longest. Never one to avoid unpleasant
truths, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The strangest thing
about moving was that it *wasn't* strange. Given what he assumed had
happened, he would have expected to be off balance. He wasn't and it
bothered him. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, noticing that 
the movement felt natural. As he approached the mirror, he drew a deep 
breath, gathered his courage and spoke. "Computer, lights level two."
The lights came on and he looked in the mirror.

A startled woman looked back at him. The woman's hair was light gray
and tousled, flatter on one side than on the other. The face...Picard
was suddenly dizzy, and he realized that he had been holding his
breath. Carefully, as if he were on a mission of utmost importance, he
brought his body under control. As his heart rate slowed and his
breathing became steady, he looked in the mirror again. The face looked
familiar, it was his but not really his. It was a strong face for a
woman, but softer, less angular than his own. The cleft in his chin was
gone and the jawline was more rounded. The lips were fuller and the
nose was smaller. Picard abruptly remembered a gawky 14 year old who 
had wished that his nose had waited for the rest of his face to catch
up. He smiled ruefully and the woman in the mirror smiled back. It
transformed the somewhat stern face he'd been staring at into something
more approachable, something...no of course not. The smile vanished.
Picard hesitated, feeling a little embarrassed and then shook his head.
His hands (smaller and with slimmer fingers) moved decisively to the
hem of the pajama top and he lifted it over his head. He had already
seen that the neck was slimmer and now he realized that the shoulders
were narrower. The arms looked thinner but as he tensed one slightly,
he could see muscles move under the skin. Finally he gave up the
pretense of objectivity and just stared at the breasts. They were pale,
pale enough to show the faint hint of veins beneath the surface. They 
seemed to be medium sized, and sagged somewhat. Tipped with pink
nipples that were circled by darker aureoles, they looked pretty much
like breasts should look. His gaze dropped lower to a slim waist. He
could see no more in the mirror, the sink was in the way. He pulled his
pajama shorts off and turned to look in the full length mirror.

The waist was slender, and flared down slightly to a pair of trim hips.
There was a curve to the lower belly, and a neat triangle of gray hair
below that curve. The legs were thinner than his but had well defined
calf muscles, whoever the body belonged to obviously kept to a regimen
of exercise similar to his own. *Of course,* he thought, annoyed. *It
is my body, just made female.* His musing was cut off by the sound of
the alarm. "Off," he called out. A new thought struck him. "Merde," he
said and then, "Now my charms are all o'erthrown, and what strength I
have's mine own..." His voice still sounded strange, higher of course,
than his own. This was a serious problem. The ship ran on voice
commands. Oh, he could do everything by terminal for a while, but
sooner or later he would try to do something that required a voiceprint
authorization, and the pattern wouldn't match.  What about his retinas?
He looked in the mirror, to him, of course, his eyes looked the same; 
still hazel, still set under a pair of dark brows. Apparently his
female counterpart didn't bother to pluck her brows. He looked down at
his legs, they were smooth and hairless. He raised his arms; there was
a sparse patch of gray hair in each armpit. For the first time since he
had woken up, Picard laughed. "A French woman," he said. "Through and
through." For some reason he remembered Jacqualine Plaget, his aunt's
business partner and the woman who had taught a somewhat clumsy young
man the mysteries of life. She hadn't shaved under her arms; it was a
French thing, she'd explained to young Jean-Luc.

He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt
like...desire. He looked in the mirror, the nipples on...his...breasts
had hardened. Thinking of Jacqua had done it, he realized. The feeling
in his stomach was similar to the feeling he usually connected to the
first stirrings of arousal. He turned abruptly away from the mirror and
headed to the shower. 

It was only as he ducked his head under the spray of hot water that he 
realized his mistake. How the hell was he going to wash his hair? It
was not a problem he'd had to worry about for quite a while now. Now,
however it *was* a problem and it was a lot easier to think about than
what had happened to him. *I'm not dealing with this very well,* he
thought, somewhere in the back of his mind. He pushed the thought down
quickly and picked up the bar of soap. It was soap after all, it would
get his hair clean. After he solved the hair problem he realized he had
another one. He paused, the washcloth poised over his chest and then
carefully began to wash his breasts. It was an odd feeling, the nipples
weren't any more sensitive than his own, but, of course, they were
larger. He cupped a breast in one hand, thumb sliding across the nipple
in spite of himself. It was an enjoyable sensation and he shivered,
feeling that tingle in his stomach again. Suddenly, he had a horrible
thought.  Standing there in the shower he spoke aloud, "Q! I assume
there's some point to this?" There was no answer, but the more Picard
thought about it, the more convinced he was that Q was responsible for
his transformation. In the seven years that had passed since meeting Q
at Farpoint, Picard had learned to ignore (most of the time) the
nagging worry that Q was watching him. But now... He finished the
shower quickly. While he couldn't help being rather curious about this
body that he seemed to be stuck with, he was damned if he was going
to...perform for Q's amusement.

A few moments later he stood looking at his dresser drawers with
confusion. The more he thought about it, the stranger the whole thing
became. He was trying to go about his normal morning routine, but it
was proving impossible. What the hell was he going to do about clothes?
He didn't know anything about this body's sizes, so he couldn't just
replicate a female duty uniform. And of course even before the uniform
problem could be solved, there was the underwear problem. He pulled a
pair of briefs out of the drawer and put them on. They weren't all that
comfortable, but they seemed inclined to stay put. He turned to the
closet trying to find something that would work for now. Soon he would
have to face people, but fortunately the first person that he needed 
to talk to about this would be ringing the door chime any moment now.

***

Beverly Crusher was in a good mood as she approached Picard's quarters.
The rehearsals last night for "The Merry Wives of Windsor" had gone
well. It was truly hilarious to see Riker as Falstaff, and everyone was
settling down into their roles well. She had been a little  worried
about tackling Shakespeare, but the whole thing was going smoothly and
she was sure that the captain would enjoy the results. 

As she stepped through the door into the living room, she noticed that
the lights were somewhat lower than normal. "Jean-Luc?" she asked,
peering toward the table. There was someone sitting there and she moved
toward him, beginning to feel the faintest hint of worry. The chair
turned and Crusher stopped in shock, staring at the woman whom she
could barely  make out in the dim light. Who...? 

"It was Q, I'm sure of it," the woman said. Her voice was eerily
familiar, low for a woman's voice and accented. Crusher moved closer,
her hand hovering over her commbadge. "No please, don't call anyone
else yet. I'm not ready...for that."

"Are you...?"  Crusher couldn't finish the sentence; she was too afraid
of the answer.

"Jean-Luc Picard? Yes." The low voice hesitated and then added,
"Computer raise light levels to normal."

In the clear light, Crusher could easily see the resemblance. She
instinctively reached into the pocket of her lab coat, feeling for her
ever present tricorder. She pulled her professional persona around
herself and moved in to begin taking readings. The woman said nothing
until Crusher finished her preliminary scan. "Well?" she asked as the
doctor sat down.

Crusher looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time. Instead
of being reassured by the fact that they were the same as Picard's she
was even more unnerved. It all became too much, she slapped her
commbadge and said "Crusher to Troi. Please report immediately to the
captain's quarters."

"Troi here, I'm already on my way, Beverly," the disembodied voice of
the Ship's Counselor replied.  Picard wasn't surprised, either by
Crusher's actions or by the fact that Troi had already decided that
something was wrong. He sighed.

"I'm surprised she hasn't come down here already," he said. "I've 
been running at a pretty high emotional level." When Crusher said
nothing, he sighed again. "Beverly, I know this is odd, think how I
feel. The only explanation I have is that Q..." he was interrupted by
the sound of the door chime. "Come."

"Captain..." Deanna Troi began as she walked into the room. She put a
hand to her forehead, almost reeling from the onslaught of emotions.
What had started as a sense of unease from Picard earlier was building
up and Crusher's emotions were almost tangible; the doctor was terribly
confused and frightened. Then she saw the woman in the chair, and
things began to make more sense. She knew that the woman, as improbable
as it seemed, was the captain. She turned to Crusher, who looked a
little pale. "It's all right Beverly." Troi pulled out a chair and sat
down, looking again at Picard. "How did this happen, Captain?" she
asked gently. Crusher stared at her, as if Troi had just confirmed her
worst fears.

"I'm not sure," the woman with the captain's eyes replied. Troi could
feel the iron control that Picard was attempting to exert. She knew
that the captain was in shock and that the transformation still seemed
like a nightmare to him. "I was asleep and the I felt this," he lifted
a hand, the slim fingers running through the gray hair. "It was like a
tickle, or a draft on my ear. I have a pretty good idea who's
responsible."

"Q," Crusher said. She had calmed down somewhat. She, like Troi,
realized that Picard was very likely in emotional shock over the whole
thing. She briefly wondered what it would be like to wake up in a
foreign body and she shuddered slightly. "You said you thought it was
Q. Why?"

Picard shook his head, shivering slightly at the sensation of hair
brushing his neck. He had settled for a pair of his more casual uniform
pants and a plain black t-shirt. His boots had been out of the question
and so he was barefoot. For some reason, that made him feel very
vulnerable. At least he thought that was it. He wanted to think that it
wasn't just the body; he knew himself well enough to know that he had
no archaic prejudices against women. But being one... He realized that
Troi and Crusher were looking at him with concern. "I'm sorry," he
said, his voice still sounding strange to him. "I'm having trouble
adjusting. I don't know why I think it was Q, but it makes the most 
sense. If this had happened to anyone in addition to myself, we would
have heard about it by now. If it was random, why me?"

"I think we need to run some tests," Crusher said, retreating again
into her professional persona. She shook her head slightly. "Lots of
tests." She suddenly realized that she was still gripping her
tricorder. She looked down at the reading she had taken. Troi and
Picard looked at her. "Normal Human female," she said, her voice crisp.
"65 years of age, no signs of anything unusual at all. You still have
an artificial heart and you're..." She manipulated the tricorder for a
moment. "I want you in Sickbay."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No... just," she paused, oddly embarrassed. "There are some things
about being a woman that I'm going to have to explain to you, that's
all."

"Well, before I vanish into Sickbay, I'm going to have to turn command
over to Will."

Troi and Crusher exchanged a quick glance. Troi spoke. "Why, Captain?
You don't think you're capable of commanding the ship as a woman?"

Picard sighed, an exasperated sigh. "If I recall, when that energy
field turned me into a 12 year old a year or two ago, Dr. Crusher
decided that I really ought to step down until she had figured out the
cause. Under these circumstances I'm going to need time to get my
bearings. Not to mention that I rather doubt that the computer will
take orders from me." He clenched his fist and then looked suddenly
surprised. Opening his hands he looked down at his fingers.
"Fingernails," he said, shaking his head. "She has fingernails."

Troi leaned forward, an expression of curiosity on her face. "She?"

"This other me," Picard said slowly. He rose from the chair and moved
to stand near a window, looking out at the stars. It was a familiar
action to the counselor, when a conversation of this nature got onto
shaky ground for the captain, he took refuge in the stars. Crusher
jerked her head  at the door in a "shall I leave" gesture and Troi
shook her head. She wanted Beverly here for this.

"Do you think of the body as somehow separate from you, Captain?"

Picard sighed. It was a valid question; Troi's questions were usually
valid questions. It was just that the answers were never simple. He
knew that he couldn't get out of this conversation; even if he put a
stop to it right now, Troi would insist on picking it up later. "I
don't know," he said thoughtfully. "Not entirely separate, but
somehow...not me either. When I was looking in the mirror earlier I had
the thought that this is what I would look like if I had been born
female. Although it's mostly unfamiliar, I do recognize myself in this 
body..." his voice trailed off as he looked at his hands again.
"Jeanne," he said very quietly. 

"Jeanne?" Troi asked softly.

"My mother once told me that if I had been a girl, they would have
named me Jeanne. Jeanne Adele actually..." he fell silent as a thought
struck him. "That's why it looks familiar; my aunt Adele. This face is
very like hers. How odd; but she always said that I looked like a
Gessard." He shook his head and tried to return to the subject at hand.
"I'm sorry, Counselor, I don't mean to ramble."

Troi smiled to herself; this too was familiar. He always wanted their 
sessions to proceed along in an orderly fashion; from A to B and so on.
She had gotten used to that as well. "Look," he now said. "This is
going to take a while to get used to and there's a good chance that Q
will show up long before I do get used to it. He's not the most patient
of entities and hopefully he'll come along, have his laugh and then
once he's convinced that I've been humiliated enough, he'll change me
back."  To Troi, he sounded as if he were making light of the whole
thing, but she could feel the bitterness and confusion that lay just
under the surface. He had always avoided talking to her about his 
feelings about Q and as they had never affected his abilities, she had
never forced the issue.

"It's humiliating to be a female?" Crusher suddenly asked. Picard
started slightly; he had forgotten that she was in the room. 

"No, of course not." Picard replied. Then he thought about it. "I have
no control over it," he tried to explain to the two women. "And that's
the problem. I'll admit that there are times that I've wondered what it
would be like to be a woman, but I didn't choose this. Q just *did* it
to me." Once again he ran a hand through his hair. "If it's not an
attempt to humiliate me, then it's a lesson or a test." He realized
that all his emotions seemed to be very close to the surface. He looked
at Troi, who was looking back with an expression of worry. "What's
wrong with me?" he asked.

Troi wasn't sure how to answer the question. Picard normally controlled
his emotions with an iron reserve. Now, however, she could tell that
his control was slipping away and that it frightened him. She was at a
loss; surely it wasn't the body alone? Human women were not inherently
more emotional than Human men except... She looked at Beverly. The
doctor had made mention of having to explain certain things to the
captain. "Nothing is wrong with you, Captain," the counselor hastened
to reassure Picard. "Right now I think we should just handle this one
step at a time. You're going to have to talk to Commander Riker about
this."

Picard glanced over at the chronometer and sighed. It was already 6:45;
the morning staff meeting was supposed to take place in 15 minutes. "I
think I need some proper clothing," he said. He looked at his feet.
"And some shoes."

"Deanna, why don't you help the captain with that?" Beverly said. Her
eyes met Picard's briefly and he nodded, appreciating her tact. She
knew that he felt  uncomfortable around her and  would find it easier
to maintain an air of professionalism around Troi. "I'll let everyone
know that the meeting will be late." She rose and headed for the door,
then turned back. "Eat something, Jean-Luc," she said sternly. He
nodded again and then she was gone.

***

Will Riker was trying to conceal his impatience. It was a feeling he
had gotten used to. The captain had honed his own patience into a
formidable weapon and Riker had tried to do the same over the years. He
didn't know if he had succeeded, or if he just hid his impatience
better than he used to. He shot another glance at Crusher. "What's
going on, Beverly?" he asked in a low voice. She shook her head and
Riker sighed. Whatever was going on involved the captain, that much was
clear. Beverly had that look of hers, her careful blank "doctor" mask,
and Riker desperately hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong with
Picard.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of the doors behind him
opening. He turned in his chair and stared. *Who the hell?*  Troi
entered the room accompanied by a slim older woman in a red and black
uniform, the four pips of a captain at her collar. "Where's the
captain?" Riker burst out, staring at the woman as she moved calmly to
sit at the head of the table. She was attractive, he realized, short
gray hair, a trim figure and nice eyes. She looked familiar and Riker
wondered where he'd seen her before.

"Right in front of you, Number One," the woman said dryly. Riker's jaw 
dropped. The voice, the accent, the inflection, but no, that was
impossible. Riker looked at Troi, who nodded. He looked back at the
captain.

"May I ask how this occurred, Captain?" Data asked. Riker wondered if
he had really heard a brief pause before the android had used Picard's
title.

"I'm not sure," Picard replied. Riker glanced around the table, Crusher
wasn't surprised of course, Data looked intrigued, and both LaForge and
Worf looked as stunned as Riker felt. The first officer tried to pay
attention to the captain as Picard continued. "I personally think that
Q is responsible, but there is no evidence to support that theory."

"It would explain a lot," Riker managed to say.

"Indeed," Picard agreed. Now that Riker was over his own shock, he
realized that Picard was not as confident as...he appeared. Body or not
Riker just couldn't think of the captain as a *her* and he suspected
that neither could Picard. The captain looked at his hands and said,
"Under the circumstances, Dr. Crusher intends to conduct a large number
of tests and of course, if we cannot reverse the effect, we'll have to
recalibrate the computer to accept my voice." He stopped and shook his
head, and then looked directly at Riker. "Commander Riker, you have
command of the ship until this situation is resolved." Riker nodded and
Picard looked around the table. "Dismissed," the captain said shortly. 

***

"It has to be Q," Crusher said a few hours later in Sickbay. "Come and
look at this." Picard moved off the diagnostic table and moved toward
the screen Beverly was consulting. On his way, he automatically reached
for the waistband of his uniform tunic.

"Merde," he muttered, as his hands met the smooth front of a female
duty uniform. After first putting the close fitting uniform on, it had
taken all his willpower  to leave his quarters and walk through the
ship. He still felt acutely aware of the shape of this body and just
how well that shape was shown off by the red and black uniform. Crusher
gave him a sympathetic glance as he joined her.

"Look here," she said, gesturing to the screen which displayed two
brain scans. "There are identical internal scars, here and here.
They're from where I removed the implants after your capture by the
Borg. And look at this," she continued, pulling up another display.
"The artificial heart in that body was placed just about five years
ago. Everything else, the bone scarring from the arm you broke when you
were a boy, even the neurological defect...it's all exactly the same.
The only difference in your DNA structures are those connected with
your sex. This is the body you would have had if you had been born and
lived your life as a female." 

"That explains why I don't feel off balance, why my movements seem
natural. I would have expected to feel clumsy or awkward but I don't."

"You don't look clumsy at all. You move like you've been in this body
all your life. Of course you still look damned odd to me." She sighed
and a silence descended. 

"Well," Picard finally said. "Can you think of any way to reverse it?
You were able to reverse the effect of that energy field a while back."

Crusher shook her head. "That was a very different set of circumstances
and there have been some modifications to the transporter that would
make me hesitate to try it. I will talk to Data and Geordi about it and
we'll do our best..." she let her voice trail off, knowing that she
wasn't being very encouraging. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc." Picard closed his
eyes and drew a shaky breath. He still seemed to be having difficulty
with his emotional control and Crusher remembered that she had to talk
to him about something else. "I need to talk to you," she said. "My
office?" He nodded and followed her, sitting down and regarding her
nervously. She squared her shoulders, wishing for a brief moment that
she could call Selar in and have her handle this discussion. The
Vulcan's carefully clinical approach might be easier for Jean-Luc. She 
realized that she was just trying to avoid the discussion. *It's just
another woman going through a natural process* she told herself. It
didn't help.


*************************************************************

"If you were the woman and I was the man
would I send you yellow roses?
would I dare toe kiss your hand?

"If You Were the Woman and I Were the Man"

Cowboy Junkies


From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 2/7 (Picard/Q m/m, m/f, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 09:32:01 GMT
Distribution: world



"What do you know about women's cycles?"

"Is that what's happening? I thought that was a myth; women really
aren't slaves to their hormones." His inflection made the sentence a
question. 

"We're all slaves to our hormones, men and women. We all just learn to
live with it. Your case is rather unique, a male consciousness in a
female body. and now that body is in the middle of a very important
change." She sighed. "You're going through the onset of menopause." 

Picard looked down at his hands and then up at Crusher. She had a look
of sympathy on her face, which didn't help his already rocky emotional
control. "Beverly, is this feeling of being out of control emotionally
part of menopause?"

"Some women experience it, along with some purely physical
manifestations of the whole change. Right now your body is in upheaval,
going from one stage of life to another. The body influences the mind
and vice versa, and so even though you think the way you always did,
there are some chemical reactions that will affect your emotions." She
paused and then added, "not to mention the fact that you've had a
severe shock today. I suspect that if you *had* been born Jeanne and
had woken up as Jean-Luc, you would be feeling much the same."

"You're probably right there," he said sighing. "I can't get over the
thought that Q will show up at any moment and start laughing."

"What will you do until then?"

"What I always do, try to do my job. What does my CMO think? Can I do
my job?"

"Physically, yes. Your hormonal levels are a little elevated, I want to
watch that, but there are several women on the ship right now who are
going through menopause and they all do *their* jobs. As for the
emotional state...I want you to work with Troi on that. Once you've
dealt with the shock, I'm sure we'll both certify you as fit for
command. My personal advice is to act as if Q is *not* going to show up
any time soon. Get used to the idea of living in this body."

"Can you get used to the idea of seeing me live in it?" It was a shrewd
question and Beverly dropped her eyes. What would this do to their
tenuous relationship? It was different than the situation with Odan had
been; then it had been different bodies. Now it was (sort of) the same
body. She sighed. "I don't know. It's going to take time, both for me
and for the rest of the crew. I imagine you'll see a lot of double
takes."

"Any advice? This body seems to have come without an owner's manual."

Crusher called up several files and slid an isolinear chip into her
terminal. After the files had downloaded, she handed the chip to
Picard. "Here, the first two are about menopause, they're the standard
texts I give to every woman who's going through it. There are also a
couple of basic women's health files in there. Once I've figured out
how to write what's happened to you in report form, I'll send a copy to
you."

Picard looked at the chip and then back at her. "Thank you," he said
quietly "I'm going to need all the help I can get." Listening to his
voice, Beverly realized that it was the kind of voice that she'd always
envied in other women, low and rich: it was as wonderful to listen to
as his male voice.

"Of course," she replied. "Jean-Luc, if you need anything, advice, a
friend to talk to, even a shoulder to cry on, I'm here." Without
thinking he reached his hand across the desk. She took it and held it
for a moment, surprised at how small it seemed. Then he stood, took his
hand back and left the room. She stared after him long after he was out
of view. As she turned back to her terminal, she muttered, "Q, so help
me I'll wring your neck for this..."

***

After a long session with Troi, Picard felt somewhat restless. Although
he valued her advice, he was getting a little tired of talking about
how he felt about what had happened. Returning to his quarters, he
paced restlessly, avoiding the mirrors in the bedroom and bathroom;
right now he didn't want to see himself at all. Troi had encouraged him
to learn as much about this new body as he could. "Think of it as an
opportunity to explore," she had urged gently. "It is upsetting, I
know, but you have a chance to learn so much." 

Picard laughed to himself, remembering something he'd once overheard 
LaForge say about the Counselor. "She could make having an arm
amputated without anesthesia sound like a valuable experience." The
trouble was that in this case, she was very likely right. Assuming that
Q was responsible for the transformation, there probably *was* a lesson
to be learned. Picard sighed as he sank into an armchair. Why was it
that all of Q's lessons had to be taught in such a highhanded and
brutal manner? And why him? The captain sighed again, he was feeling
sorry for himself, a feeling that occurred all to often when Q was
involved. It was a feeling Picard loathed and he suddenly stood 
up and headed toward the replicator. Calling up the sizing information
Troi had helped him work out, he soon had a change of clothes.

Moments later, he stood in Golden Gate Park, or at least Holodeck
Three's version of it. Stripping off the sweat suit he had worn to get
down here, he began to move through a series of stretches. Again he was
struck with that odd feeling as he realized how natural all his
movements seemed to be. Once he was warmed up and loose, he selected a
foot path at random and began to run. Soon he had settled into the
familiar rhythm, all his concentration centered on the next stride, the
next breath. It felt good to lose himself in the pounding of his feet
against the dirt of the trail and he soon lost track of time. 

He hit the wall somewhat later, and made a quick decision to push past
it. So far this body he was stuck with seemed to be in admirable shape
and he thought it would do him some good to push himself. Ignoring the
pain building up in his calves and thighs he continued to run and then,
suddenly it happened. That familiar runner's high, as his body kicked
in with the endorphins necessary to block the pain. He laughed out
loud, feeling that he could handle anything, even Q. At just the right
point, he began to slow down, coming to a stop near a bench overlooking
one of the many small lakes in the park. He moved through a series of
shakedowns and then lay down on his back on the bench. As he rested,
the events of the morning began to move back into the forefront of his
mind. He sighed heavily, realizing that the running, as good as it had
felt, was just an attempt to escape from what had happened.

"Well Q," he said staring up at the sky, "why this and why now? Do you 
think that I'm not capable of doing my job in this form? Do you think
that I have some sort of ancient prejudice against women? What is
really going on here?" There was no answer and he really hadn't
expected one. He thought about his questions as he stood and began to
stretch again. He could do his job, that he knew. If he *had* ever had
doubts about whether or not a woman could command, his first year
aboard the Stargazer had removed those doubts. He'd learned more about
command from Suriko Wantanabe than he had from anyone else and years
later he would find himself in a tight situation thinking *What would
*the* captain do?* And of course there was Kathryn Janeway; now there
was a captain who was already legendary. Picard smiled; he knew she had
never thought that she couldn't do her job because of her sex and 
he had good reason to know that in her private life she had no problem
with being a woman.

There it was again, that damned flutter in his stomach and an answering
rush of heat between his legs. He stood still for a moment trying to
block out the sensation. Instead all he could think of was the way Kat
had looked as he held her up in the water while she shuddered through
an orgasm. He remembered how intense her concentration had been and how
pleased he had been to be able to give her that feeling. He couldn't
help remembering that he had wondered what her orgasm had felt like.
How...different *was* it for women? Was it better? He had asked a few
of his lovers at various times and none of them had been able to
explain. No surprise of course, when asked the same question, he had
never had an answer. One couldn't answer it; there was no basis for
comparison. Now, of course he *could* find out if he wanted to; he
could return to his quarters and discover what it felt like from the
other side (as it were). Troi would probably approve, he realized
wryly. But what about Q? Would he approve, was this a test of resolve
for Q's "pet"? Sighing, the captain closed down the holodeck and headed
to his quarters.

During the rest of the day he tried to cope with the change. He read
the files Beverly had given him with a sense of unreality. He couldn't
really believe that he would need any of this information. Troi looked
in at one point but he had gotten to the point where he couldn't really
say anything more about the whole thing. She wisely left after a short
conversation and he tried to work on the crew evaluations. The ship
itself was on a routine survey mission and Picard had to wonder if that
fact had been part of the reason Q had done this to him now. 

Around 22:00, his door chime rang and Crusher stood framed in 
the doorway as the doors slid open. "I think you should get a good 
night's sleep and I imagine it will take more than hot milk."

"You're probably right," he said gesturing her into the room. He left 
his desk and stretched.

"Did you eat?" She wandered over to the desk and looked at the plate 
that had obviously been shoved aside. There was a sandwich on it that 
was mostly intact. Picard sighed and opened his mouth to argue. 
Crusher smiled and shook her head. She tried not to laugh out right at 
the expression on the captain's face as he grabbed the plate and sat 
down on the sofa. Regardless of his gender, Picard's facial expressions
were still more familiar to her than her own and she could tell that he
was putting up with her because he felt he had no other choice. He was 
right, she thought as she sat down. Trying to think of a nice neutral 
topic she asked, "So what were you working on?"

Soon they were discussing crew evaluations and she was amused to note 
that the sandwich disappeared rather quickly, followed by a piece of 
apple tart and a cup of tea. She had a piece of tart herself and when 
they finished, she smiled at him. "If you go get ready for bed, I'll 
come and tuck you in."

Picard had regained enough of his sense of humor to reply, "merci 
Maman," before he disappeared into the bedroom. After a short time she 
heard that gorgeous voice call her name. When she came into the 
bedroom, he had the covers pulled well up over his chest and once more 
she hid a smile. Pulling a hypo out of her pocket she pressed it to his
neck and activated it. 

"Good night, Jean-Luc," she said as he drifted off. She remained a 
moment in the darkened bedroom, watching him. Relaxed in sleep, his 
face looked even less like the one she was accustomed to; for some 
reason, he looked particularly vulnerable and she sighed heavily. *He* 
was sleeping, but it would be a long night for her as she tried to come
up with a way to undo what Q had undoubtedly done. She looked up at 
the ceiling as she left the room. "Damn you," she muttered.

***

Picard strode on to the Bridge at the beginning of the Alpha watch two 
days later. In spite of numerous tests and discussions, no one had come
up with a reason for his change, let alone a way to reverse it. He had 
been dealing with the transformation by not dealing with it. He knew 
that Troi was concerned that he wasn't handling things they way she 
thought he should have been, although he had tried to explain his 
thinking to her. He was sure that Q was responsible for what had 
happened and he was tired of Q pushing him around. This time he was 
determined to wait Q out and act as if nothing had changed. That he 
was being unusually unreasonable and stubborn didn't occur to him at 
all. Troi hadn't been able to say that he was incapable of command and 
so had reluctantly approved his return to duty. Data and LaForge 
worked with him to recalibrate the computer to accept his new voice, 
but other than that, nothing had been done to acknowledge Picard's 
unexpected gender change.

As the captain moved toward his chair, Riker saw him look swiftly 
around the Bridge, that automatic glance that reassured Picard that all
was as it should be and which was, as always, followed by the ghost of 
a satisfied smile. It was so strange to see such a familiar expression 
on such an unfamiliar face. Riker was still surprised every time he saw
the captain and it angered him that he couldn't accept what had 
happened. He was just unable to get used to the fact that this good 
looking older woman was really his captain. Riker had served under 
women before and he had never had any problems with female superior 
offices. But this was *Picard* and Riker was having a hard time 
accepting his own reaction to the captain as a female. He was 
accustomed to watching women react to Picard and he hadn't always 
understood what they saw in him. He had asked Deanna once if she 
understood it and she had laughed. 

"Oh Will," she said. "There are so many reasons that a woman would 
find him interesting. He's been in command for a long time and he has 
an air of authority that some women find very attractive. He can be 
aloof, arrogant and he's  very controlled; there are women like that 
kind of challenge." She held up a graceful hand ticking off points on 
her fingers. "He has that wonderful voice, and of course, he's 
amazingly good looking."

Riker had stared at her in surprise. "Good looking? The captain?" 
Seeing that she had meant it, he asked, "Would *you* be interested in 
him if he weren't..."

"Weren't my commanding officer? That doesn't stop a large number of 
people on this ship from being interested." Her voice was gently 
amused, but then she tilted her head and looked at him, her expression 
more serious. "If he weren't my commanding officer and had ever 
indicated in the slightest that he was interested in me, I might 
consider it. And yes, he *is* very attractive..." Her voice had trailed
off as she tried to explain. "He has wonderful eyes and that face..."

Now, as Picard settled into his chair and looked at his readouts, Riker
realized that he now understood a little of what women saw in him. As a
woman, Picard was not as obviously beautiful as Deanna or Beverly. But 
there was something about the high chiseled cheekbones and the dramatic
dark brows against pale ivory skin, that made Riker think of nobility. 
This woman looked like an aristocrat from earlier times, a Roman 
Patrician perhaps, elegant, powerful, and commanding.

"Good morning, Number One," Picard said as he looked up from the 
armrest displays. Of all the things Deanna had said during that long 
ago conversation, the one point that Riker had understood at the time 
had been what she'd said about Picard's voice. Now he understood even 
more; the captain's female voice was truly amazing, as smooth and dark 
as black velvet, as rich as honey. Riker blinked and thought, *Q you 
fucking jerk, what do you want from him?*

"Captain," the first officer replied out loud, his voice a little 
strained. He swiveled his monitor and gave Picard a quick run down of 
the daily reports. 

"Very well, Number One, I'll be in my..." Picard began to say after 
Riker finished.

"Captain," Worf's voice boomed down from the aft deck. "There is a 
vessel approaching. It is a Bli'thanT warship. Her shields are up." 

"Go to Yellow Alert," Picard said. Riker looked at him.

"Bli'thanT? What the hell are they doing out here?"

"Q," Picard replied shortly. "Oh I'm sure they're exploring or 
colonizing, or have some other good reason to be here, but I think this
is the hoop I get to try to jump through."  

Seated in her chair to the left of the captain, Troi blinked at the 
tangle of powerful emotions that Picard experienced when he thought 
about Q. She had worried about Q and the captain for years, knowing 
that there were so many odd nuances to the complicated adversarial 
relationship between the two. Of course, she had known for the last 
four years or so why Q returned time and again to the Enterprise. She 
wondered if Q himself knew what was going on; it was obvious that 
Picard did not. 

"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

"The Bli'thanT have a very rigid social structure," Picard answered as 
they watched the other ship approach on the view screen. "Like the 
Ferengi, their women are kept in seclusion and are not allowed to 
involve themselves in outside affairs. Unlike the Ferengi, who can 
occasionally manage to deal with the women of other races, the 
Bli'thanT look on *all* females as inferiors. This is going to be 
entertaining." His voice had a sharp sarcastic sound to it and Troi 
could feel a faint hint of well-masked nervousness under the steely 
determination that was Picard's prevailing emotion. "Counselor do you 
sense anything that might indicate why they're here?"

Troi stretched her empathic talents and shook her head. "They are 
surprised and a little nervous. They didn't expect to find us here, but

I don't think they're engaged in any covert activities. There is also a
feeling of generalized hostility that seems to be part of their 
emotional make-up."

"The Bli'thanT are know to be suspicious and easily irritated," Data 
supplied. "They have been described as downright paranoid on 
occasion."

"Swell," Riker said sourly. "Just what we need, hostile, paranoid 
misogynists."

"I'm sure we can manage somehow," Picard said dryly. Riker mentally 
kicked himself, he hadn't meant to sound as if he was indicating that 
Picard couldn't handle the situation.

"The Bli'thanT vessel is hailing us," Worf announced. Picard and Riker 
rose from their chairs and Picard nodded to Worf.

"On screen." The screen flickered to reveal a slender ethereal looking 
humanoid male seated in a throne-like command chair in the middle of a 
busy bridge. His skin was a gray and had an odd pearlized appearance 
to it. Instead of hair, his head was covered with what looked like 
millions of fine feathers of a darker pearlized gray. His clothing was 
rich looking and was obviously fitted to show off his slim form. His 
eyes were a startling green and they widened in surprise as Picard 
stepped forward. 

"I'm Captain...Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise," Picard 
said, hoping that his voice conveyed nothing but serene confidence. 
*Thank you *so* much Q,* he thought angrily.

"I am Kess'Ant, I rule this ship," the Bli'thanT captain looked 
directly at Riker, his voice a melodious tenor. "You are a fool, to 
stand behind a female."

Riker said nothing and stepped one step back and even further behind 
Picard, emphasizing his position as second in command. Troi felt 
gratified pride from the captain and she hid a smile. She hardly need 
her empathic abilities to know that Riker was furious and wanted 
nothing more than to give the Bli'thanT captain a piece of his mind.

"What are you doing this far from Bli'thanT?" Picard asked coolly, 
seemingly ignoring Kess'Ant's rudeness.

"I will not talk to you...woman!"

Picard turned to Worf and made a throat-cutting gesture. The screen 
cleared to show the Bli'thanT ship. "Red Alert," Picard ordered. He 
looked briefly at Riker and nodded once, conveying his approval of 
Riker's behavior.

"The Bli'thanT ship is hailing us again," Worf announced.

"Let them sit there and wait for two minutes," Picard ordered. They 
were a long two minutes, during which all the Enterprise's departments 
reported their battle ready status. Picard used the time to try to 
center himself. He was reacting a bit more aggressively than normally 
and he realized that he was going to have to do just what he had told 
Beverly he would do, act as he always did. *Forget what you look like, 
just do the job. What would *the* captain do?*  For obvious reasons 
that question seemed valid right now.

"Two minutes, sir," Worf boomed.

"On screen," Picard said. "Captain Kess'Ant, I believe I asked you a 
question." His voice was mild, but there was no hint of surrender to 
it. Riker watched as the Bli'thanT stared back at Picard, obviously 
struggling with himself. Riker heard a low, almost silent growl and 
glanced up at the tactical station to see Worf's big hands clenched 
into tight fists.

"We are exploring, as is our right," Kess'Ant finally said. "We have 
claimed this territory as ours." Behind him a man who had to be his 
first officer hastily covered a start of surprise.

"Indeed? I assume you're using very old star charts?" Picard asked, his

voice silky smooth. Riker, as always, admired the way Picard could 
sound so polite and yet so insulting. He found it interesting that with

the captain's female voice the trick seemed to work even better.

Kess'Ant glared at Picard. "What do you mean...woman?"

"Well, Captain," Picard said somewhat condescendingly, letting his 
politeness silently point out Kess'Ant's rudeness. "Newer charts would 
have told you that you are in Federation territory. I know that your 
*government* is aware of that. I can have up to date charts sent to 
your ship if you like." He still sounded helpful. Riker glanced at 
Troi, who looked faintly worried.

"Enough of your stupidity. If the Federation chooses to let women 
defend their territory, they deserve to lose that territory. This 
system is ours."

"No," Picard's voice suddenly had steel in it. "It isn't. This is 
Federation territory and while you are welcome to travel through it, 
you *may* not claim it as your own. Do I make myself clear?"

"I do not have to listen to you...kath'da-hash." The universal 
translator struggled a moment and then came up with "stupid bitch." 
Picard had a sudden inspiration.

"I accept your challenge. The hov'tal I believe it's called."

"Women do not fight the hov'tal."

"If she owns land, which I do, a woman *can* fight in challenge matches
when her honor has been insulted." As Picard spoke , the Bli'thanT 
first officer nodded, a surprised look on his face. "I have no husband 
to fight for me. Therefore I *can* call challenge and I do so now."

Kess'Ant  had a look of disgust on his face. "And how will you prove to
my satisfaction that you are a landowner?"

Picard smiled at Kess'Ant. "Captain, you'll just have to take my word. 
Surely you're not afraid of meeting me in combat?" All activity on the 
Bli'thanT bridge had ceased as every crew member stared as Kess'Ant. 
"I will have your answer in an hour," Picard continued, his voice once 
again polite. "In the meanwhile, you may wish to do a little research 
on the capabilities of Galaxy class starships." He gestured and Worf 
cut the channel. There was a profound silence on the bridge as all of 
the senior officers present stared at Picard in shock.

"Captain, did you just agree to single combat?" Riker finally asked.

"No of course not, Number One." Riker relaxed. "I accepted a challenge,
he is the one who has to *agree*." Riker looked nervous again. "He can 
avoid the whole thing by apologizing to me. Regardless of what he does,
he's going to lose a lot of face over this one. If he backs down, he's 
backed down to a woman. If he accepts," Picard smiled, "he has to go 
through a whole purification ritual."

"Why?" Troi asked. "Because you're a woman?"

"No because he'll be in the presence of a naked woman that doesn't 
belong to him."

"What?!!" Riker burst out.

"The hov'tal is fought naked." Picard explained. "Do you have a problem
with that Number One?" 

*********************************************************************

"And just when I think 
that things are in their place
and the Heavens are secure
the whole thing explodes in my face

Just another day
It's just another day..."


"Just Another Day"

Oingo Boingo


From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 3/7 (Picard/Q m/m, f/m, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 09:41:00 GMT
Distribution: world



Riker just stared at Picard in shock. "Captain," Troi said coming to 
his rescue. "May I speak to you in your ready room." Picard sighed, 
but nodded and gestured toward the door.

"You have the bridge, Number One." Once the doors closed behind them 
and they were both settled on the sofa, Picard looked at Troi. "You 
think I'm making a mistake."

"Is that what *you* think? That you're making a mistake?"

"No, I don't."

"Are you reacting this way because of the change?" Troi shot him a 
shrewd look, but Picard was way ahead of her.

"This whole situation wouldn't be happening if it weren't for the 
change," he explained. Troi probed for uncertainty, but he radiated 
confidence.

"Do you really think that Q is responsible for the Bli'thanT being out 
here?"

Picard smiled. "I am *not* being paranoid, Counselor. Yes I'd be 
willing to bet that Q has something to do with it, but even if he 
doesn't, what difference does it make? Can't you see that this *is* a 
situation that simply wouldn't have come up if I weren't a..." his 
voice trailed off as he realized what he'd almost said. "If I weren't a
woman," he said his voice stronger now, "Kess'Ant wouldn't have 
insulted me. Unless we operate under the assumption that the Bli'thanT 
government is considering going to war with the Federation, which I 
doubt." He shrugged. "I'm lucky, I had a...girlfriend at the Academy 
who did her final anthro paper on Bli'thanT culture. I just took 
advantage of my knowledge."

Troi nodded. He was right in assuming that the situation had only come 
about because Kess'Ant had been faced with a woman. But there was one 
other question and one someone had to ask. "Do you think that you can 
hold your own in single combat?" The only emotion her question 
produced in him was amusement.

"I'll have to, won't I?" Picard replied. Troi knew him well enough to 
know that she wasn't going to get any more out of him on that subject. 

"Captain," she said gently. "Are you *really* coming to terms with this
or are you performing for Q?" 

He looked at her solemnly. "Has it ever occurred to you Deanna, that I 
might have been performing for Q for the last seven years or so?" 
Before she could open her mouth, he held up a hand. "I know, I 
know...'is that what you think, Captain?'" She laughed and he 
continued, his voice hushed. "I can't answer that either way, and I 
don't know how I feel about it."

"That's all right Captain," Deanna replied gently. "But when this is 
over, you might want to spend some time thinking about it." She rose 
and smiled at him. "I'll go smooth a few ruffled feathers."

"Deanna," Picard said. She turned to look at him. "Thank you." She 
nodded and left the room. "Well Q? Are you enjoying all of this? How am
I doing so far?" There was, of course, no answer and Picard shook his 
head. He moved to sit behind the desk and began to call up the files on
the Bli'thanT and their combat rituals.

***

An hour later Picard nodded to the Bli'thanT first officer as he and 
five other Bli'thanT stepped off the transporter pad. "Welcome aboard 
the Enterprise. Lt. Sandoval will see you to the lounge we've set aside
for you." The first officer looked at Picard and then gestured his men 
out of the room. They made for the door and Sandoval second looked at 
Picard. The captain nodded and the party left the transporter room. 
Picard looked at the Bli'thanT curiously as Worf moved in closer.

"I am Elan Var'Nath," Picard raised an eyebrow. The young Bli'thanT 
had actually given both of his names. It was an honorable thing to do, 
particularly to someone who might turn out to be an enemy. "You have 
great courage and," suddenly he smiled, "great cunning."

"Thank you," Picard replied.

"All Bli'thanT cannot be judged by one noble idiot. May I know your 
name?"

Picard drew a deep breath. This was terribly important. If there was a 
young, liberal faction among the Bli'thanT, it was in the Federation's 
best interest to make a good impression. "My name...is Jeanne Picard."

"When Kess'Ant fights he tends..."

Picard held up a hand. "I thank you again, but I will find these things
out for myself."

Var'Nath saluted, bringing the palm of his right hand to his forehead. 
"You have honor as well." He sounded surprised. "I may even tell my 
wife about you."

*That's big of you,* Picard thought.

"I will remember your name, Jeanne." Picard knew that Var'Nath was 
*trying* to be open-minded. For a Bli'thanT male to even be talking to 
a female that didn't "belong" to him skirted acceptable behavior, and 
to exchange names was rather unheard of.

"As I will remember yours Elan," Picard replied. The doors to the room 
opened and Sandoval came in. "The rest of your party are settled in, 
sir," she said to Var'Nath. He nodded to her and followed her out.

"Well," Picard said to Riker. "Maybe the Federation should consider 
sending a female captain to negotiate with the Bli'thanT from now on. 
It seems to shake them up. The ship is yours, Number One."

"Captain," Riker acknowledged as Picard and his party stepped on to 
the platform. "Be careful," the first officer added.

"Cluck cluck," Picard said as the shimmer of the transporter began. 
Riker sighed and headed out the door. He hated this kind of situation. 
There were six Bli'thanT hostages aboard, the captain was going into a 
dangerous situation and Riker was stuck waiting. As he rode the lift 
back to join the Bli'thanT party, he muttered, "I hope she knows what 
she's..." he let his voice trail off. Why had he thought that way? Was 
it because Picard had given Var'Nath a female name? He shook his head 
and sighed again.

***

When Picard and his escort materialized aboard the Bli'thanT ship, they
were met by a scowling man who did not welcome them or give them his 
name. Picard ignored the looks he threw at the party and waited him 
out. Finally he turned on his heel and led them to the ship's shuttle 
bay. Small men impressed with their own importance rarely bothered 
Picard and it was easy to stare down one hostile Bli'thanT when you'd 
faced an angry Klingon High Council. Worf and Data followed directly 
behind him and they were followed by three security officers, Lt. 
T'Van, Ensign Hayes, and Ensign Vicario. Picard hadn't bothered to ask 
Worf why he'd assigned an all female squad, he knew his security 
officer well enough to know when the Klingon was making a point. He 
had known that Worf had been furious to the point of rage by Kess'Ant's
insult to Picard, and the captain was grateful that Worf hadn't known 
at the time that the Bli'thanT practiced ritual combat. When they 
reached the shuttle bay, Picard saw that the combat circle had already 
been drawn out. He looked at Kess'Ant who waited on the opposite side 
of the circle flanked by two of his officers. Picard nodded to the 
security team and they moved into position around the circle.

Worf nodded to himself as he saw the other Bli'thanT glare at his team.
Three more unlike women you couldn't imagine. Sondra Hayes was built 
like a tank, short, broad, and solid. T'Van was at the opposite end of 
the spectrum, whip slim, tall and elegant. Silvia Vicario was totally 
unremarkable, so unremarkable that people tended to forget she existed.
Of the three she was the most dangerous because it was all too easy to 
underestimate her. If the Bli'thanT tried anything, these three could 
handle it.

"My name is Jeanne Picard." Worf was jolted back to the business at 
hand by the sound of the captain's voice. It was still odd to hear that
female voice and even odder to hear the female version of Picard's 
name. Worf, looking at Picard's back, realized that the captain had no 
worries about this combat.

"I do not give," Kess'Ant began. One of his seconds leaned forward, 
agitated. Worf had read the rules of the combat, if one of the 
combatants gave their full name then the other had to do the same or 
forfeit the combat. "I am Bevel Kess'Ant." The Bli'thanT captain looked
disgusted with the situation.

"My honorable seconds, Worf and Data," Picard said. Both nodded their 
heads as their names were spoken. The Bli'thanT captain introduced his 
seconds and one of them opened a case and brought it to the middle of 
the circle. Picard nodded at Worf who went out to inspect the weapons. 
They were a pair of slim rapier-like swords with an odd triangular 
blade. Seeing them made Worf's confidence go even higher. Picard would 
have known that these were the customary weapons of the hov'tal. Worf 
had seen the captain fence and knew that Picard's skill was up to the 
task, provided that Kess'Ant wasn't unusually good. Having checked 
each blade carefully, including scratching himself on the back of the 
hand with each to make sure they weren't poisoned, he picked one and 
brought it over to Picard. The captain hefted it and checked the grip. 
"An interesting weapon," Picard said quietly to Worf. "This is 
acceptable," he said in a louder voice.

Kess'Ant stepped out of the robe he was wearing and stood waiting at 
the edge of the circle. He had nothing on under the robe, a move that 
Picard supposed was designed to intimidate. Picard was *not* 
intimidated in the least. Naked, the Bli'thanT captain looked much like
he did dressed, slim, elegant and deadly. Instead of body hair, 
Kess'Ant had fine slate colored feathers along his sides. Otherwise he 
looked a fair amount like a Human male. *It's not as if I've never seen
a naked man before,* was Picard's amused thought, as he unfastened 
the front of his uniform. As if he were accustomed to stripping in
front of a shuttlebay full of strangers, he removed the uniform, his
boots, socks and underwear. The fact of the matter was that he felt
extremely self-conscious and was glad when he managed to remove his bra
without any difficulty. There was a faint sigh from the watching
Bli'thanT when he was done, and he smiled to himself. They would all
have to go through the rather lengthy purification ritual. *Serves them
right*, he thought, as he stepped over the circle and waited for
Kess'Ant.

Worf would rather have not looked at Picard; this had to be difficult 
enough for the captain. But if he didn't watch the combat, he wouldn't 
be fulfilling his duty as a second. Picard tested the grip of the 
weapon and lunged a few time to check the footing of the deck. To 
Worf, Picard looked very small and not particularly strong, but he
reminded himself that, unlike Klingon women, Human women's muscles
weren't all that visible. *The captain has nice legs,* Worf shocked
himself by thinking. He frowned as he tried to pay attention to the
matter at hand. Kess'Ant was stepping forward.

"Until the first blue?," the Bli'thanT captain asked.

"Mine is red," Picard replied, his voice sounding just the least bit 
nervous, "but yes, that is acceptable". He brought the rapier up and 
saluted Kess'Ant, who recognized the intent if not the gesture and 
returned with his own salute. Then, swords moving lazily before them, 
they closed. *God he's fast,* Picard thought as he countered a thrust. 
The Bli'thanT style was far more fluid that the formal rapier style 
that Picard was accustomed to and the captain was glad that he had 
done his fair share of holodeck swashbuckling. He tried a few attacks
of his own and slowly the pattern of this particular dance began to
show. Picard worked hard to look weak and a little frightened. In most 
situations this would not have worked;  any opponent would realize that
Picard's parries showed evidence of considerable skill. Kess'Ant 
however, was too blinded by his preconceived notions and began to get 
sloppy. He started showing off a little, making what Picard assumed 
were considered elegant moves by the Bli'thanT.

Worf watched as the captain seemed to barely able to parry an attack. 
He was *not* blinded by preconceived notions and knew quite well what 
the captain was up to. He smiled to himself, one of the things he'd 
always admired about Picard was his knowledge that over half the battle

went on inside the mind of the combatants. The Human term "head-
games" was one that Klingons understood all too well, and Picard was a 
master at head-games. Kess'Ant attacked in a particularly showy 
maneuver and Picard seemed to fall back. The Bli'thanT moved in to take
advantage and the captain's rapier suddenly flashed and Kess'Ant came 
up short, staring in disbelief at his hip where a long scratch was 
oozing pale blue blood. He hissed in rage and came at Picard, all his 
grace and artistry abandoned. Worf growled and crossed into the circle,
but by the time he reached the two, Picard had handled it, and was 
standing looking down at Kess'Ant.

"I'm waiting for your apology," Picard said calmly, barely breathing 
hard. There was no answer and Picard brought his rapier up to 
Kess'Ant's neck. "I'm not particularly patient, Bevel." He was 
surprised at how angry he was and how disgusted he was with 
Kess'Ant's behavior. He tried to calm down, as Kess'Ant glared up at 
him for a few moments. Everyone else in the shuttlebay held their 
breaths, until a voice spoke from behind Picard.

"You have your apology, Captain Picard." Var'Nath strode across the 
deck of the shuttlebay, crossed into the combat circle and bowed to 
Picard. "On behalf of this ship and the Bli'thanT, I extend my 
apologies to you and your crew for the insult to you. The former 
captain of *my* ship," here he looked at Kess'Ant contemptuously, "has 
dishonored himself by attacking after first blue, and will be dealt 
with." Var'Nath jerked his head and two of the Bli'thanT security 
guards came and dragged Kess'Ant away. Var'Nath turned back to 
Picard. "Are all Federation women like you?" 

"Are all Bli'thanT men like you?" Picard countered. Var'Nath smiled and
stretched out a hand. As Picard reached to take the hand, one of the 
Bli'thanT in the back ground made a choking noise. "You'll have to go 
through yet another ritual won't you?" Picard said, pausing.

Var'Nath bridged the gap and shook Picard's hand. "It's worth it, 
Jeanne." The words were polite and Picard decided to ignore the look in
Var'Nath's eyes and the pressure of his hand.

"Thank you, Elan," he said politely, disengaging his hand. "I should 
return to my ship, but there is one thing I do have to ask you. What 
*are* you doing out here?"

Var'Nath smiled ruefully. "We were on our way to investigate the Scylla

Nebula. That's why the captain, the former captain, was so out of 
sorts. A science mission was a bit of a come down for him."

"And you?"

"No Bli'thanT ship has ever been out this far. I'm looking forward to 
being one of the first Bli'thanT to see the Nebula unaided." He smiled 
sheepishly. "I must sound hopelessly naive and young to you."

"No, you sound just like me." Picard moved over to the pile of his 
clothes and quickly dressed. He turned back to Var'Nath. "Go in light, 
Elan."

"Go in light, Jeanne."

"Picard to Enterprise, six to beam up."

***

"Congratulations, sir," Riker said as Picard stepped off the 
transporter platform.

"Thank you Number One. I'm glad you saw fit to let Var'Nath go back to 
his ship a little early." He shook his head. "Maybe there is some hope 
for the Bli'thanT, but I'm not holding my breath." He turned to Worf. 
"Did you see that last maneuver of Kess'Ant's? Nine times out of ten, 
flashy tricks like that will get you hurt."

"Indeed," Worf agreed. "He should have known from the beginning that 
you knew what you were doing."

"Hah!" Picard laughed shortly. "It worked out well for me that he 
didn't; he was actually quite good. And anyway, women can't fight, 
didn't you know that Worf?" He laughed again as they left the 
transporter room.

***

It was a Tuesday night and so the senior staff gathered in Riker's 
quarters for the usual poker game. None of them were surprised when 
Troi announced that the captain would not be joining them. After 
returning from the combat, Picard had retreated to his quarters to rest
and write his report to Starfleet. Troi knew that the captain was 
hoping that he had passed Q's test and she wondered if that hope was 
justified. It seemed to her that the Bli'thanT situation was just a 
little too obvious for Q. Picard didn't seem to think so, but Troi had 
noticed that the captain didn't always think clearly where Q was 
concerned. It was nothing she could pin down and so she had never 
mentioned her feelings to the captain. She also had reason to know that
Q would never let anything happen to either Picard or the people that 
were important to the captain. Now, as she dealt the cards, she 
listened to Worf talking enthusiastically about the fight.

"...if the captain had been just a little slower, the match would have 
ended right there. As it was," Worf looked at Troi as she cleared her 
throat and looked at the queen in front of him. "No bet," he said and 
Troi began to deal the next round. "As it was, she twisted right out of
the way and was able to get right back into the fight."

"She?" Crusher asked. She looked at her cards. "Twenty."

People anted up and Worf looked at Crusher. "You're the one who's been 
telling us that it makes no difference."

Crusher sighed. "And now, all of a sudden, you accept it because the 
captain can still fight. Fifty."

"Too rich for me," Data said and next to him Geordi nodded, turning his
hand over.

"Well, I have to admit that even before the fight, I had a weird moment
when I thought of the captain as 'she'," Riker said. "Your fifty and 
fifty."

Troi folded and dealt cards to the three remaining players. "Why do 
think that's weird?" she asked. "She used the female version of her 
name more than once today."

"Yes," Crusher said, "but does the captain really think of...hirself as
a woman?" She shrugged as Geordi laughed at her choice of words. 
"Best word I could come up with," she explained. "Fifty."

"Your fifty and one hundred," Worf said. "I don't think so."

Riker looked at his hand. "I'd love to fleece you both, but this hand 
sucks." He turned his cards over. "Maybe that's the only way to deal 
with it. Go with the gender that the person perceives themselves as 
being."

Crusher matched Worf's bet. "Call."

Worf turned his cards over and the doctor grinned, flipping her own 
cards over. "Thank you for your generous contribution to the cause," 
she said as Data gathered up the cards and began shuffling them.

"So if I suddenly decided that I was female," Geordi said to Riker as 
he cut the deck Data presented, "then you'd  think of me that way?"

"Five card stud, aces wild," Data announced as he began to deal.

"It would take a little getting used to," Riker grinned.

"For me too," Geordi said laughing. "No bet."

"I am perpetually confused by notions of gender," Data said, dealing 
the cards. 

"You're not the only one," Troi said laughing. "Fifty."

"Fifty?! You're bluffing," Crusher declared.

"Oh yeah?" Troi said. "Then keep throwing your money away. Data, you 
say you're confused, but you think of yourself as a he, right?"

"Of course," The android replied as he dealt. "I have a male body."

"Fifty," Troi said. She grinned as Crusher sighed and folded. Everyone 
else stayed in the game.

"But some people are convinced that they are trapped in the wrong 
body and go so far as to have long involved treatments and surgery to 
change their sex," Crusher said.

"I wonder if the captain will do that if this turns out not to be Q's 
fault," Riker mused.

"Fifty," Troi said. They all looked at her as Worf and Data folded. 
"Don't ask me," she said, "even if I knew I couldn't tell you."

"Your fifty and fifty nore," Geordi said. "I bet he won't."

"I'm in," Riker said. "Why do you say that?' he asked the engineer.

"Another fifty," Troi said. Riker shot her a look of disgust.

"Forget it," he said, folding.

"I don't know," Geordi answered Riker's earlier question. "It's just a 
hunch. I'll call."

Troi sighed and showed the rest of her hand. Geordi whooped and 
pulled in the pile of chips.

"Shit," Crusher muttered. "I knew you were bluffing." She began to 
gather the cards. "Five card draw, ante up people."

At the end of the evening, Worf walked with Troi to her quarters. "I'm 
surprised," she said as they paused at the door, "that you've been the 
first one to accept the captain as a woman." She smiled at him and 
opened the door. "Come in?"

"The captain is my commanding officer," Worf said as he walked through 
the door. "That's all I need to know and right now I have other things 
on my mind."

Deanna smiled and then growled over her shoulder as she walked toward 
the bedroom. He was right, he *did* have other things on his mind. 

***

Picard finished his report and sent it off. He wondered what Command 
would make of it. He had developed a way of dealing with Q situations 
that involved not writing reports until the scenario played itself out.
Every time, he'd managed to get out of things in a short enough amount 
of time that no one had complained. Now he'd been stuck like this for 
almost three days and the wheels of Starfleet bureaucracy didn't stop 
turning to suit his own personal crisis.

"Well Q," he said as he stripped and headed for the shower. "What the 
hell are you waiting for?" There was no answer and he began to wash 
his hair. He knew that there was one more thing that Q wanted and he 
frowned with determination. Q was going to have a long wait.

***

After five days and no sign of Q, Picard began to try to come to terms 
with his transformation. On the surface, particularly since the combat 
with the Bli'thanT, he was doing quite well; he had even stopped 
feeling embarrassed about walking the corridors of the ship. But, as 
Troi had warned him, he still had serious problems with the thought of 
remaining a woman for the rest of his life. At the Counselor's 
suggestion, he had tried to think of himself as *herself*, but it 
sounded too awkward in his mind. He had told Troi that after 65 years 
as a man it was going to take *some* time to make the transition. 
Privately, of course, he hoped that sooner or later Q would get bored 
and change him back. But there was no indication of the capricious 
entity's presence, and even Picard had to admit that it was only a 
feeling that made him think that Q was responsible for the whole thing 
in the first place.

It was the fifth day that proved his undoing. When he woke that 
morning he was aware of the remnants of a dream fading away. He was 
not very good at remembering his dreams, but there was something 
about this one that made him try. There had been someone with him, 
someone making love to him, but he wasn't sure who... The details were 
fading too rapidly to capture, but the effect of the dream was still 
there, leaving him feeling flushed and aroused. In his half waking 
state he slid a hand down his stomach and into the patch of hair at his
groin. He had tried very hard in the last few days not to touch 
himself, still irrationally afraid that Q was just waiting for him to 
give into the temptation. It was a temptation that was growing 
stronger, but he thought of Q and decided, once again, that he could do
without the experience.

***********************************************************

"You've been running away
From what you don't understand (Love)"

"She Moves in Mysterious Ways"

U2


From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 4/7 (Picard/Q, m/m, f/m, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 09:48:36 GMT
Distribution: world


He was quiet at breakfast and Crusher did most of the talking. Their 
mornings had become extremely awkward; both of them carefully 
avoiding talking about what this newest development would do to their 
already fragile relationship. Picard wasn't surprised that he still 
found her attractive; after all, regardless of the body, the mind had 
the same desires. For some reason this morning he was more acutely 
aware of her presence than usual. He was by now accustomed to his 
body's signals and hoped that she wouldn't notice the flush that he 
felt sure was all too visible on his face. He shifted in his seat, 
suddenly glad that as a female the fact that he was seriously aroused 
would be less obvious.

"Jean-Luc?" Crusher's voice brought him back to reality. He looked at 
her sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Beverly, my mind is a million miles away. I had a 
rather...odd dream this morning."

"Oh?" When he didn't answer, she went on. "Would you rather talk to 
Deanna?"

"No it's just..." his voice trailed off. He tried to tell himself that 
she was not only his friend but also his doctor. He rose from his chair

and began to pace the room. "I'm becoming aware of this body's 
responses and I don't know how to handle it."

"Responses? As in sexual?" She carefully did not look at him, knowing 
how difficult it was for him to discuss the subject. After the 
exhaustive tests she had conducted, she knew exactly what cycle his  
body was going through. "Jean-Luc, it's not surprising that you're 
going through this. Your body is ovulating right now. Between that and 
the hormonal imbalances that come along with menopause, you're going to
experience an increase in your sex drive." *I hope that was clinical 
enough,* she thought.  She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Oh
God, this all just too weird sometimes. If it is Q, I'm going to..."

"That's just the thing, what if it isn't Q? What if it was some unknown
phenomena and I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life?"

"I've been a woman all my life, Jean-Luc," Crusher snapped. "It's not 
*that* bad. Or do you think that there's something wrong with being a 
woman?"

Her words stung, and without thinking he snapped back, "For me there 
is! I'm at a total loss here! Godammit Beverly, I don't know how to 
behave, or how to respond to people. Right now, I'm here with you and 
I'm as attracted to you as always. Then again, this morning I had a 
dream about someone, a man I think...making love to me...in this body."

"So what?" *Careful,* she thought, *he's very wound up right now. 
Avoid the personal aspect, go for the broad implications.* "It's not 
like you can't find women to sleep with or men for that matter. You 
might enjoy it Jean-Luc, you never know." A new thought occurred, and 
she wondered if she should leave it for Deanna or bring it up herself.
"Jean-Luc, have you actually tried to..."

He could tell where she was going and he shook his head emphatically. 
She fell silent and he looked out the window aware of nothing but the 
heat on his face and the heat that echoed it between his legs. His 
nipples were painfully hard against the snug uniform and he crossed 
his arms across his breasts. "Thank you for your concern, Beverly, but 
I think I need to be alone right now."

She rose from her chair, and moved toward him. He looked up at her 
and she saw the fear in his eyes. Control, she realized, the loss of 
control would be the worst of all of this. "You know how to reach me," 
she said. A nonsense thing to say, but she had to say something.

Picard stared at the stars for a long time trying to bring himself 
under control. He then went into the bedroom and hurriedly changed into
his running clothes and a sweat suit and headed for the door. A good 
work out was what he needed. Several hours later he was exhausted, and 
realized that he'd run more in the last five days than he had in the 
five months prior. Since the first morning in this body he had found 
that the time he spent running was the only time he wasn't *aware* of 
the differences. Without thinking, he left the Holodeck in his running 
clothes. The doors of the turbolift were about to close when he heard 
someone yell "Hold the doors please!" Riker came running into the lift.
He had obviously been in the gym, he was wearing white workout clothes 
and carrying a wooden practice b'atleth. "Thanks," he said absently. 
Then "Oh sorry, Captain. It's still a bit of a surprise." 

"For both of us, Number One," Picard replied dryly, trying to hide the 
reaction brought on by his first officer's presence. There was that 
flutter in his stomach and the rush of warmth that he'd experienced 
while looking at Beverly at breakfast. *Oh this is too much! Will, for 
God's sake? He's hardly my type.*  But he couldn't help it, the body 
seemed to have it's own agenda. He stared at the door, glad that he had
an excuse to look flushed. The silence was awkward and Picard felt 
compelled to break it. "It's been a while since I've taken the time to 
run this much," he said. "I found that the change doesn't make very 
much difference when I run. Rather strange really."

"Oh?" Riker paused for a moment, then asked the question he'd been 
dying to ask. "What is it like? What *are* the differences?"

Picard shot him an amused glance, and Riker realized yet again that the
captain's eyes hadn't changed at all. They still conveyed more in one 
look than most people could in a whole conversation. "Dear me," the low
velvet voice murmured. "What are they teaching in the Biology classes 
at the Academy these days?" Riker gulped, was Picard...flirting with 
him? *No, of course he's not, it's just one of his typical dry remarks.
Why have I been reacting like this? It's *still* the captain.* 

Picard shook his head. "Halt lift." The lift halted and Riker realized 
that Picard probably needed to talk to someone other than Deanna and 
Beverly about what had happened. "I can't really tell you, Number One,"
Picard said. "It's strange, but I feel like I've had this body all my 
life. I would have thought that I'd notice the difference in the center
of gravity, or the change in my upper body strength, but I don't. Of 
course it still shocks me every time I look in a mirror, and I had 
forgotten what a damn nuisance hair is." He looked shrewdly at Riker. 
"I would guess that my appearance is probably as hard for all of you to
deal with as it is for me. For the most part, I can avoid mirrors, but 
I'm still getting used to the double takes and odd looks from the 
crew."

*Including you,* Picard wanted to add, but didn't. Riker had been 
trying not to look at his captain since the conversation had begun and 
when he did look at Picard, it was with an expression Picard couldn't 
decipher. He glanced at the b'atleth Riker was holding loosely in his 
large competent hands. Out of the blue, Picard wondered what those 
hands would feel like moving across his skin. He felt it again, that 
involuntary contraction of his inner muscles. *I've *got* to get 
Beverly to take care of this, it's getting out of hand.*  There *were* 
men in Picard's past, not very many and all a long time ago, but now he
wondered if there would be more in his future. He was still attracted 
to women, but his body seemed to have an interest in men as well. He 
was suddenly embarrassed as he became aware that Riker had said 
something. "I beg your pardon, Number One?"

"I said that we'll get used to it eventually." He paused and then with 
his typical 'what the hell' expression, asked. "Do you still think that
Q's responsible and do you expect him to ever change you back?"

"Resume." The soft whir of the 'lift sounded again. Picard looked at 
Riker, his  face unreadable. "I don't know Number One, I just don't 
know." The 'lift arrived at deck eight. They exited in silence and 
Picard headed for his quarters in a hurry. Once inside, he threw 
himself into a chair. All that his exercising had accomplished had been
undone by the chance encounter with Will. He raked his fingers through 
his sweaty hair and suddenly realized that the action no longer felt 
unnatural. He sighed, not knowing where to go from here. He had hoped 
that the exercise would make him too tired to feel the constant waves 
of sexual desire, but it seemed that was just one more difference 
between men and women. He wondered if all women had to go through this 
every month or was it just some women? Did Beverly....? That was not a 
good thing to think about and he pulled himself out of the chair 

Standing in the bedroom, he quickly stripped out of the running 
clothes. As he headed toward the bathroom and the shower, he caught 
sight of himself in the mirror. Since that first morning, he had been 
avoiding mirrors, particularly the full length one. Deanna was urging 
him to get used to what his body looked like but he had resisted the 
idea in the hopes that it wouldn't be necessary. But it was unlike Q to
be this patient and Picard was getting tired of being afraid.

So he faced the mirror and really looked at his body. *My body, not the
body of someone else, of Jeanne, but *my* body, right here, right now.*
His chest was still flushed from the running or maybe it was just the 
sexual tension. He brought a hand up to his right breast and began to 
tease his nipple. He then let his hands explore both breasts and 
decided that he rather liked them. They weren't as big as Deanna's or 
as widely spaced  as Beverly's, but they seemed right somehow; they 
suited his frame. He went back to toying with the nipples; rolling them
in between thumbs and forefingers and looking on as they grew bigger 
and got darker. The feeling was amazing, and he could feel his knees 
growing weak. Slowly he let a hand slide down his stomach, marveling at
the sensitivity of his skin. Then his hand was moving through the 
tangle of gray hair and he cautiously slid his fingers into the warm 
wet folds. It was all he could do not to lose his balance. Spreading 
his legs, he let his fingers explore the outer lips of his vagina, 
carefully brushing a finger across his clitoris and closing his eyes at
the hot rush of sensation. Without really thinking, because it was 
something he always did when he was with a woman, he brought the 
fingers up to his mouth. Salt from the sweat and salt from the wetness 
his body was producing, along with a more delicate taste, a female 
taste...Abruptly his eyes opened and he was faced with the mirrored 
image of a woman standing there, her fingers in her mouth and a look of
dreamy pleasure on her face. His rational mind was appalled, but the 
rest of him wanted more. 

Leaving the mirror, he moved toward the bed. Falling back on it, he 
spread his legs and began to explore this body of his. His hands began 
to move carefully, almost delicately through the patch of hair between 
his legs. He touched himself the way he would touch any new lover, 
paying attention to each feeling, trying to figure out what kinds of 
touches felt the best. Granted, the cues were internal as opposed to 
external, but that didn't matter at this point. Slowly he slid a finger
inside himself and then another. He was wet, very wet and he marveled 
at the feel of the soft slickness of his vagina. He tried to tighten 
his inner muscles. "Oh..." The involuntary moan rather surprised him, 
but the feeling was so incredible. He brushed a finger of the other 
hand across the hard knot of his clitoris. This time, his muscles 
contracted without conscious effort as waves of hot pleasure began to 
wash over him. He was soon breathing heavily and his fingers began to 
move more and more on his clitoris.  It took a few moments but soon he 
found a rhythm. As he moved closer and closer to the orgasm he could 
feel building inside, he could hear his own unsteady breathing and he 
wondered what he looked like, spread out across the bed like this.

"Incredible, you look incredible," a silky voice said softly in his 
ear. The voice was followed by the tip of a tongue carefully exploring 
the ear. Picard's eyes shot open and he rolled away.

"Q!" He had known, he had been right, why hadn't he listened to 
himself?

"Ma Capitaine," Q said, smiling at him. "It's so good to see you 
again...ah...I almost said Jean-Luc, I must get used to this. It's 
Jeanne, isn't it?."

Picard was astonished to feel himself trembling.  Between the anger, 
the feeling of helplessness (a feeling not helped by the fact that Q 
was dressed in his usual Starfleet captain's uniform) and the remnants 
of a desire that was still making his heart pound, he could hardly 
control himself. And so, all he said was "Why? Why me?"

Q looked at him in surprise. "Why not?"

Picard sat up, instinctively bringing his knees up and wrapping his 
arms around them. He tried to gather his scattered composure. "Is there
some lesson I'm supposed to be learning here? Or is it just fun to put 
your pet through his paces? For God's sake Q, what next, how much 
more will you humiliate me?"

"You looked far from humiliated a few *bare* seconds ago, my dear," Q 
said. He reached out a hand and idly brushed a finger across the curve 
of one of Picard's thighs. Picard slapped the hand away, angry at his 
body for the shiver the caress brought on. Some of what he felt must 
have shown on his face, because Q laughed. "You are so coy, Ma 
Capitaine, but even you have to admit that what you were just doing 
felt good."

"And if I admit it, will you leave?" Picard asked, his anger beginning 
to surface as the desire abated somewhat. "Of course it felt good; 
masturbation always feels good. It's one of those disgusting human 
habits you couldn't possibly understand," he added sarcastically.

"Temper temper, Jeanne," Q replied.

"Don't call me that!" Picard snapped.

"Why not? Jean-Luc is a man's name and you're not a man anymore. 
Surely you don't have some sort of barbaric prejudice against women, 
do you? No of course not, Captain Picard is the very model of 
correctness." He paused and looked Picard over. "I must be spending 
too much time in this form, I'm finding you rather distracting." His 
voice was languidly amused, and Picard found himself battling down 
another wave of desire.

"Well, I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem if you changed me back to 
myself," the captain said, his voice angry as he tried desperately to 
bring himself under control.

"Don't be too sure of that, and anyway, there's nothing wrong with a 
little distraction." Again Q reached out, this time brushing a gentle 
finger across Picard's jaw. It felt like a brush with a live wire and 
Picard set his jaw and looked away, not stopping Q, but not giving him 
the satisfaction of a visible response. Q laughed, a low mocking laugh.


"Oh of course, the stoic captain act. Is that really what you want to 
do? Challenge me?"

"What I really want is to be back in my correct body and to have you 
gone."

"No it isn't. Or at least that's not what *all* of you wants. Admit it,

the reason you were laying there on the bed with you hands buried 
between your legs is that you were curious. If I turn you back into a 
man, you'll never know."

"I'll live without knowing," Picard said, but he knew that his voice 
lacked conviction. Despite all his attempts at control, his body was 
still aroused; his nerves felt like they were on fire and he could 
almost feel the pressure of Q's gaze, like a caress against bare skin. 
"You're doing this to me, aren't you?"

"Doing what, Ma Capitaine?" Q asked innocently, moving closer. 
"Actually, although you won't believe me, I'm not. Oh I will admit that

I made sure that your lovely body," his eyes raked Picard's naked form 
again, "had a high hormone level, but beyond that, nothing. No this is 
*you*, Jeanne. Maybe it's just easier to admit in this form." He cocked
his head and smiled. "Of course I've never tried this with you before, 
maybe it would have worked regardless of the body ...hmm?" He brought 
a finger up and began to run it along the outside of Picard's ear

Picard tried to think about something...anything other than the 
sensations of the finger tracing his ear. He had known, back in the 
buried recesses of his conciseness, of his dangerous fascination with 
Q. He had tried for years to ignore the feeling that Q was pursuing him
for other than sadistic reasons. Until now, Q had never been overt 
about what he wanted from Picard. Even now, Picard couldn't be sure 
what Q really *did* want. Did the entity actually want to have sex with
him, or was this just another attempt on Q's part to get his "pet" to 
acknowledge Q's power over him? There *had* always been a subtle (and 
sometimes less than subtle) sexual undercurrent to their relationship, 
an undercurrent that Picard had tried to ignore as much as he possibly 
could. It wasn't always easy, even for someone as controlled as Picard.
As much as Q irritated him, there was something about the him that 
utterly compelled Picard's attention. 

Now, as Q's finger moved to slide under the short fall of hair at the 
back of Picard's neck, the captain couldn't help feeling a sharp 
upsurge of desire. Q wasn't doing anything that overtly indicated his 
powers, but his fingers on Picard's skin were incredibly knowing. While
he might not have been augmenting Picard's desire, he knew all the 
right places to touch. In spite of himself, Picard closed his eyes and 
let out a low moan as Q's fingers moved across the back of his neck and
along his spine. He had to brace himself against the bed, because 
something seemed to have happened to his balance. Q's other hand slid 
around Picard's hip to the inside of the captain's thigh, his fingers 
tracing patterns against the sensitive skin. Without thinking, Picard 
let his legs fall open. Q moved slightly, pulling Picard against him, 
the hand between Picard's legs moving higher. His other hand moved to 
gently cup a breast, the thumb moving slowly across the firm nipple. 
Picard's mind was a mass of confusion and longing; he knew that he 
should try harder to fight this desire that was building up to 
dangerous levels. He'd ignored his feelings for Q for far too long 
however; and now that he acknowledged those feelings, he was 
overwhelmed. *Like dry timber, all it took was one spark...* he 
thought. Exerting a bit more pressure, Q rolled Picard's nipple between
his thumb and forefinger, at the same time the other hand began to 
stroke the captain's sex. "Q, please..." Picard breathed, his voice 
husky.

"You said something Jeanne?" Q's mouth was against Picard's ear now, 
his breath warm against Picard's face. The captain turned and looked 
into Q's eyes for a long moment, his control struggling against his 
long suppressed fascination and the confusing rush of his body's 
desire, and then he gave in. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward until 
their mouths touched. He wondered if this would be enough or if Q would
demand that he further verbalize his need. Q's hands moved and he felt 
himself being taken into a strong embrace. He felt skin against his; 
Q's clothing had vanished. Then the mouth against his was opening and 
he let his own lips open. The kiss was slow, deep, and at some point 
Picard slid one of his hands up to run his fingers through Q's hair. 
When the kiss ended, Q began to nibble on Picard's neck. "Mmmm," he 
said, between nibbles. "I may have outdone myself this time,  you're as
fascinating a woman as you are a man."

Picard let out a gasp as Q found a sensitive spot. "I...would have 
thought that sex with...ohhh...a human would be beneath you...ahhh..." 
He shivered in Q's arms and tried to return the kisses.

"Well...that's not really very important right now," Q murmured into 
his ear. "Stop that..." he added as Picard began to run his hands down 
Q's chest. "My, I had no idea you'd be so eager, Ma Capitaine." He 
pushed Picard onto his back and began to run his hands over the 
captain's body. Picard closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as Q began
to tease his nipples. Everything felt so different, so wonderful and he
wondered if the difference lay in the body or the partner. He was 
finding it easier than usual to relinquish control, to remain passive 
as Q's hands continued to touch him in all the right places. Somehow he
knew that it *wasn't* the body that was bringing on this need to 
surrender, it was the mind. That had always been part of his fear of Q 
he realized, that strong desire to submit to someone who knew just what
he needed. Before much longer, he was not thinking at all, just 
feeling. Q's head was bent over, his mouth on one of Picard's nipples; 
one hand delicately touching his increasingly wet vagina. Picard let 
out a low moan of frustration as Q removed the hand. Q smiled down at 
him and then slid down the bed to end up between Picard's legs. He 
began to kiss his way along the high insides of Picard's thighs as his 
hands opened Picard up. 

Then...Picard threw his head back and cried out as Q's tongue brushed 
ever so lightly against his clitoris. Was this what they had felt, all 
those women he had done this to? Picard loved to go down on women; 
there was just *something* about it. Now he knew how it felt to be the 
woman. A small part of his mind tried to make comparisons, but most of 
his awareness was concentrated on the rush of sensations. He cried out 
again and felt his legs closing around Q's head. The entity responded 
by increasing the pressure of his tongue. The aching build up of 
tension continued, so different than what he was used to. Suddenly, it 
happened...an intense burst of feeling that washed over him. "Oh 
God...ohhhhh..." he cried out. But the feeling didn't stop, rather it 
ebbed and then began to build up again. Q snaked a hand up and 
captured one of Picard's nipples. At the pressure and the feel of that 
firm tongue against his clitoris again, the wave of feeling returned 
and once more he heard himself cry out. As it ebbed again, Q raised his
head and smiled up at him, a smug look on his face. Picard looked down 
at him and didn't know what to say. 

"Speechless, at last," Q said moving up between Picard's legs. "I 
should take advantage of this."

"I rather think you already have," Picard replied, with a ghost of his 
usual sarcasm. 

Q laughed, his hands once more busy between the captain's legs and 
Picard was amazed to feel the need build up again. The orgasms he'd 
already experienced *were* different than what he was used to, they 
seemed to be less concentrated on *one* spot and were more an all over 
feeling. They were also less intense, but wonderful none the less. He 
was glad that Q had seen fit to make sure his female body was multi-
orgasmic. It was one of those things about women that he supposed all 
men were envious of, and now he knew how it felt. Q gently slid two of 
his fingers inside Picard and the captain wondered how much more 
teasing he could stand. The earlier orgasms had merely left him wanting
more. It was oddly liberating;  Q had done this to him, and had already
seen him lose control. He suddenly realized that he didn't have to 
pretend or ignore anything anymore, and so he slid his hands down, 
along Q's thigh and then inward to stroke Q's erection. Q closed his 
eyes, and shivered slightly, moving his fingers gently inside Picard. 
Picard had no idea what his partner was feeling, if he had limited 
himself to human sensations or not. It didn't actually matter, he 
decided as he continued to run his fingers over Q's penis; Q was 
obviously feeling *something* and Picard began to inch his way down the
bed. 

"No, don't," Q said. "Yes, I do feel what you would feel, but I'm 
calling the shots here, Ma Cherie. Or are you trying to distract me 
from the main event?" His fingers began move again, sliding in and out;
his thumb toying with Picard's clitoris.

***************************************************************

"If you could see yourself now baby
it's not my fault
you used to be so in control"

"Bang and Blame"

REM



From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 5/7 (Picard/Q, m/m, m/f, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 09:56:43 GMT
Distribution: world


"Ohhh," Picard finally gasped out. "Q..." Q's hands were replaced with 
the head of his penis and Picard amazed himself by spreading his legs 
open further and tilting his hips eagerly. Q moved slowly, almost too 
slowly, but the feeling as Picard felt himself opening up in response 
to Q's movement was unbelievable. There was nothing to compare it with,
while he had been penetrated as a man, it was totally different as a 
woman. When Q was all the way inside, he stopped and bent his head to 
kiss Picard. As their lips parted, Picard looked up at him. "I had no 
idea what this was like," he breathed, experimentally tightening his 
inner muscles and enjoying the pleased look on Q's face.

"And you like it, don't you, Ma Capitaine?" Q said, with only a trace 
of his usual mocking drawl. "You want more of it?" he teased.

Picard was silent, suddenly sensing that whatever happened in the next 
few seconds was terribly important. He lay there trembling with desire,
a desire he could not blame on any coercion on Q's part. He knew 
somehow that if he told Q to leave now, Q would indeed leave. He 
hesitated a moment longer, but the decision was easier than he would 
have expected. On the other hand, actually coming out and saying
it...that was different.

"Weeell?" drawled Q, in a maddeningly casual tone, slowly moving so
that he almost withdrew, then just as slowly entering Picard again.

"Yes," Picard whispered, desperately hoping that would be enough. 

"Yes what?"
 
"Yes," he tried again, forcing himself to meet Q's eyes. "I do want
more..." he paused, "...more of you."

Q raised an eyebrow. "And..."

Picard suddenly realized what Q wanted to hear. In his state of intense
frustration, his need to maitain his reserve was becoming less of a
priority. *But this is *Q* dammit!* he thought. *How can I do this?*
*Easy,* another part of him replied, *you just open your mouth.*
"Q...I..." he paused, took a deep breath. "I NEED YOU!!"

"Yes, Jean-Luc, you do," replied the entity calmly before he began to
move again. There was no fumbling to find a rhythm or any of the
clumsiness that often happened with new lovers. Instead, Q's movements
were perfect, a steady rhythm and sooner than Picard expected, that
feeling began to happen again. It rushed toward him like a great wave
of fire and Picard put his feet flat on the bed and tried by his
movements to increase the pace. The orgasm was different this time, but
he couldn't really try to figure out how, he just rode that wave of
pleasure, not caring that he was making a great deal of noise and that
his hands were clinging with fierce strength to Q's arms. As soon as
the feeling died down, Q slid a hand in between them and began to
stroke Picard's clitoris again, thrusting harder. Picard didn't know
how much more of this he could take. His heart was pounding and he
could hardly breathe. But the wave was coming closer and it was bigger
than all the others. "Oh God," he cried out, wrapping his legs around
Q's legs and hanging onto Q for dear life. "I....I...can't...ohhh..."
The final orgasm crashed over him and the world faded away.

When he opened his eyes, Q was resting against him, looking at him with
the strangest look on his face. Picard had no idea what to say, or to 
do or even what he should be feeling.  All he could think of was what 
had happened and acknowledge to himself that there had been something 
(at least for him) beyond the mere physical. He pulled Q close and 
tried to prolong the moment. His own long buried feeling for Q, all the
deeply hidden emotions that the entity aroused in him had finally come 
to the surface and he had to deal with them at last. He didn't know if 
Q was reading his mind or not, but it didn't matter, he was compelled 
to try to prove his feelings. "Q, please, turn me back into a man."

Q looked totally surprised; evidently he wasn't reading Picard's mind. 
"What, you think that just because you opened your admittedly lovely 
legs for me, that I'll do whatever you want me to do?" He actually 
managed to sound hurt.

"Not at all, you'll do what *you* want to do. You always do," Picard 
pulled Q's head down to his own and kissed him deeply. "I want you to 
know how I feel...that this wasn't only curiosity or...just the thrill 
of a different or new experience. I want...to make love to you as a 
man, because it's the only way I know of to make you understand." He 
was not surprised to hear his voice shake slightly, and he knew better 
than to blame the emotional response on the fact that his body was 
currently female. "I can't ever give you anything else."

Q closed his eyes for a moment and then Picard felt a shiver run 
through his body and crawl across his skin. He knew without a doubt 
that he was back in his own form. At the same time, he felt Q shiver in
his arms and looked up to see a gorgeous woman who looked remarkably 
like Q looking down at him. He reached up and took hold of her chin. 
"No," he said gently. "Don't you know me better than that? Please, just
be the Q I've always known." He pulled her face toward his and as their
lips touched he felt the shiver run through Q again. As the kiss ended,
he knew he would see Q's familiar face again. He moved Q onto his back,
and whispered, "thank-you," before he began to trace Q's ear with his 
tongue. He slowly moved down Q's neck, doing his best to pay attention 
to each small gasp and shiver of the body in his arms. He was 
distracted somewhat by his own body; he was aware of being seriously 
aroused, and yet it felt like the second erection of an evening of 
lovemaking felt, enjoyable but nowhere near as urgent as the first. He 
did his best to ignore his own desires and concentrate on Q.

Slowly he made his way down Q's chest, teasing his nipples with tongue,
teeth and fingers until Q moaned out loud. Then he made his way 
further down, until he was settled in between Q's legs. It had been 
very long time since Picard had made love to another man, but he didn't
let that stop him. He slowly moved his hands over Q's erection before 
moving closer and running his tongue along the underside, evoking a 
gasp from Q. Then he took it into his mouth, carefully swirling his 
tongue around the head. He heard a loud groan and began to suck in 
earnest, moving his head up and down in a slow lazy rhythm. He knew 
what he liked and did those things to Q, enjoying the sound of his 
partner's responses. He could tell that Q was getting close to an 
orgasm and he increased his efforts, moving his head faster. 
"Ohh...Jean-Luc..." Q gasped in warning. Picard saw no reason to stop, 
and he stayed with Q as his partner shuddered through his climax.

Once it was over, Picard moved up the bed to lie next to Q and the 
entity moved to lie on his side, head propped against one hand. "You 
experienced that as a human would, as I would, didn't you?" Picard 
asked.

"Yes, I did,"  Q replied. "I must say, Jean-Luc, that I'm rather amazed
at your...versatility. I know you to be a man of many talents, but once
again you have surprised me." He paused for a long moment and then 
with the air of someone making up his mind, he continued. "That's the 
answer to the question you asked when I showed up this afternoon. 
That's why I always come back to you."

"Because I surprise you?" Picard hadn't expected that. "I 
thought...well I don't know...I suppose that I thought that the 
Continuum had assigned us to you or something like that."

"Well that's actually not far from the truth. At one time you *were* 
just a project, one more assignment that merely annoyed me. Now..." he 
let his voice trail off. Picard looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in 
question. Q smiled, reaching out to trace one of Picard's brows with a 
finger. "You know Jean-Luc, you are devastatingly attractive regardless
of gender."

Picard rolled his eyes. "You're avoiding the issue."

"You noticed, Mon Capitaine, such powers of observation." The entity 
sighed as Picard glared at him. "I still don't entirely understand it 
myself. When I first met you, I was not particularly happy with the 
situation." He sighed again. "Jean-Luc, I'm going to have to explain a 
few things about the Continuum, so bear with me." Picard pulled another
pillow into position behind his head and looked up at Q, his eyes alive
with curiosity. He had always wondered what the Continuum was up to, 
and now he was finally going to find out. Before Q said anything more, 
he looked down at Picard and shook his head. "Devastating," he said 
again. He bent and brushed his lips across Picard's forehead, and then 
kissed the captain's eyelids.

"The Continuum," Picard managed to say, although it took considerable 
effort.

"Nag, nag, nag," Q mocked. He forestalled any further comment by 
kissing Picard hard on the mouth. In spite of his interest in what Q 
had to tell him, the captain returned the kiss eagerly. When their lips
parted, Picard shook his head in quiet amazement.

"I should have known," he murmured softly. At Q's curious look, he 
continued. "I've spent the last five years or so carefully not thinking
about this, you and I together like this. I should have known that when
it finally happened it would overwhelm me."

"There you go again," Q said, an odd look on his face. "Surprising me,"
he explained. "You do that all the time and you probably have *no* idea
how much it means to me." He leaned back to lie on his side again, head
once more propped on his hand. "You see, Jean-Luc, I don't really fit 
in all that well with the rest of my kind. I find them boring; then 
again there's only one thing in all the Universe I *don't* find boring.
I'm sort of a throwback, a missing link so to speak, from the earlier 
days of the Continuum. I have too much energy and nothing to do with 
it. I seem to want to..well strive in a time when there's nothing to 
strive for." He sighed. "I make *them* uncomfortable because I question
things, I get into trouble, and I don't take the things that are 
important to them seriously."

"What things are important to the Continuum?" Picard asked.

"Helping lesser species develop," Q replied in a sanctimonious tone. 
"We interfere on a level that would make the framers of the Prime 
Directive shudder, but it's always carefully planned and exhaustively 
thought out." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Meetings, Jean-Luc, 
endless committee meetings, that's what the Continuum is like. Can you 
possibly imagine me sitting through even one committee meeting?"

Picard laughed. "No," he replied. He looked at Q and wondered why he 
had never before noticed how good looking Q's human form was. 
*Byron,* Picard thought, *he looks like Byron. Acts a fair amount like 
him too. Except that I would have been far too old for Byron.* "So," he

said aloud. "They assigned you to us, our species I mean?"

"Oh yes," Q replied. "I'm not particularly influential within the 
Continuum and although I'm strong enough for my purposes,  I can't
stand up to the combined might of all of them. I was already in trouble
when the decision was made, and I had very little choice. And so I met
you at Farpoint and put you on trial. It may help you to learn that you
far exceeded my expectations. Not that they were all that high of
course," he added with a flash of his usual teasing. Picard simply
smiled at him; he had grown somewhat used to having Q talk down to him.
"And then of course I failed again with Riker. Talk about a blow to my
ego, having you sit there, so smug and self satisfied. I wanted you to 
acknowledge my power."

"And so the Borg," Picard said quietly, turning his head to stare up at
the ceiling. "Eventually over 11,000 people died because of my 
arrogance in that encounter."

"No! Don't think like that, Jean-Luc. It could just as easily be said 
that those people died because of my need to prove you wrong. There was
no way you could have avoided that situation."

"I could have...I *should* have accepted your offer to join the crew."

"In the end I would have provoked you into throwing me off the ship 
and the results would have been the same." 

So when you sent us off to meet the Borg, you wanted me to face 
something that I couldn't handle?"

"And you ended up surprising me yet again. Not only did you ask for 
help, you did it in a way that made it impossible for me to refuse 
you." Picard looked puzzled and Q continued. "You said you needed me 
and you meant it. I could tell that it was incredibly hard for you to 
admit defeat, particularly in front of your officers, but you did it 
with such grace that you absolutely captivated me. I think that's when 
I first realized that I found you interesting."

Picard was silent for a while, thinking. It was hard not to blame 
himself, even with Q insisting that there was no way he could have 
succeeded. Actually the more he thought about it, the more he realized 
that there was *never* any way he could succeed at Q's tests. "Why 
this," he finally asked. "Why turn me into a woman?"

"To tell the truth it was a whim."

"A whim?!"

"Well...I thought it had been long enough since I'd last checked up on 
you and so I dropped in." Picard couldn't help but wonder how often Q 
"checked up" on him. "You were dreaming about some unknown woman 
giving you a blowjob..."

"You know Q, I hate that word. It's so..."

"...degrading. Oddly enough that was *my* thought at the time. This 
woman wasn't anyone you know and who she was didn't matter to your 
subconscious at all. As far as you were concerned the only thing that 
mattered was that she was bringing you off."

"Well, for God's sake Q, it was just a dream." 

"So? All right, it was a way to get your attention and I'll admit to 
having hopes that it might lead to this," he paused shaking his head 
and then continued brightly. "But it *was* also a whim. I usually tend 
to act on them you know. Now of course I wish I'd acted on the whim I 
had years ago when I had you alone in that shuttle."

Picard suddenly remembered sitting in the dark shuttlecraft with Q 
leaning over him, his lips practically touching Picard's ear. "That 
must have been when it started for me, in the shuttlecraft..." he said 
more to himself than to Q.

"What?"

Picard blinked and looked at Q. The entity was looking down at him with
a genuinely curious expression on his face. "After that incident, I 
started having dreams about you. They didn't happen very often and I 
never remembered them very well, but they have been enough to trouble 
me."

"Dreams? About *moi*? What are they like?" Q sounded delighted; Picard 
knew that he'd touched the considerable vanity of his...lover (how else
*could* he describe the relationship now?).

"They started out as nightmares; the _Enterprise_ was in danger and all
the begging on my part couldn't convince you to save her. But then... 
well...they slowly became more personal." He found that he could 
remember those dreams better now, perhaps because they had finally 
come true. "I dreamed of...us together...of making love to you." He 
closed his eyes, fully expecting Q to make some mocking remark.

//You're serious,// Q's voice echoed inside Picard's head and his eyes 
snapped open to see Q looking down at him with an expression of 
shocked wonder. For a brief moment, as if he'd suddenly been granted 
the powers of an empath, Picard knew that this *was* how Q felt; the 
captain could *feel* Q's pleasure, and his surprise at Picard's 
admission. //Why did you tell me that?// the entity's mental voice 
queried. //How can you let yourself be so vulnerable?//

Picard sighed, shaking his head. "It's," he began.

//No,// Q said, placing a finger on Picard's lips. //Just think the 
words.//  Picard couldn't resist, he ran his tongue along the finger. 
"You're shameless," Q chided aloud. "I'm still waiting for an answer."

//Well,// Picard tried to think at Q. Q nodded encouragingly. *What I 
was going to say is that I *don't* let myself be vulnerable. When I 
have to be or want to be, it's far from easy for me.//

//And yet, when I was making love to you, you said you needed me. Was 
it just because of the teasing?//

//No, not at all,//  Picard tried to make his mental "voice" gentle. He

realized that for some reason, Q was taking him seriously and that his 
answers meant a great deal to the entity. //Q, it's important that you 
understand.//  He reached up and stroked Q's cheek with a finger. 
//Don't you see, that was why *I* made love to *you*. 'Jeanne' may 
have been curious, but Jean-Luc wanted to return the favor.// He 
paused for a moment, sighing. //I still don't quite know what any of 
this means to me, what you mean to me...//

//And not knowing,//  Q interrupted, //you have left yourself wide 
open. I could take advantage of this situation in any number of 
ways...//

It was Picard's turn to interrupt. //But you won't.//

//How do you know that?//
 
//It's called trust Q. Trust and faith. You could have gone rummaging 
in my mind at any time to find out how I felt about you, but you 
didn't. You have always had the  power to force me to do anything you 
wanted me to, but you haven't.  And in the last five years or so, you 
have helped me. Granted,// Picard's face had a wry smile on it, //your 
*help* has consisted of some rather brutal lessons, but don't *ever* 
think that I'm not grateful. But because of that help, I'm also not 
afraid of you.//

Q suddenly bent and kissed Picard hard and the captain felt the kiss 
throughout his whole body. Every nerve seemed to be edged with fire 
and he trembled at the almost overwhelming sensation. //What are 
you...//

//Shhh...it's time to just *feel*, Jean-Luc.//  And feel was what 
Picard did. The feeling of fire faded away except at his extremities, 
his fingers and toes seemed almost to tingle, as if they were being 
licked by tongues of flame. It didn't hurt, instead it was 
powerfully erotic. Q was still kissing him, a deep hard kiss that 
Picard returned eagerly. The fiery sensation was slowly spiraling 
inward, through his arms and up his legs. It seemed to find each 
erogenous point, coiling around the nerve endings at the insides of his
elbows and the backs of his knees. Picard moaned into Q's mouth and Q 
responded by biting at Picard's lower lip. The feeling was overwhelming
and it seemed to be exquisitely controlled; Picard knew that if it were
just a little more intense it would become unbearable. The fire had 
reached his shoulders and thighs now, as a tendril of it curled around 
his the back of his neck, he flung his head back, pulling his mouth 
away from Q's. The flame was coiling around his chest and stomach, when
it reached his nipples, it became an ice cold flame and Picard gasped 
and shuddered, his fists clenching on  the sheet on either side of him.
And then... "Unnghh..." he groaned loudly as the flame tongue flicked 
at his erection, setting all the nerve endings alight. The feeling 
intensified and a vague part of Picard knew that he was thrashing on 
the bed in response to the incredible sensations washing over him. He 
also knew that Q could see him reacting like this. Oddly enough, that 
thought was almost as erotic as the physical feelings he was 
experiencing and it was enough to push him over the edge. He cried out,
a loud wordless cry, as he shuddered from the intensity of the massive 
orgasm that washed over him. It felt like it went on for hours and when
he finally began to be aware of his surroundings again, he found that 
his head was in Q's lap. As he stared up at the entity in mute 
amazement and gratitude he was surprised at the expression on Q's face.
It was gentle and almost...tender? Whatever it was, it looked rather 
out of place. He had seen Q look vulnerable once before but he hadn't 
been able to accept it at the time.

"I'm sorry," Picard said, when his breathing had slowed. Q raised an 
eyebrow in question, his face settling into it's usual slightly mocking
cynical lines. "For doubting you and pushing you away when you were 
"merely" human."

"Honestly Jean-Luc, I wish you weren't so damned private. Sometimes I 
just can't follow your train of thought, and the urge to go rummaging 
in your brain..."

"Such as it is..." Picard interrupted in a fairly good imitation of Q's
mocking manner.

"I can't believe it!" Q exclaimed. "The man has a sense of humor."

"I apologized," Picard said, knowing that Q was more than capable of 
following his train of speech, "because I should have known how 
difficult it was for you to be so..."

"...pathetic." Q supplied.

"...vulnerable," Picard continued as if Q had never spoken. "I should 
have been able to see past my own anger at you and my frustration 
with the situation."

"If you had been gentle with me, I would have either taken a phaser to 
you, or broken down and cried." Q shuddered. "Neither scenario appeals 
in the least. What you *should* have done, Mon Capitaine, is gone for a
little revenge. It was a remarkable opportunity and you completely 
failed to take full advantage of it."

"As you would have," Picard snapped in a sudden burst of irritation. He
would have said more, but he was aware of a shiver crawling across his 
skin. "Q! Will you please..." he began, looking down to see a rather 
familiar pair of breasts on his chest. He never finished the sentence 
however. All of a sudden, he was buffeted by a horrifyingly intense 
craving, an insistent desire that made the earlier hormonal imbalance 
seem trivial. "Oh....please..." he heard his female voice moan. He 
clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth. "Stop it Q!" To his 
surprise, the feeling did stop, replaced with exactly what his body had
craved. He was being...fucked (lovemaking was far too gentle a term).  
His head was no longer in Q's lap, and his body was being held 
immobile, pinned to the mattress by wrists and ankles. As quickly as it
had started, the feeling stopped. He was still in female form and still
immobilized but the rest of the sensations were gone.

"*I* take every advantage that I can get. Tell me what you want, 
Jeanne," Q's voice whispered in his ear. "Admit it." Picard remained 
silent and he felt that shiver again. He was in his own body once more,
but he was still wracked by that aching need. Considering the activity 
of the past several hours, he was somewhat surprised at the strength of
his erection, but he realized that where Q was involved, there was no 
such thing as normal. All of this was in the back of his mind, however.
In the forefront was nothing but the need, an urgent painful ache that 
he tried desperately to avoid. In spite of everything that had already 
happened, he had no intention of breaking down and begging. His 
determination must have been reflected in his facial expression, 
because Q smiled a mocking smile. "When will you learn Jean-Luc? You 
can't avoid this, you can't outlast *me*." Picard set his teeth and 
glared up at his tormentor. Q smiled and there was a blur as he shifted
to the female form he had used earlier. She bent over Picard, letting 
her long dark hair brush his chest. His skin had suddenly become so 
sensitive that he felt each strand separately, a sensation that skirted
the faint line that separates pain from pleasure. In spite of himself, 
he gasped and she looked down at him, an eyebrow quirked. "You will 
tell me what you want," she said and her voice was beautiful, easily 
the most sensual female voice Picard had ever heard. She bent her head 
again and he felt her lips brush one of his nipples ever so lightly. In
his hypersensitive state, the faint brush of her lips forced another 
gasp out of him. Suddenly her fingertips closed on the other nipple and
he cried out in pain. The strange thing was that the pain seemed to be 
connected to his erection and as much as it hurt, it also increased the
need he felt.

****************************************************************

"And it covers me like a blanket of motion
smothers me like a wave in the ocean
seems to me I like it by myself
but I hate to be alone"

"Seven"

Charmed Circle




From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 6/7 (Picard/Q, m/m, f/m, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 10:06:03 GMT
Distribution: world


"Ah, I thought so," Q murmured, her silky voice amused. "How lucky for 
moi." Picard felt the shiver take him again and was not surprised to 
find himself in female form. It made no difference, he still felt that 
desire building. He wanted to be taken beyond all control, he realized.
He had no idea if that want was his own or something Q had planted in 
his mind. It didn't matter, the need was present and he knew that 
sooner or later Q would win. *Later* he thought, *it has to be later.* 

Q, who had remained in female form, was slowly running a finger along 
the outside of Picard's thigh. This time the touch felt like sandpaper,
but when the finger moved to the inside of his thigh it felt like 
velvet. This teasing, a matter of fingers, textures and her hair, 
seemed to go on forever and Picard felt himself sliding ever closer to 
abject surrender. He was twisting as much as his restraints would 
allow, but he had no idea if he was trying to avoid or encourage Q's 
touch. Then other hands began to work on him, invisible hands that 
rolled his nipples hard, fingertips that brushed lightly across his 
scalp, and fingernails that scraped his buttocks and neck. In his 
unnaturally sensitive state, everything that was happening occurred on 
that edge, it was *almost* too much, but he was surprised that he 
didn't want her to stop. She was kneeling now, almost straddling one of
his legs. Then she leaned forward and her lower thigh pressed against 
his aroused sex. Unable to stop himself, he let a out an urgent moan 
and tried to bring more of himself into contact with her. She laughed 
and easily moved out of the way. She pointed to her thigh and he 
couldn't help but notice that there was a shiny patch of wetness from 
where she'd been in contact with him. "You want it, don't you? This 
would seem to be unmistakable evidence." She reached out and began to 
tug at the hair between his legs. He could feel his inner muscles 
contracting and he let out a pleading moan. "You're going to have to 
give in Jeanne. It's not as if you have any choice, you know." She 
chuckled, a sound that managed to be simultaneously menacing and 
caressing. Picard tried to hold on, while he knew that Q had seen him 
utterly lose control earlier, this time it was a test of wills. He had 
never backed down from Q's challenges in the past and he had no 
intention of doing so now.

Her hand pressed against his sex and she slid one finger slowly inside 
him. He tried to move against her hand, but he was now being held 
totally immobile. She moved the finger out again and teased his slick 
opening. Picard was desperate, terrified, exhilarated, and above all 
more aroused and needy than he ever had been in his life. It seemed to 
him that he was clinging to a cliff's edge in variable gravity, and he 
had no idea what letting go would mean. Q's whole hand pressed against 
him again and in the state of extreme awareness he was in, that gentle 
pressure was enough to get him to begin to let go.

"Ohhh..." he moaned. "Oh please...please Q...I need it...please..."

There was no way it was going to be that easy of course, Q removed 
her hand and sat looking at him. "What exactly do you want Jeanne? 
And how do you want it?" It was so hard to verbalize, to say exactly 
what he wanted because he didn't really know *what* he wanted beyond 
an end to the teasing. Picard drew a harsh, almost sobbing breath and 
let go of everything.

"I want...you to...let me come..." he managed to gasp out. "Please... I
don't...care...do...whatever you...want to me...oh please..." He had 
completely let go of that cliff's edge and he was falling, spinning out
of control...or was he soaring? There was a vaguely felt shiver and he 
was a man again, aware of nothing but his aching erection and the dark 
eyes of the woman who held him immobile against his bed. She ran a 
teasing finger along the underside of his penis and he moaned. "Please 
Q..." he could hear his own voice as if from very far away. Q smiled 
and moved to straddle him, holding herself just above Picard. 

"Ask me again, Jean-Luc, you know that you want to."

She was right, he did want to. It had started earlier and where it 
would end he had no idea. He had moved away from everything that was 
known and he didn't care at all. In the far back of his mind he knew 
that he might not even recognize himself when this was over; that he 
would be forever changed by the experience. "Please...do anything to 
me...ohhhh...please..." Apparently it was finally enough, she lowered 
herself over him and he slid, oh so slowly, into to her hot warmth. As 
she moved something dropped over his eyes, and he was suddenly 
blindfolded. She stopped and rested against him for a moment and he 
felt something else, while he was buried inside her, he was being 
penetrated from behind. It was careful enough and slow enough that it 
didn't hurt at all, it was just one more feeling to surrender to. "Ohh 
yes..." he moaned. 

"You like this don't you?" The voice was Q's male voice, although 
Picard could feel that he was still inside a woman. Picard didn't 
answer the question, he was too far gone to speak now, his entire self 
focused on the intensity of the sensations Q was giving him. "You 
should see yourself, Jean-Luc," *that* voice caressed him. "You're 
completely out of control. I knew you needed this and I knew that given
the opportunity, you would *beg* for it."

Picard realized that he was still being kept from his release. The 
sensations, the hot tightness he was thrusting into, the feeling of 
someone thrusting into him it was all so incredible that he wondered 
how long he could stand it. Everything was still happening at an 
amazingly slow pace. "Please...faster... harder...oh please..." Q 
obliged and Picard began to feel his climax rushing toward him. He was 
still immobilized and so all he could do was *feel* as that wall of 
fire rushed toward him. When it hit, he was overwhelmed, engulfed and 
transfixed as he fell over the edge, spinning out of control from an 
ecstasy that seemed to go on forever. He could hear his own cries off 
in the distance as he began to slip into unconsciousness. As everything
faded, he also thought he heard a voice in his head, //Jean-Luc I...//

***

Picard rolled over as his alarm sounded. "Off," he called out. He 
stretched and lay in bed feeling a delicious languor. He hadn't felt 
this good, this relaxed in the morning for a very long time. He reveled
in the feeling for a few more minutes before leaving the bed and 
heading for the bathroom. As he passed the mirror, he stopped and 
stared. He was in his own body and everything was as it should be. Why 
had he thought that things would be different? After he and Q 
had...Picard's knees suddenly went weak as *everything* that had 
happened last came back with a rush. "No..." he whispered. He backed up
and sat down on the foot of his bed, his head in his hands. How could 
he handle this? How would he be able to sit and eat breakfast with 
Beverly? How could he hide this from Deanna? How...

//This just won't do. I should have known that you would react like 
this. I'm actually quite flattered, my dear.// Suddenly Picard felt all
the events of the prior afternoon and evening being pushed aside to a 
corner of his mind. It was as if there was a wall between his memories 
and his conscious mind. He could suddenly think about the plans for the
day, the mission briefing he'd requested from the science section, all 
the normal routine events of a day without the troubling memories 
crowding in and upsetting his composure. As he headed into the shower, 
he was aware that he was ravenously hungry. *Well of course I'm 
hungry,* he thought, back in that walled off corner of his mind. *I 
just spent God knows how many hours having the best sex of my life and 
I never *did* eat dinner.*

When he answered the door chime and greeted Crusher, he was relaxed 
and able to explain his return to his own body. "It *was* Q. He showed 
up last night. He wanted to see how I would deal with a reversal like 
that."

"Why didn't he turn you back after your combat with Captain Kess'Ant?"

"He was testing my patience...and a few other things." At her curious 
look he continued. "It was the hormonal thing. I don't really want to 
talk about it."

Crusher could guess what had happened, the captain had given in to 
his sexual curiosity and Q had probably shown up and mocked Picard 
for being all too human. Although she hated the some of things that Q 
had done over the years, Crusher had to admit that Picard had learned 
valuable lessons from the capricious entity. She just wished that Q had

found someone else to...instruct.  "Do think that's the last of it?" 
she asked now.

*God I hope not!* Picard thought in that corner of his mind. Aloud he 
said, "I don't know. I think I've made my way through this particular 
maze this time."

The staff meeting went much the same way. In that back corner of his 
mind Picard continued to be aware of not only his memories but his 
reactions to the innocent comments of his staff. Apparently the 
shielding Q had given him stood up to Troi's scrutiny, both during the 
staff meeting and after when she insisted on talking to him at length 
about what he had learned from his most recent experiences. Picard was 
surprised at how amused he was by the unintentional double-entendres 
that occurred as part of the conversation. His meeting with the Science

Department heads also went well. The survey mission was proceeding the 
way it should. There was in fact, a certain lack of incident that 
indicated (to Picard at least) the fine hand of a certain meddling 
entity, but of course he said nothing. On further reflection it did 
bother him somewhat that he could be so unconcerned with the business 
at hand. He resolved to talk to Q about it, provided he could *talk* to
Q about anything.

After the briefing, Picard paced his ready room floor nervously. Now 
that he was alone, he could feel the artificially induced mental wall 
that had helped him get through the morning begin to dissipate the more
he thought about the events of yesterday. He stopped his restless 
pacing to stand and stare out the window. Instead of the comforting 
panorama of the stars however, all he could see was his own reflection 
gazing solemnly back at him. His face was set in his familiar command 
mask and it was rather disconcerting. While on the one hand it was a 
good thing that he showed no sign of the shattering experience he had 
undergone, he nevertheless felt so changed and (to tell the truth) so 
exulted by those same events, that he wanted there to be a visible 
sign. He sighed, running a hand over his head. The motion caused him to
laugh somewhat. There *was* a visible change and one that he should be 
glad about.

After all, he was back in his familiar body, and he had had an 
experience that had taught him things about himself that he had only 
vaguely guessed at. Not only that, but he had learned what life was 
like from the other side of the gender equation. All in all, he should 
look at the whole thing as the "unique experience" Troi had called it 
and go on from there. That of course was the problem, where *was* he 
going ? As he thought that one over, he had a sudden flash from the 
night before; he could hear his female voice pleading breathlessly for 
release. "Oh my God..." he murmured softly into the stillness of the 
room, his emotions a curious mixture of remembered desire and current 
shame. He moved to sit in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and
his head in his hands. He hadn't wanted to remember that, but now that 
he had, he could think of little else. A small part of him wanted to 
insist that it had happened because of the gender change, that the 
ancient myths were true and that women were just more submissive than 
men were. This was a truly ridiculous thought, there was no way in hell
that he could even entertain it for a moment. So what did that mean? He
didn't think of himself as particularly submissive when it came to sex.
He had, on a few occasions, held his partner down during lovemaking and
once even turned Phillipa Louvois over his knee and spanked her after a
playful but intense argument. Then again, on his last night with 
Miranda Vigo, she had, at one point, held his wrists pinned against the
mattress and teased him into a state of acute frustration (or what he 
had thought at the time to be acute frustration) before she finally 
allowed him to climax. Apart from those few incidents however, his 
numerous sexual encounters had been quite...

"Boring," a voice drawled.

"Equal," Picard corrected, trying to hide the intense reaction he felt 
at hearing Q's voice. Would he ever be able to hear that voice again 
without *feeling* it as well? He raised his head from his hands. There 
was no visible presence in the room, but he could tell that Q was 
there; he even knew that Q was located on the other side of the desk.

"Having the morning-after jitters, are we?"

"Q, we need to talk. Could you possibly bring yourself to materialize 
and refrain from taking shots at me?"

"You wound me, Jean-Luc."

"I doubt it," Picard replied dryly. Q materialized in his customary 
flash of light. Picard caught his breath and then let it out slowly, 
trying to keep his composure.

"So," Q asked, his voice languidly mocking, "what do we need to talk 
about? Hmmm?" He reached out a finger and traced one of Picard's 
eyebrows. Picard closed his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no 
augmentation to the touch, Q did not bring his powers into play, and 
yet Picard felt it throughout his entire body. Q smiled at the reaction
he provoked and let his finger trail down the side of Picard's face, 
coming to rest against his lips. The captain knew what was expected of 
him, but he remained still. "Tsk tsk tsk," Q chided. "You're being 
stubborn again."

Picard leaned back in his chair. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not; I'm 
just trying to be a starship captain." 

Q rolled his eyes and sighed an exasperated sigh. "Trying? You're very 
trying."

"Oh very original, Q. Did you work on that one very long?" Picard 
snapped sarcastically. "Look," he said more seriously, "I *do* have a 
job to do here. Maybe it's trivial to you, maybe you think that I don't
do it very well, but this is my life."

"Jean-Luc, you don't *need* the Enterprise. You want to explore, we'll 
explore, you want to boldly go, let's go." Q held out a hand toward 
Picard. Picard wasn't even tempted.

"I can't Q, it would never work. I need to do this on my own, it's what
I *am*."

Q drew himself up, eyes glittering dangerously. "Is that so?"

*Time for shock tactics,* Picard thought. "No of course not," he said 
quickly, his tone conciliatory. "I'm so sorry, Q. You're right of 
course. I'll do whatever you think is right."

Q looked at Picard as if the captain had slapped him. Picard stared 
back at him. "It wouldn't work, Q," he repeated. "And you know it. I'm 
too much like you, you should know that since you're the one who made 
see it in the first place. If I didn't have obstacles to overcome, how 
soon would it be before I became bored, not to mention *boring*?" Q 
said nothing and Picard tried another tack. "Here, in my world, I have 
my independence. Out there, I would be dependent on you for everything.
How long would it be before we hated each other?"

Q glared at him and snapped his fingers. There was his traditional 
burst of white light and he was gone. As the flash faded, Picard felt 
his skin shiver and he slumped in his chair. "Merde!" he exclaimed 
looking at the fine, slim fingers of his hands. He looked down, at 
least Q had seen fit to give him a proper duty uniform. He rose from 
his desk and again looked at his reflection against the window of 
stars. Jeanne once more. 

The door chime to the ready room sounded. "Come," he called out. The 
doors slid open to reveal Troi, who did a classic double take that, in 
spite of the situation, had Picard biting the inside of his cheek to 
keep from laughing,. "Yes Counselor?" he asked, gesturing toward one of
the chairs across the desk. Troi sat down automatically.

"Again, sir?"

"So it would seem," Picard replied. "Apparently, Q doesn't like it when

someone tries to get the last word in an argument."

"Q was here, just now?" At Picard's nod, Troi went on. "What does he 
really want, Captain? Is this more of the same test, or a new one?"

Picard thought for a moment and decided that Troi had a right to know 
what was going on. Eventually he would let something slip and sooner 
was better than later. He sighed as he realized that somewhere along 
the line he would also have to explain everything to Riker as well. If 
Q got truly angry with Picard, the captain knew that the Enterprise 
could be in danger, and that he would not allow. His involvement with Q
(assuming there was still an involvement) could easily be at odds with 
his duty as captain and when it came to a crunch, Picard knew he 
would do anything to save the ship, even to the point of resigning and 
leaving with Q. He liked to think that Q had paid attention to what he 
had said and that the reason the entity vanished in a huff was that he 
realized that Picard was right, but you never knew with Q. Picard still
had no idea just how Q really felt about him and until he did (which 
would probably be never) he knew that he was treading a very fine 
line.

"Counselor, do you know the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea?"

"Is that how you see the relationship?" Troi asked. 

"Couldn't you possibly *try* to look surprised?"

Troi laughed. "But Captain, I've know for years that Q was...interested
in you."

Picard stared at her. "What?!!"

"Back when he was mortal, I could read all his emotions, even some that
he may not have been aware of. He had no emotional control whatsoever 
because he'd never needed it. That was when I realized that his 
interest in you went far beyond needing someone to torment or to 
study."

"You could have told me," Picard finally managed to say.

"Told you what, Captain?" she replied. "That Q was...interested in you?
I couldn't tell exactly what the extent of that interest was, and as I 
said, he wasn't entirely aware of it himself. Would you really have 
wanted to know?"

"I don't know," Picard admitted. He still felt somewhat betrayed by 
Troi's silence in the matter, even if her reasons for that silence were
good ones. "It might have made a difference in how I dealt with him."

"I don't think so, Captain. You're very important to him, and I think 
that in some way, you've known that for a while." Picard raised a brow 
at her. "You aren't ever afraid of him; it's seemed to me as if you 
know somehow that he won't ever actually hurt you. Even when you were 
standing on the block in that silly Robin Hood scenario of his, you 
were never the least bit worried that you would actually be killed."
She was, of course, right. Picard wondered if Troi ever got tired of 
being right. He *hadn't* been afraid of losing his life, just afraid of
looking like an idiot in front of Q.

"So why the Pygmalion reference," she asked after a short silence. "Is 
that why you're a woman again, does he like you better this way."

"No, the parallel isn't exact," Picard replied. "Perhaps I'm more a 
mirror for him than a statue. But the end result is the same. This," 
Picard gestured to his current form, "is the result of a...quarrel. It 
worries me because if we quarrel more seriously, the ship may be in 
danger. I *will* not allow that to happen, which means that I may have 
to give in and resign." He truly *wanted* to trust Q, as he had said he
did last night, but what if he was wrong? Were his own feelings for Q
clouding the issue? He sighed and moved on, saving his worries for
another time. "I should talk to Will about this, shouldn't I?"

"Probably," Troi said. "He'll be gratifyingly surprised."

Picard laughed, "I suppose he will be. God knows I was."

"Captain, did you have any choice?"

"It would be easier for everyone to accept it if I said yes, I was 
forced, wouldn't it?" Picard sighed. "But I wasn't. I had an 
opportunity to tell him to leave and I didn't." Troi saw a ghost of an 
expression cross Picard's face, a faint, wistful smile. 

"He wants you to leave the ship? Is that what you quarreled about?"

"No, I don't," came a surprisingly serious voice behind Troi. She
whirled around to confront Q who was sitting on Picard's sofa. Instead
of his usual uniform, the entity was dressed in comfortable, casual
clothing. Although the "no, I don't" had been in response to Troi's
question, Q completely ignored the counselor to stare at Picard. Troi
turned to look at the captain only to find him back in his familiar
male form. Picard was staring at Q and Troi could feel the tension in
the room. Picard was waiting, she realized, waiting for Q to apologize.
She watched as Picard stared down an entity who could kill with a
glance, and realized that maybe this relationship wasn't as one sided
as she had thought.

//You're right there,// Q's voice echoed in Troi's head. //But I
wouldn't go discussing this with anyone, not even Jean-Luc. You're safe
because he cares about you, but that doesn't mean that you can go about
divulging my secrets.//

//I make it a point never to get involved in lover's quarrels,// Troi 
thought back. Apparently she surprised Q, a slight smile of approval 
flitted across the entity's mouth.

"Out," Q said aloud to Troi. As the counselor rose to go, Picard's 
upraised hand stopped her.

"You will not give orders to my crew," Picard said. He turned and 
looked at Troi. "Thank you, Counselor, that will be all."

"Captain," Troi replied and headed quickly for the door. As it slid 
shut behind her, she smiled to herself and headed toward her chair. As 
she sat down, Riker looked at her. 

"You have the oddest expression," the first officer said. "What 
happened in there?"  

"I can't discuss it," she said. "You'll have to ask the captain."

******************************************************************

"When you lips move your mind knows
and you breathe in and nobody knows.
It's taken us this long to get face to face
or is just the way it looks..."

"Tonight"

Charmed Circle



From: tgmrgm@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford/Thomas Moore )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.fan.q
Subject: Story: MY FAIR JEANNE 7/7 (Picard/Q, m/m, m/f, f/f)
Date: 2 Aug 1995 10:16:36 GMT
Distribution: world


Back in the ready room, Q got on his feet and began to pace. "I really 
hate it when you're right," he snapped at Picard.

"Don't let it bother you," Picard said with a smile. "When you're 
around it doesn't happen very often." He sighed. "Well, having just 
proved that I can't leave with you and that you can't stay on the ship 
with me, what happens next?"

"What do you mean I can't stay?"

"You're the omnipotent one, you answer that one."

"Because you would start to depend on me to take care of problems for 
you."

"That's one reason. Another is that you just gave orders to *my* Ship's
Counselor. Then there's also the fact that you are probably the one 
thing in the universe that has the capacity to distract me from my 
job."

Q smiled and Picard felt a touch on the back of his hand as if from a 
very gentle finger. The finger circled his wrist and then he felt a 
whole hand suddenly gripping his wrist very hard, pinning it against 
the desk top. Another hand trapped his other wrist and suddenly Q was 
leaning over the desk, taking hold of Picard's chin with a strong grip.
"*Do* I distract you, Jean-Luc?" the entity asked. Picard couldn't help
it, he closed his eyes and leaned toward Q. Q responded instantly, 
kissing Picard hard. The captain let himself be kissed, feeling himself
edging toward that place where control became secondary to sensation. 
Angrily, he pulled his mouth away from Q's. 

"Don't," he said. "Please don't do this to me here." Surprisingly Q let
him go and Picard sat still for a long moment. "Why?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Q replied. "All I can say is what I said before, you're
a surprise and challenge. As long as you fight me, and struggle against
*yourself* I'll be compelled to get you to surrender. Not just to me 
Jean-Luc, but to what you want."

"What if I don't want that?"

"Then tell me what it is that you *do* want."

Picard thought for a moment, remembering something Q had said last 
night, something about taking the advantage. "Take us to my quarters." 
Q snapped his fingers and they were standing in Picard's bedroom. 
Picard moved suddenly; grabbing Q's wrist and twisting it behind the 
startled entity's back. "My way Q," he said quickly. He was surprised 
that when Q fought back he did so with only mortal strength. Here 
(although Q's mortal form was both taller and larger than Picard) the 
captain had the advantage of years of training and soon Q was lying 
face down on the bed. Picard wasn't surprised when their clothing 
disappeared.

"Tell me," Picard whispered in Q's ear, a deliberate echo of Q's words 
of yesterday. "Tell me what you want." When Q didn't answer, Picard 
brought his hand down hard on Q's rear end. Q squirmed and Picard 
grabbed his wrists and held them against the entity's back. "You know,"
the captain said in a conversational tone, "I'm a very patient person; 
it's a skill one develops as a starship captain." He smacked Q again 
and then shifted position, nudging Q's legs apart and kneeling between 
them. When he brought his hand down again, Q shifted and arched his 
back slightly. Picard smiled to himself and slid his hand along and up 
Q's thigh. When he discovered how aroused  his partner was, the smile 
became a pleased chuckle. "Do you want something Q?" he asked softly. 
He knew that his control was largely a matter of illusion, but in a way
Q's control over him was the same. Now, he began to tease Q, running 
his hand along Q penis and testicles, sliding his finger slowly into 
Q's anus. Q was squirming now and Picard could hear faint moans and 
gasps. He stopped and let go of Q's hands. Sitting back he said 
quietly, "I could just go work on my report about the Bli'thanT. Either
you'll get bored or you'll tell me what you want." He ran his 
fingertips gently over Q's rear end. "I can take care of myself you 
know, I don't have to do *anything* to you." There was still silence 
and Picard heaved a dramatic (and very Q-like) sigh.

As he was moving to leave the bed, he heard Q say, "damn you, Picard!" 
He turned and smacked Q twice, quick hard blows. Q moaned and said, 
"You know what I want."

"Yes and you knew what I wanted last night, but that isn't how the 
game is played, mon ami." He brought his hand down a few more times, 
noticing that Q was arching his hips in time with the blows. "I think 
you like this, Q. I think you're actually enjoying this." He stopped 
and ran a gentle finger over Q's reddened skin.

"Jean-Luc..."

"Yes?"

"Will you..." Q gasped as Picard smacked him again, "stop fooling 
around...and just...FUCK ME!"

"You forgot something."

"PLEASE!!!" Q shifted position quickly, resting on knees and elbows. 
Picard wasn't too surprised to find that his penis was slicky 
lubricated and he moved behind Q.

"Is this what you want?" he asked as his erection nudged against Q's 
anus.

"Yes," Q replied. He gasped as Picard pushed slowly inside him.

"I thought so," Picard said. Although he was doing his best to sound 
like he was in charge, the main feeling he felt was gratitude. 
Gratitude that Q would permit this, that Q would allow him to explore 
this side of himself. He moaned slightly as he began to move, and Q 
quickly matched his rhythm. Picard could feel himself getting close to 
an orgasm and decided that it was all right to be selfish. Gripping Q's
hips, he thrust harder. He was conscious of Q's hips thrusting back 
against him and then urged on by the sound of his lover's moans and the
tightness around his penis, he came with a yell, throwing his head 
back. After a moment, he realized that Q hadn't come and he reached 
around and slid his hand along Q's penis. 

"Please..." Q gasped out as Picard quickly found a rhythm. Within a few
moments, Q thrust hard against Picard's hand and cried out from his 
own climax. He collapsed on to his stomach and Picard rested on top of 
him for a moment before rolling to one side.

"You liked that, didn't you Jean-Luc?" Q smiled at Picard as he turned 
to look at the captain.

"Yes I did, easily as much as *you* did."

"Well that's probably true. This *is* all rather new to me, you know."

Picard laughed in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that? You 
certainly seemed to know what you were doing last night." 

"Well it's almost all theoretical. The only human I've ever made love 
to was Vash and believe me she has nothing on you." Q sighed and then 
laughed. Picard had the feeling that Q was laughing at himself. "I kept
thinking about you when I was with her. It took me a while to realize 
that the only reason I wanted her was because she'd been with you. It 
was an embarrassing thing to realize. It's very bad form to get 
emotionally involved with a mortal, you know."

"Is that what's happening here?" Picard asked carefully. "Are you 
emotionally involved?"

"Well of course I am, you ignorant..." Q frowned at Picard, obviously 
angry at the captain's obtuseness.

"And how the hell was I supposed to know?" Picard interrupted angrily. 
"Every time the conversation got serious last night, you backed off and
reasserted your dominance. You seem to forget that *I* can't read
*your* mind." He shook his head. "Q, what happened last night meant
more to me than you can possibly imagine; I've never let myself go like
that before and with *anyone* else I would have put a stop to it long
before I would have begged." He reached out and gently brushed Q's face
with his fingertips. "But I can't live like this and command this
ship." Q sighed with irritation but let Picard continue talking. "I
should be in my Ready Room working my way through the crew evaluations.
You know what you do to me, you just proved your point, even if I *was*
on top just now." He was aware of a terrible sadness as he said
quietly, "So what happens to us now?"

"This is why you've been in love with Beverly all these years." Q's 
remark shocked Picard; it wasn't that Q knew that he was in love with 
Beverly, it was more that Picard realized that he had hadn't really  
thought about her at all in the last day. "You needed to be in love, 
but it had to be something safe, something that you could control."

"Q, do me a favor?" Q raised an eyebrow. "Never apply for a job as 
Ship's Counselor. You seriously lack tact."

"It's all part of my unique charm," Q replied trying to look modest. 
Picard began to laugh and reached out to slap Q's arm.

"Your 'unique charm' ? That's a good one," he managed to get out 
before he began laughing again. 

Q looked at him in amazement. 'What happened to the icicle-man?" he 
asked, surprise in his voice.

"You saw through him," Picard replied becoming serious. "No one has 
ever seen through me like that and I still don't know how to handle 
it." He rolled onto his back and sighed. "I can't find the words..."

//Then show me,// Q's voice sounded in his mind.

Picard hesitated for a long moment. This was the final gesture, the 
final act of trust and (yes, he had to admit it) love. This would be 
the one way to be as sure as he ever could be of Q's feelings for him 
and his own complicated feelings for Q. He sat up and faced Q, holding 
out his hands. "Show me how."

Q sat up as well, taking Picard's hands in his own. "Je t'aime," he 
whispered. Then his dark eyes were boring into Picard's and it was 
nothing like the two mind melds Picard had experienced. He was *aware* 
of everything Q was and it was painfully overwhelming for a second. 
The rush of information slowed and became specific. He could feel just 
how much he meant to Q and he was stunned. Q had been crushingly 
bored and appallingly lonely for countless centuries, until Picard had 
defied him at Farpoint. Picard felt, through Q, how angry Q had been 
and the interest he had felt in spite of himself. The way those 
feelings had developed and the way Q had dealt with them made Picard 
laugh at the irony of it. Q had been so right when he'd forced Picard 
to see how much alike they were, as they had each dealt with their 
feelings for one another in the same way. Instinctively, Picard opened 
up and let Q see his own feelings, all of them. There was the intense 
fear that Picard had never shared with anyone, the fear that he would 
fail one of Q's challenges, the fear that Q truly *was* as sadistic as 
he'd seemed at first. There was the growing awareness of Picard's 
feelings for his adversary that had begun five years and the grudging 
acceptance that Q was right and that the lessons he taught Picard were 
necessary. Finally there was the shatteringly intense joy of his 
current feelings. He also shared the rest of himself with Q, giving the
entity the sum of his life thus far. He knew somehow that his own 
feelings about everything that had ever happened to him, from the 
horror of his time as Locutus, to the wonder he had felt the first time
he gone into space and seen the stars free and clear, were one of the 
most precious gifts he could ever give Q. He was right, and he could 
feel Q's gratitude wash over him like a wave.

//Everything that happens to you has *meaning,*// Q's mental voice was 
wistful. //And you *feel* so much, it's harder than I ever guessed for 
you to hide those feelings.// Picard knew that Q also understood the 
reason he *did* hide those feelings. Becoming a starship captain at the
age of 28 had forced Picard to abruptly erect very strong walls around 
himself and his feelings. It had been the only way he had known to deal
with the sudden, painful transition from the good-time first officer 
who had been everyones friend to the stern captain who had to consider 
the welfare of the ship and crew above all else, even the good will of 
his friends. It had been hard, but it had led Picard to become the man 
he was now.

//That's why you, and what you do to me, are so important,// Picard 
thought at Q. //You're the only who can reach past those walls and help
me reach that part of myself that I had to give up.//

Now Picard opened his eyes to find Q watching him with that expression 
of tenderness on his face. For some reason it no longer looked out of 
place. Q tugged gently on Picard's hands and the captain leaned 
forward into Q's embrace. They sat like that for a long time, both 
aware that these moments would be all too rare. 

In the end, it was Q who moved first, leaning forward to kiss Picard, a
kiss that started out gentle and then intensified as Picard let his 
mouth open. Picard felt the familiar shiver across his skin and an 
answering ripple moved through Q as well. As the kiss ended, he opened 
his eyes to see Q's female form smiling at him. "I just love to keep 
you off balance Jeanne," she said. She leaned forward and kissed him 
again, pushing him until he was lying on his back, their mouths still 
joined. Their hands moved over each other and it wasn't long before Q 
couldn't resist bringing her powers into play. Once again Picard felt 
that cold fire against his nipples and he shuddered in Q's arms as Q's 
mouth left his and moved on to his neck. Picard had flung his arms out 
and now Q grabbed his wrists, pinning them against the mattress. Even 
as he felt the strong grip on his wrists, Picard felt other hands, 
gentle hands that seemed to radiate heat, stroking his thighs and 
teasing his sex, which was already wet. Once more he felt himself 
approaching that cliff's edge, but this time he welcomed the feeling as
he moved closer and closer to losing control. Q was biting at the point
where his neck met his shoulder and the faint pain only added to 
Picard's growing frustration. 

"Are you...going to do...it again?" Picard asked through his moans.

"Of course," Q replied, her voice silky. "Just like I did before, I'm 
going to give what you want, but only after you ask for it. I love 
hearing you moan like this Jeanne. You're such a slut."

"Now that's...ahhh...something I've never...been called...before," 
Picard managed to say.

Q chuckled. "Well you are," she insisted. "You should see yourself, 
you're letting me hold you down, and bite you, and you're totally wet. 
You love this Jeanne."

Q was right of course. Picard knew that later he'd have to try to 
understand just why he liked it so much when Q asserted his power 
over him. Now however, it was enough to know that in surrendering to 
that power, he had found something that he'd been looking for for a 
long time.

"No I'm not...," Picard managed to say. It was a complete and utter lie
and they both knew it. Q raised her head to look down at Picard with 
amusement.

"Ah yes," Q said, laughing. "The icicle is back. This," there was 
suddenly a hot finger moving in and out of Picard's vagina and the 
captain gasped and closed his eyes, "doesn't affect you at all? Neither
does this," and there was the simultaneous feeling of one of those hot 
fingers teasing his anus, "bother you in the least. Open your eyes" she
snapped and Picard obeyed. "Tell me that none of this affects you."

"Well it doesn't" Picard tried to assert. "Ohhh God..." The finger 
teasing his anus had been joined by another and they both suddenly 
moved into him. There was a small amount of pain, but the main 
sensation was one of intense warmth. The fingers withdrew and Picard 
groaned.

"You're a terrible liar Jeanne," Q said. "You know, somewhere along the
line I'm going to bend you over and take you this way, as Jean-Luc, I 
mean." Picard couldn't help it, the thought made his inner muscles 
contract. "You want it so much, my love," Q's sultry voice murmured. "I
don't have to give it to you, you know, I could take a page from your 
book and just stop..."

"No...please don't," Picard gasped out. "I need...you so 
much...please..."

"Please what?" Q asked. At the same time, Picard felt his nipples being
rolled between fingers and thumbs that radiated the same heat as the 
hands between his legs. The sensation was intense after the cold of 
earlier and the shock pushed him over the edge. "Please.." It was such 
a relief to do this, to let go of everything and beg again. "I 
want...need...you...to fuck me...oh please...Q..."

Suddenly, he was on his knees, his face and shoulders against the bed. 
He realized that it was virtually the same position he'd had Q in 
earlier, but that didn't matter. As Q knelt behind him, he spread his 
legs further open. "Go ahead," he said, his voice rough. "Fuck me."

"Oh I will, Jeanne," Q said.  Picard could suddenly feel his ankles and
elbows pinned to the bed and he struggled slightly. Q smacked him 
sharply on the rear a few times and the swift blows only increased the 
heat between Picard's legs. He felt three of Q's fingers slide into his
vagina while at the same time he felt a tongue running briefly over his
clitoris. Then another finger joined the three already inside him and 
then her thumb. Picard felt a moment of apprehension and then Q was 
pushing and he could feel himself stretching to let her hand inside 
him. It hurt, but accompanying the pain was a rush of intense 
sensation. Picard groaned and pushed back. "Jeanne," Q said, "I'm all 
the way inside you now. You like this don't you?" She began to move her
hand and it felt so amazingly good that Picard let out a wail of 
pleasure. 

"Ohhh...yes..." he cried out. At just about the point where Picard 
didn't think he could last any longer, Q stopped. Picard drew a 
trembling, unsteady breath and was opening his mouth to beg some more, 
when he felt the tongue slide across his clitoris again. He moaned
loudly as the tongue moved more and more firmly. Q's hand was moving
again and in seconds, Picard went over the abyss, his loud cries
muffled by the pillow. As he finally came down from the massive 
orgasm, he experienced what Q was feeling; a wave of pride that Q 
could make Picard lose control like this and a feeling of surprise at 
how much she *needed* Picard. The feeling faded, the restraints
vanished, and he felt Q's hand slide slowly out of him.. As soon as he
could, he turned and guided Q until she was lying on her back.
Spreading her legs, he decided to forgo any teasing for now, and
lowered his mouth to her sex. She was amazingly wet and aroused and he
slid two if his fingers inside her while running his tongue over her
clitoris. 

"Ohhh..." she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. "That 
feels...so wonderful..." Picard increased his efforts and was pleased 
when she thrashed her way through one orgasm after another until she 
finally pushed his head aside gently. "I don't...think...I can 
take...any more..."

He moved up and held her, and she relaxed against him for a long time. 
"I think I like this," he said as he toyed with a strand of her hair. 
She looked at him curiously. "Being a woman sometimes," he explained. 
She smiled and moved her hand between his legs. Her fingers slid 
alongside his clitoris and sooner than he would have expected, he felt 
an orgasm wash over him. She pulled him into her arms and held him as 
he drifted off into a warm comforting sleep.

***

When Picard awoke, the first thing he was aware of was a finger gently 
tracing his ear. "Morning Darling," Q said, a sultry note to his voice.
Unlike the first time this had happened, Picard smiled and rolled over 
to sleepily kiss his partner, noticing that they were both male again. 
"Actually," Q continued after the kiss. "It's afternoon, but I couldn't
resist." Picard sighed and got ready to say the things that had to be 
said. "Don't," Q said, his voice more serious. "I know, you have work 
to do." Picard sat up and looked down at his lover.

"I really *do* want to stay here in bed with you," he said wistfully.

"I know," Q replied, smiling up at him. "As I figure it, the only way 
this is going to work is if I back off and let you do your job." He 
sighed. "I don't like it at all, Jean-Luc, but I know your arguments 
and they're good ones. You must promise me a couple of things."

"What?" Picard asked.

"When the ship is on a mission like this one or when you're docked for 
repairs, you will let me know? Don't worry, I'll show you how to 
contact me. You can have a Q in every port, mon Capitaine."

"Yes, of course I will."

"The other is even more important. When you run into something that 
you absolutely *can't* handle, don't let the ship go valiantly down to 
her death. *Call me!* all right?" Q let his mental barrier down and let
Picard know some of what he was feeling. Picard suddenly understood 
that Q was worried about losing him, and that the immortal entity was 
truly bothered by Picard's mortality. There was nothing he could say 
and so he just bent over and kissed Q, trying to show his overwhelming 
love and the gratitude he felt for all that Q had given him.

"I will," Picard promised when the kiss had ended. "And what's more, I 
promise to be faithful, darling." As Q rolled his eyes at Picard's 
saccharine tones, Picard spoke more seriously. "I can't help it, I 
*don't* want anyone else after having been with you; you've spoiled 
me."

Q chuckled delightedly and Picard smiled at him. "You know," the 
captain said, "I only have about an hour's worth of evaluations to go 
through and then there's just one short meeting with the Astrophysics 
Department..." he let his voice trail off.

"I'll have dinner waiting, darling," Q said, sweetly.

"Fuck dinner," Picard replied grinning. "Just have yourself waiting."

"Yes *ma'am*!," Q replied saluting as Picard felt *that* shiver again. 
"Ah, La Capitaine needs to be dressed." Q snapped his fingers and 
Picard was suddenly wearing a red and black uniform that seemed to fit
much more closely than the ones he'd gotten out of the replicator.

The captain looked at Q, a sidelong seductive glance. "Do think it 
suits me?" She arched her back slightly, looking down at her breasts. 
"I think it does," she said, her velvet voice sultry. "I'll see you 
later." Jeanne blew a kiss at her amazed lover and left the room.

Sitting in the bed, looking after Picard, Q shook his head. "Now 
*that's* a surprise," he said to himself and smiled.



The End
***********************************************************************

"For seven years I was close to perfection
Lost alone underneath my heart
Years go by this is nothing to stay for
Nothing is really falling apart

"Seven"  

Charmed Circle