by Fred
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Dicklaimer: Hey, everyone, Fred here. This's just a little thing I cooked up while the hubbies were barbecuing last night. I was sittin' there waitin' for the pair of 'em to finally get the damn charcoal lit and I got kinda hungry and went inside for a mango. Well, that fruit gave me some ideas, it sure did. I'm dedicatin' this to Blue Champagne for them yummy delectable B/O'B studfests I've been enjoyin', and to Jungle Kitty for Peeps. Yer done good, kids.

These guys all belong to Pear-a-mount, of course, but fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. And they can't, usually.

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Once upon a time, there were two ensigns, Ensign Tom Paris and Ensign Harry Kim. And they lived in a big ship far, far in the sky.

Ensign Paris and Ensign Kim were special friends. They worked together to steer their ship closer and closer to Earth, they had fun together in the ship's holodecks, they bunked together in a very special way, and every morning they ate breakfast together in the ship's dining room, which was run by a funny little man named GoldiSpots.

GoldiSpots was a short little man with funny long hairs sprouting out all over his head and little gold spots on his cheeks, but the strangest thing of all about him was the way he smelled of leola root morning, noon, and night. In fact, Ensign Paris noticed that GoldiSpots' odour became particularly strong every time he sat beside Ensign Kim at breakfast. He wondered why at the time, but gave it no thought afterwards until one afternoon.

GoldiSpots was a bad cook, but he heated Paris and Kim up well enough. They loved to see the light shining of his freckled skin, and even often wondered if the spots and the hair went all the way down.

One day Mr. Paris just had to know, so he discussed it with Mr Kim.

Mr Kim was curious too, so they invited Mr. GoldiSpots to come and cook for them. . . but not necessarily at the same time.

Mr GoldiSpots didn't get it.

He brought actual food to their quarters, which was a bad thing.

He brought zucchini.

And cucumbers.

And bananas.

Anyway!

Kim came to the door in his best leather G-string and biker cap as Paris posed nicely in his pink satin corset with the matching slippers whose pink pom-poms always gave him such a giddy feeling in the pit of his normally macho stomach.

Mr. Paris and Mr Kim just looked at one another with that one eyebrow raised thing and they were saying in secret ensign code, "Is this guy for real?"

"Good evening gentlemen!" Mr GoldiSpots said as he hauled in his large picnic basket. "Ready to eat?"

"My. . . what a big," Paris gasped breathlessly, " BASKET you have Mr GoldiSpots!"

"Oh yeah!" Kim felt his prelubed buns heat up in the confining leather as he looked down at Mr GoldiSpots goodies.

"Why, the better for us to eat with my dear gentlemen."

As GoldiSpots began to actually cook though, the two ensigns had to wonder if his menu was the same as their own.

As Mr. GoldiSpots began to chop and peel the two ensigns conspired to attract his attention.

Mr GoldiSpots reached for his bananas and gasped, "Someone's been eating my banana!"

Then he grabbed for his cucumber and shrieked, "Somebody's been gobbling on my gherkin!"

His eyes widened in amazement as he opened his ice bucket and stammered, "And s-somebody's been sucking on my icicle! And that person is still here!"

He looked up into the mock-innocent eyes of Leather Boy Kim.

"Ensign," he growled, waving his knife much lower than he normally was accustomed to, "you have been a very, very bad boy."

"I had been so looking forward to making something that would please you -- both of you -- but now look at what you've done. My celery is limp!"

"Oh no!" Mr/s. Paris said in alarm as he slapped his cheeks Macauley Culkin style, "Well, we must remedy THAT immediately!"

Both men grabbed up some veggies and began to really sizzle.

"Let's see if we can't get GoldiSpots to show us his mystery meat du jour!" Kim cried as he ripped off his g-string and shoved a yellow squash up his pulsating passion hole.

Paris, in a food frenzy, began to mash hot potatoes into his throbbing salami and moan as he watched his luncheon companion of choice create a sex souffle.

'Oh, God, now I know why they call it leola root!" Kim moaned in abandon as his own personal parsnip began to leak human hollandaise sauce.

Without warning both ensigns threw themselves at GoldiSpots, grinding him into the carpet as they ripped his ugly little clothes off.

"He's mine!" Paris growled.

"No!" Kim shouted back. He's mine!"

GoldiSpots pulled himself up. "Gentlemen, if I may make a. . ."

"He's right," Kim interrupted. "There's enough of him for both of us."

"Screw your dinner," Mr Kim growled as he tossed the minuscule spotted fruit-fucker over his shoulder and stomped toward the bedroom.

"I think we already did that." Paris said smartly as he went to join them. Thinking twice, he grabbed up some melon and a few phallic foodstuffs before giggling naughtily and peeking in the bedroom.

Kim tossed the diminutive chef onto the bed and began to grind his salivating garlic press into GoldiSpots' own.

"No no!!!" GoldiSpots cried, "It's too hard!"

"Oh." Mr Kim looked taken aback. "In that case. . ." He reached into Mr GoldiSpots's shorts to pull out his goodies, then paused. "Oh no."

"What?" Mr Paris asked in concern.

"It's too soft." Kim grumbled.

"Maybe we should just forget this whole thing and. . ." GoldiSpots began.

"I HAVE IT!!!" Paris declared and tossed a cantaloupe to his companion in seduction.

Whipping out his Melon Balls, Mr Kim began to drill a hole in the fruit with surprising force. Paris grabbed up a banana and a peach and walked over to his friend. Lubing his fellow officer with the juice of the tender and vitamin endowed fruit; he began to prod his produce cooler with the long, hard banana.

As he was screwed by the potassium rich food, he began to sing breathlessly. "DAY-OH! Daaaaay-oh! Make me cum butt fucking my hole. . ."

"Come, come, Mr. GoldiSpots -- wouldn't you like to eat my balls?" Mr. Kim purred as he dropped chunks of melon all over the Talaxian's furry yellow chest. "You know I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts," he continued, his heavy throbbing avocados swinging inches from GoldiSpots' face.

Paris fell on the bed, ripped the scanty material from his thighs and stuck his legs high in the air. At that moment, he looked so much like a horny Julia Child that the Talaxian felt his barbecue prong go rigid with lust.

"Fuck me food boy!" He cried, "Fill me with that special sauce!"

GoldiSpots growled the scent of leola root permeating the room and tore off his boxers with the Carmen Miranda print to reveal a huge watermelon sized woody.

Reaching for a pot of butter flavoured Crisco, which was conveniently located near the bed; he scooped up a handful and smeared Mr. Paris' crisper before plodding ahead. "AHA!" He shouted. "It's just RIGHT!"

He stocked Paris's pantry, driving his cart through his "In" door over and over again, as Paris's automatic opener tightened around him like a nutcracker.

He was the Brillat-Savarin of boinking, the James Beard of jazzing, the Galloping Gourmet of grinding.

Over and over again he pounded his blade steak into Paris's tender filet mignon. Suddenly Paris tightened his pastry tube; GoldiSpots reached under him and grabbed ahold of his tube steak, tenderising the tough meat with his rough spotted fingers.

"Yes, YES!!!!" he screamed as his cocktail weenie exploded, like they do if you put them in the microwave.

"My turn," Kim said evilly and he pulled at his taffy and approached the spotted dick.

As GoldiSpots pulled out, Kim bent down and mouthed his spewing swizzle stick. After he drank of the sweet confection he came up for air and wiped at the cum moustache left behind. "Ah," he grinned, "Got cream? If so, my strawberry shortcake could use a dollop or two."

"I'm afraid my timer is worn down." GoldiSpots moaned.

"In that case, may I insert my hot-dog into your bun?"

"Certainly!" Mr GoldiSpots cried and bent over allowing Mr Kim to grease his hotbox before stuffing the proverbial turkey.

"Oh shit!" Mr Kim cried as he smacked his ass in time with his thrusts. "I'm gonna tenderise you until you can't walk! I'm gonna make you call me Chef Boyardee and ask for seconds!"

"Feed it to me big daddy!" GoldiSpots moaned, "Give me 100% pure chuck-fuck!"

"Well damn," Paris sulked feeling left out of all the fun. "I could've had a V-8!"

As he watched Kim pound cake GoldiSpots into a jiggling puddle of pleasure jello, he leered, "Maybe I'll settle for a V-3 instead!"

Kim shook his lemon meringue booty and moaned when suddenly he felt a sharp pain. "Ow!"

He looked behind him to see Paris screwing his backside with abandon. "Get that damn meat thermometer out of me Paris! Too many cooks spoil the soup!"

"Yeah, but you can NEVER have too many cocks!" Paris spat out.

Nevertheless, he adorned his passion fruit with a dab of Cool Whip before returning to Kim's hot butt.

"You're toast, fry boy!" Kim shouted, but soon the friction of Paris's hot flint was driving his broiler to High.

"Oh thank goodness for Ensign Par-ee!" he screamed.

"Pack that pickle, Mr. Paris!" The Talaxian suddenly groaned, then howled as he splattered the sheets with his hot thick special sauce.

Kim followed him shortly into the abyss, with Mr. Paris bringing up the rear.

"That was great," Kim sighed, "A smorgasbord of stanky sex."

"Your ass is so hot is felt like it was packed with jalapenos!" Paris praised.

GoldiSpots blushed and grinned. "Well, I did my best."

"Your cream was delicious!" Kim went on.

"I've never been so full in my life." Paris agreed, patting his now vacant ass.

"It wasn't too al dente?" GoldiSpots asked meekly.

"Oh no!" Gay Par-ee cried, "Nice and firm, just like I used to get back home."

"Well. . ." His spots flushed prettily. "I've been taking lessons."

"Lessons. . ." Paris repeated, as he and Kim shared a disturbed look.

"Yes!" GoldiSpots replied. "I'm always interested in the customs and traditions of other species, including sexual customs too, of course -- after all, we're all men of the galaxy here -- so I asked one of the crew members to give me some pointers. . . you know. . ."

"Somebody's been fucking with our GoldiSpots?" Paris asked.

"Somebody's been sucking with our GoldiSpots?" Kim echoed.

"And he's right here," a voice broke out from the corner of the room.

Both men looked into the shadowy corner. Who could it be? The possibilities were endless.

"Poppa Bear!" GoldiSpots cried and bounded across the room to pull the secret chef from his hiding place.

"Who could it be?" Kim whispered.

"Oh my stars and garnishes, it's. . . it's. . ."

"Hello boys."

"IT'S HIM!!!"

The HoloDoc grinned and tossed his chef's hat onto the bed before rubbing the bulge under his apron. "I always did enjoy a nice buffet."

The two men grinned and shrugged before submitting to some very tasty lessons in haute sex cuisine from the master chef himself.

And they ate happily ever after. . .

. . .until tea but that's a whole other story called 'Little Red Penis and the Big Bad Captain'

Bon Appetite

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End