Red Shirts
Surely the Red Shirts on the Enterprise knew what always happened to anyone of them who accompanied Captain Kirk on a mission. Why do they keep going?
I knocked this out in about fifteen minutes over lunch. Enjoy!
Red Shirt
© 2014 Timberwoof Lupindo
Not for Distribution
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jeffrey Mitchell lined up with the rest of the Red Shirts. He was slightly nervous, as to day was His Day: He stood at the head of the line, ahead of all the other Red Shirts. He had taken his performance-enhancement drugs last night and with breakfast this morning, so he was ready for His Day. His boner was tight in his shorts and he stood with a smile. A few of the other Red Shirts smiled and winked. They saw and were proud to be in his company.
"Detail attention!" said the Commander.
"Men, as you all know, we're approaching the Neutral Zone on a mission of utmost importance. Today we will depend on Lieutenant Mitchell to safeguard the Away Team. Like many Red Shirts who have gone before him, Mitchell has trained hard for this day. And as you can see, he's standing proud, proud to be one of us, one of the Red Shirts."
The intercom whistled.
"Security, we need one Security officer for an Away Mission. Report to the Transporter Room."
The commander punched the intercom.
"Acknowledged. Company Attention! Salute!"
The gathered Red Shirts saluted Lieutenant Mitchell. Mitchell returned the salute and smartly turned and left the conference room.
As he walked double-time down the corridor to the Transporter Room he wondered how he would meet his end. Vaporized by an illegal disruptor fired by a space pirate? Dissolved in the acid excretion of a Horta? Lanced through the heart by a clone of Ghengis Khan?
Each scenario excited him more. His heart rate increased, his breathing intensified as he entered his Red Shirt Trance. He was glad for his athletic supporter; it cradled his balls and cock protectively ... and made his hard-on a bit less obvious but hopefully more tasteful. A Red Shirt can't outshine the Captain.
Maybe a phaser blast as he threw his body in the way of its intended target, the Captain himself. Oh, this thought pleased him greatly, and he smiled as he entered the Transporter Rom.
The Captain and Mister Spock were already there. They had phasers on their belts, so at the Captain's nod Mitchell took a phaser from the arms locker and attached it to his own.
They took their places on the transporter pad. Lieutenant Mitchell took a deep breath and exhaled in antici--
"Energize," said Captain Kirk.
The transporter beam shimmered and whirled and howled. Mitchell exalted as his atoms were decomposed and reassembled at the landing coordinates.
--Pation.
Mitchell's heightened awareness and eagerness to serve helped him overcome the disorientation of transport. He scanned the surroundings and saw--...
"Romulans!"
Mitchell drew his phaser, and in a passionate heave ran between Kirk and Spock, and rushed the party of Romulans. Several of them drew their disruptors and discharged them at Mitchell. In slow motion he could sense the disruption of his flesh and bones. The pain was intense, but in his state it pushed him over the edge. As he fell he spasmed and jerked in a healthy, mindblowing orgasm. He came as he went, a smile on his face, upholding the pride of the Red Shirts with a glorious and meaningful death.