#Chapura fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whovianbuffalo · 4 days ago

Text

Uhuramonth day 20 prompts: "Technobabble" and "Carnal Pleasures"

(I chose both!)

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom :Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)

Relationships: Nyota/Christine (implied)Nyota/Sex toypast Uhura/GailaChristine Chapel & Nyota Uhura

Characters: Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel

Additional Tags: Voice Acting,Sex Toys, Robot Vibrator, Humor, sexual fantasies, Past Uhura/Gaila - Freeform, Implied Uhura/Chapel - Freeform, dubcon(if you squint), Christine would be into it though, Crack Treated Seriously, uhuramonth

Language: English

Summary:

When Uhura opens a toy that was gifted to her by Gaila, she's surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other end

Uhura jumps. So, she isn't imagining it. Christine Chapel: coworker, nurse, acquaintance, friend… and, apparently, voice actor.

“Why are you trying so hard to rile me up?” She huffs.

“You informed me that you get turned on when you win an argument.”

“Not always! It really depends on the argument.”

“Very well. What would you like to argue about?”

• Vox •

If there's one thing Nyota knows, it's communication. If you learn to speak their language, then everyone can be understood… Though, sometimes, the secret lies in their facial expressions. The body talks. In fact- as Nyota attempts to wind down and turn her brain off after a long day on the bridge- she can't shake the feeling that her body is communicating just a little too much right now.

Relax, she thinks, and settles back against the mattress. She exhales, pulling her uniform off in one, swift motion, leaving no room to pretend someone else is easing it off her, no matter how much she needs it. And, oh god, she needs it.

As a communications expert, she never expected to feel lonely in space, but now, 3 weeks into a five-year-mission, she's beginning to feel the strain.

She slips into a silk nightgown and wonders, for a moment, what is being worn by everyone else on board, given that there are no regulations on nightwear. There are guidelines, sure. A couple of pointers, and a handbook called “Dressing For An Emergency: How To Dress Casually When You're On-Call,” which she's almost certain was adapted from a book written for medical students.

For a split second, she thinks of Gaila: light years away, operating on a different time schedule entirely. She would calculate the time difference, but she's much too tired. If it is night time there, she wonders if Gaila is wearing that frilly thing, which covers nothing at all…

She has neither time nor patience to give her body what it wants, but she's been putting it off for three weeks, for God's sake. She lies on her side, closes her eyes, and contemplates various techniques of meditation she knows (both Terran and extraterrestrial) before she admits defeat.

She moves over to the closet, and only rummages for a moment before finding the box. It's badly-hidden, but then, who's going to look? Nyota was promoted through the ranks quickly enough that she earned her own private quarters, so…

She lifts the lid, and stares at the thing.

It was a going away present from Gaila, to show that there were no hard feelings. "Or, maybe some hard feelings," she winked. “Perhaps you'll use it and think of me," she'd said, without a hint of irony. She didn't think long distance relationships would work across space, and Uhura was inclined to agree, but three weeks and a whole lotta distance later, she's beginning to wish for something, anything, to take the edge off.

Three weeks, Nyota. Three weeks. She takes the sealed package out of the box, perfectly trapped in clear bioplastic. It's significantly smaller than she expected, and she fights conflicting feelings of disappointment and relief.

She's almost ashamed that she hasn't opened it yet, but, under the circumstances, who could blame her? She's been able to distract herself by getting to know all her new coworkers- there are over 400 of them, after all- and hasn't felt ready to launch into any kind of new relationship yet… not that she hasn't had offers.

Not that she hasn't been tempted.

Built into the side of it is a small pressure plate. When she pushes it, nothing happens. Unperturbed, she turns it over in her hand. There's a slider on the other side, with three words written beside it. "Off," "Standard," and "Vox." Uhura pauses, and, tentatively, flicks the slider to "Standard."

"Calibrating," the device says, in a female voice. She jumps. Something about the voice sounds familiar, but she can't work out why. Her mind, as ever, is on Gaila.

It asks her to input certain parameters with a series of personal questions. She answers them all.

Now, the device responds to the slightest touch, the speed of the vibrations determined by the pressure applied to the plate. As for the final setting…

Vox.

Well, It's not as if the device has been particularly quiet until now…

She frowns, and turns it on. Immediately, the toy's reactions become slow and muddied, much more sluggish than before. She's about to switch it back to standard, when an arresting voice calls out.

"I do hope you've made yourself comfortable, my dear."

She blinks. The sound is coming from the device, although it's not as tinny as one might expect, given the circumstances.

"Of course, the decision is yours. I'm not here to cast judgement on your social life; but I am here…" The voice takes on an unmistakably flirty edge. "To help."

Again, the voice is familiar. Unsettlingly so. She pictures a blouse. Blue. The science department-?

No.

Medbay.

“So, if you would be so good as to lie back on the bed, recline in your favorite chair, or prostrate yourself against the wall-”

Her eyes snap open.

“- then we can begin.”

Chapel.

Nyota stares at the vibrator.

Nurse Chapel, who's always kind to the patients when McCoy snaps at them. Nurse Chapel, who once alluded to having "tried out" a few careers before finally settling in Starfleet Medical. Christine- her coworker- who, really, really wouldn't want Uhura to listen to this… Would she?

Uhura suddenly feels very warm, and scrambles upright, determined to turn the toy off, or, at least, back to ‘standard’-

"Relax." It seems to respond to her movements . "I'm here to help."

Despite everything, Uhura obeys.

At least this way, there's no chance that she'll pine after Gaila.

“Good girl,” the device chirps, and she flushes again. She'd given the go-ahead for certain phrases from a list of pet-names, but that was before she realized it was the voice of Chapel. Now, all she can picture is Christine, in medbay, calling her that very same thing a week ago.

•

“Keep nice and still for me… Good girl,” she said, as she finished a particularly uncomfortable round of vaccinations. “This'll keep you safe from anything that can possibly infect you on tomorrow's away mission.”

“No it won't,” McCoy snorted, from the doorway. “There could be a million uncatalogued bacteria, all trying to eat you alive. MRSA. Super MRSA. Super-super-MRS-I-A–”

“– Ignore him,” Christine said. “There's nothing he loves more than catastrophizing.”

•

“Where did you go?” The device asks, bossily.

Uhura jumps. So, she isn't imagining it. Christine fucking Chapel: coworker, nurse, acquaintance, friend… and, apparently, voice actor.

“I'm here,” she breathes.

“Good. Now, touch your own breasts.”

Uhura laughs, and ignores it. “You're a bit demanding, aren't you?”

“Your hesitancy is noted. I will alter my suggestions. You informed me that your favorite form of foreplay is: kissing.”

“Yes, but you can't exactly simulate kissing when it's just you, by yourself, with nothing but an AI for company.”

“Why, of course you can,” she replies. “Haven't you ever kissed your hand before?”

“Yes, and it's sort-of humiliating to do when you're an adult.”

“Suck on your wrist, then.”

“What?!”

“Place your lips to your wrist, and make out with it.”

The request is so plainly ridiculous that Uhura follows through out of sheer confusion. Confusion melds into embarrassment as she mouths ineffectively at her skin, and she pictures the suckers of a starfish, struggling to gain purchase.

The device perks up. “Don't forget to use your tongue.”

She breaks away, wetly. “Okay, now I know you're messing with me.”

“I assure you, I am not. The inside of your wrist is an erogenous zone, one of those which is most easy to access with-”

“Did Gaila program you to torment me like this?” Uhura snaps.

“Who is Gaila?”

Uhura goes silent, and brings her wrist to her mouth again. She works at it furiously.

“This ‘Gaila’-”

“I thought you were supposed to be getting me off?” she grumbles against her wrist.

“It might help 'get you off' to talk about your emotional issues.”

Uhura ignores her, and is infuriated to realize that darting her tongue out against her wrist provides pleasant simulation, and is even more infuriated to realize that this means she technically isn't ignoring the device’s instructions.

She pulls away, and glares at it. “Alright, what the hell do you want?”

“I am programmed to-”

“No,” she sits up, forcefully. “What do you want?”

“I want to get you off.”

“No you don't.”

“No, I don't. I'm not sentient. But I am programmed with a singular objective.”

“Extremely singular!” she huffs.

“It seems prudent to inform you that you are currently arguing with a vibrator.”

“Oh my god.”

“Perhaps this tendency for argumentation is a way for you to express your pent up sexual energy.”

“I don't have any pent-up sexual-!”

“Really? My internal clock registers it has been 35 days since I was purchased on Rigel VII.”

“That doesn't mean I don't… That I haven't…!” She flushes. “I mean, I've- I know how to-”

“Pleasure yourself?”

“Masturbate,” Uhura splutters.

“A curious word-choice, for a linguist. Surely you are aware of the etymology of it?”

“You know, maybe my 'tendency to argue' comes from the fact that you're pretty damn argumentative yourself.”

“Masturbate: from the Latin ‘manus’ and ‘stuprum’. Manus: hand. Stuprum: to defile, dishonor.”

“What are you, a therapist, or a sex toy?”

“I will restate: my primary objective is to get you off. If I am required to therapise you beforehand, so be it.”

She snorts.

There's a pause. “There are many who view sex as a form of therapy.”

“Well, not I!”

“Yes. It is clearly an area of your life you have overlooked. Hence why Gaila-”

“- Don't talk about her.”

“- Hence why someone in your life purchased it for you.”

She huffs out a breath. “Is this supposed to be turning me on?”

There's a pause. “I adapt to my users' needs.”

“Well, check again, because the only thing you're making me feel is irritation.”

“Am I? Your heartrate is still elevated.”

“That's what happens when people get irritated!”

“Interesting. Perhaps there is a flaw in my programming.”

“Only one?” Nyota muses, as she searches for the off switch.

“... However, there's a high likelihood that I am succeeding.”

“No, you're not.”

“Your survey responses indicate you are turned on by-”

“Hey.”

“- being told what to do.”

“Hey!”

“Your heart leapt when I said that.”

“Stop monitoring my pulse!”

“For safety reasons, I must continue to do so. Plus, it helps me ascertain whether your level of arousal is enough to-”

“Just stop,” she says, grouchily.

“Do you become this flustered when your Captain tells you what to do?”

“It’s different with a m-” she stops. “It’s different on the bridge.”

“Because you are a professional?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Why are you trying so hard to rile me up?” She huffs.

“You informed me that you get turned on when you win an argument.”

“Not always. It really depends on the argument.”

“Very well. What would you like to argue about?”

She plants her face into the pillow and exhales forcefully.

“I don't want to argue!”

“Do you want me to tell you what to do?”

“I guess?” She laughs at the absurdity of it all. “You know, that voice is distracting. It sounds like someone I know.”

“I have four thousand and fifty other voice options. You can choose from one of them, if you wish.”

She pouts her lips. “This one is fine.”

“Of course it is,” the device replies, smoothly.

“You're smug,” she comments.

“And you're predictable. Now, strip.”

“I’m already-” she stops, and waits five seconds. “There. I've done it.”

“Quite the little bottom, aren't we?”

“What makes you think I'm a bottom?”

“Well, no top has ever received a dildo from their partner.”

“Um, they might have? Don't be so old fashioned.”

“Suppose I was programmed that way?”

“To be old-fashioned?! You have the voice of a woman from this century.” She hesitates. “Um- at least- I assume.”

Fortunately, the device doesn't seem to notice her slip-up, not entirely. “Your heartrate is… different.”

“That’s because I’m touching myself,” Nyota lies, though she keeps her hands resolutely by her sides.

After a while, the device speaks up again.

“I sense you have some lingering apprehension.”

“I’m fine.”

“Have you ever used a toy before?”

She laughs. “Never one that talked back.”

“That's understandable. ” There's a pause. “You aren't lying in an attempt to impress me, are you-?”

“You can stop psychoanalysing me now,” she grits.

“- Because, if you are, you should know: I cannot be impressed. The only thing that would impress me would be your eventual orgasm,” the device says, silkily. “As that is my only true purpose, and-”

“I'm not trying to impress you,” Nyota grumbles.

“No. But you're trying to impress someone. Perhaps Gail-?”

“- Hey.”

“Perhaps the woman who gifted this device to you?” It tries again.

Nyota sighs. “If I was trying to impress her, don't you think she'd be on the other end of a vidcall right now?”

“Perhaps you wanted a chance to practice alone, first.”

“If I wanted to practice, do you really think I would have left you sitting in a box for as long as I did?”

“Perhaps you found any reminder of your relationship too painful-”

“Hey.”

“Perhaps we could simulate oral sex. Suck on your thumb.”

She rolls her eyes, and puts her thumb in her mouth.

"... That's it. You're so good for me. Now, wet your fingers in your mouth, nice and slow. Soak them for me."

Uhura obeys the melodious voice, still feeling a little ridiculous.

“Good.”

She lets out a breath. “What makes you so sure that I'm obeying you?”

“The heartrate monitors I came equipped with demonstrate that you are-”

“Okay.”

“Earlier, you informed me you were touching yourself. I deduced that was a lie. When you touch yourself now, be vocal.”

“No.”

“You are shy?”

“I don't need a reason,” she snaps.

“Any noise you make cannot be more embarrassing than playing my voice at this volume.”

“That’s different!”

“You are a communications officer. I cannot be the first machine you have communicated with.”

“No, but you're the first machine I've…” This is ridiculous. She steels herself. “The noises you make are much different to the noises I make. If someone overheads me-”

“What’s so different? 'Oh?! Ohh!'” The vibe begins moaning and panting theatrically, and Nyota scrambles to turn the volume down.

“Stop it!” She yells, face flushing. “I can't believe Chri- uh- someone actually recorded that audio!”

“It is easy to extrapolate from the voice print.”

Uhura sits up. “So this might not be an accurate picture of what her voice sounds like?”

“Does the perceived accuracy of my voice matter to you?”

“... No.”

“Then perhaps you can do me the courtesy of translating your pleasure to audible wavelengths, as I requested.”

“Why?”

“I cannot determine from your heartbeat alone without physical contact-”

Nyota moans as she places the vibe between her legs, and it shudders with appreciation.

“Next time, I'm putting you on mute,” she says through gritted teeth.

“But there will be a next time!” the device chirps, smugly.

•

The next morning, Nyota happens to pass Christine in the mess hall as she talks to one of the medical ensigns. She's never the type to eavesdrop, but, just this one time, she allows her curiosity to get the better of her.

“... My sister tells me she's currently working on a new type of holo software: more complex than the ship's computers themselves, and capable of simulating an entire virtual world. So far, every prototype sounds eerily like her.”

“They got all that from a couple of voice-prints?”

“Well, she has quite an extensive backlog from her previous voice-acting work,” she says. “She's probably going to have to go back and record more lines in a few years. She seems to consider it quite important- she asked me to promise that I'd take over if anything happened to her.”

“Why?”

“Oh, nothing. But apparently, our voices sound similar. Have you ever stopped to listen to The Enterprise’s computer?”

“I’ll be honest, the thought never occurred to me…”

The voices trail off, and Uhura takes a long, slow sip of her drink.

Her sister?!

Son of a bitch!

#uhuramonth #Nyota Uhura #carnal pleasures #Uhura fic #Chapura fic #Uhura x Chapel #gif

7 notes · View notes