by Dolores Labouchere
It was the Voyager Christmas party. The mess hall, decorated and festive, was
full of Voyager's crew, all of whom were well acquainted with Neelix`s somewhat
lethal fruit punch.
The bubble-butted Tom Paris was running about with a sprig of replicated mistletoe,
getting kisses from all the female crew. Chakotay, several glasses of wine the
worse for wear, stood watching him, growing intensely jealous of Torres as Paris
indulged in a full-on snog. Draining his glass the Commander was drunk enough
to take his chance. Unfortunately for the Native American, he had to wait another
few glasses, until Paris came up for air after three solid hours of tongue-sandwiching
with B'Elanna.
"Don't I get a kiss?" Chakotay said, leering at Paris.
"OK," Paris jokily replied and went to peck Chakotay on the cheek.
The First Officer responded by grabbing Tom by the buttocks and pulling him
close. He then plunged his tongue into Paris's mouth.
After the initial shock, Paris submitted and the two started ripping each other's
clothes off. Torres thought about killing both of them but decided to go and
find Seven of Nine instead - unless that bitch Janeway had got into her jumpsuit
first.
No one else noticed much except for Kim, who was briefly disturbed from his
vomiting after one too many vodkas by Paris's cry of pain when Chakotay brutally
penetrated him with 10 inches of Native American meat.
"This is - ah! - so - oh! - implausible," observed Tom.
"What - uh! - and - uh! - these stories never - uh! - are?" replied
Chakotay.
"And this has - aah! - got bugger all to do with Christmas," said
Tom.
"It will when I tie you to my bed with tinsel and shove baubles up your
arse," said Chakotay before filling Paris's rectum with his Indian man-milk.
He decided to keep his plan to shag 12 bells out of Kim at Hogmanay a secret
for now. After all, Christmas had only just begun....
