Commander William T. Riker strolled onto the bridge of the USS Enterprise. His shirt was all torn, but there was a smile on his face because he had just finished fucking his trombone.
"Number One," Captain Picard barked, "you look like a fucking slob!"
"I'm sorry, sir, I..." Riker stammered, caught off guard by the Captain, whose head was as shiny as the quantum torpedoes the Federation used to force the Maquis off their land.
"I love it! Why the fuck do you think I hired you?" Picard said, before busting into a gay showtune and riding a horse around.
"Thank you, sir," Riker said.
"Number One! I order you to take a number two!" Picard said with authority.
Riker snapped to attention and headed to the women's lavatory.
Lieutenant Worf then walked onto the bridge, mumbling something about an honor-gangbang he'd scheduled for his son Alexander. Picard was bored of that shit because if he couldn't get his dick wet, no one was allowed to.
"Mr. Worf!" Picard barked. "Ensign Crusher has been acting like a soggy bag of dicks lately, just wriggling around and causing a nuisance!"
"What do you mean, Captain?" Worf asked, intrigued by the thought of a bag of dicks.
"Well he pulled four double shifts in a row in engineering, which is fine because I have to pay that blind asshole LaForge twice as much as I have to pay Crusher because of Affirmative Space Action. But then..."
Two Hours Ago
Captain Picard walked in on Wesley Crusher firing two Type II phasers into the air while singing an old Earth folk song called 'American Badass.' Picard appreciated all terrible music so he let Wesley finish his song.
"This shit makes me feel like Kid Rock! I feel like my dick could punch through a can of RC Cola!" Wesley howled.
Picard frowned and ordered an alien to shine his head.
"I need you to go through his things and see what the fuck is wrong with him," Picard told Worf.
Worf entered Wesley Crusher's quarters after breaking the lock off with two of his seven Klingon cocks. He instantly fucked up everything valuable with his bat'leth and then took a dump on Dr. Crusher's bed because his finely honed Klingon instincts told him that white women were into that.
He then walked into Ensign Crusher's bathroom and saw a stunning sight: the bathtub was full of Dilithium crystals!
"This can only mean one thing," the stoic Klingon intoned as he wiped his ass with the priceless nightgown Lt. Jack Crusher gave to his wife before he died.
"Fuck, Commander Riker, you look like a slob!" Wesley exclaimed. "Also, I'm pretty sure I'm busted. I saw Worf rooting around through my quarters and fucking one of my mom's pillows."
Riker instantly knew what was up. "Dilithium Crystal Meth is no joke, Wes," he stated. "I love that shit, but you can never get caught. Ever."
"What should I do, Commander?" asked Wesley.
"Remember your academy training," Riker said with a grin.
Soon enough, Picard and Worf had Wesley cornered on the bridge. The accusations were flying, Picard's head was reflecting every useless light on every useless control console. Wes could see four of Worf's hard dicks through his tight space-pants.
"An alien planted the drugs there! A Ferengi! Then he made me do them!" Wesley exclaimed.
Picard and Worf looked at each other knowingly.
"Sorry, Wesley. My mistake," said Picard.
"Sir, there is currently only one Ferengi aboard the Enterprise. His name is Durp and he lives on level seven," said Worf.
Soon enough, Picard called Durp to the bridge. Federation justice was administered. Wesley was never caught again... but you'd best believe that Q sees everything, and he wanted in on that shit.
NOTE: The next post down is NSFW.