February 14, 2021

Author's Note: This is an updated revised repost from January 2021. In retrospect, perhaps Aspects of Troi should have been presented in two separate continuing stories….I've seen 100-plus hits so far and would love to hear feedback from all of you!

The good news is that I am currently on page 14 of a sequel entitled "Ripples". The bad news is I've had writer's block for two weeks now…

Keep safe. (That's an order!)

Aspects of Troi

Prologue

Seven dimensions obliquely above ours…as Q would count them

The Terran Empire, ISS Enterprise, Stardate: 27436.00

"Y a-t-il quelque chose que la Sûreté puisse faire pour Monsieur Bond?" Her eyes met his playfully. "You must be, mmm, tre's faim; I mean, very hungry after finally destroying SPECTRE." Deanna Troi's lips parted suggestively, and she let him breathe in her scent.
Mentally Lieutenant Reg Barclay checked the time. Asshole LaForge was in off some kind of briefing; Reg shouldn't be noticed as being missing for another fifteen minutes. Or so. He debated with himself a second longer, but the Troi hologram addition was just too enticing.
"Mais oui, I did m-miss dinner, Katrin, but le déserte sonne tre's délicieuse." Barclay hung up his Walther PPK, shed his shirt and reached for her. "Let's both of us celebrate la finis de Ernst Stavros Blofeld."
She skipped back coquettishly so he went after her. "I have a special surprise for you, James." Her eyes danced.
Barclay calculated the angles for a rolling dive to his gun and scanned the room for danger. He was playing the 007 part to the limit and was expecting to see a large white Persian cat and not his worst nightmare. 'There's usually an ending twist to these programs…..'
"You're so right, my dear." Deanna had stopped backing up. "And that twist is that I am neither a hologram nor your god-damn plaything."
Deanna smiled wickedly into his stunned eyes and expertly clamped her agonizer down on his shoulder. "You've been caught screwing around once too often. I think I'll remember you as Break-the-Regs-Reg."
She raised her voice over his screaming. "Computer, end program."

1

Seven dimensions obliquely below…

USS Enterprise, Stardate: 27436.00

The door hissed open and Lieutenant Reginald Barclay backed into Corridor 8 mumbling something under his breath. He had dragged out the session an extra couple of minutes and now, shift change completed, the corridor was mercifully empty. Reg was relieved. He didn't think he could stand the bustle of normal crew people going past him, doing and feeling normal things. His relief evaporated as he heard a door hiss open.
He knew without looking it was her door. Barclay tried to move faster.
"Reg? I didn't quite hear that….." Her rich and melodious voice was hypnotic. It could make one shiver.
It demanded a response, and Barclay found he was only walking away from her in his mind. "DenIbya' Qatlh, I said!", her cool professionalism suddenly triggering a hot, irritated center he never knew he had. He glared down the empty corridor.
There was a cold, cold silence. It forced him to swing around, irritation gone. "I-I'm s-sorry Counsellor. It's j-just-" Deanna Troi's gaze stopped his words. He was mortified. She was, after all, the gorgeous woman he had been caught idolizing on the holodeck.
'He's calling me a Denebian Slime Devil? After what I've put into the last 2 hours for him? Muzzle it!' "SoH matlh!" Deanna snapped. "Reg! And I really thought we had made progress today."
Her sudden hard demeanor coupled with being told in Klingonasse he was filthy, and disgusting held Barclay motionless. It was so at odds with the warm caring counsellor he had poured his feelings to a short time earlier. Unbidden and unwanted, a scantily clad Greek Goddess Troi flashed into his mind. Only one minute out of his therapy and here he was, craving his holo-fantasies again.
Deanna's face was set; her mesmerizing eyes narrowed. "Why, Lieutenant. It doesn't take a Betazoid to know what's going on in your mind."
Barclay reddened as his manhood did things all by itself. It was hopeless to try and hide it.
"So, you still think you must have me in your fantasies." Seductive. "Perhaps-" Lovely hands clasped. "-we've gone about this all the wrong way." She slapped her com-badge. "Troi to Riker."
"Bridge; Riker here."
"Commander, I'd like to request Lieutenant Barclay be excused from duty today. I'd really like to take this opportunity to delve deeper."
Riker sat up as if stung. "A moment, please, Counsellor." He turned to La Forge who was trying suddenly to look busy at the Engineering station.
La Forge shrugged. "He doesn't do a full day's work anyway, Commander. Holodeck addict."
Deanna waited, amused. She'd picked up on their emotions and suspected the
Bridge had suddenly gotten hotter. Riker came back. "He's all yours, Counsellor."
His voice was so carefully neutral that she made sure he heard her little laugh. 'Thank you, Will.' Deanna sent the fervent thought to her Imzadi.
Her amusement vanished. "A moment while I get changed, Reg. We have ourselves a date in Holodeck 2."
Reg flinched. 'Wh-t the fuck –' He knew it was the wrong thing to be thinking the moment he thought it.
And they both now knew the morning session was a total wash-out, shot all to hell.

The turbo lift down was silent. Reg did not need Betazoid abilities to sense her deepening chilly mood. "Counsellor? Please talk to me." He made another effort to garner her forgiveness. The lift shifted directions. "L-let m-me explain…"
The counsellor seemed to not even hear as she effortlessly stared him down. His anxiety rose as they neared her destination. The doors slid open. She nudged the increasingly reluctant engineer along the corridor. Barclay wondered what in space she had planned in the holodeck. He watched the beautiful counsellor as she stopped at the holodeck console. Barclay realized that the Betazoid was aware of his frequent glances, but khest it, he was at least trying to control his infatuation.
Deanna gripped his ear, pulled his face to her. "I have just spent the last two hours listening to the insides of your filthy little mind. Trying to find ways to help..." Her other hand continued entering data, refining her program. The computer obliged her with the formula for lye soap. She keyed it in, specifying replicated and not holographic."...To….Help You." Deanna continued. Her anger boiled over. "I 'heard' you again just now, and I've about had i!" She propelled him away from her. "Computer! Run Program Barclay 9."
Walls flickered into place, lighting was subtly altered, and Barclay stumbled into an odd-shaped alien toilet. He swung around quickly, knocking something to the floor. He bent to pick it up then stared. Now he knew whose butts the commode had been designed for. The `oy'naQ, a high-end Klingon painstick, made painful contact as a heavily booted foot sent him to the floor. He writhed and yelled. An elegant hand with long sharp nails gracefully deactivated the pain and rolled him onto his back.
Muscles cramping, Barclay stared up and his breath caught. Even with forehead ridges and heavy brows Troi was still the most alluring woman he'd ever seen.
Deanna Troi looked around critically. Her gaze took in the plentiful accouterments and she frowned. "Computer. Remove cleanser dispensers. Replicate three yellow soap bars; rounded corners; weight: 130g each." Multiple mirrors reflected her new, formidable Klingon appearance as she lathered her hands. "Filthy language and nasty thoughts are the same no matter the language they're thought in." Her voice was stern, unforgiving. "We'll just have to take care of the problem human-style, with a few Klingon variants." She showed her jagged teeth and swung the enema bag into his view. Out of his sight, her other hand enabled the transporter.
Barclay levitated off the floor. His gaze went from the counsellor as she lathered her hands to the enema bag of soapy water. The transporter effect made it bubble nicely. His eyes opened wide. "C-Counsellor-" A frothy spittle came out as he spoke, and a strange desperate look came. He lunged.
The Betazoid adroitly sidestepped as Barclay hunched over the commode, spewing out a steady stream of acrid sudsy water. An attempt to breathe through his nose misfired and he gulped down a mouthful and retched helplessly. Barclay wheezed and gripped both sides of the commode as she yanked down his pants.

About an hour later the counsellor stepped back and surveyed the results of her gentle ministrations. She took her time. Barclay coughed and squirmed but left the soap bar in in his mouth as per Deanna's command. His lips were rapidly swelling, and his eyes streamed. The rich lather caked his face, neck, and shirt. His eyes were locked on hers.

An errant trickle of suds went down to his groin and Deanna had to resist an urge to wipe it away.
"Have we learned our manners yet?" She asked.
Barclay moved his head fractionally.
"MajQa'!" She stepped in close to take the soap out of his mouth. He recoiled from her in fear. Deanna grinned mischievously. "Are you asking for more?"
She picked up the unused soaps and laughed as he choked back an oath. "Take these with you," the counsellor instructed. "Wash with them when you shower to remind yourself of your lesson. Perhaps then you'll be more inclined to behave better in the future." Deanna locked eyes with him until he nodded again. "Computer. Arch."
Her appearance flicked back to gorgeous Betazoid as she headed out. "I'll check in on you, later today, see how you are and how you feel about reciting some Hamlet to me. In Klingonasse…."