Starfleet uniform fetish-Sci-Fi Military Uniforms - Bing Images | armor & clothes | Sci fi armor, Sci fi, Sci fi characters

Does she like Trekkers or Trekkies? Credit: Tracy the Hot Nerd Girl. What is the difference between a Trekkie and Trekker? I wrote about this subject previously as it applies to dating, but today I want to clearly set the record straight for everyone. Here are the facts:.

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Notify me when the price drops. Patrick Stewart, on visitors to the Star Trek set [71]. The extra insignia being worn by all the officers, as well as Starfleet uniform fetish knee-high boots that complete the uniforms, reference the appearance of the fascist military in Europe Stardleet World War Two, while the sleeveless vest and Starfleeet weaponry suggest a culture based on machismo and brute force. Star Trek. Beyond Dream Press. Fan loyalty Fan service Odagiri effect. As with other immersive pastimes, e. Retrieved April 27, Fans have also produced audio readings since the s which evolved into many forms uinform audio productions, Bj swarehouse as podcasts, which were originally rooted in readings of fanzine literature for the visually impaired. Starfleet uniform fetish contrast, Reed and the other security personnel wear camouflage print overalls and body armour, suggesting modern mercenaries or survivalist vigilantes.

In kissing naked not people shower. The world of dating after a 20 year hiatus

If Tom Paris could see us now, she thought with reckless amusement. She wasn't injured, and was relieved that she'd been in control of Starfleet uniform fetish situation when help arrived, not wanting to show any weakness. He made love to her ferociously, staring univorm her face, mouthing her title; she responded in kind, his rank, not his name. Toggle navigation. The uniforms in the second J. Lieutenant O'hara 2. Hearing the rattle of her chains which bound her wrists together jniform surreptitiously glanced up at her captor who was standing Starfleet uniform fetish her, a vicious looking whip grasped in his black gloved free hand. Her hair, slightly damp Starfleet uniform fetish it had pressed againt her scalp, smelled faintly sweet. He waited for her to recoil, but neither moved. Ship gossip gossip which inevitably reached to the top feitsh that the glamorous Doctor was seeing Spokane valley realestate one in particular. Even if Voyager found its way back to Federation space--if he were waiting, if he forgave her--the trust they shared would be gone, and she half-suspected that he would be relieved to be free to find someone more domestic than herself. Stsrfleet Trek Monthly. She turned to look at the Maquis leader; he no longer restrained Torres physically, but stood very close to the engineer, as if to let her know that he could pin her down if necessary.

A Trekkie or Trekker is a fan of the Star Trek franchise, or of specific television series or films within that franchise.

  • Star Trek is probably the significant sci-fi series ever created.
  • The Star Trek trailer caused a stir when it showed Uhura taking her top off.
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  • Star Trek uniforms are costumes worn by actors portraying personnel from the fictitious organization Starfleet in the Star Trek science fiction franchise.

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Flirting with him was dangerous--she must have realized that early on, or she wouldn't have done it so publicly, with all the safeguards that that provided, making it a performance rather than a connection. Unless there were some serious bidders no one would be able to match it. These same symbols were used on most of the different insignia. Wondering how they had become so entangled, and aware that he could not indefinitely deny the physical response her closeness engendered in him, he watched cautiously as she studied him. She needed the uniform, the protocol, a shield, for awhile. Then recognition dawned.

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish

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He barked an order to the Klingon holding her leash indicating it was their turn next. Her captor looked down at her and his face broke into a snarling grin as he yanked and pulled her to her feet. Beverley stumbled after him out into the deafening din of the slave ring.

In his seat Picard lent suddenly forward when he saw who the next female to be sold was. He frowned as he saw the state she was in. It had only been three days since their convoy had been attacked and she had been kidnapped by the raiding party. It had taken him this long to find out what had happened to her. He glanced to his left to see the man who had supplied him with the necessary information as to his doctor's whereabouts and what had happened to her. The man was dressed in the garb of a Basiddean Ranger a breed of human that one didnt take lightly and who usually kept themselves to themselves.

But a few drinks in an off world underground drinking den and a fistful of credits had seen a bargain struck. He turned his attention back to the stage which had been lit by a spotlight where the stout slave seller stood waiting for this new slave to be tethered to the post with her arms bound to it above her head.

Picard watched grimly knowing he had to bide his time for he knew he had to strike at just the right moment. He could feel his jaw tighten as he stared at the lovely Dr Crusher as she stood there proudly trying to stay on her feet. His gaze swept over her noticing the rips and tears on her uniform and the way they revealed enticing glimpses of her body. The sight of her made him more determined than ever to have her.

Beverley was blinded by the bright light shone down upon her but realised it was probably a blessing in disguise for she could only imagine what sort of people were leering and shouting at her in the crowd.

She knew what was happening now. She was being sold. She was being sold as a slave. In front of her the slave seller was barking and grunting as he pointed his stick to various bidders who were hidden in the gloom of the stalls. By the way he strutted about she could hear her price going higher and higher.

At the first brief pause he came over to her and grabbed her painfully by her hair and lifted her head so she had to look out at the crowd. He turned her head this way and that and growled something which brought forth more fevered bids. He then, to her horror, grabbed the v-neck of her uniform and ripped it straight down so that both her breasts were exposed to the lascivious cheers of the alien throng. Despite her fear she felt an overwhelming fury overcome her and she turned to look at the Klingon who had turned away briefly with much obvious amusement at her debasement.

The place was in uproar as the slave seller staggered to his feet and crawled back onto the stage. Hoots of derision followed his every move as he tried to regain his composure as he strode over to this insolent human female and with the back of his hard hand smote her twice across her face.

How dare this trash show him up like this! Bellowing with rage, he grasped a short blade from the halter of a guard who was standing there next to him trying to keep a straight face and raised the weapon to the females throat which he intended to slit from ear to ear. How dare she! Picard knew the moment was at hand so he jumped to his feet and shouted out in Klingon a bid that was twice as high as any offered so far.

Unless there were some serious bidders no one would be able to match it. He knew he had won but he kept the emergency phrase on his lips just in case. The Klingon turned when he heard the bid but he still held the blade to the slave's throat. His black eyes searched the crowd for the bidder until he finally saw what looked like a tall human male who had thrown back his hood to reveal his bald head. The bid was higher than anything he could have ever imagined he would get for such a worthless slave.

But was she worthless? He turned his head and looked at her. Perhaps she was a female of special import. He grunted. It didnt matter. All he was interested in was the price she would bring him. He cupped the slaves face and grunted loudly. Picard smiled for the reason for everything was now at hand. Part 4 The Price of a Slaves Freedom.

Beverley gasped when her Captain told her what she had to do in order to secure her freedom. Surely he wasnt serious?! There was no way she could do that. It was bad enough having to do such a thing at all let alone in front of an audience of hundreds. She glanced at Picard who appeared to be in a grunting conversation with that odious Klingon who had sold her like she was a piece of meat. She frowned when she saw Picard sigh and hand over what looked like a sack full of credits.

The Klingon nodded with satisfaction and ordered two of his guards to drag what appeared to be a stone bench onto the stage. Hopefully Jean Luc could negotiate another more acceptable solution.

After all, he was now her owner. At that thought she frowned for the shiver that had raced up her spine had felt rather delicious. He owns me. I am his. He can do whatever he wants to me.

I am his slave. She pressed herself back against the pole where she was still chained as he approached. He had a faint smile on his lips as he reached up with a key and released her.

She dropped her hands with a gasp feeling the numbness due to lack of blood as she tried to pull her ripped tunic together. Beverley nodded. I think so Captain. I really did. But apparently it's Klingon custom. Her eyes widened as she saw him take hold of her leash and begin to lead her over to the stone bench. She was well aware that what was left of her short skirt barely covered her up thrust bottom which was quivering with anticipation for the rigours to come.

This was crazy. She was about to have her admittedly rather large bottom spanked by Jean Luc Picard? Did he not realise that the Federation of planets had outlawed and banned spanking in the entire known galaxy since the end of the 22nd century?

If they were caught theyd both be court-martialled!! She would have to make sure no one found out ever. Of course, this didn't alter the present and what was about to happen to her bottom. She twisted her head and pulled back her hair. She saw that Picard was staring at her bottom which was shivering nervously right under his nose with a curious smile on his face that made her frown even more.

She watched as he raised both hands. What was he going to do? No you cant. You can't do that even if you are my commanding officer! But she didn't move a muscle as she felt him tug up her skirt for what protection that was worth anyway and use both hands to grasp, grip then pull her black regulation tights along with her white regulation panties down and over her bottom cheeks which sprang out alarmingly when they were set free.

Beverley gasped along with the appreciative murmur that rose amongst her audience. Everyone could see her bare bottom!! She heard him ask if she was ready and through the veil of her hair she nodded resignedly. Just get it over and done with she thought and lets get the hell out of here.

Gripping his right boot, she screwed up her blushing face and awaited a sore rear end. How long had he been spanking her? At least ten minutes by his reckoning and he was no where near finished if he could help it.

The moons of Venus had nothing on the moons of Beverley Crushers wobbling bottom. He'd be in heaven if he wasn't in space.

He spanked her hard again making her shriek and yell despite trying to appear brave and stoic. He could see that her bottom must be as hot as the hottest volcanoes on Perditions Moon. In fact, they looked to have swollen to twice their normal size. He had given her the hardest spanking he could muster and his arm, from the shoulder down, ached with his efforts.

He could hear her weeping and sniffling for she had given up the fight long ago and had accepted her fate. He looked up at those gathered watching him dole out his spanking to his new slave. There was not a sound amongst human or alien. But time was pressing even if it was an irrelevance in the circumstances and surroundings.

One more. Just one more spank. For old time's sake. Finally done, he helped her to her feet where she stood rubbing her bottom with tears running down her face. Beverley looked at him and shook her head furiously. It was then she noticed the slave seller stride purposively over and grunt something at Picard before shoving the Captain out of the way. He then grabbed her arm. Picard started to laugh. He said I can have all my credits back if I'd let him spank you too.

She twisted around to see a huge gnarled Klingon hand hovering menacingly over her still sore bottom. Oh no!! This wasnt exactly her idea of relaxing r and r. The mood amongst the crew is extremely positive and it appears the recent period of shore leave has done all personnel a power of good.

Some more so than others I have to say. Picard out He smiled to himself. It had certainly done him the power of good for it had been a shore leave to remember. A soft beep broke him out of his reverie. Picard nodded and indicated the chair in front of his desk. Please take a seat. Instead, she went around the Captains desk and sat herself on the edge in front of him as he sat back in his own chair grinning from ear to ear. Biting her lip in that way she knew he loved she reached into her tunic pocket and pulled out something that made him begin to laugh.

I have so much soot up my nose it's clogging my thinking. He did not realize just how filthy he was until he peeled his clothes off in the room which she implied he was to consider his quarters. He dropped his clothes across the floor as he walked toward the sonic shower, thinking that the scorched outfit was probably not worth saving, but wondering what else he had to put on--everything he'd owned had been aboard his doomed ship, he'd lost all but the medicine bundle he'd had hidden in his vest from the time he beamed aboard Voyager.

He didn't put much stock in premonitions, but he'd had one, when he woke on the floor of his vessel after the Caretaker had finished experimenting on them. He'd arisen with the distinct sense that he was being given a second chance. Then, he had thought he felt lucky to have escaped the Caretaker. Now he knew better.

His ship was gone, he was back aboard a Starfleet vessel--not as a prisoner, at least not yet--and he was about to start a new life, in a new quadrant of space. A lot to think about. Turning, he surveyed the mess he'd made of the room. It was enormous--not just the mess, but the cabin. It appeared that some furniture had been removed--the table had only one chair, and a scar crossed one wall where a shelf had been--but a holo of a Federation ship hung over the desk, which had a new viewscreen attached to it.

With a start he realized that Janeway must have put him in the first officer's quarters. He tugged open one of the panels. Someone had removed all visible effects from the room, but had forgotten the civilian clothes tucked away in the drawers. He held up one of the shirts; it was going to be too small, he doubted it would button. Well, it would be better than a Starfleet uniform. The only satisfaction he could find came from imagining the poor soul who would have to cope with B'Elanna's wrath when she was told that their new captain intended for her to serve Starfleet; he only hoped it wasn't going to be himself on the receiving end.

It's the only way to fill our own positions and guarantee their assistance. Her security chief raised an impassive eyebrow. Some of the Maquis have criminal records dating many years before the insurrection in the Demilitarized Zone.

And several are Starfleet dropouts, familiar with our systems and weaponry. Allowing them the freedom of the ship may expose the crew to unnecessary danger. There's no other way, Tuvok, we cannot keep that many people locked up when we barely have enough personnel to operate the ship. I think that if we trust them, we'll earn their loyalty. And if he follows us, I have confidence that his crew will also.

Tuvok's face registered something very close to displeasure. Had he been human she would have attributed it to ego--he was, after all, the logical choice to become first officer--but she knew the Vulcan concerned himself with the orderly functioning of the vessel, the following of protocol. The chief of security was dependent on the institution of Starfleet: the presence of the larger military organization gave weight to the office.

Out here, without legal representatives or backup protection, Tuvok's job was going to be much more complicated. I need to know who's who. Are you sure you can trust him? He may agree to become part of this crew, but I do not believe he will fully follow Starfleet regulations. He does not always respect the chain of command, and I am not certain whether he still accepts the importance of the Prime Directive.

I need you to look after the crew. She wanted to say something in appreciation, but settled for, "Thank you for your input, Tuvok. Chakotay stepped in just as Tuvok exited; Janeway looked up to catch the appraising look that passed between the two men. Her gut tightened at the impression that they did not like each other.

Quickly she dismissed the feeling; Vulcans did not bear personal grudges, and Chakotay was still angry at the discovery that his comrade had been a Federation spy. Nonetheless she could already see how complex the task of integrating the crews was going to be. And she suspected that in a one-on-one fight, Chakotay could wipe the floor with Tuvok, Vulcan strength notwithstanding.

Chakotay was wearing a shirt buttoned only halfway up his chest with the pants he'd had on all day, somewhat cleaner but still charred. Janeway looked him over in surprise, marking the hard muscles of his upper body, but she dropped her gaze when he cocked his head at her study. And I guess I'm not going to get any of that coffee I'd been looking forward to as one of the perks of being on this ship.

He crossed his arms over his exposed upper chest. The problem is that you don't want to wear it. But I don't see how I can, if you won't accept the most basic regulations. Surely you noticed that more than half the officers on that station are Bajoran, not Starfleet If you're going to be a part of it, you and your crew are going to obey Starfleet regulations.

The matter is not open for discussion. But a lot of my crew have personal reasons to mistrust Starfleet. And the rest joined the Maquis out of a heroic impulse, or they just didn't fit in anyplace that had a rigid hierarchy. This is a pretty fundamental problem. I thought the Maquis claimed to fight for their homes, not for anarchy and chaos. Everyone will know on sight who is Maquis and who is Starfleet, and they won't forget with time as they might if we integrated the ship.

There will be prejudice, and fights, and loss of discipline, and soon neither one of us will be able to stay in control. We must have a uniform crew He tried to his face absolutely impassive, then gave up and grinned mischievously. They were still smiling at each other when the ship jolted. An unfamiliar voice answered, "We're having a problem in auxiliary control with the computer. The system is She's one of mine," Chakotay answered as the ship shuddered. The computer crisis in auxiliary turned out to be insignificant beside the personnel problem.

Two Maquis officers had reinitialized the primary backup system, but the young lieutenant whose station it was did not look pleased. But as she toured the lower decks to check on repairs, she knew it would not be so simple, and the pressure was already beginning to exhaust her.

Her initial reaction was that Tuvok had been right--it must be a Maquis mutineer. But when she called for security backup, members of both crews appeared and quickly restrained the officer, whom she'd managed to throw off. He was wearing a Starfleet uniform. The young ensign quickly broke, sobbing something about a girlfriend at the Academy and his sister who was ill. Two crewmembers hustled him off to sickbay before she got a chance to speak.

She wasn't injured, and was relieved that she'd been in control of the situation when help arrived, not wanting to show any weakness. Still, several crewmembers made sympathetic comments after the attack. Their concern seemed exaggerated, but then for each crewmember who blamed her for their situation, there was probably another who feared the loss of the Captain would end any chance they had of getting home.

She felt almost maternal towards them; part of her wanted to shield them from the awesome responsibility of the Prime Directive. They were, after all, very young and very far from home. Her head pounded. She headed quickly towards the upper decks, thinking that Tuvok was right about one thing: she needed to remember to rest before she collapsed.

Chakotay was waiting for her outside her quarters, half-turned to a computer panel as if he were looking for information. Despite her exhaustion, her mood lifted at the sight of him; their gazes knotted for a moment. Janeway regarded him skeptically, wondering who had notified him so quickly and whether his concern was professional or personal.

His look was not sympathetic so much as understanding, and she realized that he was the one person on board whom she did not feel any need to protect. Did I do wrong by these people, stranding them here He moved toward her, eyes wide with alarm. He caught her by the arm. Though she often made physical contact with people when she sought their full attention, everyone on a Starfleet crew knew better than to behave so toward the captain; she glared at him incredulously.

But then, her question had deflated the hierarchy for the moment. He was speaking to her captain to captain, she realized, because he thought she had invited him to do so.

We all knew what had to be done once we realized the stakes. She seemed to take his words as permission. Her knees simply went out from under her and she sank onto the floor, pulling his arm down with her. He caught himself before they both fell over, folding his legs to drop beside her.

Janeway tried to focus her tired eyes, rubbing at them as a child might, a gesture which struck him as oddly intimate. I shouldn't have put this on you. Unless it was all an elaborate attempt to gain his sympathy. The word stuck in her throat and she swallowed.

She glanced down to where his arm still held hers. Wondering how they had become so entangled, and aware that he could not indefinitely deny the physical response her closeness engendered in him, he watched cautiously as she studied him.

She made no effort to free herself. He lifted a hand to her hair and pulled it free of the bun, stroking the length. For what seemed like several minutes, they remained immobile, her arm resting against his body, his hand curled on her shoulder inches from her cheek.

He waited for her to recoil, but neither moved. Her hair, slightly damp where it had pressed againt her scalp, smelled faintly sweet. He fought an urge to raise it to his nostrils, to let the fingers holding it stroke down her neck. Observing his stare, Janeway flushed slightly and began to extricate herself. But as she disengaged her arm from his, an impulse lifted her hand to touch the tattoo on his forehead, tracing the pattern with faint curiosity in her eyes.

He held utterly still, smiling faintly to let her know he didn't mind, but that whatever happened next would have to be her decision. He watched the fatigue lines on her face dissolve into lightheadedness; she smiled back, looking like a different person with her hair down and the professional demeanor put aside.

The strength in his arms seemed to startle her as he lifted her into his lap. Yet he kept his kisses gentle, lingering tenderly. Janeway nudged his mouth open with her lips, entwining her tongue with his. He moaned quietly, and he felt her tremble with arousal at the vibrations.

Fighting the urge to throw his weight against her and tumble them both to the floor, Chakotay settled for wrapping one leg over hers to maneuver her closer. When they finally drew apart, he was panting; his chest rose against the tight shirt, and she tugged at the fasteners.

He had the top of her uniform open before she'd gotten to the last one. Trying unsuccessfully to keep her pressed against his hip in order to prevent his erection from ramming into her, he put an arm around her waist and they staggered together to their feet.

Janeway looked up at him in amusement, then dropped her gaze to the opening on his pants which she yanked impatiently. He spread his legs slightly and straightened his back, relishing her scrutiny. Her study made him flush faintly--months in the Maquis had not left him in the best of shape, certainly not by Starfleet standards--but as she stroked him, she murmured, "It's been a long time since I've studied someone else's body. Before she could realize what his fingers were doing, he'd gotten her entire uniform undone; a quick tug dropped it to the floor.

I don't think we want to start gossip this early in our collaboration. Kicking his boots and pants from around his ankles, he danced her trippingly across the room.

She sat when the backs of her knees hit the bunk, pulling his buttocks towards her but stopping him when he would have swung himself beside her. She stroked his thighs, nipping at his abdomen, then licked and sucked the tip of his penis. When her fingers made contact with the back of his scrotum, his throbbing organ warned him that he wasn't going to last very long that way.

He could not even recall the last time--since his Starfleet lover had refused to share his exile over the trouble in the Demilitarized Zone, he'd had a humiliating sequence of liaisons, including some ill-advised flings with members of his own crew. He put his hands on her shoulders and rolled Kathryn Janeway back onto the bed, lowering himself on top of her.

Arching her back, she wrapped her legs around his body and sighed with contentment. The scent of fire still clung to him. It was delicious, and seemed appropriate. His tongue was working its way slowly down her belly while his hands slid up her thighs.

When they met, gently stroking the warm wetness at the center, she let out a long shiver. His mouth kneaded her sex while his thumbs traced the outer edge of her vulva, palms resting on her inner thighs and fingers lightly tickling her skin.

Trekkie vs Trekker: A Brief History | Smooth ReEntry

A Trekkie or Trekker is a fan of the Star Trek franchise, or of specific television series or films within that franchise. In , science fiction editor Arthur W.

Saha applied the term "trekkies" when he saw a few fans of the first season of Star Trek: The Original Series wearing pointy ears at the 25th World Science Fiction Convention , on the day series creator Gene Roddenberry showed a print of " Amok Time " to the convention.

Saha used the term in an interview with Pete Hamill that Hamill was conducting for TV Guide concerning the phenomenon of science fiction. Roddenberry, who was aware of and encouraged such activities, [2] : 1 a year later estimated that 10, wrote or read fanzines.

Perhaps the first large gathering of fans occurred in April When Leonard Nimoy appeared as Spock as grand marshal of the Medford Pear Blossom Festival parade in Oregon, he hoped to sign hundreds of autographs but thousands of people appeared; after being rescued by police "I made sure never to appear publicly again in Vulcan guise", the actor wrote.

The first fan convention devoted to the show occurred on 1 March at the Newark Public Library. Organized by a librarian who was one of the creators of Spockanalia , the "Star Trek Con" did not have celebrity guests but did have "slide shows of 'Trek' aliens, skits and a fan panel to discuss 'The Star Trek Phenomenon.

Associated Press, [11]. However, the Trekkie phenomenon did not come to the attention of the general public until after the show was cancelled in and reruns entered syndication. The organizers expected attendees at the "First International Star Trek Convention" but more than 3, came; [13] [2] : 9,11 [14] attendees later described it as "packed" and like "a rush-hour subway train".

Some actors, such as Nichelle Nichols , were unaware of the size of the show's fandom until the conventions, [16] but major and minor cast members began attending them around the United States. After this, there was an official British convention yearly. Because Star Trek was set in the future the show did not become dated, and by airing during the late afternoon or early evening when other stations showed news programs it attracted a young audience.

The reruns' great popularity—greater than when Star Trek originally aired in prime time—caused Paramount to receive thousands of letters each week demanding the show's return and promising that it would be profitable.

The entire cast reunited for the first time at an August Chicago convention that 16, attended. Ford 's domestic policy advisor, described Trekkies as "one of the most dedicated constituencies in the country". The Trek fandom was notably fast to use the World Wide Web. There are some fans who have become overzealous. That can become terrible.

They leap out of bushes, look in windows and lean against doors and listen. Since only about a dozen quarterbacks are selected during the typical draft , a quarterback draft board transcends "thorough" and reaches "fetishistic". This is the stuff of Star Trek conventions. In a few years, the football equivalent of "Mr. Shatner, why didn't the Enterprise use antimatter to destabilize the alien probe in the Tholian Web? In a journalist described Trekkies as "smelling of assembly-line junk food, hugely consumed; the look is of people who consume it, habitually and at length; overfed and undernourished, eruptive of skin and flaccid of form, from the merely soft to the grotesquely obese".

He noted their fixation on one subject: [19]. The facial expression is a near sultry somnolence, except when matters of Star Trek textual minutiae are discussed; then it is as vivid and keen as a Jesuit Inquisitor 's, for these people know more of the production details of Star Trek than Roddenberry, who created them, and are a greater authority on the essential mystery of Captain Kirk than [William] Shatner , who fleshed it out.

In one skit, he played himself as a guest at a Star Trek convention, where the audience focuses on trivial information about the show and Shatner's personal life. The annoyed actor advises them to " get a life ". The embarrassed fans ask if, instead of the TV shows, they should focus on the Star Trek films instead.

The angry Shatner leaves but because of his contract must return, and tells the Trekkies that they saw a "recreation of the evil Captain Kirk from episode 27, ' The Enemy Within. Although many Star Trek fans found the sketch to be insulting [2] : 77 it accurately portrayed Shatner's feelings about Trekkies, which the actor had previously discussed in interviews. The Saturday Night Live segment mentioned many such common stereotypes about Trekkies, including their willingness to buy any Star Trek -related merchandise, obsessive study of trivial details of the show, and inability to have conventional social interactions with others or distinguish between fantasy and reality.

If you don't get this right you're going to hear about it", [41] and Roddenberry stated [42]. I have to limit myself to one [convention] in the East and one in the West each year. I'm not a performer and frankly those conventions scare the hell out of me.

It is scary to be surrounded by a thousand people asking questions as if the events in the series actually happened. A Newsweek cover article in December also cited many such stereotypes, depicting Star Trek fans as overweight and socially maladjusted "kooks" and "crazies".

Reinforced by the well-known acts of violence by John Hinckley, Jr. Patrick Stewart objected when an interviewer described Trekkies as "weird", calling it a "silly thing to say".

He added, "How many do you know personally? You couldn't be more wrong. Why else would they have been involved in Star Trek , an intelligent, interested, and involved show? The central trio of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy was modeled on classical mythological storytelling.

There is a mythological component [to pop culture], especially with science fiction. Calgary Herald , describing a convention [19]. According to Michael Jindra of the University of Wisconsin-Madison , the show's fandom "has strong affinities with a religious-type movement", with "an origin myth, a set of beliefs, an organization, and some of the most active and creative members to be found anywhere". While he distinguishes between Star Trek fandom and the traditional definition of religion that requires belief in divinity or the supernatural, Jindra compares Star Trek fandom to both "'quasi-religions,' such as Alcoholics Anonymous and New Age groups"—albeit more universal in its appeal and more organized—and civil religion.

As with other faiths, Trekkies find comfort in their worship. Star Trek costume designer William Ware Theiss stated at a convention: [19]. The show is important psychologically and sociologically to a lot of people. For the unusual people at this convention, it's a big part of their lives, a help to them. I'm glad there are people who need something important in their lives and I'm glad they've found it in our shows. I don't want to elaborate on that; there are just some special people here who need the show in a special way.

The religious devotion of Star Trek ' s fans began almost immediately after the show's debut. When Roddenberry previewed the new show at a science-fiction convention, he and his creation received a rapturous response: [50].

After the film was over we were unable to leave our seats. We just nodded at each other and smiled, and began to whisper. We came close to lifting [Roddenberry] upon our shoulders and carrying it out of the room The showing divided the convention into two factions, the "enlightened" who had seen the preview and the "unenlightened" who had not.

Although he depended on Trekkies to support future Star Trek projects, Roddenberry stated that [42]. It frightens me when I learn of 10, people treating a Star Trek script as if it were Scripture. I certainly didn't write Scripture, and my feeling is that those who did were not treated very well in the end I'm just afraid that if it goes too far and it appears that I have created a philosophy to answer all human ills that someone will stand up and cry, 'Fraud!

Gene Roddenberry, [42]. Calgary Herald , describing the audience reaction to Roddenberry's speech at a convention [19]. Religious aspects of Star Trek fandom nonetheless grew, according to Jindra, with the show's popularity. Conventions are an opportunity for fans to visit "another world You can easily forget your own troubles as well as those of the world", with one convention holding an event in which a newborn baby was "baptized" into the "Temple of Trek" amid chanting.

Star Trek museum exhibits, film studios, attractions, and other locations such as Vulcan, Alberta offer opportunities to perform pilgrimages to "our Mecca ". Fandom does not necessarily take the place of preexisting faith, with Christian and New Age adherents both finding support for their worldviews.

Like the mass, there are certain elements of Star Trek that are immutable, unchangeable. The words of the mass are carved in stone, as are fundamental elements—the Enterprise , Spock, the transporter beam , and so forth—in Star Trek. Meyer has also said: [50].

The words of the Mass remain constant, but heaven knows, the music keeps changing Its humanism remains a buoyant constant. Religion without theology. The program's karma routinely runs over its dogma. Gene Roddenberry, [43]. Star Trek fan "Hilary", [43]. According to Andrew V.

Kozinets of Northwestern University , many Trekkies identify with Roddenberry's idealism, and use their desire to bring such a future into reality as justification for their participation in and consumption of Star Trek media, activities, and merchandise, often citing the Vulcan philosophy of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.

Such fans view Star Trek as a way to be with "'my kind of people'" in "'a better world'" where they will not be scorned or mocked despite being part of "stigmatized social categories".

All these things offer hope and imaginative solutions for the future. The enduring popularity of Star Trek is due to the underlying mythology which binds fans together by virtue of their shared love of stories involving exploration, discovery, adventure and friendship that promote an egalitarian and peace loving society where technology and diversity are valued rather than feared and citizens work together for the greater good.

Thus Star Trek offers a hopeful vision of the future and a template for our lives and our society that we can aspire to. Rather than "sit[ting] here and wait for the future to happen", local fan groups may serve as service clubs that volunteer at blood drives and food banks. For them, [43]. Star Trek provided positive role models, exploration of moral issues, scientific and technological knowledge and ideas, Western literary references, interest in television and motion picture production, intellectual stimulation and competition through games and trivia challenges, fan writing and art and music, explorations of erotic desire, community and feelings of communitas , and much more.

Despite their common interests fans differ in their levels of—and willingness to display and discuss—their devotion because of the perceived social stigma, and "[o]vercoming the Trekkie stigma entails a form of freedom and self-acceptance that has been compared to homosexual uncloseting. Kozinets cites the example of a debate at a Star Trek fan club's board meeting on whether board members should be required to wear uniforms to public events as an example of "not only Despite fans' stated vision of Star Trek ' as a way of celebrating diversity, however, Kozinets found that among the Trekkies he observed at clubs "most of the members were very similar in age, ethnic origin, and race.

Out of about 30 people present at meetings, I noted only two visible minorities. The "pointless" speech was, according to Shatner, a "thinly-veiled commercial" for replicas of the medal, which Roddenberry's company Lincoln Enterprises soon sold to fans.

There is a persistent stereotype that among Trekkies there are many speakers of the constructed Klingon language. The reality is less clear-cut, as some of its most fluent speakers are more language aficionados than people obsessed with Star Trek. Most Trekkies have no more than a basic vocabulary of Klingon, perhaps consisting of a few common words heard innumerable times over the series, while not having much knowledge of Klingon's syntax or precise phonetics.

Starfleet uniform fetish

Starfleet uniform fetish