Title: Bingo and Kewpies

Author: Kima

Series: VOY/DS9/TNG/TOS

Codes:Doc/B/Mc, C

Rating: [NC-17]

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, Deep Space Nine, The Next Generation and The Original Series and all their characters belong to Paramount. Though we might wish they were ours, they aren't...although we do admit to borrowing them from time to time to have a bit of fun. No infringement is intended.

Warning: No warnings.

Summary: The Doctor has a problem - A BIG one, called *SEX*. It doesn't matter how intelligent he is, or how much research he done - The Doctor is his own worst patient as far as *SEX* is concerned!

Feedback: To me at [email protected]would be appreciated.

Beta: J.Juls. Thank you, Julie!

Note: Part of the Doctor Fuh-q Fest.

Bingo and Kewpies

The Doctor sat in the dimly lit sickbay, head in hands. The low level of light matched his mood.

It had been several years since he'd awakened" as an EMH. He'd been with Voyager since its launch - seeing patients, augmenting his programming, learning more each time he was called upon by a member of the Voyager crew.

His experience wasn't limited to just Voyager's crew. Since his "birth", he'd met multitudes of alien beings. The acquisition of the mobile emitter had offered him the opportunity to examine them in their own environment and add information about their behavior and bodily functions to his prodigious database.

The Doctor sighed. Something was missing in his programming...something that came innately to the beings he'd observed, whatever the species.

All the medical databases of the Alpha Quadrant hadn't adequately prepared him to understand the process of "sex".

What, exactly, WAS "sex"? He was intimately familiar with the texts and illustrations and holos stored in the memory banks. He could recite, word for word, books like the 20th century's "The Joy of Sex" and the even earlier work, "The Kama Sutra". He could call up images from them and examine them in detail from the modernized holo versions. He had thousands of sources he could consult faster than the blink of a human's eye.

But what did they all MEAN?

The Doctor buried his face deeper into his hands and sighed again. He was so deep in thought that he failed to react immediately to the soft "swoosh" of the sickbay door.

"Doctor?"

The EMH guiltily looked up to see Captain Janeway standing a few paces from him. The Doctor rose and drew himself to his full height. "Computer, lights, full. Captain, are you in need of medical attention?"

"I have a small headache, but from the look of you, it appears that you need more 'attention' than I do. What seems to be the problem?"

Standing rather stiffly, he answered, "I have a bit of a...technical problem...that I've been trying to work through."

"Perhaps Lieutenant Torres or Seven of Nine could be of assistance to you in evaluating this problem and working toward a possible solution?" Janeway offered.

If he'd been programmed to blush, he would have. "Captain, I appreciate the suggestion, but this problem falls outside of Lieutenant Torres' field of expertise. And as adept as Seven of Nine is about many things, I am certain she could be of no assistance in this situation."

"What, exactly, is the nature of this "technical problem"?"

The Doctor hesitated perceptibly before answering her. "I...would prefer not to say. I can assure you that it has no bearing on the well being of Voyager or its crew. It's...personal."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. A hologram with a personal problem? "Doctor, do you need someone to talk to...on a private level? Can I help you?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain. While this problem _is_ of a personal nature, it has its roots in medical matters. Even if you'd found time to become a doctor in the past few years, I fear you would be unable to provide the feedback that I'm seeking."

Janeway considered the EMH's words for quite some time before she replied. "Do you believe that there is some kind of data you need that you cannot obtain here? Or is there someone in particular you think you might be able to consult in order to resolve this problem? Now that we have the scheduled datastream with the Alpha Quadrant, it would be possible for you to make inquiries to Starfleet to supplement your database."

"Thank you for offering these suggestions, Captain. I will let you know if I need to avail myself of the communications link."

The Doctor absent-mindedly turned to a nearby cabinet and took out a bottle. Extracting a pair of small pills, he handed them to Janeway and said, "Take these now and consult me again in eight hours if your headache persists."

/Pills, instead of a hypospray? He _is_ off his feed./

Janeway accepted the pills and walked to the replicator. "Water, eight ounces, 10 degrees Celsius." She picked up the glass, popped the pills into her mouth, and drank deeply. Settling the glass into the recycler, she said, "I'll certainly let you know if I need further assistance. As I hope you'll do with me." She turned and left sickbay, leaving the EMH alone with his thoughts.

* * *

During the next few days The Doctor continued to re-review all reference materials available that dealt with sex in any manner, in the hope that he had overlooked some key thought or obscure cross-reference that would make things clear to him. He even perused all fictional texts and videos he could find, in the small chance that something in them would make things "click" in his mind. Unfortunately, nothing he read or viewed supplied the perfect association...the perfect reference key...that would unlock his problem once and for all.

/Perhaps the Captain is right. I do need to talk to other medical professionals about my problem./

The Doctor tapped his comm badge. "EMH to Captain Janeway."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I've thought about your suggestion regarding the datastream. I request that I be allotted time during the next transmittal."

"Very well. I'll see that a block of time is reserved for your use. And Doctor..."

"Yes, Captain?"

"I wish you luck."

"Thank you, Captain. EMH out."

The Doctor sat down at sickbay's terminal and recorded a message to the person he believed was best suited to helping him with his problem.

"Lt. Barclay --

"With Captain Janeway's permission, I am contacting you in regards to a 'personal' situation that has manifested itself.

"After extensive study on the data available to me on the subject of sex, I find that I am in need of consultation with one or more colleagues that may be able to help me put this data into its proper perspective. As medical colleagues are non-existent on Voyager, I request your assistance in selecting a holographic rendition or renditions of suitable colleagues that I may interface with in regard to this matter.

"Colleagues should be humanoid and have the ability to relate to the humanoid aspects of my programming. They should be reasonably contemporary; although ancient scholars on this subject might be interesting, I fear they would have neither the background nor experience necessary to provide proper understanding on the subject as it relates to current theories and cultures.

"Please provide me with interactive holographic templates of these selected individuals as quickly as your personal schedule and the datastream will allow.

"EMH, Voyager"

The Doctor marked the message "Personal and Confidential", saved it, and tagged it for inclusion in the next packet.

* * *

Lt. Reg Barclay entered his quarters and heard the terminal beeping softly. Crossing to his desk, he sat and touched the console to retrieve the message. The header "Personal and Confidential" flashed briefly across the screen before the message began to play.

/The Doctor is writing me a letter?/

Barclay watched the message. At its conclusion he paused, lost in thought. "Computer, replay message."

The computer ran it again. This time through Barclay paid particular attention to The Doctor's body language. The Doctor's bearing told Barclay considerable information that wasn't immediately apparent if one only listened to the spoken words.

"Computer, save and store message in my personal directory."

/So the Doc has a problem with sex! I guess this shows that he certainly _has_ expanded his programming over the past few years!/

Barclay reached for a nearby padd and started jotting down thoughts and ideas on how he could help with The Doctor's problem. As the list grew, he realized that the project would take extensive research and development.

* * *

Over the next few weeks The Doctor did his best to set aside his thoughts of sex. As time for receipt of the next datastream packet grew nearer he did, however, admit to himself that his thoughts were becoming more and more anxious. What would Lt. Barclay's reply be?

The computer terminal's beep interrupted his train of thought.

"Computer?"

"Personal and confidential transmission received for EMH, Voyager," it responded.

If The Doctor had had a heart, its tempo would have increased. "Display message."

"Authorization code required."

/Thank you, Lieutenant, for your consideration of my privacy./ The Doctor faced the screen and gave his personal code.

"Doctor -

"Thank you for thinking of me as good enough of a friend that you'd be willing to share such a personal issue with me. Of course I'll help you. I'll do everything I can to assemble and coordinate the things you've requested.

"I must advise you, though, that a project of this nature deserves proper preparation, formatting, and implementation. Because of this, it may take more than one communications cycle to complete it and forward it to you.

"Additionally, I anticipate that the volume of data required may be quite large. Bearing that in mind, I am investigating a new compression method that will allow much larger amounts of data to be transmitted in a limited amount of bandwith.

"In the meantime...cheer up! Help will be on the way soon!"

Barclay's image faded from the viewscreen.

/Thanks, Reg. I knew I could count on you./

The Doctor saved the message and returned to his work, confident that with Barclay's assistance he would, indeed, get to the bottom of this "sex" thing.

* * *

Barclay sat at his desk, reviewed his notes, and made a decision. Although his holographic programming skills had increased tenfold since he'd first found his own solace in the Enterprise's holodecks, there were still limits to what he could achieve while working on his own. And though he'd prefer to work on The Doctor's problem by himself, it had become evident that he needed help, as his non-holographic programming skills were not adequate to produce the compression program he knew was required.

Yes, it was time to consult with someone else on this problem. And he knew the perfect helper...

Barclay chose his words carefully as he composed a message to his (hopefully!) soon-to-be collaborator. In more ways than one, he was the right one to ask for assistance!

He saved and sent the message, hoping for a quick reply.

And he wasn't disappointed. Within minutes, he received an answer to his request - the answer he'd been hoping for. He read the carefully composed message and grinned to himself. /With the two of us working on this "project", the ol' Doc won't know what hit him!/

* * *

Barclay pushed his chair back from the computer console and stifled a monumental yawn. /Finally, it's done! Took a hell of a lot of work, but we did it!/ Barclay suppressed another yawn and stood, figuring that a huge mug of extra strong coffee was in order if he was going to put the final touches on the project tonight and get it packaged and sent off to The Doctor.

He went to the replicator and placed his order. Picking up the steaming mug, he blew across the top of the scalding brew as he returned to the computer. Passing the hot mug from one hand to the other, he carefully set it on the desk just as the console chimed to alert him to incoming communication. Barclay jerked reflexively at the unexpected sound, glad that he'd set the cup down and avoided parboiling his hand. Settling into his seat, he told the computer to display the incoming communiqué.

"Lieutenant?"

"Hello! I'm surprised to hear from you again so soon. Considering the number of hours we've spent together recently, and all that..."

"That is why I am calling. I wanted to be sure I spoke with you before you prepared the project for transmission. "

"OK, what's up?"

"After careful consideration, I realized that there were a few points that needed additional refinement and integration into the scenario. I believe that my own personal insight and experience with this subject will be of benefit to you in this project."

Barclay and his caller spoke for quite some time. At the conclusion of the conversation he ended the link and sat back in his chair, picked up the now-cooled mug of coffee and sipped it absent-mindedly.

/Hmmm, this does change the flavor of things just a bit,/ he thought. /They were good suggestions, though. It may be a bit difficult to tweak things to incorporate them, but I believe the end result will be worth it!/

Barclay set aside the cold coffee and got back to work.

* * *

Several weeks had passed with no further word from Lieutenant Barclay. The Doctor was beginning to wonder if his request had, after all, been too difficult to fulfill. Sex was just SO complicated!

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the urgent beeping of the sickbay computer.

"Computer?"

"Personal and confidential transmission received for EMH, Voyager. Authorization code required for display."

The Doctor supplied his code, knowing that the message could only be from one person...and hoping that it contained good news.

The screen shimmered into life, displaying the tired yet optimistic face of Reg Barclay.

"Doc -

"I know you've been waiting impatiently for this, and I apologize that it's taken so long to put things together for you. Part of the delay had to do with designing the compression algorithm and getting Starfleet approval for its use. Based on programming requirements, I had to ask for help on this from an extremely qualified individual.

/I wonder who he consulted?/ The Doctor thought. /I'm sure he knew how.....umm...sensitive this project was and how inappropriate it might seem to others./

"Anyway, it's done! Here are the instructions for use.

"Oh, before I forget, let me tell you about the compression program first. Even though you wouldn't have realized it, Doc, your request had unexpected benefits not only for Voyager but also for Starfleet. The old phrase, 'Necessity is the mother of invention' is completely appropriate in this case; since we'd never needed this level of data compression before, no one had thought to seriously pursue its development. Now that we have it, it'll be beneficial to many people now and in the future.

/Yeah, yeah, Reg, get on with it. Sometimes you babble on _so_ badly!/

The decoding and encoding components of the algorithm have already been integrated into Voyager's programming, since they carried the proper code sequences that would allow an auto-install to take place. An explanation of the algorithm's purpose and use has been forwarded to the appropriate Voyager personnel. If you ever become curious about the tech data, have a look at the file 'DATAZIP'...

/Hmmm, I wonder if I'll be mentioned as part of this project? After all, I did have something to do with its "creation".../

"And in case you're wondering, Doc, both you and I will receive ancillary credit for the project, even though neither of us actually participated in the hands-on design and implementation of the algorithm.

"But I've digressed...

/He's *FINALLY* getting to the point!/

"Here's what you need to do with the materials I've sent you.

"The holographic templates have been incorporated into a full holo program that I've named 'DocBSX001'. While each template can be accessed individually, I recommend that you use the program in its current integrated state. If you wish to interface with individual templates at a later time, you may do so.

"Each holographic participant has been selected with care. Given the number of potential templates I had to choose from, I sought to pick subjects who would be compatible with both your topic and the conditions under which you face your day-to-day existence.

"There is one feature in the program that I'm rather proud of. Unlike a normal interactive holo program, in which the characters are, to a point, static creations, this program has the ability to adapt itself to current needs as the scenario unfolds. Essentially, it will be 'listening' and 'watching' what goes on and will adapt itself to provide whatever may be necessary at the time. Sort of like how things work in a dream! I know you can't personally relate to dreaming, as you don't 'sleep' in the traditional sense of the word...but trust me, this program's the next best thing to it...or maybe even better!"

Barclay's image grinned at The Doctor as the message continued:

"While the program itself is adaptive, the behavior of subjects in it is not. They will behave exactly as their real-life counterparts would behave in the same situation. They _will_ take cues from the unfolding situation...but their innate behavior will not alter because of it. The program itself will not 'shepherd' their behavior. In essence, you'll be talking with and interacting with 'the real thing'.

"Oh...and Doc...don't be alarmed if, at times, you perceive an odd, internal 'prompt'. The 'prompt' may be passive, or it may insist that you take a certain action, especially if it relates to your own basic programming. Trust me; this 'prompting' is benign in nature, and may be beneficial to you later once you're outside the programming of the scenario. Any changes you sustain as a result of your experiences are fully reversible if you wish them to be. I'm sorry I can't explain this to you any more fully at this time - I can only tell you to 'go with the flow' and experience what's going to happen!

"Anyway, it's all there for you now, Doc. I hope it helps you learn what you're looking for!"

Barclay's image grinned at The Doctor once more and executed a jaunty salute as it faded from the screen.

* * *

The Doctor contacted Lieutenant Paris and made arrangements for Tom to cover sickbay for a few days. When he asked the EMH why he was suddenly being pressed into round-the-clock medtech duty, The Doctor replied, "I've been 'on duty' all day, every day, for nearly seven years, and in that time I've never had a single 'day off'. It's time I had a few."

"When you put it that way, Doc, all I can say is 'I'll see you in a few days and I hope you have a great time!' "

The Doctor smiled a tight smile at Paris and replied, "Thank you, Mr. Paris. Of course I can be reached in case of dire emergency...but to borrow from an ancient phrase I ran across once, 'don't page me unless the house is on fire'."

Exiting sickbay, he made his way to the holodeck to begin his "vacation".

The holodeck door hissed closed. "Engage privacy lock code EMH Alpha 69 Delta Zed."

"Privacy lock engaged."

The EMH mentally took a metaphorically deep breath and said, "Computer, run program 'DocBSX001' ".

"Working."

* * *

The Doctor pivoted slowly, hands on hips, taking in his surroundings. He was standing on top of a small, tree-dotted hillside that overlooked fields of cultivated rows and unbroken patches of waving grass. A tree-lined dirt lane wound its way through the fields, coming to an end at a large, white house a mile or so away.

The strong sunlight was bright yet not overly hot. A breeze played through the leaves and long grass, causing both to rustle soothingly. He could hear distant birdsong rise and fall on the tide of the wind.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sauntered down the hill to the well-worn lane and began his journey to the house at its end. There was no urgency in his steps, for he knew he'd get there soon enough.

After a leisurely walk, he approached the house. He meandered up the drive and stopped to admire the airy, wraparound porch, its banisters and railings covered by thick ropes of wisteria entwined with thinner tendrils of clematis.

From around the corner of the house he heard a soft, slightly hoarse male voice calling out, "Over here, son."

The Doctor climbed the steps to the porch and walked its length. As he stepped around the corner, he saw a dark-haired, middle-aged man, feet propped on a stool, gesturing to him to come closer. The man was casually dressed in a button-down shirt topped with a creamy woolen cardigan. His legs were encased in flared black pants; his feet shod in supple black leather boots.

"Have a seat, boy," the man said, his hand dropping to a tall glass resting on a small table close by his side. Picking up the glass and taking a long, deep pull on its straw, he added, "And have a drink too, while you're at it."

The EMH slid into a chair on the other side of the table and picked up an identical tall glass, beaded with moisture. He examined the drink and noted a thin layer of undissolved sugar in the bottom of the glass, and a sprig of some type of herb protruding from its top. Replacing the glass on the table he said, "Thank you, but I must decline. You see, I do not eat or drink."

"Hogwash!" the man exclaimed. "Pick it up and take a good, long slug. I think you'll be surprised."

The Doctor, a skeptical look on his face, picked up the drink. Inserting the straw between his lips, he took a long, hard pull...and an incredible FLAVOR filled his mouth! His face showed his obvious surprise.

/My God, I'm actually TASTING! It's...indescribable!!/

"Thought that might be your reaction," the man said with a wink. "By the way, I'm Len McCoy." He extended his hand to The Doctor.

He grasped the extended hand and shook it with enthusiasm. /Doctor McCoy! How wonderful! I always wished I'd had the pleasure of meeting him!/

"Thank you for the warm welcome, Dr. McCoy. It's really a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here, son. I've heard a lot about you, even though we've never met."

"Oh?"

"From a mutual acquaintance."

"Oh!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Since you bring it up, Doctor McCoy..."

"Now hold on a jest a minute there. It's LEN, not 'Doctor McCoy'. Besides, if you start "doctorin' " everybody in sight, what'll we all call YOU? Puddin'head?"

"PUDDENHEAD?"

"Figure of speech, son. While we're all here together, you'll be the only 'Doc' in the house. Call the rest of us by name. And speaking of the others, looks like it's my job to take you in and introduce you around."

McCoy took one last long, noisy slurp and set the glass on the table. As they rose from their seats, Doc cleared his throat.

"Ummm...Len...what IS that drink?"

"My boy, that's the finest elixir on Earth or in any other location. File this one away under 'M' for 'marvelous'... 'M' for 'magnificent'... 'M' for Mint Julep!" Len chuckled. "You couldn't have started your drinkin' career with a finer beverage!"

Len crossed the porch, with Doc trailing behind him. He opened the screen door and turned the handle of a handsomely carved mahogany door, inset with stained glass panels. All of the panes were blank, solid colors...except one. Doc looked at it more closely and realized that the images depicted in the glass were those of Len McCoy and himself, sitting on the porch, "sippin' juleps".

"So you've noticed the memory glass, eh?"

"Memory glass? I've never heard of this kind of phenomena before. Where does it come from? How does it work? What is it for?"

"Dunno where it comes from...dunno if it's even 'real', so to speak. How does it work? Does it really matter? About the only thing I can answer is the 'what is it for?' one - it's to record your personal memories of the things you experience here. But you missed one obvious question..."

"What question?"

"WHY it's here."

"OK, Len, why IS it here?"

"Welllll....isn't it obvious? Somebody thought you might want a 'souvenir' of your vacation! Lots classier looking than 2-D photos or holos, if I do say so myself."

"A souvenir? I don't understand..."

"Eventually you will." Len grinned, stepped to the side of the entryway, bowed from the waist and gestured toward the foyer. "After you, Doc."

Doc came inside and Len closed the door after them. Striding down the hall, Len called out loudly, "Bevvie! He's here!"

A pleasing alto voice answered, "I'll be right there, Len."

/Bevvie?/

Doc heard a door open, then close, at the far end of the house. Light, rapid footsteps echoed, coming quickly toward them.

"Doc! You're finally here!"

Doc looked at the speaker and realized who she was.

"Bevvie" - Dr. Beverly Crusher - came into the room, her face flushed and slightly damp. The low-cut emerald leotard she was wearing clung to her curvaceous body. Using a towel that was draped around her neck, she blotted at beads of sweat on her temple and throat.

"We interruptin' somethin' important, Bevvie?'' McCoy leered at the redhead, taking in the sight of her luscious, damp body encased in skintight spandex.

"Pop those eyes back into your head, Len." Crusher shot back mischievously. "I was doing some dancing to pass the time until Doc arrived."

"Yeah, dancin'...sure you were. Looks like the kinda "bebop" you were doin' was of the horizontal variety," Len countered.

Doc observed the exchange between McCoy and Crusher and automatically slipped into diagnostic mode. /Pulse, rapid. Respiration, increased. Temperature, elevated 1.2 degrees. Nipples, hard./ He shook his head. /NIPPLES HARD? What kind of diagnostic parameter is THAT?/

Both McCoy and Crusher, catching the movement of Doc's head, stopped their banter and turned to look at him. He swore he could see amusement in their eyes. /It's almost as if they...know...what I was thinking!/ He could feel...FEEL?...an increase in blood flow to his own cheeks and neck. Suddenly, he felt very, very WARM. /I...I...I'm BLUSHING? But I _can't_ blush - I'm a HOLOGRAM!!/

His companions exchanged a knowing glance. Beverly laid her hand lightly on Len's forearm and simply said, "Len."

McCoy nodded. He slipped his hand into his sweater pocket and brought out a folded sheet of paper. Handing it to Doc, he said, "Here."

Doc took the paper, unfolded it, and began to read.

"Doc -

"By now you have experienced some of the 'prompts' that were explained to you. Interesting, are they not?

"Do not be disconcerted by them. Do not try to analyze them. Accept them and let them happen. Incorporate them into yourself as each occurs. After all, is this not a learning experience for you?"

Doc stared at the paper, thinking about the words he'd read and what they implied. /I'm... experiencing. I'm...changing. I'm...developing...SENSES?/ He re-folded the paper and felt it evaporate in his fingers.

"Things startin' to make any better sense to ya now, Doc?" McCoy asked.

"I...I'm not sure. I thought we were going to get together and discuss...""

"Doc, that's been the root of your problem all along," Beverly said gently. "You've been thinking about it...analyzing and re-analyzing it...talking to yourself about it...entirely too much. You have been looking for a cut-and-dried explanation of "SEX", and not having found one, you've obsessed on it."

"But with the amount of data I've...", Doc began.

"Hold it right there," McCoy interrupted. "Listen to what the lady's saying. She knows what she's talkin' about."

Beverly took Doc's hand and led him to a nearby sofa. She sat, and pulled him down to sit beside her. "Our mutual friend could see that too, Doc. He could see that you'd obsessed on sex entirely too long and too much to have any perspective on it, or to realize that you _didn't_ have perspective on it. Why do you think he chose to have us all come together in a casual setting, rather than in some sterile room with all of us dressed in our 'meeting' clothes?"

She paused, then continued, saying, "And why do you think you're receiving the 'prompts' that you've been getting?"

Doc stared at his lap, pondering what Beverly'd said. He raised his head and looked at Len, then at Beverly. "I do tend to become obsessive when looking for the answer to a difficult problem. Given my mental acuity, it's always been my nature to stick to a problem until I've found a solution. Yet...this is so different from anything I've ever attempted!"

McCoy sighed. "Let me have a crack at this, Bevvie. "Doc, how old are you?"

"It's been 7.87362 standard years since my initial programming commenced, and..."

"OK, close enough. You're almost eight years old. McCoy paused, then continued, "Now think about this one: How old is a humanoid at the onset of puberty?"

Doc began to recite facts that he'd read. "The onset of puberty is different from species to species. In Terran children the average age at onset of puberty is 12 years for females and slightly older for males; whereas the Okampans, whose lifespan is..." He stopped in mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. "You mean to tell me that...you think I've reached PUBERTY??? His voice rose, then cracked as he uttered the final word.

Beverly giggled.

McCoy shook his head and looked exasperated. "I-18 and that's B-I-N-G-O! Give that man a Kewpie doll!" he cried.

Beverly roared, tears streaming down her face.

All Doc could do was sit there and look puzzled. /B-I-N-G-O? Kewpie? What in blazes are bingos and Kewpies?/

Beverly saw the look on Doc's face and choked back her laughter. Grabbing the towel, she wiped her face and took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.

"Whew! I haven't laughed like that in years! 'BINGO and Kewpies', indeed! Thanks for lightening the mood, Len."

"Don't mention it, m'lady," McCoy replied. "But I'm afraid we've being impolite to Doc, carrying on like this. Doc, I want to assure you that no offense was intended."

"Oh, I wasn't OFFENDED, Len. More puzzled than offended. I must ask, though - why should Beverly laugh like a hyena at 'BINGO and Kewpies'? What are they, anyway?"

"It wasn't the objects she was laughing at, Doc. She was laughing at the choice of phrases I used to describe your sudden realization...and your physical reaction to that realization. Computer, tell the doc what 'BINGO' and 'Kewpies' are."

Doc listened as the computer explained the references. When the computer finished, he smiled and said, "Now that I know the context, that WAS funny, Len. An interesting turn of phrase to describe my reaction."

"I'm glad you realize I wasn't laughing AT you, Doc," Beverly said. "It was just...so...FUNNY!" she giggled, trying hard to remain serious as she replayed the scene in her head.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Now that we've all had a good laugh..."

An unfamiliar voice spoke from the doorway. "A good laugh? What did I miss?"

All heads turned toward the source of the voice. McCoy and Crusher showed no particular reaction to the speaker's arrival; Doc, though, was another story.

He registered the stranger's presence, then froze, staring...staring at the most gorgeous creature he'd ever personally encountered. He stared...at golden, burnished skin...at long, lean, lithe legs...at a trim, yet muscular torso...at full crimson lips...at soft chocolate curls...at expressive gold - no, green...no, brown! - eyes.

The Doctor was dumbstruck.

McCoy greeted the new arrival. "Where've you been, Julian? Doc's been here for awhile now. I figured you might put in an appearance before now."

"Oh, I was in the middle of something that I...needed to finish," Julian said with a smile.

"Heh, heh, heh," said McCoy.

Julian crossed the room and approached the couch where Beverly and the EMH sat. Doc rose as Julian came nearer. His hands were suddenly, oddly, moist.

Julian extended his hand as he stopped in front of Doc. "I'm so very, very glad to finally meet you," he said as he smiled warmly.

Doc looked into Julian's eyes as he reflexively took his hand. He was immediately transfixed by their depth...by their softness...by their ever-changing colors. He stood motionless, his hand clasping Julian's. As he stood there, unmoving in his reverie, he felt the pressure of a warm thumb brushing back and forth across the knuckles of his hand. It felt...almost like...a caress?

He gathered his composure and finally spoke. "The pleasure of meeting you is all mine, Dr. Bashir." He reluctantly released Julian's hand and let his own hand drop to his side, his feeling of apprehension at its moistness having been replaced by the newer remembered electricity of Julian's touch.

"It's Julian, remember?" Julian said. "As long as you're with us, you're the 'Doc' of the house."

"Now that you've surfaced, Julian, how about helping me put something together for dinner?" Beverly remarked. "I'm sure that the two of us can come up with some interesting things for Doc's first meal."

"Sure. Lead the way!" Julian replied. He and Beverly headed toward the rear of the house, leaving Doc and Len alone in the living room.

"Len?" Doc began, "Can we have another round..."

"I thought you'd never ask. Let me show you the fine points of makin' the perfect julep," McCoy replied.

The two of them gravitated to the sideboard, where Doc took note of all the bartending tricks Len had perfected long ago. Picking up both drinks, Len handed one to Doc and gestured toward the front door. "Let's set a spell and talk while supper's cookin'."

They returned to the porch and resumed their seats. Sitting silently, they sipped their drinks and watched the sun sink below the horizon.

"I saw your reaction to Julian, Doc."

Doc was glad of the pink and red glow of the sunset, for it helped to hide the furious blush that once again suffused his cheeks. Trust McCoy, with his sharp eyes, to recognize his discomfort in this altogether unfamiliar situation.

"Len, for the first time in memory, I have no idea what I'm doing. For the first time in my existence, I'm actually _feeling_. And strange as it may sound, I don't know what to _feel_ about *feelings*!"

Len chuckled. "I guess that pretty well sums it up, doesn't it? You've already come a long way, you know. You're able to recognize that you have feelings - not that you know what to _do_ with 'em, mind you - but that you have 'em. I'd say it's a good start."

Doc remembered his first look at Julian, and the nervousness and electricity he'd experienced from a simple touch on his hand. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying to recall everything. As he sat there, relaxed, his mind started to wander...to the fullness of Julian's lips...to the curve of Julian's throat...to the glowing, changeable eyes. He started to wonder what would come next.

"In some ways that's up to you," McCoy interjected.

"What...what's up to me, Len?" /Is he reading my mind, to continually answer a question that's never been asked, or even fully formulated?/

"Hell, Doc, I don't have to be a mind reader to have a pretty damned good idea what you're dwellin' on and where your mind is. Why are you here? Because of sex, and not knowing what to do with it. Can't lay it out any plainer than that, can I?", McCoy replied.

Beverly's voice sang out from somewhere inside the house. "Len...Doc...dinner's ready!"

"Sounds like we're bein' paged." McCoy levered himself out of the chair with a soft grunt. "Let's go see what kind of spread they've laid out for us."

As they reached the door Doc noted a warm glow emanating from inside the house. The memory glass was illuminated, allowing him to see that more panes carried images. As Doc paused, McCoy said, "It'll be here later. Let's get to supper."

Dinner was indescribable in more ways than one.

Beverly and Julian had put together a huge meal, with considerably more food than all of them could ever eat in one sitting.

"We couldn't decide what we wanted to fix, so we made a little bit of a lot of different things," Beverly explained as they took their places around the circular table in the dining area. "Since this is Doc's 'first' meal, we thought he'd like to sample some of each of our favorites."

As they sat around the table eating and talking, Doc began to feel very much at ease with all of them. He began to realize that mealtime was more than just a refueling stop; it was a time to socialize and interact in a relaxed setting. As the meal progressed he found that he enjoyed listening to the stories they had to share; he even felt bold enough to contribute some of his own.

Even though he enjoyed being with Len and Beverly, Julian still held most of his attention. He listened intently to everything Julian had to say; watched him carefully, drinking in every gesture, every movement of his body. Despite his initial nervousness, Doc found he could converse naturally with him on a number of subjects.

After quite some time the platters on the table developed a decidedly "picked over" look. Pushing back from the table, Len announced, "I think we've made a good stab at these vittles, but there's something missing."

"What's that, Len?" Beverly asked.

"I'd say it's time for dessert. A little bit of sweet to top off this feast would be mighty good, don't you think?"

Julian rose from the table and turned toward the kitchen. "Dessert is one of my contributions to the evening, Len. How about you and Beverly clearing the table while I get it ready to serve?"

* * *

Julian returned from the kitchen with a heavily laden tray. He set the tray on the table and began to offload its contents - a large, silvery dish with an attached warming unit and several smaller covered dishes. He set the large dish in the center of the table and uncovered it. The unmistakable scent of chocolate filled the air.

"Oooooooh, chocolate!" Beverly exclaimed. "And are those...?"

Julian placed a smaller bowl in front of each of them. Disposing of the tray, he slid into his seat across the table from Doc.

Beverly greedily snatched the cover from her dish, hoping she was right. "Strawberries! I haven't had this in AGES!"

Doc uncovered his dish to disclose the largest, reddest, juiciest strawberries he'd ever seen. Images of strawberries he'd seen in the database certainly hadn't done these beauties justice!

He scanned the table, looking at the others for a clue on how to begin. Len was the first to make a move, grabbing a berry, dipping it into the pot in the center of the table and popping it into his mouth in one swift motion. His grunt of appreciation was quickly replaced by an equally appreciative "smacking" of his lips. "Good stuff there, Julian," he said as he reached for another berry.

Beverly took a different approach to her berries. Grasping one firmly by its stem, she plunged it deeply into the chocolate sauce, covering the berry with the sweet concoction. Drawing the berry to her lips, she blew on it briefly to cool the chocolate then began to lick, starting with the berry's pointed tip. She rolled her tongue around the end of the berry, the flat topside of her tongue tip scraping the chocolate from the bottom. As she navigated the berry all sections of her tongue came into play - swirling the top, the side, and the bottom of it, wiping the chocolate from the plump fruit.

Doc picked up a berry and looked at it. Before he could reach for the chocolate, Julian's hand was there, dipping a huge berry deeply into the simmering sauce. He grimaced slightly as he withdrew his hand, for both the berry and his fingertips were covered with thick, rich sauce.

"I guess I plunged it a little too deep," he remarked. "Stings a little, but that'll pass quickly enough."

"May I be of assistance?" Doc heard himself saying.

"Oh, really, it's nothing," Julian replied. "I can barely feel it now."

"I insist." Doc lay down his berry, rose from his chair and circled the table, stopping at Julian's side. "Let me see your hand."

Julian extended his hand to Doc, still holding the dripping, chocolate-covered berry.

Doc grasped Julian's hand and held it firmly. "Hmmm...in order to examine it properly I need to expose the affected area." He took a mental deep breath and lowered his face toward the hand. Stopping centimeters from Julian's fingers, his tongue hesitantly flicked out to swipe the layer of chocolate from the meaty end of the berry...and from Julian's fingers.

His senses reeled. He absorbed the flavors both singly and as a whole - the taste of the berry juice...the taste of the chocolate...the taste of Julian! Each flavor exploded on his recently-awakened taste buds.

His tongue snaked out to trace another path beside the first and he felt, rather than saw, Julian's eyes upon him. Looking down into Julian's face he watched for signs of rejection...or of encouragement...as he continued to lave the chocolate from the tasty, tapering fingers.

Julian sighed and closed his hazel eyes, a soft smile playing across his full lips. As Doc lapped the last morsel of chocolate from his fingers, he opened his eyes and said, "Well, Doc, what do you think?"

Doc raised his head from Julian's fingers. Endless moments passed before he replied. Gazing into Julian's eyes, he said, "Perfect... Er, I mean everything is perfectly all right."

Julian smiled at him. "Perhaps you'd better claim this as your own." He extended his hand, still holding the nearly naked strawberry.

Doc bent to the outstretched berry and opened his lips. He kissed its tip and slowly sucked it in, his eyes locked with Julian's as the berry...and the fingertips that held it...were surrounded. He ran his tongue around the berry, its tip caressing the ends of the warm, golden fingers and thumb.

He savored the moments of contact and regretted that they had to end as he sucked hard and the berry popped from its stem and into his mouth. As Doc began to chew, Julian's fingers brushed across his lips, giving them a light yet suggestive caress as he lowered his hand to the table.

Len raised his eyebrow and looked at Beverly. /Boy sure is a quick study./ he thought. Without speaking, both doctors quietly pushed their chairs away from the table and rose. Neither Doc nor Julian noticed them, or their departure.

Doc reached toward Julian's bowl and picked up a berry. Dipping it into the sauce, he knelt beside him. Extending the fruit toward Julian, he asked, "Would you like one now? I'm afraid that I took yours."

Julian pursed his lips and murmured, "Yes...I'd certainly like more."

"More? How can you have 'more' if you haven't had any?"

"Oh...but I _have_ had some," Julian replied, his eyes traveling first to the coated berry, then to Doc's lips. He lowered his face toward the offered treat, stopping just short of touching it, then parted his lips. His tongue played out in a lazy, languid motion, circling the chocolate-coated fruit, licking at its sweetness. He washed away the coating carefully, deliberately.

The EMH felt a shiver of anticipation. Would Julian nip at the berry? Would he take it into his mouth, or... He gasped as Julian's parted lips slid further along its length and engulfed his fingertips in a hot, moist embrace. Doc felt as if he'd swoon, if swooning was possible for a hologram. The stimulation he felt from this seemingly simple act...!

Julian laid his hand on Doc's thigh as he continued his attention to the fruit-filled fingers. His own fingers traced gentle, spreading patterns on the cloth-covered leg, moving higher and higher as he sucked at the treat in his mouth. He heard a slow, ragged intake of breath as his fingers reached Doc's groin...

...and found nothing but a pulsing smoothness where he'd expected to find an expanse of hardening flesh!

Showing no outward expression of surprise, Julian watched Doc's face as he continued to explore the featureless groin. He could see the effect his caresses were having on Doc - could note the changes in breathing, in posture, in facial expression. However, the area beneath his hand remained smooth and featureless.

Julian slid his free hand upward to stroke Doc's cheek as his mouth drew the nearly forgotten berry from its stem. Giving the fingertips one last suck, he sat back and crushed the berry between his teeth, his mouth filling with firm, juicy pulp. Leaning forward again, he pressed his lips against Doc's, tongue probing against them, asking them to open.

Doc quivered as he felt Julian's warm, moist lips against his own. He trembled as he felt the searching, now-familiar tongue against his lips, which parted almost involuntarily to the insistent request for entrance. He trembled slightly as the seeking tongue slid home, decadently bringing with it a succulent mass of crushed strawberry. Exquisite sensations filled his mouth...his mind...his being. Closing his eyes, he relaxed perceptibly as he opened himself to Julian's kiss. Drowning in sensation, he raised his arms, his hands moving naturally to caress Julian's supple torso.

Julian stroked Doc's face as he finished the kiss. /I hate to have to do this, but unfortunately, it's necessary./ He drew back and leaned against the EMH's encircling arms, saying, "I think it's time, Doc."

"Time?"

"Time to go to the next level." Julian slid his hands to Doc's arms and urged him to stand. As they stood, Julian's right hand reached for Doc's left. Walking hand in hand, Julian led Doc down the hall to the front staircase. As they reached the stairs and began to climb, Doc glimpsed the memory glass one more time...and wasn't at all surprised to see that even more panes were filled. Inwardly, he smiled. /I can only imagine what's on there now!/

They climbed the stairs and walked to a door at the end of the hall. Opening it, Julian guided Doc across the threshold.

The softly lit room featured a large, inviting bed in its center. Closing the door behind them, Julian led Doc to the bed and stopped, urging him to sit on its side.

As he sat, an unexpected gruff voice rang out from the shadows. "Boy, you ever seen a grown man naked?"

Doc nearly jumped out of his holographic skin. "Len? What...what are you doing here?"

McCoy rose from the Morris chair that had heretofore been bathed in shadow. Walking toward the bed, he repeated, "Ever seen a grown man naked?"

Doc's mood was completely shattered. Irritably he replied, "Of course I've seen a man naked; I'm a doctor. I've also seen a Klingon, a Cardassian, an..."

McCoy's tone softened as he continued, "I didn't ask you if you've seen a patient unclothed. I asked you if you've seen a _grown man_ naked before..." Pausing, he began again. "Maybe I should have said 'have you ever seen a grown _hologram_ naked?'."

Doc was puzzled. "Exactly what are you getting at, Len? Why would you ask me about naked holograms? I've seen thousands of medical and sexually oriented texts, with holograms of more species than I care to think about."

McCoy sighed softly as he said, "Son...have you ever seen _yourself_ naked?" He paused, waiting for Doc's answer.

Doc hesitated perceptibly before finally answering. "I have never had reason to appear without clothing. I believe that an unclothed doctor would do little to soothe a conscious patient...and wouldn't matter in the least to an unconscious one."

"Looks like _I've_ got a patient to attend to." McCoy gestured to the bed. "Doc, lie back on the bed and close your eyes."

The EMH looked at skeptically at McCoy. "You believe I need medical attention? I ran a full diagnostic on my program only last week and found no abnormalities."

McCoy considered his words carefully before replying. "I suppose that you _could_ say that you're healthy. Unfortunately, the medical attention you need wouldn't have shown up in your diagnostic. How can a self-test know to look for something it doesn't know exists?"

Doc was more puzzled than ever. "You believe...that I am 'ill' in some manner that I could not diagnose for myself?" Seeing that McCoy was going to press the subject until he gave in, he lay back on the bed, crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. "Very well, Dr. McCoy, proceed with your examination."

McCoy chuckled at the resigned frown on Doc's face. "Honestly, it's not going to be _that_ bad. But it will be necessary for you to remove your clothes."

"Noted." The EMH's clothing shimmered and disappeared.

McCoy looked at Julian and nodded. Julian silently removed his own clothing and quietly lay on the bed beside Doc, being careful not to touch him. Once he'd settled into place, McCoy spoke again.

"Doc, Julian is going to help with this diagnostic. I need you to keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut while we perform the necessary 'tests'. Respond to stimulus in a natural manner...but if I need you to respond to a question, or take a particular action, I'll tell you as the need arises. Got it?"

Doc nodded and lay still, wondering what sort of tests were going to be performed. All he could do was wait and see what McCoy had in mind.

Julian raised himself to one elbow. Leaning across the space between them, he placed a chaste kiss on Doc's lips.

Despite the unexpected contact, Doc remained still and composed, trying to heed McCoy's instructions to the letter.

Julian's mouth began to roam. He trailed undemanding kisses along the curve of Doc's jaw. He paused to nuzzle the soft skin at the hollow of his throat, licking and sucking the tender area and occasionally nipping lightly with his teeth.

Doc moaned as his hands slid off his chest. /How wonderful this feels!/ He grasped Julian's head and pulled it closer.

McCoy, chin in hand, observed the pair. Julian continued the kisses and nips while McCoy noted the reactions they produced in Doc. After several minutes, McCoy spoke. "Give Julian your hand."

The EMH's didn't reply. His only response was to disengage one hand from Julian's hair and hold it out to him, waiting.

Julian pulled back, took Doc's hand, and placed it on his shoulder. He moved the guided hand slowly, allowing Doc to caress his skin - allowing him to feel and experience the sensation of touching another's body. He brought the hand to his chest and moved it in widening circles. As the fingertips brushed his nipple he gasped, feeling it hardening from Doc's inexperienced touch.

Doc heard the gasp. He stopped their joined movement and tentatively brushed his fingers against the nub of flesh, feeling it stiffen even more. Emboldened by both his action and Julian's obvious reaction, he pulled his hand away from Julian's. Rubbing his finger back and forth across the nipple, he felt its engorgement and noted an increase in temperature - both Julian's, and his own. /I wonder what will happen if I do _this_...?/ he thought as he captured the flesh in his fingers and squeezed - lightly at first, then harder, as Julian's response left no doubt in Doc's mind that the action was, indeed, as pleasurable to the recipient as it was to the giver.

Julian reclaimed Doc's hand. Rather than guiding it, he gave it a vague push, giving it freedom to explore.

Doc began to stroke the compliant flesh, feeling its silken texture and moist heat against his fingers and palm. His hand roamed down Julian's chest to his stomach; his finger dipped into Julian's navel, then circled it.

Julian pulled Doc's face to his own and thrust his tongue inside his mouth. He kissed him almost savagely, clearly aroused by their contact. He grabbed Doc's roaming fingers and locked them in his own, steering them even lower.

Doc groaned deep in his throat as their hands descended to a thicket of silken curls. He was amazed at their texture, so unlike the hair on Julian's head.

His amazement turned to wonder as Julian pressed their entwined fingers against a hard, hot rod of flesh nestled amid the curls. Closing their hands around it, Julian urged him to touch, explore and stroke this unfamiliar wonder.

Without preamble, McCoy spoke. "Doc, it's time to see that grown man naked."

Julian disengaged their tangled fingers, slid to his knees, and leaned back on his hands, waiting for what he knew was coming.

"Sit up and face Julian, then open your eyes."

Doc sat up, drew up his legs, and wrapped his arms around them. He twisted his body so that he faced Julian. He opened his eyes...and saw a sight more gorgeous than any he could have imagined - a naked, fully aroused Julian Bashir.

Clinical observation warred with desire as he looked Julian over from top to bottom. He took in the tousled hair...the sultry, half-closed eyes...the lips swollen from kisses...the flushed, moist torso...and, finally, the long, thick, pulsing shaft of flesh that jutted proudly - and invitingly! - from its nest of dampened curls. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, trying to integrate the visual data with his primal, visceral feelings.

"Now lie back, and look at yourself the same way you looked at Julian," McCoy continued.

Doc lay back on the bed and looked up, noting that the ceiling was a mirror. He began to examine himself as McCoy had requested

The mirror reflected his shock at what he saw.

His head was normal, though, as always, he wished he'd been designed with a _bit_ more hair. His lips were average too, and slightly puffy from the kisses he'd shared with Julian. But his torso...that was another matter.

Instead of the pliant, responsive nipples he'd investigated on Julian's chest...he saw smoothness. Instead of the inviting hollow of a navel...he saw blankness. Instead of a set of aroused genitals protruding from a thicket of hair, he saw...nothingness. Reflexively, he closed his eyes and began to shudder.

"Bingo." McCoy said softly to himself.

Julian moved to the head of the bed and reached over to take Doc's head onto his thighs. He massaged his temples, offering what comfort he could.

Many minutes passed before the shuddering stopped.

"I'm an abomination. A sham. A...a...truncated program!"

"You don't have to be," Julian whispered, as he stroked Doc's hair.

Doc looked up into Julian's face, a silent plea clearly visible in his eyes. Wetting his lips, he croaked, "How...what do you mean?"

"There is precedence for this," McCoy said. "It's very obscure, but your friend was very thorough in his research."

"You mean you have the means to correct my...deficiency?" Doc rose from Julian's lap and sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. "You can fix this?"

"Yes," was the answer he received, in stereo.

"What must I do, and how quickly can we do it?!" the EMH exclaimed.

Julian grinned while McCoy chuckled and said, "Right now if you're up for it. Lie back down on the bed."

Doc quickly flattened himself on the mattress and eagerly asked, "What do you want me to do next?"

McCoy scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. "Julian, we have to talk about how to implement this...treatment."

Julian rose, and joined McCoy. The two of them stepped back into the shadows. After a lengthy discussion, Julian returned to the bed as McCoy came forward and began to speak.

"Doc, I want you to go to sleep now," he said.

"Sleep? Holograms don't..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Holograms don't sleep'. But you ARE familiar with the concept? You know the changes beings undergo as they fall asleep, and the level of awareness that they experience when they sleep?"

"Of course I do."

"I need you to simulate those conditions. Lower your senses to the level of awareness exhibited by someone that's asleep. Just lie back, close your eyes, and go to 'sleep'."

"Since I do not need sleep to function, how will I know when it's 'time to wake up'? If my senses are dimmed, then how...?"

"Oh, you'll know. You'll know."

Doc lay down on the bed, curled his arm beneath his pillow, and slowly cut back on his sensory input. After a few minutes he was 'deep asleep'.

McCoy looked at both figures on the bed, one semi-prone and quiet, and the other alert and eager to begin. Winking broadly at Julian, he spoke. "Computer, install supplemental holographic module 'Fritz-Crumb-Bakshi'." Retreating to his chair, he sat curiously relaxed, waiting to observe Doc's transformation in all its glory.

Doc's body shimmered and briefly winked out as the module installed. He slept quietly on, unaware that anything had taken place.

* * *

/Oh, such wonderful thoughts!/ Doc told himself. /All I can think of is Julian...his eyes, his lips, that gorgeous cock...mmmmmmm! What I'd love to do with that!/ A slight 'flutter' somewhere inside him interrupted his concentration. Homing in on it, he gradually became aware that he was feeling Julian's lips pressed against his. He allowed his senses to return bit by byte. Before he could open his eyes, he heard a musical whisper in his ear, "Keep your eyes closed. It's my turn now."

Settling onto the pillow, Doc complied. He felt the bed move as Julian changed position. Moments later a warm, wet tongue outlined his lips. He sighed contentedly as an arm cradled his body. Opening his mouth, he ingested the inquiring tongue and nursed it hungrily as Julian's hand caressed his back.

A fingernail, touching his chest, scraped his skin like a warm, blunt dagger. Shivers coursed his spine as it traced a wandering path - up, down, and around - finally coming to rest on the tip of his...his nipple?

/NIPPLE?/

Doc jerked as the nail scraped the sensitive flesh. A jolt of sensation surged through him.

Tearing his mouth away from Doc's, Julian began to lick and kiss his face, his neck, his chest. He tongued a newborn nipple once, twice, three times, then nipped it sharply. A strangled moan and knotted fists told him all he needed to know. His mouth roved lower, slathering kisses and licks and bites on Doc's flexing stomach.

"Oooohh...aaaaaaaaaaahhh...ummmmm...I can't believe it...feels sooooo goood...I never thought...never dreamed...something could feel like this!" Doc moaned.

Julian shifted his weight and slid his hands beneath Doc's buttocks. Lifting them high, he lowered his mouth and engulfed the already weeping head of Doc's fledgling cock.

McCoy had seen enough. /Maybe I've actually seen more than enough,/ he thought wryly. /Enough to know that I'd love to trade places with Julian right about now./ He rose quietly and turned to leave. Casting one final glance at the oblivious, entwined pair on the bed, he silently left the room. /B-I-N-G-O, Doc! Enjoy your Kewpie!/

Downstairs, the memory glass began to glow, then blaze, with a light of a nova.