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locked his fingertips into the flesh of

 

Chekov's pale cheeks. "I'm beginning to understand!"

 

He moaned. "I'm beginning to understand..." Spock's

 

emotions got the better of him; he

 

started laughing uncontrollably and the vibrations caused

 

his bowels to release.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Spock screamed,

 

soiling his best pair of duty trousers.

 

"I am in control of my bowels.... control!"

 

But he wasn't. And his trousers were

 

already far exceeding Starfleet's recommended design parameters.

 

Chekov smelled what the Spock was cooking.

 

He wanted to taste some of that

 

sweet Vulcan brownie but he didn't want

 

to get any sicker than he was.

 

Space cakes often leave him feeling a

 

bit violent; last time he tried to

 

eat an entire space cake he went

 

for Sulu's throat while calling him a

 

Spacer Chaser...whatever that meant. He didn't

 

like these violent turns, but sometimes