Lust In Space

DISCLAIMER: All characters in LIS belong to 20th Century Fox, Irwin Allen, his estate, or whomever, certainly not me. No offense is intended!

Beta'd by Evil Auntie Snape.


~~~FIVE~~~~~BATTERED~~~~~

Professor John Robinson frowned as brown cake batter sprayed all across the Jupiter 2's small galley, covering his lavender velour shirt with tiny specks.

"Damn!" he swore loudly, angrily wiping batter from his forehead

"I told you it wouldn't work," Don snickered, leaning his elbow on the silver metal countertop. "It's a hydro-spanner, not an egg-beater."

John shot his lover a menacing stare. "Thanks ever so much for the observation, Major. Now if you really want to be helpful, you can look up what we need for the icing."

The professor sighed as he went back to his mixing, carefully adjusting the speed of the large maintenance tool so as not to send the batter flying. Don grinned and moved to stand behind the taller man, wrapping his arms about John's waist. The Major slowly ground his hips against John's rather tight bum. The eldest Robinson whimpered a moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Don gave the shell of John's ear a quick lick as the hydro-spanner suddenly whirred up to full speed. With a noticeable screech, the blades lifted up and out of the cake batter. Huge dollops of the mixture flew in all directions.

"Shit!" John bellowed, dropping the still screaming hydro-spanner to the deck.

Don giggled and pulled the struggling Professor even tighter. The hydro-spanner skittered across the decking, leaving a trail of brown cake mix. John attempted to pull out of the embrace but only managed to lose his balance. One of his shiny black boots slipped on a rather large glob of batter. An instant later, the muscley Robinson was flat on his back covered with a giggling Major West. Don smothered John's protests with his eager lips. The runaway hydro-spanner bounced across the galley floor, finally coming to a stop in the corner as its power cord pulled out of the wall receptacle.

The two men writhed about on the batter-covered decking, Don's lips hungrily covering every inch of the Professor's face and neck with wet, sloppy kisses.

"Oh yeah," the Major panted, "I just love to lick you clean!"

Don pushed himself up with one arm while the other roughly yanked John's shirt out of his trousers. The eldest Robinson's arousal was plainly evident as Don ran his hand over the professor's taut stomach. Don quickly tore open the top button of John's trousers and jammed his probing fingers into the Professor's underwear.

"Mmmmm," John murmured, his hands clutching at Don's shoulders. "I'm so dirty. Please, Westie, clean me up. Clean me up!"

Don growled deeply as his hand curled around John's rock-hard erection.

"Yeah, you have been a very bad Professor! Very bad! Look at what you've done to this galley!" the Major intoned threateningly. "You know what happens when you're bad like this!"

Don bent down and began sucking and nibbling at John's neck as the taller man began to thrash about on the batter-slicked deck plating. The Professor reached down and clasped both hands on Don's firm, tight bum, pulling the Major more firmly against him.

"Yes, yes! I need a good spanking, Westie! A good one!" John gasped, his hips arching upwards and grinding side to side. "A rousing, bare-bottomed, cheek-stinging spankfest! I'm sooooo bad!"

Both men wiggled about with increased fervor, sliding and rolling across the decking and crashing into the stools around the small dining table. Don ended up on top of the moaning Robinson. The aluminum stools fell to the deck with a clatter as John slid his hands under Don's tight-fitting green velour shirt. With a moan of satisfaction, the Professor lifted the Major's shirt up. Don leaned back and balanced on his knees, pulling the shirt up and over his head. He whirled it about his head several times as the Professor ran both of his hands up and down Don's nicely muscled chest and torso.

The Major released his shirt with a loud "Whoop!" It landed squarely on top of the long-forgotten bowl of cake batter.

Don grinned madly, running a finger through a rather large blob of batter on the deck. Panting, the Major held up his finger. The brown mixture lazily oozed down, covering the second knuckle.

"Want it?" he teased.

"Yeah. Give it to me," John wheezed, his face flushed.

"Say the magic words," Don growled.

"Highly Localized Distortion of the Space-Time Continuum!" John rasped out, his breath beginning to come in short gasps.

"Good boy," Don purred, grinning crookedly.

The Major pushed his batter-coated finger into John's eager mouth. The Professor sucked on it greedily, bringing both of his hands up to clasp onto Don's. John pulled on his lover's finger with relish, suckling on it forcefully, sending loud slurping noises across the entire lower deck of the Jupiter 2. Don ground his bum against the prone Robinson's throbbing arousal.

"Yeah, that's a good Professor! But you will still need that spanking!"

The two men started suddenly at the sound of very loud, very measured applause.

Don yanked his finger from John's mouth with an audible pop. Both men's eyes went wide as they noticed their bemused spectator.

Dr. Smith was energetically clapping his hands, a smirk pasted to his beaming face.

"Such a stimulating performance, gentlemen! I must say, I had no idea that men of science such as yourselves could be so creative! Bravo! Bravo!"

John and Don remained frozen in place as Smith gave them a quick nod and a wink. Casually stepping over the pair, the Doctor gingerly tiptoed across the slippery galley floor and reached for the coffee pot. With a sigh, he filled a mug to the rim. Restoring the pot to its warming pad, Smith located a clean spot of counter to lean on. He demurely took a tiny sip, his pinky finger pointing straight out.

"Ahh, Denobulan Blend, yes?" Smith commented. "Who ever would have thought that the flavor of coffee could be enhanced with fish oils."

After taking a few more sips of the alien coffee, the Doctor glanced down at the two lovers with an expectant expression.

"Well, well, don't le me interrupt!" he said brightly. "I can't wait to see the spankfest! A great way to start the day, I always say!"

John and Don remained still for a moment longer. The Major moved first, his face reddening with anger.

"I case you hadn't noticed, we were rather involved here, Smith," Don began in a low voice. "We don't need some disgusting old pervert staring at us...."

Smith blew out a breath and cut the Major off with a wave of his hand.

"Fiddle-d-fie, Major. I feel constrained to point out that the galley floor isn't the most private spot for activities such as this," Smith retorted calmly, taking a sip of coffee.

Don stood up, his balled fists planted on his hips.

"Listen here, Smith, why don't you slither back to your cabin and your alien porn before I....."

Smith plopped his mug down on the counter, snickering.

"Before you do what, Major? Spank me? Indeed, as enthralling as that sounds, I must admit that I prefer a sound binding," Smith commented dryly. "Now, if you happen to have a nice pair of padded handcuffs, mine are broken, you see, then perhaps we could arrive at an arrangement."

Smith blinked sweetly as Don fumed, his mouth working silently. John was now sitting up on the floor, his arms folded across his chest. The Professor wore a rather amused expression.

"Are you two done yet," John stated flatly, "Or should I just leave and give you both some time alone?"

The Doctor giggled loudly as the Major shot his lover a withering stare.

"That's not very funny, John," Don mumbled out, sounding hurt. "I'd rather screw the Bloop than him," he finished, hooking a finger in Smith's direction.

The Doctor made a rude noise. "Sticks and stones, dear Major. And I'm quite certain the furry creature would never lower himself to your level. Derek has minimum standards, at least."

Don glared at the Doctor, his face nearly beet red.

"Why you pathetic, wrinkled old gas bag! I oughta...."

"Spare me the primitive macho threats, Major," Smith sighed, rolling his eyes. "Firstly, you know full well I find them stimulating. Secondly, I've had my wrinkles removed, all of them, as any imbecile can plainly see. I recall you were right behind me in line at the derm-abrasion clinic on Rimmulon IV."

The Major growled loudly as John smirked and stared at the floor. The Doctor batted his eyes as he took another sip of his coffee.

"And finally, my dear Major Bottom," Smith cooed with a grand wave of his free hand, "I seem to recall a time, before you conjugated with our intrepid Professor here, when you came knocking on my cabin door with alarming frequency."

Smith cocked his head and blew a kiss in Don's direction.

"Gaaaaaaaaah!" the pilot replied, trembling.

John finally stood up, muffling a snicker with one hand and restraining the trembling Major with the other.

"Ok, Ok girls, that's enough. We don't have time for this. I've got to get this cake done for Penny's party this afternoon."
Don nodded, scowling.

Smith raised his eyebrows, his expression one of supreme satisfaction. Looking about the galley, the Doctor dipped a finger in a dollop of batter and tasted it.

"Oh my," he commented sourly, his face screwing up in distaste. "Are you certain this is cake batter and not some sort of lubricant for the Chariot?"

John shook his head while Don took a step forward.

"You pompous old queen!" he began. "I'll show you something, and believe me, you'll be begging for lubricant of any kind before I'm done!"

Smith stuck his tongue out as the Professor moved his restraining hand to the middle of Don's sweaty chest.

"Ok Smith. If you think you can do better, have at it," John responded with a sigh of relief.

"You are speaking to a honors graduate of Emil LaBeque's Institute of Fine Cuisine, dear Professor," Smith drawled haughtily. "A project such as this is best left to an expert like me and not a pair of engineers."

With another curt nod to the Professor, Smith jabbed at the red telltale on a small control panel near the coffee pot. There was a small series of soft clicks and whirrs from the Robot's alcove as the mechanoid's regeneration sequence terminated. B-9's glass head shot up with a clank as indicator lights danced across his front panel.

"Come here now, you useless eunuch!" the Doctor bellowed. "We have work to do!"

The Robot slowly trundled across the deck towards the batter-encrusted galley. Smith was already busy cleaning up the mess and searching for ingredients. B-9's visual sensors turned to take in John, the shirtless Don, and then the brown batter coating most every surface. The mechanoid made a strange sound resembling a stifled chortle.

"Enough useless commentary, you deplorable dunderhead!" Smith sneered as he tied Maureen's frilly pink apron about his waist. "Access all your data files relating to birthday cakes. We have a confectionary emergency on our hands!"

B-9 whistled shrilly as the he rolled past the Professor and Don. His memory banks were clacking away a mile a minute. There was a small beep and a tiny piece of paper issued from a thin slot next to his power pack.

Dr. Smith snatched the scrap of paper, examining it carefully. He arched an eyebrow.

"Hmmm, yes, I think this will do nicely," he muttered thoughtfully. "Get on with it, you oaf!"

"Yes, Dr. Smith," the Robot responded flatly.

The Robot rolled over to the Galley's interface panel and input the necessary information with his claw. Smith grinned.

"All is well, gentlemen. Please, feel free to take your extracurricular activities to a more suitable location."

Major West was about to spew forth a rebuttal when there was a notable clunk from across the lower deck. A cabin partition opened and slid aside. All three men turned their heads in unison while the Robot swiveled about to take in the new arrival.

Judy Robinson stood a few feet from her cabin, wearing a blank expression on her haggard face. The oldest Robinson offspring was wearing a tattered and wrinkled baby blue bathrobe. One of her thin hands clutched at the misbuttoned and stained garment. Her blonde hair was in total disarray, sticking out in every direction, as if she had stuck her finger into a live power tap. Her skin was very pale. Her eyes were bloodshot and a little bit glazed. There were dark circles under them. Her thin lips quivered slightly as she looked nervously about the lower deck. She took a few shambling steps towards the galley and stopped.

Dr. Smith harrumphed. "It lives," he commented sourly.

John stared at his eldest daughter. He took a step towards her, but Judy backed away quickly.

"Well, look at the stranger," John began warmly. "We were beginning to worry about you, honey. Are you alright?"

Judy arched an eyebrow. Her head darted from her father to Don to the Robot to Smith and back again like a bird's.

"Guuunng a lot," she replied in a scratchy voice.

"Indeed," Smith chuckled.

The mechanoid's head plopped down with a clank.

"Is there something you wanted, Judy?" John asked.

Judy licked her lips and took several unsteady steps towards the galley. She pointed a finger at the coffee pot.

"Caaaa," she burbled out proudly, crossing her arms.

"Clear as a bell," Smith sang out, quickly snatching up a clean mug and filling it with coffee.

Judy had moved closer, staring at the rapidly hardening cake batter all over the deck.

"Wha tha da galooong?" she rasped out.

Don had moved to stand next to his lover. The pilot folded his arms and stared at the floor.

"Um, we couldn't find the sonic mixer, so...."

Smith snickered. "One guess as to where it is right now," he whispered to B-9.

The Robot's relays clicked loudly. "Yes," the mechanoid responded in a loud voice laced with sarcasm. "It is most unfortunate that we do not know of the mixer's current whereabouts. If the device's location were known, it could be retrieved....."

The Robot was cut off by Dr. Smith's gales of laughter.

"Oh my, oh my, yes!" the Doctor giggled. "Why not scan for it right now, you mechanical moron?"

Smith passed the cup of coffee to John, whose expression went from confusion to understanding in a second. Judy snatched the mug from her father's outstretched hand, slopping a good bit of it on the decking. She slurped it up greedily, dribbling the alien blend down her chin and all over the front of her already filthy robe. The professor turned to B-9.

"Yes, Robot. Perform that scan. I'd really like to know where that sonic mixer is hidden."

Smith covered his mouth, unable to stifle a yelp of laughter. The Robot cleared his vocal buffer.

"Yes, Professor. I have completed the scan."

There was a rather notable pause as John waited for the mechanoid's report. Don took a deep breath, leaning against his lover, arms folded across his naked chest. Smith grinned widely while Judy noisily licked the rim of her empty mug.

"Well?" John prodded impatiently. "Spit it out, Robot. Where is that damned mixer?"

"Yes, yes, go on, out with it you catatonic cyborg!" Smith spit out, giggling. "Tell us where it is!"

B-9's visual sensors whirled about from Judy to John to the Doctor and back again. His glass head shot up with a clunk.
"Very well. My scans indicate the missing sonic mixer is approximately 1.6 meters from my current location. It is also activated and on stand-by."

All three men turned from the Robot to stare at Judy, who was licking the bottom of her mug.

"You don't mean..." Don murmured softly.

Smith giggled.

John went pale.

"Yes, Major Bot...I mean West," the Robot stammered. "It would appear that the device is..."

The Professor cut the mechanoid off with an outstretched palm. "Fine. Fine. I'll handle this."

John turned to his daughter who was carefully licking each one of her fingers before wiping them on her robe.

"Judy, darling," he began quietly, "Why don't you give us that nasty old sonic mixer? You poor Mother really needs it back, and, well, it seems that you've had too much of a good thing."

The Professor took a few steps toward Judy. Her head shot up, eyes wide. The metal mug dropped to the floor with a loud clank.

"Nwa navr gawa bak!" she squawked angrily, pointing a shaky finger at her father. "Bwatt mwa ony frand goot baanga!"

Smith chuckled. "Well, when she puts it like that...."

"That's enough, Smith!" John shot over his shoulder. "Please, Judy. Give it back," he said calmly to his daughter. "Don't make me take it away from you."

The Professor took another step towards his daughter. Judy snarled, taking a shaky step backwards. She shook her head side to side vigorously, her frizzled hair flopping about wildly.

"No!" she spat out clearly.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"For heaven's sake, end this. We have a cake to bake," Smith said tiredly, tapping on the Robot's metal shoulder. "Do it, you Neanderthal ninny."

"Yes, Dr. Smith."

Indicator lights danced across the mechanoid's front panel. A soft, high pitched tone emanated from his tiny speaker grille. There was a barely audible click. Judy stopped her retreat and froze as a low whirring sound wafted across the lower deck of the Jupiter 2.

John and Don stared at each other before turning to Dr. Smith and the Robot.

"Continue, you bulbous baboon," Smith sighed, shaking his head.

B-9's tone grew louder, the pitch beginning to oscillate slightly. Judy's body went rigid for a moment. Her jaw went slack and her hands fell to her sides, slowly rubbing her own thighs with little circular motions. Smith banged on the Robot, who clicked for a moment before ramping up his emissions. The tone became louder and more varied. The whirring sound grew louder as well, clearly coming from underneath Judy's bedraggled robe. Her eyes rolled back into her head as tiny moans of pleasure escaped her lips. Her hands began clutching and pulling at the robe as she swayed from side to side.

"Now might be a good time to, uh, retrieve the mixer," Smith offered, his eyes aglow with amusement.

John paused a moment before nodding. "Right. Don, give me a hand, will you?"

The pair of lovers moved towards Judy, who was moaning and groaning in ecstasy. Her hands were all over her body, her eyes closed. She was bucking and writhing in time to the frequencies of the tone coming from the Robot. The whirring from the hidden sonic mixer continued to increase in intensity. Judy either didn't notice or didn't care when John and Don each grabbed one of her arms. The eldest Robinson began flailing about spastically, her moans turning into rather loud wails of pleasure.

Smith was snickering loudly at the spectacle as two sets of cabin partitions slid open. No one on the lower deck noticed the three pairs of eyes peering out from Will's cabin, or the two sets looking out from Penny's. Muffled laughter began to issue from Will's cabin. John and Don struggled with Judy, who was nearly screaming. The mechanoid's oscillating tone coupled with the whirring of the mixer were nearly deafening.

"C'mon, we've got to get her to her cabin," John panted.

"I'm trying," Don responded breathlessly.

Smith was now draped on the Robot, shaking with laughter. The Professor and the Major struggled with Judy while Will fell through his cabin doorway to the deck, clutching his sides, breathless, his face streaked with tears. Unable to catch his breath, the youngest Robinson rolled about the floor wearing nothing but his silver workout shorts.

No one noticed as another partition slid open.

Maureen marched out of her cabin, her robe unbuttoned, her hair woven and piled high in a set of huge, pink curlers. She was holding an ice bag to her temple. Her bright blue eyes went wide as she took in the scene before her.

John and a shirtless Don were holding a screaming and thrashing Judy. All three suddenly fell to the decking in a tangle of arms and legs. A giggling Dr. Smith had fallen to his knees in the destroyed Galley, while the Robot chuckled mechanically. The whirring and the screeching of the control tone barely drowned out the shouts and yells. And a nearly naked Will was laughing himself breathless on the other side of the deck.

Maureen's mouth hung open. Dropping the ice pack, she planted both hands firmly on her hips.

"What the FUCK is going on out here?" she bellowed.

The Robot was the first to respond. His glass head fell down with a clank. The control tone stopped, and an instant later, so did the whirring of the mixer. Dr. Smith stood, gasping, smoothing his apron. Judy slowly calmed down. Don jumped up, frantically looking for his shirt. Dr. Smith reached over and tossed the batter stained garment to the Major. As he pulled it on, John rose and helped a very disheveled Judy to her feet. She attempted to straighten her hopelessly tangled hair. Will was slithering across the deck towards his cabin partition, which was now closed. The red-head stood slowly, trying to open it. The partition was locked. He grinned sheepishly at his mother.

Maureen's cheeks were flushed a deep pink. She took slow, measured steps across the lower deck. She stared at her husband for a long moment, and then her eldest daughter. Both averted their eyes. Don attempted a fake grin, which withered instantly. Maureen's frown grew more pronounced as she surveyed the destroyed galley.

"Sorry for the mess, dear lady...." Smith began brightly.

"Save it!" Maureen snapped, her pointed finger barely an inch from the Doctor's nose.

Everyone else suddenly began to talk at once, offering excuses and explanations

The annoyed space-mom whirled about, her eyes wild.

"Put a sock in it, all of you!" she yelled, her tone one of barely suppressed rage.

"I've had enough of the lies and nonsense! No more! NO MORE!"

Smith and Judy jumped. John and Don nodded as Will still scrabbled frantically with the latch of his cabin partition.

Maureen took a deep breath.

"Here's the way it's going to be from now on, SO LISTEN UP!" she began, striding back and forth, one balled fist on her hip, her other hand pointing at each crewmember in turn.

"You, young lady, get yourself cleaned up this instant! You look like a Denebian hooker!"

Judy blinked, nodding slightly as she chewed on a finger nail.

"And you, Will! If I ever see you parading around half-naked again, you'll be scrubbing the dutronium exhaust ports on a permanent basis! Is that clear, young man?"

"Yes ma'am," the red-head responded, kicking at the deck with his foot.

"And you," Maureen hissed, poking a finger in her husband's chest, "We need to talk, in private, now."

John made to respond, but his wife poked him again, hard. The Professor nodded once and moved towards his wife's cabin.

"Major West, I believe that the maintenance cycle for the star-drive is three-months behind, and the inertial dampeners need immediate attention. I also haven't received any flight plans from you in nearly a week. Get on it!"

"Yeah, sure Maureen. Right away."

"And get cleaned up. You're a disgrace!"

Don nodded, slowly backing away across the deck.

Maureen advanced upon the Doctor, who was standing calmly next to the Robot, his hands clasped at his waist. As she scanned the ruined kitchen area, Smith's smile faded.

"Now, now, dear lady, you need to know that I did not create this mess. Out of the goodness of my heart, the Robot and I were attempting to salvage....."

"Shut your hole, you worthless old creep!" Maureen barked out.

Smith jumped. "Yes, of course," he finished lamely, staring at the decking.

"I want this Galley and lower deck spotless and ready for Penny's party by fourteen hundred hours, sharp! I will send instructions for the set-up and decorations to the main panel shortly."

Her tone was becoming increasingly calm. "I'll leave it to you to select a suitable cake to prepare."

Smith nodded vigorously. Maureen wagged her finger at him.

"Don't disappoint me, Doctor."

Smith gulped. "No, no, no, dear lady. You can count on me. Us, that is," he finished, jerking his head to the Robot.

Maureen smiled for the first time, casually smoothing out her robe.

"Good. And Will? Help them."

"Yes, ma'am, as soon as I get dressed."

There was a click, and the partition to the red-head's cabin popped open an inch. Will disappeared inside.

Maureen sighed. "Well, I have some work to do. I'll be in my cabin if you need me, Doctor."

Smith merely nodded, bowing slightly.

Mrs. Robinson whirled about and strode across the deck in a flurry of pink bathrobe. Dr. Smith watched and smiled until she closed and latched her cabin partition. His grin faded instantly.

"Bitch," he commented tartly.

"Come along, you delirious dildo-head," Smith drawled, smacking the Robot. "We have work to do."