“I’m a woman,” says Jim, standing in the doorway of Bones’ quarters.
“Go away, Jim,” says Bones. He doesn’t even bother looking at his captain, which is unfortunate because then he would have seen that Jim Kirk was, in fact, a woman. Instead, he shuffles back to bed, and throws the cover over his head.
“Bones, get up! I’m a woman!” Jim’s voice is high and panicky, and Bones ignores it because like this didn’t happen in their freshman year at the Academy. Or their sophomore year. Or that time they were doing exercises on the Farragut. In fact, thinks Bones, fuzzily reviewing their years at the Academy, pretending he’s been turned into a woman seems to have been one of Jim’s favourite activities.
Bones wonders, as he starts to sink into sleep, whether there’s a paper in it. Deep-seated gender confusion in Starfleet officers.
Jim Kirk, all soft, flushed skin and ripe, womanly figure and extremely ill-fitting uniform, stares down at his (her?) snoring CMO, and thinks the universe’s payback for hilarious Academy hijinks is totally disproportionate. Then he sneaks a peek down his uniform top.
Hey, he’s just been turned into a woman; he’s not dead.