(I orginally wrote this article for issue 301 of fab! magazine, tgirl column, 2006)

A woman slunk by in an exact replica of Princess Leia’s slave girl costume from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, complete with metal bra and flimsy loincloth. A 30-something beefcake of a guy dressed as He-Man, from the cartoon Masters of the Universe, did a Chippendales-inspired groin gyration while chanting, “I am power!” His girlfriend, in a She-ra, Princess of Power super-bikini, approached me, whispering lustfully, “Haven’t seen you since Club Sin.” “You’ve mistaken me for another shemale,” I replied politely. I tried to escape from perverts expressing their kink through sci-fi drag at Toronto Trek 20, a respectable Star Trek and science fiction convention. I wanted to look available in case any hot Klingons beamed in. In the ’80s, while the other Grade 8 boys were jerking off to sweet Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth album cover or saccharine videos of Tiffany’s mall tour, I was wanking over Worf, Star Trek: The Next Generation’s animalistic, honour-bound stereotype of masculinity in a spandex uniform.

Never a hardcore Trekker, I watched the show because I was hot for Data –an android programmed with sexual capabilities – in my opinion, the most underused crew member. But mostly I lusted for Klingons, space Neanderthals with antiquated gender politics and forehead bumps, real rough-around-the-edges guys.

I nearly drooled when Worf boasted that human females would be too fragile for his lovemaking prowess. When he collided with a woman of his own race, they growled at each other angrily and lustfully. With unstoppable Klingon mojo, Worf seized her, clenching her fists so tightly that her fingernails stabbed into her own flesh. She bled. I watched this otherworldly foreplay with my mom, lying on my stomach to hide my hard-on.

Recently, I discovered The Klingon Sex Manual, an online how-to book for alien-inspired BDSMers, with tips like, “Klingons usually bite down hard on their partners’ shoulders at the moment of climax, and such pain will frequently trigger the other’s orgasm.” I was intrigued. I found another unofficial website on which a graphic designer will digitally alter your portrait to transform you into a Klingon. Apparently, proud wannabes send him nude pics, longing to see themselves as naked Klingon men, their exposed weapons cocked and loaded.

Eager to find men who might actually share my xenophilic fantasies, I embarked on a Klingon manhunt at Toronto Trek 20, where fans often come dressed as their fave sci-fi characters. Since Trekkers are welcoming of all forms of intelligent life, I was sure I’d meet an otherworldly brute who would accept me as a tranny. But, strutting into the event’s Saturday night party, I saw only nerds doing what resembled a gay Vulcan mating dance, their fingers in the “live long and prosper” pose while they moved to Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Right Round.” A duel between two pimple-faced teens with mock light sabres also broke out on the dance floor. I wanted to ask a rotund Klingon woman where the males of her species were hiding, but apparently she only spoke her home planet’s tongue. Her vocabulary was limited to things she’d heard on TV and in movies.

Outside I spotted a paunchy, 50-ish, bifocal-wearing Klingon man staring at my partially exposed tits. But he was too insecure to approach me after I cruised him with a bold, teeth-together-lips-apart look of come-hitherness. I spied other Klingon poseurs but their forehead prosthetics were buckling off their faces. They were sweating through heavy makeup, laughing like geeks. One was wearing Levi’s jeans from the ’90s with a scratched-up Harley Davidson belt buckle. I wanted Klingon realness!

I was beginning to remind myself of an obnoxious tranny-chaser who demands his t-girls be 100% passable. I realized I was pursuing these space bruisers as sexual objects, without care for the feelings of their actual Earth-dweeb selves. Then, someone dressed as Milla Jovovich in the Fifth Element cart wheeled by. She revealed that earlier there had been a Klingon wedding. Many more Klingons were here during the day.

If they looked good enough for daytime drag, I wanted to meet them. If any of you are reading, consider this my personal ad: Surgically suped-up shemale sweetheart seeks Klingon top guy for fun and maybe more. I enjoy writing, clubbing and quiet nights. You must have full Klingon uniform, including ceremonial dagger. You must be Klingon-looking/Klingon-acting, but I will try to accept you out of drag, if you do the same for me.

nina arsenault, tgirl