A Quarian under the Hegemony

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
“Helloooo Rannoch! This is me! Verantus! Your host for today! As usual, a sunny forecast on the coast with a slim chance of rain in the evening. Fags beware, do not forget your daily-“
With a clenched fist, Zal hit the alarm clock, turning off the radio as well as the constant beeping that had turned his sweet dreams into… Well, the dull reality.
One that was just as dull as the off-white paint on the ceiling above him… On the prefab walls around him, on the furniture. It was all white except for some metal tint peppering the whole place here and there, and the brown tiles on the floor.

The whole place was dull. But it was better than starving in the ‘fleet’ or about to be killed by the Krogans or Asaris.
“Go on, Zal… You can do this. Breathe… And… Go.”
With a sigh, the Quarian jumped off the chaotic white bed and landed on the floor, his nails scrapping the plastic tiles for a second before his milky white eyes went from place to place. He checked his computer on the wall to see if there was any broadcast for all Quarians; the shower had its water reserve locked at fifty percent; his suits hung from a rack, offering him a colorful choice between dark and purple for casual outings, blue and gray for the formal wear, and white and pink for his typical duties.

It was the latter he picked, pulling on the soft fabric that served to cover his helmet as well as all the parts of his armor. It was that same routine, that same course of action he followed when he put the suit on and adjusted the seals one by one, alone.
Such precision work should be difficult, but the solitude and the life spent alone had trained him to pressurize his suit, to link his implants to the onboard life system, and to have the… Lower parts properly affixed.
“Test… Test,” he mumbled, listening to his voice as well as the amplified version coming from his suit.
Everything was working correctly, and he did it in five minutes. Nobody could be as fast at putting on a suit as he did. And there was a sense of pride as he puffed up his chest… Solely to deflate while he placed his three fingers on his face.
“Keelah… Why do I bother with this?”

Just like that… Zal was in the perfect mood to confront his daily routine.
A last check-up to his empty prefab apartment, without any traces of identity, and he was out, facing the great world… or rather, the stacks of prefab apartments, large cylinders stacked one over another, forming a jungle of metal, plastics, wires, and ropes.
A jungle he could see and admire as he descended the flight of stairs, going from the fifth to the ground floor, meeting with more and more Quarians as they all followed the same routine as he did.
At eight o’clock, all Quarians were to leave their housing to work, so that the inspection crew could confirm the absence of sedition or hidden techs in their house.
A routine Zal followed as he watched another Quarian, black and red, wave at him.

“Zal! Could you help me with my computer?”
“Sure, I will. Next time?”
“You already said that.”
“I am busy with work. My boss is… Urhg. Demanding?”
“Do not be so negative, they can listen,” growled the black and red Quarian, pointing at one armored guard on the side who didn’t move when pointed at. Perhaps that guy was just too tired to be the source of attention; he no longer cared for the Quarians.
As for Zal, he frowned at the vision under his tinted visor before he turned to his peers, as the crowd was keen on splitting them apart.
“Fine. I’ll handle it tonight. Message me if I forget. Or ask Wos to transmit the message.”

Perhaps there was an answer, perhaps there was none. But the crowd of working Quarians pushed Zal away from his interlocutor, guiding him from the blocks of habitation, deprived of green, style, or even life, right to one of the large buildings on the side of the district.
Tall, rectangular, deprived of all curves and decoration, it was as brutalist as possible with the word “Transport” written in Hegemonic above the set of double doors the Quarians rushed to.
A crowd that continued to be reorganized and thinned when, led by the panels and arrows, Zal flowed from one corridor to another, scanning his omnitool at each little terminal until he was on the quay, still following the crowd that waited for the next hypertube to arrive.

There was nothing left to surprise, to wonder. Everything was sterile and clean, maintained by the workers assigned to the place. The whole system was a pisspoor implementation that dated back twenty years and hadn’t been renovated. The metal beams were starting to rust, and the tiles were changed regularly, but were not uniform in color.
The benches had been removed four years ago for ‘security reasons’… And the air itself was stale, even through Zal’s filters, due to the aging aeration.
But like cattle, the Quarians were all waiting as ordered, watching with anticipation as the hypertube arrived like a bullet-shaped vehicle, and its doors opened.

It then became a rush for every Quarian to enter and take the good spots, Zal at the forefront as he knew where he wanted to be: right at the opposite end against the wall. The best place, the most secure place, he’d learned.
Sure, it was near the toilet and reeked. But it was the spot he picked as he nestled himself between two Quarians, bigger and larger than him, whose suits told him they worked outside.

Then… As the crowd entered and the scragglers were forced to stay on the quay, the hypertube closed its doors, and the magnetic vehicle was sent flying from torus to torus towards the Turian District 9.
“… It’s good… You’re good, Zal,” mumbled the Quarian, pressed between the two large peers, barely having any place to move and even less to check the notifications his omni-tool received.
The place was crowded… Oh, so crowded. And yet, it was about to be worse as Zal took a deep breath and watched the hypertube’s doors open.

This time, no Quarian crowd. Only two or three individuals, without suits, with only some casual wear… But whose faces made them distinct from the crowd. Turians.
With their frontal gray plates, painted in red or blue or gold, the Turians stood out from the crowd that stepped away from them as if they were pestiferous.
Even the Quarians on either side of Zal seemed to shrink as they watched the Turians speaking to themselves, their tongues clicking and their crests lifting, laughing and chuckling while pointing fingers at the Quarians that were around.
“Hey… You!”

Zal’s heart sank in his chest. His eyes widened, his breathing went faster, and his nails dug into his boots. But no, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his turn.
“Yeah. You, come here. We’ve got ten minutes before we get to the office.”
“But my next stop-“
“Yeah, yeah. Get here, bitch,” scoffed the Turian who had been calling out his victim, snapping his fingers.

Sure enough, a Quarian, in green and gray, stepped from the crowd, approaching closer to the trio of Turians surrounded by a wide circle.
Even then, even if none from the crowd had been picked, the tension remained while Zal watched the trio close on the Quarian and one Turian wrap a hand over the green and gray Quarian.
But not only.

Soon, the scalie hands passed over the Quarian’s posterior, and a claw ripped the suit apart, revealing a plump posterior. Another hand ripped the frontal port. A third began to unfasten all the armor straps, forcing open the seals while the green and gray Quarian was stripped.
Naked. Exposed, except for his helmet.
And the Turians leered, joyful, while they played with that gray-skinned body, digging their fingers in that plushy and glabrous ass, in that softened belly, in that soft and uncut shaft.

It was a spectacle—a routine. A casual display that didn’t even stop when the hypertube stopped and some of the Quarians slunk away, the head low.
But most remained, waiting for their stops, their next exit… Though none could ignore what was happening. None could forget the moans from the Quarian getting fingered in public, or having to play with the Turians’ groin.
None could act innocent as they watched one of their peers facing those hung Turians, especially one whose cock was akin to an arm… And as the crowd continued to dissipate and Zal remained stuck between the two workers… He was practically in the first line to see his peer moan and cry when his belly bulged from the abuse.
When he saw one of the Turians’ cock slip entirely within that ass and seemingly impale the poor victim. It was typical… It was usual…
Yet, Zal held his breath. Everyone did. Everyone was afraid to be the next pick, to be the one fucked and abused by the Turians.

But in Zal’s case, that fear… Was tainted. He had never been taken by a Turian before. He had never been taken before. Perhaps it was through sheer luck, but if one were to check his ID, he would appear as a virgin. Something practically impossible in this day and age.
Yet… The Quarian tried not to squirm or peep as he watched his fellow getting impaled on both ends by those Turian cocks, the muffled cries coordinating with the thrusts sending that poor bastard crying and moaning… And cumming.
“He’s good for being used.” “Another broodwhore…” “Poor bastard.”

Zal lowered his eyes as he listened to the mumbles around him, completed by the sound of the victim getting impaled, his asshole audibly sucking and holding on to the Turian’s cock. The gargles, the huffs, the moans, they were almost… Overwhelming.
“He will be cunted.” “You sure?” “They always do when they see a fucked whore out of the hypertube.” “But it’s Vil. He’s no whore.” “He is now.”

Zal’s face burned, the sound getting etched in his ears while listening to the leering laughs from the Turian and the gargle from that ‘Vil’ getting his throat swabbed by a cock that was practically over fifteen inches… A monster the Quarian was to take, to swallow, to worship if he was not to be punished by the Hegemony.
An abuse Zal listened to, until the hypertube stopped and the door opened.

Like many, he rushed.
It could be a different stop, but the young Quarian did not care as he huffed and jumped on the quay, following the crowd that descended the pristine metallic stairs and corridors, befitting a Turian-inhabited neighborhood, to land outside… And be swarmed by a whole different view.
“Your Quarian isn’t feminine enough to your taste? Genex has the solution for you! The Femplusplus version will give curves to the most rigid bodies! Do not wait!”
“Enjoy a world bending under your heel with Baria Frontiers! Rannoch 2! Applications accepted for immigration.”
“Afraid your fag is out of fashion? Do not wait! Van Allen Belts will fix any fashion faux pas at a cheap price! Discount on all nipple piercings!”

Zal’s face burned, though he was at the right place.
The crowd of Quarians coming from the hypertube had already spread, disappearing in the large buildings or joining the onlookers, the mere passerbys, or the shoppers having a good day strolling in the commercial district, protected from Rannoch’s harsh weather by the overgrown Turian-imported trees, the steel canopies, or even the bridges joining the sleeks and clean skyscrapers.
Four stops away, and the difference between the Quarian districts and the Turians districts was day and night, a profound distinction in how the original inhabitants of this world lived… And how their Turian overlords thrived.

Still, Zal advanced as the place itself made no effort in hiding the sheer bigotry and racism it inspired.
Here, even though Zal was supposed to be protected by his contract with a company, the young Quarian was nothing but a ‘whore’ on the loose. If even a Turian, like the many he saw walking with a bitch at their arms, decided to take him, they could.
It wasn’t like it was impossible. No… It happened before; that’s how it all started.

Zal wasn’t there when it happened. He wasn’t even sure he was alive when Rannoch, once reconquered by the Quarians, was suddenly picked by the Turians for another expansion. Rannoch was another Garden World, fit for their dextro biology.
The Quarians tried to riposte, but the result was a crushing defeat, and the Turians established the ‘Rannoch convention’.
From that day onward, all Quarians were part of the Hegemony, and the local governments’ rules dictated their rights. A condition perfect that allowed the Hegemony to take all the Quarian females and… Well, ship them to Turians colonies as prized trinkets.
Nowadays, you’d be ever lucky if, as a Quarian, you were barely allowed to see one female in your life. In real life.

For the rest, artificial wombs and biological modifications had been enough to maintain a population. To many of the galactic communities, it was seen as an affront. To the Turian, it was a blessing.
And to the Quarians? Well, the opinion was mixed.

Certainly, Zal was not satisfied as he kept his head low, trying to stick close to the alleyways and streets on his way to his job. But as he looked at those feminized Quarians walking around with nothing but their helmets, their voluptuous bodies ripe for breeding or the taking, he doubted they would fight the Turians.
The more it went on, the more submissive was the Quarian population… With even some of Zal’s generations eagerly paying their modifications in the hope of being picked.
Some were even advertising for their emasculation, a feat that sent a shiver through Zal’s spine, though he wasn’t certain if it was from disgust… or envy.

“Please… Don’t check me. Don’t check me. Don’t check me,” mumbled the young Quarian as he approached one of the checkpoints through the district. The Turian soldiers didn’t even seem to care as Zal approached and they handwaved him through, letting him pass and run to his work office.
Once through the main door, in the elevator, and up three stairs, Zal was feeling lighter… Then to squeak when the doors opened on an irritable and angry Turian, dark-gray scaled and pudgier than his peers.
“Zal nar bitch vas Fagnnoch!” shouted the Turian, his voice booming through the barely lit and decorated corridor, uncaring of the employees, Quarians, and Turians, walking around. “What’s your excuse for being this late?”
“Late? Cestus? But… But I’m here! It’s twenty-five!”
“You should have been here at twenty! Have you read your messages?” said the Turian, leaning on the elevator’s threshold. That way, he stopped the door from closing while blocking Zal’s escape.

“I didn’t. I couldn’t. There were too many people in the hypertube. Plus, we got another ra-“
“I don’t care for your excuses! When I send you a message! You must check it! Got it?!”
“Y… yes, sir,” mumbled Zal, lowering his head. Though he did his best not to check his Boss’s vest, fighting to contain his belly… Or those pants bulging obscenely.
“If I’m paying an inferior bitch like you, it’s for results!”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I wanted a dumb whore who only knows how to shake her ass as a tech, I would pay for an Asari!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you not even ashamed of failing a Turian?!”
“I… Am, sir,” gulped Zal, trying to contain his frustration. His internal computer was beeping from the sudden cardiac stress and the accelerated heartbeat. And Zal’s hands were hurting so much as he clenched his fists.
But…

Cestus sighed and pulled back, straightening himself while allowing Zal to step outside the elevator.
But the Quarian’s eyes remained low on the floor while the Turian stomped away, with a weight and presence that was… Well, more fitting to an Elcor. Nevertheless, Zal followed, checking his omnitool and noticing the dozen messages from Cestus.
“What are you waiting for?” barked the Turian as they went through corridors that were devoid of decoration. The suspended ceiling was half-undone with wires dangling down.
And… Zal turned on the first message.
What appeared wasn’t Cestus's face or merely a text. No, there was a video… A video of a dark, uncut, and massive cock that was almost rubbing against the screen, from what Zal noticed.
That cock was uncut, stiff like steel. And yet, the small hand rubbing it, pulling on the oversized foreskin, and teasing the oversized veins was Cestus’. Instead of recording his face, Cestus had the routine of recording his dick while speaking.
At first, Zal thought it was adequate for his dickish personality. But the joke had been growing old as much as listening to the old Turian groan and slur in the video.
“Fucking… Fagnnoch. Get your pretty ass to the office. I need you to fix my computer right now. Or else, I’ll fuck your immune system out of you, ruin your ass, and sell you on the street ‘til you get a baby fever.”

The rancid speech made Zal wince, but he was glad his helmet hid his expression as he shifted to the second video. Similar one, though the traces of cum sticking to the dick were evident. At that moment, Cestus was solely doing it to mess with Zal… And did so with every video, up until Zal was at the last one. And right into Cestus’ office.
As the owner of a company located on many worlds, Cestus even had an office in Rannoch. Though he was a raging racist, Cestus went on Rannoch to deal with his health issues and to ‘acquire a whore’ that would ‘suit’ him through a matrimonial program.
There were no women in Rannoch, so at best, he would get a transitioned fag.

Something Zal would not divulge. Not even as he was crawling under Cestus’ desk, forced to breathe the rancid smell of cum and Turian sweat sticking to the whole underdesk. The whole odor was so strong; it even managed to pierce through the filters and turn each of Zal’s breaths into floods. It was everywhere, even with the shallow inspirations from the young Quarian, in his grunts and growls… All as he snarled under his visor.
But still, with the self-control he had, and ignoring the Turian’s feet kicking around, Zal plugged the whole system back.
And the drumming of the machine was followed by the sound of the computer’s screen booting up.

“Here we go. The computer was again unplugged.”
“Unplugged? Do you dare say I unplugged it? Why haven’t you fixed that?”
“Because I cannot permanently plug a computer, it’s a safety hazard.”
“Find a solution, a definitive one,” growled Cestus, narrowly kicking Zal’s head, but the young Quarian managed to avoid the hit.
“I could move the power strip elsewhere from under your desk.”
“And force me to move around when I need to plug something? Find something else!”
Zal’s face crumbled, his brows dropping as he tried to channel what years of working for morons had taught him: diplomacy.
“I’ll try to find a solution,” mumbled the Quarian, already crawling away.
“Wait. You forgot something, Quarian bitch.”

Zal raised an eyebrow but turned and leaned forward, even craning his neck to see Cestus’ satisfied grin.
“What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” scoffed the Turian, poking at the Quarian with his feet. “You were late. You need to be punished.”
“Cestus. I- I wasn’t even late. Our contract!”
“Our contract stipulates I can punish you the way I want. I could throw you out like a whore and let the authorities handle you. But I can send you to a rehabilitation center. Which one do you prefer?”

Zal snarled again and grimaced; both fates were grim.
If the authorities caught him without a valid contract in a Turian-controlled district, he was good to become a broodwhore or something for the government in prison.
And if he were forced into a rehabilitation center, Zal would have to… Follow the procedures.
The mere thought made his leathery ballsack clench close to his chest, and his nuts hurt. Hence, he pushed against the suit’s seals, opening the frontal port.

Instantly, Cestus’s smell was all the more intense and needy. The sheer weight of hormones, pheromones, and other composites hit the Quarian’s nose.
And though he had been ‘training’ for this, Zal gulped.
He gulped loudly as he approached, his nose filled with the aroma that was twisting and burning against his mind, making him almost regret that decision, much like the first time.
But he had to do so.
“Can… We do it the other way?”

“Good bitch. You know your place,” chuckled Cestus as he had that paternalist attitude while patting the Quarian’s head.
And soon, the Quarian had to watch Cestus’s bulge, obscene and oversized, even for a Turian, be fished out of his pants by the three-fingered hand.
The shaft was still greasy; it was always so due to an ‘issue’. Hence, the constant musk that emanated from it hit any dextro-nose like a punch.
Zal? He was no exception as he watched the covered glans, the foreskin dripping, being steadily exposed, and that mast, not even engorged, already throbbing with life and excitement. At the same time, Cestus began to type on his computer.

“Thirty minutes with it.”
“Th… Thirty? But-“
“You prefer the rehabilitation therapies? I heard they have a new treatment for failed males like you.”
Zal gulped and then grunted, “Thirty minutes.”
Cestus huffed in satisfaction, leaving Zal to it but not without wiping his hand on the Quarian’s suit and then returning to his work.

Work that was stupid and could be done by any desk bosh’tet. But the Turian had power over Zal, and Zal had no right to complain. He could only be thankful, beg, and ask for more.
Much like when his hands, gloved, drifted to the Turian’s mast.
Veiny, large, powerful, it was easily a monster of dark flesh glistening with precum due to the natural light from Zal’s omnitool.
Each vein was practically a ridge along the mast, rivers that traced the path from the wrinkled base, mixing chitinous plates for the groin and leather, to the tip. A tip that was covered due to a large foreskin that was constantly filling up with fluids due to the Turian’s overproduction. If he so desired, Cestus could be cumming days and nights without a break, except for the natural needs. That was what Zal’s boss once told, and the Quarian was somehow inclined to believe the affirmation as he started to peel off the foreskin. He revealed the tip that was covered and whose scent was even more intense, raw, musky… But nothing more.

Turian precum never hardened, never formed any deposits. At worst, it could get slightly more dense, like jelly. But it was nigh impossible. And in such, as Zal peeled the foreskin back, a flow of precum landed on his fingers, arms, and a bit on his visor as he was below said organ.
“Hmm. Don’t mess with the carpet, or I’ll take it off your salary.”
As if Zal had any worthwhile salary. Everything was going into food that wasn’t riddled with hormones, beverages that were not laced with drugs to keep him tame, and rent for his government-assigned housing.
What remained was a paltry number that couldn’t even give him an offworld ticket after fifteen years.

But Zal didn’t scoff or comment on it.
He knew better than to attract Cestus’s ire. And so, with a grumble, the Quarian carefully aligned his opened ports with Cestus’s shaft. There was some fight to do, since the Turian’s shaft was stiff and pointing outward. An effort Zal considered as he adjusted his posture. His eyes closed, the tip slipped through the port.
The stench that tickled his nose was all the more intense…
For a moment, the Quarian bit his lips, unsure… And then, he opened his mouth.

He opened it and pressed it against the broad tip, forcing the jaws apart. Most of the Quarian’s face structure wasn’t made… For such bite-size. But it wouldn’t be absurd to say the Turians had been working on this, even Cestus.
Training exercise mandated by the government, provided ‘training supplies’, mandatory modification after the mandated vaccines.
There was even a score on the Quarian’s ‘talent’ if one were to scan the barcode on that ass.

At most… Zal could be considered a 4 out of 10 in terms of skills.
Even then?
Even then, he could endure the mast that was almost as big as his arm. He could have it slip between his lips, his teeth minded, and then push it against his tongue. In return, the appendage began to fuzz and burn from the musky precum that was delivered right onto it. The thick liquid slathered all over the papillae, marking them with the stench of Turianhood that would never his palate for the next few days.
It was disgusting. It was frustrating. And yet, the Quarian was feeling a tingle of satisfaction, somehow, as that liquid was smeared all inside his mouth, in his throat, and then forced down his esophagus by the sheer offered volume.
A volume of liquid Zal swallowed, gulped, had to swallow with loud gulps as the pulsating organ, growing bigger and bigger, seemed keen on offering that constant flow… And Zal was not fast enough to push it deeper inside.

“Hrmph. It hasn’t started yet, bitchnnoch,” mumbled Cestus, taping his thigh with one index. “Faster.”
Zal didn’t answer in words but with a gurgle. And then, with his eyes clenched, he craned his neck. At the same time, the Quarian pressed his omnitool to have it deliver a shock along his legs. It was nothing serious, but pain that would allow him to control his gag reflex, ignore it, while that shaft progressed against his uvula… Then beyond.
Way beyond as it slipped inside his throat, and even made the glabrous skin bulge against the protective gear.
Sure enough, speaking would be painful and his throat sore for days. Worse, his sense of smell would be fucked, and his suit’s insides would be reeking of Turian musk until he had it deep-cleaned.

But that cock was inside.
And… He could somehow relax. His eyelids relaxed, though he didn’t open them. His fingers dropped limp… And his breathing, through his nose, was but a thin whistle. Training was part of controlling his heartbeat and breathing despite an almost complete blockage of his throat.
And Zal… Closed his eyes.
Cestus’s groin was practically pressed against the visor, the leather skin pressed against the entrance. Sure, it was not fully in since the visor wasn’t directly sticking to Zal’s mouth.
But most of the length was inside the Quarian’s mouth, who was in an almost trance-like state as he tried to control his body, his breathing, his self… And-

“Use your neck, suit-rat,” grumbled the Turian as he had his hand entirely locked around Zal’s head and proceeded to yank Zal away.
For a second, the Quarian winced, feeling his throat burn, and his whole breathing go haywire. But that pain, that loss of control, turned into a brutish and brutal battering when Cestus’ mighty hand yanked Zal closer to the organ.
Sure, the visor hit against the groin, eliciting a wince from Cestus. But the worst was for Zal, whose throat bulge, whose esophagus hurt, and even his stomach was getting stuffed with fluids, much to his dismay.
In that situation, he had so little control, the Quarian was practically a fucktoy, something to use, abuse, and then throw aside.

Zal was aware of it.
But it still hurt both his pride and body when Cestus used his head like a mere toy, forcing it to bob back and forth even if his neck hurt like crazy.
And… Soon, the Quarian’s eyes rolled in their socket while that bastard abused his lips, smearing his entire face and the inside of that helmet with precum while enjoying the sensation of that tightening throat.
However, Cestus was not stupid enough to completely choke Zal… Even if his mast, beyond the realm of fifteen inches, stifled Zal’s breathing, he still gave the Quarian a few seconds of respite before fucking his mouth. Again… And again… And again.
Up until Zal was losing count, until even the internal clock on his visor’s display was getting blurry. Until even the act of breathing or controlling himself was a distant memory for the Turian whose throat was getting fucked.

Zal’s eyes watered. His throat clenched even when it was not in use.
And sure enough, his limbs were going numb, starting from the fingers and toes.
But just as he was about to lose himself in the abuse, something changed.
Cestus’s breathing hastened, his mandibles clicked with anticipation, his toes tapped the floor… And more than that, his cock throbbed with such an intensity that it was like Cestus was getting to see it grow again. But it didn’t.
The shaft, as big as it was, didn’t grow any further. But the pressure inside the Quarian did when, with a sigh, Cestus ejaculated. His voice, bass and potent, was like a tremor through the quasi-empty office.
The sound even echoed through Zal, though it was less from the loud breathing than from the intense and musky flow that was forced down his throat and into his stomach.
A chunky, sticky, musky, and extremely calorie-dense cum that was poured into his stomach and weighing inside the Quarian.

It flowed down, with each contraction sending a throb through that cock and another fat blob right into the Quarian’s throat. Blob after blob, ‘ejaculation’ after ‘ejaculation’, Cestus’s attitude seemed to ease, and his clicking mandibles were almost producing a joyful sonority when… Perhaps spent or by pity, he yanked Zal away. No, he pushed the Quarian until the tech had no choice but to fall back.
And awe struck, or cum-struck, by the Turian’s ejaculation, by the throbbing mast that was already going limp and dropping against the chair’s edge, Zal… Coughed.

He gargled, too, feeling his throat burn as if something had gone the wrong way. One hand on his mouth, Zal tried to keep quiet… But then, he heard Cestus resuming the typing, and… A growl.
“What? Get back on your feet and get ready if I need you,” growled the Turian, tapping the table. “I don’t pay you to dawdle. Oh and… This will be your food budget for the day, fagnnoch.”
Zal grimaced. His tongue was titillating and still fuzzy, the taste somehow acrid and yet with tinges of pleasantness. However, to have that Turian cum replace his food budget for the day, it hurt him… It hurt him as he was steadily going up, fighting against the wrongness in his balance from the cum pressing inside his stomach.
“I-“
“Come closer. I need help. The software gives an error. And put your mask, I don’t want to smell your cum breath.”

Typical.
Even though the start of his working day was marred by the forceful facefuck and threat, Cestus was… Always the same. Even after months of using the same software, he would still make the same errors in using it: wrong numbers, stamps, and data. It was up to Zal to take the computer’s keyboard, fix the values while listening to the Turian’s huff before he had to sit down in his corner and wait for another call.
During that time, he was allowed to use his omnitool, but there was little to do: most applications were controlled or censored by the Hegemony. Quarians didn’t have access to games to entertain themselves, and most videos were propaganda or videos approved by the Regime.
At most, if he so desired, Zal could tune into a series, but most would always have the same tropes with the Turians saving the Quarians from their rebellious traitor. It was also the only moment you’d see a Female… Though most had that peculiar pear-shape that was omnipresent in the Quarians' population, even among males, nowadays.

So… It was boredom. Boredom cut through by Cestus’s regular cries until, after five pm, Zal was to leave the office and join the growing crowd of Quarians going back home.
On the way back, the Turian blockade he’d seen had been lifted. The streets had been emptied of all Turians, who seemed to consider the working class like pests. Then, they were all forced into the hypertubes, filling up with each stop, until it was all disgorged into the Quarian districts.
And once out of the brutalist stop… Zal could see what would be his ‘home’.

All in prefabs, the district was a chaos of piled-up towers, with the modules attached and secured together with scaffolds and other supporting platforms that allowed for the flourishing of little shops, restaurants, and other miscellaneous places.
Turians soldiers, armed and in armor, would stroll around and show themselves to ensure no insubordination…
But most Quarians would try to ignore them as they went with their lives, clothed… or not.

Since there were no children around here, there were practically no rules for decency. Turians customers would sometimes enter the district, leering at the naked Quarians, except for their helmets, selling their bodies for more credits or another meal.
It was also where some Quarians ran casinos or gambling circles, all under the ‘approval’ of an officer from the Hegemony.
If the Turians cities were pristine and clean on the outside, the Quarians districts showed that ugliness and perversion from the get-go.
And under the cheap neon lights dangling from wires and cables, Zal went back home. He had enough in his fridge without having to run to the store… And if he wasn’t too tired, he could leave for the outskirts for a nightly walk.

A sure idea. He climbed upstairs, right to his ‘tower’ with all steps decorated with a potted plant or a trinket. Only for Zal to freeze before… the black and red Quarian sitting on the stairs right by the third floor.
“Joh? What are you doing? Ah… Uh, fuck. Let me cook something before I handle your computer.”
“That’s not it. They’ve locked it.”
“What?”
“My home,” mumbled the Quarian, pointing up. “They locked the place and are waiting for us.”
“… Shit,” grimaced Zal, frowning. “You know why?”
“There is a criminal, they say,” mumbled Joh. “I’ve been let out, but I can’t return.”
“I’ll see that. Thanks.”

Frustrated to a fault, Zal went around the sitting Joh and went up. However, the Turians seemed not to stop him except to check his omnitool. And soon, with a knot in his stomach, Zal was at his door. Unlocked. And someone was inside from the light.
Eyes closed, deep breath, Zal pressed the door and entered.
Silence.

A dark-gray Turian, his face painted in gold, sat on Zal’s sofa, holding onto the few tablets Zal had been keeping for reading. All specs or new techs he’d downloaded from the local network.
Still, the intruder, clad in a black and blue armor fitting for an officer, was whistling while reading the documentation.
“It’s all for my work,” said Zal, trying to justify the documents’ presence as he entered, and the door locked behind him. Remotely.
“It is. Working in IT under contract for ‘Future Exports’. I never heard of that name, but the Hegemony approved that business,” began the Turian with a bass and suave voice. “Zal. Your house has been searched after we received the tip that a hacker was preparing an insurrection in this block.”

Zal didn’t answer, but gulped. He glanced left and right: the windows were locked, guards were outside, and that guy had a pistol at his hip.
“I am not a hacker. You can confirm by checking my computer,” Zal mumbled, trembling.
“We confirm there are no traces of intrusion or modification in it. But a talented hacker could hide his traces. Plus, not every Quarian shows such a dedication to Turian programming languages.”
“I work with Turian software; I must know how to fix them.”
“That’s a good excuse,” nodded along the Turian, his red eyes fixated on Zal. “But the committee might consider that amount of documentation is excessive. Unless…”
“Unless?” asked Zal, dreading where this was going.
“Unless you prove to be a good Quarian citizen.”

A shake-up. That was it. It happened, it was heard of: an officer taking a Quarian for himself. Instead of a contract or merely marrying a Quarian, that officer was planning to blacklist Zal while keeping him from himself. A few Quarians had been exposed to such treatment… And they were already gone.
“Fine. What do I need to do?” asked Zal, almost spiteful.
“You are smarter than you look, I will give you that. Strip and we shall see.”
Zal’s fingers trembled. He clenched his fists, curled them into a ball. Then he relaxed, letting the tension go as he stepped forward, his head held high.

Zal almost stomped to be in front of the Turian, who frowned for a second… Before Zal had one hand on his seals, he was undoing them.
“I am not following any treatment,” warned Zal. Turians always preferred Quarians under treatment. Maybe once he’d seen Zal’s unchanged body, he would change his mind.

Still, Zal stripped. Layer after layer, he exposed his body to the officer with the rigidity of an ashamed whore. His body, much like all Quarians, was glabrous with light-gray skin. The arms were long and powerful, the muscles visible under the thin skin layer, and they ended with sharp claws. His chest was similar: the abdominal muscles and pectorals were untouched, showing how fit the Zal was since he often walked and explored the outskirts.
His legs were strong and steady from his regular exercising, the thighs firmly developed as much as his lower legs, with his raptor-like and angular feet firmly planted in the ground.
But… The Turian’s eyes were elsewhere.

And with his visor still on, hiding his flustered face, Zal had his protective gear removed from his waist, uncovered his ample and muscular posterior… As well as his genitals, from his dense and close-to-the-groin testicles… To his uncut shaft that was engorged but not stiff at all…
The whole length, as it was, was perhaps around seven inches? Though Zal had measured himself and managed to get a firm ten inches when fully excited, something barely any Quarian could sport those days.
“Is it enough?” asked Zal, tense enough it echoed with his retransmitted voice.
“I prefer when a Quarian speaks to his betters with an uncovered face. Helmet,” growled the Turian, snapping his fingers.
Again, Zal gulped.
But he reached for his helmet, unlocked the seals around his neck, and the protection along his jaw and chin. And then, with a click, the whole set slid up until Zal was uncovered.

His eyes, much like his kind, were milky white. His skin was still light-gray, though the more dense facial and control muscles appeared like red patches along his cheeks, temples, neck, and nape. His striated nostrils, the six of them, were placed under his eyes, right above the patch of dense muscles. And his lips, colorless, were pulpy, much like any Quarians.
There, he was… In his glory, naked, exposed… And drenched with Cestus’s precum and cum that hadn’t dried, still sticking to his face.
“Cum… You have been servicing a Turian?”
“My boss,” grumbled Zal, looking away and his brow ridges dropping. Much like his body, his head was glabrous and had no traces of hair. “He punished me for being late.”

A remark that attracted the Turian’s frustration. He clicked his mandibles and tongue, reaching for his belt. For a second, Zal expected him to pull his gun and take aim. But the Quarian’s fear stopped and turned into confusion when he saw one pill that was produced and offered.
“Take this?”
“What’s this?” asked Zal, observing the purple capsule.
“The beginning of your treatment.”
“T-Treatment? But I never ascribed to it!”
“You are now. You have officially accepted the offer for the treatment during our interrogation since you wanted to show your loyalty to the Hegemony.”
“If… If I refuse?”
“The Hegemony would have to capture you and investigate why you tried to rebel. Our methods of interrogation will get all the information we need.”

The Officer’s smugness was undeniable. More than that, his fingers were hovering above his gun, ready to take out Zal. If there was a choice, Zal knew there was only one acceptable end.
Hence, he took the pill and threw it whole in his mouth, already finding the jelly melting and releasing its acrid content.
The Quarian snarled, his eyes practically closed as the flavor overwhelmed the remaining stench of Turian cum. Then, he tried to appear tougher, to regain his composure, stoic.
“I took-“
“Go clean yourself. Outside and inside. Get it?”

The Turian snapped back to sitting and going through Zal’s tablets like a guest, unbothered that the young Quarian was in his birthday suit. And Zal, the head low, nodded.
“I… Will,” he mumbled again, taking that same demure posture as he always did as he strutted from the living room/kitchen to the alcove where the whole toilet and bathroom set was.
Much like everything made for the Quarians in the Hegemony, even the shower had an option to help the Quarians prepare for their purpose… Enema was practically accessible, and the young Quarian hissed when he did it first, using a lukewarm jet like he’d been taught.
But once cleaned, the Quarian found himself under the warm water, trembling and hissing under it.
Not that the hot water was painful to endure, it was somewhat helpful since Quarians had dense skin with a thin protective coating. A coating that was washed away under the warm water, leaving the Quarian feeling almost proper and ready to step out.
Therefore, no, it wasn’t the water that made him tremble and hiss. It wasn’t even the Turian outside, ready to jump on him and take him.

It was that damned pill.
Already Zal was feeling its effect: his asshole had never been taken before, but it now burned, ached, and clenched as if it lacked something. His groin, too, burned and was quickly heating up. His cocktip itself was afire, brimming with such energy, with such… Tension.
And soon, even the caress of water over his skin was becoming much. So much, so overwhelming for the Quarian.
His breath hastened, his throat was burning, his entire nostrils, the six of them, flared and-
“You are taking your time. Is the pill already working on you?”

A chitinous hand landed on Zal’s chest, holding him steady and close. Another, with its three fingers, dug into his muscular but generous posterior. Instantly, the muscles clenched, and the Quarian hissed, his voice going higher.
It was… Good. It was feeling good.
“Wh-What is this? My- my body is- burning,” groaned the Quarian, feeling his eyes veiling as he felt the chitinous chest plate against his back, pressing against his spine… And something hard, warm, stiff, and sticky between his cheeks.
“That’s what every Quarian feels when taking the drugs we give them. They grow so servile and slutty if we as much as… Push,” said the Turian, his cock pressing between the asscheeks.

The sensation was intense. So intense, it was like thousands of hands, all at once, went to caress the inside of Zal’s posterior, going over the crevices. Strokes, caresses, loving embrace that continued and echoed. It was a flow, a ceaseless flow that stroked the Quarian’s mind, taking him aback while that Turian cock, stiff and covered with precum, dared to push against the Quarian’s tender and virgin rim.
The second after, a shock made Zal moan and groan.
“The Hegemony perfected the drugs to break you all. But there are so few who resist it. So few with such a firm and powerful body, you know?” asked the Turian.

And yes, Zal knew.
Amidst his quiver and the sudden pleasure he experienced, enough for his cock to spring to life and go hard, pointing forward, the Quarian knew he was the exception. His kind was dominated, conquered through and through. Only a few were keen on paying more to avoid the drugs in the meals, the drinks, even the mandated shots.
Under the guise of leaving the choice, the Hegemony was steadily breaking the Quarian population.
And now… Zal was experiencing it, the intense… Heat.

“Why… Why? Why me?” asked the Quarian, his voice higher-pitched out of fear. He was about… To become like them. Like those big-tiddied whores who were out on the streets, flaunting their chests and asses, and their shrunken genitals, for the highest bidder. He was-
“Because I want to experiment in breaking a little Quarian like you. Taking it what makes you away,” purred the Turian, reaching Zal’s chest and… Pinching the nipples, the almost invisible gray nubs on the skin.
One mere twist and Zal cried. Hh shouted and felt the intense heat in his groin flaring, then stopped. Halting. Dissipating. Only to start again, but an ember of what it was. And between his legs, his cock went limp after spraying the shower stall with cum.
“So quick. You didn’t take anything at all. I heard the heat is affecting Quarians for weeks before they get used to it,” purred the Turian. “I will enjoy that.”

Zal’s mind raced with questions. With the heat in his groin gone, he felt sober enough to think, to consider what was happening. His mouth opened, his breathing was a whistle… And he cried again.
This time, it wasn’t from one twisted nipple. It was from the Turian’s cock rushing inside him. And with it, the shock Zal felt when the penetration started was… But naught. A mere flick compared to the electrifying sensation running across his spine.
Impaled on that cock, Zal cried and went on his toes. His clenched fist hit the shower stall, his teeth dug into his lips enough for blood to drip. And his eyes rolled as he was… Taken.
And it hurt.

It did hurt.
It did hurt so much that the Quarian felt like he was split in two from the inside. So much he was starting to cry and heave. His expression crumbled while his brow ridges dropped, his lips contorting down.
“N-No… No… No… No…” he pathetically pleaded. He was gonna die. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to die from internal hemorrhage. He wanted to live, to survive, to take a ticket off-world. To flee the Hegemony, find somewhere in the galaxy that could be his hidey-hole.
“Don’t… Wanna die,” he cried, his voice so high-pitched while the Turian’s cock pushed further into him, making him feel a place he didn’t know about. It was so deep, it was practically like he’d been stuffed with a pole.
Were all Turians hung?

“That’s something I don’t smell all day,” purred the Turian, his mandibles clicking right by Zal’s earhole. “The stench of fear.”
Zal didn’t say it… But his mouth opened and closed, unable to peep any word while his body was shaking sickly. From the pain, from the penetration, from the pleasure.
Pleasure that was again growing and starting to encompass the Quarian’s entire groin as that cock continued to delve deeper, so deep, even breathing was getting harder for Zal.
And breathing? He was trying to, though only by taking short, shallow breaths.
“Oh… That’s true. You have never taken the drugs.”

The Turian scoffed and chuckled by Zal’s ear… Before he pulled back. He pulled free.
And Zal, in return, felt… Empty. Not in pain in a physical sense, the pressure had lessened so much that he was feeling free. But… His mind was now craving for it.
And it hurt… It hurt so much as his asshole was on fire and wide open, the scalding water dripping over it and then slipping inside his gaped rim.
But… Worse was the fear, the horror, the… shame when he saw something on his left.
The Turian’s hand locked on his chin, and Zal was forced to look at it.
The Turian’s cock.

That mast was almost as long and wide as Cestus’s. It was a monster with an uncut foreskin forming wrinkles along the stiff shaft. And though the color was similar, it had black blotches on the tip.
But yes, that Officer was as big as Cestus. And easily twice Zal’s size.
“See? That’s what you took on your first try. Thanks to the pill.”
“No… No… no… nonononono,” said Zal. He’d finally caught his breath, only to repeat those words, his eyes watering.
“Oh… Yes,” clicked the Turian, his cock slipping away.

Zal tried to look over his shoulder, but the Turian’s firm grip stopped him from doing so… And soon, Zal’s eyes widened as he felt that cock, that monster, again at his entrance. But this time, though the shock was intense from the mere contact, it delivered something else. A sensation… of peace. Of joy… Of satisfaction, Zal didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to experience.
“That’s right, how they tell us. The fear in a Quarian’s eyes when he experiences the pleasure from a Turian for the first time. We used to do that to fuck information out of the rebels before they fed us lies, so we could fuck them more. Will you be like them… Or resist?”
Zal didn’t know what to answer.

But he didn’t have. The Turian, that Officer, wasn’t keen on letting him choose.
Instead, that stud thrust and his entire length was inside the crattered and stretched asshole. Within a mere movement, Zal’s belly bulged from that enormous cock stuck inside him…
And something deep in his ass was crushed and teased so much, the poor Quarian couldn’t resist: he came again.
He came from having his insides crushed and battered. He came from having his nipples pinched and titillated. He came from the bite on his powerful neck. He came from the smack on his ample posterior.
He came… He even came from the pain that was in his groin and testicles as they were going dry and painful from the regular clenching. They hurt so much, Zal was feeling like they were beaten up.

Perhaps they were, with the Turian’s hands drifting up and down, leaving scratch marks everywhere. But one thing was sure… Amidst the pain and the whirlwind of sensation and shame, Zal was… loving it, and hating it all the same.
His tears were streaking, and his hiccups were marked and amplified by the thrusts inside his asshole. His lips remained curled in agony… And though his milky white eyes didn’t have any pupils, they transcribed perfectly the overwhelming torture the Quarian felt as he was milked from orgasm after orgasm, fucked senselessly by that Officer who wasn’t even cumming after five, ten, fifteen minutes.
Such stamina was crazy. And yet, the Quarian’s cheeks soon turned red and blue as that abuse continued.

Continued until Zal’s claws scraped against the bathroom tiles and his shoulders sank. Until the very act of breathing was too much for his body. Until… Even the thought of stopping it was but a faint idea. A foolish desire that would end badly. But it did…
It did when, with a huff, the Officer thrust in and remained locked inside. His hands delivered one smack on the cheeks, eliciting a moan and a clenching spasm.
And then, there was the warm liquid…
Hot. Dense. Pungent. Sticky. Turian cum.
It was flooding Zal’s guts, and the Quarian hissed. The scalding sensation was deeply entrenched in his guts. Up until, with a moan, he opened his mouth… And exhaled, his forehead against the tiles.

Then… He steadily opened his eyes.
The first thing Zal noticed was the lack of water: the shower had turned off, and the constant beep indicated he’d used all his quota.
Still, he couldn’t look around; his body burned. Even his eyes were swollen, and focusing was hard as he continued to feel that Turian cum being pumped inside him.
So dense, so pressing, it was… Painful a weight to bear. But one the young Quarian endured with dry-heaves while the Officer remained locked, his claws digging into the Quarian’s soft flesh.

Then, he sighed too.
The Office sighed and released his embrace, delivering Zal before pulling out with one hand on the abused posterior. Steadily, slowly, commented by the slurping sound of an asshole pathetically trying to hold on the mast that was lodged in… The Turian pulled out, pulled on the Quarian’s sphincter. And then, with the spurting sound of cum pouring free, Zal… Quivered against the wall.
His asshole was a crater, a large gape with cum pouring outside of it, hot and steaming. A glance inside was possible and revealed the purplish flesh that was coated in cum. Worse, with each tremor shaking Zal’s body, his guts clenched and tensed, releasing another jet of cum in the shower stall.
And… The Turian seemed satisfied, chuckling.

“Take it easy. I’ll meet you again,” began the Turian, patting Sal’s shoulders before stepping away. “I prepared a gift for you.”
The door closed behind, leaving Zal alone as he dropped on his knees, his entire body afire.
His muscles were screaming in pain, his articulations too tense to relax. Breathing was hard from the cum still bloating his guts.
And more than that, he… Was feeling good. Hurting. Yet pleased. A medley of sensations hit the young Quarian as he tried to relax, breathe, and rest his body against the tiled wall.
“Fu… Fuck me.”

When Zal woke up, his entire self was screaming. Legs, arms, even the face. His eyes were puffed up, and opening them entirely was hard.
He had been sleeping in the shower stall, letting himself go after the abuse.
But in return, his body had not enjoyed any rest. The tiles were practically imprinted on his skin after sleeping on them, and their burn was a reminder… As much as the constant itching and burning from his asshole whenever he moved his legs.

Kicking and running would be out of the way. As for standing and walking, it was an exercise in balance that the young Quarian endured with a solemn expression.
He… Had been taken. Abused. Raped. Raped by a soldier, and it was certain it would resume again. Worse… Contrary to all the values of dignity shown in all the movies approved by the Turians… There was no dignity left for the Quarian as he stood up and checked his face in the mirror.

From having his face resting on the tiled wall, his face was covered in bruises. Similar to his sides, his chest, and even his posterior. Within a moment of shame, Zal turned around.
His entire groin and posterior were covered with cum, sticking to his skin and forming a sort of remnant he couldn’t wipe entirely with tissues.
His asshole was… Swollen and red. Contrary to the innocent pucker before, it was practically a small and swollen donut coated with Turian cum. He touched it and instantly hissed, feeling the sting as much as the electrifying sensation… It felt painful and pleasant.
Was it… The heat?

“I’m… I’m fucked,” mumbled Zal, stepping back into the shower to press on the water delivery.
But only followed the water consumption alarm.
“FUCK!” he cried, hitting the button only for the alarm to return. “Fucking Skullface! Bastard! Son of a bitch! Grasshopper!”
For once, Zal was unleashing all the slurs he’d learned in his life. But as much as he smacked the button, there was no water. No shower to clean up the markings all over his body: from the Turian’s sweat to his cum all over his posterior, thighs, and legs.

He hit and smacked… Until there was a warm sensation, and Zal saw, noticed, the blood on his hand. His skin wasn’t hardened like a worker's, and after some abuse, it easily bruised and could… Scrape. It wasn’t a full hemorrhage. But it was enough of a trickle to get Zal’s attention. And get him to stop…
His mind noted the slight wound, and instantly returned all the first-aid knowledge he’d learned. How to disinfect since Quarian still had a weakened immune system, how to bandage it, and how to tend to the scabs.
“… Keelaaaaaaah!”

With a shout, Zal finally left the stall. Dirty, grimy. But still, he left it, and five minutes later, he had his hand bandaged when he left the bathroom to see that all his tablets had been neatly stacked on the coffee table near his sofa.
By the stack, however, stood a pill bottle. That and a note the Quarian took in and turned, so he could read it.
“Take the pills twice a day. I’ll check up on your progress. – Pelagius”
Then… Zal watched the pill bottle, with the image of a smiling Quarian with a Turian on it. The back of it, though, revealed enough strange names to get the Quarian anxious, angry, then irate. Irate enough, he opened the window and almost threw the bottle. out
But he froze. Not exactly before him, but near an apartment located atop a ‘Jenga tower’, Turians were keeping watch. They were contrasting, at perfect eye level for the Quarian to see.

For a moment, Zal froze… Watched the bottle. And frowned before he chucked the note through the window and closed the window. Surely, the plastic surface would break once it hit the ground. But Zal wasn’t keen on thinking about anyone else as he popped the bottle open and gulped two pills.
He was fucked. He couldn’t care less about consequences; he was already suffering from them.
“Bosh’tet of a bird. Next time, I’ll hit your balls,” grunted Zal as he put on his suit and stepped outside, feeling no need to stay in his apartment after this.
Even moving was an odd experience; his ass was on fire. And every little ‘shake’ between his legs reminded him of the slimy cum sticking to his skin.

More than that, on the way down, there was no one.
Perhaps he was late or too early. But the young Quarian ignored it and went to the hypertube station. If he were out during curfew hours, he’d be stuck. But no, a mere scan and the doors opened for him. More than that, there was no one around the quay nor in the hypertube when he entered it.

He had all the spots he wanted, though he took his usual spot opposite the entrance.
This time, no Quarians rushing in… No Turian coming for a spectacle. And without any commotion, the Quarian was out in the commercial district again.
But the place was eerily quiet.
It was then that Zal checked his omnitool. It wasn’t even eight o’clock.
He should have been locked in the district, but hadn’t.

A surprise as the Quarian walked through the empty street, noticing how even the advertisement seemed dulled and limited during those hours. No shouting ads for a new cosmetic surgery to increase the size of the penis. No new anti-age treatment that would make the exoskeleton shine with grace.
And all the flashy neon lights were practically gone.
Same for the guards who weren’t even there when Zal approached his office. There was no blockade.

Technically. He could leave through the commercial district.
Since the commercial district included most malls and industrial warehouses, it was located near the nearest spaceport.
Many Quarians worked there, handling the security procedures, though every Quarian near the spacecrafts was chipped so they could never hide in the Hegemony’s territory. And with only the bare of terminus systems still opposing the Hegemony, it was… Suicide.
Zal? He wasn’t chipped. Or he was like all Quarian but didn’t have an alert chip. Plus, if the scan allowed him to go through the hypertube, it meant he had all the privileges to go through the industrial district.
There-
“Zal? Why the spirits are you here?”
Cestus’s voice.
Zal blinked and turned, watching his boss strutting in with his bag and a box. The sleazy Turian was indeed surprised… But a smile appeared as he approached, passing a hand over the white and pink suit.
“Ah, you’re trying to get into my good graces for yesterday. That’s riiight,” chuckled Cestus, poking Zal’s chest with a finger. “But it doesn’t work like that, buckethead.”
“Cestus- I-“
“Don’t act feisty or I’ll throw you out. Tax exemptions aside, I do not need a Quarian techie,” scoffed the arrogant Turian, gripping Zal by the suit into the building, right to resume the work as usual.
With no cocksucking this time. It was work as usual for Zal, trying to drown his emotions and thoughts with numbing videos, while Cestus continued to rage about the software that was doing exactly what it was asked.

A mundane day… Terribly so. And even then, Zal found solace as he could find something to tune to, ignoring his feelings.
Even when Cestus sent him away earlier than usual, for a family meeting due to a Brother deciding to brag, Zal had no satisfaction in stepping outside and being welcomed by the same crowd of Turians that were strolling through the day.
Not a trace of the Quarian workers, only some that appeared between the alleys to throw trash or smoke during their breaks. As for the ‘pets’, they were abundant but seemed far too enthralled in pleasing their masters to give Zal the time of day.
The Techie didn’t envy them, not as he watched some stroll naked and be fingered in public, or having their genitals and tits attached to leashes. They were nothing more than pets… And the Quarian huffed, trying to walk faster to the hypertube, running though he didn’t know why.

The transit was the same, the walk up to his apartment was the same… And the only change to his apartment in his day-to-day life was the presence of those pills.
He eyed the pills before giving up on removing his suit and taking a shower. He merely dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting himself go.
A mere day… This was to be a mere day.
But the day after, the Quarian woke up again within the same bed, early like before. The crowd of Quarians hadn’t even started to leave their building, Zal was on the way to the hypertube station, his tongue burning from the acrid taste given by the pills dissolving in his mouth.

No security check. No errors. No abnormalities except Zal’s wandering mind as he was again in the hypertube, still in the same spot, though there was no spectacle. Again.
No guards, no turians, no one to bother him on the way to Cestus’ office. He was feeling weak, but remained in front of the building when he heard the familiar footsteps.
“You decided to fix your habits, fagnnoch? Still, it won’t get you in my good graces,” huffed Cestus, snapping his fingers and pointing at the entrance. And Zal followed, the head low.
No cocksucking. No difference in how Cestus raged about the software ‘fucking his perfectly good estimation’. No difference in how Zal sat on his chair somewhere in the office, right by the remnants of a desk that was yet to be mounted and a rusting AC unit.

However, as Zal was again watching that sitcom of a Turian family with their sassy Quarian servant, a cough interrupted one of the many quips.
Cestus.
“I’m going to eat.”
“Oh. Okay,” said Zal, trying to look away from his boss’s bulge practically under his eye.
“You’re not going to eat? I pay for your breaks and your meals,” growled Cestus.
“I’m not that hungry.”

It was a lie. Zal’s face contorted as his belly was hurting. When was the last time he had something? It was… Well. It had to be Cestus’s cumshot. He hadn’t eaten anything, his hunger gone. Or so he thought as he had that sleazy Turian gripping him by the shoulder.
Fatter, bigger, and still strong, it didn’t take much effort for Cestus to yank the Quarian from the chair.
“I won’t be working this afternoon. So you’d better come with me. I need a Quarian.”
“Why?”
“I’m your boss. Technically, I own you until I release you. So move your ass.”
Zal’s visor was fixated on Cestus… But the Quarian’s shoulders dropped, and he nodded.
“Yes, Cestus.”
“That’s better, bitch. I know a good place, too.”

By a good place, however, Cestus seemed to mean a greasy spoon. It was not some fancy restaurant you’d see on the main avenues, with all the posh Turians eating imported poultry and such.
No, it was something closer to a burger joint, with most of the meat being recycled. It was also one of the few restaurants owned by a Turian that didn’t have the “Forbidden to males Quarians” post.
The place was nestled between the buildings, but none seemed to be bothered by the cold temperature as Cestus munched his second patty made with recombined meat.
Zal? He was eyeing his own; the sole “Quarian-approved” meal was a burger with something that looked even less qualitative than recombined meat and had been heavily dosed with hormone powder, a cheaper alternative to pills.

“Dig or I’ll take out on your pay,” grunted Cestus, after chewing his greasy and drippy burger.
“I cook my stuff with naturally produced plants. I eat nothing that has been spiked with hormones.”
“Hun?” asked Cestus, raising an eyebrow. “You do.”
“I don’t want to look like a Whore for Turians.”
“You shouldn’t have agreed then,” mumbled Cestus, digging into his patty.
“Agreed?”

Without a break, Cestus used his little finger to type on his omnitool before sending a window flying right in front of Cestus—an announcement.
It was a message destined to Zal’s employer announcing that Zal had elected to join the ‘Quarian rehabilitation program’ and, as such, had been elevated to the rank of honored Quarian.
Followed then a few indications about new rights, some given liberties. The Quarian also had obligations to be under treatment, and his employer was responsible for ensuring Zal would be fit for future assignments, unless he were taken in.
“I… What is that?”
“You signed for this. Rehabilitation. I warned you I’d throw you there, but you did it yourself. And you let another guy fuck you instead of me, seriously,” scoffed Cestus, wiping the grease of his mouth. “If you wanted to be a Turian’s bitch so hard, you could have begged me for help. My brother was looking for someone.”
“I… I didn’t,” grumbled Zal, shaking his head. “I didn’t sign for this.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure enough, all say that. Not like you’re not under treatment,” grumbled the Turian before pointing at Zal’s burger. “Eat. Or I’ll have to send a message to the center so they retake you.”

Zal’s eyes widened under his visor.
If… If he’d been signed by someone, by a Turian, it could only be that officer. Hence, if Cestus followed on his threat, Zal was fucked. Literally.
The Quarian’s eyes dropped on the patty, before he opened his frontal plate to uncover his mouth, enough he could slide the burger inside to take a bite.
“If I eat it, you don’t send me there? Please?”
“What?” scoffed Cestus, stopping his meal. “Why do you act like they’re gonna kill you?”
“I-“
“They’re rehabilitating, buckethead. Not butchering. They’re doing it because fags like you don’t know how to adapt to Turian society. Honestly… I was even surprised you signed it. But… It’ll be better for you and me.”
Zal's fingers hovered over his patty, then he turned his visor to Cestus.
“What? You don’t believe me?” growled Cestus, scrolling on the hard-light window before he read another part of the received message. “‘The Employer and Rehabilitation center must ensure the Quarian’s correct and complete adaptation to their role within the Turian society. If the Quarian is released from the employer’s contract due to adaptation, the Employer will benefit from a rebate on the next tax quarter’. There! Now, you can be a good citizen, and I only have to make sure you’re adapting well.”

Again, Zal’s expression hardened as he looked at that sleazy Turian.
At that moment, it made sense. If Cestus knew about the pills, it meant Cestus was capable of monitoring Zal’s state. And to that guy, Zal was… Nothing but an investment on top of a tool.
In fairness, the Quarian wanted to choke on his tears and flee. But… His hunger and frustration guided him into biting the patty and finding its taste horrendous. A mistake. Zal put the patty down and coughed, holding onto his throat.
Cestus? He seemed not to mind as he bit again, stuffing his mouth with a third patty, before he leaned forward and wagged his finger.
“Honestly. I don’t know what people have with you, Quarians. Sure, you know how to suck a dick. But beyond that? Tschh… Too much muscles and skin for me.”
Zal remained silent, feeling his hunger flare, not that he got something in his stomach.
“And those eyes? Why don’t you have a crest? That’d be much better. But I admit, you can have a nice ass! Plus, those piercings can be great. But it’s… lacking,” grumbled Cestus, waving his finger towards Zal, who continued to eat his disgusting patty.
“At least, you’re many, and sometimes you can be useful. But spirits, I wish you were less…”

Zal didn’t answer or even lift his visor. He had stuffed the entire burger in his mouth, and the taste of cheap meat and the powder was all over his tongue. It almost made him regret Cestus’s cum. Almost as he gulped the meal down and gargled.
“Yes. Less you,” grumbled Cestus, wiping his fingers on a paper towel. “Like you, Quarian… Hey, Lexus! I’ll take a drink for later.”
“Yes, boss! Anything for your new whore?”
“Nothing!”

Zal’s face dropped, and his hands remained near his body while seated. His hands didn’t move much while he had to follow Cestus through the streets, while the Turian drank his root beer, mumbling to himself while checking the different stores.
Far closer to the hypertube than Cestus’ office, but eastward compared to his job, Zal was discovering the Red District.

Not that it was a real ‘Red District’ like in popular culture, since the Quarians had their brothels or equivalent in their districts. Instead, that place catered to a particular audience. As such, the streets that were bustling with Turians were now equalized in number by the Quarians. Naked, barely clothed, in suits, hidden under veils. Quarians were strolling around alone or with their boss, master, husband, or owner.
And Zal, better since he had something in his system, felt… out of his depths.

The shops were all displaying different sorts of services or purposes.
Fashion had turned into a way to expose and attract the eyes to the curves of the Quarians’ bodies; the silk was practically there to underline the breasts of the living models on the storefront.
But that slaver-like shop was practically tame compared to the one with Quarians dangling from the ceiling through their piercings, demonstrating that their method of piercing and reinforcing the skin around the piercings was safe for ‘Fags’.
Then followed the different drugstores selling new drugs, new methods… Even going as far as showing a stream of a Quarian getting fucked and administered drugs to show how a Quarian can be ‘fixed’ in three hours. Stuff you couldn’t get from the government.
The most gruesome, however, was the body mods… And seeing Quarians dangling from the ceiling or being exposed without legs or arms, like stumps, was practically making Zal’s teeth grit.

He narrowly ran away, too, before Cestus grabbed him by the arm and turned left towards a set of shops. Not for bodymods, though. The Turian dragged Zal to an old-school sex shop.
“Why do you need me?”
“I have to find a gift,” grumbled Cestus. “Or an idea for one. My brother is about to get a bitch, and if they marry, I’ll have to offer something.”
“Why do you need me?”
“You’re a Quarian. You know what gets Quarians off,” grumbled Cestus, yanking Zal closer. “And you’d be a better model than those bitches that always say yes.”
Zal grimaced. But it wasn’t like he could fight or even escape Cestus’s grip. The old and greasy Turian was stronger than he looked. Worse, he had that experience as a former soldier… And if Zal even raised his hand, he’d be as good as dead.
“Can we do it quickly, then?”
“Conditions? I pay you for that. And consider it as a training for your integration. Your future lover will want that stuff on you, too.”

Zal frowned. But did he have a choice?
Not at all. And so they entered what could have looked like a high-grade cloth shop, welcomed by one Turian salesperson dressed to the T. However, the shop didn’t have rows of clothes but toys. Dildos, plugs, chastity cages, weights, geisha balls, even whips and crops. If there was anything to cover a Quarian’s skin, it was a leather or full latex suit.
Something Zal eyed with disdain and frustration.

“Greeting, sir! How may I help you today? Do you desire to see our new collection for winter or-”
“Heh. Don’t sir me like that,” growled Cestus, scratching his earhole. “I’m just browsing with my Quarian today. No need for one of your whores to stick around.”
“Of course, s-… Mister. Anything you’d like to browse in particular?” asked the light-gray and red-painted Turian, obsequiously rubbing his hands.
“Nah. I’ll go around to see what gets my interest. Zal, give him your suit.”

Zal blinked, but heard his boss snapping his fingers and pointing at the Salesperson-turned-greeter.
“What?”
“Get off your armor and hand it to him. I need you to try the toys.”
“I-“
“You’re paid for this.”
Zal’s lips curled in anger for a second under his visor. Then, he gave up, and through his quick touch, he undid the seals.

The Salesperson was ready to receive the suit. But as soon as Zal started to peel the layers, the Turian grimaced. Cestus even whistled, his mandibles clicking when seeing Zal’s body.
And Zal himself was… Surprised to see it too.
His bruises were already gone, even on his posterior, though a thin coating remained over his posterior and groin. He reeked of Turian musk, more so after spending a whole day with that suit on. But the worst was the changes to his body: his ass looked fatter than before. And his chest wasn’t as typical as most Quarian males… It looked like muscular, but fat had begun to accumulate and weigh on the skin.
And even his thighs were large enough, starting to rub against his genitals now his suit was out of the way.

Though the Salesperson grimaced visibly at receiving the smelly suit, Zal was… Even more ashamed by Cestus’s gaze upon him and the regular whistle.
“Spirits be damned. You are looking better without the suit, buckethead.”
“Can we… Go on with your shopping?”
“Why, though? You can’t take a praise?”
Zal’s grimace and snarl were enough for the large Turian to raise his hands, as if giving up.
“Fine. Stay like that. But follow me.”

Followed. That… That Zal could do as his nails clicked on the wooden floor. He followed Cestus as he began with the dildos and plugs. Of different forms, most were Turian-shaped and most were… Well, as big and long as Cestus’s cock. Massive monsters that made Zal consider how easily he’d take those cocks that could descend into his stomach.
Cestus? He was happily waving and commenting on how those cocks were looking like his or smaller. And Zal… Couldn’t tell he was wrong.
Most were smaller than Cestus or even the Officer who assaulted him.
Those smaller cocks? They were almost tiny. And the thought made Zal’s posterior clench, same for his butthole as he hissed.
“Wait? Are you afraid of taking one like that?” scoffed Cestus. “Bend over.”
“Cestus. Please-“
“Do it. There’s not much you can lose. Plus, you only have experience with one cock. You must train if you want someone to pick you,” grumbled the Turian.
“But I don’t want to be picked. Someone forced my hand.”
“They say that. Now… Bend.”
Zal trembled.

Still, he leaned against one shelf and had his legs spread, spread enough to lessen the pressure on his asshole, to feel the warm shop air rush against his asshole… And for said asshole to clench and squirt, releasing a mix of warm lubricant.
The mere contact was enough for Zal’s heat to flare, for his body to suddenly feel hotter and strange, weird… Electric. Electric under Cestus’s touch when the Turian had to grip Zal’s hips to adjust them.
“Bend further… Further. Good. Arch your back,” grumbled the Turian, poking at Zal’s back until the arch made that posterior protrude more, to jut and appear bountiful… Tempting enough for Cestus to stroke those cheeks.
“Better. But your husband ought to train you,” scoffed the large Turian, scratching his earhole before he smacked the dildo he held, a purple monster as long as his cock, against Zal’s entrance.

“I… HRMPH!”
Before Zal could reply, that cocktip brushed his entrance. Followed then the sparks, the shock, the tension that rummaged through Zal’s guts and made his groin heat up. Heat up, tense, and reach a throbbing erection in a matter of seconds.
And that cock? That facsimile that wasn’t warm or throbbing, but still exciting, was right at the entrance, but nothing more.
“Already? Fuck, Zal. You wasted your potential in IT,” encouraged Cestus by smacking the cocktip against the oozing and self-lubricating entrance. A smack that ended with Cestus, in his ‘wisdom’, aligning the dildo and… Forcing it inside.

Instantly, Zal clenched his thighs. He clenched his buttcheeks. He clenched his sphincter.
And all the sensation of pain he’d experienced at the Officer’s hand was back. Back with a vengeance, hitting the Quarian so hard he had to scream. To scream, to cry, to crumble against the row while shuffling footsteps approached.
“Please, sir. Control your Quarian. He is making the other customers uneasy.”
“Ah, sorry,” chuckled Cestus, smacking Zal’s ass with enough force it sent a tremor through the Quarian and left a red mark. “It’s his second dicking. He hasn’t trained his asshole yet.”
“Even then, sir. If he doesn’t control himself, I will have your Quarian removed.”
“Well, shit. Got anything to keep him quiet?” said Cestus, pushing and pulling on the dildo, uncaring of Zal’s screams and huffs, of his tears streaking across his face or his six nostrils dilating with each breath.

“Quiet? Sir. This is a sex shop. Not a drugstore,” said the Salesperson, frustrated and his mandibles clicking. More so with Cestus not stopping the back and forth and inserting more of that cock inside Zal.
“Fuck me. A Sex shop that doesn’t have Quarian pleasure pills!”
“They-they’re not for sampling. Like our dildos you’re using on a dirty and soiled Quarian.”
“Fine! I’ll buy them all. Your pleasure pills and the toys we’ll test. I think I’ll have my fun for the day,” said Cestus, snapping his fingers. “Hear that, Zal? I’m not taking that on your pay, so be nice and dilated for me.”

Zal? He wasn’t entirely there. His mind was crumbling and hiding from the pain and pleasure, from his guts and prostate. His cock was hard and stiff, pointing upward with the foreskin slipping down.
And the more of that cock was ushered inside him, the less the Quarian was able to keep his balance. His hips rolled, his lips dropped, his eyelids fluttered. And soon, his hands were practically trembling against the shelves while the Salesperson came, his shuffling steps quick.
“Here it is. Now… If you may… Sir?”
“Good! And stop ‘Sir’ me!”

With a roar of satisfaction, Cestus yanked the dildo free. He tugged, he twisted, he pulled it. And through those actions, he battered Zal’s prostate enough to squeeze a pitiful but marked ejaculation from the Quarian.
Enough for the young male to be squirming and leaning against the shelf, his tongue out, while he had dry heaves and cried.
Oh, he cried, his mask crumbling into sheer despair.
Even his throat was tight as he tried to form words with his mouth. But all ended when his mouth formed a perfect O… And his asshole was clenching around something hard, rigid, chitinous, and certainly not a cock.

The knuckles rubbed deep, the fingers grazed his inner walls, the thumb rested against his prostate….
And Zal’s ejaculation stopped, his cock dropped, while he had his boss’s whole hand inside his asshole, fisting him.
“Sir… It’s-“
“I know how it works. And it works better that way,” chuckled Cestus, handwaving the Salesperson away while he had his entire fist inside Zal. And with his sleeves pulled, he was keen on fisting Zal deeper… Deeper… Deeper.
The squirming resumed, the Quarian winced, the poor Techie remained agitated and prone to huffs and cries in surprise.
But when the pressure from the fist increased, as those fingers were opening… Something else followed. A fuzziness.
A sensation of numbness that came from Cestus’s fist and spread across his guts.

The pain… In a matter of a breath, of an exhalation, was gone. And Zal was now huffing against the shelves, his eyes puffed up and his body trembling sickly, though there was no pain from his guts. Only a faint pleasure as his boss’s hand was going in and out of his ass, pulling on the rim while the other hand delivered a slew of smacks on that ass, making the muscles tense and the rim clench.
“Here we goooo… better right? Don’t you think, Zal?” asked Cestus, grinning and removing his fist from that ass, leaving it… Gaping and oozing with lubricant.
“What’s… That?” slurred Zal, somehow high. Even his thoughts were getting fuzzy as he tried to stand up, only for Cestus’s arm to hold him. His sense of balance was completely… Fucked.

“Quarian breaker. A good pill that helps you wipe all your worries,” said Cestus, bringing the packaging to Zal’s eyes. And from the number of alert symbols and the indication it isn’t to be used on pregnant Quarians, Zal was certain it wasn’t good to be under its effect at all.
However, at that instant, his asshole was… Feeling pleasant. Exciting. Deliciously so. Whenever it gaped and air rushed from or into it, it tingled the Quarian in a new, novel way.
“It’s… You… You’re drugging me.”
“Yes. But it’s fine. You are still in control… But it helps ease new whores into their jobs. Come on.”

With a yank, Cestus forced Zal to follow even though the Quarian’s legs were a bit weak. And far from being over with a single dildo, Cestus was ready for more tries. More toys to employ and use… With Zal as the subject of such abuse.
The dildo that followed was one with a wider base and a flared end, though shorter. Pertaining to an Elcor, the Salesperson commented on how that line of dildos was appreciated among the female Quarians.
Then, after that one, it was more dildos… More sex toys resembling humans’, batarians’, and even Krogans’. But strangely, nothing… Nothing got Zal off as much as the first one. More than that, even with the dildos going in and out at a speed that was far more intense than the Officer did, they didn’t bring him closer to an orgasm like that “Pelagius” did.
Yet he was fully drugged.

After that, Cestus changed to another type of toy. He went for the plugs, trying to find the biggest one that could fit inside Zal. And though the Quarian couldn’t take something wider than Cestus’s fist, not without his asshole tingling in a bad way, Cestus bought the biggest twos and had them taken by the Salesperson as he moved to another shelf, another topic.
Came the crops. The whips were deemed too bestial and brutal for a refined Turian, Cestus affirmed, but the crops were excellent as he took one and began to lead Zal around by smacking his posterior, covering the gray skin with red bruises.

“Faster, Zal… Faster… Ouh. They’re small,” commented Cestus, turning his eyes to a set of… Geisha balls. And rods. And other little brushes that were small.
“They’re used for sounding, s- mister. Quarians’ urethras are particularly sensitive, as well as their genitals. Many Quarians enjoy getting their genitals abused. I also retrieved the gags. Which one do you want? The red or blue.”
“Blue. And that’s true? You like that?” asked Cestus, turning to Zal as the Salesperson wrestled to put a ball gag at Zal’s mouth. The Techie tried to shake his head and get those hands off. But naturally, the Turian was used to it and managed to gag Zal by the time Cestus delivered a smack upon Zal’s swollen nuts.

The answer came with Zal’s eyes rolling and his thighs clenching. He closed his legs, trying to hide his genitals. But it didn’t work as Cestus continued to use the crop to smack them… And then, Zal’s cock began to throb and spring to life, going stiff and rigid despite the pain flaring through the Quarian’s groin.
“Hrmphh!” cried Zal, his eyes red and bloodshot. But Cestus seemed not to consider it as he approached one of the Geisha balls. That version looked less like balls and closer to a ribbed rod he gripped… Waved. Then he turned to Zal, smiling.
“I think there’s something you’d like to try.”
Of course, Zal screamed and tried to step back. But he only managed to corner himself against the shelf when Cestus approached and kicked the Quarian’s legs, sending him sprawling on the floor.
Even then, Zal tried to push with his arms to stand up. But Cestus gripped his nape.
“Be a good boy, Zal. Or else, I’ll be brutal,” threatened Cestus, watching how the techie tried to reach for the gag’s locking mechanism. But it was magnetic and linked to an omnitool.
Leading to Zal’s hands dropping and his eyes turning red to Cestus.
“Hrmph!” pleaded Zal, his tone plaintive.
“It won’t hurt as much. No… You’ll like it like the plug in your ass.”
“Hrmph?!”

Cestus continued to grin as, with the Salesperson’s help, he had Zal maintained on the floor. They’d been making a mess, but with Cestus going on a spending spree, the worker seemed fine with helping. He kept Zal steady… And gave all the freedom for Cestus to pull two pills from the package and approach Zal’s cock with them.
“Sir… It is… Highly dangerous to use them so,” considered the Salesperson. Zal cried at the remark, but Cestus laughed.
“Yeah. I heard. But it gets them high and they love it,” commented Cestus as he gripped Zal’s cock between his fingers and… Though the organ was large, it was almost dwarfed by the Turians’ bulge around Zal’s face.

Then… With his mandibles clicking, Cestus pressed one pill against the urethra, slipped it into the tight entrance. It flared with pain as it had never been used or touched before.
“HRMPH!”
“Whoa, he’s tight here, too,” said Cestus, gleeful at the prospect of breaking Zal. For someone so anti-Quarian, he was joyful when slipping the pill inside Zal’s urethra, forcing through… And then planting the ribbed rod inside it, forcing the pill down Zal’s ten inches.

Sure enough, the Quarian’s cock bulged from within, with each ribbing visible through the gray skin.
Zal’s eyes were again bloodshot, with tears streaking as his cock was stretched and burning from within. It was like the worst urinary infection he’d experienced. And worse, that pill was rolling inside and pressing so deeply, the young Quarian was feeling like he needed to take a piss. He kicked, he shook his hips… But it didn’t deter Cestus.

“It’s so fun! I get why people come here for that stuff,” commented Cestus, grinning ear to ear.
“Most clients only buy one or two toys for domestic usage. Not for… Breaking, mister.”
“Too bad for them,” commented Cestus, slipping the second pill against the gaping and red urethra… Before he inserted the ribbed rod inside.
This time, Zal… Hit the Salesperson with his head. He clenched his eyelids shut, and he bit into the ball gag while thrashing.
His entire groin felt as if it was about to explode, like his bladder would release the flow and hurt. It didn’t… But sure as hell it felt like it for the Quarian whose hips were restless, even with Cestus releasing his grip and letting Zal do whatever he wanted.

However, the rod was firmly lodged, and as much as Zal thrust with his pelvis, he didn’t dislodge the toy. At best, he made it wiggle and hit his prostate from within further, push the pills that seemed to spread and… Dissolve, thin, shrink.
Up until even their presences were gone.
The rod remained, as well as the emptiness where the pills were… And a sensation of a liquid inside his groin before it, too, began to vanish, absorbed directly by the organ.
It produced little relief, only more tension within the Quarian’s body and mind. Fear…

Then bliss.
Bliss as the young Quarian’s hips thrust by themselves, driven by a need he didn’t know about. This was different than anything. From the fucking he’d taken, from the masturbation he'd done… Even from those ‘little plays’ some teenagers would try after betting credits or anything.
Even if there was nothing pressing and massaging his cock, Zal had his pelvis thrust and roll, his body entirely driven by the idea of fucking. Something, something that has to be. Even the brushing of air against his now sensitive cock was definitely good, pleasant, exciting.
And the shots of sensation from the rod bouncing and hitting his inside? Divine.
His nostrils were all flared while he drooled all over the ball gag and down his chin, unable to control himself as he was on the ground, weakly trying to fuck… The nothingness.

And above?
Cestus chuckled while patting Zal’s head, and turning to the Salesperson.
“You got a fleshlight?”
“We have all sorts of toys to milk Quarians.”
“Ah, anything that can be used. Something humiliating.”
“Right away, mister,” nodded the Salesperson.
But Zal? He wasn’t even thinking about their words. Only the mind-numbing and driving need that had invaded his groin and cranked everything to eleven. Even the drug up his ass was nothing compared to that, and his abdominal muscles clenched like crazy to pull those testicles closer to the body. Again… Again… Again.

His eyes rolled in their sockets, his arms and legs spasming as well, even when he was forced to stand up. The two Turians were doing something to him, touching his balls, his cock, his ass, too. There was a moment of respite when the plug up his ass was gone but replaced by something.
His ankles were grabbed and bound, his arms, too. But he continued to hump the air, to thrust with his hips until… Something flashed before his eyes, and his ball gag was removed.
“Hrnfffhat?”
“Turians to Fagnnoch. You there, Zal.”
“So… HRngh… Need… Cu… Cum!” moaned Zal, his tears streaming across his face as he still wanted to cum but couldn’t. Not at all. As much as he thrust and tried to fuck nothingness, he couldn’t get anywhere close to an orgasm.
The ribbed rod? The thing stuffed in his ass? The sheer high given by those drugs? Nothing pushed him over the edge.
And so he cried, desperate for a release that wasn’t to come.
“Cum… Cu-Cum!”

Zal cried, supplicated, unaware of how his balls had swollen in that taut scrotum. How those orbs, relatively ‘typical’ for a Quarian, were growing bigger. And forced in a squat, the Quarian couldn’t see those orbs, big as oranges, dangling heavily while the Salesperson affixed a ring around them… And linked it to the toy currently set into Zal’s asshole.
“Here. Now you can-“
“I know how to sync, damnit,” grumbled Cestus, before grabbing Zal by the nape and grinding that glabrous head against his groin, against his obscenely large bulge, against those pants reeking of Turian musk.

“You want cum? My cum, perhaps?”
“Cum… Cum! Cum!” cried Zal, spit flying from his mouth on the Turian’s pants. He continued to hump, but something slowed his movements, stopped them. And then… There was a gape, a coldness, a rush of fluids and air into his cock.
Zal cried and would have thrown his head back, lost his balance, fallen over… If not for Cestus’ hand keeping him steady while another worked on those pants.
“You’ll get it. Always so hungry,” said Cestus with a huff as he pulled on his belt and then the buttons that kept his bulge under control within those elastic pants.

Zal? He was still trying to do anything to get his cock to burst, to finally get rid of that fire that had entirely devoured his groin and his testicles, making them feel like burning charcoals stuck in his skin.
And… Something smacked him, across the face, then landed on it.
His eyes, still bloodshot, focused that… They crossed, only to see that enormous and greasy mast once more pressed against his flesh, draping and coating it with precum, with sweat, with Turian juices.
Juices that already dripped all over the Quarian’s scalp, along his nape, and along his spine.
More, though, was splattered all over that face from the brow ridges to the chin. And a lot had started to drip over the flared nostrils, dripping inside those tunnels and filling them with that Turian stench. That pungent and burning stench Zal took in with deep breaths.
“If you want cum so hard, you’ll have to earn it, Zal. Open your mouth.”

“Cu-Cum,” groaned Zal, his voice practically a whisper.
Yet, he opened his mouth. And the droplets of sweat and precum landed on his tongue, gracing it with that taste that was strong, imposing, and almost capable of erasing the horror that had been the food he’d eaten this morning.
It tasted… Good. Somehow.
Good… Good enough for Zal to extend his tongue and have it press against the throbbing flesh, the wrinkled foreskin. In return, he was given a trove of salty fluids, of slight acridness, and of a umami flavor he’d been unaware even existed.
But one he took when he licked that shaft and had it throbbing, tensing, going erect.

Before his eyes, Zal watched Cestus’ cock ascend and go erect. Tense… And point upward, with the foreskin peeling off and the expected precum to ooze out from the folds, only to land on Zal’s face, to coat and mark it.
The smell was intense and soon permeated the whole shop… But Zal? He breathed it in, feeling enraptured by something he’d found distasteful a few days before.
“If you suck me off, I’ll make you cum. Is that good?” asked Cestus, gripping his cock and aligning with Zal’s mouth.
The Quarian’s lips closed… Then reopened, smacked together. Then… With the hand pressing on his nape, Zal opened his mouth. And was blessed by the Turian’s fluids.
The flavor was eminently salty but not as overwhelming as before. The touches of flavor he’d never known were suddenly revealing themselves to the Quarian as that shaft followed his tongue, tracing the path on the prehensile appendage… Before that cock was again past the uvula, stretching that throat.
And without any helmet of protection, everyone could see the young Quarian’s throat bulging, the skin tensing and imprinting Cestus’s absurdly massive cock descending his esophagus and right to his stomach.

The fatty Turian grumbled, his swollen lower belly rubbing against Zal’s face, and his testicles almost smacking against the drippy chin.
But he smiled, even chuckled at the nearby customers… Before he looked down on Zal and produced his omnitool.
“You want to cum so bad? Good grief.”

He taped one button and… Zal came.
Or so he thought he came. His mind blanked, his thoughts were gone. Remained then the assault upon his self: the shock on his testicles, the sudden pull on them. The shock inside and the thrust against his sensitive spot. The tight suction on his cocktip…
And even the oddness of a mass effect field around his nuts, making them ‘vibrate’.

He came, or so he thought as his hips thrust in the air… And his testicles were pulled closer to his body despite the weight pulling them down, yanking on the sensitive flesh.
He came, with weak shots going forward, bulging through his cock like blobs… Before they were all sucked up by the milking contraption.
With the legs bound, the Quarian couldn’t escape from the contraption with a pump attached to his cock, the reservoir strapped to his hips, the balls weight adorned with sensors around his ballsack… And then, to the toy that was firmly inside his asshole and was constantly teasing it with shocks and vibrations.

Such contraptions were shameful, employed for the lowliest and most unwanted Quarian slaves. But here was Zal… Happily choking on Cestus’s cock, while happily humping and feeling the satisfaction of that orgasm…. An orgasm that was echoing upon itself. Again… And again… And again.
When it receded and was over, it was for the toy's mere touch to send him spiraling down, guided by that drug in his system.
Through the lack of air, forced by Cestus’s absurd presence, his thoughts were reduced to a trickle in which worries and fears had been banned.

Remained then… that lust. That desire for more. That greediness for pleasure as Zal’s humping continued far beyond the moment his hips burned and his legs were sore.
But the fire in his groin, nuts, and prostate wasn’t gone.
Contrary to the one in his asshole and the pleasure felt there, the pain in his genitals wouldn’t leave with a snap. It remained: overwhelming, omnipresent, enduring. It crushed, it broke, it ruined the Quarian’s mind, whose tears continued to streak, unable to take a break as he sucked on Cestus’s cock.
“Good fagnnoch. Maybe we can try another toy. What else do you have in store? I heard needles are a good way to train Quarians,” snapped Cestus, chuckling and then looking down on Zal with that… Devious grin.
A grin that continued when the Salesperson’s shuffling continued, in a back-and-forth that led to Zal experiencing something else each time: the pain of needles going through his nipples, piercing his scrotum. The chemical burn on his chest and inside it, like a fire. The pain of smart-ink moving underneath his skin, forcing itself into the layers further than regular ink would.
The weight attached to the pincers themselves biting into his nipples… The fire of a speculum placed into his asshole and stretching it to the limit, followed by the exploration of his inner walls. Then the wetness of something liquid was injected into his asshole, making it feel slick.

It was all overwhelming. It was all intense.
And at no point did Zal feel like he was done cumming. He continued to do so through the humiliation, through the curious Turians coming and asking to try out the new store whore.
None seemed to care about Zal’s opinion, though he couldn’t state one: his mind was blanking so often, he had to be held by Cestus. And that mouth, blabbering in his state, was gagged by the Turian’s cock as it continued to throb and pump more fluids inside that stomach, filling it.
It was… endless. Ceaseless.

Or so it was for Zal’s mind, his self awol until the moment his lips smacked close together and he blinked, light flashed into his eyes.
“The store is closing, slave. I don’t care why your master left you here, but you have to leave.”
Zal blinked, watching the place that was now illuminated with neon lights. He blinked further as he watched around, feeling… Cold. Cold and naked, his entire body was covered with lube, precum, and even cum. The liquid stuck to his face, to his lips… But also to his asshole, to his thighs.
Slowly, Zal looked around. He tried to blink due to the absurdly powerful light. And then, he hid his face as he crawled, only to cry and narrowly drop when he almost kneed his nuts. Sore, oh-so-sore nuts.
“Bosh’tet!” he cried, almost dropping. But dropping entirely with his hand slipping on a puddle of cum. Puddle, he landed right into, his face first into the stinky, reeking, musky, dense, salty, tasty, flavorful, delicious fluid. His mouth reacted on its own, and the tongue followed the volition to lick it.

“I said for you to leave! Not to clean!” shouted the Salesperson, kicking Zal’s side and sending him rolling in another puddle. So many… No. The whole row was a mess, with toys everywhere and cum and precum on the floor.
A mess. A mess in which Zal was lying, probably some of his making, as he was feeling sore and drained.
His entire body was hurting, though he was unaware why…
“What? Happened?” asked Zal, passing a hand on his thighs, watching the words “Turian bitch” written on them with smart ink… Then, he watched… His nuts, which were so massive and still bearing those metallic balls weight on them. Then his abdominal muscles clenched. His groin burned, his testicles ached so much, it was like a spike was drilled into them… And then, a few droplets oozed from his cock.
“Spirits. What a mess. Tell your master we’re not a whore daycare,” grumbled the Salesperson, taping Zal’s back with his foot.

“I… I don’t know what happened. There was Cestus fisting and-,” Zal blinked, then turned to the Turian. “Do you have my suit?”
“Your suit? Tsh. We threw it away, it was dirty,” said the Turian, hissing and pushing Zal away, even as the Quarian tried to stand up, but the end result was Zal rolling and falling again, and again.
“Please! Wh-Where did you throw it! I- I can’t-“ said Zal. Finally, he noticed the sun was gone, probably set a few hours ago. “I need to get back! I can’t get back home without it!”
“Not my problem! And tell your master to pay the bill tomorrow!” shouted the Turian, opening the door after kicking the Quarian one last time. “OUT!”
“But-“
“OUT!”

Gulping and red-faced, the naked Quarian glanced at the store, dirty and without any traces of dignity… And stumbled, crawled out. Behind him, the door locked and the shutters dropped, almost cutting off. But in the end, Zal was outside, in the night, in the cold, in a Turian district.
And naked.
No. Worse than that.
He looked like a whore who had recently been used. As he glanced, he saw that his entire skin was coated in fluid, and he reeked. Anyone with a nose could tell he’d been bathing in Turian spunk. And the tattoos he found on his body after contorting were depicting quite a lowly impression of the young techie.
His breath quick, he leaned against the wall and pushed to stand up, his legs wobbly and weak.
So weak… So sore. Everything hurt, and more so his scrotum, as that band securing the weight wasn’t coming off, continuously pulling onto his scrotum until… Until another contraction hit Zal’s abdomen and made him release one or two droplets of cum.
He wasn’t hard, but it felt like he came as he stepped outward, feeling the liquid being squeezed out of his urethra through weak throbs.

“What… What will happen?” mumbled the Quarian, red-faced as he used one hand to steady himself, going from wall to wall. Walking was painful, his uncovered feet unused to the metal plates used for pavement. The metal was still hot from being exposed to the sun, and the poor Quarian hissed as he advanced, one step after another.
Luckily for him, the guards seemed to be absent or too busy. In fact, it seemed the few Turians leered and whistled at the sight, but none seemed keen on stopping Zal. Were they used to seeing naked and abused Quarians around?

Nevertheless, Zal’s progress led him towards the hypertube, the sole way for him to get to his district. But fear… Fear ran through his veins as he approached the building, finding the absence of omnitool as another weight adding to his loss of dignity.
A situation that was going from bad to worse, as a few Quarians, late workers, noted his presence and made an apparent effort to step away from the reeking Quarian.
None would help him as he asked them to lend him their omnitool. They fled through the tunnels, leaving him at the gates… With nothing to scan.
Well.

There was one thing the Quarian could get scanned. And he was ashamed of that thought. But after one, two, five minutes to be observed by the cameras and the late workers, Zal had no other choice. He grabbed his buttcheeks and, through bending, went on one limb, scanned the barcode on his ass.
The door opened, allowing him inside and finally to take the hypertube home.
A shameful path.

One made worse when, entering the hypertube and having to wait, Zal felt the searing gazes upon his body. Without his helmet, he couldn’t hide the shame written on his traits, the horror… As well as the surprise when listening to the fluids dripping from his ass on the floor.
It was one thing to be one of the Turians’ victims, getting abused in the hypertube. It was something else to show so defiantly his sluttiness as he stood against the back door, his thighs clenched in an effort to stop his asshole from leaking.
A vain effort when another ejaculation hit him, sending his limp cock throbbing and adding more to the puddle.

There was a unanimous grunt of disgust and harsh whispers. But the Quarian couldn’t do anything… Except wait for the arrival, for the ding that would allow him to leave those angry Quarians.
They did not pity him, had no liking for a whore like him. He’d be like them; he’d been like them only a few days ago. But now? He was starting to get softer, to show those curves and that ass only females and hormone-ripe males would get.
The curves of someone whose tits would soon grow heavy with milk and sag. Just like how that ass would grow fat until it would take an effort to spread those cheeks.
He was aware of the sensation of weakness in his arms… And that was to worsen, as he was to lose himself in it to the hormones.

Then, the life-saving ding echoed.
Zal ran. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the liquid dripping behind, tracing his path. His eyes were wet again, the tears streaking as he ran, no longer caring. He wanted to get home, to be back in his place… To feel secure and safe.
That was the desire he had as his run made him pass by a few familiar faces who didn’t recognize him without the helmet.
To them, he would be nothing but a whore. Another bitch whom the abusive and conquering Turians had taken… Another whore who’d sell their ass for credits and perhaps a comfy life among the conquerors.
Traitor. Traitor that would allow another Turian to cull their lineage and future, steadily leading to the Quarians’ disappearance.

His feet were hurting from running on the dirt and trash…. But Zal continued to run. His ‘orgasm’ flaring in his abdomen did not stop him from keeping to his run. To ascend the stairs, to push aside anyone on the way… And once on his floor, he smacked his hand against the apartment lock.
The lock turned green, and without even checking over his shoulder and inside, Zal entered it and locked it behind him… To have his back pressed against the door, against its secure and steady presence.

“You are late. And in such a troubling state.”
Zal opened one eye, out of breath. His chest lifted at each interval, trying to get more than mere shallow breaths as he glanced at his apartment. The place was lit, the smell of a cooked meal remained… And there it was, that Turian office. Sipping from one of Zal’s last mugs, something steamy while reading on the tablet, relaxed.
He was not even clothed; he was fully naked and acted like he lived there.
“Y-You! You… You ruined-HRMPH!” cried Zal, only to have his abdomen clench, his balls lifted despite the weight, and his cock throbbing. But without the adrenaline, Zal stumbled and dropped forward.
“Bosh’tet!” cried Zal, his hands on the floor. He was so drained, he couldn’t even cry. He could only heave while trying to control himself… To control his shaking, his body as, this time, there were more than two droplets, it was at least one shot that came out of his cock as he hissed… Before he felt like dropping, his eyes closed.

When he woke up, Zal was… feeling clean.
His body wasn’t sticky when he opened his fingers, the webbing pristine. His legs, too. His toes. His lips as he opened them. Even the smell of Turian cum was but faint to his nostrils as he steadily opened his eyes… And… Moaned.
Moaned when something rigid and sticky plunged inside his hole, stroking the rim, stretching it… Playing with it. Fingers.
“You had a fulfilling day.”
The Officer’s voice was there. Joyful, amused.

A glance around and Zal found himself lying on his side in his bed, with that Turian fingering him… Sure enough, the Turian cleaned him; even his hands and feet had been bandaged. However, the Turian had not removed the balls weight. And one contraction later, Zal cursed while his asshole clenched on the fingers.
“Hah… S-Stop this,” weakly declared Zal, waving his hand and trying to turn… But no, the Turian’s hand kept Zal locked… And his asshole penetrated.
“Stop what? You are in no position to stop a Turian, Zal,” said the Officer, his voice smug and suave… And definitely mocking as he continued to insert his fingers and press one spot with his cock.
“It’s… It gets worse when you play h-rngh!”
It was worse. His abdomen clenched faster under the Turian’s touch, and his testicles were starting to ache so much. Worse, the ejaculation was far more intense this time.

So much the Quarian’s thighs clenched together, almost crushing his nuts, while he shot on his sheets, drenching them.
“Oh, it can get worse if I don’t,” said the Turian, almost purring. “I came here to check on my new bitch. And what a surprise, you were not only out when you should have respected the curfew… And you were in that state. You sold your suit?”
“I-Hrmph… Hah… Someone threw it,” said Zal, trying to keep it together. But it was so difficult, nigh impossible with that finger dancing in and out, eliciting that squelching sound.
“Someone? Someone abused you, my pet, despite the lock on your status?”
“The… Lock?”

Before Zal could hear the answer, he felt the emptiness of the fingers pulling free. Instantly, his hands went to his ass to discover the smart ink had spread there, like an ambient heat underneath his skin. But when he slipped his fingers in his asshole, he found it… Already lubricated, swollen, and practically hungry for anything. That donut could take more than a finger. But one finger was almost needed from how hungry that entrance felt… And how soothing it was to have the finger wiggling inside.
“Hhhh…”
“So? Who was it?”
“My-… My- boss. He… Hhhrmph! Invited me to this shop to test toys for… Gifts. But… I-“
“You do not remember?”
“Y-Yes,” moaned Zal, though he started to fear how easily he opened to that Turian.

How easily he opened to the man who’d forced himself on him.
It wasn’t like showering and tending to his wounds was enough for what hell Pelagius had forced him to endure. But he seemed thoughtful… And Zal felt that urge to… Follow his instructions. The same way he’d done with Cestus.
“Typical,” laughed the Turian, snapping his fingers before Zal’s eyes. “Your eyes are so bloodshot. You’ll be dosed for the next twenty hours.”
“Dose-Hnfhhh.”

Again, Zal’s abdomen contracted, and only a dribble went out. One dribble added to the tiny puddle as he looked around, his lips smacking. Thirsty.
“Dosed? With… With what?”
“Male breakers. A cheap drug that helps with Quarians. You got quite the dose.”
“I- I don’t know… I remember… I remember the fist… And… The pills. The pills in my-“
“Your?”
“… Cock.”

Zal looked down on his cock that hadn’t stopped spewing but was limp. The flesh, however, was redder. And as he examined his testicles, they looked… Darker and redder, too. A surprising sight for the Quarian who gulped, watching the scrotum be pulled again.
“Then there was no need for me to help you,” said the Officer, licking his finger.
“He-Help me? You- HRMPH!”
“Your boss was cruel enough to get you on the express pass to sterilization. Congratulations on being removed from the gene pool,” chuckled the Officer, pushing Zal aside for one second before delivering a loud smack on Zal’s nuts. And somehow, even if the sound resonated through the place and the Quarian, the pain was… Dull.
Dull as he blinked and looked down at his orange-sized nuts.
“Ste… Ri… Li…Zation?” mumbled Zal, articulating each part, bewildered.
“We don’t call that the male breaker for nothing. One dose, they get excited. Two, they are submitting. Three, they can’t stop cumming. Four, their balls are swelling to increase the production. Five… Bye-bye.”
“Bu-but! There was… T-Two pills!”
“It’s to take it orally. But if you take it in your cocklet, Zal… It’s as good as taking five at the same time,” said the Turian, crawling forward until he was practically at one inch from the Quarian’s face, his breathing onto those glabrous traits.

“I- Hgnhhff!”
“Do you hear that? It’s the sound of your balls giving out,” purred the Turian, his mandibles clicking. “I wish I were the one to have given you those pills. But… I can watch with you when they die.”
“My… What?!”
But as Zal yanked his fingers free, about to push the Officer away, to fight his way… Pelagius produced his omnitool and pressed one button.
One button, and the weight on Zal’s balls suddenly increased… And so, followed the intense pain, the tension, and then the pleasure as Zal climaxed again.
As his scrotum was lifted and his balls seemed to throb… While another shot came free from his cock.

“If you don’t want me to rip them with the mass effect field, you’d better follow my orders,” said the Officer, activating the option that made Zal’s balls feel fuzzy and weird… And strange.
“They- They’re already dead!” cried in return the Techie, feeling how numb his nuts were to the pain. But merely pulling on them more was enough to make him climax and, in return, make his groin ache.
It was… Distracting. Daunting for the young Quarian as he hissed, and felt like he was going to cry again.
“Dead? No. Sterilized. Plus, once the drug is out of the system, they’ll be there. Useless… But perfect to play with,” added the Officer, up on his feet and using one to poke at Zal’s nuts. “But it could be worse.”
“Wor-… Worse?”
“There is a body mod shop I saw recently. They have something called ‘fake nuts’. They take yours out and replace them with silicon implants filled with sensors. You have been hit in the balls before? Imagine the same, but the effect is a thousand times worse. We use that on political offenders to keep them quiet,” said the Officer, chuckling. “And Krogans. With four fake nuts, they cry like babies.”

Zal… Gulped. Fear ran across his spine, along with the sweat that went with. If Krogans cried from this, he… He had no chance to resist.
But such thought was again stopped by another ‘ejaculation’. Another far more intense as his cock spewed on the sheet, and the shot went farther this time.
“On your back… be a good toy,” said the Officer, kicking Zal and then planting one foot on the Quarian’s rounded-up belly… “And follow my instructions.”
Zal nodded, unaware, as he watched the Turian raise his fingers, two… And then pointed to one spot along his groin.
“Place your fingers there.”
Zal did, his expression tense and his teeth gritting while he watched that Officer’s satisfied expression.
“Make sure your index fingers are pointing inward. It should feel weird when you press that spot,” said the Officer.

And indeed it felt weird for Zal, feeling those two spots in his lower belly, right under a bump. It was odd… Quite so, as he was unsure what the Officer wanted, but it didn’t bode well. And… That sadistic glee was familiar, was frightening, was horrendous to see. But Zal followed, gulping and having the fingers ready.
“Now… If you don’t want to end with your nuts screaming in pain for the next forty years, and dangling from stumps, you squeeze.”
Zal squeezed.
He squeezed as hard as he could, and somehow, the fuzziness disappeared. Same to a weight and pressure he’d been unaware of. But the instant after? It felt like the inside of his urethra had been lined with barbs or hot sauce. His urethra was on fire, worse than when he got a urinary infection.
It was worse than when Cestus had inserted the rod and the pills inside.

However, it was real. Absurdly real as Zal felt his cock on fire… And something wet drip between his legs. Even the contraction had worsened, but they were… Nothing compared to the fire that was going through his dick, and somehow inside his groin. It was… Like he’d set alcohol afire and forced it down.
But a moment later and Zal’s eyes lingered down. He then saw the steaming, dark yellow fluids that were coming out of his urethra, his pee hole. He was taking a leak, on his bed… He was pissing his sheets and all over himself, while feeling his groin contracting in answering and sending him spiraling under the pleasure and pain alike.

“K-Keeelaaaah!” cried Zal, feeling another layer of shame adding up to what he’d done. He’d sucked his boss, let him abuse him, let everyone see him. And now, there was that Turian who not only had taken him, ruined his life, but also ordered him to pee himself.
However, Zal couldn’t… Move. He couldn’t even remove his hands. Whenever he tried to move or act, it was for a stinging sensation to hit him.

It was for him to feel his entire body afire and weakened, taken by the mix of an ejaculation and a piss. It was… Abnormal to a fault. But here was Zal, pissing himself, cumming his brain out, and crying… Crying and snorting, his body barely answered him.
It was… Worse than anything he’d imagined.
Yet.

Yet as the Turian above chuckled, the humiliation was to continue in another form. Something warm and acrid splashed Zal’s face. There was no doubt about its origin when the liquid was directly aimed at his face. Steamy like his own, the Turian’s piss was reeking and salty… And worse than that, it was sticking to the skin, sticky to the fingers and the eyelids, to the lips and skin folds. It was getting everywhere on Zal as the Officer sighed, half-closing his eyes… And shaking his hips.
One hand on his humongous shaft, he was pointing his blotch-covered tip directly at Zal’s face. And whenever Zal tried to turn, the guy was taking another step, pissing on the Quarian.
“Fuck… I didn’t put the pills… But I have been wanting to do this for so long!” gloated the Officer, making sure to coat Zal’s face and mark it with that stench.

And it was getting everywhere: on the sheets, on Zal’s nostrils, inside it. Every breath was marred by the odor that spread and began to intensively mark the Quarian as he, himself, was fully emptying his bladder. His bump above his cock? That was the volume he’d been keeping involuntarily all day… All the need he’d been pushing back due to the constant orgasms and the focus on his prostate.
But sure, the acrid perfume of Turian and Quarian urine filled the room.
And worse?

Zal… Was drinking it.
In the first seconds, he’d been shaking his head and avoiding the jets. But the moment his lips met with the liquid, salty but flavorful, another reflex took over. He’d been cumming so long, so many times, he was practically dehydrated. His lips looked parched. But here was a liquid offered: warm, yes; disgusting, yes; shameful, yes.
A liquid nonetheless as Zal’s lips opened and closed, trying to gulp down that flow of piss that ended up pointed at his lips.
“Barely three days in. And you’re already drinking my piss and getting sterilized. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were destined to be a fag,” chuckled the Officer.

Zal? He only gulped the liquid in answer, feeling the odd satisfaction of that presence down his guts, adding up to the cum he’d been forced to swallow, and the terrible ‘patty’ he’d eaten. And again, much to his shame… Both cum and urine were better, more flavorful, more pleasant than that fake meat. Both were flavorful. Both were tempting. Both had an unknown quality that made them palatable, even for a Quarian who had been fighting the invaders’ influence through sacrifices and privations.

Turian piss, at that moment, was like pure alcohol. Pure ambrosia delivered right on his lips as he swallowed. His throat was hurting from it, but he continued until even the act of swallowing was getting impossible. And even then? Even as the drinking stopped, the Turian kept pissing.
How much? It felt like liters, though it was probably less, but more than Humans or Quarians.

Much more than Zal, who was finally done urinating. However, the pain that followed, as his urethra had been coated with acrid piss, was persistent. Even when the cumshot resumed, weakened… More dense… And almost jelly-like as they dropped from his gaping and aching urethra.
The consistency of his cum was getting closer to jelly, even though the groin and abdominal contractions continued. Even Zal’s cock began to throb and try to release the fluid… But the sole result was for a persistent and slow progress as those fat blobs, one by one, rolled inside that urethra. They bulged from underneath the skin, formed ribbings on the underside. And… Zal, though unaware of the details, knew something was wrong.
His testicles didn’t ache anymore, and the pulling had started to weaken. No… Even as he squeezed his legs and pressed on the organs, they felt… Inert. They felt almost cold to the touch or the squeezes.

Though the piss had finally turned into a trickle into his mouth and onto his face… Zal couldn’t cry. He was feeling so drained, so tired, he didn’t have it in him again. His body was giving out, one way or another.
And… As his cumshots, so dense and heavy, were pushed arduously through his gaping urethra. Zal couldn’t stop grimacing, tensing his jaw and gritting his teeth as his hips thrust again. One last time. Those fat white blobs were pushed out… And followed a stream of translucent and watery liquid. Not as acrid as piss, not as yellow. It was another fluid that came out of the Quarian’s groin as his prostate weakly clenched and ejected the remnant of his pride.

It left him with only juices dripping from his urethra as he lay in a puddle of his own making, exhausted, drained… And incapable of even moving again.
Once more, he felt like he blacked out… Too drained, too tired to fight or even try to move away from his piss drenched sheets.
And it was in them he woke up the day after, woken up by the sun rays hitting his face. His face was stuck against one sheet, his body glued to the piss-riddled fabric. He tried to kick away the fabric the moment he became aware of his surroundings. Of his situation.
He kicked, rolled, and winced when he had his knees hitting his nuts again, only for the pain to be minimal.

Minimal as he kicked them again, by error, through unsticking the fabric from his skin… And finding himself again naked, dirty, grimy… And exhausted. Parched, maybe. Hungry, completely. But still exhausted and ashamed as he sat on the bed’s edge… And saw that he was alone.
Of the Turian who had abused him and marked him, no traces. It was like he was never there except for the smell hanging in the air and the indignation Zal felt as he stood up. His balance was fucked, but he was able to stand up and steadily walk to the bathroom.
The sun had been out for a while now, and in the distance, Zal could see his computer and home system blinking red to confirm he had received a few messages.
Nevertheless, he ignored them.

He didn’t want to deal with Cestus’s anger or any official messages. Remained then the slow walk, the trudging progress to the bathroom and, luckily enough, a shower. Short-lived as he only had one and a half days' worth of showers… But enough to feel proper when he stepped outside, his skin steaming from the deep scrubbing he’d done.
But nothing could… Remove the traces.

His ass was certainly more curvy. His chest had started to fatten and his nipples to naturally widen. His abdominal muscles had begun to melt and instead form a thin layer. As for his arms, they were thinning. His thighs, in comparison, were heavier, though it didn’t help his balance much.
But the worst was the smart tattoos all over his body… More than that, the Hegemony’s flag. One cube embraced in a complex structure supposed to represent the towers of Cipritine, the capital of Palaven.
But it was unmistakably the Turian flag, etched on Zal’s body. Followed then by the marks such as “Quarian whore” or “Turian addict” or “Blue-blood lover” or even “Failed male”. Marks that were weighing on his mind as his gaze descended between his legs. To his cock, that was still soft. And to his balls, that looked just as big as before, as large as oranges, but covered with veins and darker.

Even when poking them, he didn’t feel much. Even when he walked to the living room, his thighs rubbing against them, he wasn’t feeling anything.
They were like dead, and though Zal wanted to cry, he couldn’t. He sniffed, nonetheless. His eyes went red. And his asshole clenched, releasing a spurt of lube in his path from the bathroom to the coffee table, where his pill bottle was.

However, Pelagius wasn’t gone without leaving a last message. A last hit to Zal’s heart.
“You are no longer authorized to remain among the Quarians by virtue of the citizenship-protection pact. Please, contact your current employer so he can give you correct accommodations for your new life as a soon-to-be transitioned female Quarian. – Pelagius”

Chapter 2: A new citizen for the Hegemony

Summary:

Forced to embrace a new lifestyle, will Zal adapt to the Turians’ rules?

Chapter Text

“And that’s the fourth. You got it all, Fagnnoch?”
Zal grimaced under his helmet as he glanced at the four boxes Cestus carried inside. All the boxes that had been his entire life were reduced to four little boxes stacked in a corner of the living room.
Nothing more. Nothing so much important. Right as he had to leave his district and those he used to know.

Not that it was a bad thing.
Almost everyone saw him returning to his apartment, or noticed the trail of cum he left behind. Then, they saw the Turian leaving. It was only a matter of adding two and two together to understand the new ‘hypertube whore’ was Zal.
And so… Zal grumbled, nodding.
“Yes, Cestus. That’s all,” confirmed the Quarian, passing a hand on his suit. Well, not his favorite suit. Blue and gray, with stripes reminiscent of the Turian Hegemony, it was the formal suit every Quarian was expected to wear during holidays and ceremonies.
It was also the sole suit the Quarian was ‘technically’ allowed to wear outside the district since his work suit was… ‘Lost’.

As for the reason why it was lost…
It stood right in front of Zal, grinning, hands on his hips, and smiling like he just outdid the construction of the Citadel by carrying four boxes upstairs. Zal glanced at the Turian, who was even awed, and wiped the sweat off his face before the Quarian glanced at the apartment itself.
Spacious, with three bedrooms, it even included an office. Such luxury made Zal wonder why Cestus had an office elsewhere. If he so desired, the fatty Turian could work from home entirely.
He even had a completely furnished kitchen with a kitchen island in the middle. The living room had one television, complete with four smart screens here and there, a long and spacious table that could accommodate ten people. As for the bedrooms, they all had a king-sized bed, their smart screens, their access to a balcony. And the master bedroom had its own private bathroom.
“That’s all? You should talk to me better, Fagnnoch. If I want, I can kick you to a cheap motel! You’d prefer that?”

Zal huffed.
It wasn’t like he had a choice. He was ostracized in the Quarian district and would likely remain so, even if he were allowed to return. As for a motel, it meant that he couldn’t close his door and would allow any Turian staying there to enter.
After all, Quarians’ rights were limited, and Cestus’s accommodation was whatever he desired. That… Zal confirmed it with a quick search of the citizenship-protection pact.
“No, Cestus,” said Zal, turning and nodding while lying through his teeth. “I am only surprised by how opulent the place is.”
“Ah, yes,” grumbled the Turian, scratching his face plate. With his shirt on and pants on, Cestus looked like the typical Turian manager except for his prominent fat belly and that ‘bulge’ between his pants, something that had to slide in one of the pants’ legs. All except the lack of face painting.

“That’s true, you Quarians are happy living in the mud. No… That wouldn’t do for me. Not for a Turian coming from Palaven. I’m basically nobility. Why would I lower myself to the worst?”
And then, here it was… Cestus going on and on about his name, about his Turian superiority, and so on. The Turian even signaled Zal to follow while he talked, allowing Zal to zone out as they approached the bay window, went through, and stepped onto the large covered balcony covered with greens. Across the street, there were the sleek, tinted windows of one of the most recent office buildings.
Left and right, the place was a mix of office and residential buildings. As for the streets below, they had no vehicles. Most storefronts were dedicated to small art museums, bookshops, and other miscellaneous stuff you’d never find in the Quarian district. Such things were restricted for Quarians… But here was the crowd with Turians and Quarians alike, mainly broken Quarians, coming and going.
It was almost serene… If it wasn’t for the gentrified energy the place gave off and-

Zal’s eyes widened as he felt a hand cupping his posterior. Another was on his thighs… And something big and fat was pressed against Zal’s back, making the Quarian wince and tense.
It was a reflex, nothing he could stop when he had Cestus’ grubby hands going on his body, exploring the curves underneath the suit, exploring those fattening thighs and that meaty posterior.
“You haven’t told me how you got into the pact program. Seriously. If you wanted to stay with me, you could have asked instead of forcing my hand, Fagnnoch. The citizenship-protection shit? That’s a low blow on my finances.”

Zal grunted in petto, cleared his throat. It wasn’t voluntary. And so, he pushed with his posterior, trying to push against Cestus’ lower belly. But the only result was to have that hard bulge grinding against Zal’s backside.
“It wasn’t what I wanted. I told you, someone is forcing me,” grunted Zal, still trying to push.
But there was no movement: Zal was too weak and Cestus too… Fat.
“Hmm hmm. Or maybe you bribed a guy to get yourself tagged and protected. Not the first time a Quarian would do that stuff to get out of your slums.”
“What do you know about that?” growled Zal, pushing more and more.
“You live in your filth, stacked, profiting from the government’s jobs. That’s all there is to say. You could have gotten a real deal with the Hegemony by accepting our presence on Rannoch. But noooo, you had to act up and whine now.”
“Whine? Keelah! Why are you spouting such-“
“Oh, shut up, Zal. I don’t want to hear you whine about Quarian rights and all. I want to fuck you. Now.”

Zal blinked. Then looked ahead. In front of him, there were the offices… And on the right and left, there were more terraces with some Turians sitting there and eating while the weather was fair. Below, people only had to raise their heads to see him. He was practically exposed… And Cestus asked to fuck?
“Cestus-“
“Strip now.”
“Let’s do this inside, if you want.”
“Strip. Now.”
Zal gulped but didn’t move.
“Strip or I’ll throw everything out. You’re my property here, as long as I leave you in a working state for your next husband. Now… Strip.”

Zal considered, his hand on the handrail. He could technically lean forward and jump. It was the fifth floor. If he fell at the right angle, it’d break his neck.
But… Even though that idea went through his mind, his fingers went on the seal of his suit. On the fabric that covered his gray skin, his curvy body, his changed self.
The seals were lighter with the formal wear, as the rule was that on that day, Quarians were to worship and show respect to their Turian masters.
His suit in return was practically made… To be undone.

The seals were undone one by one, revealing the fat accumulating on Zal’s forearms. Then, there was a noticeable dropping shoulders. He kept his helmet, not daring to expose his neck… But in return, there was little he could do to hide his gorge, to hide his chest… And the blossoming tits on them. No more pecs, tits. The fat had accumulated to such an extent that they gained some roundness. The nipples’ areolas were enlarged, too, and had taken on a purplish coloration, contrasting with the glabrous gray skin.
And though they were not swaying and sagging under their weight, those tits were already heavy on Zal’s body. Enough that he found relief when Cestus cupped them.
“You Quarians are practically made for this. You get fat so quickly. No wonder the government finds it better to make females out of you.”

Zal didn’t answer. He knew that fat bastard would take the opportunity to take it out on him. Plus, those thumbs were divine when stroking the erect nipples, enough for Zal to feel his ass clenching again… And for his abdomen to tense, though the result was a wince… And a wetness.
“I might get used to it. But it’d be better with piercings,” continued Cestus, his bulging erection rubbing against Zal’s posterior, teasing those fat muscles, poking at them.
And the young Quarian huffed, trying to control his moans when his nipples were pulled and twisted.
“Keep stripping. As long as you’re inside the apartment, I don’t want anything to cover those tits and that ass, get it?”

The irony was that they were not inside the apartment per se. But Zal didn’t raise the detail as he fought against the contraction. His body was ready to throw him down, to make him collapse and be nothing but a meat-toy for Cestus.
But the Quarian held off, locked his knees… And continued with the lower seals, even if he had to take his body off Cestus’ hands… And to feel the weight on his spine amplified while he undid the seals around his feet and legs.
If it went on, wearing a suit would be difficult. Maybe that was why most Quarians went naked once feminized?

The thought made Zal snarl as he undid the seal and took one step. Then another, pushing the boots aside.
“You won’t throw that suit? I have only two left,” finally said Zal, anxious as he watched his suit on the floor… But so close to the void.
“What? Are you angry about the store? I already told them about their fuck-up. And it wasn’t your suit, but the one I bought for you, Fagnnoch,” scoffed Cestus, stepping back and leaning against the wall. “But you’re lucky. With their fuck-up, I got a discount on the toys we’ll use while you’re here.”
“The… Toys?” asked Cestus, flinching at the idea.
“Oh yeah. The toys. I told you I need to find a good toy for my brother. I haven’t found the good one,” scoffed Cestus… Before he huffed. “Who told you you could stop stripping?”

Zal blinked, then looked down. Yes, he had stopped stripping. And so, he returned to the seals, undoing his belt and his corset on the same occasion. He didn’t want to reveal everything yet.
Still, as he was working on his side, Zal grunted.
“Wasn’t it enough last time?”
“Enough? No, not at all… Wait? Are you still angry about the breaker? Seriously, Fagnnoch?”

Angry? Oh, Zal was fuming. And the sole mention was enough for him when, with a thunk, he threw the metal belt down. So followed the fabric covering his ample posterior, his wide thighs… His belly had gained some fat.
And certainly his groin.
The first detail that struck the eye wasn’t Zal’s uncut shaft, with the striated foreskin. No… It was those testicles that were the size of oranges. However, their coloration was darker and redder than the rest of the Quarian’s skin.

But worse were the smart ink plastered all over Zal’s body. There was even one that had been recently changed to “Turian property” atop Zal’s posterior. And sure enough, there was a cross added to the Quarian’s scrotum, as well as “genetic dead-end” on the inside of the thighs with arrows pointing to his balls.
Cestus did not wait to ruin Zal even further, and now he acted like it was no big deal.
“Angry? You… You neutered me, Cestus,” grunted Zal. “Even if I accept I must please you to stay here…. I am angry at you for doing this. You didn’t have my consent, you… Maimed me.”
“But that’s for the great cause. Plus… They look better,” scoffed Cestus, coming closer and reaching right between Zal’s legs.

The Quarian winced, closed an eye. But there was no pain when Cestus fondled them. Only a faint pleasure, below what he’d experienced before.
And in return, his cock was already leaking on Cestus’s hand, though the liquid was clear and watery…. Clean almost.
“I… Think not,” mumbled Zal, looking down on that clawed hand holding his nuts, playing with them.
“It’s better if Quarians are neutered either way. You are less prone to outbursts, we need fewer drugs to complete your transition. Artificial womb takes on easier. Your skin gets softer, and you lose all those useless muscles. It’s better. You look better, Zal.”

But Zal… no. He took this with gritted teeth and clenched fists. A moment of tense silence before Zal exhaled and looked up, his visor facing Cestus.
“I disagree, Cestus. You… Maimed me.”
“And if that’s maiming you, I’ll do more, Zal. You’re my property,” pointed out Cestus with an index finger forward. “And you must do what you say. On your knees.”

Zal’s frown worsened, though Cestus couldn’t see. Even if he did, perhaps the Turian would ignore it. And so, Zal went on his knees, scraping them against the rough tiles while he had to mind his genitals not to crush them under his thighs. And… Here he was. Naked and exposed, his ass was practically rubbing against the handrail. And around, there were muffled chatters. Turians were finally noticing it.
Just like a repeated action, Zal gripped the front of his visor and opened it, revealing the passage that led directly to his mouth. But the surprise came with Cestus’ fingers digging inside it.
Instantly, Zal relaxed his jaw and face, though he remained stoic in looking ahead. Even when Cestus’s digits danced against his lips and teeth.
“I am allowed to use you as long as you are ‘working’ and fitted to serve your future husband. It doesn’t mean I can’t modify this ugly body. Those teeth, for example. Rubber teeth with your ID in them, that’d be better. No need to have a suit or to have your omnitool. You ranted about losing it.”

Zal closed his eyes tight, feeling that finger continue his exploration, going on his cheeks, on the inside. It even forced its way into his mouth until he opened his lips and allowed Cestus inside, to play with his tongue.
“I could have your gag reflex entirely removed. I could modify your mouth so you can take me entirely. Or I can have your tongue modified and replaced so you would crave Turian cum on your meals.”
Cestus’s tone was steadily changing, going cruel… Before he yanked his finger free and smiled, he undid his belt.
“You’d better remind yourself I own you and can do whatever I want to you. You’re a Quarian. You’re property. Now… Open up.”

Oh, Zal was aware. But still, he opened up. Tears streaked across his face, and his nostrils were dilated. But still, he had that jaw wide open and advanced his neck, craned it, until Cestus’s cocktip was practically at the entrance. And then slipped within, delivering the pungent aroma Zal was, much to his shame, starting to appreciate.
The saltiness, the acrid flavor. It was something that was getting richer and richer with each session. And it was to be so…
Since Cestus groaned and began to take a piss, releasing the steamy flow right inside Zal’s mouth, forcing the Quarian to gulp down that hot piss. That would be his drink for the morning, and so Zal swallowed it, completely.

It did not quench him and, to be fair, Zal was still feeling parched. But such liquid was like a boon. And Zal gulped it down, even advancing his mouth until his lips closed on the urethra, until some parts of his helmet were drenched in piss.
And once all was done… Zal sucked the piss right from that gaping urethra, loudly gulping while Cestus displayed a capacity in releasing such a continuous stream. One that tickled Zal’s throat until, with one firm hand, Cestus pushed Zal back.
The flow was over, the salty piss was no longer there… Not even one drop when Cestus shook his cock, smug and grinning.
“You’ve learned, Zal,” commented the bastard, even going as far as patting Zal’s head like a pet.

For a second, Zal said nothing… He locked his visor’s front, hiding his mouth away while waiting for another order.
Would Cestus take him in the ass here and there? It would be the first time. Or he could have him reopen the visor and force him to take his meal right now in public.
“Go clean yourself. I want you smelling like roses when you step out of the shower.”
There. An order and Zal opened his mouth, only to frown and close it. Cestus wasn’t asking for more?
“I should prepare my ass so you can fuck me in the shower?” asked Zal, his spite audible.
“Pfhah! Here comes the slutty Quarian,” laughed Cestus, as if the remark flew overhead. “Do whatever you want. However, the shower stall is too small for both of us. And I’d rather have you ready for later.”

On that note, Cestus waved and stepped back inside, leaving Zal naked on the balcony. Some droplets of piss were sticking to his helmet, coalescing before they dropped down… On the Quarian’s legs, on his body.
“… Keelah,” mouthed Zal, hastily gripping the remnants of his suit. Taken apart, it was quite a load to carry around when he entered the apartment. Cestus was sitting on a sofa, checking a tablet while the TV was on, showing the progress of the Cold War between the Council and the Hegemony.

So far, the Hegemony had managed to strong-arm more planets from the council… Even though the Hegemony was mainly established near Palaven, Rannoch and the many worlds around it formed a stronghold on the map.
Even the pirates of the Terminus systems were starting to get wary, and the Turians accused the Council of helping said pirates.
It sounded so absurd, but Zal listened, surprised.
“Hey. Shower first,” snapped Cestus, glancing over his shoulder and frowning at the Quarian.
“Sorry. I….”

Zal did not answer; he stepped away while carrying the bits and pieces of his suit. It was all heavy, and for a moment, he thought about carrying it around the apartment. But then, he threw his suit in one bedroom and headed to the shower.
Cestus never told him what his bedroom was; hence, it was with a satisfying justification that Zal closed the door behind him and undid his visor.
Sure enough, his traits were the same in the mirror. A finger passed on the skin and found no traces of bruises, of the abuse he’d taken… It was all good, all healed… All… Not over.
“Keelah. When will this stop?” mumbled the Quarian, glancing at the slight yellow tint along his lips before he wiped it with a thumb. Piss.

Turian piss was sticking everywhere, and even in his mouth, the taste remained there even if he tried to wash it down with saliva.
Only cum was stronger. Piss and cum.
Not even water was enough to wash both. Not even when, under the shower-head, Zal opened his mouth wide to get more water in his system. More than piss.
The liquid was lukewarm, with a slight chlorine taste. But it was bearable as the Quarian let the water drip over his body, removing the faint smell of piss.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Hey Fagnnoch! You'd better not waste the water! And use the soap I bought for you!”
Cestus’s shout interrupted Zal’s relative peace. But it wasn’t like the Quarian was surprised… More so as he watched the block of soap still in its packaging: “The Quarian’s delight”.
From said packaging, it was said to be the favorite flavor of young lady Quarians who want to seduce a strong and virile Turian stud.
Over the top, but expected.

Zal removed the packaging and had the soap rubbing against his skin, releasing a strong, flowery aroma. Not his favorite, and probably not one his peers would love. But certainly it must work on Turians, so… Zal rubbed it everywhere.
Legs, arms, shoulders, neck, lower belly, genitals, ass. He even hissed when he had to rub the block against his nuts before he threw it aside and let the water wash the foam away.
“There is a towel for you. Get in the kitchen when you’re ready! And remove your armor from the damn guestroom!”

Zal snarled. Could Cestus do more than watch over him?
Probably not, but Zal finished his shower and grabbed the pink towel with flowers embroidered on it. It was better than the raw fiber towels sold to the Quarians. Yet, Zal felt a hint of humiliation as he wiped himself off and threw the towel on the nearby rack. He put his helmet back, his sole trace of dignity, and stepped outside…
Surprisingly, Cestus wasn’t waiting at the door.

Something Zal appreciated when he stepped in the bedroom where he threw his suit, snatched it, and threw it in another bedroom.
That done, there was only one final place to go, the kitchen. And so, Zal found the Turian by the kitchen island, with a box from which he pulled fresh ingredients.
From the packaging, it was obvious that these were freshly grown and that the ingredients were not laced with drugs. A surprise when Zal grabbed the freshly harvested keleven in their packaging.
“You’ll learn those Turians recipes,” said Cestus, handing out a laminated paper to Zal before he could ask what it was all about.

On it, there were recipes for traditional meals, though adapted to the resources from Rannoch and beyond.
It was… Quite a lot, and Zal blinked, before turning to Cestus.
“I am a tech. Not a cook.”
“Not my problem, Fagnnoch. One of the Quarians' duties is to cook for their husband. You are staying here with me, so you’ll learn to cook for me. Plus, my family will be happy if you do that well.”
“What?” asked Zal, blinking while watching Cestus cross his arms and tilt his head.
“Nothing. Learn and try to follow those recipes. I’ll judge your performance.”
“I know how to cook.”
“Great, then!”
“But that? That’s Turian meals; I know nothing about them. Searing the stalks? Who does that?” grumbled Zal, throwing the paper down into the box.

“We do. Because it makes them crunchier. That’s not up to you to ask. You do it or you get out.”
“You’re exploiting me, Cestus. You know that?” grumbled Zal, only to step back as Cestus advanced, a finger pointed to Zal’s chest.
“Yes, I am, Fagnnoch. Because you’re a pain in my ass. I’m supposed to receive my family soon, and here I have a tinhead who doesn’t know when to shut up.”
Zal looked down at that finger, pointing right between his breasts, only to have Cestus take another step.
“If I knew what I did would lead to this, I wouldn’t have taken you to that shop, tinhead. But I have to take care of you. And if I must house you, you’ll make yourself useful.”
Zal frowned and then smacked that finger, pointing his own index finger forward.
“Because you thought I wanted this? Oh yes, please, I want to be emasculated by you and stay at your place!” shouted Zal, taking another step. “Oh yes, please, Cestus! I love having my balls hurting so much I cannot even walk! It’s so great to be sterile! Hooray!”
Zal’s anger had flared, and there was no denial in it, only a huffing and grunting Turian who stepped back… Then stopped, anchoring himself and puffing his chest.

“Yes! Because that’s why you deserve! What do you want? An apology? You won’t get any from me, tinhead! I own you, and you owe me! That’s how it goes! And nothing will change!”
“Oh, but it can,” grumbled Zal, looking aside for a second, looking for the box… Before his fingers snapped on the uneasy Cestus. “You want me to cook and act like a good Quarian bitch in front of your family. Be glad, I can do that. But! You’ll owe me favors!”
“What favor?”
“You’ll get me off-world.”
“Pfhhr… What. Seriously?” scoffed Cestus, chuckling. “You’re not serious.”

But Zal didn’t move, leaning forward.
“I am serious.”
“You can’t. Taking you off-world is impossible without the good paperwork.”
“Good. Then you’ll be filling them while I am stuck here.”
“I will not be complicit in this.”
“Then, you got yourself stuck.”
“No, I am not stuck. You are,” grunted Cestus, taking another step forward and putting his arms on Zal’s shoulders. “I’ll take you to the motel. I will not pay for a Quarian living in my home.”

Zal’s eyes widened, and his breathing hastened. His face crumbled in fear. His mind raced, ran, coursed… And then.
“Why haven’t you done that earlier, then?”
Cestus’s mandibles clicked in return. No, even his quills flared while his eyes widened, too.
“Oh… There is a reason why you didn’t throw me away. You need me here!” pointed Zal, his shoulders lifting as he pushed the hands.
“I-”
“Is that with your family?”
Cestus’s crest flared, and his jaw clenched. Right. It was always something with Cestus’s family. So damn right the Turian was turning aside, stepping back. He even returned to the kitchen island, as if it was enough to stop Zal… But it wouldn’t, not with the Quarian following.
“Get away!”
“You told them something you regret. That’s what you did! You put it onto yourself! So now, you-”
“I fucking told them I found a Quarian girlfriend here! Happy?!”

Cestus’s outburst was completed by his clenched fist hitting the marble kitchen top… Leaving Zal almost stunned.
“I told them I found a nice Quarian girlfriend after my brother announced he would be engaged! I didn’t want them to think I was still alone! Here! That’s it!”
Zal… Watched the pitiful expression on the Turian’s face. His mandibles clicking, the quills down, the mouth half-open. He was… Pitiful.
“Sounds about right.”
Cestus did not answer. But that was clearly him, about to boast about something he didn’t have.
“Fine. Send me to the motel, Cestus! You want it so bad? Send me there and find a whore for yourself,” said Zal, spitefully. He could at least make a fool of himself.

But the Turian didn’t answer. He seemed to prostrate himself on the kitchen top… A pitiful display as Zal was about to step away.
“What are your conditions?”
The question came and interrupted Zal as he was on his way to the bedroom. And so, he turned to Cestus.
“What?”
“Your conditions. So you can play that role. A ticket off-world when we’re done? I’ll try for it.”
“You treat me better. You stop calling me Fagnnoch.”
“That’s… Fine!” spat Cestus, with a grunt.
“I am given an allowance and I can do what I want during my days.”
“You… Okay.”
“Oh, and I can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

Cestus’ teeth gritted, his crest flared… Then he growled.
“Not when they’re here.”
“That’s fair,” said Zal, rolling his eyes. “Are we good?”
“We- we are. On the condition you do everything a Quarian girl should do. You’ll cook, you’ll clean the place, you’ll act like the girlfriend when they’re here. And you’ll train for this.”
A moment of consideration. Freedom for acting and doing what that bastard desired?

Zal then outstretched a hand.
“Let’s do this.”
Cestus glared at the hand, then at Zal, but shook it.
“If we agree, you’ll start-”
“Show me how Turians cook and I’ll follow. Go on, Cestus.”
The fatty Turian hissed for a second, but grabbed the ingredients, ripping the packaging. Then, he went over each.

That was… How Zal began that unlikely collaboration with Cestus.
Soon enough, Zal brought his suit back to the guestroom after discovering the blandness of Turian cuisine. A cuisine, he tried to repeat by following Cestus’s instruction, though imperfectly.

Cestus then revealed they had two to three weeks before the family’s arrival. At worst, two weeks during which the Turian would close his business and dedicate himself to teaching Zal the Turians customs.
Such as how to always salute the Patriarch first, in virtue of being the male of the house, unless the Matriarch had a higher rank. In Cestus’s situation, the latter applied since his mother seemed to be a harpy with a knack for fighting.
Then came the rules about eating: the beverages to pick, how to wipe his mouth respectfully, how to use the three types of forks and cutlery.

“Can you understand, Fa-Gnrfhch! It’s basic!” roared Cestus during one of his outbursts, smacking the table.
“Basic what? I eat with a fork, it should be enough!”
“You are using the fish fork for vegetables! Only kids make that error!”
“Maybe it’s on Turians to have less stupid rules when eating?”
“It’s evident! The vegetable fork is the smallest, you use the biggest for the poultry and red meat, and the fish fork is the one with the little spearheads!”
“We won’t even eat fish, Cestus!” groaned Zal, putting his hand on the table. Rannoch couldn’t provide much eatable fish.

The shouting match finally ended with Cestus smacking his forehead, passing a hand on his groin… Cestus always used masturbation to handle his frustration.
“I’ll take a break! You should, too!” groaned the Turian, pointing towards Zal.
“No. I’m going out. I’ve got something to do,” grunted Zal, standing up from the table, naked.
Even though they had an agreement, Cestus never relented on the fact Zal had to be naked in the house. However, he had been allowed to wear an omnitool bracelet. One that currently emited many pings due to a string of messages.
“You’re going out? For what?”
“I don’t know. That place is stuffy, Cestus. You know that? Go on. Take a wank, I’ll be back tonight.”

The fat Turian had his quills raising again, his expression flaring, But just as quickly, he turned and stepped back. Soon enough, the distant sound of a dropping belt and porn at full volume came from the furthest bedroom.
Zal? He checked his messages and looked at the coordinates. And then went to his bedroom. Even though it was not the master bedroom, the bed was practically twice the size of Zal’s previous mattress. The room even had a desk for work alongside a private computer that wasn’t tied to the Turian restriction, allowing Zal to search everything he desired unhindered.
Even the news about the Quarian fleet that was still fighting in the Terminus system, though it was branded as a pirate organization by the Hegemony.

Such information was not what Zal looked for when he entered it. No, he checked for his suit. Not the formal grey and blue. No, this time Zal went for the snug black and purple. It was perfectly fitted… Or should have been if not for his changes.
His treatment remained, especially with Pelagius jokingly checking.
His ass was getting fat, and even Cestus did not stop ogling it… To the point, Zal was feeling more like a slab of meat when he strolled around the apartment.
So, when he put his suit on, Zal had to fight to have his ass fit inside and to close the seals on his chest…. His figure was more and more pear-shaped, and there was no way a masculine-fitted suit could hide it.
“Boshtet… It will never end,” mumbled Zal as he left the room, only to hear the porn still at full volume, completed by Cestus’s groans.

There was nothing to say.
Perhaps it had been a good occasion that Cestus raged on and decided to take a break. Zal? He needed one, from that place… Place he’d barely left.
Cestus showed him the district, that strange mix of residential and office district, with the latter’s buildings more of an exception than the rule.
Additionally, there were many places where Turian art was displayed, as well as statues serving to represent the Hegemony's victory over Rannoch. Some commemorated the dead from the conflict, but they only had Turians names engraved on them. The same Turians who had been eying Zal as if he were pestiferous in those places.
No different when he walked around, without a Turian at hand. Couples eyed him, whether completely Turian or not. And the sole males were leering at Zal while he walked through the clean streets, pounding the pavement while checking the coordinates.
And then… Here he was.

This time, Pelagius wasn’t wearing his officer’s armor. But it meant little in a world where the conqueror had elevated military to their core doctrine. Even without his armor, that Turian oozed coldness, brisk intentions, and pragmatism to a fault.
Well, until Zal approached and he turned, raising a glass at the arriving Quarian.
“Zal. My favorite. You look better with a suit on,” said Pelagius with a chirp in his voice.
Even his golden painted mandibles clicked with unfeigned joy.
“I do not know what’s gotten into you. But get brief, I must return home by night,” said Zal, sitting.

Around, he heard the outraged sniff and people starting to scoot their chairs further. At least, it gave them more privacy.
More so with Pelagius reaching for Zal's thighs, gripping them.
“Why should we rush it? I want to hear how my new Fag is doing,” said Pelagius, with a feigned solicitude. And Zal clenched his teeth.
“You offered to buy me a drink, without drugs in it. I need one.”
Pelagius’s smile didn’t waver, and he raised a hand, calling the nearby waiter who’d been watching them like a hawk.

“Sir? Is this your Quarian? This establishment doesn’t serve Quarians,” said the Waiter, puffing up his chest and raising his medal. One of the dozen thousand given to those who ‘participated’ in the conflict.
Zal’s reaction was to clench his teeth and be ready to stand up, but Pelagius’s hand blocked him on his chair.
“This is not my Quarian, but my Bitch,” answered Pelagius, relaxed.
“Even so, if this is your bitch, you should-”
“I should enjoy my drink in peace, and you should do your job,” said Pelagius, his tone going harsh as he pulled something from his pocket, a badge that resembled the Hegemony flag with strips and stars around it. Zal couldn’t get, but from the Waiter’s expression, it was important enough to reconsider.
“I… Will,” coughed the Waiter, then turning to Zal. “What do you desire?”
“Hmm… Arsak juice. Fresh, if you can.”
“Don’t forget the straw,” added Pelagius.
“Certainly,” answered the Waiter, teeth gritted and the expression stiff.

And just as stiff were the steps. All the while, Zal felt Pelagius’s fingers dancing on his thighs, touching, stroking, and going on the inside… Before they went on the waist, danced on the Quarian’s belt, right to approach that ass.
“What was that about?” asked Zal, smacking the hand before it could go to the ass.
“Someone thinks they can flex their pathetic status. But that waiter was the son of a soldier, not a soldier himself,” answered Pelagius, still as relaxed. “Now. Tell me, little Zal. How is your treatment going?”
Zal grimaced. He snarled, but none appeared as he scooted the chair to the left. But Pelagius followed, leaning on the table. Sleazy.
“It is doing fine. Two pills every day,” said Zal, looking away.
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to be forced into a center for not following it,” said Pelagius, suave but threatening. But more threatening was that hand going for Zal’s thigh again, for that ass… While another produced a bottle of pills. Another.
“What’s that?”
“An addition to your treatment, Zal.”
“That was… Why did you ask me to meet you?”

Zal’s disgust was there… Obvious. Even when the waiter returned, put the glass full of juice on the table, sniffed, and left.
“Not only. I wanted to see you. Biomedical data is something. But seeing that ass, those tits blossoming so easily. It took years before, but now… You already look beautiful, Zal.”
Zal huffed, not even daring to scoot. But he grabbed the drink, aligned the straw with the visor’s hole, and began to sip the acidic but sweet juice. All natural.

“You were born to be a fag. No, a wife, Zal,” continued Pelagius. His attitude was odd, forceful, but softer. He did not employ strength this time. He was still touching Zal’s posterior, stroking it despite the people sniffing around.
And Zal groaned, rolled his eyes even.
“You were perfect for this. Your hole is good… But even better is how you react. You are not like the other fags. Those pills will help reach your potential.”

Zal eyed the bottle, then Pelagius’s smile… Then he huffed and grunted. Something came to Zal as he pushed Pelagius’s hand away.
“Pelagius. Why are you doing this?” asked Zal, pushing the hand away.
“Good question,” answered the Turian, leaning back. “I don’t know. Quarians always attracted me. Your natural curves and assets, your glabrous skin, the way you are, so shy. But I do not fancy a whore or a Quarian who will do everything I order.”
The Officer even crossed his legs, one arm under the other, while he taped his chin.
“I always fancied having my own fag. One I prepared myself. Sadly, I couldn’t ‘fix you’ myself due to your boss. It was a mistake on my part,” said Pelagius, waving his hand. “But I can fix this.”

Zal blinked. Pelagius smiled again, genuinely, and extended one hand towards Zal while the Quarian finished his drink.
“Let me tell you. I want you, Zal. I yearn for your body. And though I cannot have you right now, I want to court you.”
Zal coughed and spat, coughing and grumbling.
“C-Court me?” asked Zal, blinking. “Are… Are you even listening to yourself?”

Certainly, the other Turians were listening, since the chatter had picked up with such an intensity that it was deafening. More so when Pelagius grabbed Zal’s hand.
“Oh. I am listening to myself. And what I hear is a Turian who wants a wife. You shall be the one, I am certain. I want you, Zal. Because no other Quarian is as defiant to us Turian as you. And I want to conquer you.”
Zal looked down at that hand, ready to yank it away.
“You already… Took me. You forced yourself on me, ruined my life, and made it so my boss emasculated me. And now… You talk about courtship?” asked Zal, his voice hissing though he had to strangle the laughter that followed.
“This was not courtship. It is a mere procedure. You were untaken; it was only a matter of time before someone noticed and fucked you. It was a sumptuous first time for our relationship, though.”
“I-”

Zal yanked his fingers free and stood up, though listening to the surprised cries from the crowd around. And then, as he was about to step out, Pelagius grabbed his arm. The officer was up and about, holding the pills, and hissing: “Zal. Do not anger me.”
Gone was the suave tone, the calm and jovial attitude. No, this whisper was a hiss, almost a threat, while Pelagius approached, his breathing heavy.
“I will court you. And you cannot do a thing. Tomorrow, I want to see you tomorrow.”
“Or… What?” asked Zal, his fists clenched.
“I can find where you live. And even a Turian citizen can’t stop me from taking you and breaking my new wife. I can make sure you cannot even fight me anymore.”
Then, closer, Pelagius whispered to Zal’s hearing sensors.
“If my prey wants to run, I can break those pretty legs.”

The threat was obvious. The bottle of pills was slipped into Zal’s weakening fist, forced upon his palm.
“I will stay around, don’t be a stranger, my Fag,” said Pelagius with a cheerful tone, pushing Zal away.
The Quarian didn’t stumble. But he had to fight to recover his balance, enough that he got a glance over his shoulder and saw Pelagius sitting back like it was nothing.
And Zal… Zal went away, clutching those pills as he walked. Back to Cestus’s house. Back to that horrendous place.

But everything was horrendous. And by the time the Quarian imputed the code to enter the building, he was heaving. Breathing quickly. Climbing the stairs didn’t do well… Neither did seeing one of the Turians' neighbors, a family of three that seemed to recognize Zal as they whispered to themselves after he passed by.
And once inside the apartment, Zal pushed the door shut.

The place looked empty. Dead. Without anyone.
But the distant sounds of porn and groans were enough as Zal walked to his bedroom at a brisk pace and tried to climb on the bed… Something dropped and split open. But Zal needed not to think about. He closed his eyes, as hard as he could. As hard as he could, trying to think about something dark and warm and without anyone.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Zal! I know you’re back! You need to prepare our breakfast!”
Cestus’s shout was loud, enough to stir Zal from his slumber. The Quarian didn’t even remove his suit for sleeping, and he’d slept with his arms under his belly, hence the need to twist and roll while waiting for blood to rush to his numbed arms.
It was pitiful, but more so was the coarse whimper that came forth when he tried to speak.
“I don’t care if you’re not feeling it! You must learn my mother’s favorite recipe, or she’ll cut me into pieces! Get up, lazy bum!”
“A- A moment!”

The sound was hoarse. But loud enough for the knocking to stop. Cestus stepped away.
Silence.
Though Zal’s heartbeat was still beating fast by the time he straightened himself on the bed and looked around. The place didn’t have a trace of personality: dry, Turian-like furniture, devoid of photos, paintings, or decorations. Perhaps Zal would have grown accustomed to the lack of personable housing, having been forced to live in the slums. But here, it struck him worse as he sat on the bed’s edge and saw the bottle of pills, open with some of its contents spilled out.
“Keelah,” groaned Zal, bending and reaching for it, slipping the pills back in the bottle without any packaging.

Nothing was on it; it was plain plastic now that Zal had the time to examine it.
It was all the more suspicious… But Zal. Well, he opened his visor and slipped one as well as two from the former bottle.
Pelagius threatened him to break his legs if he didn’t comply. And Cestus? Cestus would be a flimsy protection, not that the Turian was trustworthy. But at least Cestus could be manipulated. Pelagius? Pelagius sounded crazy.
So crazy Zal couldn’t stop trembling as he peeled off the layer of his suit, exposing his sweat-caked skin to the outside before he attached it in the wardrobe.
Back in his birthday suit, Zal stepped outside to see Cestus roaming through the kitchen.

But contrary to a typical day, Cestus was naked. His half-hard genitals were flopping around between his legs while he moved around, preparing an omelet, it seemed.
“Finally. Come here,” grumbled Cestus, acting like nothing happened yesterday.
And… Maybe that’s what Zal needed as he lost himself in the recipes.

That one was simple; the ingredients were locally sourced, though some were replacements that were dubious at best. But you couldn’t get Palaven-imported plants so easily. And not every plant could take on in Rannoch’s soil.
However, as Zal was focusing on the stove, on watching the omelet sear gently, something rubbed against his posterior. Hard, rigid… Obvious.
“Cestus?” asked Zal, his tone angry enough.
“You smell like a female. I cannot stop it.”
“Can you move away and put on pants?”
“First, I’ll ruin them. Second, you’re about to burn it.”

Zal grimaced but returned to the omelet, trying to dislodge it with the spatula.
“Well?” he asked, still feeling Cestus’s cock rubbing against his posterior, coating it with fluid. With precum. And so, as that precum dripped over Zal’s skin, it made him… Feel warm. Warm and warmer. Not only around his groin and buttcheeks, but right to his belly and chest. Enough to have almost everything down his neck, warming up. To have his asshole clenching… To have his hole tensing.
“Fuck… Cestus. You’re smearing it all over my ass.”
“It’s not my fault. Your scent is too strong,” grunted the Turian. But sure enough, he moved away.

However, as he moved… Zal could see him sporting that boner. Could see that stiff and rigid cock. Could see that raging erection with the foreskin peeled off. And… Zal bit his lips under his visor, returning to his omelet.
“Fuck… I can’t wait. Zal. Could you?” asked Cestus, gripping his shaft.
“I said I would entertain you when your parents are here.”
“Please?” asked Cestus, his tone pathetic.
Zal bit his lips, his asshole clenching and even looking… No, feeling wet. That cock was smelling good through the filters, so good he even had to gulp down.
“You… Can use your toys,” grumbled Zal, holding onto the pan tightly.
“Urmph… I’ll fetch them… But you’d better not burn it.”

Zal lowered his eyes, focusing on the pan while he heard the heavy footsteps. Of what? His Boss? His partner in crime? Or merely the guy he was exploiting?
Nevertheless, Zal lowered the fire as he watched the omelet get that nice brown underside while the top was yellow with a hint of red.
It took minutes, a long time for Cestus to return, but Zal remained focused, even as he pulled the cheese bought by Cestus and sprinkled it on top while the fire continued to burn.
Technically, everything was ready, and this time around, the omelet had the right texture.
Only missed the one who was the judge of it.
“Cestus?” asked Zal, shouting. Silence. “Cestus?!”

This time, Zal shouted. But no answer. Nothing as he started to walk around and froze when he stepped on something warm and sticky. Cestus’s precum. Into the long trail leading from the kitchen right to the Turian’s bedroom.
“Damnit,” grumbled Zal, checking his foot and grabbing a towel to wipe it. But by the time he was sitting on a chair, bending over, and wiping his foot… The scent struck Zal…
The scent, the perfume, the aroma that came from that liquid, once it was so close to his visor that even the filters couldn’t contain it completely.
And though he hated it, Zal felt… The wetness spread across his posterior and cheeks, covering the entire chair he was sitting on.
“… Fu-fuck,” groaned the Quarian, standing up and tottering further. Taking a whiff made him feel dizzy, light-headed… Excited even. And burning. Oh-so-burning with his asshole clenching so hard it was hurting. The hole winked and spurted some natural lube behind, leaving a musky trail behind the Quarian as he walked further, feeling like the heat was back with a vengeance.

Was it from the new pills?
Was it from something else?
Was it a natural change?
Nevertheless, Zal huffed and grunted as he was right by Cestus’s bedroom door. He pushed it, finding the fatty and bastardly Turian sitting on the bed, stroking himself before a video from the nearby smart-screen.
Well, not exactly stroking himself. Sure enough, that guy had some pocket pussy he was using… or rather turning into mush with the grip he had and the speed he employed when fucking it.
And its many siblings were on the floor, covered with precum and cum. All had been recently ‘used’, guessed Zal from the smell.
He froze… Then turned.

“Zal… Come here. I need it.”
The pleading tone was pathetic, oh-so-pathetic. But Zal did turn once more, facing the open door, the pitiful sight, the drooling and gargling Turian.
Sure enough, there was the urge, the fear, the horror that pushed Zal to flee.
But the Quarian advanced. Step by step, mesmerized by that cock.

Like held by strings, Zal approached Cestus… And Cestus did not resist, not when the Quarian’s hand was on his shoulder, pushing him.
The fat Turian dropped back on the bed, still clutching the remnant of his latest toy… Even when the curvaceous and fattened and emasculated Quarian climbed on the bed, on all fours, and had his posterior right by that cock.
“Drop it,” slurred Zal, his voice again hoarse.
Cestus dropped the toy.
“Hold me,” grunted Zal.
Cestus’s hands landed on Zal’s ample and plushy posterior.
“… Fuck… Me,” hissed Zal.

Cestus did not wait.
His hips moved without a break, thrusting upward. Sure enough, without the angle, the result was for that cock to be sandwiched between Zal’s ample buttcheeks, stroked, and then to have that cock tip peek out.
It was pathetic, it was without pleasure, and it left them needy.
But as Cestus continued to thrust, his eyes rolling and his mandibles clicking, that cocktip was coming closer. Closer and closer to the winking and burning and aching asshole.
Closer to entering that hole that made Zal huff and gasp.

Zal wasn’t moving much, but even then, even holding the position in his state left him drippy from sweat as it rolled over his glabrous skin over his love-handle, over his perky nipples, over his hairless balls. A liquid that dripped all over Cestus’s body and face, though the Turian seemed not to care.
Not to care at all when a genuine and almost worrying smile appeared on his face. The left mandible had dropped, the teeth were partially showing, one brow was lifted, and the pupils were contracted to a mere point.
But…

Cestus was inside and thrusting.
Zal cried in pleasure and delight, instantly ejaculating a fresh load of bitch juice right onto his boss's round belly, unable to resist as his prostate was savagely hammered from outside.
He cried more, came more, and was fucked more by that disgusting bastard of a boss who had forced those pills down his cock and ruined his boss. That pathetic man who’d boasted and who was stupid enough to accept Zal’s deal to escape.
But by everything Zal held dear, it felt great.

Zal’s asshole felt like a cock made of pure ice had been inserted within his hole. Maybe he was also imagining the sizzling sound coming from his steamy asshole. But the result was the pleasant coldness fighting and managing to fend off the heat, the ever-encompassing heat that had been turning his asshole into a fire.
It was the pleasant touch that made his prostate clench and his tiny soft cock squirt all over that belly, granting a relief Zal had not experienced in a while… The pleasure of orgasm, of the pressure inside his groin dropping down.
It was the joy and ecstasy of having someone ramming his cock inside his hole. Something he’d tasted only recently.

And here it was again, coming with such depth, such completion, it made Zal feel… Alive. Truly alive and enjoying it as that cock dug inside him, stretching his guts and imprinting through the skin.
Alive and happy and satisfied.
After the fear, the horror, the disgust, the frustration. Here was the satisfaction as orgasm after orgasm was pounded out of him.

But not only with Cestus pounding him from below, punching his guts by humping and pushing with his legs.
No. Cestus wanted more, and if Zal was already enjoying himself, Cestus had to do more.

After his first cumshot inside the Quarian’s gaping donut, the Turian gripped Zal and threw him on the bed. And too taken to resist, Zal did not fight when the Turian had him on the side, one leg lifted, and fucked his asshole. He did with such strength, Cestus was practically beating Zal’s ass and balls.
But the Quarian continued to smile and drool inside his helmet, drenching the internal mechanism and sensors with slobber while Cestus continued to thrust and punch… And cum.

Cum so much so that he was certainly flooding Zal’s guts, and soon, whenever the Turian pulled out to punch back inside, it was for that cum to gush out before the hole was again plugged. It gushed out on the sheets, on the pillows, on everything… And none could stop.
Zal? He was too far lost in cumming his brain out, feeling fulfilled by the pounding and overjoyed by that cum stretching his guts, somehow.
Cestus? Even when he came. Even when his cock burned from cumming so much, even when his prostate was aching, even when his balls were on fire. He continued.

One brow remained lifted, and only one mandible clicked while the other remained locked. From an outside perspective, it was almost like a stroke. But it wasn’t, and the simple reason for that was a rut. And a heat. The two together.
The two melding instances that brought them to fucking… And fucking… And fucking.
On the side, on the belly, on the back. With Zal below or above. On the bed, on the floor, against the drawer, against the bay window, against everything. And cum… It permeated everywhere, filling the entire room and beyond.
Even from outside the apartment, the stench of sex could be noticed. And inside, it was like a whole orgy had taken place.

It definitely looked like it if anyone glanced at the state of the bedroom, with everything undone or scratched.
Even Zal looked terrible with such scratching and bitings all over himself, with hickeys covering his gray neck. But… He smiled under his half-broken visor, a part of his face visible and showing such an ecstatic smile as he was on his back… Fully… Dazed.
And Cestus? He looked just as bad, one eye closed due to one cumshot going in the wrong direction. His hands were weakly clutching the dirty sheets while he tried to close his legs, with much growling and grunting.

“Spi-rits…” groaned the fat Turian, having certainly overdone himself. “My…. Everything.”
He groaned, certain to have pulled every muscle. And Zal? Oh… He wasn’t much better. But he took it by breathing loudly, heavily.
For a long moment, none spoke… Only huffed, grunted, growled. There was nothing but a distant beep. Zal listened with closed eyes, feeling at rest for once… For a while.
“What’s that?” groaned Cestus, hardly swallowing his saliva.
Zal didn’t answer, exhaling while feeling his asshole clenching once more and releasing a shot of cum and lube forward, in a jet, right towards the door.
“Zal.”
Zal’s grin remained the same, his cocklet hurting from squirting so much. But the watery juice continued to flow free, though he wasn’t certain if it was precum or piss… He was feeling too good.
“Zal!”
Finally, the Quarian turned his head and noticed something black in the periphery of his vision.
“Did you turn… The stove off?”
He didn’t.

Followed then a race, of two individuals trying to make the best despite the pain of pulled muscles and sore ass, of fluids following, of growl… Until they were the two leaning against the kitchen top, watching the carbonized remnants of the omelet.
Silence. Awkward silence remained.
“We’ll have to order,” finally said Cestus.
“That was stupid of us,” added Zal, poking at his visor and the shattered glass.
“It felt great, tinhead,” said Cestus with a light tone, and even Zal had to repress his laugh.
Or something that pushed him to get closer to that fatty Turian.
“Yeah. It was. Can I pick the place for the order?”

Walking remained difficult, even after a much-needed hot shower. And it remained challenging to strut through the apartment without stepping on cum or something due to the robovac being easily overloaded. Whatever took them kinda ruined the place. Enough for the delivery person to snarl on the landing.
Still, this strange and terrible morning ended with Zal sitting on the sofa sideways, a towel under his ass, and without his helmet. He snacked on fried Akchar roots, savoring the salty flavor, while watching an episode of a series about a Turian lord taking on his father’s mantle way before the reunification wars of Palaven.
It was old, but good. And even Cestus, sitting on the sofa’s edge, enjoyed it.
It was not perfect, but Zal could have remained that way the whole afternoon. There was no pressure, no need to work, to be perfect, to follow the rules. No restrictions on what he could watch, and no pressure from other Quarians needing his expertise.
It was… Good.
Beep!

The message arrived, bringing a frown to Zal as he opened the omnitool to check.
“Waiting for u, babe.”
Zal’s expression soured, his brows dropped, and his mouth contorted.
“What’s that?” asked Cestus, prying and leaning back.
“Someone I must see,” grumbled Zal, trying to stand up despite his legs trembling. An effort he managed to do while being eyed by Cestus. “It shouldn’t be long. I hope.”
“Hmm. Okay.”

The Turian’s reaction suddenly felt odd to Zal. His flippant change of attention, only to focus on the screen, made Zal’s brain run wild with a hint of fear. But fear, he had more in store for Pelagius. Hence, Zal put on his formal suit and went to the door.
Cestus did not react, nor did he speak to him. And a second later, Zal was outside.
Again, he was getting eyed. But somehow, he felt worse as he saw the coordinates were close…
Awfully close. Pelagius was chatting in a back alley, wearing his armor. There were two more Turians with him, wearing their officer armor and speaking about their future dates.
“Are you sure your bitch will come?” asked one of them as Zal approached.
“She- here she is,” chuckled Pelagius, turning towards Zal and smiling, beckoning the Quarian with his hand. “Here it is, boy. My future Quarian wife. Doesn’t she look beautiful already? I picked her treatment.”

Not even a second later, Pelagius had one arm wrapped around Zal’s shoulders and another fondling his curvy chest. The Quarian’s breath got quick, his eyes focused left and right. Pelagius wanted him to react how? To fight? To accept it?
Instead, Zal sighed and forced a smile in his voice.
“Hi, boys.”
The two ‘boys’ didn’t answer, though their brows lifted. One was a hulking Turian with nearly white chitin, painted with green stripes. While the other was a darker, smaller, and leaner Turian, practically a runt. But the smaller one had eyes that drilled into Zal while Pelagius led Zal forward.

“Here is Arcturus, our muscles. And Septus, our tech expert,” said Pelagius with a suave voice. “Maybe you’d like to know my girl has a knack for Turian tech.”
“Is that so?” asked the smaller Turian, huffing. “Good for her. We can go inside.”
“Inside?”

Zal didn’t speak, but he mouthed the question as he saw Arcturus and Septus entering a door hidden in a recess.
Pelagius pushed against Zal’s posterior, digging into it while leading the way inside what was a… Karaoke box. At the counter was a tired Quarian who barely reacted to the faces, even Zal’s, and merely motioned the quartet into the 5^th room, the only one that wasn’t lit. But he didn’t take any money.
Inside, the place was sleek and clean, with red sofas. A parcel awaited them on the table.
Zal didn’t ask… But from the way Pelagius eyed him, it was for him.
Hence, the Quarian approached, opened the parcel… And found. Shoes? Stockings? Arm sleeves? A bra. It was a whole whorish attire…. One Zal examined before feeling Pelagius’s hands running over his body.
“Get ready, my dear. You’ll enjoy it more with it on you,” almost purred the Turian.

Arcturus and Septus sat down, though the massive Turian seemed to drool over himself while the smaller was all tense and frowning.
Pelagius, in comparison, acted cuddly. He showed a strange side that was all the more threatening, but it was better to play along than lose limbs. But…
“If I do, you’ll promise you could do a favor for me?” asked Zal, practically whispering through the helmet.
“Anything for you. What is it?”
“… Later,” mumbled Zal, glancing at Septus through the visor as the small Turian played with the nearest smart-screen, dimming the room’s light and turning on the nearby television.

It was almost a cue for Pelagius to release Zal, allowing him to check the clothes he’d been given. Red bra, fishnet stockings, bright red high-heeled shoes. It was quite the slutty attire. But Zal gulped down his pride as he undid the formal suit he’d been wearing, stripping down despite listening to Pelagius and Arcturus’s whistling.
He didn’t know much about heels, and putting on the bra required him to get help from Pelagius. But the stockings were easy… And soon, Zal was… Naked, exposed.

He looked like a cheap hooker in movies, and in the Quarian district. He only lacked the garish make-up, but the curves compensated for it while the fishnet dug into his skin. His arms looked relatively thin compared to his pear-like-shape. His breasts were voluptuous and sagging, gone from the thin pectorals.
And that ass? It wobbled when Pelagius snapped and pointed to the coffee table in the middle of the room while the trio picked up their songs.
“Climb.”

The order was cold. Pelagius wanted it, and so Zal advanced. Without any experience with heels, it was an effort for the young Quarian who had to learn to balance by using his ankles on the extremely long, needle-like stiletto.
He had to kneel on the table, then steadily climb up… Before he was up, though unsteady.
“You told us she’s a girl,” said Septus, hissing.
“Soon, she’ll be. That’s why we brought it,” commented Pelagius, shushing his teammate as Arcturus picked up the nearby microphone and stood up.

Zal wasn’t sure what to do… But he remained still, exposed, and watching as the giant Turian began to sing a Turian hymn. Was it surprising? Not at all. But that one had such a bass voice that it made the Quarian tremble while the soldier gave it all.
He was singing, hands to his chest, with such a patriotic intensity. And yet, the other Turians sneered at it, exchanging elbow jabs.
Then… As the tune died down with the lyrics going over the massacre of the soldiers for their nation, Arcturus’s hand dropped with his eyes closed.

Zal almost expected the Turian to tear up to complete the vision. Instead, Arcturus’s somber expression turned into a grin as he opened his eyes.
“How was it?”
“Heh, so-so,” said Septus, one trembling hand raised.
“I’ve seen better,” added Pelagius.
“What do you think, Zal?”

Arcturus's question stunned Zal. The Quarian pointed at himself, and saw the nod from the Turian. Then, Zal checked to see Pelagius extending both hands, palm forward.
“It was good?”
“She said it was good! I told you I have a great voice!” shouted Arcturus, dancing before he turned to Zal. “Now. Come here, you. I want a reward.”
Zal again turned to Pelagius, who coughed.
“You said he’s good. Reward him, Zal. Squat,” said the Officer, his voice stiff.
Was it the wrong action?

Cold sweat ran over Zal’s back. His mouth contorted, and even his breathing went faster. But after a moment, Zal began to widen his stance. With the stiletto, it was almost impossible. But he had to make do. He nearly slipped, then… He found that when pressing his feet at a certain angle, there were little supports that popped out from the stiletto. It was small, but it provided enough support to help him stay upright and in place while he squatted as ordered. And was practically face-to-face with Arcturus, who rushed forward, kissing the Quarian.
More like, rushing and forcing his tongue through Zal’s mouth.

A glance over his shoulder, and Zal confirmed how intense Pelagius was, pushing Zal to put his arms on Arcturus’s shoulders, not only for steadying himself, but for pushing his tongue back against the Turian in a display of affection.
Zal forced back, pushed against Arcturus, who seemed to take it with a desire for more fighting.
And soon, the Quarian gasped for air between the kisses, his ass fondled by the hulking Turian.
“Arcturus, enough. It’s Septus’s turn.”

Arcturus stopped, Zal stopped. And only the latter was panting.
Panting… And dripping as his cocklet, dripped all over his swollen testicles before translucent droplets landed on the table.
“Already wet from a kiss. Please, Arcturus, take care of my girl while we sing. As long as she doesn’t scream,” said Pelagius, crossing his legs and snapping his fingers.
“Are you done? It’s my turn.”

Sure, the snappy tone was unbearable. But Zal frowned and even cringed when hearing the smaller Turian sing a sort of rap song coming from the colony Oma Ker. A song about the crushing weight of the Council and something that was to sound like the poor Turians that came from the streets.
It was cheap, sounded stupid, and more so sung by that scrawny Turian.
But Zal couldn’t comment… or even focus on it.

No. As soon as Septus began, Arcturus sat behind Zal and outstretched a hand to play with the Quarian’s asshole. Play… Or forcefully slip two fingers out of three inside that entrance.
Zal hissed and trembled, closing his lips while he had those two fingers stretch his lubed and squelching entrance.
Followed then the natural lubricant squirting out, as well as some white hints on Arcturus’ hands while the fingers delved deeper… And deeper… And deeper, stretching the orifice that was naturally swollen from the abuse.
And certainly, burning after what Cestus had forced onto Zal.

Soon enough, the Quarian was all quivering, his hands on his knees to stay steady while the third finger slipped in, followed by the Quarian’s massive hand. A hand whose chitinous presence squeezed, pressed, and certainly crushed Zal’s prostate, sending him whimpering and almost dropping, if not for Arcturus holding his arm.
“Th-Thanks,” mumbled Zal.
“Shush!” said Pelagius, his index finger before his mouth as if the shitty rap music enthralled him.

Perhaps it was.
But Zal wasn’t sharing that high opinion of the music, nor did he care about it.
He couldn’t, not when the hand digging and pushing through his ass’s depths, crushing his prostate with such strength, only Arcturus’s grip kept Zal steady.
But in return, the young Quarian was leaving a mess on the table, a steady mix of anal lube, of Turian cum, and finally… Of bitch juice coming right from his trembling, shrunken, and attention-starved cocklet.
A steady flow that almost interrupted the tune from Septus when Zal’s squelching asshole closed on the finger, releasing some air.

Then… The song stopped, and Septus threw the mic at Pelagius.
“My turn with the bitch’s ass,” commented the scrawny Turian.
“Really? Can I keep her?”
“You know the rules, Arcturus. But you can help her stay steady. I think she had an adventure earlier that day.”
Pelagius’s guess was pretty much obvious since the hickeys were not gone, nor were the bruises and the scratching marks left by Cestus.
But his quip earned him a few laughs while Zal remained nervous, unsteady, and in the middle of the attention, while Arcturus moved along, taking Pelagius’s spot, while Septus placed himself behind Zal.

His warm breath was right on the gaping hole, on the cratered entrance that could barely close anymore, though that donut gave the impression of closure.
Once the breath was on it, tickling the abused muscles, Zal felt the orifice tense and wink, spraying and ‘squirting’ some before cold chitin landed against it, closing upon it.
Followed then a tongue… Septus’s tongue.
“This song is dedicated to my new Quarian girlfriend!”

Pelagius’s words attracted Zal's eyes as he smiled, and then turned on the song that was another hymn. However, it was an old ad that even Zal knew about: it was the hymn sung for the conquest of Rannoch. The ad even appeared on the screen, showing a Turian saluting the Hegemony flag while using a prostrated Quarian as foot support.
Quite the show, and Zal almost grimaced while Pelagius sang, though the music quickly shifted to a techno remix.

That was… Quite surprising.
Odd. But even more odd was the tongue prodding his asshole. Soon enough, Zal felt the attention and love of that tongue teasing his tender walls, scouring them, licking them clean, and pounding against his prostate.
Not like the fist, of course. But that tonguetip circled the prostate, teased the spot, poked at it with a regularity that sent the young Quarian through the edge for another ‘faggasm’, for another weak shot coming right from his throbbing cocklet.
Luckily, Arcturus held Zal tight while Septus continued to have his tongue stretch further and further, to the point of almost making out with the hole itself.
It was… Odd. After taking so many dildos, cocks, and other toys inside his ass, being ‘kissed’ there was almost intimate to the Quarian.
Zal bit his lips, closed his eyelids, lost himself in the instant… Before he heard a cough.

The song was already over.
And Pelagius stood there, holding out the mic for Arcturus to catch it while smiling.
“How was it, Zal?”
“Good?”
“You weren’t listening,” said Pelagius, his tone hardening.
“I… I listened, but that ad brought bad memories,” fumbled the Quarian, almost gasping when Septus pulled free, saliva and lube sticking to his face.
“Is that so? Shit, I should have taken a better song for my girlfriend. Maybe from Fleet and Flotilla?”
There was a laugh coming from Septus, though even Zal knew about why.

The leading actor of this movie got sentenced for sedition, while the actress was one of the leading representatives of the Quarian cause to the Citadel Council.
Nevertheless, Fleet and Flotilla was seen as a shameful part of the Hegemony's history, even for the Quarians.
“No, thank you,” said Zal, accepting Pelagius's hand as he guided him down the table, then onto his lap. A second later, and Pelagius stroked and explored that marked body.
“So, what kind of music?”
“I don’t know. Something from the Estivus Erax opera this year?”
“You know Turian opera?”
“My boss sometimes listens to it,” admitted Zal, tilting his head. However, the songs were always profound and beautiful.
Thinking about it almost brought back… lukewarm Memories. Better than that moment, than stressing over those clawed fingers dancing over his skin, narrowly stroking his throat and gorge.

“You are much more interesting than I thought you would be, Zal. Septus… Would you?”
Snapping his fingers, Pelagius got his teammate’s attention while Arcturus was back singing.
And this time, Septus pulled something from his pocket. A box he threw at Pelagius.
A box Pelagius retrieved and opened right before Zal, exposing what looked like… Grains of human rice?
“Come here, Zal… Grip your tiny cocklet for me,” purred Pelagius.
“Do I-“
“Do you?” cut the Turian, again with a stern tone. One that left Zal no choice but to gulp down and reach for his cock… For his shaft, he had to pinch between his fingers.
“Do I have… To… Not feel your hands… On my tits?”
“Good girl,” said Pelagius, his eyes glimmering with desire while setting the box aside.

It seemed to have calmed Pelagius, though Zal had that nervous smile, the wrinkles visible as he gripped his shaft.
With the last hit to his pride, his cock had begun to shrink. Quickly. Quite quickly, and the sensations from it were pretty dull. Even with two fingers pushing and squishing the organ, it was… It remained soft.
Soft at almost three inches? That was the result he got when Zal measured it with his omnitool. Three inches. Practically nothing compared to what he had before. And yet, he had to play with it, to touch it.
And the worst? He was feeling more pleasure, more satisfaction, from Pelagius pinching his hardened nipples.

It felt so good to have his nipples pinched that way… to have them pulled.
And all the while, Pelagius purred by Zal’s ears, poking and playing with the breasts’ underside, digging his palm into them.
“You are coming along nicely. You’re practically a proper girl. Except for that, Zal,” purred Pelagius. “Don’t you like it?”
Zal gulped. What could he say? He closed his eyes, and he pressed his back against Pelagius.
“It… Hurts that I lost them.”
“That’s the price of conquest,” said Pelagius, not even angry. No, he seemed excited, and his boner rubbing against Zal’s ass proved it.
“It hurts so much someone took my balls from me.”
Again, that cock throbbed. Harder.

“That’s true, girl. I am sad I wasn’t the one to kill them. But… I have a gift for you. After all, you do not need them.”
There it was. That tone. It was predatory. Perverted. And soon, Zal felt his breasts bereft of attention. The box was picked up… And one of the grains was picked, lifted, and brought before Zal’s eyes.
“Squeeze your peehole open for me, girl. I need to insert it.”
“This…”
“You need new balls, so I can abuse them. But I need to take care of the old ones. You wouldn’t refuse me that pleasure. You wouldn’t… Anger me?”
Threat.

Underlined threat that led Zal to gulp despite the music going.
But Arcturus's side glances and Septus's observing the scene made it clear they were just as anxious. They observed how Zal would react. What the Quarian would do…
And so. Zal gulped, pressing on his cocktip sides, pressing down and on the opposite way until the urethra gaped and Pelagius dropped the grain inside.
“Is that a pill?” asked Zal, quivering while Pelagius picked another grain while his other hand pressed against Zal’s urethra, rubbing it to the point the entrance was on fire… But the grain had disappeared inside.
“No. A parasite,” clicked the Turian, inserting the second grain, pressing on it quickly, until there was no way to extract it. Not with fingers.

Zal could feel it inside his urethra, could feel the two objects. But something, he could feel them… Move. Or at least the strange caresses inside his urethra.
And as if it was nothing, Pelagus closed the box, kissed Zal’s neck, and smacked Zal's posterior.
“Time’s up. It’s Septus’s turn to sing. Right?” asked Pelagius.
“Yup, it’s my turn,” nodded Septus, extending his hand towards Arcturus’s, ready to take the mic.
Even then, the ambience was heavy. So thick you could cut it with a mono-filament knife.

Zal himself could feel the somewhat tension that followed as he was on Arcturus’s lap, finding the hulking Turian fingering him and making him cum once more.
However, even with Zal checking his ‘shots’, there was no grain in them. Those things were definitely inside him… And he couldn’t pull them out as much as he came.
Twice, thrice… He came, but nothing… Except for the pleasure and a strange whisper from Arcturus: “Thanks for following his request.”
Strange.

A strange situation that continued with Septus eating Zal out again. Then Pelagius fondled Zal without comment, repeating it with the atmosphere remaining tense, except when Pelagius sang.
After four turns, Zal noticed how tired they were. And no amount of delivered snacks seemed to help them while Zal remained somewhat on the side, waiting… Like a trophy?
“Hey, Pelagius. It’s late. We should get going,” cut in Septus, pointing his omnitool.
“What? It’s not too late. We got enough for another round. Isn’t it right, Zal?”
The Quarian fought with the need to grimace and nodded along.
“See, she tells me we should stay.”
“No, we can’t,” added Septus, leaning back. “We got an inspection tomorrow.”
“Oh! Spirits!”

Arcturus did not peep a word, still eating his chips. Septus had a raised eyebrow.
But the end was… Pelagius smacked his forehead and grumbled.
“Fine. Sorry, girl, we have to leave right now. But I’ll be back in two days.”
Somehow, Zal was more at ease with the idea of Pelagius being busy and afar. Hence, he didn’t mind…
“It’s okay. I can do without,” said Zal, nodding.
“Oh. Are you saying you won’t miss me?”

Arcturus tensed. Even Septus glanced down at his omnitool, almost shrinking more than he was.
And Zal? Oh, he was sweating bullets. His mouth dropped, his eyes widened, and…
“Of- course I will miss you! But- if you are busy.”
Pelagius’s eyes remained locked on Zal… Then, there was a grin, a hand reaching to stroke Zal’s face despite the quivers from the Quarian.
“I was teasing you. Sure, you will miss me and my toys,” clicked the Turian, leaning forth. “And I want to hear what it is you want so dearly.”
Zal… Fought against the saliva in his mouth, trying to control the reflex, and nodded.

A second later, Pelagius stood up, hands on his hips, only to be followed by Septus and Arcturus.
“You know your way back, Zal. Take care,” said Pelagius, grinning again, waving… And stepping outside.
Leaving Zal to recover and breathe as he was practically naked in the box, watching the mess that’d been made. Drinks were scattered everywhere, and snacks had been sprinkled over the sofas. And he had made a wet mess on the soft fabric.
A scene he hastily fled after removing the heels and putting his suit over everything he wore. And with the pair of shoes in hand, Zal… Went back. ‘Home’.

It was as much home as it was a prison.
But there was a familiar comfort in getting back in the apartment, in listening to Cestus’s snores. At the same time, the television continued to blare from whatever war movie the fatty Turian had been watching.
There would be no question, no request, as Zal entered his bedroom and threw those high heels aside. Then remained the stress for Zal as he closed his eyes and dropped onto the bed.

Chapter 3: A new citizen for the Hegemony 2

Summary:

New ‘opportunities’ open for Zal

Chapter Text

“Hello, Rannoch! This is me! Verantus! Today, we have a cloudy front approaching from the south, accompanied by a gentle breeze that will ease our dear elderly. For those using the hypertube to Districts 5 and 6, there will be delays on the line during the afternoon. Now, with some music starting with the Turian anthem!”
Just as the host’s voice stopped, came the blaring trumpets, taking Zal out of his bed as he smashed his fist against the alarm clock.
Sure enough, the Quarian growled and rolled, feeling his body burning as usual as he woke up. Heat… Again.

Yet, as usual, Zal crawled out of his bed and grabbed the two bottles. Two pills from the first, one from the second. And then… With a huff, he stood on his legs.
Though he was feeling… Weaker there. Not weak to the point of dropping. But walking seemed to be far too tricky for Zal to endure as he stepped slowly to the door and opened it.
Already, there was the smell of cooking food coming to his uncovered nose.

Seared vegetables on one side and a steak.
Almost good for the Quarian. He yawned, stretched, and advanced towards the kitchen, finding Cestus there and again naked. Sure enough, his ‘Boss’ was again sporting a boner. Not that it was impossible to avoid it when the scent of heat and rut filled the room.
“I prepared the roots like you wanted… Can I… Get it?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Zal, though he was feeling kinda wet, too.
Not so excited about the prospect, but after enduring it for two days, the Quarian learned it was better to give in to the need.

And so, without even thinking, Zal knelt…
He knelt and hissed internally when he felt the cold tiles against his scrotum, followed then by a stabbing sensation in his ballsack. One that had worsened, but only when Zal was… pent up.
Hence, it was better for him to kneel and to give in, opening his mouth wide, and having that cocktip, reeking, sticky, and massive, pressed against his lips.
Soon followed the grunts from Cestus’s, the hand approaching Zal’s head but only grazing the skin, stroking the nape, but nothing more. That was the rule.
One rule Cestus had to follow, through many growls and grunts.
“We need to get you your new dresses. And piercings. You can stay here this afternoon?”

Zal did not pry his mouth from that humongous cock, from that salty and acrid precum that was pumped right in his mouth. The liquid was horrendous, sticky, and it was getting everywhere. But with it came the peace of mind and body, the sensation of fullness and more… Was it why Quarians loved it?
Nevertheless, Zal presented one thumb up. He’d done so… It wasn’t a favor, though he still hadn’t asked Pelagius. Once he’d explain to the officer his Boss wanted him to buy new clothes, he wouldn’t need to meet him; whether at the bar, the bowling, or even the shooting range.

Today, as strange as it sounded, it was a day dedicated to Cestus.
Zal advanced his jaw, feeling the satisfaction in getting his throat outstretched by that cock, pleased by the tingle in his esophagus. Abnormal, yes. But it was all thanks to the therapy and training.
All thanks to the change to his body that continued to wreak havoc on his desires. To change his needs… And to guide Zal in lifting Cestus’s sweaty testicles while that fat fupa was pressed against his forehead.
Cestus’s nuts were so darn heavy and dense, they were like boulders. No wonder he could pump so much if he were so endowed…
But their stench was… palpable, intense.
Pure Turian musk was treated as an horrendous odor in the Quarian districts. Only there.

A moment later, Zal felt the flow of cum and precum slow down, leaving his stomach distended but satisfied… He couldn’t resist the appeal to pull the cock free from his mouth and… Kiss those nuts.
To lick them, to slobber over them, to polish those orbs until they were in a pristine, darker gray. Until, even if the skin wrinkled and such around them, most folds were clean of sweat.

“That’s new,” commented Cestus, huffing and stepping back from the kitchen top, but not without pulling the plates that had their respective meals. A heavy one for him, with the steak alongside some grains.
And Zal’s plates, with the seared roots. Plates he brought along while Zal tried to stand up…
And hissed.

The parasites were wiggling, and his nuts, even if they were supposed to be numb after the Quarian breaker, were on fire. A fire the Quarian endured with clenched teeth, stepping slowly as he felt the creatures’ coil and tried to get a bit of something. Of his flesh… Of his testicles that had swollen from the drugs… And yet, had been majorly consumed from the inside. There was no denial that his nuts were infested, not with the segmented chitin coiling and bulging through the darkened skin.
“That’s… new, yes. I was feeling it,” grumbled Zal. However, he was indeed feeling it. It was harder not to feel the need to stay near that Turian… Or to please him. More so as he sat by him on the sofa, notching while watching the news. More conflict on Omega.

More conflict in the galaxy. Cestus switched to another channel, this time featuring a sports competition that combined human tennis with biotic.
“Hmm hmm,” nodded Cestus, watching the pair of player and biotic wrestling for the ball’s control.
“Where should we go?” asked Zal, eyeing his Boss’s cock, at rest… And yet so massive, it was like he was still hard. A glance Cestus noticed when he turned to Zal.
“To Aisha, a seamstress. It’s near my office. I’ll check the security on the way.”
“She’ll have my robe ready when your parents arrive?”
“It is almost ready. I sent her your biomedical data. And I warned her you were under treatment. We’re there for the touch-ups.”
“Can we get a new suit? I don’t like having only one left.”
“Hmm… Sure,” said Cestus, opening his legs wider.

Zal merely leaned forward. There were no words or say… Only that Zal slipped his head between Cestus’s legs, going to suck that already half-erect shaft while waiting for the moment.
That stench, that pungent musk. As much as it was detestable, it was soothing. And Zal sucked on that tip like it was a fountain, filling his mouth again while feeling Cestus’s fingers on his asshole… Pushing against it, touching it… And then fingering that entrance that sucked on those fingers again.
One orgasm. Two… Three. Four.
Zal could feel the stab as his testicles were pulled higher, waking up the parasites. But in return, there was a pleasure as his nuts were released of the pent-up pressure within… A joy that, with time, started to erase even the bites from those parasites after they’d injected their poison.
“Your guy needs to replace your nuts soon. If my mother or father sees the parasites, it’ll be a riot,” said Cestus.
Zal spat the shaft, but not without having it rubbed and throbbing against his face.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what kind of parasites this is. I should have it all removed.”

“And replaced? I can only pay for plastic replacement. I didn’t plan for two balls in my budget, even less so the ticket off-world.”
“You got it?”
“Departure in one month.”
“One month?” asked Zal, frowning.
“Yes. In case they stay for more than a week. It was the earliest I could take that didn’t cost me an arm, too. So be happy I got it.”
Zal grumbled… But still gave that cock a lick, while lifting his posterior, yanking the fingers off his asshole.
“It’s fine. We’ll do with it. I’ll take a shower and get ready,” said Zal, rolling down the sofa and standing up… Even if his legs trembled like he’d been fucked for hours by Cestus.
“Hmm hmm. I’ll wait.”

By waiting, it meant five minutes before Cestus entered the bathroom, after Zal had started showering himself. After that, the concept of showering became more of raw fucking against the wall, of Cestus nibbling Zal’s neck while pumping that ass full of cum before he pulled out, grabbed the nearby plug on display in the bathroom, and plugged Zal so that his round belly would remain full of cum.
A quick action in which none spoke, as if on a common agreement.
The showering would resume, hastened… And it was only fifteen minutes later that Zal was finally ready.

His suit was tight around his belly, ass, and chest. The latter was getting much fuller. If people didn’t know it better, they’d guess he got implants. But it was all natural, even if it weighed on his spine when he stepped outside, welcomed by Cestus. For once, the Turian wore something more than a tank top with briefs or shorts.
This time, he had proper pants, a white shirt, and a vest. And he presented his arm to Zal, who took it, accepting it as they took the elevator down.
“Suit, office, seamstress, piercings. I forgot something?” asked Cestus, grimacing.
“Bras. I might need them.”
“Ah, yes. True. Because that’s another problem you Quarians…. Have,” grumbled Cestus, his tone sour but ending pitiful. “I’ll pay for it.”
A nod was all he got from Zal as they left the district that had become familiar.

However, since most shops were exclusively for Turians, the only option was to get closer to the hypertube terminal, and therefore… Cestus’s office.
As usual, the place was the same. But the scent of sex was gone, just like Cestus’s. And Zal found himself wandering through the open space, his arms crossed while watching the chair he typically used in his corner. Then Cestus’s desk, where his boss sat.
“You should stop masturbating at your desk,” suddenly commented Zal as he approached, a thought occurring.
“What?”
“The underside of your desk. It’s… Dirty. Even with the cleaning crew going through each day.”

Zal pointed to the desk, guiding Cestus to look below… There, the Turian grimaced.
“Urgh. Yeah. I’ll stop that.”
“You better,” said Zal as he watched his boss continue to tap on his keyboard.
But as time went on, Cestus’s expression hardened, his mandibles clicked while his typing became more brutal. Then, he grabbed his keyboard to smash it.
A pathetic attempt since it was an optical interface: it only meant that Cestus ‘grabbed’ a hologram through haptic return and smashed it.
In the end, it did nothing except cause the programs to freeze as a security measure.
“Fuck me! Fagn-“ shouted Cestus, glaring where Zal’s chair would be.

But his voice died down as he glanced down, towards Zal’s legs.
“Sorry. Old habits,” grumbled Cestus, pushing with his chair away while pointing to the computer. “Could you…”
“Do what I’m good at? Sure,” nodded Zal, leaning on the desk and finding his Boss’s hand brushing his posterior. But… It wasn’t so bad: Zal finished typing the commands, and the security and account log appeared. Nothing unusual for Zal as he straightened himself and acted as if nothing had happened.

An act that stretched even when Cestus turned off the computer and growled, stretching and scratching his neck.
“It’s good. Thanks for the help.”
“You’re welcome,” was the answer, followed by a hand accepting Cestus’s arm while they walked out. But as they walked, there were some whispers… Some exchanges.
“They think you’re my wife,” said Cestus, opening the door for Zal.
“That’s what they imagine,” said Zal, trying to contain himself. Both somehow, something in his guts stirred at the idea. A thought, a possibility he chased by shaking his head. “But we’re partners.”
“Partners? Yeah. That’s right. How could I appreciate a Quarian? They should know better,” scoffed Cestus.

Then followed the shopping spree. Finally, Zal got new bras and two new suits. The first was relatively easy, as most plus-sized bras were solely for Quarians. As much as Turians loved their kin, no Turian could have assets as significant as the Quarians did. Zal even had the help of a feminized fellow in selecting the best bras for his current size.
The suits? They were more challenging to find. Most feminized Quarians used revealing clothes, and female Quarians were a rarity on Rannoch, ironically. Most shops only catered to male and unchanged Quarians, leading to some huffs and breathless insults once Zal was on the way out.

But after a few searches, Zal found a shop with the right suits, and with Cestus giving his opinion, albeit bigoted, Zal found two sets of suits that were perfectly fine. Dark purple with black stripes and gold accents, and another with a striking white with pink accents, perfect for his job as a tech.
Without even thinking, Zal allowed Cestus to carry the bags as they approached the seamstress’s shop.

Almost discreet compared to all the shops on the main avenue declaring the virtues of their products, the quality of their clothes, or even how a tiny rock could make any prospector rich… That shop was almost timid. Yet, Cestus entered first.
“Is that the shop?”
“It is,” confirmed the Turian, nodding before a shrill cry broke the calm atmosphere.
“Cestus Maravius! Finally! You’re bringing me your future wife!” cried a voice.
“Zal. This is Aisha Gadezir.”

For a surprise, it was. On a world with practically only Turians and Quarians, the blue skin and tendrils atop the head clearly made the Asari an anomaly. Even then, the well-gifted Asari, in a tight black robe, advanced with a graceful gait through the bolts of fabric and mannequins covered with robes. She practically went to grab Cestus’s hand, shaking it vigorously before she went for the Quarian.
“Zal, right? Call me Aisha,” said the Asari, her defined cheekbones marking her as someone of Turian descent. Her teeth were glimmering, more so as she smiled while shaking Zal’s hands. “I heard this will be your first patriarchal reunion?”
“Matriarchal for us. You… Know her,” scoffed Cestus, pulling on his neck. “You got her robe?”
“Oh yes! I do! Come here!”

Without waiting, Aisha ran to the back of the shop, without even locking the shop. Zal? He could only observe Cestus while puzzled by the energy the seamstress gave off.
“She knows you?”
“She knew my family long before the council and the Turians split. She wanted to leave her kind, and I who found her that shop.”
“You?”
“I had some favors, and Aisha is good. Go on, see what she prepared for you.”
Cestus almost waved Zal to advance. And the Quarian, a bit surprised, found himself entering the back room… The place was barely lit with neon lights, but Aisha stood proudly by a mannequin that had Zal’s current proportions, legs included.
And on it had been put one of the most slutty robes Zal had seen.

The cut was low, practically exposing the breasts, with the straps supposed to go through piercing rings. Then, the sides and hips were exposed, revealed by the loose fabric. And finally, the front was looking like an elaborate loincloth. Or rather, a panel that was to cover Zal’s genitals but not entirely hide them.
It was… practically the kind of clothes a whore would wear.
And Cestus whistled behind, smiling.
“That’s great, Aisha. Very great?”
“It’s…”
“Great, right?”
“Exposed?” asked Zal, grimacing behind his helmet.
“It is. That’s what mother and father would want you to wear. Something that is exposing all the assets of a new girl in our family. Her words,” said Cestus. “It’s great.”
Zal eyed Cestus up and down, watching the Turian cross his arms and even nod to himself as if it was the most significant statement to have ever graced Rannoch.

“It looks… Whorish,” confirmed Zal, once his outfit changed.
His suit had been removed, exposing his gray skin and even the smart tattoos etched upon it. But without his visor, his expression was visible. And so was his disdain as he shook his head, gritted his teeth, and looked at himself through the mirror.
Cestus, without skipping a beat, was already toying with his omnitool, and soon, Zal could feel the heat from the smart ink as it moved, slipped, and changed shape. It moved upward, steadily, but it was soon to go on the exposed breasts in an adjacent design to the markings the Rannoch-born Turians wore.
Except… In that case, it was on Zal’s chest, underlining his nipples, his shapes… And yet, with one Hegemonic symbol that was without equivocation: “Woman.”
At the sight, Zal was flustered and fighting not to shout at Cestus.
He couldn’t deny it all looked good; it could have been a great robe once given to a proper female. But it was excessive.

Moreover, it was possible to see Zal’s features by peering between layers covering his thighs and groin.
“No. It is great,” nodded Aisha, though her blue skin looked more purple around the cheeks. “There’s nothing much to add.”
“I can see my balls,” mumbled Zal, looking down while the Asari already had her seamstress set and planted some needles into the fabric for future adjustments.

“Yes. But it’s great. And maybe someone should have revealed that detail,” huffed Aisha as she planted the needles along Zal’s thighs, perhaps to displace some of the fabric covering the back for the front.
“I didn’t think that was necessary. I thought you knew about the females issues,” said Cestus, dropping his arm and strolling around, even with Aisha waving him off.
“I knew. But I thought you’d have gotten a female through your mother’s influence,” added the Asari, standing up and having her hands on her waist. “Wait… Does she even know about Zal’s status?”
“Probably not.”

All the while, Zal listened, though he tried hard to keep his arms lifted without hindering the Asari’s work. But his face was red and his expression flustered as the two bickered.
Mainly Aisha, who acted like an aunt for Cestus, poking his shoulders. She complimented Zal’s body and waist but used those backhanded compliments to poke at Cestus: how he should talk more about his wife to his mother; how they should dine together, get to know her and her husband; or how Zal should find a better husband in the form of Cestus’s brother since that brother cared to call and see Aisha regularly.
Alas, Zal was satisfied the browbeat was not his… He even had a smug smile when he saw Cestus lower his head and apologize.

“Sorry, Aisha. I’ll try to call you more often.”
“Call you? I work practically three streets away from you. Goddess! Is there even a brain inside that thick skull!” added the Asari, smacking the Turian’s forehead.
“I am swamped and-… hey, Zal! Stop laughing and help me!”
“Don’t bring your Wife into this! That’s on you, not Zal, to think about the others!”

The smacking continued, and enough Zal was almost feeling better as he turned to the mirror. Yes, the fabric was whorish as it revealed every asset. But it was something different than the suits or being naked. When he moved, he could feel air rush through the sleeves and onto his sides, but not without entirely rubbing him the wrong way. Even the fingerless gloves were feeling odd.
For a moment, the Quarian was lost in closing and opening his eyes, listening to the shout and the regular smacks… Lost enough, he didn’t see Cestus coming closer and passing a hand over Zal’s chest before slipping behind him, his mandibles clicking.
Of Aisha? No traces, but the Turian’s fingers were all over Zal’s exposed bosoms.

For a moment, there was a silence while the clawed fingers traced around one swollen, erect, and reddish nipple.
“Can’t we have a different version? With more coverage?” asked Zal, trembling.
“No. It’s… Complicated,” sighed Cestus, the other fingers lifting the breast.
“Complicated how?”
“My mother is very adamant on the rules.”
“There are rules? About how I should show my breasts?”
“During a family reunion? Oh, there is. You already forgot what I taught you, Fagnnoch?”
“Cestus. You’re- Hmph!”

Something weird happened, and Zal craned his neck, feeling like something stabbed his right breast. But at the same time, there was a relief. A pressure that was released from under his skin. Heat followed, blossomed at the surface of his right nipple. But it was great, it felt great. And-
“Shit. Shit! Shit shit!” Cestus’s hand left, and so the relief lessened, but was there, enough for Zal to glance down and see something: white, thick, sweet. He collected it and brought it to his fingers, sampling it. It was… Cloyingly sweet but oh-so-familiar. Something that made his eyes widen as Cestus approached with a cloth, pressing it against the lactating nipple.
“Milk?”
“Looks to me the hormonal treatment is working wonders,” said Cestus as he collected one bead of milk, much like how Zal did, and licked it. “Sweet and tasty.”
Zal considered it, given that his right breast felt lighter compared to its left counterpart. But then, as he examined himself, Zal noticed a grin plastered on Cestus’s face.
“No.”
“Please? If we do it now, I won’t bother you,” said Cestus, though his bulge was already squeezing against Zal’s posterior.
“One favor. You’ll help me with the dinner.”
“Deal,” said Cestus, grabbing Zal by the arm. “Aisha! We need to use your cabin!”
“Sure thing!” shouted back the Asari, from afar and with a very frustrated tone.
“What is she doing?”
“Taking a call, doesn’t matter,” answered Cestus with the energy and joy of a young kid.

It was almost endearing…
But it did end with Zal being forced to strip and fend off the horny Turian while carefully removing the robes, removing the black and scarlet fabric before he was all exposed… In his naked glory. And had to sit on the nearby stool in the shop’s sole fitting room.
Cestus? He was already undoing his belt and fighting against his underwear by the time he knelt between Zal’s spread legs, his mandibles clicking right by the swollen left breast.
“Is… Something all Turians are excited about?”
“Excited? Maybe,” said Cestus, licking his lips. “Your milk tastes so sweet and… So good. You don’t know how easy you Quarians have it.”
Well, perhaps that milk was more than pure sweet milk. However, Zal didn’t have much biological knowledge, except for what he had found. And he wasn’t about to ask when Cestus’s lips closed on his right nipple.

One moment, Zal was feeling pent-up and bearing a heavy weight. The second after? He threw his head back and felt his cocklet throbbing between his legs. No, worse, he felt it drippy and shooting on the floor while Cestus’s lips closed and squeezed the sensitive nub. Milk came out, came forth, like a sudden waterfall.
But the white liquid was dense, sweet, full of sugar. And the Turian was sucking on it with greedy eyes while one hand was between his legs, frantically stroking his enormous shaft.
“Oh… Keelah. That feels so good,” moaned Zal, his milky white eyes rolling from the sudden shock as his cocklet throbbed… And one translucent shot, practically like water, squirted free from his urethra and landed right on Cestus’s shirt.

One shot. Then another… Then a third.
All the while, the Turian seemed not to care whether he was getting drenched. His eyes were solely focused on Zal’s breasts. And his stroking was practically mechanical as he was enraptured while chugging that milk down.
Even Cestus’s pupils were contracted like a predator, his lips slightly curled and his mandibles clicking with excitement. A growing, ever-changing, ever-increasing desire that made him huff, growl, grunt… And certainly shoot precum all over the ground.
In comparison, Zal had his head thrown back and his body tense, like a rope or a bowstring. It was not subtle; he was getting off from it, and indeed, the lack of pressure within his breast was like a balm. A soothing presence to his aching and changing body.

Then, as if on a fit, Cestus abandoned the nipple he’d been sucking to latch on the second.
By then, Zal’s breast had been covered with bruises and hickey… And his untouched nipple was even more swollen than before and extremely sore. But at the same time, there was a sense of satisfaction as he could feel that the breast was lighter, the skin relaxed, and even the pressure within was gone.
A pressure gone, but still… Milk droplets continued to come from it, dribbling over Zal’s belly, groin, balls, and then the floor.
“Hhh… Keep doing it, Cestus,” finally admitted Zal with a sigh, closing his eyelids while his cocklet released another shot.

And another… But the next one was Cestus’s.
With his rough stroking and his constant chugging, the fattened Turian certainly was out of breath. He was running ragged, and even his mandibles clicked slower. Yet his fingers continued that mechanical pumping, unable to stop pulling on that foreskin up and down.
Precum dripped from it, formed fat dollops between the folds before they were wrought by the tense and aching hand. Again… Again… And again. Each time faster, each time with renewed intensity. Each time until Cestus’s breathing was a whistle… And from that cock spurted cum. Free. Musky, intense. Sticky.

It hit the stool’s legs and the floor. The jets even managed to hit Zal’s feet and legs, coating them slightly. On the other hand, Cestus finally released the second breast, leaving it lighter and more soothed than before.
But it didn’t mean his strokes were over. No. Even with his mouth free and his cum spurting free, the Turian continued to pump and shoot. And it wasn’t stopping.
Not even as Cestus continued to groan until… Finally, it was over.

His cumshot, his pumping, his nibbling, everything.
Zal reopened his eyes, blinking before he looked down, seeing his gray flesh covered with bite marks. However, in return, he was feeling much better than before and was even satisfied. No… Delighted, he inhaled the raw Turian musk and felt his brain tickled in a new, strange way.
“That’s enough, Cestus,” whispered Zal, smiling lightly while seeing Cestus wipe his brows and groan. “That’s good.”
“Glad to hear,” coughed the fatty Turian, pushing on his knees and ground, trying to get up before he even handled his drippy and half-hard mast.
One mast that was practically presenting itself to Zal, who, in return, didn’t even think twice to open his mouth and begin cleaning it up.
The raw taste of Turian cum was… Appreciable. Satisfying as Zal gobbled that shaft, pushing it down his throat until he was dangerously teetering on the stool.

In the end, as Zal peeled back, he gargled… Smiled and licked his lips while Cestus put his cock back inside his pants, without a trace of grease or cum.
The sound of the Turian fighting against his belt filled the room and then…
“If it happens again, you can ask me,” said Cestus, huffing.
“It… Will surely happen,” mumbled Zal, with certainty, if it was all thanks to his treatment. “Thanks for that.”

The Turian looked away, obviously flustered at something… Before he stepped out. For a moment, Zal was curious. But he found Cestus back with his suit, offering it to Zal, who took it.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Put it on before Aisha notices it.”
“Notices…” started to ask Zal. But a glance down confirmed the presence of the puddle. And Zal tried to step outside, though the thick liquid was beginning to spread and form a uniform puddle.
One Cestus avoided by stepping outside.
“Be quick.”

“Don’t be angry, Septus. It’s just how Quarians are made.”
“It’s not my problem. I won’t… Touch this.”
“Well, that’s the only thing you can do.”

Zal didn’t peep a word. No. He preferred not to, preferring to abstain rather than antagonize either Septus or Pelagius.
Arcturus? Oh, he wasn’t caring since he was practically grunting with delight, and Zal could “sense” his satisfaction at the moment.
However, Septus and Pelagius’s conflict was different.

Once again, as if it were a routine, Zal joined them at the karaoke box. Like usual, Pelagius had prepared him a new set of clothes. This time, it was laced panties that were digging into Zal’s testicles, and bras that were, sadly, a bit too tight for Zal’s shape.
A bra that had since been thrown away, same as the panties.
But it didn’t mean the situation was better.
Quite the opposite.

No, it was even worse since Pelagius’s fingers were hogging Zal’s breasts, squeezing and fondling the pert perks of womanhood along with the wide golden rings pierced through.
It was Cestus’s gift, or appreciation, to Zal. In echo, Pelagius had been all smiles and touchy-feely with those breasts and pulling on those rings, more so once he saw that Zal could lactate.
And with Zal’s breasts fondled, and with Arcturus currently rummaging through the Quarian’s ass, stuffing it with that enormous cock… Zal had nothing else to offer to Septus than his cock.

Than his tiny, ridiculous, shameful shrunken cocklet… And his testicles were swollen and practically showing the segmented chitin due to the enormous parasites nestled within.
“You can play with those things if you want. It’s you who wanted to have a male Quarian to conquer,” huffed Septus, watching Zal’s cocklet throbbing from the pleasure… And those balls sometimes shake.
“Yes. But how could I refuse my girl the pleasure of milking her? Your breasts must hurt if nobody milks them, hmmm?” said Pelagius, right by Zal’s ears before licking his earhole.
But… It was true.

Pelagius’s fingers were divine, and that constant touch was enough to produce a trickle of milk coming free from Zal’s breasts. A trickle that was the source of pleasure, delight, and indeed respite for a Quarian whose breasts needed to be milked twice per day.
Not that Cestus was against it.
Not that Zal was against it either, that pleasure was even better than masturbating in his former days. As shameful as it was… Those changes were also a source of joy, and far beyond the mere masochism Zal was starting to experience.
“That’s not my problem. She has two tits. You can leave me one,” grumbled the scrawny Turian sitting on the opposite side of Pelagius, crossing his arms.

“Yeah? And why would I? You’d prefer I play with that ridiculous clitty instead of those nice tits?” asked Pelagius, his voice suave but dripping with danger.
“You can share. Or I can leave; that’s up to you. I was here to sing, not to fondle a Quarian’s… Things.”
“Buhu. Yet, you said Zal was looking nice with tits.”
“That’s different. Once you remove that, it’s bearable. But that cock and balls, they’re… Disgusting. And unsightly. And better gone,” spat Septus.
“Well. If you prefer them gone… It was still on the program.
“What?” asked Zal, blinking.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. It’s your big day.”

Pelagius’s smile was cold, threatening. But more was the moment he abandoned Zal’s breasts, his body, and he produced a little injector with a yellow liquid.
One almost glimmery and bubbly liquid, though its presence was almost like a poison.
Even Septus recoiled at the sight.
“You… You said you’d do it at the shop.”
“No… Not really. I want to see it happen as soon as possible. It’ll be her first birth; it will be important. Isn’t it, Zal?”
“B-Birth?”

Zal eyed the injector, but more so the attitude Pelagius had. He was… Unnerving to say the least, and even Septus continued to step back, frightened. Arcturus? Oh, he seemed not as excited as his grip on Zal’s posterior was tense.
“Yes, birth!” confirmed Pelagius, smacking Zal’s oversized ballsack. “Two big babies wanting to go outside!”
Zal still winced from the heat and felt the shaking, but no pain. It had been a while since he’d felt anything, really, from his sack.
“We shouldn’t let them wait!” chuckled Pelagius, stabbing the first parasite with the injector, and quickly the second.

Zal evidently tried to stop Pelagius, to prevent that arm from hitting his nuts.
But the end was… There. And Zal’s arms dropped the instant the parasite inside his ballsack, the parasites, began to move. They writhed, they twisted, they coiled.
And with it, new sensations arose from Zal’s groin.
Pain, evidently. It was the first and foremost, like electricity was coursing through his body, burning him. Then, there was the intense pleasure coming from the contraction hitting his groin, hitting his prostate.
And then the relief as within the series of contraction and action, a sphincter opened…

Yellow piss began to flow out of Zal’s urethra, like a faint jet that quickly turned into a trickle and droplet.
But that relief, as intense and short-lived as it was, made his asshole clench and squeeze Arcturus’s cock, making the giant Turian moan and groan.
“Pelagius! Are you fucking with us? You told us you’d wait!” shouted Septus.
“My… My fun,” bemoaned Arcturus, suddenly heaving as Zal’s asshole was clenching and holding him in a vice grip.
“Don’t be a wet blanket, you two. It’s fun. Okay, my girl made a little mess. But look, it’ll be fun!” added Pelagius, rubbing Zal’s nuts.

By then, the writhing inside those nuts had become twists and coils and turns. The parasites inside were not at rest, practically lashing against the ballsack that held them. Tiny antennas even bulged as they seemed to hit the sack from within…
And Zal? He was watching it with a mix of awe, fear, and sickening curiosity as those creatures, those dead-weights inside his nuts, were finally moving. Indeed, they wouldn’t put him in danger. After all, Pelagius prepared it, right?
But Septus and Arcturus’s visible fear made him reconsider that statement a bit.

A tiny bit. Or at least, until the antennas found something and Zal felt something stabbing his groin from within.
His left testicle seemed to have shrunken. And the result was for his groin to bulge from within, to see a shape bulge under his cock but above his ballsack as it moved… And advanced. And hit.
“KEELAH!” cried Zal, his brain almost exploded from the sensation.
He finally understood. What bulged was the parasite’s oversized head. And that head rammed against his organs, precisely his prostate. The second after that realization washed over him, Zal’s eyes rolled, and he dropped against Arcturus, stunned, writhing, trembling, and clenching.
What he experienced was too much.

Far too much for a single Quarian to endure with a stiff upper lip.
Far too much for his body. For his mind. For himself.
His eyes rolled, his eyelids clenched, his asshole was so tense it was like a metal grip… And then, it was gone. Away… Done.
Zal blinked and blanked, unable to stay aware and cognizant.
The fire, pleasure, and pain swallowed him.
The lights were blinding, the sounds deafening, the touch a torture, even the smell too raw for his mind.
He was a mind under siege, incapable of handling all that information.
And then… Black. Night. Rest.

Or so he thought when… he felt. No, smelled something raw and putrid by his nostrils.
The instant after, Zal opened his eyes and pushed back, crawled back, only for his body to be too sore. No, it was his groin. Not his entire body. But even then, he felt like he couldn’t move his thighs… And as his eyes drifted, he saw he was… Lying on the sofa.
Pelagius was kneeling on his left, holding out a broken ampule.
Septus was still nearby with his arms crossed. And Arcturus? The massive Turian was naked from the waist down. But he was anxiously watching a box he held, his attitude surprising.
“… Wh-What? What happened?” croaked Zal.
“Sorry, honey, I didn’t prepare you. It must have been a rough birth,” chuckled Pelagius, patting Zal’s cheeks.
“… Bi-Birth?”

Zal’s eyes widened while Pelagius snapped his fingers and ordered Arcturus to approach, leading the large Turian to follow, lean… And then open the box.
“Look at your babies. So big and strong. They ate well with you,” said Pelagius with a grin while he played with his omnitool.
Those ‘babies’, as he called them, were closer to two millipedes coiled on themselves. Their chitins were bright purple with a starry-like motif. And coiled like that, they looked downright… Massive. Impossible.
Zal gulped and then looked away, down, down his groin.
“If you want to do the implants, the sooner the better. Stop playing with your girl,” scoffed Septus.
“But she must see the birth. That’s why I recorded it.”

However, Zal’s eyes had focused on something else.
The Quarian’s thighs were the same as usual. Wide open, prepped, coated with cum, probably Arcturus’s, and milk. However, as he looked at his genitals, Zal saw a mess.
His ballsack was empty, like a purse that had been suddenly unpacked. The dark-gray skin had the texture of wrinkled leather and resembled it. Worse, it formed folds that piled up, creating little monds that could make one hope there was something left in that glabrous ballsack.
But no. It was empty. Entirely and thoroughly empty.
Yet, it was not the worst.

The worst was what Zal saw of his cock.
As a Quarian male, he’d been considered well-endowed before. Not outright massive like Pelagius, Arcturus, or even Cestus. In normal circumstances, outside the Hegemony, he could have easily awed people and women.
But after the treatment, his cock had shrunken, gone from ten inches to… Three at most? Getting hard had become narrowly impossible, and his foreskin had wrinkled, began to pile up, ending with his cock looking stubbier than it should.
However, at that moment, his cock looked closer to a barrel… Or a ruined tunnel.

The urethra gaped completely, forming a wide tunnel that wasn’t even closing through the weak contraction. And with the light coming from the neon, Zal could even peer at the pinkish walls inside, at the flesh-colored inners that had been used.
And… Through the mix of awe, curiosity, and shock… Zal had one finger pressed against the urethra, widening it a bit further before he inserted his digit down to the first knuckle. And he didn’t feel a thing.
“Oh yeah… It must have wrecked your prostate and bladder. But I’ll get that fixed,” chuckled Pelagius as he finally presented his arm and the screen above it.

Zal was writhing and crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks while Arcturus’s arms held him. Worse, through all this, Zal remained impaled on the Turian’s dick.
His groin bulged from within, with the ridged presence moving up and down, as if it was thrusting and battering the Quarian’s inner workings to pry them open.
With each push, Arcturus hissed. But Zal cried, his voice reduced to a shrill note. One note that continued to ascend, reaching higher and higher.
“Go on, it’s almost out!” chuckled Pelagius, watching at the base of that cock that bulged obscenely.

From an outside perspective, it seemed impossible for whatever bulged the base of that cock to go through the urethra. But the bulge seemed to bob back and forth, smacking against the base of the urethra while Pelagius encouraged it.
As Zal went quiet, his cock… Bulged. The urethra bulged from the base, and as if something was ascending, the segmented chitin bulged from the underside of that cocklet. Cocklet, which, through the stretching and bulging, reached beyond the four inches.
Four inches. That was bigger than what Zal could usually do. But here it was, the cock straightening, the foreskin going taut. And above all else, the organ seemingly reached a perfect erection with watery precum spurting free. Before the antennas popped free from the urethra, they were purple and covered in fluids, and then there was the head, covered in slime. The creature chittered and-
Zal lowered his hand after pushing the screen away, hiding his mouth. He was feeling sick. Quite so. The Quarian dry-heaved while his fist pressed against his lips.

“Stop messing with her, Pelagius.”
“What? But it’s a big moment,” said the Turian, his voice again suave but dangerous, while Zal coughed and tried to push down his tears.
“It’s… Too much, Pelagius. Let her recover.”
Zal was almost glad Arcturus was there to speak. The brutish Turian could sing, but he was also a voice of reason… When he could stand up to Pelagius.

At the moment, the Officer growled and turned down the screen, opening his arms while scoffing.
“What? Are you trying to ruin that moment? It’s between her and me! Her little babies! My conquest! You cannot understand that!”
“I think it’s better if we do the operation… And send her back.”
Septus’ remark seemed not to satisfy Pelagius as he huffed. But the discussion ended on that note while Zal retched, trying to control the spasms shaking him.
He'd seen his cock stretched and ruined by a parasite, watched that creature spurt free from his dick in an almost gruesome way.
And he wasn’t feeling well.

Not even when Arcturus grabbed him and tried to help him stand.
“Let’s go,” whispered the Turian, while in the distance Pelagius seemed to be shouting. Zal? He only heard a faint ringing in his ear. His legs were weak, so he felt like they would give out at every step, even with Arcturus’s arm to support him while… Walking? Where?
“You’re ruining my fun!”
“Even for me, that’s messed up!”
“Yeah, because you don’t get the greatness of Quarian fags! She’s perfect!”
“She looks like shit.”

The exchange continued even though Zal couldn’t hear. And sometimes, he had to stop to spit the saliva that was filling the back of his throat.
The stench of refuse, of lube, of sex, of overbearing perfume, was too much for Zal, and his churning stomach seemed hellbent on making him regurgitate what he ate this morning.
Then came the smell of antiseptics and… The lack of weight?
Arcturus carried Zal, the Quarian’s arms dangling as they were going inside one of those… Body mods shop.
“Oh… What a poor girl. What happened to her?”
“Nothing. There’s already an order for a twin package, full monitoring. Septus, can you pay?”
However, as Zal tried to move and see, to watch… Something was strapped to his face, and he smelled something odd. Gas.
“Let’s sleep now, baby girl.”

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OnlyThingImFuckingIsStupid, Redotter47, Jesterr_Inc, niccolos, hasabi, Saidan, Alterego123, aprill101, lightness0fbeing, 6samuelb, MentalHealthMedic, and Kusovotan as well as 4 guests left kudos on this work!

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dexterghost on Chapter 3 Tue 21 Oct 2025 12:50AM UTC

Love all your story and all hot kinks. I know some of your stories have a "happy ending". Wish this is one of it.

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1. Daihios on Chapter 3 Fri 24 Oct 2025 07:44PM UTC
  
  Maybeeeeeeeeeeee ~
  
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