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A new citizen for the Hegemony

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

“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 5th 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.