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A Quarian under the Hegemony

There’s only one purpose for the Quarians, submit to their betters and accept they shall serve the Turians forevermore

_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”