FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"We arrived for the thirty-four Rotation... We are late," sighed Sendak in his commanding seat as he checked the vessel internal clock.

The mauve-furred Galra looked at the systems displays in front of him and the reports coming from all the ship: engineers, logistics, or even his officers. Wherever he laid his left yellow eye or the artificial red one on, it was to see alerts. His vessel had collided with an unknown object during their transition, leaving the structure in poor shape. A part of the hull had been punctured, two engines out of four needed repairs, many decks had been vented out, and the line of officers had been affected.

Growling and tapping his elongated metal claws from his left arm, another lost part of his body, Sendak tried to smother the inadequacy he felt. He was a Commander, one of the best and most trusted within the Empire. His feats had sent ripples through the leadership until he had been deemed a proper soldier to approach his Emperor.

And now that it was time to return to the Central Command System with the proof of another world lived under the yoke of the Galran Empire, he was late.

A lesser officer would use the excuse of that anomaly to explain why Sendak was two weeks late. Or why they spent so many days drifting in outer space until the two working engines had given them enough thrust to start a new transition.

But he didn't abide by that rule, neither his Liege did.

Therefore, that was why Sendak sat on his command seat, his furry and large ears dropping in frustration while his solemn face soured. Anticipation, fear, and anger churned in the Galra, and most of the people on deck were well aware as they kept their distance from him. Low-lifers, servants, and slaves gave him a wide berth or tried their best to flee his presence as they moved closer from the Solar system at the heart of the Empire. They were soon at base.

"How long until we arrive there?" he snapped, turning at another Galra. One with soft features, without horns, scales, or fur. Just one among many that hadn't been graced like Sendak or Zarkon.

"Hmmm... Twenty minutes, my Commander," meekly answered the navigator, his head into the screen.

"Fine. When the Central Command System requires it, send them my codes. I'll be on my way," answered Sendak, turning off the holographic display and standing up, much to the deck's dismay.

"My Commander!" even shouted one of them. They were afraid, with reason. Failure wasn't acceptable within the Empire.

"I'll face my shortcomings head-on. You, stay on the ship until I approve any leave... Or my successor says so." He said as he left his post and trudged towards one door leading to a corridor.

His steps heavy, Sendak sighed while he descended to the docking bay. His long ears picked up the cries and the outrage from the command deck, but he gave it no heed. He had his worries... And awe to handle.

After all, the docking bay had the best view from the ship: the furthest edge of the room had no wall but a forcefield delineating the separation from the cold space. And clad in his impeccable red and black armor, Sendak crossed his arms behind him.

The Central Command System was a wonder, bustling with life and energy. Center of the Galran Empire, the base of the intelligence and resource-gathering offices at the origin of the Empire's endless means. And, of course, where the beloved Zarkon had taken seat.

Every eye gleamed with awe when a vessel approached the planet-sized ship either to bring prisoners or after being called to report. Even the most seasoned veterans were not exempted as they saw the magnificent architecture: purple plates protecting the thousands of thousand levels that constituted the Empire's crown jewel, the massive engines whose trails were non-existent and moved the ship seamlessly, or even the mounted guns along the outer arms.

Nobody could deny the marvel of engineering displayed when facing the Central Command System. No one could also deny how the structure defied the laws of physics by its might and movement, although the Emperor's druids might have a say regarding that observation.

Even Sendak, as cold and cruel, felt a tinge of appreciation for the structure he watched at the same time the ship drifted towards its main entrance: a large hole in one of the arms, a dry dock with an artificial atmosphere and a high number of qualified slaves to support any Imperial vessel.

At the front, Sendak observed the mechanical arms reaching for the ship, anchoring themselves through nooks on the exterior, and pulling towards the inside of the structure.

The ship's engines turned off, ceasing the low hum throughout the decks.

All the while, the docking bay was closer and closer to its platform. And finally... In a loud "thunk," the ship had been moored.

A small Galra, whose width won over height, stood ready until the force field dissipated. Like Sendak, that one wore the Commander armor. He had horns, white eyes without irises, and an imp-like face. That little one squirmed at Sendak's approach.

"Morvok," commented the feline-like Commander, potentially four heads taller than his counterpart, so much so that Sendak had to look down and keep a certain distance. At least, it was only that coward and not Prorok, a tool in the latest campaign.

"Commander Sendak," retorted Morvok, more formal... And squirmy. Something was up.

It should have been Sendak who acted abashed, but not that little pusillanimous imp.

"I am here to report to the Emperor Zarkon about my arrival. Is there anything you must hand to me?" asked Sendak, extending his prosthetic arm toward the smaller Galra.

"No. Not at all. You must have been in a hurry. Hmm.. Zarkon is waiting for you," answered the other Commander without providing anything. "I'll proceed to the Ship's repairs and inspection."

But before Morvok stepped aside Sendak, the prosthetic arm outstretched. The claws were even extended towards the spineless Commander.

"No. I'll handle it myself once I have met with Zarkon. You can stay here or vacate, but not enter."

"Wait! This is highly unusual! I mus-" started Morvok, his fingers pointed up.

But Sendak's hand was already on his throat, the cold metal against the soft, warm skin.

"You must wait. Or leave. This ship is mine, and I will not allow your miserable fingers to sully it. Am I clear?" asked Sendak, hissing and lifting his ears.

"Clear! You- you are very clear! I'll leave your ship!"

"Good."

Sendak retracted the claw and his hand while he straightened his back. Browbeating lesser Commanders was unsightly and disapproved by the Emperor, who saw them as petty squabbles. But it felt good for Sendak's nerves as he crossed his arms in his back and took a step before he glanced at the sweating Morvok.

"Oh, and... Did you forget your hovering platform today?"

He stepped further, listening to the little Galra's muffled cries of anger. Poor little thing, always so eager to make himself look taller and bigger than he is. Sendak enjoyed watching him seethe as much as admiring others like Prorok fail.

He dared to hope that audacious and obnoxious furball wouldn't come in the way as he walked through the corridors of the Central Command System.

Hopes that were rewarded as no one dared to waylay him. The usual Commanders, eager to stop him or ask for advice, the upstarts mooching on praise by his presence... or the mere commons who sometimes stumbled on his way. The lifts were empty as he took one directly to the Throne Room.

It was highly unusual. And somehow, the cruel and restless Galra felt he would have preferred a little more delay before facing his Emperor. But then, he swallowed that ounce of whining and pride, and stepped outside the lift.

The corridor to the Throne room was empty, except for the usual guards and druids... However, there was something off in their presence as they followed his advance with their empty eyes. And even some guards seemed slack-jawed by his arrival.

Was he so late his Emperor had already denounced him as a failure to the Empire? Would he be executed on the steps? Sendak chased those thoughts as he pushed the double doors and entered the massive concourse opening to outer space. The purple lighting felt ominous, the same for the oblong room he walked through before he bent the knees in front of the first ascending steps.

Head down, closed fist on the metal door, Sendak was ready to accept his punishment. His second arm, his eye, anything would be endured as long as he could remain of service.

"My Emperor, I am-"

"Were you so zealous to see me, Sendak?" cut dry the Emperor, his husky voice resonating in the throne room. They were alone; even the witch Haggar was gone. This was unusual, so unusual.

Sendak swallowed his saliva and lifted his gaze to see his Emperor. The Immortal Emperor Zarkon: a Galra like him. But so much grandiose with his sizeable red armor, cape, and helmet reinforced the Emperor's stoic expression befitting a conqueror. His iris-less purple eyes were frowning at Sendak while its mouth contorted in a scowl.

He was a Galra... He was a Galra... But so much more. His mauve scales were wonderfully formed, his ears long and refined. Even the scar across Zarkon's right side of the face was a testament to his might and glory.

"I tried to come back from my mission as soon as possible. Here, I have the proof I fulfilled my duty!" sputtered Sendak, producing a little trinket from a compartment in his right arm. It was a royal broach from the Keyunar, a species he had crushed. And not only did the trinket serve as a decoration, but it also concealed another purpose.

With a single finger, Sendak pushed on the side of the opened broach. Followed a holographic display with schematics, but mostly a royal seal.

"Here are the keys to the Keyunar. We will soon relocate them for the Harvest! Everything as you ordered!" nearly shouted Sendak, outstretching both arms with the broach in his palms.

For a moment, nothing was said. Only resonated Zarkon's heavy steps, the boots stomping on the clean metal. Closer, closer. So much closer.

Sendak's ribcage was about to explode from his heartbeat. His sweat poured on his side. His Emperor's hand was so close. Did he become the target of his Emperor's fury?

Finally, the broach was taken... And examined.

"This is authentic... You have worked well, Sendak. You are an efficient Commander." stated Zarkon with... Yes. Just a tiny ounce of pride.

Enough for Sendak's expression to relax and his eyes to dart at his Emperor, who stood upright, holding that "worthless" trinket.

"Really?!" he dared to ask, only to halt his question when his Emperor's sour gaze returned.

"Yes. When Morvok warned me of your arrival, I thought you took my invitation as a reason to discard your duties. But no, you have duly followed my orders. And, perhaps, exceeded my expectations."

Sendak's eyes glimmered at the praise. This was rare, so rare. Never before had he felt so joyful, so energetic, so satisfied. He could listen his Emperor's praise for days.

"I! Am!" began Sendak, almost exploding before he coughed, and stopped that effusive display. "I am thankful for your consideration, my Emperor."

There was no other way to state this, as he felt his heartbeat in his ribcage. His Emperor... Cared for him. Valued him. In Sendak's heart, amidst the weight of massacres and murders, existed an endless desire to be praised.

However, something disturbed him as he heard the chuckle from Zarkon. Those were rare.

"Has something happened during your travel to Keyunar? You would have already taken the opportunity to strip," commented the Emperor.

For a second, Sendak's right ear tilted. Then, the second, as he stood upright. He was unsure he heard it right. He blinked, so uncertain.

"Unless you no longer want your reward."

"No! I want it! Generous Emperor Zarkon!" stated Sendak, bowing, bending, and nearly eager to return to his knees.

But he did not. His Emperor had considered Sendak to strip, and the eager Galra did. His ears perked up; he fought against the smile forming on his lips and tried to control his trembling fingers. He was eager, but he shouldn't show weakness or signs of need.

"I am thankful for your kind consideration, my Liege," mouthed Sendak as his artificial limb tugged on one of the magnetic straps holding the metallic plate together.

Zarkon did not answer.

Nevertheless, Sendak continued as the front plate fell, followed by the second. Next, shoulder plates. The instant after, his artificial arm dropped dead as the stump stood exposed with the folded and scarred skin at the end.

Scars. They covered most of Sendak's form despite the bristled purple fur blanketing it. They drew clearer and darker notes amidst the bushes, marbling a body prepared for conflict. But each scar he bore was a sign of his pride and duty towards his Emperor.

"May I ask what my Liege desires?" asked Sendak, a mental command undoing the straps holding his boots and leg guards together. The formers even opened up, and in one step, his feet were freed from their embrace. He was free, liberated, though his guards remained.

Guards he undid without waiting for an answer, the metal and fake leather dropping down together.

"Your Liege has no need."

In the fumbling and preparation, in the self-observance, Sendak hadn't noticed Zarkon return to his throne while the feline-like Galra stood surrounded by the remnants of his armor... Until everything was exposed: powerful arm, mighty legs, broad torso, chiseled and sinewy muscles.

Even his Galranhood. His cock, purple and fleshy, had pushed off its sheath until its tip shinned in the room's light. Pink precum dripped from the elongated tip onto the ground when it didn't run along the throbbing length, whose width was bigger than Prorok; Sendak had compared.

As the precum dropped on the skin, then pulled sheath, then testicles, it coated the furry dark purple scrotum with its aroma. The two organs in there were snug and perhaps the least threatened part of the Galra's anatomy.

"Are you dissatisfied with those rewards?" asked Sendak, stepping closer. Without his armor, he looked less prominent. So was the lack of his arm that made him naturally adjust and lean in that direction to balance the lacking weight.

With red and yellow eyes, he observed his Emperor sitting and reclining in his seat with a sour face. It was rare to see more than that, but every soldier wished to make their Emperor smile and be proud.

"Are you questioning those rewards, Commander?" retorted Zarkon, his hands joined before his torso.

"I am not. I wouldn't dare put your judgment in question. I want this reward as much as I want to fulfill my Emperor's needs," retorted Sendak, a few feet away from his Liege.

Zarkon's expression was thoughtful, or so it seemed, as he frowned and his eyes squinted. The Emperor scrutinized Sendak.

And Sendak looked back, trying to smother the tremor in his hips and legs. Oh, he needed it.

Finally, Zarkon's fingers uncrossed, and a sigh emanated from him before he stretched a hand towards Sendak.

"I know you have been working for this reward and prepared yourself for this occasion. You are eager to show me what skill you have... Honed. Do it."

Sendak restrained a cry as he approached and knelt between Zarkon's legs. So close, the Commander felt the domineering presence, the natural intimidating aura exuding from that body. And the tender perfume of a perfectly fit male.

Without waiting, he extended his neck and mouth while lowering his ears.

"I trained my mouth to endure the worst of abuse. Should you desire to use it, you will find me prepared and ready. I will provide the ple- Grgl."

Sendak's voice stopped. He gargled when Zarkon's fingers pinched his tongue to pull it out. The long and broad appendage extended forward, more red than purple. The surface was coarse, but had been facilitated through a little intervention as asked to the medics. Its grain would be softer to the Emperor than before.

Hence, Sendak wasn't afraid when his Liege kept pulling and forcing the appendage out until two-thirds of its surface was out of his mouth.

Then, the pull stopped, and the fingers released.

"Adequate. What about your reflexes?"

This time, Sendak didn't try to speak. He kept his mouth open for Zarkon's scaled digits to slip between the lips. Slightly crooked, the three fingers explored and pushed the limit of the orifice. And prodded the Galra's throat. The throat would be moist, covered in slime that was produced in ample amounts. Sendak was certain his Liege would find a well-lubricated hole to use. Oh, he yearned for Zarkon to use him that way until he passed out.

However, his Emperor wasn't using him yet.

"How far can I go? Further?"

Sendak's golden eyes blinked at his Liege. Further?

The three digits slipped further beyond the uvula, hooking onto the muscles while plunging deeper. Even now, a part of Sendak's brain reminisced about the gag reflex he used to have. The first time Zarkon used him, it had been a shameful display of incompetence.

No longer as the fingers advanced and forced on the muscles. He relaxed, stopped the deglutition, and... Closed his natural eye.

Sendak focused on the air passing through his nose, on the jolts whenever the perfume from his Liege graced his sensitive nostrils. Then, on his arm, he relaxed.

Zarkon's digits prodded deeper. Sendak could feel them through his skin, inside his skin, bulging beneath. This was a peculiar experience he couldn't voice lest his vocal cords may be permanently wounded. But it was eerie... And pleasing.

Exciting even as he felt his groin burn with more needs.

Until it stopped.

Zarkon sighed, and a discreet smirk appeared on that face. A smirk! This... This was good. Sendak's eyes fluttered. His dick throbbed with anticipation.

"This is adequate. Is this what you want?" asked Zarkon, his three fingers pulling out and allowing Sendak to croak and gasp.

Then, give a proper answer: "Yes. I promise to serve you all day. Without hindering your trials and asking for a pause."

Now, that smirk grew a little more. Did Zarkon enjoy the prospect? Sendak almost smiled but then crushed that expression under a deadpan mask. He shouldn't reveal he needed it.

"To serve me all day? Do you want me to peruse you on my throne until I am done with you? Exposed to all to see?" asked Zarkon, his husky voice almost singing with satisfaction as he outstretched a hand to lift Sendak's chin. "Perhaps you want me to call onto my Commanders, and especially Prorok?"

Sendak's jaw clenched; he swallowed a bead of saliva and grunted. Zarkon saw through him, and further words were dangerous. But yes, he wanted to rub it in against all those who forestalled him.

"Yes. You are right, as always. I want to prove to them that I served the Empire with my entire soul. And they shall work better to best me."

"Perhaps it will push them further. But do not consider my agreement as a ground for petty quarrels and fights."

"I wouldn't dare to be on the Empire's way!" retorted Sendak, feeling a cold sweat on his back.

His Emperor warned him. He indulged in those fights for his favors but didn't accept if someone was to cause trouble for the Empire. The tale of the Commander Lyrok always echoed in the back of his mind.

Even when he heard his Emperor chuckle and release his grip.

"This will be your reward. I will use you the whole day, and I don't want to hear anything from you."

Finally, Zarkon's fingers descended onto... His armor. Onto the groin. Onto the purple codpiece covering his private parts. The metal seemed quite resilient and able to endure many attacks. However, a mere press from the Emperor was enough to peel the plate away and reveal another layer beneath. One that presented itself as a double trap door. Finally, it opened.

Even without irises, Sendak's vision seemed to heighten. His nostrils dilated. His ears fluttered, then dropped. His knees trembled. He prostrated in his fluids.

He saw his Emperor's Galranhood again. A broad tip with an elongated purple corona pointing in all four directions. The skin dripped with precum, glorious pre-seminal fluid pristine and saturated with quintessence. Its tacky nature was only equaled by the light glow from each droplet, each possessing a savor so refined and pure it ruined every meal beyond that.

"Thank you, my Liege!" pleaded Sendak, ashamed to look directly at his Emperor's imposing and erect manhood.

"Look up and open your mouth. This is your reward," retorted Zarkon.

True.

Sendak gulped and lifted his head to be face-to-face with the outspread corona. So close it almost had the visual composition of a flower with extending parts and a bulging center where existed the vertical slit from which poured the precum.

However, Sendak knew porous orifice existed along the sinewy and coiling mast, all over the glorious reach, to coat the enormous dick with precum.

Nothing could have elated the Commander more than to observe this in detail and to pass his hand against the sticky skin. From below the corona to the base, to his Emperor's scrotum marred with reinforced scales on the outer edges and a softer skin near the sheath. For a moment, Sendak was satisfied in observing...

But his Emperor's grunt and harsh breath reminded him of his duty.

The Commander took a deep inspiration and opened his mouth as much as possible. His jaw ached, and the masticatory muscle burned. But this was nothing as he pressed his lips around the corona to usher the dick inside.

However, it struck him that the flesh was more pliable and tensile as, by ushering it in, he felt the outreaching corona bend, and the four extremities remained close to the shaft. It... it made it easier for Sendak as he closed a bit further his jaw, eased his muscles... And pushed the tip forward.

The precum dripped over his tongue, etched on the sensory organ of his Emperor's magnificent presence. And much like Zarkon's aroma suffusing from the glorious groin, the savor brought Sendak to a new height.

"Keep going, Sendak. You don't want to disappoint your Emperor," harshly stated Zarkon, bringing a hand to the Commander's head. A hand so big, vast, and powerful it could crush a skull. But it merely nudged the inferior Galra to do his duty.

Sendak's body shivered by the warm skin pressed against his fur; he felt more precum drip from his erect cock.

It was only the tip, but it was already so much for him.

Yet, he pushed further. He didn't have a third of Zarkon's Galranhood inside; still, he experienced the poking tip at his uvula. A touch of fear adulterated Sendak's peace of mind: did he overestimate himself? No. The Commander frowned and pushed, urging the wide tip in his throat. The uvula, now adept, barely sent any signal while the dick struck it and descended further.

So did the esophagus and the vocal cords when the Emperor's dick bulged in his throat, forming an obscene and cylindrical bump beneath the purple fur. That cylinder pushed deeper, so much so the skin was taut and tense. But Sendak kept going with his eyes frowning. He had prepared himself, trained his body, and modified it for this purpose. He could stay longer in apnea. He could control his reflexes better.

He was ready.

But in the face of that gargantuan challenge, the doubt kept nagging him. Could he please his Emperor? Could he fulfill the request? He took further, feeling that more than two-thirds had slipped inside. His esophagus started to pain him, to send him signals he had never sensed before. But he ignored them, focusing on the savory precum that oozed all over his tongue and tantalized the sensory organ.

He also looked up... And saw his Emperor leaning his head on a closed fist, a warm and charming smile decorating that otherwise stern face. Those purple eyes were watching Sendak, judging him.

But Zarkon smiled! And seemed to enjoy this!

"You can accept your defeat and give up, Sendak," joyfully remarked the Emperor.

Defeat? Failure? Was Zarkon so considerate to estimate Sendak's needs?

But the thought of being defeated, no. Sendak refused it. He couldn't admit it, couldn't let himself be bested by his shortcomings. He had to endure, to fight, to press on his advantage.

In a gargle, motivated by that suffering throat, Sendak pushed onward the last inches separating him from his Liege's groin. His biological eye let out a tear from the sharp and intense pain overtaking the Commander's torso. But it was done; it was there.

The Galra experienced it in his core: the presence of that massive and throbbing length. Its size was wondrous, its presence like a beacon.

To his surprise and pride, Sendak had managed to take Zarkon down to the base, even though his throat ached and his esophagus screamed in pain. He was proud to have his Emperor's so mighty testicles against his chin.

So close he could hear them churn and appreciate the warmth they gave off and the strong masculine perfume they possessed. Sendak's ears shifted slightly while his expression relaxed. He stopped to force on his muscles and closed his eye, blessed by his Emperor's presence in his jaw and that hand above him.

"You did good, Commander," started Zarkon with his body reclining. He wasn't looking at Sendak, but that smile hadn't dissipated. "But you could do better."

A sting, a cold pinprick through the Commander's heart as he remained on his knees? More? What else? His throat was entirely secured around the organ, and he was fighting against all the sensations that were exerted in that instant.

He-...

Yes, he could do better.

So focused he was on what he had failed to do and not what he could do, Sendak had forgotten the most crucial part for his Liege. Pleasure.

This was his reward to be used by his Emperor, but the Emperor had to enjoy it, too.

In a gargle, Sendak tried to nod but failed as his mouth, jaw, and throat were locked. His eyes turned up then down, accepting his shame while he lifted his unique hand to his Liege's testicles. The balance was difficult, with only the legs to maintain upright. But Sendak managed it. He reached for those sumptuous and scaled testicles and felt their egg shape fill his palm one after another. They were heavy and full; his Emperor hadn't had any proper release.

"Better," commented Zarkon above, his surly voice echoing in the room's vastness. He seemed pleased by the change. An encouragement Sendak didn't lose track of as he pressed his digits on the testicles: the little one toward the underside, the thumb along the base, the other fingers on the exterior.

His palm lay on the warm skin, prepared as he pulled.

Sendak pulled his head from the groin and departed from the sweaty and glimmering scales. His nostrils, coated with the fluids, were dilated as the perfume of his Emperor rushed inside once more and filled his brain with wonderful desires and needs.

But he pulled. He forced, feeling the Emperor's corona drag and slow down by tugging at each part of the esophagus. A tear descended along his cheek as he experienced the sharp pain spring to life again. It...

It was terrible; it nearly forced Sendak to heave. But then, how could he look at his Emperor if he failed?

So he continued with his jaw trembling from the pain. His masticatory muscles were ablaze... His legs trembled. But he kept enduring and watched the length of his Emperor's depart from his lips, covered with washed-out throat slime and precum. It dripped with precum at each pulse, and they were numerous. Its scent seemed all the more intense as, above, Zarkon grumbled and groaned. The Emperor liked it, that was certain.

It wasn't a foolish act for nothing. He wouldn't fail his Liege and leave him plagued by needs.

With a final tug, Sendak felt the corona pass by his tongue and nearly his lips. He stopped, properly giving a lick to his Liege's flared tip. And he then plunged.

It did hurt; it did wound Sendak somehow, somewhere. But it was what he had to do.

Sendak plunged and threw himself at his Emperor's groin while the enormous shaft bull-rushed his throat. Tears leaked from his eyes, his mouth quivered, and so were his legs.

He pushed on until his sensitive nose hit Zarkon's groin and his chin against the testicles. His fingers were still there, holding on to the precious and churning jewels, and he felt the pressure growing inside them.

And he pulled.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

His tears didn't end, soiling his fur and the glorious throne room.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

His legs trembled, wobbled, and threatened to fail.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

His jaw would soon fail; his muscles screamed in agony, and so did his throat.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

He... He was in pure ecstasy. His cock dripped with precum, so hard and prepared.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

His cock kept leaking on the ground, his ass clenched, a shiver ran through his spine.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

He didn't end his caresses on Zarkon's mighty testicles. He even gave them a tender squeeze.

Pull. Push. Pull. Push.

Saliva dripped from his mouth, mixed in with so much fluids.

Pull.

He was at the limit.

Push.

Air lacked, his body trembled from the lack of rest.

Pull.

He trembled... Quivered.

Push.

He- He moaned, silenced by his Liege's wondrous cock.

Pull.

He came, delighted to please his Emperor like a good servant should. Maybe he could even give pointers to future Commanders.

Push.

He stroked those testicles and felt the tense skin as well as the contraction within the groin.

Pu-sh.

Zarkon's gauntleted hand was on his head, keeping him close to his Emperor. It kept him there as the groin seemed to quiver before Sendak's very eyes. Followed by the pulses within the shaft, within his esophagus. A pulse so strong it couldn't be ignored.

His Emperor's testicles contracted and almost slipped through his hand while a grunt shook the entire room. It wasn't a mere footnote.

"HRMPH!" grunted the Emperor, opening his legs wider while Sendak's stomach felt fuller. His teared-up eye opened wide as he conceived it, the churning and the flood passing through his lips and inside him.

Some of it passed through the lubricating canals, gifted Sendak a preview of the savory semen that was drained into his stomach and inflating it. The flavor was intense, luscious, complex, discreet, and yet forceful on the mind. It swirled, delighted, tempted Sendak, who melted against his Liege's groin.

Zarkon was cumming inside him, using him like any breeding hole or a tank. That cum's warmth could be experienced throughout Sendak's entire body. It permeated his belly, torso, legs, and head. A permeating sensation the Commander tasted every second of it with a delighted and relaxed expression.

His cock had already softened once his orgasm had passed and his load spent. But he was satisfied by the mere fact of being used... And to have that hand keeping him close to his Liege, to those testicles, to that cock.

He could spend hours like those.

But already something broke the relative peace Sendak experienced. Behind him resonated the sound of the double doors opening and the people being ushered in. Their voices were muffled while he listened to his Emperor's audible orgasm and the contraction pushing more semen within him.

"Do not move, Sendak," ordered Zarkon.

But Sendak did not move; his hands and lips were riveted to Zarkon's body. Did the others behind him speak or say something? It didn't matter, lulled as he was by the churning that filled his mind with peace.

"Is that Sendak?"

"Of course. He had outdone all of us with his recent projects."

"No, I got this. I mean, his ass?"

"What a slut."

"I concur."

"Please, you're no better. I know what you're sleeping with when on your ship."

"What? Bu-! This is confidential!"

The commotion between the Commanders had started, with everyone giving their opinion about the situation. Jealousy always drove the Commanders further but also bred discontentment and disrespect.

"This month, Sendak proved himself the most worthy of my favors," started Zarkon. His voice boomed in the throne room and silenced any disgruntled officer. It roared while its other hand lifted and extended beyond what Sendak could see. Perhaps those behind.

Sendak desired to let them watch and be envious of his success... After all, he had been forced to stay on the field, missing out on the last meeting on the third Rotation. He was sure they could see his swollen gut, glimmering from all the quintessence of his Emperor's semen... And his ass.

"Bogh... Prorok... Drick... You have been wasting the Empire's resources while others toiled. Your inaction won't be tolerated any further."

"Yes!" answered three voices in tandem, followed by boots stomping. Prorok was among them?

If Sendak hadn't had his mouth occupied, he would have snickered. Instead, he smiled. And that smile was quickly set aside when Zarkon's cold hand pressed on his head to keep that face buried against that musky groin.

"You may hope one day to take Sendak's place by proving your worth. In the meantime, you can try to justify your failures."

Now... It was the turn of those idiots, arrogant and upstart, to explain why they failed.

A delight as Sendak drowned in the musk of his Emperor, lulled by the heartbeat in his esophagus and fuller by the second. He had been the best, and this was his reward. However, he should have found a way to face Prorok and grant him a sign like that furball did last time Sendak had been put through the wringer. Perhaps next month, Sendak will work harder... He would allow Prorok to admire his gaped ass. The Commander would be given all the time to see and imagine how easily their Emperor could fit inside and fill him.

Sendak had bested them all... Although, the Galra wondered and pondered.

"I quelled an incursion coming from Commander Gnov's sector that forced me to dispatch more than forty percent of my fleet. I assure you... We may be at the third Rotation, but I will provide sufficient results," retorted Bogh's voice.

"Will you repeat that at the thirty-three Rotation?"

Sendak blinked, thinking... They were not at the thirty-four Rotation but the third? In his mind, he could have chuckled if the revelation made no sense. But it was better to keep it under silence... However, he noted how he needed to discuss this with his chief engineer.

But he quietly discarded the thought and the worries by drowning himself again in his Emperor's musk, barely heeding the counteractions from his fellow Commanders. He had a real duty to attend to.

And here was Sendak again, pulling his head again and arching his back to expose his stretched-out ass further. He would let them admire and envy him.

Those good-for-nothings would soon seethe with anger, make errors, and ensure his supremacy over the other Commanders. Perfect.