# A Quarian in the Family 1

Author: ShorkScribbles
Tags: abuse, anal, angst, au, castrated, conflict, consensual, crying, degradation, dirty talk, dominationsubmission, drama, dubcon, emasculation, eunuch, exhibitionism, family reunion, feminization, fighting, fingering, groping, incest, male, malemale, malemalemale, mass effect, mm, mmm, molestation, oral, piss drinking, quarian, racism, shame, speciesism, threesome, tits, turian, watersports

Caught in the lies, Zal must juggle his suitors  
  
Commission for anonymous

A Quarian in the Family

_Caught in the lies, Zal must juggle his suitors_

It was all Zal had feared.  
Calipinia, Rectus, Pelagius, and even Cestus. All four had their eyes on Zal, expecting and watching what he’d do. Fear gnawed at the Quarian’s guts.  
They contorted, twisted, hurting. Even breathing or existing was the same, with his heartbeat going rampant and brutal. If his heart could burst from his ribcage, it would have done so in that instant.  
And Zal… Zal felt like he was about to fall.  
  
His milky-white eyes fixated on Cestus, noticing fear, just like his own, but different in origin.  
Then Rectus, noticing the expectation, and somehow a sinister satisfaction.  
Calipinia and her cold, strict demeanor were like a teacher waiting for someone to acknowledge their fault.  
Finally, Pelagius. Smiling, grinning, and with that threatening gaze that told Zal everything he should be afraid of.  
  
Again, Zal felt like he was slipping, falling, drifting.   
He closed his hand, his fist, until the warm pain of his nails scraping his palm brought him back. And he stood up.  
A shiver ran through him. Through everyone.   
Pelagius’ right hand was extended, palm up, as an offer Zal would have to take.  
Cestus held onto his chair, but did not move.  
Zal approached, already feeling Pelagius’s breath upon his neck, body, back, and posterior. One step, and that hand could be reached with an elegant movement.  
“Zal. You knew-“  
“I need to have a moment,” cut in Zal.  
  
Pelagius retracted his hand, though his expression turned into fury for a second. Even his quills jumped before he forced a content smile on his face.   
Calipinia, she did not even try to contain her frustration. As for Rectus, he was confused. Much like Cestus.  
Remained then, Zal, cutting through the wall that formed the trio and stepping inside the apartment, trying to look as in control as possible. But he only looked uptight, tense, and about to explode.  
“Zal!”  
Cestus’ voice.  
  
The Quarian closed his eyes for a second, slowed his steps. And then, he looked over his shoulder. Indeed, Cestus looked pathetic. He hadn’t moved, and he was only looking at Zal through the passage the Quarian had cut through.  
“I… Really need a moment,” answered Zal, stepping away. He did not even look at the door to see if it was locked. But Zal already knew the code to unlock it. And a second later, he was outside the apartment.  
For a moment, he did not breathe, for fear of hearing Pelagius stomping around.  
Instead, there was a shout, probably Calipinia’s.  
And Zal descended the stairs, quickly.  
  
It was stupid. The Quarian was practically naked under that gown, his bits and details revealed no different than the other broken Quarians who thrived in the residential district. He was barefoot, although the streets were kept clean, with no broken glass or debris on the ground.  
But… Where to go?  
  
Although his heart continued to beat wildly, especially when he had a hand on his chest, Zal tried to remain steady and in control.  
He did not even look up when he stepped outside the building, resolute that the quartet of Turians would have their eyes on him once he was out.  
  
Even then, Zal forced himself to stay in control. Controlled breath, controlled movements, controlled steps. He looked like a puppet whose strings were pulled harshly, but once he turned at the corner, disappearing from the potential line of sight… He walked faster. His feet were hurting, and so was his balance. Soon enough, he was out of breath and had to lean against the wall while huffing and breathing.   
It became an effort to stay upright, not to fall again. Not to lean against a wall like a junkie or anything alike. But where was he going?  
  
As he continued to walk, the streets were emptying themselves, and the district lost its radiance, its sheer cleanliness, and pretense of perfection. The roads became paved, with parking spots for the vehicles at every corner.   
The offices became prevalent, only to be replaced by blocky, low-rise buildings. And yet, Zal advanced.  
That industrial district, District 12, was the closest to the spaceport. Shuttles were coming in and out regularly, bringing everything needed for the domestic trades both inside and beyond the system.  
Military gear never crossed through that place, never even approached the factories and warehouses where Quarians were forced to work and break their back. New cars, new electronics, new toys. If it wasn’t Palaven-made, it potentially came from those factories spewing smoke if they handled chemicals or pharmaceutical components.  
  
There were practically no guards outside, as everything was handled electronically, including exiting the premises through the large metal gates. So… With a sense of loneliness… Zal sat on one of the cars. His legs were burning, and so were his feet. For years, he’d been walking for hours outside. Even though he’d been forced to live in the Quarian district, his outings were his sole freedom, and even walking seemed taken from him as he looked at his aching legs.   
“Shit. What’s happening to me?” he mumbled, though he knew. He knew all too well if he glanced at his body once more. He was changing. He was no longer the same Quarian. He was… A changed Quarian, something akin to a whore.  
And it hurt-  
  
“You shouldn’t be here.”  
The voice was calm. But the hand landing on Zal’s shoulder made him spin and try to push that hand away. The attempt, as pathetic as it was, ended with Zal spinning, slipping, and narrowly dropping from the car if not for that stranger to hold him.  
The face plate was darkened, making it impossible to see the guy’s identity. But it was a Quarian, clearly.  
The suit was identical to the others. However, it was different in the sense that those curves were nascent, that ass fat. He was changing, too.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” grumbled Zal, smacking that hand and trying to scout further from the guy, onto the car.  
“Yes, Princess,” snarked the Quarian back. “But you’d better get off that car before someone beats you up.”  
Zal frowned and looked down at that car. The entire fuselage was bright red, resembling a sports model. The kind with four hours of autonomy in space.  
And Zal jumped off.  
“Here. Satisfied?”  
“I’d be happier if you listened or scooted away, Princess,” scoffed the Quarian, turning around the Skycar and kicking the boosters with his boot.  
“Is that your car?”  
“Are you asking everyone questions?”  
“Only those who touch and threaten me,” answered Zal.  
  
The other Quarian did not look threatening. Despite the curves, that one looked emaciated, and the whole suit was… Well, not in a good state. It was a mismatch of parts.  
Still, the faceless gaze was upon Zal, who wobbled one step away from the car.  
“What’s a Princess like you doing here?” finally asked the Quarian, tilting his head.  
“What? What are you calling me?”  
“A Princess. That’s the human name for a royalty girl in human. It suits you,” said the Quarian, patting the car. “You look as pampered as one could be.”  
“I-“ began Zal, frowning. Then, he raised one hand. “I am not a Princess. I am not pampered. I am going to leave.”  
“Suit yourself.”  
  
Zal kept his frown, but he stepped away from the car, and again, he found himself leaning against the barriers surrounding the factory.  
His legs hurt, his feet hurt. But he continued to walk towards the spacesport.  
And then… The sound of an engine.  
“You’re walking to the spaceport.”  
A glance left, and Zal saw the same Quarian leaning through the window of that sports car. The vehicle purred softly as it levitated above ground.  
“I know,” said Zal, taking a sharp breath. His chest was hurting, too.  
“Your Prince waits you there? Prince, that’s how they call the princesses but males. You probably have one.”  
“What’s your problem?”  
  
No answer. The Quarian seemed thoughtful, stroking his chin while still leaning through the window. Zal glanced, glared even. But there was no answer. And finally, he decided to continue, stepping ahead without giving much more attention to what seemed to be a car thief.  
  
“You remind me of someone.”  
Zal scoffed at the remark, watching the car following him at a sluggish pace.  
“Good for you. Can you leave?”  
“No. It’s my first time I’ve got to talk with a Princess Quarian that’s not a bitch for hire. How is it?”  
“How is what?”  
“Living with royalty. The Turians. You live with them, hmm?”  
“I- I live with a Turian, yes. What’s your problem?”  
“My problem?” chuckled that thief, his hands dropping outside the vehicle, even his shoulders were out. “I’ve got no problem. But you, you do. You’re fleeing your boyfriend? I’m curious why.”  
“How-?” asked Zal, only to be interrupted.  
“How do I know? You are under heavy treatment, and you keep walking. Bitches like you either stay at home, stay in the residential districts, or use cars. And seriously… Why would a Princess come here?”   
  
With the hand even raised, the car thief even pointed at the empty streets around them. It was only industrial complexes, and there was no life around but Zal and… That thief.  
“I need a moment for myself.”  
“Hunhun. Good. You have it.”  
Silence. Zal leaned against the barrier, out of breath. His legs wobbled, and his feet were burning. Even walking seemed impossible now. And then, the voice that made him clench his teeth and swear internally.  
“How was it?”  
“Can’t you leave?”  
“I can. But again… You’re a Princess. And I want to know what it was like to live with royalty. Are you sleeping in satin? How are Turian dicks? Oh! Oh! Do you go to Galas?”  
“… Galas?” asked Zal, raising an eyebrow.  
“You don’t know what a gala is? It’s a gathe-“  
“I know what a Gala is!” shouted Zal.  
  
His lungs burned. And he narrowly dropped. His face was flushed. His lips were parched and looked a bit blue.  
“I know… What a Gala is,” repeated Zal, glancing at the faceless Quarian. Quarian, whose fingers drummed against the door while waiting.  
“What’s so important for you to ask me about this? You want to be with them? You’d better leave. Take that car, leave the system through the relay with it. Or use it to buy a ticket off-world,” said Zal, waving his hand.  
The drumming stopped. The Thief shook his head. And then, there came that raucous laugh, amplified by the suit’s speakers.  
“Leaving? Seriously? Look at that!” laughed the Thief, smacking his hand against the car’s door. “No. Leaving. Aren’t you sweet? Leaving. As if you could.”  
“The Terminus Systems are not that far.”  
“The Terminus Systems are toast, Princess,” scoffed the Thief. “If not today, tomorrow. I’m not taking that car for a joyride. I’m about to sell it. And you should be smarter and return to your Turian.”  
  
Zal blinked, watching the Thief become serious. A surprise for the feminized and practically naked Zal, who approached, his steps more so wobbly.  
“I’m serious.”  
“So am I,” answered the Thief. “You think you can leave the system. There’s a blockade. A blockade on practically every relay. I’ll sell that car, get more hormonal treatment. And I’ll find a Turian who’ll want me and give me official documents.”  
Zal’s jaw dropped, giving enough of a hint for the thief to continue his soliloquy.  
“Yes. Once I am fertile and given the shapely curves they like, I’ll probably find a husband who’ll fuck me. I won’t have to hide or anything. I’ll be like you, a Princess!”  
“That’s… Fucking stupid,” said Zal, shaking his head and returning to the wall.  
After listening to that drivel, he was ready to walk. No, even to run away from someone who’d give everything away for… What? Comfort? Zal scoffed.  
“That’s you who’s stupid. You’re a Princess. I’m sure you’ve had a good life, and now you’re going to leave because you thought you could hijack a ship with your precious name. Fuck you!”  
“Fuck yourself,” spat Zal. “I’ve not had an easy life. And I don’t plan to get one with a Turian. So go on! Leave!”  
  
There was a huff. And the sound of the window closing. But Zal could still feel the glare in the back of his neck even as the vehicle suddenly turned and sped off, leaving him in that empty street.  
For a moment, Zal considered stopping. But he was close to the spaceport. He could hear the ship taking off, the freight being carried. The number of warehouses increased, and so did the number of Quarians that were outside, using forklifts and talking to each other. Most looked like they were unchanged. A few were showing comely shapes… But none were close to Zal’s curves. And as the sole feminized Quarian walking by, some eyed him and commented.  
  
Zal ignored them, walking as he approached what looked to be a security blockade. Turians were stationed in a makeshift, portable guard post, with a blockade in place amidst the streets and gravity disruptors on either side.   
Finally, the Quarian gulped. He could try to find another way, but he was feeling too tired. In fact, the walk here left him with his feet sore and his mind drifting. His eyelids closed when he was not fighting the exhaustion.   
The walk back home seemed impossible. And so… The Quarian had but one solution as he approached the guard post.  
  
One that might bite him in the back when he faced Cestus while sitting on a chair.  
The guard post had been emptied for the two, and Zal sat at the desk, his arms crossed under his chest. Cestus? He looked flustered, bothered, and irate.  
“What took over you? My parents will be on my ass until they die. If they can,” grumbled Cestus, looking around at the schedules, the map of the circular city. And then back to Zal.  
Zal, who had his eyes low, was massaging his hamstrings.  
“I couldn’t stay with them.”  
“Couldn’t? They are throwing a hissy fit. They… They fucking saw you leave Pelagius behind!”  
“And not you?” asked Zal, raising his eyes.  
“I…” started Cestus, passing a hand behind his neck. “You need to get back. Present your excuses to the family.”  
“For what?”  
“For what? You insulted them. Everyone. My mother was ready to get her gun to run after you. And Pelagius. I don’t know what he’ll do. But you must present your excuses.”  
“Again… For what?”  
  
Zal’s lips curled, his frown present as he looked at Cestus, watching him for what he was. A pathetic and afraid Turian. One who looked back with fear in his eyes.  
“You insulted them. You must present their excuses. That’s it.”  
“That’s it?” asked Zal, standing up. Oh, his legs were sore, but the ire he felt was there. “You are ready to bend over backward and let Pelagius have his turn with me? Are you about to follow their every request?” spat Zal, pointing his finger forward.  
“Their requests? You do not even know what’s between us. My mother didn’t kill you last time. But she’ll be ready this time. She hates insubordination!”  
“Insubordination! Really?”  
  
Zal snarled and then pointed his index finger at Cestus’ chest.  
“Where is your spine, Cestus?”  
“M- My spine?” huffed Cestus. “What about you? You… You left! You fled! And you called my office from a guard post?!”  
“Is there a problem?” asked one of the Turian guards peering inside the post, his expression anxious.  
“No. This is fine. We have a discussion,” answered Zal.  
The Guard grimaced and looked at Cestus. Cestus, who nodded, just as tense. They waited until the guard closed the door.  
Leaving the two alone with Zal reclining back on the chair.  
“I asked you. Because if I called you at your home, your family would join. Am I wrong?”  
  
Cestus’s quills moved. His mandibles, too. And then… For once, the Turian didn’t look as huffy. And his patheticness wasn’t as insulting to Zal when he saw Cestus grab another folded chair and sit.  
“What is it, then?”  
“I want us to keep to our deal. I act like your wife, bride, or anything. And I get my ticket out.”  
“That’s… That won’t be as easy. My…”   
  
Cestus stopped.  
But before Zal could say a thing, the Turian raised a hand, palm up front. Zal closed his mouth and waited. He seemed shaken, and visibly quivered until he exhaled. And opened his mouth. Even his mandibles stopped clicking.  
“My brother will have you. It’s not a matter of if. My parents won’t accept if I keep you.”  
“And we’re back to the lies,” said Zal, crossing his arms. “Are you giving up?”  
Silence.  
“You are. You are about to let your brother walk all over you again, just like your father did. Is that what you plan to do?”  
“It’s different, Zal. You don’t know how they can be. Pelagius? He can fuck my company, he can take you. My mother loves him. She doesn’t care about me.”  
“You’re giving up.”  
“I’m not!” shouted Cestus, now wrangling his hand. “But I don’t know what to do. Fuck!”  
“It-“  
“Fuck! Zal! I don’t know! I don’t know! What’s gotten into you now?! Why are you so ass about me giving up on the deal?! It was temporary! We know there is nothing to do! Pelagius will have his way! You can probably get a ticket off the world with him if you play along. Once he’s done with you, he’ll grow tired and find a new toy.”  
  
Zal grimaced. Yes. He could.  
He’d probably gotten a few favors from the Turian Officer. For a moment, Zal brought his thumb to his lips, gnawing on it.  
“Yeah. I could.”  
“See. So present your excuses-“  
“But I won’t,” cut in Zal, spitting his nail. “We have a deal, Cestus. And even if I take up the idea, I know I won’t get my freedom from your brother. It’s him who started this. And now that he knows you and me….”  
Something made Zal shudder, from the top of his head… To his numb nuts, he felt their presence as he squeezed his legs.  
“You think he won’t leave you.”  
“He’ll be too happy to rub it against your face.”  
  
Zal's shoulders dropped; he exhaled, too. The atmosphere was becoming oppressive and unbearable. Too much for Zal, who sat upright. And way too much for Cestus, who was bent over, elbows on his knees.  
“Presenting your excuses is the sole solution.”  
“I think not,” said Zal.  
“Yeah. Great for you. But my parents and brother won’t think the same.”  
“No. I think we can do something. Your brother and your father love to mess with you, right?”  
“You saw it. They’re like that. They’ll tease me, try to fuck my partners. And once they’re done, they throw them out.”  
“… What if we give them what they want?”  
“Zal!”  
“Listen to me… I have something in mind. But I need you to contact a place and get a message to them without your mother knowing.”  
“What does it have to do with my mother?”  
“Everything.”

-

Zal sat comfortably on the sofa in the karaoke box. He didn’t have the robes or all the dresses Pelagius usually sent. But being naked, stripped of his gown, ought to be enough. Pelagius and Rectus were horny Turians. And the moment they appeared inside the room, curious, their eyes darted to Zal.  
  
They went exploring his pert breasts, his perky nipples, his soft belly, his comely thighs. And yes, his genitals had been different: bigger in the case of his testicles, smaller in the case of his cock.  
A sight the two admired before Pelagius frowned, gave his Father an elbow jab, and soon, Rectus, too, was frowning.  
But Pelagius was not… Acting out, yet. If he hadn't done it in front of Rectus, it would have been even better.  
  
“What’s it, whore? Are you ready to beg for my pardon?” asked Pelagius, crossing his arms.  
Zal shuddered, watching the peering eyes focusing on him like a laser. So, in return, the Quarian leaned back and had one leg crossed over the other.  
“Cestus did not tell you?” said Zal, forcing a smile.  
“Did tell us what?”  
“He told us to come to this place without Calipinia but nothing more,” said Rectus, more forthcoming.  
“Please, sit with me,” said Zal, trying to appeal to their instincts. He even leaned to stroke the spots beside him, on either side.   
  
“No,” said Pelagius, stopping his Father with one extended hand. Rectus was already into it, as seen by his erection. “You’ll tell me what this is about and accept your punishment for this humiliation.”  
Zal gulped silently. Pelagius’ pants were straining, but he had enough self-control.  
Then…  
  
“I am sorry, Pelagius. I couldn’t tell you about this in front of your mother. It would ruin what we had with Cestus,” said Zal, swallowing his pride. “Please. I’ll explain it to you.”  
Rectus’ quills lifted, and his right brow followed. The Father turned to his Son, Son who remained stoic. And then, uncrossed his arms. But his expression remained firm and cold.  
“Tell me what you had planned.”  
“This is not a real plan,” explained Zal, taping the spot again… Inviting both. And Rectus was showing nervous signs. “But I know what you two have with Cestus. And his exes.”  
“You… Do?” asked Pelagius.  
  
Somehow, Pelagius’ brow lifted. His curiosity was struck, and he sat, quickly followed by Rectus, who went on the opposite side and happily leered at Zal.  
“Oh yes,” continued Zal, more assured. “He told me how you fucked them, took them from him. He knew it would happen with the two of you. But we didn’t know you were all related.”  
“Then-“  
“Why did I say nothing about it before leaving?” asked Zal, reaching for Rectus’ nearest hand and putting it on his thigh, as an invitation. “I couldn’t tell in front of Calipinia her son wants to be a cuck.”  
  
Rectus snorted and laughed. But his hands stroked Zal’s naked thighs, going up and down with his third finger, sometimes brushing Zal’s genitals.  
But Zal’s eyes were on Pelagius, watching him… And seeing the frustrated expression drawn on that face.  
“It sounds to me you are making excuses so you won’t get punished,” said Pelagius, firm.  
  
Zal’s smile dropped. Then, for a second, his eyes met with Pelagius’, and he watched the ire in them. And then, he looked away. Instantly, he felt the heat of Pelagius’ fingers going to his face, ready to grip his throat.  
But Pelagius was too late. Zal had already forced Rectus to lift his eyes off Zal’s breasts, so that they could be eye to eye… And Zal could guide the leering, perverse, and excited older Turian into a kiss. One in which Zal could smell the pungent ethanol mix from all the drinks that old Turian had chugged down.  
  
Pelagius’ fingers didn’t close on Zal’s neck, not while Rectus and Zal were locked in a kiss, with the Turian’s blue tongue dancing against Zal’s purple tongue. And then, a fine line of saliva mixed the two.  
“Can you order a few drinks for us, Daddy?” whispered Zal, repeating the word Cestus gave him. And the result was evident, the old Turian’s eyes lighting up. “It’s all on Cestus’ account.”  
“Sure enough, sweetie,” answered Rectus with that giddiness as he stood up, firmly holding onto his scrotch.  
  
He went to the nearby terminal on the wall, pushing aside the karaoke options so he could order, with much grumbling.  
However, Pelagius was not letting go as easily, and his fingers were still on Zal’s nape.  
“What is this about?”  
“I promise,” coughed Zal, feeling the pressure on his neck. “It’s for you. Cestus and I have that type of relationship.”  
“Cestus? Him? How is that possible?”  
“If… it wasn’t the case, why would he cover it? And… why would I have been seeing you?”  
Pelagius’ fingers eased a bit, though not entirely. Not completely allowing Zal to relax.  
  
“Honey. What do you prefer? Triginta Petra wine? Or from Bostra?” asked Rectus, turning to Zal, who smiled back.  
“Anything you prefer, Daddy,” continued Zal, waving his hand. “Do not forget snacks. We’ll be here for a long time.”  
“Sure thing,” continued Rectus, grinning to himself while Pelagius’ huffs were by Zal’s earholes.  
“You’re playing with him.”  
“What if I am playing with him?” asked Zal, turning his head slightly to Pelagius.  
  
The younger Turian didn’t answer, but Zal had his hands on the Officer’s chest, on his armor.  
“What’s your plan?”   
“I have nothing,” said Zal, unsure. He was winging it now, entirely unknown territory as he turned and felt the fingers no longer holding him. So… Zal could face Pelagius and approach.  
Enough for his breath to be on the chitin.  
“All my plans were… Thrown the moment you appeared in Cestus’ apartment. But we can make do; you and your father. Calipinia doesn’t have to know. You only have to tell her you retract.”  
“And… Why would I do that?” answered Pelagius, fixing Zal’s smacking lips.  
“Because… I’ll be with Cestus. But he’ll know you and his Father fucked him… That-“  
  
Zal held his breath at the idea. Then, he ran his fingers between his legs, looking down. His pride, his ego. He was swallowing it down as he looked up while stroking his nuts.  
“That you have my nuts. And you were the first to fuck his wife.”  
Pelagius did not answer. But his expression relaxed. His brows dropped, his lips curled into a grin. In the distance, Rectus hummed and approached.  
“Are you not devious?” asked Pelagius, breathing against Zal’s cheeks.  
“Hey. You’d better not plan to keep her for yourself, Son. I had fun with her,” said Rectus, approaching and stroking Zal’s ass. No, even inserting his thumb inside the self-lubricated orifice without even preparing for it.  
  
“Do not worry, Dad,” answered Pelagius, gripping Zal’s posterior and spreading it further, squeezing it. “I won’t keep Zal for myself.”  
The Quarian tried to remain tense, crushing the smile and expectations he wanted to feel. Instead, he sighed and… Clenched his sphincter, trying to close on that finger.  
“No? Aren’t you generous with your old Turian?”  
“Me?” laughed Pelagius, going and kissing Zal’s neck, forcing the Quarian to crane his head. “It’s Cestus who’s generous with us. He’ll lend us his wife when he needs it.”  
  
“He will? So you’re not taking her?” asked Rectus, his thumb pumping in and out.  
“Why would I take her? He can keep and feed her. But she already knows where she can get a good dicking. Is that right?”  
“Right,” said Zal, chuckling. “So long nobody learns about it.”  
“See, Dad. That’s why it’s better not to bother Mother with our little adventures.”  
“She’ll still be furious.”  
“I’ll find something,” commented Pelagius, assured. “So long our slutty Quarian doesn’t lie to us.”  
  
Zal felt something in him burn. Shame, distrust, dissatisfaction. Somehow, they were worse than Cestus, and Cestus was the lowest of the low.   
Still, Zal forced that smile while stroking Pelagius’ crest and quills, beckoning him closer.  
“No… Fear. I know who can really dick me.”  
  
A chuckle came from behind, and then… Shuffling.  
Zal didn’t have to see, to look over his shoulder, to get an idea of what happened. The intense aroma tickled his nostrils the moment that dick got out. The pure perfume of an erect and excited Turian. One whose dick slapped against Zal’s asshole while that finger continued to pump in and out.  
“Damn right you are. You teased me all this morning. You’d better make up for it.”  
“She teased you?” asked Pelagius, his hands leaving the posterior to run along the thighs, on the inside… Right to Zal’s nuts, he cupped and played with, holding them… no, making them roll in his fingers.  
“Yes, she did. That Fag sucked me like no other. And then, this morning, she acted prude around me. Damn tease she can be, son.”  
“True. She can be one,” nodded Pelagius, his hands squeezing the nuts further. “Shall we play, Zal?”  
  
The Quarian’s eyes widened at the request. At the hand slipping away.  
A glance towards Pelagius, and Zal found him with his face practically rubbing against the breasts. Moreover, the Quarian was forced to lean forward. By Pelagius, who wasn’t even checking those jugs, but his omnitool, before he pressed one button.  
And then… Two things hit him. A shock went through Zal’s nuts, making his groin hurt and tense.  
“Fuck! She’s tight!”  
“Electro shock, Dad. You’ll see, you’ll love it.”  
  
The shock continued, each time sending contractions through Zal’s guts, from his sphincter to the top of his guts. But at the same time, it amplified the sensation of his sensitive rim getting spread by those fingers and stroked by that greasy cocktip already rubbing against it.  
However… Zal couldn’t comment. He was high, drugged, shot by a cocktail of hormones directly from his balls. A complex mix that felt like ice through his veins and hit his every organ… The brain foremost.  
  
His face relaxed. His nostrils dilated. His tongue lolled out. Even with the shocks hitting his body with enough strength to send his thighs spasming, Zal didn’t even comment.  
Pain was gone. Thoughts were gone. Only the pleasure remained when Pelagius’ lips locked on his breasts and sucked them. Just a firm pressure, something that lasted but for two seconds. But it was enough.  
  
Enough for Zal’s breasts to release that onctuous and sweet milk into Pelagius’ lips. And for Pelagius to moan in delight, sucking and biting that nipple back.  
“What’s that sound?”  
“Her… milk. I love it,” mumbled Pelagius, again licking those teats… Even pinching them and flicking them as he was happily covering the glabrous gray flesh with hickey marks.  
Rabid as he was, Pelagius was, however, not the one who made Zal moan and cry.  
The pleasure came from the older Turian who, in his gleeful satisfaction, pulled his finger out and pressed his cocktip against the spasming and clenching entrance.  
  
An entrance that, against that sheer mast, offered no resistance whatsoever. And if it did, it vanished the moment those fake testicles buzzed with electricity, made Zal piss more watery fluids… And forced his asshole to close and open without any order or reason. It was only there. It was only electricity that ran through the nerves, overwriting them, and torturing the poor Quarian whose mind was already gone.  
Like a doll. Like a fucktoy. Like a dumb thing.  
  
It was the kind of high in which Zal could remember everything, but his higher functions were gone. If kissed, he would answer. If fucked, he would blabber. If presented with a shaft, he would be a sucker.  
But his mouth didn’t form any words or offer any praise, not even when Rectus’ enormous shaft slipped inside his asshole and stretched his guts from within. Not even when the aging Turian had his lips kissing the exposed neck while caressing those hefty breasts.  
At most, it looked like Zal was gone when Rectus fucked him, enjoying clearly the sensation of that asshole clenching and squeezing and begging for more.   
And he remained so when Pelagius, tired of sucking on his marks-covered tits, decided to move and strip off.  
  
The sheer mast, the Turian veiny length, covered with darker spots at the end, was practically offered to Zal. And Zal swallowed it, gurgling it down without any sign of gag reflex. A downright impressive result…  
If not bested by the fact that Zal seemed relaxed even with that cock throbbing through his throat and throttling his breath. His nostrils were dilated, but there was no sign of breathing from the Quarian, who looked oddly relaxed for a moment. For one minute… Two… Three… Four… Five.  
  
It was only after the fifth that his lips began to turn into a bluer shade, and Pelagius pulled his cock, instantly to have the Quarian gargling, huffing, and spitting saliva on the sofa.  
“What was that?” asked Rectus, huffing against Zal’s ear.  
“Nothing. I’m testing a new toy for our pet. She’ll be a perfect cocksucker with my help.”  
“Your help? What do you mean?”  
“I invested a fair deal of my stipend in those tits and that body. It’s almost a shame Cestus should keep her.”  
“You paid for her? I- Hrmph… Thought Cestus paid for it.”  
“Pffhr! He paid nothing. If I’d known, I would not have invested in the bitch. Or I would have kept her closer,” said Pelagius, smacking Zal’s cheeks. “Isn’t it right, Fag?”  
The sole answer was Zal’s eyes rolling until he managed to look up to Pelagius and smile… Then, his jaw dropped, his lips opened, and a mix of throatslime, precum, and saliva dripped along his lolling tongue.  
  
“Looks to me she’d do better as the familial fag.”  
“True that. But if Cestus knows, he’ll be acting huffy. We’re lucky she’s into it. But imagine if that little Quarian Fag believed in monogamy,” laughed Pelagius, smacking Zal’s face again, not so gently but not enough to leave bruises.   
Rectus laughed along, still busy pummeling Zal’s asshole, enjoying the regular shocks that took Zal… Made him tense up, cum, and clench.  
It didn’t take much longer after that for Rectus to cum. And again, to continue after he’d taken his time to fetch the bottles of wine and snacks.  
  
By then, Pelagius was merely stroking on the side while Rectus happily took Zal on all fours, then on the back, then on the side, while the Quarian remained barely cognizant. The younger Turian was eyeing the Quarian, admiring and leering at that body modified to be a perfect Turian-addicted whore.  
He even logged on the smart ink on Zal’s body and began to fiddle with the design, leaving the Quarian with a sentence written atop that plump and bruised posterior, “Pelagius and Rectus used me.”  
More was to come, as they were now free to play with Zal and could take their time, feeling capable of doing anything. Zal was just there… Stupid. Smiling. Giddy even. And certainly reeking of Rectus’ semen when the old Turian sat back, visibly spent.  
“Fuck… She’s tighter than your mother.”  
  
The remark was said with mirth, but the reception was colder than expected when Pelagius growled and huffed.  
Even then, it didn’t deter Rectus from fingering and having fun with Zal’s asshole, stretching and abusing it the same while Pelagius moved around… And finally pushed his father aside so he could have a turn with Zal’s asshole, too.  
  
Contrary to Rectus, whose fucking was driven by the need to please himself, there was a purpose in Pelagius crushing Zal underneath his body and pressing his chitinous chest against the glabrous back, against the gray skin that was to be covered with bruises.  
His cock, massive compared to most Quarians, even perhaps to most Turians, plunged into Zal’s depths. And the Quarian’s sole answer was to smile stupidly, to grin, gargle, and beg more in silence. Saliva dripped, too.  
  
At this point, it was almost a wonder if Zal would remain sane. The Quarian showed no signs of mindfulness except when the contractions followed the ejaculations and orgasms, whether from being pleased anally…. Or the shocks coursing through those genitals.  
However, Pelagius seemed not so impacted, not so frightened when he took his turn in crushing Zal below him, fondling him… And even forced the doll-like Quarian to be riding his cock while the Officer happily enjoyed the news on the television they had in the box.  
  
It took time.  
But the batteries in Zal’s nuts were emptied, and the shocks abated. Then came the end of the high.  
Nevertheless, during that time, Zal had taken what was four to five loads from each, and was about to get his sixth from Pelagius as he had his head hard-pressed against the sofa, practically choking on the soft surface and the pillow while the Officer pummeled to his heart's content, making sure those big asscheeks were red enough.  
Leaving Zal sore… Groaning… And partially groggy when he managed to raise his head and find his lips were parched and his tongue swollen. He was thirsty… Quite so when he looked at the two Turians talking between themselves.  
“Fhew. She’s something. You’re sure your mother will accept what you sent her?”  
“She already answered with a ‘fine’. If she were furious, she might as well have not answered.”  
“She’ll not let it go.”  
“And that’s not our problem. But Zal and Cestus’… Isn’t it right, Zal?” asked Pelagius.  
  
His smile was directed at Zal right when the Quarian lifted his head, passing a hand on his forehead. It was like his brain throbbed inside his skull, smashing against the hard surface while his mind steadily took in what he had heard, what he had done, what he had taken.   
His stomach felt heavy, his ass constantly leaked cum on his perineum and testicles.  
His sphincter burned, though less than when he had been taken during Cestus’ rutting.  
His throat was in so much pain, even when Zal reached for it to massage it and ease his vocal chords.  
“I-“ croaked Zal, stopping when he listened to the sound that came out. It was much worse than he expected, and his eyes widened.  
“Ouchie. Our fag is in pain, Dad,” said Pelagius, approaching.  
  
Zal continued to massage his throat. But he heard the steps, smelled the approaching shaft, and finally had that throbbing monster presented to his face. No, fully stiff, but swollen enough to tell what Pelagius had in mind. He loved this.  
“Come on. I’ve got the best medicine for you,” laughed Pelagius, rubbing his finger against Zal’s cheeks. “Wouldn’t you refuse it? Hmm?”  
  
For a second, Zal frowned. The emotion passed over his face: distrust and dissatisfaction. But that emotion almost vanished as he looked up and saw… Pelagius. Under the Turian’s scrutiny, the Quarian’s anger practically vanished. Fear remained, fear that he’d been caught.  
“You’d refuse your favorite drink?” asked Pelagius, three gold droplets dripping out.  
“Pelagius?”  
“Didn’t I tell you. Zal is a loving piss guzzler. He loves it when I give him his favorite drink. Go on, Zal. Open your mouth. You wouldn’t make a fool of me.”  
  
Zal’s eyes sank. But… He opened his mouth.  
His lips were like dry paper, crackling. Same for his tongue. It was no different than the time… Than the time Zal lost his nuts. But this time, the Quarian had no tears to offer, no cry, no desperation. He was too tired for this. He didn’t have it in himself anymore to act out.  
So his tongue slipped out, extended, and presented itself under the Turian’s shaft, practically rubbing the frenum.  
And then came the acrid yellow piss, sticky and acid. Its funk was terrible to the Quarians’ nostrils, but he didn’t gag or gargle or fight it. Instead, there was only piss to swallow, and he swallowed.  
  
There was that satisfaction as his thirst was taken care of. In a humiliating way, but Zal felt he was… beyond that. He’d taken so much, so many changes. He was no longer the same Quarian who thought he could get off the planet if he earned enough or could avoid the hormonal therapy.  
He was… A mere toy, lost in a tangle of lies in a family that was crazier than anything.   
  
A fool, he thought. A fool who swallowed the piss that filled his stomach, splashed over his swollen tongue, over his cracked lips. With its touch, the skin absorbed the humidity, and the pain lessened. But it did little for Zal’s ego as he watched and saw Pelagius’ chuffed attitude above.  
And Rectus’ curiosity as his shaft was presented long before Pelagius’ own flow began to abate. The piss came forth, still. But a few droplets that dripped before Pelagius shook his cocktip inside Zal’s open mouth before he turned to his Father.  
“Go on. I know you want to do it.”  
  
Was it from Rectus that the two had started to love this? Or was it like so for all Turians?  
Again, Zal expected Rectus to do the same as Pelagius, to take a piss in his mouth, and for Zal to have to swallow.  
Instead, the jet splashed on Zal’s face, making the Quarian open his eyes before he had to close them due to the yellow urine hitting his eyelids.  
Zal closed his eyes, his mouth, even his nostrils as he felt the liquid go all over his, over his forehead, his head… Then his back.  
  
It spread all over him, giving a yellowish tint to his gray skin… And the red sofa. A chuckle followed from Pelagius. But Zal couldn’t be sure of the reason why.  
Though he had an idea when Rectus’ jet finally stopped, certainly in a shower that was shorter than what Cestus or Pelagius offered.  
Still, the tang clung to Zal’s skin and permeated his every breath when he opened his eyes and saw the two Turians shoulder to shoulder.   
“Fuck. That’s something else, Son. I might have to mark her more to make sure Cestus can smell my scent on her.”  
“Our scent. We’re sharing it for once, Dad,” added Pelagius with an elbow jab.  
“True, true. What should we do then? Bring her back home?”  
“No. Let’s call Cestus so he can fetch her,” answered Pelagius, leaning and reaching for his bracers and turning on the omnitool.  
  
Followed then a curt call with Cestus appearing on the screen, evidently frustrated. More so when Pelagius turned the camera at Zal to show that the Quarian was in a poor state… A display even Rectus participated in by staying close to Zal, even though the feminized Quarian tried to move away from the piss-riddled sofa.  
“Come fetch her for dinner. You’ll do best to clean her up and put a few toys on her. We holed her up, but she might need to stay fresh and stretched for us tonight,” said Pelagius.  
“Don’t forget she’ll need to give me a blowjob before I get to sleep.”  
“You heard Dad, Cestus. You’d better do that.”  
“Fu… Fucking fine. I’ll do that. But I don’t want to see you there.”  
“Are you ordering me?”  
  
Pelagius’ frustration was evidently audible. His quills clicked, and even Rectus stepped back.  
“No. You certainly have better things to do. Like placating mother,” justified Cestus, his harsh tone softer. “She wants to see her favorite son.”  
“It’s true we have yet to eat together with the locals ‘politics’. Please, tell her to wait for me.”  
“I am not your secretary.”  
“Cestus. Just pass the message,” said Rectus, his tone diplomatic.  
“Fine. But again, I don’t want to see you there.”  
  
On that, the call cut, and Pelagius huffed, his quills even lifted.  
“See. That’s why he’s unsupportable. He thinks he can order me.”  
“Zal must be a sensible spot for him.”  
“Yeah, of course it is. Enough, he fucked her and neutered that fag in my back,” growled Pelagius, his right foot bouncing. “Let’s get dressed and leave. I’ve got places to be.”  
“Like a shooting range?”  
“… You know me,” added Pelagius, grinning and acting softer, in a way that wasn’t feigned when Rectus’ hand patted his Son’s back, and guiding him outside once they were dressed.   
But not without having the older Turian turning his head… And winking at Zal. He even mouthed something Zal couldn’t understand. Zal answered with a nod before he was left alone.   
  
The place was a mess. The drinks emptied, the snacks eaten… The television remained on, displaying the progress from the Turian Hierarchy. From the news, they’d finally pushed into Asari territory, and the Elcors had signed a treaty that granted them access to levo-garden worlds. As expected, the Krogans were once again at the forefront, with the Salarian discussing a cure for the Genophage they’d offer to the Krogans under strict conditions. An action that the former Turian councilor and more Salarians were criticizing due to the Krogans’ history.  
All sorts of changes were happening outside Rannoch, and it seemed there were few chances for Zal to find peace, except on a barely colonized world. Or one that would be isolated. One last sanctuary.  
  
That thief’s words echoed within Zal as he kept his arms crossed and stood afoot, waiting until Cestus entered the room with the gown Zal had given him.  
“They’re gone?”  
“They’ve been for twenty minutes,” said Zal, feeling suddenly drained as he approached… And narrowly slipped, before he recovered his balance. “They’ll follow the idea.”  
“You look like shit,” commented Cestus, glancing around and searching for a place to put the gown.  
“No surprise. They drugged me, and…” Zal sighed, passing a hand on his forehead before pushing against Cestus’ chest, shoving him aside so he could step outside. The corridor outside was clean, but Zal could smell the sheer funk from his skin and the room as he trudged to the toilets.  
Cestus followed, like a lost puppy. And Zal didn’t push him away, not when he entered the communal bathroom and turned on the water, splashing his face… His sticky eyelids, his nostrils, even his lips.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
“No,” answered Zal, curtly. His back was covered with scratch marks, bite marks. His breasts were hurting, though they were not backed up. And his ass continued to leak. But Zal splashed water on his arms.  
“Do you need help?”  
“I need a real shower. I need to drop into bed and sleep through the next two days. And I think I’ll need pills to endure the pain tonight.”  
Cestus did not peep a word, his expression tense and focused on Zal.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  
  
Zal rolled his eyes. The Turian stepped away and yanked some paper towels. He dipped them into the running water and squatted by Zal, beginning to wipe that abused posterior.  
The cold water was rough, and Zal hissed.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Helping you, for once,” grumbled Cestus, indeed not happy.  
“It’s too cold, Cestus.”  
After that, Cestus turned on the warm water and nearly burned Zal. Then, Cestus used the paper towels to help Zal clean himself. It was not enough to feel good and clean, but it was enough to get rid of the sticky piss all over him. And ease the stench that had even turned the bathroom into a funky dean.  
  
Funky… And certainly displeasing to be in.  
Finally, it was Cestus who broke the silence, his voice low.  
“What happened with them?”  
“I got you covered. They think you enjoy this. Pelagius might even help convince your mother.”  
“That’s… Good. They told you what they’d say to her?”  
“Not at all. Or if they did, it was when they shot me with drugs,” answered Zal, frustrated.  
“Pelagius drugged you?”  
“It’s one of the many ‘options’ my fake genitals have. So many options to torture your Fag. Isn’t it great?” spat Zal, huffing.  
But Cestus did not answer.  
  
Finally, after wiping his armpits, Zal felt clean enough to put his hands on the gown and lift it, watching the clean fabric.  
“So. They’ll keep using you.”  
“Probably not in front of your mother, if that’s what you want so much,” answered Zal, putting the gown on. “Pelagius thinks he has her wrapped around her finger.”  
“You’re angry.”  
“Angry?” grumbled Zal, shaking his head. “I am beyond that.”  
“You don’t…”  
“I don’t?”   
  
The Turian’s quills moved. His mandibles clicked.  
“You don’t-“ continued Cestus. Repeating those two words and yet, losing his countenance before Zal’s outraged gaze.  
“I don’t look happy? I learned today that the guy who raped me in my apartment was your brother. That because of your fucked-up family dynamic, I have to act like his toy. Your father is a creep who loves to humiliate you. And I am sure if I said I prefer you over your brother, your mother would cut my throat. Should I be happy?”  
“You’re crying.”  
  
Cestus remained even pathetic, even when he pointed out that fact. And yes, Zal cried. His frustration and bottled-up emotions were coming out. And now that he was aware of them, he began to cry.  
He thought he was over it, he was fine, he could endure. But he was dry-heaving and leaning back against the basin. Each breath was marked by a shiver, by a hiccup, by his jaw tensing and jumping beyond his control. He tried to look tough, to act tough. But now, he was showing his weakness to Cestus.  
  
Zal’s teeth and jaw clenched harder, though the result was for his breathing to become a whistle and his expression to become more tense. A grimace of pain and anger he kept as he turned away from the shuffling and, evidently, embarrassed Turian.  
It remained as Zal tried to swallow back his saliva while crying, only for the saliva to go the wrong way and for him to begin to cough… And tear up worse.  
“P-Paper,” he asked, extending one hand. And Cestus, despite his ineptitude, gave him that.  
  
Zal pressed his face against the towel, attempting to wipe away the tears or at least to control the snort coming from his nostrils.  
“Another,” he said, throwing the damp and disgusting mix of fluids and tissue, taking what was offered. Soon, he was screaming in his hands, sobbing, and drained.  
He continued, throwing the paper again once it was dirty… And asking another from Cestus. And the Turian already had a towel ready.  
  
It might have taken anywhere from five to ten minutes. But by the time it was done, Zal felt like he’d been fighting that wave of emotions for hours. His eyes were puffed up, his nostrils awfully clogged, and though the tears were gone, their salty taste remained. Or perhaps it was from the Turians’ urine?  
The mere thought made him retch and spit into the sink before he splashed his face for the fourth time in a row.  
  
All that time, Cestus had been silently watching on the sidelines, having taken a few steps back, though he still had two towels in his right hand.  
“Is it… Good?” he asked, breaking the silence and the moment. Zal remained contemplative, leaning against the basin. He didn’t retch, he didn’t spit. But he hissed.  
“No. But I can’t stay there indefinitely, can I? Your mother is probably ready to grill me.”  
“Probably,” answered Cestus, prosaic. But his glances at the flashing omnitool were enough.  
“Superb.”  
  
Zal stepped away from the basin and grabbed the towels from Cestus’s hands to wipe his face and the water still clinging to it. Then, he stepped outside and threw the paper.  
“You’ll have to pay for your family’s drinks and snacks, by the way.”  
Cestus’ mandibles clicked behind, but the Turian followed to the counter so he could pay the salty bill.  
However, he did not comment or criticize Zal. Even on the way back, with Cestus remaining close by, the Turian did not say a thing. He remained distraught and awfully distant, despite the physical closeness.  
  
Finally, with Zal’s expectations and fears in mind, they returned to the apartment.  
“Are you ready?” asked Cestus.  
“No. But I can’t make the matriarch wait, can I?”  
The tense expression was enough, and Zal sighed, waiting for Cestus to open the door before they entered. Already, Zal adjusted his posture to be more controlled. Legs tensed despite the pain, his soles were perhaps soon to burst and bleed, but he walked with confidence into the apartment.  
“We are home, Mother,” shouted Cestus.  
He even plastered a stoic smile upon his face when the acrid voice came.  
“Cestus. You should have a box of higher-grade tea for your guests. Your pantry is practically empty. What is your wife doing?”  
  
Zal’s eyes ticked as he watched the Turian matriarch sitting at the table outside, sipping a fuming cup of tea while Senus slept under her chair. The kitchen itself looked like a battlefield, and the little harmony Zal had imprinted upon that place, the sense of familiarity, had been thrown away. However, he still approached her with his controlled attitude.  
He even raised a hand to stop Cestus. The Turian was already swallowing his breath, ready to speak up.  
“I did not know which brand you would prefer. I would have asked and fetched it for you if not for the circumstances.”  
Calipinia eyed Zal back, observing the Quarian in his gown. Up and down… Certainly eyeing the markings, the bruises underneath the practically translucent fabric.  
“I see,” she said.  
“Good,” continued Zal with a saccharine tone. “Is there anything else I could do to make my presence useful?”  
The old Turian watched her cup, then the street below, reclined in a way that could almost be comfortable if Calipinia wasn’t as tense as old wood. Then, she smiled.  
“No.”  
“Great. If you may, I will leave you in your son’s care. I have matters to attend to. I am sure you and Cestus must have a lot to discuss together without my presence.”  
“Not at all, but please, do,” continued Calipinia, waving her hand like she’d bid a servant farewell. “No need to use powder to cover it all, Zal.”  
  
Zal maintained his composure and turned his heels. In that moment, his smile dropped, and he looked at Cestus. The Turian’s eyes spoke of his surprise and fear. But Zal? No. Zal stepped into the corridor to the master bedroom with a tense mask. And it was only when he was inside with the door closed that he allowed himself to relax.  
  
The shower that followed was lengthy, with extra scrubbing to make sure nothing stuck to Zal’s skin. Even then, he had to rub that Quarian-approved soap on every corner, even his aching and bruised ass crack, before he felt he was clean enough.  
Then followed the topical creams for the bruises, the painkillers he gobbled. He was no longer steaming and fuming when he stepped out of the bathroom and searched through his clothes for the perfect attire for the evening. Something discreet that wouldn’t embrace his curves as much as before.  
  
Finally, with proper shoes on, Zal stepped outside. It wasn’t the complete evening, but the Quarian had his duties, and Cestus welcomed him in the still-chaotic kitchen to help him.  
Cutting and cleaning were Cestus’ parts, though Zal often had to take over when his harpy of a mother called Cestus like a lapdog for X or Y reasons. The most common reason was to berate him about a reason outside his control and to do the same to Zal through association.  
Even then, Zal tried to focus on his cooking.  
  
The Turians' recipes were simple, with a heavy focus on meat. Not too cooked lest they were dissatisfied, so most meats were rare. Moreover, with the whole chaos that happened today, the Quarian didn’t have the chance to restock on the cold cuts or the greens.  
All at once, Zal was swallowed by a whole different world of worries. But that one, he handled it with a control much like during his years as a tech, balancing many things at once.  
  
A multitasking that took most of his attention and allowed him to ignore most of the brutal remarks until it was time for dinner. The soup was warm, the main meal was prepared, and the Quarian soft bread was ready, despite Calipinia's rampage in the fridge.  
Remained then… To dine.  
Once all the meals were prepared and Zal was given time to rest, he felt the fatigue hit him like a punch, and he found himself sitting at the kitchen island, watching Cestus do an umptieth back and forth.  
  
“What is it, this time?” asked Zal, watching the Turian come back with a practically untouched glass of wine.  
“She says it’s corked. I do not know how. It doesn’t have a cork!”  
Zal admittedly rolled his eyes.  
“And what is she doing?”   
“She’s reading a novel from a local Turian writer… She plans to have a few meets in the next five days. She plans to stay there,” commented Cestus, emptying the glass and refilling it from the same bottle but out of his Mother’s gaze.  
“She and your Father aren’t really a couple, are they?”  
“It was a pre-arranged marriage. My father comes from an important line of engineers, while my mother was the second of her name.”  
“And?”  
“I’ll explain later,” said Cestus, wiping the corner of the glass with a towel before lifting the glass like it was full of nitroglycerin. “I’ll be quick.”  
  
This time around, Cestus stayed with his mother, and they had a conversation. A time Zal took it by waiting, sometimes cleaning the nearest spots, and sitting when his legs were begging him to take a break. It ended, however, when two Turians entered the apartment.   
  
Rectus and Pelagius. Rectus was stumbling forward, drunk to a fault.  
Pelagius was behind, holding onto his dad and helping him to stay steady as they bellowed.  
“We are back!” shouted Rectus.  
“Father and I drank at a nearby bar. You should see how interesting the locals are! They’ve got what they call street artists! You should see this.”  
The answer was high-pitched, but Zal didn’t understand, though it must have been another remark against the Quarians.  
“I understand. And don’t worry, we will get out of your quills. Father and I planned to have a family outing.”  
“With Cestus! And the Fag!” added Cestus, slurring.  
  
Zal grimaced in his corner, trying not to look towards the kitchen entrance and, ergo, the two Turians. But Pelagius must have caught glimpses of Zal sulking in his corner because he beckoned him.  
“Zal! Come! Join us! It must be something good for you. Father and I must show you that place. And it’ll do Cestus some good to leave the city!”  
“I already leave it! Often!”  
“Please, brother!” replied Pelagius, acting all fake and suave. “I know your habits. When was the last time you left the capital’s confines?”  
“Three months.”  
“Three months? Come on. Father has already been planning the idea, and he wouldn’t want any of you to miss it.”  
The laugh coming from the drunk Turian told Zal enough… It was a dirty idea. Zal grabbed the plates before he walked to the living room, though, giving the duo a wide berth.  
  
“We can discuss this around the table. The dinner is warm,” he commented, noticing the table was still on the balcony. For a moment, the Quarian froze. Then, he advanced, ignoring the side glances from Calipinia, and put the plates on the table. He even began to clean up Calipinia’s corner, though carefully stepping around the growling Senus.   
“Cestus? Could you help me out with the chairs? I will bring the dishes.”  
No complaint, only a nod. And soon enough, Pelagius helped Rectus to sit at the table, near Calipinia. The old Turian reeked of all sorts of spirits, but he remained cognizant and showed an impressive talent for keeping alcohol in. He’d been drunk yesterday, drinking beers all afternoon. All the while fucking Zal.   
  
Zal even managed to get a comment about it from Cestus as he passed to fetch a bottle of water.  
“He has always been like this.”  
Fucked-up family, indeed.  
  
A fucked-up family that tried to look normal when they were all seated around the table. The Turian matriarch, the drunken patriarch, the psychopathic soldier, the pathetic son… And Zal, stuck between the two sons, as a former Quarian male, sterilized and hooked up on all sorts of hormonal treatments.  
Sitting down, Zal prayed none of them would be handsy as the meal started with an air of informality. No… With Calipinia purposefully ignoring Zal and asking him questions indirectly.  
“What has put your Wife in this soup?” “How did she prepare the poultry?” “She knows about our preferences, does she?”  
  
Zal? He kept that plastered smile across his face and feigned stupid ignorance while eating, carefully following the rules of eating with the meat cutlery. Something Pelagius and Rectus ignored, but not Cestus, nor even Calipinia, who acted more dignified.  
It almost went well, with Calipinia qualifying all dishes from adequate to a surprising ‘satisfying’ on the locally-grown Shulah bird, an overgrown chicken-like bird with large but unusable wings.  
Or… it went well until Zal felt a hand on his thigh, the left one. Where Pelagius was.  
“So… Sister in law,” began Pelagius, leaning forward. “You never told me how you met my brother. I saw in your dossier that you worked for him. Is that so?”  
Zal gulped… Then nodded.  
“He was the first to offer me a contract after I was given my IT specialization certificate.”  
  
Pelagius’ smile remained, creepy and invasive somehow. Calipinia seemed to ignore it, and Rectus… oh, he was swaying. Then, Pelagius’ hand slipped further; Closer to Zal’s inside thighs. And then, the fingers pulled on the robe, lifting it.  
“That’s true. I remember you used to work in IT. Though it is no longer needed now that you are about to become a stay-at-home wife for Cestus?”   
The fingers pulled the fabric until the folds accumulated above Zal’s genitals. And the Quarian was… Unnerved. Red-faced, too.  
“Zal might-“  
“Shh, Cestus. I want to hear what Zal thinks of becoming a Turian’s wife.”  
  
Zal’s lips remained firmly locked… Though he tried to clench his thighs. Alas, Pelagius’ fingers were like steel, and his legs were too weak after that day.   
If Cestus noticed it with a side glance, he didn’t act out. And so, there was nothing that could be done to fend for Zal as he felt the fingers going to his groin… To his soft cock, to the flesh that was poked, teased, titillated without producing more than a faint and watery dribble.  
“I do not plan to shirk on my engagements,” answered Zal, glancing towards Calipinia. “If Cestus wants me to stay at home, I shall. But I do not plan to be indolent.”  
No huffs from the matriarch.  
Hence, Zal sighed internally, though he felt the fingers continuing their dance before they locked onto his cock and held it… Like a fruit, they were ready to pluck.  
“An admirable answer. Not so many wives would have answered that way. You are lucky, Cestus.”  
“Is that envy I perceive?” answered the concerned, his own fingers joining under the table in an awkward display none addressed. Not even Calipinia, who acted like everything at the table was below her.  
  
“Envy? No. Pride, brother,” answered Pelagius, his smile tense. “Mother praised Zal for her quality, despite her unworthy nature. And it is a wonder there is a partner that is accommodating and befitting you.”  
The last words were carefully articulated and spat out like jabs. Jabs that continued down between Zal’s legs as Cestus tried to get hold of the Quarian’s genitals instead of his brother.  
A battle of fingers, much like kids fighting over a meal. And Zal? Oh, he had to stay quiet and silent, not to moan or betray his ‘pleasure’ any further than his reddening face.  
“We are doing well with Zal. We have plans, we know where we are going. Can you say the same, brother?”  
  
The spite was getting too intense, too loud. Even Rectus started to straighten up and sober while the two brothers were fighting. And evidently, Calipinia’s glares were on Cestus.  
At that point, the dinner was a mess, and so Zal put his hands down on his hips, grabbed the robe, and pushed it down. The two brothers retracted their hands, and a moment later, Zal stood up.  
“I am sorry to be a poor host. But my… Treatments make me weak. I am sorry, but I shall leave you for a moment to rest.”  
  
Once again, a glare from Calipinia. But she waved her fork, and so Zal nodded without waiting for any answer from the three males. They could squabble and fight or even pull out tasers, but Zal would be fine as he stepped away and went to the bedroom.  
He planned to rest and sit away from the fighting brothers, but the moment he saw the bed… Zal dropped.  
  
“Zal?”  
“Hmm?” asked the Quarian, feeling somehow rested even though he was clothed… And half-lying on the bed. “Cestus?”  
“Yes. Are you okay?”  
“No,” grumbled Zal, using his hands to crawl on the bed. “I am tired. Whe… Where is your family?”  
“Sleeping. Mother went to bed early, then Rectus. Pelagius only left a few minutes after I showed him you were asleep.”  
“Showed him? You let him in?”  
“What? No! I only opened the door so he would stop nagging.”  
“Fu-Fuck,” groaned Zal, not feeling the energy even to get angry. “Why?”  
“Because he wanted to have a moment with you. You’d have preferred it?”  
“No… Not at all.”  
  
Zal sighed and rolled. The robe was important. It cost Cestus an arm. But even then, Zal wanted nothing but to grab the sheets and wrap himself in them. Still, he stripped and carefully put the robe on the nightstand before he rolled into the sheets. Meanwhile, Cestus kicked his shoes off and stripped.  
“Plus. We will have to wake up early.”  
“We do?” answered Zal, pressing his face against the pillow, grabbing it while feeling the bed shift from Cestus’ weight.  
“We don’t have any camping gear. Rectus and Pelagius planned that outing without any warning. We talked about it while you were out.”  
“Bosh’tet,” moaned Zal. “Not tomorrow.”  
  
A hand passed on Zal’s forehead, though the Quarian pushed it weakly.  
But the hand returned, and this time, Zal gave up, groaning weakly and squeezing his eyes shut even more.  
“Even if you are sick, they will nag you. I… I am still unsure how it will end, Zal. I’m barely… taking in what happened.”  
“Hrmph.”  
“I don’t know how my family will take it. No… I mean, even for you leaving. My mother has that strange interest in you. And my brother. He wants you, a lot. I don’t know what he has for you. And father. You saw him.”  
“Bosh’tet family. Crazy, all of you.”  
“Maybe… Shit. I am not even sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I feel so stressed now. What… Can we do?”  
  
That was a question Zal often asked himself. However, sleeping out of exhaustion was a temporary solution to the troubled mind.   
Cestus followed shortly, his snoring filling the room and his size filling the bed, causing Zal to roll against him.  
At least, that’s what Zal assumed when he woke up, his eyes crusty and his mind hoping it was over.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/egLLWABm
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