It's 37 ticks until the security system goes off. Pidge doesn't trust any of her teammates to bypass the legion-console near the secondary mainframe of this Galra base. No time can be afforded to be wasted.

"I got the data-encoding," she mutters, jerking the miniature tech-drive out of the console.

Shiro's voice blares in her paladin-helmet, crackling with static.

"You need to gezzZZ out of therzzzZZZZ—"

Pidge glances up wide-eyed at the sound of footsteps and then her escape-route door beeping, signaling to open. She ducks silently into another adjacent, purple-glowing room, with some chair-like furniture and blacked out, unusable cameras paneling the opposite wall. Crap, there's gotta be a way out.

That's when she notices the wall-vent, not high up. It's maybe just her size. Pidge triumphantly nods, smacking her hands as quietly as she can and grabbing for one of the chairs to place beneath it.

Climbing up, Pidge balances herself, removing the steely, metallic grill to the vent. Once she's gently hid the vent-grill behind the camera area, Pidge re-hoists herself with a soft, humming grunt, crawling through the entrance with her arms outstretched. The interior of the wall-vent is angled downwards — so if she hurries, Pidge can just smoothly ride herself down to wherever it leads.

All goes well until her midsection and hips. It feels stuck. From there, she's not able to pull herself further in, no matter how much Pidge strains herself and curses, gripping for the vent-walls.


Okay, bad. Bad plan.

Pidge tries yanking herself back out the way she came, feeling the same unyielding resistant. No… no, shit. Her torso doesn't withdraw an inch, even as Pidge rocks her back-and-forth defiantly, becoming increasingly frustrated. One of Pidge's fists slams into the vent's siding.

The noise — she hears the footsteps of Galra soldiers, this time entering to investigate the ruckus. Pidge exhales sharply, holding her breath and wishing to clamp her gloved-fingers over her mouth.

Nice going, dumbass.

Pidge scolds herself, hoping the Galra would somehow not find her dangling out of their wall. If they do, she's screwed — they'll capture her and send her to Zarkon to be executed, right?

Goosebumps travel over her flushed, overheated skin. The soldier are close enough now that she can hear their voices, but not what they're saying. It's not a language Pidge understands. "Guys," she whispers into her helmet's comm.-link, her lips barely moving. "Guys, are you there…?"

That's when unfamiliar, eager hands touch her, over the curve of Pidge's ass and testing the weight of her hips, wiggling her slightly. She's too stunned to react, to draw another breath, when one of the Galra soldiers cuts open a slit in her platinum-white armored suit, from her tailbone to the very front of her pelvis. It rips wider, with the aid of more hands, to expose her properly to them.

She feels her legs parting, and a set of brittle, razor-sharp nails along with massively thick fingers tugging on her sensitive and tiny labia, hesitantly pushing her apart and stretching for examination.

Her rational instincts flare up. Pidge begins to struggle and scream with animalistic rage inside the vent, pounding her fists harder and trying to pull away, as someone lifts her bottom flailing half and presses themselves harshly between her thighs, cradling her hips mid-air.

Cool, runny fluid squirts all over Pidge's curls of pubic hair and her vaginal opening, collecting inside her quickly when what feels like a slimy, round bulb nudges insistently. Pidge's head spins. Her arms drop heavily onto the venting's floor. Her muscles feel… weaker, more relaxed.

She doesn't even tense, or cry out, drowning in the aphrodisiac effects of Galra pre-cum. It would be the reasonable thing to do. That first Galra appendage impales her, slickened up, and widens Pidge's small, overstimulated vagina further open, not bothering to go in like a thoughtful or benevolent lover. Pidge's mouth hangs open, wordlessly. Drool pours over her lower lip.

Whatever she's getting fucked on — oh god, her very first sexual experience— it's short, but distended and large, feeling like it could split her at any moment. It should hurt like hell. Pidge doesn't understand how her brain-cells aren't reading the electrical currents unless something's blocking them. That, or she's completely high off the alien fluid dribbling out of her and in shock. The phallic-shaped appendage has a thinnish coating of fur, damp and flattening while moving around steadily inside Pidge, almost tickish.

Her lingering, coherent thoughts vanish when the Galra soldier moans, deep and guttural, humping her erratically. She feels a continuous, hot pumping of liquid filling her, spraying her walls.

As soon as he leaves her empty, the next soldier crowds between Pidge's legs, hoisting her up and grasping her from behind. The tip of a gelatinous, huge tentacle slithers over the line of Pidge's buttocks, before aiming for her vulva. A multitude of soft, pulsing suckers tease over Pidge's clitoris as the Galra-tentacle enters her body, stroking and massaging her cum-soaked depths.

It feels good, like a pleasant, buzzing caress. Pidge's helmet-visor fogs up white, as she pants and squirms with the purposefully erotic, slow thrusts, digging her forehead to the vent.

It's over sooner than the first, with more thick, hot cum and what feels like pebbles lodging in her channel. No, it's eggs — mushy, pliant eggs sliding out when a flushing, drowsy Pidge clenches up, forcing them out of her body and letting them tumble free with a sloshing, wet plop! plop! plop! at her feet.

She rolls her eyes back, arching her neck and clenching once more with a low, long whine, passing out the final, gooey egg. One of the soldiers smacks her on the ass hard, gruffly laughing.


Pidge half-pays attention to the static-drone of a voice, reverberating within the confines of her paladin-helmet. The third Galra soldier has his way, burying what seems to be an actual dick inside her this time, fleshy-smooth and curved slightly, pushing in as far as she can take it.

"—come in, are you thzzZ—"

When he slams repeatedly against a barrier, Pidge feels her muscles finally awakening, gasping and tensing up firmly around his Galra-cock. The pleasure-pain of her cervix being hit means little compared to what feels like a knot of hardened, round flesh growing inside Pidge, inflating with the cum jetting out nonstop, making a slight, visible bulge from her abdominal wall.

Her ass bounces wildly along with the Galra soldier's rough thrusts. She orgasms for the first time, when the knot twitches, growing bigger and releases another flood of cum in her belly, her toes curling, shivering and shaking so badly that Pidge greys out, fainting from the overload for a couple of seconds.

"Pidge, are you there!?"

She wakes, startled by Keith's voice yelling into the comm.-link. Pidge exhales, wincing at the stink of her own perspiration inside her suit, at the presence of the Galra-knot still seated deep inside her.

"Mmhn, y-yeah…"

"Where the hell were you? We've been trying to contact you—" Keith answers her, a little less frantic and no longer yelling. He must be pacing in the hanger-bay with Shiro and everybody else.

"Got held… up…" Pidge murmurs, biting her lips and swallowing down a whimpering, high-pitched noise when the knot softens up, dragging slow, so slowly out of her. One of the Galra soldier kneads her asscheek, speaking in Galran and thumbing over her cum-glossy, sore entrance. "Be there in a sec."

"Why do you sound like that? Are you hurt?"

Pidge's face goes an uglier shade of red. "Tired, hhn," she says, trying to not moan over the comm.-link when the final Galra soldier slips out of her. "Hn. I'll… I'll be there at the checkpoint."

And just like that, Pidge feels her legs and hips dangling uselessly, heavily in the air, and the footsteps of the Galra soldiers wandering off into the distance. They're letting her go? Pidge shakes her head, groaning. Or they're getting more of their soldiers to have a turn on her.

Somehow, all of the manhandling and the desperate, alien fucking looses Pidge's midsection in the wall-vent, allowing her to rotate onto her back and angle herself differently, squeezing inside.

She crawls all the way through into a bigger, wider venting section. Pidge takes a moment to lie down, grimacing and cupping herself as more pale purple, warm Galra cum floods out of her, her inner muscles spasming uncontrollably. Cum splatters onto the ground, like a thick puddle, and all over Pidge's hand.

Pidge doesn't know how she's gonna explain this.

Not at all.



Voltron isn't mine. Fill for voltron - kink dot dreamw idth dot org slash 2091 dot html ? thread = 862763