Pidge isn't here to make friends at the Galaxy Garrison. She wants to find out where her brother and father had been taken during the Kerberos mission. Nothing else.

Since all of her "legal" paperwork, expertly forged through a mainframe of governmental elite security and approved without any suspicion through her multiple and high-scoring entrance exams, says she's Pidge Gunderson — a boy — it means late-night showers alone.

The boy's locker room fills quickly and thick with steam, as she flips off the overhead shower head in the corner, dripping wet and padding for a nearby, hanging towel. There's no time to dry off completely and she'll need to redress in her custom, uniform-standard pajamas. Pidge's heart skips a beat when a low, human whistle echoes against the shower's walls.

"Ohoho, Gunderson…"

One of the cadets, maybe a year older than Pidge, approaches from the steamy, semi-lit background. He rakes his eyes hungrily over her, biting down a smirk. Pidge winces, flushing slightly in humiliation and covering herself with a hand between her legs, and folding an arm across her breasts. Not that she has much for breasts. Flat-chested might be too generous of a term.

"Nice titties… for a boy, huh?"

To her growing horror, another few, male cadets venture from the depths of the locker-room.

"More like tiny tits," the boy with a hooked, thin nose announces, gleefully slapping his hands together as the others join him. "What do you think, Tiny Tits? How is Iverson gonna react when he finds out you've been lying on your paperwork this whole time?"

Pidge's teeth grits visibly. "You're not gonna say anything," she snarls.

One of the boys creeping around her finally rushes behind Pidge, wrenching away her arm from her chest, pulling her opposite wrist behind her, exposing her fully. She doesn't have time to fight out of his grasp, when he lets go suddenly. The cadet with a mess with wild, curly red hair holds out his mobile, taking a photo of Pidge standing by herself, the flash-feature glowing. "Don't have to," he drawls. "One press of the button, and everybody with a student or staff account is gonna know about you. Can't track where it came from either."

He could be bluffing about that kind of hacking system… but he could also be right. Pidge's face scrunches up, her tears moistening with warm, unshed tears.

"What do you want?" she mumbles.

The first, older cadet — dark eyes, dark hair, darker soul — tuts and strolls up to her. "Let's just say, whatever you can offer," he says softly, gazing down on her and touching over Pidge's bare shoulder, giving her a unnamed, intense shiver. His olive-skinned hand trails lightly over her forearm. "Any day… any hour… that we want it."

A chorus of hoots and snickers, echoing from all sides of her.

She's amazed by her own resilience and nerve, and her own idiocy. How she hasn't taken an opportunity to suckerpunch this piece of shit. Pidge tries to calm herself with a deep, trembling breath. "That's pretty fucked," she points out, as if conversationally.

"Well, at least I didn't do some illegal shit to get here in the first place." He snorts out a chuckle, grasping the side of Pidge's hip and pressing in. There's something hard poking through the vinyl material of his track-pants. She knows what it is, but she doesn't want to see it. Pidge figures at this rate, she won't have a choice in the matter if they'll all gonna blackmail her. "Be a good girl for me when I say so… that's all you gotta do," the first cadet murmurs in a pseudo-affection, wiping his thumb over Pidge's flushed, damp cheek as a heavy, watery tear rolls free. "And this'll go away on its own…"

She may be a liar — but he's a bigger and more repulsive one.

A disbelieving, awkwardly loud laugh escapes her. It takes a moment for him to process it, but the first cadet growls and shoves her furiously, until Pidge feels someone else catch her. She's getting lowered onto the shower-floor and her head smacks to a tile, Pidge's arms yanked forcibly above her.

A part of her wishes she had been knocked out, when the first cadet barks out something and kneels down in front of her, tugging out his mostly erect penis. It's ugly and bulbous, and Pidge's throat clenches up. Fuck. Another cadet grabs one of Pidge's ankles and stretches her leg wide-open when she attempts to kick him. "Dude, you better stretch her first, or else it'll hurt like a fuckin' bitch," the red-haired cadet says, grumbling.

What feels like two fingers push insistently to her vaginal lips, spreading them apart and it's weird, that's the only way that Pidge can describe it. Like an invasion to something forbidden. She's never even touched herself before like this.

They don't go far enough in, kinda just prodding the fleshy, pink rim before he loses his patience, crawling in closer. Then it's an immediate sense of heat and agony, when the tip of his penis attempts to sink past the tightened and fluttering muscles of Pidge's vaginal opening. A hoarse, desperate scream rips out of her. She writhes her naked and small body on the wet, slippery floor, unable to lift herself, her expression turning bright red.

Nobody hears her, despite Pidge's next near-sobbing scream or their muffled and laughing voices, or maybe they planned for it. Or they didn't. Pidge heard a rumor last week about how some of the cadets wander into the boy's locker room to smoke a joint or pass around the hardcore drugs they're hiding in their personal belongings, to avoid getting caught.

"Shit, shit," he groans this, complaining, humping. One of the boys's fingers still loosely clutches to Pidge's upright knee. Her wrists still being pinned. They watch in obvious and lustful fascination as she cries out in high-pitched, short wails, feeling like the air gets punched out of her lungs when his dick rams against her walls.

Pidge doesn't know how long this goes on for, before her insides feel hot. She shakes harder, almost vibrating her own molecules, her mouth slackened and gasping weakly. He pulls out of her roughly, hurting again. Pidge lifts her head, watching numbly as a mixture of scarlet-tinged come dribbles and swirls out of her, heading towards the shower-drain. "You ready to cooperate, Gunderson?" the first cadet asks, narrowing his dark, beady eyes.

It's met with silence but a faint tick of her head-nod. She's already gotten this far in. She can take it, all of it— and does, as the second, older cadet who manhandled her earlier replaces the first, spitting on his fingers and coating his own dick vigorously.

Pidge isn't sure if he's bigger or not, trying to not cry through the same burning pain as he fucks her aggressively, sucking her lower lip between her teeth and closing her eyes.

They're all gonna have their turn on her before this is over, she thinks. Four male cadets in exchange for their silence. She's gonna have to do this for them whenever they wanted it during this school year. A curl of warm, sensual anticipation rises in Pidge's gut.

In the middle of her overwhelmed, dizzying senses, one of the boys rolls his hips and touches where they've joined together, or rather, he touches the area of Pidge's crotch. The red-haired cadet rubs his fingertips over a sensitive, hidden knob of flesh, and she feels it — Pidge feels a wave of pleasure striking her unexpectedly.

Her confusion mounts into a shocked orgasmic release, as she gasps out a long moaning noise, her abused and sore canal throbbing around his large, veiny dick emptying inside her.

Was it supposed to feel good?



A week or so passes. Pidge still has the fresh, vivid memory of limping in the semi-darkness, her inner, quivering thighs leaking and tacky-dry with their come, from the multiple rounds. She couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning with her damp brown hair slapping in her face, too-achy and delirious and upset, tucking a massive fluffy pillow between her legs.

They seek her out when their vacation break ends, one-by-one.

And despite her logic and reason, it feels thrilling being flattened over the edge of a classroom desk, after the biology lesson and the professor vanishes. She can't see whoever this is, but feels his hot, shuddery breathing on her ear, one of his hands fumbling to unbuckle Pidge's trousers while the other holds her down to the smooth, marbled desk-top.

Pidge lies motionless, his sweaty, calloused palm pressing on her temple, exhaling with a hiss as he tries to drive himself inside her, his cockhead sloppily running between Pidge's buttocks.

One of the cadets fucks her in the corridor between an internal wall and the gymnasium, making Pidge drop her skivvies and brace her hands against the steely wall-panel. She's bowed forward, determinedly quiet minus her whimpering, breathy sounds, as he thrusts fiercely against her ass and slim, pale thighs, her cock splitting her with its girth, already halfway inside.

She… fuck, it's amazing.

During the upcoming weekend, her least favorite cadet with his dark, greasy hair and dark eyes leads Pidge to a utility closet on the upper-levels of the Galaxy Garrison. He sits them down, ordering her to undress and ride him in his lap until she's gone raw.

Pidge enjoys one thing about it — her little, rosy-pink nipples getting massaged and groped relentlessly, helping her arousal climb and swell until she's coming loudly too.



Not all boys were useless fucking machines.

Pidge teams up with Lance and Hunk for their simulator space-training. They treat her like one of their own, like family, sitting with her during meals and cracking jokes and starting lowkey food fights with Thurday's mush surprise, and planning out video-gaming sessions.

"How about it?" Lance asks her, with his bright, optimistic smile. Pidge's own mouth ticks up fondly. "You, me and Hunk again? We could really duke it out with the—what the hell—" he yelps, when one of Pidge's cadets elbows him aside and walks up to her by her own bedroom's entrance. Damn it. Pidge glances around, discovering all four of them waiting on cue, smirking or frowning. "Got a problem?" Lance barks out, glaring at the second cadet towering over him.

"They're here for our group project in Theorem Astrophysics," Pidge says coolly, managing to cover up how flustered she feels as their and Lance's eyes sweep over her. "I volunteered for us to go first, so we gotta work on it tonight. Sorry."

As soon as her bedroom door whirs open, Pidge's cadets head in, murmuring and high-fiving.

"Yeah. Fuck off, McClain," the red-haired cadet says with a toothy, nasty grin she can recall by memory, slapping Pidge on her lower back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Lance's eyebrows raise up, bunching.


"It's fine, Lance," she insists, not bothering to fake her annoyance.

"They're bullies, Pidge. You don't know these guys like I do."

Lance's concern is so sincere and abysmally sweet, but the irony of his words almost makes Pidge want to gag-laugh. He doesn't know shit about anything. That's the truth.

"It's not a big deal. Besides," she announces at the top of her voice this time, looking over her shoulder furtively, "It's not like it's gonna take a long time…" From inside her bedroom, where Lance or any passerby can't see him, the manhandling cadet wags his exposed, stiffened dick and flips her off, lolling out his tongue in a sneering and pleased look.

Soon enough, Lance decides to play video-games without her, rolling his eyes mildly.

Pidge barely has the automated, whirring door shut when they're on her, tearing the buttons on her uniform, slapping her ass and breasts, cuffing her in the jaw. She's thrown down on the carpeted floor, her underwear and glasses yanked off, her hair pulled teasingly.

Whore, slut — they chime out, admiring the bruises and welts on Pidge's stomach and legs and the dip of her right hip, giving her swollen, reddened bite-marks on her thighs and back — pussy, tight little boy-pussy — grinding and jabbing her their twitching and needy cocks, blowing load after load of their sticky hot come to fill Pidge up, more, more and more—

She wants more.



Two years pass. Becoming a paladin of Voltron, allowing physical and emotional distance between herself and the situation at the Galaxy Garrison, Pidge comes to terms with everything.

Namely, her trauma.

Before rescuing Shiro in the desert, she remembers making a habit of seeking out the cadets as an excuse for a good, distracting fuck, when Pidge felt stressed out or anxious. They didn't ever need to make an effort from that point to convince Pidge to do anything.

No matter how many times it happened, she also never got pregnant. Even without a condom. Pidge didn't get on her menstrual cycle until she had been the Green Paladin for a couple of months.

Still… what happened shouldn't have happened.

One day, Pidge collects all of her data and records, along with prime holo-footage, and submits all of the cadets's deeds to the local Earth authorities. She glimpsed into it yesterday. They were all charged with various offenses, from illegal wire-tapping to assault charges to unarmed, minor burglary, as well as espionage, and awaiting jail time.

Matt doesn't know about her coercion, or Shiro, or the rest of the Paladins. That's not something she wants to admit to her parents either. Maybe on her death bed. Maybe not.

Pidge finds herself drifting off to the remnants while lying in her bunk, eyes shut. Her fingertips graze over the lip of her pajama-shorts. But it's the paladins she imagines while digging her hand underneath her clothes, fingering herself slow and steady.

Keith, cradled between Pidge's legs and grunting with concentration, plunging his dick in and hammering on her g-spot — Lance, with a crooked, easy smile, kissing her on the throat and playing gently with her anus's rim — Hunk, licking and circling his tongue around Pidge's clitoris, until she's a trembling, squirming mess — Shiro, looking up at her adorably baffled when Pidge straddles him in her armor, clasping his huge, pulsating cock with both hands—

She feels her own vaginal walls moistening, contracting rhythmically with her sudden, brief orgasm. It coaxes a noisy, euphorically sighing breath from her.

It's only a fantasy.




Voltron isn't mine. I've tried rewriting what I was gonna say in my author's note at least seven different times. Nothing just works so anyway this is something a little bit personal to me. Namely I've lived through something to similiar to what Pidge lived through in this but at a much younger age. I guess you can call this "coping" fic or whatever you wanna call it but it's definitely not meant to be shown in a positive light. I wanted Pidge to get revenge like I never could. I don't think I can reread this either. But for those of you who are out there struggling from past rape and stuff, I want you to know it was not your fault. And that I believe you.