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BBC Heaven	By : NakedOwlMan Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 96916 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and all the characters in it are owned by people that are not me. I have not made a cent off this work of fiction

Chapter List
- 6
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- 8
Just keep your eyes focused on hers. Whatever you do, do not look down.

These were the words that Ensign Nathan Waltman ran through his head as he made his way across Deck 3. When he had received the message in his extranet box, asking him to report to Dr. T'Soni's office for an important discussion, he immediately started thinking about all the stories he had been hearing. About what had happened down on Eden Prime, and the shocking sight that had been revealed when Dr. Michel had opened the door to Liara's quarters and revealed her...

Stop thinking about it, Waltman admonished himself. Just about the worst possible thing he could possibly do right now would be to offend Shepard's oldest friend. Honestly, after everything that had happened before, Shepard had every right to kick him off the Normandy. But Shepard had been merciful to Waltman, and in return Waltman was determined to never give Shepard a reason to be angry at him again. So he would meet with Liara, keep his eyes focused away from her... anatomy, and go right back to work just as he had before.

Reaching the door to Liara's office, Waltman triggered the door chime. "Just a moment," he heard the asari's sweet-sounding voice from the other side of the door.

Waltman stood at attention at the door, lightly bouncing on his heels as he waited. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps behind him. When he turned his head to look, he involuntary clenched his hands into hard fists, his heart sinking in his chest as he saw who approached.

Fucking Bocelli.

Judging by the look on her face when she saw him standing there, Communications Officer Lieutenant Terri Bocelli was just as thrilled to see him. "What did you do?" she immediately asked him, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You make up some story to try and screw me over?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," Waltman asked, as Bocelli came to a stop as far away from him as she could while still standing in front of the door. "Dr. T'Soni just said to come to her office. Didn't say anything about you being here too. If I'd have known about that, I might have tossed myself out of the nearest airlock instead."

"Well, thank God you didn't," Bocelli said with a sneer. "After we destroyed the Reapers, the galaxy is polluted enough with floating garbage." Taking a deep breath, Bocelli turned away from Waltman to stare at the door. "Let's just get through this, okay? Don't know what this is all about, but if we just play nice for a few minutes, we can get back to being as far away from each other as possible."

"Will be the longest few minutes of my life, but fine," Waltman agreed with her. Staring at the door, the two of them waited in silence until, finally, it slid open.

Staring into the room, a look of confusion crossed Waltman's face. "Uh... hello?" he said, stepping cautiously into the darkened space. "Are you in here, doctor?"

"Of course," Liara said from inside the room. As Waltman stepped inside, and his eyes adjusted to the extremely dim light from within, he could make out the distinctive head tendrils of Liara in the shadows. Behind him, Bocelli cautiously entered as well. The familiar array of monitors on the right-hand wall had been deactivated, and the room's lighting lowered down to the dimmest possible settings.

Suppose Dr. T'Soni's feeling a little bit self-conscious about what that weird Prothean device did to her, Waltman mused to himself, as the door slid shut and he and Bocelli were left in almost total blackness.

"Ensign Waltman. Lieutenant Bocelli," Liara addressed each of them in turn. "It's been a while since we last spoke directly, hasn't it? In fact, I think the last time was six months ago, around the time of the... unfortunate incident."

Waltman tensed up. He wanted to speak up, defend himself once again, but he waited to see where Liara was going with this.

"You two were... quite heated, weren't you? I still remember how angry Shepard was after that display in the mess hall between you two. To be honest, the two of you are lucky he didn't kick the both of you off this ship."

"And we really appreciate that, Dr. T'Soni," Bocelli spoke up. Even as he tried to keep his cool in this tense situation, just the sound of her voice made the bile rise up in his throat. "Commander Shepard gave us a great opportunity, and I for one don't intend to squander it. Just... as long as the two of us are kept on separate duties on separate decks, you won't have any trouble from us ever again."

There was silence in the darkness for a few moments. "Very interesting, the tension between the two of you. From your dossiers, it seems like neither of you had any interaction with each other prior to being assigned to the Normandy. No past rivalry or previous animosity. What could possibly account for this... friction?"

Neither of them wanted to be the first to speak up, but as the awkward silence hung in the air, Waltman finally opened his mouth. "It's... hard to explain, Dr. T'Soni. But me and Lieutenant Bocelli just don't work well together. I couldn't tell you one particular thing about her that I don't like, but I know for certain – and I think Lieutenant Bocelli would agree with me – that the two of us will continue to do fine work for the Normandy as long as you keep us far, far away from each other."

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors, of course," Liara said, and in the darkness Waltman could swear he could make out a smile on her face. "That the two of you were previously... involved with each other, and that the relationship went bad. Any truth to the gossip?"

Involuntarily, Waltman felt himself start to gag, and he could hear Bocelli make a disgusted sound as well. "Nothing but rumors, Dr. T'Soni," Waltman said. "I can assure you that there are many, many things I would rather do than ever lay a finger on Lieutenant Bocelli, much less be in a 'relationship' with her."

"And it'd be a cold day in hell before I'd ever lower myself to consider dating someone like Ensign Waltman," Bocelli said.

"'Lower yourself'?" Waltman turned to Bocelli with an incredulous expression. "Please. Next time we dock at the Citadel, I bet I could hook up with at least five women who'd be thrilled at the chance to be with a guy like me. Women with much more pleasant personalities than certain parties in this room, to be sure."

"Christ, the ego on you," Bocelli spat out. "After all these months I had almost forgotten how insufferable you are. How such a pompous and vulgar individual got himself assigned to the Normandy is anyone's guess."

Waltman glared at Bocelli's dark outline in the dim light. "Truthfully? If we had been in a relationship, it would have been the greatest act of charity I could have ever performed. Can't imagine why any other man would want to be with such a frigid, over-critical, aggravating little bit..."

"Alright, that's enough," Liara said. Immediately, Waltman remembered where he was and clamped his mouth shut. Dammit, she had done it to him again. He wasn't sure why he lost complete control of his emotion whenever he was around Bocelli, but here he was. Endangering one of the greatest opportunities of his life, serving on the Normandy, just because he couldn't resist getting into it with fucking Bocelli. That annoying, frustrating...

"Thank you very much for the... demonstration," Liara said. Waltman was surprised to hear not a trace of anger in her voice, despite the ugly display between him and Bocelli. On the contrary, she sounded... pleased. "I've decided that the two of you are going to be just perfect."

"Perfect? Perfect for what?" Bocelli said. Waltman thought he could hear a trace of fear in her voice, and although he liked the idea of Bocelli being scared out of her wits, it sent a tremble through Waltman as well. Something about the overly pleasant tone in Liara's voice, combined with the near-complete lack of light in the room, made Waltman suddenly feel very nervous.

"I am sure the two of you are aware of my recent... affliction," Liara said. "It has taken some getting used to, but I believe I am to the point where I would like to perform some experiments. Despite my current state, I suppose I have not lost my scientific curiosity. And you two, I believe, would be perfect for my next test."

"Uh," Waltman started to say, struggling to keep calm. "No offense, Dr. T'Soni, but I'm not sure I want to be a part of any experiments. I mean... especially if it involves working with Lieutenant Bocelli. I think you just saw that the two of us would have trouble working together on just about any project."

Liara laughed lightly in the darkness. "On the contrary, Ensign. The tension between the two of you makes you the absolute perfect subjects."

"Regardless... I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline taking part in your experiment, Dr. T'Soni," Waltman said.

"Yeah, me too," Bocelli chimed in. Even when he was agreeing with her, Waltman couldn't stand the sound of her voice. Fucking Bocelli.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Liara said, and that sweet tone of her voice suddenly hardened. "I think I must have missed the part where I implied that your participation in this experiment was in any way voluntary." Her voice raised slightly as she spoke again. "Dr. Michel, Specialist Traynor... did you hear me say anything about the two of them having an option to not assist me?"

Waltman suddenly felt someone behind him. "Hey, get your hands off!" he heard Bocelli yelling out beside him. Before Waltman could react, he felt an arm reach around his shoulders from behind, followed by a sharp pinch at his neck. He tried to turn to face his attacker, but suddenly his head was swimming. Beside him, he heard a muffled thump, and squinted in the dim light to see Bocelli crumpled on the floor.

The last thing he heard before he felt himself falling to the deck was Liara's voice. "Strip them down and tie them up," she said. " The drugs will wear off in just a few minutes, and I want them ready for the experiment by the time they come to."

* * *

"Fuck..."

Frantically, Miranda worked her fingers against her clit. Her frustrated moans echoed across the empty Normandy ladies room as she vigorously played with herself.

She had gone back to her workspace fully intending to send a message to Shepard, letting him know about Jack's assault on her and requesting that he return to the Normandy as soon as possible to deal with the dangerous and unstable woman. But halfway back, she had started feeling it. That light twinge down between her legs, barely noticeable at first but growing with every second. By the time she had returned and spoken to Ori, the only thing she could concentrate on was the maddening pressure building in her twat. After making some excuse to her sister about feeling sick, she had made a mad dash down to the ladies room – ensuring it was empty before using her security clearance to secure the lock and ensure complete privacy – and wasted no time unzipping her jumpsuit and thrusting her hand down underneath her panties.

"Fuck," she muttered again, as she desperately played with her pussy and clit. She was no stranger to feeling a little bit horny on occasion. But this... this was unlike anything she had ever felt before. And despite her desperate attempts to bring herself to climax, she found herself no closer to her release than when she had started.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to focus on some steamy, romantic encounter with a well-built and devastatingly handsome man. Several men ran through her mind: Jacob, Commander Shepard, that olive-skinned man with the elaborate tattoos she had impulsively hooked up with a few months ago. In her mind, she ran through image after image of one of these men slowly stripping her down on some private beach somewhere, before instructing her to kneel down on a blanket in the sand. Once she was properly positioned, he would lower himself down behind her and begin firmly massaging her shoulders the way she always liked. The kind of sensual fantasies that had become so clichéd in romance novels for centuries, but which never failed to get Miranda off when she was feeling a little bit randy.

But just as before, the fantasies seemed to do nothing for her. And as she continued her fruitless attempts to conjure up an image arousing enough to get herself off, one vision alone kept intruding back in her mind: crouching behind a storage crate and watching in surprise as Jack and the engineering crew members engaged in a sweaty, animalistic orgy in front of her.

And Samara. In her mind, she could see Samara's thick cock stretching Ensign Burnham's cunt wide open, the young woman crying out in heated delight as the massive piece of blue cockmeat forced itself deep inside of her. All while Gabby slurped on Samara's bouncing blue balls, the brilliant engineer playing with herself just as vigorously as Miranda currently was as she slathered Samara's scrotum with saliva.

At the time, Miranda had found the whole display disgustingly vulgar, but as she remembered the carnal sight she could feel her own pussy start to dampen underneath her fingers.

Dammit, no, she admonished herself for lingering on the image. What had happened down below was sick and twisted. The sort of thing only a perverted mind like Jack's would enjoy. But as she struggled to return to the image of a handsome brick of a man massaging her shoulders, the fingers caressing her skin in her mind suddenly turned blue and lightly scaled. In the midst of her fantasy, she turned to see the serene, solemn face of Samara, and she could feel the press of Samara's cock against her back as the justicar continued massaging her shoulders.

Letting out a frustrated gasp, she opened her eyes. Just then, she heard a pounding on the door. Someone needing to use the facilities, obviously. Part of her wanted to give up on the fruitless masturbatory endeavor and simply open the door, but Miranda knew that if she didn't relieve this tension right here, right now, she was likely to go insane with frustration.

"Come back later," Miranda called out to the unknown woman on the other side of the door, struggling to find an excuse. "We're... doing a safety inspection in here. Should just be a few minutes."

The knocking on the door stopped, and Miranda returned to her desperate fingering of her twat. "Don't think about her," she muttered to herself, struggling to summon up a comfortable male image in her mind again. But no sooner did she close her eyes than she was back on the beach with Samara. As she imagined the asari's hands stroking and kneading her flesh, her body in the real world let out a light spasm of pleasure.

When she heard another knock on the door, and realized that the unwelcome intruder into her private time wasn't leaving anytime soon, Miranda realized that she had no choice. Closing her eyes, she gave in to her mind's secret desires.

"Touch me, Samara," Miranda gasped, speaking quietly to not be heard through the restroom door. "I want you to touch me." In her mind, she could feel the asari's hand drift down to her lower back. Not to massage her, but to slowly but forcefully press Miranda forward. Once Miranda was down on her hands and knees on the blanket in her sexual fantasy, she imagined Samara's cock head sliding along the lips of her twat, the asari lubricating herself on the slick fluids.

Before in these fantasies, once Miranda had been properly relaxed by a slow, sensual massage, her dream lover would hoist her up in his arms and carry her away to their luxury suite for some slow, sensual lovemaking. But her fantasy Samara was in no mood to wait, and before too long Miranda imagined Samara's cock forcing her cunt wide and plunging deep into her wet, clenching insides.

"Fuck me," Miranda muttered, as the fantasy image of Samara began banging her doggy-style. It was a position Miranda hated in the real world: so base and degrading, with no way to make eye-contact with her partner. But in this fantasy, Miranda knew that it was the only way she wanted to get fucked. Samara completely in control of her, and screwing her like a goddamn animal while Miranda moaned and clenched at the beach blanket underneath her fingers. "Fuck me harder, Samara. Fill me up with that fat cock."

Another round of pounding at the door. "Almost... finished..." Miranda gasped out, unable to keep the unmistakable sound of arousal out of her voice, but too far gone to care at this point.

Miranda wasn't sure if the intrusion of the unknown woman outside of the door was leaking into her mental image, or if some deeper desire of hers had been awoken. But suddenly, in her fantasy, she and Samara were surrounded by a crowd of people on the previously-empty beach. Some of them simply stared at Miranda getting fucked by Samara, while others were getting into the spirit of things: stripping out of their swimsuits and grabbing random partners to join in on the ocean-side fucking.

In her mind, she could hear the leering men and women cheer Samara on: "Fuck that stuck-up little bitch!" "Give it to her harder!" "Make that slut beg for your cock!" Scanning the crowd in her mind, Miranda spotted a familiar face.

"You like that, don't you, cheerleader?" Jack said with a smirk. The tattooed woman was standing buck-naked in the sand, each hand filled with the cock of a man on either side of her and jerking them as she watched Miranda get fucked. "You like Samara pounding you with that big blue cock of hers, don't you? Always knew that deep down you were nothing but a dirty slut."

"Oh, yes!" Miranda screamed out, on the brink of climax. "Fuck me, Samara! Fuck me in front of all of them! Show them all what a goddamn whore I am for your fucking cock!"

As she cried out, she finally felt her orgasm hit. Leaning against the bathroom wall, she squinted her eyes shut as her body began to twitch and spasm, and her pussy gushed out fluids across her still-stroking fingers. Just as she started to come down from the mind-blowing cum, she felt herself building up towards a second climax, and refocused on the image of Samara screwing her inside a circle of cheering onlookers as she brought herself off for a second time.

"Fu... fuck..." Miranda gasped, opening her eyes and bringing herself back to reality. Pulling her hand out from underneath her panties, she saw that it was glistening with her pussy juices.

Shit, what had come over her? She had never had any fantasies that vulgar and demeaning before. But even as she came down from her second violent climax, the mental image of Samara fucking her on her hands and knees seemed just as inviting as it had before.

The hard pounding on the door brought Miranda out of her fantasy. "Alright, dammit, alright!" she yelled out, quickly zipping up her jumpsuit. "I'll be there in just a second." Striding over to the door, she deactivated the lock to allow the impatient woman on the other side of the door to open it.

And when it sprang open, just about the last person Miranda wanted to see was waiting on the other side.

"Hey, there, cheerleader," Jack said with a smirk. "Finished with your inspection?"

* * *

Opening his eyes, Waltman reflected on the strange dream he had been having. Something about Liara growing a cock for some reason, and then forcing him and fucking Bocelli into some weird experiment. Damn, that was the last time he was drinking that many Full Biotic Kicks on shore leave...

As he regained his senses, Waltman slowly became aware of several things. One: as his vision dimly returned, he saw that he was definitely not in his bunk. Two: from the cool air drifting past him, he was apparently buck naked. And three: as he tried to reach up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, he realized that he was unable to move.

"Ah, you're finally awake," he heard a sweet female voice call out to him through his dimmed senses. For a moment, Waltman wondered if he had picked up some pretty young thing for a one night stand and forgotten about it. But then he recognized the voice, and his memories came flooding back. His eyes snapped open, and what he saw in front of him was stranger than any dream he could have possibly been having.

He was in Liara's office on the Normandy, the lights now fully activated and illuminating the entire room, and Liara stood in front of him. The asari didn't have a stitch of clothing on, and her newly-acquired cock jutted out lewdly from her hips.

Hearing a wet sucking sound, Waltman glanced down and saw two naked women kneeling down in front of Liara. It took a moment for Waltman to recognize the ship's doctor, Chloe Michel, and Communications Specialist Traynor. Each of them with their lips lewdly locked onto one of Liara's massive balls and hungrily sucking.

"What the... what's going on?" Waltman heard a voice to his right. Looking over, he saw Bocelli sitting down in a chair next to him. Just like everyone else in the room, she was stripped completely naked, and had been tied in place with several lengths of rope. Attempting to move his arms again, Waltman realized that he had been tied up in a similar fashion.

"Help!" Waltman yelled out. "Somebody help us! Dr. T'Soni has gone insane!"

Liara reacted to Waltman's terrified cries with a girlish giggle. "I would advise you not to waste your breath, ensign," she said after Waltman had exhausted himself from screaming. "The walls of this office are quite thick, and I am quite certain that no one will hear you."

"What are you going to do to us?" Bocelli said, her voice filled with terror. "Commander Shepard won't let you get away with... whatever you have planned."

"Ah, yes, Shepard," Liara said, reaching down to start casually stroking her cock as the two enthralled women at her feet continued sucking on her balls. "If you knew Shepard the way I do... well, I suppose that would be impossible for a non-asari to understand. But I think you'd be surprised at how... open he would be to all this. But whether or not he proves to be a problem, it will not matter. Because I'm through taking orders. Through playing the helpful little lackey to everyone. Goddess's sake, I'm the Shadow Broker. One of the most powerful asari in the entire galaxy. I shouldn't be following anyone's orders. I should be the one giving the orders." Glancing down at the bulging rod of blue flesh bobbing in front of her, Liara smiled. "Hard to believe that it took this gift from the Protheans for me to finally realize that. Ensign Waltman, you said that I had gone insane," she glanced back up at him struggling against his bonds with a wicked grin. "On the contrary. I've never been more sane than I am right now."

Waltman and Bocelli glanced at each other, both of them terrified at the prospect of what was to come next.

"And to answer your question, Lieutenant Bocelli," Liara said, her hand working slowly up and down the length of her prick. "As I mentioned before, I would like you two to be part of an experiment. As you can see from Dr. Michel and Specialist Traynor, this beautiful piece of anatomy between my legs has granted me a great measure of control over your species. But control always has limits, and with the help of you two, I would like to test those limits. Now, it should just... just..." Liara's monologue was cut off by several heated gasps, and she began stroking her cock more rapidly. "Here it comes. Ladies, get into position."

Traynor and Michel removed their mouths from Liara's balls with a pair of wet pops. As Liara took a step back from them, her hand rapidly beating her meat, the two naked women remained kneeling on the floor. Waltman watched in disgusted fascination as Liara's cock began spewing thick cum, the asari's face scrunching up as she aimed the spray of semen first at Traynor's face, and then at Michel's. Both women let out happy cries as thick ropes of Liara's cum splashed against their faces and dripped down onto their bare tits.

Once the seemingly endless spray of cum had finally subsided, Liara regained her breath and pointed a hand at the two tied-up crewmembers. "Sam, how about you get up close and personal with Lieutenant Bocelli? Chloe, you do the same with Ensign Waltman."

The two women stood up and turned around, and Waltman's eyes went wide as he saw the massive amount of cum dripping off of the two women's grinning faces. Walking slowly, the two of them approaching with a sultry strut, each of the women walked up to Waltman and Bocelli. Waltman fought the urge to gag as Dr. Michel slowly lowered herself down into his lap, her cum-stained face inches from Waltman's. As she smiled widely at him, Waltman saw a thick strand of Liara's semen slowly fall down the tip of Dr. Michel's nose and down onto her already cum-soaked tits.

"Now then... let's give it a minute or so," Liara said, her cock still just as hard as it had been before shooting her load all over the two women.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, Waltman averting his eyes away from Dr. Michel and wondering what was going to happen next. After what seemed like an eternity, he could hear Liara approaching him from the side. "Tell me, Ensign Waltman... how do you feel right now? And please, in the interest of science, be honest."

"Are you crazy?" Waltman exclaimed. "I feel fucking terrified right now! I don't know what twisted game you're playing, but right now you've got me scared out of my goddamn mind!"

"Really?" Liara said, seemingly unconcerned with Waltman's terror. "So, you don't... smell anything right now? Something particularly pleasant, for example?"

Waltman stared around Dr. Michel at Liara, confused. "No, I don't smell a damn thing!" he said. "Is this what your twisted experiment is all about? You want to know what your Prothean cum smells like? Because even with your brainwashed slave here right in my face, I swear to God I don't smell anything!"

"How interesting," Liara said, as she tapped Dr. Michel on the shoulder. "So it appears my hypothesis is at least partially correct. The semen appears to have no effect on the males of your species. At least, not in its original form." As Dr. Michel stood up from Waltman's lap, Waltman started to hear something off to the side. It sounded like someone gasping for breath. Glancing over at the source of the sound, Liara smirked. "It appears that your colleague is having an entirely different experience, however."

Waltman didn't like what he was hearing, but nonetheless he forced himself to look over. Traynor was sitting in Bocelli's lap just the same as Dr. Michel had been in Waltman's. And after about a minute of this, Bocelli was acting in a way that Waltman had never seen her act before.

"Oh... oh, fuck...." Bocelli gasped, her eyes locked on Sam's cum-smeared face. "It... it's so..." she struggled for words as she writhed against the ropes holding her in place. From the way she stared at the cum dripping off of Traynor, and her rapid breaths, it didn't really seem to Waltman that escape was on her mind.

"So, Lieutenant Bocelli," Liara said, striding over to the other tied-up crewman with her throbbing cock leading the way. "It would appear that your nose is picking up something that your colleague's did not. Tell me... how do you feel right now?"

Bocelli struggled to put her thoughts into words. "I... I feel..." she started to say. And then out of nowhere, she suddenly lunged her head forward, her tongue thrusting out from between her lips. Traynor saw the move coming, however, and leaned herself away from Bocelli with a playful smile.

"Oh, God," Bocelli moaned as Traynor's cum-soaked face drew away from her and out of reach. "Please, I need to taste it. Just one taste, please..."

Waltman watched as Bocelli begged and gasped, the naked communications officer squirming against her bonds. Under any other circumstances, the sight of a woman in such a state – naked and desperately horny – would have been enough to have Waltman's cock at full attention. But the fact that it was fucking Bocelli in such a state, and that she was obviously not in her right mind, halted any attempt by his libido to get him into the mood.

Liara walked back behind the two tied-up crewmembers and out of Waltman's line of sight. When she returned, Waltman let out a gasp when he saw what was in her hand: a gleaming, freshly-sharpened knife.

Bocelli, meanwhile, was too busy desperately trying to lunge forward and lick Traynor's face to even notice the weapon in Liara's hand. "Well, Lieutenant Bocelli... if you're so desperate to have a taste, I guess I have no choice," Liara said. "I'm just going to have to give you what you want."

Walking around behind Bocelli's chair, Liara sliced through her restraints with a single swipe. No sooner were the ropes cut than Bocelli leaped out of her chair. Traynor let out a surprised cry as Bocelli lunged forward and fell on top of her. For a moment, Waltman hoped that Bocelli's aroused state was just an act, and that she was launching some sort of attack on Liara's brainwashed minion.

But as soon as Bocelli landed on top of Traynor, she began frantically licking up the cum on the dark-skinned officer's face and tits. "So good," Waltman heard Bocelli mutter between hungry laps against Traynor's skin. It was surreal, seeing the normally cold and serious woman behave like a bitch in heat as she slurped up every last drop of Liara's jizz.

Once Bocelli had determined she had licked Traynor clean, she looked up and locked eyes on Dr. Michel. Jumping up with a desperately horny look on her face, Bocelli charged at Dr. Michel and pressed her against the wall. "More," Waltman could hear Bocelli moaning. "Need to taste more." As Bocelli started giving a similar tongue bath to the willing Dr. Michel, Traynor stood up from the floor with a smile, walked up behind Bocelli, and reached around to grope at her tits.

Again, the sight of three women in the midst of a heated make-out session should have sent blood rushing out of Waltman's brain and into his prick at the speed of an Olympic sprinter, even in such bizarre circumstances. But again... it was fucking Bocelli. And Waltman would soon stick his dick in a varren pit than even consider for a second the idea of Bocelli as "sexy."

After several more minutes of lavishing Dr. Michel with her tongue, a disappointed look came onto Bocelli's face as she realized that she had cleaned up every last drop of cum from both women.

And that was when her eyes locked directly onto the source of her newly-discovered addiction.

"Please," Bocelli said, sinking down to her knees and scooting across the room to Liara. "I still need more. Please, give me another taste," she begged, staring at Liara's bobbing cock with a look of unmistakable hunger.

Liara put a finger against her cheek. "Hmm... quite a large request, Lieutenant. And if I were to allow you to get another taste... what would you do for me in return?"

"Anything," Bocelli immediately answered, glancing up into Liara's eyes to make the declaration before returning her stare to Liara's thick cock. "I'll do anything you ask me to. Anything at all. Just please... please let me suck your cock. Please let me have another taste."

As Bocelli made a move towards Liara, her mouth wide open, Liara took a teasing step backwards. "Anything, hmm? So, if I asked you to... you would be my slave?"

"Yes," Bocelli responded, clasping her hands in front of her. "I'll be your slave, Liara."

"You'll follow your mistress's every order, no matter what?"

Bocelli vigorously nodded, the formerly cold woman completely surrendering to her new mistress. "No matter what."

"Well, then, here's your first test of loyalty," Liara said, taking another step back as Bocelli made another try to wrap her lips around Liara's cock. "If you want to get another taste of it, here's what I want you to do." Raising up a hand, she pointed right at the still occupied chair. "Ensign Waltman over there? The man you hate more than anyone else in the galaxy? I want you to fuck him."

When Bocelli turned in his direction, Waltman had hoped to see doubt in her eyes. Or disgust, or any sign that the woman he knew and loathed was still in control of her senses. But in her eyes, he saw the same desire that had been there as she licked up cum from Traynor's face. As he watched in horror, Bocelli crawled over to him on hands and knees, a sultry look in her eyes as she reached between his legs and took hold of his flaccid cock.

"Mmm," Bocelli moaned, her hand gently stroking him as she stared in his eyes with a hungry look. "Come on, Nate. Get hard for me. Don't you want to fuck me, Nate? Don't you want to bend me over and pound me like all those girls you score with on shore leave?"

"Terri, listen to me," Waltman said quietly to her, feeling weird even using her first name. "I don't know what that shit did to you, but you need to snap out of this. Don't you remember? The two of us... we fucking hate each other. The Terri Bocelli I know would never even consider doing... what you're doing right now."

Bocelli responded to this with a low laugh. "Oh, Nate. Can't you just forget about all that? All that time we spent hating each other... I realize now how pointless it all was. And how silly we both were being." Leaning down, she stuck out her tongue and gave a quick lick to the head of Waltman's prick. "Come on. Instead of the two of us fighting all the time... wouldn't you rather just fuck me? Wouldn't you rather just shove me down on the floor, stick your cock inside me, and spill all your cum inside of my juicy little twat?" Before Waltman could provide a response to that, Bocelli took a deep breath, leaned down, and proceeded to start sucking his cock.

Fucking Bocelli... fucking Bocelli was down on her knees, sucking his prick. Waltman felt like he was in some kind of nightmare. It wouldn't have been the first time he had woken up in a sweat, a horrifying dream of waking up next to Bocelli in his mind. But never once, in any of those dreams, did he find the idea of screwing Bocelli in the least bit arousing. Not even in a "hatefuck" kind of way. The woman disgusted him in every way imaginable, and Waltman wondered in horror what was going to happen to him if he ended up unable to... perform.

Struggling to forget his current circumstances, he locked eyes on Michel and Traynor. The two women had obviously decided to entertain themselves after Bocelli had drifted over to Liara, the two of them passionately making out, with Traynor's hand on Michel's tit and Michel's well-trained doctor's fingers skillfully working between Traynor's legs. Focusing on the lesbian encounter in front of him, Waltman tried to make himself forget about his current circumstances and will his cock into an erection.

But no matter what, he couldn't make himself forget that it was fucking Bocelli down between his legs. And after several fruitless minutes, Waltman let out a sigh of relief as Bocelli's mouth finally pulled away from his still-limp prick. "I'm sorry, mistress," Bocelli said to Liara, already adopting the terminology of her new role as Liara's slave. "I just can't get him up."

"Hmm, that's too bad," Liara said. "Maybe you're moving a bit too fast, Lieutenant. Perhaps you should start with something simple. Like, say, a kiss."

Oh, fuck no. Strangely, the idea of Bocelli kissing him seemed even more disgusting to Waltman than Bocelli sucking his cock. But in his current state, he was unable to put up a fight as Bocelli straddled him just as Dr. Michel had earlier. "Come on, Nate," Bocelli whispered seductively to him. "Do this for me. I know you want to fuck me. You want to fuck me so bad."

"Bocelli, wai..." Waltman started to say, before Bocelli was leaning forward and kissing him, her tongue thrusting down his throat.

The first second, Waltman fought the urge to bite down on fucking Bocelli's tongue. But not long after the unwanted kiss began, Waltman caught a taste of something. For one disgusted moment, Waltman thought it was the lingering remnants of Liara's cum in Bocelli's mouth. But that couldn't have been it: Bocelli had spent the last few minutes vigorously sucking his cock. There couldn't still be any of Liara's Prothean cum still in her mouth after all that.

And besides, there was no way this could be the cum he had been exposed to by Dr. Michel earlier. That had been completely odorless and, Waltman guessed, tasteless as well. But the taste Waltman was getting from Bocelli's saliva was something different. It was... it was unlike anything he had ever tasted before. Before he knew it, he found himself meeting Bocelli's tongue with his own, the two slimy pieces of flesh pressing and slithering against each other. His cock, still dripping with Bocelli's delicious spit, started to throb and swell between his legs.

By the time Bocelli finally broke the kiss, there was a hungry look on Waltman's face. Behind him, he could feel the ropes fall away from his arms as Liara sliced them away. As soon as he was free, he reached his arms up to wrap around Bocelli, the two of them falling forward onto the cold Normandy deck. Once Bocelli was on her back, Waltman on top of her, he aimed his cock at Bocelli's dripping twat and buried himself balls deep inside of her.

Fucking Bocelli. Fucking Bocelli. He was fucking Bocelli. Fucking the shit out of Bocelli.

"Yes, Nate," Bocelli moaned, her legs wrapping up and around his hips, and Waltman grinned as he felt her inner walls gripping his thrusting cock. "Fuck me. Fuck me so the mistress will let me taste her cum again."

Waltman wasn't even hearing her at this point. All he cared about was filling Bocelli's pussy with his painfully erect cock. Bocelli stared up at him, half-lidded eyes filled with lust, and Waltman leaned down to kiss her again. And get another taste of her amazing mouth.

"It appears the experiment was a success," Waltman dimly heard Liara's voice over the sound of his balls slapping against Bocelli's ass. "Dr. Michel, take notes for me. And Sam, get down and suck my cock while I'm talking, if you would."

Soon enough, Waltman heard the sound of Traynor's sloppy web blowjob as Liara continued to speak. "My hypothesis appears to be proven: while the semen my cock produces has no effect on human males, it seems that exposure to the fluids of human females who have ingested the semen produces a similar increase in libido. If I were to guess... ooh, careful with the teeth, Sam... I would wager that when a human female consumes the semen, it amplifies and highly increases the effectiveness of her natural pheromones. As a result, any other human who ingests an affected woman's saliva or other fluids would find themselves overwhelmed with lust. Quite an interesting side-effect of the Protheans' experiments... and one I hope to study with further tests." Letting out a low laugh, Liara added. "A lot of further tests."

By the time Liara was finished with her monologue, Waltman buried himself into Bocelli with a strangled cry, his cock spewing cum inside of his once-hated enemy's cunt. Pulling out of Bocelli and gasping for breath, Waltman was surprised to find his cock still as hard and throbbing as it was before he first started fucking Bocelli. He was about ready to start thrusting into her again, but Bocelli was already moving to kneel down beside Traynor. The two women both worked their mouths and tongues along the length of Liara's prick, Bocelli eager to claim her reward for serving her mistress.

Before Waltman could express his disappointment, he caught a glimpse of Dr. Michel walking around to move in his direction. Without a word, she got down on hands and knees in front of him, presenting her bare ass to Waltman like an animal in the wild.

And just like an animal in the wild, Waltman didn't hesitate. Soon, Liara's office was filled with the sound of Waltman furiously humping the Normandy's doctor, along with moans and giggles from Traynor and Bocelli as they took turns slurping on Liara's cock while fingering their dripping snatches.

"Oh, Chloe, when Ensign Waltman is done fucking you, I'd like you to make a note for me," Liara said. "We need to make a schedule for the rest of the Normandy's crew to come pay me a visit. After all, while one test can help to strengthen a hypothesis, true scientific discovery can only come with repeated testing."

"Yes... yes... yes..." Dr. Michel grunted. Whether she was affirming Liara's orders or just enjoying the feeling of Waltman's cock pounding her pussy, Waltman didn't know. And didn't much care.

None of it mattered. Just like his old rivalry with Bocelli didn't matter. All that mattered to him now, and forever more, was fucking.

* * *

Miranda stared at Jack with narrowed eyes. "You," she seethed. "You're lucky I don't have you tossed out an airlock right now."

"Aww," Jack said, a faux-pouty expression on her face. "Why so grumpy, cheerleader? I thought we bonded so well earlier."

"'Bonded'?" Miranda asked incredulously. "You mean when you sexually assaulted me? Dammit, I knew Shepard bringing you back on board the Normandy was a mistake. But I never imagined you would be this... this..."

"Sexy?" Jack offered with a smirk. "Come on, Miranda. You know that deep down, you loved that shit. I think part of the reason Ori was afraid to tell you about me and her, was that she knew you'd be pissed that you weren't the one fucking me instead."

Miranda sneered. "You're goddamn crazy," she said, disdain dripping from every syllable. "And don't you dare mention my sister. As far as I'm concerned, you're never going to be in the same room as her again, much less doing... those sorts of things with her."

An innocent look came to Jack's face. "What sorts of things are those, Miranda dear? Would those be the same sorts of things you were imagining Samara doing to you earlier?"

Miranda struggled to keep a straight face. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly.

"Oh, but I know what you were talking about, babe. Or should I say, what you were screaming about," Jack laughed, then began speaking in a crude imitation of Miranda's accent. "'Oh, fuck me, Samara! Show them all what a whore I am!' Can't say I'm all that caught up on Alliance protocol, but I don't think screaming out how badly you want to be fucked by a giant asari cock is part of the usual inspection routine."

"You were hearing things," Miranda tried desperately to cover. "Making things up in that perverted mind of yours."

Jack arched an eyebrow, and before Miranda could react the tattooed criminal had darted a hand out to grab Miranda by the wrist. "Hearing things, huh?" she asked, as she brought Miranda's hand up to her face and inhaled deeply. "Suppose I'm smelling things, too? I guess my perverted mind is just conjuring up the pussy juices on your fingers, then."

Miranda yanked her hand away. "It's none of your damn business," she muttered.

"Oh, but I think it is," Jack said. Moving in close, she started whispering huskily into Miranda's ear. "You're feeling it, aren't you? Gotta give you some credit, cheerleader, for holding out as long as you have. Shit, once I got a taste of it, it was all over. But I suppose you're a little bit more strong-willed than me. A little bit more... restrained, I guess. But you'll surrender in the end. You'll come begging for it, just like me. But just remember what I said: the first taste is free. The next one is going to cost you."

"You knew this was going to happen!" Miranda exclaimed. "Dammit, you did this to me!"

Jack shrugged. "Me? I didn't do nothing. All I did was give you a taste. You want to blame someone, blame the Protheans. Or I guess, since all but one of them are long dead, blame the lovely blue lady they gave the massive cock to."

"Samara," Miranda said, ashamed to feel a twinge of desire fill her body at the thought of the asari. "So, Gabby and Ensign Burnham..."

"Think they must have got a whiff of Samara's jizz when I tossed out some of my dirty shit," Jack said. "After that, they were just as horny and cock-starved as me. It's good stuff, isn't it?" Jack said with a chuckle. "And now that you've got a taste of it in you... it's only a matter of time before you're just as big a slut as me."

Miranda shook her head. "Dammit... no. I need to deal with this. I'm going to call Shepard back to the Normandy to have him handle this."

"Aw, big strong cheerleader going to run and tattle on us?" Jack asked mockingly. "I thought Shepard left you in charge of the Normandy, princess. Thought you had the balls to handle this ship on your own. But I guess not." Shaking her head, Jack let out an annoyed sound. "Anyway, as much fun as this conversation is, I'd appreciate it if you'd clear out. Samara's taking a rest back in the observation deck after our last marathon session, and I figured I should catch a shower and wash some of the fuck-smell off before we get back at it."

"You..." Miranda started to say, and then for the first time glanced down and noticed the rest of Jack's body: she had entered the women's restroom wearing absolutely nothing but a towel wrapped around her naked body. "You walked through an Alliance vessel like this?"

"You kidding? Shit, compared to some of the stuff I used to wear, this is downright modest," Jack said, and then gave Miranda a mischievous look. "Or maybe that's what's got you upset? After getting such an eyeful before, you just hate to see me all covered up, right?" Before Miranda could protest, Jack reached up to the top of her towel and, with a hard yank, whipped it away. Leaving her standing in front of Miranda wearing nothing but a cocky smirk.

"Damn you, Jack," Miranda said, even as she found herself staring down at Jack's naked body, and the intricate tattoos lining every inch of her skin. Earlier, seeing Jack naked down in the cargo bay, Miranda had felt nothing but disgust. But now, she found her eyes lingering on the naked curves of Jack's form.

Laughing to herself, Jack strutted around Miranda to one of the shower stalls. "Enjoying the view, princess?" Jack asked, cocking her hip as she turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. "Maybe you're thinking about joining me in here. I may not be as... endowed as the lady you were dreaming about before, but I bet I could make that genetically-perfect pussy of yours cum a lot faster than you can manage it yourself."

Miranda opened her mouth to spit back an angry retort, but in her mind she suddenly started picturing herself doing exactly as Jack suggested: stripping off her jumpsuit and the underwear underneath and stepping into the hot spray with Jack. Their wet bodies pressing against each other, Jack leaning down to take one of Miranda's stiffened nipples between her teeth. And then Miranda lowering herself down to press her face into Jack's...

"Dammit, no," Miranda snapped, shaking her head to dispel the erotic image. "I'm going to go deal with Samara, and then I'm coming back for you, Jack."

Jack laughed, unconcerned with Miranda's threat as she grabbed a bar of soap to begin lathering herself up. "You go get her, girl. Just a tip: she loves it when you play with her balls while you suck her. Makes her cum like a goddamn firehose, I swear."

Forcing herself to turn away from the naked, laughing bitch, Miranda strode out of the bathroom.

Jack was right about one thing: Miranda shouldn't need to run to Shepard to deal with issues like this. She was going to handle this on her own. She had one stop to make beforehand, but then after that she was going straight to the Starboard Observation Bay.

One way or another, the bizarre urges being caused by that Prothean device were going to be dealt with. With force if necessary.
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