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Shiro's Guide on What Not to Eat on the Sex Planet (and What Happens When You Eat it Anyway)

Chapter Text

When Shiro woke up, one thing was certain: he wasn't in the Black Lion. Hell, he wasn't anywhere he'd seen before, lying face down in the dirt of a forest clearing. He still had his helmet, thankfully, but no bayard, no Lion, no signal. At least this time he was uninjured.

Sitting up, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. The bright orange sky meant that it was either sunset or definitely not earth (and some part of him had hoped this was all a dream after taking a hard hit on the Persephone, but he knew it wasn't).

Tapping his helmet, Shiro heard nothing but white noise. Maybe if he climbed one of the trees he'd get a clearer signal?

With a bit of effort, he rose and slumped on the nearest tree, willing himself to climb up. The air smelt like cherries, thick and sweet, and difficult to breathe in. Shiro groaned and put his arms around the trunk, switching to his helmet's fully sealed mode to take advantage of the air filtration system.

It still smelt of cherries. More pleasantly, now that it didn't feel like it was coating Shiro's throat.

He climbed steadily, and flinched at what would prove to be the least bizarre thing that the planet threw at him: the fruit in the tree resembled dick-shaped peaches. After scanning it with his helmet, it was deemed edible.

"Thank you, Pidge and Hunk, for installing the code to identify foods we can eat," Shiro muttered, and continued to climb.

He'd grab some on the way down. They might be the only edible thing around, despite their off putting shape.

The outlook wasn't great. In fact, there didn't appear to be any signs of civilisation nearby. On the upside, there appeared to be a waterfall not too far away, which meant fresh water at least. That was a starting point. Maybe he'd be able to see something from the waterfall.

He picked as many of the weird peaches as he could carry and let his jet pack smooth his descent instead of risking his neck to climb down. All in all, he'd gathered around twelve of the large pieces of fruit and fashioned a carrier for them with a round, flat leaf that was also deemed non-toxic by the scanner.

Shiro marked the tree with a small x-shape using the heat of his prosthetic to burn it in. If he had to come back, then he'd need a path to do so. He doubted that anyone was living nearby and if they were, then he'd deal with the consequences.

He set off towards the waterfall, which thankfully took little time to find. On the way he spotted more oddities that threw him for a loop, like massive, multi-layered flowers that resembled vaginas dripping with nectar, and vines that oozed with white liquid as he brushed past them.

He continued to mark his path with small x shapes.

The bag of dicks, and Shiro had to laugh as he thought of it, despite everything, simply because carrying a bag of dicks was hilarious, held out well, the leaf protecting them from the various slimy, sticky substances Shiro was getting covered in.

He was glad when the pristine waterfall appeared behind some bushes and he was able to pull off his helmet and let the spray cool his face.

Making his way to the edge of the water, Shiro collected up a dead tree branch and poked at the water's surface. If there was anything in there, Shiro would rather not get eaten by it. Or get sucked into one of those horrifying streams that seemed peaceful from above but had such a powerful current underneath that anyone caught in it would never come back up again.

Nothing jumped out, and as Shiro pushed the branch deeper, it wasn't yanked away, so he cautiously dipped his helmet in to clean it off.

The helmet must have done a reading of the water quality, because it flashed "safe to drink" when he put it back on. Despite that, Shiro wasn't about to lap it up. There was no doubt debris and leaf litter in there and he was going to filter that out and boil it before drinking the water.

First, he'd need a container, but even before that, Shiro was going to climb the waterfall to see if the ridge it had formed on was blocking anything from view that would be helpful.

He drizzled some water down the back of his neck to help cool his flightsuit before picking up his leaf bag and hiding it in the crook of a tree. No need to make it easier for wildlife to eat his food if he could help it.

Shiro resealed his helmet, the cherry scent in the air getting to him again. It made his skin itch and quiver, head slightly muddled by the heaviness.

One part of his brain suggested he should stay under the waterfall and get himself off.

The rest of him jolted in surprise at the thought and shoved it away in favour of getting to the top of the waterfall. It was harder than the tree, his boots slipping on moss every now and then, and a bigger climb to endure. Shiro persisted, groaning as his helmet and armour heated up, struggling to regulate his body temperature. It wasn't even particularly hot, it was just that damned cherry scent that made him feel clammy.

After twenty minutes, he'd made it halfway, and he stopped, pressing himself against the rocks and letting their coolness seep into his body. He was higher than the tree, and could see more of his surrounds, but still nothing jumped out as an indication of someone living nearby.

Sighing, Shiro started to debate whether it was worth climbing to the top.

That was when he felt something thick snake around his waist and hold him tight against the rock. Shiro yelped, activated his arm, and sliced it off, and discovered it had been some sort of vine. He started moving again, hurriedly ascending to make sure the vine didn't come back for a second go. The cut had left a splatter of bright green goo on his jumpsuit, adding to the other slime he'd already encountered.

Shiro made it to the top in five minutes, scrambling recklessly to make it.

He crouched on the waterfall's crest, panting, wary that another vine or tentacle or whatever other weird thing this bizarre planet was going to throw at him would try to grab him. After a moment, Shiro looked back to the valley he had climbed out of, and then further upstream.

Smoke rose in a thin plume from a good distance away. It appeared to be controlled, like fire from a camp.

Still no signal from his helmet. Where the fuck had he been thrown in the universe?

Shiro glanced at the sun and noted he would only have a few hours of daylight left with the planet's sun starting to dip towards the horizon. He would be better off going back to the grove he'd woken up in and make a fresh start in the morning.

Of course that meant climbing the waterfall all over again. It couldn't be helped. His food was down there.

Resigning himself to the task, Shiro scampered back down (on the other side of the waterfall), splashed his way through the pool at the bottom, cleaning off his suit even though it was probably going to be dirtied on his trip back to the clearing.

He found the peaches and contemplated it.

How exactly was he supposed to eat something like this? Start from the tip? The side? The balls?

Hunger getting the best of him, Shiro decided balls first. It somehow seemed less obscene.

There were two seeds inside, one for each ball, much like a stone fruit. It was firm, flavoured like a peach as well, except it left a slight tingling sensation on his lips, followed by a full body shiver as heat rolled through him.

He pressed on. It was probably the air. There were no more seeds, and Shiro finished the peach (he didn't want to think of it as a dick, that would mean thinking of biting on dicks and that made him twitch in imagined pain) quickly.

A frantic need to get himself off grabbed Shiro. He shook his head, hoping to clear it, but the heat was inside him, burning through his body pleasurably. His flightsuit did little to hide his growing erection, tenting outwards.

Shiro clamped his hand onto it, muffling a gasp with his other hand as the sensation sparked outwards from his groin. It was hot. Everything was hot. He needed this.

Without thinking as to why, he grabbed another of the dick peaches and shoved it tip first into his mouth as a makeshift gag, and let his other hand drop to his thighs, kneading them as he rubbed at his crotch.

Shiro couldn't see it, but he could feel precome beading off his cock, slippery and thick, and bucked his hips as he managed to work his cock upright in his suit, so it was pressed to his lower abdomen. Shifting his hand from his thigh, he massaged his balls, wincing at how tender they felt against the material of the flight suit, and allowed his prosthetic hand to pinch at the fabric for his cock to have some relief against the texture.

It had no rhyme or reason as to why this list had so suddenly come on. Shiro kept thrusting, mouth clenching and sucking on the piece of fruit in his mouth, moaning around it.

What he really wanted was a good dick in his ass. He hadn't had one in years. A nice, thick cock, maybe one that looked unassuming at first but made a show of itself when it really mattered.

Every thought left Shiro's head at once, cum drenching the inside of his flightsuit, balls drawn tight, depositing what felt like more cum than Shiro had ever managed in one go before.

He curled over, pulling the dick peach from his mouth, panting. It had been wonderful to get off. It was a shame he hadn't been able to do it in the privacy of his own room and not in some strange planet's jungle.

Hungry again, he wolfed down the second peach without so much as a thought towards shyness or sympathy as to the shape. They were tasty. Their crisp taste was refreshing and Shiro needed his energy. He ate a third, sucking the juice off the seeds and with his hunger sated, Shiro decided he should probably make his way back to the clearing before it got dark.

The seed inside his flightsuit was drying uncomfortably, but that would have to wait until the morning. It wasn't like it showed on the outside, anyway, and with some prodding, Shiro had tucked his cock back down.

He sealed his helmet, although the cherry smell seemed less prominent at night, and collected his leaf of peaches and made it back just as the light was fading into twilight. The way back seemed shorter, even with his cock throbbing a desire for a second round of masturbation. It was a distraction, one easily put aside since he'd already sated his desire by the waterfall.

Shiro climbed up the peach tree, since it seemed to be the sturdiest and least full of things that were going to attack him, and tried to doze off. His cock and balls throbbed for a third time, then calmed down as Shiro ignored it.

Then it struck Shiro that he'd seen absolutely no wildlife, and that revelation made him forget the on and off heat. Where was it all? There needed to be something, surely.

Perhaps he just hadn't seen it yet. It was probably a good thing he hadn't. Who knew what was out there?

He slept fitfully, body feeling feverish and uneasy about the lack of wildlife. When he woke, it was still dark, although the sky was turning orange at the edges of the cliff ridge that supported the waterfall.

Shiro also woke with a terrible case of morning wood. It was overwhelming, and he wasn't going to be able to make it to the ground without taking care of it first.

In his hazy state, Shiro slipped on the smooth branch he was resting on, and found himself in the junction between branch and trunk. His thighs clamped down immediately, a moment of soberness as Shiro panicked about falling, and then a wash of pleasure as the trunk pushed against his front.

Shiro tilted back slightly, rolling his hips up, hissing quietly as he rutted, holding onto his branch with both hands. If he thought hard enough, it was another person pressed against him. The branch behind him was a light pole, they had him against a light pole, and it was some random guy he'd hooked up with from the club. It was hard to find anyone bigger than himself, but Shiro had found one, and they were good, they knew what they wanted, what they both wanted. They wanted it fast and hard and too quick and public to strip–

Shiro shouted, hands gripping the branch tightly as he came in his flightsuit for a second time in under twenty-four hours. He hadn't felt so horny since before the Kerberos mission.

He leant forward, grabbing the trunk to shimmy back up the branch. The release of pressure made him groan, pausing for a moment, and Shiro wanted nothing more than to take himself in hand properly.

Leaning his head against the branch, Shiro let his hand trail down to his crotch and trace around the shape of his cock and balls. He didn't have time for this. He needed to get off the planet, get home.

It was tempting to coax himself into hardness. So tempting. Just to relax and slow the pace, take his cock and pump it without the added heat of morning wood or the weird scent of the planet.

The shape of his package seemed larger than it had yesterday, and Shiro paused and looked down. Without the morning wood, it was much easier to see what was down there. He was bigger. He'd never bulged quite so prominently, balls swollen and cock thicker, longer.

He put on two inches in length, and an inch in thickness, but what was really making him bulge was his sack, which felt tight and full, propping his cock up further. Thanks to Altean technology, his flightsuit had stretched to adapt, a little shelf forming underneath so as to push his package up and stop it from bouncing, but in reality displaying his package for appraisal.

Shiro put his hand over it, making sure his mind wasn't playing tricks, and he flushed hot with embarrassment as he confirmed he'd mysteriously grown overnight.

He made his way back down the tree, and landed safely by his undisturbed leaf of peaches and selected one for breakfast.

Thinking about his cock wasn't going to get him off this planet. Getting clean, and figuring out how to filter water for drinking was.

He paced about, swallowing the last of the peach, and trying to ignore the difference in his gait because of his growth.

Right, if he went to the waterfall, he could collect rocks and sand to make a filter. Then he could wash off while it was worki–

Heat pooled in Shiro's groin and he snarled in frustration, shoving his hand against the source. It wasn't arousal, however, his cock and balls swelling underneath him as they marginally pushed out further.

With a sharp flash as Shiro joined the dots, he realised that aside from the waterfall and the morning wood, he hadn't been aroused. It had been growth.

And the only thing that could have done that was the peaches.

Fuck. He was going to need a new food source. Preferably without cock growing qualities.

Chapter Text

Shiro popped his armour first, then stripped from his flightsuit and resolutely did not look down. He grimaced at the remains of his arousal on the inside of his suit and dunked it, scrubbing with a small rock he'd found at the edge of the waterfall.

Once that was done, there was the task of washing himself. Which Shiro did, sighing in relief as the grime and gunk came off him, and coming to terms a little with his new cock.

It was manageable. It also could have been worse. He could have had an unknown allergic reaction and died.

He'd been stressed that morning. It was only a minor difference, nothing to panic about. That said, he wasn't eating any more of the peaches.

The waterfall was peaceful, and he still hadn't seen any wildlife, apart from a fish darting past him in the water. Sunlight poured through the canopy, a soft green from the leaves.

Shiro still had the problem of finding a canister for water. There was enough material around for crudely filtering and boiling, but at the moment Shiro's best chance was to climb the waterfall and hope that the smoke trail he'd seen yesterday was still there.

In the meantime, he had to wait for his flightsuit to dry. The cherry smell had returned, making Shiro's skin prickle in anticipation, and cock twitch. He jabbed himself in the thigh, thinking, "Focus!"

He put his helmet on, hoping that scanning the surrounding area would reap some more food or even a container for water. A few broad leaves presented themselves as container options, but they wouldn't hold much. As for food, there was one pristine white flower that came up as edible, but after the dick peaches, Shiro wasn't as willing to eat them.

When both he and the flightsuit had dried, Shiro dressed, and started to climb up the waterfall, being wary of any twitching vines. With the sun rising and the only fluids he'd had being the juice of the peaches, he was feeling dizzy. He had to get to the top, had to find a way of collecting the water, otherwise dehydration was going to be a serious issue.

The roar of the waterfall made it hard to think, and combined with his lightheadedness, Shiro strayed too close to the waterfall, his hands slipping off his rock.

Windmilling his arms, Shiro grabbed at a bush, clinging to it, leaves stripped in the process. It shuddered, and Shiro quickly jammed his Galra hand into the crack of another rock, holding on tight. The bush gave way a moment later, dumping the whole thing on his head and sliding off to the pool beneath him.

Head upset at the whole affair, Shiro squeezed his eyes closed, hugging the rocks as the dizziness abated. It wasn't long before he felt the vines try to curl around him, forcing Shiro to push on. They tried to tighten. Shiro kicked at them and edged towards a drier path, and finally crawled over the edge.

He rolled onto his back, a laugh escaping him at how stupid he'd been to attempt the climb again, especially without drinking any water.

He made it onto his knees, and gazed towards where he'd seen the smoke the day before. It was still there.

Confidence renewed, Shiro pushed himself up, and started to walk upstream. The water feeding the falls narrowed, the rush picking up as it churned over rocks. It seemed like where Shiro had landed was particularly tame, the landscape turning more and more garish, with pinks and purples becoming the dominant colour scheme, hanging seed pods that burst open with spores at the gentlest of touches, and the biggest variety of dicks and vaginas he'd ever seen in his life.

Whatever it was about this planet, it sure did seem to favour those shapes more than most.

It was a relief when Shiro came upon a thicket of what appeared to be bamboo.

"Run food program," said Shiro.

The bamboo came back clean, even though it was a luminous orange and pink rather than green and yellow. Using his prosthetic, Shiro sliced a wide stalk down. Opened up, Shiro noted each division of the bamboo was sealed off from the next, like it would be on Earth, making perfect canisters.

Setting to work, Shiro made four closed at both ends, ready to push a small hole into the top so it could be sealed with some leaves shoved in. Then he made three cups out of the rest of the stalk, gathering the lot to take to the stream's edge.

He burnt the holes into the centre of the canisters and plucked some round flexible leaves from the river, like lily pads. Folding them into a cone, he snipped the bottom off, put it into one of his cups, and layered pebbles, gravel, and then fine sand into the cone.

Using another cup, Shiro set up a second filter, and poured water into both of them, patiently waiting for it to soak through to the bottom. It wasn't long until he could pour the water into one of the canisters, and start the filter again.

"Okay," he said to himself, voice hoarse from disuse. "You've got this."

He let them be, going back to the bamboo and cutting down another fat stalk, and one thinner one. With the fat stalk, Shiro quickly made more canisters and cups, and with the thin one he hoped the reeds by the river would be long enough to tie into handles and be slung over the stalk so he could carry all of them at once.

The cups were full again by the time he made it back. Yet Shiro wasn't alone.

Someone was leaning over them, their back to him, with long claws poking at the filters in interest.

"Hey!" Shiro yelled. "Leave those alone!"

The person whirled around, stared at Shiro, and then a spiteful grin stretched across their devilish face. They kicked the filters over, the water Shiro had so carefully collected pouring out, and then did the same to the canisters ready to be boiled of impurities.

Shiro leapt forward and slammed them to the ground, narrowly avoiding their kicking feet – hooves? – and claws.

"Why did you do that?" snarled Shiro. "I needed that water."

They managed to clip Shiro's side with one hoof, and Shiro flinched, but held fast.

"You weren't supposed to be this strong," said the person, their voice squeaky and oily.

Their sharp pointed teeth flashed white as they spoke.

"Many have made that mistake," said Shiro. "What do you want from me?"

"My cock in your ass," they spat back.

They thrust upwards, their bulge even bigger than Shiro's, flopping about under the soft fabric of their pants.

"Tell the truth," said Shiro.

That slimy, spiteful grin returned. The acid green eyes crinkled at the corners and the person replied, "I've had so many unsuspecting travellers, and they were all fantastic as I pinned them down and they screamed and stru–"

Disgust filled Shiro. Without thinking, he lifted the creature up, and slammed it down, knocking it out. It groaned.

Shiro took its belongings, including a small backpack, a cloak, a handkerchief, and two metal bottles for water and a small wooden box lined with soft material and filled with crystal vials. Shiro undid the creature's belt and grimaced when he rolled the creature over, revealing the pants they were wearing were assless. The belt fitted across Shiro's hips, slung lower than the one around his waist, and the pouches were stuffed with gemstones.

He collected his fallen canisters and cups, and shoved them into the backpack, donned the cloak, even though it was too short for him, and started off before the creature (Goblin? Imp?) could come to and follow him.

When he felt he was a safe distance away, Shiro pulled out one of the bottles and took a sip of water. It was refreshing, but Shiro resisted drinking it all at once, mostly to wait for any effects it might have had on his body.

After fifteen minutes, which was how long Shiro figured it had taken for the peaches to take effect, nothing had happened, so he swallowed some more and continued to walk. At least he could trust the water here.

The smoke seemed no closer. Shiro's mind wandered back to the imp he'd encountered. They were grotesque, a rapist, and they had either known he was there or happened to stumble upon Shiro by accident.

If there are other travellers out there, may they not be like them, thought Shiro.

He kept going, ignoring the itch the cherry scent gave him whenever he unsealed his helmet to drink. The river continued steadily beside him, a creek feeding into it every now and then. He stopped twice to rest, but since he didn't have anything to eat, he collected water and figured out how to boil it. Sticking one finger into a cup of water was sufficient contact for his Galra arm to bring it up to a bubble.

When the shadows started to stretch into late afternoon, Shiro searched for a place to stay the night. It was cooler up here than it had been where he'd woken up. His flightsuit would insulate him against the worst of it, but he collected some firewood just in case he needed to start one. His Galra hand provided enough heat to be a match, so it was only a matter of having enough fuel.

Shiro decided to set up a few hundred metres in from the riverbank. If he was going to have a fire, then he didn't need unwanted attention, like the imp coming back for a second round. He considered climbing a tree, yet they were all too spindly and low hanging to support his weight or hide him appropriately, so Shiro stayed on the ground with a small fire and started to go through the contents of the box.

They seemed to be medicines or potions. One of them was definitely an aphrodisiac, with a sensual picture of a horned man with a thin, heart-tipped tail, and black claws for feet. His bat-wings were arched in pleasure, head thrown back, and Shiro quickly put it away before he took in any more detail and had a problem to deal with.

He downed the last of the imp's water, and opened the next bottle, taking a couple of large gulps before he realised it wasn't water. Cold milk slipped down his throat, and he swallowed again, unthinkingly, in surprise.

Milk? How had it stayed cold all day? The bottle hadn't felt cold to the touch.

Then a more pressing matter made itself known.

A prickling in his chest, more specifically his pectorals, had Shiro popping his armour off in moments. His nipples started to ache, and before his eyes, they started to thicken into hard nubs, two perked points under his flightsuit.

He rolled his suit to his waist, and groaned as the cool air provided a little relief. His nipples were a dusty pink, and behind them his chest was beginning to swell. Brushing a finger over one nipple, Shiro keened as they sent a shiver over his body.

They were almost too tender to touch. Everything felt tight, getting tighter as his chest tensed up with shock. He managed to touch his other nipple, and it dribbled a few droplets of milk.

He had to get it out. His chest was puffy and swollen, filling with what had to be more milk.

Relax. Relax and it won't hurt.

Carefully, slowly, Shiro started to massage around his thick buds, and had immediate success, milk starting to ease out and drip down his chest. He paused, rummaging in his backpack for the imp's handkerchief, thankfully clean, and wiped it up, not wanting the milk to soak into his flightsuit.

Raw milk kept coming out, the flow coming heavier as Shiro started up a rhythm. He pinched his nipples and hissed in pain – they were still too fresh to play with, which was a shame because Shiro had always enjoyed playing with them.

He didn't mind them like this. The milk, in its own way, was fun too. As it became easier to milk himself, Shiro found himself thrusting his hips forward from his kneeled position, his cock half-erect.

The handkerchief was sopping wet, and Shiro paused to wring it out. He licked a few fingers, cleaning them of milk, and moaned.

It tasted fantastic. He tasted fantastic. If only he could have shared this with someone, let them suckle and lap it all up.

He groaned in frustration as his milk stopped coming not long after. The bottle of milk was retrieved and Shiro had the lid off and was swallowing the rest of it before he really thought about what he was doing.

Filling with milk again, Shiro took the time to admire the shape that his chest held. Nobody would know it was milk unless he pressed down and showed them. His skin felt elastic, easily taking on the milk now he knew what it was.

He pulled off the rest of his armour and his flightsuit, lying beside his fire and jerking himself off with one hand, while massaging his chest with the other.

His orgasm hit him hard and fast, his body jerking in such a way that the last of his milk spurted out and covered him in mess. Thick cum decorated his thighs, and Shiro had long forgotten about trying to mop himself up with the handkerchief.

Lying there, panting, he wondered if there was some way of finding another bottle of milk and having that experience all over again with a partner. After a few minutes of lazily tracing his fingers around his nipples, he ducked down to the river to rinse off.

At least this time he'd been able to appreciate what was happening. His chest had returned to its normal state, except for his nipples which seemed determined to stay at their new size.

Something which Lance, no doubt, would notice after declaring to the Paladins some time ago that Shiro had "tits of freedom" without realising that Shiro was behind him at the time. The Paladins had agreed, and then scattered in fright when Shiro had cleared his throat, except for Pidge, who pulled up a century old "Captain America" movie on their laptop to show what Lance had meant.

Shiro's nipples seemed to have lost their soreness when he pulled his flightsuit back on, and dressed in his armour. As Shiro went to sleep, he suppressed the desire to look through that box of vials again and see if anything related to lactation. There would be time enough in the morning.

Chapter Text

Trudging through the forest, Shiro's stomach grumbled noisily. He hadn't eaten since the peaches. He was going to have to take a risk on something else if he wanted to keep moving towards the smoke. It was still in the same position, but now that Shiro was closer he could see smaller, lighter plumes rising around it.

Whatever the fire was, it was big.

Following the river seemed to be working for him. There was no sign of the imp, and everything had been undisturbed in the morning.

Shiro felt like it was going to be a good day. A lucky day. He kept his helmet scanning for food, picking some flowers that mostly resembled roses, except they were thornless and coloured sky blue with golden flecks on them. He tucked these into his backpack.

Along the way, birds and other signs of life started to appear, although they scattered when they spotted Shiro. The eerie silence was being replaced by animal noises, something which Shiro was grateful for. It had felt like someone had left the ambience track off a film.

Shiro didn't eat the roses right away. Waiting until nightfall seemed like the best way of doing it, in case they did something weird like turn him on.

He tried to cut a pod from a tree but it turned to slush immediately, dripping black goo all over his hands. Shiro tried with a second pod and it did the same thing so he left it and cleaned his hands in the river.

The red berries were easier, tiny and bubbly like raspberries, but harder. The bush yielded a good two handfuls.

No milk, but Shiro was expecting that. Like he was just going to wander into a cow out in the forest. Whatever cow the imp had collected his milk from was long gone. Resigning himself to water, and to being thankful that his nipples had become pleasantly thick and wide, Shiro pressed on.

Whatever this smoke column was, they might be able to get a signal off planet, or know where to go to send a communication.

This thought powered Shiro through the rest of the day, and when he left the river to make camp for the night, tired and sweaty, the smoke did seem closer. It was too prominent and consistent to be a mirage. Or at least Shiro hoped it wasn't a mirage.

He washed the roses with water, their petals now mildly wilted from being in his backpack all day, and plucked some of the petals to put in his mouth. Nothing tingled, so he chewed and swallowed, waited the prerequisite time, and found nothing had changed, so he plucked some more and ate them.

They were tasty, but not very filling, and Shiro turned to the berries next, carrying out the same test. They were crunchy and hard, but also had no effect.

Jackpot. Two things that he could eat without fear of something happening. A bigger cock and a bit of fun with his tits was all very well and good, but Shiro was pushing his luck.

Then again, the berries were nearly inedible. Maybe if he boiled them they would soften up. They might even flavour the water they were in and make a fruity tea.

Dropping them into two his cups and filling each with water, Shiro put his finger into the water and rose the temperature until it was bubbling away. He moved onto the next cup, and kept alternating between the two to keep the heat up. The berries reacted favourably, water soaking into them, increasing their size by double.

Shiro let them cool, picking one out and trying the results of his experiment. They had a surprising amount of tension left in their skin, like eating a cherry.

Still too hungry to appreciate them properly, Shiro ate greedily, the boiling having filled the berries with sweet juices that tasted like candied blackberries. The meal satisfied part of his hunger, and having food again improved Shiro's tired mood considerably.

He laid down and wondered what the other Paladins were doing, what Coran and the Princess were up to. Did everyone get scattered in the final battle? It seemed like Haggar wouldn't be one to repeat a trick, considering how quick they'd been to get back together the first time she split Voltron.

Then again, this time she hadn't made the mistake of giving Shiro his Lion.

He dozed off, hoping that the others were safe and not stuck somewhere away from the Castle and their Lions.

About an hour later, Shiro jerked awake, feeling something pinning him down. He went to activate his arm but it was smothered by a sticky white thread. The covering hissed and steamed, but didn't burn through and threatened to burn through his flightsuit. His helmet was over by his bag, somehow removed without him waking.

Eight massive, hairy legs towered over him, and Shiro could see the shiny green underside of the creature above him. His heart pounded as he realised he was being attacked by a giant spider.

"Hello there, I can feel you quivering," said a voice. "Don't you look so nice and tasty all tied up? You even flavoured yourself with berries and flowers beforehand."

This was much, much worse than the imp.

The spider backed up, and revealed a feminine form sprouting from the spider's abdomen, much like the spider version of a centaur. Except bigger, scarier, and with probably venomous fangs. Shiro had played enough Dungeons and Dragons at the Galaxy Garrison to know a drider when he saw one.

She was wearing green armour, mottled with pink and yellow to blend into her surrounds, and had a face that was horrifying to look at. Shiro counted at least six black eyes and a mouth full of teeth, overflowing with venom (he hoped it was venom, and not saliva, because that meant she wasn't joking about eating him). Her hands were covered with metal gloves tipped with steel claws, and Shiro had no doubt she would use them.

She picked through his belongings with her claws, humming a tune to herself.

"Quite the collection," she said as she opened the box of vials. "I wonder what I could use to make you tastier."

She pulled out a blue vial, turned it over to compare to a booklet she had in her pouch, and put it to the side.

"That will help them grow big and strong."

Them?

There was more than one drider. The heat of his arm would burn through to his skin before it would burn the spider silk, but it was that or get eaten by a goddamned spider lady and whatever guests she wanted around for the party.

"And this will give them something to eat, even if it's mostly muscle," she crooned, setting aside a second vial.

Shiro wriggled his hand as far away as he could and started to heat up the spider silk, feeling it loosen slightly as he did. His flightsuit heated up alongside it, and Shiro could smell it burning. He stopped as the drider turned towards him, her eyes narrowing.

"What are you up to, little one?" she asked.

Shiro didn't reply, staying still. The drider picked up the blue vial, popped the lid and shoved it in Shiro's mouth, pinching his nose so he was forced to swallow. It was unflavoured, and went down easily.

A cool feeling flooded his body, and settled on his chest. Oh, he knew that. It was like the milk all over again, except this time he was so tightly bound that he could feel a cleavage forming under his armour. It made it harder to breathe, Shiro taking shallow breaths to get enough air.

If he weren't in the situation he was now, he would have been quite pleased to know the results of the blue vial. As it was, he was trying not to be aroused by the sensation. Some of his milk was squeezed out, although it didn't have anywhere to go.

Distracted, Shiro didn't even resist the second vial, and tried to keep a straight face as his body heated up, the dual sensation of being cold on his chest and hot everywhere else.

It was a testament to his will that Shiro didn't moan or make any sort of noise in front of the drider, even as he felt the heat settle on his lower body. His bindings tightened slowly, and for a moment Shiro thought they may have been shrinking from drying out.

His thighs pressed together, hips thickening slightly, and Shiro was thankful that the drider looked away when he felt his ass pushing against the limited space of his wrappings. He opened his mouth and gasped silently, trying to compose himself before she turned back. Muscle pushed out, cording over his thighs, making it impossible to even wriggle.

Shiro bit his lip as the effects started to wear off, and finally assumed a blank face, despite the fact he had rounded out in multiple places at once.

"Hm, did that work?" mused the drider. "Are you still breathing?"

She stared at Shiro's face and wrappings. Shiro held his breath, and made his eyes go glassy.

"You're dying. I can't give my children dead flesh."

Swearing, the drider clawed at her silk, tearing Shiro's bindings off, and that's when Shiro struck. He slammed his hand into her face, and she yowled, flailing her hands blindly at Shiro. All of her hits missed, Shiro rolling away, and staggering to his feet.

It was an unsteady position, his circulation being limited, and his body weight distributed differently than what he was used to. A spray of silk nearly caught him.

"I can still feel you moving," the drider shrieked.

She charged forward, Shiro throwing himself under her body, and grunting when he landed heavily on his chest. The Altean technology was trying to compensate, armour reforming, but it was a process meant to happen standing still.

He hadn't killed the imp, because it hadn't been necessary to escape. The drider, however, wasn't going to let up until one of them was dead or Shiro was rebound.

Dodging a leg, Shiro rolled again, crouching to attempt to jump onto her back. Silk caught his right arm, but it was only a single layer and burnt easily. In the few moments it took to burn, though, Shiro was thrown across the campsite and into a tree. It knocked the wind out of him, and he forced himself to keep moving before silk trapped him.

Not a moment too soon, he was out of the way and running at the drider, leaping in one powerful motion, and grabbing her human shoulder with the intention to burn through her armour. He misjudged his legs, and went sliding across her back instead, leaving a scorched mark across her back as he attempted to make a handhold with his prosthetic.

He skidded, turned, and jumped again, finally getting on her back. She bucked wildly, but it was too late, Shiro had his hand on her neck and had burnt through the green plates. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and she fell moments later, legs curling in on herself with an agonised scream.

Shiro gathered his belongings, searched her for anything useful (three gems, and the booklet she'd been reading to select vials), and snuffed his fire, running into the darkness. Helmet back on, he could breathe clearly and without fear of running into a plant spewing spores, or goo, or whatever the fuck this planet wanted to spray at him.

He kept following the river, followed it for as long as he could until he couldn't run anymore, fighting his way through thick forest, panting, and he collapsed by the river. He'd collected the empty vials, just in case, but he didn't dare risk lighting his hand to see what was on them. One had brought back the milk, which Shiro ached to release but felt too unsafe to do so, and the other had curved his ass into a squeezable, plump behind, hips flared to match, and thick, muscular thighs, much chunkier than he'd been.

If he was going to be honest (and he had all the time and space in the world to be honest, sitting alone in the dark), then everything that had happened, from his cock to his ass, had actually been quite pleasurable. A little addicting. He had to be careful. If he continued to transform at this rate, he wouldn't want to leave.

Wouldn't want to stop.

With a sigh, Shiro stood and continued to struggle walking through the night. It would probably be wise to start napping during the day, hidden in a bush or a tree. He'd been lucky to escape the drider.

Chapter Text

The booklet he'd taken off the drider explained what the vials were. The only problem was that it was in another language, one that his helmet didn't know how to translate. There were a lot of pictures though, probably for this very reason.

For instance, he was pretty sure his chest was permanently producing milk, unless he used a green vial with a lizard on it. The green vial also had the potential to cover him in scales. Another blue vial – the one with the squiggly words on it, and not the one with a bright orange label - would fix that, being the same thing that he'd been fed the night before.

The others were indecipherable, aside from that one with the bat-winged man getting himself off. That one was Viagra? That's what Shiro thought anyway. It wasn't in the booklet.

He was huddled in a bush, the dome of tiny, hanging dense leaves quite effective at hiding him. They hung like a curtain, giving him plenty of space to lie down.

The pressure in Shiro's chest reminded him he needed to be milked. He couldn't afford a mess or to go down to the river to wash, so he half rose, huddled under the bush's canopy, tucking the bottle that had held the milk under one nipple, and softly plucked and rubbed until he started to flow. It brought a different sort of pleasure than sexual, this time, just physical release, as Shiro was tired and wasn't interested in extending the experience for the benefit of his cock.

After a while, he switched to his other nipple, having milked his first breast dry, pectoral still plush and round, but not as full as it had been. The muscle there felt permanently changed like his thighs, and now more than ever, Shiro was aware of the triangular shape his upper body had, slimming into a tiny waist and pushing out at his generous hips and ass.

He sighed in relief as his second nipple stopped giving milk, and capped the bottle. It was nearly two thirds full. He'd tip it out when he had the chance, but he couldn't risk someone smelling it before he'd left his tiny camp. Shiro wiped his chest with his handkerchief, then redressed, determined not to let anyone get the jump on him unarmoured.

The last few days had been hectic and Shiro was getting caught in situations he really shouldn't have been getting caught in. It was like he was trying to get eaten.

A few hours nap now, while the sun was high, and then he would walk towards the smoke again. He didn't know why it was so important to get there, for all he knew it was a whole colony of sex-crazed rapists, but it was his only chance at this point.

"Shut it," he muttered at his growling stomach.

He managed to sleep, although fitfully, and woke to find that he was still producing milk. Quickly, he massaged it out, only giving a few hundred millilitres or so, nothing compared to his full capacity, and set off.

So it was permanent.

Walking left Shiro a lot of time for thinking, and he mused about how much he made, how long it took to reach the point where he leaked, and how much longer he could wait after that for it to be massaged out. Did it have the same properties as the milk he'd drunk originally? He wasn't eating that much, how long could he keep up production?

He tipped it on a plant and washed out the bottle for extra water. Nothing happened to the plant, but that didn't mean nothing would happen to a human.

There were so many questions and nobody to answer them!

Pressing on, Shiro thought he saw the forest start to thin, a solid block of red showing through the trees. The smoke seemed closer than ever, the colour a curious blue that stood out against the orange sky.

Then the trees vanished and the red was a series of fields, growing with a crop that towered above Shiro by two or three feet. The crops themselves looked like some sort of white tomato, peeping out from red love-love-heart shaped leaves.

Beyond the fields was a small village, dominated by a large barn, which was producing the blue smoke. The smaller houses and cottages were the source of the other plumes. On the outskirts of the village, away from the smoke, was a tall spire, with communications dishes strung up around it.

Despite being tired, Shiro started to run towards the tower, diving into the fields between the crops. He didn't stop until he burst from the other side, and ran smack into the fence that surrounded the tower. Following the fence around, Shiro discovered a guard booth. It would be better to ask permission to send a signal.

If they were friendly.

The bright green figure inside the booth was transparent, and seemed to move with a wobble and thick goo shifting about constantly. It slid a window open and waited for Shiro to speak.

"Hello," said Shiro, hoping his translator would work.

It had so far, but it wasn't a guarantee every time.

"Hey," said the slimy creature. "What are you after?"

"Who do I have to ask permission to use this tower? I need to send a signal to my crew. I, uh, crashed a few days ago," said Shiro.

"Usually the matriarch, but she's looking for a thief at the moment," said the slime.

It looked vaguely feminine, but that didn't mean anything. The creature was a blob without visible organs able to make noise somehow.

"What was stolen?" said Shiro.

"A box of produce. We make potions. Good ones too, so people don't have to ingest massive amounts of food to get to be what they want. Some asshole took off with a box meant for the capital."

A box. Potions. Was it the same box the imp had? Shiro slung his bag from his shoulders and pulled out the box, removing the two empty vials first.

"I took this from a guy trying to attack me. Is it what you're after?"

The slime shifted forward, forming a hand to open the lid. It gasped, then dragged the box into the booth.

"I'll message the matriarch," said the slime.

They slid their window shut, and picked up a cube on the opposite shelf, talking into it. They came back and unlocked a door, leaving their booth, carrying the box, disturbingly enough, inside their body.

"Follow me. I'll show you to Lady O'Ley's house. She wants you to wait in her office," said the slime.

Shiro hefted his backpack on and trotted behind the slime, who had quite a pace all things considered.

The village looked quite modern, with concrete and glass buildings, interspersed with more traditional looking houses with thickly woven rooves and yellow render. Most of them had gardens, even the newer buildings, which seemed to extend behind the properties as well as the front.

"Those fields," said the slime, pointing in the direction Shiro had come from, "create the base component for our work. The gardens at the front of each home is for non-transformative food. It's personal, but we share with neighbours. The gardens out the back are bigger, transformative produces, with each family specialising in certain ingredients."

"Transformative?"

"Yeah, they go into the potions. They make people change. Not all of the ingredients are plants. That's the spider lodge," said the slime.

They passed a building with a wide entrance, made of dark red timber, and Shiro was startled to see a drider attending to the small garden of roses out the front.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt you. Unless you ran into a corrupted one in the forest," said the slime, obviously looking at Shiro to see how he'd react. "They get paid well because there aren't as many of them weaving these days. They try to recruit from the cities, but it's hard to keep up with the textile weavers. Not many people want to be a spider either, they just want the armour and their strength without all of the eyes and legs."

Be a spider? What the quiznak was the slime going on about? Shiro looked back at the drider and they waved, smiling widely to reveal a mouth of fangs, and continued to water their garden.

"I wouldn't mind being a spider, but I wouldn't fit in my booth and I really like my job," said the slime.

They passed a square building with no entrances to speak of but a circular window well off the ground. Bee-shaped people fluttered in and out, their bodies petite compared to even the slime person Shiro was following, no more than a metre tall.

"The bee hive. Lovely ladies, they make all of the honey. Stripes and fuzz and tiny waists will never go out of fashion, and if they do, well they've got antennae and wings and making yourself smaller."

The slime continued down the main street and a dark house was coming up, near the barn that looked more like a factory now that Shiro was closer.

They passed several villagers that looked like ants, an actual centaur, and a lilac skinned woman with feathers tumbling from her hair and bird wings for arms.

"We're known to other planets as the sex planet. We used to export fresh produce but it would go off, and freezing it made it lose its potency. So we figured out how to make potions out of it. The effects are pretty standard for most, but anyone looking for a custom build has to travel here. Personalised treatments are expensive. Sometimes you get species that are highly reactive, sometimes it doesn't work at all."

They'd turned down the path to the dark house, and entered. It was well lit inside, with concrete floors and white walls, inset with glowing yellow lights. The slime instructed Shiro to sit in the office and not move, putting the box on the matriarch's desk. Despite being inside their body, it came out with no sticky residual on it at all.

"A piece of advice: if she happens to order you to pay off a debt, or charge you for the use of the tower, choose a gardening position," said the slime. "And don't eat or drink anything she offers you. Be honest at all times."

If that wasn't ominous, then Shiro had lost all sense of danger. It sounded like advice someone would give for walking around in the land of fairies and elves, not meeting with the head of a factory village.

"Okay. Thank you," said Shiro.

The slime waved and left, the silence of the office descending on Shiro as he waited. It was sparse, bare of any decoration except a series of swords and archery equipment on one wall, and advertising posters on the other. He assumed the advertising was for the products they made here.

There was a movement in the hallway, and Shiro stood for a woman in a pink robe with a yellow-dyed leather breastplate on and light chainmail underneath. She was tall, about three metres tall, with milky white eyes, pale skin, and black hair braided into a bun on the back of her head. Strung across her back was a longbow, and a knife rested at her hip. Horns, pointy nubs, emerged from her forehead, and there was something distinctly wispy about her, like a ghost.

"Lady O'Ley?" asked Shiro.

"Yes," she said crisply. "Nobody informed me of your name."

"Shiro," he said.

Somehow he didn't want to give her his full name.

She seemed to glide across the floor to her seat and settled. Shiro waited, still standing, unsure of what the customs of respect were here. Pressing a button on her desk, she asked for tea and nibbles.

"You may sit, Shiro," said Lady O'Ley.

He did so immediately.

"Thank you for returning this. Where did you find it?" she asked.

Shiro spoke of the imp, explaining that he hadn't known the value of the box at the time, but that he was happy that it had returned to its owner. Lady O'Ley counted the vials as he spoke, organising them.

"There's five missing," she said.

"I was set upon by a spider. She wanted to feed me to her young and used two of them on me. The imp probably used the others," said Shiro.

He found the empty vials in his bag and handed them over. Turning them over in her hands, she stared hard at Shiro.

"They should have had a much higher effect on you," said Lady O'Ley. "What are you?"

"Human. From Earth," said Shiro.

"Never heard of it," said Lady O'Ley.

Her gaze moved to Shiro's arm.

"That's Galra-made," she observed.

"Pardon?"

How did she know he had a prosthetic?

"Your arm. It's Galra."

What had the slime said? Honesty. Honesty didn't seem like a good idea anymore.

"I was a prisoner, I escaped, joined another crew," said Shiro.

"I wish you hadn't said that. I cannot be seen to be helping an escapee. We're a neutral planet," said Lady O'Ley. "And I happen to know that one of their escaped prisoners has been giving them a lot of trouble lately. A handsome little thing with a scar on his nose and a Druid-made arm."

A man entered carrying a tray, placed it on Lady O'Ley's desk, and left. He seemed regular enough until Shiro spotted the long fluffy tail that twitched from side to side and a reptilian tongue dart out to taste the air.

"Now we have to negotiate, Shiro," said Lady O'Ley.

She poured out two cups of tea, which was more like a bubbly champagne in appearance, and slid a plate of biscuits towards Shiro.

Oh shit. She wanted him to eat.

"There's the matter of using the tower, which I could set up to look like you broke in and used it illegally. And then the fact that five potions are missing."

Shiro picked up his cup but didn't drink.

"I only had two of them, and it wasn't my choice," he said.

"But you don't seem terribly upset by it," Lady O'Ley countered.

"Because I haven't had the chance to be upset. I crashed here only a few days ago and have been fighting for my life the whole time," said Shiro.

"Fighting? You certainly fought two corrupted but you've hardly had to fight for your life," said Lady O'Ley. "Drink your tea."

There was no choice but to obey. Shiro sipped it, the bitter flavour stinging his tongue, and he struggled not to cough on it.

"All of it," ordered Lady O'Ley.

Shiro gulped it down, trying to ignore the taste. His mouth had an aggravated texture, his teeth feeling sore, tongue fuzzy. He coughed, spitting out two white teeth as fangs started to grow in. There was no time to process it before more teeth fell out, all replaced by sharper ones.

Hissing, Shiro covered his mouth with one hand, angrily willing this not to happen, furious that he'd been given another transformative potion.

A phantom hand grabbed Shiro's wrist and yanked it away, a second phantom forcing his mouth open. He felt his teeth slide back, and then out again.

Retractable. He could hide it.

More hands pinned Shiro into his seat, and a vial – the one with the bat-winged man pleasuring himself – popped open, floated over to Shiro, and tipped into his mouth. His jaw was held shut, and it was like the drider all over again.

The effects were near instant, Shiro unable to stop himself from squirming in his seat. Arousal flooded him, and something pushed out from his tailbone, stretching his suit further and further until even the Altean technology couldn't keep up and it tore.

Shiro turned his head as far as the phantom hands would allow, a hot flush spreading across his face from the stimulation. A snake-like tail whipped from side to side, ending in an arrow-shape, a purple so dark it might as well have been black, with highlights of deep blue.

The hands didn't allow him time to look for long, one pushing against his crotch, fondling him through the fabric. It didn't take long for Shiro to come, and a strange thought entered his mind that was dismayed at the waste of food.

Something heavy and thick filled the air, Shiro breathing it in and feeling revitalised. It was a musky scent but not from Lady O'Fey. Somewhere else.

Shiro looked over to the door where the man that had delivered the tea was peeping around the corner.

"Fascinating," said Lady O'Ley, not moving from her place, even as teeth scattered on her desk in front of her. "You are a rare creature indeed."

"What do you mean?" Shiro managed to ask, tearing his gaze away from O'Ley's servant.

The scent was vanishing, somehow being drawn into Shiro, swallowing it up eagerly.

"Over the years, many people have tried to become succubi and incubi, but try as we might we haven't been able to create one exactly. Only approximations. Which has been good enough for our customers but not good enough for me," said Lady O'Ley. "But you're the first person to respond to the tea like this. Everyone else has turned into slimes or spiders or bees or something equally as mundane. I've only met three natural born incubi and seven succubi."

She poured Shiro another cup of tea.

"But you're our first created one, and completely by accident. So, a rare creature not yet fully formed."

Chapter Text

To excuse his debt – a debt Shiro didn't even know he was creating, so it was unfair to begin with – he agreed to work in one of the gardens, while also eating and drinking what Lady O'Ley told him to. She made intense observations during meals, putting Shiro off food entirely, but he had to eat. The food in their first dinner together had been completely normal. Nothing had grown or shrunk or changed shape entirely.

The second dinner, Lady O'Ley placed a series of unlabelled bottles in front of Shiro and asked him to pick one. Some sort of freedom. Or illusion of it anyway. He chose a pitch black bottle, the liquid inside it like ink. It tasted bitter and chalky, and Shiro almost coughed it all up. His tail spasmed as he coughed, the transformation still raw and the motion rocking his body, yet he kept it down.

The effect was nearly instant, his fingers and toes developing short claws, neon pink, the colour spreading over his skin in a softer tone to past his wrists and ankles as if they were gloves and socks. Shiro glared at it, then at Lady O'Ley.

"How pretty," she said, writing something down in her book.

Anger flooded Shiro, although he knew he couldn't do anything. Instead he sat with his impotent energy and tail flicking in agitation. A crackling noise came from his hand and and feet, the colour turning the same purple black as his tail.

"Don't be upset, darling. You won't be here for long," said Lady O'Ley.

She dismissed him, happy with the progress, although it was hard to read her face as strange as it was.

He rose, not bothering to push in his chair, and slunk from the room, digging his new claws into the concrete. They left a small scratch, and he went upstairs to his room. The front door wasn't locked, so Shiro could leave at any time, but Lady O'Ley had let him know that she would have the whole town onto him in an instant if she so desired.

The room he was in wasn't uncomfortable by any means. Plush rugs lined the floor, and a spacious, squashy bed with pillows and throws and enough blankets to build an entire blanket town let alone a tent, took up a good deal of it. A bookshelf crammed with books in a multitude of languages (some of which his helmet knew) sat on one side of the bed, and another bookshelf sat on the other. This one had a number of sex toys, all still in their original packaging and all available for Shiro's use if he so desired (and he wanted to play but he didn't want another debt, and he had the feeling his room was being watched anyway). There was a small bathroom through one door opposite his bed, and a walk in wardrobe where Shiro had put his armour for safekeeping.

When Shiro had first moved into the room and was taking a bath, a servant had picked up Shiro's helmet to clean it and in return it had tried to burn their skin in self defence. Furious, Lady O'Ley ordered another servant to try, but no matter who picked it up or how it was carried, it would activate a defence system. Nobody was going to make off with it, so Shiro figured it was safe to keep in the wardrobe. His flightsuit was already compromised by his tail hole, it didn't need more damage if he was going to make a quick escape.

The clothing on offer was delicate and skimpy, but Shiro found a pair of pants and a shirt that, while clingy, weren't sheer. They didn't leave much to the imagination, so they might as well have been sheer.

Further along the floor he was on, there was a gym and a swimming pool, which Lady O'Ley sometimes used, but was mostly empty. Shiro spent the majority of his time here, simply for something to do. The books were all erotica or romance novels, which got tiring after the fourth one in a row.

Sometimes a servant would look in, and then vanish again, probably to report to Lady O'Ley. He could always feel their presence, feel a pull towards them to unlock the puzzles that twisted around them, and eat the energy they released.

After working out, Shiro's shirt would be drenched in sweat, sometimes milk, and he'd work off that energy by himself in his room. He very specifically made sure Lady O'Ley didn't get any of his fluids, milk or cum, so she could use them in her experiments to perfect her incubi draft.

Shiro flopped onto his bed, staring at his claws, turning his hand over and examining the sharp points. The colour relaxed from black, slowly shifting to pink, and then finally matched his natural skin. He let his hand flop onto the bed. So there was some degree of control, some influence he had on what it looked like.

He wondered if he could do the same with his tail.

Closing his eyes, Shiro focused on the length behind him and imagined it turning pink, like his hands first had. A slight tingle ran down his spine, and Shiro grabbed his tail. Opening one eye a crack, then the other, there was a bright shimmer of pink through his lashes.

Thrilled, Shiro opened them all the way. The very tip of his tail had shifted colour, the heart-shaped barb luminescent pink. He couldn't hold it, though, his energy draining out of him suddenly like he was going to faint. His hands turned black again, and the barb shifted back.

Carefully, Shiro sat up and felt the room spin for a moment. His stomach growled fiercely, like he hadn't eaten for days. Shiro waited for the room to stop drunkenly moving about, and he shuffled to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

So he had control over some of his body. Yet it drained him to move out of the shape the sex planet had bestowed upon him. Good to know.

Lady O'Ley would have no doubt seen that transformation. If he could find somewhere to hide and refine his abilities, he could use it as a trump card in his escape. Not for a moment did Shiro believe that O'Ley would let him go when she was finished. He was too valuable to her.

The town was relatively innocent. Even though they were making sex potions, that was what the planet had evolved to be. Running away would have them caught in the collateral. He wouldn't let them die.

Whatever plan he had, it was only half formed and too fragmented to make any sense.

In the meantime, he needed food. Desperately.

Shiro let go of the basin, paused to make sure he wasn't going to faint, and then slipped out of his room. If he were to run into anyone now they would probably be able to knock him out and take him back to his bedroom, so he had to be careful. Being up and about at this time of night wasn't banned but it wasn't smiled upon either. He'd discovered that on his first night when he had gone to the rooftop to watch the sky and had been escorted back to his room within half an hour.

The kitchen was still unlocked, thankfully. There were a few things lying around that Shiro recognised from dinner, things he could eat without worrying about repercussions, otherwise the knives and other tools were locked up. Nothing that his Galra hand couldn't break through. He didn't really need a knife, though. Breaking things would inevitably lead to his security being tightened.

He had to cooperate, for now.

Taking some leftovers from the icebox, Shiro swallowed down half quickly and felt the fatigue start to ease. He shovelled the rest of the food down, dumping the empty container into a sink and hoped the servants would chalk it up to one of their own having a late snack. It didn't fulfil his hunger entirely, yet it was better than nothing.

When he turned around to leave, Lady O'Ley was standing at the entrance.

"You like to sneak about, don't you, Shiro?"

Shiro flinched, not from fear, but from a wash of cold that seemed to descend upon the room. His thin clothing did nothing to stop the chill. Lady O'Ley paced towards him, as silent as deep space.

"There's a punishment for that, you know," she continued. "You agreed to work with me to pay your debt, and you were warned not to go wandering at night."

She pulled a box from the folds of her gown, the wood shining in the light of the moon that came through the kitchen windows.

"Go to your room and put them on. I want you begging in the morning," she said.

Shiro took the box and nodded, moving past O'Ley and bolting the moment she was out of sight. He closed his door, and slid to the floor, opening the box. Inside were a pair of panties and a triangle bra, barely more than scraps of material.

Shucking his other clothes, Shiro slid them on. He didn't have any other option. They didn't fit well, stretched over his chest and crotch, his cock and balls barely held in place.

Then the fabric shimmered, morphed, stretched to clamp around his cock and balls, and started to vibrate. The back of the fabric narrowed and Shiro felt something poke into his ass, slick and small, but slowly stretching to plug him up. It felt like a dildo, growing to the perfect size to brush against his prostate, but not rip or tear him internally.

His hips twitched forward, cock and balls trying to harden but the panties formed a pouch around them and held him tight. The dildo buzzed every now and then but he wasn't going to find release.

The top Shiro was wearing shrunk, sealing over his nipples like covers and stopped him from playing with his nipples. He hadn't had a chance to milk himself that evening, chest already swollen. Lady O'Ley had said this would last until morning.

What she had neglected to realise was that Shiro loved playing denial. Back on earth, he'd very quietly spent an entire night clamped into a chastity device with a girl he'd met at a bar. The sensation was almost identical to what he was feeling now, but with much more sophisticated toys and effects.

If Lady O'Ley wanted to punish him, she was going to have to do worse than this. This wasn't punishment, this was a reward.

By morning, his chest was twice its normal size, and his thighs were damp with precum that had leaked through his panties. The dildo had settled comfortably, and Shiro gently rocked his hips into the mattress, even though he knew it wouldn't do anything for his release.

His entire body felt languid and heavy, interspersed by pleasure and denial of it, and he waited for Lady O'Ley to make her appearance.

There was no desperate need to beg, although he knew she would enjoy it. Shiro keened and put on a show of desperation, pawing at his pecs and abdomen, clutching at his clothed crotch. She was watching, because a few minutes later, a servant entered and traced a pattern on Shiro's forehead and the lace started to revert to its original shape.

"You may attend to yourself," said the servant, and they backed out of the room.

Their heavy scent, like strong cologne, left a bad taste in Shiro's mouth, and he refused to absorb it. He rose, opened his windows and door to disperse it, and decided if O'Ley wanted a show, she was going to get a show.

Instead of going to his bathroom, as he usually did, Shiro stared directly at where a camera would logically be hidden, and built up the pillows so he was half-reclined on his bed. He dealt with his chest first, letting the milk drop down his body, into the sheets and pillows, licking it from his fingers. Some of it was thicker than usual, and it took longer for him to dry up. His cock had no qualms about being excited by this, the length hard and flat against his belly as he pressed and pushed at his cleavage.

The loss of the dildo was unfortunate but Shiro could deal with it, instead reaching to tug at his erection every now and then. Loud gasps and moans flowed freely from his lips, the sound no doubt filling the house. The bizarre sense of knowing exactly who was in the house and how aroused they were filled Shiro as he breathed in not just the scent of the servant that had come through earlier, but the others, edging closer and closer to him. Lady O'Ley was absent, or she just found no delight from his display.

Shiro wailed as he came nearly untouched, pinching his nipples between finger and thumb, the clench of his body making his milk spurt with the same pressure as his cum. The tension that had been building through the night eased, and Shiro was tempted to put the lingerie set back on. He didn't, though. Lady O'Ley didn't need to know that her punishment was ineffective.

The household seemed to release with him, all the scents mixing into a reviving miasma that left him feeling stronger and healthier than he'd been since arriving on the planet.

He bit back a smirk, instead revelling in the sense of being covered in filth. Eventually he stumbled into his bathroom, making his stride purposely loose and unsteady to make her believe he hadn't enjoyed the enforced denial.

More cum was washed into the drain as he wanked off again in the shower, cock ready for a second round, his come back time almost imperceptible as he transformed closer and closer to an incubus. It was a concept he was comfortable with. Being O'Ley's captive was not.

The steam from the shower obscured most of his body, so Shiro took a moment to filter through colours on his hands, using the energy he'd just absorbed to fuel it.

He would see this transformation through to the end. O'Ley would not break him. What would happen after that was a mystery, but Shiro was determined to go home to the Castle of Lions.

Chapter Text

Next came the horns and the wings. He didn't remember what he'd eaten to make them grow. The sensation was dizzying and Shiro couldn't even rise from the dinner table to wait for the transformation to pass whilst lying down.

Shiro passed out for six hours and awoke to the entire household attending on him.

They all looked like a death sentence had been repealed when Shiro sat up. They stretched out his wings, magnificent and large, shaped like a bats with deep purple flesh that stretched between the fingers that supported them. Something clicked as the servants popped them into place, having dislocated during their growth and Shiro felt the odd sensation of being able to move them around. It was like his tail: it was there, a part of him, and yet it hadn't been there his whole life.

Then, on the other hand, it felt like a missing piece of himself had finally come to him.

His horns were unlike any of the horns he'd seen so far. Pure white, stretching from his temples and curving around behind his head that the two points almost touched, with a smaller set branching off from underneath the first and sweeping outwards, shorter in length, adding a bizarre impression of regality to his face. They had an iridescent sheen to them, throwing pink, purple, and gold into their spectrum.

The amount of people in Shiro's room was overwhelming. He could smell the desire coming off some of them, and let himself sip on that excess, finding the strength to speak.

"If you could leave, I would appreciate it," he said.

"We were ordered to stay," said a small, fox-faced man.

"I would like less people. Could you inform Lady O'Ley?" Shiro asked.

The fox bowed and left. As if they had their own communication devices, most of the servants curtsied or bowed and departed the room exactly six minutes after the fox had left. Perhaps they did have earpieces, or a chip with which they could talk to one another?

Remaining were two people who looked as if they were a mix of spider and bee, both with an insect abdomen pushing from their behinds. They didn't say anything to Shiro as they helped him walk around his room, letting him learn his balance. One of them wanted to fill him up with eggs, and the other would have been content to suck him off, two images Shiro found as he siphoned their arousal into his body.

He didn't know how he was doing any of this. He didn't know how he could see and feel what they wanted, how he was eating energy, how he could tell the difference between them, and how he could shove that energy back at them, startling them and arousing them further. The push had been accidental, simply because he wasn't in the mood to fuck strangers.

The one that wanted to fill Shiro with eggs (and the image changed, it wasn't Shiro they wanted full of eggs, it was their companion next to them) flushed in the face, their spider abdomen swelling in anticipation, and what had to be an ovipositor starting to peek from its sheath.

"E-excuse me. I'm sorry," they muttered, darting out of the room as their ovipositor slid all the way to fully erect.

Their scent faded, and Shiro glanced at his other assistant, who was gripping at Shiro's waist in terror, aware they weren't supposed to let go yet. An image came, unbidden, of them round and pregnant, their bee abdomen stretching in length and size until it resembled a queen's. Shiro didn't know why he thought of queen when he saw it, the information passing through the connection he had accidentally picked up.

"I didn't mean to pry," said Shiro. "Can you tell them it was an accident?"

"Yes," they replied.

Their grip loosened.

"I think you can let me try by myself, now," said Shiro kindly.

They nodded, easing their fingers away. They stood ready to catch him if he fell, eyes wide and curious at Shiro's temperament. Shiro almost toppled backwards, but his wings flapped twice, and he was upright.

"Not hard at all," Shiro mumbled to himself, taking a lap around his room.

He folded his wings down.

"Yes, this is fine. Was there anything else you needed to attend to?" said Shiro, looking at the servant.

They shook their head and curtsied.

When he sat down for dinner that night, Lady O'Ley looked more animated than Shiro had ever seen her. There was a curious rippling effect about her, like she was floating underwater, and her eyes gleamed.

"Stunning," she said. "And you provided me with more driders and bees."

"Pardon?"

Lady O'Ley waved a hand dismissively.

"The hybrids that assisted you in walking. They fucked in the downstairs servant's kitchen and now one of them is full of eggs. You brought them together," said Lady O'Ley. "Made them realise they wanted to fuck one another. Gave her some royal jelly to help and moved them into a cottage of their own."

How odd. Pleasing, though, that Shiro hadn't given in and fucked them. He'd played match maker in this strange planet.

"I wish them well," said Shiro.

He looked at the meal in front of him and wondered what would happen if he ate any of it. Some of it he recognised as being regular food, the vegetables in particular. By now it wasn't a matter of not wanting to transform, but rather a desire to know what did what and how much.

"I wonder if you can adjust to people's desires yet," said Lady O'Ley.

Something flicked against Shiro's mind. He instinctively pushed back, but not before feeling his body shift to another shape for a moment, and fall back, draining him.

"Not quite," said Lady O'Ley. "You're close though."

She drank the last of her wine and left the table.

"No fear of any new changes tonight. Your good behaviour will be rewarded tomorrow," she said, and dissolved into smoke.

A reward? Maybe she was finally going to let Shiro use the communications tower.

Chapter Text

The sky was still softly lit by the rising sun when Shiro was escorted from Lady O'Ley's house to the communications tower. She insisted he wear a heavy cloak, pulling the hood deep.

"Do not give away what you are," she said. "Do not talk or look at anyone. Do not stray from my sight. You still have a debt to pay."

Shiro knew better than to backtalk her. He nodded, feeling his horns scrape on the hood. Besides, if she wasn't actually taking him to the communications tower, then he wanted his strength untapped by any extra punishment Lady O'Ley saw fit to give him.

The town was quiet at this time of day, the majority of the workers not yet up. A few bees flew past, nodding to Lady O'Ley, as they started early and glanced at Shiro. They didn't seem too interested in him and continued on their way without interacting further.

It felt incredible to be outside, and Shiro decided to focus on taking in the fresh scent of the air, the cherry smell not nearly as overwhelming as it had been when he first landed. The breeze was refreshing too, crisp against the warmth his cloak offered.

Shiro felt his tail sway and flick against the cloak's hem. He was slowly wagging his tail, he realised. Reshuffling his wings, Shiro tried to hold onto the feeling of contentment for as long as he could, but of course now that he had recognised it, the feeling was hard to hold.

Passing through the town felt like it took forever, especially as Lady O'Ley didn't feel the need to speak. When the fence surrounding the tower came into view, Shiro felt his body lighten, anticipating contacting the Castle.

The slime creature who had taken Shiro to Lady O'Ley was in their booth. They didn't say anything to Lady O'Ley aside from checking identification. Shiro didn't dare to look at them directly.

"This visit never happened," said Lady O'Ley, giving the slime a vial.

The slime nodded. Or seemed to nod. It was hard to tell when they weren't bothering to form a humanoid shape.

They went through a heavy door, shaped like something for a bank vault rather than a communications tower. Lady O'Ley traced a shape in the air and the door closed behind them, locking itself. Inside the room was a bank of screens lining the outside walls, and Shiro blinked in surprise.

They were old screens, chunky, grey in colour, with manual keyboards. These were nothing like the Galra technology or even the Castle's technology. If he had to liken the room to anything, it was as if he'd stepped into a control centre designed for the Cold War. It was all so old.

"This is–this is not," started Shiro.

He swallowed and turned to Lady O'Ley.

"It is old. We don't tend to have use of it. It is also difficult for people to remotely break into, such as corporate spies, when we're transmitting to the capital," said Lady O'Ley. "It does work, however old it may look."

She gently pushed Shiro forward.

"I don't go back on my promises, Shiro," she said. "If you don't find their signal today, then you can try again tomorrow."

Oh there had to be some sort of trick.

"Does this add to my debt?" asked Shiro.

"Not for today. You have been cooperative. You've progressed marvellously, and there are only a few things left for you to do before your debt is paid," said Lady O'Ley. "Anything beyond becoming an incubus is up to you."

She pointed to a chair.

"Contact your crew," she said.

Shiro took the chair indicated and fired up the computer. It didn't even have a mouse, it was all controlled by the keyboard. The language wasn't entirely unfamiliar, Shiro having spent some time with Matt's retro computers when they'd been on Earth, which was a relief.

Once he figured out the computer path, he composed a message. The tower started to hum to life, the whining of fans cutting into the silence that had dominated the room. Shiro's message sent, eventually, the tower chewing on it as it transmitted, making a horrendous noise that sounded like a deep vibration of something loose against the walls.

It was worth it. It had to be worth it. Shiro didn't even know if the tower worked or not or if it was all for show. The computer terminal he was using remained depressingly empty of a return message. Shiro didn't move from his seat, sending three more of the same message, hoping that the Castle would find one of them.

Lady O'Ley settled at another computer and was printing messages that had been waiting for her. She tucked the papers into her jacket and pinged her mind hard against Shiro's. He knew better than to react or push back, letting his body burn up energy as it tried to form a shape and fizzled out. He didn't know what she was trying to do. Keep him subdued?

They waited for an hour before Lady O'Ley declared that it was time to leave.

The slime made a point of looking the other way as they left, and Shiro frowned.

"If you control the tower, then why do we have to be secretive?" he asked Lady O'Ley.

"Because this planet has been invaded by the Galra before and I don't wish to bring them back for more fun," said Lady O'Ley. "You're a highly sought after fugitive."

The town was busier now, and Shiro could catch the scents of most of the residents, although most of them didn't seem bleeding off excess energy. He grabbed one, and immediately regretted it for the jelly-like texture it evoked in his mind. It was bland, like a watered-down cordial, but it gave a little sustenance.

Shiro was annoyed he had to go back inside Lady O'Ley's house, wanting even five minutes more of being outside. A servant hurried to remove Shiro's cloak, their spindly arms struggling to hold all of it. They dropped it. Shiro turned to help them, but felt phantom hands yank him to keep following Lady O'Ley.

They went into her office, the door closing behind them and locking. Shiro stood at attention as Lady O'Ley went to the far wall of her office and whispered a few words to the surface. A square appeared, sliding out to become a thin, flat box, with a bottle inside it. The colouring was green, and it jostled with a sluggish movement.

"One of the rarest compounds in the universe," said Lady O'Ley. "And you get to have a drop."

She unscrewed the cap and inside was a dropper.

"What is it?" asked Shiro.

"Altean blood, quintessence, and flowers that went extinct two hundred years ago," said Lady O'Ley.

Stepping forward, she grabbed Shiro by the chin and held his mouth open. A single drop of the fluid landed on Shiro's tongue, not even enough to swallow, but the taste was indescribable, like everything and nothing at once. Lady O'Ley recapped the bottle and slid it back into her wall, the concrete fusing seamlessly to make it look as if it had never come out in the first place.

Shiro choked down the urge to be sick, slowly sinking to his knees as the world became blurry and colourful. His vision warped and twisted with yellow light. Shiro closed his eyes, counting the seconds so he wouldn't lose consciousness.

Then a warmth passed over him and the unpleasant feelings seeped away. It was almost as if his insides had been replaced by clouds, or mist, he felt fluid, smooth, liquid. A sigh escaped Shiro, and he thought back to where this had all started.

His body shivered, condensing, becoming heavier, and Shiro opened his eyes to normal hands, no feeling of wings or tail or horns.

"Did you reverse the effects?" Shiro said.

No, she wouldn't have. Fuck. What had that dose done to him? He kept turning his hands over and over, trying to make out the edges of an illusion, but he really had shifted back to his original form.

"You've taken a form pleasing to yourself," said Lady O'Ley. "Let us see if you can shift to the desires of others."

She pressed outwards, the same thing she had been doing for the past few days. This time, Shiro latched onto the image, his body shifting to it instead of draining him. His hips widened, and chest expanded, until he was curved into a feminine form with a soft jaw and pouted lips.

"Good, now this," said Lady O'Ley.

Another image. Shiro could glimpse it, but absorbed the feeling too quickly to observe it, body taking off the curves and his cock surging in size to make his pants bulge.

Next, a cat person with feathered wings.

Next, a naga, his legs fusing together.

Next, a goblin, legs coming apart, and a goat's tail sprouting.

Next, his ass pushing out, out, out, hardening into a shell. His pants were stretched over it, the silky fabric turning sheer. A spider's spinerette, and Shiro moaned as it came with extras, the demands becoming more complex. It overwhelmed him, getting stuck on the image as his arms and legs became covered with hard plating.

Lady O'Ley projected the image harder, and Shiro gasped, mewling. Surely she didn't want him to grow to the same size as a drider? The hard plating stopped at his thighs, but the abdomen wanted to grow further. He jerked as his pants tore, spider's ass filling with webbing and eggs.

The eggs were pulsing, insistent, and Shiro wanted to get rid of them.

Then the image changed and he felt himself shrink, returning to his incubus form. He almost growled, flopping onto the floor, exhausted by the rapid changes with no release or chance to take energy from Lady O'Ley. She peered down at him and his ruined clothes, smiling.

"Well," she said. "I think you've earned another visit to the communications tower tomorrow."

Chapter Text

The images Lady O'Ley had pushed at him were a mere glimpse of what he'd have to experience around others. Taking in scents now had more visions than ever before, and Shiro's body had the ephemeral ability to shapeshift to fit those visions. It was hard to dismiss them, although it seemed that Shiro would always snap back the default shape of tail, wings, horns – the incubus form – whenever he was exhausted.

Lady O'Ley kept him exhausted. It wasn't hard to do, when she'd make him change shape without any payoff. She claimed it was in payment for the second use of the tower, which hadn't reaped any response from the Castle of Lions.

The third day was much the same. Shiro would be minding his own business when Lady O'Ley would push a vision. Resisting such force was more exhausting than accepting it, but he'd resist every now and then for his sense of self-worth and rebellion. Some of the forms were useful, such as the merman one (he'd had a fish tail, what else could he have called it?) while he was swimming. Some were not useful at all, like getting stuck in his closet because he'd suddenly turned into a centaur and his body was too big to turn around in the space.

In between O'Ley messing with him, Shiro quietly chose some visions of his own, plucking them from the servants he could feel in the house. These were more subtle, less stress on him to shift, although still wielded strange results. One thing was for sure, they really loved ass on this planet, Shiro's already squeezable ass nearly doubling in size from one vision, thighs meaty and plump. Another vision had a good deal of pregnancy kink involved, his belly expanding to sit in his lap.

Shiro found he wasn't really interested in that sort of vision. It felt empty. Maybe because it wasn't real and he wasn't actually full with child. He broke from the vision and returned to his incubus shape.

There was nothing to really connect him with the people that he was pulling from. Homesickness, and not for the first time, washed over Shiro. He shifted inwards, his body taking a more human shape, and he wondered how much longer he had to go.

The fourth day of attempting contact was empty. Lady O'Ley hadn't given him any more potions. His transformations were spurred wholly internally now. He craved solid food but she had taken that away from Shiro as well, forcing him to subsist on lust and fantasies alone. He wondered if Allura had to eat a lot to fuel her shapeshifting.

On the fifth day, things started to look up. The Castle had locked onto the coordinates.

Shiro marched down to Lady O'Ley's office to make sure he had fulfilled his debt.

"No," said Lady O'Ley. "You still have to pay for the bribes I gave to the guard."

Fine. It was never going to be easy getting away from here.

"What do you want?" said Shiro.

"Your blood," said Lady O'Ley. "By now it should have changed its structure completely."

"Why?"

"To make more like you. I only have so much Altean blood left, and yours will be a fine substitute."

"Where did you get that blood?" asked Shiro.

Lady O'Ley gave Shiro a deeply unimpressed look.

"The black market. Altea may have been destroyed but its people live on," said Lady O'Ley. "There's quite the interest in anything that remains of that race. It's not hard to come by but it is expensive, especially for the purer bloods."

"How–how do they still live?"

Lady O'Ley fixed Shiro with a deeply unimpressed look, and said, "You're smarter than this. Do you really want to add more to your debt for the information you're getting?"

Shiro snapped his mouth shut.

"That's what I thought. Now I don't need Altean blood. I need the tincture that's impossible to make any more of – unless it's being generated organically," said Lady O'Ley.

She picked up a wrapped needle and gave it to Shiro.

"A sample," she said.

A servant – and it was never the same one more than twice – came in with a tray, rolled up Shiro's left sleeve and wiped down the injection area. Then they plucked the needle from Shiro's hands and took the largest sample possible, filling the syringe.

"We shall have the results in a few minutes," said the servant. "The harvester is ready."

They bowed and left, presumably to run their tests on Shiro's blood. Yet Shiro was focusing on what they had said. What the hell was the harvester? It didn't sound like a usual blood removal apparatus, like the ones used for donating blood on Earth.

Images of a fucking machine, like the ones in some of the books his helmet had translated before his horns grew in, came into Shiro's head. It was nonsense, he told himself, Lady O'Ley was after his blood. She didn't have a lust scent like most of the others he'd encountered on this planet. She wasn't interested in sex, despite trying to create a creature that was created around sex and sexual appetites. He was taken into a room that had previously remained locked and Shiro almost turned around immediately.

Shiro should have known better.

Of course she wanted samples of everything.

The harvester was indeed a fucking machine. It looked to be customiseable, with different parts sitting on the wall behind it, an imp technician attending to locking parts into place. The seat had a reasonable dildo bolted to it, something Shiro could take without preparation aside from lube. In front of the seat, there was something that presumably went on his cock, and another two tubes at chest height.

The technician glanced Shiro over and smiled, slicking up the dildo.

"Undress if you want," said the technician.

Shiro didn't move, and the technician shrugged.

"Have it your way, then," they said.

"She said she wanted blood. Not all of this," said Shiro.

The technician turned to the fucking machine and then back at Shiro. They burst into laughter.

"That's not for you! Unless you wanna have a round to relax before the needle? But no, that's for someone else," said the technician. "I just thought you looked a bit tight in your clothes."

They sat him on a chair and hooked him up to a different machine, one indeed called the Harvester. Shiro plucked at his clothes absently, letting the blood flow from him. It had taken on a slightly purple tinge. He didn't think too much about it. He'd changed species. Of course his blood had changed too.

The amount of blood taken nearly wiped Shiro out. When it was all over and done, he felt faint and lightheaded. The technician gave Shiro some water and a biscuit, and the gesture was so familiar that homesickness claimed Shiro again.

He wanted to go home.

Munching on the food, he watched as the technician capped his blood and sent Shiro back to his room.

The Castle of Lions arrived while Shiro was sleeping off his blood loss.

So deeply he was asleep (there had to be a sedative), that Shiro didn't hear the Paladins come in through the window, or feel Hunk piggyback him to safety. He didn't hear the declaration by Pidge that his debt had been paid, that there should have never been a debt in the first place. Couldn't warn the others about eating and drinking Lady O'Ley's food (but would later be proud that Lance had figured it out anyway and firmly refused on behalf of the Paladins).

When he woke up, he was in a healing pod, the Paladins pressed around it in concern. The door fell away, and Shiro stepped out, a little wobbly. Their full presence slammed into him, pushing their image of what he was supposed to be forcefully. Shiro winced, putting his hands to his head and rubbing at his temples.

"Stop that, please," he murmured. "I can't make that shape at the moment."

Then they all dove for him as he toppled forward, grabbing him into a group hug.

"I missed you," he said.

Someone stroked his wings and he shivered, tail flicking from side to side. He could feel the weight of his horns on his head.

"What happened to you?" asked the muffled voice of Keith.

"I ate things I shouldn't have eaten," said Shiro.

It was the best explanation he could give at the moment. It was the only one he wanted to give, until he could properly sort through his experience.

"Right," said Pidge, in the tone that meant she knew he wasn't saying everything.

"Can we move this to the common room? Where are Allura and Coran?" asked Shiro.

"They both took one look at you and made excuses to be on the bridge," said Lance.

They broke away from Shiro, but didn't stray far, and he could feel their presence, more than their physical presence and more than just the excess energy they had. He could feel them as individuals and their whole being, not only their sexual part. They lit up like their Lions, and Shiro stumbled as Black sent a pleased purring noise through his head.

Hands held Shiro up, and he barely made it to the common room, sensory overload pelting him from every direction.

He passed out for the second time that day.

At least he was at home this time.

Chapter Text

Food goo.

Shiro would never insult food goo again.

He ate three bowls of it before he felt his hunger disappear, the sustenance being broken into raw energy as quickly as his body could process it. After having food withheld and forced to shapeshift, Shiro desperately needed to replenish.

"It's permanent," said Pidge.

She frowned at her datapad, scrolling through Shiro's medical results from the pods.

"This is my default shape now," said Shiro.

He brought his wings and tail in close, curling them against him. Unless they went back to Elim-45 (which was what the planet was called, clustered into a small solar system well away from the centre of the Galra Empire), found the exact foods to reverse the effects, and administered them in the correct amounts as well, Shiro was not changing back.

"We can all be glad I wasn't turned into a drider permanently," said Shiro.

"Can you turn into a drider?" asked Lance.

He was seated opposite Shiro. There wasn't anything sexual about the question, although Lance was mildly affected by Shiro's presence. They all were in their own way, some of them with a lust for knowledge rather than a lust for the body. Shiro had rolled it up as tightly as he could, not wanting them to be as distracted as the people of Elim-45.

"Does it hurt?" said Hunk. "When you shapeshift."

Shiro shook his head and let a strand reach out to feel for what they wanted. Lance was struggling to imagine Shiro as a half spider, but that was too big of a shift while he was still tired. Hunk had something that approximated Shiro's human self. Keith was sitting quietly at the other end of the table, and Shiro startled at the image of them when they were younger and still in the Garrison. Keith had shorter hair. Shiro had longer, which was cut before he graduated.

"Keith?" said Shiro.

"Yeah?"

The scar on Shiro's nose faded, his skin turning darker, and hair falling past regulation length. It was a very old version of himself – it wasn't who he was anymore, wasn't who he'd been for a while.

"Wow," said Keith softly, in awe. "You look so much younger."

Shiro smiled and gestured for Keith to come closer. The shape was quivering, difficult to hold while he had so little energy, but he held it long enough for the Paladins to touch his hair.

"Sorry," said Shiro, dropping the form. "I feel exhausted still."

His guards against the presence of them all were beginning to slip as well, their visions starting to prod unintentionally at his defences. Having them play with his hair felt nice, especially around the base of his horns. Their fingers worked into the tension, small hands on his temples (had to be Pidge), and large hands at the nape of his neck (Hunk, he could feel the callouses). Lance had his fingers buried near Shiro's horns, and Keith was taking care of everything else.

Somehow they'd all managed to cluster in together without someone taking their eye out on a horn or causing any real fuss. Shiro would have fallen asleep in their hands if it hadn't been for Allura calling them to the bridge.

Sulking ever so slightly (but always internally, as he had to be the leader again, responsible and unfailing), Shiro untangled himself and trudged up to the bridge with the others.

"You're all here? Good, let us start," said Allura.

She folded her hands over her lap, standing with a perfect posture and all the poise a princess was supposed to have. Yet Shiro could feel the turmoil in the air, the conflict, the concern and worry. Some of it came from behind him, the Paladins lining up in formation, and a lot came from Coran off to the side, but Shiro could sense pain from Allura as well.

"I know what it is that you have become, Shiro. They used to be more common, and they made for excellent spies. Alteans come from the same bloodline as Rutarians, but somewhere along the line they split off as distinct species," said Allura.

"Rutarians. What happened to them?" asked Shiro.

"They went extinct. Or they wanted the universe to think they went extinct. There are no doubt pockets of Rutarians hiding on various planets, and from how Lance described Lady O'Ley, I suspect she was from a Rutarian line," said Allura.

"We have a similar concept on Earth," said Hunk, glancing at Shiro. "We call them incubi and succubi."

Whatever they were called, Shiro hoped Allura would have more information on their culture, and more importantly, their abilities.

"Some of them must have made it to Earth, and used their shapeshifting to hide," said Allura.

She brought one hand to her chest, deep in contemplation. She remained motionless for so long that Shiro shifted uneasily, thinking she had forgotten to dismiss them. Coran frowned, taking a few steps towards her. It was enough to startle Allura into action, and she refocused on Shiro.

"Do you want to be human again?" Allura said.

The "correct" answer, Shiro felt, was yes. He didn't want to answer yes. He was more comfortable in this skin, with these abilities, than he'd ever felt before in his life. It was finally falling into place, like he was meant to be this.

"No," said Shiro, opting for honesty.

A small smile appeared on Allura's lips.

"You can always change your mind later," said Allura. "If you do, we will endeavour to return your humanity to you."

Her presence was soft, a mix of white and pink, and Shiro felt her tied into his own aura, linked like the Paladins. Coran was there too, spun out like molten glass.

"You're all where you're meant to be, and I am what I'm meant to be," said Shiro.

"Well, next order of business," said Coran cheerfully. "Your armour needs to be modified to fit!"

Finding Shiro a new flightsuit proved to be a greater challenge than expected.

His measurements had changed, for one, and Shiro noticed that Lance was lurking around the storage bays that Coran had dragged Shiro off to. They were supposed to contain uniforms and flightsuits, and Coran knew that he had some clothes designed with Rutarians in mind. Exactly where those clothes were was another matter since the quartermaster's logs had long since vanished.

They'd been searching for two hours already and no Rutarian flightsuits.

"Lance, come help if you're going to be down here," Shiro called out.

He heard Lance squeak and the sound of the storage bay doors confirmed that Lance had been too flustered from being caught to act sensibly.

Coran opened another crate, rifling through it. There were clothes in all shapes and sizes, and Shiro put some of them aside for the other Paladins (their casual clothes were getting pretty boring by now), yet still no flightsuit that would fit him.

"It was always the wings that caused problems," said Coran.

He was buried face down in the crate, legs flailing every now and then as Coran almost overbalanced and lost his footing. Shiro grabbed Coran by the back of his jacket and hauled him upright.

"Let's try another one," Shiro said.

Coran dropped the shirt he was holding into the crate. He sealed it, and it slid back into storage, the next one coming out with a flick of his fingers.

"Thank you for helping me with this," said Shiro.

"Well, you don't exactly have much of a choice. If you're needed on a mission, then we can't have you going out with no proper armour," said Coran. "Besides, it's my job."

Shiro sucked in a breath and bit his lip.

"Still. It's tedious," he said.

"It's not terrible," replied Coran.

The lid came off the next crate and Coran let out a whoop of joy.

"You were more difficult to find than a Lantivarian Breeblox in an air duct," he crowed, pawing at the mass of black fabric suits wrapped in some sort of transparent paper.

Coran pulled one out, held it up to Shiro, then put it back, grabbing another.

"These adapt well to physical changes, but it's always best to get one with a good fit to your permanent body," said Coran.

He tossed the second one as well.

"Try this," said Coran.

The suit was shoved into Shiro's hands and Coran turned away for Shiro's modesty. Shiro honestly didn't care if Coran watched or not, but he was happy to get out of the ridiculous clothes that Lady O'Ley had given him. The flightsuit went on easily over his legs, and he even managed to slot his tail into the sleeve hanging behind him with little difficulty, however his wings were too complex.

"Coran? Could you, uh, get my wings?" asked Shiro.

"Of course," said Coran.

He turned back around. Shiro didn't miss the way Coran's gaze dipped down momentarily to Shiro's chest, to his crotch, and then back to Shiro's face. A slight pink coloured Coran's face, not something Shiro expected. They paused for a moment, both trying to process that Coran had indeed checked Shiro out and liked what he saw.

The moment broke and Coran bounded behind Shiro as quickly as he could. Deft hands helped to shrug on the flight suit, shuffling Shiro's wings about to fit.

"Surprising," muttered Coran.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," said Coran.

Shiro turned, sealing the suit up.

"Does it look like it fits?" he asked.

The fabric itself was the same technology as the original paladin flightsuit Shiro had worn, and he could feel it moulding to his body. However the level of moulding was rather revealing, clinging in a way that showed off nearly every aspect of his body. Hell, he could even make out his belly button quite clearly. He supposed it was because the suit was designed for a shapeshifting race that operated on seduction. A thicker layer seemed to hide the finer details of his cock and balls, but it still bulged, cupped by the suit.

Somehow, it felt different to the clothes that Lady O'Ley had provided, even though they were both revealing in their own way. How appropriate it was for a Paladin of Voltron was another matter. He was supposed to be an ambassador. This was pushing the limits of respectability.

Coran clearly thought the same, his face bright red now, eyes wandering over Shiro. His sexual energy was spilling out of him, and Shiro nibbled at it. He needed this. He needed a balance of food and sexual energy.

"We-we could double up the suits, see if that made any difference," Coran offered.

Shiro gently pulled at the energy, and came up with a vision. Kisses. How sweet. Coran hadn't been kissed in so long, hadn't bothered to satisfy himself when there was so much else to be done.

Leaning forward, Shiro pressed Coran against the clothing crate, and pressed a kiss to the Altean's lips.

"Shiro," gasped Coran. "You don't have to-it was a mere thought."

"Do you like it?" asked Shiro.

Coran looked away, then nodded. Shiro turned his face back, and kissed Coran again, moustache brushing against his skin.

"Do you want me to continue?"

Coran nodded again, and Shiro left a peck on his lips before moving to mouth at Coran's ears. He felt Coran shudder against him, holding him close, and they came back to one another's mouths.

The vision was simple: kisses. Shiro wanted those kisses, wanted to make Coran feel adored and cherished and loved. They kept kissing, Shiro scattering them across Coran's face, putting them at the corners of his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks, his nose – anywhere Shiro could reach.

For his part, Coran kissed back as enthusiastically, holding Shiro by the waist, rubbing his hands up and down to Shiro's hips. The burst of energy floated around them, Shiro taking in as much as he could.

Then Coran pulled away, flushed, eyes sparkling in excitement, and he took Shiro's hands and pecked the knuckles twice on each side.

"Thank you," said Coran. "It's been a while."

"Did you want to go further?" said Shiro.

He didn't mind stopping there, but going further would be relaxing.

"No, that's all I really wanted," said Coran. "Now let's get you into a second suit and see if it helps."

They shimmied a slightly larger suit over the first, the fabric at the same thickness as his old one. It shaped to him, but it wasn't as obvious as before.

"That is considerably better," said Shiro.

Coran nodded, and put the crate back, taking note of which one it was in case they needed more. They picked up their bags of clothes for the others, and headed back for the main areas of the ship.

Shiro didn't think twice of Coran hooking his arm over Shiro's, the Altean rambling off into a story about aligning crystals as they walked.