It's Not Nutrient Paste (vore/alien/Mass Effect)

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It's Not Nutrient Paste (vore/alien/Mass Effect)

Postby Ray » Wed Jan 29, 2020 9:03 pm

Wrote this up after some sudden inspiration. This story is about a quarian named Lia'Vael from Mass Effect eating a shrunken human woman. Not much context is given and I don't bother to explain what a quarian is in this story or anything else about it. You've been warned. It will make sense though, mostly, if you are familiar with the Mass Effect series of video games. This one is slightly graphic, I suppose. A little mouth play and mostly digestion.

"I'm... I'm sorry about this, but you don't know what it's like! I just can't eat anymore of that turian crap! Maybe if... if you PEOPLE had just let me work a real job I wouldn't have to do this. This is your people's fault!"

She hesitated only a moment and then in a hurried motion crammed the poor human into her mouth. What then? Now with the squirming little person in her mouth she was momentarily confused. Her tongue manipulating the woman about between her jaws, brushing her against her teeth but... she couldn't just bite down... it was too unsanitary. Too dangerous. Through clenched teeth she breathed through her mouth and then, tilting her head back, she pinched her nose closed and suppressed an unexpected urge to gag. Still squirming, her captive was promptly pulled into her throat, gliding down the tight fleshy tunnel.

The beating of the quarian's heart approached, becoming near deafening for a moment before it passed by, retreating above. Next came a tight, muscled orifice that temporarily impeded her progress before reluctantly opening up just enough so that the throat could painfully squeeze her through. Immediately a sour smell overwhelmed her. Curiously, it was also punctuated by an undercurrent of something that smelled almost like rubbing alcohol and, more strongly, of something between a grape and strawberries. Perhaps a side effect of the daily antibiotics the quarian girl was forced to take to ensure her safety in this foreign environment combined with some flavored drink she had recently consumed before her rather unconventional lunch. The minuscule human woman didn't think on this for long, her train of thought interrupted when she splashed down into a sickly hot pool of alien digestive fluids. Fighting disorientation, she struggled to right herself and then pushed to the surface of the acidic pool.

Her omnitool was activated as she feebly shook her arms in disgust and desperation. The orange light reflecting off the walls of the dark pink and red organic prison she found herself in. Indeed the fluid she was now immersed in had a distinctly purple color, though heavily diluted, judging by the more powerful sour smell of acid emanating from it. She reached out and tentatively touched the stomach wall, pushing toward what she thought, hoped, was the quarian girl's front. She couldn't be entirely sure. Begging and pleading followed, her words turning into panicked and despairing moans, hysterical screams. After some forty-five galactic standard minutes her voice became more hoarse, and faded. Her legs and lower torso were beginning to burn then. Itching the rest of her just a bit less so. She could hardly see for all the acid-kissed tears in her eyes and her nose and throat had become uncomfortable as well. As the air began to run out she grew tired and weak... standing was a chore. She leaned backward against the inner stomach wall and that supports her for a time, but as she lost consciousness she drifted down, sinking into the hungry gastric pool, unable to prevent it from consuming her.

--------

Lia'Vael did little throughout all of this. Once her meal had been deposited into her belly she merely sat down, breathing slowly. She felt shame at first... and so terribly anxious. Her thoughts kept returning however to her situation this last year. The humiliation heaped on her by zealous C-Sec officers and hateful merchants. Days and nights spent alone without a soul to talk to or even the comfort of privacy or a good meal. She hadn't eaten anything substantial since leaving the Flotilla. The flavored nutrient pastes and drinks were fine at first but... now there mere thought of them made her stomach churn. Reflexively she hugged herself, her arms across her stomach as she hunched over slightly. The momentary nausea passed and as it did she realized she could feel her victim squirming in there. It tickled, faintly.

For a time she just sat there, staring off into space and concentrating on the frantic movements penetrating the walls of her stomach. There was a live PERSON in there. A human. An alien. Alive and terrified and desperately trying to escape. Lia thought about her ancestors then. Not her grandparents or great grandparents or great great grandparents, but further, back to when her people had walked upon the ground of their own planet, free of space suits, the wind in their hair and the sun upon their faces.

A magnificent and accomplished race, the quarians had enjoyed a rich and diverse culture, with the food to match. That had all gone though, replaced in the three centuries since the Geth Uprising with a small selection of hardy plants grown in their Liveships and a more varied selection of condensed pastes. The child of low ranking crewmen of a moderately sized cruiser, Lia had never known much variety in her pallet. Of-course her people had always been resources and many recipes for preparing their new vegetarian diet had been produced, each intended to alter the flavor of the same few dozen or so fruits and vegetables. There was all manner of different flavor of nutrient paste, but the more flavorful the more expense to trade for and so Lia could only faintly remember trying anything sweet or meaty on a few of her pivotal "Suit Days" when she graduated from a young child's body suit to an elders, then to a teenager's, and finally, just before she left on her Pilgrimage, an adult's.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a chime from her helmet, which still sat discarded on the thin cot beside her. It was a notification lighting up the hud on the inside of her mask. Though at an odd angle and sideways from her current sitting position, she recognized it: it was a reminder automatically sent to her to let her know that the store she needed to visit today was going to close in a standard hour. For the moment she pulled her mind away from the historical and cultural reminiscence and prepared for a relatively long walk to that part of the station.

First she took an antiseptic capsule and popped into her mouth. Pinching it between her teeth, she refrained from biting down too hard and instead held it there while she took a cleaning swab and rubbed it all over her face. Before putting back on her helmet and mask she needed to make sure she was clean. Common wisdom throughout the galaxy was that quarians would get sick and die anytime they were exposed to a non-sterile environment, but this was an exaggeration. As long as that environment was reasonably clean, and the quarian took a sensible measure of caution, exposure was unlikely to result in more than a slightly stuffed nose or mild case of hives or rash on the skin. Her preparations complete, she pushed her hair back, slid her helmet down over her head, and then placed her mask back on the front. It sealed with a quiet hiss, indicating it was air tight. Finally, she bit down into the capsule and felt the queerly bitter-sweet taste of antiseptic mouth wash taint her tongue. Though it had been designed not to taste bad Lia couldn't help but grimace as she swirled it about before swallowing it, an act not well appreciated down in her stomach as it splashed all over her captive, temporarily choking her and leaving her sputtering for breath. Realizing this, Lia gasped and swallowed a ridiculous laugh. There was no need to be so cruel. No need to taunt and torment her prey. She swallowed another breath to quiet her nerves, stood up, and made her way out of the shelter and out into the busy street.

--------

As it would happen, the quarian's small act of mercy toward the woman she had devoured had an ironic effect; by swallowing several gulps of air the once depleted stomach was now livable again. So to speak. This would not have mattered but Lia's hurried trot through the Citadel streets jostled the contents of her stomach, pushing the mass-deficient human to the surface of the digestive soup and even knocking some breath into her.

Regaining her consciousness, bit by bit, the woman couldn't remember where she was. Panic tried to grip her, but she was sore. So sore. Her whole body was aching and her head too, though that was clearing, slowly. Where was she? What had happened? This place was dark and hot and... humid. No, it was filled with water or something. Both. Yes, it was humid and she was half-standing half floating in a pool of some kind. She tried to call out for light but her voice would not come and the attempt left her shuddering and coughing with pain. Her mouth and throat BURNED, worse than her arms, legs, or torso did. Each spasm was excruciating and the pain nearly sent her back to unconsciousness. Wiping away the slick slime coating her off of her face she made a motion with her left wrist and a dim, orange glow emanated from it. She could hardly see the glow from her omnitool or her surroundings. Her burning eyes had been damaged by this chemical soup this... stomach acid. It all came back to her at once; the night she had left her apartment alone to meet her date. Being ambushed in that elevator. Waking up a dark, musty smelling room... a room that turned out to be a pocket in an alien's coat. The painful injection her captors had given her and the countless days she had spent in a clear, plastic box with air holes in its top, sucking water and sustenance from a little spigot like some kind of space hamster. Then, her being taken out and sold to that masked alien... the quarian girl. Yes, young, judging by the soft pitch of her voice and... youthful face. A pale thing with pink eyes and light brown hair that stopped just passed a set of peculiar alien ears. The alien woman who had eaten her.

"I'm sorry," the alien had said to her. She even sounded like she meant it. There had been an accusation made at the tiny helpless human held in her three-fingered hand though. Something about eating paste and discrimination. Was that supposed to be an excuse? The statement had baffled her and she had been able to think of no response, her mouth working in silence. Then the quarian had shoved her into her mouth. She'd gotten only the briefest glimpse as she was brought up to those pale lips moments bore they parted to reveal soft, pink, soaking wet tongue. The alien's breath had then washed over her as she was pushed inside, alien spit soon covering her body and even getting into her mouth. It tasted... clean. Strange, faintly alcoholic, but clean. She had feared being bit into by those sharp incisors or pulverized by the alien's molars, but that had not come to pass, though it had come close. No, instead she had been swallowed whole and alive.

She was trapped. She was helpless. She was doomed. She was determined to fight to the end. That was what humans did.

--------

Before exile from their homeworld the quarians' culinary tastes had been as creative and expansive as any species. Many were the animal, large or small, they had hunted and devoured. Did they ever eat anything alive? Lia asked herself. No notion of that had ever been brought to her attention but... it felt so natural. Her incisors had tingled with the urge to bite down into her prey's flesh and her toes, ankles, and thighs had twitched as if they wanted to leap into action and pounce on some struggling animal. To pin it between her powerful legs and then... she didn't know. Didn't understand it.

She asked herself more silent questions. Am I crazy? Sucked a bit too much nutrient paste? Too many lonely nights in that barren turian tincan shelter?

No one would ever know she was a killer. Would never believe her. She hardly believed it herself. Looking around her at the other patrons in the shop, many of them human, Lia felt a hysterical urge to tap one of them on the shoulder and confess what she'd done. What would they think if they knew one of their own was inside her, right now, still alive and trying in vain to escape? It could have been you, or you, or you, she thought to herself. Just dumb luck... that's all.

Her shopping done, she slipped the merchandise she had purchased into a small satchel hung around her waste and made her way back out of the store. Though she tried to ignore it, she did notice the clerk working the register watch her as she left. There'd been another patron in the store, a female a turian, whom Lia was fairly certain was undercover security. It wasn't as if she'd stolen anything or had even tried to. Shoplifting was a foolish risk; as she had been taught by her instructor before leaving the Flotilla for the wider galaxy. There were better ways to steal if you needed to. More elaborate techniques. Such as the mark she had right now; a fat, slow, rude, bumbling volus.

When she had bumped into him "accidentally" he had jumped to conclusions without any evidence and snidely told her to,

"Watch where you're going, clanless."

Clanless was a hateful term from a Volus, a label meant to mock Lia'Vael and her people for the synthetic occupation of their homeworld. It didn't matter that Lia had in fact bumped into the squat alien as a necessary beginning for her plan to rob him; he had no evidence she'd done anything wrong. In the momentary bodily contact his credit-chit had been snatched and replaced with a fake. It wasn't necessary to physically scan credit-chits and instead most modern registers would passively scan them for any transaction. The one Lia had placed in the Volus' pocket would scan his environment-suit for his identity and authorize him to make purchases with the card. Outwardly it was a common credit-chit and so unless Lia was unlucky, and she wasn't, it would look outwardly identical to the Volus' original card. From there, she had a simple but effective plan. All she had to do was shadow him until he made a purchase, then place his real card in some out of the way place after that. She'd bump into him once more to take back her fake card, which would now have all his information, and then let him hunt down the real one. He'd be spooked and, hopefully, he would log into his bank account and deactivate his card and get a replacement. This would be spied on by the fake card Lia had and for a short time she'd be able to access his bank account. She didn't intend to ruin the strange alien man, but she had needs. Her people had needs. He could spare it.

As it turned out the plan worked and almost to perfection. When she bumped into him a second time he became suspicious and called Citadel Security. The C-Sec agent had no love for her or her people and he had grilled her intensely. She'd been worried that he was going to cut her time on the Citadel short; a problem though one she could endure. However an intervention by no less than a Council Spectre had averted any further complications. Clueless, the trio had wondered off.

No harm done, Lia thought.

--------

The trip to the store and subsequent pick-pocketing adventure had not been easy on Lia'Vael's lunch. Each step rocked the contents of her stomach, inflicting disorientation and brief motion sickness on the hapless bit of human cuisine. The stomach contents were slowly draining however and by the time Lia reached the store all that was left in her stomach was the partially digested woman. Still alive, laying in a much shallower pool that didn't even fully submerge her. She struggled to her feet once the jostling motions, the walking, had slowed down, and began pounding, scratching, and poking at the stomach walls with what remained of her strength.

Muffled bits of conversation, announcements, music, and the engines of hover cars penetrated her dim, burning prison. Where had the alien gone? Would someone notice her? She had to try. Her efforts continued but from outside there was no sign of anything amiss. Though Lia'Vael was slender like nearly all members of her species, and wearing a skin-tight environment suit, the struggles of her meal were just too pathetic to be noticed even an intense observer. Of which she had many. The only way anyone might have suspected a thing would have been if they'd put their hand right on the alien girl's toned stomach.

By the time Lia'Vael was having her conversation with the C-Sec officer and Spectre over the issue of the Volus' "stolen" credit-chit her meals' strength was mostly gone. She could do nothing except lay there, unmoving, and listen to the muffled conversation going on above and without her the alien stomach which confined her. It was all too quiet for to her hear except for one outburst by her captor. Her devourer.

"Next thing I know this guy ACCUSES me of stealing his chit!"

Had she been on the verge of tears? It sounded like it. Her victim had no tears left to shed. She wasn't afraid anymore or angry or defiant. Just resigned and tired... so tired. The pain was fading but it was still rather acute. Though she could still hear just fine she could now only dimly detect the difference between "light" and "not light" as she awkwardly waved her tender, oozing, chemical-scorched arm about. Pressing her other hand into the organic surface beneath her she was aware that her wrist seemed to bend at the wrong angle. The fingers too, perhaps. It was hard to tell as her senses were beginning to fail her. She reached up and brushed the top of her head but felt nothing... couldn't even tell if her hair was still there or if it had melted off.

Why? She asked no one in particular. Why did this quarian eat me? How did this even happen? Quarians couldn't eat human food and so surely couldn't eat a human. It was something about their DNA. She remembered it from university back on Earth. She didn't quite understand it then or what it meant and she asked her professor about it, raising her hand.

She never got an answer, her consciousness fading once again not long after, as Lia was making her way to a taxi that would take her back to the shelter she slept at each "night". In an unnatural sleep, she was technically still living when a sphincter opened up to her right sucked her into a more confined space with an audible, from Lia'Vael's stomach anyway, "SCHLOOP!"

--------

As she stepped into her recessed little corner with the turian homeless shelter Lia felt her stomach rumble. It had to be empty then. In fact, she realized she hadn't felt her little meal making any fuss in a while. By now she had surely been digested but... Lia didn't feel very satisfied. If anything she was hungrier than she had been before. How could you eat a whole person and not feel full? No doubt it was because she had swallowed her victim whole. That was why it had taken all evening to digest her. Perhaps those teeth of hers ought to be put to better use next time?

"I could bite into one and suck them dry," she thought to herself, her lips moving silently behind the tinted visor of her face mask.

Yes, she would at least try that. As her HUD lit up once more she knew that her scheme had worked. Money wouldn't be a problem for a little while. She salivated at the thought.
Tali'Zorah vas Vorah Soft vore and a sexy quarian shaking her hips
It's Not Nutrient Paste A quarian discovers her underlying predatory instincts
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Ray
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Re: It's Not Nutrient Paste (vore/alien/Mass Effect)

Postby Erebus » Mon Feb 24, 2020 6:05 am

I enjoyed this story! Thanks for sharing it.
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