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Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Anonymous | February 2021 | 4567 Words

The perfect confluence of commercial development and individual spirit, the city of Practis stretched for miles over the massive oasis aquifer. Surrounded by suburban sprawl on the clay-sand dunes, Practis was a glittering gem in the center of Palaven's Pardavox desert. A constant stream of shuttles and cargo transports, flowing in an out of the city from all angles, created the illusion of a city that never slept. An endless stream of commerce, with private enterprise and Civil Corps members alike forging the turian people ahead.

The bustle was all too different for Engineer Sarik Torida, the constant whine of shuttle engines giving him a headache as he walked down the causeway and into one of the large Civil Corps buildings in the industrial quarter. The brutish turian towered over his planet-bound peers at a hefty 7'8." His heavy, taloned footfall announced his imposing presence as he sauntered down the hallways of the building, striking a cutting figure for his first day on the job since being reassigned to Palaven. His sinewy muscles provided definition to his smart Civil Corps uniform, turning heads as he passed by to survey his new workstation. Sarik was an engineer who specialized in reprocessing life forms, an unusual quirk of intergalactic travel. Sometimes it was just easier to turn unneeded personnel into organic components, rather than ship them back on transports. It was a job that gave Sarik pleasure, having ushered thousands to their ends under his command.

But as he approached the reprocessing floor, the keycard operated door closing behind him, the engineer realized that his time in Practis would be a far cry from the comfortable and modern position he'd once had upon The Citadel. Whereas Processing Center 42 held stately pressure-cooker chambers, rendering even the most stubborn organic creature into soft meat and hard remains, the Casella Transit and Processing Center was not nearly as press-and-forget. Several powered winches and meat hooks hung from overhead on the main slaughter floor, designed much like an industrial slaughterhouse. Sluice trenches were built into the floor, allowing blood to flow freely from a draining corpse. The meat would then easily pass along the overhead rails and into the adjoining processing room to be butchered and disassembled as needed.

While certainly efficient, the process lacked the certain touch the Citadel's pressure cookers had imprinted upon Sarik's personal life. He took great pride in his work, accenting his facial tattoos by adopting a set of wispy white lines on his arms and legs, meant to replicate the powerful steam used to end his victims. It was partly a tease to his victims, yet mostly an acknowledgement of the power of pressure and heat. Opening his mandibles, Sarik took a long, slow breath in, releasing it with a gentle hiss. Even if it was not his preferred method, he knew that there was no point complaining. Besides, as he watched one of his fellow engineers slow-hoist a turian off his feet, the steel cable wrapping tight to his neck as it began to suffocate the life from him, Sarik couldn't help but feel a stir in his loins at how viscerally pleasing the method was.

Stepping off the slaughter floor, past the overlooking control room, Sarik gave his datapad a check to see who was up first for the day. Staring back at him was a smiling young Palaven turian, his face marked with the common white band streaked across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. His name read Valencia "Val" Lucinius, a thirty-something who had just finished his tour of duty with the military not two years prior. There was other information on him, that he re-entered the workforce, that he planned to study, but none of it ultimately mattered. To Sarik, Val had one place in life, and he quietly hoped that the turian would not make too much of a fuss when it came time for his civic duty to be done. Opening the waiting room door, the engineer came face to face with his young victim, his demeanor mellowing to a warm growl as he eyed up the man before him.

"Greetings, Citizen Lucinius." These first meetings were usually alone, making it easier to gauge the victim's reaction and composure. Not that it mattered of course; the rear door was mag-locked to ensure compliance once they had checked in. But Val didn't seem to show any distress as he stood in the entryway. He was nervous, perhaps; that was easy to tell after he swallowed upon hearing his name called. But Val seemed far more composed than others, a gentle nod in response to Sarik's greeting. "You will do the Turian People proud with your sacrifice."

"I-I am honored," the young turian said with a soft click of his mandibles, standing up straight before his executioner. "It is not easy to get the order, but if it is my place to serve, I will serve."

"Truly it is your place to serve. You may call me Sarik. Please, follow me." Turning on his taloned feet, Sarik began the long walk down the corridor towards the slaughter floor. "While you may know reprocessing can be quite the clinical process, you will find the methods used here on Palaven are far more personal and visceral. Especially as we intend to harvest dextro-protein meat for export."

"So, I will be broken down like cattle?" Val asked, closing his eyes while taking a soft yet audible breath. As Sarik turned to address him, he noticed something was off about the Turian's gait. The way he walked, leg shifting in the baggy cargo pants he wore, was a tell-tale sign that a victim found his fate at least somewhat arousing. The executioner's mandibles curled into a wry smirk as he ushered his victim into the overlooking control room.

Stealing a glance to make sure nobody was coming, Sarik waited until Val just passed the door before making his move. Pushing him backwards and out of the doorway, Sarik growled as he reached a three-fingered hand down to caress Val's thigh, following the curve of his hip until he felt the thick, aroused cock in between his legs. For a moment, Val hesitated, surprised at how forward his executioner was. But the surprise quickly faded to a lusty smirk, his own arms reaching out to grip the engineer by his shoulders.

"It would have been easier on me if you mentioned it was okay to be excited," Val growled softly, his mouth edging dangerously close to Sarik's.

"You're lucky you got me. Most others wouldn't take the time to notice." Sarik's head cocked softly to the side, mandibles opening as if for a kiss. But just as he prepared to make contact, he felt Val's hand press against his chest, holding him back to prevent their mouths from connecting.

"Save it for goodbye, executioner, I'd like to see what awaits me."

Cocky, Sarik thought to himself as he straightened up, settling his arm behind the turian's shoulders before guiding him forward to the glass windows overlooking the slaughter floor. "There are many ways for us to go about the process." Val stared out the sheet glass windows to the slaughter floor, transfixed upon the busy processing below. The floor was divided into workstations, each one offering a slightly different method by which to off the victim brought to it. Some where designed to be more visceral or messy than others, including rotary saws and falling blades. Yet each method was meant to preserve most of the useful dextro-protein for butchery later down the process. Allowing his hand to wander down his victim's back, Val turned his attention to two workstations up front, already occupied by two turians further along their processing.

To the left, numbered Station 012, a Corps Engineer asked his charge to sit down on the floor. The lanky turian cadet needed a little assistance settling down, his arms already restrained behind his back. Resting his victim's legs across a metal grate built into the floor, the technician knelt down to connect a set of leg shackles around the soon-to-be meat's ankles. The two exchanged a few words, perhaps a parting bit of praise as the overhead meat hook lowered down at the touch of a button.

Simultaneously, the victim at Station 010 was offered a hand, his arms bound in the same way as he was led to a spot underneath the meat hook above. The lifer officer, whose position was downsized, tried not to let his nerves show as he stood proud in the spot he was offered. The technician gave his own button a press, allowing the metal hook to slowly drop, inch by tedious inch until it came to a stop just above his head. Val watched the engineer produce a tight-spooled iron wire, each end built into two loops. One end was slipped around the meat hook and tugged tight, leaving the other end of the noose dangling just about head height for the turian victim. He shifted about in his spot, chest visibly heaving as he offered his neck to the wire noose that would end his life.

Val gently placed his hand upon the pane glass window, watching with bated breath as the drama of life and death unfolded below. Sarik's hand had been rubbing along his back, the gentle reassurance intensifying as those three fingers began to drop down the turian's lower back.

"If it would comfort you..." He said softly, giving a gentle squeeze to Val's curved ass through his cargo pants, "I'd be happy to give you what you want." Sarik couldn't hide his own arousal any longer, despite his professional nature. The thick turian cock throbbed between his thighs, pouching out the front of his uniform. But his touch soon backed off as Val turned his gaze towards his executioner, a smirk crawling across his mandibles as he pondered the offer.

"What I want?" Val growled softly, reaching his hand to grip Sarik's left shoulder, pushing him by it until both hands rested firm on the pane glass window. Before he could react, the smaller turian had slipped behind him, slowly rubbing his chest against his executioner's back, hips gently beginning to grind on his rump as he added, "I want to make my sendoff memorable... leave a bit of me with you." Warm breath washed over Sarik's shoulder as he felt the condemned man's thick shaft grinding between his ass cheeks.

"It seems we're both full of surprises..." Sarik huffed aloud, contemplating the offer. "I don't normally bottom for my victims."

"I'll go gentle. One last chance?" Val's cheek might have been planted softly on his killer's back, but the insistent throb of his cock seemed to say he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Enjoy it, meat," Sarik relented, snorting through his nose and licking his mandibles. He leaned forward, bracing a forearm against the plate glass window before tugging his waistband down around his rump, leaving his front covered as much as he could. He had to do his best to avoid being found out should anyone look up at the control room. Especially since it was his first day on the job. "You'll only get the one chance."

"I'll savor it for the rest of my life." Val smiled, casually rubbing his hand down over Sarik's firm and taught ass, tracing the contours where softer flesh met the hard, outer exoskeleton. "Spirit of Practis, you've got a gorgeous body..." He crooned softly, allowing a finger to slip between the cheeks of his ass, parting the fleshy globes to get a better look at Sarik's tight pucker.

"Practically a gift to you that I was transferred here." Sarik huffed, bracing himself as Val spat into his hand, giving a gentle rub of the makeshift lube into the executioner's ass. A soft breath in, a few gentle strokes on his cock, and Val began to rock his hips back and forth, adding a little more pressure each time until he felt Sarik yield. "A-ahhhh... ohhh, you're hard..." Sarik gasped, biting his lip as a rock hard seven inches slowly pushed inside his ass."

"You're not as tight as I expected." Val chuffed as he bottomed out inside of Sarik's tender hole, resting his head on the executioner's shoulder so he could watch the goings on down below. The victim in Station 010 had his ankle shackles affixed to the metal meathook above, the slow winch system drawing him up by the legs until his head and neck dangled just above the slaughterhouse floor. For a moment, the young cadet began to tense, testing his bonds and predicament with gentle struggles this way and that. That quickly came to an end when the engineer returned, holding a gun-shaped object. As Val began to thrust, he watched with bated breath as the barrel of the gun was pressed up against the side of the cadet's neck. For a brief moment, the two stood together as the hanging turian drew in a breath.

POP-rrrrrRRRRR! It sounded like a gunshot, followed by a chainsaw revving. To break the turian's thickened skin and carapace, the engineer used a ballistic blade to puncture through the exoskeleton. Once inside, the blade reciprocated freely, allowing the engineer to draw the powered knife from ear to ear in one clean motion, leaving a widening trail of spurting blue blood pulsing out of the victim's neck with each heartbeat. Val gasped, his thrusts faltering for a moment as he could hear the blood-drenched gurgles of the nameless victim, his struggles turning frantic and animalistic as a torrent of blood flowed down his chin and into the grated sluice below.

Val hardly had a moment to steady himself, when he heard the overhead winch actuate at Station 012. Sarik grunted softly, trying not to fog up the glass as he clenched down tighter on Val's needy shaft, the noosed turian suddenly no longer standing upon the slaughterhouse floor. Drawn upwards by the hydraulic winch, the officer had been caught unawares, his chest heaving in a vain attempt to draw in his breath as he hung a mere six inches above the floor. So close, yet too far as his legs began to kick and struggle helplessly in the air. The metal cord sunk into the contours of his neck and chin, a tight cinch created by the weight of his lanky body.

The turian quickly found himself gasping, mandibles wide and gaping for air as his panicked legs began to kick wildly in a futile attempt to escape the noose. His arms too jerked behind his back, the tight bind ensuring that he could never hope to reach the metal noose as it sunk deeper and deeper into his neck. Val hardly noticed his pounding pace beginning to quicken, his eyes transfixed upon the way the officer began to flutter his kicks in more and more frantic desire for air and freedom. It took all his effort to turn his gaze to the bleeding victim two stations over.

The young cadet would expire much quicker than his older counterpart, his own heart betraying him with each beat as the pressure and volume of his blood evacuated his body. Val had the perfect view, watching as the turian's fingers, which had previously clenched and splayed with frantic panic, began to twitch and spasm as the exsanguination took its toll. Almost calmly, as if he knew the last moments were upon him, the slit-necked turian opened his mouth, gaping as if gasping for one last breath. Yet his chest did not rise as he did, the last shudder of his muscles finally giving way. The bloodflow visibly changed as the heart finally finished beating, its last quivers fading out just as sure as the victim's life did. It was messy, and it would take more time to drain the carcass, but it was quick and efficient for death to come.

Compared to him, the hanging officer still had plenty of life in him, even if it was fading fast. As Val edged himself closer to orgasm, he watched the hanging turian's head kink to the side, tongue lolling out from his mouth as it swelled in his throat. The gentle fluttering kicks brought on by suffocation continued awhile more, each one a reason to edge himself with another deep thrust into the moaning Sarik. This whole while, the executioner had done his best to keep his own arousal under wraps, occasionally stroking through his uniform and feeling up the hefty wet spot that grew in his pants. But as those gentle kicks came to an end, Val had a prime position to watch the proud officer humiliate himself, perhaps for the only time in his career.

As the turian finally sank into the deepest bliss of unconsciousness, his body began to relax, the last residual momentum swaying him gently. But that also meant the muscles inside him began to relax. It was almost like turning a faucet, the lack of muscle tone causing the turian to empty his bladder, his half-erect shaft leaking gently. First a dribble, then a flow as the siphon action emptied what remained in his body. The warm yellow liquid spilling down his thigh and cascading in a pathetic drool over his right foot, before joining the blue blood flowing through the sluice drain. There was something powerful in witnessing the flow; it was a physical marker that the man had passed the point of no return, and a sign for the condemned's personal engineer to step in and finish the job.

Val moaned with the deepest lust as he watched the engineer reach up to feel for the turian's jugular, quickly tapping a metal drain into the vein. Hot, blue blood began to run out of the unconscious man's neck, flowing in rivulets down his body. The sight was too much for Val to bear, watching the proud officer ushered off into the oblivion of death. His thrusts grew faster and faster as a gasp halted in his throat. Sarik knew it was coming, that rock hard shaft plunged against his prostate faster and faster, Val's balls pounding against his own with each thrust until release finally hit. Hot and sticky ropes of cum painted the engineer's insides, a relieved moan escaping his mouth as Val shuddered through the most visceral orgasm of his life.

Sarik's face contorted in a bit of sexual frustration as he felt Val slough out of his hole, the twitchy-warm afterglow fading slowly from his body as the body rush faded away. He knew he would have to wait on his own pleasure as the control room buzzed, signaling the change of shift for processing. The pair of bled out turians began to move along the overhead rail, a low hum as their swaying bodies were whisked off to the next room for processing, leaving the slaughter floor open for the next victim. Turning about, the imposing executioner tugged his pants up before pressing his front against his charge, intentionally grinding his pre-soaked uniform back against the condemned.

"Well, you've certainly made a mess," Sarik grinned broadly at the brash young turian's lusts, coaxing him to step out of the pants dropped about his ankles and remove his shirt. "Have you made a decision on how you wish to die?"

"The... The noose, Sir." Val gulped audibly as the words left his mouth. It wasn't easy to ask for his own death.

"I would have picked the same for you. Arms behind your back, please. Wrists touching elbows." Fastening the naked turian's arms in a tight box tie, Sarik gave one last firm pat to the man's shoulder before offering a gentle push forward, his half-chub and cum slick cock bouncing between his legs as he walked out of the control room and down to the slaughter floor.

Station 012 had not been cleaned up. The floor was painted with streaks of hot blue blood, dripping lazily down into the gravity-fed sluice drain below. Val shuddered at the sensation of warm and gooey blood between his toes, leaving taloned footprints on the floor as he stepped to the marked-out spot that had previously held the older officer. Another meat hook, his meat hook, came whizzing down the rail above, before clacking to a halt just overhead. Val tried to keep from looking about, focusing on Sarik's methodical approach to his end, first selecting a properly weighted noose from the pile, before lowering the meat hook from above, each gentle tick of the machinery causing Val's heart to pound harder and harder into his chest.

"Remember," Sarik asked with a little curiosity, "you asked I save that kiss for goodbye?"

"I... I still want it." Val hardly noticed that Sarik had affixed the noose to the meat hook and was carefully spreading the opposite end to fit over his victim's head.

"You were a lovely fuck, Val. I don't think I'll forget you." The twisted wire noose slipped on like a wreathe, settling about Val's neckline before tightening down, the slip knot positioned just behind his left ear.

"Thank y-" The words were cut short as Sarik leaned in to kiss his morning partner, mandibles interlocked as the pair kissed deep and passionate on the slaughterhouse floor. For a moment, Val could forget what was happening, closing his eyes and losing himself to the pleasure. There was something electric about Sarik. That he showed even an ounce of care in these final seconds of life, was enough to make the kiss feel like a lifetime lost in his embrace. Val hardly noticed that Sarik had pushed the button mid-kiss. Only when his feet left the ground did Val's eyes shoot open, watching his last lover creep away from him was he was yanked upwards by the neck.

Val tried to say something, but it rasped out in indistinguishable noises as the noose tightened under his own weight, the turian kicking with the mad and panicked agony of one who knew his death was imminent. His swaying body hung a good foot off the ground, ensuring there was no chance he would touch the floor, even as he sank into the wire noose. Sarik couldn't help but idly touch himself, his own cock still throbbing down a pant leg as he watched the airless dance of death before him.

Strangulation was always a slow process. Perhaps Val would regret the torture of his decision. It was hard to say. As the noose compressed the nerves running down his neck, the double effect of creeping hypoxia and the compression on his nerves caused the turian's arousal to stiffen lewdly between his legs. As the worst of his kicking dissipated, Sarik couldn't help but step up to the strangling man, casually reaching up to give his cum-slick cock a stroke or two.

"My, my, my... you must be enjoying yourself." It was hard to tell how conscious Val was of his executioner's torment. He certainly couldn't respond, not even a wheeze as his windpipe crushed harder under his struggling weight. But by now, his greyed flesh was turning an even darker purpled-blue from the lack of oxygen. His fingers began to twitch and splay without any direction as the tips of his taloned toes fluttered below his body in a last, vain attempt to return to the floor. While the welled-up blood pounded in his head, Val felt his mandibles opening wider and wider, accommodating the thickening, swollen tongue lolling out of his mouth as pressure built. There was almost something beautiful about the way he looked, locked between life and death, his darkening complexion accented by the blood vessels bursting in his eyes like fireworks.

Sarik continued to stroke, gently, using only the tips of his fingers to polish Val's cock head, the oversensitive knob of flesh spasming at his touch. By then he was pretty sure Val had passed out, his eyes unfixed and staring off at an angle. But Sarik knew an opportunity when he saw it, his three fingers wrapping tight around the turian's cock, a few hard, pre-slickened pumps were all it took to bring him to a final, bliss-overloaded orgasm. As thick ropes of sticky cum spattered out across Sarik's chest and uniform, he had the pleasure of watching endorphins rush through Val's body, a few autonomous kicks and spasms jerking his muscles about before finally relaxing to a still and silent sway. The engineer had enough sense to step back, just in time to watch the gentle trickle of piss drool down the young turian's thigh, the pattering flow just missing the drain as it spattered haphazardly on the slaughterhouse floor.

Sarik sighed as he wiped the sweat from his brow, slowly lowering a handful of trimmings into a bucket at his feet, the side marked simply "Dextro-Protein | Off-Cuts." He certainly felt rusty with his butchering skills. It didn't help that his new job required him to butcher down one of his victims as a test of his abilities. But it was nice to be working on someone who he knew would be forgiving. At least if he was still alive to forgive.

The butchery table before him lay sprawled out with the remnants of Val's body. Scraps of bone and marrow lay strewn about the table as he gave one last look over what remained, before peeking inside the ice chest freezer that sat still to his right. Styrofoam packed, Sarik had worked through the entirety of Val's body, turning his primal cuts into marketable steaks, chops and roasts. Carefully running his hand across the taught-packed plastic wrap, he couldn't help but sigh, wondering if those who purchased his meat would know - or want to know - who was packed within the tight-fitting containers.

The process had taken the better part of two and a half hours, starting with the messy removal of hands, feet and guts. Afterwards, the hardened plating of Val's exoskeleton was sawn through, removed in thick plates to be repurposed for radiation shielding. What remained was the tender dextro-meat. Much like an Earth deer, Val's body was parted out starting with his arms first. Each one was removed at the joints as his broken neck flopped haphazardly from side to side, oozing a dribble of bloody juices from the gaped mouth. Working downwards on his body from there, his neck, brisket and flank were removed - occasionally hacked when needed to get through the tough turian meat.

Once his front was finished, Sarik worked down his back, removing the long tenderloin-like backstraps, all the way down to that taught rump that escaped his grasp. Were he not on a timeframe, the executioner might have had his way with the still remnants. But he knew that his arousal would just have to wait. Lastly, Val's legs were jointed off at the rump and shanks. While not as thick as purpose-bred animals, the meat was soft and well-exercised, perfect for hefty bone-in roasts. Once he had finished parting the primals, Sarik got to work finishing out each cut, a sharp knife and a band saw making short work of flesh and bone alike. By the time the last plastic wrap slipped over the last 3-lb pack of turian medallions, Sarik was exhausted.

Exhausted, but proud of his work. Eyeing over the beautiful cuts, he gave one last nod before sweeping the bone fragments and bits of messed up Styrofoam packing into the trash. One last tap to the cooler before hitting the lock, the packed freezer slowly retracting into the floor on its way to shipping and distribution. As he clocked out from the butchery station, flashing his badge on the reader, a little checklist popped up on his datapad. It was mostly innocuous, reminding him to put away knives and clean his station. But there was one reminder that stood out.

Do Not Remove Meat from Butcher Floor

Turning back to the table, Sarik realized that he'd left Val's open-mouthed head laying at the foot of the butcher's table. Peering back over his shoulder, the engineer chuckled as he gave his pent-up self a little rub. He'd spent most of his day frustrated, unable to get his release...

His supervisor wouldn't need to know the head went missing. After all, the kiss was good. He was pretty sure the throat would be even better.

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