A random, wildly alt-universe scenario. Humanity's beaten to the finish line of becoming Reclaimers by the Kig-Yar. Now they're all super Kig-Yars/T'vaoans.

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The consequences of the UNSC’s failure to secure the Resequencer for humanity’s exclusive use sits invitingly on the edge of the procedure room table. The T’vaoan Kig-Yar's glowing yellow eyes beckon me back for another round almost as equally as his open legs do.

His still erect penis visibly throbs with each beat of the alien’s powerful hearts; beads of insuperably virile seed continuing to emerge and trickle down the shaft. Despite doing all the physical labor, his tight muscular pectorals and abdominals calmly rise and fall with each of his breaths, in contrast to my own ragged human exhaustion, as though nothing taxed his endurance even slightly. Given the staggering and all-encompassing enhancements his species received after their usage of the Resequencer, I doubt anything could.

But limitless endurance is nothing compared to his telepathic voice inside my head, one of many, many gifts bestowed on them by the Resequencer.

“Was it what you expected?” he asks. “No? It was better? My apologies then, if I have forever ruined sexual intercourse with your fellow humans.”

I can still feel his warmth inside me, and his thick, viscous seed slowly rolling down the inside of my thighs. It still astonishes me that he pumped out so much.

“That was nothing. I held back; didn’t want to overwhelm you. We never run out now,” he says, echoing in my head.

‘Now’, I muse. An immense load of implications rest on that word. Once humanity had been the heirs of a galactic mantle of responsibility, but now...

“Does it make you jealous, what we did?” he interjects, into my stream of thought.

Of course it did. My eyes drift over screens and displays showing a myriad of test results from this T’vaoan volunteer; intelligence, memory, and knowledge scores off the charts, IQ likely exceeding 400; skin, flesh and bones that can’t be harmed within the realms of reasonable force; limitless strength, instantaneous reflexes, supernatural senses, complete disease resistance, and no signs of aging. As if those aren’t bad enough to be up against, the Resequencer gave them psychic abilities when it rewrote their entire physicality.

“It was meant for us,” I say. “The Precursors chose humanity.”

“Yes, they did,” he says. His eyes’ expression curves with amusement, as if to say, ‘what of it?’. “But you humans were too slow. Now you’ll always be. We retrieved the Resequencer first, it remade us, and that’s all that matters.”

He leans forward on the edge of the table, sensually stepping one padded digitigrade foot onto the pristine clinical floor, followed by the other. Watching his muscular build elegantly perform even simple movements is more captivating than it has any right to be. He stands from the table to his full height, just a few inches under seven feet, now looking down at me with his predatory gaze.

“But what does it matter?” he says as he drifts over the floor towards you, casually ignoring gravity as though he’s a deity. I forgot, the bastards can now fly. “Kig-Yar and humans are more alike than any other pair of species in this galaxy. We’ve naturally found common ground even before the Great War ended. There’s no need to distrust us.”

He stops immediately before me, well within my personal space, and sets foot back down upon the floor. I feel no compulsion to back away, even as only a finger’s length of space separates my chin from his pecs.

He raises a muscled arm over my shoulder and wraps it gently around my head. His other finds itself around my waist. His immense strength pulls me in, burying me in the landscape of his muscular physique. His intense scent and pheromones fill my airways, bulldozing any desire to resist him, and firing up my arousal all over again. His pulsating penis feels like an iron pipe against my stomach, slicking me with precum. My own meager erection pales in comparison.

“What’s better than this?” he says. His long avian muzzle rests on top of my head as his thoughts drift into mine. It’s hard to think of anything better; hard to even think at all. I’d never felt so aroused; so eager to be fucked. I wrap my arms around his trim waist and pull in tight, squeezing his sculpted buttocks.

“Let go of lofty ambitions of human destiny and pride. But if you humans really want to be special, then you can be our special little pets instead,” he says.