Who: The Vakarians (Cindy & Garrus) What: Garrus sheds his human skin, quite literally When: This morning Where: Their home Rating/Warning: Some shower nudity and talk about alien porn Status: Complete!
Blood stained their bedsheets.
Not a lot, not like an increasing pool beneath him that could signify death - much like what happened to his beloved wife two shorts months after their exchange of vows among the stars - but there were blotches all about around him. Blotches, and skin.
Yes, skin. Translucent hide like he was a shedding snake, though instead of something particularly Garrus-shaped it was more like flakes. Thin layers of human flesh that had once belonged to him because he’d once been human, but he knew his time as one was limited. Unpleasant and uncomfortable changes had been happening to his body for a couple months now, ever since he and Shepard had discovered that the Reapers also existed in this goddamn universe - from the shape of his teeth to the painful stretch of his bones. His diet, the loss of hair to make way for plates that almost looked steely.
He wasn’t afraid. Garrus had welcomed it, because there was a part of him that knew he’d feel whole as this extraterrestrial race. Mentally the switch from human to alien was seamless too, all thanks to Cindy’s support. Instead of running the other direction she’d gone above and beyond to make the changes necessary to adjust to him without complaint, without even a worry that this would change anything between them. It didn’t exactly make them physically compatible for reproduction, but strides were made towards preserving the last survivors of swimmers in his once homosapien testicles.
Damn good timing, too.
He dreamt again. It was a never ending cycle of repetitiveness that he often dreaded because who the fuck actually wanted a constant reminder of intergalactic war, genocide, the death of friends and betrayals of those he thought were allies? He could stomach it because he had to, but working through those memories of another life was an exhausting experience - because every time it was like he was reliving those moments battle all over again. Corpses blending in with the crowd, the sight of Palaven - his home planet - ablaze from one of its moons.
And when he awoke, for the first time in weeks his bones didn’t ache. His teeth didn’t feel too eccentric for his mouth. Textures hit his new, reflective skin in a different way. His jagged, almost metallic elbow brushed against Cindy as he slowly, slowly sat up and -
Huh.
“Ah,” he began, those double-threaded vocals a little thick with sleep. “Cin? We need to change the sheets.”
People shed their skin, literally, during sleep anyway. Didn’t they? It wasn’t anything humans noticed, of course - not the cells constantly shed throughout wakefulness (that was a trip to think about, wasn’t it?) or that beauty sleep was so necessary because those precious REM cycles gave skin a chance to repair itself using energy often spent elsewhere in the daylight hours. So, really, Cindy was prepared. Kind of.
She knew her husband was changing, obviously. The transition to his turian self had been long, and painful for him which she didn’t like, not those literal growing pains. Most of the time she just wished she could ease it somehow, could make it go quicker - but important things couldn’t be rushed, and the OC with its odd inner workings was a machine that gave away no secrets and seemed to pace these sorts of occurrences however it wanted to. All she could do was ease the discomfort as best she could, as it came.
Stirring in bed, curled up under the blankets in a pair of boy shorts and a ‘shih tzu’s getting real’ t-shirt, she reached over with a hand that sort of thwapped Garrus in an effort to not get up. It had to be too early though, really, she had no idea what time it was. “Wha - ?”
That’s when she registered she wasn’t touching actual flesh but - something that felt scaly. A lot more reptilian. Similar to when she’d seen Garrus in that turian ‘preview’ in Halloween a couple years ago.
The next dawning realization was that their sheets were dotted with what smelled like copper and iron - blood - and flakes of skin like what peeled off after a particularly intense sunburn.
“Shit, what, honey??” Cindy sat up, bedhead on display and all. Her hand went to his face, both hands, confirming this was real and that she wasn’t caught in a dream. After all that prep, finding the right food and nutrients and fitting Garrus with a glamour and tons of ibuprofen popped for achy bones, that it was finally done. She was overcome with emotion for some reason - god, she might even cry. “Are you okay?”
A bit awkward, maybe, because he sort of felt like he had his own ‘wetting the bed’ incident; his human DNA, or what was left of it, was all over. Waking up was a little more macabre than he’d liked, but this time around there wasn’t pain or that heart-wrenching panic that usually came with a loved one waking up wounded. Garrus was fine, and the sight of his talon-like hands - there weren’t five fingers anymore, but three very pointed digits with claws that curled a little at the end - going to her face wasn’t really a foreign sight.
“I’m fine,” the now complete turian chuckled. Cindy’s face looked that much smaller with the way he’d framed her cheeks. “I promise, I’m fine. I probably need a shower.” That he definitely did, considering the grayish plates that were his new ‘flesh’ were a little slick with the last bits of red he’d had left in him - it was mixed with some blue too, the color of of his race’s blood. “And it’s probably easier to toss the bedsheets into the trashcan or burn them in the firepit, but this - I’m whole. Nothing hurts.”
He hadn’t moved much to test that theory but he was confident in his claim. Garrus had been waiting for this, and was relieved to know that being in that limbo between two completely different species was over.
They’d at least gotten a new bed, all in the name of preparations for ‘the big change.’ It was a king size, and specially made so that the length could accommodate the height of Cindy’s alien spouse - she didn’t want Garrus all cramped and uncomfortable while he slept, and besides, she wasn’t going to complain about a mattress the size of a small country. Even if it did take up a large portion of their room.
Her shoe closet notwithstanding, of course.
“We’ll trash them,” she agreed about the sheets, finger swiping at a bit of royal blue blood to get a better look - it was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, how could someone have literal blue blood? Here she thought people like her southern aristocratic stepmother only believed themselves to have achieved such a noble thing via ancestral ties. “You look good, handsome.”
Leaning in, she planted a kiss on him and cuddled up to the new skin her hubby had slipped into. “It suits you, it really does. I mean, this is you.” And they’d done all they could leading up to it - even froze some of that penis pudding, as a ‘just in case’ for the future. Nothing hurts was a huge relief for her, first and foremost. “Do you want....well, should we break into the food stash for breakfast?” she asked.
His one concern was how angular he was, with sharp edges that didn’t have the softness humans had. None of that squish, just a rigidness from scale and protruding muscle that he was afraid would become uncomfortable for her in the long-term scheme of things. Garrus was far from a teddy bear, but he was sure what Midna had cooked up for him magic-wise would give him that former human feel while he wore it.
In this form he didn’t have lips. Just mandibles that he returned the kiss with (humans and most other humanoid species had cultural similarities when it came to expressing physical affection, thankfully), and those sharp talons stroked the outside of her thigh. “I’m not hungry yet,” he said, sounding pensive. “Kind of interested to see a mirror and rinse first.”
With that said, they both went up. Garrus swung those long legs off the bed and in his arms was the tiny princess of fables. “If I accidentally stab you with parts of myself - and I mean this nonsexually for once - let me know? I know you’re a living tank but I want to be more conscious about things like that. You’re physically soft and I’m physically...not.”
“Wha - “ Cindy made an embarrassing sound that most certainly not a squeal of surprise, when Garrus picked her up as if she was light as a feather. She was on the smaller side (read: short) but was like a tiny powerhouse - there was definitely muscle tone thanks to all her FBI training. Garrus had always been taller than her, though body type seemed to have changed significantly as well - most notably, the aspects that meant stabbing.
Honestly, she didn’t even really notice that much. Or wouldn’t have unless he said something; she would have been all up on him as she usually was. Laughing a little, she held onto him, blowing strands of hair from her face. “I’ll let you know,” she promised. “Maybe you’re technically not as comfortable of a pillow like before but I’ll make it work.” There wasn’t any way she’d give up snuggling, even with protruding scales and talons.
Plenty of mirrors around to see his transitioned self looking back at him too. It was the dawning of a new day. “A rinse would be good, and you can see if we need to, uh....widen the shower or something?” Cindy wanted him to fit in that too - home renovations were a work in progress.
Cindy always said the sweetest things about his alien-self, didn’t she? He had to laugh, carrying her into the master bathroom with ease - considering it was the master, it was unnecessarily spacious. A round tub with jets and a walk-in shower that was separate with glass doors. It wasn’t the widest, per say, but it’s not like his ass grew ten inches wide on each side. His biggest adjustment in size was height, and between his lean extraterrestrial physique and his wife’s natural smallness, he didn’t think there’d be too much of a problem fitting.
Besides, closeness was nice. Even if she hogged all the hot water and he stood there having to (patiently) wait for his turn.
With care, Garrus set her back onto her feet. He was completely nude (he guessed the boxers he’d slept in were shredded on the mess of the bed somewhere), but he was more curious about his face than gauging the size of his turian penis. Indigo markings still on what could be his ‘cheek bones’ was a very cultural thing among his kind, and he could see the jagged lines of scarring on the left side of his face.
He was alright with that. It was proof he took a missile to the face in another life and fucking lived, thanks. “If I didn’t know otherwise I’d think you’d be making a jab at my weight,” he replied dryly, and the flat plates around his mouth flared - it was a sign of a smile. “The cat’s going to freak out when he sees me, isn’t he?”
Cindy’s hands went to her hips, lips pursed to hide a smile. “Not like you’re a fatass but you know,” okay, now she was definitely chuckling. “You seem to be all muscle tone and scales and stuff.” You didn’t really see chubby lizards, so you probably didn’t see chubby turians too?
No complaints about the turian cock either. Size didn’t really matter, but...it didn’t exactly hurt either.
She turned on the shower then, fingers underneath the spray to test the temperature - mostly, she liked her showers boiling and would definitely hog the comfort of warmth during duel cleansing, oops. One of the pitfalls of being married to her but wasn’t she just so lovable anyway?
“What do you think?” she wanted to know. “Everything looks how it should?”
“Just how I remembered it,” he admitted, and for the first time in a while, Garrus felt fine. He hadn’t been born a turian here but living a lifetime of it in his sleep, it definitely had helped to adjust - and he was mostly relieved he was done with feeling awkward in a skin that didn’t feel his anymore. “Battle scars and all, too.” A talon went to scratch at the grooves on the side of his face. “I’ll have to take a picture and send it to the masses, don’t I?”
Might as well have his friends see his new face early in the morning. Have a little alien hideousness with their coffee, even if he was considered quite handsome for turian standards, mind you.
And with the water running he also, helpfully, didn’t hesitate to help his lady out of her night clothes - those pointed tips of his fingers were swift to hook and dedress. “When I use what Midna made I’d feel and look human, but I’ll keep it off behind closed doors. Or work. See what people say.”
Not much to that sleepwear, and Cindy hopped right into the morning shower - always best to start off the day with something invigorating, no? And showering with an alien definitely fell under that category. She wasn’t sure whether or not to use the loofah on Garrus though - but maybe he needed the exfoliation? Was he still shedding? Guh.
Okay, here was some peach-scented stuff she lobbed onto her poof and would get at the spots he couldn’t reach (he’d also come out smelling like her home state’s plantation, good ol’ Georgia and the honeysuckles and the magnolias). “Have you tried it out yet?” Whatever Midna made, that is - Cindy was glad she asked early. There’d been time to test the device and see if any tweaking needed to happen.
“Even at work, if you kept it off, all you’d need to do is hit the button anyway? And you’d have the human stuff visible again.”
Seriously, this was kind of reminding her of one of those Transformer toys. Robots in disguise.
No more shedding, thankfully - all that seemed to have happened overnight, like a snake emerging anew, and what was left were mostly just flakes that needed to be rinsed off. He wasn’t surprised; he seemed to have gotten the short end of the stick when it came to transitions, and his wasn’t going to be a clean switch from one thing or another. Guess that’s what he got when his former life fell under the sci-fi genre; nothing was magical, everything was nitty-gritty and technological with a side of Alien versus Predator.
Garrus stepped in next to her and swirling down the drain was the purple both his bloods had created, and he hadn’t cared about the chosen scent of Cindy’s soap. That was a battle long-lost from the beginning. His manly musk overridden by the smell of fruit, sigh. “I did, and it seemed to work with what I had before -” Which meant he was also able to look less awkward during the past week, always a plus. “But this is the official test now that everything’s changed - before it was still normal skin, and now we can test whether or not the sensation’s changed.”
Midna had a point; it’d be odd to look human but when someone went to shake his hand, feel the texture of alien plates. He had to fit the role completely if he was going to sell the image to their families. Was it ever an appropriate time to break it to them that, no, technically, he wasn’t from this planet?
It’d probably make his mother-in-law press the back of her hand against her forehead and dramatically faint, and while the image was amusing to him (as was anything that made the woman uncomfortable, admittedly, it was a guilty pleasure), he also didn’t want to stir the pot of potential shit.
And speaking of things that amused him, his three-digited hand went to pat his vertically challenged spouse. “Spirits, you’re fucking small. But you know, I found educational videos on the Citadel about turian and human copulation. For studious purposes.”
That was his way of saying that he had interspecies porn, dear. Some positions were more comfortable for humans than others. Chaffing needed to be avoided, after all.
“I’m not that small,” Cindy pouted - what, she was ‘approximately’ 5’4 and that was perfectly average height for a woman! Maybe she was a couple inches shorter than that though, but don’t tell anyone. “The Citadel has interplanetary ramen and chocolate - of course you’d find the porn too.”
This made her laugh - though honestly, she wasn’t even surprised. Hey, it really was educational. “We’re charting in new territory here so I guess it’s best to know how to make it pleasurable and not have to deal with alien plate burn,” she said as she squeezed out a dollop of shampoo (also fruity scented, sorry Garrus, the shower was like a steamy, bubbly citrus grove) to lather her hair. She didn’t consider herself an expert on human-alien copulation by any means - that one time was just her being horny and raring to go, that special type of ‘do or die’ bravery that came about in times of epic lust.
“And by educational videos, what? Like DVDs? Or did you already convert them to whatever format we need?” Her very diligent husband likely had that taken care of.
There were two things that cemented that this woman was his, forever: their first Halloween in which she hardly questioned his temporary alien-state of being and immediately let him take her on a bathroom sink (in a co-worker’s home no less), and the fact that she’d stuck by his side despite the reversed bounty on him. But the former? Definitely important, and relevant to their current milestone of marriage - in his dreams decades and decades had gone by where humans were exposed to the rest of the galactic population, and interspecies relationships among them were just coming to the norm. Cindy’s adjustment had gone so well he barely had to even worry.
He’d forever thank whatever spirits were out there for that.
It also meant he could (mostly) carry out the day like a normal one, which often included him being gropey in the mist and warmth of their stand-in shower. So, yes, those hands went to cup wet breasts - their current conversation was also relevant to this. Honk honk. “Like DVDs, though it took me forever to convert it into a more archaic format. I will have you know I did work diligently. There’s other types too, but I don’t think you’d want to look at the krograns and their four testicles all that much?”
Not to mention the hanar. Actual tentacle porn. “There’s actually an entire archive of what was broadcasted on television. Alien soaps are something pretty special.”
Four testicles? Really? “Some kinky shit going on, in a galaxy far far away,” Cindy snorted, tipping her head in the spray to rinse the shampoo - this meant with her back arched and chest jutted out, her handsy spouse could feel free to grope to his heart’s content. “I’ll just watch whatever’s most relevant to our interests - but alien soaps sound like something to eat popcorn and laugh at.”
There, done. She wasn’t hogging the hot water anymore, Garrus, you’re welcome. He looked mostly rinsed but still, she was fully amenable to letting him have his turn - all as she scooted out of the way, and gave his ass a slap in the sanctuary of their shower. For fun.
How generous of her, to offer him room under the spray of the showerhead. He quickly ducked under to get the rest of the human gore off him - which thankfully wasn’t much - and soon his slate-colored skin was fully cleansed. And peach smelling, of course, courtesy of Cindy.
There, business taken care of. That meant his palms could gravitate back to her chest-mounds like magnets, merely because they were there and looked cold? “I’ll introduce you to the world of intergalactic entertainment. It’s as trashy as what we’ve got now, and we had our own Gordon Ramsey.” Whatever that show was where it came to the British chef yelling red-faced at people but from what he understood, he seemed to do that a lot, didn’t he? But anyway, his hands did eventually move elsewhere - more towards her behind, and he’d segue into fully wrapping his arms around her waist. “I think my transition gives us an excuse to play hookey, don’t you think?”
There was Kitchen Nightmares in space? Well, hell, sign her up. Cindy knew that the possibilities were seemingly endless up there in the stars and beyond (thanks to her visits to the lovely townhouse Garrus acquired for them) but she wasn’t expecting so many similarities. In a way, it was comforting - maybe that’d make the whole transition easier though, admittedly, Garrus seemed to be doing pretty damn good.
And it also meant that if shit got extra hairy here on Earth, they’d have a home to escape to - like, a few planets away.
“Let’s ditch work today, yeah,” she agreed, hands exploring the textures she didn’t really get a chance to before - Garrus just felt different, in all sorts of ways. Not like he was a soft princess before, men in general were rougher and had a tougher hide, but his skin was definitely more durable now (must explain surviving the missile to the face) and a lot harder as she dragged her fingertips down the front of him. “We can watch alien porn and then try out some of the moves.”