Imperial culture naturally spreads to all factions who are worthy, and all through the power of negotiations and negotiators...Mordecai is just one of many who use the Empire’s superior culture and grace to bring dignity to those out of reach and bring them to the fold. He was ready to set off to another out-of-reach system, a small base, generally irrelevant...but everyone else was busy with their own duties, so he thought he wouldn’t need to bring any security. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone resisted too often once they saw him: With his lithe cockatoo body being dressed in the finest Tevarian silk, he was a true representative of Imperial majesty, and it seemed like everyone would bask in it...the heavily armed guards he usually had probably had nothing to do with it. Probably. Despite what his personal pilot kept repeating as he insisted they both warp to the base to get it over and done with.

As soon as the cockatoo arrived at the base and stepped through the airlock, there was something else about this station that made him feel uncomfortable. And it wasn’t just the fetid air, the dripping water and chemicals, loose wires, and other signs of disrepair, it was the feel of the place that set his heart on edge. Almost as soon as he took off his suit to reveal his fine flowing robes he regretted it, the bottom of the pure white silk dragging across the oil-slick floor. No matter, he thought to himself, just yet more proof that this disgraceful place could use some superior Imperial engineering! The residents would no doubt be happy to get the help they need...if he could find one that was conscious at least. Most were passed out drugged or drunk, far too strung to really respond to anything.

And then, at the far end of the room, he saw someone who was at the very least the only man standing upright in the whole station. Just before he spoke to the man he heard the distinctive sound of an Imperial vessel warping away...but he didn’t pay it much mind, he had a job to do after all. Approaching the man from behind he lifted up his and and introduced himself:

“Greetings, citizen! I am representative...Mordecai...erm….”

His words tapered off as a strange dark liquid came out from under the beastly looking bird’s feet. Mordecai stepped back in disgust as he realised it was urine, the man taking a leak against the wall as casually as an animal would. Then the smell hit his refined little nares: A thick stench of tobacco smoke, piss, and all wrapped up in a disgusting masculine sweat that made the cockatoo turn his head and wince. The bird turned around and his appearance unsettled Mordecai even more. He was a giant of a Philippine eagle, equally as corpulent as he was muscular, wearing little else but some leather leggings and a few spiked arm straps. In one hand he was holding a lit cigar, in the other gripping his thick tapered cock, glistening with an unwashed slime as he shook off the last few droplets of piss from the tip. Initially, he had a scowl on his scarred and scratched beak, but looking the comparatively small bird up and down a bemused smirk came across his face:

“Greetin’s, Princess Fuckin’ Leia. I’m Pirate, th’ head dick in charge ‘ere. What’s a fancy prettyboy like you comin’ round ‘ere fer? What are you representing? Lingerie?”

He finished it off with a drag of his cigar as Mordecai tried to take a breath without gagging. His distinctively light and refined voice may sound pretty...femminine...to someone less cultured, but it is the role of a diplomat to try and sort differences out no matter what. He coughed and started his usual speech:

“As I was saying, Sir, I am a representative of the Empire of Achenar, and we’ve graciously selected your system for expansion and assimilation into our gracious ranks. This can give your people a number of benefits, which...ack!”

His spiel was interrupted by the pheagle rudely blowing a steady plume of cigar smoke directly into his face and laughing as the cockatoo hacked at the cloud of toxic smoke in his face. “Imps, eh? All fancy girly clothing, clean white lines...bollocks. You lot are all th’ same t’ me...but a lad like you mek’s fer a nice little diplomatic gift at least. I reckon yer boys out there left you all alone...you an’ me can ‘negotiate’ somethin’ in peace that way!”

Mordecai was too busy coughing the smoke out of his sensitive lungs to realise the giant of a man was lunging for him, but even as he woke up and tried to resist, the small bird was simply no peer to the titanic Pirate, who lifted Mordecai up with just one hand by the neck. Mordecai had to stare down the huge bird lifting him up, and although most of his mind was focussing on trying to breathe through the pheagle’s terrifying grip, he noticed that Pirate’s arms seemed almost as thick as Mordecai’s chest...and his mind clicked to what that sound was earlier. He was left alone with this horrifying beast, who was now shaking him about like a predator toying with his captured and still living prey before going for the kill. Mordecai was effortlessly waved around like a thin piece of paper by his neck, his years as a pencil-pusher-turned-diplomat leaving his nonexistent muscle mass laughable when compared to the pheagle’s years of rough life and imposing physique. Pirate seemed almost entertained by Mordecai pathetically slapping at his thick arms to try and get him to loosen his grip by even a slight bit, and even using both hands Mordecai couldn’t pry a single finger off of his throat. Pirate released his squeeze by just enough to let the cockatoo breathe a little, before putting the cigar into his own beak and using a single claw to shred through Mordecai’s pretty silken dress. Pirate grinned even wider: the cockatoo was just as femminine as he expected him to be, with a curvy little body and a short cock dangling between his girly legs. “I could break yer arms with just one twist, girly...an’ I might, but I fancy breakin’ you in first!” he said, dropping Mordecai to the floor and dragging him across the filthy floor by his leg to a room off to the side.

In there, he was forcibly dressed up in a tight latex wrap, neck to feet in a heavy bondage suit. His cock was locked up tight in a chastity cage that let just the tip of his small chode poke through.Just a few straps were needed to be put on Mordecai’s body to hold him in place. And after all that, Pirate put on the finishing touch: With just a palmful of spit as lube, he forced his new fucktoy to slide down the entire length of his girthy cock, caring not one bit for Mordecai’s screaming, and not even stopping when the cockatoo’s flat belly visibly bulged out from Pirate’s cock forcing to the hilt. The pain was agonising enough, but Mordecai couldn’t even breathe right through the thick and rancid air of the pheagle’s musk and the toxic smoke of heavy cigars. He couldn’t stop gagging enough to scream as each step the fat bird took bounced him and stabbed his cock tip even deeper against his sore guts. The pheagle toured the station with his new bitch, showing every crackhead and drunkard there the new fleshlight they can all use however and whenever they want, plunging his cigar ash down the cockatoo’s throat with his thick, greasy fingers to make him whimper and gag even harder.

Mordecai didn’t know how long it would be until he would be free, or even if he ever would be, but he had a horrible feeling this agonising humiliation would be the least of his worries, in the grand scale of things to come...