Note: This storyline is intended to take place between Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 3, however, there's nothing saying you can't play around with the established timeline a bit for the best results, this is an alternative universe tale, after all!
Miranda Lawson pressed her way through the club with a certain, adopted impertinence. Girls and whores rubbed against her slick, latex cat-suit; their fake, bulging, enhanced breasts brushing against her and sliding apart in a dripping, fleshy orgy of sex
and pleasure.
She ignored it all. Stacker's Gentleman's Club was a frequent hotspot for debutantes, ambassadors and War Veterans, she was all and neither, but the simple, carnal pleasure of a painted, curvy whore wasn't her reason for being here. Her sister Oriana had
gone missing. The message had come late at night, Miranda had convinced Joker to stop the Normandy off at a nearby space station and let her depart without notice. Soon, the Alliance would be commandeering the Normandy, and Miranda figured it best she not
be there when they did. She would have left soon anyway, ensuring Oriana's safety seemed like the perfect reason to cut her time on the ship short. Even if she had softened a little to the idiots that served aboard the ship.
A small part of her wished Commander Shepard was with her. She brushed a jet-black lock of hair out of the way of her face and slid her hand down her perfectly balanced, fit and athletic side and cupped the grip of her pistol. A pounding, reverbating bass
line hit her ears as she watched a big-titted stripper slide off the stage and plucked a credit chit from a man's zipper with her teeth.
"Disgusting," Miranda sneered, and pushed back the veil of beads that hung over Stacker's office.
The small, thin, reedy man was sitting behind a varnished desk; an antique. Two men flanked the door, clutching stun-rods in their hands. Miranda made a quick, mental note of the best place to strike to disarm, dislocate and then break the men's arms in
three places and stepped over the threshold.
The pounding bass-line faded, but the headache it had caused her remained.
"Ah," Stacker's beady little eyes opened wide, a slight smirk played across his lips, "Ms. Lawson, may I ask wha-"
Miranda silenced him with glare, biotic energy crackled up her fore-arm as she raised an accusing finger at the man behind the desk, "Shut it, you little scumbag, where's Oriana?"
Stacker pursed his lips, distractedly, waving to his men to lower their stun-rods as he let out a small, trembling moan and bit down on his bottom lip, "Oh, that little slut sister of yours? The Illusive Man sent her my way after he finally rooted her out
of hiding."
Miranda's glare intensified. Her throat suddenly felt very dry and she stepped forward, a little shakily. Just the rage, she told herself, use it. "Where. Is. She!?"
Stacker smirked and reached beneath his desk. A slight, wet sucking sound could be faintly heard. Part of the bass-line, Miranda thought, slightly, drowsily, distractedly, and then shook the thought from her mind. No.
No.
Stacker pulled a woman up by her hair; jet-black and long and flowing like spun obsidian.
"No!" Miranda hissed as the girl turned to face her, clambering up from underneath Stacker's desk. Her eyes were doey and unfocused, but there was still some faint spark of Oriana's wit; her lips were stretched and puffy, filled with collagen, it seemed,
but they still curled upward in the same slightly smarmy, worrying way.
"Oriana?" Miranda asked, quietly, already knowing the asnwer.
Her bimbofied sister giggled and licked up the last of Stacker's cum from her fat, fuckable lips. Her tits, now a healthy, plump round set of E's, jiggled tightly inside the confines of her tiny, strip-thin, black latex bikini.
Miranda turned, her fists balling up with...
...nothing. The head-ached from the music intensified.
"Miri!" Oriana giggled.
Stacker swatted the bimbo's ass with a smirk as Miranda collapsed to her knees, clutching at her temples and shrieking, "You like the female thought inhibitors coded into the club's soundtrack, Miri?"
He chuckled dryly and slipped his cock back into his pants, "Boys, take Miri down to a conversion chamber and restrain her. The Illusive Man will want to watch her bimbofication through the monitors so set them up, oh..."
He smacked Oriana's ass again with a lick of his lips; "And take Oral-Slut here with you, make sure Miri here gets a nice long view of you fucking her little whore twin-sister."
Miranda whimpered and grasped defiantly for her omni-tool. The pain was unbearabled, the bass-line immense; it pounded and bounced inside her skull as she whispered one quiet, desperate word into the communicator, "Shepard....!"
Stacker's lips curled upwards into a hungry smile.