MCSPAGHETTI

To say Zim was humiliated was a gross understatement. Ever since his re-capture and re-banishment onto Foodcourtia, life had somehow become even more miserable than it had been during his previous stints trapped at Shloogorgh's Flavor Monster. It was mostly thanks to two things. First of all, the horrible Frylord had decided to change Zim's uniform to a revealing frilly dress, and secondly, Tak, the other prisoner banished in the restaurant with him, was bound and determined to use this uniform change to embarrass and shame the Irken that ruined her life, as much as possible.

Day in and day out, she was pulling up his skirt, forcing him into lacy panties, selling said lacy panties for profit to the horrible greasy aliens in the alley behind the restaurant, and so on. Her attitude was no better either, constantly putting him down and mocking his obviously superior brain and body, physically and verbally. On top of this, were the grueling, disgusting duties of food service that Sizz-lorr enforced with his iron fists. Between everything he was suffering, he felt like he was going to snap.

One day, the opportunity arose.

The boss had always preferred Tak over him, and, probably just as a power move against Zim, gave her more privileges around the restaurant. Mostly it manifested in getting breaks and NOT having to wear a dress every day, but the main one that made the short Irken stew in jealousy was her getting a prepared lunch every day. His meals consisted of what he could pick off dishes as they were bussed back into the kitchen, but he had to stop EVERYTHING and make her lunch whenever she asked for it. He despised this daily power play of hers, since she was always picking the most busy time to drop in her disgusting order.

On top of that, he knew she purposely picked the hardest thing on the menu to make, the most time consuming thing, with special additions to it, the McSpaghetti. Since literally NO ONE else ever ordered it, he would have to prep everything from scratch, boiling her noodles, heating up her sauces. That was the grossest part, she demanded tomato sauce, then on top of that, alfredo sauce. He'd watch from the kitchen as she'd stir it into one goopy orange noodle mess and slurp it up, making full eye contact with him.

Opportunity truly blessed him.

12:30 pm, Shloogorgh's was packed butt to gut with horrible monsters from all over the universe, grumbling and irritated, just wanting to place their orders and eat. Tak waltzed into the kitchen smugly, coming right up to Zim and clapping a hand firmly under his skirt and onto his pantied ass as he was trying to man the fryer. He fumbled the basket, getting lightly misted with boiling fat. She whispered to him, a sneer in her voice, "It's McSpaghetti time, you slut."

With a teasing spank and a laugh, she left to find a suitable place in the dining room to prepare for her meal.

He grumbled, swearing under his breath. His swears had grown quieter ever since the Frylord had installed a decibel based electropunishment device in the building, but their contents had become much more vile. He set to work boiling the noodles and heating up the pre-packaged sauce, only to discover something. Since literally no one ordered the McSpaghetti other than his torturer, they hadn't ordered more alfredo after running out the day before. Zim tried to ponder a replacement, when the idea hit him square between the eyes. Oh no, it was just AWFUL. At first his programming immediately made him reel in disgust over a concept so depraved, but his fleshy brain was already on track. He had put up with so much shit from her, the spark inside of him had already caught fire. She deserved it, completely.

His feet didn't even feel like they were touching the floor as he grabbed the piping hot noodles and plopped them into the carton. If he was going to do this, he was going to make sure she could taste him on every damn strand of spaghetti. Hands quivering, and with a couple quick glances to be sure he was alone, the Irken pulled up the fluffy skirt of his wretched uniform. The whole situation had already effected him physically, the lace trimmed panties on his hips already bulging and moist from his excitement. He held the hem of his skirt with his teeth and inched his panties down, just enough to let his squirming schmoo free from its fabric prison. He had no time to waste, letting the prehensile organ dive freely into the container of noodles on the counter.

He didn't expect the sensation he received. Not in a thousand years would the shamed Invader have ever though spaghetti fuck would feel so good. The warm heap of carbs nested around him, soft and sightly sticky, all encompassing his length. He bit his lip as he started to piston his thin pelvis into the carton. His mind flashed with feelings of revenge. Thinking about that purple-eyed demoness getting a mouthful of his dickspaghetti only made his rhythm faster. His panting was quiet, concentrated, set on his goal and nothing else.

For the life of him, Zim couldn't fully grasp why in the universe this felt so incredibly good. His natural lubricants slicked all over each piece of pasta, making them slide over him with more ease. He writhed his cock all over the box, leaving no noodle untouched by his privates. He was getting close already. Something about Tak slurping on this defiled lunch was getting him to is peak faster than ever before.

He could feel the pressure building in his abdomen. Timing would be key to get this to work. He quickly withdrew himself from the noodles. He tossed the pasta around with his clawed fingers quickly, just to redistribute them, as to not make it look like someone had obviously shmoo'd em. Pumping himself with one hand to keep up his pace, he took the other and splashed the watery tomato sauce into the container of soiled spaghetti. Now for the last ingredient: the alfredo.

Zim nearly bit through the fabric in his mouth as he gripped both hands on his organ. He took aim and rubbed hard, leaning his head back and thinking about the depravity, the vengeance, the female Irken's tongue mingling with his special brand of sauce. With a restrained grunt, he came hard, thick ropes of his sterile fluid landing with perfect accuracy on top of the spaghetti. He was so pent up, the amount he unleashed was luckily on par with the cheap alfredo sauce he usually doused Tak's meals in. He stroked on himself, panting softly and washed with pleasure, until he was completely spent. He had no time to bask in afterglow, he had to deliver this meal personally, hot and ready. He pulled up his panties and straightened up his uniform, then grabbed a tray, and set the closed carton of McSpaghetti on top proudly. After adding a napkin and fork, the presentation was complete.

Trying to not look giddy, the crossdressed Irken left the kitchen and walked the tray obediently to Tak. "Took you long enough," she commented as he placed the food down in front of her.

"Making meals with love in them takes time, TAK," He spat, not caring if he'd get reprimanded or not. It felt too good to not say it.

"...You're damn lucky I'm hungry, so I'm going to ignore that."

He nearly skipped back to the kitchen, parking himself at the pass through window to watch his plan come to fruition. She opened the container and plunked the fork into it, mixing everything up into her usual pasta mess before taking a big slurping forkful. She paused for only a second to think, then shrugged and continued eating. The male could feel his schmoo prodding out of his slit again from just watching this, watching her happily scarf down his cum and pre coated meal. He was snapped out of it by a Vortian hitting him in the face with a well-aimed pop can. It was back to work then.

Later, during closing time, as Zim was scrubbing dishes, he felt two hands clap onto the puffed shoulders of his dress.

"I don't know what you did, but that was the best McSpaghetti you've ever made."

He grinned to himself. He would be sure to cancel that order of replacement alfredo sauce as soon as she left the room.