Check and Coco, Heroes Turned into the Villain's Slave Real Dolls (Check/Coco - Perception Alteration Brainwashing Teasing) (2)
Click. Click. Villain No. 13 snaps photos of Check and Coco with his smartphone camera, savoring the thrill of victory. The 7th Squad is already one of the most feared names among villains, and now he's got his hands on two of their most notorious members. How could he not feel elated?
And Coco, in particular—there's a deep grudge there. After No. 13's downfall, as the remnants of Abyss crumbled, she was the one who captured the desperate organization members who kept fighting recklessly without strategy or power. She interrogated them with methods bordering on torture, wrenching every scrap of information from them. In short, she's the enemy of his subordinates. No mercy for her.
In the view he's watching while receiving Club's devoted mouth service on his lap, Check and Coco are tangled together in a 69 position, licking each other's sexes with their mouths. The hero Check, with her cheap-looking dyed blonde hair in a bun, is on top; the hero Coco, with her neatly trimmed ash-gray hair, lies beneath. Their panties dangle around their ankles or thighs.
Mmm... Ah... Oh... Hoo... Slurp... Ooh... Desperate for more stimulation, they press as close as possible, comforting each other. When their breasts rub against the other's body, their nipples graze skin, sending sweet pleasure coursing through them both. What started as mechanical obedience to No. 13's command has grown sticky with lust over time. The brainwashing drug makes them more open-minded, and as a side effect, amplifies their sexual desire. Clearly, they're feeling it too—their lewd female scent reaches even his distant spot. And those doll-like expressionless faces now flush vividly with carnal hunger.
Slurp... Smooch... Slurrrp...
No. 13 glances away from Check and Coco, looking down at Club kneeling between his legs. Her eyes are blankly doll-like, but her face brims with incomparable lust as she eagerly sucks his penis. Occasionally, she spits it out to stroke the saliva-slick shaft with her hand, or massages his balls with gentle fingers. She's come a long way from her first clumsy attempts.
"Club, wanna tell me how you're feeling right now?"
"...?"
Club looks up at him quizzically, his cock still in her mouth. She pulls it out and tilts her head slightly—a strangely cute, endearing gesture. Her first impression was just an arrogant, insufferable hero bitch...
"You know, selling out your comrades and seniors to a villain. Exposing your shameful holes in front of him, getting fucked so humiliatingly like that..."
So how does it feel? No. 13 asks again. Following his gaze, Club turns to look at the two on the bed behind her. Her respected seniors. Naked, oblivious to shame, licking each other's sexes to please him. To entertain Villain No. 13. Unable to refuse his orders. Because she became a hostage, and then collaborated with him herself, delivering her mentor and admired seniors... into the villain's hands. That's the result.
She knows it, understands it fully—yet her black eyes gaze at the scene indifferently before turning back to No. 13.
"I don't... know... what it feels like..."
"But I was ordered to become No. 13's subordinate... so now I'm a villain... a spy on the villain side..."
"So what I did... isn't wrong, I think."
Club speaks calmly, with conviction. Then, her face flushes as she beams bashfully.
"And I'm sure the seniors... would be happier this way too."
"I want them to be as happy as me♡"
"Thinking like that... maybe it feels good...?"
There's no lie in her words or expression. Club truly believes it. After two weeks of thorough brainwashing and conditioning, with an unshakeable wedge driven in, even her heart belongs completely to Villain No. 13 as his slave subordinate.
No. 13 strokes her head in approval, then offers his cock again. Club embraces his penis like a treasured possession and resumes her work. Schlurp... Sslurp... Lewd sounds echo relentlessly from her mouth.
* * *
Time passes like this, and their bodies reach the perfect state of arousal.
Haa... Haa... Hoo... Hah... Flushed faces. Sultry, ragged breaths. Sweat from rubbing together in the stuffy room carries their female musk, and their pussies drip lewd fluids down their thighs.
No. 13 slips his fingers alternately into their pussies to check. He feels ample wetness and intact hymens at his fingertips. Coco's is quite prominent, while Check's is worn—probably from her vigorous movements in battle.
"Both of you, introduce yourselves. Check first."
Confirming their sufficient wetness, No. 13 commands. They stand at attention before him and respond.
"I am Check, No. 13's real doll."
"I am Coco, No. 13's real doll."
Their eyes, devoid of thought, answer without hesitation. He questions them in turn: What is a real doll? What are your duties and mission? Their responses match his teachings perfectly. As No. 13's cock house and toilet, they must receive his dick and semen. They feel their greatest joy serving his sexual needs. This female body was born to serve males, leading to this moment.
"Good. To ensure you never forget that mindset, I'll leave a mark so you always remember you're mine."
No. 13 places his hand on their stomachs and rubs lightly. Already heated from mutual comforting, their bodies twitch at his large palm's touch.
A strange sensation crawls up from their wombs beyond the lower belly, slithering upward.
"From the spot I'm touching now, your bodies start to warm up. A very pleasant warmth spreads... making you feel better and better. And hornier by the second."
No. 13 murmurs calmly, stroking their bellies in circles. And sure enough, it happens just as he says. Their bodies warm, hot heat rises from their lower abdomens, pleasure builds, lust intensifies. The arousal ignited from comforting each other flares brighter with the heat from his hand.
It feels good... It feels good...
"Got it, you two? Don't forget this sensation. Every time you think of me, you'll return to this state. The deeper you think of me, the stronger it comes back. My presence is linked to this pleasure you're feeling..."
Ah... Ah... Haa... Hoot... Mmm... They leak erotic moans each time he rubs their bellies or whispers in their ears. Feeling a cozy warmth unlike any prior stimulation, they etch his words into their minds diligently. This pleasure... this arousal too. Burn it into their brain cells, so thinking of No. 13 brings it all back, just as he commands.
Thinking of No. 13 makes them feel good. His memory imprints as "cozy, pleasurable thing." Just recalling him wets their pussies, hardens their nipples, floods their minds with filthy thoughts. That's the brand, the mark he bestows.
Finally, No. 13 writes on their stomachs: the number 13. Invisible letters traced by his finger on their skin appear vividly as "13" in their eyes, like written with a thick pen.
This is the ultimate proof they're forever his, the brand declaring his ownership. Watching it etch into them stirs a scorching heat in their bodies. An indescribable fulfillment. Happiness. The more they realize they're his, the more it surges.
"Good. Now you're marked as mine. Never forget what's written there. Every time you look at your stomach, remember the invisible number."
"It won't fade no matter what, lasting until your dying breath... an eternal brand."
No. 13 grins, and they nod blankly. Their arousal doesn't subside; fresh nectar threads down from between their legs, dripping steadily.