RadioSweetie

Yandere! Leland Coyle/ Mother Gooseberry/ Franco Barbi/ Otto & Arora Kress/ Liliya Bogomolova x Fem! Afab! Reader smut oneshot Summary: Stress relief is very important to keep revolts down and since Murkoff needs to keep the Prime Assets down, they get their favorite reagent to help. Content warnings: vaginal penetration (reader receiving) anal penetration (reader receiving), double penetration, orgy(?), canon typical violence, canon typical religious talk, canon typical masochism (almost all characters), canon typical sadism (almost all characters), scissoring/tribbing, sub reader, dom Coyle, dom Mother Gooseberry, switch Franco, dom Otto & Arora, dom Liliya, Dr. Futterman is included in the smut but can't participate (against his will), fingering (reader receiving), abusive behavior, obsessive behavior, basic yandere behavior, dub-con (reader is lowkey forced by Murkoff to be used as stress relief, consent isn't stated), being Easterman's How High is used as consent, overstimulation, hint of Yandere Easterman at the end, being Easterman's How High might have advantages, slight emotional manipulation from Easterman, reader wears the clothing of the sadist mannequins, slightly confusing positions, unsafe vaginal fingering. Word count: 6.6k A/N: This lowkey an apology fic for being gone for a hot minute and not writing much for Outlast. I've been meaning to make something smutty including Liliya too. Please read all warnings!!! I have no real rules about reading this sort of content, just know that if you read it fully/like it/reblog it, that it's on you. AI was not used for the writing, please do not use any of this for AI. Welcome board Ultimate Outlast masterlist ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“It’s time to clean your orifice!” Futterman exclaimed with a cackle as Gooseberry pulled you up against her. You instinctively tensed from the closeness of the woman, the feeling of her soft breast against your arm making your cheeks grow warm and your body tremble at the same time. You had never been this close to her without experiencing some type of abuse at her hand. 

You don’t have any clue on how you ended up here, surrounded by the dogs that Murkoff loved so dearly... but you can’t act like you would never end up in this position. Barely covered, held against their savage bodies, smothered with something that could barely be considered love. You just... woke up and they were there with you! 

Dr. Futterman brushed his feathery body against your face; his wooden beak nibbled on your ear before pulling back. A laugh left his teethy grin. “Let me at her, Phyllis!” He yelled, his drill flying out of his mouth, causing you to turn your head away to prevent the needle-sharp tip from cutting your face. 

“Oh, no, Doctor Daddy,” Mother Gooseberry mused as her hand moved from your arm to your hip, her pointer finger slipping under the band of your panties. Her small smile turned into a grin. “It wouldn’t be kind at all. She’s been so good, we can’t give her a punishment now!” 

She leaned in closer, her soft lips and the rough skin mask left prints of red on your cheek and lips, smudging them to cover your flesh. It felt like a rabid animal leaving its mark on something to let everyone else know that it had been there first. Franco groaned at the affection like he was giving it to you. “You know... it feels better when there’s three,” he hummed, fixing his coat to seem more appealing to the both of you. 

Futterman shook his feathery head. “Don’t need you takings our job, wannabe! Orifice’s is my job!” He exclaimed, turning him and Gooseberry back to you, leaving Franco to wallow in his failed attempt at a threesome. Obviously, someone was still angry with someone who also collected teeth. 

Mother Gooseberry gently pulled the band of your underwear down your thigh, finally letting your pussy be visible to them. For a second, she sat in awe at your nudity, even if it was only half of you. She began to giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush, and she slowly but surely, started to touch the skin of your sensitive sex. Your eyes stayed glued to her gloved hand, a soft breath leaving your lips as she suddenly caressed your clit. 

You pressed your lips together out of embarrassment, pulling your hand away from Gooseberry’s sleeve to cover your mouth. Several of the Prime Assets groaned in disappointment. “Don’t cover your sounds, dearest,” Otto hummed, leaning closer to your face, getting a sight of your worried face. Arora tried leaning just as close, brushing the back of her hand against your cheek. “We can’t know if we’re treating you to the best of our abilities if we can’t hear you.” 

You looked between them and slowly removed your hand from your mouth. Mother Gooseberry smiled and continued with her pressure on your sex. The cold leather gloves felt so deeply uncomfortable. The scratches in the seamline and finger pads reminded you of just what kind of person was touching you.  

Mother Gooseberry’s gloved fingers worked carefully in and out of you, the feel of the leather making you tense and clench around her. Your lips pressed together uncomfortably, the seamline of the leather and the tough corners of the glove's fingers was felt deep inside you, squeezed tightly by your cunt. 

She started slow, letting you breathe as she pulled her fingers back, the sheen of slick on her fingers. She giggled at the sight and almost blushed so hard it could be seen through the skin mask. “Oh, you must love Mother, yes?” Gooseberry mused, drawing her fingers back into you, a gasp leaving your lips. 

Your mind barely registered any of the words that came from Dr. Futterman, solely focusing on the feeling of her fingers pressing against the most sensitive spots inside you. Your mind whirled as you tried holding onto any sense of reality to keep from giving into them. Any attempt at staying quiet slowly but surely left you. 

Mother Gooseberry seemed to try her best to stay calm and kind to you, her sky-blue eyes stayed steady on her fingers that were being moved into your cunt. Her gloves started to glisten with your wetness, a sign to her that you were accepting her love. Dr. Futterman tilted his head down between your legs as she continued her ‘love’. “Sluts,” he said simply before pulling away from you. 

“Oh, Doctor Daddy, don’t say that about her,” she said, shaking her head at the puppet. In that moment, your treatment was meant to contradict her own statement. Your brows quickly knit together as a barely audible sound of pleasure pulled from your throat as she finally touched a small bundle of nerves inside of you. 

Her eyes grew wide, and her fingers moved faster, forcing more and more from your lungs. “Wait- oh fuck! Wait please-,” you gasped and brought your hand down to her wrist. She simply giggled and continued torturing you. 

“Why would I do that? You sound so beautiful,” Mother Gooseberry cooed as she continued her torture. Sparks of pleasure drew up your body as your back arched. 

Each time Mother Gooseberry forced her fingers against that sweet spot deep inside you, the last of your dignity slowly yet surely left you. “O-h god!- Oh god, please!” You begged, not sure what though. To stop? To continue? For Gooseberry? For the pleasure itself? It just kept leaving your lips, like the only way you could voice that something was happening to you was by saying nonsense. 

Your foot lifted from the floor as your thighs squeezed together. Even though you pleaded so heavily, you couldn’t bring yourself to handle all of the treatment she gave you. Another hand was brought to your leg and lower back, forcing you to loosen your thigh muscles and bend to keep from moving too much. “Show some respect to your rehabilitators, you hear?” Coyle sneered as he held you down for Mother Gooseberry. 

In some uncomfortable way, you clenched around her fingers. Your sobs only got louder as Coyle watched you struggle to keep your thighs apart. A low rumbling chuckle came deep from within his chest. “Struggling to take the care you deserve is not going to make you better,” he said as he took the burning cigarette from his lips and brought it down to your hip. 

A sharp gasp was ripped from your lungs as you were forced into your first orgasm of the night. The loud squelching had hit its peak as waves of euphoria flowed over your cunt. Your mouth was forced open as moans slipped out, groans of pain slipping between each gasp. It was almost unbelievable that one of these psychos was still able to bring a girl to an orgasm. A nasally cry of triumph came from Dr. Futterman. “Finally! I thoughts the cavity-filled slut would make us work forever!” He cackled between each word, his puppet head turning to watch as you crumbled into Mother Gooseberry’s lap and breast. 

“Now Dr. Futterman, she’s got a perfectly good mouth,” Mother Gooseberry assured the bloody faced puppet, gently petting your head, her wetted fingers pointed up to make sure you stayed put together. How ironic. 

“Yeah, a perfectly good mouth,” Coyle groaned, pulling your head from Gooseberry’s breast by the back of your neck. With a smile, he drew his thumb over your parted lips, feeling the warmth of the breaths that had filled your lungs the moment you felt that damning pleasure. “All for me now.” 

“No fuckin’ way you get to have her next, you fuckin’ pig!” Franco butted in, managing to get a hold of your arm to try pulling you from him.  

The rise in noise pulled the prime assets' attention away from you and onto themselves, letting you get a breath of fresh air. Your body felt warm, with the trail of obsessive hands leaving their imaginary print on you, your orgasm, and the throbbing deep inside you. You licked your lips and swallowed thickly, finally getting to experience how dry your mouth had grown from the pleasure. 

They yelled insults and even turned towards pointing any weapons at each other, trying to one up each other on their dominance in the room. The whir of a drill, the scream of a saw, the pops of electricity from a cattle prod. The overwhelming cacophony of complaints filled the air as a blade drew down your arm; a hiss crawled to your ears and pulled your attention to the figure that kneeled beside you. 

Liliya’s head titled and turned erratically, her eyes flitting over your abused form must not have been enough; she had to make it known she was voyeuristically watching you. A sigh of pleasure left her lace lips. Bringing her hand down, she trailed her hand from the heart shape of your face, her thumb tracing your cheekbone, down your jaw, and to your throat. Her breath grew shaky as she felt the pulse under her thumb. 

“Let me serve you,” Liliya cooed. The rasp in her voice is almost intentional, trying to ease you into loving her. Like you had a choice in giving yourself to her anyway, but at least she attempted to appeal to you. The gleaming blades on each of her fingers drew closer to your face, tracing down your cheek, bringing drops of red to the surface. 

With a sudden push, she forced you down onto the floor and crawled above you. A pleasurable sigh left her lips at the sight of you under her. The memories of being under her in the trial space caused you to bring your hand up to her chest, prepared to push her away. Liliya growled. “Be still,” she stated between gritted teeth. She brought the enlarged blade above her head and brought it down on her arm, spurts of blood sparking from the opening. A whimper of pain was brought to your lips just before being swallowed down, a fear that your cries would lead to worse sadism from the animals that surrounded you. Tears started to well in the corner of your eyes, blurring Liliya’s shadowy figure above you. 

Bringing her lace covered lips down to your face, she tried kissing you in some lazy form. The thin yet rough lace rubbed against your soft lips, feeling like it would cut off the delicate skin, but no harm had been done. The press of her tongue against the mask could be felt between your lips. The curved blades trailed down your sternum, finding its way to the zipper of the corset, hooking onto the small loop in the metal, and pulling down. The tight ribbed fabric finally fell to the cold floor beneath you, letting the soft flesh of your breasts free, the cold air sweeping over your nipples. Groans from the other prime assets filled the air before Franco’s hands went down to your bare breast to knead the flesh. 

Liliya finally pulls away, soft stains of red lipstick that had smudged from Mother Gooseberry were on her mask. Turning her attention to her bodysuit, she carefully pulled the soft fabric from her sex to the side, revealing the wetness that started to pool within her cunt. Was that all from the kissing itself or simply the sight of you? You didn’t want to ask now that you knew what she would do. 

“Love will make us one,” Liliya rasped as she lifted your leg to lay over her shoulder and brought her sex down onto yours. The warmth that gently touched your cunt pulled a gasp from your roughened lips and brought your brows together. A breath of satisfaction left Liliya’s in turn, making her start her grind against you. The soft flesh that made up her cunt drove you insane. 

Her hips started slow, a careful movement, like she was wadding you into low tides. Liliya turned her head up, taking in a breath, as though the simple touch of her sex on yours was orgasmic. In the moment that lacked movement, you were able to intake the fluttering of your cunt. The sensitivity that Mother Gooseberry had caused brought a bubbling feeling that would bloom every couple of seconds. You closed your eyes, trying to let yourself accept the pleasure without making a weird face from who was giving it to you. 

The millisecond you managed to compose yourself, she started to move, forcing your eyes open. Liliya moaned as she ground against you. Her mask kept shifting every couple of seconds. The euphoria from touching you must have been too intense for her. 

“Don’t you like the touch of your Messiah?” Liliya groaned, the rasp in her voice more prominent now. It was the only sign –outside of her everchanging expression under her mask- that the treatment she was giving you was affecting her too. The thrust of her hips against yours drawing a long whine from your lips, a desperate plea to the Murkoff doctors to get you out of there to at least give you a break. Each drag of Liliya’s pussy over yours reminded you of the throbbing soreness and pleasure your body refused to let go of. 

Your moans of ecstasy released tremors with each roll; your teeth clenched as you tried pushing at her stomach, only managing to scrape her body suit with your nails. She growled and scoffed. “I have seen the way you sin,” she grunted, bringing her blade down to your chest, drawing the sharpened side against your skin. Your eyebrows –somehow- drew closer together as Liliya slowly started to draw blood. Light beads of red started to bloom and slowly followed the gold glints of the cutting edge. Pin-like pains prodded and trickled down your chest. “Don’t push me away, beloved. Accept it. Accept God. Accept me. But if you will, deny me with vigor!” 

In some even more sadistic way, Liliya ground her cunt against yours harder, pulling an unwilling cry of pleasure from your kiss swollen lips. Your glazed over eyes lolled back and forth as your resistance began to waver. 

The same coil started to wind tighter and tighter in your lower stomach. A degrading feeling you knew wouldn’t come with an end to your torture. If anything, it would only continue it. “Liliya- please!” You managed to mumble between your almost endless whimpering; a lazy hand lifted to push against her wrist, your nails digging into the lace and skin. Your jaw grew slack as the grinding of your cunts grew overwhelming, now making a prominent slick sound. Your hips trembled and jerked against Liliya’s folds; a mewl of approval left her lips. Each shift of her sex against yours, each slick sound of pleasure made you dig your nails deeper. A moan of ecstasy left her lungs. 

“Harder, beloved, please!” Liliya moaned, pushing your thigh down farther, which felt like an almost impossible task that managed to force more and more from you. Your sanity seemed to weaken with every movement against her cunt, leaving you a puddle under her, only able to voice a cacophony of moans. “Deny me intensely!” 

Just as you were to plead for mercy once more, you were forced into another orgasm. The painful euphoria rushing through your body felt like a blade being dragged over your skin. Curling your toes, your thighs tensed and shook, trying to free your sex from the unending pleasure. As if Liliya was following your lead, she crumbled into her own orgasm, curling over you and pressing her blade harder into your skin. The red that bloomed made little in the waves of pleasure that flowed from your cunt. Your chest rose and fell in violent rises and dips. 

As your eyes glazed over and your hips trembled under Liliya’s, you were pulled out from under her, brought to the light to let them get a good look at you. Several pairs of lips tried capturing yours; the feel of buckteeth, taste of cigarettes, and even duck feathers brushed your face. Liliya’s groan of disapproval was loud enough to hear over the smothering of kisses and the loud drill head. 

The trail of love bites and affection moved down to your neck and chest, leather covered fingers plucking and pulling at your hardened nipples. Your head turned up to the lights, trying to find anything that could properly bring you back to reality. The press of skin and rub of old red lipstick drew down your stomach, stopping just above your pelvis. 

The overwhelming feeling of fingers prodding at your skin and sex made itself known, the coos of praise followed as they got sight of your glistening cunt. Most of the praise came from Mother Gooseberry, praising the trembling that came when she caressed you. More mumbling came from between the prime assets, mutters and small arguments on who deserves to touch you next and why they don’t want someone else there when it happened. 

Trying to calm your breathing, you looked down at the hands that groped at your breasts and thighs. You lazily trailed your fingers down your body, the hands of the prime assets occasionally touching yours, hoping you would hold theirs and see it as a sign of affection. Ignoring their desperate attempts at love, you finally brought your fingers down to your sex, experiencing the wetness between your thighs. As if this was the most embarrassing part of your night, your cheeks grew warm. 

Bringing your attention back to the people around you, you started to register their words. Franco’s whiny voice reprimanded Otto and Arora, who in turn disregarded his anger with statements about their class. 

“It’s the burden of our class,” Arora scoffed; her brows furrowed at the recent memory of your destruction. 

“We only want to treat her right. It’s what we were made to do,” Otto followed, his hand going down to grab your ankle to pull you closer. You could barely get a squeal out before being dragged over the cold floor covered in your own release. Your hip hit his shoe before his grip went to your wrist, and you were pulled up to stand against the twins. “It’s noticeable with your care before our own. Couldn’t even remove your gloves before touching her.” 

“Like a rabies infested beast!” Arora added. Dr. Futterman’s teeth-filled beak opened wide; the drill head jutting out with anger. 

“Hey! That’s my job to call her that!” The puppet exclaimed before being pushed down by Gooseberry. 

“She still enjoyed it,” Mother Gooseberry commented and glanced at her still wet gloves. That was enough to make Arora turn away in disgust. 

Coyle relit his cigarette while trailing his shaded eyes over your body. There was little care he could put into the arguments the others were having. Why should law enforcement care about something petty? Ok, truthfully, he cared but he still couldn’t keep his attention on them when you’re nude and sprawled out right in front of him. An idiot would only do that... he was in a room full of idiots. 

Coyle stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, taking in the scent of your pleasure and desperation. He held the burning cigarette in his teeth as he grinned. 

“Rehabilitation is what’s needed after those hysterical bitches,” Coyle groaned, his hand trailing down your face and to the nape of your neck. His free hand took the burning cigarette from between his lips, pushed your lip down, and tilted the small light at the end towards your gums. Just as your mouth was about to feel the hot pain of a cigarette butt, Franco hit his hand away with the end of his Lupara. 

“Why do you want to ruin her mouth so easily, huh?” Franco scoffed, getting ahold of your waist. You groaned as you were pulled back against the short man, his hands never pausing on your body. It felt like a child hating the idea that their favorite toy would be taken away from them, so they would touch the damn toy whenever they could. 

“Education isn't ruinin’ nothing!” Coyle exclaimed and attempted to pull you back to him, leaving you in some nonsense tug of war game. Each moment you tried voicing your opinion on the matter, they pulled you in some random direction and just caused more pain in your shoulders. 

With a sudden push, Franco threw you down to the floor, pointing his lupara at Coyle’s head. Just as he was about to fire the damn thing, you managed to get a word out. 

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, trying to sit up on trembling arms, the soreness between your thighs making you jerk when you moved. What the hell is in the air? “Just do whatever, I don’t care who’s doing it first.” 

“See, she’s not saying she wants your cock!” Franco scoffed, stepping closer to you to press his Lupara into your cheek. The cold metal of the shortened barrel makes you shiver. His hand went to your head, tilting it back to force you farther down to the floor. Once you were completely on the floor, he crawled over you and his little bits of affection started. 

The incessant kissing sounds filled the air; his bunny teeth nipping a trail from the back of your ear down your stomach, small red marks being left behind. Each press of the soft pink flesh brought a shiver down your spine. The smell of expensive cologne, gunpowder, and milk fill your nose, reminding you of the type of animal that now bites your skin. 

Your eyes stayed on the ceiling since you had to work up the courage to even look at him. When Franco bit you particularly hard, you winced and finally got sight of him. His eyes were closed, like if he dared to finally open them, he would cry out in some type of intense pleasure. 

Franco’s body twisted and turned to constantly get some type of stimulation from your body, whether that was through his mouth, hands, cock, or legs seemed to be all that he needed to whine from not getting enough from you... even though you weren’t the one giving him anything. He groaned and whimpered into your skin; his brows furrowed in a constant state of contentment. 

Franco’s lips navigated your torso and found your peaks of flesh; a sigh of excitement left his clamped lips. The incessant assault on your breasts almost let the sudden feel of a pair of hands on your hips slip past you. He turned your body over his own, getting you to lay over him, his head in your bosom. You tensed for a moment before trying to relax, as if any sign of discomfort was a sign of dissatisfaction, which wasn’t something you wanted to be seen as with someone like Franco. 

“Don’t need this big city shit keeping you company and letting you continue your bad behavior,” Coyle scoffed as he kneaded the flesh of your ass. His thumb drew over your cunt carefully before shifting up to your hole. “You need a real man to teach you how to be good.” 

You turned your head back to Coyle, watching as he pressed his cockhead against your hole. “Coyle...,” you moaned softly as he finally pushed into you. A groan left his lips as he stilled against you; his head turned up as if this was the best feeling he’s ever had in his life. 

The stretch from his cock brought your head down next to Franco’s. You tried your best to become accustomed to his size, but your breath was still shaky after a minute or two. “I’ve never done this with someone,” you mutter, your breath still heavy. Coyle laughed in a deep tone. 

“Good,” he grinned as he started with a harsh pace, pulling groans from your kiss swollen lips. “A good officer of the law can leave you beggin’, screamin’, and drippin’.” 

“Like that’s something you’re capable of, fucking pig,” Franco grumbled, in some desperate way, Coyle brought you back against his cock in a rougher way. Your brows knitted together as your jaw fell slack, soft breaths of pleasure flowing from you. Franco, in some dumb way, tried pleasuring you as much as he could. He ground against your thigh and sucked on your breast. 

He grinned as he groped at the peaked flesh, rubbing his thumb over your hardened nipples, feeling the soft skin. “You like making baby happy? Huh?” Franco moaned, trailing his fingers down your body and to his belt buckle. The jingle of the metal and leather is barely audible above the slapping of skin on skin. 

The head of Franco’s cock pressed against the folds of your pussy, streaks of precum mixed with your wetness as he jerked his hips against yours with a whine. “Haven’t even started yet and you’re already wanting me,” he hummed, a grin on his face. He must not believe the others had a hand in your arousal. The warmth of his cock could be felt as he drew the head against your folds before stopping at your cunt. 

Your chest concaved when he pushed into you, your body bracing to accept all of him. Franco laid his head back against the ground; his lips parted as he mewled out names and pleads for you to stay on his cock. His hands desperately groped at your chest, as if your breasts were a comfort for him to feel now. The fullness you were consumed by went unnoticed by either of the men inside you. They only sought comfort for being able to touch you to begin with. Your half-lidded eyes were turned towards Coyle as he brought your ass back against himself. 

It was barely a second later that Franco started to move against you... or at least try his hardest to. 

“They’re attempting to defile her,” Arora scoffed, her hand that sprouted from Otto’s neck going down to caress your cheek. He made a similar noise of disgust, his eyes trailing over the red spots on your hips that were left by tightened hands. The expression of desperate pleasure on your face made them grimace. 

“Rough, vile beasts,” Otto muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Your head turned to lean against Arora’s hand, your tears and drool being cleaned by the violet fabric. He fixed his round glasses before starting to grin as he started to unbuckle his belt. “She’s no beast though.” 

Otto’s cock stood at attention, just close enough for you to lazily bring your hand up to touch him. In your dazed state, you carefully wrapped your fingers around it. A shaky breath left his lips as the warmth of your hand encompassed him. Arora continued petting you as you started to pleasure him. 

“Come on, dear,” Arora cooed, tilting your head to look into your eyes. “He’s been so good to you, can’t you do better?” 

In your hazy state, you nodded and moved your hand quicker, listening as Otto groaned and praised you. The small drops of precum were drawn over the rest of his cock as you jerked him off. 

Each forceful movement of your hips in Coyle’s hands drew a gasp from your lips, the intense and full feel of both of their cocks deep inside you made your mind into soup. Every drop of your ass pressed Franco’s cockhead into the soft bundle of nerves. Your mouth almost couldn’t close now, no words being sputtered out, only creating wails and sharp breaths. The bursts of gratification travelled up your body and to your breasts, finding an end at the hardened flesh of your nipples. With nothing to satisfy them, you brought your fingers to the buds, pinching and taking the mounds into your hands. At the sight of your dissatisfaction, Franco jumped at the idea of groping your chest, pinching, pulling, and violently groping you with excitement. 

You mewled at the volatile touch, encasing one of his hands with yours. A whine of excitement leaves the man’s lips. Franco quickly wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you down to bring your breasts to his face. “Oh, Mommy,” Franco moaned, his lips attached to the hardened bud. His tongue swirled around the soft skin, hypnotizing himself into believing the sweet taste of milk was there and gently touched the bend between your breast tissue and the pebbled flesh. 

It wasn’t until you managed to mumble out Franco’s name, had your sounds been muffled. Coyle’s hand left your hip and hastily covered your sputtering lips while pulling your torso up against him. The rough leather and metal of his uniform rubbed and scratched the skin of your back. “Don’t need anyone else to be called other than your rehabilitator,” he said between gritted teeth. Coyle’s burned lips stayed parted beside your ear; his beard scratched your neck as he allowed you to hear the deep groans that your body pulled from him. 

Franco’s disagreement was voiced between gasps, trying to rip Coyle’s hands from your lips, hoping you would voice either affection or cruelty to him. You did little to move his hand, simply holding onto his arm as you moaned into the leather. “Stop trying to hoard her, you pig!” Franco grunted, finally freeing the lower half of your face from the large hand. You almost immediately started voicing your moans once you were freed. 

A light layer of saliva had grown on your lips, adding a glimmer as you began to plead. “F-fuck! Don’t- stop! Pleasepleaseplease!” You sobbed, looking down at where your sex met theirs, watching as their cocks disappeared inside you. Watching the physical aspect of them pleasuring you made your eyes roll back into your head. It was like it made it so much better. Your eyes held steady on Franco’s jittery hips, his pale flesh meeting yours in an ever-growing wet plap. 

Liliya’s bladed fingers grab your face suddenly, turning your head to your right to get you to kiss her. Her mask had been torn now; an obviously self-made incision in the lace had been made for her mouth, letting you see the pink flesh that covered her teeth. Her lips immediately tried consuming yours; her tongue brushed against yours. A soft incision-like line sat in the middle of the pink muscle, almost making you trail over it, forcing you to trail over her divinity. Each movement against your mouth felt like she was trying to consume you whole, trying to bite the soft tissue of your lips and tongue. Franco and Coyle had dominated the affection to your sex, while she dominated your mouth. 

“Getting all the candy she can, greedy slut, letting the sugar rot her mind!” Dr. Futterman cackled, the violent drill popping out from his large teeth. Mother Gooseberry sat beside Liliya, reaching over Franco to touch you too. She seemed to smile from behind the skin mask and brought her fingers down to your clit. The –now cold- leather brought a shiver down your spine as she started to rub small circles into the sensitive bundle at the top of your sex. 

“Don’t give her more, you fat cow! You’re just trying to make her as greedy as you!” The duck puppet exclaimed at the sight of Gooseberry’s affection, opening his mouth as wide as he could as a sign of his own feelings, the metal drill sticking out and nicking your arm. Almost like you were being controlled, you mewled at the break of skin, a mix of agony and pleasure washing over you. 

“Well, if mama doesn’t properly look out for her, who will?” Mother Gooseberry remarked, smiling wider at the sight of your crumbling mental state. In your pleasure-drunk state, you grabbed desperately at any part of the prime assets. Your grip travelled from Franco’s shirt to Coyle’s coat sleeve to Mother Gooseberry’s sleeve, trying to get a hold on whatever was driving you so insane. A gasp left your parted lips as you turned your head to look at Gooseberry. Almost instantaneously Liliya pulled your head back in her direction. 

“Be still,” Liliya hissed, drawing her bladed fingers down your face, “I came here to serve you, don’t let the defiled take your attention from me.” 

The overabundance of “love” almost covered every inch of your skin, Coyle and Franco’s cocks deep inside you, Liliya’s tongue just as deep inside your mouth, Coyle’s hands grabbing at your hips and thighs, Mother Gooseberry’s fingers gently touching at your overstimulated clit, Arora petting your hair as Otto groaned at the movement of your delicate fingers around his cock. 

Your mind couldn’t muster a single thought other than hoping that their touch wouldn’t stop while simultaneously hoping that the soul crushing pleasure would end; both concepts brought tears to the corners of your eyes... or was it the pleasure that brought it? You couldn’t tell me. The negative thoughts left your mind almost instantly as you were brought to another all-encompassing release, your cunt and hole pulsing around both lengths inside you. You pulled your mouth from Liliya’s to let yourself cry out, causing her to grumble. 

Everyone’s heavy breaths had intermixed together to make a cacophony of pleasure, the grunts of the men and the occasional moan from the women filled your ears. With a sudden gasp, Otto came over your hand and face. Thin strings of cum drew over the side of your face, getting onto your cheek and mouth. The sight of you covered in cum caused a mixed reaction among the prime assets. It could have been their cum covering you but it was ok to some degree now. You looked hot enough. 

Franco’s cries grew louder, his hands swiveling around Gooseberry’s and finding your hips, forcing you down in a quicker and rougher motion. Your mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, violent gasps leaving your lungs as his cockhead pushed against the little bundle of nerves. Pleads and cries left your lips, attempting to make any sense of the feelings coursing through your body. 

Liliya groaned as she watched you go insane in the men’s laps, her lips taking yours, only for a couple seconds. With a sudden cry, your body went taut as you were forced into your final orgasm of the night. You trembled as your thighs tensed and your cunt and hole clenched around their cocks. Tears welled in your eyes as you were held up by Liliya. 

Mere seconds after you came, Franco and Coyle did too. The warmth of their cum deep inside you caused you to mewl, them pulling away now making you realize how tired you really were. 

The prime assets cooed and praised you excitedly, wiping your tears as they kissed your face and poked and prodded at your cunt, watching as the men’s cum dripped down your thigh. 

In a mere minute, the disheveled prime assets stumbled away from you, fixed their clothes, and went back to the elevators. Calls of love were sounded before the doors closed behind them but quickly opened back up to the sleep room doctors and random medical equipment. They made no intention of talking to you, as several of the doctors had blushing cheeks. The doctors set you on the medical bed, wheeling you down the lifeless, cold hallway. 

... 

“Look at you,” Easterman started, trailing his dark gaze over your dirty self, looking over the cum that had escaped the crease of your lip and dripped down your chin, your tousled hair, your swollen lips, your skin that glistened with sweat, your sensitive sex that stayed hidden between the legs that squeezed tightly together. “What have they done to you.” 

You tried holding yourself up, even keeping your eyes on him was tiresome. You groaned in a response to him and crawled lazily towards him. 

Your head laid gently in his lap. The soft cloth of the handkerchief Dr. Easterman had set down for your dirty face rubbed against your cheek, unintentionally cleaning you up. Bringing his hand down, he brushed the back of his hand over your cheek slowly and softly. 

“Don’t you like being my How High?” He asked, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air, letting you know that the statement was so mundane that he couldn’t even keep in that precious smoke. You brought your hand up to Easterman’s pants, holding onto his leg, like a helpless child that couldn’t let her daddy leave her so easily. 

You nodded. A breathy chuckle filled the air with the silent statement. “Good,” he hummed, turning his palm to properly pet your head, like his affection would have only come if you said what he wanted to hear. You knew it was true, but it hurts when you experienced it face to face. 

“Did you have fun? Did they love you right?” Dr. Easterman teased, a notable smile in his tone. He chuckled at his own jokes. “No, I know they didn’t. They can’t.” 

He brought his hand down, taking the neckline of the small corset between his fingers and pulled it up, trying to seem like he cared about how conservatively you looked. As if he didn’t put you in this. When he pulled back, the back of his hand brushed against your breast, but he made no effort to comment nor apologize. “You know who can love you properly, yes?” Dr. Easterman asked as you went back to brush his fingers over your cheek. 

You nod. 

“Who is it then?” he said, his voice stern now, like the lack of voice from you could lead to a worse punishment than being left with the prime assets, “Say it.” 

“You,” you answer, tilting your head up to look at him, getting a glimpse of his shadowed face. The slight wrinkle in the corners of his eyes deepened. 

“Good,” Dr. Easterman smiled and took your face into his hand, which -of course- was covered. His darkened gaze drew over your disheveled self, seeing the exact same thing he had seen mere minutes earlier. His smile wavered but he spoke in the same satisfied tone. “I like seeing you like this.” 

Easterman’s handkerchief-covered thumb drew over your swollen lips, wiping away any imperfections he deemed “too far”. “The therapy shows your true self. Your true, filthy self,” he continued as his uncovered hand trailed down your cheek and to your throat. The pressure of his fingers right on your pulse gave an uncomfortable contrast to the prime asset’s soft lips. 

Dr. Easterman gently lifted your head from his lap, removing the handkerchief and bringing you into his lap in replacement. You lazily leaned back into his arms, feeling the body heat that radiated out from under his ironed suit. As you brought your attention back onto where you were sitting now. Something poked you. 

“Good grades get good prizes,” Easterman remarked, his thick fingers drawing over your sides, his hands pausing at the space between the panties and the corset, right where your soft stomach was. “Do you deserve a prize for being so good?” 

You stiffened at the question, not wanting to seem too prideful in your work. “Yes.” 

He let out a puff of laughter at your mumbling. 

“Then let daddy fill you up.” 

pov: ur those murkoff scientist who observes the reagents