#dottocest

I have really been feeling this. I am now ready :3

This one's a little dark you guys...

MDNI - ALL SEGMENTS INVOLVED IN THIS FICTIONAL WORK ARE OF ADULT AGE.

The ultimate act of self love for someone like Dottore never started with the emotional. Since the dawn of his life, society bore him heretic. This was a title he came to accept in time, whether by the means of realizing the destructive ability of his own hands or the groundbreaking ideas in which they could fabricate. For a long time, Zandik preferred to cover his body almost entirely. To look at himself was enough torture that only worsened with the passage of years. Bathing for him was at one point a complete humiliation ritual as the ridges of his body glistened beneath a steady flow of water. Ribs and collarbones and hips and legs that seemed all too volatile to bear, a chest rising and falling with every breath he took that made him wish he didn't have a heart.

And he one day, in fact, ripped it out and put it in a jar to keep at his desk.

Once the bird mask came to cover his face, Zandik wasn't Zandik, nor was he The Outcast of Sumeru, nor was he the young heretic that had always longed for a place of belonging and exploration. Il Dottore consumed his entire being for a period that brought an almost merciful kind of serene dissociation. He no longer worried about who he was or what he could have been, nor did he worry about belonging to something that would never accept him.

Even so, a scientist cannot make his greatest discoveries alone.

Still, there was no soul out there who met his criteria for collaboration.

The solution: make more of him.

The creation of his segments was perhaps the first time in centuries that he truly had to confront his own naked body. He'd gotten away with bathing with his eyes closed for a long time, but now, with a liquid filled chamber before him, he saw himself. Younger. Vulnerable. Suspended in the nutrient liquid that would soon allow "him" to be alive in a very mechanical sense.

Dottore studied the soft curve of his cheeks, the small beauty mark they both shared near the left eye, his naked skin that looked healthier than what Dottore himself looked like at that stage of his life. He momentarily allowed his eyes to fall between the segment's legs, like staring straight into a mirror. He immediately buried the stirring he felt, a cursed feeling.

The first segment was a pancake for the rest, of course. He was not perfect by any sense of the word. At first, he stared. Then, he thrashed. Then, he retained all of Dottore's memories and evened out for just a moment. Then, that evenness turned to confusion. Who was he? Was he Dottore? Was Dottore him?

Nothing could have warned The Doctor that this encounter would end up in sex.

He was staring back at himself, a body unburdened by centuries of outcast, yet wise in ways that he shouldn't be on his own.

The segment's next instinct was loyalty.

He reached out and held tight to Dottore, pushing away his beak shaped mask to look into his eyes. The action startled him, yet he did not move.

The segments warm, pulsing hands held Dottore's old face, fingers tracing the veins running down his neck, ignited with the same burning hunger that he's always harbored for endless knowledge.

Seeing this version of himself on top of him, unashamedly naked and reaching for him, Dottore found himself quite aroused by it all.

It was a blur of how they ended up tangled with one another, but for the first time in a long time, Dottore allowed himself to be exposed, physically and beyond. Surely, he could not judge himself anymore than what he had. If he could gaze upon this segment in a sexually appealing light...perhaps all hope for him had not been snubbed.

Dottore reveled in the sound of his own moans, literally pounding into himself with his own legs thrown over his own shoulders, feeling his warmed skin in his own hands. Such a notion should break the mind.

He fucked the segment until he could not move, pumping load after load into him. The Doctor did not have time for such fleeting matters like sex, but he'd spare just a moment for now.

He wondered it this counted as a form of masturbation.

After Alpha came Beta, then Gamma, Delta, and so forth. Even after the encounter with his segment, it took Dottore a long time to come around to the idea of self acceptance.

He fucked each segment at least once. Most of the time, he was on top, wanting to feel in control of the experience. Other times, when he felt particularly experimental, he allowed himself to learn the feeling of penetration by his own cock.

It wasn't just Dottore himself, either. He'd find segments fucking like rabbits in storage rooms and barely touched quarters, the acts themselves full of hedonistic desire. Sometimes it was Beta riding Alpha, Sometimes Gamma bending over Delta.

Dottore realized that the pleasure that his segments were feeling was now entirely out of his hands, and they'd forged their own sexual beings apart from him. It should've caused him to fold inward, but it did not.

Ever since the creation of his segments, his naked body became more natural to him. He'd seen every segment naked in their purest forms, and they were all, biologically, him.

The segments would even sometimes approach Dottore at his desk and work together to undo him, nips at his neck and a hand rubbing over his pants. Beta loved to suck him off, and Delta loved to leave marks on his neck when he allowed it.

In truth, the creation of his segments brought him closer to himself,