Artoria in trouble

"Of course," Artoria called over her shoulder to her former Master, smiling to herself. "I'll see you later tonight." She closed the doors to the Emiya estate and turned away, striding with the same steel spine and sense of confidence that her hard and unforgiving life as the High King of Britain had left her, not that anyone would look at the woman and think of her as the king of anything. It was a masculine word, and Artoria Pendragon was anything but masculine. There was a time when the legendary head of state, the true King Arthur, was more cute than not -- slim and slender, an adorable but stoic and deadly girlthing from the tip of her ahoge right down to the proper, reserved hem of the skirt she wore around Fubuki City.

Those days were behind her. Though she had destroyed the Holy Grail at the end of the Fifth Grail War, there was one pure wish left in it. When Artoria realized what Shirou had done, that he had used it on her -- she had been furious. He knew what she planned to do if they won, at least before they discovered the corruption rotting at the heart of the Grail: a second chance to prevent the destruction of Camelot, to protect her beloved kingdom from the men and women that would conquer it after Mordred's betrayal. What her former Master had wished for was a chance for his Saber-class servant to move on and live a full life, one without the strive or pressures of being a perfect monarch or the uncertainty of the Grail War.

If Artoria didn't love the stupid man so very much, she would have killed him for what he did to her in a fit of rage. Deep down, she'd never fully forgive him for his presumption -- but she had come to appreciate what he had done for her. When he told her that she was clinging to the past, that the past was the past and that people were dead after they were killed… she understood he was right. Artoria would have wished for a continuation of her life in stasis, to continue her caged and solitary existence as the King of Knights forevermore. What Shirou really wished for was for Artoria to have a taste of freedom from everything that weighed her down. It had been several years since the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War.

His wish had given her a new body, one that wasn't just a concept and mana given form by the Throne of Heroes. That body never interacted with Avalon or Excalibur, and suffice to say it did not stay in a state of stunted development as Artoria did in her first life. Conversely, Shirou (who still bore Excalibur's sacred scabbard magically embedded in his body) had slowly stopped aging and didn't look a day over eighteen, though he was twenty-two now. Artoria had died at twenty-five and frankly didn't look a heartbeat over sixteen at the time, but her new body had worked overtime. Her already ravenous and seemingly endless hunger hit new heights, as she hit growth spurt after growth spurt in short succession.

In those years, she had changed a great deal. There were a few things Artoria missed about her old body. Her ahoge, for one. In the old Britain she knew and loved, they didn't have a word for the solitary curling lock of hair that poked from the top of her head, but she had grown fond of the way the Japanese referred to it. As her body rapidly matured, it all but disappeared as though weighed down by how long and thick her beautifully golden blonde hair became. She still kept it up and in a crown braid most of the time, but there was far too much of it to keep it all in an updo; sheening and silky, it hung down her shoulders, usually worked into a second thick braid that hung between her shoulder blades, its tightly-bound tip tickling at her waist. Unbound, it spilled further down her back than her ass.

The sheer length and volume of it was far more feminine than what Artoria allowed herself previously, but her hair wasn't the only part of her that had changed. When she first drew Excalibur and came into possession of Avalon, she had been fifteen, living in a time when most teenagers had no access to a perfect diet, let alone a regular chance to stuff their faces with fast food that had been treated with growth hormones and the like. Modern Japan was very different from her Britain. Even back then, Artoria had been a tiny woman, a handful of inches beneath five feet tall. She was intimidating, yes, but purely out of her ability to glower and remain stoic -- at 4'9, she was just fucking adorable. Her height all but shot up, inch after inch, necessitating Shirou waste most of his paychecks on new clothes for his growing girlfriend.

After a time, most of them had to be custom-made or ordered. Finally stopping at 5'7 and a half inches, Artoria now stood taller than the average Japanese woman. A hundred and seventy centimeters felt far better to her than a hundred and fifty, and put her a good pair of head and shoulders of most of the other women in Shirou's life. He was surrounded by so many beautiful girls that even she, the King of Knights, couldn't help but feel a bit of anxiety over their relationship -- most of them clearly wanted to jump her former Master's bones. He seemed absolutely oblivious to the way Tohsaka Rin went to great lengths to show him a bit of thigh, accidental upskirts and plentiful ass, and Matou Sakura went even further, her tops seeming to get lower-cut by the day until a nip slip became a daily danger.

The old Artoria, the tiny, adorable one? She would have had good reason to feel insecure as she adapted to modern life and relationships. Her new body gave her absolutely nothing to worry about, however. Most of her new height was in her long, long legs, shapely and toned. Though she still had a fondness for reserved and subdued attire, those things were far from fashionable for an adult woman to wear in modern Japan. The long, cute dresses and skirts she favored before were set aside in favor of things that highlighted her assets. She owned a handful of jeans, a plethora of leggings and yoga pants, some shorts -- and skirts that would have been absolutely fucking scandalous for her to wear as a King.

The black one she was wearing that specific day hugged her hips and ass tightly, with its hem only going part of the way down her thighs. Had Artoria flourished into the woman she was meant to be without Excalibur, there would have been no pretending she was a King; she would have been known around the world as the most beautiful Queen, and they would still sing of her beauty to that very day. Her hips had flared out, drastically changing her sense of balance and giving her every step a promising sway to any wandering eyes; her ass had of course scaled to match it, borderline callipygian, and her waist looked downright tiny thanks to both.

Artoria wasn't such a changed woman that she went around with those long legs left entirely bare, though. Black stockings hugged her legs tightly, though very few people would have considered the slightly-sheer fabric to be modest, not with how they turned her legs into shapely silhouettes that made it even easier for a man to imagine them bouncing in the air or being wrapped around their waist. A small stretch of pale white thigh was visible between the hem of her skirt and the lacy tops of her stockings, just thick enough to further entice anyone who looked at them -- and like her ass, it was more than thick enough to outclass Rin. The only thing that interrupted the smooth display of skin was the straps attached to her garter belt, keeping her upright.

The former High King had tried heels. She knew why women favored them in this era, and certainly appreciated the way they boosted her ass and further accentuated the movement of her hips when she wore them, but after a lifetime of combat, she just couldn't stand to compromise her balance in them. As such, she still wore sensible shoes, small and buckled and feminine while retaining her steadiness.

Her growth spurts didn't leave her shaped like a pear, of course. Just like her hips and ass had filled out, so had the rest of Artoria's body. There were still traces of her feminine toning and the muscles she had built up, of course -- but now that she needed to exercise to keep them that way, they weren't as well-defined. Every inch of her skin stayed taut, of course, but she had just a little bit more feminine rounding, a little more plushness to transform her from a coltish young woman to a voluptuous beauty. Unlike Sakura, the blonde bombshell saw no need to wear tops that showed more and more of her cleavage.

All she had to do was wear one that was tight and well-fitted to her body, and the sheer scale of her curves would do the rest of her heavy lifting. Her breasts were full, round and far too fucking perky for what they were, sitting as high on her chest as though they had never felt gravity nag at them. Artoria loved the way they looked, especially in the white blouse she was wearing that day. Sakura never voiced her jealousy, but Rin -- who hadn't been as lucky in that department as her younger sister -- had gone on countless tirades and tangents about Artoria's tits, insisting on opportunities to feel them and make sure they were real. The last theory that she had given them was that it was a byproduct of her sudden maturing and the Grail's fuckery. Unfortunately, it had been some time since anyone had spoken with Rin.

Artoria longed to talk to her again, if only to give her the satisfaction of knowing that it wasn't all fun and tits for Artoria; beautiful as her bountiful bosom may have been, it had turned out to be utter fucking misery on her poor back. Not even the most steely of spines would have prepared the former High King for the realities of walking around with almost twenty pounds of weight settled on her chest. Not that she showed it, of course, or let herself sulk over it. These days, the blonde bombshell could understand and relate to every woman who got home, took off their bra and just relaxed on the couch for an hour.

It helped that she worked . With her square-framed glasses smartly situated on the bridge of her nose, with the white blouse and the black skirt with its matching stockings? Artoria had gone from warrior to full-on office worker, though considering her lack of a formal education, the only thing she qualified for was secretary work. That was fine by her, though. Answering landlines, greeting guests, redirecting calls and doing photocopies -- it might not have been as dire work as ruling a country or fighting wars, but she approached it with the same regal dignity that she approached everything with, short of napping and eating.

She kept her accessories light. A pair of dangling silver earrings that ended in small sapphires and a matching necklace that was often hidden beneath her blouse, both of which were birthday presents given to her by Shirou in previous years. A shoulder bag, because well, whatever her prior background was, she was now a modern woman living a modern life, with modern needs.

Artoria's commute wasn't long, just a five minute walk to the train station and then ten minutes to go from one side of Fubuki than the other. It amazed her how far humanity's technology had come in just a thousand years. She enjoyed the little daily ritual of her travel for the most part; it helped get her head in the game and prepare for the long day ahead of her. She didn't love how many people seemed to stop and gawk at the beautiful, blonde, leggy foreigner in her attire, but to be frank, she had grown used to such stares when she appeared to be little more than a tiny, cute young woman hanging around Shirou. The gazes she received from jealous women and horny men weren't that different, now that she tended to be the most sexy, gorgeous woman in any given location.

To her, it didn't matter how they looked at her. They could if they wanted, it was a free country. The only eyes she cared about, the eyes she dressed for, were Shirou's. She absolutely loved the way he looked at her, far more love than lust, and she wouldn't trade her life with him for the world, even if it was a Camelot-dominated one. She certainly wouldn't trade her new body for her old one, even though she was no longer capable of her former magical feats; the life of a normal woman was a blessing to her.

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The life of a normal woman was a blessing to Artoria. Most of the time, at least. There were times in her new life when she absolutely rued it, namely once a month when her body felt an urgent need to remind her that she was a woman in the prime of her life and at her most fertile. Excalibur and Avalon had guarded her from such unpleasantries in her previous life, but not this one. Even then, she wouldn't have traded away her new body. There was never a moment where she ever thought this body of mine is a curse , however. She didn't even miss the absence of her once everpresent holy sword. Without the Holy Grail War waging, Japan was a peaceful place, free of any true strife and populated by a society of people who valued politeness and deference to authority over everything else.

That morning, her life changed. Her voluptuous body became a curse, and she missed her sword dearly. Over the past few months, Artoria had paid little mind to the strange man that seemed to pass by the office every morning, their schedules seeming to be perfectly aligned for their paths to cross. He certainly deserved a great deal of mind. Though he was inarguably of Japanese descent, he was rather tall. Artoria didn't run into a lot of men in Fubuki City who were even an inch taller than she was, so even someone straddling the 5'10 line stuck out to her. There was absolutely no missing a man who towered at least two, maybe even three feet above that point. When they crossed paths, she always thought of Okayama Yasutaka, a name she only knew from Taiga's trivia nights -- the tallest Japanese man to ever be recorded, at a solid 7'8 feet tall. He was a basketball player, of course.

This guy? He had to be taller. He was certainly more muscular than the picture Artoria had seen of the legendary basketball player, with arms and legs that were so thick they may as well have been stolen tree trunks. Everyone got out of his way, and no one ever looked up to meet his eyes, not even Artoria. That would be terribly rude, and living in Japan did nothing if not gradually indoctrinate someone into their idea of manners and social mores. Despite being so immense, the human juggernaut simply became part of the scenery for Artoria. They would walk past each other, and for a moment his shadow would fall upon her -- for a moment, she'd feel so fucking small. If the bombshell blonde was her old height, she would have felt like an insect beside him, glad to scurry away without being crushed beneath enormous body -- but if she was her old height, she'd have her magic and her old physical capabilities. She would have had Excalibur at her beck and call. He would be nothing to her.

As tall as she was in her 'normal' human body, she just felt a moment of discomfort but ignored him and continued into her office building. On some occasions, the former High King's old instincts would kick in. Artoria would feel him stop, and she'd feel his eyes on her body as she moved away from him. She paid it no mind at all, though, absolutely used to being treated like eye candy by that point. Of course, she should have paused at some point to consider whether or not it was odd that such a grossly tall and enormously muscular man kept passing her in the street. It was weird, and almost any other woman living in Japan would have realized that. They would have figured out what was going on, and they would have gotten in touch with the police or her work's head of security.

But then, almost every other woman living in Japan had actually grown up in Japan. For how womanly Artoria had become, she was raised to be a boy first, a king second, a knight third and a woman not at all. Of course women were in danger of being stalked or preyed upon by diabolical men in ancient Britain, but Artoria was always the sort of 'boy' who would be the one to walk girls home (or her former Master, as it were). When she was king, she'd send her knights to escort them home in her stead. It was utterly unthinkable to the King of Knights that anyone would ever prey upon her. And even if they did, what were they going to do to her ? She had every reason to be confident of herself, and of the safety of Japan. Fubuki's crime rates only spiked during the Holy Grail Wars.

The little heels of Artoria's sensible shoes clicked on the pavement as she walked down the alleyway that held her workplace's entrance. As always, the enormous man appeared and lumbered towards her within a few seconds. She had no reason to think that this particular morning would be any different than any other. While the alleyway was fairly wide, wide wasn't really enough for a man as large as he was -- as always, he moved forward like an ice breaker and she squeezed just a bit to the side to make room for him, her eyes forward, her body braced for that primal small feeling and her mind focused on what she'd be doing that morning.

For everything she had lost with her new body, Artoria had kept her instincts. Just as their footsteps carried them past each other, she saw his arm move from the corner of her eye. A chill flash went up her spine, and she forgot all about her work as she heeded her subconsciousness' warning of the impending danger. Lightning-quick, she danced away from him and pirouetted on her heel, one hand grasping the hilt of her sacred sword as it materialized, wrapped and cloaked in its invisible air, ready to counterattack after dodging his surprise attack. The man wasn't a stranger anymore: he was her enemy.

Unfortunately, Artoria could not move lightning-quick. She could not summon Excalibur, let alone her invisible air. She wasn't ready to counterattack because she couldn't even dodge the fucker, whose massive fist connected squarely with her gut and immediately doubled her over, knocking all the wind out of her gut in one go and doubling her over, her eyes wide with shock. The same shock froze her mind. She could only ask herself one question: What the fuck just happened? Wheezing, her vision blackening, the bombshell blonde couldn't so much as whimper those words out loud. Her consciousness ebbed slowly before she went altogether limp. If her assailant didn't catch her, she would have landed face-first on the pavement.

Only Artoria's glasses hit the pavement, flying off her face from the sheer force that buckled her beautiful body. The enormous man, the one who had been planning this for months, took a brief glance around. All of the security cameras nearby hung limp, magically disabled, and just as he planned, there wasn't a single soul out and about. Artoria's routine made her capture easy; she always went to work early and was the first person to arrive, usually by fifteen minutes. He hefted the limp blonde up and tossed her over his shoulder like she was little more than a sack of potatoes, though with the ease he handled her weight she may as well have been a small package of creamers instead of a bag of russets.

He secured her spot on his shoulder with a hand clapping down on her thick ass, enjoying his first real taste of the booty he had decided to plunder. As tempting as it was for him to get straight to work right then and there, though, he knew it was too risky. Casually groping the former High King's royal ass through her skirt, he turned around and thumped his way back from whence he came with one heavy footfall after another, turning a corner, heading down another alley and through the shimmering portal that waited for him.

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Artoria wasn't allowed the simple kindness of a little beauty sleep, or a slow and groggy awakening. She woke up with a sharp gasp when something warm, thick and meaty gave a forceful thwack against her cheek, doing far more to jar her awake than any bucket of water ever could. In an instant, her green eyes flashed open and she started to sit up, just one thought on her mind. Did someone just hit me with a turkey neck?

That would have been really weird. It also would have been preferable to the truth. Though Artoria's time spent on war campaigns left her able to wake up and be ready for action in an instant, she wasn't able to leap to her feet like she would have liked. She couldn't even really sit up, finding the enormous man straddling her hips -- though she couldn't see the freak of nature right away. In addition to being pinned down, the thing that slapped her hovered over her face. Not yet grasping her situation or even remembering what had happened, the green-eyed blonde stared at it in mute confusion. It was familiar to her, but there was absolutely no reason why she'd be situated beneath it.

That was a very broad 'it', in both literal and figurative turns. "What?" she whispered to herself, her muted confusion growing slowly but surely more severe. Artoria was intimately familiar with a cock. A human cock. Shirou's cock, the only one to ever enter her mouth or her womanhood either as a Servant in her old boy or now, in her new one as a regular old human. With absolutely zero interest in porn of any sort, she had never seen another hard dick in her life. Occasional full frontal nudity was just a fact of life in ancient Britain, but people had the grace not to pop erections when it happened. Most of the time.

She'd always been lucky in that regard. If not, things might have gotten quite awkward amongst the members of the Round Table.

It wasn't a human cock that hovered right over her face, though, so wide and thick that it effectively hogged up her whole vision, hanging so close to her face that her nose may as well have been brushing it. The overwhelmingly masculine smell wafting from it left her face burning with embarrassment and her head feeling fuzzy. Though she didn't see a lot of human cocks, she had seen a fair few more horse cocks. Not out of anything the slightest bit untoward, of course -- as the woman who became known as the King of Knights, she simply had an interest in all things related to cavalry, from horse breeding to husbandry. There was no mistaking the crown of the cock for being anything but equine.

But Artoria hadn't been in a stable since well before her first death, and she certainly had no reason to be immobile beneath a horse's undercarriage. While she was still trying to suss everything out, a frighteningly large hand ran up the length of the dick, making her blink twice to make sure it wasn't a figment of her imagination. When it ran back down the cock and started to casually jerk off, obviously belonging to whomever it was that had the enormous horse dick, she started to remember bits and pieces of what happened. She cringed as a thick drop of precum leaked out of its slit and dropped wetly on her forehead, coaxing a little gasp out of her.

I was going to work, and then -- Artoria's eyes widened. She had been attacked. She had been kidnapped? Her, the King of Knights, laid low in a single blow. Caught unarmed and not even having a chance to swing her shoulder bag like a weapon. Shame filled her, but it hardly equalled out to the righteous fury she felt at this indignity, at the humiliation of whatever this monstrous man was doing to her. "Name and explain yourself, cretin," she growled quietly with every ounce of pride she had, hating how close his cock was to her face and how the smell of it was so powerful she could practically taste it.

The bastard laughed, something that made Artoria blink. Even her most misogynistic adversaries respected her more than this. Before the green-eyed blonde had a chance to utter another word, however, he clapped his cock down against her face again. It was a wonder that her first thought jumped to turkey neck when it hit her the first time; the enormous horse prick could have very well been used as a club if he cared to do it. Thankfully, he wasn't battering her with it, cockslapping her just hard enough and suddenly enough to make her yelp in girlish surprise, followed by a far more heated snarl. "Your honorless--" she began, but then his hand was just beneath the crown of his cock, and he was pressing it down against her face. Artoria quickly pinched her lips shut, but not before she got a taste of it, salty and bitter and nothing like Shirou's penis.

The proud former king's cheeks only got redder and her eyes wider as he smeared the head of his horse dick over her face, treating it like little more than a rag for his leaking precum. How does-- how does he even have a horse's-- she began to ask herself, though it was the sort of thing that really should have ranked low on her priorities in her predicament. Then the roving head of his dick was being dragged over her eyes and she had to quickly shut them, and the question seemed far less important to her. She grimaced again, feeling his precum cling along her blonde eyelashes, rapidly batting her eyes once it moved on to clear them away.

"Listen," he rumbled, his voice deep enough to trigger that same primal reaction in Artoria, the one that made her feel so tiny whenever she passed by him. It made her shudder, but it was far more violent than any little shiver he had given her before. "And listen well, you worthless sow." Finally, he moved his cock to the side and angled its head low, smacking it lightly against her cheek and making her flinch each time he impacted her. She could finally look up and meet his eyes, seeing only lust and greed and violence in them. "Starting today, you have the honor of becoming my whore. You exist for my use," he continued to rumble, reaching down to grab at one of her hefty breasts. Artoria gasped in discomfort. Her impressive mounds were as sensitive as they were glorious, and she always had to remind Shirou to be gentle with them -- that even the slightest bit of rough treatment left them tender and sore. Once, she had shrieked at him after he pinched her nipple just a bit too hard.

This bastard's hands were so large that he could almost pinch Artoria's breasts like they were nipples. Though he only groped her for a moment, she knew she'd be feeling the sting of it for hours, even if she managed to escape before he touched them again. And she absolutely was going to escape; that was a certainty in her mind. Even at her lowest moments, Artoria's confidence in herself had never wavered -- and she had learned to instill that same confidence into the fool that had summoned her. Whether it was by her own wit and skill or by Shirou's bravado, she would come out of this situation as the victor. The Lion always won.

It was hard to remember that with him treating her poor breast like a stress ball, though. As he continued to roughly play with her body, Artoria groaned out and then hissed in mounting pain, which all led to a far sharper cry when his huge digits came to focus solely on the most sensitive parts of her breasts, her nipples. To the King of Knights' shame, they had grown stiff and tight from… she couldn't even begin to tell. Was it the uncomfortable stimulation he was giving her, or was it from the proximity of his bewildering horse cock, still being patted away at her cheek? There was no way it could ever be that; the only cock she would ever be interested in was the one that hung between her boyfriend's legs. "You b-bastard," she finally growled out at him, forcing herself to snarl at him once more, to bare the fangs of the beast that had laid the likes of Gilgamesh low. "You'll--"

"--break you of this impudence, yes," he laughed, shutting Artoria up with a far harsher thwack of his cock against her cheek, one that cut her off mid-sentence and made her gasp. That word, impudence, sounded wrong from his lips. While he may have appeared to be a relatively ordinary Japanese man with red hair if not for his height, the sheer size of him put him on a scale that could only be compared to the last Berserker Artoria had fought, Hercules.

It sounded wrong, if only because it seemed like he should have been communicating in grunts and growls and incoherent shouts. This time around, he was quicker with his cruelty, shoving his cock against her parted lips and then treating her breast all the more savagely, making her squeal, but more importantly making her mouth stay open just a little bit longer.

Artoria hated the ultra-masculine taste of him as he forced himself against her tongue, that salt and bitterness growing far more intense for the prolonged contact he made her endure. As her hands reached beneath her and spread out, she realized she was laying upon a narrow table, its surface and rounded edges feeling cheap. Between those two things, it was a wonder it could support his weight atop hers. She gripped its edges, glaring up at him with her green eyes as he released her breast and rose up, hand shifting along his cock to angle himself. It was clear what he was going to do, and Artoria's path forward was just as plain to her. I'll bite this bastard's penis off, Artoria resolved, even if it meant she might choke to death on it. It would be better than suffering through this indignity.

In her fervor, in the heat of the moment, that fate didn't seem mutually exclusive with her certain escape. Artoria was in for a rude awakening, however. Once he was up high enough and truly shoved his dick into her mouth, she was in no position to do anything of the sort. The head of his cock was far more than she could comfortably accommodate in her mouth. The former High King of Britain only had experience with one cock, and that dick was far smaller than the fucking horse cock this nine-feet-tall monster had somehow hidden in his pants. That penis actually fit in her mouth, and she enjoyed giving her man blowjobs whenever they had the house alone to themselves -- though it made no sense to her that they were called that.

Shirou, and to a lesser extent Rin, had taught her everything that she knew about giving head. The latter had given her practical instructions and had led by example in one of the threesomes they had to give Artoria the mana she needed to fight in the Fifth Holy Grail War; she taught Artoria how to lick, kiss, suck and worship Shirou's cock as well as how to hold it and stroke it. When the two lovers began to have sex without Rin around, Shirou had given her more personal instruction, gently teaching her exactly what he enjoyed the best and letting her take the reins from there. The blonde was proud to have been able to take him in her throat, though it had been a struggle for her to build up her skills to that point, and an even longer one for her to learn how to control her gag reflex. Even then, Artoria only did it because Shirou loved it.

She never really enjoyed it. It was uncomfortable and a bit demeaning, but apparently that was par for course when it came to having sex in the modern day.

The fucking bastard's cock was thicker than five exact replicas of Shirou's cock bundled up and wrapped tightly together, and of course the head of his cock was even bigger than that. Artoria's eyes widened even further as the bastard took advantage of his leverage and position to force and squeeze more of himself into her, making her truly realize the sheer difference in scale between the cock she knew and this beastial menance. Against her will, her jaw was forced to stretch painfully wide to accommodate his passage. On some deeper level, she had already realized that it was going to be impossible for her, but she was so desperate that she tried anyway, but it just wasn't happening. She couldn't force herself to bite him. It just wasn't physically possible, just like his cock shouldn't have been possible.

"This will be easier for you," the monstrous man growled deeply, the low pitch of his voice once again triggering that primal instinct in Artoria, making her shudder and squeeze her eyes shut, "if you stop struggling and accept that I've conquered you. Your past doesn't matter. Your Holy Grail Wars? Your first life? Your current one? Those were all before me -- and you need only worry about your future with me, my little harlot from Camelot." His hand once again stroked at his shaft, something Artoria heard more than she saw, though she soon felt and tasted its results. His precum may as well have poured out of his cock as he pleasured himself in his captive's mouth, his hand working more and more briskly.

How-- Artoria wanted to ask him a lot of questions that started with how. How was he so huge? How was it possible for someone so large to move without crumpling under their own weight? How did he have a fucking horse weiner, of all things? How could anyone be so cruel and full of malice? Most Heroic Spirits had some amount of goodness deep down inside them, their own honor or noble aspirations, but this man only seemed to be a bastard through-and-through, and she certainly couldn't name one who had a noble phantasm like… this one. And most of all, how the fuck did he know about any of that? She couldn't help but continue to groan around the immense head of his equine cock, something she knew only helped him along.

Her panic rising, Artoria released the edges of the table and shot her hands up to grab at his cock, desperate to try and dislodge it. She had no leverage, of course -- and as her beautiful body lacked its old strength and prowess, little chance of forcing such an immense man to do anything he didn't want to do, and that meant no chance at all of preventing him from having his way with her. She grabbed at it like it was the wrist of a hand choking her, trying to pull it off. The bastard only chuckled, his hand grabbing over both of hers easily. Once his grip closed over her fingers, there was no escape for her hands; she was forced to participate in jerking him off. That didn't mean she ran out of options.

Artoria had legs, shapely and strong--! Behind and beneath him, she tried to do what she could with them, kicking and squirming them, but even when she managed to knee him in the ass, all she accomplished was driving his cock deeper into her mouth, into her throat proper. It shouldn't have fit, and that made it all the more horrifying that it did, her poor hole stretching beyond its limit to accommodate her rapist. "Ah," he growled, reaching back with one hand to force it between her thighs, putting a sudden end to her kicking as she tried to instead squeeze them tight together and prevent him from doing a damn thing down there. One grab and a rip later, and her skirt was left in tatters. "You're learning. That's good," he taunted her with a cruel smirk, well aware that she wasn't trying to help him break in her body.

He grabbed at Artoria's cunt with the same gentle, tender care he gave to her nipples, which was of course none whatsoever. Much to Artoria's horror, her pussy had reacted to all of this the way her nipples had, growing damp -- but until his hand was shoving against her sodden panties, she hadn't realized just how wet she had gotten. She was wet enough that when he shoved a sausage-like (and far fucking closer to the size of a Polish sausage than any American hotdog) finger into her cunt, right through her panties, his sheer strength and mass enough to treat the wet cotton like it was damp paper. This time, when she howled out her discomfort, it was all but muffled by his cock. Her legs tensed and quivered, their struggles ceasing. Artoria tried to fight it, but all she could manage was to clench herself around him, as though her pussy could possibly grapple his digits into submission.

All the while, the jerking continued, his dick blazing hot beneath her captured fingers. It soon came to its inevitable result as his cock pressed further and further down her protesting throat. The first few times that Artoria gave Shirou head, she had dutifully swallowed his cum or let him make a mess upon her face, but the more experience the pair of them got in the sack, the more Artoria realized she didn't really enjoy the taste of cum, and certainly not the texture. She couldn't stand how it felt when it went down her throat, finding it slimy and gross. Thankfully, there was never that much of it. And Shirou, being the perfect partner to Artoria that he was, thought absolutely nothing of providing her a cup to spit in, if he didn't pull out to cum on her tits or into the cup himself.

He was so good to her.

The he that mattered in the there-and-now, though? He didn't give a shit. Unlike Shirou, who always made Artoria feel so accomplished when she made him cum, he barely seemed to react to his own orgasm. The only thing to herald its advent was a brief growl, and then the powerful burst of his unleashed load hitting the walls of her throat. Shirou had set her expectations for how much a man could ejaculate, and they were reasonable . There was nothing reasonable about this man, especially not how much cum spurted out of his cock; he was so big that she couldn't even gag properly, let alone try to swallow. Artoria felt utterly disgusting and miserable as his sperm ran and trickled down her throat, hot and heavy and seemingly endless.

And between it, the contact with his cock and the finger just callously lodged in her pussy, Artoria felt utterly overwhelmed, already pushed to her sexual limits. But, well, at least it was over now. That was the only respite and the only comfort she could find in the situation, even as he slowly dragged his cock back out of her throat, pausing with the crown of his cock in her mouth to torture her with the very last spill of his sperm, making her taste its bitterness slide down her tongue and into her throat. Only then did he pull himself out of her mouth, letting her strained jaw finally relax and giving her the opportunity she desperately needed to fill her lungs, gasping, groaning, panting and coughing.

At least it was over. Shirou had set her expectations for a man's sexual stamina, too -- sometimes they'd cuddle or kiss after he came, and sometimes he'd pleasure her body with his mouth or his fingers, but once his cock shot off once, he was done. Surely that would be the case here as well.

Unfortunately for Artoria, the bastard's cock did not soften. It stayed just as turgid and frightening as it was before, sloppy with her saliva. He went right back to smearing it over her face even as she tried to recover, but of course her molestation went further than that. While Artoria was still breathless, the finger in her pussy began to move, almost as big as Shirou's erect cock but with none of its love or care behind it, roughly and rudely fingerfucking her with zero regard for her comfort. His finger may as well have been a jackhammer for how it pistoned in and out of her body, the heel of his hand painfully slapping against her pelvis repeatedly in his vigor.

Artoria enjoyed the sex she had with Shirou -- she did, she truly did. She enjoyed the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of becoming one with him. The scabbard of her legendary sword was magically hidden inside his body, yes, but despite that it just felt right for Artoria to become the sheath for his sword. She certainly didn't mind feeling his cum inside her or having it leak out of her pussy throughout the day or overnight. The two of them never used protection, and Artoria wasn't even taking contraceptives, half-hoping to find herself pregnant with his child one day, a conversation she really meant to have with him at some point.

She enjoyed getting fucked with him even when it went on slightly too long and left her cunt feeling sore, even chafed. Artoria knew that at the end, he'd take care of her. He'd cuddle her, apologize if she seemed to hurt, and get her anything that she needed. It was great. It was almost perfect. It would have been perfect, if he had made her cum a single time in the years they had been together, but Artoria had long since accepted she just wasn't going to. She couldn't find the pleasure that Rin described to her with bright eyes and a wicked smile, and nothing she or Shirou attempted changed that. The blonde bombshell regretted it for only a moment, before never again thinking about it or bemoaning her apparent inability. The sins of the flesh didn't matter so much to her as her relationship and its intimacy.

That was why Artoria didn't understand what was beginning to happen to her as he pounded her pussy with his hand in a way no woman would willingly invite upon herself. "F-fuck!" she cried out breathlessly, her core tightening and her thighs tensing, a quiver running through those tight muscles and going through the rest of her body like an affliction. She still had her fingers squeezed around his cock, held there by his hand and barely able to fully circle around it. As that seemingly spreading disease reached her fingers, she clutched onto it like a lifeline, her cries getting louder, most of them more vocal and incredibly desperate for it. "Y-you're killing me," she gasped, certain this was it, the only rational explanation for what she was feeling.

There was absolutely no way that her body enjoyed what he was doing more than anything Shirou had ever done to her. It was utterly unthinkable. He wasn't stroking or gliding along the inner walls of her cunt so much as he was jabbing them repeatedly with that ridiculously sized finger of his, each time making her hips jerk and writhe in what was definitely pain, not pleasure. The way the heel of his hand kept clapping down on her mound, each time producing a wet crack of skin on skin... the painful way it kept slapping against her poor clitoris, so often neglected by both her and Shirou, sending powerful jolts through her body… it didn't feel good. It couldn't feel good to her. It wasn't with Shirou.

"Were you not once a brilliant strategist? Any brains you once had must have went straight into those tits," the beast-cocked bastard half-chuckled, half-growled at her. "Or maybe that little boy you've wasted years on has no idea what sort of wanton whore you were meant to be, Artoria Pendragon," he said, before tossing his head back and laughing at her. His words were beyond the former High King's ken and understanding, however, as the brisk finger-fucking finally came to its inevitable conclusion. For one second, just a second, Artoria went quiet and rigidly still, or at least mostly still -- the way he treated her body couldn't help but force it to slide along the table with a little bit each time his hand slapped into her cunt, making her bared breast sway and jostle around uncomfortably. Her braided hair dragged, increasingly distressed and unlikely to last much longer.

-- He's killed me. I'm dead. Shirou…! For a moment, Artoria's mind completely shattered. She couldn't think. She couldn't feel, she couldn't hear. All she could do was scream and writhe beneath her assaulter, none of which stopped him from continuing to pump her pussy with his fingers, pushing her through the orgasm and callously dragging the completely overwhelmed woman into another one immediately, giving the shamed woman absolutely no breathing room, no form of respite from the tortured bliss that pervaded her body, all those tense limbs and her body left limp as it finally tapered off. She shivered on the table as he finally withdrew his finger from her, moaning through the violent aftershocks of her first few orgasms with a gaping mouth. Though her eyes were open, they were only capable of staring blankly and glassily towards the ceiling as her chest desperately heaved, in dire need of new air.

It took a few modest smacks of his not-so-modest cock to get Artoria to stir, to look up towards him through the tears of misery and unwilling pleasure that threatened to leak her eyes. Unshed or not, they left her green eyes glistening and made it difficult for her to focus. "You were never meant to be a king. You were meant to be a pet, a toy." His hand lowered to her face, roughly shoving his slick digit into her mouth and rubbing it against her tongue, making her taste herself off his skin. Unlike his cock, it didn't force her jaw to strain -- it was a size she was used to. It was the perfect size for her to just bite it off, if she so cared to do so. She wanted to, desperately.

She couldn't. Artoria could barely budge, pushed past a limit that she didn't realize she had, one Shirou had never pushed her towards -- towards one she wished she had never learned about. None of what was happening should have left her feeling good , as good -- no, better -- than one of Shirou's massages. When she complained about feeling tense all over after a hard day of work on a mission to be Japan's best secretary, Shirou had secretly started to go to masseuse classes. He was good enough to become a professional massage therapist, if he wanted to. And yet…

And yet this man, this monster who had assaulted her, kidnapped her, had stuck his foul cock in her mouth? He could so easily supplant Shirou? It was unthinkable. "Suck, unless you want my cock again," he jeered down at her, and after a moment Artoria reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to endure another humiliation. She sealed his lips around his thick digit and cleaned it, interchanging soft suckles with licks, trying to ignore how the sweet taste of her wetness played off the salty bitterness of his skin. The only time she had ever tasted herself like this was when she kissed Shirou fresh from going downtown on her, a moment she had relished. This was nothing like that. Her gorgeous face burned with humiliation, arousal and strain.

Eventually, he withdrew his digit from her lips and released her hands, beginning to shuffle forward to get away from the table, stepping over Artoria. She couldn't help but stare up at his still-engorged cock as he went, getting a far better look at its sheer size, equine from head to shaft and on to its base. The former High King shuddered, unable to believe she had even an inch of it in her throat. Its proportions were inhuman, even his balls given a ludicrous size. In all the times she passed him by in the streets, it was a wonder she didn't see a hint of it -- or that he didn't fucking trip over them.

He cleared over her, and Artoria slowly started to sit herself up. Even with the occasional spasm still afflicting one of her limbs, she had never felt more violated, more shamed; it was even worse than having her kingdom destroyed by her bastard clone's tantrum. Her eyes took in the sound-proofed walls of the basement she was in and all the strange things that lined the walls or sat on the floor. Shuddering, she chose not to ponder what they were for. There was a closed steel door on one end of the room, magic runes etched into its surface, and a set of stairs sized with the bastard in mind seemed to lead up and out.

Slowly, she turned over on her hip, still panting -- softer now, but panting nonetheless. Artoria looked at her captor as he peeled off the shirt he wore with surprising care, already naked from the waist down. "H-how do you know my name? Just who are you?" she asked him in a whisper, her throat raw from his invasion. She didn't go by Artoria Pendragon, though she was proud of her name. It only seemed appropriate for her to be Emiya Artoria, Shirou's loving wife in all but name.

"You still don't get it yet, do you?" The bastard turned back to face her and took a step back towards the table as he tossed his shirt aside. "What I am… is your master. When you leave here, you do so at my behest. You will live any moment you spend without me wondering when I will return to you. You may continue to live your old life, but you will only do so because it is more convenient for me than keeping you around." Once again the sheer deepness of his voice made her heart beat faster in fear and excitement. His lips curled in a sardonic smile, reaching out one of his immense hands to Artoria's face, his fingers tender in the way they caressed her cheek.

"No… no, there's--" Artoria couldn't help but close her eyes and lean her cheek against his hand. The way he reached for her was just like Shirou, and it was just a reflex for her. She loved it when he cupped or stroked her cheek, always finding comfort in it. "There's no way I'd ever submit to you," the proud King of Knights said, forcing herself to sound as confident as she once was. Her eyes opened, still wet with those tears, and she glared up at him, her teeth bared like those of the lion she was so often compared to in life. "You're a monster, and you won't get away with any of this. I--"

I could what? Artoria had nothing. He was twice her size and almost certainly three or four times her weight. He had a fucking horse cock , which wasn't much of a weapon, but it spoke to the unusualness of her situation, and it wasn't like she had her mana-enhanced strength or speed or even Excalibur, let alone Caliburn or Rhongomyniad. He was an inhuman monster, and she was just a woman. Helpless, her body feeling boneless, her clothes torn and her skin bearing bright marks from the way he had treated it. It would be one thing for her to be here with damaged armor, but she doubted he would take a word she said seriously with one tit hanging out and her pussy on display. From the way he treated her, like a toy. Just like he said she was meant to be.

He waited, his smile growing crueler. Artoria's snarl turned into a sneer, and she pivoted from those words. "Any moment now, they'll realize I haven't shown up for work. The police of this city will find you." Or Shirou , she thought to herself. When her employers called the Emiya household to see where she was, he'd quickly realize something was wrong. He would save her from this. He had to. If she could go back and tell her old self that one day she'd be relying on her former Master for protection, the Saber-Artoria would have laughed at her.

"Hm," he grunted, before suddenly his hand was anything but gentle on her face. It surged around to the back of her head, grabbing her braid. The poor thing was already in a state of ruin from the way it had dragged beneath Artoria on the table, and one hard yank was all it needed to completely fall apart, even her elegant crown braid failing to withstand his brutal treatment. Artoria gasped sharply, barely able to react as he savagely pulled her unprepared body right off the table, but he didn't drop her to the floor. For a second, he held her dangling by just her hair, and then his other hand was scooping under her ass to support her. It didn't grasp her ass, though. She gasped her discomfort and writhed as he shoved another finger back up her cunt, balancing her weight with inhuman ease on his hand.

It was bad enough that Artoria's pussy clenched around him as though it was welcoming his return, but the bastard's hand was fucking enormous . With the same abruptness he rammed his digit into her wet hole, he jammed his thumb into her dry one, its thickness immediately brute forcing its way through any resistance the tight, one-way street might have put up. The shock and pain of it was enough to make Artoria shriek in surprise, the noise embarrassingly high-pitched for someone who once claimed to be a man. But of course the bastard wasn't just turning her into a finger puppet; of course he went further with her.

The hand pulling her hair lowered and wound around her back, pulling her in and establishing a new grip in her golden locks, right at the back of her head. Artoria felt his cock press up against her blouse, gliding up along it and forcing several of the already-torn top's buttons to pop off, letting it run beneath, feeling its stiff warmth against her stomach and chest, leaving his shaft almost vertical and resting against her. As Artoria was starting to desperately claw at him, squirming desperately on his fingers and atop the support of his hand though she might manage to free herself, he pushed her head towards his and claimed her mouth once more.

Somehow, it was worse than being made to cum or being forced to suck on his finger. It was worse than the humiliation of getting her face thwacked with his cock or getting it shoved down her throat. Those things were crude, but they were inherently sexual -- they could be divorced from intimacy, even though that was Artoria's primary interest in such things. Kissing, though? That was the other way around in her eyes, first and foremost an expression of intimacy and emotion before it was one of carnal needs. It was almost sacred in its purity.

How he jammed his tongue into mouth, forcing Artoria's own into submission through its size and bullying? That was when he truly defiled her body, and when it finally came into perspective for her just how fucked she was. He didn't even bat an eye when she brought up the police. Was he not worried about them because he was confident of his own strength, or was something else at play? It wasn't a question Artoria could afford to ponder.

The monster snogged her like he was wiping away any trace of Shirou that might have been in her mouth, though his cock had already done that in spades. Though she hadn't fought since the Holy Grail War, Artoria still kept her fingernails trimmed short, to a practical size. They were still just long enough to scratch Shirou's skin in their lovemaking, to bloody his body if she wasn't careful. With Avalon inside him, it didn't matter, but it still made her feel awful. She felt no remorse about the way she clawed and scratched at the bastard's body, both whining and growling into the forced kiss. For all the ways he cut her, it only seemed to spur him on, punishing her with his tongue and his fingers.

Worst of all, she could feel another orgasm coming on, the combination of the rough but wet finger in her cunt and the completely unwelcome thumb in her ass proving to play Artoria's strings just as easily as all the slaps that hit her clit. Her thighs squeezed around the hand she hated so much. It was purely a physical reaction, one driven by instinct, inadvertently locking her assaulter in.

Of course, he didn't give her that pleasure. Even if it was purely physical, driven by instinct, the bastard didn't let Artoria have the slightest hint of assertiveness in their 'lovemaking'.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it stopped and he pulled his hand away from her ass, leaving the blonde bombshell's holes slightly agape and achingly empty. Her clawing turned to a desperate attempt to cling on to him for support, joined by her legs, which he simply robbed from her by grabbing her sides and ripping her away from him, dropping her carelessly on the floor and letting her land on her ass, her knees up and her stocking-clad feet flat on the floor, her weight resting back on her flat palms. Artoria yelped as she landed, too surprised to even think about bringing her weak knees or quivering thighs together to protect her womanhood.

Slowly, Artoria began to look up at him, the shock and humiliation and horror of her situation leaving her mouth open and her eyes wide, fear finally seizing her and leaving her rooted to her spot. The blonde bombshell and formally disgraced woman quickly wished she hadn't. What happened next would have been far easier for her to deal with if she had just kept her gaze downcast. Her assaulter grabbed his equine cock and levelled it at her, grunting quietly. For a second, nothing happened, and then he exhaled in relaxation as he began to let loose. Artoria stared in confusion as he came on her face without any stimulation whatsoever…?

… It's not thick enough to be cum, the traumatized former High King realized, and she had watched Shirou cum often enough to know that it didn't stream out of his cock, either. It shot out. And it's not white…? It was such a clear yellow that it may as well have been water, bearing the same consistency, though it had a distinct smell to it, one that was definitely sweeter than cum. … oh, Christ.

She gasped as it clicked together in her head, horrified as her humiliation ramped up. Artoria gasped and quickly regretted it, his aim earning her a mouthful of piss that she couldn't help but swallow. Some of it went down the wrong way, setting her sputtering and coughing, her head ducking forward as she tried to hack it up. Absolutely unrepentant, the bastard chuckled, just as happy to wetten her hair as her face, at least for a moment.

But only a moment.

"Look at me," he growled, and shell-shocked by this development, Artoria didn't even consider disobeying. She looked up only to immediately have his stream hitting her forehead. Moaning her misery, she squeezed her eyes shut, her blonde eyelashes left dripping, both tears and piss now running rivulets down her cheeks. She barely noticed as he lowered his aim, sullying her breast and leaving her white blouse soaked through. His ability to relieve himself seemed endless, leaving her stockings damp and uncomfortably clinging to her skin. When it finally began to run dry, he shifted his aim and let the dregs loose right on her smooth-shaven snatch, not that her pussy needed to get any wetter.

As she sat there dripping piss, Artoria's shoulders gave a violent shudder. She felt her throat choke up, and as she gasped in a breath, a strange noise seemed to leave her, one she wasn't used to. She had seldom made it in her prior life, and had little need of it in her idyllic relationship with Shirou. It took her several seconds to realize what it was: she was sobbing. The beautiful body that had given her such a perfect life with Shirou -- What a curse. There wasn't a pure wish left in that Grail after all, not if it led to this. There was no denying it now: Artoria was defeated and disgraced, and her life would never be the same again.

The poor woman was still sobbing when he grabbed her hair and gave it a rough pull, forcing her to lift her chin. His enormous cock was soon pressing against her lips, and when Artoria simply didn't open her mouth immediately to welcome him in, he gave her face a painful cockslap with his equine dick and then rammed it in, making her taste his piss off the head of his cock before he was ravaging -- not ravishing, but ravaging -- her throat once more, somehow able to make her throat contain that monstrosity. He said something to her, but she couldn't hear the words over the sound of her gagging and groaning throat. Not just because it was loud and sloppy, but because the human mind is a strange thing capable of going to extraordinary lengths to protect itself.

Artoria simply dissociated from it. She could feel what was happening and what was being done to her body, but it was like it was happening to a different person -- because it couldn't possibly be happening to her , the woman once united Britain, who ruled as the King of Knights. Artoria Pendragon would never be raped like this.

Whatever she thought of herself as, however, she wasn't that woman anymore. She was Emiya Artoria. Eventually, the man who had conquered her and made her into his bitch pulled out of her. While Artoria gasped breathlessly, he gave his cock a few swift strokes and then unloaded his balls on to her once more. Rope after rope of cum splattered against her face, her hair and her clothes, completely proportionate to the unbelievable size of his cock and balls. Again, she found herself sputtering, given a one-man bukkake that should have taken ten.

Artoria remained detached as he pulled her up to her feet, pushed down to bend over the table she had woken up on, though he didn't let her just rest there. His fingers curled in her hair and shoved against the back of her head, pinning her cheek to it, careless for how her body groaned in protest at being treated like a piece of trash, her sore tit no more happy to be shoved down and squeezed against the table either. Knowing what was about to happen but not daring to consciously acknowledge it, her fingers gripped the edges of the table while he kicked her ankles apart to once again expose what was once hidden by her torn skirt and panties.

Dissociated or not, she couldn't help but let out a sharp little gasp when the broad head of his equine cock pressed against her cunt's lips. Wet as she was, the previous ventures of his fingers were nowhere near enough for her to prepare her for how it felt to be penetrated by his dick. Artoria went quiet, her lips forming a little 'o' as it started to squeeze inside the tiny hole that had only ever accepted Shirou's dick. Suffice to say, it did not welcome the invader despite how she dripped. The blonde's piss-dripping lashes fluttered and then fell to her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut; the 'o' of her lips slowly grew wider and wider the more he managed to squeeze into her, forcing her to spread wider than wide, breaking the very notion of limits for Artoria's poor cunt.

Somehow, the entire head fit inside her pussy. Artoria felt fuller than she ever had before, in both a good and bad way -- but it was most apparent in how the former King's nearly insatiable appetite, always nagging and gnawing at her, instantly disappeared, her stomach tricked by the sheer sensation into believing that she had more than her fill of food.

That could never happen. Her fill of cock, though? Absolutely. "Shirou," Artoria whispered, wishing he was there, wishing he burst through that door or came rushing down the stairs to save her. Neither happened, and then it was simply too late for him to save her. He thrusted into her like the savage he was, spearing his meaty log of a cock into her far too tiny hole, forcing her to stretch and accommodate him. It cut through the efforts of Artoria's mind to protect her, once again quickly overwhelming her. "Fff---FFFFFFUCK," she screamed, a true sign of how bad her situation was: such foul language had always been beneath her. The blonde's nails scratched deep into the cheap wood of the table, failing to notice the magical runes etched into them, the only reason it could possibly survive supporting her weight while he fucked her into it.

And he absolutely fucked her. Nothing Shirou had ever done to Artoria even approached the roughness and vigor he pounded her with, forcing her tight, one-cock pussy to take as much of his immense length as he possibly could, no matter how tightly her cunt clenched around him. It went past the point where Artoria was used to feeling Shirou, and well past his absolute deepest, jostling uncomfortably against her cervix in a way that made her howl out in pain, both her body and her mind desperately confused by the twisted pleasure that came hot on its heels. All at once, it was agony and bliss to her, when all she wanted it to be was misery.

One pump of his hips had him knocking on her cervix again, and then another and another -- and then he was forcing the tiny opening to give way, too, the last defense of her womb proving to be little more than a speed bump for his immense size. Artoria's ongoing howl of painful pleasure pitched even higher, to a full-on desperate shriek as her rapist went where absolutely no man had gone before, where absolutely no man should ever go. The poor blonde couldn't help but repeat that shriek, and when she could manage words, they were purely repetitive. "Fffffffuck-- fuck, FUCK, FUUUUUUUUUCK!" She kicked her legs helplessly and tried to lurch her hips up and away, but even an inch of progress just led to him pulling on her hair to force her back, continuing her painful, blissful ramming.

With a guttural growl of victory, the bastard finally gave Artoria's tortured hips one last brutal ram and pumped an unspeakably thick load of cum into her waiting womb. Her fertile cum repository accepted it happily, careless for how the rest of her body was reacting. The wet, warm splash wasn't that much different from Shirou's, except for how direct it was and the sheer volume it filled her with, almost enough sperm to impregnate an entire Japanese tightly-packed neighborhood of women. What once again made it so much worse for her was the fact her hapless womb loved it, and practically skipped as it skipped past her desperate and strained pussy right on to O-Town. Wild, nearly spastic convulsions ran through the woman's body, her throat so worn out from its brutal use and all its screaming that she could only whimper in her mix of misery and pleasure. Fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she was left sobbing once more, hating how it felt to cum despite how languid it left her body.

"You understand now, don't you?" he asked her, cruelly smug. Artoria didn't answer him, keeping her head down. He laughed and gave her ass a slap that almost buckled her body. He had to take a step back to make enough room to pull out of her, only to put his equine cock's crown right back against her, pressed up against the tiny, puckered hole of her asshole.

"No," Artoria managed to moan miserably, clinging on to that table for dear life. Her cunt had taken it, but her ass? There was no way. That was something she had never cared to try with Shirou. It just seemed wrong . It was a one-way street… but then, he already had his thumb shoved up in it. It was clear he didn't care. "Please, no," she whimpered, nothing like the woman who had woken up already beneath his horse cock.

"Oh, you don't understand," the bastard drawled, feigning surprise, his apparent misunderstanding driving her to a new height of panic. Artoria started to look over her shoulder at him, but a noise directly across from her led to her snapping her gaze forward, her green gaze lighting up with hope as the rune-etched steel door opened.

Shirou…!

It wasn't him, but it was the next best thing. "Rin," she gasped, lifting one hand from the table and reaching out for her beloved friend. It had been over a year since Artoria, or anyone else, had seen or spoken to Tohsaka Rin, busy with something that supposedly had to do with the Clock Tower. "Rin!"

It was Rin's face and Rin's eyes, Rin's hair and Rin's skin -- but a second passed, and Artoria realized she barely recognized the woman who stood in that doorway. Rather than gaze at the blonde with concern, the slim mage gazed at her almost dispassionately, with only dislike and jealousy showing through the cracks of her expression. The only thing she wore was her tight, thigh-high stockings and the ribbons that kept her hair up in their usual twin tails. With Rin's brazen nudity, the fact that her breasts were so much fuller and her nipples so much darker stood out plainly to Artoria, just the tiniest bit of milk leaking from one. Her smooth-shaven cunt was visibly swollen with ignored arousal, though cum visibly dripped out of her hole as she stood there.

Rin didn't leap to save Artoria. In fact, she stood there with one hand on her hip and the other holding a smartphone to her ear. If not for the little lion charm hanging from it, the blonde wouldn't have realized it was her own . "Yes," she said not with her voice, but something else of Artoria's, a perfect mimicry of her voice. "I'm sorry. I would have called in sick, but I felt so bad that I must have slept through my alarm." She even faked a cough into it as Artoria stared, aghast.

The bastard -- her master, and Rin's master too -- didn't stare. He went right ahead and asserted his ownership of Artoria's body, just as he always planned to do. His monstrous cock should not have fit , but it did, much to Artoria's dismay, even seeming to force past the tight resistance posed by her puckered virgin asshole far easier than it broke in her pussy. "R-- Rin!" she gasped out, her fingers stretching as far as they could, but far from being able to reach the other woman as her ass widened up painfully, the sheer size of the bastard's cock enough to ensure her pussy was practically squeezed shut by how he made her bowels bulge.

"-- Yes, yes. Again, I'm very sorry. My apologies. I should be good to come in tomorrow. Goodbye," Rin said, still with Artoria's voice, and she even used it when she snapped at the blonde. "Shut up. I'm on the phone, you-- you undeserving bimbo," she spat, clearly furious to see her old friend receiving the gift of their master's cock. Artoria was shocked into silence even through her anal reaming, even as Rin made another call on the phone. "... Shirou? My coworkers have invited me out for drinks tonight and karaoke. … No, it'll just be us. Maybe you could come along another time, but this is the first time they've invited me and none of them will be bringing their wives. … Thank you. I love you too. Goodbye."

Artoria couldn't believe what she was seeing, nor what she was hearing. Rin's presence, the spite in her voice when she addressed Artoria… the way she pretended to be Artoria to cover up her absence to both her workplace and Shirou. "W-why?" she croaked out, before her eyes squeezed tightly shut and she grabbed desperately at the table again, the flat hand scratching desperately at it for some form of purchase as she suffered another unwilling orgasm.

Rin didn't answer her, waving her hand and murmuring a word to dismiss the spell that disguised her voice. "It's done now, Master," she told the nine-foot-tall bastard, almost skipping up to his side. The way she pushed her shoulders back and arched her torso to push her motherly tits out at him was juvenile seduction at its finest, trying to just get his attention through her naked flesh, her full breasts and her clear desire. "May I--"

"You can have cock later," he grunted at her, not even giving her the benefit of a look before he lifted a hand and shoved her away. Not with her full strength, but enough that the dark-haired mage stumbled away a step and almost flailed her arms to catch her balance. "You've already been bred today. Go back to your work," he ordered her, even as he found the utter depths of Artoria's ass and pumped it full of his cum.

Sullen and sulking, Rin walked away, shooting Artoria a dirty look as she went. Even as a child, the heir of the Tohsaka magic crests had never been good at sharing, though she was his toy and not the other way around -- his toy, and the mother of his children. The blonde didn't see it. Artoria stopped seeing at all, even as their master pulled out of her ass and hauled her back from her position, dragging her down to the floor.

Once again, Artoria dissociated from what happened to her body, but this time it wasn't her subconscious mind working to protect her. Now it was simply despondency setting in, brought on by her thorough shame and humiliation, and the little glimmer of hope that she had for a second there being so thoroughly smashed by reality. Once again, things had clicked into place for her. It wasn't random that he knew all of those things about her, and Rin hadn't gone to the Clock Tower at all. All along, the friend Artoria missed so dearly was still in Fubuki City, being fucked and abused by this cruel bastard -- and somewhere along the way, she had told him everything about her. Absolutely everything.

Betrayed and defiled, Artoria sank to her knees and simply took the path of least resistance, her mouth opening to accept his cock when he presented it to her. For her obedience, he went straight from ass to mouth and once again fucked her face thoroughly, ensuring her throat would be sore for the next week and leaving her dripping with another fresh layer of his potent spunk. She just as limply accepted the 'gift' of his refilled bladder emptying out and on to her once again, even when it meant he pissed directly into her mouth or on to her gaping, cum-oozing cunt, and once that was done he was fucking that hole again too, readily fucking her womb once again, topping off what had drained and pumping her full. So full, in fact, that her pussy overflowed, and each further pump of his cock had spurts of his cum squirting out of her straining cunt.

It didn't take long for Artoria's ass to be pumped just as full as her womanhood, her body and her ruined clothes covered in even more of his virile sperm. And it never got any easier for her, no matter how many times he carelessly made her cum against her every wish. Even though her reactions were now muted, he carried on as normal, not losing an ounce of interest in her voluptuous body and reasserting his claim on her over and over and over again.

Artoria had sex with Shirou regularly, but in that one day the bastard whose name she still didn't learn must have fucked her more times than he ever did. To her shame, he also gave her far more pleasure than her boyfriend ever had, miserable as it was. He had taken her in the morning, but when he finally brought her outside, her nearly-boneless body contorted as he held her in a nelson and reamed her ass while they walked, it was pitch dark out. Having completely lost any sense of time, Artoria couldn't begin to guess how long he walked with her through the night, or how many times he pumped her ass full of cum or made her already cum-dripping body gush his seed out of her cunt along with her own fluids.

Gradually, she became more and more aware of Fubuki City's lights in the distance. At some point, he lowered his lips to her ear and whispered to her in that deep voice that made her body so terrified, "What would Shirou think?" It pierced through her despondency. There was no way she could ever let him find out what had happened -- that she had been so weak, so easily dominated, so easily fucked. That this beastial man had drenched her in inhuman amounts of his sperm and had marked her as his with his piss. It wouldn't just ruin their relationship; it would ruin Shirou as he realized that he failed to protect the two women who meant the most to him.

Not long afterwards, he dropped her and walked away without a word, leaving his shaken victim to find her own way out of it all. It was some time before Artoria stopped her silent shaking and quiet crying, beginning her long crawl back home.