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wri0thesley · 2 years

Note

Consider

Dottore has all those clones. What if after you’re being a bit of a pest in the lab he decides to kill two birds with one stone: he has all his clones take turns (or maybe more than one at once 👀 ) doing various acts on you while he takes notes on your reactions for his own personal research on you.

me, in the dreamiest tone imaginable: what a terrible man.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. medical kink, dubious consent, dark content, drugging. throatfucking, 'titjob', double penetration, anal, voyeurism. afab reader with neutral pronouns.

(send me a genshin kink thought/thirst for elucidation and drabbles)

Dottore is humming as the restraints click into place, a smile on his face beneath the mask, revealing sharp, sharp teeth. Teeth that you have become intimately familiar with, and have the bites and the bruises and the puncture marks to prove such.

"Does that feel secure, dearest?" He asks, his smile not dissipating. "They might get a little excited, you see. I'd rather not have you trampled underfoot! We need you still so I can take notes, don't we?"

You tug on the leather bonds keeping your wrists affixed to either side of your head. Almost no give. You swallow back the fear that rises in your throat, and try to keep your voice quiet and calm when you speak to Dottore. He does not miss the tremble, of course - but Dottore always pinches your cheeks and praises you when you try for him, and a pleased Dottore is a Dottore far less likely to let this go too far.

"H-how many of them are you going to . . .?"

Dottore chuckles.

"Well," he says, pretending to think; raising a finger to his chin in a mocking pose. "This time, you only knocked over four of my test samples. So . . . one for each ruined experiment, wouldn't you say? That seems very, very fair to me!"

He's still smiling.

"In fact," his voice drops; lowers a semi-tone, becomes a little darker and rougher and deeper. "I'd say it's more than fair. Those test samples took me days of my time. You're only going to have to be my good little test subject for . . . ooh, a few hours?" He reaches down, fondly chucks your chin. "And you're so, so good at it! My very favourite!"

". . . F-four?"

Dottore's gloved hands slide down your body from your wrists, the thin fabric of the medical gown ghosting along your sides and making you shudder. You're used to this cheap, scratchy nylon ("Why anything fancier, dear, when - if it doesn't get covered in fluids - I'm taking it off at the first opportunity?"), but you're on edge from the threat of today's experiment and it sets gooseflesh all down your back and arms.

"Good to see your cognitive functions are still working," he teases, like this is all just a joke. "Exactly. Four of them. You know, picking which ones got to take part lead to a little scuffle . . . They really like you."

You know this. Dottore's clones - his other segments, the other parts of him who do his bidding sometimes and take care of less interesting tasks - are always staring at you. Always finding excuses to touch you and linger by the operating table or hospital bed when Dottore is in one of his moods and would rather have you there than his bed. Dottore clicks his tongue and smiles and coldly reminds them that 'they may look, but only he may touch'.

Well. Aside from today, it seems.

Dottore clatters around a little beside you, and then something is being pressed against your lips; the cool lip of a glass test tube. The liquid that swills into your mouth is bitter, and every instinct you have says to spit it out - but you are indeed a good test subject, so you don't.

"Swallow," he tells you. "It's simply a mild energy booster. I don't know how rough they might decide to be with you today, but I fear they'd be riots if you passed out before they all got at least one turn." You shudder as you obey him. What does Dottore expect his clones to do to you? "Ah! Wonderful."

Dottore has dragged a chair off to one side; he sits in it now, elegantly crossing his legs, a clipboard resting on his lap. The shine of those sharp teeth keep drawing your eye, even as he murmurs under his breath and scribbles something down.

"Now!" His voice goes a little louder. "They're ready. We can begin." Dottore's clones have a habit of showing up when you least expect them. Melting from the shadows in order to do whatever menial task or errand or job that Dottore has deemed himself above - and now is no different. Suddenly, there are four Dottores by you, all looking at you with a hunger in your eyes that you have become very intimate with.

"Be good for them, now," the real Dottore - Dottore Prime, as he occasionally laughingly calls himself - says, from his position in the chair. "Some of them are more unstable than others."

You blink up in wide-eyed fear at the four Dottores. There has evidently been some kind of pre-agreed on order for this, because it is only one of them who reaches out for you - only one of them, at first, who rucks up your thin cotton hospital gown to your hips to bare your thighs to the room.

"Unbruised," Dottore murmurs to himself, scribbling down on his pad. "Subject begins the experiment with mostly unblemished skin, no orgasms in the past six hours, an average amount of lubrication--"

You have several hypotheses on what Dottore told his clones the aim of his experiment was.

Your first is that they are to see how many times you can orgasm before your body simply shuts down; that one is based on the fact that there are always hands, all over you.

Gloved fingers sliding into your cunt, scissoring you open, rubbing against the tunnel of your sex until your hips are arching up and you're whimpering and they can tell that you're close. Another Dottore's hand pinching your nipples at the same time; one more Dottore with his fingers swirling over your clit. The last one gets to rut his cock into your mouth--

"Oh, they're being terribly noisy, I can barely hear myself think," Dottore had said, sighing. Looking up from his notepad, he had seen that one of his clones looked to have precious little to do, and had smiled. "You. Find a way to keep them quiet, won't you?"

Of course, this means that they have to swap, to ensure that all of their cocks get a turn thrusting into the hot, wet confines of your throat. You're thankful for the energy booster Dottore had forced you to drink then, at least - your mouth was at least wet. This means that different hands pinch at your nipples; a different mouth (full of those sharp, terrifying teeth) decides to over-stimulate your sex in a different way. The last Dottore decides to see how you react to coming if he slides a lubricated finger into your ass, whilst one of his brethren sucks and licks and makes you wail uselessly into the thick cock currently occupying your airways.

Your second hypotheses is that Dottore's experiment is, instead; 'how many times can you bring them to orgasm'.

Your hands are not freed, so you can't assist them in that way; but Dottore's clones are nothing if not inventive. Of course, there's your cunt - wet, hot, tight and needy . . . They argue over that, push and pull on one another, until Dottore tells them in a stern voice that they only have so long for this little experiment and if they really want to get to fuck you they ought to manage their time more wisely.

Your mouth is second place; consolation prize. One of them comes up with the bright idea of pressing the soft mounds of your breasts together and fucking into that, smearing his pre-come over your bare skin and - yes, Dottore was right - ruining the thin medical gown.

Your ass --

"Dottore," you whimper, as the table is readjusted via the complicated lever system that Dottore himself had invented. "I-- I don't know if I can t-take that--"

"Hmm," Dottore had said, giving you that detached cocked-head tilt with the bright, interested eyes that you know never signals good news. "Well! What is science without a little pushing of one's limits, hmm? Just relax and breathe for me, be a good little thing--!"

One of them suggests that they try and fit two cocks inside of your cunt at once, and Dottore practically lights up.

That's your third hypothesis.

There are the others. How much cum can you swallow, how long can they leave you hovering on the precipice of an orgasm without letting you fall, how deep can they fuck into you without you squirming and saying it hurts too much--

But you endure, and you take it, because you are Dottore's good test subject and that is what you do. And you come! You come over and over again, with wails and whimpers and gushes of fluid--

("See? Do that again. Hit that spot again. See if you can make them produce that volume of lubrication again--")

And when you have been utterly exhausted and it hurts to come, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to even have those same gloved palms brush your over-sensitive bare skin - your Dottore dismisses his clones and comes to undo your bindings, he assists you in standing on legs that tremble with over-exertion and needles of pain-pleasure still prickling through them.

"Did you . . . did you get the information you need?" You ask him, and he laughs. Once more, he pets your cheek with the flat of his hand; treating you like a little pet. A laboratory rat. You are praying to any Archons who will listen, to Celestia itself, that Dottore will not want to repeat this experiment.

"You're adorable," he pronounces, as he wipes a bead of come from the corner of your lip. "Ridiculous thing. The only experiment I was doing was how much it would take to make sure you learnt to be more careful in my laboratory. Mmm. You won't be so reckless next time, will you?"

Ah. Final hypothesis:

Dottore is simply a bastard.

#dottore x reader #medical kink cw #dottore smut #not sfw text #dark content for ts #dub con for ts #punishment for ts #drabble #writing #ask game #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact posting

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