User blog:MockingJester/Doctor, do you need a doctor?

It was obvious he would be on in it.

André, the gentle giant, as they called him in his current surrounding. 'Bucket' tolled to him, a legacy from his time in the military. Once, a libel term for the bucket he fell into once, it became his true alias for the shield he loved carrying. They spoke of him in praise, following closely behind as much as the shield he brought for a high-end security career.

A shield that was smeared with the wounds and battered pride of those who had cornered a were sheep and her husband, binding the man to a pole and forcing him to bear his wife being defiled one-by-one, all in the name of mindless pleasure.

Having heard of a friend who almost faced the same situation, André had no want for a deaf ear to their pleading cries. Unfortunately for the would-be rapists, 'bucket' really did live up to his name, as he smashed their faces against his massive shield. The numbers did nothing to aid them, nor did their pleads found any ears to hear them, the first victim being the man who already had his pants dangled down, so close to his foul desire.

One-by-one, they fell, too crippled to move, filled with innumerable wounds, enough to last them months in a hospital. Their cries, ironically, found none to save them in the dark of the night.

Watching the two clinging to each other in fiery tears of a tragedy narrowly avoided filled him with great compassion, sheltering them under his shield as he escorted the two to a police station, where he finally heard how it happened before.

It turns out yet another thought the same, for André's hand was soon joined with an angel of love: a Houri. A blessed wife who constantly bestowed the best he could, as eternal gratitude to her patron who saw fit to see a man with unfiltered aggressivity to those committing her most unforgivable sin.

And now... "Mister and Miss Cullen, it is good to see you". An angel who knocked on his door was now in the midst of a conversation with the man himself. His Houri wife, Olivia, sat in his lap, feeling his hands gently wrapped around her hips, with her caramel fingers lovingly clad over his.

"The pleasure is all...ours?" returns the man, the two of them somewhat confounded at an Order's angel presence to their domain.

"I'm sure you have questions about my being here. It's about an incident heard a few months ago". She pulls out pictures. Pictures of men in various injuries. Lots of pictures "These men were found at a secluded area, littered on the floor like discarded refuse. Witnesses spoke of a man with what looked like a shield walking away with two more underneath".

"Yes...?" Olivia, who's whole reason to be blessed with her husband, recognized those in the pictures as her spouse timidly confirmed. A rather hefty frown twisted her ordinarily devoted visage, glossed with eyes empty of light, save for a thousand curse uttered in her mind.

"You wouldn't happen to know about this little incident, would you?" The angel leans in, still on her couch, certain of detaining the culprit before her.

"Yes, he did" Olivia takes the speech, somewhat surprising both her husband and the interrogator "And what of it? He just acted at his heart would, like any another with the power to do so would. To prevent two faithful from falling to an abyss of horrors they would have committed".

"Really? Mister Cullen?" The angel turns to André,  seeking a response.

He sighs, his head turned sideways "I'm sorry ma'am, but, I have absolutely no regret. If I walked the same street and saw what was to happen, I would do it again. I would, with a sworn smile on my face".

"Would you now?"

"Yes, by golly, yes I would. Ask any of my old mates, talk to my friend who almost had this happening to him and his wife. If I knew this place was infested with such individuals--

"Well, I'm going to stop you right here, Mister Cullen I'm not here to scold you" The angel rises from her seat, a badge in hand. Flipping it, she bestows the side of two faces, as a coin would bear. One of the chief god's, featuring the overlord "It seems I have found another candidate, then".

"A candidate?" The couple spout in modest surprise with Olivia reaching out the badge.

"Yes. With your goddess, it sounds like you have three deities on a common front about the vermin you call the NTR groups. About enough for my patron and the overlord to actively condemn those within it".

"Yea...that sounds about right" André looks at the badge his wife is examining. Being a servant of the divine, Olivia could feel the weigh of light and shadow within.

"We would be grateful to see an affiliate of Eros join the ranks. Of course, you will be compensated with thrice the salary you currently have".

"Really?" Olivia speaks with a slight increase in pitch in her voice, slow to turn to her faithful ~Sugarplum?~

Her eyes convey the fiery passion at the thought of her husband acting as some sort of wrathful angel toward the sinners of her patron. Her cheeks blossom to a red, hot enough to appear on her caramel cheeks. Unsurprisingly, this sort of thought had gotten her hot and bothered, judging by the honey in her voice.

André can see it clear as day. And better still, it was entirely within his character. One of his hands fondles her stomach as a favorable response, his eyes turned to the angel "Where do I begin?"

"Here..." The angel triumphantly pulls out a folder, this time, featuring a couple of a man and a mermaid. Olivia's heart swells with love at the sight "There is a couple earnestly trying to conceive a child. However, as we all know, monsters have a lower rate of pregnancy...save for these two, unfortunately..."

The angel then pulls out yet another picture, one depicting a man with glasses "...for this doctor has slowly been goading them to think he'd have a solution for her non-existant fertility problem. I think you can put the rest of the puzzle together..."

"How many of them?" André's voice trembles, a hungry delight to 'meet' this doctor and those who may hide behind the scene.

"About a dozen or so".

"Oh dear..." Olivia shudders as a hand reaches for her heart "The poor girl..."

"Yes, a tragedy. Well, was, considering the background of your husband". The angel once again sets her gaze on André, his eyes widen with gleeful anticipation "Mister Cullen? You have a month until the fateful day, a date they fixed. I'm sure this is enough for you to find out about them. Ohh, and one last thing..."

"Yes?"

"Please, try not to kill them. The government has given its support, but we would prefer not to involve bodies".

"Well, of course..." André turns to  be beloved, the latter now sharing in a wholly justified malicious glare "One cannot be judged if one is already at the gates of death, is he?" --- "Yes, please come in" A doctor speaks to a woman. A mermaid adorned with a silver band in the use of transposing magic to afflict her with human legs. Legs still bearing the legacy of her true shape via blue scales on the edge of her ankles to her feet.

"Thank you, doctor". Her walk is elegant, despite being a stranger with human legs. Her eyes convey the hope of feeling her stomach plump with a growing child, visible with the manner she pats her belly "I'm so glad the day has come. Hudley is, as well".

"Well, of course, my poor, poor lady. I'm glad I can be of help". He smiles at her course to the operating chair, his grin growing deviant behind her back. He follows his hands on a piece of equipment. A mask, to induce one to sleep "Now, don't you worry about a thing. Once you wake up, you'll be a soon-to-be mother".

The mask tethers on her mouth, quickly putting her to sleep. A deep sleep. His previous grin returns with force as the only man besides her "Oh my dear, how beautiful you are. How unfortunate your limp husband could not meet your quota..."

A second door on the right of the room, supposedly an exit, is knocked upon. He looks to the door, where dozen of men await, each more lustful than the previous.

"How lucky you are, my little wench. Many willing men waiting to pump your fertile womanhood with their potent seed". He walks close to her unconscious body, boasting the characteristics of a youthful woman. Pristine skin. A plump chest. Arousing legs. A waist starved to bear a child or children.

The doctor's examination fans his horrid desire, once again hearing another knock. He spares but a glance to the door "Bah! They don't know ethics, do they? The doctor must make his examinations first..." He throws his blouse away, leaving him with a shirt and pants, both affiliated to a doctor's uniform. His fingers delicately entwine around his victim's pants, unfastening them utterly. Then, her underwears.

His desire grows under each inch uncovered, leaving the mermaid devoid of anything covering her intimacy, to which, he unzips his flyer "Ohh, how plump. Your weasel of a husband must not want a child for you to be so...unspoiled. Don't you worry..."

He climbs to the chair, his phallus now standing as hard as it could over the mermaid's intimate area. His ears are met with the absence of a knocking, to his relief "I will love you the way you wished he could. And then, they will. Over and over. All while he waits. It will be pleasurable, as you monsters love".

His hands cling to her waist, positioning himself. His face drools with the prospect of the pleasure awaiting him. He moves, slowly, seeking to savor every inch of penetration...

One that will forever elude him as the sudden trash of pain afflicts the back of his head "?!!---Ahh!!!" A crack on his neck is felt as he is forced back to a horrifying sight: a man wearing a gas mask with a harrowing greeting, his voice, distorted by electronics, yet unable to filter out his teeming disdain "Well...hello, Christopher".

A violent impact crashes on his windpipe as the metal of an armored gauntlet darts it in a punch, causing him to lose all breath. His eyes widen as he gasps for the precious oxygen. He finds no time to purchase one, as the man clad in a trench coat hurls him from his hair straight to the frame where the door is. With no door to stop his fall to the asphalt. His glasses crack at the impact, despite the back of his head falling head first.

His hands are tethered on his throat, desperately seeking to breathe as the shock of a punch still reels deep. His eyes, wide with fear, bloated with tears make out the descending man going over the three steps beyond the door "Who ar--ack ack! Ack ack ack!" He could barely speak, still struggling with oxygen.

One of his hands moves in a shriveled and trembling display of self-defense as the man approaches. The cold grip of metal clads around the wrist he dares to rise to his aggressor. The retribution is swift, his arm pulled to the other, the grip now attached to his face "Christopher, Christopher, how disappointing..."

He is sent tumbling against a brick wall further to a corner, this time, face first. His glasses fall off beforehand, his tumble proving too great for them.

He crashes to his knees a second time, this time breathing with full fear upon him "W-who are you?! Why are you--argh!" He rushes to the masked André, a scalpel in hand. he held it close, awaiting the mermaid's sudden re-awakening to hold her in place as he defiled her, should she resist.

It found no use against a man experienced in military conduct as it found none to her. His stomach is preyed upon by an upward hook, the shock temporary disabling his hands, causing him to drop the scalpel as a palm dig again at his face for the second time, sending again to the wall.

However, his legs do not rise for the third time, the amount of abuse he could take, a predictable few. André walks toward him, his hands shrugging his question "Why am I in this very place? Christopher, perhaps you should ask them..." His hand points at the kneeling doctor, slow to make a sweep around.

"T-t-them? What d-d-do you mean--!!" Pre-occupied by his aggressor, the doctor had not foreseen the litter of bodies. Men, bludgeoned and bruised, strewn about in the darkest of areas. None of them are left intact.

"What?! H-how--

"Rapists make rather poor fighters, Christopher, be it with weaponry or numbers. But..." André claps his hands, reverberating in a metal clank "...enough about them, how about you?"

"Now, now, hold on!!" The poor doctor, unable to make use of his legs, instead crawls to the wall, wailing as he does"P-please! I didn't want any of it! T-they forced me!"

"Is that so, Christopher? Is that why your pants are unzipped?" André continues his march, stopping close as the doctor realizes that throughout his trashing, he was still 'hard'. His hands meekly got to cover himself.

"I-I mean--

"Shh, shh, listen, I have someone on the phone for you" André throws an unspecified phone at the doctor. His trembling hands temptively pat it, unsure of what to make of this.

"Someone? Who could you possibly--" A quiet sobbing afflicts the end of the cellphone with a voice he recognizes. Trembling hands gather around the electronic constantly under André's hidden gaze. A shield adorns his back all the while.

"H-honey?"

"My god, Christopher! Is this true?"

"Is what true--

"Were you about to have your way with this woman? While she wasn't conscious?!" The voice cries. His wife's.

"What? What are you saying?"

"DID YOU TRY TO RAPE A WOMAN IN HER SLEEP?!"

"What?! No! No, I didn't--

'''Ohh, how plump. Your weasel of a husband must not want a child for you to be so...unspoiled. Don't you worry...'''

The doctor's blood freezes as he sees his captor playing a tape on his hand,  loud enough for the woman on the phone to hear his words. His thumb moves twice, pressing a series of buttons for another record to play, sealing her doubts.

'''I will love you the way you wished he could. And then, they will. Over and over. All while he waits. It will be pleasurable, as you monsters love...'''

"Oh god...oh lord...Christopher...my lord, Christopher..." The voice is boundless in her sobbing, wailing in grand tones.

"Honey, honey, it's not what you think--

"Don't you 'honey' me, you psychopath! I didn't think you would be among these people. Did I not satisfying you?  Was I not enough?! Did our vows mean nothing?!"

"No, no, you did, you did!"

"Then what is it that I'm hearing!? Huh?! What did I just hear right now?! Cheating on me wasn't enough, so you wanted to have a poor woman being defiled by other men?!"

"No, no--

"I'm through listening, Christopher!" A small bouncing noise echoes through the phone, one akin to a coin striking the table "I'm taking the children with me...your papers...your papers with come next week..."

"Honey--

"Don't speak to me like that, you disgusting pig! I refuse to be tethered with a mindless rapist like you!"

"No, wait, please--

"Never contact me again!" The phone hangs mid-sentence, leaving the doctor alone to speak, afflicting his ear with a continuous buzz.

His hands no longer carry the strength to hold the phone, leaving it to crash on the asphalt "No..." They tremble under his sight "No..." Slowly raising his eyes "No". Towards the man standing in front, his tearful eyes boiling with rage "No! No!"

His legs get a boon of adrenaline that he uses in murderous purpose, picking up his scalpel to swing at André "You bastard! You bastard!" He swings, over and over. To no avail, his movement all too sluggish for the ex-military who saw his attacks long before they popped in his mind "You ruined me! You ruined me!!! She didn't need to know! It was just casual fun and you ruined it!!"

"Casual?" André ducks under a swing of the blade, hooking a punch upward, this time, fierce enough to force spit to seep out the doctor's mouth, his feet detached from the ground. This lift lasts but a second, causing the doctor to stumble, his hands clenching on his stomach in pain.

"Casual, you say? That is not what I see here, Christopher. Trying to defile a woman is casual fun to you, is it? To watch her struggle as vermin slide themselves inside her is fun to you, is it? To hear her scream, beg for mercy to uncaring ears and malicious grins, that's what is fun to you? To be impregnated with another man's child, broken and devoid of will, that is fun to you?"

André forcefully grabs the doctor's hair and throws him backward, forcing his back to the floor. Seeing the man struggle in tears brings no stop to André, his foot spreading the man's arm wide "Tell me, Christopher, is it fun? To be laying on the floor, defenseless, alone, suffering?"

"Gah---!" The man spat more spit, the latest punch having cut his breath short. His eyes scream his fear to the man standing over him.

"Yes. That look. This is what really feel, Chris. An abyss of dread. And I will help you remember this dread..." One of his gauntlets opens to a section of a sigil. A heart, split in half, dripping with an ink-like substance on the palm.

The man struggling in a pointless endeavor, feeling the liquid dropping on his face. André nooks his head sideways "Ohh, don't worry...your friends already share this mark. A mark that casts you as a reject from love's matron. A curse, if you will. Your phallus will no longer bring any pleasure, but pain, the next time you try to force yourself on a woman. You will be tainted with a foul aura that will see every woman steer from you in disgust.  You will be unloved, you will be untouched. The concept of love, pleasure, from a woman, will be alien to you for the rest of your life...this is what you earned...Christopher"

N-no...please no, no, no no--Uhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!" The palm coils around his mouth, inflicting its vile curse on the man. The sensation of his private is robbed. The world darkens to his sight. The bright colors flee from his eyes.

André lets go, watching the man trying to scratch the ink away "One does not burn the curse of a god so easily, Christopher. People will come for you...special people. They have a place for people like you..."

André moves from the man, walking away, inside the clinic through the back door before shutting it, leaving the disgraced doctor to lay in a street filled with his complices, all bearing the same curse. All of them, sobbering, whimpering as black vans soon approached the streets...