[Consider this a biiiig NSFW warning: graphic and in some cases non-consensual sex. You've been warned.]

“I’m sorry about my older self…” Artoria Lily said as she hefted another box, wiping off some sweat.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mordred said as she moved another, “You and her are two different people at this point, you don’t have to answer for what she does.”

“I know but… really, not doing something as simple as clearing out some space if it’s with you? That’s just petty!”

The two were together in Chaldea, clearing out an unused room to make some space for further expansion. As their Master summoned more and more Servants, the occupied space of the facility grew and grew. At the beginning, it was occupied by a number of people you could count on your fingers, and that obviously meant it’s expansive facilities and dormitories were underutilized. While the number of staff had remained static - it was hard to get more, what with being the last humans in existence - the number of Servants had swelled.

Mordred and Artoria… well, the ‘main’ one, at least… had been asked to clear some space. Artoria had refused, claiming a training session with other knights of the round table as her reasoning, but Mordred was sure it was just because she didn’t want to bother herself with helping her child out. Then, Artoria Lily, the sweetheart she was, had offered her own services. Which was why the two were in this room together, clearing out a bunch of boxes that had been sent on ahead by a staff member who had never arrived.

“Still, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your help,” Mordred said as she hefted another box. Artoria Lily wasn’t the cold ruler that her other incarnations often acted as - she was a kind, sweet young woman, and one of very few people that Mordred got along with besides their Master.

“Thanks- ah, watch out!”

Mordred didn’t notice the box she was about to step over, what with her arms full, and tripped. The enhanced reflexes of a Servant meant she didn’t tumble as a normal person would have, but she did drop the box. It’s flap, insecurely fastened, opened and it’s contents spilled out across the floor.

“Gah, crap, help me with this stuff… whatever it is…” Mordred muttered, as she bent down to look at what had spilled out. It was a lot of black, that was immediately apparent - it was the only unifying theme of the contents.

There were assorted items of clothing, to start - all in black, grey, and some dark purples. Some seemed heavily damaged. Others were studded with gleaming stones. There were some spiked bangles and collars in the assortment as well. At first, Mordred thought the spiked apparel was responsible for the damage, but on closer inspection, the ripping was not the jagged tears that one would expect from normal clothing damage, but instead precise cuts; it had been torn intentionally and with a goal in mind. What that goal was, who could say?

The next item was a set of tools and a sketchbook next to it. The book was filled with macabre imagery; skulls and skeletons, flames and death, with the odd heart strangled by snakes or other odd imagery. The tools included a large bottle of an unusual black ink, miraculously undamaged in the fall, and what looked to be a needle. Who drew with a needle?

The third and last set of items was assorted magazines and posters, depicting youths in leather and spikes. On further inspection, they seemed to be music magazines and the odd fashion magazine.

Artoria Lily picked one of the magazines up, flipping through the pages. “What is all this…? It looks kinda weird, doesn’t it Mordred?”

“I dunno.” Mordred said, picking up one of the tools - the word ‘tattoo needle’ followed by a brand name was scrawled on the side in stylized letters. Mordred had some knowledge of the modern era, so she knew what a tattoo was - but why was something built to make them there? She looked at the sketchbook as well, and the name on it. She didn’t know the person, but they did have the title ‘Magus of the Clocktower’ noted under their name. “Some weird magus, I guess?”

Flipping through the sketchbook, and looking at the clothes, something seemed to call to Mordred. Something about… what it all represented. There weren't just weird symbols, but rants against the hierarchy of mages, about clocktower bureaucracy and government. This person had been born with few magic circuits, it seemed - and they considered it a gross injustice. The people at the top doing their damndest to keep those at the bottom beneath them. The person who wrote the rants tore apart every aspect of society in their lengthy ramblings, and went well beyond the walls of the ancient school for magi. London, England, the United Kingdom, the world, everything had to go, they said.

The person had fought authority with every fiber of his being. They’d spat on their order and power and showed that in their words, their actions, in their clothes even. Mordred looked at this magus who had fought the power and lost, and felt a kindred spirit. She had never met them and likely never would, but she felt she knew them on a level only fellow rebels could see.

Her own rebellion had… not ended well. The first time, at least. But seeing this… well, maybe she would be able to succeed in this life. It was a different time and place, but the spark of rebellion had evidently carried on through history, and it had lit a fire in her again.

“Hey, Lily… you think you could help me try this stuff on?” Mordred asked after a bit of staring. She was pretty sure the magus had been a woman, and one who was reasonably close to her own sizes.

Artoria blinked in surprise. “...Are you sure? This isn’t yours to take, is it?”

“Hey, whoever this stuff belongs to probably got wiped with the rest of humanity, yeah? So what’s the harm?” Mordred said. She wasn’t sure why she felt so strongly about this - she simply had to give it a shot, something about those images in the sketches had triggered something deep inside of her…

Seeing Mordred’s enthusiasm, the young Saber couldn’t bring herself to disappoint her friend. “...Sure, but we’ll put it back after we’re done cleaning, ok?”

Mordred waved the question off without a response, and began to pull off her clothes. Once Lily saw how good she looked, she wouldn’t gripe so much about who the clothes technically belonged to. They were hers now and that’s what mattered. “Whatever, just help me put together an outfit from this…”

Artoria blushed fiercely as Mordred began to take her clothes off. Admittedly they weren’t super covering in the first place, but still! She didn’t understand why she was so enthralled by this modern style, but she was happy to help make Mordred happy.

It was a bit rough having to help work up a style without looking at Mordred and her stripped down self, but Lily thought she managed it. A few minutes after Mordred started to take off her clothes, she was clad in leather and spikes, checking herself out in a wall-mirror. The shirt was ripped in places, especially around the neck to give it a makeshift neckline, and had a stylized skull design on it. She wore dark jeans that had been torn apart at the knees, turning them into DIY shorts. Her body practically jingled with accessories - not your standard jewels, though, but a spiked collar and assorted bangles with the same. “Looks great, if I say so myself!” the punked up woman said with a grin. “I like this ‘punk’ look. A lot actually.”

“That’s really nice, Mordred, but I think it’s time to get back to work…” Lily said, not looking too closely. Mordred’s new outfit was all black, and clung tightly to her body in a way that made the youthful Saber feel kind of like she shouldn’t look - and that was before taking into account all the gaps and tears that showed so much skin. “It looks like it’s too ripped anyway-”

Mordred interrupted her by turning to Artoria, and getting entirely too close for comfort. “Say, I notice there’s a lot more left over… what do you say we get you to try it out? I bet you'd look cute.”

“I-I-We really shouldn’t....” Artoria stammered, not sure where it was safe to look.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.” Mordred brushed the worry off, shoving a new shirt into the other Saber’s hands. “You’ll look great, and if you don’t like it we can put it back, right?” she took the sketchbook again and thumbed through it to a certain page she’d seen. “I think we’ve got the clothes for this kind of look… come on, now, start stripping!”

Seeing the sketches triggered something in the young Saber much as it had in Mordred. A connection. She wanted to try the stuff on. Mordred was being so… forceful, about it. Normally, she’d be repulsed. But for some reason, it was making her feel kind of excited. She chalked it up to the knight’s infectious enthusiasm. “...Alright, just for a bit.”

Unlike Artoria, Mordred didn’t turn away from Lily as she undressed. Oddly, she didn’t mind so much. She started pulling on the clothes, and it felt… kind of nice to see Mordred looking at her with such approval.

Soon, it was her turn in the mirror, and she was shocked by what she saw. Like Mordred, her outfit consisted of a lot of black, a lot of tears. Hers was notably more feminine, though - instead of ripped pants it was a too-short skirt, and she’d skipped the spiked collar and bangles for chains. Her tank top was similarly torn, baring her midriff for anyone to see. She felt… conflicted. It was embarrassing. So, so embarrassing. But… it felt right?

“Looking good, Lily!” Mordred said, reaching an arm around her. “The punk look suits you nearly as much as it suits me. But we’re missing something, aren’t we?”

“We… we should get back to…” Artoria wanted to say that they should get back to work. But it wouldn’t come out. Why should they go back to work, huh? They were powerful Servants, they shouldn’t be treated like some glorified janitors! The rebellious thought stunned Lily. It had been hers, but she didn’t have any clue where it came from…

“Yeah, we’re definitely missing something.” Mordred said, moving on without waiting for Lily to finish. She went back to the box of punk paraphernalia and dug around for a bit. “Here we go!” she said, standing up with a tattoo needle in her hand. “I think I’ve got an idea of how to use this… I do you, then you do me?”

Artoria Lily was going to say no. Mordred could see that. At least, she felt she should - but Mordred was sure that what she wanted was to say yes. “Hold still, if you don’t want this to hurt!” she said.

----------

Gareth always loved practice sessions with her king. Artoria was just the same here as she’d been in Camelot, just as inspiring and strong! After the King of Knights had managed to make the newest member of the Round Table stop bursting into tears at the sight of her (it was just, she felt so guilty for not being with her at the final battle…), the two had been nearly inseparable. Or at least, Gareth followed her waiting for any commands when she wasn’t taking care of some other task arranged by their Master.

That particular day seemed just the same as any other, really. It had been a couple hours since they’d started training, and she’d worked up a good sweat - although her King seemed as unmoved by the exertion as she ever did. They were taking a break, and it seemed to be an appropriate time to ask a question. “Your Majesty, if I may…” Gareth started.

“Yes? What is it?” Artoria asked. She didn’t act quite as formal, here - unlike in Camelot, they were technically of the same rank in Chaldea. Of course, that didn’t stop Gareth from offering her due deference.

“Well, I was wondering, why did you refuse to work with Sir Mordred, this morning?” Gareth asked.

“I had a prior commitment to practice with you.” Artoria said simply, offering Gareth a towel. “I honor my word. I will perform some other task in its place tomorrow.”

Gareth nodded, although she was a little worried. She somewhat suspected that the real reason was that she’d been asked to do the task with Sir Mordred. And, well, there was some bad blood there, to put it lightly. Gareth needed to talk with Mordred some time, and see if she could arrange for them to make up. It might be a bit out of line, but if it made her fellow Knights of the Round Table happy, that was probably ok, wasn’t it?

Her thoughts and anything she might have chosen to say was interrupted as someone stormed into the training field. For a second, Gareth didn’t realize who it was - she thought that perhaps Master had summoned a new Servant who had come to train. The dark, damaged clothing and spikes studding her clothes spoke of someone who’d been in a scrap. But as her eyes climbed the body and eventually reached her face, Gareth suddenly recognized that the woman in black leather was none other than Sir Mordred. Think of the Devil, and he shall appear.

“Sir Mordred! Welcome, we were just returning to-” Gareth said, standing and moving between Mordred and Artoria. Time to make peace-

“Shut up, goody two shoes.” Mordred spat, shoving Gareth aside and walking right up to face Artoria. “You. We’re having a conversation.”

Artoria looked at her. They weren’t that far apart in height, but it was clear she was looking down at her. “Gareth, back to it.” she said, not even addressing Mordred.

Gareth wondered what the deal was with Mordred. She’d always tended to dress in… less than knightly clothes, for as long as she’d known her at Chaldea. But this was a step above and beyond. And that attitude? Usually it was reserved for those who angered her, not those between her and her target. “Are you feeling alright, Sir Mord-”

“You and your girlfriend having fun, oh so honorable King?” Mordred snapped. “Was it worth throwing your job onto Lily so you could have your little date?

Artoria ignored her, and Gareth couldn’t blame her - she didn’t have any obligation to justify herself to Mordred.

“Yeah, so honorable, taking advantage of your better self’s kindness and generosity. Well, she ain’t so happy with being used like that, so we had to work off some steam. Couldn’t find you, but we found the next best thing!”

As if on cue, another woman strode into the room, and this time Gareth was prepared. She was able to recognize Lily under all the torn clothes and black tattoos, although the nasty smirk she wore was an expression so far removed from her normal pure smile that it threw Gareth for a loop.

What threw Gareth off even more, though, was the person that came in after her. She was a statuesque woman, tall and strong. Her big bust, her long blonde hair, her blue eyes, they reminded Gareth distinctly of the third alternate version of her King that walked Chaldea, her incarnation as a Lancer. But this couldn’t have been her. Lancer held a regal bearing, a cool detachment that allowed her to make the best decisions for her kingdom on the whole. She was nearer to divine than to human.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who clung to another person so tightly, pressing her bust into her arm. It couldn’t be Lancer Artoria, because she was dressed in barely anything at all - a tight black skirt that was short enough to show she clearly wore nothing beneath it, and a black small shirt that just barely covered her bust in the first place, and that was before it had a plunging neckline slashed into it. The vacant, yet somehow… hungry, expression, as she gazed at her other self, as she made sure that as much of her body was in contact with Lily’s as possible, that was a sure sign that this was not the woman that Gareth knew so well.

And yet, she knew her King. It couldn’t be her, and yet it was. This skimpily dressed, sex-starved strumpet was clearly Lancer Artoria.

While Gareth stared in shock with her mouth agape, Artoria - the one that wasn’t currently dressed like a punk, or in barely anything - took charge. She looked directly at Mordred, now. “Explanation. Now. What have you done to Lancer?”

“Oh, I don’t know, what does it look like?” Mordred said with a wicked grin. “You’re dying to know, huh? You can’t fathom how little old Mordred could possibly beat any version of you, huh?”

“Ehehehe, I can’t believe how stupid this version of me is…” the fallen Lancer giggled, pressing closer to Artoria Lily. “Mordred~ Can you break her in already so I can have my tuuuurn~”

“Oh, shut it - you’re my slut, you don’t tell me what to do any more than this bitch here does.” Mordred snapped at the woman, before turning to Artoria.

Artoria sensed the incoming attack before Mordred started to charge. She drew her sword and slashed in a single motion, the invisible blade of Excalibur cutting towards Mordred. But Mordred ducked under the slash. Artoria was surprised - normally Mordred wouldn’t have been able to see it coming - and that cost her as Mordred reached her before she could slash again, shoving her to the ground. Before the King of Knights could recover, Mordred stomped on her wrist, again, and again, until she was forced to release the sword.

Gareth drew her own weapon, or at least started to. She had to protect her King! But before she could do anything, Lily was on top of her, shoving her to the ground. “Can’t let you do that! Mordred’s having her private time with her daddy~” Lily said with a malicious giggle, as she kicked the knight’s lance away and settled on top of her. As small as Artoria Lily was, Gareth should have been able to shove her off with ease, but she wouldn’t budge no matter how she tried.

Meanwhile, Mordred was keeping Artoria firmly down, pressing her heel down on the King’s chest. “You look good down on the ground!” Mordred shouted, with a mix of delight and anger in her voice, “More accurately, you look good beneath me!” She knelt down, her legs pinning Artoria in place, as she started to pull off the woman’s armor.

“Oh, you’re stripping me? Is that your plan, to assert your dominance by taking off my armor?” Artoria said dryly. “You really are so very childish.”

“Ha, wishful thinking much? No, I’ve got a way better plan!” Mordred said. She pulled her own pants down, without a hint of modesty, and made a gesture to Lancer Artoria. Her slut giggled, and sauntered over, pulling something out of a small bag she was carrying and handed it to Mordred.

What Mordred now was holding was long, phallic, and studded with small spikes. It also had an adjustable strap, meant to keep it in place during vigorous activity. “You know what this is? They’re called strap-ons. I don’t have Merlin on call to whip up any spells for this, so I’ve gotta work with what I got. Don’t worry, I’m sure after a few thrusts you won’t be able to tell the difference. This Slut-class Servant here sure couldn’t!”

For a few moments, Artoria was left speechless, but that didn’t last long. “I didn’t have high expectations of you in the first place. And yet somehow, you’ve fallen far below even those. This is the sort of crime that I’m not sure even your mother would commit. I’ve clearly been far, far too lenient in not striking you down the moment you were summoned.”

“Ha! That’s exactly the kind of reaction I was looking for!” Mordred laughed, a sharp and cruel sound. “None of this facade of nobility, no pretending it’s just because you’re a King. Show just how much you really hate me, huh? Let’s get this started, now that you’ve given me that!” She said, pulling on the false member quickly.

Artoria shut her mouth - she wouldn’t give Mordred any more satisfaction than she could. She braced herself, as Mordred drew her hips back.

The insertion was swift and brutal, as Mordred bucked her hips forward in a single motion. The studded strap-on shoved it’s way right into Artoria’s exposed womanhood. The King of Knights grit her teeth and tried to keep her silence, but it was far too painful to succeed - she cried out in pain as Mordred dragged the phallus out of her and prepared to buck again. Each thrust and withdrawal drew more shouts and cries from Mordred’s newest victim. Muted and held in, but still clearly audible even through her firmly shut mouth.

“And people call you a lion, do they?” Mordred mocked, “You’re no lion king. At best you’re a kitty princess, mewling so softly! Even this slut here managed to keep quiet when I rammed it in at first, and you didn’t even last a thrust!” she laughed, all the while continuing to pound away without giving her father a chance to breath.

“Ehehe, you’re so right Mordred~” Artoria Lancer giggled, looking down at her other self’s pained expression with glee. “Is this really another me? She’s such a wimp! Take her hard, Mordred, I wanna watch her shatter like I did~”

Artoria wanted to lash out, to fight back, but Mordred’s artificial dick had pinned her firmly to the floor. She was powerless to do anything but writhe. Even her kicks were pathetic, their strength robbed by the continuous thrusting. Artoria couldn’t help but hate herself for this, nearly as much as she hated Mordred. Here she was one of the most powerful Heroic Spirits, and she couldn’t even begin to fight back. It was just as pathetic as her tormentors said. “St…” the sound came through her clenched teeth, before she could stop it, although she managed to cut it off.

“What was that? Huh? You want something, bitch?” Mordred asked, as she continued to pound Artoria flat.

She couldn’t hold it in. “...Stop… please… stop…” she said softly, hating herself for her pleas.

Mordred didn’t respond verbally. Instead, she responded by redoubling her efforts, forcing her strap-on into Artoria hard enough to bounce her off the floor with the force.

Gareth, trapped as she was by Artoria Lily, could do nothing but watch her idol, her King, raped viciously by Mordred. She’d thought of the treacherous knight as a friend once, but this… this wasn’t the Mordred she knew, this monstrous hate… “Stop! Stop this instant! At least fight her like a knight, and not some back alley criminal! No, fight me!” she shouted, struggling in vain to shove Lily off of her and go to her ruler’s aid.

“Oh, relax, cutie,” Lily said, stomping pointedly on one of Gareth’s hands. “She’s me, so I know better than anyone, she wants this. Mordred’s just forcing her to be honest with herself. If she’s crying, that’s just the tattered remains of her useless pride falling away. It’s for the best of both of them that Mordred shows her who belongs on top!”

“You’re just as corrupted as she is!” Gareth shouted. “You know as well as I do that she is a noble King who would never want something so vulgar as this!”

“I know better than you do that she does. After all, if she didn’t want it, how would Lancer have broken so completely? She showed so much more resistance, but she became such a massive slut! All three of us know our place. It’s under Mordred. And Mordred’s place is on top of, and inside, us~” Artoria Lily shifted her position, and Gareth could feel her pulling away her armor plate by plate with supernatural strength. “Now just relax and watch as she realizes who she’s meant to be~”

The thrusts were a steady rhythm of painful pounding, but as Artoria was bounced against the floor again and again, she couldn’t help but notice two things. One, was that she felt… something, coming from the end of the strap on. In the brief moments where it wasn’t buried inside of her, she could see a milky white substance dribbling from the end, and when it was inside her she could feel something squirting from it and into her.

The second was how good it was starting to feel. It still hurt. God did it still hurt. But despite that, she couldn’t help but feel pleasure. Her vagina was, all of a sudden, slick with fluids… and her breasts felt strange. Managing to look down, Artoria was shocked to find that her tits were rapidly swelling in size, bouncing wildly from the force of the fucking she was receiving. “What… how…”

“You know, that storage room we were cleaning? Lots of magic stuff there. Like this strap on, for example.” Mordred explained with a short laugh. “How’re you feeling, huh? I can see how wet you’re getting, and with those tits, you’re looking less like a lion and more like a cow!”

Artoria Lancer giggled softly at that. Of course, she’d laugh at any of her beloved Mordred’s jokes. “You sure are~ ‘Mooooo~’”

The main Artoria nearly rolled her eyes. How petty could you get? Even Gareth could have come up with a stronger insult. Not that she was wrong. Artoria was getting wet. She was being pounded so hard, so good… those little spikes pushing apart her inner walls, they hurt, but it was a good pain, a pain that only served to highlight her intense pleasure. It was wrong, she knew it was, but that knowledge didn’t make her feel any less good about how Mordred was dominating her.

The spurts of strange liquid kept coming, painting her insides white. And as it did, she felt her old self drifting away. She couldn’t help but admire the strength with which Mordred thrust into her, how cool she looked when she was so in control of the situation and of Artoria. No matter how she tried to fight it though, she couldn’t. She tried to focus on how Mordred had destroyed her kingdom, to stoke that hate and rage. But instead she only saw how Mordred had shown her the consequences of underestimating her - and was now rather thoroughly showing her once again.

She… she couldn’t hate Mordred for this. For fucking her brains out, for using her strap on to break apart her will and resistance. “Mo… Mordred…” she moaned, barely a drip of her earlier vitriol left.

“What is it, slut? Gonna keep pretending you want me to stop?” Mordred asked with a grin. She knew what was coming, which made Artoria even more eager to ask it.

“Mh… please… let me get into a better position for this~” Artoria moaned. She loved being pounded flat, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t. But she wanted to vary it up a bit, maybe let Mordred get a good grip of her expanding mammaries.

Mordred grinned. “Good answer~” she said, slowly pulling out. She sat down as Artoria picked herself up, the strap on facing upwards and glistening with both it’s milky payload and Artoria’s fluids. Gareth watched in abject horror as, rather than take the opportunity to escape or retaliate, Artoria instead settled herself above the prosthetic member and, making sure Mordred was watching her, started to drop herself onto it.

Artoria moaned loudly as the strap on entered her once again, this time with her as an active participant. Mordred reached around and pulled the King-turned-slut’s hair out of it’s bun, allowing it to flow freely and wildly. It had lengthened dramatically and gained a lot of volume, mirroring her Lancer incarnation’s now. In more ways than one, Artoria highly resembled her more mature form - now including how she fawned over Mordred and allowed herself to be used as a glorified sex toy.

Mordred laughed as she took heaping handholds of Artoria’s breasts, now nearly the size of her head, while the thoroughly broken Saber slid up and down the shaft. It was clear that despite it’s artificial nature, Mordred could feel it as though it were part of her - and was enjoying every time Artoria helped it split her lower lips open. Artoria was baffled by her earlier struggles. How had she denied herself this? The feeling of sexual satisfaction, the building towards orgasm, the pleasure of submitting… it was too much, she was meant to be used like this! Mordred’s words, that strap-on, were corrupting her down to her Saint’s Graph. And she loved every second of it. She welcomed the corruption, she wanted to be molded to whatever Mordred desired of her.

Gareth, for her part, wasn’t having an easy time of it. Artoria Lily had already stripped her of her greaves and boots, and was pulling off the clothes underneath. “I hope you’re enjoying the show~” Lily said cheerfully, as she pushed a hand beneath Gareth’s undergarments, “Because your turn comes next~”

Mordred and Artoria’s climax came simultaneously and quickly - Mordred grunted and pulled Artoria down, forcing her to hilt on the false dick. The forceful, dominant action felt so good to Artoria she creamed herself on the spot, writhing in pleasure on top of Mordred, while Mordred herself did likewise, the magical phallus pumping a flood of it’s payload into Artoria and sealing her transformation.

For a few moments, the two didn’t move, breathing hard and moaning softly. But eventually, Mordred pulled Artoria off of her. “Good… you’ve really learned your place, huh?” she said, before standing. “You wait there. We’ve got one more slut to break in.”

“Ehehe… alright~” Artoria giggled. She looked over to Gareth, watching as Mordred detached the strap on from herself and offered it to Lily, who took it eagerly. Her fingers drifted down to her dripping cunt. She was looking forward to this… Mordred was the best, of course, but it’d be a delight to see Lily running a train on Gareth’s ‘oh so pure’ butt~

Gareth for her part… was trying to brace herself. As Lily put on the strap on, she knew she was soon going to suffer the same fate as her King. But… for some reason, she was finding it hard to mind. Was Mordred’s corruption already beginning to seep into her mind? Or was she just happy she’d still get to be with her King?

The wet thump of the insertion put an end to such thoughts.

----------

Gareth reminisced fondly of her first time with Lily, as she lay on the bed with a different version of Artoria in her arms. After watching her ‘King’ break beneath Mordred, it had barely taken three thrusts for Gareth to join her. Oh, she’d struggled, stupid and naive as she was, but it had been a pretense, a false front the old her had put up to save some face as she was dicked down into the slutty punk she’d always been inside.

It was at once fortunate and unfortunate that they were the only members of the Round Table that had been summoned as of yet. On the one hand, if there had been more then Mordred might have had a fight on her hands, and that would have been bad in the long run, so far as Gareth was concerned. On the other hand, if there had been more, then Gareth might have more options for fucking than the slutty former Lancer that she was presently making out with. It wasn’t like it mattered, though. Mordred had their Master Gudako wrapped around her finger - if she ever summoned another knight she’d been given instructions to send them straight to Mordred’s room.

Mordred was pretty much in charge, now. She’d bent every incarnation of Artoria to her will, pretty much asserting herself as the real King. Not that she cared to be called such - her disdain for authority had only grown as she’d effectively gained more. And with their Master (in name only) similarly enamored with the Knight of Rebellion, she had no small amount of influence over those Servants who weren’t already directly submitting to her will. Ah, but the dream of a Chaldea full of her slutty punks was still so far away~

Speak of the Devil and she shall appear - Mordred came in just then, from the room adjoined to the one Gareth and Lancer-Artoria had waited in. Artoria was nearly unrecognizable as herself, although she now bore much more resemblance to the version of her currently giggling on the bed. Beyond the long hair, and the bombshell body, she’d been done up in Mordred’s new style.

Her clothes could barely be called that. The largest single piece of cloth was her black panties. The rest was barely there at all. She wore spiked boots on her feet, and tight fishnet stockings emphasized her shapely legs. Her top wasn’t even worth the name, being only a skimpy bra that made only a token effort to hide the nipples on her melons. She was pierced in several places, most notably the shiny gold belly-button ring, and was caked in pale makeup. Tattoos scrawled across her body depicted symbols of death and rebellion, right alongside more lurid iconography and declarations of her purpose as a cumdump and a slut of the round. The look was capped off by a spiked collar embossed with the moniker ‘King of Sluts’.

“You can lay down now, bitch~” Mordred said with a grin. She played with the heart-shaped tag on the collar, a name tag simply stating Artoria’s name, with ‘property of: Mordred’ stenciled on the back. “Now you’re marked up good and proper. Nobody will ever doubt who you belong to.”

“Ehehe… thank you so much, Mordred… after you did so much to force me to be honest with myself, I could hardly ask for more~” she said. Then her eyes drifted over to her nearly identical twin, and she grinned viciously. Gareth knew that the bed would be creaking from the strain the moment she left the room, and smiled at that thought.

“Oi, what’re you laughing about? You’re up next on the bed!” Mordred snapped, bringing Gareth out of her reverie.

She stood up and mock saluted. “Yes ma’am! Make sure to break me good and hard, alright? Lily did a great job loosening me up, but I think you’re the only one who can really get me~”

Mordred wrapped an arm around the former Knight, laughing as she drew her in to the bedroom. One thorough dicking with the strap on, and then some needlework, and she’d be absolutely perfect.

Artoria was once the King of Knights. Mordred had conquered her. But she had no intention to deal with any ‘noble’ knights, not anymore. A few hundred punks and sluts, though… now that was what her heart, and her member, desired.