"How you're trying to remember your training now. What's the regulation to cover this? Well, first time for everything, yes?"
"What makes you think this is my first time?"
- Raoul Silva and James Bond, Skyfall
"But Nee-san isn't dead. Can you hear her? She's screaming for help and apologizing. Oh how cute of you to say that. She said please let me out of here, Sakura. Stupid, Nee-san. I want to have more fun if you say that. I'll swallow you too. Come on, Senpai. Nee-san's waiting. Nee-san's been asking for your help. You should go to her and hold her hand or something."
- Sakura Matou, Fate Stay Night
"Wiggle wiggle wiggle."
- Jason Derulo
"Nalaganda."
- D. Va, Overwatch
Hysterical agonized screams rose out of the canvas tent and tainted the night air. The curtains covering the entrance of the large tent flickered in a shadow play of the depraved acts being conducted inside. Any security or privacy the canopy could have provided Rin while she endured her horrible plight was shattered by the dozens—or if not hundreds—of cheering mercenaries crowding directly around her and holding her up in their arms like she was the star of a medieval mosh pit.
Her eyes shrank and her voice shrieked again as another wave of slithering corruption crawled up through her body in a potent trail of aphrodisiac slime. Moments ago, she had sprung her surprise attack on this marauding group of black mages in the middle of their revelry and almost had them at her mercy. An uppercut here, an enchanted typhoon of jewel fragments there, and Rin was sure the battle was hers. Her attacks came quickly and gracefully, but all of her backflipping and high kicking left her open to certain types of magic-based attacks that were especially effective against confident young spell dancers like her.
As invincible as she seemed, her training in Formal Craft combat became her very informal undoing. She was grabbed from all sides as she jumped into the air and tried to attack with a split kick. Her frustrated mercenary opponents were quick to retaliate by catching her by her elbows and knees, ripping off her ruffled red under-garters, and immediately shoving copious handfuls of creeping black worms straight into the feast between her thighs. The harsh turnaround changed Rin's battlecries of "Ha!" and "Hee-ya!" to a disgusted shriek of "Ughnyaa!"
The worms were stored all around the corners of the tent in large wooden barrels that were readily accessible. The tiny hideous creatures were manifestations of raw black magic that were mainly used for storing and transporting large quantities of mana. They were also useful for romancing heathen wombs. With the ability to reduce their size when stored in special kinds of vessels, they could slither into Rin in swarming masses without adding a single inch to her waistline. They were devious magical little things getting stuffed in mobs into a very magical part of her.
The campsite was lit up in a minstrel song performed with lutes, shawms, tambourines, and Rin's desperate screaming. Occasionally someone in the band would slap her bare rump side to add extra percussion and get her to moan closer to the beat. Countless paupers and pilgrims dressed in ragged suits and dresses were jubilantly circling around her like she was a maypole getting stuffed with shiny black streamers. They'd taken the war out of the wench so she'd have plenty of room to get the worms. A few naive minutes ago, Rin had thought she was going to interrupt their evil solstice festival and put an end to their marauding cult. Instead she wound up becoming the life of the party.
The mercenaries outside of the main ring were sitting at wooden tables all around the tent. They laughed along with the bawdy celebration and filled their pewter tankards with cheap ale the same time Rin was in the center of the party getting her tankard absolutely crammed with slimy squiggly sin. She screamed, screamed, groaned, gnashed her teeth, and screamed as she felt each individual one squirming up the channels and slithering through the tubes, sterilizing her capacity for begetting human children while making her generously fertile for carrying more worm larvae.
The crowd of marauding evil mages took their turns lambasting her and insulting her in her suffering. Their voices were just as merciless as their hands crowding between her legs steadily filling her up with fistfuls of magic parasites.
"More worms! Keep 'em flowin' nice 'n greasy! Give this gypsy slut just what she came for!" one of the men hosting the party waved toward several others as they were lugging over more casks of worms and setting them up near Rin's raised legs.
"Heheh! If you really want to dance with us, dear, you're going to have to learn some new moves!" another man cackled over Rin as she shrieked and writhed.
"Do you see how her belly twitches when they get stuck in her breach? Isn't it so cute?" A woman dressed in a shabby gown spoke out while waving her fan over her smirking face. "And those noises she makes! Simply splendid!"
"It's so nice you came. I never expected the carnival would end with a front row view of the famous Tohsaka Trollop with all her privies out in full bloom!" another man laughed. There was a sense of revenge being satisfied tonight after the samba sorceress had relentlessly hunted them for the past several months. But watching her squirm in agony was also just bloody good fun.
Rin's hand flailed aimlessly in the air as she was held up by her shoulders, desperately searching for something to cling to. Her palm found the fingers of one of the men huddled near her and instinctively squeezed.
"Aw. She's holding onto Scipio so she can cope with it," one of the mercenaries cackled. "Hey Sci, maybe we should marry you to this grub bucket once we've got her full! That'd be a hoot!"
"Who are you kidding?" the man whose hand she was squeezing laughed heartlessly. "We're never gonna fill her! We could shove a hundred wagons of the things in that gaping pit between her legs and the awful harlot would still have room to spare!"
Rin was stubborn and determined as she thrashed her shoulders and tried to kick her legs out of her captors' grip. She tried to keep fighting even when every infested corner of her uterine components were very obviously telling her the fight was lost and she was better off enjoying her sweet, slimy defeat. One of the female mercenaries holding her up by her knees grunted into her ear to menace her.
"Stop your struggling, girl, or else we'll have to prove your front hole isn't the only thing defenseless about you."
She tickled the knuckle of her index finger a little couple inches lower between Rin's splayed thighs to drive the message home.
The black ribbons in the witch's hair bounced as she bit her lip and frantically nodded "Okay! Okay!" She did her best to contain her leg spasms after hearing the small warning. If this was her fate, if she was going to live the next several hundred years as a fallen Magus sustained by the millions of demonic children her body had been forced to adopt, she'd rather carry them all comfortably in her maternal hollow. She didn't want to think about what it would be like to have any of them crawling around back there.
On one of the benches slightly secluded from the rest of the party, a man and woman (possibly husband and wife, or brother and sister) were talking together as they shared their ale.
"They're not showin' much mercy fer' the poor lass," the woman said. "I'm not sure if it sounds more like a brothel or a birthin' room in 'ere."
"Smells like a sulfur mine, too," the man said in agreement before he took another swig of his drink.
Rin shrieked like an overly aroused opera singer as her lower body heaved from another fistful of worms being pushed into her. Amidst all the bawdy insults and deafening laughter the celebrating marauders threw at her, she started to murmur something with her quivering lips. Noticing her movements, the leader of the band whistled sharply and raised his arm. The inside of the tent fell completely silent save for the soft crackling of candles and Rin's weak groaning.
"I believe the hostess wishes to speak," he announced to the rest of the posse. He leaned closer to her with his ear near her face, but she was able to speak loudly enough for most of the tent to hear.
"Ma… Na… nngh." She winced from the unbearable ripples of pleasure stirring deep through her pelvis. Her hips twitched in a constant belly dance as they struggled to accommodate the hidden madness squirming inside her waist. Her voice was little more than a series of high-pitched squeaks.
"Mm… more… mana… please… gimme… mm… ore…"
She closed her darkening eyes as a delirious smile crossed her mouth. Broken and submissive, she drooled slightly.
The tent erupted with cheering and laughter as another twenty barrels of worms were slammed on the ground. The lids were ripped off, the fists dove in, and another round of cold, slithering vileness was shoved in between Rin's thighs to the delightful sound of her harrowing merciless screams. The band had certainly improved this bird's tune.
The traveling mercenaries were likely to keep their witch as a souvenir. A pretty red vase for carrying around their darkest magic. Maybe she would even be helpful with casting a spell now and then. They weren't just going to slash her throat and dump her body along the dirt highway. She was too valuable now that she contained almost all of their slithering, quivering, churning mana.
She carried the worms surprisingly well once they were all tucked inside. She never showed any signs of discomfort or bloating, but she always walked with an extra seductive sway in her hips to compensate for her hidden extra weight. From then on she was the cult's most prized jewel: An exotic beauty with hair and eyes as black as the inside of her belly.
Author's note: I guess what I'm saying is if you're a freelance dance-fighter incarnation of Rin operating in the European Middle Ages, you should probably wear some decent underwear.