His arms were raised high against the overhead glare of the sun, slowly setting, painfully so behind the wall, or perhaps that was just the ache of his ribs and the cut on his lip as the kicks and punches continued to rain upon him. He refused to hand over the food, not because of how desperately he needed it, but out of principle, it was his food, and he stole it fair and square. He didn't even steal it from them.

They didn't seem to care who it belonged to regardless, only that it was now theirs and 'Blondie isn't giving it up' one laughed as the beating rained upon Armin. He called for help desperately, and now his fate was in the hands of the gods. Someone will find him.

'Someone has to.'

And someone did. He saw her before he heard her, a sandaled foot swinging into sight, the world slowing to a crawl as Armin watched her clenched toes and Wooden shoes sink into the cheek of the largest bully, teeth dislodging from his jaw as he was swept from his feet, launched over Armin and into one of his fellows, sending them both against the wall and crumpling to the floor in agony as they desperately scrabbled to their feet to try and run away.

Their other two cohorts were occupied with the teen Sculpture, clad in a thin pale Cardigan, currently planting her fist upside the head of another boy, cracking his teeth together and launching him almost a foot into the air, clean off his feet behind them stood a slightly shorter, more runty guy with hands clasped upon the neck of the fourth assailant, with hate in his clenched teeth and death in his eyes, such psychotic spirit without the means to back it up, yet.

Eren and Mikasa, Armin's only friends in Shiganshina, gazing up at them from the ground, the angle he often met them at when they rushed to his cries in the city. And again, he felt it churn at the pit of his stomach. Shame. Burden. Worthlessness. He found trouble and had dragged them into it with his weakness. He glanced up, spotting Mikasa's hand extended to him, a drop of blood on her cheek but a warm smile on her lips. Such beauty and compassion only spurned the shame further as he took her hand, being pulled to his feet.

"I'm sorry, you guys... they wanted my food again." Armin sighed, leaning up against a wall, one arm clutching his waist, hugging the bruised flank.

"You know if you can't defend it, Armin, maybe you shouldn't get it anymore? Save it for someone more capable. Steal something smaller next time?" Eren chided him, hurling a rock down the street towards the final fleeing ruffian as the three were left alone in the back alley.

"Or better still, take some action, grow a spine and get even! Get your vengeance. However you need to! Smash their windows, burn their clothes, kick their cat! Just take some action, and quit being such a pus-." His barrage of jibes was cut short by the thud of a fist against the side of his own head, Mikasa staring at him with her usual soulless glare. The warmth she had shown Armin now faded back to her default.

"I think he gets it, Eren." She regarded him, her voice as dead as her eyes.

"Y- yeah," Eren growled, rubbing his head, bracing his own weight against the wall adjacent Armin. "Sorry, Armin... come on, you're staying with us tonight anyway."

"I am?" Armin lifted his gaze, straightening himself out better as he limped forward, walking down the Alley, following the siblings.

"That's how we got here so fast. We were trying to find you. Your Grandpa stopped by to tell us he was going inside the wall on some business, so you're with us tonight." Eren explained as they peeled out from the back alleyway and down the streets towards Eren's home.

The trek was slower than they intended, the last light of the sun fading behind the tip of the wall, leaving a warm orange sky to light the rest of the way, reaching the Yeager household just as the moon crested into the sky.

"Eren, Mikasa! What took you so long?!" Carla called out to them, and stood by the doorway, a basket of dry washing in her arms, covering her shapely figure as she tapped her foot upon the stone steps, awaiting their climb.

"Armin got into a fight." Eren sighed, shifting the blame and trying to ditch the conversation as he stepped through the door.

"I-" Armin began, stammering before being cut off by Carla.

"Oh, Armin, again?" She pouted, leaning down slightly to inspect him closer.

'Again?' Armin wondered. 'This isn't the first time she's heard of it?'

"Did Eren come to the rescue again?" Carla pondered, lowering an arm to help balance Armin into the house.

"It was Mi-" Armin began, cut off once again.

"Me, yes! Came in and clobbered one of them against a wall. That seemed to scare the rest of them off!" Eren boasted, opening the door to the basement staircase. "We're going to take him down to Dad's office to get him something for that cut!"

Mikasa made no attempt to protest the facts of the beating, nor did Armin, instead staying quiet and bowing his head slightly as Carla offered him off to Mikasa to help carry.

"You be careful then, nothing too fancy. Your father won't want all his medicines gone when he's back from Trost!" Carla called to him as the trio began to descend the stairs into Dr Yeager's office, Eren wandering off into the storeroom while Mikasa settled Armin into the chair behind her father's desk.

"I'll go make sure he doesn't get something poisonous." Mikasa poorly reassured Armin, only bringing a tinge more fear to the boy.

It was when Eren turned 16 that his father took him on as his apprentice, teaching him the basics of the medical arts. Two years later and he now was considered efficient enough to perform his own, albeit limited treatments of simple injuries and ailments.

Mikasa had joined him in the endeavour. There was little Eren did that Mikasa didn't follow in and then ultimately do better than her brother. She never wanted to be better than him, just noticed, yet it was always disregarded or ignored by the boy, much to Armin's sorrow. He saw just how much she loved him. Eren cared for others, it was true, but never as people, just as 'things' for him. Armin knew her efforts ultimately would be wasted, but it brought her joy. Who was he to end that for her?

As he waited and listened to the muffled argument next door, and the odd clinking of vials and bottles, he looked at the Doctor's desk. After a quick glance around to ensure he wasn't being watched, he peeked into the drawers. Books, pencils, paper, simple medical notes, nothing beyond that.

'Huh, nothing else?' Armin thought, leaning back in the chair slightly, looking at the size of the drawer he had just pulled out, then inside it once again, far less storage space than would be expected, unless.

*Knock knock.*

Armin's knuckles lightly tapped against the inside of the drawer, the bottom of it letting out a hollow, airy sound. The bottom of the drawer, not moving at all from the knock. 'A fake bottom?' Armin realised, glancing around the side of the drawers now for a release switch, noting just under the lip of the desk, a small hole leading into the side of the drawer, a keyhole!

Yet no key. Armin glanced around himself once again, reaching an arm inside his own Fleece, wincing as he stretched his shoulder, delving into his smuggling pockets, pulling out a long, thin strand of steel, slightly bent at the neck where a kick no doubt landed against it earlier.

Eren and Mikasa had their father teach them their new leases on life entering into adulthood. Armin had his grandfather who saw a different approach to life, one of quiet, one of power through perseverance and silence, to take what you need and no more and cause no strife when more subtle means can be done.

Then Eren's own words rang in his head as he clutched the Lockpick, slowly dragging it out and carefully slotting it into the keyhole. 'Take some action. Grow a spine!'

And with a click, he heard the shuffling of the wood in the drawer open up. Reaching a hand in to lift the lid of the false bottom, he saw two things. A strange metal box, lined with a brass trim with a little shiny glass window on the front of it, as well as a button at the top.

He curiously lowered a finger, pressing against the button as the glass window gazed up at him, and as he pressed it, it clicked and began to quietly hiss out at him, alarmed he lifted his head to the Storeroom door, but still no sign of the Yeager siblings. Glancing back down, he saw a strange sheet of parchment growing out of the metal box. Eventually it halted and fluttered away, landing upon his lap, upon it a drawing. A very well-made drawing. No a perfect drawing, as if looking into a mirror.

It reminded him of a printed image in a book, only with far greater detail, an image of himself as if seen through the eye of someone there!

What was this wonderous thing he had just foun-

"Got it!" Called Eren, followed by a few stammering cries as he sounded as if he was about to fall from a ladder. The brief Chaos of Mikasa saving him from wrecking the storeroom gave Armin enough time to scoop up the Camera into one of his many hidden pockets, as well as the small vial marked in an unusual language he had never seen before, but it bared all the symbols of a painkiller, the same shape and colour too, so he pocketed that for later use.

'Just take some action, and quit being such a pussy!' He finished Eren's cry in his head, muttering a silent 'fuck you' to Eren as the thought passed.

Dinner was ready, and Eren, Mikasa and Armin all pitched in to help Carla with the prep work. As thanks, Armin even offered them the Loaf of bread to split amongst them for dinner, much to Carla and Mikasa's gratitude. Eren was too busy setting the table to make mention of it.

Armin felt much happier as he was preparing the water, filling the jug and fetching the glasses. His cut lip had healed over rather quickly, thanks to a concoction of Grisha Yaeger's own making. Any wonder he was considered the most incredible Doctor in all the land. Mikasa had applied it while Eren huffed in the corner. He almost dropped the vial twice, and so Mikasa had taken over its appliance. Eren felt nearly robbed of a sort of glory his ego came to expect from helping someone.

As Armin hoisted the now full water jug onto the counter, he winced, hissing quietly to nobody's notice as he felt a sting in his side. The bruised flank was only going to get more painful as the night went on. He'd best take that painkiller sooner than later.

Subtly he swiped the vial from his pocket and uncorked it. Glancing over his shoulder, he turned, slowly tilting it up and tapping a few drops into a glass intended for himself, almost dropping it as behind him, he heard a smash as Eren dropped a plate.

"Ah, fuck!" Eren cried out behind him as he saw him kneel, scooping up the broken ceramic.

"Eren!" His mother scolded as Mikasa walked over to help Eren with the pieces.

"Sorry, Mom, I'm just a little dizzy after saving Armin! Mikasa hit me in the head in the scuffle!" Eren said, quickly shifting attention away from his own blunder, throwing his sister under the bus and blaming the incident on Armin's fight. Mikasa glanced up, staring at him, and then back at her mother with a faint gaze of worry behind her usually empty gaze, but before Carla could address the girl, Armin spoke up.

"That was me. Sorry, Eren! Not a good fighter." Armin called out, glancing over his shoulder with a warm, apologetic smile, earning him three pairs of eyes upon him, a confused Eren, a humoured Carla, and a surprised Mikasa. "Anyway, dinner!" Armin turned back to the water, squinting before tipping some of the painkillers into another glass.

'Eren's being loud anyway. A little sleep for him.' Armin thought to himself, pocketing the vial and picking up the tray, carrying it over to the table, grabbing his and Eren's drink, setting Eren's at the spot he was hovering as Armin took his own seat beside him. Soon Mikasa and Carla brought their bread, meat and potatoes to the table, and to Armin's concealed shock, Eren ran around to the table to sit opposite the blonde boy, with Carla taking her seat next to him, in front of Eren's dosed Glass. 'Shit.'

Without 'Eren's tranquiliser' the night went as he expected, Eren never shutting up as they tucked into their meal. 'Survey Corps' this 'Fighting bullies' that. He had become far more obnoxious ever since his mother found out about his desire to join the military, and now he was an adult, she could no longer dissuade him. Instead, Carla gulped down another mouthful of her water each time he brought it up. Drinking away her outrage at the concept, despite it only being water.

Armin thought she must have been feeling the effects of the painkiller, hence her deep gulps at each of Eren's outbursts. He was glad at least someone was enjoying it. He, regardless, wasn't feeling the tranquillity. Perhaps he didn't give himself enough. The pain in his side persisted all through dinner, even after Eren devoured his foot and ran off upstairs, leaving Mikasa and Armin to help clear up the table and assist Carla with the dishes.

"Where am I sleeping, Mrs Yeager?" Armin spoke up, drying off a plate, handing it to Mikasa, who stored it in a cupboard, glimpsing at Carla, who was hunched over a basin, slowly scrubbing at the night's plates and glasses, oddly slowly, Armin noticed. She was under the effects of the painkiller, no doubt, watching her as every scrubbing swipe of her arm caused her hips to jiggle, wiggling her huge, voluptuous ass beneath her dress.

Armin shook his head lightly, the sudden intrusive thought prying to the forefront of his head. He swallowed hard as he continued drying. Like any male, he had his share of intrusive thoughts before, but never about Carla. She was married and too old for him and his best friend and Eren's mom! He struck the idea away, turning to hand Mikasa another plate, watching her raise it above her head into the top shelf, exposing her midriff as she reached, the etched ridges of her rock-hard abs shining out upon his virgin gaze.

He felt a mass stirring in his pants as he forced his head to turn away, staring at the floor, looking at the next plate he was drying up before his drifting gaze once again moved towards the ladies, eyeing up Mikasa's feet, watching her toes curl around the edge of the small footstool she balanced upon to reach up and above the high cabinets, storing away the glasses. Even this brought the blood rushing downstairs, feelings never before felt by Arlert, thoughts of Mikasa's body, of her mother's ass. Something was off.

"Y- you'll stay in m- my bed for the night. Greisha is out of town, so there's a spot." Carla huffed out, seemingly short of breath as she planted a hand against the counter, swallowing before she lifted another glass, scrubbing slowly at it, the faint hitch of a gasp in her throat as she did so, subtly grinding her swaying hips against the corner of the counter.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Mikasa spoke up, stepping down from the footstool, moving towards her and resting an arm against her back only to be gently batted away as Carla pulled her Apron off, moving towards the stairs, holding her head.

"I'm- I'm alright, just... it's warm in here. I'm going to t- take an early night. You two be dears and clear up." She glanced back to the pair, offering a reassuring smile, her gaze lingering on Armin for a second too long, his gaze returning the stare as he watched her breath hitch in her throat. "I'll see you soon, Armin." She hummed, now climbing the stairs and out of sight.

The last two continued to wash the rest of the dishes in relative silence, sharing the duties of scrubbing, drying and storing between themselves without so much as a whisper between them, instead just a guy finding himself incapable of glancing upon the curvature of the girl's breasts, the arch of her back above the bend of her ass, the squishing thickness of her thighs, crushing the fabric between them, her powerful arms and rock hard belly a bastion to any force thrown against it, her beautiful dark eyes-

"Thank you Armin." Mikasa whispered, almost under her breath, as she rested the cutlery into a drawer, averting eye contact.

"W- what?" Armin stammered, turning to her slightly alarmed, wondering if he had been caught ogling, and why say 'thank you' if that was the case?

"For sticking up for me with Eren... Mom doesn't like it when we fight." Mikasa spoke up slightly, arms by her side, staring down at the empty countertop. "You didn't have to, yet you did..."

"Y- well, it's ok Mikasa. You deserve better than being a tool." Armin winced, immediately regretting his phrasing, as Mikasa turned her gaze to him, his smile fading as he saw a look of vexation overcome her.

"I'm a tool?" She quickly rounded on him, stepping closer.

"N- no! Not like... I mean, I don't like Eren mistreating you!" Armin backed up, leaning back against the counter, pressing into it as she stared up to him, the same look she'd give a bully before kicking their teeth out.

"He doesn't, he's just... he can be difficult." She hesitates, her stare never faltering all the while.

"I know he can... but that's no excuse to treat you the way he does." Armin swallowed. He was scared, but the raging pressure in his loins and the urge to simply grab and kiss her spurred him forward, the confidence to keep talking.

"He treats me fin-" She was interrupted.

"No he doesn't. He throws you under the bus to save himself. He takes credit for your actions, h-" He was interrupted in turn.

"I don't care for credit, I care for him. You don't know what he's done for me." The chain of interruptions continued

"Your home, your family, the killers..." Armin's voice trailed off. Her irritation became anger, a powerful hand clutching upon the collar of his shirt as her teeth clenched while the softest of growls could be heard under her breath.

"He told me already... said he killed them all by himself... and saved your life..." Armin added, his voice fading to a murmur between them. "...boasting, I thought... I don't know how true it was. I didn't care. I thought first that it wasn't his story to tell, but your own... and if it was true, then I'm sorr-"

"Shut up." Mikasa raised her head, her eyes glistening as she glared at him once more, raising her other arm, fist clenched as if ready to strike him.

"...I'm sorry Mikasa." He continued regardless, his unblinking gaze meeting hers and in turn she reeled back, as if ready to strike, but it never came, letting her arm fall as she sighed, angry, pissed, enraged, but not at Armin.

Her head hung low, staring at her feet, hair draping over her shoulders, shrouding her beneath it. "Thank you Armin... good night." She whispered, releasing him and turning to walk up the stairs, leaving Armin behind to finish the last of the dishes.

It was not but 20 minutes past his narrowly avoided ass-kicking that Armin finally crept his way through the silent house, lit only by the faint rays of moonlight that seeped through the sparse cracks of the wood and tiles, as well that the flood that poured through the hallway windows. Several wrong doors later, Armin had figured out the layout of his best friend's house just a little better than he ever had before, finally coming to the door he knew to be Carla Yeagers.

No tell-tale sounds of Eren's droning snores to give away his and Mikasa's shared bunk room.

"Thank the Walls." He sighed aloud, relieved the trumpeting nose wasn't hereditary and he might actually get a night's sleep, pushing the latch of the door and swinging it open and mouth agape, body frozen as she lay Silhouetted against the moonlight of the large bedroom window. The dark shadows she cast against it leaving her warm, tanned flesh as a sea of soothing blue folds, each plump curve of womanly beauty glistening white with a layer of what at first seemed like oil, but instead was drenched by a sheet of sweat dripping along her thighs, calves, over her feet and bare toes, curling around her pudgy stomach and enveloping her jiggling, mouldable breasts as every part of her body rippled, shook and trembled as her legs were spread wide, hips bucking up against her hand where three dainty fingers were sandwiched into the squelching, drooling folds of her puffy pussy.

Armin would have heard her before he stepped in had her mouth not been clamped down hard on her own teat, her other arm pushing her left breast up against her chin as the dark brown nipple beneath was vacuumed between her lips, as her spittle dribbled out, mixing with the fuck-sweat of the Yaeger Milf.

He would have smelled her before he stepped through, had his nose not already been overwhelmed with the scent of his own lust. Since the dishes with Mikasa, all he could taste was the heat, sweat and leaking precum drooling from his own shaft, staining the inside of his pants. He disposed of them after accidentally happening upon the bathroom, where he found a laundry basket, stuffing it deep and out of sight, perhaps to be mistaken for Eren's. But his stench still followed him, and now he felt the wetness seep through even his trousers, and the raw scent of a male and its need to breed was filling the air, mixing with Carla's, forming a blinding aroma that now even Armin couldn't bare.

Her closed eyes turned to the ceiling above as with a pop her nipple fell from her mouth, soggy and shiny, swollen and dark with indents of teeth marks around the dud. Her head leaned up, tongue dangling from her mouth as she seemed to almost lap at the air, her nose huffing several deep inhales of air, sniffing right towards Armin as her glazed eyes peeked open, their hue imperceptible in the dim light of the room, but the hunger of the lioness behind them was unmistakable.

"Armin." She gasped, half shocked, half relieved. Her bucking halted, and the rustle and squeak of the bed eased as she locked eyes with him for what felt like hours.

"Mrs-..." Armin began, his voice trailing off as his belly tensed. His cock was springing up hard against his trousers, the soft material letting the tenting monstrosity take shape, yet even with such baggy trousers, they were too constricting for him. "Carla." He finished, still watching her, mouth agape, his own tongue salivating, tasting her on the air.

Both locked in stalemate for minutes more until...

*SHLCK*

Carla's fingers squelched once again as they sank back into her cunt, eyes locked onto the young man, ogling her.

Not a word needed saying, the squelch like a starter pistol firing in the room. Armin grasped at his shirt, tearing it off over his head, scrabbling wildly at his trousers thereafter as he lurched into the room, kicking his shoes away, eyes transfixed upon the woman before him.

Carla's gaze widened as did her grin as she saw the fervour in him, her hand pumping away at herself so brazenly, her gasping moans flowing freely towards him, yet not a coherent word was made as she spread her legs a little further apart, pulling her knees up to her shoulders through sheer core strength alone.

As Armin's knees hit the bed, his trousers hit his ankles as he fell forwards onto the soft mattress, clambering furiously upon it as he shuffled along it, half crawling, half kicking at the last of his clothing to finally free himself, and join Eren's mother in her nudity. No thoughts crossed his mind, no pangs of guilt, no worries of the future, not even a glee at getting a twisted sort of vengeance against Eren. Only the urge to fuck, the urge to cum, the urge to inseminate this soon-to-be adulterous whore.

Likewise, Carla's mind was ablaze, not with the shame of exposing herself to her children's closest friend, not with horror at the sight of this boy's Titan-Like cock, nor even with regret that soon she will be betraying the father of her son. All she felt, all she sensed, was the insatiable heat within her, the emptiness of her womb, the ugliness of an unwanted bitch.

Still, no words were said as Armin's hands met her body, landing upon and sinking into the cushions of her ass-cheeks, slipping against the film of sweat and girl-cum that leaked from her like a faucet. They slid up and around her bulging thighs, hugging his arms around them like tree trunks as his bare chest pushed against them, the sheer warmth of her body splashing against his skin as he was soaked in her arousal, their moans only silenced by a deafening SMACK as his footlong fuckrod splashed against her cunt, his grapefruit nutsack sinking between the meat of her ass, soaking in a waterfall of her fluids as the flaps of her baby-maker wrapped around his thick, throbbing veiny shaft, like an oversized hotdog in a saturated bun.

No words came as his arms slipped from her thighs, and he came crashing down against her belly, head landing between her wide, pancaked breasts, pulled flatter and fatter by gravity, quickly squished to rounder, firmer, more gravity-defying orbs, engulfing each side of his head as his arms wrapped around them, only a tuft of his blonde noggin poking out from the valley of breast meat as he wriggled and writhed, trying to find a grip on her mountainous mammaries and after his palms clamped down upon each nipple, squishing it tight between his fingers, he finally pushed himself up and out, hovering just above her, his hips and her hips both grinding painfully against one another as she lubed his shaft and balls, her legs curling down around his waist as he dribbled and spurted a thick, buttery mess against her belly, the raw scent of backed up cum, that had never been released in all eighteen years of his life.

His hips slowly reeled back, pushing hard against her clamping legs as he saw to peel his semi-fastened dick off from her sticky, wet skin. Lining the bulbous tip of his uncut cunt crusher between her quivering lips, oozing themselves against one another, caking the bedsheets they lay upon with the produce of their vile arousal, and before either could utter a word to ruin the silent lust, they both embraced without care, they dove for each other, lips clashing tight as they bit, licked, tongued each other through passion and desire, just as Armin's hips relaxed, letting gravity be his ally and pull him into the depths of Mrs Yeager, sinking each inch of Cockflesh in with a long, wet squelch of oozing self-lubrication pissing out around their penetration, sinking deeper and deeper until she grew so tight and clenched so hard, Armin could fall no further.

Pushing against her breasts, he wrenched away from the kiss, multiple strands of drool still connecting their lips as he clenched his teeth, pulling his hips back from her, stealing an inch away from the housewife, her cries and pleas begging him to return, and return he did as he thrust forward now, ramming the inch back down along with several more, hammering his cock deeper into her depths, over and over again, smashing his hips down as he stuffed more and more of his mass between her legs until he felt the sharp, clap of his balls smashing against her ass, echoing through the room as their eyes met, and their grunts, and moans fell silent for a moment, just a moment they felt each other fully and wholely.

"Hngh, fuck!" Armin growled as his hips rammed down into the cunt of Eren's mom, his balls smashed wetly against her ass, both ringing out the sound of their vigorous mating into the house but splashing a spray of sweat and cum out behind him, soaking the full length of the bed as he hammered her down, battering through her cervix and punching his tip deep into and against the roof of her womb, visibly bulging her belly out with every rabid thrust.

Her legs were curled around his back, feet locked together as her toes flexed, curled, unfurled and otherwise trembled with each squirting climax he forced upon her. Here she was getting fucked in her marital bed, the bed that she lost her virginity in, consummated her wedding in, conceived her son in, and now she was getting brutally fucked into it by the teen that was once the kid down the road. Her son's best friend using his friends' mom as a dumping ground for his ballsack drainage. He was so big. He was making it hard to breathe with each hammering thrust smacking up against her belly. She could feel herself stretching around him, her innards becoming dislodged, misshapen, bent askew. The next time Griesha fucked her, as a doctor, he would know she had either suffered a real trauma or was fucking a horse. Or both.

An hour had passed, and the moon rose higher over the wall, the pale white glow filling the room with even more light. Armin lay upon his back in their puddle of mess as above him, Carla sat back against his hips, bouncing herself up and down the Fuckrod, her palms pushing down against his chest as each thunderclap of ass crushed against his thighs as she pummeled herself around the meat, over and over, her perfect twerking motions inter-spliced by trembling shakes of her body. Her abdomen and waist convulsed against him as she gushed out another orgasm, each one making her louder, more delirious, her eyes rolling further back into her head as her tongue flapped and hung freely, losing her mind to the Blonde wonder.

'Why, why won't you cum? I want cum, I need cum, PLEASE CUM.' Her mind roared, devolving with every thrust, from mentally begging for her own release to seeking softer affections, now to outright desperation for thick, creamy, chunky cum to stuff itself within her, congeal every passage, nook and cranny it can fit within. No matter how hard she tried, no matter the disgusting, erotic things she said to him, nor the awful taboo promises she made to him could spurn his arousal to that reward of milky gold she so craved.

First, it was her sight that faded. She no longer looked at him or towards him, eyes half-lidded, but rolled away out of use for the meanwhile, all she needed was the cock to please her.

Then her speech slurred away to mostly incoherent, burbling moans and gurgled pleas of "Cuuuuuum." leaking between her verbal lips.

Lastly, it was her body to go. All sense of self-control, collapsed within seconds as she slowly hunched forward, collapsing down atop the bed next to Armin who lay just beside her, still firmly rockhard and rigid.

He grinned as he climbed to his knees, her legs spread wide, knees on the bed, back arched in what looked to be a painful angle, breasts squished into the cum-scented sheets along with her face buried in a sweat-sogged pillow, the position leaving her ass hovering in the air behind her, where Armin posted himself up.

Angling his hips behind hers as his arms reached out, wrapping around her ass and squishing his tip against her gaping pussy, he rammed himself inside once again, she hardly moved, only letting the ripples of her body carry her along the bed with every thrust Armin delivered.

She was breaking, going mindless, just what Armin wanted. He did not know why but the power he felt over her now, she couldn't fight back, even if she wanted to, a slave to his cock, unable to even pull away from his thrusts. She promised to do it every day with him. She promised to service him orally, she promised to carry his children, leave Greshia, chain herself up in his bedroom all if he would just cum.

He reached an arm out, grasping around the back of her head, clutching her soaked, matted hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling it back and arching her neck up as he called to her.

"Carla?" He grunted out between thrusts, still hammering into her from behind.

"Yethhhshh masshhtuh." She gurgled through the blind blissful state of perpetual climax, head lolling in his grasp of her hair, her body now just an oversized idle fleshlight for teen cock.

"I'll cum, if you break..." He purred out to her, still bouncing himself between her plump ass-cheeks, ramming the smeg-spewing head of his cock deep into the chasm of cuddling fuck-flesh that was her once pristine, now battered baby-builder. "...show me, that you're broken."

The offer broke through to Carla, the word 'cum' from Armin's own lips was a sign sent by god, a sign of great things to cum, she had to listen, she had to hear him, she had to break for him, a sign of her complete surrender, a sign that she was not a person, she was an animal, a fuck-pet, an object to be used.

'I am an object, I am a vessel for Armin's cum.' The voice in her mind even gurgled with pleasure as she found the last shred of resolve within herself and dug deep... to remove it, letting go of everything she held true to herself at that moment, letting every bodily aspect go.

Armin felt it, a sudden roasting warmth against his cock and balls, the splattering wetness ringing into his ears as he rammed deep into her and the scent of her final humiliation and Armin's final victory over her. She just pissed herself at his command.

"What a disgusting fucking slut of a mother you are." Armin spat down over her face before releasing her hair, shoving her face down into the pillow as he felt the rising sense of power, of victory over her, a conquest now won, and the spoils of war now his as his balls swelled, his cock tingled and with a heavy slam forward, he unleashed himself within her, snarling into the air as his arms wrapped around her belly, legs clenching around her thighs as he hunched over her, emptying himself inside of her, the audible, rushing sloshes of both thick, churning batter, and watery wet cum filling her like a hose. Her belly began to swell under the weight of his load before it came gushing out around his cock, pissing from her in a downward jet onto the bed alongside her golden shower of piss, both puddles congealing into a mess that ran out onto the floorboards of the room, spreading out over the wood, glazing it like varnish as the bed was utterly ruined by the two upon it.

Armin realised he too, was gasping, huffing and moaning as he felt the last of his potent seed piss from his tip. Laying against her, basking in the moment, he closed his eyes, shaking a hand against Carla, testing to see if she was still awake.

She was alive, but there was no way he was getting a response from her after that. Slowly he dislodged himself, rolling away from her and splashing down into the bed next to her. Ass still jutting into the air, a steady oozing waterfall pouring between her legs and onto the bed. The room stank of cum, sweat, sex and piss. Armin normally found himself disgusted by any of these, yet when they were that of his own creation or that of a slut broken by his own cock, he found them oddly appealing.

His head turned to the floor next to the bed. Upon it he saw a smashed picture frame of Carla and Greisha, dressed in their wedding clothes. Armin felt no guilt even still. Instead, he felt a sense of arousal, knowing what he just did to a married woman, as if it was a game and married women earned him more points.

His gaze then trailed to his clothing, discarded by the bedside. He reached down to his cardigan, scooping it up. One sleeve was drenched by the spreading mess of their rampant fucking. He was going to need new clothes.

He reached into the inside pocket, pulling out the vial of painkiller, curious to give it another read. He still felt the faint pain of his ribs, but it dulled now, thanks to exhaustion and a vigorous climax.

'Messinadai Climaxatrus.' It read, and beneath it in very small fine print. 'Extremely potent Aphrodisiac, for treatment only in cattle and stallions.'

"Oh..." Armin blinked, staring in silence at the bottle for several minutes, quietly laughing to himself as he stuffed it back into his pocket.

'It only lasts for two hours... it's been three hours since we took it.'

Perhaps it spurned their desires to the forefront of their minds, but it seems that they had sobered up by the time they engaged. And still, their lusts were beyond containment.

'Perhaps it lasts longer in humans.' He thought, closing his eyes and putting the thoughts behind him. Then he felt what else lay in the pocket, the strange mechanical device. He drew it out, gazing over it in the dark once more, a sly smirk etching into his lips once again as he rolled over, nudging the unconscious woman onto her side, her hips flopping down into the bed as he nestled his chest against her breasts, pressed his lips against her own and stuffed his tongue into her mouth, grinning up at the Camera as he flicked the button, a hissing whirr moving within the box and the image printing out beneath. He stuffed the Camera away, peering over the new photo of himself, illuminated in the cold blue glow of the moon, tonsils deep in Carla Yeager's mouth, snuggling his bare chest against her breasts. He snickered, leaning down to stuff the picture into his cardigan next to the vial and Camera, relaxing back as the exhaustion finally overcame his body as he began to fade away into slumber, now that nothing, not Carla's slurring snores, the dribbling splashes of his load pouring from her, nor the creaking floorboards by the door could wake him.

Mikasa stared at her hand, brow furrowed, eyes glistening. Half of her wanted to cry, half of her wanted to lick it. Two fingers, her middle and index, stood shining in the faint moonlight, seeping through the ajar door of her parents' bedroom. She felt the tug of her pants around her knees, the warmth of the puddle of juices pooling beneath her ass, squished against the floor of the hallway. Her breasts felt pained slightly by the squish of her bra pushing down on them, desperately hiked up by her own hand to fondle the diamond-hard nipples beneath them as she previously gazed over her shoulder into the room, grasping her teat and pumping her fingers mercilessly between her well-tonned thighs, crushing them in the vice-like grip of her labia, biting hard against her bottom lip, gagging herself with it as she climaxed hard, watching Armin's hand pull fiercely on her mother's hair, watching his swollen balls punch into her clit with every ripple and jiggle of her thighs.

She smelt his cum. Even beneath all his meat, she could taste it in the air. She was awoken a few minutes ago by a strange, strangled cry from behind her bedroom door. She glanced over to Eren, furrowing her brow, his cock was hanging free, a pitiful dribble of cum leaking from it as he snored away, face buried in the magazine he kept beneath his mattress, filled with artistic depictions of women in various lewd poses, entirely or partially nude.

A time ago, she would pretend to sleep, waiting in the darkness and silence of their room before waiting to hear, to peek an eye open and to spy on her brother reading those magazines, picturing herself in his place. Once or twice she debated if she should offer to 'help him'.

She brought the topic up once, he told her that the magazine didn't exist and it's weird she'd even want to talk about it if it did.

Tonight, however, she looked upon him with disgust. He was a traitor to her, someone who would take her soul and sell it if it benefited him. He told Armin about that night, not only that, but he lied about that night.

That night. The night she fell in love with her brother.

And now here she was, falling out of it, and falling hard... he had always been her rock, her guiding star, what she wanted safe in this world, her reason for life. As he grew older, out of childhood and now as they enter adulthood, he shows what he will be, what he is beneath.

A selfish, twisted sack of lying shit, and she fell for it all, how could she have fel-

"Hnghh fuck!" Came a muffled cry from behind her door, it sounded distant, it sounded desperate, it sounded like.

'Mom!' She shot to her feet, hopping down from her bed as she ran for the door, barefoot clad only in her shorts and bra, running down the hallways with record speed and terrifying silence, she approached the open door and froze.

Silhouetted against the window, their bodies conjoined together, wrapped in shining sweat, lips locked together and the largest cock she had ever seen, pistoning itself down into her mother as they each writhed, thrust, and screamed their love into each other's mouths.

They shifted, rolling around on the bed, before either could gaze to the door, even as a passing glance, Mikasa threw herself to the left, ducking behind the door, unfrozen from her paralysis as she processed what she just saw.

Armin? Mom? Fucking? Massive Cock? She couldn't wrap her head around it, Armin, her best friend, only hours ago at the mercy of some bullies, taking her hand to his feet, thanking her for saving him, joining her for dinner, helping her with the dishes and speaking to her honestly, earnestly, all that concern for her and her wellbeing with Eren, is now balls-deep in my father's wife!

She didn't know what to do. She wanted to get up, run in and kick his ass! She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to... to breathe free of that fucking stink! That fucking... aroma of...

'Sweat.' The word tingled at the back of her mind as she tasted it on the air, pouring into the hallway. 'So much fucking sweat.'

It was a hot day no doubt. She had been sweating herself before she got her bedclothes on, or lack thereof them. It was too warm for a bedsheet, let alone bedclothes. It wasn't that she wasn't a fan of the stuff either, she sweated the most of the household, her free time spent out in the Garden, lifting weights she had sourced from Hannes some years back, running cardio around the district blocks, even running the length of the Districts outcropped wall sometimes. Her body was her temple, her weapon to fight with, the difference between life and death

'And one day, for the pleasure of...' She frowned, she was considering 'Eren', but her spite of him grew every time she thought of him, she worked herself to the bone for this asshole, and now she had nothing to show for it.

The thoughts made her angry, made her huff, breathe heavier and she began drinking it in, the taste of Armin, balls deep in her mother. It tasted strange... like perverted musky chocolate. Her tongue ran against her lips instinctively as she hung her head in shame, glancing down between her legs. Even in the moonlight, she could see it, a large dark patch against her white shorts.

Only upon seeing it did she feel it, the leaking, the heat, the coldness of the air breezing over it and the itch its warmth caused her. She craned her head over her shoulder, peering into the room. Her mother was bouncing atop Armin now, smashing her ass down against his thighs, trembling and shaking upon him as he swiped his hands up, spanking her breasts, her ass, groping her tits and tugging on them, calling her a 'bitch.'

As she watched, she felt a squeeze at her own chest, her hand instinctively slithered its way under her bra, grasping at her right teat, tweaking upon the nipple as she ran the tip of her finger along its edge. She urged herself to stop, but found the foreign pleasure growing upon her.

It was only moments before she succumbed to her own self-pleasure, peeling her drenched shorts down over her knees, bra pulled up to her shoulders as she leaned back against the door-frame, peeking into the room, stuffing two fingers between her legs, into her shaven pussy and carefully began pumping into herself in time with Armin's thrusts into her mother, and shivered, imagining that long, rigid dick burrowing deep into her virgin pussy.

He felt damp, oddly cold on his back, yet his face was flush with warmth as sunlight shone through the window, cresting the distant wall as it stirred him awake, he rolled to his side, feeling the dampness all around him now, the bed he lay on growing cold and sticky, it sent a shiver against his spine as he rolled the other way, blindly flailing his arm out around him, nothing, no warm mass, no meaty slap of a wayward hand against a plump ass, no person with him in the bed.

Armin's eyes shot open, gazing up at the ceiling, gasping suddenly as the memories of the night came to him all at once, everything he did, that Mrs Yeager did, that THEY did. He felt his heart sink and his stomach churn, all the shame, guilt and regret that brushed off him like wind over a stone now hit him full force like a railway wagon. He shot upright, looking around him, the room was empty, and the door closed tight, his clothes were still on the floor, Carla's were gone.

'How much was real? Surely my cock is-' He threw the bedsheets aside, the thought fading from his mind before he could finish it. There was his meat, only ever four inches of cock all his teenage life, now dangling over his thigh, nearly an entire 10 inches of flaccid, girthy horse-cock. He tentatively reached a hand out to grasp it, and he couldn't even fit his fingers the whole way around the shaft. It was heavy, and he could feel its weight upon his thigh. He dreaded having to stand up with it, walking was going to be tricky.

He climbed to his feet, looking around the room in search for something he could wear, only then noticing a set of folded clothes on the bedside table. They looked like Eren's clothes, they weren't there before, however.

'Carla must have brought me them.' Armin concluded, now a pang of concern filling him, if he felt so mortified about the night's events, just how did she feel? Angry? Betrayed? Scared? Flooded with guilt, much like himself. He drugged his best friends' mom and fucked her.

'Get your vengeance. However you need to!' Eren's words struck his mind once again, his regret melting away into vindicative glee. 'Yeah I fucked your mom Eren. How's that?'

Regardless he got dressed, swapping the contents of his pockets out as he carried his own stained bundle of clothing under his arm, moving for the door, careful to step over the stains on the floorboards as he left, quietly opening the hatch of the door and stepping out, feeling a wet stickiness beneath his toes. Glancing down, just outside the door was another sticky wet patch.

'Shit... I didn't think it spread this far.' He sighed, lifting his foot and wiping at it with his hand. He couldn't hold back, however, curiously lifting it to his nose, sniffing at the sticky substance. It was odd, it was a new scent, familiar yet, foreign. And if it was from him and Carla, why didn't it have a trail leading to it? He leaned down, looking closer at it. Hard to spot in the darkness of the still unlit hallway, only that which came from the east side of the house through Carla's window was illuminated.

Still, Armin always was known for his careful considerations, keen eye and calculating mindset. He noticed there was a trail of sorts, a few drops here, the edges of a footprint there, and before he knew it he was following it down the hallway, creaking over wooden boards as he came to its end, the bathroom. He creaked the door open, peering inside to find it vacant. Leaning back, he listened throughout the house. Things were mostly quiet save for the distant muffled sound of pots and plates clattering downstairs, someone making breakfast.

He stepped into the bathroom to look around, he was heading here anyway to dispose of his clothing, the scent of the puddle was stronger in here. He could taste his own sexual escapades upon the air, his underwear he stuffed into the hamper, and that beneath his arm, but there was something else. Something wet, he reached into the hamper, pulling the top layer of clothing off. He memorised its order, an overly cautious move as to not signal that someone had been hoking around inside, he didnt want anyone to catch out that his underwear was purposefully concealed so he packed everything back inside at the same, messy dumped-in angles he found them.

He was going to do the same with his own clothing, hide it away so that it might go unnoticed for some time, but he stopped after lifting off the two shirts and towel that sat on the surface of the basket.

That's new.

A pair of white shorts, stretchy fabric, plain without much markings, almost like a pair of boxers. That wasn't the only thing, the crotch on them was stained, a large dark patch upon the crotch, though no scent of piss. Cautiously he picked them up with a pinkie finger, hovering them before him, tentatively leaning in to sniff at them. It was sweet, spicy, raw and invigorating. Its smell alone caused him to feel slightly dizzy as he felt the blood rushing downwards, filling his cock slowly, swelling it to life against his trouser leg.

'They must have been Carla's, yet they smelled so wonderful. Perhaps I found her already wrist deep in her lust. Maybe that's why she smelled so primal last night, and this was probably just the beginning stages. And I never noticed the puddle last night because it was dark. I imagine the rest of her clothes are buried in here too.'

That last thought brought him back to the world. His own ruined clothes were clutched under his arms, so he reached down, and leveraged the basket up and against his chest, stuffing his cum-stained fabrics into the bottom of the basket. Standing back up and straightening himself out, then feeling nature's call, he relieved himself in the nearby toilet.

As he drained his lizard, now a dragon, he reached a hand into his cardigan, pulling out the photo he snapped, watching him smile back at himself, cuddling up to the Yeager Milf, tongue wriggling between her lips as she lay passed out next to him.

'Slut.' The intrusive thought hit him, blinking and shaking his head, stuffing the picture away, not wanting to spur his cock any firmer as he pissed. His mind, however, turned to the basket, the shorts still sitting atop the pile. Once he finished and turned for the door, he scooped them up, stuffing them into his smugglers' pockets, heading out of the bathroom and downstairs.