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And We Are Undone


"What do you think of my new figure, Fullmetal?" Dante asked, running a hand through her—his, rather—new hair.

Beneath him, a naked Edward Elric sat in stupefied horror, eyes wide as golden saucers.

Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. The boy could have never expected this of all things.

Dante laughed. "Such a shame. I had thought you would like it. Seems I was wrong in presuming it was that silly Rose girl your eyes shone for, when it seems instead that it was your superior officer whom you regarded with such fancy."

He trailed a hand between his thighs, stroking himself to full erection as Ed goggled and squirmed beneath him.

The boy was already slick and lubed and ready to be fucked, and it had been a long time since Dante had copulated as a male. Men were ugly, sweaty creatures, at least usually, but this boy was so perfect. Making him bleed would be a sweet treat indeed.

"I guess I can understand, though..."

With his latest stolen face, Dante leaned forward to press vicious kisses to Ed's cheeks, leaving a trail of red down the column of tanned skin on his neck before lowering his mouth to his prey's chest and proceeding to pinch each nipple; then, he lightly swirled his tongue along them, making laughable and ridiculous sexual noises in the hopes of eliciting a response from Edward. The boy gasped and gritted his teeth.

"...he really is beautiful, this one. Or he was. I guess it's more accurate to say that I'm beautiful, now."

Dante was sure the boy wanted to tell him to fuck off, or maybe he wanted to say "fuck you", but those would have been the wrong words and he knew it.

He pulled at the ropes binding Edward, ripping red streaks along his exposed flesh. There came a muffled cry. Just to play with this toy to the fullest extent, Dante then pinched the raw nerve endings from where the automail had been removed. That prized a whimper.

"How many times did you fantasize about fucking him, Edward?"

Gently—almost tenderly—he undid the ties that bound the teenager and then pulled him downwards. There was a struggle, if a brief one. Ed was on his knee in seconds, muttering swears and words of denial.

"Don't lie. You are your father's son. Always looking for a pretty face."

He dislodged one of the chair's legs and nudged the boy's ass open. To Edward's credit, he barely flinched. That would have to change.

Unceremoniously, Dante shoved the piece of wood into his prey, chuckling softly at the indignant outcry of pain and humiliation.

"So...so what if I did, you fucking bitch?" Ed rasped, laughing miserably in spite of the obvious pain he was in.

"Bitch? Me? Oh no, no, no, Edward. You haven't realized your place yet, is all." Whistling merrily, he eased the wood in and out, reaching over and grabbing the boy's cock to stroke in time with the motions his hand was making. It sounded so delightfully squeaky! Edward was still far too soft for his liking, though. Wasn't the sight of Roy Mustang enough to get him hard? So what if blood was pouring down his thighs? Surely there was enough left for a stiffy! "You are the military's little dog, after all!"

This was boring. The child was holding out, as Dante had expected, but his own erection was so irritating. He wanted to fuck the brat and be done with it, but he supposed a little more play was in order.

"Did he ever ask you to bark for him, Edward?" He grinned wickedly and shoved a fist into the blond's hair, holding him still while releasing his cock long enough to grab one of the nearby cloths. A good dog should be collared and leashed, but even without his metal limbs, Ed could fight surprisingly well.

Nevertheless, he went down, head striking the ground with a dull crack.

In moments, he was tied up, although Dante held off on muffling him, at least for the time being.

"Bark for me, Edward."

No response.

With a slight perturbed growl—no one said no to her (or him)—Dante kicked him in the abdomen. "Bark for me or I'll replace you with your brother!"

At that, Ed began yelping so loudly that any canine should have been envious of him.

"That's better. Perhaps I'll teach you obedience yet."

Ed started to say something, to snap off some kind of vitriolic remark, but Dante had no interest in listening to anything he had to say unless he was professing words of love, wonder, or adoration. Therefore, he went about muffling the boy, gagging him until the toned body heaved with the effort of trying to breathe as he was restrained and forced into the position of a dog about to be mounted.

"Perfect."

With that, Dante scooped a few dollops of Ed's blood from his ass and lubed himself accordingly, singing a jaunty tune as any jolly sport such as Roy Mustang should have done.

He didn't even look at Edward's face as he began easing into the teenager. He could've done this quickly, so very quickly, and some people probably would've. Envy would've, because he had no patience.

But Dante had four hundred years of planning and patience, and so he didn't mind going slowly, savouring the feel of the boy's heat, life, and blood.

"Soon, maybe I'll take your form. Wouldn't that be something? Fucking your brother in the body of the sibling who loved him!" He laughed. There was no better feeling than owning the world, but fucking Edward Elric was pretty close. "It's too bad I don't still have a cunt. But I can always transmute one onto you, if need be."

Ed stirred at the thought, and the slight movement caused him to tense around Dante's cock. The former woman sighed indulgently and began to thrust—again, slowly at first, steadily—but quicker with every few seconds.

Tight. He was so incredibly tight, in the way that only a virgin could be, and Dante had forgotten how fucking wonderful it felt to fuck a guy as a guy. So empowering. Tan stained with dark red blood. Perfection.

He suppressed a moan, not wishing to sound pleasured so soon in the game. Ed didn't need to hear that. This was about Dante—all about his power. He hated men, despised them, but it was worth taking this form with its ugly phallus if it meant shoving Ed's nose into the ground and fucking him senseless.

"And I'll have it, too," he assured, thrusting faster, reaching a hand down to caress his own face and chest and thighs.

The gag probably wasn't working too well; the brat had good teeth, but even so, he wasn't saying much of anything.

He knew better. Knew that this could be dragged out for longer. And Dante took every pleasure in looking into the full length mirror in front of them, admiring Mustang's handsome visage and his sculpted body, even as his movements became frantic.

Too frantic. Too fucking soon.

But fuck! The kid was so damned exquisite; Greed would have said the same thing, or Envy, but none of them were having him now. Just Dante. Only Dante!

The sense of power caused him to go more quickly, edging on desperate.

The blood from his earlier treatment of the boy's ass hadn't yet cooled; if anything, the whole damned ass was too hot from the friction of being fucked. Dante leaned all the way over and grinned, catching the sharp reflection in the shadowed mirror before running a tongue along Ed's ear. "Mine," he whispered. "The treasured son of Hohenheim."

No matter the pain he was in, or perhaps because of it, Ed's cock had finally stirred and grown to a near full erection in Dante's hand. He jerked harder, not caring if the boy came or not.

There followed something that was like a gasp, like a whine, but more akin to a whimper than either. "Enjoying it? I hope so, because we have eternity together, Edward."

He ignored the fact that he would eventually rot, because it'd be Ed's body he'd have next, and Ed's tawny flesh would be turning grey and brown and dark green. The thought wasn't appetizing, but it would be the final revenge against the man who had made Dante feel so inferior in the past. He didn't tolerate that. No one made him feel inferior.

The pressure grew, surging and tight.

It wasn't just the physical; Edward was amazing, virginal and prone to clenching up at the smallest motions, but the mental aspect was so much more intense. He was fucking over the progeny of his hated enemy, the golden child from out of that bitch's cunt, and in so doing, he was fucking over Hohenheim.

Within about another minute, Dante felt the flutter in his belly that indicated he was about to come. Male or female, it was always the same.

"Forever, son of Hohenheim, we're one, you and I," he said—purring the words, and then orgasm followed.

It was the same in men as in women, mostly: a tensing of the muscles, a scream of ecstasy as white noise washed over the nerves, panting and moaning and a feeling that was like pain and pleasure all in one.

He came hard to visions of the future—of riding the kid until he'd had his fill and then taking the bruised body and fucking Alphonse in it. Both of Hohenheim's sons at once!

Edward was unresponsive, but when Dante looked over and inspected his face, he saw that no tears sparkled on his cheeks.

Golden hair fell everywhere, and the air smelled salty like sweat and semen, with an iron metallic tang of spilled blood.

Not the best orgasm Dante'd ever had, but there'd be time for plenty of others.

He waited for his cock to fully soften, then slid from the boy with a soft sigh, ignoring the slight wet sound. Really, he'd used too much lubricant. Too much blood. He'd need to show better moderation next time.

Given that Dante's ministrations had finally gotten Edward fully hard, the man figured he might be merciful and allow him to have an orgasm in reward for his cooperation.

"Think of your Colonel," he said, shoving the man's face into Edward's so that he would be unable not to think of him. Golden eyes were still defiant, but wide, and faintly, there did seem to be a glimmer to them. "Or think of fucking your brother. Or..."

He jerked harder, rubbing his palm along Ed's cock, alternating between teasingly soft and viciously rough, as if he were touching him with a feather and then burning him with a rope.

"...think of fucking them both at once," he whispered at length, drawing the final word out just as a thumbnail brushed along the moist tip of the erection, and apparently that—that final crescendo—was all it took to send the boy right over the edge of the precipice.

He made an indistinguishable sound, a cry that wanted to be a scream but was too muffled by the gag to have much of an effect as such.

Dante watched every muscle on the young body tense and spasm as Ed—to his own assured shame and disgust—climaxed against his enemy's hand, spilling white and hot onto the fingers which had once belonged to a man who had wanted to befriend him.

Dante watched, indulging in the sight, lapping up the regret and the grief as a dog would lap at its owner's hand—although he noted, amused, that this metaphor would be better reserved for Edward.

"So that's what it takes, then? Both your brother and—" He tapped his own face. "I'll remember that. We're going to have a great deal of fun until this form of mine starts to wither, son of Hohenheim."

So saying, he cleaned himself off, dragged the boy to the wall, chained him up securely—fastening both remaining limbs down—and left him to suffer in his own sweat, come, blood, and sorrow.

Edward would speak to him, eventually. Any good dog would, and despite his obstinacy, the child could be trained.

Any man could be trained.

It was all about knowing how.


As weeks passed, Amestris's new leader saw to it that Edward's body was altered into a form that he found more appealing for fucking.

An ass was well and good, but Dante knew that if he used Edward too much and too harshly, then it would loosen to a degree that would be uncomfortable for the both of them.

So with a little alchemy—or actually a lot of alchemy and a good deal of other science—Hohenheim's perfect son soon got transmuted into a very perfect daughter.

Dante adored Ed's new cunt. Licking it. Sucking and nibbling the clitoris. Pushing in his fingers. Making the girl hiss and scream and kick at him. He returned her limbs, but broke them so that the kid wouldn't be able to really do anything with them.

It was hard to think of Ed as a her, and she still had the attitude of a teenage male, but at least she smelled considerably better now.

Edward snarled when Dante held her down—just as so many men over the years had held Dante herself down—or when Dante found new ways to restrain the girl, new positions to tie her up in.

"I wouldn't be so sure that you've won yet..." Edward said at her bolder times, and she even smirked.

How laughable!

As though Dante would really fall for such idle and implied threats.

Dante had never considered himself obsessed with sex, though some of his husbands had thought otherwise. But now he couldn't seem to get enough of making this one squirm, grow red in the face, come, gasp, and scream.

Again and again he toyed with the folds, lapped at the fluid which spilled from between Ed's thighs, fucked her raw until she moaned and shivered like a wanton little slut.

With his mouth, with his hands, with his cock, with his words and his power, Dante had Hohenheim's son in every manner conceivable—mind, body, and soul.


One day, he came to the girl, giving cursory glances to the bruised flesh limbs, noting the way that dark spots flowered up and down the tanned skin.

Ed never looked at him anymore. Never spoke. Not when she was fucked, beaten, slapped, or lashed.

Dante figured it was time to do something more drastic.

So today when he came to pay a visit to Hohenheim's eldest son—or, rather, daughter—he brought along the youngest child as a spectator of sorts.

Well, actually, a participant.

"Two brothers reunited," Dante chimed happily, ignoring the rot that had begun to gnaw at this newest form. "How beautiful it is. What do you think of your new sister, Alphonse?"

The boy said nothing.

With a girlish giggle somewhat unbecoming for Roy Mustang's body, Dante strode over to the bed upon which Ed was now trussed up and lightly ran a fingertip along her breasts, letting his hands descend and pausing to stroke the nipples to hardness.

A shiver corkscrewed down his spine; his cock twitched eagerly as desire for that warm, wet cunt rose in him.

"Nothing to say? Aw. I'm hurt. I had the best alchemists in the State at work on this one. I think it's some of the finest human transmutation done to date...and you've nothing to say? Tsk. I had expected more courtesy out of you, Alphonse. Well, if you don't want to take her, then I'll do the honours myself."

Lest the younger Elric doubt his words, Dante began removing his clothing. The pants had already grown far too constricting; his cock had gotten almost completely erect. He hadn't expected Alphonse to be so silent. That was very unusual. He didn't think much of it, though. Surely this was a surprising sight—his brother with breasts a vagina. Well, he would get over his initial shock soon enough, Dante reasoned.

"Wait!" Alphonse called suddenly.

Dante looked up, blinking. Wait? Someone was telling him (her) to wait? Hadn't the child figured out by now that Amestris's new fuhrer did as he saw fit and waited for no one but himself? He resisted the urge to scowl at this offense.

"Take me instead," the younger boy offered.

That was certainly not a surprise. This was exactly what Dante had wanted.

At once, Edward was lively again—as lively as she had been before the torture, the rapes, the bindings and the abuse. "No, Al!" she yelled, sitting upright and struggling against her restraints. "No, no, no! He doesn't mean it! Shut up, Al!" The girl was growing panicked. Dante had not seen such emotion from her in weeks. "Just shut up, all right? Don't ...don't..."

Dante smiled. So the plan had worked.

The younger Elric had brought life back to the elder, just as once the elder had done the same for him. "So this is what it takes to get your attention, is it, Edward? Well, I'm glad I've figured this out." He stepped forward. "I wonder...what would you think if I touched your brother in front of you, we with the faces you have loved so much?"

Ed, to his surprise, said nothing. Perhaps she knew all was lost.

Dante stepped close to Al, then extended a hand to touch his face.

A look of fear and trepidation crossed the youth's eyes. Clearly, he was trying to be strong for his sister, but he couldn't hide the anxiety that was surely rising within him. Dante felt his arousal grow. Full hardness now.


And then, Alphonse smirked—

—and knelt, touching the ground.

Light exploded everywhere.

What?

No! What could this be? Dante didn't understand! It wasn't supposed to be like this! This wasn't right!

Looking down, his breath froze in his throat as he spotted odd shapes peeking out from beneath the rugs, from beneath the bed, from behind the curtains. He kicked them aside furiously, too startled to scream at the sight of a transmutation circle covering the length of the room. It was long, awkward, made from imprecise blood splatters, but it was there!

"You would've seen if you'd only had the eyes to look, Dante," Edward said in her quieter new voice, eyes narrowed. She smiled. "It really wasn't very well hidden at all. But you were too busy looking at yourself in the mirror to realize what was beneath your feet."

It was wrong. So wrong. It was never supposed to be like this, never like this! It was supposed to be perfect, dominion and ruling and—

—and as the dark hands of the Gate rushed outwards to rend away his stolen, rotting flesh, Dante could've sworn he heard a voice whisper,

And now you are undone.