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Notes from the author: I've had this story banging around in my head for awhile, and I'm surprised it took me this long to finish it. I have a major crush on the turtles; their sexy feet were the first sign visible to me __that I had a foot fetish. Once I finished my current project (to be posted soon), I wound up staying awake until 3:00 A.M. finishing up this as __a gift to myself. The following story is more than a little inspired by Hummerhouse's disturbingly erotic The End Justifies; if you don't mind some non-con darkness and you like T-cest, give it a read!

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A slow shudder coursed through Leonardo's body as he regained consciousness. Despite the cloudiness of his mind, the turtle's training was instinctual and he remained motionless, breathing evenly. He vaguely remembered the hot sting of a dart stabbing into his neck, and assumed one of their many foes now held him captive; maintaining the illusion unconsciousness would give him precious time to surveil his surroundings with his other senses.

Hastily, the ninja drew up a mental guard, knowing well that many of his foes, through science or more mystical means, could detect whether someone was truly unconsciousness or just acting; then, in the closed-off partition of his mind, he began to take in what his senses were telling him.

He could feel cold concrete beneath him; thick bands of metal shackled him to the ground, locking his wrists and ankles to the hard surface. The lack of an elastic smoothness at his elbows and knees indicated that his captors had stripped off his protective gear. There was a potent, astringent odor to the air that he breathed; it seemed overly sterile and clean, and the susurrating hum of a vent fan above indicated a low ceiling, probably eight feet at most. Finally, the light weight across his eyes indicated that he was blindfolded.

The near imperceptible click of a door opening drew his attention, but he overrode his instincts and kept his head still. Another click signaled it closing again. Footsteps--almost completely silent ones--approached him. Whoever his captor was, they were as stealthy as one of his own brothers, and that meant someone educated in ninjitsu.

He drew in a breath through his nose, trying to catch the scent of his jailer, but the acerbic, clinical odors covered the approaching person's scent. When he probed outward stealthily with his psychic training, he quickly encountered a sea of static--the mark of one with spiritual training similar to his own.

Behind his mental shield, Leo was concerned; this foe seemed to know the methods of a captured ninja perfectly, and that meant he could be in severe peril.

When they were separated from him by only a few steps, the footfalls ceased. He knew that his foe stood over him silently. The blue-masked turtle could feel eyes studying him; he remained immobile as a statue, his mind blank of thought.

Finally, his captor coughed, then spoke in a voice that he recognized very well: "You don't have to bother pretending to be knocked out still, Leonardo. You're very good, but you know that I can always tell when you're awake."

Incredulously Leonardo replied, "Donatello, tell me what's going on right now. Why have you got me chained up in a lab?"

His brother chuckled, and the blindfold lifted from his face. Leonardo blinked in the bright fluorescent lights, the figure of his olive-skinned sibling silhouetted above him.

"I might as well explain what's going on; after all, you aren't going to remember any of this later," answered the genius.

In a lecturing tone, he continued: "You see, for quite some time I've found myself tormented by a growing need; it began as the smallest seed of want, but quickly blossomed into an absolute necessity, as much a requirement to my continued existence as oxygen. And yet, that need was something to which you would never capitulate."

He reached down to stroke Leo's cheek with a finger; his leader remained still and silent.

"I've watched you day after day, Leonardo, watched your iron will and confident leadership carry us through battle after battle. As I watched, I realized that a feeling was growing inside me, a desire: I was attracted to you. I found myself infatuated with your body, your scent, your every motion. I wanted--no, needed--to have you, physically." He added with a smirk, "In layman's terms, I desired to fuck you."

The expletive coming from the mouth of his normally chaste sibling was jarring. With clear confusion in his voice, Leo finally answered. "But Donatello, I'm your brother. I know that our unusual lives mean that we likely will never have a true romantic relationship with someone else, but that doesn't mean we should turn to--to incest. It's severe taboo for reason."

Frowning, he added, "What did you mean, 'I won't remember this later'?"

The purple-masked turtle patted a leather pouch on his belt. "In preparation for this event, I've been concocting a powerful amnesiac, something strong enough to affect even our mutant physiologies. Once I am finished, I will simply give you an injection and sneak you back into your bed in the lair. When you awake, you'll remember nothing of what we've done--of what I've done to you."

He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "When Master Splinter left to visit the Daimyo, I knew my opportunity had arrived. I recommended to Michelangelo that he should take a new prototype sewer slider I've been working on out for stress test to ensure that its battery life is sufficient. Thanks to my advice, he'll be zipping about the sewers well until nightfall tomorrow. Raphael already had plans to crash at Casey's place after their evening patrol."

The genius's chocolate-hued eyes stared into the bound turtle's sky blue ones as he continued explaining: "That meant all I had to do was catch you off-guard for a moment; my tranquilizer put you under, and then I carried you here, to a secret chamber I've been setting up just for this purpose."

Disbelief flooding his mind, Leonardo was silent for several moments as he tried to gather his thoughts. Eventually he asked, "But why all this? Why not just approach me and tell me how you felt? Perhaps I might have reciprocated your feelings, and even if I didn't, I could have helped you out with them. I could have--."

Donatello shook his head slowly as he interrupted his brother. "No, Leo. I know you. Your honor would never allow something as base and degenerate as a sexual tryst with your own brother. Had I even suggested it, you would have felt compelled to divulge it to Master Splinter, and then my opportunity would be closed."

He kneeled down next to the shackled turtle and added, "Besides, as I observed my feelings, I came to understand that I did not want just a relationship." He unsnapped the satchel on his belt and drew out a vial and hypodermic needle, plunging it into the clear liquid and drawing up the stopper to suction some of it into the tube.

"After a short time, I realized that while it was your unwavering discipline that initially attracted me, it was the concept of breaking that determination that truly aroused me. I didn't just want to have sex with you; I wanted to dominate you, and to show you that despite your strength of will, you could still succumb to my greater intellect," concluded the brilliant terrapin.

Leonardo simply couldn't believe that this was happening. His brother, the genius that in many ways kept their family together--even more so than his own leadership--had gone completely mad. He swallowed his waxing anxiety and in an even voice said, "Donatello, there is something wrong with you. Please, undo these bindings and we'll go back to the lair and figure out what's happened to you."

Without warning, Donatello jabbed the needle into his brother's bicep, depressing the plunger. The chemical, whatever it was, burned as it penetrated his muscle. His voice shaking with restrained anger, the eldest turtle asked, "What did you just inject into me? I thought you said you wouldn't give me the amnesiac until after you'd done--whatever it is you plan to do with me."

"Oh, that wasn't the amnesiac, my dear brother." The purple-masked turtle stowed away the medical gear before laying a hand upon his sibling's upper arm. "That was a different cocktail of my own creation: One part potent aphrodisiac, one part mild tranquilizer, and a splash of scopolamine for good measure. The combination should leave you relatively docile, sexually aroused, and, thanks to the so-called 'zombie drug', highly open to suggestion."

Already, Leonardo could feel a leaden drowsiness settling in his limbs; the drug was working quickly, and he realized in mere moments that even if the restraints weren't binding him to the cold concrete, his movements would be sluggish and clumsy. Yet whatever the medication was, it didn't seem to affect his mind, or perhaps it simply couldn't penetrate the mental barrier that he'd erected.

Almost seeming to read his thoughts, Donatello looked into his eyes, watching his pupils dilate as the drug took hold. In a self-satisfied tone, he added, "The best part of all this? If you responded how I think you would to this situation, you've kept a part of your mental faculties cordoned off in case your captor had any psychic capability. That means that even as I take you, as I tear down your confidence and sexually dominate you, part of you will be fully conscious to see it. And yet," he added, patting the other turtle's cheek lightly, "the amnesiac I concocted will easily break down that barrier and wipe out those memories once we're finished."

His tongue seemingly brick-thick in his mouth, Leo slurred out, "'s not too . . . too late, Dom--Donatello. 's time t' undo these--these cuffs and we'll . . . we'll . . ."

The blue-banded mutant's words trailed off into an unintelligible moan as he felt a heat growing in his lower plastron. From his mental sanctuary-turned-cell, he could sense the aphrodisiac beginning to take effect. Warmth was suffusing his body and a pleasant tingling seemed to dance across his skin. In its protective pouch above his tail, his member started to swell, pushing at the soft cartilage that hid it.

Noting the small bulge forming at his brother's groin, Donatello tsk'ed and shook his head teasingly. "What a dirty boy you are, Leonardo. I haven't even touched you yet, and you're getting hard just from the thought of being my submissive plaything." He planted a finger on the bridge of his brother's plastron and dragged it slowly downward, tracing the lines of his scutes. The touch sent flickers of pleasure sparking through the bound turtle's body; when the other hand brushed along the underside of his sensitive tail, it was simply too much for his weakened will; he felt the cartilage of his slit part, his burgeoning erection slipping free.

Wrapping the three fingers of his left hand around his brother's pulsing shaft, the genius stroked it slowly, the battle-roughened skin of his palms dragging up and down the wet, purple length. Leonardo noticed a shudder run through his brother as he languidly milked the enlarging organ.

His eyes sparkling with desire, Donatello murmured breathily, "Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you like this? Can you even being to comprehend how many nights I've lain awake in my room, feverishly masturbating to the simple thought of your warm erection in my hand?"

The drugged turtle squirmed in his bindings. Within his mental prison, Leonardo felt disgusted, violated tremendously, and yet he was incapable of ignoring the erotic and electric currents spreading out from his groin. He moaned, flexing the muscles of his lower body, his tumescent member flexing and dribbling a string of precum onto his plastron.

Donatello withdrew his hand, ceasing his stroking as quickly as it had begun. With a finger, he scraped up the thin fluid from the captured turtle's plates and licked it from his fingertip, shivering at the taste. Then he stood and walked around to stand between his brother's spread legs. He lifted his foot off the ground and then lowered it slowly onto the glistening plum-colored shaft, pressing his heel down on its base as his twin toes gripped it just below the broad head.

Dragging his sole up and down the length of his brother's cock, he asked quietly, "How does it feel, Leonardo? The foot is considered in many cultures to be the most impure and filthy part of the body, and yet I feel your desire throbbing between my toes. Part of you knows that your only worth is to be under my feet, and that the only way that you'll ever be fulfilled in life is to submit to my will. So tell me, how does it feel?"

The pressure of his brother's foot was almost painful against his hardness, but the friction still drew gasps of bliss from Leonardo's mouth. With the sexual poison burning in his veins, he could already feel his climax building from this small amount of stimulation. A blush rose into his cheeks as he groaned out, "Please, Donny . . ."

Smirking, the scientist sped up the pistoning of his foot. "Already about to orgasm, brother? Do it! Shoot your seed! It will splatter on the bottom of my foot and on your own body, impotent and wasted--a fit reward for a submissive weakling like you!" He punctuated his fevered command by squeezing his toes together roughly around the girthy wine-colored shaft, massaging the sensitive underside of the glans.

With a cry, Leonardo felt the head of his cock flare, the mushroom shape expanding as it spewed out the first load of cum. The creamy eruption slopped onto brother's toes and onto the sole of his grinding foot; the continued movements rapidly churned it into a messy white froth. The second volley jetted up to splatter on the fallen leader's chin; a few drops fell onto his tongue as he cried out open-mouthed in ecstasy, and the bitter flavor heightened his orgasmic rapture. The remaining few spurts showered onto his plastron, coating his scutes in ivory.

Before his brother's climax had faded, Donatello shifted forward, sticking his jism-coated foot into the writhing turtle's face. "Clean it off, you whore! You made this mess; let's get some use out of the mouth of yours. It's not good for anything else, after all!"

The two-toed foot descended onto his face and Leonardo could feel the warmth of his own load smearing his cheeks and chin. He darted his tongue out weakly and lapped at the warm sole, gathering up the musky fluid and swallowing it.

The realization of the lewdness, the sheer debauchery of his actions, tore a deep churring moan from his chest, and he gave into the lasciviousness, hungrily licking up the cum. When his brother shoved a toe into his mouth, he suckled on it, rolling his tongue around the chunky digit, cleaning the dregs of his own ejaculate even from beneath the nail. Clean of jizz but now coated with slobber, the first toe jerked free from his maw with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting it briefly to his lips. When the second cum-covered appendage slid in, there was no hesitation; he bathed it ravenously, gulping down his own cum with gusto.

As he rubbed his spit-slick foot back and forth across his addled sibling's face, Donatello gazed down at the still-moaning turtle with lustful contempt. "Just what I thought, nothing but a cum-hungry slut," he growled out mockingly. "I'd wager you spent extra time practicing your flexibility just so you could bend yourself double and shower yourself with your own load, didn't you?"

As he taunted his brother, the genius could feel his own member pushing painfully against the inside of his plastron, but he ignored it for the moment. He wanted to savor every moment of this, devour every second of his high-minded brother giving in to his basest of urges. When he finally did cum, he wanted it to be a release of epic scale, and that meant taking his time and letting his need build to its maximum.

From the sober jail within his own thoughts, Leonardo heard the mewls of pleasure issuing from his mouth and shook his head in disgust. Despite what his brother thought, his will was not shattered, he told himself firmly; he was merely enduring this torture even while his body gave into its baser instincts.

And yet when Donatello knelt down beside him again and laid a hand upon his cum-coated cheek, a shiver of uncertainty surged through his psyche. He could feel the hairline fractures forming in the barrier protecting the core of his mind, and his reserves of strength were draining quickly. He listened with dread as his brother's taunting voice spoke to the coherent part of him: "This is just the first debasement of many, Leonardo. Get used to being underfoot; I'm far from finished using you yet . . ."