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Gasping and sputtering, Leo struggled to lift his leaden eyelids as a torrent of frigid water doused his face. Confusion roiled through his brain as he tugged impotently at the heavy iron bands shackling him to the concrete floor.

It wasn't until he heard Donatello's mocking voice calling, "Time to wake up, Leonardo!" that he recalled his predicament and the world spun into focus.

His captor kneeled next to him, fiddling with something at the restrained turtle's side; over an odd squeaking sound, he heard the scientist mutter, "I will need to adjust the tranquilizer next time; that little nap cost me precious time . . ."

There was a soft click and with a start, Leonardo realized that the pressure on his wrists was gone. His brother had unlocked the shackles binding him to the floor. As he watched him doing the same to the manacles around his ankles, he drunkenly asked, "Wha'er you doin'?"

"I'm releasing your bonds. What does it look like?" replied Donatello, as he straightened up. "I can't properly humiliate you while you are flat on your shell." Watching as he struggled to sit up, the genius added with a chuckle, "Although it looks like the graceful shinobi will wind up falling on his face anyway."

Behind his psychic barrier, Leonardo's choked back his aggravation but could do little else. Thanks to the poisons in his blood, Leo's body (he'd begun to think of his physical self as "Leo" and of his true, unencumbered mental self as "Leonardo") refused to obey his commands, no matter how he concentrated.

He couldn't let that stop him, though; he had to overcome the debilitating lethargy, subdue his brother, and then get them both to safety. After all, Donny was family; that would remain true regardless of the acts borne of his madness.

Thoughts of rescuing his brother stiffened his resolve; he took a deep breath and lurched forward into seiza. The sudden burst of movement left his stomach spinning with nausea, and for a moment, he feared he would topple from his kneeling position. It took all of the self-control he could muster to steady himself; once he was certain of his balance, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, battling the waves of vertigo whirling through his brain.

He felt Donatello studying him intently as he inhaled and exhaled in a meditative cadence. His respite was brief, as soon the silence was broken by scornful applause coupled with a raucous cheer of, "Bravo, Leonardo! Bravo! There is that unflinching resolve I will so savor crushing," he jeered.

Suddenly, the _jonin _sensed a body inches from his own, and a voice whispered almost directly into his ear, "Already finding your place, 'brother'? It's good that you know to kneel before your master."

Before he could open his eyes, a hand grabbed the back of his head and jerked it forward roughly. Lacking the strength to stop the attack, he found his face yanked forward and buried between two warm mounds of flesh. Each breath pulled in the humid scent of sweat and a potent, acrid musk.

He opened his eyes to see an olive-green tail curled directly above his forehead, and with revulsion understood that Donatello had shoved the drunken turtle's face between the cheeks of his ass. Leonardo tried to jerk his head away as the demented genius murmured, "Since you're already down there, slut, put your tongue to work! Maybe you'll be more skilled at pleasuring me orally than you were at leading your team."

Not a chance! snarled back Leonardo, raising his arms to shove his brother away.

At least that was his intention; in reality, the scopolamine left him little conscious control of his body. While Leo raised his hands, it was only to grip the twin globes of muscled rump to pry them apart so he could plunge his beak further into the deep cleft.

A salty, pungent taste flooded his palate as his body obeyed, tonguing the wrinkled pucker and lubricating it with his spit. The act repulsed Leonardo, and yet he felt his--Leo's--member swelling beneath his scutes as groaned with desire.

The sensual sound drew more taunting from his brother. "You like servicing my ass, slut? Do you relish pleasuring your master?" The hand on the back of his head pulled it about, grinding it up and down the saliva-slickened crevice.

"I wonder if you've done this before. You seem quite talented at 'giving a rim job', as I believe it's colloquially known," Leonardo heard the olive-skinned scientist pant; it seemed clear Donny was enjoying the carnal, humiliating act. As his body continued tongue-fucking his sibling's musky hole, the other continued his belittling diatribe: "I have to assume, though, that this is natural talent; such a virtuous prude would never admit to such a demeaning deed."

The tight, muscular ring began to relax at Leo's ministrations, allowing his probing tongue to delve deeper into the quivering passage. Shortly the thick, wriggling length worked in far enough to brush his brother's prostate. The contact against the tiny bundle of nerves sent a shudder coursing through the dominant reptile, who pressed back against the wiggling tongue while hissing, "Yesss, right there, you slut."

The submissive turtle's drug-muddled body obeyed, thrusting his tongue against that sensitive spot repeatedly. Leonardo saw an opportunity; if he could bring his brother to orgasm, he might have an opportunity to overpower the genius as he came. He threw his will behind Leo's actions, jabbing against the nerve cluster as firmly as possible. It was working! He could feel Don's body shivering at the pleasurable assault, and his glutes and thighs began to flex; a few more moments and he'd push him into orgasm.

Suddenly, Donatello pulled away.

The movement was so swift that he toppled forward onto his plastron. Sharp and excruciating pain knifed up from his groin, and at first, the source of the agony eluded him. It took Leonardo a moment to realize that servicing his brother had excited his body so much that his erection had dropped down. He'd collapsed on top of it, crushing sensitive against the concrete.

Before he could even attempt to soothe the gut-wrenching ache, the world spun nauseatingly as Don planted a foot against his side and kicked him over. His shell impacted the concrete with a loud crack! that echoed through the lab. As he lay dazed on the cold floor, fighting again to catch his breath, he heard his brother pant out, "C-clever, Leonardo--but you won't throw me off so easily!"

Then he the scientist's teasing laugh rang in his ears. "Oh good grief--did you get hard just from rimming me?" Leonardo realized that rolling over had flopped his engorged member in plain view; it twitched and bobbed above his lower scutes. His cheeks burned as the other mocked, "Maybe I should have made a chastity cage for you; you really are nothing but a whore."

Donatello walked over and reached beneath him to slap the tip of the leaking shaft, drawing a squeak of shock from the prone turtle. "Wait here, my submissive toy," he ordered. "After partaking of such a fine slut, I need to rest my legs," he added, as he disappeared into the shadows.

A moment later, Leonardo heard a scraping noise and weakly lifted his head to see his captor dragging a plush leather armchair into the light. It squeaked as Don flopped down into it, his muscular legs splayed apart to reveal his obvious arousal. The lounging turtle locked eyes with his doped sibling and sharply ordered, "Get over here, slut--on all fours, like the bitch you are."

Leo held out for only a second before acquiescing to the order. He turned over and struggled to all fours before starting unsteadily toward the seated terrapin. The rough concrete bit at his knees and shins as he crawled, his maleness swinging below him, dripping onto the floor.

As he neared, he saw Donatello draw something from behind his back. It took a moment to identify it: An unadorned leather collar with a silver buckle. The seated turtle crooked his finger and Leo crept forward obediently to have it placed around his neck. Inside his mind, the coherent core of himself showed far less obedience, watching with cold anger at this disgrace.

The collared ninja watched as his brother sat back and mused, "I'm conflicted, slut. You see, we have hours to go before we return home, your mind wiped clean of all this. At the same time," Don added, leaning forward to lock eyes with him, "I've realized I have concocted far too many ways destroy your character and transform you into the sniveling whore I know you to truly be."

The maddened savant sighed theatrically as he continued, "Sadly, we do still have to worry about the clock. As you napped, I grew concerned that I would be unable to choose between all the delightfully degrading options."

Leo felt one of Donny's feet slip from its perch; it slid over the sensitive, exposed skin of his collarbone until it cradled his chin between two thick toes. It forced his head upward to look his dominator in the face.

"Then I realized: I do not have to choose at all. Who better to know what would annihilate your sense of self-worth . . . but you." In a quiet, demanding tone, he concluded, "And so I ask you: What act would you find most mortifying?"

The torpid leader cursed mentally. He couldn't submit to this! Whatever had happened to Donatello, it was up to him to break this madness.

Then an idea struck him: He could simply tell the truth! After all, his sibling couldn't use the information against him, for one simple reason: It relied on a person who wasn't here!

Trying his best to form the words clearly, Leonardo responded, "'s - It's Splinter. T-to lose control in front of h-him, and to lose his respect." Despite his addled state, a glimmer of resistance shone in the turtle's blue eyes; this was something out of Donatello's control. Perhaps it would throw him off balance.

His stomach sank as the savant just smirked and hissed, "Excellent choice, brother . . ." Donatello rose from the chair and darted noiselessly into the shadows. The prostrate turtle peered into the darkness, but his eyesight was simply too fuzzy to see anything.

Momentarily, he heard soft footfalls behind him; he shuffled around unsteadily toward the sound, but before he was reoriented, a thick, whip-like tendril cracked against his temple. The sharp blow sent him sprawling once more onto the cold stone floor.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard a familiar voice speaking in displeased tones: "Leonardo, what is this? What have you become?"

That's impossible, he thought as dread clutched his gut.

Yet as he righted himself, he found looming over him his father and sensei. The shadows cast by his maroon yukata ** ** hid Splinter's face, but his voice was unmistakable. "Answer me, Leonardo!" he demanded

No! howled Leonardo within his mental bunker; he sensed ragged cracks splintering through the spiritual barrier protecting his mind from the maelstrom of drugged confusion. He threw his remaining will into bolstering those shields, leaving none to allot to fighting for control of his physical body.

From Leo's drugged beak emerged a slurred, "Noooo . . ."

"What dishonor is this? Captured so easily, given in to a foe with so little struggle?" The rat pointed with a long, clawed finger toward Leonardo's groin and growled in disapproval, adding, "And with yourself exposed like some lustful beast?!"

The turtle whimpered and tried to lower his hands to cover his shameful erection, but before he could do so, Splinter's whip-like tail lashed out, wrapping around one of his forearms. "No!" rebuked the robed sensei, "You will not hide your shame!" The steely tendril jerked back, forcing his wrist to the ground; the rat's clawed, furless foot pressed down against it, pinning the limb to the concrete. A second later and the rat's tail subdued his other arm, leaving him once again restrained, this time by the warm flesh of his father's feet.

Without the direction of Leonardo's will, Leo just stammered uselessly until a sharp slap to his cheek by his father's tail silenced him. Contempt dripped from the rodent master's voice as he chided, "You have shamed the Hamato clan, Leonardo. You have shamed your family. Most of all, you have shamed me."

"I see now that I erred grievously in choosing you to lead my clan. I should punish you," he continued. The turtle whined, struggling helplessly against the rat's smooth, pink soles. Feeling the movement, Splinter gripped with his dexterous toes until the tips of his claws dug sharply into the flesh of his captive's wrists; with a yelp, the helpless mutant stilled.

Grousing with frustration as he sought to repair his nearly-fallen mental guard, Leonardo watched as his outer being futilely tried to reason with his father--no, not his father, but with this evil illusion.

"Sensei, I . . . I don't - I don't understand. D-donatello-" Leo sputtered. "We have to--something is w-wrong with him, he's gone insane!, Please, father--"

The rat cut him off with another smack to his cheek; this time the leathery tail left a red welt on the turtle's emerald skin. Splinter scoffed. "Father? I am not your father; I see no son of Hamato Yoshi. I see a mewling animal enslaved to his lusts. See!" He pointed with a trembling finger at the turtle's neck and growled, "You wear a collar, like a dog, and not once have you fought to remove it!"

While the defeated ninja's blue eyes filled with tears, the rat's tail slithered down the center of this plastron; to his surprise, it encircled his still-engorged member just below the head and squeezed tightly, milking a few drops of fluid from the tip. "Even through all this you still are aroused! Have you no honor?" Splinter shook his head in disgust.

"Do not ever call yourself my son again!" he raged. "You are no jonin; _you are not even _shinobi!_ You are lecherous dog, given over to rut." _The tail constricted again, pinching the throbbing violet pole almost cruelly and drawing a confused whimper of pleasure from Leonardo's throat.

"See how you mewl like an animal?" The tail's grip on his shaft loosened but then began to piston up and down, milking the twitching plum-colored length. "Tell me, dog: Even though you consider me your father, you still find pleasure in having me touch you like this?" In reply, Leo's body writhed on the concrete, trying to thrust into the stroking grip; as soon as he did, though, the tail stopped.

In a tone thick with loathing, the rat responded, "No, dog. If you wish me to sully myself by giving you release, you will beg for it properly." His tail resumed its languid motions, the pressure and friction tantalizing against Leo's erection but not enough to push him over the edge.

"Father why--" he started, but then immediately yelped with pain as the tail's grip once more turned vice-like.

"Dogs do not have fathers! They have masters. If you must address me at all, you shall call me that!" snarled Splinter.

"I--"

"NOW!" roared the rat.

Having left his body to its own devices, Leonardo's hasty 'repairs' seemed to be holding, but he had lost ground to the storm; the size of his 'safe room' had shrunk to no more than a closet.

As his body croaked out, "Master, please, I beg you--", Leonardo reached out with his will to direct it

Release me, said Leonardo in his mind.

"Give me a release," whined Leo.

Leonardo blinked, and then moaned out, No. He might be safe within his few feet of sanity, but he'd spent too long securing it; his will no longer exerted control over his physical body.

Under the hood, Splinter shook his head in disgust. "Better, but you are still a base and immoral animal, just as I said. You are not my son. You humiliate me by even making such a ridiculous claim!" Nonetheless, the corkscrewed tail sped up its ministrations; the stimulation fell short of bringing him to orgasm, but it left the turtle moaning and squirming in need.

"Come, you can beg better than that. What are you? What do you call a lust-driven, collared beast like yourself?" asked the rat deridingly.

"I . . . am a d-dog, Master," choked out Leo.

"Good, very good, dog. Now, one last thing: Are you the son of Hamato Yoshi?"

_Yes! s_creamed Leonardo.

"I--please, no, Master, please, don't make me . . ." mewled the broken jonin.

The stroking stopped, leaving Leo humping the air pitifully. "Say it, and you will have your release, beast," hissed Splinter. The rat raised one of his feet from the turtle's wrist, pressed the sweat-dampened sole against his cheek, and added, "Admit that you are a fatherless dog, that you are an animal barely fit to be trod upon, and I will grant you what your perverse body craves."

The broken ninja whispered, "P-please , I give in . . ."

No, this isn't real, you can't give in!

"I am w-what you say--"

--this is an illusion, a trick. I--

"I am . . . n-not. . ."

--damn it, no! Fight this! You are not - you are Hamato Leonardo--

"--H-Hamato Yoshi's son . . I am--"

--an unthinking animal, I'm a beast-- No! I am not--

"--nothing but a - a mindless, horny d-dog, f-fatherless."

--no gods, please no, let me wake up, let me--

"L-let me c-cum . . ."

--let me cum . . .

Splinter victoriously cried, "Yessss!" even as his sinewy tail milked the swollen, purple length furiously. The rat pressed his broad, sweaty sole down over the turtle's beak, and without prompt, Leonardo nuzzled it, groaning into it as he humped thoughtlessly into his father's stroking tail.

"You are underfoot, right where you belong, you dishonorable dog!" snarled the rodent, smearing his sole across the worshipfully-lapping tongue of his conquest. "Show your master that you know your place. Cum for me, dog! Now!"

Leonardo came, his rapturous scream muffled by his own father's flesh. Rope after rope of hot seed spurted from the pulsating tip of his cock. It dribbled down to coat the wriggling, viciously pumping tail; the thick liquid strung from the pistoning tendril back to its source, glistening in the light. The hot jism even jetted all the way up the turtle's body, splattering the foot trampling his face. The gooey liquid dribbled between the clawed toes to fall into the ninja's gasping mouth.

By the time that his senses returned to him, the emerald-skinned ninja felt destroyed, both physically and spiritually, his throat raw from the shouts of pleasure. Tears filled his eyes as the full weight of his dishonor crashed into him. Even behind the corroding psychic barrier, Leonardo fought back exhausted sobs of shame.

Through the quiet sounds of his own whimpering, he heard his father laughing. He watched as Splinter lowered his hood, to reveal Donatello's mad, smirking face.

"Confused, brother?" inquired the cackling genius in their father's voice. He raised a hand to his throat and pulled away a small bandage-like patch, and then in his own voice, Donatello taunted, "You truly believed I was Father? No wonder you have been so easy to break!"

The insane scientist shrugged off the yukata and disconnected from his belt a long, leather-wrapped, whip-like device. Still chuckling wickedly, Donny said, "Voice-altering technology is simple; I rigged that up myself. The cybernetic tentacles of the Krang were easy to convert into a faux 'tail'. Your intoxicated, hallucinating mind--or that doubt-ridden, feeble thing that you use for one, anyway--did the rest."

Within his mind, Leonardo dropped to his knees. Both mentally and physically, he found himself repeating the word, "No," in a quiet, broken voice. He was right: It had been an elaborate trick, but it had served its purpose. Even now, he found himself--his true self--confused and concerned. What if this was the illusion and Splinter had really been there, had actually said those things? What if he had gone insane and this was all some delusion?

Smearing the cooling remnants of his brother's load onto his cheek, Donatello kneeled down next to him and patted his head with mock concern. "Don't fret, Leo. I'm certain that our 'fearless leader' will find some way to get out of this and save me." Sneering at his still-whimpering sibling, he added, "But we both know that you've lost, and even though I've only a few hours left, it is inevitable that you will admit defeat and beg for my mercy."

He leaned down until his face was mere inches away, and whispered, "The best part is that I can do this, time and time again, because you won't remember a thing. Each time, it will be fresh and new for me, and torturous and new for you. I'll be able to break you to my heart's content."

Leonardo watched his brother backing away into the darkness. The shadows seemed tangible, swallowing the genius's form up as though he were sinking into oil. Only when the blackness swallowed him completely did the near-broken ninja allow himself to whisper, "I'll save you, Donny. I might be lost, but I swear I will save you--from yourself."