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The overwhelming stimulation of Reinhardt's erogenous zones brought the Crusader to his knees. His long, thick fingers splayed on the cold elevator floor as he gasped and writhed in pleasure. In some remote corner of his mind still able to form a coherent thought, a sharp fear pierced through Rein's wanton haze: he knew it had to have been some sort of hallucination— yet Jack's voice was so vivid and compelling that he could not be absolutely sure. It was that small sliver of doubt in the margins of reality and imagination that frightened him.
Sensing its host's resistance, the parasite quivered as it secreted more stimulant-laced slime through its smooth, mottled hide. The bug vibrated fervently, sending shockwaves of mind-numbing pleasure surging through Reinhardt's prostate. Complex pulses of electrical currents being sent along his spine made him feel as if he was being fucked hard by something flexible and living. The Crusader cried out as he threw his hips forward, his convulsing walls smearing the aphrodisiac slime all over his wet inner flesh. The fragile membrane in his intestines absorbed the aphrodisiac ooze readily. In mere seconds, the potent toxins began to settle in his bloodstream, heightening his arousal to unbearable levels. Reinhardt was soon burning alive with desire as the parasite’s secretions turned every inch of his towering body into one big erogenous zone. Even the slightest breeze against his thick, flexing arms felt as if it were fingers lightly grazing the inside of his thighs. The fabric of Rein's sweaty tank top dragging against his broad back made the silver giant whimper weakly, the thick muscles becoming as sensitive as his nipples were.
Simultaneously, countless cilia on the underside of the devious parasite physically stimulated every square millimeter of Reinhardt's engorged prostate. Microscopic appendages pressed tight against the quivering flesh in Reinhardt's untrained hole, dragging across his sweet spot over and over in a most sensual massage. Patient as it was ruthless, the parasite continued its expert stimulation of Reinhardt's heated body, slowly tuning its filaments to stimulate Reinhardt's prostate with rhythm and vigor that elicited the strongest surges in brain activity.
Reinhardt keened as more and more concentrated bolts of pleasure shot up his lower abdomen, blanking out every thought his head into flashes of staticky white. His head lolled back sluggishly, baring his throat in a subconscious gesture of submission—the beginning of a familiar end. Snowy shoulder-length hair slipped over his shoulder, slick with sweat. The Crusader stared up blankly into the ceiling light with hooded eyes, a rumbling groan dripping out of his slack jaws as he could do nothing but endure the stimulation of his cock, hole and nipples. Rein's black tank clung to his skin tightly from sweat as he leaned back on his heels, his trim waist arching forward. The soaked fabric outlined his chiseled chest and shoulders. Further down his torso, rippling abs flexed and spasmed in rhythm with his shallow, gasping moans every time the parasite forced his sensory cortex to think there was a tongue probing behind the sensitive corona of his glans.
"Just give in, soldier, that's an order." The parasite spoke with Jack's husky voice, the words sending violent shivers down Reinhardt's spine. The sound of Jack's voice startled him, briefly drawing him from the all-consuming need to cum and cum and cum. That stabbing doubt returned for a brief moment, a fear that he was losing his grip on not only his body but on reality itself.
Once again, sensing his resistance, the parasite increased the intensity of its manipulations, washing away the unneeded thoughts from Reinhardt's mind with sexual euphoria. Besieged by an onslaught of stimulation and drugged with a steady drip of aphrodisiacs, the seven-foot Crusader bit down on his bottom lip as he fought the nearly insurmountable urge bred into him to obey his Commander – the parasite – the difference between the two was rapidly dissolving. His massive quads trembled with lust as slimy appendages that transposed between tongues and fingers ghosted along his inner thighs. His nipples were being sucked and licked, icy tentacles tracing slow circles on his quarter-sized areolae. Warm wet tongues dragged over his abs, tracing along in the deep, defined grooves and dipping into his sensitive navel. In the edges of his vision, he could see Jack's arms wrap around his waist, the long scar on his left hand replicated perfectly. But when Rein looked down, they were gone; yet the sensations remained. Rein groaned at the distinct feeling of a large, calloused hand wrapping around his thick member inside his pants.
"Give in, Rein. Just do what it says." Jack murmured in Rein's ear before giving his shaft a stroking squeeze. The mountain of a man keened, his head going blank as the warm hand coaxed out a long string of slick from the slit on his already glistening cock head.
"N-no. You are not real. None of this is real." Reinhardt gritted, talking more to himself than the disembodied voice. He tried to drunkenly seize the hand that felt so good wrapped around his lengthy member, but his palms closed around nothing as if he tried to grasp at a hologram, while the sensations of Jack's ministrations remained startlingly real.
A treacherous part of him couldn't help but imagine how easy it would be to listen to his old friend, how good it would feel to simply give in and drown in the whirlpool of pleasure. Jack has never led him astray in all their fighting years; surely, he wouldn't lie to him now. Right?
"You are not real. You are not real," Rein ground his jaws in a symbolic effort to rid himself of these cowardly thoughts. The lion of Eichenwalde would not be so easily tricked.
"You sure about that, soldier?" Jack rumbled into his other ear. The Commander started stroking Reinhardt languidly with the same rhythm and technique the German would use to pleasure himself in private. "You sure this doesn't feel real to you?" Jack dipped his tongue in Rein's ear, his other hand snaking further down past the Crusader's drooling member and rolled his hairy scrotum with his fingertips. Reinhardt sucked in a sharp breath before he could stop himself, his full balls drawing up as he flexed his taint.
"Jack would never ask me to surrender." Reinhardt gritted laboriously. It was so hard to think straight now. The urge to chase after his orgasm clouded everything in a red mist of lust.
"Oh? Then how about now?" Jack said, his voice garbling and morphing into someone else's eerily familiar timbre. Reinhardt realized with stark terror that he was listening to his own voice.
"S-stop that, you foul creature," The Crusader demanded, but there was little bravado in his tone.
The other Reinhardt purred, pleased with his host's reaction. "Stop what?" He rumbled against Reinhardt's sweaty back as he choked the Crusader's fat drooling cock with a hand the size of a dinner plate – Rein's own god damn hand. "I am simply doing what you want. I am, after all, just a part of your imagination." The imposter tightened his grip around Reinhardt's shaft just the way he liked it, squeezing below the plum-sized helmet until it's swollen purple.
"L-lies!" Reinhardt bellowed, "You are nothing more than an imposter," The German soldier felt stupid to entertain the enemy's taunts, but he needed to say something in rebuke. His cock, however, remained undistracted as it pulsed and flexed inside the other Reinhardt's calloused palm, shameless and begging for release.
The duplicate affected a chuckle Reinhardt often donned. It was a convincing mimicry, albeit dull and inhuman in the same way he spoke. "But if I am not you," He drew up the hand still teasing Reinhardt's heavy balls, trailing the tip of his middle finger languidly along the muscular cord on the underside of Reinhardt's shaft before stopping on the thin flange of skin connecting the glans to the foreskin. "Then how would I know that you like this?" The thick digit began to rub tight circles on Reinhardt's frenulum. Pre-ejaculate leaking out of his slit allowed the finger to glide frictionlessly over the hypersensitive band of tissue.
Reinhardt's body reacted before he could, his knees locking up as his hairy quads bulged and strained under the sudden, intense pleasure shooting up from that spot beneath his cock head.
"Hmm? Well? Tell me, I am listening." The imposter taunted, knowing full well that his host's brain was way too overloaded with pleasure to formulate a coherent answer.
"Gah, what are you – ah - ah," The German soldier babbled incoherently. His upper body tried to curl in on himself, but an enormous arm braced against his chest from behind, holding him in place as bolts of lightning continued to shoot up his spine, melding with the other parts of his hypersensitive body still being toyed with. The other Reinhardt's too-many hands played with him using knowledge of his anatomy not even he possessed. The slicked finger on his banjo string continued to swirl in quick circles. The parasite's vibrating prostate massage was replaced by two of his own large fingers, pumping in and out of his well-lubricated hole in lewd squelches. Each thrust timed perfectly with the teasing finger on his frenulum. Despite never having been fucked before, his chemically sensitized hole swallowed and pulsed around the other Reinhardt's fingers like the gaping snatch of a well-seasoned whore. His vulnerable, heated flesh clenched around the thick digits every time they retreated, suckling them appeasingly, afraid they would leave altogether.
"Doesn't this feel so good? Isn't it just how you like it, Mein mausi?" Hearing the imposter call him the very thing he called his past lovers sent a rush of heat straight up Rein's groin. The combined stimulation on both his body and mind was bringing him to the brink of orgasm embarrassingly fast.
"N-no," Reinhardt lied feebly. From the way he flexed his taint to his dog-like panting, it was plain for all to see that he was hanging on by a thread. "I would...never give you the... satisfaction, you cow–"
"Shhhh," The imposter soothed. Two more hands reached around Rein's chest to tease his nipples, calloused fingertips rolling the soft buds in tune with the frenulum massage he was receiving. "Just focus on the pleasure. Just close your eyes, focus, and try to cum like this."
Another hand wrapped around his throat, strong fingers guiding his chin upward. Not being able to look down and see the things happening to his body made them all the more intense. A part of him was starting to believe that the mirror copy was indeed a figment of himself, the voice of his perverted desires. The giant of a man whimpered as he stared up hazily at the ceiling. Reinhardt knew despite his vehement denials; he was going to cum. The soldier panted as he felt his balls drawing up, churning with sexual excitement. He was going to cum shamefully in the hands of his enemy, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Mein Gott," Reinhardt gasped as his hips began to snap with explosive force, but no matter how he moved, the swirling finger on his frenulum stayed perfectly in place. "Ne-nein, ich werde nicht–Ah!" The brawny soldier cried out in unadulterated lust as his orgasm began to crash over him.
Without warning, all sensations ceased. The air went still as if nothing ever happened.
"No!!" Reinhardt cried out abjectly, his voice sounding wrecked with delirium. His hands shot toward his crotch to stroke himself through his climax. The imposter seized his wrists just in time, locking them behind Reinhardt's back with an iron grip. The silver giant roared tearful as he rutted against the fabric of his pants. The light friction was just enough to keep his ruddy cock dribbling with thick, milky cum. It was not enough. He needed more. Rein needed to fuck something more than he ever needed anything in his life. His sex-crazed mind wasn't in charge anymore, and all he knew was the all-consuming need to fuck something – anything; be it an ass or a mouth or a hand. He didn't care if it was a man or a woman– or whether it was human at all. All that mattered was fucking his cock into something warm and wet and pumping it full to the brim with his searing, creamy cum.
He needed to breed. Right. Fucking. Now.
The other Reinhardt chuckled again as he held the German soldier's hand securely behind his back as he thrashed and bucked like an enraged beast. The imposter cooed in Reinhardt's ear as his ruined orgasm finally subsided, and the mountain of muscles sagged bonelessly against the hallucination's chest.
Reinhardt sobbed quietly while the aftershocks of his pleasureless orgasm wracked his hirsute body. His powerful thighs trembled fiercely. He blubbered to himself in a mix of tongues, a hodgepodge of curses and threats. Spittle lined his lips, snowy white hair matted against his sharp features from sweat. Reinhardt looked utterly wrecked; his belly carved empty as he collapsed to his knees, heaving. The front of his pants completely soaked through with his seed, clinging tightly to his thick member.
"Aw, kleine maus, what is the matter?" The other Reinhardt asked with cloying concern. "Can't you cum?"