Jango's Fuck Carnival [pt. III]

The command landed.

The city broke.

Not violently. Not in panic.

It broke open.

The massive PA system carried Jango’s final command farther than the plaza.

It rolled out from the golden pillars, bounced from amplifier towers, poured through open-air taverns, crossed the dockyards, slid along balcony streets, and spilled into every outdoor district beneath the dome. Mirror Ball Island had always built its sound system to make the Dance Carnival inescapable. You were supposed to feel the beat from a rooftop garden, a harbor stall, a back-alley noodle cart, or a moonlit bridge.

Tonight, that meant nobody outside escaped the order.

Everywhere under the dome, bodies turned toward bodies. Hands left themselves and reached for others. Cocks that had been stroked hard were guided to wet pussies, open mouths, eager hands, tight asses. Women grabbed men by the hips and pulled. Men caught women by the thighs and lifted. Marines and pirates forgot uniforms and grudges. Locals pulled travelers into alleys. Balcony spectators became participants. Tavern doors flew open as the hypnosis spilled inside. Dockhands fucked shop girls against crates. Dancers dragged stunned clerks down onto the boards. The whole city became a single, moving, panting engine of sex.

Nami had expected this.

That was the awful part.

It had been obvious. All of it had pointed here. The stripping, the posing, the nipple pulling, the deep squat, the masturbation. The next step had always been sex. Her body had been dreading it and anticipating it at once, bracing for one of the big cocks beside her to turn her way.

Luffy’s thick eight.

Zoro’s straight nine.

The thought made her pussy clench around her own fingers.

Then Luffy ruined it.

The moment Jango’s command finished, Luffy’s eyes lit up with a dense, cheerful certainty.

“Dance and pant till morning!” he shouted. “Got it!”

He sprang away completely, naked cock bouncing, both arms flung up as he launched himself from the plaza and onto the side of a building before shooting onto a higher terrace like this was a race, a game, and a dance challenge all at once.

“Naked dash!” he yelled.

He landed on a striped awning, bounced off, grabbed a hanging banner, swung across the square, and disappeared into the chaos that way while laughing his head off.

Nami stared after him for one dead second.

Of course.

Of course his stupid mind had taken the orgy command as a movement command.

Then she looked right.

Zoro was already gone too, not physically far, but his attention had snapped to a woman two bodies away. She was tall, dark-haired, strong-thighed, and staring at him with the same glassy hunger. Zoro grabbed her by the hips. She wrapped herself around him. His hard nine-inch cock lined up, and within seconds he had her pressed to the side of a fountain, fucking into her with the same focused physicality he brought to training.

Nami’s mouth tightened.

For one absurd moment she felt cheated but it quickly fell away because of the softness in her head.

Nami was drenched in the rhythm, her skin glowing under the shimmer of the mirror-ball lights. Every beat pounded through her spine, every moan around her fed the fog swirling in her head. The hypnosis hadn’t dulled her, it had peeled her open. Her mind still hers, but her restraint gone. She wanted to fuck. Needed it. Not because she was **** to, but because nothing else in the world made sense right now.

She giggled as a pair of hands groped her breasts from behind, squeezing her bouncing E-cups, her already stiffened nipples sending lightning shocks of pleasure down her spine to her pussy. She looked back, spotting the wiry young man already humping desperately at her butt at the sight and feel of her. She didn’t say a word, just spread her legs, bent her knees, and let him line himself up.

He pushed inside her with a shaky groan, barely getting a rhythm before his hips started to twitch. Nami rolled her eyes, still grinding her hips while he gasped, hands clinging to her waist like a drowning man

Twenty seconds later, he let out a helpless cry, cock pulsing inside her. She felt his cum spill hot into her and sighed, not even bothering to look back at him as he collapsed backward, panting and boneless.

“Oh, come on,” she murmured, brushing her hair from her face and standing. His cum dripped down the inside of her thigh, glistening against her flushed skin.

Then she saw him.

A round, red-faced merchant-lookin fellow perhaps twenty years her senior; soft belly jiggling, cock thick and already twitching, longer than the last and twice as needy. He was staring like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Nami’s grin was pure hunger.

She walked up, swung a leg over his lap, and grabbed his cock at the base. “Don’t waste time,” she said, guiding it into her slick, hungry pussy. She sank down with a long moan, her thighs quivering around his lap.

He let out a grunt, grabbing at her hips but she was already moving, bouncing in smooth, steady waves, her tits clapping against his flabby hairy chest. Her face flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed as the music pulsed through her body and every thrust sent sparks rolling through her gut.

The crowd blurred around her. All that mattered now was cock, heat, rhythm.

Nami moaned louder, riding harder.

She was hypnotized, fully herself, and she was going to fuck until her legs gave out.

The merchant’s thrusts found rhythm fast. He was not graceful, but he was eager, and the cock was thick enough to make his eagerness useful. Nami adjusted her hips, turning slightly until his shaft rubbed the angle she wanted. He followed the motion like a man grateful for instruction.

Below and around them, the plaza had become a blur of bodies. A Marine was getting ridden on the steps. A local girl had two men lined up in front of her. Sanji had disappeared under a cluster of women who were laughing and stroking him and each other. Usopp’s voice squeaked somewhere behind a crowd of naked bodies, high with terror and pleasure. Zoro pounded the dark-haired woman against the railing, counting under his breath like a workout, while she begged him to slow down and he absolutely did not.

Nami focused on the cock in her own pussy.

That was easier.

The merchant shoved in harder, balls slapping against her. His hand kneaded her breast. His breath came hot against her shoulder. She reached down between them and rubbed her clit while he fucked her, because if she was going to be used by a stranger in the middle of a hypno orgy, she was damn well going to get something out of it.

The combination worked.

Too well.

Her thighs shook. Her cunt clenched down around him. His cock drove into her with wet, thick strokes, filling and dragging, filling and dragging. Jango’s words echoed with every thrust.

None stop moving.

Dance and pant.

Fuck-carnival.

She came with a sharp gasp, then a rough moan, hips jerking back into him as her pussy pulsed around his cock. The merchant lasted maybe ten seconds after that. He buried himself deep, groaned, and came inside her, adding his load to the slick mess already beginning between her thighs.

Nami shoved him back once he sagged.

He stumbled away, dazed and blissful.

She exhaled, wiped sweat from her mouth with the back of her hand, and looked around.

Her pussy was still throbbing.

The city was still moving.

Jango had said none stop moving till he was through.

Fine.

Nami rolled her shoulders, stepped over a discarded Marine coat, and pointed at the next hard cock she saw.

“You. My turn.”

Zoro didn’t care about the music, the crowd, or even the chaos unfolding around him. The moment the hypnosis sank its teeth into his mind, it didn’t change who he was, it just stripped away the barriers. What was left was raw focus, primal instinct, and the aching need to fuck.

He had the first woman he’d grabbed bent over against a mass of people fucking, her hands flat on an arched and rocking back as she moaned helplessly. Her legs were shaking, sweat rolling down her spine, breasts pressed to the person's side as her pussy took every inch of his cock. And Zoro was pounding into her like it was part of his training regimen.

His naked back rippled with muscle, his thighs driving forward again and again, hips clapping wetly into her ass. Sweat poured from his body, trickling down his chest and abs, gathering at the base of his thick shaft each time it disappeared into her clenching heat.

“Forty-eight,” he grunted.
“Forty-nine…”
“Fifty.”

She whimpered under him, her voice breaking as she tried to form words between moans. “C-can’t… y-you’re- fuck, you’re too much! Please! slow... oh god, please!”

Zoro didn’t hear her. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He wrapped one hand around her waist, pulling her back onto his cock harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing with every merciless thrust.

Her pussy was milking him: tight, soaked, spasming with every stroke and he was enjoying every second of it. The way she clenched, the way her body trembled, how her voice cracked from the intensity, it was all just fuel.

“Sixty-two,” he muttered, teeth gritted, sweat dripping from his chin onto her bare back.

He looked down, watching his cock disappear into her again and again, his abs tightening with each movement. His face flushed, brows furrowed, eyes locked on the way her pussy stretched around him, soaking his length with every stroke.

She was delirious now, babbling nonsense, fingers clawing at the fucking people for support. Her legs gave out, but he held her up, cock still buried deep, still thrusting.

Zoro didn’t slow.

He was a machine. A ****. And he’d keep going until he was finished. Nothing else mattered.

Usopp was naked, trembling, and vibrating with so much nervous energy he looked like he might lift off the ground. The hypnosis hadn’t changed his personality at all. It had just ripped out every last inhibition he’d ever had. Every buried fantasy, every **** curiosity, every lonely jerk-off session’s worth of pent-up desire came flooding out at once.

And with Usopp, that meant a very particular kind of fantasy.

He was a natural-born cuckold at heart, though he would have screamed himself purple if anyone had said it out loud on a normal day. Some men dreamed of being the strongest bull in the pen. Usopp’s dreams had always tangled themselves around embarrassment, comparison, being chosen despite being nervous, despite being smaller, despite knowing some other man would probably do it better. He wanted the girl. He wanted to be wanted by the girl. But some shameful little part of him also thrilled at the idea that she was more experienced, that other men had already touched her, pleased her, used her, taught her exactly how to handle a pathetic trembling virgin like him.

The worst part was that none of this felt alien.

He was from Syrup Village, after all. The brothel village of the East Blue. Sex and whoring had never been distant, forbidden mysteries there. They were background noise. Doorway laughter. Women leaning out of windows with bare shoulders and knowing smiles. Men leaving the Welcome House dazed, poorer, and happier. As a boy he had lied about monsters and pirates, but he had also grown up in a village where grown-up lust was casual as tavern gossip. He knew what whores sounded like when they were pretending, and what they sounded like when they weren’t. He knew the rhythm of paid pleasure through walls he had absolutely not meant to listen beside.

He had just never imagined himself brave enough to be part of it.

Now bravery didn’t matter.

The hypnosis had stolen the hesitation and left the want.

And the girl he’d ended up with wasn’t helping.

She was a cute little thing with blonde hair pinned back, round glasses sliding down her nose, and freckles that danced when she giggled. She looked exactly like Kaya if Kaya had grown up confident, experienced, and a little wicked. That resemblance hit him right in the chest and lower, twisting the fantasy into something so intense his knees nearly gave out.

She had him surrounded, arms around his shoulders, pressing kisses all over his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his chest, while he twitched under every touch.

He was already hard as a stick, his long skinny seven-inch cock bobbing straight up from a thatch of dark curls, the tiny nose-tip glans twitching at every brush of air.

“Ohhh gods, oh man, oh wow, oh wowwowwow,” Usopp babbled, eyes huge, knees knocking together.

She cupped his face and kissed him softly. Then again. Then deeper. Her tongue met his and he made a squeaky little noise in his throat.

“You’re adorable,” she giggled, running her hands down his chest. “First time?”

“Y-yes, no, I mean YES, oh seaking, yes.”

Her smile warmed with delighted experience rather than pity. That made it worse. Better. Worse-better. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew she knew, and the knowledge made his cock jump.

She took his hand and placed it on her breast.

Warm. Soft. Real.

Usopp whimpered like he’d been shot.

“Ohhhh that’s, that’s…”

“Good?” she teased.

He nodded violently.

Then her hands slid down his belly and wrapped around his skinny shaft with a gentle, practiced grip.

Usopp gasped like he’d never been touched before. His whole body jerked forward, hips twitching into her hand without permission. The sight of her fingers around him, confident and unhurried, nearly killed him. She handled him like she had handled plenty of cocks before and knew exactly how quickly this one was going to embarrass itself.

Instead of turning him off, it made his eyes cross.

“Oh, oh seakings, no wait, I’m gonna…”

She giggled, stroking him in smooth, slow pulls, thumb circling that tiny sensitive glans.

“It’s okay,” she purred. “You’re supposed to cum quickly your first time.”

His toes curled.

His eyes crossed.

He squealed.

And he exploded.

Hot spurts shot up his chest, his stomach, even flicking her chin. His knees buckled and he nearly collapsed, panting, shaking, staring at her like she’d just performed a miracle.

He was still dribbling when she wiped her chin and laughed softly.

“See? Easy.”

“I, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean, I couldn’t, that was, you’re, oh!”

“Relax,” she said, kissing him again. “We’re not done.”

She slid down to her knees without ceremony.

Usopp’s eyes nearly rolled out of his skull.

She wrapped her lips around his softening, sensitive little tip, just a gentle suck, a teasing swirl of her tongue, and the jolt that went through his spine made his legs kick involuntarily.

“NO, WAIT, I, ohhhhh…”

His cock jumped in her mouth.

Then again.

Then rose, stiffening all over, twitching wildly until he was fully hard again, maybe harder than before.

She pulled back, licking her lips. “There we go,” she breathed. “Now you’re ready to try that pretty pussy of mine.”

Usopp whimpered like a man blessed by heaven and doomed by the same blessing. His whole body trembled with anticipation, fear, excitement, and raw sexual hunger.

He wasn’t just hypnotized.

He was living out the kind of filthy, humiliating, too-good-to-admit fantasy that Syrup Village had planted in his head years ago, back when he was a lonely liar listening outside doors and pretending he didn’t understand what the moans meant.

Sanji was fucking.

That was the whole simple, impossible truth of it.

A gorgeous woman had her legs locked around his waist, her back pressed into a mound of discarded clothes, her breasts bouncing as he drove into her. He was naked above her, blond hair falling over one eye, lean chest shining with sweat, thighs flexing hard every time his pelvis slapped into hers.

His brain was mostly gone.

The hypnosis had burned through the usual layers of swooning, stammering, nosebleed hesitation, and left him with the purest version of his own madness: a beautiful woman wanted him inside her, so Sanji’s body moved like the world depended on pleasing her.

“Harder,” she gasped.

“Yes, my radiant angel!”

He thrust harder immediately, hips snapping down, cock pumping into her while his hands braced beside her shoulders. He was not one of the huge men scattered through the plaza, but he was hot, eager, and relentless now, his compact cock buried in her slick pussy as his muscular thighs powered him forward again and again.

The woman laughed breathlessly, nails dragging down his back. “You talk too pretty for a man rutting like this.”

Sanji’s eyes turned to hearts. “Your beauty has reduced me to instinct!”

“Good. Stay there.”

She grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper.

Sanji made a wounded little sound of bliss and obeyed with his whole body. His pelvis bounced off hers in quick, wet smacks, each thrust making her tits jump and her mouth open. Around them the plaza was a sea of flesh, cocks pumping, pussies taking, asses clapping, voices moaning under Annie January’s song and Jango’s rhythm.

Another woman knelt beside them and slid a hand down Sanji’s navel, touching the place where he was driving into the first woman. When his cock pulled back slick and shining, she caught a smear of precum on her fingers and tasted it.

Her eyes widened.

“Sweet,” she purred.

The woman under him clenched. “Really?”

“Sugar sweet.”

Sanji nearly died on the spot.

“Ladies,” he choked, still thrusting, nose bleeding freely now, “if I am to be your dessert, then devour me without pity!”

They both laughed.

The sound made him fuck harder.

His restraint was gone, but his worship remained. He kissed the woman beneath him between thrusts, mumbling praise against her mouth, her cheek, her neck. Beautiful. Perfect. Goddess. Miracle. Each word came broken by the slap of his hips and the wet slide of his cock in her pussy.

She came first, legs tightening around him, body bucking up as she cried into his shoulder.

Sanji felt it and shattered.

He came with a sob, hips jerking fast, sweet cum spilling inside her while the second woman leaned in, kissed the first, and tasted him from her mouth with a delighted hum.

“Oh,” she said, smiling down at him. “He really is sugar.”

Sanji collapsed just enough to tremble over the woman he had finished in, face wet, chest heaving, eyes full of impossible gratitude.

Then the second woman tugged him by the wrist.

“My turn, sugar boy.”

Sanji looked up at her, ruined and reborn.

His cock twitched.

His hips were already moving before his mouth caught up.

“Madame,” he whispered, voice shaking with devotion, “with pleasure.”