Uta’s eyes were wild, the fungus in her blood making her mind a dark carnival of cravings. She had captured Luffy after nabbing his crew, dragging him to a hidden nook where only the shadows watched. “You like this, don’t you, Straw Hat?” she purred, her voice sick with false sweetness.

Luffy’s arms were pinned above his head as she straddled him, the heat of her fragrant folds already slick against his belly. “Not a bit,” he grunted, thrashing against her freakish grips. Her hands were vice-like, using her Gear Finesse to make her palms glue to his wrists with unseen rubber power.

“Ungrateful brat,” she hissed, rearranging him into her scissors — she wrapped her strong thighs around his waist and clamped down, the lock like a built-in girdle of muscle with a smooth hot wetness stroking him through his ripped shorts. “I’ll take what this disease gives me.”

He was swelling beneath her, despite his outrage, her hip work pulsing his stiff tip against her crowded slit. Uta’s fingers teased his aching balls, rolling them with cold precision. “So does your flesh obey, even if your brain doesn’t?”

Luffy looked up at her, his eyes strange and hard. “Are you satisfied seeing me open like a paper?” he demanded, cheeks flushed. “I loved the old Uta. I would rather die than help this mushroom slut fuck her sick need out on me!”

Uta froze, the spell breaking for a blink. The words cut through the pulsing heat. But the fungus was deep—her release was ting