"You can't resist us, Mr. Powers."

- The Fembots

"Gotta feelin' hounded! And surrounded!"

- Bomber Barbara

"Negative. The T-1000 will definitely try to reacquire you there."

"You sure?"

"I would."

- Terminator 2

Putting an end to Alucard's one-man rebellion actually wasn't that difficult once the Lord of All Nightmares, Suffering, Demise, and Whatever Else found a way to produce Renard by the yard. Seven of the lithe, curly-haired, emerald-dressed ladies were clustered around Dracula's son like moths frantically surrounding a flame. He was collapsed on his back under the surging flood of Damselgangers with his sword and shield far out of his reach.

The impersonators had assumed her appearance with perfect accuracy, down to the last dimple. They all wore the same short green hunting gown made of authentic materials. They exhibited the same mastery of acrobatics and control over chi beasts. They even shared her personality, for the most part. Created from unknown arcane and alchemical methods, these mysterious beauties replaced Maria with such efficiency that it made the original seem redundant.

Unfortunately, this also meant the original was probably dead.

Alucard's mind was bewildered by the dense forest of marigold hair, aquamarine eyes, and green silk wrinkles closing around him. He couldn't remember where he was or what he'd been doing before the swift huntresses were swarming all around him. His arms, legs, and strands of his long silver hair stuck out from underneath the Maria mob. His limbs flailed weakly, but he never put up much of a fight.

Two of them removed Alucard's left glove together so they could play with his fancy pointed nails. One threateningly wiggled her black cotton-clad pelvis against his abdomen and curled her ankles under his knees. One knelt over his head with her leather-covered palms grasping his throat, slowly tightening as her thumbs pinched his jugulars. All of them had their long waist sashes tangled around him, trapping him like a frail ancient insect in an extravagant goldleaf web.

The unabashed mimics crowded closer together to help his paralysis worsen. He exchanged a mouthful of blonde hair for a laced cleavage window pushed into his nose. The window rumbled against him in a soft warm rhythm as multiple Marias giggled from every direction. He couldn't even say he was fighting Maria anymore. He was in a losing struggle against random parts of her anatomy.

A generous number of them were gathered around a swelling that gradually rose in the front of his trousers. It was the only part of his body that still maintained any strength, but they weren't doing anything down there just yet. That was being saved for when his will was truly lost and he was nothing but a toy to keep them entertained. It was too risky to try mounting their silver stallion until he was all the way broken in. When the time was right, it was going to be massively rewarding for both of them: Alucard, and his endless poly-wife.

"Ma-… Mari-…" he gasped under the dense green blanket of pretender-demons. There wasn't enough semblance left in his weak voice to discern if he was commanding them to release him, or pleading for mercy.

"I told you I could thrive in this castle just as well as you, silly dhampir lord," the Maria sitting on his waist giggled impishly.

"Now I'll make you take me seriously," another said in perfect cheerful unison.

"I'll wring the humanity out of your veins so hard you'll regret ever waking up and coming here," said another.

"All that will be left of you is a little rodent with bony wings," said another.

"I'll tame you to be my pet, just like Osca," another teased.

"Or maybe I'll just keep squeezing until there's nothing left of you," another sneered sadistically.

Alucard's delirious vision blurred, making him lose track of how many Marias were accosting him. He blinked, and there were instantly two dozen more grinning elegant faces framed with sparkling gold curls and shining jade ribbons surrounding him. He clenched his burning eyes shut to keep a grip on reality, but when he opened them again, there were three dozen more.

Several of them glanced toward one another like they were planning something horrible. They whispered back and forth while his ears were too weak to hear. They eagerly straightened the front of their green bodices with their gloves, readied their positions, and delivered what they were confident would be their finishing blow.

The single peach-tinted bosom that had been assertively pressing into his face suddenly became four bosoms thrusting together and competing for room so their humble roundness and strong coniferous scent amplified each other. His already weakened senses were annihilated in a frilly high-class bombardment of finest green silk and fair ivory flesh. The remaining membranes in his head gave way to plush emerald fabric and nubile mammary glands.

The forsaken prince's sanity broke from the overwhelming presence of Maria. His entire world, his entire perception of existence, was consumed by Maria. He was an imprisoned denizen of Castle Maria, in the country of Maria, on the planet Maria. His eyes rolled and he uttered a desperate, mindless grown of defeat as his spirit was dragged deeper into the fox nest.

The last impulses of intelligence shot out of his brain and traveled down to the base of his spine. His waist signaled its surrender by rigidly thrusting up a single time and then resting still. One pair of careful hands unbuckled his belt, followed by a dozen pairs of greedy hands yanking at his trousers to get them down around his knees as quickly as possible.

The dhampir was broken, but they were still bound to the wretched and vile duty of making sure he stayed broken. Not that they really minded. They were Maria, after all.

The stallion was tamed and wearing his stirrups the required way without complaint. Now he was ready for his endless owners to ride him to paradise. A hundred identical soprano voices whispered and snickered together as they leaned forward and lifted the hems of their short gowns to reach the fabric clinging to their hips. Sticky elastic cotton rustled in the shadows as it was peeled down to reveal a garden of glistening petunias.

The young maidens sighed under their breath with relief as soon as cool air was creeping between their thighs and the uncomfortable sting of all those high kicks and backflips stretching into them started to fade. Now they just needed to gather some fresh dhampir lotion so they could be completely soothed. And after the intense war they had just fought against a powerful demon lord, they were quite antsy for that lotion.

Any historian looking back would easily be able to determine the point in time when Alucard was conquered by his inner darkness. There was no need to attempt the daunting task of tracing the prince's personal history, since he was always an elusive and enigmatic figure to begin with. All you had to do was follow Maria's evolving tastes in fashion, because after today, her haunches stayed out in the breeze and she was never seen wearing her underfaulds again. And that was true for all the Marias.

In the castle keep, staying a safe distance away from all the heaving embroidered necklines, the constricting athletic thighs, and the overbearing forest perfumes, Dracula sat in the shadows of his solitary throne. He chuckled to himself and lightly sipped a glass of green fairy.

Author's notes:

do u liek my Marias?

This "Let's see how many fanfics I can write that use the same initials as Teito Moyu and typically open with references to Sonic boss themes with gibberish lyrics" thing is really paying some nice dividends.

The narration for this story started off as more "ambiguous" in terms of what the Marias were doing and what their overall plan was for The Alucard (the last scene with Dracula was always exactly the same, though). But no. That just ain't my style.

The more I was writing, the more I started thinking "Uhhhhh… should this be on my AO3 account?" But this should be okay. It's still mostly just "implying things," and it ends before "the event that would turn this into AO3 material" anyway. My initial thought process was: "Maybe some of them want to kill him, and some of them wanna F him? Ohhh, they all want to do the F."

Alucard is a rare example of a male Teito Moyu. Unless you consider Maria's off-screen Teito Moyuing to be the main Teito Moyu of this story.

You might be telling yourself "Wait, bike shorts don't work like that. In fact, bike shorts are engineered to compensate and they do the opposite of that. That's dumb. WTH your raunchy horror fic isn't researched well at all." And I'm going to say: Maria doesn't wear actual modern bike shorts. She's a 1997 video game character created by an anime designer wearing the low-tech 1796 equivalent of spats. Chick was born in the tail end of the Rococo era for Chrissake. There's no way she's not going to get some bum burn when she's doing double jumps and leg slides in those things. Coochie carnage. Some jumbled jimmies in the jungle down under. And so on and so on.

Dhampir lotion(TM) is a mildly venomous compound with medicinal properties that can be used to relax muscles and alleviate skin irritation (as opposed to Vampire lotion[TM], which mostly just kills you and can lead to bad Twilight sequels.)