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Professor Sycamore had been getting awfully close to Lenore lately.

It was little things at first, such as moving a bit of her hair out of her face, or patting her lightly on the shoulder, much like Professor Layton would do. Lenore didn't mind any of this, she was honestly quite happy that the somewhat stoic man seemed to be warming up to her.

But then, he kept going. What started out as innocent touches grew further and further. Sycamore would invite her to help him make meals, and would hold his hand over her's while doing so. He would pat her on the head and ruffle her hair when she said something clever. A few times, he had even invited her to sit in his lap, and when she did, he'd keep a steady hand on her waist, the grip just a bit too tight to be natural.

All in all, Lenore was starting to grow quite confused with all this touchiness. She wasn't really this well acquainted physically with anyone else but her Professor, and was curious as to why Professor Sycamore had all the sudden become so grabby with her.

She also noticed, though she didn't understand what it meant until later, that almost every time Sycamore had been touching her, it was in sight of Professor Layton.

This all culminated into something on one late night, when Lenore and the two professors were the only one's who hadn't yet retired to their bedrooms. She was sleepily leaning on her Professor's shoulder, and trying to keep her eyes open, listening to the two men discuss some old archaeological finding that happened before she was born.

Eventually, she found herself being gently led by the hand to she and Professor Layton's bedroom, having barely remembered getting up. As she was starting to fully fall asleep on her side of their bed, she suddenly jolted up, wide awake. She had forgotten to thank Professor Sycamore!

Earlier that evening, Sycamore had been kind enough to let her have an extra piece of the cake that had been made for dessert, and she'd been so focused on the food she didn't even think to thank him! That wasn't very ladylike of her at all.

Lenore hopped off of the bed, glancing behind her at the Professor, who hadn't stirred much. She then quietly opened the door to their room and walked out into the hallway, towards Professor Sycamore's room. It was right next to her and Layton's bedroom, so it only took a few soft steps.

She gently knocked on the door, hoping she wasn't waking him from his sleep, or worse, disturbing him from some important late-night work. Thankfully, when Professor Sycamore opened the door, he only looked surprised for a moment, before smiling at her.

"Lenore, what are you still doing up?", the man questioned, but didn't seem upset to Lenore's relief.

"Oh! I just wanted to thank you for earlier! You gave me a second portion of dessert, and that was very kind of you! I forgot to thank you then... but I couldn't fall asleep without doing so now," she smiled up at him, fiddling with her nightgown in slight embarrassment.

The young girl saw Sycamore's eyebrow raise slightly, before his expression returned to a neutral smile once more.

"That was nothing, really. Although I do appreciate the thank you. In fact, if you wouldn't mind, could I borrow you for a moment? I'm sure a polite young lady like yourself could spare a few seconds of her time, no?" Sycamore opened the door to his room a bit more, beckoning her in.

Lenore blushed slightly at being called polite and a lady, and nodded her head at Professor Sycamore before walking into his room. She was a bit curious as to what he could possibly need from her, but it would be rude to refuse someone asking her a favor.

She would, within seconds, regret her decision.

Within what felt like the blink of an eye, multiple things happened. Sycamore closed the door, leaving the room in complete darkness. Then, he grabbed her, covering her mouth and pushing her towards the wall on the side of the bedroom. He hitched up her nightgown while still holding her close against his back, leaving her legs exposed. Finally, he whispered in her ear while shoving her against the wall, slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

"Call for him."

Despite Sycamore not saying a specific name, Lenore immediately knew who he was referring to. And even if she didn't, she probably would have yelled out what she did anyways.

"P-Professah! PROFESSAH! P-", her yells were stopped by Sycamore roughly covering her mouth again.

"Not so loud, you damn brat! If you woke up anyone else I'll-"

Within seconds the door to the room was open, and Layton, somewhat bedraggled, stood in the doorway. He began to open his mouth, but before he could, Sycamore spoke.

"Don't panic! I just think we all needed to have a little talk. Close the door, would you?" Sycamore spoke calmly, still holding Lenore to him tightly, but now facing Layton.

The man in the doorway looked furious, but also worried for the girl fully at the mercy of Sycamore. He slowly closed the door, turning on a lamp near the room's entrance as he did so.

"Let her go." Professor Layton spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Lenore. She was actively resisting Sycamore's hold now, twisting about, trying to at least yank her nightgown back down, as it was still being held up over her panties. Layton tried to step closer to her, but Sycamore's words interrupted him once more.

"Now, why would I do that?" Sycamore smiled, leading Lenore to the bed while she was still kicking and pulling at him. He managed to pull her into his lap, practically displaying her to Layton, still covering her mouth.

"I've just been having so much fun with this little apprentice of yours..." Sycamore's voice lowered as he removed his hand off of Lenore's mouth, only to trace a finger up her thigh, causing her to freeze up in panic.

Immediately, Layton crossed the room and grabbed Sycamore's wrist, stopping his motions. Sycamore began to laugh, even moreso when the girl still held against him began to whimper.

"Finally, I was waiting for you to come to your senses" Sycamore proceeded to quickly and violently twist his body to the side, causing Layton to lose his balance and fall onto the bed.

Before Layton could get up, he found his wrist now the one being grabbed by the other man, but more importantly, he found Lenore being pinned between the two of them. He couldn't get up with Lenore practically on top of him, and he surely wasn't going to shove her back into Sycamore's arms. He glared at the man across from him, who was clearly smug.

"What are you trying to do, Desmond?" Layton asked, trying to grab Lenore closer to him with his free hand, but it was fruitless, as Sycamore kept his grip on the girl tight. He decided on just holding her arm gently, making sure the other man couldn't yank her away too easily.

"I'm just trying to have a little fun, Hershel, like I said before. I'm sure you and sweet Lenore here do this all the time." Desmond leaned closer to Layton, squishing the girl between them, causing her to let out a faint whine.

"I've been curious as to what's so intriguing about her that you'd drag her around the world like this, a girl of barely twelve can't be that much help..." Hershel had started to breathe slightly quicker, and Sycamore smiled again, "But over these past few weeks, I think I've started to see what you do. I wasn't just going to take her from you though. A gentleman should share, shouldn't he?"

Desmond took his wrist from Hershel's so he could use both hands to hold open Lenore's thighs. By all means, Hershel should have moved to stop Desmond then. To hit the man, take the girl out of the room and figure out the quickest means to take over the ship and detain him.

But Hershel just stared.

--

Desmond had been correct to assume his brother would be rendered frozen and defenseless at the sight of just a bit of skin from this small girl. Despite the fact he knew they must have already been fucking [As if it wasn't obvious from the noises he heard most nights, he had once seen the man carrying the small girl to the restroom while she was completely naked. It was a miracle Layton hadn't seen him, but as always, he only had eyes for Lenore], he still gawked at seeing her like this.

It was a bit of a gamble to do this at all, but Desmond couldn't wait any longer. Clearly, using the girl against Hershel had been the right option. If getting his hands on the man took using a child, he'd do it.

"P-Professah... help me," the small girl whimpered out, having given up on fighting, tears pricking the edges of her eyes as she lay limp in Desmond's arms. Of course she was calling out to him. Despite all Layton had done, she'd still cry out to him to save her. Foolish.

Layton went to reassure her, stroking her cheek, telling her everything would be okay, while she nodded and held back her tears. It amazed Desmond how the two of them could act like nobody else was there, even in a time like this.

"Hershel." Desmond warned, making the man snap back to attention. He was growing tired of this. The girl was meant to be an accessory, not the main event.

And he knew exactly how to get Hershel to realize that.

It wasn't hard to surge forward and press his lips against Hershel's. Nor was it the first time they had done this. When they were very small, his brother had been very clingy, and being children, neither of them really enforced any boundaries with eachother. Therefore, kissing on the lips was no stranger to them. Hershel didn't remember that though, clearly, as he was immediately taken by surprise and pulled away from the kiss.

Desmond wouldn't let him though. Taking a hand off the girl's thigh, he held the back of his brother's neck in place and pulled him into another kiss. He wanted more. To feel him, to taste him. But desperately pressing his lips to Hershel's while his younger brother squirmed was enough for him in that moment.

When he pulled away, he saw his brother cover his mouth. His expression read more shock than disgust, so clearly he wasn't onto him. More importantly, Hershel's focus was entirely on him.

"That's better," Desmond breathed out, trying not to let it show the he too was reeling from the kiss. "Can we get on with this now? We wouldn't want to keep Lenore up past her bedtime."

Desmond heard the girl make a small noise of protest, but other than that, she had been shockingly obedient. Hershel had clearly trained her well. He held back a grimace at the thought.

Hershel was frozen again, hand shaking, still hovering over his mouth.

"I-I don't..." He sputtered out pathetically.

"Ah, I see. You're just too polite to go first!" Desmond hoisted the girl further onto his own lap, letting his hands displace her nightgown even further.

He slowly traced his hands over the girl's panties, embarrassingly already slightly wet. It was probably from terror, but he still let out a slight chuckle when he felt it, making the girl whimper.

Layton was no help. His eyes had gone back to Lenore, and he sat idly by as he watched another man's fingers pull the little girl's panties to the side, revealing a puffy, wet slit.

Desmond watched his brother's face redden as he idly played with the girl's tiny cunt, not yet putting a finger in, but still making her squirm and moan all the same from his touch. Hershel wouldn't be able to resist for long.

And he was right. The second he began to push his ring finger into Lenore, he found Hershel grabbing his wrist again.

"Let me do it."

A pleasant, if not expected, turn of events. Desmond smiled and pulled his hand away, slick from the girl's juices. Instead of wiping it off on the bed, he opted to smear the fluids against Lenore's soft lips, making the girl press her lips firmly shut in fear.

He noticed Hershel's expression hardening at the action. Good.

Hershel proceeded forwards, pushing a finger into Lenore's incredibly tight entrance. She keened, legs tensing before relaxing once more as Hershel gently stroked her clit with his thumb. She was so small, even his finger felt like a somewhat tight fit inside of Lenore.

As usual, it was hard for him to resist going further right away. She was drawing him in, like she always did. Soft skin and wide eyes were his Achilles heel.

He was trying not to focus on the man holding his girl. Clearly, there was no other way to get out of this situation but to give in to his demands. This was the only way to keep Lenore safe.

If he made her feel good as well, that was just a bonus.

She mewled when he added a second finger, hips bucking up in pleasure. Hershel thought of how angelic she seemed whenever they did this. It was barely a surprise when he found himself removing his fingers and trying to pull her closer to him, to touch her, to worship her.

However, Sycamore was continuously impeding him. The man refused to let go of his hold on the girl, and had started lazily fondling her breast under her nightgown, and refused to take his hand off of her waist, squishing the baby fat that still remained on her torso.

However, Hershel had noticed that the whole time, he hadn't really been looking at the girl. No, Sycamore's gaze remained solely upon him. Hershel tried to push down the deep uncomfortableness his stare brought, and focused on the fact that if Sycamore was staring at him, he wasn't staring at Lenore

"Move," Hershel muttered bluntly, still trying to get Lenore closer to him. When Sycamore didnt comply, he ended up moving forward himself, squishing the girl between their bodies, causing his and her hips to be aligned.

Sycamore laughed once more, "If you wanted to go faster, all you had to do was say so,"

Quickly, Sycamore manhandled the small girl, flipping her onto her her stomach, leaving her soaked cunt leaking onto Hershel's lap, and her head flopped facedown against Sycamore's clothed crotch.

"Stop it!" Lenore whined, but was helpless to do anything. Hershel gently held her hips, feeling her tense up before realizing it was him.

Hershel tried to comfort her, murmuring that it would be okay, he'd be gentle with her, and this would all be over soon. Unfortunately, Desmond was already pulling out his cock, scaring and startling Lenore even further.

He watched as the other man gently tapped his cock against the girl's face, glancing down at her snivelling with eyebrows raised in amusement before going back to staring at Hershel.

Desmond was probing for his reaction.

Hershel tried to analyze then what would be the best thing to do to keep Lenore safe. What he *wanted* to do was to punch Desmond in the face for daring to lay a hand on Lenore. He wasn't oblivious to the way the other professor had been getting closer with her.

However, he had feared mentioning it to Desmond would be rude and accusatory in a way that he couldn't risk when they were on such an important journey. So he tolerated every time he touched Lenore's shoulder or head or thigh and tried not to get irrationally angry at what was probably innocent anyways.

But now, Hershel knew better. Desmond had been trying to provoke him, for some unknown reason he couldn't yet parse. And he had been using Lenore to do it.

Hershel had always had a possessive streak when it came to Lenore, that much was obvious to almost anyone who knew him, even if they didn't know the full... extent of their relationship. Desmond had caught onto that and used it against him.

Now, he was trapped. If he had no other choice than to participate in whatever game was being played...

He shoved down his pyjama pants, leaving his cock resting against Lenore's slit, hard and aching to be let inside her tight cunt.

Hershel watched as Desmond somewhat half-heartedly kept trying to get Lenore to open her mouth to suck his cock. He watched as the man grabbed her face, squishing her cheeks and rubbing his cock against her still closed lips.

The thing that made Lenore open her mouth was when Hershel penetrated her, making the girl gasp in shock and giving Desmond the perfect opportunity.

He grabbed the girl by her soft brown hair shoved the tip of his cock into her mouth. She made a muffled yelp, and immediately tried to pull off but was unable to wrench her way out of Desmond's grip.

Laughing, Desmond pushed the girl further down, watching drool begin to slip from her lips as she whimpered around his cock.

Looking back at Layton, Desmond saw that the other man was staring at Lenore's cunt, slowly tracing his cock over it, her leaking wetness dripping down his tip.

When Hershel caught on the rim of her prepubescent cunt, he couldn't resist. He pushed in, causing her to moan around Desmond's cock, which she had been slowly being forced to blow, the man using her little pink mouth like a fleshlight.

Hershel was barely aware of Desmond's actions, too focused on how heavenly Lenore's cunt felt around his cock. She was soaking wet, clenching around him, drawing him in. It should have been no surprise when he almost immediately shoved himself in further, nearly to the hilt, before pressing up against her little cervix. She was still too small to take him all the way.

He shivered, letting out a short exhale before pulling out, nearly to the tip, and thrusting back into her baby cunt. Each thrust made her whimper and mewl, vibrating and drooling around Desmond's cock. Lenore started moving her hips as much as she could to meet Layton's thrusts, but it was hard with him gripping onto her hips, and with Desmond fucking her throat. Her head felt all jumbled and fuzzy, and tears ran down her rosy cheeks.

Layton fucked into the little girl's cunt harder, repeatedly stuffing her 12 year old pussy with his cock and battering her cervix. She felt so, so good around him, like she was meant for this. Meant for him. He gripped her squishy hips harder.

Desmond watched as his brother drove his cock into this child, not taking his eyes off of him while he used her mouth like a sex toy. He watched Layton's expression, eyebrows knitted and mouth open, panting. The sight made him grunt, and he shoved his cock deeper into the girl's throat, making her gag.

He paid the girl's pain no mind, but Layton froze. He glared up at Desmond with pure hatred. It took him aback so much that he loosened his grip on Lenore, and froze while Layton yanked her off of him, forcing her somehow further onto Layton's cock, and making her gasp while coughing.

Layton continued pile driving into her puffy cunt, Lenore was left clenching at the sheets, face laying on the bed, lips still stained with Desmond's precum and her own drool as she moaned out Layton's title.

All Desmond could find in himself to do was watch. Watch as his brother gasped and moaned, as he drove his cock into a girl who hadn't even reached puberty yet, as he focused on her solely.

This was such a fucking awful idea.

Hershel used a hand to grope at Lenore, her chest having started to grow little mounds, though it was probably partially from all the food she consumed. He thumbed at her puffy pink nipples, feeling her clench even tighter around him as he did.

He fucked her harder and continued his groping, feeling himself getting closer. Risking a glance away from his girl, he glanced up at Desmond. The man was just sitting there, watching them and fucking into his own fist. Disgusting. Pathetic.

Focusing back on Lenore, it was only so long before he came in her tight cunt. He stuffed his cock into her as far as he could, pressing directly against her cervix when he came, filling her with his seed. She clenched around him, milking him for every drop, clearly desperate for him to breed her. Hershel fucked into her, giving her every last drop of his cum in her baby cunt. It leaked out around his cock, she was too small to take it all.

Unfortunate. Hershel wished he could breed her then, violate her womb with his cum, to fill her with his child... he would just have to be patient.

Across from him, Desmond made a muffled sound, covering his mouth as he came into his own hand. The man sighed, wiping his hand on the sheets with disgust. This was a complete failure.

"Hershel," Desmond started, causing Layton to look up, still buried deep in Lenore's cunt, cum leaking out of her little stuffed hole and starting to drip onto the sheets.

"Nobody else can know this happened," he finished. Layton looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but realized how ironic that would be in that moment.

He nodded silently, gently pulling out of Lenore, and pulling the tired, used girl to his chest, gently stroking her head. She nuzzled against him, small hands grasping onto his shirt. The sight made Desmond equal parts depressed and jealous.

She really was just a child. It should have made Desmond disgusted, but he found himself jealous of her so often, especially in that moment. As much as the sensible part of him wanted better for her, part of that want was just so he could be the one capturing Layton's attention and affections.

Poor girl. He has used her and it didn't even get him closer to Layton. In fact, he had probably drawn his brother further away. This was all so idiotic. He hadn't been thinking clearly, he hadn't planned this right.

Desmond just watched as Layton carried the girl out of the room, like a little bride. As the door shut, Desmond clenched his fists, nails digging hard enough into his palms that they nearly broke into the skin.

He would have to try something else.

---

Lenore was very tired that next morning. She yawned, rubbing her eyes as she peeled herself away from the Professor, having been cuddled up to him.

She hopped off their bed, and tiptoed out the door, being careful not to wake him up, he must've been tired from the night before.

There wasn't the sound of Emmy or Aurora chatting, as they usually did in the mornings, so Lenore assumed she was the first one awake.

This assumption was proven wrong when she found Professor Sycamore sitting on the couch, reading. She froze up, almost retreating to she and Layton's room, before he looked up at her.

"Ah, Lenore, good morning," Sycamore spoke, smiling gently. He set his book down and stood up, but didn't move towards her.

She stayed silent while he spoke more.

"Would you like me to make breakfast? The others aren't awake yet, but I'm sure I could quickly make something simple for you." He, somewhat awkwardly, gestured towards the kitchen.

Lenore nodded slightly, and watched as Professor Sycamore walked towards the kitchen, and she followed him, making sure to keep her distance.

Why was he acting so nice?

She was sure he was evil! The night before was clear proof of that, who knows what could have happened if her Professor hadn't come to save her!

[The girl was still much too naive to realize that Layton should have helped her in a way other than participating in Sycamore's 'game', to the point she was still sore that morning.]

But now, Sycamore was making her scrambled eggs and toast, and not even making any snide remarks. It was boggling her brain, and what he said next made it even worse.

"I am sorry about last night. I should not have gotten you involved with something that is just between me and Layton."

Lenore couldn't stay silent anymore, disregarding her fear to retort.

"Why are you being so kind?! You were awful last night, I don't get why you're pretending to be so nice now!" She curled her little hands into fists while she frowned up at Professor Sycamore.

She knew she probably should have been more polite, but Sycamore was a villain, clearly! He had hurt her, and now he was acting like he felt bad about it.

"I can't quite explain it all to you," Sycamore sighed, "but I can promise last night won't happen again."

He handed Lenore a plate of food, and gently patted her head.

Sometimes, the girl really did remind him of his little brother.