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"Commencing treatment. Excessive retention of impure bodily fluids is a critical condition endangering your life." In Chaldea's infirmary. Struck by an unexplained bizarre illness, the Master is wracked by scorching lust and fever. Standing before them, the Head Nurse Nightingale delivers her diagnosis with an iron face, without batting an eye. Casting aside her military coat and uniform, she removes her garments without a shred of hesitation, straddling the Master's hips with cold, detached eyes. This is the ruthless "forced detoxification procedure" of a mad nurse. Silent and clinical, she lowers her hips, taking the feverish core to her absolute depths. Though performing her duty with military-like stoicism, the intense friction and carnal union shake even her steel composure, occasionally betraying her as sweet, suppressed moans slip through her pale lips.
However, a single session cannot purge the toxin. Relocating to the Master's personal quarters at night, the rampant illness causes the Master's body to multiply, cloning into a horde that fills the room. Multiple Masters swarming in, hot arms reaching from every angle, countless erect desires thrust forward. Yet her sense of duty does not flinch for a second. "Regardless of multiplication, a patient remains a patient. I will eradicate every trace." With those words, using her singular body, she accepts the overwhelming lust of the multiplied men.
Impalated repeatedly, receiving endless white seed directly into her womb, her porcelain, deadpan face gradually flushes with waves of intense euphoria. "Ngh... ku, ah... this is... strictly medical procedure... ahh!" What began as mechanical care turns into an undeniable tide of climaxes burning through her iron discipline, sending tremors through the stalwart nurse as she cures every single Master until dawn.