Sir Evander Marcellus had finally caught up to the vile occultist just as the pangolin’s long, sinuous tail slipped through the doorway. The portal slammed shut, separating the knight from his quarry. He heard the hasty muffled hissing of esoteric syllables on the other side. An amethyst glimmer enveloped the door for a split second before dissipating without a trace, betraying that it had been magically sealed. The unicorn paused for a moment to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

If the wizard had reserved the mystical fortitude to simply teleport away after their battle in town, he certainly would have done so, Marcellus reasoned, rather than fleeing overland and leading the paladin directly to his lair. Thus, Vadim Trumble, the ignominious Mad Mage of Earthreach, would be vulnerable to defeat and capture at last, but the stallion considered the wisdom of engaging the cunning thaumaturge on a field of his choosing. There was no way that his tower wasn’t warded. 

He decided the need for action outweighed caution. Evander had already drawn his blade en route to the door. It was a flammenschwert, a claymore with an edge nearly as long as he was tall; a wavering pillar of steel held aloft before him. It thrummed in his grasp, radiating a sacred light.

He focused himself for the upcoming battle. The warrior remembered his years of training in the castle courtyard and knew that he needed to remain calm during this final confrontation. Conviction had carried him this far, and perseverance would be his key to victory. He battered his way through the door. It was a tremendous effort and took far longer than it should have due to the eldritch reinforcement which allowed his nemesis to withdraw further into his refuge.

A perilous undertaking ensued, but within a couple of hours the equine had bested the sorcerous prodigy’s lackies, and thwarted the tower’s many glyphs and traps. He reached the top landing, which was a short, curving hallway to a singular door. One more floor, and he could finally eradicate the cabal of evil spellcasters seeking to subjugate the land once and for all by defeating one of their highest ranking arcanists. Panting and sweating, the noble felt claustrophobic in his helmet and removed it by tugging at the flamboyant cerulean plume ejecting from behind it. He ran his hooved fingers through his mane and discarded the snug-fitting piece of steel. It clattered down the steps behind him.

The horned anthro nearly knocked the door off its hinges as he kicked it in with all his might. It swung inward and splintered against the wall. Inside was a large loft. Massive windows interspaced between lit torches in sconces set along the rounded walls gave picturesque views of the countryside at sunset. The chamber could have been beautiful had it been properly furnished and tidied. As it was, dying sunbeams filtered in through the clouded glass and countless dust motes, and spilled bleakly across a clutter of crates and barrels and furniture covered in heavy cloth. Marcellus couldn't see the wizard. The long, irregular expanses of shadow allowed for many opportunities to hide (and that was if he hadn’t magicked himself invisible).

The unicorn sheathed his blade and started to search through the room while keeping a vigilant eye on the door. As he tossed bric-a-brac aside, a rustle of fabric behind him alerted him to the cloth covering one of the many antiques falling away. He whirled to face Vadim. The pangolin wore a scintillating robe of purple over scales of sandstone brown. His long, curled claws extended from one of his voluminous sleeves to clutch an ornate staff cast in bronze. He was languidly stroking the tarnished frame of full-length mirror beside him with an oversized talon on his free paw. His eyes, small beads of pure blackness, were trained on his pursuer. Trumble’s naturally-armored tail, itself as long as the rest of his body, lay along behind the floor behind him, well past the hem of his garment. He flicked out his narrow, lengthy tongue menacingly.

“You’re finally here,” he said, his pointed face growing smug. “You’re the perfect test subject to try out my latest acquisition.”

The magician quickly uttered arcane commands incomprehensible to the knight, and the gaudy mirror glittered, catching the equine’s attention.

Sir Marcellus was a tall, powerfully built unicorn. Although not rippling with muscles like a barbarian, he had a tight physique with definition visible beneath his fur that was the envy of his kinsfolk in the baths. The smooth contours of his body were broken only by the ridge of an occasional well-healed scar. His lustrous coat, including his flowing mane and tail, were pure, glossy ebony except for a speckled patch of star-shaped snowy spots that swept along both of his flanks from just below his ribs to his buttocks on either side. They began sparse and grew denser and more numerous as they got lower, and curled slightly at his rump to give the impression of a cosmic arm of stars swirling across a moonless sky. His wide hooves were like flared chunks of jet, and his hands ended in three hooved fingers each. An ashen streak ran down his snout, between his stone-grey eyes, and widened across his nostrils. A corkscrew-shaped horn of silver, several inches long, jutted regally from his forehead.

The stallion wore a breastplate emblazoned with a simple crest of a four-pointed star along with a pauldron on his right shoulder attached to armor that extended down that arm. The outsides of his thighs were protected by a series of overlapping metal plates. His legs and left arm were unarmored to allow for quicker reactions and a greater range of motion. Beneath his armor, he wore a quilted, silver doublet and a sapphire shirt with billowing sleeves. His ornate trousers were comprised of a pair of tights with looser pants drawn over them. The outer garment was broken into three tiers, progressively tighter as they drew closer to his hooves, and had a pattern of wide slits cut into them. One leg had a blue hue to the tights with the striped argentate over it, while the other had the colors reversed.

Evander gazed into the mirror, inexplicably captivated. His reflection stared back at him, but it was...wrong. His echo’s movements didn’t quite match up perfectly with his own and became increasingly distinct with each heartbeat that passed. He could sense a great evil within the glass- a beacon of malevolence overshadowing even that of the mage he had hunted for so long. He watched as his image blinked, and for the first time in years felt true fear. Without warning, his counterpart stepped forward and reached toward him. The pane rippled like the surface of the sea and hooved fingers slipped past the shimmering expanse. The paladin’s duplicate gripped the frame from the other side and began pulling himself through.

As the doppelganger emerged, its appearance altered. His horn was marred by a series of deep cracks and was gold instead of silver, and his pelt was alabaster rather than midnight black. The freshly materialized unicorn wore an exact duplicate of his progenitor's clothing and armor, and had a perfect replica of his flammenschwert strapped to his back. The copy’s face twisted into a cruel sneer and he suddenly lunged, drawing his sword and chopping at the noble. Marcellus barely managed to draw his own blade in time to deflect the blow. The reverberation sent waves of stress down his arms. He lashed out at the mage, but Vadim bounded away across the room, cackling as he evaded. The clone continued to press against him, forcing him to defend himself with all the skill he could muster.

Their edges sparked against one another as they met blow for blow and strike for strike, neither able to get a serious advantage over the other.

“That mirror is cursed with a most delightful enchantment. Whomever gazes into it once it is active is pursued by their perfect replica. May I introduce you to your magical twin-”

“Sir Evandrus Markos,” the clone interjected with a cocksure flip of his wintry mane.

“He is your exact duplicate in skill and physicality. And he is your precise inverse emotionally. Where you have values and morals, he has none. Who you seek to protect, he seeks to dominate. Where you are abstinent, he indulges. The stronger your inclination, the more potent the copy’s urge for the opposite. Your reputation for purity proceeds you, and your sacred vow of chastity is well known. I suppose that would mean it is safe to assume that Sir Markos is...sexually aggressive.”

Evander snarled at the notion.

“Too bad for him, that if he is my equal, then he cannot best me.”

“Simpleton! Your ilk can philosophize about faith and justice all day, but you never truly think. If you are evenly matched then you shall fail. You’re fatigued, and with the slightest bit of aid I can turn things in Evandrus’ favor at any time I choose. That I haven’t yet is simply me reveling in the anticipation of victory. Perhaps I’ll even take a turn once he’s had his way with you.”

Evander’s heart thundered in his ears and he fought with a renewed vigor, but no ground was gained. After spending several minutes watching with a self-satisfied smile it seemed that Trumble grew tired of the spectacle he created and intervened. He wove his claws through the air, etching unseen sigils as he chanted.

Suddenly, the shadows from the flickering torchlight along the edges in the chamber bloomed like drops of ink in water. Tendrils of smokey darkness drifted toward the templar in distorted bands while flares of gloom erupted and braided themselves together into thick ropes of liquid obsidian. The blackness became corporeal as it slithered around the black stallion’s arms and legs, lifting him aloft. There it held him, more steadfast than any shackles. He was left splayed and vulnerable as the haze finally solidified into a mass of writing tentacles. Many of them had bulbous heads while others tapered to points. They glided across his prone form, slowly constricting him. Some swam in an undulating pattern through the air, only occasionally brushing against him. When one grazed his cheek, it felt cold and slimy, but left no residue behind save for patches of evaporating shade.

Sir Marcellus’ first ever bout of panic began to set in.

“Well, brother,” Evandrus taunted, dropping his sword. “It seems that you are now at my mercy. And mercy is something I keep in short supply.”

The tentacles wriggled beneath Evander’s armor from every angle. They throbbed and swelled, popping joints and hinges from the suit and causing it to slough to the floor bit by bit. As they worked, the paladin’s clone drew a dagger from his belt and stepped forward. He slipped the razor-edge beneath the hem of his captive’s shirt and drew it upward, slicing away his clothing. Once the stallion’s athletic torso was revealed, he worked on his leggings and the straps of his lightly-armored codpiece. The ashen unicorn licked his lips rapaciously as he stared down at the naked and helpless knight. The paladin had a pair of heavy testicles below a fat sheath, both the same ebony shade as his hide. 

“You’re unspoiled,” Markos stated simply, reaching forward to fondle his prisoner’s hefty sac. “‘Tis a shame you’ll be taking one as large as yourself for your first time. I will not be gentle.”

As he spoke the conjured tendrils continued to slink over Evander’s helpless form. They probed threateningly at his lips, and at his virginal hole. To the noble’s chagrin, the sexual attention excited him physically, and his flared head began to entreat from its silken sheath. While he hardened, a slender coil tickled his maleness and coaxed it further erect. He gasped at the unexpected sensation and released his grip on his sword. Once fully erect, his dappled pink and brown penis extended nearly eleven inches to a widely splayed tip with a thick ridge of a medial ring bulging out halfway up his organ. 

Across the chamber, Vadim had slipped out of his robe and leaned nude against the wall. His ears folded back and his face was flushed with a lustful warmth, giving a rosey shine to his tawny scales. As he slumped lower he massaged the shaft sliding free of his cloaca. It was wide and crimson at the base and narrowed to a point, becoming faded in color closer to its apex. Small spurts of runny pre gushed from it as he watched the increasingly erotic display before him. He bent down until his muzzle almost touched his scarlet erection. His supple spine allowed him to curl into a perfect sphere if needed and he had long since learned that he could use his natural talent to orally satisfy himself. He fluttered his incredibly long tongue forth and teased his own coral tip.

The doppelganger was stripping away layers of clothing, practically tearing them off of himself in his wanton lust. Before long, he stood stark naked. His rigid hardness trembled in front of him, leaking rivulets of pre down his mottled shaft. The wizard waved his claws across the room and the tendrils of congealed darkness slithered again. A fat one with a mushroom tip nudged against Evander’s muzzle, attempting to slip between his lips and pry his mouth open. At the same time a tapered point prodded beneath his tail, causing him to tense. He gasped in surprise, and the tentacle at his mouth used the opportunity to slip within. The paladin’s ring squeezed tightly shut, but the probing member was naturally slick and wormed its way inside of him.

The black unicorn moaned around his mouthful of arcane energy as it worked its way deeper into him, stretching him a bit wider with each inch that his hole swallowed. Every few seconds it pulsed and rippled, sending a wave reverberating up its length and prying him further open. Sir Marcellus had never experienced such a thrill and felt his face heat with shame as the oozing entity continually brushed past the sweet spot within him and made him squirm. A burst of pre erupted from his swollen phallus and landed in glistening strands on his muscled abdomen. The milky beads shone bright against their ebony backdrop in the dancing torchlight, highlighting his humiliation to his captors.

The blackness in his maw slid in and out, dragging across his tongue and emitting its own bursts of slime down his esophagus alongside disconcerting throbs. The substance was warm, clear, and runny, and had a salty, almost acrid taste. When the tendril thrust into him, it forced its way into his throat again and again, withdrawing only to repeat the motion. He choked around the thick appendage.

The bound fur, to his great embarrassment, was still fully erect by the time his cleft had been assaulted enough that almost a foot of inky darkness had made its way into him. The new sensation of his prostate being stimulated had a physical effect on him that overrode his arousal-stifling fear. He struggled futilely, but with each thrash, the tentacles coiled ever tighter. Vadim gazed at him lavaciously as he let his tongue wrap around his own erection, easily able to encircle around it several times. He let his muzzle drop over the tip and hummed, tasting his own emissions.

Evandrus evidently grew tired of rubbing his own massive cock and watching his twin being debased. He grabbed the tentacle buried deep into the other unicorn’s backside and yanked at it, roughly withdrawing the fluid shadow from Marcellus’ rump. It left the equine feeling empty and open. Cold air caressed his hole, which was left slick with residual, liquid gloom. Markos aimed his flare at the vacated opening. His tip was over four inches in diameter and dripping with need. His captive fought to keep from whimpering and retain what little dignity he had remaining. Not only would he be helpless to the other stallion’s whims, but his vow of abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh would be null, even if it were not by choice. He could never again say that he hadn’t taken part in carnal passions. 

The simulacrum leaned menacingly over his helplessly bound progenitor until their faces nearly touched, and he exhaled a line of hot breath across the black unicorn’s collarbone. With a bray he forced his crown into the knight’s tailhole. Evander grimaced and teared up at the sudden entry, but was unable to bite down due to the dusky tendril in his mouth. The inches drove into him, going nearly to the medial ring halfway down the shaft in one long, steady thrust before pausing. Markos stayed lodged within him and quaked with rapture. He stood upright, stretching his back and shoulders triumphantly as he set his hooves shoulder’s width apart. He smiled arrogantly and cocked his head, then proceeded to buck his hips and quickly buried himself a couple of inches deeper, eliciting a moan from his look-alike.

“You’re tight,” he huffed, with a small groan of satisfaction. “I’m going to enjoy destroying you immensely.”

Evander feebly struggled against his binds, but knew it was a pointless exercise. A coil of ribbon-thin twilight worked its way around the paladin’s shaft and convulsed. The undeniably pleasurable vibrations stunned the restrained warrior and prevented him from responding as he instead unleashed a spray of pre and stifled a whinny. 

“Years of sexual frustration are coming to the surface, are they?” The blackguard taunted. “You might as well learn to appreciate this now. I plan on keeping you as my plaything for a long, long time.”

With a grunt, Evandrus hilted himself and shuddered with bliss.

“So incredibly tight! If I weren’t you, I’d still know you were a virgin by that alone. How does it feel to be taken like a mare?”

Vadim watched with a voyeuristic glee, keeping himself on the edge of release. He wanted to relish every last moment of his nemesis’ downfall, and that meant staving off his climax until the very end. He bobbed on his quivering rod and swallowed every drop of pre with great enthusiasm. 

Markos pistoned himself in and out of his victim, making deep, throaty noises each time he felt his sensitive medial ring force its way past Evander’s entrance. He bucked his powerful hips over and over again, and snickered with elation whenever the other stallion clamped down around him. He smirked cruelly when the knight gave a strained whine of resistance. The pale equine buried himself until his sac slapped against his involuntary partner’s pert rump and ground his hips, wanting his prey to suffer every last detail of his maleness. He even massaged the muscular globes of his ass as a gentle lover might, though did so for his own desire rather than any notion of charity. His pounding picked up speed, shoving in and pulling out of the paladin with an increasingly erratic rhythm. His breath grew ragged, nostrils flaring. Sweat beaded on his neck as his brows knit in concentration. The scent of pheromones suffused the air. Marcellus recognized the odor of his own arousal, but whether it indeed came from him or originated with his copy, he could not say.

The noble could feel the flare of his clone’s shaft pulse and widen within him. He could see his muscular abs tense. He knew he was close. Unfortunately for him, the slick, exploratory tendrils that held him continued to tease his length and bring him to the brink as well. He felt a great shame. Shame at being defeated. At being abused for the gratification of another. At enjoying the experience on any level. Still, he felt himself approach the precipice of orgasm.

Finally, the magically conjured villain plunged in as far as he could, harshly thrusting himself fully into his captured mate. The imprisoned unicorn cried out sharply when he felt the cock inside of him spasm and jerk. A torrent of wet warmth flooded him and began to gush out around the dappled shaft prying him open. His own member trembled. With one last slick touch of a tentacle gliding past his erection, Evander climaxed. His first ever orgasm was intense. The velvet skin of his sac drew tight and he felt every muscle in his body seize. The stallion arched his spine and reflexively rolled his neck back. Held aloft by the animated darkness, he felt weightless as ecstasy gripped him. 

Thick ropes of equine essence exploded from his length and splattered his helpless form. Wave after wave shot from him. The first powerful bursts splashed across his face markings and neck. The remainder of his opalescent seed landed onto his broad chest and abdomen. Both stallions gave a little kick of their right hoof in unison and panted heavily. They stared at each other, Evander in crestfallen submission, Evandrus in pleased triumph. The latter’s slowly softening maleness slipped from his captive’s violated hole. It was still long and weighty. It lazily retracted and dripped glistening strands to the floor. A bulbous tendril wasted no time in filling the empty orifice and slithered in, bringing the warrior out of his afterglow and drawing attention to the sore ache of his backside.

Vadim had been voraciously pleasuring himself. As the smell of the unicorn's cum reached him he was driven into a frenzy. He evolved from suckling to rapidly fellating his own hardness. He shivered with delight as he came, swallowing his own milky load. He coaxed every last drop with his sinuous tongue and devoured it greedily. He sighed and enjoyed the post-orgasmic haze for a brief moment before uncurling and standing. He casually sauntered beside the white stallion’s brawny form and started possessively stroking the weakened paladin’s inner thigh.

“Sleep now,” Trumble ordered softly, before indolently waving his claw and uttering a few magic words. The spell gripped the knight who was too drained to resist it and he promptly drifted into a deep slumber. The tentacles melted into misty shadows and dissipated as though they never existed, leaving the templar in an unconscious heap on the floor. It had taken every last ounce of magical energy he had within him and the assistance of a cursed artifact, but he had finally  defeated his foe. He intended to savor his victory. “Let’s lock him up to use again later and-”

His sentence was cut off by a strained choking sound as the blackguard grabbed him by the gullet, and lifted his smaller frame from the ground.

“What are you…?” he barely was able to force out, but paused to glance down and see that unicorn’s maleness was already plumping again.

“Later? But I’m ready for another go right now...”