Affectionate Antipathy

Shaka kept his eyes closed and breathing steady while he kept one ear swivelled toward his bathroom. He’d awoken several minutes prior, roused by his slumber by the faint sounds of water running and humming. Someone was in his home, and he’d bet his bottom bit on whom had paid him a visit.

There were perilously few creatures on the planet who were dumb or reckless enough to see themselves into his home unwelcomed - moreover, there weren’t many who even knew where he lived. His abode was nearly identical to any other, neither calling attention to himself or his various pursuits, and he lived just outside a sleepy little village known as Sire’s Hollow. The ponies in town knew of him and would occasionally seek him out for his services, largely because shamans were extraordinarily rare in Equestria, although they gave him plenty of space.

Slipping his legs from under the covers and over the side of his bed, he silently got to his feet. His mentor would have had the courtesy of announcing himself, nearly all of his past lovers had had their memories selectively altered to remove the whereabouts of his house, and he had no family to speak of - reducing the number of potential home intruders to one. As he crept into his bathroom and spied a familiar, striped figure, an annoyed grunt escaped him.

Sahira turned and wiped sodden dreadlocks from her face. “And I was beginning to wonder if you’d continue feigning sleep.”

“Not even doing me the courtesy of waking me with a blowjob?” he quickly shot back. “Sahira, you’ve lost your touch.”

She’d seen herself in, violating his privacy and the sanctity of his house, and had helped herself to the use of his shower. The sight of her washing herself, her body bare and lathered in soap, weighed heavily against her transgression and utter disregard for his solitude. Lingering in the doorway leading to his bedchamber, he bit back a smirk.

For all her innumerable faults, she was remarkably easy on the eyes. With a toned physique, modest bust, and taut, squeezable backside, her body wasn’t as impressive as some, lacking the exaggerated bust and curves most stallions sought in a mate, although he genuinely found her quite attractive. It was a shame that she was as insufferable as she was, because she would have made a fine lover and mother for his eventual children.

He grunted as he gazed up at her grinning face. “Do you ever take that off?”

Bringing a hand upward, she touched the ebony, skull-like covering over her visage. “The mask?”

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you without it,” he remarked.

His question, as straightforward as it was, wasn’t an attempt to distract her or buy time to determine why she’d invited herself over. He’d initially assumed that her mask was part of her look, an aesthetic choice to intimidate others or to mark herself as a shaman, yet his stance on the matter had shifted over time. Pondering on what the thing was, where she’d gotten it, and why she insisted on wearing it at all times, he stared over at her.

“That’s because I can’t remove it,” she sighed. “My former master cursed me with his dying breath to wear it for all eternity. Though I can conceal it, I -”

“Wait,” he quietly blurted while holding up a hand. “You can conceal it?”

She blinked. “Did you assume I couldn’t?”

“If you can hide it and take a more…” He paused to find the right word. “If you can take a less menacing appearance, why don’t you?”

“Because my countenance would have stallions and mares fawning over me at all hours of the morning, noon, and night,” she lamented. “I’d be far too alluring without it.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorted. “Of course you would be. I’m sure that -”

“Would you like to see for yourself?” she interrupted.

He went silent and motionless. After acquainting himself with every inch of her, and practically memorizing the pattern of her stripes, he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was curious. Waving a hand, he stepped forward and smiled.

“If you’d be so kind,” he began, “I’d love to…”

As the mask faded away, presumably becoming transparent, he trailed off. Twin bands of dark fur ran down her forehead to either side of a triangular patch over her maneline, coming just over her golden, goat-like eyes, and the very end of her muzzle was black. He shook from his stupor when she stepped out of the tub.

Stopping before him, she sensually caressed herself. “Like what you see?”

He shook his head and grimaced. “I do, but we both know that. Might I ask what has brought you to my abode this fine morning?”

She’d almost gotten him, distracting him with her admittedly charming face and alluring form, but he wasn’t going to play into her clutches so easily. Reaching out and idly fondling her bosoms, he snickered. She was on his turf, he’d foiled her plans before, and she was the one who was in danger.

“I simply wanted to give both of us a break - you know, have some rest and relaxation,” she groaned. Gingerly taking his wrist, she guided his hand down to her nethers. “Would you like to join me in the shower now or after I’ve given you that blowjob you mentioned?”

Running a finger between her lower lips, he caressed her bulging clit. “What about breakfast? I’d be happy to provide you with a rich, creamy meal, although I’d prefer something more substantial to eat.”

“Not to worry,” she murmured while bucking her hips and grinding her cunt against his hand. “Breakfast should be ready shortly, unless you’d like to help yourself to an appetizer.”

His mouth watered at the thought of feasting upon her. Though she was his nemesis, starting the day with a bit of amorous affection was far from the worst thing. Backing up and releasing her, he lifted his hand and licked his fingers clean. She was up to something, he was sure of that much, although what she had done or was doing had yet to reveal itself.

He turned and nodded to the shower. “You finish up and make yourself presentable while I go start some coffee for the two of us.”

“As you wish,” she coolly responded.

To his surprise, she stepped into the shower and continued washing herself. She appeared totally normal, she hadn’t uttered anything in her cursed tongue to ensorcel him, and he didn’t detect any foul afoot, although he wasn’t going to let his guard down. At the very least, he was going to conduct a thorough sweep of the house prior to having any fun.

Crossing through his room and into the hallway, he casually strolled through his home. As he passed his vacant guest room and study, moving in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon wafted to his nostrils. A frown creased his muzzle at the distinct, savory aroma. He wasn’t, nor would he ever embrace carnivorism, excluding his love of eating pussy, and it was his hope that Sahira had cooked something that he’d actually enjoy.

“Shaka, your timing couldn’t be better,” Sahira chirped. “There’s a fruit salad in the fridge, the waffles are almost done, and I’m just about to finish up with these hash browns for you.”

He stopped in his tracks and peered at the mare shimmying a frying pan on his stove. Had she used teleportation to get to the kitchen before him? Cautiously meandering around and to his refrigerator, he took stock of the situation. She was bone dry and clad in an apron she’d purloined from his pantry, there was no water around her feet, and she’d sounded pleased with his arrival - however those observations only muddled matters further.

A tap on the shoulder made him flinch and look to the side. To his absolute bewilderment, Sahira was both cooking and standing beside him. Seeing the wench in two places at once was unnerving and anything but natural, particularly because both were acting so casually, although his confusion magnified when he noticed that neither of the mares in the kitchen had been the one he’d just spoken with.

Smiling up at him, the Sahira at his side gently pushed him away. “Excuse me.”

He obliged hesitantly and shuffled over to give her some room. “What are you up to?”

“Making a banquet fit for a king,” the cooking Sahira noted.

Bending over and pulling a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge, the duplicate cheerfully wiggled her tush. “For our king.”

The other Sahira sidled over and removed a steaming, crisp waffle from a heated iron on the countertop. “We’ve yet to figure out which of us will fuck ourselves on him.”

“That’s if he wants us to take the lead,” the second tutted. “What we do is up to him.”

“Indeed,” the first giggled. “We’re so lucky.”

“That we are,” a third voice merrily stated. Toweling herself off, a third Sahira walked into the room. “I’m confident that he’ll handle the three of us easily.”

“So big…”

“So handsome…”

“And that monstrous endowment of his…”

The trio writhed while pawing at their chests, loins, or both while waxing poetic about him. Flattered though he was, his unease grew by leaps and bounds. Strolling past two of the mares and over to his coffee machine, he retrieved a can of grounds from his cupboard.

“Allow me,” the damp Sahira hummed, having scampered up behind him. “We’d hate for you to lift a finger.”

“Unless he wanted to lift a finger…”

“Or lift one of us for that matter…”

Snickering like a group of fillies, the threesome busied themselves with making his meal. They acted in concert, asking one another to move when needed, while they set the table and plated various dishes. Leaving them to their pursuits, he retreated and watched his visitors work.

Duplication spells were no easy feat, typically requiring rare artifacts or potions which were difficult to brew, and no two were exactly the same. Some of the enchantments allowed users to share senses and thoughts, while others allowed each copy to function completely independently - in either case, Sahira had just shown her hand. Taking a glass of orange juice and helping himself to a sip, he smiled and shook his head.

“It’s freshly squeezed,” Sahira, one carrying a plate of hash browns, commented.

He kept his eyes on the other pair while he tweaked one’s nipple. The one he touched responded, inhaling sharply, while the other two didn’t bat an eye. As he readied a very particular hex, one that may give him an edge, the trio converged and placed the food on the table.

He seated himself and played it as cool as he could. “Swarm tactics?”

“What gave it away?” one of them tittered.

Easing herself into a chair next to him, another rubbed his thigh. “You’re just too much stallion for one mare.”

“Or two even,” the third glibly murmured.

Sahira came up behind him, rested her arms over his shoulders, and gave his cheek a little pec. “Don’t say we’re wrong…”

Scheming against him was wondrously amusing, although devising new, innovative ways for her to test his resolve took time, patience, and creativity. She’d assumed that inspiration would strike her while she’d recovered from having her ass demolished - alas, nothing particularly clever had come to her. Two nights prior, while she’d been lying on her stomach and attempting to get comfortable, her eyes had strayed across her room and to a trunk of special supplies.

She, like many who practiced her craft, had a stockpile of especially sought-after and exotic compounds she’d gathered. Some of the ingredients had come from the abyss, a few had required magical synthesis to produce, and there were a few that were just difficult to come by. Having gotten up and gone over to the chest, she’d retrieved something she’d hadn’t wanted to use.

While cloning herself with a sample of water she’d collected from the mirror pool wasn’t the most innovative or complicated approach, it would serve its purpose. Using the precious resource wasn’t what troubled her, and she was reasonably certain that overwhelming Shaka with numbers was a sound tactic - what troubled her was that the plot was simply boring. She prided herself being innovative, so resorting to something so pedestrian felt beneath her.

Walking around and running a hand over his upper back, she drifted to the seat at his right. “Well?”

“You are correct,” he admitted. “Some would say that one of you is too many.”

She tittered and leaned on him. “Too true, my love.”

Ganging up on him, while practical, wasn’t without flaws. Each of her copies had her memories and abilities, yet they weren’t her. From the moment her duplicates had come into the world, they’d started to diverge. Should enough time pass, it was entirely possible that the three of them would become different mares eventually.

Glancing to her doubles, she reached down and stroked his semi-flaccid length. “Think you can handle us?”

“All of us?” the duo of mares added in tandem.

He smoothly looked between them as he reclined. “Quite easily, of course.”

His hubris would be his undoing. All she or her copies had to do was speak, say a single line or simple phrase, and he’d be done for - after that, they could do whatever they wanted with and to him. If he wanted to survive with his body and dignity intact, he was going to have to change his tune and ideally treat her with the respect she deserved.

“And how might you do that?” she pressed.

“There are three of us,” another continued.

Leaning in, the third caressed his cheek. “And only one of you.”

“Like this,” he whispered.

Swiftly filling his lungs, he exhaled a torrent of thick, noxious smoke from his nostrils and open maw. Sahira and her doppelgangers threw themselves back and bellowed in unison, each shouting curses that would shackle his mind and body, yet her arrogance was her undoing. The enchantments they cast overlapped, their words mingling and canceling one another, while they breathed in the magical fog he produced.

Sahira coughed and covered her muzzle as she stumbled back. “Bastard.”

“Guilty,” he haughtily mused. Patting one of her copies on the back, he slowly stood. “It’s mostly harmless.”

As a hand gently struck her between the shoulders, she twisted her head and looked back. As she’d feared, nopony was behind her. Though she wasn’t being touched by anypony, she could feel herself being touched. In that moment, watching an ominous glow fade from his eyes, she understood what he’d done.

“Clever,” she growled. “You think that forcing us to share the experience will give you some advantage. Why not kill us?”

Leering down at him, one of her doubles coughed. “Or erase us?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed. “Since you put so much effort into this, it would be a shame not to entertain you - all three of you at once.”

Sahira narrowed her eyes. Having linked senses with her copies was far from the worst thing he’d could have done - so much so that she was hesitant to believe that he hadn’t done more than that. For all she knew, he may have sown the seeds of her destruction without her fully comprehending it.

“A moment,” she grumbled. “Mares, let us confer.” Her clones walked around and to her sides, both casting doubtful looks at Shaka, while she waved them closer. “Feel anything?”

“No,” one faintly answered.

The other shook her head. “Nothing that I can tell, no.”

The trio mutely looked to one another as the corners of their lips turned upward. The solution was simple, and they needn’t discuss it at length. While they weren’t pleased with the development, aware that they’d be feeling the same things as one another, it did afford a unique opportunity. Though they loathed Shaka, serving him in unison and enduring a sensory onslaught from three unique perspectives was too good to pass up.

“I propose a wager,” Sahira announced. Stepping away from her doppelgangers, she leveled a finger at Shaka. “If we can outlast you, you’ll have to - uh…”

She wavered, uncertain of what would be at stake. The petty, vengeful side of her yearned to make him do something demeaning like walking around town wearing a collar and leash, yet her three-fold lust and the thought of licking her clit while he ravaged her clouded her judgment. Trying and failing to concoct a fitting reward for herself, she was pushed aside.

Barging past her, one of her copies drew a finger up his chin. “Dinner and drinks for us.”

“A nice dinner with top shelf drinks,” another added.

Taking and kissing the back of her hand, he dipped his head. “Very well. And if I win?”

The three of them shrugged and spoke as one. “Bragging rights.”

He clutched his immaculately sculpted abs and doubled over in mirth. “On any other day, I’d say that wasn’t good enough, but I’m feeling charitable - oh and you did make breakfast for us. Tidy up and join me in my room.”

While Sahira plodded away, Sahira wracked her collective brains on how she and her doubles could best him. She couldn’t tell what her clones were thinking, but that mattered for little. They were very much the same mare, dwelling on the same problem which had just presented itself, and though their senses may have been attuned to one another, they held an advantage.

They hastily covered the food, turned off the stove and coffee maker, and marched lockstep to his chamber. There was strength in unity, and they would use that against him. While he only had a single stallionhood to lavish with affection, he had other weaknesses that she could freely exploit.

She, the original, took the lead and marched past her copies. “I presume you two know what to do?”

“Of course,” they responded.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “Show him no quarter.”

“Like we would,” one chuckled.

Giving her an encouraging smack on the rear, the other goaded her onward. “This will be fun…”

That was certainly one way of putting it, though it may come back to haunt her. Squandering a sample from the mirror pool for something as self-serving as fooling around with herself would have been an egregious waste of the precious resource - having said that, and with the circumstances being what they were, she could freely cut loose with herself and a big-dicked stud. Walking faster, motivated by what was to come, she wandered into his room and made a beeline for his bed.

“Not even a kiss?” he pouted while she strutted by.

“One of them can handle that while you’re rutting me,” she groused. Hearing a passionate moan from behind her, she shot an angry glance over shoulder. “While he’s rutting me!”

Pulling away from him, one of her doubles drew her tongue from his muzzle. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” she huffed, “but remember the plan.”

“A plan,” he parroted in amusement. “Oh this will be a treat. Three of my least favorite mare all to myself ~ aren’t I the lucky one.”

She cast herself onto the mattress, rolled to her back, and grabbed the back of her knees. “Enough with the hollow platitudes and stalling. I’m sure there are several stallions who’d die to have a small harem for themselves.”

Crossing to the foot of the bed, he took her by the ankles and brought his stallionhood to her entrance. “Quite right, although you wouldn’t be satisfied with any of them.”

As he sank into her depths and steadily filled her, her assistants leapt into action. One of the two kissed her way up his side and up to his chest, while the other knelt behind him. Virtually every stud on the planet dreamed about having a group of mares fawning over him, and Shaka was no different. For all his strength, size, and otherworldly power, he was still beholden to his carnality and a burning desire to be worshiped.

Shaka’s face was turned while his medial ring nudged her shaft. “May I help - Mmmmn.”

Kissing somepony while he was plunging into a mare was always a welcome experience, yet he quickly got much more than just an impromptu makeout session. Feeling a hot breath against his backside, he started when what could only be a tongue glided over his balls and into the cleft of his ass. As he bottomed out and buried his shaft, it became apparent how precarious his position was.

“Something wrong?” Sahira pressed. “I presumed you’d like this.”

He broke the kiss by grabbing the double’s mane and pulling her away. “I am enjoying this,” he growled. “Are you?”

Bucking his hips, he ground his backdoor against one clone’s face. The conceited bitch likely assumed she was going to win a lavish night out at his expense handily, but she was going to learn that one of him was enough to deal with any number of her. It was by mere happenstance that he hadn’t showered the night prior, retiring after a particularly exhausting trip to the gym, and he was thankful that he wasn’t as fresh as he normally would be.

While he fell into a steady rhythm, sheathing and unsheathing his cock in her clinging marehood, an unusual conundrum presented himself. With only two hands, it would be impossible for him to properly manage his trio of playthings. Deeply kissing one mare, and virtually sitting on another, he guided the third’s legs around his waist.

Of all the quandaries he’d find himself in, he wouldn’t have predicted juggling to be as tricky as it was. Sahira was a crafty one, although she was relatively sporting. In light of how she hadn’t cast a glamour upon him, bending him to her will or transforming him in some demeaning fashion, it was unlikely that she’d pull a dirty trick on him - unlikely but not unimaginable. Muzzling her would be the safest and most prudent course of action, and he had a way to keep all three of her from speaking.

Shuffling back and freeing all but his cock-head, he tugged at her legs. “Tuph obpher.”

“Come again?” she muttered.

He rolled his eyes and momentarily broke the kiss a second time. “Turn over.”

“Can’t stand to look at my face?” she pouted, doing as she’d been instructed. “Or maybe you just want us all to keep quiet.”

“It would be a shame if we did something to you…” another purred in her ear.

The third shuffled back and pried her snout from his ass. “Better start fucking us like you mean it, stud…”

“Like this?” he rumbled as he began deep-dicking her.

Whimpering in chorus, the trio shivered and swooned. The sweetest victories were the ones that were earned, and his impending triumph would be delectable indeed. She had the upper hand in several ways, keeping him preoccupied and under threat of spellcraft, but that allowed him to focus. The element of danger looming over him, that the pendulum could swing at any moment, added a thrilling twist to what would otherwise be a somewhat standard four-way.

With his tailhole polished, cock pistoning, and balls churning, he snarled into a copy’s snout. Contrary to popular belief, wrangling more than a single mare in the bedroom was harder than it looked - thankfully, he’d had plenty of practice with such things over the years. Whether it was groupies, cougars, or spirited floozies, he’d left many a room full of incoherent, cum-drunk mares in his wake.

He thrust hard and drove the tip of his length into her womb, causing all three to mewl and tremble around or against him. It was supremely gratifying to get somepony off, to make them weak with pleasure, and it always - always pushed him closer to the edge. Any stallion could dumbly hump away until they peaked, but only a true stud ensured their lover or lovers were satisfied.

Within minutes, he reaped a climax from Sahira. The mares floundered, squealing and squirting nectar to the floor over his stallionhood. He snorted as his self-restraint weakened. Making her cum was easy, both due to his sexual prowess and because he’d gradually learned what got her off, but he knew better than to ease up and let her savor it. The respite he’d earned was transient, and he would have to make the most of it to keep what ground he’d gained.

As he sawed into her and beat against her cum-starved womb, her doppelgangers rallied and renewed their assault. His pucker was polished, lustful hands wandered over his chest, hips, and upper thighs, and small, supple breasts bore against him while a taut canal constricted around his length. The stamina he had, though impressive, could only fuel him for so long under such heavenly circumstances.

Having driven Sahira to climax another three times, he crossed the threshold. A furious roar split the air as he came and filled her - well, one of her. The treble of her wails was a symphony unlike any other, harmonized to near perfection, while he carried them to nirvana. He lumbered back and withdrew his still-gushing shaft before the trio could recuperate, not allowing himself to savor his ecstasy. This was a gauntlet, a trial, and he couldn’t afford to show mercy.

After shaking off two of the mares, he rolled the third over, sat on the foot of the bed, and reclined. “Clean me up.”

Two of the clones, the pair he hadn’t just rutted a foal into, obeyed, while the third shifted and fell off the mattress. He hadn’t gone soft, although blowing a load had done a number on him. His stallionhood twitched and oozed jizz as the duo started licking and kissing their way up its length. She was a spiteful, cruel sow, contemptible in every regard, but damned if seeing her making out with herself around his dick didn’t get his blood pumping.

“Quite the spectacle…”

The voice came from behind him and prompted him to turn. At some point or another, in the few moments he’d taken to convalesce, the third Sahira, presumably the original, had dragged herself back onto the bed. Pulled onto his back and pinned to the mattress, his view changed from the duo tongue bathing his tool to a gaped, slavering cunt bearing down on his face.

“Return the favor,” she cooed as she seated herself on him.

His face grew slick with a cocktail of his spunk and her juices while she pinned his arms under her legs. Seconds before shaking her off, an incredible weight settled upon him. Though he was unable to see what had happened, his sense of touch told him what he needed to know. The trio had mounted him, disobeying his order to take the lead, and he was brought to an impasse because of it.

It wouldn’t have taken much to overpower them with brute force, flinging them across the room so he could get loose, yet he hesitated. Beating her at her own game was the only way he could achieve true success, and he wouldn’t stoop to her level - not yet. Fixating on her clit, he planted his feet and drove his hips upward as one of the copies straddled his waist.

His one regret, were he to name one, was that he hadn’t set up a camera to capture the exchange. Films involving one stallion with two mares were popular and relatively common, but recordings of a lone stud pitting himself against three mares were scarce - add to that how Zebrican erotica was a niche product, and he was sure he could have made a killing selling a video of his current predicament. Positively swamped with pussy, making out with one, fucking another, and with a third rubbing against his abs, he ceded to his lust.

He wouldn’t say it, if only for fear that it may provoke Sahira, but he was actually quite glad with how things were shaping up. There was no risk of making a fool of himself in public, there was perilously little on the line, and managing three mares at once was electrifying. Compared to some of her past torments, this was a breath of fresh air.

Going on for what had to be nearly half an hour, basking in the sounds and sensations the trio afforded, he ultimately passed the point of no return. As he coated one’s interior with his essence, flaring against her cervix and filling her depths with his seed, she wailed in orgasmic glee. He swallowed what nectar he could, all but chugging her tangy effluence, although the sheer volume of her cream forced his hand.

Throwing her off, he coughed and cleared his airway. “Excuse - Hack - me…”

“Y…you’re excused,” one wheezed.

Panting and toppling to her side, another gave him a wobbly thumbs-up. “W…what she said…”

“Asshole,” the third griped, having fallen off the bed and out of sight.

As he caught his breath, his eyes flicked from one to another. “Any requests?”

The trio looked to one another, smirked, and nodded. They had something in store for him, and they looked elated at whatever it was. Moving slowly, each jittering and unsteady, they removed themselves from the bed. He smiled at each of them in turn, slipped his hands behind his head, and silently wondered what he was going to be subjected to.

Sahira considered herself a cold, calculating mare, although she was prone to bouts of weakness and hedonism. The missionary had been incredible, largely because she’d been rimming him and making out with him throughout it, and the double cowgirl was even better than she’d expected it would be. With two debaucherous experiments out of the way, there was a particular combination she was dying to try out.

“Doggy while I cuck myself and kiss you,” she proclaimed. “You pick who’s doing what, since we may murder each other if we have to choose.”

He openly laughed while he sat up and got to his feet. “I’m inclined to let you all butcher each other, although I’d prefer not to spend my afternoon cleaning up blood stains and disposing of bodies. You’ll be our little cuck, you can be the passionate one, and you’ll be my cum-dump ~ how’s that sound.”

“Deal,” she replied in tandem.

The three of them manically scrambled back onto the mattress and took their various positions. One went supine, placing her head directly under the crotch of another who got on all fours, while the last idly waited by the side. Partaking in three of her favorite kinks in unison was tantamount to suicide, but she didn’t give a single, solitary damn about how reckless she was being. As long as she came so hard that she couldn’t see straight, he could boast as much as he wanted to.

Walking up behind her, he ran his cock-head over her entrance as he grabbed the ass of her double kneeling at the end of the mattress. “Shall I wax poetic about how the three of you will be my broodmares?”

“If it’s not inconvenient,” she mumbled as she rolled her hips back and flagged her tail.

He kept quiet as he sank into her and locked lips with her copy at his side. For the first time in many, many years, words genuinely failed her. She was simultaneously plowed from behind, having her clit sucked, eating herself out, and tongue wrestling with him. While the experience for each of them was slightly different, the absolute influx of sensations was mind-numbing.

She’d done herself in, knowingly engaging in what may have been the most decadent endeavor of her life, and she was driven mad with rapture. One orgasm bled into another, creating a feedback loop of pure, unrefined ecstasy. She came more times than she could dare to count, yet the muscle memory she’d developed from years of self-indulgence didn’t allow her to stop.

Like a machine, she sought to appease both Shaka and herself. All concepts of the competition, her enmity for him, and her sense of self were obliterated by pleasure incarnate. On and on he went, delivering her to the gates of paradise, until oblivion claimed her. Her final thoughts as darkness overtook her were those of joy and contentment from embarking on an adventure few would ever revel in.

…

“Gah!” she gasped, shooting upright. Feeling herself up, she took stock of her surroundings and yelped when a hand glided over the small of her back. “What did -”

“Relax,” Shaka sighed as he caressed her. Lounging at her side and atop the sodden blankets, he patted the empty pillow next to him. “You’re not dead - well, unless your afterlife includes yours truly.”

She chose not to acknowledge the slight while she scanned the room. Her copies were nowhere to be seen, likely having evaporated when the ensorceled potion had run its course, and his chamber looked like a bomb had gone off. His bed listed to one side on a broken leg, his dresser was overturned, and a camera perched on a tripod sat in one corner.

Following her gaze, he motioned to the contraption. “I didn’t get all of it, and I had to fight two of you to set it up, but we’ll have something to watch later.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “You should’ve mentioned that before we started…”

He shrugged apathetically. “There’s always next time, and that may be sooner than you think. I -”

Knock knock knock

Glancing to the doorway, she pursed her lips. “Expecting company?”

“I took the liberty to order us a pizza,” he warmly stated. “Since the delivery pony is typically a stallion, would you like to do the honors?”

She swung her legs over, placed her feet on the floor, pushed herself up, and promptly collapsed. “One second…”

Her legs felt like jello, cum flowed from her marehood, and her throat was sore, yet she found the strength to stand and shamble out of his room. It was awfully considerate of him to get them food, although seeing as how it was dark outside heavily implied he’d foregone eating to rail her for hours on end. Wholly indifferent to her nude, disheveled, cum-slathered state, she reached the entryway and unlocked the door.

“I hope he paid in advance, because…” She went wide eyed and shuffled back as she turned her eyes to a figure looming on the doorstep.

Holding a pizza box in one hand and a camcorder in the other, Shaka beamed down at her. “I have an order for - let’s see here. Yes, one needy whore? One extra large, extra meaty special to fill you right up…”

What began as a snicker grew into a hearty belly laugh as she peered up at Shaka. The cheeky bastard was about to give her a taste of her own medicine, taking advantage of her weakened state by thoroughly plowing her into a coma! She peeked back as a pair of large, strong hands closed over her shoulders and held her in place.

Shaka stepped forward and pressed stallionhood between her thighs. “I hope you like sausage…”

Mirroring his twin, the second Shaka leaned in and touched his cock-head to her navel. “Because we’ve got plenty to spare…”

“You colts, always wanting my attention,” she clucked. Slipping out from between them, she clutched and gently stroked their tremendous lengths. “I guess that just leaves one question - are you going to share a hole or claim me from both ends.”

“Both,” they hummed in sync.

He had to have planned this, because their dialogue and actions were too perfect to have been improvised on the fly. There was a film to be made, she was soaking wet, and she had the perfect costars to join her. While they may have missed their chance to make an intact movie for their first round, neither of them were going to miss the opportunity to produce a riveting sequel…