He was faced by that dark knight for the third time since he arrived to Mallet Island, and Dante believed that he already had him figured out after having faced him two times. In that dark ominous hall whilst the thunder broke at the background through the window. The knight shed his horned mask, revealing a striking pale human face with unnatural blue veins protruding all over his features; though he seemingly unleashed the rest of his power on that little show, although Dante wasn't sure why did he need to take off the mask. It felt as if knight was silently demanding Dante to look at him. This would be the last fight they'd have.
And so, they rose their swords in combat, commencing their most intense duel yet. Dante couldn't hide the thrill it gave him, a good fight always did make him feel alive.
However, even though it's always been the same person, something felt different ever since their fight began, as if a new sort of life coursed through Angelo's every move, his red glowing human-like eyes so filled with motivation... Dante couldn't help but to feel distracted with how strangely familiar they felt. Each violent clash of swords, each bullet and glowing blast of deadly magic, it felt increasingly desperate and grittier, and when the light blue summoned swords started to fly through the air around him, Dante froze for a moment, reminiscence striking him at the worst moment. A grave mistake.
He thought that he was prepared for the worst when he came to this place, expecting to find the big baddie and possibly take him down after getting the living shit beat out of him. It always went like that. Many people criticized that his overconfidence was the worst of his attributes... and Dante couldn't have been more self-aware of that fatal flaw until now.
Through this opening, the broadsword was now piercing through his body, such as the summoned swords were, such as the brutal currents of energy blasted through him all at the same time. Usually, mistakes like these he could brush them off, he could take the hits, he could overcome, but this time, for some reason, he was unable to do it.
Before he could resolve himself into continuing the fight, his mind slipped away, and the white human-looking face becoming the last thing he saw before everything faded to black. His expression was still so painfully familiar...
Part of his mind knew that losing that battle wouldn't be the end of it, not even if this was the territory of the bastard responsible for the death of his mother. He had his own devil blood to thank for being that hard to kill, its regenerative properties were pretty convenient no matter what. Although he learned to not take them too much for granted, they still gave him a big boost on his confidence when fighting other demons.
If he was defeated, he could always get back up again.
Once Dante opened his eyes again, and the first thing his mind noted was the red. Fleshy red and blackness, a claustrophobic humid space covered in disgusting texture that reminded him of an animal's innards pulsing with life still. His body twitched in pain and an herculean strain surrounding his limbs, his breath hitched when he felt a bone-crushing squeeze around his arms and legs, bound by the same gross slimy texture, in spite of its flabby looks, it was strong enough to keep him in place. The more he attempted to break them by sheer force, the tighter they squeezed him. If he continued, he's be pointlessly breaking his bones again and it'd take him longer to regenerate. He'd need to save up all the strength he could.
Dante sighed and tried to think in silence for a minute, the room was dark and noisy, as if slimy wet things were crawling all over the place, making it annoying to focus. He lost the battle. Now he was taken to a place that didn't resemble the rest of the castle, so he was either at a very possessed dungeon or straight up in hell already. He wasn't sure. It was frustrating to not being able to understand yet, and even now his head was hurting like hell. The air smelled disgusting too, hitting him right in the nose. It was like a mix of fresh blood, rotten fruit, sweat... and it was distinctly musky for some reason.
Feeling his wounds closing already, Dante was able to listen more carefully his surroundings. He could hear a strange wet rhythmic sound nearby, a ragged distorted voice gasping and grunting.
Upon looking at the corner of his eye, he gaped in shock, recognizing the face of Nelo Angelo, the dark knight who defeated him in combat, but that shock quickly descended to disbelief and then sheer horror as he took in more and more details of the state in which he found the knight.
While his arms and legs were clearly bound by the same sort of of gross tendrils as Dante was, the Angelo's deathly white head was bobbing up and down as if his huge body was being shaken, gasping every time he was hit by an unseen force coming from behind him.
Dante felt a visceral nausea upon realizing that not only was the Angelo's face was uncovered, from his chest down to his groin he was bare completely, only with his arms and legs still covered in the dark chitin-like armor, his body was the exact same pasty white as his face and with protruding blue veins that looked more like plant roots seated beneath his skin. It was clear that something of sexual nature was going on before his eyes, noted by the large throbbing erection on that painfully human-looking body, but Dante still struggled to fully understand what was happening, why it was happening.
Why? Why this guy? What purpose did it serve to show him this?
A crimson glow illuminated the room, three lights, and Dante immediately knew who it was.
"Are you entertained?" a diabolical dark chuckle resonated throughout the room, sounded so close yet so distant, as if it existed everywhere and nowhere at once. Dante gritted his teeth in anger. For the first time since he stepped into this island full of horrors, he was speechless.
Of course. If it wasn't beneath Mundus to strike down one of his own generals, then humiliating another for shock value wasn't off-limits either. Just when he thought he couldn't find Mundus any more revolting...
He could feel the tendrils of flesh holding him moving slowly, keeping his arms and legs secured in their grasp as he was being turned around to have a better look to the naked Angelo.
It was hard to watch; even though this was the one who defeated him and possibly brought him to this place, Dante had felt some respect for him for being one of the few demons to offer him an honorable fight, but now it seemed like the Angelo was already lost in his own world, his eyes were closed in a very human expression of pain mixed with resignation as his body writhed against an unseen assailant. Any trace of fight seemed to have been completely subdued. Dante tried to look away from the horridly erotic spectacle, more out of self-preservation than anything.
Again, the voice of Mundus echoed, now even closer to him, from a place more discernible. It was coming from behind the Angelo.
"Nelo Angelo took off his mask just for you. He never does, unless I command him. Interesting." Warily, Dante forced himself to look once more, knowing that it'd probably fuck him up to keep watching. A gross-looking fleshy tentacle appeared from behind Angelo, caressing his muscular pale frame almost sensually, then roughly grabbing his chin in to prop up his face, as to make him look back to Dante. "He wanted you to see his face. Perhaps in a demonstration of pride? Or was that was his own way to cry out for help?" After saying those words, a particularly strong push made the Angelo's body whole jump, ripping a pained gasp out of him, and the tantalizing sight only made Dante feel increasingly sicker in the stomach.
Mundus's cacophonic laughter resounded all over the place. "Do you still not recognize him, Dante?"
Dante stared in disbelief, his eyes squinted as he braved again to look back at Nelo Angelo. Anxiety had been biting his gut ever since he first saw the knight's face, a dread that he's been trying to smother down and now was ramping up when his eyes started to make sense of the Angelo's eerily familiar face.
His heart fell to the pit of his stomach, his jaw went slack and the sweat on his temples went cold with the mortifying revelation. The white hair, the fighting style, the summoned swords...
But his body... he was so large, almost twice his original size, and all his skin was as unnaturally white, practically merging with the white of his slick-back hair. Even though his facial structure was mostly the same, but all those blue veins and the red eyes made him nearly unrecognizable on the surface.
No, it had to be a trick, it couldn't be...! He didn't want to trust the words of a monster, but even so, Dante felt on the verge of tears. This was his brother. He could feel it, the unmistakable same blood of Sparda, though weakened in this state, he started to sense it. It had to be him.
Mundus had been violating his brother right in front of him and just now he was realizing it.
"What did you do to him." Dante breathed shakily, his blood was boiling, his thoughts spiraling into rage, shame, madness, self-hate. Suddenly he couldn't tear his eyes from his twin, the same twin he thought he lost ten years ago when he fell to the underworld, Dante couldn't stop looking at his brother's transformed body, no matter how much it hurt. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM." he screamed, his voice was cracking.
In that moment, Vergil's otherwise subservient face seemed to tic in response to his brother's voice.
"Not enough, clearly." Mundus said, as multiple of those disgusting limbs seemingly sprouted out of nowhere, all of which focused on Vergil at once. One of those things effortlessly entered his mouth, plunging in so deep that Dante could hear him gag.
"MUNDUS!" he roared this time, the tension against his restraints increasing as he was determined to break free.
The surge of pure rage caused Dante's body to turn into the devil he was, inhuman growling echoed in the room, the webbed wings that sprung from his body flapped furiously as he attempted to rip himself out of his bondage. The only thing in his mind right now was to rescue his twin, then find and kill Mundus. Even so, with all that demonic power coursing through his veins, it wasn't enough to break the tendrils holding him in place. Not only was he still recovering from an arduous battle, but his weapons were nowhere in sight and he still had no idea where he was.
He managed to wrestle his left hand free, having broken some of his bones and skin in the process, but even when he merely managed that, his devil form flickered out like a candle. He overestimated the amount of energy he had at his disposal.
In less than the blink of an eye, red pikes of light shot through him, spearing him in several places, and on top of that, they were sending searing hot shockwaves from where they pierced Dante, the pain quickly escalating until he couldn't even think, only scream his lungs out.
As fast as it struck, it also came to an end, leaving him dangling boneless, feeling as if he's been fried from the insides; Dante tried to will his only free arm to move, instinctively his hand went to where his amulet should've been hanging.
It was gone, his heart raced. His mother's memento was gone. He could only piece together what this meant for him in this situation.
Feeling hopeless, his mangled arm was slowly restrained up again by the fleshy limbs; the energy pikes remained where they speared him, making the healing process slower; Dante was left to helplessly watch the scene before his bloodshot eyes, it was the only thing he could do.
"h-Hahh..." Vergil was heaving while the tentacle kept thrusting into his mouth, some smaller worm-like tendrils were poking into places they shouldn't go, like ears and nose; at this point it didn't seem like he was even struggling. The barely-visible pupils of his blood-red eyes rolled to the back of his skull every time new inches of that tentacle disappeared inside his gorge. And not only from above, but below too; Vergil's legs had been propped up by the tentacles in order to show how he was being penetrated by a grotesquely thicker limb.
Even though Dante tried to close his eyes, he could hear still hear everything. The muffled distorted moaning, the wet slapping, the fleshy wriggling... Just having to think about it was nauseating, demoralizing.
He always had his differences with Vergil, but they respected each other as rivals. Vergil was always the proud and collected one, he refused to show vulnerability even as he disappeared in the depths of hell, where Dante last saw him. And Vergil had been down here for all these years, not dead, but instead at Mundus' mercy, turned into a slave and plaything. His once proud and strong twin reduced to... this.
A new groan, Vergil's back arched for second, clearly spurting cum from his penis, and then he relaxed, letting his body hang limp under the tentacles' grip. He was leaking some slimy-looking black stuff from where the tentacles had been.
"... Much better. Nothing a little discipline couldn't fix."
Rage reignited within him, another rush of fire crawled through Dante's limbs. His devil form was triggered once more, and this time the burst of power was strong enough to rip through the tentacles that bound him. His arms began to rip out the stakes of energy that had been stabbed into him, but the relief was short-lived.
As he flew across to reach his brother, he watched the tentacles come undone, releasing their guest. Before Dante knew it a large hand grabbed him by the neck and pinned him down to the ground with such earth-shattering force it knocked the air out of his lungs. The shock of the attack caused Dante's devil form to fade again.
"V-vergil..." Dante coughed up blood, his neck was being crushed under the pressure of his twin's enormous hand. His red eyes were on him, but they were looking at nothing. "... It's me...!"
Dante's head was bashed into the floor again while his chest was struck with another fiery blast.
"Well done, Vergil." Mundus' voice echoed.
He blacked out for a couple of minutes, or maybe a couple of hours, it was hard to tell. He had the vague notion of being pulled across the ground by his leg like some broken toy, but the rest was pain and oblivion.
By the time Dante came around, again suspended in the air by similar tendrils of flesh, he realized a change in scenery. The place looked vaguely the same but only superficially. It wasn't a secluded room anymore, but a dark expanse with no visible ceiling or walls, just the rugged moist pink ground.
He could feel his clothes uncomfortably wet and hair stuck to his blood-caked face. Even though his wounds were already closed, he was exhausted, in a lot of pain and too heavily restrained, it'd take a while before he could muster again the strength to break free, specially after overexerting his body and mind. He wanted so badly to believe that this was all just a nightmare, but once his eyes focused again on the pale shape before him, Vergil right in front of him.
There was a shift on the air, as if something huge was sitting somewhere behind that dense darkness around him. "You know what to do." Mundus' voice sounded stronger here, closer.
Vergil, unflinching, grabbed his twin's tattered red vest and ripped it off with ease. Dante gasped while his thoughts went running wild with panic but his body couldn't do more than just lurch back.
Dante had an idea of what was Mundus' intent from what he was forced to witness. It wasn't the first time that he was faced with the threat of rape... but this was different. Not only was he defeated, but if the monster actually wanted to make his own brother into an accomplice of...
"Vergil, c'mon... I know you're still in there, you can fight this. You can't let this guy boss you around..." he pleaded with coarse voice, trying to make his twin to look into his eyes. The attempt died shortly, Dante kicked at him out of a panic-driven impulse with whatever strength he was able as his pants and underwear were being torn away from him like paper. In the end only his black leather boots still remained.
The humid air enveloped his skin, humiliated with how exposed he was, about how Mundus could see him but he couldn't. The reality of what was about to happen was striking him at full-force.
With how much bigger his twins hands were than his own, Dante felt even more helpless; the longer they held on his waist, the faster his heart was beating. Lifting his face, he looked at his twin with urgent eyes. "Please... Vergil...!"
Dante realized how badly his body was shivering.
He's been so distracted by fear that he stopped paying attention to the tentacles that have been slowly crawling up from his legs into his inner thighs and soon a tentacle began pressing between his exposed ass-cheeks. Dante winced and tried to move away, but his brother's grip was keeping him still. They felt so slimy and disgusting over his naked skin, the texture reminding him of raw meat. Even though he clenched his muscles as hard as he could, the tip of the first tentacle was so thin and so slick that it breached past the rim without much opposition, making him grunt in sheer disgust.
For minutes that felt like an eternity, that tentacle crept slowly inside his ass, and the deeper it went, the thicker it was, and the more distraught Dante felt. The sensation was so alien and so wrong, and he couldn't stop thinking of how his brother looked while he was intensely fucked by these things.
It was wiggling inside his guts, going farther than anything he should have, but in spite of this, Dante tried to bear it in silence with eyes tightly shut. He refused to see his brother's face.
It became harder to grit through it as a second tendril began to crawl past his ass, his breath hitched as they started to thrash wildly, coiling within his guts as they invaded every corner they could find, as if whatever force compelled them wanted a reaction out of him. Dante couldn't even move to disrupt them from their rhythm, with Vergil's huge hands keeping his lower body completely still.
The way those tentacles moved made him feel like they were just a 'taste' of what was yet to come, the apparent 'gentleness' of this preparation wasn't fooling Dante. The way those small tentacles retreated and then opened him up just confirmed his suspicions that something much bigger was there to fuck him next.
In that brief moment Dante believed that he could put up with it, that if he waited just long enough he'd find a chance to escape... He held his breath for a second as he felt the tip of something phallic and significantly larger making way, struggling to enter him even though he's been slicked plenty by the tendrils. It'd be tough, but he could bear it, he was certain he could... however...
Noticing that Vergil's hands had slipped from his hips down to his thighs, Dante felt his throat closing in as his thighs were forcefully pulled up to make them rest against that cold and hard body. He made the mistake of opening his eyes, to see where the rest of his fears were being confirmed.
He gasped, the pathetic grit that he desperately tried to hold on to was quickly crumbling away. Mundus' wickedness truly knew no limits. His twin's huge erection was pressing hard against his gaping rim, the head kept on sliding off-target due its size. With his arms still restrained by the tentacles, his legs tried to push him by kicking away again, but it didn't seem to be working; the cock's head found again its aim, pushing in.
"Vergil... brother...! Y-you can't do this! You can't...!" For the first time in years, Dante shed tears. No matter how hard he attempted to kick away, Vergil kept him tightly in his grip, intent on pushing his body down onto that rigid member. Vergil's red eyes were gazing blankly at him as his huge body closed in, offering no comfort, no rancor, no regret, no nothing. "Uhngh...! C'mon! You have to fight him off, GODDAMNIT VERGIL, FIGHT HIM!"
Even if Vergil could truly hear him, he probably couldn't do anything to stop this. Whether this was Mundus acting through his brother or the fruits of his corruption, he couldn't say. Not like it mattered. Nothing he'd say in this moment would help him.
He choked on spit as he felt his brother's cock burying its thick glans inside of him and the weight of his own body being pushed down deeper still. Its ridiculous girth was more evident now that he had half it its length already inside, Dante forced to feel the burn of every inch stretching his insides, hitching his breath every time it pulled a little away just to push another thick inch into him. The thrusts were painful and slow, he could sometimes bite his lips to not make a noise, but keeping quiet turned out to make the intrusion feel even worse.
Vergil started to go faster after a while, Dante's mind tried and failed to get away from this place, but the sounds of skin slapping and the hard long member filling his gut again and again kept his attention grounded in his current reality. It wasn't the cock's size what was hurting him the most right now.
The movements were becoming rapid and shallow, he could feel the heavy ballsack hitting against his ass, Dante cried out when he felt him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside, breaking his already frail silence; he found himself gasping every time that his brother thrust into him. The stimulus was becoming too much to ignore, so much so that he realized his own penis went a little hard at some point, the pressure against his prostate bringing unwanted pleasure out of this. Even now, it seemed like Vergil's breath was shortening, real excitement breaking through the cold exterior. Dante was at loss with how to feel with his brother's lukewarm breath hitting his face as he was being ravished. It was bad enough to be faced with the existence of Vergil as Mundus' slave, but to be raped by him of all people...
He thought he was going to throw up when Vergil gave a particularly hard and deep thrust and then stilled, sighing upon Dante's face as something warm began to pool deep inside his guts.
But just when he believed that it was over, he was proven wrong as his twin resumed shortly after, cock still hard and hips still hitting his rear vigorously.
Dante whined and gave another fatigued attempt to free himself from his restraints; he could swear he heard Mundus' laughter in the background. His struggle only seemed to spur Vergil into fuck him more brutally.
He could almost feel the sheer size of his brother's cock pounding against his stomach, his own semi-hard dick flapping back and forth from the furious fucking; not only did he feel in pain but also he felt dizzy, couldn't decide if he wanted to throw up or cry. He did both eventually.
When he threw up, all he had to expel was clear bile and copious spit, spilling down his chin and his chest. The tears trailing down his cheeks stung his face, the nausea and anguish making his head spin, hiccuping from trying to swallow back his own spit. But even after making a mess out of his upper body, the assault continued.
At least a few minutes passed before he was openly sobbing, the overload of sensations ravaging his body and mind quickly worn him down to the point in which he couldn't even will himself to fight back, the violent rocking making his insides feel tender. He could only utter meaningless curses and pleas only for Vergil to listen, none which seemed to even reach him.
Within what felt like hours, even his sobbing quieted down, he silently resigned to his brother's assault.
When his limbs finally relented to the exhaustion, the harshness of the thrusts lessened significantly, but still... it was so painful, so humiliating beyond words. If anything, it meant that Mundus was rewarding him for losing.
It meant Mundus succeeded on using his twin to rape him into submission. At least for now.
Before he knew it, Vergil pulled out of him, his asshole shamefully twitched at the abrupt hollowness felt like it'd make his guts cave in, even if any damage done had been healing slowly throughout the ordeal. It felt damp and loose, and the dull throb of his own dick stung deeply over his broken pride. He couldn't even bother to focus his glassy eyes on his brother anymore. He didn't know if he could even bring himself to do it anymore. Vergil had stepped away without a sound, leaving his brother hanging there sore and alone.
He fell unconscious again, allowing the shadows to envelop him, wishing that somehow it'd offer him respite from this horrible nightmare.