“Why does such a beautiful wench hide her beauty?”

“Hmmm,” said the dragon, “the bitch shows her true colors. Let’s
reveal the rest of thy hidden pleasures.”

The dragon extracted her from the armor like a lobster from its
shell and she lay before him naked. With a breath of icy flame
the dragon breathed between her legs and the hair on her pussy
turned to ash, leaving her skin smooth and untouched beneath.
Lizard smooth.

“Now,” said the dragon, “on your knees. I wish to sample those
ruby lips.”

She found herself unable to refuse as she groveled before the
platinum beast. She lapped at his paws ’til he swung behind her,
mounting her as a ram mounts a ewe. With hardly a thought the
beast took her virginity.

Casually, it pulled the lance out of a bony shoulder, gushing
forth blood. A good hit but his magic healed it quickly. And,
as it healed the wound, the dragon began to shrink, becoming just
more than half again her size.

With another crunch it ripped off her breast plate exposing her
heaving chest beneath the leather jerkin she wore, slicked with
her sweat.

“Ahhhh,” said the dragon, “I like a woman who can appreciate the
caress of leather.”

With a single talon he slit the jerkin open and stood there eying
her beautiful breasts. They had been compressed behind the
jerkin but now they burst forth, sweat and a few beads of blood
rolled down her cleavage.

She lowered her visor and lance and spurred the horse forward.
Over the rise it lay, every joint plated, many sharp spurs covering it, razor sharp teeth filling its mouth. And it was regarding her. She charged. The lance struck home and she was hurtled
from her mount. With a glance from the dragon the stallion froze
- a statue. She tumbled to the base of another statue, that of a
naked woman and shuddered, wondering. Suddenly the thing’s
massive paw pinned her to the ground in her armor. The jaws
closed around the helm and ripped, freeing her long hair. The
dragon stopped, regarding her with a gleam in its eye.

The horse was a buckshin with a slightly whiter mane and tail.
As she had combed the mane out it had kicked her viciously,
almost as if it knew and understood her resentment, as if it knew
she enjoyed dominating it, and it chafed at the dominance. Faint
traces of that resentment faded as they rode off.

Rumors of a dragon, a foul platinum colored thing, swept the
land. It was said that this dragon was once kind and good but
now it had been conquered and corrupted by the evil goddess
Tiamat. Now she rode forth to find it. And slay it.

Next, I fought a man with the horns of a stag, in a larger cir-
cle. He bounded and leapt, and attempted to take the fight to
me, but I made myself the Hunter, and he, too fell before my
onslaught, and I added his power to mine.

I grew aware of the hugeness of the chamber, and many men
chanting outside in a language I did not know. Some wore robes,
most wore only paint. I felt larger, larger than life, full of
power, and stepped into the fourth circle. I saw that I was
heading towards a huge dais, and the pentacles into which I
stepped became more and more intricately detailed. Perhaps some
part of me might have wanted to flee, but it was long subsumed by
the huge power residing within me.

I awoke when I realized that I was lying on stone, and not
sheets. Sensing motion about me, I leapt up into a cloud of
incense, and weaved about an empty-handed blow at me. Unbidden,
my motions were swept into a rhythm of chantings and beatings of
drums, and I hop-scotched over intricate chalk lines in the dimly
lit, smoke-filled room. Lashing out with a foot I caught my
assailant in the side, crashing him to the ground. He was up in
an instant, and rushed me. I took a stance, and felt the power
flow up from the earth into me, filling me strangely, rushing
into every hollow drained by the High Mass. The fight became a
dance, and my opponent could not touch me; every time I struck
him, his power exploded out as if he were a powder puff, entering
me. His steps grew weaker, and I drained him dry, leaving him
lifeless upon the floor.

Once away from the Church’s grounds, I felt centered upon my
horse. It was a Liath Mactha, a grey of battle, and power flowed
up through its beating hooves to me from the earth. I felt well
again, and I rode to the castle of the Templars where I was first
assigned, there being no immediate fighting. I arrived just
after dinner to much cheering and fanfare, received a repast, and
joyously took another heated bath. My last conscious thought, as
I luxuriated in the huge bed and clean sheets that were now my
right, was a delirious joy at the quality of the plumbing system
of the castle.

But just as I lost my grip, he calmed, and regained himself.
The next day, I was assigned to another knight. Perhaps I had
seen something of what makes the Templars the holy warriors of
God. I would have to be careful not to fly into such a rage
myself, lest the circumstances truly warrant the use of such
power.

My master at that time, Andre Glaucon, had been a Knight for
several years; he came into the order rich, and was known to rely
on his armor more than truly necessary. He was masterful with
the lance and the spear (he learned the spear coming from the
outland regions) but poor with the sword, at which I was better
than many Knights. I battered him about the field with the
practice-sword, until it became obvious that I was training him,
and not the other way around. Gradually, he built up a rage, a
rage that intensified his skill instead of degrading it. Then,
he exploded, and threw a blow so fast I blocked only by instinct,
and still it clove my shield in twain. With a wooden sword, he
did this!

My father was a mercenary, but became a Landed Knight
through service. I, his third son, could inherit nothing but his
wisdom and skill, both of which he imparted to me in all their
worth. He was determined that I join the Knights Templar, for
all the right reasons. They were powerful within the Church;
they were rich, rich, rich; and they were perhaps the most elite
force to exist. I trained pretty much for all my life to be
worthy of them, and I was accepted as an Initiate, to serve for a
minimum of three years to prove my worth, and in that time, I was
squire to several knights.

My father had hinted at it, and so did those I serve. There
was something especial about the Templars, something beyond
esprit de corps, personal skill, and perfected field technique.
I heard many stories of the power of God rushing through the
Knights as a group, the stories of the feats of the grandmasters
of the order and what they were capable of, but I only saw it
once.

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“Is this Brad Carson?” The voice asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I’ve been watching how you’re into alien bestiality with that
cat and YOU’RE SICK!” he said, hanging up.

I blew up. What the snippy little queen didn’t realize was that
I made enough money to afford one of those phone attachments that
display the number of whomever is calling you. I dialed him
right back.

“Listen you gutless faggot,” I said when he answered, “why don’t
you take your anger out on whoever made you so hostile instead of
dumping on other gay people? Go home and beat up the bullies in
your school yard or your parents if they abused you. Take up
martial arts training if you aren’t able to do it now.”

“Fuck you,” a snippy-sounding voice replied.

“You can say ‘fuck you’ for the rest of the evening,” I snapped
back, “and it won’t change the fact that you’re no better than a
straight bigot who makes obscene phone calls to gays. If you
ever wonder what motivates them to go out of their way to hurt
someone who hasn’t done anything to them, you only have to look
at yourself. Well, if it takes fear of the straights to keep
some of you faggot snips civil, I’m letting you know that I’m
just as capable as a straight guy of giving you a busted lip if
you mouth off to me.” I hung up with a bang.

“How would your own people feel about your proclivities?” I
asked. “I didn’t know how your culture might feel about gays
when I approached you last night.”

“Our culture has no problem with it,” he answered. “Of course,
as a prince of the royal house, I am expected to produce sons of
my own to carry on the royal line. But there is a lesbian prin-
cess I know, a second cousin. We have agreed that we will marry
when the time comes and that she will receive my sperm by artifi-
cial insemination. No one will care what we do outside our
marriage as long as the next generation of Taurids comes along.”

Horny babes get punished

“Of course,” Kontar answered. “It should be obvious from last
night that I like you.”

“Why don’t you come to my place tonight?” I asked. “The accommo-
dations aren’t quite as luxurious as they are here but I have a
good job and you might find them adequate.”

“I can make it about six,” he replied. “I have an important
conference today but should be free by then.”

He rolled over and lit one of the unusual-appearing cigarettes I
had noticed earlier on the end table by his bed. He exhaled the
smoke smoothly as he offered me one. “It’s been tested and shown
to be compatible with your metabolism. At least it’s no more
harmful than the native narcotic you Earthlings smoke.”

I inhaled cautiously at first and tasted the unfamiliar spicy
tanginess as it rolled over my palate. “You seem very young to
be entrusted with the responsibility of a major trade
conference,” I remarked as I exhaled the smoke.

“Actually all the sons of the noble houses are expected to begin
taking on such responsibilities around my age,” he replied. “As
a scion of the royal house this conference would normally be
something I would have learned to handle several of your years
ago. Arranging a trade deal for your state’s meat and grain for
our mining colony on Antares IV isn’t that complicated. What I
am really here for is to set up a trade in some of your native
narcotics. Your tobacco, for instance,” he said pointing to the
pack of cigarettes lying next to my discarded clothing, “should
prove to be quite in demand among our people. It’s been shown to
be no more harmful to us than it is to you and our medical tech-
nology can forestall any damage it might do. Your marijuana and
some of your stronger drugs should turn out to be the basis of a
lucrative trade also. I’m afraid we’ll have to ban the catnip
you sometimes give your domestic cats among our people, however.
It’s been shown to set off a murderous killing frenzy in our
species and would do even more damage than it does if the user
weren’t so uncoordinated and disoriented by its effects.”

I sucked on that cat cock for dear life while the ecstatic tor-
ment shot through me from my crotch. Several times he stopped
tonguing to lightly nick my meat with his teeth-not hard enough
to cut the skin but strong enough to prick it-driving me even
wilder.