Evil Comics

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“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.

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Her breasts were full, her nipples ripe. The forked tongue
snaked out and circled them causing them to worry slightly. She
gasped as the tongue traced wet lines around her chest, then
surrounded one and squeezed it firmly. Her hips arched upward,
her own desires giving her away.

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His strength redoubled again, and I began to bend, my mouth
now filled with his Wand. Still his strength increased, and I
had to move. I twisted his arms in my grip unexpectedly, stepped
in, felt his weight shift as I pulled him to throw over my hip,
his right hoof scraping, unsteady,

And he pushed me laughably to the hard floor, spinning and
pinning me on my back. Reorienting around the tip of his cock in
my mouth, he thrust it home to the back of my throat and beyond.
It slid, oiled, for an eternity until my face was embedded between his hairy thighs and held tight there, only able to breathe
the aroma of his heavy, full sacks. Though I could not see it,
his tongue serpent-like struck between my legs and slid up between my cheeks, forcing me open and greasing me with his slime.

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I stepped triumphant into the final circle, the most intricately drawn. The chanting and drumming reached their peak and
stayed, and the fog of incense cleared, allowing me to see who
sat upon the dais, who sat upon the throne, who presided over the
proceedings.

The ancient texts named him Baphomet; Satan Mekratrig’s
warrior-duke. My sword and shield were limp in my grasp as I
looked up, as he was many hundreds of feet tall. His head was
the head of an ibex, with the outward-spiralling horns, gazing
inscrutably down upon me with the eyes of a beast. His shaggy
chest was traced with scars delineating his prowess in battle,
inflicted perhaps by a flaming sword. He stood, rising from his
throne, on the legs of a goat, stepping into the seventh pentacle
on cloven hooves. In his right hand he held a sword cold as ice,
and his left stroked his impossibly huge phallus. As the warrior-magus, he wielded the primal Wand, and his scent struck me a
nigh-physical blow with the power of his maleness. I staggered,
and could not bear the weight of my shield, letting it drop into
the abysmal pit below my feet, lost.

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The fourth circle held the Giant, who looked down at me and
grinned evilly. He threw a boulder at me, which I shattered with
a slap, and then I raised him off the ground as Heracles did to
Antaeus, and crushed the life out of him, redoubling my strength.
In the fifth circle, I slew the Minotaur by taking each of his
horns in a hand, and breaking open his skull. I was imbued with
the powers of a demigod at least by this time, walking into the
sixth circle, the one holding the dragon. The fight was hard,
the flames of the dragon almost enough to make me falter, but
then I realized that they were power too, and took them for my
own, absorbing it into my shield while I made my heart’s thrust
with my blade. The dragon’s blood fountained out, covering me,
and by its power my skin was made invulnerable like that unto the
skin of Achilleus.

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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.

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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.

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My mind flicked back to the ceremony. Strangely, I did not
feel empowered by the High Mass. As I drank the wine and ate the
wafer, rather, all power seemed drained from me, and I felt
light, empty and powerless. I managed to walk to the Master for
the rest of the ceremony, receiving my blow and my knighthood. I
must have blacked out somewhere in the run to leap upon my steed,
and I do not remember making the strike, but I did, and I rode
forth from the town, clinging to my steed like a babe.

My return blow knocked him a dozen feet, but just made him
even more angry. He charged me, and I stepped aside, slamming
him on the back, but he was without feeling. He spun, and his
blow shattered my practice sword into flinders in my grasp. I
threw him to the ground, pinning him, but his strength was demon-
ic, and I could not hold him despite his poor leverage.
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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.

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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!

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Sexy chicks tortured by monstersOf course the snip had to get revenge. With that kind of anger
built up over years of being told by the society that he wasn’t
worth shit because he was gay, his only other choice was to
direct it onto the straights but he didn’t have the guts to do
that. He contacted a straight reporter he knew on the local
paper and the word also got back to a reporter for our local T.V.
station, one who had already managed to get a gay judge thrown
off the bench for a consensual relationship with a male hustler
who was a bit less than two months short of being 18-even though
sixteen is the age of consent in Minnesota.

Kontar and I were having dinner in a restaurant when the snippy
bitch queen showed up with the T.V. reporter, a cameraman and
the newspaper reporter in tow. Kontar knocked the reporter and
the cameraman clear across the restaurant with one blow of his
powerful hand pads. I was glad to see that he controlled himself
that much. If he had used much more force, we would have had two
dead men on our hands. I left the snippy queen writhing on the
floor after I knocked the wind out of him and left the reporter
with a broken jaw. I’d been waiting for the chance to do that
for years.

We told each other something more about ourselves while we re-
laxed with our drinks and cigars. I told him about my struggles
growing up in a poor family in Northeast Minneapolis and my fight
to acquire an education. He told me more about his life as a
royal prince. It seemed that he was not [...]

“I see now, Brad, that we were attracted to each other for simi-
lar reasons: there is a small species much like your native
monkeys that we keep for domestic pets on my home world. I’ve
always liked them but they’re too small to do anything with
without hurting them. I didn’t have a chance to do anything
about my fantasies until I came to your world.”

“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.”

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evil alien
“A son of the royal house!” I exclaimed. “I realized you must be
a member of your nobility from the medallion around your neck but
I didn’t dream you would turn out to be a prince!”

“You can tell by the tiara around my head,” Kontar replied. “It
is an insignia that only members of the ruling family are allowed
to wear.”

Since it was getting late, I showered, shaved, and had breakfast
in Kontar’s suite before going directly to my job. We nuzzled
each other affectionately before we parted.

I had worried about how my two cats, Alexander and Hephaestion,
would react when Kontar appeared, and when he arrived, it seemed
for a while that my fears were justified. They arched their
backs and hissed as soon as they laid eyes on him and then took
refuge under the couch. But he held several tempting morsels for
each of them just beyond their hiding place and meowed softly.
They poked their heads out cautiously and began to nibble.
Within ten minutes they were purring softly on his lap.