Archive-name: Fantasy/alienlov.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: My Alien Lover
 

I first saw the alien when I dropped in at the Gay Nineties club
after a hard day at the Minneapolis Grain Exchange.  It was not
too unusual to see aliens on T.V.  these days:  Earth had been
discovered by the expanding interstellar civilization three years
earlier, in 1993, but Minneapolis was still far enough off the
main commercial routes to make an alien appearance in person a
rare event.
 
Oh, I knew about the alien trade delegation in town, of course-
how could I have missed it with all the publicity?  Minnesota had
been suffering chronically depressed conditions in its agricul-
tural and mining industries for decades-the governor and the
mayors of the state's two largest cities, along with leading
members of the local business establishments were giving the
forthcoming conference all the hoopla they could muster.  It had
even been a hot topic of conversation in my own grain futures
firm, where I had worked since graduating from college four years
ago.  Still, I had hardly expected to get off work at ten in the
evening and find one of the aliens in a gay bar!
 
I had long been interested in this particular species of alien
because of its resemblance to a certain domestic animal I had a
thing about.  Unfortunately, the domestic animal was too small to
do much with without doing it serious injury and its larger
relatives were much too dangerous to fool around with.
 
The remote ancestors of the Ailourians had been an animal that
almost exactly resembled the Earthly domestic cat in external
appearance.  The species had taken to the trees and become arbo-
real hunters, developing digited hands, opposable thumbs and a
prehensile tail to aid their pursuit of prey from branch to
branch.  Later, when a drying of the climate caused their forest
habitat to shrink, they came down from the trees, increased in
size and evolved in intelligence just as we Earth humans had.
 
Thus, what I saw on entering the bar was essentially a six-foot-
six cat standing at the main bar, taking a swallow of his drink.
There were some differences, of course.  The forehead had moved
forward as it had in humans to accommodate the larger brain and
the paws had become hands with five fingers and a thumb.  But
there were few other changes, since the teeth and jaws had not
shrunk as they have with humans.  I could tell he was male from
his body size and his age must have been equivalent to the late
teens in humans, judging from the sleekness of his short black
fur and the tautness of his powerful muscles.  The jeweled medal-
lion about his neck proclaimed him a member of the other world's
noble class.  I could not place the meaning of the gem-studded
golden tiara encircling his brow, however.  He was liberally
adorned with numerous other expensive jewels, but the only item
of clothing he wore was a gem studded cloth-of-gold loin cloth
about his midsection.  A jeweled cloth-of-gold cape lay on the
bar stool next to him.  He took another swallow of his drink as I
moved towards him as if hypnotized.  He drew in on a cigarette,
expelling the smoke in an easy, relaxed stream through his nos-
trils.
 
My cock had sprung to attention as soon as I saw him, thrusting
urgently against the imprisoning fabric of my suit trousers, but
I realized I had to feel him out carefully.  I knew nothing about
how his culture felt about gays and, while those claws on his
hands and feet might look like human toenails and fingernails, I
knew that they could extend out into three-inch long scimitars
that could disembowel a man in less than a second.  Those power-
ful feline muscles alone could literally tear a human in two.
And those long canine teeth in his mouth could sever my head from
my body in a matter of seconds.
 
He would have to be equipped with such an array of natural arma-
ment, I reflected, to dare go alone into the central city of one
of Earth's urban areas wearing enough precious gems to equal the
gross national product of many third-world countries!  The rest
of the sparse week-night crowd in the bar apparently sensed the
potential danger too as they kept well away from him.
 
His tail stirred and his long white whiskers twitched as I came
up to the bar beside him.  His ears flattened back against his
head.  I lit a cigarette to cover my nervousness as I sat down on
the next stool.  Now that I was up close, I could see the answer
to a question that had long bothered me and which I had never
been able to make out from the brief T.V.  appearances of members
of this species.  Humans have the largest genitalia in proportion
to their body size of any animals on Earth and, from the long,
columnar enormity that strained against his loin cloth, I had a
feeling that whatever evolutionary forces had impelled this
species on its road to intelligence had apparently produced the
same result, crotchwise.
 
I took a final admiring sideglance at the contrast between my
wavy blond hair and his black silky fur before I made my move.  I
had to look up as I spoke since he had six inches in height on
me.  "Did you pick this bar for any special reason?" I asked,
trying to make my voice sound casual.
 
Two enormous, glowing green eyes speared me as he turned his head
and I was momentarily lost in the twin pools of luminescent fire.
I recovered my awareness in time to see his eyes flick downward
to the bulge in my crotch.  He leaned over towards me in a fluid,
feline motion.  "The same reason you're here," he purred in my
ear, with an unusual accent.
 
His long, raspy tongue flicked out then to lick my ear and I felt
a shock of icy coldness run through my entire body, as if I had
suddenly been flung into a bath of cold water.  I went wild.  My
hands reached up to pull him against me and I lost myself in the
feel of his fur and the musky odor of male cat scent.  He re-
sponded, continuing to lick my ears and face before his tongue
flicked into my open mouth.
 
We rose and moved towards the bar entrance together by common
unspoken consent.  He was slightly drunk and I became strongly
aware of the odor of alcohol on him mixed in with the male cat
scent and the tobacco aroma on his fur.  With the edges of my
mind I was aware of the shocked glances from the other patrons in
the place.  "I hope I know what I've gotten myself into!" I
thought.  "I won't be able to stop him if he decides to spray the
whole house, and I don't know how he'll get along with Alexander
and Hephaestion."
 
We didn't go to my place, however, heading instead for the gleam-
ing metallic saucer-shaped antigravity vehicle that he had parked
in the lot next to the bar.  A drunk staggered towards us, rais-
ing a broken bottle in his hand threateningly.  My new friend
hissed and arched his back.  I stepped forward intending to kick
the drunk in the balls and disable him before my friend got us
both involved in the first interplanetary murder case.  The sight
of the aliens unsheathed claws and gleaming white fangs penetrat-
ed even the drunks alcohol-fogged brain, and before I could reach
him, he staggered away in terror.
 
My new friend drew me into the circle of his arm as he operated
the vehicle's controls with one hand.  "What's your name?" I
asked as we ascended swiftly into the air.
 
"Kontar," he answered, "Kontar isem Taurid."
 
"Mine's Brad Carson," I replied.
 
The antigravity vehicle continued rising, soaring in one smooth
motion from the parking lot of the bar to the roof of the Amfac
Hotel, less than four blocks away.  Within a minute of leaving
the parking lot, we were setting down in the heliport on the
hotel's roof.  We took the elevator down to one of the penthouse
suites.
 
Our hands were all over each other as soon as we had entered the
luxurious suite.  He removed my suit coat and tie and undid the
buttons of my shirt while I merely had to unfasten the clasp of
his golden cape.  He removed my shoes and undid my pants while I
slid his loin cloth down over his legs.  Our cocks sprang free to
point at each other.  It is a standard joke about porn writing
that everyone has a twelve-inch cock, something very rare among
humans.  But here at last was the reality:  his twelve incher
dwarfed my own thick nine inches.
 
I shivered as his tongue licked my ear.  We half-fell, half-
pulled each other down on the wide expanse of the enormous water-
bed.  Then his rough cat tongue was flicking over my cock and
balls.  I twisted and cried out in my attempt to get away from a
pleasure too intense to stand.  He held me down while he rotated
into a sixty-nine position over me, thrusting his own throbbing
enormity down my throat while exquisite knives shot through my
cock as he began tonguing it again, more gently this time.
 
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.
 
I wanted to hold back, but the pleasure was too intense.  I shot
my ball load deep inside him at about the same time his own
torrents of cat cum geysered forth into my throat.  I lapped up
every drop of his subtly-accented ball juice before I came up for
air.
 
We clung together for several minutes and then he turned me over
and without a word slid into me with that enormous cock.  I began
to get hard again as his feline hugeness penetrated every recess
of my bowels.  I soon felt his vigorous maleness spurting forth
into me yet again.
 
I must admit I couldn't keep up with him.  Some members of the
Earthly cat family, lions for example have been known to mate
every fifteen minutes for twenty-four hours when a sexual partner
is available and Kontar was one of those members-and I was cer-
tainly available.  I must have come about six times before the
evening was over- he came at least twice as often.
 
Dawn was breaking when we lay against each other, our passion
spent.  Every last drop of tension from my previous hectic day at
the Grain Exchange had been drained out of me from our marathon
sexual orgy of the night before.  I lay on my stomach, warm and
happy while Kontar licked me from head to toe with his tongue.
"Will I see you again?" I asked my lover.
 
"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."
 
"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.
 
"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."
 
Another fear was allayed after I had put dinner on the table.
With those powerful teeth and jaws, he would have been able to
gobble his food directly from the plate.  But whatever cultural
forces had operated during his people's long climb to civiliza-
tion had apparently produced the custom of eating with utensils,
or else he had been carefully trained in their use before being
sent to negotiate with Earthlings.  He manipulated the knives and
forks and used his napkin as correctly as any member of Earth's
social upper crust could have.  "I wasn't sure your people would
use knives and forks, since your jaws and teeth haven't shrunk
like ours," I finally ventured.
 
"The custom of eating with utensils has been long established on
Ailouros," he replied with a smile, "although our own eating
utensils are somewhat different from yours.  I was trained in the
correct use of your own implements before I came here, of
course."
 
After dinner, we took our liqueurs into the living room.  Kontar
lit a cigar as he sat down on the couch and handed one to me.
"I'll stick to cigarettes," I said, motioning it away.  "I tried
one of those once during my early teens and was sick as a dog for
a whole day."
 
"That's probably because you inhaled," he replied.  "Also, your
body wasn't used to tobacco then.  I brought these because
they're just right for a beginner.  Don't inhale; just take it
into your throat and taste the flavor."
 
I inhaled cautiously.  "The flavor does have something to recom-
mend it," I thought.  I inhaled again when I felt no rumbles
portending an impending volcanic explosion from my stomach and
leaned back against Kontar's muscular arm.  I took a sip of my
cordial.  I was conscious of the softly silken feeling of the fur
on his arm against my neck and of the powerful feline muscles
rippling beneath.
 
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 some distant collateral
relative of the king but was actually fourth in line to the
throne.
 
He leaned over and licked my ear as we crushed out the remains of
our cigars.  I shivered and jerked as the cold fire shot through
me once again.  Kontar's licking my ear was turning out to be a
sure way of driving me wild.  I had once had a domestic cat lick
my ear and it had sent the same electric shiver through me, but
not as strongly as this!  Kontar continued licking my ear while I
writhed in his unbreakable grip.  "Your dinner was wonderful," he
purred in my ear as he unbuttoned my shirt.  "But now the real
fun begins.  I don't think we'll have any problem entertaining each
other for the rest of the evening, do you?"
 
My cock was twitching uncontrollably by the time he got my pants
off.  I shot into him as soon as his tongue rasped over it.  He
held me down while I struggled vainly to get away from a pleasure
so powerful I couldn't stand it.  I was weak and trembling by the
time the final delicious spasm shot out of my balls.  We contin-
ued to make love through the night.  Fortunately, my inability to
come as often as he did did not matter since he loved to fuck and
could go on for long periods of time before cumming.  Eventually,
he even let me take him in his tight, feline ass.  The feel of
his furry asshole around my cock was sublime.
 
Our affair was bound to attract notice, of course.  The first to
comment was the gay community- and there were people who disap-
proved, even though Kontar and I were not hurting anyone, and
those others took it upon themselves to express their disapprov-
al.  These were the same people who always dump on the sexual
minorities within our community-people into S&M, drag queens,
handballers, transsexuals, anyone who isn't as "respectable" in
the eyes of straights as possible-and the only reason they don't
make themselves really respectable to the straights and denounce
just being gay is that they can't stop being gay themselves.  The
first phone call came one night during the second week of our
relationship.
 
"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.
 
Of 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.
 
For a while, it looked like the trade negotiations were going to
be sunk by a major media blowup.  Word reached the rest of the
alien delegation and got back to Ailouros.  I was present in his
suite when his triple-great grandfather, the sovereign of all
Ailouros and Emperor of the Ailourian Hegemony called.  The
hyperspatial waves carried Kontar and his grandfather's images
across the light years, while the two hissed and yowled at each
other in their harsh, meowing native language as I stood in full
view of the holovisor camera.  If Kontar was willing to stand up
for me to his progenitor and sovereign, I sure as hell wasn't
going to slink away, even if I couldn't understand a word of what
they were saying.
 
At length, the dual cacophony of hisses, yowls and arched backs
wound down and they concluded their conversation on a normal
level.  After switching off the apparatus, Kontar belted down a
triple screwdriver before he pulled me down on the bed beside
him.  "Thontaur said everything would be all right if I could
still pull off this trade deal," he told me.  "I told him I could
handle it."
 
He was right, the commercial establishment in this state really
wanted that trade agreement and what the establishment in this
state wants, it gets.  The reporters were quashed and their
stories killed.  Oh, I know that the powers that be have a liber-
al image in Minnesota but there is an iron hand beneath those
velvet gloves.
 
With the impending successful conclusion of the negotiations and
Kontar's departure, the moment that both of us had avoided talk-
ing about was fast approaching.  Kontar was the first to bring it
up, about a week before his departure, one night when he was at
my house.
 
"Have you ever thought about coming back to Ailouros with me,
Brad?" he asked.
 
I lit a cigar before I answered.  "It just wouldn't work," I
said.  "I know we like each other."  I hesitated before going on.
"Maybe I should even say I love you.  But I couldn't go to Ailou-
ros as your pet human.  I had to fight like hell to get off the
streets of Northeast Minneapolis and get where I am now.  I'm
supporting myself and doing a damn good job of it.  I won't
change that-even for you."
 
Kontar drew me into the curve of his arm before he answered.
"And I love you, human.  You misunderstand my proposal.  We want
to employ you as our liaison with Earth in carrying out the trade
agreement.  You'll be well paid-extremely well paid since you
will need to be very wealthy indeed to live in a manner befitting
your position as the true beloved of the fourth in line to the
throne of Ailouros!"
 
I shook my head, "It still won't work.  I'll give up everything I
have here, I'll be left with nothing if we should ever fall out.
I still can't do it."
 
Kontar nibbled on my ear.  I was acutely aware of his musky,
male cat odor, mixed with the smell of cigar on his pelt.  "You
still misunderstand.  You'll be working for a joint Ailourian-
Earth consortium and your company has agreed as part of the trade
deal to take you back if you ever want to return to Earth.
You'll have to come back frequently in any event to properly
oversee the expanding trade between our people.  I regret that,
but I knew you'd never consent to be a kept boy."
 
Kontar's tongue flicking down my throat cut off my joyful assent.
 
The following week was hectic, as I had to arrange for a caretak-
er for my house and wind up my other affairs in that time.  There
was an expensive formal dinner to celebrate the agreement the
night before we left.  I caught a glimpse of the figure I cut in
my tight-fitting dinner jacket in one of the mirrors as I circu-
lated around the ballroom exchanging pleasantries with the
guests.  All the leading big-monied families were there, the
governor, along with the mayors of Minneapolis and St.  Paul.  I
had to bite my tongue when talking to some of them who had pre-
sided over a six-year wave of arrests of gays in adult bookstores
and parks, and who had done nothing about police brutality
against gays.
 
My former boss was there too, of course, congratulating me on my
success-quite a change for a man who had had to struggle to keep
from denouncing me for being openly gay.  The only reason he
struggled was because he realized my value to the company.
 
The extravagant doings finally came to an end in the early morn-
ing hours and Kontar and I wound up in his suite.  We were sit-
ting on the edge of the enormous bed when Kontar asked, "Have you
got all your things packed for tomorrow?"
 
"Yes," I replied.  "Everything that hasn't already been shipped
up to the starship is right there in those bags over in the
corner."
 
Kontar crushed out the last of his joint before he began to undo
the button of my dinner jacket and I began to remove the ceremo-
nial bronze armor he had worn to the party.  "Good," he said as
he licked my ear.  "We won't have anything to distract us for the
rest of the night."
 
Well, that all happened a hundred years ago.  So you may ask how
can I still appear to be a man of twenty-five?  Simple.  You
should have figured it out when I mentioned the argument between
Kontar and his triple great grandfather.  The Ailourian anti-
aging treatments were easily adapted to human physiology and I
was the first to benefit.
 
Kontar is now the sovereign of all Ailouros and Emperor of the
Ailourian Hegemony.  The relatives who were ahead of him in line
all died in the Saurian and Avoide wars.  But Kontar proved to be
a consummate military genius upon his ascent to the throne and
those former enemy empires are now in their proper places.  I
don't have to worry about losing him to a similar death in bat-
tle.  Yes, we're still together.  Oh, we've both had many others
over the years, of course, Ailourian, human, and many other
species.  But we both agree that we are each the one being who
will always be special to the other.
 
With the anti-aging treatments, I figure we've both got at least
another two centuries of virile young studhood ahead of us!
 
 
 
     I awoke and prepared myself, my assigned valet dressing me
in the ceremonial armor for the High Mass that I was to attend.
It was heavy, gleaming, powerful, expensive.  I would not own any
like it until after my first sacks as a Templar, and even then I
would wear it rarely.  I was girt with a weapon that favored me;
clean of line, yet not bright of blade.  A bright blade is soon
to rust, and then must be cleaned; this scouring often harming
the blade's integrity.
 
     It was no ordinary High Mass, for this was the day that I
became ordained as a Knight Templar.  It was a full ceremony, and
a long one; thankfully in the shade of a elaborate church with
cool, vaulted ceilings.  My thoughts ran back to my vigil the
night before, lasting many hours, and what I felt as I stood
guard over the seals of the nine grandmaster's of the Order.
 
     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.
 
     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 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.
 
     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 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.
 
     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.
 
    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.
 
     I felt an exaltation.  I had, through skill, taken another's
power, strength, and life for my own.  I was the conqueror.  I
stepped into a larger circle, delirious with my new power, and
confronted another man, wearing no clothes as I did but his face
covered by a monkey's mask.  His fighting was clever and power-
ful, canny, but mine was tactical and graceful, control and
skill.  I left him unconscious and made his power my own as well.
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.
 
     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.
 
     I stepped triumphant into the final circle, the most intri-
cately 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 warri-
or-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.
 
     His sword came down in a strike of stunning complexity.
Each swath of ice threatening to leach my power I blocked, until
finally the blades struck, and mine was shattered through no
fault of mine own; the block was perfect but the sword insuffi-
cient.
 
     Baphomet's grin was terrible to behold.
 
     He held out his hands, inviting the challenge.  The power
rushed back through me, and I accepted, locking my fingers with
his, using all my strength in the age-old game.  He towered above
me, pushing down, but still I held, and pushed back.  His
strength doubled, and doubled again; still I held, and forced
back.  I became a statue, exerting all my strength while his
doubled and pressed ever down against me.  Then, his height
became in relation to mine, and his cock curved up from his
bestial crotch, engorged with blood, to my mouth.  To break my
stance would be to be crushed.  The head of his phallus pressed
hugely against my lips, rubbing and wettening them.  With his
strength ever doubling, I could not help but open my mouth to
breath, allowing the cock entry.  Shifts of his body and torso in
attempts to dislodge my stance rubbed the head against my help-
less, panting, licking tongue, overwhelming me with the power of
his scent and taste.
 
     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 be-
tween 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 be-
tween my cheeks, forcing me open and greasing me with its slime.
 
     Finally he released my throat, allowing me to breathe.  My
respite was only momentary, as he forced me to my hands and knees
and mounted me like a beast.  Time lost meaning as I became his
concubine, his tongue wrapping about my neck as a collar, invad-
ing my helpless mouth and throat, and reaching down to where his
hands brutally held my cock and balls by virtue of which to pull
me back and forth on his rod in a piston-like action.  I was
helpless as the object of his demonic lust, lost in sensation,
able only to serve as I was subjugated by his true power.
 
     I began to explode, unable to contain him as his power
spurted forth into me, coating me for faster, more powerful
thrusts and explosions.  My every cell was inundated with his
lust, heated to white-hot, until I could take it no more and lost
consciousness.
 
     I awoke the next day, and knew that now, I was truly a
Templar.  I felt the power of the demonseed filling me, and knew
that I could release it at will, that I had the true power within
me, and I was Baphomet's, now and forever.
 
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