The Antichrist (Zack Knight) and Rule 13 Sample of Last Chapter

Zack froze in his tracts. His spine tingled, frying his brain into terror. His eyes closed and memories swirled through his brain, a tornado of terrors twisting his heart and wringing out of it blood and fear.  No longer the almighty Antichrist, his powers were gone, his penis limp and helpless. He could die. His manliness shattered into the darkness. Angelina, the pink goddess of power, fixated her eyes on her targets. She loomed before him. Images of her perfect form, her perfect face, her thin hotness tantalized and tormented him. His once almighty penis she dragged into the horrors of hell. He sensed her spell in the air, felt her pull of power, felt himself swayed by her eyes. Those flashing breasts tantalized and wrapped her victims in her luscious cocoon of sex and darkness. Before her, he stood helpless. She leered at him. He felt like a kitten in a face-off with a human sized cobra, who leered at him and hissed and flicked her tongue.

Only a year ago, he despised Angelina as a boring, even though physically perfect specimen of womanhood. She bored his perfect penis, failing to arouse it. He secretly despised her as vapid and unattractive, with a highly overrated perfect body. How she fooled him. How she always fooled him. A physically perfect body she always had, but vapid and boring, hell no, she was a terror. Obsessed with protecting his 13 from Satan, he overlooked Angelina as Satan’s cohort. How Satan had fooled him. How stupid he was as Antichrist. How unworthy he felt to be on Gail’s marriage list. He failed as Antichrist, overcome by the perfection and power of his penis, filled with delusions of grandeur over a perfect penis he never had.

Even almighty Vladimir Putin, Russian President, she reduced to a worm. Memories of Brent’s letter to Gail flashed through Zack’s mind. . .

Vladimir lay with his head in Brent’s lap on the couch, tears running down his face. Dozens of empty, gallon-size jugs of 200 proof vodka lay scattered throughout the room. The jugs’ necks glistened with the remnants of their former contents, fading drops of burning alcohol weeping to the carpet and mixing with the Russian President’s tears.

“It’s going to be all right, Vladimir.” Brent caressed Vladimir’s head. “Your erection will come back. It always does. It always has. Here, let me read you a passage from the Bible…”

Vladimir sucked down some mucus.

“O.K. but first, I must make piss like floods of Noah.”

His excretory system infused with alcohol, Vladimir hopped off of the couch in a leap and dashed to the bathroom. Brent heard him sharply unzip his pants, followed by the sound of urine blasting the receptacle like a fire hose.

Brent sat back to relax, flipped through the Bible and out of the corner of his eye something hot pink flashed past the window. Narrowing his eyes with concern, he turned his head to catch a glimpse, but there was nothing there. Minutes passed, and Brent tried to focus on reading his Bible, but something just didn’t feel right…almost ten minutes later he heard a sharp ‘thud’ sound echo from the bathroom, followed by a boyish squeal of joy.

”Are you all right Vladimir? What happened?” Brent asked, confused and worried.

“Brent…my erect! My erect has come! There has been water hammer in my penis to stop the flow of the urine! I am erect!!” Vladimir swooped out of the bathroom to present his massive, Coke-can-thick penis to Brent. He was like a Russian peacock in full bloom.

“Wow, Vladimir! That’s miraculous!” Brent cried out joyously, “I wonder what made it come back?”

“Brent, I am solid like horny bear! As horny bear find naked Aryan woman in woods, hairy pussy slather with honey. Feel!” He puffed out his lower abdomen with masculine pride.

Brent grabbed Vladimir’s penis, squeezing it gently and giving it five or six strokes just to examine it.

“That’s the healthiest penis I have ever felt,” Brent exclaimed with quiet awe, “I’m so proud of you Vladimir.”

“I have not been so erect, even with sexual Empress Gail,” he said, sounding a little puzzled.

“That’s very strange…” Now Brent began to grow curious.

Brent saw the flash of pink out of the corner of his eye once more. Brent gazed behind Vladimir to the bathroom window, and what he saw made his eyes widen like saucers. His jaw dropped so hard it nearly fell off of his face.

Floating out in space, Angelina Ballerina had latched herself onto the window and now stared in at Brent and Vladimir with a mad grin. She raised her star-tipped wand with slow deliberation and seduction, her eyes gleaming with evil, and tapped at the glass releasing her seductive powers with each tap.

Angelina Ballerina! Panicked, Vladimir and Brent jumped into each other’s arms. Feeling as helpless as little boys, they hugged each other for strength and screamed at the top of their lungs.

Zack’s penis seemed to shrivel inside of him, helpless and frozen in terror before the Jesuit powerhouse who took his place as Antichrist. Apparently, his penis was no match for her perfect form and face and the spell she cast on those she desired to rape. How he despised himself for his pride as the rapist Antichrist who seduced and charmed his victims into being raped or murdered. Now he had met his match and suffered the consequences of his former sins. Jesus up in heaven seemed to stare down at him with a frown. He engraved into his conscience the guilt he should feel for worshipping his penis as god and for using that as the excuse to torment and rape his previous victims. For who he had been as Antichrist, he could never make atonement. He must suffer guilt and shame for this for the rest of his life. Angelina only reminded him how horrible he was, because he worshipped his penis as perfect, and used that to excuse his torment of lovers. Now, he was the tormented lover. Justice leered at him with Angelina’s cobra eyes, taunting him, daring him to take her on. His spine froze in terror. What he thought he had, she had; and before her, he stood helpless, feeling his heart sputter and leap, his penis prostrate before her. Then his legs leaped in his mind, running into darkness and going on and on into nowhere. He tripped over Angelina’s tentacles in his mind, limbs scurrying frantically to escape her. Her power swam over him, sucking out all his courage, like he saw her do with Brent and Vladimir.

Brent’s screams. Vladimir’s screams. These heroes, who would die for Gail, screamed for their life. The screams echoed in Zack’s mind, down to his heart, freezing all courage. His penis froze. He couldn’t think.

Vladimir was the first to succumb to her. Pressed up against the window, he humped the glass furiously. Brent desperately latched on to Vladimir from behind, trying to pull his friend away from the window. But Brent’s hands jolted about Vladimir’s waist as Vladimir bucked like a wild bull, jostling Brent along like a drunk rodeo clown.

“Vladimir, stop!” Brent clawed in vain to hold back his own, unstoppable arousal. Brent’s eyes shot to Zack in the doorway.

Zack froze in fear, old memories and feelings overwhelmed him. Shame, helplessness, guilt swam over him. He couldn’t love a Jesus who allowed this, and for this, he knew Jesus despised him. Jesus allowed Satan to do this? He despised Jesus in his heart at this moment. Jesus, where are you!

“Zack! Help us! You’re the only one immune to Angelina’s power! Save us!”

Zack stood frozen, petrified to the spot like a tree. His mind swirled with anger at God, fear of Satan, of Angelina and sensing a divine anger thumping down at him with delight through Angelina. God’s retribution seemed to roar in Angelina as God’s instrument of vengeance against Zack for his endless sins. God had abandoned him, it seemed. Because at this moment, he felt disgust and dismay against all forms of power, including the ultimate source of power, God himself. He deserved all that was happening. Surely this was why it happened. Angelina was only an extension of himself, but a thousand times worse. She was what he thought he was and what he thought he wanted to be. He loathed himself now and knew God felt the same.

“Zack! Come!” Brent continued to scream, growing even more desperate as his arousal grew.

“Oh no…” Brent gasped. Zack heard the sounds of the glass, now beginning to crack from the sheer force of Vladimir’s thick penis slamming against it like a steel battering ram.

Angelina giggled with delight.

“You boys are mine,” she cooed seductively, “MY COLLECTION IS COMPLETE!”

Brent’s rock hard erection shot between Vladimir’s thighs and shattered the already crackling glass. Brent and Vladimir were goners. His heart dropped  like a thud. The only barrier between them and their worst, sexual nightmare shattered. The window obliterated into tiny pieces, and Vladimir and Brent fell through the shards of glass and into space.

“Zaaaack…!” Brent’s voice faded into the vacuum.

Zack’s heart and soul went round in circles, furious at God for allowing this, knowing God had abandoned him. Panicked; his legs scurried like a kid running for his life. Yes, a kid abandoned by his parents, left alone in a Jesuit orphanage, all alone. Abandoned, by a God who didn’t care. This God he despised. The resentment still festered. The Catholic Church, who he thought loved him, also abandoned him. The Church and God laughed in the corridors of his mind. Angelina’s laughter echoed his fears. The grin on her face, leered at him, spitting on his penis. She flaunted her perfect form and flipped her hand in disgust. She flung her nose at his penis and smiled in disgust. They lied to him. Told him he had a perfect penis. Told him Jesus hated sex, especially Jesuit sex. Told him Jesus could never accept homosexuality and all the sexual thrills that consumed Zack as he dreamed of his exploits using his perfect penis. And Jesus let him believe all these lies. Or Zack was a stupid jackass and the worst loser in all the universe.

Down the corridors he ran, hearing Angelina’s laughter echo through his mind. Angelina’s power consumed Vladimir and Brent as he deserted the only friends he knew on this earth. They had fallen to the Medusa of the universe whose exterior of physical perfection became a seduction of terrors – the all powerful Antichrist Angelina Ballerina. The ultimate of evil she was, which he could never become, but which he felt was his failure somehow. For he could never become the paragon of virtue needed to rescue Brent and Vladimir when they needed him most. Doubts about his manhood, his penis and his purpose plagued him.  His soul and conscience froze in terror before his superior: Angelina Ballerina – the ultimate in evil. He once prided himself as the ultimate in evil, and felt Jesus a fool to give him a perfect penis. But he now felt himself a fool to believe his penis was perfect. Not knowing who he was, his legs scurried him away from Brent and Vladimir in terror. The epitome of all evil had drowned all light in his soul. His fury at God for allowing such evil overwhelmed him. He drowned in that fury, terrorized, and scurried away from Angelina, Brent and Vladimir to safety.

 

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