Mephisto, Interdimensional Man of Mystery

…

This wasn’t the first time Mephisto had been strapped to a cold metal table, naked and terminally erect. Between his splayed legs he half expected to be greeted by the usual, a hot red demoness or somesuch slinking towards his treasure truncheon, eyes locked on his meaty dangle. But this time around it was a scrotum-scorching laser beam the width of his prodigious digit, sawing the table up the middle in a less-than-seductive crawl.

The eyes on him and his cyclopean apendage were real, however, but came in fact from a ring of twenty burly guardsmen in turtlenecks - each with a crossbow and sternly crossed brows. Down the end of the table and facing away was a high-back black chair, positioned as if it and the laser were in planetary alignment with his celestial testicles.

With a great deal of tension and menace the chair slowly spun, to reveal a short man - bald and disfigured and petting a sleeping pussy.

The sudden movement jerked her awake and, with a feline stretch and a disgruntled purr, she leapt from the chair and stalked out of the room. She pulled her skirts down as she went.

The ugly man in the chair wiped his hand on his neat cream suit and rose to his feet, his own modest member tenting the front of his crisp trousers. A normal man might attribute his swollen state to the recently departed playmate, but Mephisto knew a revenge boner when he saw one. There was hate in that cock, and in those sharp black eyes.

“Well well, at last I have you. Mephistopheles; shaken, not stroked; the famous double-oh sixty nine. The thorn in my side, the penis IN MY WIFE.” He slammed the table with a pale fist. The laser crept closer. “I’ve got you now, in chains and with no hope of escape. How do you say it? Bondage, light bondage? Well I don’t believe in safe words, Mr Mephisto. But I do believe in very elaborate ways to kill a man.”

The heat of the laser began to singe Mephisto’s manicured bush. It smelled of hardware stores and thousand pound deadlifts. With a hint of juniper. Mephisto narrowed his eyes. “No-one holds a grudge quite like you, my archenemy - Ernest Blowjob! For the last time, I didn’t know she was your wife, I thought she was your daughter. Seriously, they both look great naked. Congratulations!”

Blowjob kicked the chair over and reached for the laser controls. “Good bye, Mr Mephisto. You’ll die in a moment, but not before that cock of yours!” And he hit a button on the controls and the world went red.

The scorching laser hammered into Mephisto’s Womb-raker, a thousand degrees all doing their best to melt his Thunderballs. But Mephisto had fucked movie stars hotter than that. And actual stars, of course. Suns, gas giants, neutron stars, there wasn’t much that escaped his eighteen-inch reach. Once he’d made love to an actual brown dwarf, just to prove he was down with diversity bangs.

To Mephisto this was only foreplay, but he had to work with what he was given. With the laser still beating down on his beatstick he gyrated his hips and worked himself into an imitation of a meaty windmill. He tensed his buttocks and the climax crashed over him. The energy of the laser had been steadily building and, with nowhere else to go, rocketed along the only path left to it - Mephisto’s self-raising baby batter.

The deadly beam arced through the room, tearing men in half where they stood. He was The Man with the Swollen Gun. They screamed and tried to run, but even through stone pillars did his searing ejaculate cut them down. Blowjob took it to the face, his head exploding in a mist of blood and brain matter and a pinch of Mephisto.

Once he’d turned the room into a charred pineapple-scented barbeque, he cut through his restraints and at last the laser. Everything went dark, and slowly his eyes adjusted to the carnage. Mephisto looked at Blowjob and said, “This is why it’s better to swallow.”

…