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Power Balance

by Eightane for Charkonian~ *************************************

Sector 203. He blinked and wished to be anywhere else.

The gesture couldn't serve him transport. Five minutes, five hours from now, he'd still be flying through, patrolling this nowhere-space, he well knew. What kind of a distress signal comes out a dead vacuum, thirty thousand light-years from the nearest star, as far from any planet or trade route. He stewed on this mentally; one thing came to speech.

"Me and my big mouth, eh. 'Not bringin' a team along, it's routine '. I must be daffy." He reached down... One fist propelled him in his green aura, but the other raked his ribcage, an itch under skintight suit. It's one hell of a chance to talk to himself, if there continued to be no one. A huff strummed his thick cords; not the first time Kilowog found a wild goose chase, nor would it be the lantern's last.

He scanned left and right, eyes straining to see anything of note, something to account for this. No troubled ships, no stranded travellers. Not even a homeworld the dust on his knuckles might occupy. The sound of his breath, getting pretty obnoxious. "204, now... Heh, a digit away and I'd be set. Leufin's palace... Lush baths and all the blikfruit I could eat..." On his jagged mouth, a smile. Quite some time had gone since he dropped in on that hospitality... After this, if quiet held over the galaxy, he'd work out a holiday. Sodam Yat could man his commitments; just a week on-end, practical. At the present time, nothing seen, nothing heard, the call must be a foul-up. He came aware of a slip downstairs, reached his pink hand to an area, adjusted himself, and went along in the search.

In the void, there dwelled no light for a shadow. He who tailed the piglike ranger knew breath control; so too would a hateful hiss not blow his cover.

Kilowog stopped short of humming; not so much the type to, but an old Bolovaxic folk song inspired it. His flying posture swung a bit, the first notes went through his mind, and had a pittance of time before a faint change to his vision field. Space at left and right flickered; the further from in front of him, the more it glowed, a golden yellow...

He sneered at the very time his body moved itself. A shoulder dropped, gut muscles bent in, and the missile of photons coloured yellow barely missed. Any closer and he'd have a neckhole the size of his wrist. Swift, he flipped around, tensed and had both fists up and made. The threat which bore his eyes to taper, arms to channel power, smashed its own palms together. From there it raised a claw, taunting from dark scales. Kilowog threw the first bellow. "I AM off, not smellin' you on this!"

The beady eyes shone more than the aura. Servant of Sinestro, thorn in many's side, sworn foe of the Corps. Arkillo flew close and back, 'lunging' for a fake-out and his own nerve. With his rebuttal, one malicious tongue flapped from teeth like razors. "And you're weak, then and always. I can show you HOW!! "

The yell escorted a fist swing and its pulse of light. Kilowog dodged, but the speed was notable... Heat from its deadly ray tingled, close to his elbow where suit was singed. Arkillo, his shape and rough hide, held a laugh most evil. "Closer than your wits. Find them fast, or this'll be too easy!"

Kilowog burned hot, reddening as he shot out to sock the lizard upside his cheek. Ark' avoided, narrow as he'd kept from that attack, and the pink muscles propelled right past in icy nothing. The Lantern faced him off again; neither would yet get the best of things. He looked down his nostrils at a harbinger of hate. "Pretty smart for a poozer, fakin' a distress call. How ya knew I'd be the one here's a marvel."

Arkillo found pleasure in its facts. A grin ill-fit his jaw's nastiness. "Should I write a list? One, find an ally skilled at infiltrating. Then they slip in and plant intel." He turned head, licking one smug hand's claws. Kilowog boiled, knowing what he then told outright. "Your end comes today, your friends' just now begins. Blind to betrayal, like the insects they are!"

Kilowog boiled over. From chest to legs, sinew couldn't sizzle more. He rattled in his own scream. "YOU'LL CROAK BEFORE YOU PICK 'EM OFF!! "

The devilish lizard weaved between two blasts of green; Kilowog's fists lit the vacuum, loud in boom, willing a shapen pair of knives. Rushing Ark, the Lantern had his arm snatched but detected the intent... Ark' would've swung him out, opened chances for a fatal barrage. Instead, the grimy hands slung him half-way... He laid his own free digits on the slimy herp's and twisted, bringing a muscle's bruise and a plot's end. They came away faced off; in a battle of disdain they'd have deadlocked. Arkillo reached up to his chin, wiping spittle made of livid froth. "Know yourself: a speck of dust buying time in vain. Bide it, lapdog..." Orange irradiated, a halo for one far from an angel. "I'd as soon breathe as put you down."

"And I shoulda splattered yuh back on Earth." At the Lantern's eyes, creases by which he peered in scorn. Calm about him, under no sweat, staring to a moral abyss. His stature tall, stomacch tight, and every scrap of muscle trained on the threat he'd not fear. "If I lived like you. Death is your way. Mine-"

Arkillo's foot jerked up: predictable, dishonourable, attack. In kicking was a stride and a fleeting window. Kilowog nailed it, winding in his gam quick as Ark's throat tightened. Through its strength, its radius, the lizard's form swooped underneath, reverse-arch, rising back to danger where a foot connected, a wide pink heel bouncing that momentum with a shotgun-speed of its own making. The crash on foe's ribcage tailed the sentence epilogue. "-Is RECKONIN'!! "

Through a vacuum the scaled villain tumbled, head-over-heels shaken. Stars blurred, streaked and returned to focus. They tinted red, he aimed back to the Lantern, lakes of fire in his gaze of misandry. Words now waited out the punishing fists; strikes toward Kilowog sent an energy armada, spears, lances of a sharpness real metal scarcely touched... A dire number, timed hellishly with gnash of those fangs. He saw in his mind how fast this fly would drop, the catharsis of a thorn in his side left to float lifeless in the void. When it failed - the Lantern simply ahead of him and each enraged ray - was when the venom truly poured. Arkillo's beady stare burned holes all-but-literal. "You DELAY it!! PINE for the escape you WON'T HAVE!! "

"Where it's allies, I have ALL you don't, poozer!! " The hero worked his way closer, setting up, finding marks. He'd be untouched, and in a distance where the foul one's breath denied emptiness, last Arkillo saw were the nostrils judging him, and the lightless triple-crease of knuckles on a mission.

A wonder his teeth didn't break, such as they presented. If he'd reeled on the foot-missile, he left the right-hook dazed. Were there an up or down in space, he'd be left without its bearings, or any. Weak to falter, too strong to faint, he felt his limbs' floating, willed them back to par and searched the spotted blackness. A blob of pink and green appeared to him. He raised an arm; this would be the killing blow. This, if he could marshall himself... Confounding him, it was out of reach like never before. Strange, this blob permitted his taunt as it un-fuzzied and his mind regrouped. "Run, I'll chase you down... Call your friends, the petty wastes in flesh..." Things grew clearer. Details of a face emerged, and the cloud on evil mind defogged. His putdowns met a put-out look. "What cause can stand up to us... To me... Your precious friends, you have what falls like dominoes, screaming while they-"

He often saw the fear he now strived to announce. What was not often seen, the Lantern showed him, something of a colour. Kilowog's face - most from mouth to eyes - darkened to lively red. Neither man stood ignorant of species, diversity, such as they travelled and inhabited... Ark' lacked structures for blushing, but there so plain on Kilowog set its pigment. Proof, to the tongue-flicking terrorizer, something had him awkward.

Arkillo clacked teeth, their crush on each other in lieu of a meaty neck. Emotion from his rival? No less one widely negative? He'd be strange if to neglect it. "Now it's revealed. I'm unstoppable, you scratch at me like an Earth cat to a tree. Let it out out, fly, I shame your weak attempts..."

The vision fully cleared. Kilowog was crisp, his frown, the huffing chest. Only now did Arkillo's field show him more. Below his enemy's core, a turned stomach capped off a curiosity. Remarkable, the Lantern's hands not up and out to fight. They lay on himself, spread, cupping. The power suit wrapped snug just as Ark's did, but the beams Ark set off made one difference. Torn at the Lantern's hip, grazed by light-blades, it lay under those hands masking how the tear spanned. He could brag ripping through the uniform. He'd skip the guess for where the tear went to curtail modesty.

Kilowog's mouth peeked a puff of air, dealing with a peril unique. His own warmth made covering the front some measured comfort. "Poozer, ya just bought a WHOLE can of ass-whippin'. Get ready to wish I scrubbed you..."

Less bass in his voice, more hardship staying cool. Arkillo processed much in few moments. His tongue jigged as ever, but lower, with pinache apart from anger and the like. A grin, unlike a war's win, took hold on him. It didn't unmake. "Your kind, how many arms are owned? I've seen two... You're using more than one..." That orange glow, nonblinking, now the bane of Kilowog and startling him. He knew, and hated, what was now in store. Arkillo chuckled on these epiphanies. "... What if something were to cross you, and those hands. They must move, and QUICK! "

He fired off a beam, in the spirit of his meaning. Like a tree branch, and centered on the Lantern's head. With a mind working normally to self-preserve, Kilowog evaded.

Arms went out in frenzied leap. The tear was made fully known.

A pink form now faced its hip out, training one arm on the menace. It wouldn't so much matter... Protected, yes, but with other arm interrupted, it was done. Arkillo's tongue danced; noise from its root did more than low chuckles. The senior corpsman hoped never to see his contentment, but here Ark floated, in levity. "Hah... I'll thank you, tadpole... You've brought me back to other days. Young, when all my peers were so new, and undeveloped."

Kilowog's choppers shone with hate. Gritted, they split to let him speak his inferno. "A cuss like you won't know a damn thing better. If you gotta say it, it's envy." He willed such an aura; for its brightness, this pocket of space looked to have a new sun.

Arkillo merely laughed. Ducking a green 'ship', a roaring blast from the Lantern with odd specificity, he put his palms together, grew his own saffron glow and readied. His hand scales decoupled, and above them a greatness expanded. A 'pod' more carefully produced, more gargantuan, and by a lobbing motion, hurtled near Kilowog. Not to his position, near it. So the scale could be taken in.

Kilowog's ire knew no bounds. Arkillo had intentions alright, through and through. That menace licked his finger, wrapped the lengthy tongue to circle it, and with a callous hand, reached low to grip himself. The fabric went in ditch and wrinkle, pulled out noticeably. Kilowog saw his chance; distracted, he linked both fists side-to-side and sent off one hell of a photon boulder. Ayer's Rock, in all resemblance, forged with noise and spinning on a course for the close and cocky.

The lizard shined so high, blindingly. Kilowog's fear paid into him. Evil hate took from self-assurance and enriched. The boulder dwarfed him, until it met this shielding, shattered and disintegrated. Not a pebble survived. The Bolovaxian was spared its backlash, unscathed in that, but not from putting both hands high to make it. Distraction did him in, again. Arkillo got a fuller look this time than the first. Something of a trunk, pinked up, six of Earth's inches, tubed and blunt. In gravity it dangled, yes. He knew, like his foe, it sufficed.

That foe smiled greater. The hand on himself, the claws faced away from lizard junk, floated free. His suit - a construct, at his whims to be modified - loosened at his shoulders, unstuck. Like a banana, peeled by one side, for him his front. Unfurled, indecent when his gender he sported; freed with right-jocular diction. "Feast your eyes on prowess, worm."

It didn't so much hang as pour out, floating in their stark arena. Lack of force to pull it down, that absence, put its length on showcase. Base thick with veins. Middle sheer and as giant. By its end, the four inches of its last third, ridges like plates of soft armour. Hard as knight's wear surely they'd become, and headed up to be just that when fronting this view. The Lantern - his undoing for so long - carried what forbade a win for good.

Kilowog, gruff and tough, pinned ears like a pup scolded. Close to zilch made it out his lips; the exceptions were syllables, fractured words in awe. "You h-hardl... Fright'n... So'wut, yuh cowrrd..." His resolve still added punch to his stupor. It only did so much.

Arkillo's grin shamed his aura, as he felt he did for the scientist. Objectively the Lantern didn't budge, though his blush's depth stood out. More collected, he puffed chest. "That's all ya flaunt, if ya think I'm ruined. Guess again, poozer." He charged up for something mega.

The mean-and-green might've brought up shielding, or leapt to shoot first. Instead he lived his ego... Put both hands to either side, and wagged an eel of an endowment. The sight couldn't be finer when that Lantern's glow fizzled. Through just showboating, he had attention and safety. He spoke, and his arm-sized tool slapped his stomach... Then the lowside crack of his ass. "To the contrary, I admire you. Even had there been a mate to survive your kind, you go on with what you would pass along."

Kilowog's red went purple. Had there been air about them, steam would fill it. Maybe smoke. He thought only of crippling that lizard, or worse. He foresook blasts from the ring and put out bare fists defending honour. Below, untouched, his flaccid manhood whipped clear-down to his taint. Up, with the head throttling his wee-peeked trail, moving well but well-short of who leaned free of his melee. Arkillo eased clear from half the misses; to be more endangered would require the Lantern's focus, a thing since-lost. He minded the fists, but imbibed more than one glance south. Compare, contrast and flash teeth at the do-gooder.

Kilowog answered with a right cross. It glanced off, having foe blink and half-reel. Soon as Ark shook the faze, he had a fist heading dead-center of his eyes. Superb catch by his own grip, arresting it a nail's length from knocking him senseless. He held on. Twisted. Kilo's head craned in roar and agony. Under this the deceiver hummed; leisurely, insulting to the fullest, while his leg swept the enemy, spinning him. "Mmmm-mmm... Fine day for squashing idle pushovers, you agree? "

He opened up the 'door' to returns. The Bolovaxian took bait, his leg throbbing. "Got that right! " Rolling in place, he lit up and charged Ark, wanting the neck. He got instead the bump of shoulder bone, and a string of curses in the herp's native tongue. It bought him an uppercut; Arkillo's keen eye landed tons of force on the Lantern. Spurts of red knocked from his jagged frown. A tooth broke free and, by physics, went circling their mass.

The right hand of Sinetsro pulled him at the forearms. Icy scales dug into their width. Ark' braced, headbutted, and came away with smiles. Wog's rage flamed past wooziness. He broke the grab in time for giant fangs to shriek vile, assault his ears. He shut them up with a clamp, brave against logic to cover them, an insult repaid. Not quite careless, his other fist brought to 'life' a crowbar, effective Earth hardware, unto chucking it. Arkillo bit his tongue, his hip clawed by the notched end. Kilowog reached out, attracting it. He felt a second wind, but regrouping, a daze lingered. In best health he'd have sidelined Ark's slash-lunge. Too slow to push it off, now the threat made good. Skin opened where the claws sliced; dark-red on pink abs, a vital wound and expansion for the fabric's tear north. In this loss, un-support, his loins flapped wilder. Ark passed him on lunge; he about-faced. The black lycra, Ark's legs, set as close as the appendage. Clearly reckless there, if Arkillo kept it 'breathing'... Either their distractions or a futile stab at breaking his resolve. Regardless, if he wanted, if quick and aimed just right, a blow would be dirty like nothing the combatant yet tried.

It stayed thought; Ark did less than facing back, just throwing himself to Kilo's pose. Another slice stopped by a ball of pink knuckles. Arkillo flinched, his adversary gasped. Blood spilled to the Lantern's wrist from razorlike gash. Damn-near impervious, the tall swine let it trickle, accosting Arkillo. "One more chance, poozer. End this and I let you go. Drag it out, and you wind up in a Sciencell with a mile of stitches."

Ark's hunched form hissed. Bones in his hand cried sorely. He air-gnashed, refusing clear as the dark thereby. "I'll forward that when your friends ask in grief your last words."

"Have it yerr way, sawjaw! " He compressed, waist to nose. Sense of will magnified. Strength, already high, made his glow a nova. Out of throat's height grew an I-beam, speeding. He knew one hit spelled the end. Just one. Lined up on Arkillo, it torpedoed. He foresaw, minus the square it occupied. And obscured, this tiny square was used, shining yellow, netted energy. The beam slowed. Stopped. Backed off, and... Kilowog's stare bid all-pupils. It had ricocheted. Back to him, hardly slowed, where his mind clued in. Must be a trampoline or such. Not another thing could happen, with the pitiful instant from this wake-up to the crunch of his own weapon, green steel to cheekbone.

Who can tell how long he'd float if abandoned then and there. The beam knocked the tooth from orbit, dooming it to thousands of drifting years. Kilowog's fate came sooner. Shaken, awakened back to consciousness, once Arkillo grinned upon his bruised, sliced flesh. A peek down, a haughty leer, and he minced words with joy for each letter. "It's always what you don't see. Then the moment's passed. Say goodbye to your age, agent of the Corps..." He took Wog by the collar, raising outward. "Blundering nit... Seduced by the wrong side. We kill-" Kilowog coughed. Tasting metal, he readied a punch. It sloppily missed; he saw four or five of the one man who had him like a kitten. "-You deny death. Deny its valour." As a feline would swipe and struggle, Wog's muscle, pound for pound, hoped to fight its way out. He threw another, harder left, it had an "Oohf " from the slimy fighter, wrenching back his head. It steadied, returned, twinkling grudge-in-smirk. "... To be killed is glory. For you, runt... " His eyes traced low, and narrow back up. "... It's an honour too high." Something of a twitch came over him, confined to a limb. Not the four he now extended, arms and legs, the former on his enemy's cheeks. They vicegripped bloody purple bruises... His legs alternately pummeled. High, low, anywhere from Kilowog's toes to pelvic curve. Save for one spot, caged by meaty thighs, spared for a reason.

Arkillo's teeth loomed long. Kilowog wheezed, gulping just the air it took to stay with Ark's reductive ways, attacking morals like he thrashed the Lantern's knees. "You'll live. I'll keep you. Twig, burn in my fire. Atone for what you are." Kilowog growled; it sputtered. The 'Vaxian fists tucked their swelling skin. He pulled back; no giving up, not to this two-bit marauder. As he would've let go, pushed out to slog the lizard on his chuckling gut, nothing happened. Soon he knew the heat on his wrist; keeping it, freezing it by his own back. What treachery... Both Arkillo's hands were on him, coddling his gouged countenance. The legs had mercy, it appeared, laying back from their battery. What, then, pinned his arm to the rear, and now... In time to stop his other fist, pulled it back, as though they sought each other... His feebled mind arrived at what it meant. The gold chain, growing as cuffs on him. His arms, by the reptile's contempt rendered harmless.

Reptile's neck twisted subtly, this way and that. Scaled beef shaped static leans, crowding in on smoother, blood-mussed hide and wobbly lungs. The men scarcely questioned when a touch joined them: Kilowog's tube, soft-adrift, combed by the swoop of Ark's measure, a pendulum tilling sausage by its pressing head. Arkillo's palms kneaded face like his foe was dough. "Fight me, if the notion ables you. Fight me with your hands bound, your legs jellied." He so growled between words, giddy to pamper spite. "Spit, then. That's in order, you've swallowed blood? Better out than in." Slang from Sector 2841... It sounded so wrong, sweetly from his animus. Kilowog had none of this... Taste of copper from his mouth welts he suffered to drink. He could still want, and gleam, and build. From his chest, hunched forth in pain as it was, a 'clone' of him took the vile one by surprise. They wrestled; Arkillo chopped its ear, the heels of light struck his instep, his toes. Reversing upper-hand, back and forth, until the force of good's energy expired. One heavy chek from Ark's palm and it disspelled into particles, millions of sprites like dandelion tufts in exile.

Arkillo huffed; taxed by the encounter, recovering, he lent his eyes like figurative daggers. They'd impale Wog if real; the vacuum's abhorrence had nothing on their bite, to a beaten scientist, the senior Lantern chained and pummeled. Another cough; red globs into the void, life-giving blood and shredded gum. Like a prisoner with a crooked cop, his posture knelt, waiting out the fiend who now float-crept back in the longest moments yet lived. Arkillo's hand rose, outfaced. One finger, one claw up, then resheathed to fist watertight. Scales themselves lightened, for golden glow and for the drain of blood from an extremity so incrushed. When it catapulted, decked the temple of a black-and-blue headspace, stars in Kilowog's mind outnumbered the heavens.

Evil's breath caught back, while that of a protector, his antipode, coughed on weaker. He snatched Wog by the chest, shook pecs until the wheezing hero could pass for in an iron lung. With odds stacked, the man in green rumbled, forming syllables. "C'hn't... Do'th'... Job... I'll... Hold'j'back... All... Day... P-path'h'tic... Fuckin'... Poozrr-r... "

The endnote impersonated speech through a running fan; Ark had his breastbeef, jarring it and him with it. "Won't you go on. You've hit that ground between disabled and consumed. Never came so natural." He smiled, then grimaced; arm flicked back, bent in and clocked a hard elbow to Wog's lip. This the Lantern hassled to shake off; weak his chin lifted, brought his broiling gaze to Ark's, and spat two teeth on the menace. Ark reacted with the same care one would wave to a passerby. He sighed, restless and looking down. Not really hiding some ego's fuel, re-enlivened. Then it occurred to him. "And about 'ground'... Let's add spice to this." He reached around, batted the yellow armchains with styled non-remorse. "You can't exactly help, but I..." A deliberate halved sentence. He 'stood' in front of Kilowog, and in the time that followed there came a surface where his feet truly planted.

Ice-smooth on its topside, the dimensions grew in gold with Ark's whims. It met Kilowog's knees, shelved his feet in angled touch. He pitched forward; having teh corporeal below him brought to light the state of his legs, Arkillo's abuse. The lizard put his nose to Kilo's, held the pink chin, red drops flowing down to it; a twisted soul, whose fist raked the Lantern, and retreated. Kilowog coughed the weariest of shouts, wishing it may melt his tormentor. Sound waves in green, curves in color of a mustered fight, knocked back Ark on his feet. Straightaway the rough arms crossed. Shapes manifest in the dark above their 'floor', that same sickly shade. They took time to project, and the 'Vaxian watched in tired, meek smirk. He spake, mushmouthed in pain. "Craft s'mm helpers. I'll make th'rr piss-yellah asses mem'ries..."

Their feet were born to the surface. Up from there they constituted. Three to aid the vile one, and it didn't take long for what they'd be to evidence. Kilowog saw, and his sneer set as one who'd fight a tear. All three were of his knowing. Ark' was a thief, stealing his past for two men of his own race, and one female. All three as great of stature, fit for war, as he strained not to collapse on their arena.

A male of eight feet reached down, scooped him up by the armpit. Arkillo added more to their space, a dome for enclosure. The false countrymen threw him, this ceiling caught him. Down he crashed on the featureless ground. It hurt like falling to a planet; Ark created surface, enemies and gravity. He would stay down when the female approached, kicked and dug her heel on his back.

He resisted looking up; for faces like all those extinguished, made to call him back to his perished world, he could scarcely take. And how to fight what he couldn't see? The second male leapt over the ducking femme; Ark's leisure to get all three positioned was uncompromised. The jumping light-slave spun its shoulder, hurtling down. Kilowog gnawed his lip as the force smashed his rear, one cheek in trauma felt to the bone. It had cracked. Ark stood in hedonism, sure his ex-threat and plaything would crack in spirit, come unraveled and beg of him.

Instead he was thrown to the brim, the dome's edge he'd so quickly used. The trio knocked it thrice as hard. Not a finger lifted from Kilowog, but a shockwave from his ravaged self and its epicenter sent from amid his brain. Kilowog blocked out all care for these beings, unauthentic and opposing him. One thing had the surety to do away with them; by a pain greater than anything of body, Kilowog courageously sent mines for their brilliant centers. They exploded, vaporized, not unlike what must have been the fate of the many.

Kilowog kept the inner turmoil closed; Ark would get no more than that with purpose. "Think I've just... Seen y'rr best... Burnt out, eh, I... I ain't th' kind yuh thought, my mind don't fear you... You fear it..." He had to cough again, but in stable motion, from one thick of neck and moral. A crimson spray to their floor; on impact, ripples spread. What Ark made phased out when confronted with the life in that splash, pieces of the man they carried. A man who held together, sure as the ditches of his abs, the curve of his pecker, scratched light but so far faring best of his assets, out and dangling.

Ark' strafed around the Lantern, studying the swollen with vitriol. He'd have been as cocky, if less annoyed. "Project if that's your kind's way, treat it like I'm frightened. You know I'll snuff you if you make me. You'd want a death with the belief you tore me down, but I hold the cards! " Circling, now spiraling, closer to the wrecked heap of muscle. Steps became faster, passing Wog's ear. It was boxed, and his skull given a one-two whop with ripping scales. Ark's frustration led his tone, belittling. "I HAVE what you lack, pretender! I made a joke of this, and the times you made a fool of me!! "

He dropped a chop, Earth martial-arts, the base of Kilowog's neck. Four seconds of shudders from the Lantern, his spine and brain stem blown with seizure. "I show you what you could've been, but you held back to vouch for all those gutless 'heroes'!! "

Kilowog scraped up the consciousness to try another shockwave. Ark's condition was prime, his focus on-point. A gold bubble caged it in, reversing it. Green force imploded on Kilowog. His skin crawled with damage, much of it hidden under hide. Now the Lantern's knees gave out. Falling forward, he faceplanted, rolling fast to his side. The pain wracked too hard for stillness. Keeping silent took all his verve, what little held onto.

"I AM THE IDEAL!! "

Ark's arms went high, far apart. Fists were made in his utter victory, sealed just a blink later, when the sheet he made slid under Kilowog, legs, back, cheek. Strong as diamond, bent as carpet, it brought the 'Vaxian to their dome's crest, straight above, where from Ark's scalp, its apex, a shaft of pure light blasted the burning skin. Arkillo roared, above satisfied, somewhere in the stratosphere of pleasure to immolate this man so direct. Nine seconds, where hell could barely be as bad as what the Lantern lay taking. Arkillo's arms flung in close and parted. He mimed a slice of the air, a defined gesture. The blast quit. The 'carpet' vanished. Kilowog's limp, fried form fell in front of him. Alive in the barest sense, so unfortunately conscious. Smoke carried fragments of his charred flesh, nowhere worse than his stomach. His face held together; on it, when Arkillo lowered and took it up, no power to defy him shone.

He'd not even laugh. It felt beneath this moment's magnitude. But he'd crouch, have Kilo's head between his knees, and give the quintessential shame. Inches of extent, unmarred, Ark's dick dragged right up Wog's face, along his nose. Unluckily the Lantern's singed nerves made this a pain of will and contact. If ever Ark added to his pitch, put some extra to his smug control, it was heard now. Cold and on top of all, he spat not on Kilowog, but himself. Near the base of that appendage, then putting down a hand, rubbing, spreading to each pore of circumference. He dragged again; Kilowog's nostrils took moisture and the smell of who'd put him down.

Arkillo clasped teeth. He claimed what so long had been a future, the unattained. "Empty fuel. Out of pageantry, you're mine." It seemed finer, more and more he considered it. "Helpless, crippled, all mine..."

He rocked and dipped, where from the side he'd make an oval when curtaining. It didn't stop at his pecker... Those heels dug in the groundplate for Kilowog to have a faceful of sack. Ark tilted several ways; a round pair danced up the Lantern's palate. He lay in waking nightmare, teabagged, hearing batch after batch of crass guffaws. Odor hit him like a freight train, sweat and musk of whom he'd call unclean. Gurgles escaped him. "Urrghh... Nnrrghuuhh..."

"What you smell is attrition!!~" He couldn't much lid the laughs that followed... Stuck a hand down, for his still-wet cock to center its target. He prepped it like a bat. Kilowog winced, smacked around by a mass unfathomable. His pink went red, stamped by girth, skinplates, 'shroom cap. Arkillo indulged like no one's business. "Penance, you pawn, ALL that's left for you! Hahahhh!! " The Lantern tensed through such bodily pain, and this facial sting. He couldn't roll more than some centimeters; not just his strength that failed him, but a slap by that humongous cur made waves in synapses. It was lost to him which way was up.

Arkillo stood, admiring Wog's pain, the shattered legs, useless arms. The marks on that bruised mug, fresh and typical of manhood, sized in no way typical. Looking over him, critiquing the felled man, that one less-harmed area had no cover for asylum. Spilled out the drastic rip, hanging free and nearly straight down from his thighs, but for its oh-so-closeness to that level of length. Arkillo smiled; the slight feel from earlier returned, in his instrument, tingle. Kilowog's indeed made it this far less-harmed, and honestly, less in other venues. He made sure the hero looked on him... Spat on his brow, and so the struggler sneered and saw. Arkillo's hand lay in a tube; he'd wrapped dick on the fingers at their base, their thickest. It made two full rounds.

The manhog hacked; a light spray, his eyes slitted. Ark knew they didn't court to close for pain. Nothing else enthralled him like this; he unwrapped the cock, shook it, toyed and had the broken man's rage to incite him. "Weak you are, but learning. It's by choice you doubt yourself. We know what your ring can change... And what it can't." He gazed full-south... Almost equal to the spoils of beating Wog to a pulp, his glee to manipulate himself and have that yank against his hand. Every lift and drop, every buckle in its span, and when he stretched it, let go and it swung perceived miles.

So unnerved lay Kilowog, so uncomfortable, he barked though it hurt both his lungs. "Fight me, damn you!! If yerr not yellow as the shit you put up!! "

"Reason? I don't see a fight..." Ark's tongue put out with cheer from his lax fangs, straight-down as with his pipe's tendency. "I've already won. Face it, worm, the battle's out of your hands... For good." He meant a fair bit more than violence... His member, self-assisted, already went for the change to active. Pressure filled his member, every inch, the bulging first to the hole-tip-twelvth. To see who lay crushed, decommissioned, inferior, it grew more. The first moan breezed his bawdy fangs.

Kilowog grit teeth behind his curled lips. Head filled with rage so deep it quivered. He caved stomach in, compacted ab valleys. Some faint glow ignited. His honour he no longer guarded.... Dignity was gone, diligence a vapor. A 'gift' he charged for the reptile; it rocked his brain sending it off, a cannonball, barbed spikes inlaid, what could rend the bastard with so much as a graze.

He'd only guessed what hate could do when brashly wielded. The scaled arms went out, crossed an "X", and a quick shield made the ball into smashed pieces. Arkillo laughed 'til blue in the face. He grabbed himself, palm on his base veins; his other hand pressed above it. The first one left it, moved above and closed on lower skinplates. A demonstration, with an inch still left before the head's corona, how three hands fit. "Finally you try. Too little, too late..." He went into a second moan; despite the interruption, time stroking had him full-mast. He sank down, knees to the gold surface. Core tight, head high and malicious. Legs apart, his rigid, straight fourteener bridging Wog's eyes. Just a slight push down from his open fingers and it laid prone on that T-zone. His hips not all that close to Kilowog, and it reached with some to spare. "... Reflect on that. 'Too little'. " Kilowog saw plainly his tormentor's gaze, and that it didn't stay on his, but somewhere heinous.

The Lantern bent chin up. He would dislodge that thing, that... Beast. Someway he'd salvage pride. It was not to be taken lying down. "RRrghwhatth'fuckareyou..." Calling Ark repugnant, gifted and insane. Kilowog's best efforts couldn't move it... Ark put a palm forward, and holding it, nothing done by tired enemy took down its head and frenulum. Kilowog's thinned eyes teamed up to combine the image so close on them; the size, the curves and flare of Ark's helmet. He hoped that ally of Sinestro wouldn't know the bell laid on fit half the breadth of his own dick.

Hoped, in vain. He coughed, for once it was dry. No defender's blood would splash and dot Arkillo's rocket. Kilowog tried verbal counter; never mind his disabling, worse challenge presented as he heard coo's of wicked joy. "What's it matter, yuh won't... Scram in one piece... Shoulda left word to have yerr cronies... Pick up what's left." Even-pitched for a handful of causes: shock had worn down, he found patience, and what he beheld... Lesser men would buckle before that lucky poison-on-legs. Three of them.

What Arkillo mapped out went with expedience. A slow, forward walk on his knees, so that ridged hammer slid down Wog's nose. Fuller, fatter now, blocking holes. The lantern breathed orally. Warm air rushed on Ark's dick. Evil's moan, as it had never been harder. The scaled left hand held that glorious cock; the right drifted up Ark's belly. Up his six-pack, then the pit of pecs in his suit. Pleasure was too rich; he clamped his nipple, wagged tongue and appraised all the fight Wog couldn't do. Smelling how the Lantern's flesh he'd seared, and aromas of himself, the fishy sweat of a meat bomb he owned.

With styled care he crawled the beaten male. Kilowog's forehead, chin, chest and more touched a monster and its hangers, and the rough-skinned taint. Music to Ark's ears when the muscled Wog cursed his name... Could've bit with jaw his junk if a faint gold didn't coat Kilowog, a minimal force for Ark to stay his defense. He could spin above that good heart with no fear. They faced off, arm-to-arm, Arkillo's relish plastered on his lips' rise. Dick with veins and plates rest on the swine-ish pecs. One change and Kilowog could be chestfucked with their hips still aligned. He lay sweating; Ark's tongue tasted salt, chin-swiping him. "Observe me. At your face, yet above you. It's justice." He'd scoot down; a planned tad, where he whipped Wog's whacker with terrific force. The 'Vax-native shook; dick went instantly rosy. "A puppet for the corps... You deserve that. " He'd feel utterly safe, gazing down on his brag rights, back to Wog's outrage. Fangs out ear-to-ear, up and hammering it home. "With I on the proper side, it's no wonder, whelp. I'm worthy. "

Shallow pushes teabagged Wog's dick. The slight aura from Arkillo froze him moving or avenging. The Lantern's lips alone were free to fight, slim consolation when that lizard, that rapscallion worked to kill off morale. The methods hurt; Kilowog's dick had never felt this, a sickened rush inside, weighed down by nuts that did only to disgrace. To either side of his radius they hung, their skin connector cupping topside by rifts, scaled but markedly smooth. The sick-twinge in pink cock had a twitch for him, then two; Arkillo smiled, aware of muscular response and when his enemy stuttered. "W-worthy of jack-shit yuh big bi-itch..." By some fluke he acknowledged, once. "... That ain't how it works... You know it... " Tenacious to the very end, that which he'd welcome if degraded like this. Much was preferable to this unholy turn.

"Really, now? Who's to say? " Ark slid up him, even dipping, calling out his lean physique, complement to size. Lined up, over his captive, spear had nowhere to go but up those pecs. He allowed that Kilowog squirm; thus he did like like it stung, the moisture leaked from Ark's tip. That brash bastard pre'd on him. Throbs from where Wog never wanted went right through his chestskin; Ark's pulse, in that monster, by the better heart. And the darker one spurned on. "From my position, it's a closed case. You can't defeat me. No triumph in battle or pants."

Kilowog sneered hard as his lips would arch. This... Toxin, this imp in male shadow, leered with one hell of a fixation. He fought the shield Ark put over him. It broke a split second, only letting a jerk elapse. Ark's eyebrows rose. It was back down on Kilowog, all besides his hanging pink, where a twitch again swept through his cockhead. It was not so fully-down as before... 'Touch,' he told himself, 'is the only thing makin' it respond.'

Ark dipped, dunking lower on Wog's shame. From outside them it would look as thrusts, as if Ark owned his foe by such a way. He lifted; the balls left Kilowog in time for the twitches to fuel themselves. Contact did its worst; the thick-bodied 'Vaxian chubbed. He looked to the side, face red; to confront his captor was hell. "Fuckin' slice you t'... Pieces... One chance, I'll... I'll put'chou in the headi-iines..." He jumped a bit; his body curled, legs and stomach. Ark's pre stung like alcohol. He resisted, but his member deserted this; blood had gone to fill it, expand that nerve-cylinder.

Cackles stabbed right through his ears; evil had looked down their front, and struck again. "He comes to play, the runt he is! Hahah!! " Arkillo grabbed two instruments, Kilowog's with cold squeeze and his own with tending, smooth stroke. Ego, flaunted like his aura. Purely callous, until Kilowog glimpsed a gleam, in beady eyes, something simple, driven and in all ways carnal. Ark' talked down with dominance full-fledged. Feeling that smaller's response had him hard as any gun. If he wanted, it could blast all down the Lantern, coat his envy-chub and seal his place.

It was second-nature to call out, tongue teasing, ogling himself. "Like a rookie, he wants time with the veterans... Sadly this isn't where that spells embetterment." He drooled down Kilowog's forehead, and summed it up. He went there. "Look at him. Poor, minute and with his owner's flimsiness. Poor and small like you."

Kilowog expelled spit in fury. "FUCK yerr uppity shit!!" He twitched all over; his dick did more, jacked up. Inflating.

Arkillo had him on a leash. The hand that masturbated went up top, pushed it on the Lantern, lenient only where the length could slide between it and firm Lanern hills. Kilowog was truly pecfucked... His aggressor, war criminal, put a feather in his cap while the literal shroom leaked all on Wog's thorax. "Can't stand it? Good, your virtues need a truth check! " Yelling in an angry pleasure; he took the hand away from squeezing Wog's dick to take the prude by the nape. The Lantern roared, skin pulled tight on his scalpbase. Ark lifted it; he stared down on the scenery, privy to the difference. He tried to look away, wrench his neck sidewards. Ark was simply too strong. Orders were barked. "GIVE UP, puritan!! You WILL know your state!! "

Kilowog lay sapped of strength. By will alone it wouldn't happen. Should he do as told, maybe it would ease. End sooner. Still in faith of this he complied. Eyes lay on their tools, their maleness. The canyon of contrast. The sick of before rushed through his cold sweat, centered on his rigidness. What a state that stood in. Up, pointing to chin, its tiphole other than dry.

He glowed severe, gold and green, Ark's harness and his loathing. Never had he known so close the hatred; feelings he, at war against, denied in total. His cock lay out the torn cover, rattled to its seven-long end, but the buds on two chest hills poked like trying to escape as well. The only battle left was which went hardest. Kilowog's effort now comprised of exhaling, breathing out to shallow the chest Ark 'used'. The defamer kept that grin; Kilo's manmuscle nodded, a throb much stronger now than the rebuttal he seethed. "Yuh'd say anything to slur me... Better lay off this game, its' gettin' old..." He raised lower jaw; consciousness was somewhere else, so the green flickered as it fought the gold. "Or it won't matter what you had." Aimed for the foe's heart, his next attack, a sputtering, shapeless ball. It stayed in, died silent. Starshine lit the tip of his rocket, the sphere on dickhole, handsfree-pre as mimicking the larger one.

"Talk is cheap, and you're penniless." Ark was on top of his game, and Wog, and keeping the blessed vine in mind. He bowed and struck Kilowog's snout with his. Nearly headbutt, nearly nudge. "I task you, use that puny mind! Add the years I've walked the galaxies with this!! " He shoved it up Wog's neckline; it pressed his throat, had him gurgle. "What's that many with the sum of all these inches? How much have I torn into like you can't!? " Enraged it sounded, but nothing was more smugly far from fact. Again he thrusted, choking the thick loser. He pushed nose on Kilowog's temple, then moved it. The sweaty pigman wrinkled on his touch, clear-back to the ears, where Ark settled a tease. "Have you wished yet that you're me? That your fate's not false morals, weak body or that excuse for an alleged penis? " He remembered past times, the species and women he'd stuck it to in peacetime. He could say it straightfaced, and truthful. "Some females would outdo you. We've had congress, and their clits swing wider-"

Kilowog bloated green light past the shield upon him. He rose up, grabbed Ark's slimy temple, still pumping-hard. One headbutt put him back down. The glow disspelled. Ark berated him, shoved dick on his windpipe, where blood trails soon trickled from a headbruise. "Relent, you patsy! Struggle again and I take your breath with only my DICK!! " He backed off to where his stick throbbed next to that throat; Kilowog's, who gasped air, perturbed, groaned and crumbled. Sinestro's finest ate it up, tongue a fracas in guffaws. "You'll serve me, stooge! You'll OBEY!! ONE word from me, and your heart, mind, MOUTH, ASS, ALL MINE!! "

His spear, twice what both knew Kilowog could be, agreed by fluid sent through its lucky span. It was due... He'd shown Kilowog's shortcomings, now to take hold beyond an ounce's doubt. He quit tugging, pushing dick in Kilo's pecs, to grab the brute's shoulders and do the hardest spin. Wog wound up face down, queasy. Everything ached, his singed skin, fractured bones, bruises and all the mass restricted to his dong, purple its pink was so engorged. Ark's touch had warmed, up his spine, his lats, feeling up the male emasculated. A hero scorned, shredded, shuddering when the fourteener plopped down where his crack's ditch started. Ark bent over him, made a fist; the Lantern's dick too sore just being that hard, and now Ark punched it, punishing. "It dares to be erect!? It NEVER earns that!" The subject changed, while Kilowog growled away his wails. "Have you dined on Earth, shrimp? Some nations have a treat called a 'hot dog'. And their term for something else..."

Adjustment, Ark's hips dropping lower, put him in that crack. Pre seeped down in tight, round walls he rubbed.

Wog's jagged teeth trembled. An ache was equal bodily and mental, though the wallop hurt hard from that fist. He had no clue his ears wiggled; and so long since they had, being solitary, he'd forgotten what it linked to. Biology, partner to a flow inside his swinger. Ark' could smack his lesser staff 'til doomsday, and the bone would stay stone-hard as now. He was a vessel for warm torture; neck swiveled, gasps broke out to mediate his protest. "How-f-fuckin' dare you... I-ooooh-hh..." Roaring bodysloshes, smacked around by his dick, with a bigger one riding where the ring doesn't shine. Moisture tracked musk in a taut hole.

Ark grabbed and flipped him by the two worst handles, one nip and his suffering manhood. The 'Vaxian crashed atop his own wrists. Arkillo's hands slinked under the Lantern's suit; it was pulled, ripped asunder. In the scope of seconds came to lay the shorn body of a breathless Lantern, not a square inch dry for all the sweat he leaked in fear. Ark's back stood straight as their divulgent assets, hand lowered to Wog's sphere-drawn sack like a cat's paw rest on balled yarn. "Here's your one word to fulfill: mourn."

That hand closed on. Wog's globes were his squeeze toy, if only twice, two moments where the Lantern's pain - sold by anguish and humbled - bent him in an 'S' as the grief bayed loose, flown from his diaphragm. Ark' licked his lips, fancying it stood for Sinestro. That seven-inch pipe throbbed under twice-itself, allowed to just lay and leak. Ark's clear juice dressed that hero's gut like a hot beef sundae.

Ark's other mitt wrapped his vast meat. No chance to touch fingers around it, too stately. He lifted and drop-pushed. It flogged Kilowog where everything mattered. Shadowed by approving fangs, the grief poured like water. "FFF-FFU-UHHCK... Y'-yuh God-damned devil... Rogue... J-jjjeeez-" Kilowog's scowl stayed alone as the front he put up; his arms, legs, bulges down his core thrashed in soaked goosebumps. Arkillo's plates put lines on his skin, nowhere more than the 'business' where he leaned back to strike. Half a minute gone, and Kilowog's chin dug in his own neck just to keep from shout, from struggling, from rearing back and losing it, all the fuck over his bully-captor's nightstick.

How close he came to this when Ark' bent down and used his bound form to slide, felt first from the armoured crankshaft. Veins the size of arteries weren't so much as speed bumps for Ark; the dick soon back at Lantern's throat, but with a hand's help lifted higher, glancing those lips and their angles. No care the lizard gave, not even for trails of red down the cracks giving meekly their fight. Kilowog pushed away with his tongue; no use, nothing of his could oppose it.

"You'll... Roast in hell be-... -Fore I suck that..." Even talking put heat on what he refused. Lips dug his own teeth from how hard it pulsed outside them.

"I'm that hot, so an apt swear. Now, you dwarf..." He took Wog by the ear; they even moved and twitched in his fingers, half what rhythm the belittled dong flinched, oozing, buttering with pre'. The line also tended musical; one word from evil's yap each dick-surge heartbeat. "Taste... It... With... Your... Own... Blood..."

One hand, five Ark's digits just set upon and pushed that jaw afeld. It slid in sans-trouble, the first half... Then size just had its reign, a 'Vaxian choke. Eyes of goodness scrunched; last they saw for now was Ark's gleam, that villain's gold. His tongue samba'd solo, a vibrant red snake; Kilowog's had no choice but to sense that taste, salt, funk, his own crimson, precum to chase its bitter tang. Ark had no will or grounds to stem the chide. "Mmmm, down the hatch... I trust you work better than fight..."

Kilowog sizzled to the tip of his curling toes. Ark's hand closed his mouth for him, over the bounty. It glowed; he assumed what it would do if resisted. He didn't cringe, perish the thought; but with suction, a clamp on drawing the superpole past his nasal access, down the gullet, fuck did its taste get three times stronger. Especially - unluckily - the odor'ed swamp that stewed it all day. By this Kilowog's nose scrunched; a reasonable push for shine, low in his vision, from Ark's hand. It scratched his chin, even as it threatened death. "Object to this, you die. Slack off at all, you die. Pull away and spit on him, well... You get flipped again, I stab your ass with litres of my unborn, your heart pumps white. And you die." A glowing palm, petting the pink, wet, smoldering jawline.

Kilowog lived as hope for millions. Billions. They needed his escape, his survival. Knowing this, avowed to it, he made a beefy clam, bringing it as deep as his tiredness could stuff those inches. "Mmmff... MM-MMNNNGH... MM-Mm-mm..." Humming helped the beat he kept, a token of the fairer sex past in his present place. He prayed to his people's gods, even to the council, that technique they used on him was close to right for a superior rod.

From the rich breaths of Ark, it appeared correct. His hand, luminous, entrusted Wog to nurse; in the meantime it would lift onto his own nip and twist. Right then he cared for one thing aside from pleasure in that titan Kilowog sucked; to have the loser see entirely the bliss he gave the one surpassing him. Obligated to pleasure Ark, and the darker one's claws shot to his eyelid, reverse-pinching it open. He crowed anger, only to be muzzled by the monster, pulsing, tasted, sucked in drool. Ten inches down him, and the jackass pushed more, near-half an Earth foot left to give. Pushed, and pulled, so Kilowog rage-gagged. The Lantern's lips were his goddamn glory hole.

He sighed, for victory, the hero's blow, the malice, and none anywhere like the wealth he swung, giving superthrobs. Always he felt massive, life as he knew it, but compared to having Kilowog it paled. Thus did the Lantern's face; serving him so hard the neck ached, greedy for oxygen. He hadn't even asked this... He thumbscrewed his nipple, gasped sweet ecstacy and knew what the stacked pig didn't tell.

"MMm-mnnghhh-" Kilowog dramatised, real enough in hating that hung lizard, that overladen bitch. His stomach's contents were a pint of pre, washed in spit, gore, salty from two men's pores. More came down each suffering breath he made; Ark only pulled to let him take air, and crammed it back. Kilowog's nose patted his enemy's scales.

Ark proved flexible; he bent down, groaned his impish heaven, licked the red off Wog's browline. His open fangs, his hand, the lot of him beamed. Inhabiting that bliss, power couldn't stay within. He sweat gold. Kilowog's dew wrapped his nakedness, dripped to the tatters of his Lantern suit. Muscles rolled, his thick seven smacked his lower trail hard as its contracting would do. Ark throatfucked him 'til the veins pumped that monster up to straight-fifteen. He spat on Kilowog; it passed by his eye socket, cool on sheer heat. "Fucking useless, but for this... Ahhh-hhhyess, suck you lowly shit... You wish I'd climax in there... Thirsty for a real man... Nngh, wanna eat... My better genes..." He spat again, married to his own rule. "... Like they'd fix you."

Kilowog had to hear when laughter came its darkest, filtered by groans, the man he dueled on top of him, SO deep. Arkillo wheeled with hips; not a nail's length lay unused, thrusting the poor hero's slobberway. "I'll turn you alright... Brace, and take a breath, you'll need it-" He yanked out; Wog roared as it dragged tonsils and snapped them back. Not even dizzy when he flipped again, head konked, dick under his own stomach, the hardest bone. Ark leaned in. His breath filled the fuming foe's ear. Angled back, loins to Kilo's rear, he held away and whipped a cheek. Steering out of Kilowog's space, he peeked that pink sack. Was it... Crawling? No... Flowing, a current of seed. Abuse, taking dick and jealousy: the trio for which Wog's eyes watered. He could shoot a mess up his washboard... Much more and the pink would swim in white.

Ark ordained much more. "You won't shoot, fly, if I don't say. Spread ankles." He stroked, slapped it on the hero, spurred to say what he resembled. "The pig's ripe to breed."

Ark's knees aimed him; they touched at the testes, the corruptor's so low from his targeting handle. He'd thumped the fire out Kilowog, broke him skin-to-soul. He'd shove it in like placing a rivet. Kilowog's neck flushed, in silent scream; their veins bulged like his dick's, but nothing like Ark's, ruthless, flared and penetrating. Quick as he could swing a punch, from zero to fifteen. So hard, dishing Wog's anguish, pre squirted out the ring on third plunge. Ark's tongue receded since he gnashed teeth. Arms felt larger. Dick felt longer. The hate, the vengeance, an empire on his crushed, raped pauper.

And now the Lantern could lip freely, with the beast deserting throat for a hole that burned pain. What he asserted was no real shock. "ERRGHH!! I'LL-CRUSH-YERR-SKULL'T'THE'SSSS-SOLARW-WIIIND!! FUCKER I'LL-I'LL KILL YOUR ASS!!! "

His captor burst groaning laughs, riled up and fucking what he judged a squealing pig. A guilty obstacle, still as hard now in that small gift no matter what he coughed up. Kilowog promised treason; too bad he wouldn't have it, on all-fours with that elephant gun taking manliness so fully away. The saint was his toy, his agonized doll that lived on to be used, spared just to be his pleasure tool.

What stud would he be, keeping it unsaid. "Go on, beat me! Hahah, defend your hole half like your pride! " He punched Wog's anus with a strength thrice his arm's. Plated, enormous dick flew up those thick cheeks, and the utter length it had to slide between... Wog's teeth chattered. His ears were flags in wind. Pre made lines up their floor, shot when his kegels tensed, hard as that 'Vaxian ever white-washed. Ignoring was impossible; humiliation's apex was to know he would cum. Ark screwed him like a born female, and that tyrant's dick WOULD make him orgasm, no doubt after getting his own extraordinary peak.

Ark had to fucking say it. "CLENCH and DESPAIR, you FAGGOT!! " He reached down and punched the seven-incher; by God it almost couldn't move at all, diamonds were less hard. He 'empathized', pushing the furthest thing from rope. Throbs flared his cockplates; Kilowog lightly hemmhoraged. Pre' came in so hot and fast the scrapes cauterized. Ark reached back, slashing roads on ass muscle. Nothing could he speak unmoaned, nonsnickered. "YOU WANT this!! Hide your misery, butoh-hhh-SAY you don't LOVE CATCHING~!! " The end warbled, blessed by tingles in his beerkeg-girth. Laughing, railing the loser, Wog's poor todger firing preseed in the worst bliss.

The Lantern's body reached where tensing happened every clear spritz. No scratch of Ark's dickedges made his rectum red as his poor penis... It suffered most, heading up to shoot. Wog's eyelids closed hard as able; he cursed more and louder, dick harder and hotter. "YUH'LL BE MINCE-MM-MMEAT!! THEY'LL NEVER FIND A BIT'V'YHH-HHH-FUUUUCK!! " His knees lay white, 'gnawing' ground like open vice.

Ark went faster. Crueller. He hissed to that fuckslave, spat up his clammy back. "YOU CAN'T SAVE THIS CLASH!! CAN'T SAVE THE DOZENS I'VE KILLED!! " Evil embodied, whose dickhead went up in Wog's lungs. He staved the protests; his enemy just wheezed, HE screamed payback. "GONE ARE YOUR FRIENDS, MII-IIGHT AND MANHOOD!! " It approached. He carved into that hole, his whole body wet as Kilowog's. Neck dipped, and he laid tongue down to his own pecs. Loving his own body, ripped and perfect, so hung, so edged. The fluid migrated; it left his nuts, hiked them up an inch. It was happening. He clawed Wog's left lat. "YYYOUU'RRE MINE AND I'M-STUFFING YOOOOUUUU!!! "

The pink male shook; fists made so hard they burst hand capillaries. "NNNNOOOOOOO-RGHHN-N-H!! " His head clunked the gold below; tailing his scream came a dilution, subby whines. Injection. Cream of a scaled scamp, up in thick Wog ass. The cheeks closed hard, in shock just from the first two pints. Ark's ride tightened; all the sudden it was finer still to ride that pink loser, slamming with his orgasm. Evil's power was unquestioned: shooting loads, scrambling hero guts with that enormity, and the snubs kept right on. "YOU CAN'T-CUM-RIGHT!! I FEEEEL THAT-SORRY-PEAK, WORM!! " Wog's chin beat the floor like he'd never beat Arkillo. Jizz roped up to his neck's-length, under wet muscle, sweat-cooked as he blew. Ark did know each jump, each crumple and ballooning of 'Vaxian prostate sending Wog's spooge; hard not to if his conduit slid on it all that long way.

He could barely stand the pleasure in his own mass; tongue made rotor-swings as he controlled his waist, but jerked wild in arms and neck. Fifteen fat euphoric inches. More than twice Wog's dick, likewise to the orgasm. Raw just from throbbing that hard. Rutting Wog's asshole, killing good with pain and its humbled O-cries. Wog faced facts, but stopped mid-breath and held it. His face may flush, chest burn in denial, but Ark heard no more submission.

Lantern's eyes fogged. He still clubbed the ground, fucked by a haul above Earth's porn stars. It took more than courage to be mum adding that to his searing ejaculate. Cum kept flying; his dick betrayed him, made to lose loads when Ark's had. Hate in totality bound them, but this they shared. Ark's hand sliced more layers of backskin. Crazed with power, shooting cream and Wog's veneer's resurrection. Feasts worth of white backed out Wog's hole. "YOU-UNNNGHHH!!! YOU-MAINTAIN!!? HA-HHHHFUCK... THAT ENDS NOW!! " He concocted how to weather this peak; how to bring Wog's second whore-tide; how to shock the swole swine past all return. The seven-incher still iced floor with jets; his monster hose sprayed as much fucking poor Wog, as it did when pulled out.

Ark screamed bass. Native of Vorn, of their traits, he could do what few in the universe dreamed. Leaning palm on Wog's slashed spinal hide, he emptied bladder, bathing foe with cum and piss. White globs, yellow rain, sprayed across his victim. Too strong a bliss for him to speak more, not even weak in dominance without. His mind would carry torch, buzzing with those truths empleasured.

'How the Guardians must weep, to see their pride this way. I smite his strength, route him, expose his shame.'

Kilowog's jaws would sand each down if not shaped to lock. Breath condensed on their gold platform. Gutteral whines, in hell by Ark's heaven, now a beefcake in lung tantrums. Semen washed him, wizz dripped from his lats, arms, ass. More 'dotted' came the bubbly saliva.

'I use his brokenness; I spit on his wish to be as great as me. I piss on what's left, and my reign still comes.'

Ark's sack lowered, wrung out of its last drops. Endowed with bladder as like all his instruments, the last gobbed cream left slingshot. Ark's caffeinated milk - breakfast at the local Sector's diner - he'd recycled to the bitter end. Wog's, in essence; the hero dropped faint and atrophied. Barely breathing, his dick weeping white like his eyes unhued. Between this pale stop, and the red of burn and blood, a perfect hot pink he encapsulated.

Ark held his hanging chub, the last of manpiss showering, pouring down Wog's crack. Sighs, contented and mild as scum like him could be. In Wog's dreamlike state, evil's touch broke his stupor. Scales and claws petted his gaping wounds, hot in jism, urine, sweat, pre, blood... The list appalled. Ark tugged out final drops, and went on stroking; no man ever loved himself as like this potent plague. "You've done as you were made for. Always, I knew you lived for something; YOU would think it's to defend. Verily it's me you were destined for. Through your negligence, my age begins." He dipped down, cloying and cruel; a finger dipped in Wog's hole; roars and squirms, and THEN the claw came out, raking that abused tunnel. "Leaving, I undo your shackles. You'll rise with arms emancipated, myself far from reach. And secrets don't revert. Not even poor half-men like you squeal and purge cum when fucked, if repulsed. Hope your closet's cozy. Like your manhood's curse-" He reached down, took the leaking, sore chub, and tugged, knowing nice gestures would torment a gun that shot so hard. "-Try forever to change this, you forever fail. Live with yourself."

He leaned his lowest; on that wide back he could slink snakish, lubed in such ways. Wog threatened five ways to kill him in the time it took Ark's core to imprint on him. Each valley was learned, the scourge curved neck up to Wog's ear, and as it twitched, he shot that tongue's fork down its flap. Even that hole, penetrated. Ark's breath-heat from devastating bliss, a new memory he'd drag along for life.

Soon the burden of sensations made each alone trivial. Conjecture that his suffering this caused, when the chain upon his wrists faded. Their mass fell limp and merely floated, no gold below to hold them as dirt. Hypothesize for luck he drifted, eyes drunk, faced fortuitously opposite the path where Ark's colour zoomed him off to conquest. Guess that he floated longer than some other might, allowance made for injuries and rest. Around him shaped a sphere of liquid. In that wisp of place and time, the smallest quasi-star. A green dwarf. Surface of salt, water, protein, non-ice but for its warm core. Organic, pulsing, sentient of one man who hung him out to dry. Pulsing.

Sector 203. Where thoughts of Arkillo built the 'star' more layer's cum. At least Wog's arm and hands still worked. Up and down they proved this, and he tuned out the future. Return to the Guardians, or trainees, or the multitudes. The worst lay impending.

~End~