22 August 2006
The altar men carried the struggling Bryan to the marble altar. They held him as two naked black muscular attendants entered from the preparation room. They raised the large wooden cross off its base and laid it on top of the altar. The six men wrested the screaming Bryan onto the cross, holding him down on it with his arms stretched out over the shorter crossmember. Bryan’s whole body was trembling by this time with fear of the unknown.
You are honored above all men, for these are the nails from the Christus death cross. They were passed down from bishop to bishop, directly from the hands of St. Antonius.”
I held one of the shorter spikes against Bryan’s left wrist. His face went pale as I raised the olive mallet above my head.
I crossed to the other side and drove the other short spike into his right wrist, which emitted a fresh geyser of blood and shattered bits of bone and muscle gore.
I reached back into the relic drawer and drew out a crown of thorns. This crown was made of steel, with barbs placed so that they would pierce the skull in several places. I forced it onto Bryan’s head. His eyes rolled freely in their sockets.
Sacrifice was about to end. The bishop handed me his golden spear and I lunged forward and embedded it under Bryan’s ribcage. His mouth opened and a torrent of bloody vomit fell from it. I managed to catch it on my face and reveled in it. Congregants began withdrawing stones from boxes under the pews and throwing them at Bryan. His body winced and twisted on the cross, but he had no defense. The altar men regained self control and began prodding his torso with their spears, leaving small bloody gashes everywhere. I raised the mallet again and smashed his kneecaps, leaving his legs hanging limply from his hips. He was muttering gibberish and could no longer focus his eyes. One of the altar men pierced his right eye with the lance and laughed as the jelly-like contents of the eyeball coursed down Bryan’s cheek. Another jabbed his spear into Bryan’s anus, sawing back and forth as a volley of bloody shit and guts fell down the crossI picked up the lance and looked at the bishop. He nodded. All fell silent as I positioned the tip at Bryan’s flaccid cock. I began to hack at it and Bryan began whimpering weakly. A flow of blood poured from the gash, and with a few more strokes, the cock and balls fell to the floor.
Blessed Be St. Antonius, Killer of the Christus, Patron of Bodily Cruelty and Ultimate Desecration and Condemnation
Posted by Constantine at 22.8.06