Odin’s Visit


It was mid winter, and the celebration of the turn of the darkness had already started. The children were waiting for Odin to come with gifts, as they all thought they had been nice this year. But Freidis knew Solvar had not. She was the only one who knew. She hadn’t told anyone.

Solvar looked at her, with a nasty grin. He knew as well. He knew. And he would do it again, she was sure of it. She hated him, but most of all she was scared. He would not get any gifts this year, she thought. He wouldn’t get any gifts at all.

The pig was slaughtered. The fire burned in the fireplace, and the smoke rose up towards the hole in the roof. The smell of grilled grease filled the room, like it did every winter at this time. They were all ready to eat when the heard the noise on the roof: Odin’s eight legged horse. They ran outside to look for the gifts. There were no gifts there.

Solvar got upset. Stupid Odin, he said.

But, Solvar, be careful! Said his mum. One should not speak badly of the gods. They could hear you.

Solvar didn’t care. He went inside, into the big room which was their house. Someone was there. A huge man, with a soft, pointed hat on his head. Red clothes. He turned slowly around. Solvar could see him now. Odin. His big, white beard. The sack of gifts he always carried. But the sack was empty.

I know what you did to your sister, said Odin. His one eye lit up in lust for punishment. The other was an empty socket. Solvar started backing towards the door.

Ho ho ho! Laughed Odin as Solvar turned and ran towards the door. It shut. He slammed on the door, shouting for his mum. No answer.

No one can hear you! You’re already gone! Solvar could see his horse now as well. The living room was diffuse, somehow. Fading. He was cold. Odin grabbed him. Solvar tried to fight, but Odin was a god. He threw Solvar into the sack.

Ho ho ho! He jumped on his horse. They flew into the night and disappeared.

Freidis came into the room. There were gifts all over. Her brother was not there. She had already known. He wouldn’t get any gifts this year. He wouldn’t get any gifts at all.



Cold is a State of Mind


He went out to look at the stars. It was a beautiful winter night. White, clean snow was covering the land and trees. Everything was just the way he liked it.

He walked down to the lake, the nice frozen lake, when he heard someone calling from the other side. A girl’s voice, beautiful, like she was singing.

He crossed the bare ice, the wind had taken the snow. On the shore it was harder to walk. There, in the shadow of the fir trees he saw her. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Hello! He said. Aren’t you cold? She had only a small string shirt and panties on. Her curves were perfect, her eyes deep and mysterious. Her blond hair fell softly around her shoulders.

Cold is a state of mind, she said with a puzzled look. Are you… cold?

Yes, he answered, warming his body with his arms. It’s freezing out!

Come, she said. Her eyes sparkled with teasing lust. Was this real? He moved closer. She took his hand.

Can you feel my heart beating? She asked. He couldn’t. He felt her tit, though. And his own heart beating faster. She stood up. Laughed. Kissed him. Her tongue in his mouth. She took off his clothes. He didn’t feel the cold any more. He felt good. Her hands all over his body. His chest. His abdomen. His cock.

Her panties fell to the ground.

They made beautiful love in the snow. They lay watching the stars until sleep carried them away. Why am I not cold? He thought as his mind wandered off into dreamland. Cold is a state of mind, he heard her voice say from a far, like a warm wind of beauty.

His parents found him the day after, frozen to death in the snow. No one ever found out why he had crossed the river and undressed. There were no other footprints than his.



Beyond Faith and Reason


The Strange Nest

the strange nest.jpg

They had gone on a trip with Andrew’s dads canoe, and stopped at a cabin in the woods. The door was closed but unlocked. They went in to have a look. An adventure! Mary was  thrilled.

Inside the hut was furnished and neat. It looked as if there had been someone there just recently, and they cleaned before they left.

There was something odd, though. A kind of strange nest in the corner. It was different from any nest they had ever seen. Cool! Said Andrew. He went over to the nest, took a fork from the drawer just underneath and poked it. A strange sound from inside the nest. He jumped back. Laughed. He went closer again. Looked into a hole in the side of the nest. Put his nose in front of it. Sniffed. Something came shooting out of the hole. Into his nose.

Aaaaah!! What was that?

Let me see! Said Mary. She looked into his nose. Nothing there but the same strange sound. I don’t know, she said. Looked like some kind of creep.

Disgusting! Shouted Andrew. He was blowing his nose in the tablecloth, but only snot came out. He blew harder.

His head exploded. Blood splattered on the walls, leaving the room red. Mary didn’t even scream. She just stared at the body on the floor. All the blood. What the fuck just happened?

Mary ran. She ran in terror. When she couldn’t run any more she sat down and cried helplessly.

She called the police when she got to the village. They went out to the cabin to have a look, although they didn’t really believe her. They entered the cabin carefully. It was clean and neat as if someone cleaned it just a while ago. A strange nest were hanging in the corner.



Stupid Mutant

Lab Rat


In the top secret military laboratory in Rockfield they were experimenting on animals. Gene manipulating substances were put into rats to see how they could improve their strength, intelligence, size… everything. One day one of them grew out of size. The cage broke.

Jimson was working late hours. He heard strange noises from the lab, and went in to have a look. It was the last thing he ever did.

The rat monster broke out of the laboratory. The small town was in horrible danger.

Johnny and Jessica were sitting in Jessica’s car making out. Johnny’s hands were feeling her up, touching her firm tits. She could feel his cock on her tie. He was horny, and it turned her on. She already had shagged a few guys and every time she liked it more, but she really liked Johnny. She didn’t want things to be going too fast. Johnny, no… She said. Johnny calmed down. They kept kissing. Soon he was touching her again, this time the inside of her ties. She liked it. She let him go on. He was feeling her panties. She couldn’t resist no more. Her hips started move, pushing against his hand.  His fingers slipped inside the fabric, touching her most intimate parts.

Something appeared in the window.

Johnny! She said abruptly.

Johnny kept going. Come on, baby, he said. Just a little bit…

No! Johnny NO!!

He jumped back. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…

T-the window!

He could see the terror in her eyes. He turned around. The creature’s head entered the window, bit his throat, ripped it out. She opened the door and ran out. Running down the hills she heard steps behind her. She fell. Her screams stopped after a few seconds.

Martin were coming home from work. Night shift. He unlocked the door and was about to go in when he heard something behind him. He turned around, thought it was some kid or a dog or something. He saw a monster. Huge, rat like with red, glowing eyes. He was dead before he had time to scream.

The door was open, and the monster went in. In the bedroom Martin’s young wife was waiting. Martin, is that you? There was no answer. She got out of bed, walked out in the hall in her transparent night dress. She went into the living room. The creature were lying in the darkness. She saw nothing. She went over to the other side of the room, looked out of the window. She almost stepped on the tail on the floor. She didn’t see it. She went into the kitchen. She made a cup of herbal tea, and she wanted to take it to the bedroom. Martin would be home soon.

She crossed the hall towards the stairs up to second floor. She stopped. The front door was open. That’s strange…? She was sure she had closed it, even locked it when she came home. She got nervous. Was it Martin?

Martin? She said. No answer. This was too strange. She was getting scared. She went slowly over to the door. She saw her husband ripped to pieces on the stairs. She was in shock. She stumbled back into the house. She had to hold on to the wall. The room was spinning. This could not be happening. No… She said. No! She looked up. Two glowing red eyes were staring at her from the living room. She turned and ran towards the door. Claws dug into her back. A cup of herbal tea broke against the stone stairs where Martins dead body were lying.

The rat moved out into the street. It’s mouth was covered with blood. The night was still young.



Beyond Faith and Reason


Metapost The Widget from Hell

Today’s my birthday, and I feel like talking about something nicer than animal torture and the end of the world (which shouldn’t be too hard to find). Let’s take a look at one of my earliest stories, The Widget from Hell.

It’s a story about a teenage boy who scowls school to jerk off to internet porn, and isn’t really meant to be anything more than a fun story, which is a good reason for making a story after all.

Still, a lesson can be found, although quite ironic. He regrets scowling school when he goes to hell. I don’t know how many people actually believe teenagers go to hell for scowling school and watching porn, but some do. I don’t.

So to all you teenage boys out there, don’t scowl school to watch porn. Not because you’ll go to hell, but because it’s probably a good idea to do well in school and internet porn isn’t really that healthy. It’s better to use your imagination or even get a girlfriend (first one might be easier than the second. Remember: In school there (hopefully) are girls).

Your imagination might come in handy later in life, like for example for making a blog, and a girlfriend is usually a lot more fun than your right hand (If you prefer boys, just change the “girl-” for “boy-”, and girls, the same advice goes for you-  no masturbating in school hours). Not that I really care, just some friendly advise.

Here’s a comic illustrating my point: http://www.stanleycolors.com/2012/11/tissues-and-lube/.

My story was created from the title. It kind of just occurred to me, and I wanted to make something of it. It is one of my shortest stories so far.


The ink illustration came out wrong, and I had to change it a bit to make the character look like the one in the story. It is about a Scandinavian teenager. The original illustration looked like a Moroccan man in his late thirties, which would not fit too well, really. So I had to change it with my rather poor knowledge of Gimp image editor (free, open source and recommendable). It didn’t turn out that well, but I didn’t really have much readers anyway.


Mink Farm Revenge


The door opened. Fear ran through the hall like a wind of terror. No one even breathed. Steps. Slowly down the path. A snort. He stopped. The Man. The man of death. She made herself as small as possible. The man was standing in front of her cage. They were five now, and they were crawling on top of each other, biting each other, eating each other. They had been up to ten in the small cage. One was lying dead in the corner. He had been dead for quite a while. He was starting to smell.

A cage door opened. It was the neighbour cage. A mink was pulled out. Screaming, fighting. Another nameless animal was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do. He was carried over to the death-pole, put it up his rectum. Electricity made him shiver for a moment. Then he died. He was flayed, and the skin was thrown in a bag. The rest was thrown in another container, already stuffed, and it smelled of rotting meat. Everything smelled of rotting meat.

The Man left snorting his nose, spitting in the meat pile. There had to be at least a hundred dead minks in there.

The farm was a hell of suffering. Every animal was just waiting to be murdered in overstuffed cages. They were biting each other, sometimes to death. The dead minks often lay there for days.

Her sister had been chewing on her own leg for quite a while, and lately she had been chewing on her sister’s leg as well, ravished by madness. Her sister was in horrific pain.

Suddenly number five heard some strange noises from the pile of skinned bodies. She looked over curiously. She didn’t know much about anything, and death was really a bit beyond her possibilities of understanding, but even so, a skinned mink should not move. Her instincts were screaming this should not happen. They were moaning in pain, moving in a strange way. The Man came into the hall again. He was big. He went over to the cages. She cowered in fear. He open her cage this time. Grabbed her. Carried her over to the corner of death. She fought bravely, but he was way too strong. He took the pole. Held it in his hand, looking at her in a strange way. He seemed to enjoy it.

Ouch! He said. A dead mink had bitten his leg. What the fuck…? He kicked the carcass to the other side of the room. But there were more. They were crawling on the floor, pouring out of the container. He dropped number five. She jumped over the the skinless animals. She was even more afraid of them than of the Man. She pressed herself into a corner. The man was kicking away the carcasses, but they were too many. They were climbing up on him, jumping onto him from top of the cages. Covered with bloody pieces of meat he fell. They were biting him. Tearing his clothes off. Eating his skin.

One tried to pick up the electrifier. It was too heavy. Two others came to help. The rest held the screaming farmer down as they showed it up his arsehole. He was shaking, making strange noises. 

His wife came, opened the door. She had heard her husband’s screams. She screamed as well when she saw the horrible sight of her man flayed on the floor.

Help me-ee… he managed to say dying.

The zombie minks charged at her. She fell. Our mink ran out the open door and into the forest never to come back. Behind her she could hear the screams of the butcher’s wife further and further away.

One link for fun https://flash-365.com/2016/10/21/the-fox-and-the-bear/

and one for information http://www.furfreealliance.com/fur-farming/

Keep reading The End of Days




Jackson had won the elections. He was now the most powerful man in the country.

His political career had been astonishing, and his light and easy relationship to laws had paid off good. He used to be quite a idealist, he thought. He used to believe everyone should be happy. Lately over the years he had changed, he now felt there was a reason why he was rich and others poor. They sucked, he rocked. He hated the poor and the weak. They were disgusting.

He started his presidency good. It was a new life! Everyone wanted to talk to him, and people did what he said in a new way. He got used to it. Soon he became the most powerful president ever. He owned most of the media, and a big share of everything else, and he changed some laws to make things easier.

Power gave him a good feeling. He felt big. He even looked bigger. One day he realized he was bigger. He was taller. Wider. Heavier. His charisma reached new levels. People did whatever he said. Whatever. He felt good. Lots and lots of power. Lots and lots of pleasure.

His skin started stretching. It was even getting annoying.

I’m worried about you, his wife said one day. You look strange.

He laughed. I feel better than ever!

When he woke up the next day his skin had a huge rift in his back. It was itching. He started scratching. His skin pealed off like the skin of an orange. All of it. He looked in the mirror. He saw a monster. His skin was pinkish, ugly. His flesh was bulging out in a strange way, like an over-strapped meat loaf. Still, he felt good. He went to office. People looked at him strangely, but no one said anything. He called his closest counsellors and secretaries for a meeting.

What do we do? Asked Minister Maple. The people can’t see you like this. You look like a monster!

The others agreed, he was really not representative for the government. Jackson didn’t.

I’m  stronger than ever! He said, and explained to them how this would show people who’s really in charge. They just had to do the right marketing.

We need to use this new situation, he said. People needed to see that their president was more than human.

I’m the strongest president ever!

He convinced them all. It was like people could not say against him. Like if he had some kind of rhetoric superpower. They started putting up posters everywhere. They made a campaign on how their president had changed for the people. Vote for a president with power! was the slogan. He won again.

How stupid people are! He thought one night he went to sleep. They bought anything if it was sold the right way. People had a lot less rights than four years ago, and still they voted for him. The economy were going quite bad for anyone that wasn’t already ridiculously rich, and he were accused of several corruption issues. He even looked like a monster! People didn’t seem to care.

But lots of people were unsatisfied as well. They had no rights. No jobs. No money. There were riots in the streets, protests on the internet. The protests got stronger, the protesters more. He had taken away all their civil rights to protect the people against terror, but people seemed to have gotten the scam. Mani-festers were invading public buildings. The police seemed to be doing nothing more than beat the crap out of them, tied by laws he had to change as soon as possible. He was loosing control.

If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself! He thought and went out in the streets for the first time in a long time, escorted by police and security forces. There was a demonstration down town. Windows had been broken, cars lit on fire.

He could see the fear in peoples eyes when he arrived. He was big now, big as a truck. He had tentacles and fangs. Riot police surrounding him as he pushed into the crowd. He threw people around. Some he ate. He liked it. Power. People fled as he grew bigger and bigger. The police did as he said. He was the president. He was in power.

Some demonstrators were throwing rocks, but it wasn’t doing him anything. He laughed. Muahahaha!!! Die, minions! He shouted. Die!!! The excitement became unbearable. He felt pain in what would have been his chest if he still had one. It was hard to breath. He grabbed a policeman. Help! He managed to say. Help m..! He fell to the ground.

A medic! Shouted Officer Johnson. We need a medic! But there was no medic around. Just lots of protesters. They were surrounded. Johnson was overpowered by people. They took away his shield and weapons. The others also lost control.

The president is dead! Shouted people. The president is dead! People ran out in the streets. They entered town halls. The police no longer fought them. The presidential offices were taken over. The government was overthrown. It was over.

There would be no more presidents. Presidents were too dangerous.



The Witch Doctor

Metapost Conspiracy


Conspiracy is a story on the connection between power and religion. The story takes place in Mesoamerica, but it could be anywhere, in any civilization or religion. I removed the temple in the ink version to make the first impression a bit more universal.

The conspiracy consists in scaring people with lies to stay in power, and I made human sacrifice a symbol of the horrors people suffer because of these lies. Human sacrifice is just one of many ways people have been tricked into accepting repression, and religion is just one of many means to keep it that way.

Today the sacrifice has taken other forms.