Sunday, September 13, 2015

MS. MARVEL (Ms. Marvel#2, 2006)

There’s so much one can say about girls and tentacles. There’s something there that goes beyond the deepest uncanny valley. Something that connects to the concept I like to call paneros (pan-eros), the eroticization of all material things, living or inanimate, in the presence of women. In modern comic books, however, tentacles tend to be rarer than an intelligent feminist. They hark back to the glorious times of pulp fiction, of bug-eyed monsters vying to take our pure earth damsels to their dark holes, there to do unspeakable things. And unspeakable they were, as we were never told about what really happened in those sinister recesses. Oh, but in our imagination… we didn’t have to wait for Corman’s GALAXY OF TERROR (1981). Oh, no, siree. We knew, in some hazy fuzzy way that it would somehow involve the tearing apart of the girl’s clothing and the strong caressing of her trembling soft, warm, flesh. 

And that's the same thing we imagine even when the girl in trouble is none-other than super-powerful, über-hot Ms. Marvel. Oh, how we itch to have eight tentacled penisoid arms and Ms. Marvel in our grip. And so, our thanks go to Mr. Roberto de la Torre, for this magnificent scene. I’m sure he went as far as he dared in slipping one through the tight net of politically correct vigilance. And, for a fleeting instance, in the secret code of fan boy global fraternity, he transmutes the fight of Carol Danvers against the Brood in a collective rape. Her body, asphyxiated by the hard pulsating tentacles of the Brood warriors, contorts as if penetrated, a soft moan escaping from her sexy mouth, through clenched teeth. And, in true otaku fashion, there’s even a hint of a tentacle nested between her ample breasts.

It’s a strange, inspired, rendering of the Pietá: a solar heroine, fallen in the lubricious clutches of an enemy without mercy. And it’s sexy as hell, blessed be Chtulhu.

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