Wrath James White presents Poisoning Eros I & II

by Monica J. O'Rourke

  She turned her attention now to Nathan. “You,” she said, trying to put the self-confidence in her voice she didn’t quite feel yet. Trying to sound the way she imagined a god should. “Come rescue him if it means so much to you.”

  He looked up at her. “Ruh-really?” He wiped the snot and tears from his face.

  “Better hurry. I don’t think he can breathe in there.”

  Nathan swallowed hard again and licked his lips. With one great effort he got up off his knees and hurried to the bed. “Bless you,” he said, near hysterics. “You are magnificent. You are truly a goddess.”

  Gloria watched as he reached inside the whore. The baby had stopped crying, but that didn’t dissuade his efforts. He gently pulled the tiny feet until they were protruding from the hole.

  “You’re too slow!” she said. “Here—let me give you a hand.”

  And with that, she grabbed Nathan’s head and began to push him inside the dead whore’s snatch. He screamed and punched blindly, but she held him steady, slowly shoving him inside, his head inside the cavity now. Gloria’s tremendous muscles strained as she forced him inside the whore’s bleeding vagina, tearing it wide, cracking the woman’s pelvic bone and separating it as Nathan’s shoulders followed his head into the dead woman’s uterus, and then his arms, pinned against his torso. The whore’s body was acting like a giant anaconda, seeming to contract and expand to accommodate Nathan’s body, tearing and splitting as Gloria forced him farther inside. Nathan’s muffled screams echoed through the bleeding rents in the prostitute’s abdomen. Dripping red muscle fibers and popcorn-colored globs of fat gleamed through the large open wounds, and through those, she could see Nathan’s face, no longer screaming, turning blue. Gloria pushed from one end while holding the mother’s body still with her other hand, until Nathan was buried up to his hips inside the dead flesh.

  The whore’s body had split like a cheap suit up the middle, and mother, baby, and Nathan began to ooze out through the gaps, a liquefying mess of blood and fecal matter. The whore’s legs were almost perpendicular, her body split like a wishbone. The lower half of Nathan’s body hung out from between her splayed legs, kicking and twitching a bizarre Saint Vitus dance that made it look like the whore was still alive and convulsing, trying to give birth to a man-sized baby.

  “Did you find him yet?” she said, laughing, crying, breathing hard as if about to come. “Did you find him yet?” she said louder, as if he simply hadn’t heard her. She would have been incredibly shocked had Nathan been able to answer. She knelt down and kissed Nathan’s lips where his face was visible between the whore’s ruptured ribcage. One breast saturated in blood flopped on the side of his face.

  She whispered, her lips still touching his. “Still think I’m magnificent?” Tears ran down her cheeks onto his lifeless face.

  Vlad looked stunned. He wiped his palm across his face and raised his brows. “Well damn,” he muttered. “I think that took care of your little humanity issue.”

  Gloria climbed off the bed and approached Vlad. She wiped her last tears from her eyes and flicked them away and with them, her last connection to humanity. “We have work to do.”

  Vlad was obviously aware that a shift had taken place and he fell easily into this new order. Gloria knew that to him, this was just a new opportunity to exploit as soon as he could figure out how. But Gloria was in charge now.

  Vlad nodded. “We do. What did you have in mind?”

  Gloria smiled.

  Part VIII

  They were legion; thousands of confused, lost souls waiting for direction. Over the internet, watching as Vlad filmed the entire event and broadcast it around the world, hundreds of thousands more—millions—waited. They sat in their bedrooms alone or in couples or threesomes. Groups had assembled at parties to watch it. Across Japan, Russia, Germany, Sweden, and other countries, stadiums and concert arenas were filled with people watching on giant screens.

  Gloria had become a celebrity thanks to Vlad. Hers was the world’s fastest growing religion, and she was its spiritual leader. It had all begun with a young couple broadcasting sex on a webcam, followed by their joint-suicide in Gloria’s name after reaching orgasm: slitting each other’s carotid arteries and bleeding out while still in the act of coitus, all carefully planned and orchestrated by Vlad. This had spawned copycats. Couples fucking on camera then shooting each other, stabbing each other, taking sleeping pills, overdosing on heroin, all in the name of Gloria, with each death spread in living color on the internet.

  Then Vlad had upped the ante by organizing the first suicide party. More than a hundred kids had come. A massive orgy watched by thousands around the world ending in a bloodbath as knives were passed out among the partiers, and blood was spilled all for the glory of Gloria.

  More followed. Many more. It had become a world-wide epidemic of sex and death. After each event Gloria would come online to issue a statement, praising the suicides for their loyalty and promising them endless rewards in the afterlife, where she vowed she would soon join them. It had taken on a life of its own. Soon tapes were popping up from every country showing similar orgy/suicides for Gloria—just as Vlad had said would happen. And Gloria praised each one in fiery speeches written by Vlad that she was getting better and better at delivering, whipping her followers into a frenzy and inspiring more sex/suicides. It had all culminated in this, the Mass Exodus as Vlad liked to call it. The lost and the damned from around the world had heeded her call. Midnight. Halloween. Corny, but as Vlad, had assured her, humans like the familiar. They like their rituals and traditions. That’s why Christmas and Easter were celebrated during the winter and summer solstices, on Pagan holidays. The familiar. Tradition.

  Her followers were everywhere, assembled before her. Around the world. Waiting. And Gloria was in place to guide them, instruct them. Lead them. She still felt so lost herself. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she made it back to hell. Vlad was acting confident but she wasn’t even sure that he knew what would happen. She was making it up as she went, following her instincts and her anger. It didn’t matter. They would follow blindly. They loved her. They called her a god. She was, at the least, a good surrogate. At least she was here. At least she had bothered to show herself. At least they could talk to her, touch her, fuck her. This made her far greater than the god many of them had grown up worshipping. God who wasn’t there, who was never there. Had never been there.

  They would follow her to the ends of hell and earth. And it seemed to Gloria many of them had no idea just how literal this was going to be.

  “You have exceeded the Masters’ wildest expectations,” Vlad said “They will be delighted.”

  “You know I’m not going back there for them.”

  “Oh, but you will be rewarded. You will be handsomely rewarded for all that you’ve done.” Vlad wasn’t stupid. Evil, petty, greedy, but not stupid.

  She was sure he knew what she was planning. He just wanted to hear her say it. Once it was spoken aloud there would be no going back. “I don’t want anything from them. I’m taking it all.”

  Vlad flashed his shark’s grin. “All?”

  “I’m not going to be a victim anymore. I’m never going to let anyone control me again. Not you. Not them. Not even God. I’m taking all of it. And you’re going to help me.”

  “Oh, Gloria. You know that wasn’t the plan.”

  “Plans change,” she’d said. “I know what my mission is supposed to be, but I have to do this. If you aren’t with me then you know what’ll happen to you if I’m successful. All of those people who have gone to hell for me already are waiting, and talking to the others about my coming, making more converts. Just like I told them to. And when I get there with a million souls backing me, it’ll be like the second coming. All of hell will bow before me.”

  Vlad was still smiling, still calculating. “Of course, you have my undying loyalty. I hope it all turns out like you think it will.”

  Vlad’s smile bothered Gl
oria. There was something knowing about it, as if he knew something that he wasn’t saying. Something vital, something that might change everything. But Vlad was a con-man and there was never any way of knowing when he was bluffing. This time, Gloria was positive his hand was empty.

  Vlad was receptive to her ideas because they included him. Because they would mean great power for both. And because he was admittedly an opportunistic fuck, he was willing to try anything. Of course failure would mean an eternity of misery and suffering, but hey, what else was new? That perverted fuck had long ago learned to enjoy the miseries of hell. And she had at least learned how to endure them.

  The crowd had outgrown the small church, and in the middle of the night Gloria had taken them en masse to the Band Shell area inside Central Park. There they posted sentries around the perimeter, welcoming new worshippers and turning away protesters and those trying to stop the coming massacre. Anyone was welcome to join, but the few indigent stragglers or hapless late-night joggers that turned out to be more curious rubberneckers than loyal followers were sucked in and forced to participate whether they wanted to or not. Once you were in, there was no leaving.

  Gloria knew the police would be along at any time but didn’t care. She could handle anything that came along, but she hated distractions. Cops would definitely be a pain in the ass she could do without.

  Thousand of faces waited for Gloria to speak. Despite the volume of people it grew deathly quiet as Gloria stepped up on the Band Shell stage—where Duke Ellington, Irving Berlin, and The Grateful Dead had once performed—and addressed her followers.

  “We have a mission,” she said, her voice booming loudly, heard by all without a microphone or speakers. “You know what you have to do.”

  The crowd nodded, muttered yeses, waited for more.

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes!” was the resounding, thunderous, overwhelming reply.

  “Do you love this world?”

  “No!”

  “And what about him?” Gloria pointed up to the heavens. “Do you love him?’

  “No!”

  “Then come with me. It is, as they say, far better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. Follow me and I promise you, you will not suffer. We will rule eternity together and live forever in paradise! ”

  The crowd cheered, some screaming and crying and calling her name until she raised her hand for silence.

  “You will fall into the Lake of Fire. Some will be snatched away, delivered into heaven. We will come for you. Prepare those you meet there for our arrival. There will be no more separation between heaven and hell. The reign of God and Satan has ended!”

  She studied the faces in the crowd for a moment, looking for doubt, looking for anyone she felt might be considering heaven as an alternative to doing her bidding. Satisfied, she continued. “Those of you who fall into the Lake of Fire—and this will be most of you—climb to the banks and wait for me. Demons will grab you, but I will save you! I will all save you! You are one of us now. We are all in this together, and we cannot be stopped. We cannot be denied!”

  The crowd cheered again, unable to help themselves, unbearably excited . It was a good speech. Vlad had done a great job writing it. He had a rare talent for manipulation. He had done an equally impressive job coaching her to read it, like he always did. Like he had been sent here to do. Gloria looked over at him. He was still grinning. She wondered if he had known that this was how it was going to end from the start, if he had somehow planned it all. Because if it was part of his plan then it was part of the Masters’ plan and she was once more being used as a pawn in a game she couldn’t understand. It would mean she was once again a victim.

  Gloria paused. What if this was all part of some demonic divine plan? What should she do? She looked around at the throngs of teeming humanity, all assembled to follow her to hell. Was it too late to turn back? She thought about all the hundreds of people she had already talked into committing suicide in her name, the deluded fools she’d fucked and murdered in her little basement temple, and the baby, the whore’s baby, and Nathan. She looked back out at the crowd.

  “We love you, Gloria!”

  They had no idea what they were saying. They knew nothing about love. Neither did Gloria. She had thought she loved her husband and daughter but then she had left them for drugs and sex and the ridiculous idea of fame. She had thought that they had forgiven her, that they had still loved her, but then they had tricked her and sent her to hell. She had even thought she loved the Masters … and Madria. But there was no such thing as love in her world. She knew that now. There was only lust and sex and pain and deceit. That was the only love she had ever known, the only love she had to give. It was too late. She had to see this through.

  She leapt from the stage into the crowd, offering herself to them. And the orgy began.

  She was kissed and licked, groped and caressed, sucked and fucked from one orgasm to the next. Penises of every size and description were thrust into her, eager to spend themselves inside of her before she dispatched them with a swipe of her claws, disemboweling, dismembering, and decapitating her lovers one at a time, only to have them immediately replaced by another in an endless series of orgasm and death. All around her, her followers were enthusiastically fucking in every imaginable combination: heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, couples, threesomes, foursomes, and more. Semen, saliva, blood and vaginal fluids glistened everywhere on naked flesh as they enjoyed their final climax on earth.

  Sirens surrounded the park along with blue and red flashing lights. Two helicopters, a police helicopter and one she assumed was from one of the TV networks, circled above. The sound of gunshots rang out from all directions, followed by screams. There were gun battles going on all over the park between the police and Gloria’s followers. The cops were killing her lovers, her people. Some of the police were being pulled into the orgy. Everything was in danger of coming apart.

  “Vlad?” she called. “Are you ready?”

  Vlad nodded, and signaled groups of people stationed around the perimeter of the crowd. They guarded large trunks filled with knives and began passing them out amongst the crowds. Around the world, the thousands of others watching on the internet got the message and began pulling out their own knives and guns and pills and needles. More worshippers stationed at the foot of the stage guarded vats filled with a grape juice and cyanide mixture, and they were now carefully pouring the drink into small paper cups and handing them out as quickly as possible.

  Without hesitation people began opening veins and arteries, cutting through their own throats and wrists, stabbing each other in the chest. Some opened their femoral arteries, bleeding out within minutes. Very few of them stopped fucking, even as they bled to death. Others drank, and lay on the ground immediately after. One by one they began to die. They were all on their way to hell.

  The ground turned muddy beneath her feet, the earth saturated with the blood of thousands. Everywhere she looked bodies littered the park floor. Some lay still, some were still twitching and convulsing, some moaning and crying out in pain, some still furiously copulating.

  “Go, Vlad,” she yelled. “Wait for them. Gather as many as you can. I’ll follow when we’re finished here.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting” he said and with that, Vlad raked a claw across his throat, tearing out his esophagus, carotid artery, and jugular vein in one savage motion.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he gurgled through a mouthful of blood as he collapsed to the muddy earth and disappeared.

  “It won’t be long.” Gloria waited for the remaining followers to die. She began walking among the dying, dispatching those who remained with quick swipes of her claws.

  There was a lesbian couple lying on one of the small park bridges. Gloria stepped onto the bridge and began making her way toward them, continuing to dispatch the occasional worshipper who had not yet found his way to hell. Blood coated her skin in a fine sheen that made her amphibious complexion glim
mer and shine. The slick ichorous life-fluids dripping from her arms, legs and torso, dribbling down her face, shimmered in the moonlight.

  One of the women was already near death from a slash across her femoral artery that had emptied most of the blood from her veins and was still hard at work pumping out the rest of it. A sheet of blood poured from the bridge to the concrete below where Gloria had once watched street performers break dance for tips. The dying woman’s lover, a long, lean, redhead with small breasts but wide hips and a firm plump ass that porn producers would have loved for anal scenes, was still licking her pussy, sucking her clit, trying to bring the woman to one last orgasm before she died. Gloria looked at the cut on the redhead’s thigh. It was too shallow. She had missed the artery.

  “She’s gone,” Gloria said, startling the woman from her rapture.

  “Gloria!” The redheaded woman scrambled from between her lovers legs and knelt down between Gloria’s thighs. She began licking Gloria’s clit. Gloria looked down at Red’s lover, whose eyes had begun to glaze. Her chest had ceased its rise and fall. She was dead.

  “Did you love her?”

  The redhead stopped licking Gloria’s cum-drenched snatch for a moment and looked up at her.

  “Huh?”

  “Did you love her?”

  “We were in love. We got married last year in San Francisco. You know, before they repealed the law.”