Strange Adventures From an Unknown Circle of Hell
By Raziel Angellus Kainne
PART 1: THE RESURRECTION
Prologue
Bright flames flicker and sputter, the orangy reflections spattering grotesquely writhing shadows across greasy, smoke stained cave walls. Small hairy anthropoids contort in rhythmic spasms to the deep bone-penetrating boom of a skin drum. As they dance, a hideous chittering rises out of their throats eroding away what little reason they possess. Their small eyes stare blankly under the high ridge of brow bone above them, the black orbs glittering. Over-developed and distinctly simian maxillae and mandibles, oozing great gobbets of drool, exaggerate their slack jawed vacancy. A large wooden bowl passes among them, each swallowing great gulps of the fetid liquid inside. The undulations continue feverishly for three days and nights, the dancers sustained by the strange liquid. In the last hours, the fevered pitch of activity rises and changes into random sexual couplings with no regard for the gender of partners. A new bowl is passed around from which each homonid takes a jagged chunk of flint roughly hewn into a blade shape. With these blades they begin to cut into one another even as their animal rutting reaches a singular climax...
Chapter 1: Strange Days
His labored breathing rushed hard and fast. Sweat trickled, from his brow line and down between his buttocks, through crevices and creases, pooling in fleshy depressions before running again as his body shuddered, leaving a soaked impression in the wet bed sheets...
The thick early morning fog had set in, yet he'd easily spotted the pack of young men across the damp street from his favorite South of Market dance bar. The music from their caramel creme van blared out in Spanish from some tinny radio. Voices, sharp and peppered with raucous bevies of short hoots, rose and fell with laughter, stretched and twisted by the ingestion of questionable chemical substances mixing into an auditory cocktail. He walked without preamble to the corner, turning off the misty street occupied by the bar and the van load of troublesome youths. Memories of homophobic attentions butted up against his courage; he'd witnessed numerous vitriolic verbal attacks and heard too many horror stories of cowardly physical ambushes-- all in the name of hate and fear. His soul balked, forced again to compromise between an intrinsic spirit of unconditional peace and love among fellow creatures and a primal need to survive.
He walked toward Market Street through the City's post-industrial area, still harboring a sense of the untamed, sometimes the savage, within its dark, stony, vacant facades. The urgency within him began to ease, the potential threat of violence receding with each echoing step away from the carousing gang of young men. The cool air clung to his sweat soaked body, icing his skin as it rose away in steamy vapor.
The van, its exterior rough and badly aged, crawled out of the edge of his vision. The vehicle kept pace with him for several seconds then sped up, squealing at him in a flurry of cat calls and lewd come-ons. The van disappeared around the corner ahead of him. As he crossed that street, he spotted the parked van several yards to his right. It appeared empty.
His heart bucked immediately, senses heightened and temperature rising. The water in his eyes gleamed as he pierced the dark around him for any sign of intrusion. The sounds that reached his ears were small and not normally audible to anyone more calm. He smelled, even tasted, the air for any oddities that could give him more pertinent information. Suddenly, all of his senses, tuned and ranging outward in all conceivable directions, converged on one small area: the five men were behind him and gaining.
The alley, a thought born out of anxiety, not wisdom, dawned as a mistake immediately after making it. But in that moment of realization, it was too late: the gang appeared behind him blocking the entrance and therefore, the exit. He ran for the farthest wall and turned to face them. He did not want to back down but he also did not want to be harmed. Or to die. As they swaggered toward him, their malicious intent became obvious. He glared at them, eye to eye, surprised in detachment at his own courageous defiance.
The five men favored their early twenties, if that. They insinuated many grisly schemes infested with much male posturing and machismo. The threats evolved in a direction that spread a chilling disbelief in him, first humiliating, then sexual. Before he could act, they spun him toward the wall and forced him against it, knocking the air from his lungs. Their voices dropped to hoarse whispers and he felt a man take hold of each of his arms. One of the remaining three fumbled with the struggling man's belt, unbuttoning his jeans in one frenzied tug. The remaining two shucked down his pants and underwear, revealing his bare buttocks to the cold and the leering future. His legs spread, roughly kicked wide by one of the men directly behind him.
His mind accelerated for a moment, then slowed to a crawl in anticipation of his imminent rape. He remembered a day in a park as a child watching the happy people and playing with his dog. He felt a great pressure at the opening to his anus. It pushed incessantly, its probing growing in insistence and entrance mandatory. As hard as he tried, the park and the people and the dog and the sun and his life broke apart, his ego shattering into small spiny fragments. The thrusting increased eagerly and with a pair of callused hands peeling apart his butt cheeks, the huge, hot stiffness plunged into his body, its violation complete...
The dreaming man's body flung itself up into a sitting position, drenched in its own waters, eyes prying themselves apart. He bellowed like an enraged animal, caged and crippled. The tone and pitch roared, inhuman, and unlike any made by a known living thing. As his eyes opened, unseeing and wet, their phosphorescent green glowed pale and unearthly in the cloying darkness. Blinking repeatedly, his head cleared enough to return consciousness and he wondered vaguely, as the night terrors receded, who had turned on all the strange lights in his house. Everything glowed a faint green, distinct, very much as if lit by one of those colored party light bulbs.
He rubbed at his eyes, prodding a more cognitive state and noticed that his hands felt strange-- his entire body felt odd; achy and sore. Stroking his arms, he kneaded large muscles that seemed to flow under his exploratory fingertips. He fumbled from the bed, the chill air pressing into his hot, moist and naked body, not bothering to cover himself since both house mates were away. Something brushed against his face and shoulders as he arose, falling lazily down his back. Sweeping aside thick locks of long hair, a sudden wave of unnerving comprehension froze him-- he had shaved his receding hairline near to the skin just days before. Another crest of understanding washed over him: the lights were off, he was seeing in the dark. He stumbled for the bathroom, speeding by familiar yet oddly illuminated furniture. Ducking to pass through the doorway, he faced the mirror and confronted something just barely recognizable as himself.
The sight of his long, flowing, dark red mane disturbed him least having hunched down to peer into the mirror, stunned by his height. The overall mass of his body had increased, adding several inches to his frame and several hundred pounds of muscle to his previous, beefy build. The face before him appeared as his own yet thickened in width and length. Above his new, upswept and pointed brows, two huge nodules, like the worst of all boils, tender and swollen, protruded several inches in circumference and length from either side of his forehead abutted his new hairline. The nodes oozed and pulsed sickeningly. He dropped his gaze to his eyes, another sudden shock punching a gasp from his lungs in overwhelming horror. The wide, twin orbs glowed luminescent, the greenish light, cold and alien.
He fell back against the tub catching himself on its lip. With his mouth open, he gaped at the long, sharp fangs. His free hand rushed up to obstruct his view of the hellish creature that met his reflected gaze. His eyes fell upon his massive hand, his sense of time exaggerated. The meaty fingers had grown an additional joint and several inches of bony, spiked nail on each. He blurted out a short scream pulling away his hand and revealing the distorted face again, the daemonic face, his face, leering out at him malevolently.
He screamed again and again, each feeding off the previous, the wailing loud enough it quaked the room, his sanity snapping. The tub beneath his gripping claw cracked, crumbled, and gave way, sending him reeling backward. As he fell, his strange screaming increasing, the instinctive need to catch himself pushed at some previously unknown pressure point in his head. Tiny greenish sparks bloomed out of the very air around him, covering his entire body. He sensed a void open up beneath his falling body. In the moment it took to complete the fall, he found himself physically displaced from the room and into a peaceful darkness.
The dark room empty, the echoes of daemonic screams snuffed out suddenly, only the occasional creaking from the broken tub showed any sign that something was amiss.
.............
The southwestern Montana sky boiled gray with clouds. The shrieking wind, whipped up hours before by yet another approaching storm, scattered the dense powder of recently dumped snow. The flakes floured the air in thick curtains, reducing visibility from a few feet to mere inches. Animals, unlucky enough not to have died and spared the worst winter in recorded history, had taken shelter against the driving forces of weather. Many would starve to death, their moldering corpses found littering the landscape when the Thaw came late that year. The number would stun even the oldest of the natives who still remembered the winter of 1925.
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So with the greatest curiosity the townspeople offered sanctuary to the strange and naked young man. The story first spread through the populace, the locals bartering bundt cakes for a peek at the amazing boy. It then found its way onto the local news and ultimately picked up by the wire services. The curious tale bandied around offices and parties from New York to Los Angeles. Many questions uncovered could not be answered. After weeks of investigation, no real progress could be made and the story of the Naked Mystery Teen ultimately faded onto the back pages and eventually into relative obscurity.
.............
The van reared to a stop, revving its loping engine in front of a well-worn, sagging Victorian house. The house paint pealed in chips of dulled yellow and maroon, littering weed infested, browned patches of lawn and ill-kept weathered rose bushes.
The two young men sitting inside the cab laughed and hooted in a chemically enhanced bravado. Both men chugged back the last of the case of Dos Toros brand beer with which they and their three absent companions had started the evening. With the impeccable timing of consistent practice, both released simultaneous belches. Laughing as they always did in this gaseous ritual, the driver spoke up, dampening his smile.
"Hey, Ricardo, why your breath smell like dick, man?" He maintained a serious face and tone.
"I can't smell nothing over that shit smell face-fart you just let loose. What-- you been suckin' fags' asses again?" Ricardo leaned back, half-lidded eyes inspecting Salvatore in mock suspicion, a slow smile moving up his face.
The two men eyed each other as in some sort of time-honored dance. Without warning, Salvatore smacked the back of Ricardo's head with a rough but playful slap, letting loose a loud, rising sigh of appreciation.
"Good one, man! Perhaps, I will let you live!" Salvatore smacked the pleased man again, this time lighter, holding onto his head and giving him a couple of shakes. "Get out, man, I got to get to my crib 'fore Yolanda throws me out." Salvatore pushed at his friend.
"Again, Sal?" Ricardo chided. "Don't come to me for no hole, man, when she shuts you down. Again."
"What you know about hole, homes? You always go home to your left hand." Salvatore shoved harder at his friend.
"Awlright! !Dios, homie!" Ricardo opened his door, shoving upward and out in the only set of movements that would open the cranky door.
"?Ricardo? ?Que pasa?" a growling and slurred voice called out. A burly middle-aged man appeared in a stained cotton tank-top and ill-fitting boxer shorts. He leaned with effort behind a worn screen door inadequately repaired with gray duct tape. The harsh, yellow light from the bare bulb on the porch cast a sickly pall over his sunken features. "Get your fuckin' ass in this house! !Andele!"
"Si, papa. Go back into the house." Ricardo answered in swallowed disgust and tight fear. "You old fuckin' drunk," he added just loud enough for Sal to hear. Both men laughed again.
"Hasta, Ricardo. Hey, make sure you put plenty of grease on it before he fucks you up the ass." Salvatore sneered at Ricardo, each word like a dagger, careless and sharp.
"Fuck you! Fuck you, Sal! You asshole!" Ricardo yelled into the skewed window as he slammed the door shut. "You're a fuck, Salvatore! You don't know nothin'! Fuck you!"
The van screeched away from the curb, the sound of harsh laughter echoing out into the street from the van. Behind him, Salvatore heard Ricardo yelling pained epithets after him.
A smile still on his face, Sal turned up the volume of the latin station he was listening to. He reached under the seat where he'd stashed a couple of beers, opened one and took a long slug. Smacking his lips, he turned off of Mission Street and in to an alley, a side street short cut to his apartment.
He sang half a lyric line. "Shit, Yolanda's gonna' be pissed." He hummed at the song, his mind wandering. "I don't need no shit from that bitch tonight!" The streets appeared all but deserted. "'El Diablo ande la rua...' She starts, I'm gonna' finish... smack her again, I swear, I'll fuckin' fuck her up!" He sang absent mindedly to the Spanish tune, his voice cackling and off-cue. "Fuck her up good... Bitch. Always downin' me and mine, man. 'ojoes de rado, dentes parecido navaljo...'" Above his head, Sal suddenly heard a heavy whomping sound, his van shaking with the impact of something heavy landing on the roof. "What the hell..?" Sal leaned forward and tried to peer up over the edge of the windshield. With a loud slam, a large dent imploded inward just above his head. "!Madre de Dios! Fuck!"
He veered the van into another alley, trying to shake off whatever pressed down on his roof. Salvatore slammed on his brakes, abruptly stopping the van. He waited, the threads of his fear weaving into a curtain around him. The seconds ticked by, the dead ended alley seemed strange and foreboding, the surrounding buildings menacing in their emptiness. He nervously eyed the upper edges of the windshield. Nothing happened. No sound, no motion. He slid up to the steering wheel and looked to the roof-edged sky.
A huge, darkened hand slapped down on to the windshield outside, a few inches and one thin sheaf of glass from Salvatore's face.
"!Christo de Jesus!" Salvatore yelled, reflexively hurling himself back into his seat. The enormous hand flexed, the large, muscular fingers slowly tapped the glass with the tips of long, sharp nails. The claw scraped the screeching glass left and right, leaving deep furrows from one end to the other, glass curls falling away to the hood.
"What the hell--?" Salvatore scuttled over to the passengers door opposite the clawing hand and fumbled to open it. He forced himself at the cantankerous door, his rising dread evaporating his memory. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Finally managing the proper combination of moves, the door popped open, offering him escape. Salvatore tensed to jump out when the colossal paw hit the slanted door glass, shattering it as the door crashed, shutting Salvatore inside. He yelped from fear and frustration.
The thumping of his heart filed his ears, drowning out the silence that followed the crashing of the door. Many fluttering thoughts piled into his brain, none of them alleviating the pervasive terror that roared within him. A metallic creaking whined from the roof above him. Something popped loudly as the roof gave way, peeling up and backward like the foil on stove top popcorn containers.
Salvatore's body trembled and he could make no effort to control it. He stared wide-eyed at the ghost-white behemoth crouching above him on the roof. Salvatore peered into the green, bestial eyes that glowed back at him. A raw, guttural sound surged unbidden from his throat. The hellish beast smiled, baring spiked teeth, thick, white and fanged. It fished into the cab toward the now screaming Salvatore, the four knuckled fingers spreading out half a yard. Salvatore's jacket caught up firmly in the steeled, gripping claws.
Suddenly, Salvatore jarred himself into action, the animal part of his brain taking over. He hammered his fists at the massive, sinewy arm. He kicked at his door struggling to scramble away from the menacing grasp. All to little effect.
The creature smiled widely, a low laugh like shattering concrete filling the cab. Salvatore's jacket gave way, the old leather shredding under the sharp talons of the chalk-white demon. Salvatore leaped at this opportunity to escape out the shattered window. He wriggled out half way before the monstrous thing caught hold of his leg. In one, swift movement, Salvatore was dragged back through the window and up through the husked roof. Held high, dangling from one leg, the ghostly demon-creature hoisting him easily with one arm. The few coins in Salvatore's pockets fell away along with his known world, the metal ringing as hollow as his failing hopes. Salvatore's arms and face gushed blood, lacerated by the edges of the broken glass. Red splotches spattered onto the windshield, seeping into the cracks webbing out across the entire surface from the creature's great weight. Frozen with terror, Salvatore reeled, immersed in sensual information nad confronted by the sight before him. The creature, some sort of demon-thing, it's skin, ashen and bloodless with a bluish cast to it, like the skin of the dead, Sal's brain convulsed somewhere inside. The thing stood almost half again as tall as himself and massively, almost obscenely muscled. A smooth arm-thick tail wound around it's bulk, reminding Sal most apprehensively of some impossible, prehensile penis ending in a good foot of arrow headed flange. Thick, blood-red hair, clasped back with some intricately filigreed and jeweled silver metal band, threaded the air in locks measuring over ten feet. The mouth bristled with distended reflective arches of two inch long, toothed skewers. Large ears ended in points on the sides of the angular head. The flurry of red hair strands wove snake-like in the wind around two bulky, curving horns like vast twisted bone spikes hammered into it's skull. Impossibly large feet, clawed and griping the metel beneath them, sported a large black leathery bat-like wing from the outside of each ankle. Salvatore's terror ran cold as he caught sight of the demon's erect penis, jutting out larger than his own forearm. The tip dripped teaspoonfuls of glistening ooze down to the van's caving hood. Salvatore's eyes widened, his mind denying any possibilities presented to it by this particular sight.
The demon drew Salvatore closer, inspecting his body as it hauled Sal upward to stare into his face. The cold flaming eyes glowed sinisterly. The great mouth opened out in an evil grin. A long, forked tongue slithered out, licking Salvatore's face in one slow, abrasive stretch, occasionally lapping at the blood flowing from Sal's wounds. It made a ghastly lip smacking sound as it delighted in this feast before it.
The demon lowered Salvatore's quivering body, Salvatore's face stopping inches from the it's huge, protruding penis. Salvatore stared at the massive organ, the huge glans wet and gleaming in the dim, yellow light of a distant street lamp. He tried to close his eyes but the images that assaulted him in that darkness forced them open again. He strained at the bonds of his fear forcing his eyes up and away from the obscenity before him and peered into the demon's cold-fire eyes. The foul tongue licked at it's grinning lips, lusty urges playing plainly across the demonic face. Salvatore's last, tiny shred of dignity tore away as his imagination flew out of control, some prescient part of him knotting around the horror that filled his mind. He suddenly kicked furiously at the demon with his free leg while his arms pounded into the solid blue-white flesh. The impacts only bounced off the demon with a dull thud, who seemed unaffected by the outbursts, smiling at the small man as his obvious fright increased. Salvatore's hands and foot ached from their contact with the demon's rock-hard brawn. Exhaustion and dizziness dulled Salvatore's panic enough to allow him to think: hit the motherfucker in the balls as hard as I can- big meat, big pain. He mustered all his remaining strength, slamming his swelling and torn, bloody fists into the demon's enormous privates again and again. The giant glans head spewed thick, clear syrup with each connection, soaking Salvatore's face and shirt. Splattering liquid flowed in rivulets over the van's caving hood and littered pavement below. The furious attack finally drew the attention of the demon. The cavernous jaws opened, bellowing a dense, slow sound that drove shards of fear into every living thing within range. Rats, mice, strays and pets all howled up their fear, scurrying for holes and raising hackles.
In the blocks around the hellish creature, fights between animals broke out, a homeless man fell- hunted down and torn apart by his own starving pet, rats chewed at their own young, and a flurry of savagely protested mating erupted. Salvatore realized the grotesque cries of pain or rage that belched from this hell-beast were, in fact, its unmistakable pleasure. Catching Salvatore's loose leg into its single grip, the pale behemoth pushed its hips forward presenting Salvatore with an easier target, shaking and slapping its monstrous cock across his bruised face. Salvatore screamed in horror, realizing he had only aroused the demon further.
"Lick it..." The voice scraped the air, a bulldozer skinning the side of a skyscraper, sonorous and pulverizing, a direct command from Hell itself. Salvatore reeled from the sound and the intent of the words. Their obvious meaning sent him into a renewed frenzy, kicking his imprisoned legs and flailing his arms. The demon shook Salvatore in one easy, violent movement stopping him instantly. The contents of Salvatore's stomach disgorged and ran down his slashed and bulging face. Tears poured from his bloated eyes as Salvatore pleaded for mercy. "I said, 'lick it', little man..." the brutal, crushing voice tore at Salvatore's mind, rending his will, savaging his most private self. "Lick it now, or die..," the demon thrust his hips once more toward the sobbing man, the swollen cock-head pressing on Salvatore's ruptured, soiled and clamped lips. Salvatore screamed at the searing pain as he heard a faint snap in his leg where the monster held him. "Lick it!!!" The demon's voice exploded in fury. Every window of the surrounding empty buildings shattered, the deafening noise filling Salvatore's ears. Salvatore wailed in response, the piercing agony in his leg spreading downward as he lost control of his bowels and bladder.
Another bone snapped and Salvatore's screams rang hollow in the windowless alley. His endurance collapsed, his brain begging to be stripped of any higher functions. Salvatore thought only of survival. He gasped at the weighty tumescence on his chin. Salvatore slowly stuck out his tongue until he made contact with the demon's penis. The blue-white flesh was hot to the touch causing him to instinctively pull back. As he moved his mouth, his tongue rolling over thick, pulsing veins, he tasted the bitter, salty fluid that dripped from the wide slit. Revulsion churned in his emptied belly and he heaved with a dry, strangled sound. The demon sighed heavily, swinging his cock across Salvatore's tiny tongue and oiling the man's face with a thick, viscous film. The demon pushed the great head of it's cock into Salvatore's open mouth. Terrified, Salvatore strained to open wide enough but the massive knob of flesh proved much too large. The demon stopped forcing himself any further but flexed its cock, milking it, and slowly filled Salvatore's mouth with the sticky secretion. Salvatore's eyes bulged in panic with no choice but to swallow the mouthfuls of gelatinous cock-juice, he gulped reflexively. His stomach again turning violently. .
The demon popped the tip of its cock out of the gagging man's mouth, a low, growling laugh filleting Salvatore's nerves. Stabbing pains shot through his body from his broken bones as the demon swung him around. Salvatore's body shook uncontrollably, a small numbness beginning to spread from his crushed legs. With numbing detachment, he watched himself being lowered, his upper body draped across and down the fractured windshield with his deadening legs thrust down through the mangled roof. Salvatore tried to move his head as the demon lumbered behind him, his mind aching to escape. Was it leaving? He decided to lie still, what splinter of hope left in him negotiating with a distant god that this would make the monster go away. He thought the initial tug on his jeans just the result of the monster's departure. Suddenly, he felt the fabric loosen then give way as he glimpsed the tattered denim fly past him far beyond the van and land in a wet heap several hundred yards away. The icy air slapped at his bared legs increasing the aching numbness. Moments later, a soft rip punctuated that ache as his soiled briefs tore from him.
"No, no, no, no, NO!" Salvatore shouted out. He begged to the demon, promising and bargaining with everything that came to mind and never could obtain to give away. He prayed bitterly to an unheeding Heaven for pity. Finally, his arms swinging feabily behind him to deflect the demon, he broke, crying incoherently. The demon responded by placing its huge right hand on the middle of Salvatore's sweat soaked back to keep the man's tiny body down. Salvatore increased his struggling as his legs, then the cheeks of his butt parted roughly. The sudden pressure against his sphicter compelled him to cry out in a renewal of tormented pleading. The pressure continued to mount as he felt his hole give way, and in a single, drawn out instant, the huge head of the demon's cock tore inside Salvatore's over-stretched rectum. Salvatore screamed from the excruciating pain, the virginal tightness throbbing in outrage. The demon thrust its titanic organ up into Salvatore's protesting innards, the copious amount of demonic precum doing little to lubricate the far too small cavity. Salvatore shrieked again and again as the demon pumped in and out. Gouts of blood flowed over the demon's enormous, invading cock and sprayed onto the stark blue-white of its heaving body. Savage, animal grunting mixed with Salvatore's cascading howls, the profane combination scarring the very air. Salvatore begged to die then but he remained conscious, withering pain, humiliation, and fear shredding his mind.
The demon's pounding increased, its gargantuan, gore-caked balls swinging closer and closer to its body. Bits of torn flesh dripped from Salvatore's ravaged hole, twin bloody rips splitting up and down along the crack of his ass. With one final thrust, the demon leaned its massive body back and howled in orgasm, the unholy sound slamming into what was left of Salvatore's sanity. A gushing pressure assaulted the ruptured lower intestine, bursting it wide, the demonic sex-fluid rushing into Salvatore's body cavity. The demon's penis expanded and contracted over and over again, nearly a pint of its semen coursing into Salvatore's battered and dying body. As it pulled its rigid penis out, Salvatore screamed feebly. Blood, flesh, shit and semen sluiced from the ragged hole. The demon thudded heavily to the pavement and lumbered into Salvatore's dimming view. An unearthly swirl of greenish energy coalesced around the demon as it glared into Salvatore's half-lidded eyes. "Remember..." it hissed and a new pressure flayed Salvatore's mind. Memories flooded back of an alley, his friends and a raped and beaten white boy at their feet. Its raucous, hellish laugh met the utter despair it saw in the eyes of Salvatore's dawning memories. Salvatore watched the greenish light congeal into a sparkling, three-dimensional, encircled star shape around the demon. With an instant of hot, spontaneous wind, the demon vanished.
Salvatore lay wheezing and whimpering weakly. The slow numbness in his legs spreading through his body, racked with unspeakable pain. Far away in his newly twisted mind, Salvatore thanked God that it was over. He wanted desperately to sleep. But that odd prescience farther down inside glared starkly, it would never be over, the demon would come again and again in the darkness of his dreams. It would never be over- even as he died.
.............