Mike Jones - Infernus

“What was that?” the small doctor asked, his hand on the covered crotch of the dead man. “I heard a noise.”

They both listened with focused hearing and thought they heard, faintly, a low rumbling.

“Listen there, it sounds like metal bands, or something, snapping.” The little man bent to pull his pants up from around his ankles.

“No, Doctor!” Carl was becoming agitated quickly. It now dawned on him what it was. “It sounds like an earthquake !”

He made a move for the swinging double-doors. The floor in front of them heaved instantly upward and belched forth rock and mud, and the foulest single odor Carl could ever recall smelling. The room filled with shrapnel that looked like lightning.

What flashed upward through it in a blur was impossible! In the last few seconds of his life, Carl saw a golden beast, completely covered with jet-black wiry hair. The creature had the most piercing, yellowed tiger-eyes he had ever seen; they were filled with intelligence and, especially, malice. As the beast burst through the hole, it unfurled its large gray wings, and smashed their dark gray knuckles at the ceiling like monstrous fists ( BOOM! ), pulverizing the ceiling tiles (Carl felt the thunder all the way down into his feet), then settled them down behind him in a matter of seconds. A long, thick member swung freely, unashamedly, between its legs. Great tiger fangs yellowed, flashed in his sore-filled, bleeding mouth. Splats of emerald and crimson chunks fled to the floor all around its massive, scaled hooves. Carl’s pants instantly filled with warm feces. The beast threw a great fist filled with razor talons at Carl’s head. He thought —

- Crack!

The vampire satyr threw Carl through the space in the floor with such force, by the cracked top of his head, that when he struck the rocks below, the body evaporated in a shower of sparkling red spray.

Carl would never know (until his training below was well underway), that the dried, shriveled rope hanging from a massively muscled bicep was a piece of roasted entrail. Later, he stayed inside a blood-bricked wall in a forgotten corridor. What appeared to be clenched between his teeth, sending sparks inside his brain, was a live wire. He was having some fun now!

After a few moments, the demon lost interest in the red-wine spray. It (he) had stopped chuckling and rumbling. It stood up to its full height and allowed all of itself that was to fall upon the little doctor’s soul. It threw out its chest, and in doing so, perhaps accidentally, the wings flew back and shattered an entire wall of glass and metal cabinets. The wingspan was nearly sixteen feet. The thunderous sound made the little doctor cower, and expect. Expect and shiver and wait.

Its hatred, a living and dripping pre-ejaculate, spattered green on the floor, made the demon shiver at last with the excitement that would drive it for all eternity.

“BLACKEN! Blacken all hope and free your teeny soul, you futile mortal! Never has such hatred possessed and roiled me! Ne’er have ye seen such a visage as loathsome as mine!”

As if to emphasize its point, the wings, seeming to have a mind of their own, knuckled the roof above the ceiling and threatened to cave it in on top of them. Boom! was the sound. Crack! was the ceiling’s answer.

The little doctor unloaded a great bowel movement into his falling trousers. Urine stained his front.

Great drops of flowing red rained from the demon’s eyes, and splattered and hissed on its feet. It sobbed openly, its broad golden shoulders shaking with the effort. The little doctor, seeing this and not comprehending it, soiled himself anew.

“Know this, and despair, you self-destructive little morsel! We are wedded for three trillion infinities. Ye will know what it is like to be with your beloved now and forever — to be one with him, intimately!”

Boom! The wings jutted above them again and slammed into the failing ceiling.

The demon’s expansive chest rose and fell. No one spoke. The silence began circling the room. In the distant hall, the little doctor hoped that he heard the footsteps of help thundering and clacking this way. Then he realized that they would only be killed; he somehow instinctively knew no one could halt the purpose of this thing. The little man could not believe what he was seeing.

It spread its massive arms to invite the little man into its embrace. The great gray wings swept from behind, teasing. It smiled and opened its mouth. “Is this what you were hoping I would tell you, little man?”

The small, dark one looked at the body of his beloved covered with the shroud; thought he had heard those words ringing in his head recently; realized it was impossible, then shook his head and frowned at the thing. But it was suddenly standing directly in front of the man, having moved inaudibly. The little doctor jumped back, and the wall he collided with briefly knocked the air out of him.

The yellow tiger-eyes raked across the wall with immense heat, to follow the man as he sought along for the door he knew must surely be near, without taking his eyes from the demon, using only his hands. Gold’s face was frozen into an impossibly wide grin. The wall’s melting surface rippled, no match for the demon’s searing vision, and cracked with the high-pitched whine of a gun as holes popped into the plaster, and intermittent gray puffs of smoke escaped from the ever-widening seam.

“Where’s the damned door?” he pleaded, whined. Desperation leaking out of his sweaty brow, the little doctor heard something sizzling, smelling it before he heard it, perhaps.

When the hot eyes rested on the little man, he peeped briefly. His head was instantly engulfed in flames and he instinctively held his hands to his temples, and they caught fire.

“Flame on, my little Scream.”

Gold belched ashes. He burped a low laugh at the futile flagellations of the little doctor. Having failed to put out his hands and head by feeding oxygen to the flames, he was now trying to knock himself unconscious against a wall. Repeatedly.

Gold grabbed his inhumanly large organ, and shook it, spitting a sloppy yellow goop at the good doctor. “Or was more of this what you were looking for?”

Gold began again, watching the doctor’s head cook. “I will be the part of you that rules you for all time, little man. I will mount you and never stop ramming you through all the collected earths themselves. I have been told, by those in authority, that I must mount you through billions of earths. And the only thing you will be able to do is scream. You will do it for me so that I never have to scream again. It is your gift to me.”

One last Boom! The wing knuckles bashed the ceiling and receded within a second, and white powder fell on the flaming head of the little doctor.

Gold grabbed the man by one shoulder to turn him around and four razor talons easily punctured flesh, muscle and marrow, and welded there to become one bone and body. His head was still burning. The man began his endless scream. The demon, with absolutely no resistance, but with manifold purpose, punctured the other shoulder when he had turned him around. In one movement, instantly, with no shame or horror or regard, it ripped off all the man’s clothes, shearing great flaps of skin and muscle from his back in the process.

Its member throbbed and stood erect, large and long. The little man, in more pain than ever before, did the best he could to turn and look behind him. He saw the impossible thing again, and still could not believe it. His scream went on, unabated.

With the last vestiges of his conscience burned away, because of his father’s betrayal, the demon forced all of itself into the good doctor with a single thrust. There was no hesitation, no request, no pity, just solid activity.