Mike Jones: Infernus

The man walked over to his father and began licking as an animal will when it wants to remove afterbirth from its young.

“For doing that service,” the demon said, “I will grant you a present. Feast from the part of my body of your choice. I will let you eat me.”

The man, who was now one with Red, pulled a large dark foot into his lap. With effort, he drew it to his lips. The toe pushed past his ragged gums and shattered teeth. He tasted the dry saltiness of the digit before he began to gnash through it. Red gasped, but else, said naught.

The man moaned as he sucked the blood through the wound. He swallowed the toe and it fell, hissing, into his empty stomach. He loved his master even more.

“My son,” the demon began, with blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Now we are one, and ever will be for eternity. My love to you.”

As the man heard these words echoing through the flames, he realized that Red was digging into his once-human flesh with a burning metal scoop. Great round balls of cooked meat were being brought forth from his hips to the lips of the other.

“Water sports, my son,” the monster belched. “Now that I have wet you down thoroughly, come and enclose your father’s ass with your mouth.” The man did as his lord dictated. “I will fill your guts with the eternal stench of my gases.”

And he did. He consummated the marriage of their souls by filling his son with the gases of his bowels. The man’s head caught fire as a result. He fell unconscious to the blazing floor and remained that way for one thousand years.

And even though the demon dared to sodomize the man hundreds of thousands of times, nothing could be done to rouse him.

With an absolute lack of expression on his stone face, the demon grabbed the man’s hair at the back of his head and drew him close. Red’s poisoned tongue played over the man’s face.

“My son, I want to teach you another lesson. This one thing I know — you must crawl to me on your hands and knees in profound humility.”

The man looked at his body as it obeyed and noticed that it was the same as that of the burned bodybuilder he had seen earlier (only a moment ago and realized… ).

Later, after he had taken all Red had to offer, the demon said, “Anytime I want you to do anything — anything at all — you will do it, at once. This is my total and singular commandment. Obey me in love, my son. Or fear!”

If truer eyes could pierce the deceptive veil for even a moment, they would have seen two smoldering corpses lying at the bottom of a blackened, mile-deep shaft. One body, shivering uncontrollably in its nightmare-soaked sleep, was of a large, muscular man in his late thirties. The other, who had been there first and joined later by the other, looked to be the quaking body of a slim, red-haired youth, no more than fifteen or sixteen. But, there was no light there, no one could see them, nor could they see each other. They were eternally sleeping, unable to awaken or end this dream. They were both quite incapable of telling anything to anyone. Their true desires were unfulfilled; they wanted to stop this programmed dream. If that were only possible. That would almost be bearable.

“Rub my back, my son, and try to pass your hand through my blood-soaked pelt.” The demon turned his back. “See how your hand catches the ripples of flame.” Red raised his living lower member to the man’s lips and commanded him (in darkness) to lick the pus out of the green-foamed slit.

The man obeyed. The demon folded his crispy wings around both of them and became extremely violent within these confines. There were long sounds of ripping, and organs splattered on the rocky floor. There was a gunfire sound and the crackling of large bones breaking.

There was a grateful spirit hovering nearby; it was singing in a continual scream.

“AN OMITTED SECTION”

[Now follows a description of an omitted section:]

The reason for this omission seems to be that this chapter is what is known as “The Untranslatable, Unspeakable Topic.”

The entire chapter seems to be thirteen poems that “prove” (to any mere mortal ) the non-existence of God.

It is said to have been deliberately misplaced because it resulted in the deaths or suicides of the five people who read it. It was omitted after the first printing of this “fiction” was distributed to the public. The publisher, because of threats and lawsuits, saw fit to “lose it.”

Lord Jedfrie, in the only book he ever published, stated that three living persons knew of its whereabouts, but nothing on Earth could force these women to reveal its location.

“Even the meter of the lines being read aloud permanently damaged the minds of anyone listening,” wrote Lucy Karpe, M.D. “It was all screaming and ranting from the dead!”

“ESOPHAGUS”

Blood ran in ever-widening rivers down the man’s legs as he passively allowed the demon to pound him three million times from behind.

Red never tried to stop and the man never ceased feeling every fresh painful thrust as if it were the first. However, the inexplicable horror was knowing that it would never end.

To be the eternal victim was more than mere mortals could stand. But these were not mere mortals. They were shaped into supernatural beings, who were allowed to continue in a perpetual state of death with indestructible bodies.

They could withstand the combined torture of all (ex-) humanity for three billion infinities and yet reconstruct the body in moments.

The tearing sounds coming from his own body did not concern the man; it would go on being broken over and over.

That which never heals is this body, and yet cannot be destroyed.

“I must ram my massive arm down your throat, my son, and tear your esophagus to ribbons with my claws.”

As has been explained earlier, all mouths are permanently fixed open in a continual scream that is so loud that the flesh of all faces vibrates all the time. It is not horrible to those who are here — it is normal. Through disuse, the lips of all are long and flap nerveless like a flag of despair in an unholy burning wind.

Red thrust his forearm down the man’s bleeding throat and began ripping cords and arteries with his sharp, blood-crusted claws. The man could feel the hand’s thick matted hair brushing his gullet deep down. The man loved it and wanted it to continue forever. It only went on for [a third set of turns of time].

When Red slowly pulled his arm out of the man’s throat, it was dripping with yellow mucus. The demon slung it to the ground and rubbed the rest into the black fur below his belly button.

Green flame danced all over the man’s body, first one place, then another. He didn’t seem to notice. He stooped to walk through the archway, his path predetermined. He headed forward, for there was no way to go back. He knew what was back there . In the distance, he heard his father call him. He carefully chose his steps through the dark hall.

As he came out on the other side, he saw Red standing perfectly still, staring at a figure of a man, its feet crudely (one might say rudely ) nailed to a pedestal. It was baked red as clay in a kiln. Red’s right shoulder was low from leaning on the burning floor with his fist, and it sizzled. The stance reminded the son of the way a gorilla might pose in a zoo. The father casually looked his way.