The Teratologist (11 page)

“
The Minister believes all white men are the devil, mutants created by a mad scientist named Dr. Yacub some five thousand years ago in order to oppress the black race. He preaches separatism and vengeance, hates all things Caucasian. He also believes homosexuality to be a sin. How wonderful will it be when the Metopronil cracks his resolve and he submits himself to sodomy at the hands of two albino hermaphrodites? He doesn’t even realize he’s been drugged. We put it in his food and in his water. He’ll think the weakness lies within himself. In all likelihood he’ll kill himself once we tell him that his sins have been recorded and aired all over the country. That is, if the twins don’t kill him first.” Michaels grinned sadistically as the minister rose from his knees, sporting the largest erection of his life, and advanced on the two gigantic hermaphrodites who stood regarding him with curious detachment.

Bryant felt some part of himself wilt when the proud minister dropped to his knees and began licking and sucking on one impossibly long albescent cock. Slurping on it like some half-starved infant on its mother’s tit. Bryant had no real love for the Black Islamic tradition in America. He had never condoned its racist politics and practices. He was more than familiar with the hate that hate made. He too had often been the victim of prejudice, but he believed that the answer was not to meet prejudice with more prejudice. That only perpetuated the cycle. He believed that you used love to combat hatred. Still, he could not deny the unifying effect the Minister had on the black community. He had a way of galvanizing people with his fiery speeches, making them listen and want to change themselves for the better. Some part of him had always admired the man’s efforts. He’d given millions of black men something to believe in and, love him or hate him, he had a way of earning your respect. But no one would respect him now. After this tape hit the streets, The Brotherhood of Islam would be dead.

“
Does that drug always work? I mean does it have the same effect on everyone?”

“
Well, nothing is 100% effective, although on males it seems to be. Women seem to be better able to resist it. I guess if Farringworth could develop an aphrodisiac that was absolutely effective on women he wouldn’t need to find God. He’d
be
God. It doesn’t seem to work on the twins most of the time either. It could be all the female hormones. And when it does work, it wears off quickly. We got lucky today. Either that or they really like that minister.”

One of the twins was forcing his fifteen-inch phallus into the minister’s rectum while the other fed his cock down Farrahd’s throat. He looked like a pig on a spit. Their thrusts became more forceful, violently raping the Minister’s esophagus and asshole. Soon Farrahd was bleeding from both ends. One of the twins withdrew his cock from Farrahd throat as the other thrust the last seven inches of his erection deep into the minister’s bowels, causing an explosion of gore to erupt from the man’s mouth and splatter onto the floor. Once he’d finished heaving up the larger portion of his internal organs, the other twin once more slid his rigid flesh down the man’s esophagus, fucking his dying corpse until they roared with orgasm and semen began streaming from the minister’s mouth and nose along with the blood. Bryant turned his head. He felt ill.

“
I don’t know if the drug really works on them at all or if they just get in sadistic moods and decide it might be fun to fuck someone to death.”

Bryant’s stomach lurched.

“
What happens to the women who are immune?”

“
That’s the beautiful thing about women, they don’t really need to consent to sex for it to happen.”

Micheals pointed to the screen above them and turned his joystick so that the camera zoomed in. The horror just never seemed to stop.

“
The skinny man with olive skin is Yogi Ramakenada. The drug is having a wonderful effect on him. The emaciated scarecrow he’s about to ravage wasn’t so lucky. She’s pretty much immune to the stuff. Her name is Leticia Sum— uh, no need for you to know her last name. She has Malign Hypermetabolism which means that her body does not store fat and anything she consumes runs through her in minutes. Leticia has to eat every 30 minutes or she’ll die. She consumes 125% of her body weight everyday. Her sex drive is non-existent. The only drive she has is hunger. Ever watch preying mantises mate?”

Michaels was grinning again.

Behind him, on the screen, a Hindu man in an orange robe was biting through his bottom lip and frothing at the mouth as he fought to subdue the riot of want rampaging through his nervous system. An impossibly gaunt woman danced before him, bending over and grabbing her ankles in an effort to entice him into mounting her shriveled buttocks, which was little more than a coccyx with pale mottled skin draped over it.

“
It looks to me like the drug is working. Look at how she’s flirting with him.”

“
She’s luring prey.” Micheals replied. “Just watch. See, the Metopronil has already broken his will. The Yogi is dying for a piece of her emaciated arse. He’s a Hindu master who can withstand depths of pain you could scarcely imagine without batting an eye. He can hold his breath underwater for nearly an hour and squeeze his narrow frame into a box no bigger than a milk crate. But in seconds he’ll forget all about Dharma and life and truth and he’ll fuck that skeletal witch until she snaps like a twig or until she gets hungry again and starts eating him alive. See, like most who suffer from her particular disability, Leticia’s a cannibal.”

The Yogi launched across the room almost tackling the woman as he tore his robes aside and his engorged penis bounced free. He mounted her in the position customary to mammals and began hammering into her so hard you could hear pelvic bone striking pelvic bone, echoing like swordplay in the tiny room.

“
Yes. Yessssss.” Leticia moaned and her eyes were glassy with hunger. She pulled the yogi down onto the bed with her and spun around so that they were now in the missionary position without breaking contact for a second. The yogi was thrusting as if trying to enter her womb, testicles and all. Leticia reached out and encircled his neck with her cadaverous arms, pulling him closer. As he buried his head into her shoulder, bearing down so that he could thrust still harder, Leticia opened her jaws revealing a charnel pit of bloodstained teeth that had been filed to sharp points. Her mouth closed on his throat and she began ripping and tearing out huge chunks, immediately swallowing them. The Yogi didn’t miss a single thrust. Even as he screamed he continued to pound in and out of the withered starveling while she ripped more meat out of his neck. Bryant shook his head in wonder as she reached his cervical vertebrae and began trying to chew through that as well.

Like the monkey with his hand in the cookie jar, the yogi refused to withdraw from her loins even to save his own life. Despite the unimaginable pain, they both appeared to be in ecstasy.

“
I need to find my photographer. Would you take me back to my room?”

“
Of course. You will be provided with copies of all of these tapes and you will bear witness to all the events up to and including the day Mr. Farrington achieves his end.”

“
Yeah…uh…sure. Look, this is a lot of shit to digest. Let me talk to Westmore and we’ll get back to you about all of this.”

“
That’s fine. You can talk it over amongst yourselves, but as I said. You really have no choice in the matter. You are either one of us…” The smile drained from Michaels face. Only then did Bryant notice how cruel the man’s face truly was. Hard angular features with dark eyes sunk deep into his head like Lurch from the old Adam’s Family T.V. show. Michaels gestured toward the screen where Minister Farrahd’s corpse was still impaled on the monstrous cocks of the twin hermaphrodites then to the one where the hyperphagic cannibal was busily chewing off the head of Yogi Ramakenada. She had already eaten away most of his face yet his ass continued to rise up and down, thrusting deep into her with psychotic enthusiasm. The smile slithered back onto Michael’s face. “…Or you are one of them.”

(X)

Bryant’s chocolate brown complexion had turned completely gray. He stumbled into the room swaying unsteadily as if he were about to feint dead away. His brow rose. Did he hear something—a tick?—from the closet. He swung the door open, and Westmore about screamed.

“
Finally found you. They don’t even care that you’re trying to hide. You can’t get out. No one can.”

Westmore was holding a cell phone and trying vainly to get an outside line.

“
Don’t even bother with the cell. They took the batteries out. We’re completely cut off from the outside world. We’re both fucking dead men.”

“
Dead men? What are you talking about? What the fuck happened to you, man?”

“
We’re in trouble, Richard. I mean we are completely fucked.” His hand trembled as he snatched the snifter of brandy from Westmore’s hand and downed it in two quick gulps.

“
Okay, man, now you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

Bryant began explaining their predicament as best he could, stopping frequently to refill his glass and down more of the fiery brandy. He relayed the story of how they had been tricked up here to act as Farrington’s biographers, even telling him about the fake obituary. He then told him about the monk he’d seen locked up in the room with the contorted freak doped up on some kind of steroidal aphrodisiac. Soon they were passing the bottle back and forth and drinking straight from the neck like two hobos.

“
You have got to be fucking kidding me? He’s the guy who’s been putting all that scandalous sex stuff out on the internet? Farringworth? He’s the one who scandalized the Southern Baptist Ministries with that tape of Reverend Willis getting fist-fucked by the werewolf bitch?”

“
It was a girl with hypertrichosis and yes, Farringworth was behind it. And if we don’t help him out then we’ll be the next ones to be fed to his freaks.”

“
So that’s what the angel meant about systemized evil.”

“
The angel? You’ve seen the angels?” The image of Minister Farrahd being run through by the twin’s yard-long penises was still vivid in his mind. He could still see the ecstasy in the man’s eyes as his internal organs were ruptured and displaced by their frenetic thrusts.

“
Just one.” Westmore replied, bringing Bryant back from his grim reverie. “He appeared in my bedroom and told me that God had sent me to stop Farringworth.”

Westmore looked down at his feet, obviously embarrassed by this admission.

“
Okay, what the hell are you talking about?”

“
I’m talking about an angel and no I’m not drunk, well, not much. He was standing right there at the foot of the bed, and then I saw him downstairs. He looked sort of like Bob Dylan but with darker hair. What angels are you talking about?”

Bryant relayed the story of the acromegalic hermaphrodites sodomizing Minister Farrahd.

“
Holy shit. You mean that headline hogging Black Muslim guy? What a trip. You think those were the angels that Farringworth was going on about when we saw him on the stairs?”

“
It sure as hell wasn’t any nicotine addicted Bob Dylan look-alike.”

“
So what do we do?”

“
What choice do we have? We go along with it until we can figure out a way to get out of here.”

“
But…but what if it works?”

“
What?”

“
I know it’s crazy, but if God sent one of his angels down to warn us about this shit then maybe Farringworth is on to something. I mean what if he gets that little monk to crack and succeeds in bringing God down from heaven? What if he succeeds in becoming a god himself? Is that the type of guy you want to see with infinite power? Even if this is all bullshit, just think of how many lives he’s damaging with his crusade against religious leaders? How many people around the world look up to the people this madman has got doped up in little rooms getting fucked half to death by his monstrosities?”

“
So what are you saying?”

“
I’m saying we can’t just escape. We need to try to stop him.”

Westmore nodded grimly. “But how? We can’t get out.”

“
Not without keys. We’ll just have to find some, and we’ll probably have to kill some people in the process.”

“
Great,” Westmore said, but he knew it was true. “If we don’t take a chance, we’ll never get out of this madhouse.”

“
Right, so let’s not fuck around. Let’s burn the house down.”