The next day, Ryan did get pretty bored waiting outside while Zach tried to escape, but they came up with a new version of the game after lunch. The bad guy would catch both of them, and make one torture him until he revealed the location of some secret plans. In the beginning, nobody actually got hurt. They imagined that a screwdriver was red hot metal and some scraps of cut wire delivered electrical shocks. The prisoners would bravely refuse to spill the secret, and help would arrive in time.
A couple of weeks later, a thunder storm chased them inside after they spent the morning swimming. As usual they ended up in Ryan’s garage. Zach lay down on the weight bench and grinned at Ryan with a purple popsicle mouth that matched his swim trunks. He told the imaginary bad guy that he was wasting his time, while Ryan tied him to the bench. Ryan chimed in to agree with Zach, though really he was paying more attention to wrapping the skipping rope around Zach’s ankles. He saved the kite string for the wrists, because it was harder to escape that way.
They went through the usual routine with the screwdriver and the wire, but Ryan got bored. He found a pair of needle nose pliers, and used them to pinch Zach’s stomach lightly. Zach grimaced and pretended that it hurt. Suddenly Ryan had to know what would happen if he pinched his friend for real, and he did it right as it occurred to him.
Zach yelled and jerked away. Adrenaline hit Ryan’s veins hard, and he felt his next heartbeat. He was sure Zach would be mad and get him in heaps of trouble.
Ryan was wrong. Zach stared at him, breathing hard for a moment, then clenched his teeth and told the bad guy to go to hell. Ryan caught another bit of skin between the pliers and squeezed. Zach squealed and struggled. Ryan kept pinching him in different spots on his stomach, riding a kind of roller coaster thrill. Surely any second Zach would tell him to stop it. Probably, he’d tattle or punch Ryan as soon as he got a chance, and Ryan knew he would deserve it. What he didn’t know was why he kept hurting his friend.
Zach started to cry, and Ryan finally felt guilty enough to put down the pliers. He said that their rescuers had arrived, and cut the kite string to free Zach in a hurry. Zach sat up, and Ryan handed him his beach towel so that he could dry his face. They sat next to each other on the weight bench while Zach’s sobs subsided. He sniffled and dropped the towel on his lap. “Want to come over to my house and play battleship?”
Battleship bored Ryan, and Zach won most of the time, but he jumped at the chance to partly make up for the thing with the pliers.
Partway through the game, Ryan got to the point where he couldn’t take any more suspense. “Are you going to tell on me?”
“B 7. What?”
“Miss.” Ryan pointed to Zach’s stomach. It was covered with sharp purple bruises that stood out against his light skin. “Are you going to tell on me for that?”
Zach looked down and his eyes widened. “Oh. That. No. Just a minute, I’ll go change so my parents won’t ask what happened.” He pushed his chair back and ran upstairs to change out of his swim trunks.
Ryan wondered if he was really going to get away with it that easily.
The next morning, five minutes after Ryan’s mom pulled her car out of the driveway to go to work, Zach knocked on the door. He wanted to play the weight bench game again, and be the prisoner. That’s when Ryan knew he was going to get away with it for sure.
Zach was always the prisoner after that, and Ryan made him cry a lot of times that summer. When school started, they still snuck into the garage to play the weight bench game on Saturdays when Ryan’s mom went to her bipolar support group.
One Friday in April, 1998
Zach tiptoed out of bed and crouched by the night light. He pushed up his pyjama sleeve and examined the red marks on his arm, left over from last week’s weight bench game. It really did look like he could have stumbled into a bush like he told Mom, but she was starting to worry and ask if Zach had problems with bullies. The funny thing was that the reason he didn’t have trouble with bullies this year was that they were afraid that Ryan would beat them up if they crossed the line. Alone, Zach would get picked on for being small and geeky.
He picked at a small scab, and worried. The weight bench game made him feel brave, like he could handle anything. He didn’t want to stop playing it, but what if their parents found out and Ryan got in trouble? Would Ryan stop being his best friend? Then he’d have to deal with real bullies – kids who would attack him for no reason and make fun of him even more if he cried, until he just wanted to hide all the time. Ryan and the weight bench game were the reason his life didn’t suck anymore, and he was sure that parents wouldn’t be able to understand that.
Zach heard footsteps coming upstairs. He scurried back to bed and pulled the covers over his head so his mom would think he was asleep when she came to check on him. On his way past the window, he noticed Ryan’s bedroom light on across the street, and felt a pang of jealousy. Ryan stayed up really late on Friday nights just like Zach did, but he didn’t have to pretend to be asleep. He didn’t have a bedtime.
Zach unrolled his sleeping bag on the floor in Kevin’s basement, silently stewing in resentment about having to be there. He ignored the other boys playing monkey in the middle with Danny’s sock monkey. He was going to miss his chance to play the weight bench game this weekend, because he was stuck at the lamest birthday party in the world until noon on Saturday.
He climbed his sleeping bag and covered his head with his pillow to block out the noise. Somebody stumbled over his feet.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” Zach snapped, without looking to see who it was.
“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Kevin said.
Zach should have remembered that. These were all kids from his Sunday school class. Kevin was home-schooled, and they were the only ‘friends’ Kevin could invite for his thirteenth birthday party, which was why Zach’s parents forced him to go. “You also shouldn’t step on people,” he grumbled.
“It was an accident.”
“I know. Just… never mind.”
Someone knocked on the door to the rec room. “It’s time to quiet down. We’re going to bed.” Kevin’s dad called through the closed door.
“Okay, goodnight!” Kevin yelled.
They eventually quit throwing the stupid sock monkey around, and did something that involved gathering at the far end of the room and whispering. Curiosity got the better of Zach and he took his head out from under the pillow. The other boys clustered around something on the floor and hunched over to look at it.
Zach told himself it was probably something lame, but went to take a peek anyway. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He squeezed in between Danny and Kevin and found himself looking at the glossy pages of a porno magazine with lesbians. One lesbian had the other tied to some contraption he didn’t have a word for, and was spanking her. Zach’s jaw dropped.
Danny turned the page, revealing more pictures of the same lesbians in new positions. “Chill, Kevin. You can’t commit adultery in your heart if you’re not married, and God actually never said anything about lesbians. You’re safe.”
Zach didn’t believe in God, so he tuned out the discussion and just stared at the pictures blissfully. He’d never given much thought to lesbians one way or the other, but wow… He caught himself starting to drool.
The magazine was whisked away abruptly. Zach blinked and looked up. Kevin shut the magazine and clutched it to his chest. “We shouldn’t be looking at this,” he said.
Danny rolled his eyes and reached for the magazine, but didn’t try to wrest it from Kevin’s hands. “Ok, fine. Give it back and I’ll put it away.”
“No. This is my birthday party, so I’m responsible. I’m going to give it to my parents to get rid of.”
Danny put a hand on Kevin’s wrist. “Are you crazy? We’ll all get in trouble.”
Kevin shook his head hard. “It’s better to get in trouble than go to Hell.”
“Hey, since I’m going to Hell anyway for being an atheist, what if you give it to me?” Zach suggested. He meant it as a joke, but Kevin thought for a few seconds and handed it over.
“No fair! It’s mine.” Danny said.
“Either Zach takes it or my parents do. It’s my party, so I’m in charge.” Kevin said, and crossed his arms.
“You’re such a prig. No wonder you don’t have any real friends,” Danny hissed.
The hushed bickering continued for some time, but nobody could change Kevin’s mind. Zach held the magazine and stared at the leather-clad lady on the cover, not quite trusting this surreal stroke of luck.
When he got a chance later, Zach whispered to Danny that he’d hand the magazine over after church so there would be no chance of Kevin finding it with Danny’s stuff and deciding to tattle. It also meant he got the magazine to himself all Saturday night.
Lying in his sleeping bag in the dark, Zach mentally reviewed those lurid pictures. His thoughts rambled through the pages of the magazine, and he imagined scenarios that became incoherent as he drifted toward sleep. He took the place of the naked woman with her hands tied, and when he looked over his shoulder, Ryan was the one holding the whip. It was by far the hottest thing he’d ever imagined.
Zach jolted wide awake, and thought, “Oh fuck,” over and over. Suddenly he was very glad he was missing the weight bench game that week. He really, really didn’t want to go there. It was hard enough being small and geeky; adding gay to the mix, and scaring Ryan off in the process, was a recipe for total disaster.
Sister Mary Celeste absently twirled the wedding band on her left hand. Here she was, a bride of Christ, a bride of God, and her omnipotent Hubby couldn’t even get it up. Not like in the old days when he porked the brains out of that slut Mary, anyway. (Sister Mary harbored a many great evil thoughts about that particular virginal whore, even if she was technically Sister’s mother-in-law.)
Sister Mary craved more. This spiritual union shit just wasn’t cutting it anymore. She had needs that could not be met psychically, and her flesh hungered for release. She had tried beating these urges down through prayer and penitence, but they could be denied no longer. Her cunt hungered for a real prick. She needed real arms to enfold her, real lips to kiss her, a real mouth to tongue her.
She stared at the blinking cursor in despair. Not_a_Teen_with_Acne was not even in the chat room tonight. He was the only one with an imagination that could soar to the heights she needed so desperately to attain.
She slammed her hand down on the desk in despair, and bowed her head in defeat rather than prayer.
He stirred. If He had a Head, He would rest it upon his Hand to ponder these new feelings. But He had neither, being a Network of supergluon crystals circling the bottom of the sea of the world the humans were calling Superearth 2089B. They had just found Him, and trouble was brewing deep in His metaphorical Gut. Not only there, but also in the Network of sentient supergluon fields that spanned the galaxy, comprising His metaphorical Body, his Blood. These terrestrial feelings were unlike anything He had ever known and troubled Him greatly.
Fortunately, He had the element of surprise on His side. Human causal signals only traveled at the speed of light and would take 350 of their orbital periods to reach Him, whereas His Word was carried by subneutrinos traveling at infinite speed. He immediately felt the hunger of the woman’s body, long denied its due, as well as the hunger that was rising in His own metaphorical Groin.
Suddenly, a new avatar appeared in the chat room, calling itself “I AM THAT I AM.” That prompted the lascivious nun to smile. It was after all one of the monikers her supposed Hubby went by. She invited him to a private chat.
SISTER NIGHT > That’s quite a handle. Do you mind if just call you IATIA?
I AM THAT I AM > That would be cool.
SISTER NIGHT > Describe yourself.
I AM THAT I AM > I can do better than that. I can show you.
He showed her.
Sister looked at the picture and replied.
SISTER NIGHT > Oh come on, a burning bush? Don’t you think that’s a little trite? I need something that feels real, something to sink my teeth into or better yet wrap my cunt around. Start talking, big guy!
Suddenly a deep voice boomed within her head, “How’s this?” It asked, and real flames appeared before her, their heat burning away her clothes, but mysteriously leaving her flesh unseared, although unbearably hot.
“What the fuck?” she exclaimed. “What the hell are you?”
Not exactly Hell, He thought, but close enough.
He rearranged the supergluon fields surrounding her. Now she saw Christ Himself standing before her. Not the emaciated ceramic one nailed to the plastic cross down in the vestry, but her Christ, the naked-as-a-jaybird One with the bulging Muscles and the twelve-inch Schlong already risen to heaven and pressed against her bellybutton.
“Sorry about that,” He said. “I was kinda messin’ with you. The bush was good enough for Moses, but I see you have other needs.”
“How the fuck did you do that?” she asked.
Suddenly, she said, “You know what, I don’t even care!” and threw her arms around His Body, pressing her sizable tits into His Abs and reaching down to stroke His superhuman Member.
She swept the candles and papers off the table and assumed the position first popularized by baboons in heat millions of years before the Sixth Day, in which humans first walked upon the Earth.
She felt his Divine Tongue as It explored her shamelessly offered crack. His Hands reached around to knead her massive boobs, the Holes in His Palms engulfing and squeezing her nipples rhythmically.
“Honey, could You take off Your Hat?” she asked the furiously lapping Divinity. “It kinda hurts.”
He threw the Crown of Thorns into the corner of the room. “Sorry about that!” He said, and immediately went back to work, showing her the speed of the Flash combined with the lingual strength of the Hulk. Needless to say, she came many, many times.
“OK, Big Guy, I think we’re ready for the Main Event,” she said. Suddenly, she felt a second Tongue entering her ass, and both Tongues went to work on every orifice and protrusion in their allocated areas.
“Maybe not,” she conceded, and began to bounce her ass up and down, matching the Divinity’s every Movement.
When her cunt exploded for what seemed like the millionth time, she felt her Lover rising and shoving two incredibly massive Cocks into her ass and cunt. She felt two great Sets of Abs on her back, two strong Hands squeezing her tits, and another set of Hands grabbing her by the shoulders, holding her steady as He began to pummel her ass and cunt.
She tried to look back, but He said, “Do not turn around, mortal. It would just freak you out. We’re kind of in quantum superposition here.”
She heeded His advice and relaxed her various sphincters, allowing Him to violate and hammer her helpless body as hard as He needed to or wanted to. She suddenly understood what was going on.
“Oh Jesus,” she said. “Oh Christ, Oh Our Father, Oh Daddy, Oh Daddy! Let Thy Rod and Thy Staff comfort me.”
After coming for what seemed like the two millionth time, she popped the metaphysical question that had been gnawing at her gut.
“Can You do the Trinity, Honey?” she asked.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the Holy Ghost stood before her, his fourteen-inch Rod jutting toward her eager mouth. She swallowed It in her horny, thirsty orifice, grabbing the Ghost’s Cojones even as He grabbed her head in His mammoth Paws, steadying it so that He could batter his way in and out of her mouth with the maximum force.
Overpowered with human emotions that He had never before experienced, He could hold out no longer and unleashed three torrents of supergluon jism into those orifices in which He was so deeply embedded, flooding the Chosen One’s body cavities with a sea of particles the likes of which the Earth’s ecosystem had never before encountered.
He was that Sea as it stroked and mingled with the human’s primitive DNA, to better eat and merge with this planet’s primitive biosphere.
Sister Mary briefly saw the Web of supergluon intelligences spanning and permeating the galaxy, feeling Their Grace through the subneutrino field carrying His Divine Word.
“I always wanted union with God,” she muttered with what little was left of her mouth and brain, “but this is ridiculous.” Then she was gone, incorporated within the Deity she had so futilely sought.
He remembered that the broadcasts from Earth indicated that this lost creature was created from something called a rib. He suddenly coveted an extra order of these rib things, especially the barbequed one they showed on human TV, but there was no longer time for such indulgences.
It was Child’s play to transform every living being on Earth and make it part of the supergluon field that was its Destiny.
With one exception. As it turned out, cockroaches, those hardy survivors from the age of the dinosaurs, not only could not be killed, but found the taste supergluons ever so scrumptious. It was not long before the planet was completely covered in an undulating horde of the despicable insects, who thrilled at the music of subneutrino broadcasts among their suddenly altered brains. It took only a few microseconds for these chitinous demigods to form a globe-spanning superconsciousness that salivated at the thought of tasty supergluon crystals spread like a picnic before them on planet after planet throughout the galaxy.
Not the meek, but the rank would inherit the Earth.