The Apocalypse and Satan's Glory Hole! Read online

  The ground below them rumbles and quakes, but the general just tightens his grip. Fire and brimstone spurt weakly through every open space in the mass of naked corpses. The ground howls and cracks, but as it opens, the bodies slip down and plug the hole. A mighty, evil scream thunders far beneath the flesh-clogged crevice. Small streams of fire melt through dead bodies, but more fall to replace them, snuffing the flames. More evil howls fill the air, and the soldiers panic and scream.

  “Your boys are losing it, General,” Smoochole mocks through chipped teeth. “Of course, that is the fucking Devil down there screaming. So they should be freaked out.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you hippy … fuck,” the general yells into Smoochole’s face.

  “Fuck you,” Sheriff Smoochole says with a broken smile. General O’Coddle growls, but before he can pull the trigger on the shotgun, the hard thick plastic of Officer Morks’s nightstick cracks across the back of his skull. The general’s eyes roll back in his head, and he falls to one side, dropping Smoochole and his shotgun.

  Sheriff Smoochole extends his hand to a wild-eyed Officer Morks, who still wears his uniform but has also acquired a bright red ball gag that looks fused to his face and skull.

  Sheriff Smoochole picks up his shotgun and forces the barrel into the semi-conscious general’s mouth.

  “I want you to know, you Apocalypse-stirring shitbag,” the sheriff says with a grin, “I’ll be taking them purty fucking guns.”

  General O’Coddle mumbles something around the gun barrel, but Sheriff Smoochole pulls the trigger, sending small gray chunks of brain splattering across the bloodstained sand.

  Did You Hear the One about a Bunch of Guys Who Visited a Militant Lesbian Camp?

  Summer. Hot as fuck. Woods everywhere like God shit big green arrows. Edwina, Ed to her new friend, perches behind one of the shit sticks and sights a buck with an arrowhead. The shaft is pulled back and tucked right up against her cheek. She exhales slowly as the point settles on his center, envisioning a big target there. The bastard is big, and he has a big old swinging dick, which pisses her right off. Charlie had a swinging dick too, and he put it in every hole he could find.

  Thoughts of the asshole cause her to twitch and loose the arrow. It leaps away from the bow like a rocket-propelled grenade. Slams the buck high in one shoulder. The beast freezes for a half second and then takes off, not realizing it’s lost a leg, and collapses with a cry that should tear at Edwina’s heart.

  If she had a heart.

  “Jesus fuck!” She exhales and throws the bow on the ground.

  “It was a good shot!” Darla calls. She steps out of the woods like an apparition. She is dressed in full camouflage except for a bright orange bandana around her bald head.

  Chemo did that to her, but now the cancer is gone. So is one breast and part of her uterus. Not like she was ever going to use that. She tried a wig for all of a day and claimed it made her look like some piece of ass right out of the slam. So she started sporting blood-red lipstick to draw attention to her mouth and away from her shiny head. Worked too. When Edwina got a look at her, all she could think about was uses for those lips. All kinds of uses.

  The camp is nestled between the rocks of Craggy National Forest and Juniper Hills or, as some called them, mountains. Some called them mounds, but really they were just rises that poked out of the ground and provided great vantage points for hunting. Probably pretty popular back when Native Americans lived here. Or later, when ranchers had to find stray sheep so they could butt fuck them into the next morning.

  Now, by and large, Camp Luzon is the sort of place where the members can go and forget all about their troubles. Take Edwina for instance. She had a happy home with her man. Made him coffee every morning, vacuumed and even had aspirations of getting a job. Oh, the nerve!

  Charlie, her useless husband, thought that was a terrible idea. Her job was to stay home and keep him happy. It worked too, for a while. He made good money and even gave her a credit card with a five hundred dollar limit. But she got tired of being what amounted to no more than a servant in her own home.

  She should have taken the car for a test drive before they got married, but he was old fashioned. He was also shit in bed, and every time they had sex she came away hurt and unfulfilled. Then he would flip her over and do things that did not feel right at all.

  But the real rub was when he brought home another woman and said they needed to try a threesome. She was shocked at first, shocked AND appalled. She demanded that the woman leave, but they plied her with alcohol and a big fat joint that would make Tommy fucking Chong himself weep with joy.

  They all went to bed, and it turned out to be a pretty nice time. Hubby was pleased but not as pleased as Edwina. She was happy at last, fulfilled, multi-orgasmic, in fact, and decided that having a woman’s face buried between her thighs was just about the best feeling in the world.

  Later, Charlie. Loser.

  Charlie didn’t like being called names, and he didn’t like being left. He beat her to a pulp and then apologized the next day by bringing her flowers and a new pretty red BMW with leather seats and heated side mirrors.

  She thanked him by kneeing him in the balls and driving over his legs while he lay withering in front of the convertible. She didn’t look back, didn’t even bother to give him the finger. She just left and that was that.

  The camp was the perfect place for her. She didn’t have to be Katie Cleaning Lady, and she got to have chicks go down on her pretty much every night. They liked her because she was pretty. She had a short blond bob and green eyes that turned up at the corners as though a hint of Asian were mixed somewhere in her past. She liked them because most could take her straight to multi-orgasm land. Her favorite place in the whole damn world.

  She played with a few of the other girls, and there was a little drama but only until Darla arrived. Came in like she owned the place just a week after Edwina’s arrival. Looked all the girls up and down with her dead stare. She was built too, broad shoulders and defined arms. She had small tits (tit now) behind a flannel shirt. Workman-like pants ended in heavy leather work boots to complete the outfit.

  Her skin was darkly tanned, her left arm the darkest. She drove a truck for a living. A big eighteen-wheeled semi. She was soft. Smooth. When Edwina touched her for the first time, she marveled at the feel. Still does.

  When Darla first arrived, she walked up to Edwina in the middle of introductions and reached out to push a piece of hair out of her eye. Edwina blinked once and thought she was going to faint right then and there. That night Edwina decided she was ready to go full-on lesbian, and she has been with Darla ever since.

  Edwina studies the deer as it tries to limp off. A few months ago, this touching nature scene would have broken her heart. Now it makes her want to go over and lick the blood off the creature. She wants to sip it, cut a piece of the smarmy bastard and throw it on a fire for dinner.

  Darla raises her assault rifle and shoots the deer in the side. It falls over; legs twitch as life fades away. Then they are by its side, and Edwina’s girlfriend reaches out to close the buck’s eyes. A minute later, the knives come out and they are at the corpse like it’s filled with treasure.

  Then, blood-splattered and grinning at each other like a couple of loons, they hike back home.

  The camp is a nice orderly row of large tents with a barracks or two tossed in for good measure. One of these serves as a dining hall, and it is a sturdy old thing made of fiberglass. Darla heard it was a leftover from the Vietnam War that they got for a honey of a deal.

  They also have orgies here from time to time, but Edwina doesn’t attend the fleshfests anymore. She and Darla may watch them every once in a while, but she would rather spend her nights with her girl. Not that there aren’t some fine pieces of ass in the mix, because there are.

  There is one going on right now, and Edwina and Darla stop by to grab a bite to eat and a couple of beers. They drop the buck at the kitchen, which earn
s a strong word of approval from Marcel, leader of the camp and all around badass. She is helping out in the kitchen and has draped her shirt over a chair, ostensibly to keep the stains off it, but more likely because she knows she looks like a goddamn statue of perfect flesh.

  Marcel parading around in a black leather bra that pushes her full ebony tits right up her chest is the first thing the girls see, and Edwina has to force her mouth closed. She has learned that one thing she really likes is a nice pair of boobs on a fine-looking woman. Who’da thunk it? That year with Charlie and she had no idea she was a closet lesbian. Well, live and learn.

  They have a few beers and chat about this and that. About the traps, the guns. They compare shots with the hunting rifle, and when they get buzzed Edwina manages to lose her pants when Marcel makes a bet about her hygiene. More specifically whether she still shaves it bare down there. Marcel tugs the top of her panties down just a tad to get a glimpse, then leans over and plants a kiss on her smooth skin under Darla’s watchful eye.

  They head over to the barracks and walk into an inferno. The woodstove is cranked up nice and hot so that the room feels like a sauna. The smell of burning oak fills the room as does the smell of hot sex. Three women are doing a triangle 69, each alternating hips down and shoulders up to take care of her recipient.

  Darla watches for a few minutes then slaps Edwina’s butt and tells her it’s just about time to get her sweet ass to bed. Ed smiles at her lover and prepares to run for the door. Her heart is already beating faster as she thinks about multi-orgasm land. Her favorite place in the world right next to Darla’s hot snatch. The girls’ display must have stripped Darla of her patience, because she grabs tiny Edwina around her waist and hoists her on top of the table.

  She leans back as Darla steps close and spreads her legs. When her hands go back to support her weight, they knock over a stack of Daily Gabs. The gossip rag is one of the only pieces allowed up here. Good stuff: celebrity news, world news and news of the weird. That’s Edwina’s favorite part, the stuff about aliens and psychics.

  The two embrace and make out for a while to catcalls and cries of “Why don’t you two join us?” Darla steps away from her love, and Edwina can’t help but smile at her.

  “Come on, lover. Let’s get back to our tent. I’m going to take you to heaven.”

  The night is cool. A soft breeze licks at Edwina’s legs and gusts up her shirt since she wears nothing else but a pair of tennis shoes. Darla always comments on how sexy her legs are and, unlike some of the other women, prefers to have her keep them shaved like the rest of her body.

  Someone is behind them; Edwina is sure it is one of the girls from the barracks trying to join them. Probably Rose or the Tsu twins, two Asian women who don’t look anything alike but love to party together. She will have to ask Darla, of course, because she sort of calls the shots in the relationship. Darla is just wired that way. A no-nonsense girl who always has a plan. Unlike Charlie, who was a lazy ass and treated her like shit. His idea of planning was pre-recording a bunch of shows on TV so he could watch them over the weekend.

  She spins around at the tent entrance to see which of the women is stalking them. A figure that can’t be female forms in the dusky twilight. Another is already waiting in the small tent, and the larger figures drive the two women to the ground. They fall with twin umphs. It probably sounds like pain to the attackers, like they have taken the women down. But it is not a grunt of pain. It is the sound of two experienced fighters exhaling as they strike so the force of air leaving their lungs is voluntary.

  Edwina doesn’t even try hard. She drops to the ground and rolls with her assailant. Her knee comes up, and she uses the figure’s momentum to toss it over her head. She rolls with it and comes up with her shirt flapping to expose her lily-white ass, but at this moment she couldn’t give two shits about what she is displaying.

  The attacker groans, and she lashes out a foot to land a perfect blow that flips the figure onto its back. Looking over her shoulder, she gets a glimpse of Darla, who is astride her own attacker’s chest, beating the hell out of whoever it is.

  Darla looks up. Their eyes meet, and they both smile.

  “You all right?” Edwina asks and feels stupid since the person under Darla is probably down and out for the count.

  “Yep. Lets truss these mother fuckers up and see what we caught.”

  Screams erupt from outside as the camp becomes a chaos of running figures and shouts in the night. There are groans and smacks and even a low howl that could only come from … a man! Edwina hops onto the figure she subdued and whips the black cloth off its face. A scruffy fellow with half a beard stares into her eyes with fear oozing from his blood-splattered face. He is clearly terrified. His nose is smashed and bloody, and two of his front teeth are broken. His lips are split, and all he can do is raise his hands to his face in supplication.

  “Please,” he gags on his own blood, but Edwina has a different idea of what the man is asking for and delivers a crushing open-hand blow to his throat. He chokes and gags, tries to roll over and even sticks his fingers in his throat in an attempt to get air down. It’s useless, and after a minute his legs stop twitching and he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling.

  Darla is also having pretty good luck. She wraps her legs around her attacker-turned-victim. Edwina gets a look as she first lifts her leg high then smashes her ankle into the guy’s face. Then she wraps her thick thighs around the man and smothers him right into her cooch. Just as he stops thrashing, she lets a long and loud fart rip across the tent.

  Edwina collapses in tears.

  Darla chuckles as she extracts her legs from the dead guy. She pulls the hood of his black sweatshirt aside, and they both stare at him. This one is younger than the first but still scruffy and covered in blood.

  “What is that on his forehead?”

  “Smudged blood, I think. Wait, it’s a symbol.”

  Darla leans close. Edwina is ready to strike if the guy so much as twitches. It’s like that in the movies; when you get close to the dead bad guy, he always pops his head up with an evil grin. If he does that now, he is going to get a fresh fist in the schnoz. Just one of the many skills taught at this ‘girls camp.’

  “It’s a fucking pentagram.”

  Screams from outside the tent interrupt their scrutiny. Edwina is on her feet as fast as a whip with Darla right behind her.

  “Poor men.”

  “Yep.”

  “So what the fuck do we have here?” Marcel wears a skintight black leather dress and a no-shit-taking frown. She carries a whip in one hand and a knife in the other. Edwina feels a tightening in her stomach every time the statuesque woman looks at her. She has heard the stories of the big tent where women go to serve.

  Marcel is pacing up and down a row of chairs. Her high heels put her over six feet tall, and she is pretty much the spitting image of a dominatrix. Her prisoners are far from the spitting image of willing slaves. They are crying and moaning, and one of the little fucks has even pissed himself.

  “You mean to tell me that you came here to kill us?”

  “Yes,” one of the men sobs. He, like the dead men, has a pentagram on his forehead, but now it is smeared, and snot is running down his face and he almost looks pathetic. He cries when she stops in front of him and slowly brings the knife up to his face, to the place between his eyes and then drags it ever so slowly down his nose, lips, chin and chest until she stops at his groin. She uses the knife lightly, but it leaves a thin slit where it passes.

  The man is tied to a high-back chair, and someone had the good sense to strap a two-by-four behind his head so that he can’t move his neck. When Marcel moves out of his line of vision, his eyes flick back and forth at the ocean of angry women before him, but his pleas fall on deaf ears.

  “Why?”

  “We came to unleash he who will obliterate the sun. The spawn, Satan himself.”

  “Satan?” she asks lightly.

  “Yes, the lig
ht destroyer.”

  “Know something, champ? You are a fucking idiot.” And she jams the knife home in his groin. Blood sprays out, and he screams with such violence that his voice goes hoarse, and when he drags in a breath to do it again he can’t. He can only whimper with his mouth wide open while his life drains onto the wood floor. After a while, he stops twitching.

  There are only a few left, and their interrogations follow much the same pattern. Ask a question, get pissed and kill the bastard. When she is done, there are nine bodies in chairs and not a one has breath left. The man who held out the longest begged and begged. Even when Marcel slit his throat, he forced his head down against the strain of the ropes and managed to keep the blood from gushing out. But his breathing became troubled as the plan backfired and blood pooled in his lungs.

  The women have no survivors, but they do have an awful lot of info. They know where the dumbasses came from. They know what they planned—as ridiculous as it sounded. And they know where to find the rest of the fuckers in the cult. The Sons of Satan’s Reedeming Cock are about to get a wakeup call.

  Later, Marcel gets the ladies together and gets them all worked up. This is something she is good at and the reason she is the leader.

  “Ladies, they thought they could come up here and kill us in our sleep. They planned to rape and strangle us. How does that make you feel?”

  Edwina gets a chill when the cries of outrage come back. Fists pump in the air and hurled shoes and flung rocks batter the corpses.

  “I say we pay a visit to these wackos and teach them a lesson they won’t forget because we are going to shorten their lives!” She cracks the whip, and the girls come to their feet, ready to rain unholy terror on the cretins who brought this on themselves.

  The quake is so small it could almost be mistaken for the thudding of the women’s enthusiastic feet, but Edwina knows better, having lived in earthquake country her entire life. It is the barest of shimmers at first, but it builds and rumbles. It feels like it is right beneath them. She stares at the floor and watches the blood draining between the slats of wood, dripping onto the solid ground underneath.