Inside Source – Sybil Rain

“Your little boyfriend sure loves you,” says the woman. “Can’t get it up unless you’re passed out on G. Then he sure gets hard.”
        “Here,” says the man. He hands you a white styrofoam cup. “Drink this. Smoke. Snort another. Swallow.”
        “I saw him rape you,” says the woman. “When he was here before. You was sleepin’. His little dick got so hard. Couldn’t get it up when you was awake, but soon as you passed out…”
        She giggles.
        “And now where is he? He left you. Your boyfriend left you alone. With us.”
        The liquid from the cup hits your stomach. The smoke fills your lungs, then your blood. The hotel room expands, becomes everything. You slip out of your clothes. You fall onto the bed. You descend through a trap door and awake in pure consciousness. Your essence is warmth. Your body is breath. Something soothes, then radiates, then glows. You are mere atmosphere. You are only a suggestion. A minimum. You are sound. You are waves. You expand, then contract. Subtract, then multiply. All that exists is love, is breath, is primal animal magnetism. There’s you, and the room, and the beautiful people within it. You look at the man and the woman the way the lion considers its meat. Your eyes say to eat them. Your stomach squeals. You roll over to your belly, push up to your hands and knees.
        “He did it because I asked him to,” you blurt out. “He did it because he loves me!”
        The man and the woman exchange a glance. The woman covers her mouth with her hand.
        “That’s so sweet,” she giggles. “Hear that? He did it because he loves her!”
        The man blows smoke rings at the center of the room. His left eye twitches. He rubs his chin. He ponders.
        “Love is good,” he says. “Love is sweet.” He’s swimming sideways towards you through the air, his face blown up like a shiny balloon, gold teeth glinting. You gaze through his translucent skull, see the metallic gears grinding and twisting beneath the skin.
        “Love is good,” he repeats. “But love is temporary.”
        “You’re wrong,” you say. “Love is eternal. Family is forever. Everything you love in this life will be yours for all time. Do anything you want to me. Anything at all. You understand? Rape me, gut me, feast on my flesh. I love you. You hear me? I want you to do it.”
        Your knees give out. You flop down on your stomach, then push up on your forearms. You look at the woman. You lick your lips and grin.
        “What are you waiting for?” you ask. “You cowards. Why won’t you do it?”
        The man and the woman exchange another glance. This time they’re not smiling.
        The woman advances, climbs up onto the bed. She grabs your thighs, pulling you back towards her enormous cock. You crane your neck to look back at her, watch the glittering wings on her back unfurl. The wings flap open, then expand, filling the room.
        “I’m gonna fuck this bitch,” she says. “I’m gonna fuck her good.”
        “Hey,” says the man, his face against yours, his hand on your neck. “You’re safe here.”
        You nod, feel him caress your scalp, your cheek. Safe. The man wobbles out of focus. The room flickers. It turns off, then on, then off again. Through a dark corridor, a needle makes its way to your neck. Its tip dances across the surface of your skin, scratching out a secret word in some forgotten ancient tongue. You feel your flesh melt down into jelly, sweet, fragrant nectar for the gathering shades to sip.
        “You’re safe,” says the man.
        You close your eyes and smile.
        “Yes,” you tell him. “I know.”