Hellucination (Wrath Limited Edition)

by Stephen Biro

  My mind was flooding with these thoughts as I watched the obscenity in front of me.

  I don’t think it is obscene to tell you the truth: My cock began developing a life of its own as I saw the massive wall of flesh that ranged farther than my eyes could see. Some people have seen an orgy in their life, even if only on the Internet; this made those look like child’s play.

  The bodies were raised 17 people high instead of the normal single layer of debauchery. Every body was on top of another body as they thrusted and took every inch and swallowed every juice from every orifice and genital you can imagine. Nothing was left to the imagination as every soul drank deep of their earthly desires, making them feel whole in the level of Hell we all call Lust.

  Every breast was perfect, although some were manmade, as on Earth. All of them were flowing over abundantly to the point of extremism. Every female body was the exact size they desired on Earth, and every cock was as big as a horse’s, as every man wishes.

  If this seems too descriptive, it’s done to explain the actuality of what I saw: Sexual pleasure to the point of obscenity. There was plenty more:

  Every woman was taking multiple cocks and swallowing every impossible inch. There was no gag reflex unless the female soul wanted it. No man ejaculated prematurely unless the woman was begging for him to come. And no body turned anything down. They were lost in the sin.

  The orgy of Hell makes the debauchery of Earth feel like a tepid warm-up exercise. Body heaped onto body as if they were almost weightless.

  As for the amount of cum, it was everywhere and each cock seemed to pump a gallon of it wherever it was sprayed. It was swallowed, buried and squirted out of every hole that was offered. It was spread on oversized tits and asses, to be licked off by hungry nymphomaniac women desperately needing to taste the cum of men.

  The sweaty pleasure of anxious, desperate sex was almost too much to bear. I wanted to jump in. I wanted to lose myself in the sins of the flesh and make my fantasies come true, because here it was, right in my reality. Everything I wanted and desired was in my grasp.

  But I knew I was in Hell. I knew I was merely an observer. God knew my sins, and he wasn’t testing me. He was telling me what I could look forward to. He might have even been telling me this is how he sees me.

  My cock was almost in my hand, but it wasn’t, even though I’d never been so hard in my life. I knew Dante Alighieri didn’t jerk off in Hell, but perhaps Hell had changed since he visited.

  It makes me feel alive while lost in the sin of lust. I am and always will be totally and unequivocally disoriented by the sins of the flesh.

  I continued watching the voluntary damned go at it like dogs in heat. Just from my vantage point, I could see double vaginal, double anal, foursomes, threesomes, bukkake, gangbangs, swapping, switching, masturbators and voyeurs all in the same sex act, at the same time. Every soul was desperate to be used and to be abused by everyone while using and abusing others in the same thrust or breath.

  Then I saw it. I didn’t understand at first, but after I saw it multiple times and after inspecting closely, I knew I was seeing female-male gender switches. One minute a man was a woman, and the next a woman was a man. It was as if everyone could switch to feel the other perspective, and nobody really noticed it because everyone was deep into the act.

  After a while, I walked around this pile of prurient souls, hoping to find the end. I did, but then I noticed more piles of souls beyond, also screwing each other into oblivion. They were all just going through the act—nothing more. Orgasms would squirt and shiver all over everyone, but their desperate need to want and to be wanted achieved nothing. There was no afterglow. There was no stopping or laughing or appreciation of the closeness shared. They were totally desperate to stay in the act. Piles of women, for instance, ate each other out and kissed, but after each orgasm, they shifted to someone else to try to feel loved.

  I also saw the man pile. Didn’t want to, but I did. They were fucking and sucking, taking load after load but never feeling quenched or satiated. They just moved to another body after each orgasm.

  I could see other piles in the distance and some were filled with more fetish-dominated souls. Others were just like the one in front of me. I stopped looking at the others and just turned around to examine the pile closest to me.

  No orgasm that I saw let a soul feel complete. In the desperation of wanting to feel connected, it made the soul even more alone. Every orgasm, kiss and grope gave way to more needing.

  I walked closer to the pile of bodies and began to look them in the face as they fucked themselves in the Devil’s bedroom.

  I saw exasperation in their faces. I saw loneliness and tears of unfulfilled feelings. The act of what should have been love was an act of sorrow and loss. I could see it in their eyes, always trying to recapture a feeling but mistaking it for the act itself.

  I could see those whose lives were in shambles; the manipulative conquest of someone needing to be loved was used to make their egos feel better about themselves.

  My heart dropped as I saw it for what it truly was. I saw the self-hatred and how the act of sex became the act of dominance resulting from this self-hatred. They had all lost the meaning of love and had replaced it with the act of sex. They couldn’t feel the beauty of it; they had lost sight of that.

  This was the majority of what I saw, but the piles were filled with others. Lust is the craziest of all sins, because it falls into so many different patterns and desires that it began to make my head throb.

  That’s another reason lust is an easy sin to commit: We all feel alone, even when married, engaged or dating. We are locked into our own minds. We may try to show a partner who we are and what we need, but we truly can’t say it all. There is no way we can, due to our own circumstances. We can argue and fight over it and give ultimatums. We can tell our loved ones who we are and what we need, but it rarely works without extreme devotion and love.

  This doesn’t mean your sexual requests fall on deaf ears; they just fall on ears that are not yours. That is why, when true closeness during sex is achieved, it can make such headway towards keeping love and closeness between two people. Sex, as long as it is done with love and not hatred for one’s self or hatred towards the other, can be the most awe-inspiring thing God has ever created.

  That’s why it can take us over. Sex, whether loving or twisted, can make us blind to the reality around us and put us in the here and now. We give ourselves over to the act. It gives lovers those minutes, seconds and even hours to forget the outside world. It’s probably why God gave us only seconds during the actual orgasm.

  The complete loss of reality and the complete closeness of another individual—even for just a couple of seconds—is to remind us of what Heaven can be like, to remind us of how it feels to be accepted, respected and loved.

  I walked past the bodies and around them. The sounds began grating on my nerves. I tried to look around, but aside from the desperate bodies, all I could see was darkness.

  I began to run when I saw what I thought was an opening. I ran for it and then stumbled into it. I fell down and began to roll down a steep incline. I was falling down the side of a mountain in the utter darkness and out of the Valley of Lust.

  THE MAZE OF VANITY

  I didn’t know where I found myself, because I was lost.

  I’ve been lost physically, and I’ve been lost emotionally, and I certainly have been lost spiritually. I wouldn’t be on this ride if I hadn’t.

  But the sort of lost I found there meant everything was lost.

  No hope, no life. Hope and life are all we have, and they were taken away from me. I lost everything important to me, and I found myself in a place where I knew I belonged, and it was different.

  You figure Hell is place that you’re exiled and banished to. But it’s a place that welcomes you with open arms. It takes you for who you are. It takes you and lets you sink into the mire of what it is you actually want.

 
I started to notice a pattern in Hell that began to make me sick. I saw it on the souls’ faces as it began to become apparent in everyone who was here long enough. All souls that turned away from God got exactly what they wanted. Their sins were magnified a hundredfold, and at first they’re grateful for an endless supply of what they think they want. But having it all really doesn’t give them what they want. Lots of sex, eating, or wealth just makes a soul realize that more is out there.

  I saw sins for what they truly are: virtues that can lead to vices. Then, of course, vices can lead to worse vices. I saw the actual makeup of virtue and the sins that overloaded us as human beings. We let sin step in and take control of us, even when we think we are doing virtue. I didn’t have much time to ponder this aspect, but it was enough to show me I was in store for more of this formula.

  I felt the internal rumble that shook me while electricity and blackness enveloped me. I screamed a scream of Hellish proportions that still sickens me to this day.

  Calmness finally overtook me, and I found myself standing in front of a hall of mirrors. I peered in and could see it was a maze of mirrors stretching before me. I walked in.

  I stopped at the gateway and stared for a moment at the reflections surrounding me. I began to notice what seemed like a visual hiccup. I could see through the mirrors to the souls on the other side of them. But they were backwards, as if the mirror was showing me what the people see from their side.

  I took a deep breath and walked through the gateway. When a mirror shattered next to me, it felt as if my soul shattered too. A millisecond later, the shards of my mind did splinter into a million jagged pieces then solidified, forming back into myself. At the same time, the mirror’s fractures rippled and became whole again.

  I fell to my knees. I knew that every crack in my mind had repaired itself just so it could break me into a million pieces again.

  My psyche shattered again, and I could feel each and every distinct piece of my personality break off. I could see, to my horror, that what I thought was me was actually a diverse makeup of ideas, thoughts and feelings that was too numerous to even comprehend. All the mirrors broke around me, and I could see aspects of myself in every splinter and shard. They began to meld back into a whole and, simultaneously, so did my mind.

  My consciousness was on the verge of a meltdown. I gasped as rotten air inflated my lungs. I tried to stand back up, only to stumble. I raised myself to a full, upright position while my eyes darted around, expecting me to break again. Mirrors extended as far as the eye could see, so I walked deeper into the maze.

  I didn’t make it far. Disillusionment and disfigured beauty rolled over me like a freight train. I fell to my knees again, clutching my chest, desperately trying to hold myself together. I didn’t want to shatter again. What happened if my pieces couldn’t re-form?

  The reality of this place sank in. Terror filled the void in my heart with the fear of Hell that could never be squelched.

  I stood again and walked forward in the maze, when I began to hear them. I could hear the soft voices all around me. I could hear how beautiful, how enchanting they all were, speaking to themselves.

  I knew where I was—the level of Vanity. I was in the level where people loved themselves more than anything else in the world. It was an ego trip heavily connected to appearances, because if you believe you’re beautiful, you have self-worth in your own mind.

  The straight path split, and I took a right. I followed my gut because not only was I in a maze of mirrors, I was in a maze of mirrors in Hell itself. I expected up to be down, right to be left, and that walking forwards would lead me backwards. Continuing down my chosen path a while longer, I stopped.

  It was at an edge, an actual corner of the maze, and I didn’t see anyone outside of the mirrors. I thought I had been seeing through the mirrors to people on the other side, but they were actually in the mirrors. If I looked at a mirror from the front and then looked at the back, the image was reversed on either side. I stood there for a moment and listened to a poor woman who was trapped in the mirror before me.

  I could hear her talk about her beauty. She talked to herself about how wonderful she was, because she looked so attractive. Everyone bowed down to her, and she could do anything she wanted—all because of her stunning vivaciousness. I felt sick upon realizing she was worshipping herself.

  I wasn’t looking at her at the time. I was looking downwards, paying attention to her words as they flowed in and out of my consciousness. I heard enough and looked up at the woman in the mirror.

  The mirror was wavering and shimmering as if trying to break but unable. The woman’s form breathed in and out, changing from grotesque to beautiful. The changes occurred in the space of a second. I watched the play and listened to the act. I needed to see what she actually was. I could hear what she believed she was, but I saw something confusing staring back at me from the mirror.

  We caught gazes, and she stopped. She laughed to herself.

  “I know you love what you see,” she said.

  I tried to shift my eyes away, but I was locked in her gaze.

  I said, “I see what you are.”

  She laughed and said, “I know. That’s why I know you love me.”

  I stepped back, still looking into her eyes, and felt nauseous. I could see her for what she truly was. I couldn’t see it before, but I could finally see the horrors of what she had lost. Her face and body featured scabs and open, oozing sores. Every feature on her face contorted into something more hideous every second I looked. I tried to take my eyes off her, because I couldn’t understand what she was putting herself through.

  I’m a decent-looking guy. Nothing Adonis would write home about, but I don’t consider myself ugly. But I have never preened over myself for hours in front of a mirror. And I’ve never taken more than 20 seconds to pick out clothes. I never thought my looks made me feel important. Or, at least that’s what I think. I feel I’m good-looking because of who I am. My personality trumps anything my physical body offers. I’ve been fat, overweight, normal, svelte, and buff, but I have never based my self-worth on my looks.

  I began realizing things about myself I never knew: When it came down to it, my outward shell barely had an impact on who I am. Of course, you want to look perfect or at least to look better, but it has never stopped me from doing anything in my life.

  I looked at the soul in the mirror, and she wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was staring at herself in her mirrored trap. Only it wasn’t a trap for her. It was exactly what she wanted—to be with the most important person in the world: herself.

  I walked down the corridor to the corner and turned with it. I made a series of lefts and rights, trying to get to the middle. Mirrors of self-important people surrounded me as I heard what they were saying to themselves:

  “I am the best, and nobody can do the things I do.”

  “I make myself look good, because it’s what’s important to me.”

  “I’m just wonderful.”

  “I’m so beautiful.”

  “I’m smarter than everyone I know.”

  I had to stop at this point. I was lost, confused and aghast at what I had been hearing. What I told you was a drop in the bucket, because I could hear many, many voices at the same time. None of them could hear anyone else, though—not even from the adjacent mirrors.

  Then something dawned on me about the Vain who were trapped in these mirrors. They were just as lost as I was. The difference was, they were lost in their own minds, and I was lost in this maze.

  I picked someone to listen to, and I could hear their thoughts scurrying around in a maze of their beliefs, refusing to find a way out. Each soul was inside its own maze, inside this maze of mirrors. I shivered.

  I stopped and tried to gain my bearings, but it seemed impossible. I could hear millions of people lost in their own minds, not crying or wanting any interaction besides their own.

  I began to lose it because I didn’t have a clue whe
re I was, lost in the maze of reflections of the damned. I clenched my fists and my jaw, almost shattering my teeth. I was hoping my teeth cracking would wake me out of this Hell.

  Then I closed my eyes. I prayed to God at this time and found myself slowly coming to peace. My eyes were closed and it felt as if I wasn’t lost, that I had never been lost at all.

  The voices were still talking to themselves. I kept my eyes closed and looked around in the darkness of myself. I slowly turned my body around in a circle as I stood there.

  I saw a hint of light behind my eyelids. I spun around again and continued until I saw the light, still faint.

  I stopped, focusing on the tiny white light. I opened my eyes and was flooded with only mirrors, lost souls, and the loving torment of which they convinced themselves.

  I began to panic but didn’t move. I slowly closed my eyes again. Darkness rolled across me. I could see the white light again. I opened my eyes to the cacophony of narcissistic Hell then closed them again as fast as I could.

  My mind raced for my escape. I was lost, surrounded by mirrors of the damned, in the middle of a fucking maze. At least I thought it was the middle. But when I closed my eyes, I knew where to go. I felt it and wasn’t ashamed or fearful of it. I knew what I had to do.

  I squeezed my eyes tighter and I took one step towards the light. Nothing happened, so I took another step.

  Nothing happened. So I took two steps, then three and four. I stopped and listened to the rabble of the self-loving.

  “I’m the best and no one can do this but me.”

  “People should love me because I’m a model and have been in four advertisements.”

  “People will never like me because they’re jealous of me.”

  I refused to open my eyes. I didn’t know what I was doing, so I took another five steps.

  I stopped again. The light was a bit closer but still seemed an eternity away. I knew I should’ve hit a mirror 15 steps ago, but I hadn’t.