Wrath James White presents Poisoning Eros I & II (2 page)

After leaving her family for drugs and sex, she’d
continued to snort and shoot up most of her profits, and soon even
the B producers wouldn’t touch her. Doped up on a cocktail of
street level pharmaceuticals, she broke one gangbang record after
another, trying to drown the memory of her lost family in cocaine
and cum, until people grew tired of seeing how many cocks she could
stuff into her various orifices, and she was dumped by one producer
after another. Then she’d found herself doing S&M and bondage
films, fake snuff and fetish videos, and then finally she’d been
diagnosed with the HIV and her career in legitimate porn was over.
Now at age forty-six—twenty-seven years after starting in the
business—she found herself doing zoo and farm sex videos.

Gloria packed herself with ice cubes and prepared
for the next take.

“Can you really take this thing’s cock in your ass?
I mean, we don’t want nobody dying on the set,” Jordan asked.

Jordan was the money behind ZoologicalPorn.com. He
looked like Buddy Holly on crack. Glasses as thick as bulletproof
glass, and you could see all the bones in his face, as if he’d had
one too many liposuctions or snorted one too many lines of coke. He
and his portly longhaired partner Colin filmed all the movies for
their website.

“Trust me. I’ve had bigger cocks than this in my
ass. In ‘Stuffed’ I took the business end of a baseball bat and a
stuffed elephant penis. Just get that donkey over here and start
rolling.”

“You’ll have to get him up again.”

“No problem.”

Gloria knelt between the donkey’s
legs and took the thing’s massive organ into her mouth, and within
seconds it had achieved the desired length and rigidity. She shot
half a tub of AstroGlide into her ass and slathered the donkey’s
penis in it, and then she bent over and spread her ass cheeks,
revealing an asshole big enough to toss a baseball
through.

“Roll camera!”

It hurt like hell. But Jordan had promised her
another thousand bucks if she could do it. The ice helped but still
it felt like she was being split in half as she eased the thing’s
massive cock into her anus. Having the harness break, and the
thing’s full weight coming down on her back was more of a concern
than having the donkey’s dick ripping through her distended rectum.
She was so high that she was practically numb.

The donkey thrust three of four times into her
asshole, stretching her wide and causing her stomach to cramp. Then
it shot another geyser of cum into her asshole. The fit of its cock
in her asshole was so tight that semen sprayed out like an open
fire hydrant. The two geeks zoomed in to catch the mule semen
erupting from her vandalized anus.

“You’re a fucking star, Gloria!” The geeks
high-fived again and then took out their own cocks so that Gloria
could fulfill the rest of her contract. After the donkey it was
almost a relief for Gloria suck on something so small, something
that she didn’t have to pick hair out of her teeth when it was
over. She sucked them both off, and when they finished jacking off
on her face, they paid her.

“Good job, baby. We’ll see you again next week.” The
geeks left, gibbering about the possibilities of getting a hold of
something bigger for Gloria to fuck, like an elephant or a
giraffe.

“We don’t want to kill her,
though,” Colin reminded his partner.

“Did you see her take that donkey’s cock in her ass?
She barely batted a fucking eye. An elephant couldn’t be much
worse. She said she already had a stuffed elephant cock in her ass.
How much worse could a live one be?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an elephant’s cock,
really. How big are they?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should go to the zoo and
check it out.”

Then they were gone. Gloria shrugged back into her
dress and, still covered with cum and blood, AstroGlide and donkey
semen leaking from her ass, she stumbled out to her car.

*

Gloria showered as soon as she got home. After she
dressed, she went to the corner and waited beside a trash container
to score some heroin from one of the local dealers. She couldn’t
find heroin though—everyone was selling crack, meth, and xstasy.
She didn’t want to be up though; she wanted to crash, to forget
about her sick and diseased life.

She turned the corner. A fleshy little man in an
obviously expensive suit surprised her by offering her heroin out
of the blue, before she’d even asked. Not that she’d been intending
to ask. The guy looked like a child molester. There was something
disconcerting about his smile. It looked too confident to be coming
from a face so homely.

The man’s skin was the color of raw calamari; thin
blue and green veins crawled beneath the surface. The ends of his
handlebar moustache curled up like ram’s horns. Thick, curly hair
surrounded a splotchy bald spot in the center of his head. With all
that red hair, she’d expected his eyes to be green but noticed that
they were as black as a starless sky.

“What are you, a fucking cop?”

“No. I’m a fan, Gloria.”

I’m not a prostitute. I’m an actress. So whatever
you’ve got planned, forget it.” She started to turn away but he
reached into his pocket and pulled out three small balloons filled
with heroin. Gloria’s gaze latched onto them, and she began to
sweat. Saliva trickled out of the corner of her mouth.

“Actress. That’s exactly what I’m looking for,
Gloria. An actress to star in my next film.” He smiled, a repulsive
contortion of facial muscles that she assumed were meant to be
comforting but instead made her flesh crawl.

“What kind of film? If you’re such a big fan, then
you must know I’m HIV positive. That’s why I’ve been doing the
animal videos. They can’t catch it.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t be fucking anything human in
my films.”

*

Gloria was pretty sure the man with the flaming red
hair was insane. Not only had he given her the heroin for free,
he’d promised her fifty thousand dollars for her services. All
she’d have to do is lie on a bed in a run-down old house and just
“go with it”, as he put it. Did he get his kicks from creepy old
houses? Gloria once spent a weekend with a guy who could only get
it up inside a coffin. Liked to pretend he was a corpse. Maybe a
run-down house was a way for this guy to get his rocks off.
Whatever his hang-up, he was paying way too much for her to give a
shit.

He’d told her that the house was haunted by the
spirit of a convicted serial rapist who’d been stabbed to death in
prison, and that he was paying her to have sex with the ghost.

Gloria smiled. “Whatever.” She slipped the spike
into the vein behind her knee and shot herself full of dope.

Once high, she stripped off her clothing and lay
back on the piss-stained mattress. The heroin kicked in, and
shortly after she no longer cared about much of anything.

*

Gloria slowly woke from a drowsy, semi-conscious
state. She felt hands crawling over her skin, kneading her
mountainous silicone stuffed breasts, and struggled to open her
eyes, to bring her vision into focus. She wanted to know who was
attached to those rough hands. He spread her legs and thrust a
finger, two, three, until his entire hand was inside her. A mouth
clamped down on her left breast, panting heavily, hot steaming
breath almost burning the flesh. He bit so hard her nipple bled,
and her eyes flew open.

She was staring at an empty room—empty except for
the redheaded pervert behind the video camera. Empty except for
whatever was still running its hands and mouth over her body. Some
invisible thing, hot misty breath on her inner thighs, licking the
flesh there. The invisible thing that was now gnawing at her
clitoris even as it punched its fist up inside her. Gloria screamed
and tried to push the thing off, surprised when her hands actually
encountered substance where her eyes beheld only dead air. Still,
even though she could touch it, she couldn’t seem to move it.
Whatever the unseen entity was, it was all rock-hard muscle.

“That’s it, Gloria. Wonderful work. Keep it up, so
to speak.”

Hard, invisible fingers twisted into her hair and
jerked her head forward. She could feel the unmistakable push of a
rigid cock against her lips, forcing them open to allow it inside.
She could smell the musky aroma of pubic sweat. Taste the salty
drops of pre-cum as the throbbing erection slid past her tongue and
down her throat. Still, she could see nothing. Nothing but an
almost empty room.

Vlad moved in closer with the camera, and Gloria
wanted to turn away, repulsed by Vlad, by the invisible thing
fucking her raw. Disgusted with herself for allowing this
debasement, sick of what she had become.

Vlad looked up from the camera,
grinned, shook his head. “What has it all become, dear, sweet
Gloria? ‘Christianity gave Eros poison to drink. He did not die of
it but degenerated into vice …’ Nietzsche said that. Apt, I
think.”

Gloria groped, her nails passing over large hairy
testicles as her invisible rapist attacked her throat. She felt the
cock swell in her throat. Felt it jerk and the warm spray of molten
semen fill her mouth. The ghost withdrew and she spit his seed out,
felt it dribble down her chin. Still she saw nothing. Even the
thing’s cum was invisible.

Once free, she tried to crawl away but invisible
hands threw her back down on the mattress, wrenched her legs apart
again.

His erection felt even longer and thicker than the
one she’d had in her throat. It ripped its way inside of her and
began pounding into her at a manic pace. Hands clamped down on her
throat and began to squeeze. Long callused fingers crushed her
windpipe, cutting off the flow of oxygen as the poltergeist
continued to assault her slack vaginal walls with its brutal penis.
Spots began to dance in front of her eyes and everything started to
go black.

“Fucking slut! Whore! Jezebel! Harlot!”

The words assaulted her, words spoken from lips she
could not see. Gloria began to cry and that seemed to both anger
and excite her assailant. A fist collided with her jaw with an
audible pop and Gloria’s eyes rolled back in her head.

Her body bucked and rocked as the ghost rode her
hard, flipping her from one position to the next and entering her
from every angle. Whenever she failed to moan and squeal
appropriately she was smacked or bitten or strangled nearly
unconscious. The assault went on all night and the redheaded man
behind the camera filmed it all.

*

The next morning Gloria was back in her apartment.
Fifty thousand dollars in her purse hardly seemed to make up for
the countless bruises and bite marks on her breasts, face, thighs,
and buttocks.

She rolled over onto her side, faced the night
table, snatched the half-empty pack of smokes and shook one into
her mouth. Too much heroin last night. Now her head pounded like
someone was keeping time with a sledgehammer.

The best way to get rid of the headache was to shoot
up again. Her thoughts flashed back to the night before and she
tried to bring it into focus. Whatever had attacked her, there was
no way it could have been a ghost. She was so wasted she must have
imagined it. Imagined an invisible rapist. Maybe she’d been
blindfolded and just couldn’t remember.

That little redheaded freak, she thought. He must
have drugged me, raped me himself. “I hope that fucker catches AIDS
and dies!” Then there was the money. She’d never made that much on
a single film, even at the height of her career.

Her asshole, sore from the donkey’s attack, was
turned nearly inside out, inflamed hemorrhoidal tissue bulging out
of her anus. It looked like a baboon’s ass. Gloria snubbed out the
cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and went back to sleep.

That night she dreamt of Ryan and her daughter and
woke up feeling guilty and ashamed and in desperate need of another
fix. Her daughter’s face lingered in her mind; her conscience
always wore Angela’s face. That sweet, angelic, dimpled smile
telling her what a worthless slut she’d become, what a degenerate
junky, screaming at her to stop killing herself. Another hit of H
and her conscience slipped back into the coma in which it had so
often languished for most of her adult life, until motherhood had
awakened it with anguished shrieking. If only she could pull the
plug on the damned thing once and for all. But even after years of
degradation, drugs and abuse, she still knew right from wrong. The
drugs just helped her not care.

*

This was not the path Gloria had once dreamed for
herself. As a child she’d imagined a world of dancing and painting
and marrying into happiness, as little girls are wont to do. When
she was older she would envision stardom, rising to fame in movies,
appearing on all the talk shows.

She’d been a beautiful and popular girl in high
school. Then she dropped out to hitchhike her way to Hollywood, to
become a star. She’d been raped by one truck driver, and offered a
choice of being dropped off in the middle of the Nevada desert or
giving a blowjob by another. But she’d survived, and in her mind it
had been worth it. Almost.

Gloria knew that she’d never make
it through college. Only her long blonde hair, long legs and large
breasts kept her from being doomed to minimum wage jobs for the
rest of her life. But with her body she soon found that she could
make more money than she’d ever imagined … in the porno
industry.

She’d been an instant success. She didn’t mind all
the cocks she’d had to suck or pussies she had to lick. She was
famous and getting paid to do what her body had been made for. Then
came drugs, and age, and the long fall from glory.