Gus Jerusalem and the Konja Gum – Part 1,000,000,000 – Fiction

Gus Jerusalem and the Konja Gum

by Joe Hacking
illustration by Kevin Banks

Part 1,000,000,000

John Q. was lost in a mall. He’d been lost for so long that he marked the passage of time by how many times he’d had sex with the voluptuous, scantily clad women who seemed to be the only inhabitants of said mall. Not only were the beauties incapable of anything but cute tittering, he also couldn’t recall when he’d entered the mall or for what he was shopping. His mind was a blank. If his name hadn’t been engraved on his silver Cross pen, then that too would be an unknown.

Now a pack of perfectly naked girls were doing all manner of things to his body. He remembered a dream or image of some yearning for such a lifestyle as this, and the grin on his face confirmed the fact that he didn’t mind the constant sex. But something told him that this just wasn’t normal, that this wasn’t real. It was just too good to be true. At first, he’d expected the security guards to catch him, or get discovered when the mall opened. But no guards appeared and the mall never opened. It was just the girls and himself. Where were all the people? How many new sexual positions could he create? What the hell was he shopping for?

Even as his mind wrestled with these doubts, the girls became more aroused, licking him and each other with their moist mouths, rubbing wetly against his limbs. Their scent filled his head, their nakedness filled his eyes. The soft warmth of their smooth flesh pressed against him, yielded to his touch. He took each of them again and again until time lost its meaning once more and the evening blurred into one, prolonged orgasm.

After time immeasurable, he climbed from the pile of sleeping, sweaty, naked women and walked to the entrance of the leather furniture store he called home. His store/home held all the best of everything from the mall: Stereo and video equipment, music, every Monty Python episode and movie, furnishings, food, booze. He wanted for nothing material. He only required the answers to the questions that, despite the constant fucking, plagued his mind.

Darkness showed through the skylights set in the ceiling above. Night and day came and went, but besides the skylights, there was no way to see what was going on outside. As always, the mall was as quiet as a church, the halls dark after he’d smashed all the lights out. It was times like this, when the girls were asleep and the darkness made it seem quiet, that his mind seemed free of strife, free of temptation, free of doubt. He was free to wonder who John Q. was, what his story was. He was about to return to the heap of affectionate females when a dim, golden light began to pulse in front of the store, directly over the ’95 Z-28 that was on display to no one but him.

The light started as a spark and became a tall oval of illumination. John stood amazed. He wondered if he’d finally lost it. He squinted into the light and was concerned to find the image of a young woman with shining hair and eyes, clothed in white. She was more beautiful than any woman he’d ever remembered seeing. Perfect beauty, both internal and external. He recalled what love was at the sight of her. She was mouthing words to him that were barely audible. He moved closer to hear what she was saying to him. It was like listening to a crackly radio.

“I am Kim-Ra, of the Higher Earths. This is no hallucination you see before you. You are a prisoner of the Konja Gum Groupmind Cult. They have you in a place of holding and are using your Godpower to alter the Crashed Universe. By the time you receive this message, we will be on our way to rescue you. You must not fight us when we come. There is only one being who can break through to where you are. His name is Gus Jerusalem. No matter what, you must not destroy him.” Now an image of a monstrous human with a small head, scraggly beard and an assortment of weapons flashed within the oval of light. John thought he looked like a comic book character made flesh. “This is what he looks like.”

So involved in the listening process was he, that John didn’t notice the girls until they were dragging him back to the leather and silk bed. But the White Woman was still speaking. He resisted, pulling away from them.

“You are the only one who can restore the Walls Between Universes. You are our Saviour. We need your help. Do not trust your eyes…” The image faded in intensity, the voice crackled off.

With desperate urgency, as if their physical need had consumed them whole, the girls began caressing, kissing, sucking and fondling John and each other. One of them kneeled before him, took hold of him, caused his hormones to race until the blood roared in his ears. The image of Kim-Ra and Gus Jerusalem sparkled and faded, as if it were a TV transmission that had been cut off from the source. John Q. slipped back into sexual nirvana as the girls dragged him back into bed, the image of Kim-Ra and the huge comic book character passing from his hormone-soaked mind.