Chapter 4

I sat there in the women’s health clinic just for kicks, listening to the idiot fanatics outside scream their disgust and hate at the patients and staff, even as I listened to the thoughts of those in the waiting room, including the receptionist. It was rather amusing to hear the mixture of guilt, fear, shame, and all of these other pointless feelings in the human psyche. Humans were such pathetically feeble and timid creatures at times, all afraid of angering a God who, especially in the case of the new deity Lord Michael, didn’t give a shit about them either way.

I turned to the lady in the seat next to me and asked her, “So, are you getting an abortion, too, or is this simply a screening?”

The thirty-six year old, married woman looked at me, very haunted, and told me, “Please, don’t tell my husband, but I’m pregnant to another man! It’s the ... bishop or possibly his sons. Twin boys, fresh back from their missions. I threatened to tell the stake president and even higher church authorities, and he told me that they wouldn’t do a thing, because he had a revelation that I really belonged to him, not to Clay. My poor husband can’t know. He’d blame me, not them, call me a ‘temptress’ or something. I know him. The church authorities can do no wrong in his sight. Anyway, they have told me if I don’t keep their secret, I’ll be excommunicated. What am I to do?”

I read her memories and realized that she was essentially seduced into what was a scandalous activity by Mormon standards: a gang-bang. Then again, she had enjoyed it during the act ... but she hadn’t seduced them. They had lured her into a compromising position and deliberately impregnated her due to some supposed revelation or whatever. They had used various drugs to lower her inhibitions, so one could claim that it wasn’t fully consensual, nor was it completely coercive.

The bishop in question, Orvin Lane, had been freely indulging some rather interesting narcotics that certainly skirted the Word of Wisdom, not that I very much cared about that. The results of this drug habit had been a typically Mormon weakness: so-called “testimony.” Bishop Lane honestly believed that he was above even the strictest rules and regulations, as well as sexual ethics, of his own church, and had apparently led his sons in prayer right before they had enticed this man’s wife.

Jane, that was her name, was then blackmailed into keeping it up with all three men, two of whom had girlfriends and the other a wife, yet were quite willing to cheat on them for this delusionary “vision.” I didn’t mind adultery or infidelity (in fact, as Asmodeus, I reveled in it), but I found extortion and abuse of power repugnant.

What was worse was that even this much independent action by Jane was dangerous: the bishop had warned her not to abort any children if she had them, though he evidently didn’t know that he, and it turned out that it was he, had knocked her up yet. She had been instructed to raise the child, not even to give it up for adoption, but to pass it off as Clay’s baby. If Lane learned that the woman had in fact gotten an abortion, he would probably take vengeance on her. What was more, the stake president was blissfully ignorant of this plot for now, but he was evidently corrupted and compromised in other ways that made him vulnerable to blackmail.

I also learned that Clay himself was a victim of blackmail of the very same bishop and his sons. They had found his secret Grindr profile as well as gay porn stash and used it to try to control him. This had been part of why they had chosen him. They figured that they could eventually force him into a “cuckold” situation in their own perverse, religious way, and that since he was a “closet fag,” he deserved that treatment. I needed to take action, and soon, before they really coerced the couple into something that neither of them wished, at least not in that form. Clay wasn’t even gay. He was bisexual and had needs that he couldn’t express with Jane. Then again, she had urges, ones that led her into adultery, something that I enjoyed, yet which made it necessary to strike quickly.

“What if I told you that there was another way out of your mess, even if the price was somewhat high? You could have this baby, your husband’s forgiveness, and freedom from this bishop and his sons for good? Not to mention from their false religion. I hate to break it to you, Jane, but it is a false church. Bishop Lane and his twin sons, Heber and Mosiah, are just part of a very twisted and devious organization that has bilked millions since Joseph Smith and his so-called ‘prophecies, ‘ let me tell you now. Your ‘Prophet’ is in Hell as we speak, along with his two immediate successors, Brigham Young and John Taylor.

“Yes, Jane, Hell is a very real place, and, no it’s not simply ‘spirit prison.’ I know that you don’t believe me, but I can provide proof or evidence of my claims pretty fast, I assure you,” I told the woman, much to her astonishment.

“Wait, I didn’t tell you my name, did I? How did you know that? Who and what are you, sir?” Jane asked me, as my guise of an elderly man ceased to completely deceive her.

“I know your name, Jane Ellen Wilson. Your full name, as you can see. You were born Jane Ellen Courtney, and you have been married to Clayton Robert Wilson, Jr. for the past twelve years. You have eight children, not counting this one, all of them by Clay except for little Daphne Henrietta Wilson, aged four, one of the middle children whom you got from an office Christmas party where you unknowingly sampled alcoholic punch and let your boss at the time seduce you. You have feared that this might be true, and indeed, it’s the next thing that the bishop has planned to use against you, but you kept reassuring yourself that you slept again with Clay in time to ensure that he was the likely father instead.

“Also, I can tell you that your husband has secrets of his own. He is bisexual and has been leading a double life, meeting guys from Grindr for gay sex hookups as well as viewing gay porn. He’s not a homosexual, though. He’s just bi and really in a mood to explore a newly discovered side of himself. Unfortunately for him, he’s been caught and blackmailed by the bishop, too. You’re both cheaters, which I like about you, trust me. You really should forgive and accept each other.

“That’s the path to a better marriage, if you ask me. Open your marriage up. You’ll both be much happier for it, trust me. The bishop can only blackmail you with leverage and this will take away a lot of that power, if you have no secrets from each other,” I replied, still keeping cryptic, even as I made suggestions and recommendations, “As much as I like cheaters, I like swingers even more.”

“Wait a second ... my church is false? My husband is bisexual and is being blackmailed by the bishop? You can get me out of this mess? You propose an open marriage? Who are you and how do you know these other things, let alone know who is in Heaven or Hell? Are you an angel?” Jane turned me, truly shocked as my eyes became red.

“Well, strictly speaking, a fallen one. My name is Asmodeus. I come from Hell,” I chuckled, even as others started to eavesdrop on us.

“Oh, really? You’re a demon named Asmodeus, famous for stirring up lust and desire in mortals in order to lure them into hellfire and damnation? Why should we believe you?” the clerk at the clinic confronted me, and damn her hearing must have been great!

I turned my crimson glare on the clerk, whose name was Julie, and the sassy blonde dropped her pen onto her desk just like that. I then lit a cigar, much like George Burns, and rose to approach the desk. She started to stammer that the clinic had a no-smoking policy, but I put my hand on hers and let her feel the heat from my flesh as it seared her skin. I then let my normal skin cool hers and I gave her a deep tongue kiss out of the blue that left no doubt that I could entice most women at the drop of a hat.