                           The Reward
                        An Erotic Story?

     Mah'mud watched the building come closer ... closer ... 
closer.  Finally ignoring the passengers, because it was too late 
for them to do anything, he couldn't help looking through the 
cockpit door to windows ahead, for the last exciting seconds.  
The chaos behind him became irrelevant, and he almost didn't feel 
the heavy object strike him in the back of the head, just before 
the nose of the plane entered the building.  The last-minute 
attack by the passengers was moot anyway, as he didn't even see 
the floor coming up to meet him in the much faster smashing 
terror of the building sweeping through the plane at almost 600 
miles per hour.  Or was it the plane sweeping through the 
building?  It didn't matter: the result was the same to both, as 
building, almost-full fuel tanks, and disintegrating airliner 
became one massive and intermingled fireball and wave of 
destruction that took barely a second to progress from one side 
of the structure to the other.  In any case, all passengers, 
whether Allah-inspired hijackers or completely innocent 
bystanders, were dead before most of them could even feel the 
pain; as their bodies were separated into tiny pieces faster than 
nerve endings could propagate the pain.
     Mah'mud's brain, being protected momentarily by his skull, 
felt one last incredibly sharp pain, before it was all over.  In 
that time, was certainly none for regrets: such regrets being 
long past.  Even those few people who WERE innocent of the evil 
he was fighting who would die didn't bother him.  Like him, they 
would go to Allah and receive their reward ... As would the 
Shaitan-loving minions that he and his fellow True Believers were 
sending to their Dark Master.  Allah would sort it out, and see 
to it that each received the reward or punishment he deserved.  
Besides, having seen and considered the way most men and 
especially the shameless women comported themselves in this 
country, without proper prayers and exposing their bodies like 
even a prostitute in his country would never dare to, Mah'mud was 
almost certain that none of those dying with him (at least, on 
the airliner) could possibly be innocent.  No, these were all 
Zionist-loving and supporting unbelievers.  If they could not 
even offer prayer to the one true God, Allah the merciful, even 
when dying, then better that they die than live to propagate 
their untruth and sinfulness.
     These thoughts (of course) did not pass through Mah'mud's 
mind while dying.  But he had been thinking them for days in his 
preparations.  Knowing you WILL die, makes you put your life in 
order, and to lay your plans accordingly.  You do not want to go 
before Allah with regrets.
     And Mah'mud, along with his fellows, knew no last minute 
regrets for what he was doing; only regrets that the plane had 
little chance of actually destroying the structure.  Planes 
before had hit tall buildings and not damaged them too much.  The 
plane ahead of him had not brought down its target, and he had 
little more than hope that his would.  But if left to him, he 
would bring down both symbols to the ground and relish in the 
pain of those who remained ... It served them right for all the 


                                1


pain they had caused him and his family:  Starving and fighting 
the hated Zionists and all those who supported them ... Including 
most especially those in the United States.  Death, pain, and 
suffering to all of them!  HE wouldn't feel pain.  He was going 
to Allah, while those sinful, hateful, nasty, and wicked people 
in the building would die, burn, scream for mercy, and not get 
it.  A proper painful death for those who defied Allah.
     But his last seconds were not properly spent in prayer for 
the souls of those sent to Allah's judgment, nor even in 
reverence for his own.  It was mainly open-eyed surprise at how 
fast the building approached, and one final (picked up 
involuntarily from the sinners around him). "Oh my GOD!" as they 
hit.  Since his God was Allah, and Mohammed was his prophet, 
perhaps that might even be considered a prayer. 
     It might have been a second later; it might have been a 
million years.  Who can tell how long we spend when consciousness 
is gone?  Mah'mud woke to soft music, beautiful scents and 
colors, and a WHOLE feeling he hadn't had for years.  No pain 
wracked his body.  Not even the slightest hint of hunger bothered 
his stomach.  No itches of unfamiliar clothing, no troubles of 
any kind.  In all his years, there had always been SOME minor 
discomfort in every move Mah'mud made ... From hunger because of 
too little food, to the strap his father wielded when not making 
proper obeisance.  Though he knew his sisters had it even harder, 
the life of a boy soldier is hard from the moment he is born.  
Here was no sign of that.
     Opening his eyes, Mah'mud saw a beautiful face come into 
focus.  Full featured and dark, the woman looked like the woman 
of his dreams ... wet dreams, alone in the dark.  No such woman 
at home had ever looked at him that way.  Besides, none were 
allowed to; and his father had not allowed him loose to see the 
whores and other loose women available even in Allah fearing 
countries.  When in America, he had carefully kept aloof from 
those he met, lest they tempt him into sinning.
     At first, Mah'mud was about to snap at the woman for her 
shameful display of face; not even covering her mouth and chin, 
let alone ... He looked lower and saw far more flesh displayed 
than even the whores of America showed.  At least, as far as he 
had seen, anyway.  Mah'mud had never dared venture to those 
despicable icons of American culture and flesh ... the beaches, 
where he knew the females of Shaitan displayed arms, legs, faces, 
midriffs, and even more to the lustful gazes of men.
     It was only with a start that Mah'mud kept his half-raised 
hand from striking the woman in rebuke.  It wasn't HER fault, he 
realized.  In fact, the "woman" wasn't really a woman at all; but 
the first of his rewards for being a faithful follower of Allah, 
and dying in his cause.  Truth to tell however, he hadn't really 
expected, even in "Jannatu al-`Adn", or gardens of everlasting 
bliss ... in Paradise ... for an houri, to be so ... so CASUAL 
about almost nudity.  Still, they were there to SERVE him ... and 
a beautiful woman is a delight to the eye.  It still took some 
getting used to; and the thought that these beautiful creatures 
(he finally noticed at least two others nearby that were equally 
beautiful, if differently complexioned) were here merely to take 
care of HIM, and fulfill HIS every wish, was somewhat 


                                2


overwhelming.
     "Is there something you wish?" asked the beautiful woman; 
seeming to take his thought from his mind.  She displayed her 
body in a manner that made it obvious that she would accept his 
basest desires without objection.
     It was almost too much for Mah'mud, after a lifetime of 
privation and especially separation from women during the most 
intense and erotic times of his life, his (all too short) teenage 
years.  "Uh ... Something to eat?" he stammered; sitting further 
up on the chair (couch?) of gold, with soft silken cushions that 
almost caressed his body.
     Almost at the thought, another houri appeared (well, OK, 
walked up) at his elbow with a tray full of foods like he had 
only dreamed of before.  The mouthwatering smells were almost 
overpowering; while each delicate morsel was served with an 
elegance that only a master chef would usually reserve for his 
best and most immediate customers.  The first tray held 
sandwiches while delicious smells promised even further delights 
of viands should these prove inadequate.
     "Uh, what's that?" he asked; pointing to a delicate green, 
red, and brown item in an incredibly crusty and delicious looking 
toasted bread cover.
     "A B.L.T."
     "BLT?"
     The houri giggled.  "A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, 
of course, Silly," she expounded.
     Mah'mud was horrified.  BACON?  From birth he had been 
trained (as even the hated Zionists were trained, he understood) 
to avoid ever the possibility of eating forbidden meat.  And if 
ever a meat was forbidden, Pork, in all its forms, was the 
epitome of the worst.  "And that?" he barely husked while 
pointing at a second sandwich, now not quite looking so 
delightful.
     "A ham and cheese sandwich."
     Even the hated JEWS would be horrified at that combination 
of milk and meat, Mah'mud knew.
     "The roast?" he croaked; pointing at a second tray, 
containing a beautifully browned and crackling lump of seasoned 
meat; its seasoned scent sending tendrils of delight up his nose 
at the promise of the taste delight inside the meat.
     "Why pork, as you perceive," she replied; a puzzled frown on 
her face.  "Why, what's the matter?"
     "I can't eat PORK," he exploded.  "That's FORBIDDEN!"
     Immediately all three girls (huriyah?) within earshot burst 
into giggles.  "Forbidden?" giggled one of them; the sound of her 
voice a delight in words, but a Heavenly chorus all by itself in 
giggles.  "Nothing is forbidden HERE," she explained.  "That was 
in life.  Here, all is not only allowed, but mandatory if you so 
wish.  After all, that's what you died for, is it not?"
     Thus Mah'mud knew for certain that he had died.  Not that he 
really had any doubts before.  And the girls' words implied more.
     "And you?" he asked; waving his arm around to include not 
only the houri closest to him, but implying them all.
     "We are here to do anything you wish," she replied with a 
wink and a wriggle; emphasizing the, 'anything' part of the 


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sentence.  "After all, isn't this what you expected?"
     It certainly was.  Testing, Mah'mud grabbed the half naked 
girl and did what he had so longed to do to so many of the 
unrepentant and shameless whores of the Christian world.  He 
grabbed the brunette, had her stripped in an instant (only then 
noticing HIS nudity, as the silken garments he had been wearing 
seemed to melt away in his hurry; not getting in his way at all) 
and entered her with a violence learned long before as a soldier.  
Three quick thrusts, and Mah'mud was no longer a virgin ... and 
neither was the girl he was thrusting into.  He felt the woman's 
(houri's?) maidenhood snap as he entered; and then within seconds 
was spilling his seed inside her without worry or care as to the 
consequences.  (After all, in Paradise there are no consequences, 
are there?)  The girl moved around him and his spewing penis, as 
if she knew each thought of his, and was part of him ... 
Strangely like jacking off; the only sex he had known previously.
     Turning away, Mah'mud noticed the other three women watching 
him (Three?  Hadn't there been just two before?) with 
expectation.  Annoyed at their nonchalance, he grabbed a second 
one and forced her to kneel before him while he sodomized her; 
not even wondering at his ability to not only cum twice, but to 
get another erection within seconds.  This time, Mah'mud managed 
to last almost ten seconds before he felt the tingling in his 
scrotum so long-familiar from many lonely nights in his tent.  
Yanking his spewing member from the blonde's backside, he 
sheathed it in her wet and ready sex; destroying HER maidenhood 
with as little care as he had done with her sister.  Again, she 
moved with each stray thought of his, instead of the sensuous 
surprise of somebody else moving with a will of her own.  Again, 
he was reminded of masturbation ... a sin he was supposedly 
forgiven by giving his life in Jihad.  His shit-covered cock sank 
all five inches deep in the girl (woman?) as he spasmed her belly 
full of gush after thick white gush of slimy white goo.  The 
sensation was incredible.  If Mah'mud had known how good it felt 
to spend his seed in the belly of a woman, he probably would have 
either raped some poor child before, or (worse yet) consorted 
with one of those whores who so-infested the country he hated.  
Thank Allah for sparing him that, or he never would have been 
here.
     It was only afterwards, while he was having a fifth (or was 
it sixth) woman clean his shit and semen stained cock off with 
her mouth, that he gained enough of his wits back to notice the 
incongruity ... Shit stained?  He looked over at one of the two 
houris NOT servicing his penis and raised an eyebrow.
     "Because you expect it," she answered his unspoken question.  
"If it pleases you to degrade us, or take our virginities, that's 
what we are here for ... to please you.  If it offends ...."
     The shit stain was suddenly gone from his penis, along with 
all smells and indication it was ever there.  Somehow that 
bothered Mah'mud more than stinky manure on his prick ever had.  
After all, a soldier grew accustomed to handling shit, digging 
latrines, and wearing smelly clothes, when working in Allah's 
army.  For some reason he lost interest in the blow-job, even 
though the girl giving it could probably have given lifetime 
lessons to seasoned veterans at the "Mustang Ranch" in Las Vegas.  


                                4


Some things as a Soldier of Allah you heard about ... and had a 
hard time believing, even when offered evidence.  That they let 
such abominations exist, was one of the biggest evidences to 
Mah'mud that Americans truly DID worship Shaitan ... and thus 
deserved his wrath upon them.
     His distraction from sex made him notice something else.  
"Where did she go?" he asked.
     "Who?" asked the others in puzzlement.  "All three of us are 
here."
     "The brunette ... the one who first woke me up.  Where did 
she go?" he repeated.
     "Oh ... HER," shrugged the redhead, a fair-skinned beauty 
with skin so pale it was almost transparent.  "She doesn't exist 
any more," she explained.  "Once you took her virginity, she only 
lasted long enough to complete the act.  After all, that's what 
she was there for.  So what?  WE are here."
     The apparent indifference of the houris to the effective 
death of one of their own shook Mah'mud.  "Can't you bring her 
back?" he asked.
     "How CAN we?" responded the remaining blonde.  "Can you 
unpour water that's been dumped in the sand?  Can you give back 
life to those who died when you and your comrades crashed your 
plane?  Can you unstir a stew?  She's gone.  WE are here.  We can 
do anything that she could ... and more.  WE still have our 
virginities you can take, like you did the first two."
     First TWO???
     Mah'mud shook.  Only now he noticed that of all three women, 
only one was of the original three he had waiting on him when 
he ... uh ... arrived.  "Uh," he barely croaked, "you don't 
mind?"
     "How COULD we mind?" they reassured him.  "After all, we're 
here to pleasure YOU, do what YOU want, and make YOU feel good.  
Isn't that's what's most important?  After all, this is what you 
gave your life for, were martyred for, and took the lives of all 
those around you for.  Why?  Aren't we beautiful enough for you?  
Don't you WANT to have sex with us?  Have we failed to do 
something you want?  If you wish, we could be whipped for 
disobedience."
     Suddenly one of the women appeared from behind him (How come 
NONE of the new items, people, food, etc., ever appeared in FRONT 
of him, where he could see it?) with a silver platter on which 
were tastefully arranged: A bullwhip.  A "cat of nine tails".  A 
ball-gag.  Thumbscrews (Mah'mud knew what they were from watching 
a traitor to Allah being forced to confess).  Along with several 
other restraints and devices such as handcuffs and coarse rope.  
None were fake; and he knew all would or could bring blood or 
bruises and even death if wanted.  And he somehow KNEW that all 
three houris would submit to him, and even DIE in front of him, 
if he so-wanted.  WAS this what he wanted?
     Somehow Mah'mud wasn't sure any more WHAT he wanted.  Pain, 
torture, and yes even death were the just rewards of those who 
denied Allah ... But not the innocent.  And these houris just HAD 
to be innocent; being created just for his pleasure, to live a 
few moments or days doing his wishes.  But was it right for him 
to kill them ... even innocently by having sex with them ... a 


                                5


thing he knew he couldn't resist for long, having once felt the 
pleasure of a woman's tight sleeve contracting around his swollen 
penis and milking his seed into her welcoming belly where it 
belonged.  It just wasn't right for somebody so innocent to die, 
just to placate his lusts.
     Trying to avoid the thought, Mah'mud changed the subject as 
he slipped into the waiting silken garments on his golden chair.  
If this was Jannah, he'd have forever to contemplate such 
thoughts.  Time enough for worries later.  "Do I HAVE to eat pork 
and other such foods?" he asked; shrugging into the fine robe 
that fit him as no other ever had.  No visible seam or needlework 
marred the soft silk, died in an incredibly intricate pattern 
that was a work of art itself; reminding him of the design he had 
once seen in a museum, while killing time waiting for a flight.
     The girls seemed surprised.  "Of course not," she responded.  
"You can eat whatever you like.  It's just that you are ALLOWED 
here to exercise all the lusts, wants, hungers, and needs you 
were denied on Earth.  After all, isn't that what you imagined 
your reward was to be?"
     Again, too deep and heavy a thought for a person who all his 
life had let either parents, Father, or cleric do his thinking 
for him.  Time enough for such things later ... Many years later.  
Or centuries, if need be.  He had forever to worry about such 
things.  "How about some mutton-loaf, like my mother used to 
make?" he asked.
     And there it was, just as ordered.  A thick mutton loaf, 
with curry and lentils on the side.  Just like his mother made, 
too.  With lumps and half-cooked pieces.  Somehow he had 
forgotten the times his mother didn't fix things just perfect ... 
times on the road with little to spare fixing food properly.  The 
mutton-loaf tasted almost like sawdust in comparison to the 
forbidden (or now allowed?) delights like the ham and cheese.  
Still, Mah'mud choked it down manfully.  After all, he had ASKED 
for it; and his parents had drummed into him the sins of wasting 
food.  That he would be eating such as this in Jannah ....
     "So, how is my mother taking this?" he asked; waving his 
arms around to indicate him being in Paradise, and thus implying 
his death on Earth.
     All three girls looked at him, wide-eyed in surprise.  
"But ... But," stumbled the remaining blonde of the first three 
girls, "you didn't CARE."
     "Huh?"
     "You never ASKED her when you were alive.  Why should you 
care now when you are dead?" replied a second one.
     "Besides, we don't know," added a third; forestalling 
further questions along that line.  "We three here," she said, 
motioning at her two companions, "from now on are your Mother, 
your Sister, and your Daughter ... as you choose; also we are 
girlfriend, companion, wife, or stranger ... if you choose that 
instead.  You may have us in any manner you wish, when you wish, 
and as you wish.  Since you wanted this as your reward so 
desperately as to die for Allah, this is what you get."
     "Well," decided Mah'mud, tabling the question for a moment, 
to be considered later with the other ones.  "Can I at least 
watch television or something?"  Not being one brought up to read 


                                6


for pleasure, he didn't ask for a book.
     "I'm sorry, but no television," responded one of the girls.  
"I'm not even sure Earth still exists to get it from."
     "Books, games, ANYTHING for entertainment?" he asked; 
suddenly desperate.
     "WE are here," they responded together, as if that was all 
that anybody sane would ask for.
     "Can you at least tell me what happened AFTER we hit the 
wall, or where my companions are?" asked Mah'mud in sudden worry.  
Things somehow didn't seem quite so Heavenly here.
     All three women shook their heads sadly.  "All we know is 
what YOU know," they told him.  What you put in your head before 
you came here.  If you know games, we'll play them, though you 
will always win (of course).  If you want sex, we're available.  
If you want food, it's here ... even if imagined.  Anything 
outside, as far as we know, doesn't exist any more.  This is YOUR 
reward, as are we.  After all, in a way, we are part of you."
     "Reward!" snarled Mah'mud in sudden anger.  Playing so-
called "games" where you ALWAYS win, was probably even less fun 
than those where you always lose, like the cheats in Carnival 
Midways ... or almost as bad, anyway.  "This sounds more like 
Solitary Confinement than Jannah!"
     All three girls turned to one another in consternation.  "We 
never SAID it was Jannah," explained the redhead.
     "You said it was my reward," he almost sobbed; falling to 
the floor.  (Floor ... not really a floor, just someplace soft 
that held him up, as part of the incredibly beautiful tent that 
seemed to be the main feature of where he was.)
     "But it IS!" replied the busty brunette, dropping to his 
side to cuddle and hold him.  "This IS your reward for taking two 
thousand three hundred and twenty-one lives, two thousand two 
hundred and nineteen of them completely innocent, to a horrible 
and unearned death that day; denying them the chance to finish 
their lives and earn the glory of the presence of Allah by their 
deeds, or his punishment by their misdeeds; along with torturing 
their loved ones for weeks and years with the memory of how they 
died.  So, even though you did it mainly out of hate instead of a 
true desire to bring souls to join His glory:  Since this was the 
thing you strove so HARD for and were willing to die for, in 
*His* name, The Almighty and Merciful Allah has given you the 
reward you asked for.  Whether it's Jannah or Jahannam, is up to 
you."
     Mah'mud looked around himself at the beautiful and willing 
houris, the lovely food, baths he knew would appear if he just 
spoke the word; paintings, jewels, money, clothes, golden trees 
with delicious fruit, and other lovely things he knew he could 
have if he just asked; anything he ever wanted ... and suddenly 
realized just how poor he was.  Everything he had ever wanted ... 
forever and ever.
     And the worst thing of all, was Mah'mud knew he wouldn't 
even be allowed to go insane.  ('Perhaps,' a tiny voice whispered 
in his ear, 'that's because you already are.')  But even that 
comfort was denied him.  He KNEW why he was here, and why he was 
damned; as do all residents of either Heaven or Hell.  For once 
dead, you cannot lie ... even to yourself.


                                7
