Greetings, readers. This is my first time sharing a story, and I appreciate you joining me on the ride. What follows is the tale of a powerful mutant human gifted (or perhaps cursed) with extraordinary abilities: immortality, telepathy, superhuman strength, intelligence, and stamina. He can shift his form at will--even split himself into perfect, sentient clones. And perhaps most intriguing of all, his evolution never stops. With time, experience, and desire, new abilities continue to awaken within him--unlocking powers he never imagined, and rewriting what it means to be human. His power is unmatched. But power, as you'll see, doesn't come without a price.
This story contains mature content--explicit language, erotic themes, and some darker moments.
Also, since the main character can shapeshift, they can identify as any gender they choose. I'll be using he/she/they pronouns throughout, based on how they present at the time.
So settle in--and join me as I share a few tales from their immortal life... stories of lust, danger, and the strange, sexy chaos that follows someone who can be anyone.
To understand who--or what--Vek is now, we have to go back. Long before the powers. Before the whispers. Before the immortality.
He was once just a regular human man.
Vek's True Form
Vek's original body was shaped by survival. Broad-shouldered and thickly muscled, he bore the rugged frame of an early man--honed not in a gym, but in the wild, unforgiving cradle of Earth's prehistoric forests. His skin was sun-worn and rough in places, scarred by hunts and close calls, the color of rich clay. His jaw was strong, square and slightly over-pronounced, framed by a thick black beard that grew wild when left alone.
His brow was heavy, casting deep shadows over sharp, intelligent eyes that gleamed with an unnatural clarity--too focused, too knowing for a man of his time. His nose was wide and slightly flattened from more than one break. His hair, thick and coarse, hung in shoulder-length waves, often tied back with bone or sinew.
There was nothing polished about him--no grace, no elegance--but his presence carried a kind of primal magnetism. He looked like he belonged to another world. And he did.
A world before civilization. Before shame.
Before fear of desire.
His earliest memory reaches back over 100,000 years, to the frozen, unforgiving lands that would one day be called Vancouver. He remembers the cold--the kind that bites down to the bone--and he remembers nearly dying in it. But what saved him wasn't luck. It was fire.
A meteor, massive and burning, crashed into the ice-blasted wilderness. Drawn to its heat, Vek dragged his broken body through the snow to find it. The impact crater glowed with otherworldly light, the air around it humming with energy. He collapsed beside it, wrapped in its warmth, and passed out.
By the time he woke, the meteor had dissolved into nothing--vanished like it had never existed.
But something had changed.
His wounds were gone. Scars, bruises, even broken skin--all healed. His thoughts felt sharper, faster, almost electric. And then the voices began. Soft at first. Whispered. But constant. He thought he was going mad, until he realized: he wasn't hearing spirits.
He was hearing thoughts.
They were the minds of his tribe--raw, unfiltered, unknowingly speaking to him through a connection he never asked for.
That meteor had done something to him. And it was only the beginning.
Forty years slipped by before Vek truly noticed something was wrong--or rather, something was different. While his peers aged into the creased, weathered faces of the elders he once looked up to, Vek hadn't changed at all. His skin stayed smooth, unlined. His muscles stayed firm. His energy never faded.
At first, he thought maybe he was imagining it. But when he read their thoughts--quiet musings, suspicious glances, fearful prayers--he understood. They noticed it too.
People began to murmur when he returned from hunts without a scratch, while others limped back bloodied and bruised. Some claimed he never helped at all, that he disappeared in the chaos, only to return when the work was done. But the truth was, Vek was the hunter. He studied animal patterns, learned how to set traps with eerie precision, how to lure prey straight into his path. He was faster, sharper, deadlier than any man in the tribe--and that made him dangerous.
The whispers turned darker.
Some said he was unnatural. A freak. A demon sent by the gods as punishment for some forgotten sin. Others feared he would turn on them--that his youth, his silence, his strength meant he was waiting for the right moment to slaughter them all.
Vek didn't know how to calm their fears. He didn't want to be feared. He just wanted to belong.
Several more years passed. One evening, under the flickering torchlight near the edge of the village, Vek crossed paths with Izna--a woman he had once loved, once touched, before everything changed.
She was striking, even by the raw standards of their time--tall and sinewy, with smooth, deep bronze skin and long black hair often braided tight against her scalp. Her eyes were sharp and dark, intelligent in a way that made men stumble over their words. She carried herself like a hunter: lean muscle beneath hide-wrapped limbs, with the graceful stride of someone who feared nothing. Her breasts were full, her hips wide, her posture proud--a body hardened by survival, but made for passion.
He remembered her beneath him in the dark, their bodies pressed together on a bed of hides and moss. The way she had gasped his name. The warmth of her skin. The taste of her sweat. It had been clumsy, desperate--human. And back then, so was he.
But now...
Now, with the fire of the meteor still pulsing in the back of his mind, everything was different. Sharper. Louder. He could hear the thoughts she didn't say. He could sense every subtle flicker in her body language--desire, doubt, the tug of old familiarity. It overwhelmed him.
She was still stunning--fierce and graceful, with eyes like fire caught in obsidian. And though they'd shared something once, long ago, he stood before her now like a stranger trapped in his own skin.
Lust burned through him, but it was tangled with something deeper. Not love. Not longing. A need to anchor himself--to remember what it felt like to be just a man.
To feel her again.
To be wanted not for what he was becoming, but for who he had once been.
And yet... he hesitated.
His mind--sharpened beyond what any man was meant to endure--betrayed him.
