Once there was a little boy who never really grew up, but only grew older. As he grew to a respectable age, he never became anything resembling a respectable adult. He was also rather shorter than average.
As the years flew by, this midget of a man grew more and more frantic because it became obvious that he couldn't live forever. His knees began to ache as he walked and it took longer and longer for his heart to stop racing after he exerted himself in the garden.
But he was a very clever person, and so he devised a plan.
He sat down in the library of his big mansion and went to work, studying dark magic. In the pages of an old tattered book with odd figures he discovered a spell that would do the trick. He placed his soul in a needle and hid it among some straw contained within a goose egg, which lay inside a treasure box set into the shell of one the turtles who hold up the world. And that's how he became immortal.
But just because a person is very rich and very smart doesn't make him very kind or virtuous, and this boy-turned-old-man had a very peculiar disposition. He never bathed more than two times a year, so he was usually quite smelly, and he always walked around in sperm-covered pants. But perhaps most peculiar of all, he had a strange appetite for human hearts.
And so he still lives today, cummy pants and all, taking big bites out of the hearts of great men to make himself strong. As centuries passed, he had withered down to nothing and became invisible. His presence is felt in the puzzling hollow sound in the voices of heartless people.
----
1762
Lena looked up at the moon with her right eye, this being one of the few parts of her body still properly attached to her brain. Her torso lay on the beach half a mile away, and she could still feel it vaguely through a supernatural haze of pain. Her arms and legs had been eaten by fish in the time between when she was thrown into the sea and when she washed up onto the beach. Her left eye was also plucked out and eaten, and that's why she had to look at the moon with only her right eye.
It was almost unnaturally bright and she had trouble focusing because of the pain. She knew that half a mile away the flesh of her shoulders was elongating into new arms and the bottom of her torso into hips and legs. She could feel the pain as new nerves were created. It was almost as unpleasant as being hacked apart by the axe had been, but the pain was more drawn out and almost more bearable. And somewhere on top of everything, she felt her crotch begin to burn again, in the eternal ache to touch and be touched, a hundred times her usual lust, so that every ounce of her was positively shaking from withdrawal, and her bloody lips trembled and kissed at the night sky as if she was a fish gasping for air as it flaps helplessly on the sand. Her right eye began to blur and the bright moon seemed to lose focus. Her head ached like crazy, her existence was excruciating, the mere concept of thought was incomprehensible. Salt water mixed with tears ran down her face as she bit her lips, straining to hold in the pain. At least she knew she would eventually be whole again and the pain would stop. She knew this instinctively, like salmon know how to find the river from which they had hatched, though what was left of her rational mind thought this to be impossible.
Lena willed her newly regenerated arms to caress her torso as it lay on the beach, gasping pathetically as her new fingers began to pinch her clit and nipples. She was biting her lips so hard that she could taste fresh blood flowing into her mouth, and she swallowed it quickly to keep it from getting in the way. It tasted awfully bitter and salty, and she could feel the pain welling in her eyes. She continued to pinch and stroke herself as though fighting for life.
Her grip felt awkward, as though she was masturbating with a rubber hose rather than using her own hand, and her fingers kept slipping from her clit so that she had a hard time making any progress. One moment she would be approaching climax and the next her rubbery fingertips would fall to the side and the sensation would be gone. It was infuriating! She bit her lip even harder and forced herself to concentrate though the haze of pain and arousal. She needed this orgasm, she needed it the way she once needed to breathe the air.
The tears began to fall more quickly and the trembling became even stronger. Her whole body, still in two pieces, shook uncontrollably as though she were two pieces of a frog shocked back to life by a jolt of electricity. She gasped pathetically and her rubbery new hand slipped into the sand, no longer able to move, as though she used up all her ability to concentrate on it. It was as if whatever power she had had to hold her body together had finally broken and all was finally and completely lost. Her right eye rolled back in her socket and stared at the moon again. It hadn't been a bad life, even if it was a relatively short one. She had learned that some of the fairy tales were really true. There really were witches at the edge of town and magic potions that could transform a girl forever. And other tales she had believed, that she could learn to love that ugly disagreeable prince she was engaged to and become the happy mistress of her estate, she now knew to be false. The world has become so incredibly clear the moment the axe struck her body. Everything else paled in comparison with this knowledge. It made her feel as though she could simply get up and run around the world without legs.
She tried to will her arm to move again and couldn't. She sighed. The moon was so bright. Now that she was defeated, she felt unbearably cold.
It seemed to an eternity before she lost consciousness.
For many days she simply lay on the sand without moving, and whether she was dead or not was something philosophers with nothing else to do could happily debate until the end of time.
Slowly, through of a haze of blissful sleep that masked the pain, her mind simply snapped into place and began to call out to the rest of her body. Her new limbs came to life, shuddering slightly as they recalibrated themselves, and, being called upon by her nerve impulses, began to slowly inch their way towards her head.
----
2007
Lena slowly opened her eyes and lifted herself from the silk covers of her enormous S&M-equipped bed. It was still early morning outside. She could tell as though by a sixth sense, even though there were no clocks in her room and no sunlight through the windows of her underwater lair. This was the morning of the war council, in which it would be decided how best to strike the McKinley Oil and Fishing Company. The thought seemed to bring her body to life and she could feel her breasts tingle. Perhaps she had been a little melodramatic when she had told Nadia and Chastity last night that they were going to war, but nymphs were spontaneous creatures by nature and never let much time elapse between trifles like planning and the fun part, real action. Lena could practically guarantee that the two of them would be flying over an oil rig by noon, ready to have their way with its crew in the most kinky ways imaginable. She could feel her pussy begin to get wet at the thought.
Lena stretched contently, for a moment rejoicing in the fact that she was going to be completely alone for several hours. Part of her felt that it was odd for a woman who spent her long life collecting family members to be capable of soaking up solitude as though she was a sponge absorbing water. But the silence tingled on her skin like a lover's fingers and she was happy to be alive and whole.
