I won't be posting the entirety of any of my stories here, just the beginnings of some of them. Most of them continue on Literotica, so the complete stories wouldn't be appropriate for this site anyways.
Well, this is a conundrum, a deep voice said.
"Who the hell are you?" Matt replied, pretending that his mood had turned impatient. He'd waited many long minutes in this sightless void, with no company besides a quiet heartbeat, and he thought it plausible that a braver man might feel something other than fear.
Thankfully, that which you call Hell has nothing to do with this. The Balance creates enough trouble on its own. But any explanation must wait--there's another who must listen--
Something fell out of the sky and hit Matt on the head. Not that there was a sky here, or heads, but the analogy felt strangely appropriate as a familiar presence untangled herself from him. "Please tell me this isn’t the afterlife," Cheryl said, her tone surprisingly nonchalant. “I was hoping for something with a bit more sunlight.”
Matt remembered now. It was the end of their first semester in college, and they'd finally gotten their grades. Cheryl had insisted on going somewhere to celebrate her A's. She’d driven a little too fast, and neither of them had seen the red light until it was too late . . .
You lost consciousness just now, the deep voice told Cheryl. You've got quite a strong will, to hold out for so long when you're so badly hurt. Were it possible, I'd--er, you'd be granted a reprieve.
"So, are you going to harvest our souls now, or what?" Matt asked. "If you're what I think you are, I don't think I can beat you at chess."
"I could challenge him to Twister," Cheryl suggested. “Christ, what am I saying--uh, please don’t take offense at my using the name of your boss in vain--uh, actually, is he your boss? I always followed the nonexistence hypothesis, but I guess if you're real--uh, I’ll shut up now.” So much for not being scared, Matt thought.
The deep voice laughed, a sound like a beaten donkey. I'll drop the ineffable act. I'm effing with you, so I might as well get effed back, right? I've been doing this for less than a week. Someone figured out how to kill the Grim Reaper, but before he gasped his last, he talked me into taking his place. I barely know more about this than you do--I've got no oversight, no employee manual, and no idea what happens if I don't keep up the Balance. Oh, and no clue what I'm supposed to do when two people are both on the brink of death, but I only need to take one.
"Take me," Matt and Cheryl said, almost in unison.
"Come on, Matt," Cheryl said. "You're the social butterfly. I'm the science nerd. Nobody will miss me."
"Says the future Nobel winner. I already know my life won't count for diddly squat."
"You just want to die because you think it's traditional for the guy to sacrifice himself for the girl."
Matt knew he couldn't win this argument, so he tried for a compromise. "Hey, Grim Reaper dude? Can you take half a life from each of us?"
No dice. I need one body and one soul.
"What about taking one of our bodies," Cheryl proposed, "then taking half a soul from each of us? Then we could share the other body." She paused. "I don't know if it works that way. I'm just thinking out loud here."
Half a soul wouldn't work, but as far as I can tell, the self is only a small part of the soul--the rest is just used to control the body. If I take all of the senses and motor skills from one of you, then just a bit of hand-eye coordination from the other . . . Oh, that's interesting. Very interesting.
"What exactly are we getting into here?" Matt asked.
There are lots of little spirits that feed on the soul's waste products. With a bit of reshaping, I think I could make one of you into one of them--maybe a spirit that takes away fear, or one that brings good dreams. You'd still be you, and if you wanted, the two of you could stay together for a lifetime. The question is, which of you would be willing to give up your body?
3, 2, 1, and . . . "Me," Matt and Cheryl both said.
This was going to be a long night.
Well, this is a conundrum, a deep voice said.
"Who the hell are you?" Matt replied, pretending that his mood had turned impatient. He'd waited many long minutes in this sightless void, with no company besides a quiet heartbeat, and he thought it plausible that a braver man might feel something other than fear.
Thankfully, that which you call Hell has nothing to do with this. The Balance creates enough trouble on its own. But any explanation must wait--there's another who must listen--
Something fell out of the sky and hit Matt on the head. Not that there was a sky here, or heads, but the analogy felt strangely appropriate as a familiar presence untangled herself from him. "Please tell me this isn’t the afterlife," Cheryl said, her tone surprisingly nonchalant. “I was hoping for something with a bit more sunlight.”
Matt remembered now. It was the end of their first semester in college, and they'd finally gotten their grades. Cheryl had insisted on going somewhere to celebrate her A's. She’d driven a little too fast, and neither of them had seen the red light until it was too late . . .
You lost consciousness just now, the deep voice told Cheryl. You've got quite a strong will, to hold out for so long when you're so badly hurt. Were it possible, I'd--er, you'd be granted a reprieve.
"So, are you going to harvest our souls now, or what?" Matt asked. "If you're what I think you are, I don't think I can beat you at chess."
"I could challenge him to Twister," Cheryl suggested. “Christ, what am I saying--uh, please don’t take offense at my using the name of your boss in vain--uh, actually, is he your boss? I always followed the nonexistence hypothesis, but I guess if you're real--uh, I’ll shut up now.” So much for not being scared, Matt thought.
The deep voice laughed, a sound like a beaten donkey. I'll drop the ineffable act. I'm effing with you, so I might as well get effed back, right? I've been doing this for less than a week. Someone figured out how to kill the Grim Reaper, but before he gasped his last, he talked me into taking his place. I barely know more about this than you do--I've got no oversight, no employee manual, and no idea what happens if I don't keep up the Balance. Oh, and no clue what I'm supposed to do when two people are both on the brink of death, but I only need to take one.
"Take me," Matt and Cheryl said, almost in unison.
"Come on, Matt," Cheryl said. "You're the social butterfly. I'm the science nerd. Nobody will miss me."
"Says the future Nobel winner. I already know my life won't count for diddly squat."
"You just want to die because you think it's traditional for the guy to sacrifice himself for the girl."
Matt knew he couldn't win this argument, so he tried for a compromise. "Hey, Grim Reaper dude? Can you take half a life from each of us?"
No dice. I need one body and one soul.
"What about taking one of our bodies," Cheryl proposed, "then taking half a soul from each of us? Then we could share the other body." She paused. "I don't know if it works that way. I'm just thinking out loud here."
Half a soul wouldn't work, but as far as I can tell, the self is only a small part of the soul--the rest is just used to control the body. If I take all of the senses and motor skills from one of you, then just a bit of hand-eye coordination from the other . . . Oh, that's interesting. Very interesting.
"What exactly are we getting into here?" Matt asked.
There are lots of little spirits that feed on the soul's waste products. With a bit of reshaping, I think I could make one of you into one of them--maybe a spirit that takes away fear, or one that brings good dreams. You'd still be you, and if you wanted, the two of you could stay together for a lifetime. The question is, which of you would be willing to give up your body?
3, 2, 1, and . . . "Me," Matt and Cheryl both said.
This was going to be a long night.
