The first time I ejaculated, I thought I was dying.

I couldn’t have been more than twelve. Maybe thirteen. It was around that time when childhood looses its last grasp. And as your body twists and grows, the world becomes strange. You’re not sure about the world anymore. Everything comes in extremes.

Including human bodies.

As I shuddered, knees buckling as I let myself go, I looked down. Or I tried to. My being seemed awash in new sensation. I felt warm, and for a time, whole. In tune with what life was really about.

But the moment passed. And finally, as I shuddered again and composed myself, I looked down and screamed.

It was everywhere. All over me, my thighs, my hands. My first impulse was to grab a towel-out foul spot!-but then I felt a flood of shame. I’d tampered with something I’d been told not to do. Now I was covered in this stuff that clung to everything.

It terrified me because I didn’t have a name for it. Because I’d not been told this would happen. But it terrified me more so because it was another thing that was happening to me I had no control over.

Another one of those things that, if I asked someone, they’d smile and say “you’re becoming a man". Or, “That’s perfectly normal at your age". Or congratulate me for “Finding my balls". All of this without really explaining anything. Leaving me with questions, ignorance and fear.

I got that towel. I cleaned up. I assumed I was dying for a few weeks, which seems hilarious now. And for years, never touched myself. But try as I might, I could shake the fear away. I could push the thought far back enough to be a dull memory. But not the curiosity.

It started with wanting to name it. Giving what had happened a name seemed to make it normal.

I poured through bland biology books. Flipped through anatomy charts. Skimmed psychology books. They each told me the same thing. That, as countless people had told me, it was “normal". I was just another kid “finding himself", as one book said.

But it didn’t explain the feeling I’d had that day. Sure, I could accept how endorphins worked. I could understand terms like “sexual tension", and “relief/release". But there seemed more to it than that, something terminology and science lacked in their explanation. In the end, I was right back at square one. Without words to describe what had happened, mind full of anatomy charts and drawings.

But I kept reading. I’d dive further into the libraries, and book shops. I veered from accepted “scientific" explanations. And as my search drove me farther from accepted norms, I began uncovering a different sort of truth.

They’ve said curiosity killed the cat. I’d say the cat was just sorry he didn’t have opposable thumbs.

He looks nothing like you’d expect. Clean shaven, dressed in an affordable suit, hair parted to the side. Face etched with a laugh lines. But those eyes, they always give him away. Big, bulging fishbowls that he gazes out from. As he stirs his tea, bringing it to his lips and blowing, I can almost admire him. Almost. But then he opens his mouth.

"So, you still diddling yourself and calling it a ritual?"

I let out a sigh, looking anywhere but towards him. David and I came from two different walks of life. Different schools of thought. Even with that between us, we still met once a month for pie. I picked up my cup of coffee, sipping it before saying “You know, it’s an acceptable method of energy building. I’m not the only one that does it. Plenty of magus-"

Dave holds up a hand and starts laughing. He takes another drink of tea, then sets the cup down. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me that shit before," he says, “But you’ve never told me if you got results with it. You never talk about what you’re doing with that energy. Not even once."

The conversation always flows like this. It ends with both of us getting angry and leaving. Then, later, calling each other to apologize. I’d wondered over the years if either of us was truly sorry.

But this time, it was my turn to smirk, to smile. To laugh at Dave. I hold up a finger, taking a long drag off my cigarette. Dave lets off a fake cough.

I exhale, smoke rings curling around me, lingering.

"That’s because until now, I didn’t have anything worth sharing."

Dave raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer despite the smoke. He seems curious, but not in a healthy way. Voice lowered, he says “Well? Spit it out. C’mon."

I chuckle, grinding my cigarette into an ashtray. “So you’ve tried it too, eh? You just never got anywhere?"

Dave’s face goes red, and he leans back. “Why, I’d never be so low as to-"

I start laughing harder, holding up a hand, and say “Dave, stop. It’s okay, I mean, everyone does it, right?"

Dave looks down, willing his teacup to boil. He’s done that a time or two, right before he threw it in my face. Made it boil, I mean.

I sipped my coffee, downing the last of it. “Alright, look." I paused a moment, as did he. I tried to find the right words, but they escaped me. So I decided to tell him straight. He could handle it. We were all adults.

"When you cum, during the orgasm, you know that perfect feeling? When everything seems to make sense?"

Dave adjusted his tie at the word orgasm. "I suppose I’m aware of it", he says.

I raise an eyebrow, looking him over. “Dave, c’mon. Surely you’ve…"

He shrugged, looking down into his tea, giving a boyish smile. I fucking hated old Magus like him. They had all the knowledge in the world, but talking to them about something as simple as cumming was like talking to a brick wall. I sighed and waved my hands, moving us forward.

"Alright, whatever. Look, during that, there’s this moment when every part of your body feels connected. With practice and concentration, the sensation becomes stronger. You following me?"

Dave nodded, so I continued after finishing off my coffee.

"Some people see a white light. Nothing flashing, just a brief brightness when they close their eyes. I thought perhaps it was just the body, at first. But even in your teachings, you know the body is more than flesh and blood. It’s a living medium, like a letter or phone. I wondered if that white light wasn’t something utilizing the closest medium available."

Dave sat there, in full attention. An awkward silence passed, and he said, “Well? Is there? Spit it out, gods damn it. You’ve got me curious."

I smirked, gathered up my things and peeled some dollar bills out of my pocket. I laid them on the table and turned away, leaving Dave gnashing his teeth, tea bubbling over its cup.

"Wait!" he shouts, rising from the table.

I turn towards him, tilting my head. He takes a few steps, closing the space between us. He looks at me, with those fishbowl eyes, and says "You know it’s going to come back to bite you, right? All that build up. All that energy. It’s cruel to tease the universe like that."

"Yeah, I know."

Dave nods, and shrugs. “Alright then. Just don’t do anything stupid."

He turns and goes back to the table, grabbing some napkins. As he’s mopping up, I exit the front door, a bell chiming as I leave.

Dave was wrong. Dave was wrong, and had been wrong about everything for a while. He knew it, I knew it. But his pride kept him from admitting it. I didn’t hold this fault against him. Plenty of men were prideful. Plenty of magus, too.

He had grown up surrounded by magic traditions. His father had been a practicing warlock, and his mother dabbled in the arts. When he’d come of age, they’d found him a mentor. Straight out of Innsmouth, Massachusetts. An odd choice, given the history of the place. But the old fish-eyed bastard taught Dave discipline he’d hold fast to. It was that very discipline that caused a schism between the two of us.

Dave had been taught ethics. Proper technique. Steps. I hadn’t-I’d just stumbled along until I found what worked. Dave had been surrounded by magus. I thought people who proclaimed themselves “Wizards" were a joke. I still did, most of the time. Over the years, Dave had tried to enforce his path on me. He’d tried to groom me, make me a pupil. I preferred my way, though.

His methods had shackled him. Killed his curiosity and talent by placing it within narrow confines. I knew no such boundaries, nor would I ever. This worried him, but envious as well. He told me I’d run into some unfathomable power, or cosmic horror. He’d tried subjugating me with fear, but failed. He kept telling me whatever I was doing would blow up. In my face, or inside of me.

To Dave, building up release, over and over, was akin to flipping a light switch. After a point, something had to give. The bulb would burn out, or the switch would.

That’s what he thought I was doing, at any rate-that’s how he explained it. I think sometimes he simplified it for his own sake rather than mine. It’s not like I wasn’t afraid, I was. But curiosity was just stronger than my fear of death.

For once, I had found something he hadn’t. I was the one in control of secret information. And all it took was getting a sore wrist. I’d pierce past the wall of light soon enough. And as I left the coffee shop that evening, I vowed I’d do that very thing the moment I was home. Dave was wrong. Utterly. There was no harm in what I was doing.

The only true pain in life was ignorance. And he could go right on hurting.

I flexed my wrist and smiled. This was going to be a great night.

Sweat started to break across my brow. My back arched, toes curling as I stepped close to the edge of a full body orgasm.

No. Not yet. No matter how badly I needed it, not yet.

I’d forgotten how long I’d been going at it. Inside a circle of salt, with full concentration on the task at hand, things slipped. Endorphins flooded every muscle. And my only thought was crashing past the wall of light.

I concentrated energy into the moment, forcing every second into what was coming. And as my grip tightened and I gasped for air, eyes shutting tight, I let go at last.

I saw the wall, and crashed through it. My grip slackened as my arm slumped to the floor. I saw this, as I saw the rest of my body, as I hurdled through the binds of time and space, beyond the white wall. The universe passed in streaks and strips, blinding and tearing at my eyes. Though it could have been seconds, it felt like an eternity. Then, at last, everything stopped. I felt the cold biting into my flesh, freezing me. As icicles formed along my crevices, I finally opened my eyes.

I saw nothing. Nothing at all, except stars in every direction. I floated, weightless and terrified. I’d finally done it. And here I was, in spirit, in alien territory. I tried to scream in delight, but no sound came. The air rushed into my lungs, stabbing like daggers. I shut my mouth and looked around again, hair stiff with frost.

I had no idea where I was. No idea where I’d came, or how long I’d be here. I’d no idea how to get back, either. My heart and stomach sank. Then I heard the singing.

Faint and low, at least at first. Then it rose into a high aria, a voice that cut across the galaxy. A voice that captured my attention, a voice I began to drift to in the dark. It was beautiful and dark, and I was beyond turning back by the time I laid my eyes upon the source.

The back was turned to me, but they appeared humanoid. Long, obsidian hair sprouted from the head, twirling and twisting well past the waist. The flesh was pale, almost white. But as I drew closer, I grew not appalled, or disgusted. I was intrigued. Curious, yet again. In a moment of daring, I reached out, tapping the entities shoulder.

It turned, revealing the most beautiful female face and form. I felt my face flush as I drifted back a pace, clearing my throat. I tried to think of what to say. Or if the creature even could speak, despite its alluring eyes and mouth. And as I opened my mouth, a voice cut across my thoughts, saying "I knew you would finally make it here."

I paused, terrified again. But everything about this encounter felt so perfectly natural, I nodded my head and tried to project back towards the being.

Where am I?


Who are you?

"It doesn’t matter."

A chill ran down my spine. The entity drifted closer, reaching her hands towards mine. The skin wasn’t unlike ours, but was colder than fresh laid snow. Just then, I noticed the nails-long, twisted things, jagged and horrible. My stomach flopped as my mind raced, and I tried hard to think of what was going on. Panic was beginning to set in.

The hair on the beast twirled about, seeming to clutch at the stars. And then the thing smiled. Hideous, malformed teeth peered out from behind the oozing, pussy lips.

I tried to drift away, but the thing held fast, smiling still, and said "Just where are you going?"

Home. Please, please just let me go home. I don’t know how to get there. I just want to get back.

"Don’t be afraid. It’s okay. Come closer."

I don’t want to. Please let me g-

The things hair lurched forward, wrapping about me, gripping my arms and legs with a flesh-rendering intensity. And as I struggled, I opened my mouth to scream and felt hair pour into my mouth.

It taste of death and ozone, sticky as tar and twice as fluid. It shoved and pounded its way down my throat. I wanted to gag, but couldn’t. A brief image of Dave flooded into my head as I sat there, gasping and gagging, emptying my bladder as I felt an impending end.

Dave shook his head. Then he was gone. The thing turned me towards its horrible face, and spoke once more.



I felt my spine contort, pain flooding my body as the thing bent me back. There was a pop, and then I felt nothing, my entire body going slack as a million moments flooded my brain. Darkness crept at the edges, but if it was the first reaches of death or the being’s caress, I couldn’t tell.

As the being drew near, sinking its jaw into my flesh, I had one last thought. It was as humiliating as it was hilarious. Had I the capacity to cry or laugh, I likely would have.

Dave had been right. Everything had lead up to this since I was a kid. And now, I really was going to go out diddling myself.

The stars went dark, and I was gone.

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