Ouch

Warning: This story, based loosely on another, might cause involuntary cringing.  Be careful of cringe related injury.

 “YEAUCH!”

 Carlie yanked her hand back, knowing the sharp, intense pain caused from the paper that just sliced through part of the skin on her finger.  She fought back some tears, holding her hand up, while she headed to try and find a band-aid and something to dull the pain.

 As she found her way into the bathroom, she looked at the offending cut.  There, a nice slice out of her finger was clear, the flap still there, present, but...no blood.  She tried to replay the trauma, and knew blood must’ve come from the wound, but nothing.  Still, she bandaged it, hoping that it would heal.

 But, as she went out, she had to wonder.  Why was there no blood?  What was keeping the skin of the flap in the shape of her finger when she knew that skin should be dead?

 She probed it for a moment, spending some time considering it.

 For the longest time, Carlie had been fascinated by magic.  She’d seen magicians do things to women that seemed impossible, yet these girls always came out, still looking like a million bucks and still smiling and happy.

 The sting of the paper cut had lessened now, but, still, Carlie wondered.  It might be a bad idea.  It might not work, but she had to try it.

 She grabbed a single piece of paper, still not sure exactly what she was doing, sat down on the sofa, contemplating, before lifting up her top.  No, she needed to do this while prone, so she laid down on the couch, her shirt up and took a deep, steadying breath.

 “What am I doing?”

 She wonderred that out loud as she placed the edge of the paper against her waist, the ideas still tumbling through her head.  What was she doing?

 She steeled herself as she sliced the paper across her waist, nearly screaming at the pain of it.  Carlie felt the fires as the paper sliced into her, but she had to know.  She looked down, taking the paper out for a moment.

 As she ran her finger over where the paper was, she could feel the cut edge.  She could actually feel the gash, but there was still no blood.

 As the pain ebbed away, Carlie took a deep, steadying breath and placed the paper back in the gash.

 The second slice still stung, but not as bad.  As Carlie readied herself, she sliced again, then took the paper back out, needing another moment to deal with the anguish.  As her fingers explored where she’d cut herself, she knew she had stumbled onto something.  It barely felt like she’d penetrated her skin all the way on her waist, but, still, no blood.

 The pain flowed away, and Carlie continued.  As she did, she noticed that the pain curved around her, not going to where the paper was, but just where her skin was.  It was tolerable now, although it still stung at the skin.

 Carlie looked down at herself, seeing the paper about halfway through now, when she realized something extraordinary.  It felt good.  In fact, it felt very good having the paper sticking out of her like that.  The intensity of the good feelings, at that point, began to overwhelm the stinging pain as she kept going.

 After another minute, she stopped again.  She knew where the paper was, and she felt incredible, but she had to wonder.

 Paper wasn’t exactly the most solid substance, but where it now sit inside her was still pretty solid.  Would she be able to continue?

 As she sliced again, the feelings intensified.  She heard someone moaning in pure pleasure as the sensation rocked her body, only realizing at the next slice that she was the one moaning.

 As it sliced, impossibly, through her backbone she felt it grow even stronger, building up in intensity and gravity, causing her to start softly screaming as she finished cutting through with a “YES!  YES! YES!”

 She reached full orgasm at that point, the intensity washing over her as she finished slicing through her waist, breathing steadily as the last bit of skin was severed.

 Carlie lay there a moment, the strange sensation washing through her body at her waist.  The stinging left, but the sensation was still there.  She knew.  She knew.

 As if to prove it to herself, she got up on her elbows, separating from her lower half.  She watched, smiling, feeling so good, as she twitched her feet, bent her knee and even managing to sit her lower half up.

 She looked at herself, truncated, feeling the strange sensation of not having her hips where they usually belong with her hand.  She touched the underside of her top half, feeling that bizarre skin that had grown over where she’d cut herself.

 It felt fantastic, being in two pieces, but she had to know.  She had to.

 Knowing it was okay, she placed the paper against her neck and started to slice.  A few minutes later, she felt her head hit the arm rest, sliced clean off.

 Strange but exciting were the words she chose to describe this.  But, still, she had other things she had to do today.

 She managed to pick up her head and place it on her neck, but it fell off straight away, not attaching.  She tried again, holding it in place for a moment before it fell off again.

 She managed to get her upper half up, and could clearly see it, but her head didn’t want to attach. “Maybe it has something to do with the order?”

 It seemed reasonable so she tried, with some effort, to get her top half on her bottom half.

 Again, no go.

 “Well crap.”