WARNING: The following story is made for fans of modular/natural body magic/detachment/non-lethal dismemberment/etc. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.
This story is my half of an art trade with the ever wonderful 3d artist Zekairn, though sadly his art is too hot for DA so head on over to the official NBM... ugh.. MBM Discord server to see it!
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Arthur C. Clarke popularized the idea that "any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic."
With respect to one of the greatest science fiction writers of all time, this analogy is just plain wrong, and has set back public understanding of the sciences and magics by decades. At best, such a mindset is a regressive attempt to reinvent the long since debunked concept of alchemy for a modern audience, and at worst this way of thinking demonstrates a dangerous and pathological hubris attempting to bring order to an inherently chaotic universe. The distinction between the sciences and magics are clear, and accepted among the vast majority of the academic community. In the words of accomplished polymath and sorcerer Dr. Ibrahim Khan, "Science is the study of the unthinking and unchanging laws which govern our universe, laws which could be predicted and understood with perfect accuracy given enough arithmetic. Magics, by contrast, are a living entity with a fickle whim their own (...) Whether known or undiscovered, an accurate equation is, always was, and always will be an accurate equation. Conversely, an incantation today may change tomorrow or may not have existed yesterday. It may work exactly in one fashion for ten million years, and in an instant be turned on its head in some manner that could never have been predicted, regardless of the time or arithmetic applied."
In short, magic was more art than science. However, while science and magic may by different, they did share plenty of similarities. For instance, they both required a fuckton of reading, studying, and brain melting all nighters.
It was about 3:13 in the morning when the necromancer Zekairn's head bounced off the table, startling him awake. He'd again fallen asleep at his desk, a partially translated collection of runespeak serving as his pillow. "Ugh..." Zekairn groaned, screwing his eye shut. It truly was amazing; all the wonders of magic, and none of it could replace hours on hours of reading and taking notes from crusty old textbooks and scribbling in the margins. He picked his head up, his cheeks clammy with dried sweat and a photocopied picture of 25,000 year old cave paintings stuck the right of his face. He really should just sew his head on properly while he was working, but that took forever. Resting his head back on his neck, ethereal purple vapors swirling around his stumps as he focused his magic, the black stitches across the necromancers neck glowed softly and their frayed ends snapped to one another, weaving themselves together anew and reattaching Zekairn's head. He breathed deep as the magic dispersed, not that he really needed to breathe at all. Mortal habits died hard. Speaking of, as he peeled the now stained paper off his face the sorcerer was overcome with intense desire for the most insidious of human vices.
Caffeine.
He slid from his seat, his stocking-clad feet hardly making peep as he pattered around his desk to retrieve his battered old witch hat. He snickered; the hat really was so last century, with its big cartoon skull, its deathly dark purple band, and the tall pointed crown bent back sharply. But the necromancer Zekairn was a slave to appearances, and his appearance was that of a fabulous gaunt goth femboy. He strode haughtily to the door and down the hauntingly beautiful halls of his estate, really throwing his hips around and giving his tight black dress a good stretch as he stretched some life into his tired old bones. Like all classically trained sorcerers, Zekairn was always on, and getting a little over the top was as good a way as any to get the ichor that once was his blood flowing.
Snoring. Snorting. Faint, but growing. Zekairn slowed his pace, the sounds of sleep waking him. The necromancer readied a deadly hex behind his back and proceed softly. The noise was coming from his intern's office, one of a hundred unmarked doors in the maze-like castle that the sorcerer knew by heart, and trying the latch he found it unlocked. His intern always locked up before she left, further signs of foul play. Instinctively, the necromancer took a deep breath, then pried the door open a crack...
"Oh for f-" Zekairn huffed. His assistant, Zek, no relation, was asleep at her desk, collapsed over necromantic paperwork. What's worse, it looks like she hadn't even finished her homework yet, or even started it, judging by the unbroken plastic film protecting her $300 textbook's precious online access code that made the book worthless for resale. Zekairn sighed, he'd told Zek not to work past her shift without getting his approval first, it made him feel like a shitty boss having her work so hard.
Zekairn padded up to her, glancing over her shoulder at the half completed cadaver order pinned between her cheek and the desk. Her big rounded glasses sat slanted up her forehead, the left temple of her specs tangled up in her naturally green hair. He'd only learned a few weeks ago that her hair wasn't dyed, nor magically altered, and when he'd asked how it was possible that she was born with grassy green hair, she had no explanation beyond "Same reason I'm short and can take myself apart. It's just the way I am, I guess."
Of course, Zekairn then had to ask about the taking herself apart part, and as promised she took a handful of that green hair and casually popped her head and neck off her shoulders. Zekairn was no stranger to people being harmlessly disassembled and reassembled; most the cool parts of necromancy consisted of replacing, reattaching, and rejuvenating body parts after all, and he loved keeping his stitches loose for fun antics. But all that involved necromantic magic animating the deceased, deactivating the biological limitations that prevented their being alive. This was... a natural body magic. Try as they might, neither Zekairn nor his friends in other magical fields could find any signs of an applied magic, that anything supernatural had been "done" to her. She really could just do that.
From the bureaucratic paperwork the necromancer had deemed unworthy of his time, down her cutely ungraceful sleeping face, over her back with its short cut jean jacket, Zekairn's eyes landed on her bare hips. That wedge of soft pink flesh between her jacket and her skirt. She was a short woman, a slender woman, but those hips were something else. Cute, widely flared, sexy, they were something Zek had always loved to flaunt even in the dead of winter. Often when she assisted with reanimations, her midriff would be the first thing the freshly undead would see. It was adorable, the way Zek blushed and stammered a mousy thanks when the corpses bluntly complimented her cute midriff, or if she noticed their eyes meekly wandering over it. However embarrassed she'd get, she never hid it; she was proud of her hips and she enjoyed the attention, even if she didn't know how to handle it.
"Coffee..." Zekairn whispered to himself, remembering why he'd left his study. He wanted something to wake him up, and it seemed he'd already found it. The lounge was so far away, it'd take at least 15 minutes for its crappy old second hand coffee maker to brew up a pot, and then another 5 minutes before it was cool enough to drink. He could just grab a Brew of Monstrous Energy from the fridge, but then he'd be all jittery. Besides, he'd heard those things were just regular energy drinks repackaged and marked up, the so-called "phosphorescent tax". These hips were right here, ripe for the taking. He wouldn't need them long, just long enough to wake up. He'd bring them right back. It'd wake her up too, he'd be doing her a favor...
Screw it, why make excuses? He was a horny freak. Zekairn grabbed her hips and pulled, yanking his student assistant in two and sending her top toppling down with a "BWUAAAA-oof!"
She rolled onto her back and looked up at him, her glasses sliding down from her forehead and falling limply to the furthest tip of her nose. They made eye contact, and for a second all was still.
Zekairn made a break for it. "ZEK YOU ASSHOLE!" Zek screamed, confusing anyone who'd never gotten to know her or he. Zek was Zek, but Zek went by 'Zee', while Zekairn was Zekairn but all his friends called him 'Zek', so Zek was Zee and Zekairn was Zek, who wasn't Zee unless she was Zek. Got it? I hope so, because Zee dragged herself after Zek and Zee's legs at alarming speed, her torso proficient in scrabbling over a lifetime of coming apart. Her legs kicked and flailed in Zek's grasp, the sorcerer stumbling as he raced down the hall.
"Consider this disciplinary action. You weren't supposed to stay after hours." Zek called back to Zee, her kicking causing him to thump into walls and knock over what were either priceless artifacts or cheap thrift store curios. A palm brushed his ankle, fingers tugging at his stocking for purchase but doing little more than stretching it out. "Hands off, these are my good pair!" Zek ordered, like he owned any cheap stockings. Kicking her hand away and crashing through his bedroom door just in time to slam it shut in her face, Zek threw the dead bolt into place and sighed as Zee banged away at the heavy oak door.
"GRRRAAAAGH!" Zee bellowed, her cries and clawing all but indistinguishable from the rabid undead that hadn't appreciated Zek's work. It was surprisingly rare, about 1 in 10, and likewise it was surprisingly easy to fix most of the time. Just a few imbalanced humours and run of the mill existential dread. "YOU FUCKING SUCK!"
"You can always talk to the head of HR. If you want, I'll even give Freya a body to write me up with." Zek retorted, stroking Zee's thigh consolingly. The legs had already stopped kicking, even as her torso continued to bang at his door. Setting her legs down on the massive four poster master bed of the master bedroom, her navy blue and distinctly modern skirt and short shorts couldn't have looked more out of place even before you considered the knee socks and tennis shoes. Zek giggled at the temporal disparity, flopping down beside them. Zee and Zek had had casual encounters before, though it'd always been Zekairn in pieces up to now. First time for everything, though.
Zek pressed his body against her thigh, the legs shivering and the scrabbling at the door silencing. Zek maintained his corpse well, ensuring a sustained and indefinite youthful appearance and vigor, but this didn't change the fact that he was still a corpse. His flesh was cool to the touch, dry from lack of natural oils, and entirely hairless, rendering his embrace a chilling experience. Zee's legs curled up, conserving what warmth they could, and tried to burrow into the thick quilts of the master bed. Zek just hugged tighter, delighting as Zee kneed him in protest but otherwise didn't resist. And as they lay in bed, Zek's silk stocking gently brushing across Zee's bare knee, her body heat slowly started warming Zek's frigid flesh. Like a blanket, he absorbed her warmth and fed back, until it almost matched her own body temperature. It made the flesh feel oddly, intimately, familiar. Like an extension of her own. And as he rubbed, and as he warmed, she warmed up too in a self sustaining cycle. Her legs pressed against his, shaking her thighs quickly to build frictional heat.
"I knew you'd be grinding on me in no time." Zek said in total deadpan, wrapping a hand around her butt and pushing her against himself.
"Sh-shut up!" Zee tried to kick herself away, bashing at the door with the flat of her hand. "Seriously, I have so much shit to do! Just gimme my legs back or el-EEP!" Zekairn had squeezed her butt, and like a switch flipped her brain was instantly scrambled. "D-don't you dare! You know how, uh, I mean, when you... well, well you know what I mean! G-give them back or, or I'll, well uh, Freya will be giving you s-such an earful!"
"You'll be back in one piece as soon as I'm done." Zek teased, easing the pressure but not releasing her rear as he slid her skirt up.
Whatever protest Zee was about to make was turned into a single inscrutable syllable and a loud thud on the door, as Zek took her panties by the rear and hitched them up her taint, pulling the legs off of him with a wedgie. Freed from their embrace, Zek guided his assistant's bottom into a standing position beside the bed, those beautiful hips shrugging with relief as he released her undies. That relief was turned to flustered embarrassment as Zek took the hem of her skirt and pulled it up her tapering tummy, leaving her in her plain white panties, socks, and tennis shoes.
A leg reeled back and forcefully kicked the bed next to Zek, unable to see her target. He laid a hand on her hip, massaging her side, stomach, and butt with his long, well manicured fingers. Zee shuddered, and like putty she melted in his hand. Zek had long since worked out that she really wasn't hard to please, once you knew what she was into. Most mortals were like that. Working a thumb under the strap of her panties, he pulled them down her thighs and allowed gravity to do the rest of the work. A yelp outside the door, she clenched her knees together trying to hold her panties up, looking like a newborn deer with her lower legs splayed and bent in, her thighs squeezed tightly together hiding her pussy between them. Like Zek hadn't seen it all a dozenish times.
"We don't have all night, Zee. Or, all morning, I guess." Zek said, tickling her stump with both hands. He knew her tummy was ticklish, but it seemed that this skin 'inside' her was especially sensitive, as within a few seconds she'd doubled over and collapsed, kicking and flailing as the halls echoed her laughter like an entire unseen audience was behind the door. She was shaking, fighting to breathe, and Zek took a moment just to watch her squirm around on the polished hardwood floor in little circles. Then with a soft kick, Zek rolled Zee's bottom onto her bottom. With a less soft stomp, Zek planted a foot on a rosy red cheek, pinning her to the ground despite the dainty necromancer barely weighing any more than her. He squeezed his toes, kneading her butt which tensed tightly underfoot, and reached to pull her panties past her socks, around her shoes, and to the floor, lifting her feet so he could shoo the underwear away.
"You stepped in dog poo. You better not have tracked it on the carpets." Zek called, his eye twitching in disgust and frustration. He'd always told her this was a no-shoes residence, but then she'd always bring up that this was her workplace and how the terms of her temp work contract required hard toed shoes or something. Freya corroborated every word she said, but now that her footwear was potentially causing material harm to Zek's estate, he had the perfect excuse to enact his house rules.
"UMPH!" Zee huffed, as Zek took a seat on her butt. "Hey!" she called, smacking the door a few times as he shucking both the dirty and the unsoiled shoes. She heard a metal racket, and cried with yet more furious smacking, "DID YOU JUST THROW MY SHOES IN THE TRASH?!"
No response. Zek brought each foot up in turn and, in silence, dragged her long, thick, cotton socks up her slender calves, around the ball of her feet, and off her toes. When both feet, and by extension her whole lower half, were naked before and beneath him, Zek took a moment to admire. The sensation of her soft warm butt, warmer still with her ever deepening blush, her smooth and twitching soles, her meekly flexed toes trying to make themselves small beneath his intense gaze. If his heart weren't in a jar somewhere, Zee would've sent it fluttering. He brought her feet together, resting his chin in the crook of their arches, his cheek like cool, soft stones against her soles. It all fit together so perfectly, her body and his. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the salty odor and the implacable scent of soap that still lingered even after a full day and night broken down by sweat and absorbed by socks. Whatever the mystery scent, it was deeply refreshing.
Zek's eyes jolted open, he'd almost fallen asleep between her feet. He needed a recharge, not a rest! Grabbing Zee's ankles and firmly pulling them off her legs, he flopped back onto the master bed and hiked up his dress to reveal dark purple panties with an almost imperceptible bulge tucked inside. He looked surprised to see his own crotch, then recalled "Right, almost forgot that sea monster was my last fuck..." He set the feet aside for a moment, looked around like anyone would be looking, and as he undressed the necromancer muttered an incantation under his breath.
Zee couldn't see anything happening in the bedroom, couldn't hear anything either, or smell or taste for that matter though what good that'd do was dubious. All she could do was feel. She felt the bed under her soles, warm still from her body heat, then she felt soft hands holding her truncated ankles, felt the air roll past as her feet were moved, felt something cool and fleshy and both hard and soft against the tips and sides of her littlest toes. "That's his dick." She said, her feet flinching as the realization struck. She could feel a ridge in the flesh, one that gave way as ever so slowly her feet were brought down. Zek's foreskin, rolling down to unsheath his smaller head.
But how much smaller?
Zee was far from Zek's only partner. He'd been undead longer than the college student had been alive by at least an order of magnitude, and he'd become quite the adventurous little slut in that time, happy to top or bottom for any sex wanting sex. Part of the witchy switch's versatility came from spells of a different school of magic than his usual necromancy. Mixing magics was technically legal, but greatly frowned upon by the wider magic community. Cross-classing had a tendency to create unexpected or even dangerous results, even when performed by the most ancient of mages. Zek didn't dare try and learn an entire second school of magic. Just enough from the School of Transmogrification for one little spell... well, a small family of spells. The ones relating to growing and shrinking body parts. The sexual applications were obvious, though it was also surprisingly handy for storage of the necromancer's excess recyclables.
As far as Zee could tell from previous encounters and the mind melting sex scenes she'd accidentally and "accidentally" walked in on, Zek liked to make his cock bigger and smaller in roughly 3 inch increments to fit his partner's needs, and much to his continued annoyance Zee had come up with stupid nicknames for all the ones she'd seen. Taking the piss out of his dick was about all she could do to get under his usually cool skin.
Her toes slide down his shaft, one by one rolling over his flared head. Zee closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of scale of what she was working with. "Obviously not Terra Nullius." There wouldn't even be a dick to assess if Zek had magicked it away. On the dick went. "Nope, not Stubby Subby." He wasn't the sub here, so why would he wear his little sub dick? On the dick went. "Shit, not Stanford Standard." His jack of all trades junk for any occasion. On the dick went. "Oh fuck, it's Big Butch isn't it?!" She fearfully whispered, the dick going on and on. There was a pause, she hadn't hit groin but she wasn't going down. Was there more dick to go? It was already 9 inches at least! He wouldn't...
"THAT BETTER NOT BE EARTH SPLITTER!" Zee barked, giving the door a single, solid slam. Zek knew how she felt about that foot long monster. She'd told him that if he ever even thought about using that... thing... on her, Freya wouldn't be the only one ripping him a new one.
From the other side, she heard an annoyed grunt. "I told you I hate those stupid names."
"TELL ME HOW LONG YOU ARE RIGHT NOW!" Zee demanded.
"9 inches, hard." Zek answered, bringing her toes down a fraction of an inch to set her feet in his lap.
She sighed, almost relieved, until she felt her feet tumble to the floor as Zek bent forward, grabbed her by the pussy, and hoisted her less-than-half into his lap. Big Butch's tip slid across her clit and down her creases, until that icy tip just poked up into her. For all his magic and lifetimes of experiences, it still amazed Zek just how smoothly waxed and shaven Zee kept her crotch. The sorcerer still didn't know if the carpet matched the drapes. That amazement extended to her wetness, Zee's privates and inner thighs soaked and glistening with natural lubricant. Whatever her complaints, her body seemed more than eager to begin.
He put both hands on her stump, pushing firmly but not forcefully down. Nails clawed at the door, inch by inch Big Butch made his way up as Zee came down. Her tummy convulsed, as just like Big Butch her breathing was deep and hard. Her wetness could only do so much against such a supernaturally superb endowment, even if this wasn't the so called "Earth Splitter" it was more than enough to split Zee in two. Her torso curled up in a half fetal position, and gripped her naturally green hair tight as she slid past the halfway point. She stifled her moans, not wanting to give Zek the satisfaction. Colossal dick or not, he was still a colossal dick for half kidnapping her for a quickie, and she wasn't about to let him think that he was doing her a favor. This was completely unprofessional; the least he could do was brew her some coffee and offer her 'cream' to go with it or something! There was a structure to these things! Rules to this game! He couldn't jus-
"MMMMph!" Zee bit her fist to stifle herself. He'd hit bedrock. Zek saw the distended bulge in Zee's stump, rubbing the peak and feeling it rub Big Butch's head. In truth, he hadn't known what'd happen when he reached the end. With necromancy you'd punch straight through a stump like pushing through clay, portals sent your cock through to the other portal, transmogrifying would stretch a stump but never snap it just like this, there were countless ways magic played with stumps. However this natural body magic worked, it seemed to follow the school of transmogrification's rules, making Zek reconsider the idea of doing a little more cross-classing. A thought for later. For now, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of Zee's stump and pushed down, creating a peach colored hill in her stump as he hilted. He released, and like a spring the elasticity of her stump pushed her back up an inch or two. "Interesting..." Zek said with a wicked sneer.
He pushed down, let go, she popped back up. Push, release, pop. Push release pop. Faster and faster, playing with the trembling legs like an elaborate sex toy. He heard something incoherent beyond the door, banging and clawing. He ignored it. He kept pushing, holding her against him and gyrating his hips, rubbing himself against the stretchy, soft, warm, wet skin and biting his purple glossed lip. Release. Again, faster now. He kept a superhuman pace, his undead stamina greater than any mortal's, and if history was any indication Zee's knees would give out before he.
Zee was flat on her back, arms splayed out, face the color of fresh roses, eyes rolled back and fluttering madly. She'd been trying to tell Zek she'd already cum, and then twice, and then thrice as he stretched her out in every way possible, but he couldn't hear her over the thunderous plaps. She was in a fucking fugue state, no thoughts, head empty, was she about to die? Would he make her pay for her own revival? Fuck. FUCK. FUCK! FOUR! FIVE!
With a final wet smack, Zee's hips were impaled down to Zek's smooth shaven balls, her convulsing walls grabbing Butch's girth and dragging Zek off the bed as her footless legs lost their footing and slid out from under her. Zek was pitched over his assistant, moaning effeminately from this final blow. He fell atop Zee's bottom, his face and chest slapping into the hardwood, and the necromancer's supernatural stitches split anew. His head rolled away, crushing his hat. His arms bounced and landed under some drawers. His hips rolled over hers, snapping Butch off inside her and leaving his balls behind too. His torso broke in two when it hit the ground and tumbled apart in opposite directions. Finally, with a mighty "FOOMP", Zee's distended stump popped back into place and launching Big Butch under the bed, the rocket spraying a contrail of white behind it as it sailed majestically through the air.
"uuuuuuu" Zek groaned, his vision blurred, upside down, spinning. "Might've.... overboard..." He mumbled, closing his eyes. Even undead stamina had its limits, and given he was already running on fumes, his body coming apart and cumming apart drained the last of it. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep, while Zee gave a few impotent beats at the door before breaking out in a snore.
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"Mnuh?" Zee wheezed, the world above her a haze. She screwed her eyes shut, her head pounding with dehydration. Her clothes were fused with her flesh, she could feel crusted sweat splintering away as she brought her hands up and rubbed her eyes. Putting her glasses back in place, she saw the high ceiling stretching off above her, faint glimmers of light shining through the dark stained glass windows. It was always hard to tell what time it was inside a gothic manor, but the light seemed uncannily bright for the dawn. She rolled up her sleeve, checked her smart watch.
11:47am.
Her heart stopped, and when it started again it beat at about a billion bpm. "ZEK!" She screamed, rolling onto her back and bashing at the locked door as fast and as loud as she could. "ZEK WAKE THE FUCK UP WE OVERSLEPT I'M SO FUCKED I MISSED A CLASS ALREADY GONNA BE LATE TO THE NEXT ONE FUCK NEED TO SHOWER SMELL LIKE FUCKING FUCK!"
"Yeah, uh, I'm awake." Zek called from inside, a little embarrassment in his voice. "I tried to wake you up, but you couldn't hear me."
"ZEK OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU DEADER THAN DEAD!" Zee demanded, hopping on her stump and swinging off the latch, pounding her whole chest into the door.
"About that." Zek said, looking out over the shattered remains of his remains lying limp and twitching around the room. "I'm gonna need you to help me help you."