Hot Sticky Sex Story

So, apparently I need to keep some kind of Journal explaining how I got here and what I’m doing. A research diary as Sif called it, I argue that I can just remember it all, alas here I am since she’s rather persuasive. Guess I need to start from the beginning so I’ll keep it quick, not like I was ever interesting anyway.

I had a pretty comfortable life as a sleeper, it was just be and my dad and he was loaded, made a killing on the stocks or some shit, I never really asked back then. My mother died during labour so I was his little princess and as awful as it may sound, I did so wish he’d have brought a woman home… you know, a new mother for me. Not that I didn’t love him, he was just clueless, but we had fun and thanks to his money I managed to get into good schools, had good grades and a couple of friends.

I guess I was an average teenager for the most part, rebellious against authority you know the drill. I took up smoking and tried drugs once or twice but it never really sat well with me. The one thing I did fall in love with was music, hard, heavy rock. I think I’ve owned every ipod variant there has ever been and I was attached to them. Ear buds sat in morning to night, it’s a wonder I didn’t go deaf really.

It was in the last year of high school I started to become who I am today. I decided that I wanted to pursue a career as a doctor, of course that meant college and university but dad was more than willing to pay, I had excellent grades so he had nothing to worry about. I buckled down once all that hit and drifted away from most of my friend, just studied my ass off and shut everything out except for music.

Time went on, I did my studies, even got a sweet internship but I suppose it was before that when I became infatuated with the dead. How, why? Necrophiliacs… Yup… People souly getting into medicine to get their hands on the recently deceased. They were nice people don’t get me wrong and I ended up hanging with them a lot and funnily enough learnt a lot about the dead as a by-product, figured it would be useful in the future, doctors deal with death all the time. The strangest thing about it all was the occult nonsense (I thought at the time) They would get into, zombies, lich, vampires all the clichés and they were convinced that with the right ritual they could raise their own undead slaves and honestly, I kinda wanted in on it, seemed illogical but I was often taken in by a little whimsy now and then.


Whimsy soon turned to hobby, hobby to fanatic. I was spending all my time reading books or talking about what I’d read in those books. All kinds of shit from Ancient Egyptian burials and curses to Voodoo magics. It was quite crazy and in the end my grades saw a bit of a dip because of it. Nothing major but falling from top of the class to just being in the top 25, people start talking and people knew the kinds of things we were up to, we weren’t secretive about our interest in magic and the likes and we became outcasts and even bullied. Most of the group dropped out around that point, making some bullshit excuses but I didn’t let it get to me and along with the two remaining, Lisa and Dean, we got our internships, Dean in a different hospital but me and Lisa got to stay together which was nice.

Between the hospital and researching all of these books, I essentially had no life, eat, sleep, work, study, repeat and you know what? I loved it. I worked my scrubs to the bone at that hospital and I was damn good at what I did, Chief of medicine just about snapped my arm off when I accepted residency. Life went on and I slowly drifted away from the occult, I didn’t forget, I just wanted to focus on my work, I was the go to doctor when a patient had a strange illness, I could diagnose pretty much anything and that in turn caught the attention of the head down at the morgue, my abilities to diagnose meant I could determine the cause of a patient’s death easily. Before to long I was head of the department, I controlled the morgue and you know, as happy as I had been with living patients this was something special, I felt at home and comfortable around the dead… I’m a creepy fuck, right?

How old am I now? That would be telling, but after four years of college and four years of med school you can safely assume I am 8. That said, I was elbow deep in a cadaver one day, somehow his liver had ruptured even though he was in for colon cancer treatment and I got a visitor, an old friend in fact, Dean. He’d heard of my post from a doctor at his hospital who used to work at mine and clearly his head was still filled with dreams of raising the dead and having his way with them… Thinking back on it I should have turned the sick bastard in but damn I wanted to see a human brought back from the dead, imagine the shit that’d happen to the medical community? If nothing else it wouldn’t work and I’d get to have a little chuckle at him. Most weekends I am alone down in the morgues so we decided to try it then, seemed innocent and creepy enough.

What I hadn’t counted on was him bringing a friend along, some chunky, creepy Goth chick. Who I swear was wearing enough make up that it might of well have been a clown mask. Apparently she was the one who had gotten him into the scene all those years ago, got him interested in the dead and such and she wanted to be here for the ritual. Consisted of the usual garbage, pentagrams on the floor drawn from the blood of the intended zombie, candles dotted around, human skulls, you name the cliché and it was there. After a long as time prepping and messing my morgue up it began. Reading from an ornate looking book and chanting. Honestly I didn’t have any hopes but… once the smoke from the candles started to swirl and gather at the centre of the pentagram, I started to worry and even more so when it took a form, like a ghost made of smoke just the upper half of the body anyway. The form seemed self-aware and once it got its bearings it set upon Dean, entering him via any orifice it could, I was frozen and not even with fear, if I could have I’d have been out of that door in a shot. The chunky Goth chick seemed unphased, in fact she seemed pleased that it was all happening.

She started to rattle off some bullshit about welcoming me to her coven, that Dead was just a pawn and would now become her zombie slave and she wasn’t kidding, I watched as his soul ripped from his body and entered the corpse. Didn’t take long for it to be on its feet and at her beck and call. It was my turn next and now that I’d seen it and knew it would work, I was petrified. She began to chant something but was interrupted when some random woman (Sif) came busting into the morgue and straight up round housed the girl, were I not pissing myself I might have been impressed. I didn’t quite see what happened next but Sif has since told me that the spell she was casting misfired and hit me, sending me down the path of Doom and to the Watchtower of the Lead Coin.

I Awoke in a place clearly not of this world, it was dark and perfectly silent, not even the sound of wind and any noise I made seemed to anger it. I must have spent at least an hour walking the barren landscape, seeing things in the distance, shadows moving about sneakily as if waiting to pounce on me. I eventually came upon the Watchtower and at that point it was like… why the fuck not? If I’m dead anyway might as well explore right? I walked up to the base and pushed open the doors, inside was a candle lit room filled with coffins, dusty and old all except for one was upon a stone slab at the centre of the room. I approached curiously and it was me… I was looking at my own dead body, lying in this coffin, ready to be filed away like all the other and I don’t know why but I broke down, just sank to my knees and wept, pleading to have my life back, apologizing for anything I may have done to anger whatever was doing this me… No answer came at first but after a while I stopped and I sat there against the slab just thinking and somehow whatever was happening began to feel right, I stood and looked back at the coffin, but it was empty and as I watched the thing closed before my eyes. There was a blank, golden plaque upon the lid, I looked around and all the others had names carved in them and I knew I needed to do the same. At that moment the tools I needed appeared and I just accepted it, took them and started to carve my name upon it and it felt right.

Once I was finished I was consumed by darkness once more but this time I heard a voice. “Wake up!” It shouted and I could feel my body being shaken, I opened my eyes and looked up at her. “Come, we’ve no time to wait around. We leave now!” I didn’t even question it, didn’t look back, I’ve no idea what became of Dean and the goth weirdo. Sif just took me, filled me in on what I’d been through and what I now was and I think I actually laughed, not because I didn’t believe her, but because all that occult bullshit seemed to have some weight behind them.

She Took me to the sanctum of her order and helped me settle into my new life, not that it took long I can tell you that, being able to become an all-powerful mage? Fuck yes!

It’s been a year since then and here I am, just spending my days studying all this new, fantastical knowledge not previously available to me and I love it. I still get odd looks from the others, apparently they look down on those of the path of Moros, I don’t let it get to me but I do crave a little conversation now and then… I’m always happy to be visited by Sif but she doesn’t have all the time in the world to just sit and talk with me… whatever, I have my research right?