My name is James, and I am a 20-year-old man. I consider myself to be an ordinary man. The fever hit me like a freight train last week. One moment I was healthy as a horse, the next I was bedridden, shivering under piles of blankets even as I sweated through my sheets. Five long days passed in a sickly haze of chills, aches and raging delirium. I didn't think I'd make it. My body felt like it was on fire from the inside out.
Finally, on the sixth day, the fever broke. I woke up drenched in cold sweat but feeling...better. Weak as a newborn kitten, but alive and breathing. I stumbled to the bathroom, taking in my haggard reflection - sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, a face flush with sickness.
I splashed my pallid face with cold water, then unzipped my fly on automatic. I was still feeling off, woozy and disoriented, my thoughts sluggish. I just needed to pee and get back in bed, I told myself. I'd figure out the rest later.
But as I stood there, halfheartedly fumbling with my zipper, I realized something was...not right. Usually, mere moments of thought was enough to bring little Jimmy to attention, but this time...nothing. Not a twitch, not a stirring. It hung there lifelessly, completely unresponsive.
My heart sank as icy fingers of dread spread through my chest. No, this couldn't be happening, not to me. I was only twenty! This was supposed to be my prime, my heyday. I tried every trick in the book - Grandpa's old porn stash, dirty magazines, the weirdest hentai the internet had to offer. But it was no use. My penis remained as flaccid and flabby as a deflated party balloon.
I staggered back to my bed, fighting back tears of frustration and despair. What kind of cruel twist of fate was this? One week from near-death with the flu to impotent at twenty. What the hell was I supposed to do now?exus struck out for the mountains that day, her heart heavy with purpose. She donned her enchanted gauntlet and sword, the keys to her destructive power. To become the Deathbringer was to shackle herself to an unending campaign of annihilation and ruin.
I've been to more doctors than I can count at this point. Endocrinologists, urologists, psychiatrists - you name it, I've seen them. They poke and prod, draw blood, ask the same damn questions over and over. Do I take any illicit drugs? Am I depressed? Am I under a lot of stress? The answer is no, no, and yes - but not the kind of stress you'd think would lead to a busted boner.
As the months dragged on without improvement, my spirits sank lower and lower. I started withdrawing from my friends and family, made excuses to get out of social outings. The thought of going out on a date, of being intimate with a woman, filled me with paralyzing dread. I'd spent my whole life hoping and praying to get laid, only to have the chance ripped away at the moment of my prime.
I'd lie awake at night, the pitiful outline of my limp dick mocking me in the moonlight. Is this really what the rest of my life was going to be like? Alone, impotent, a sad shell of a man? I couldn't take it. This couldn't be the end of my story, could it? Just as I reached that dark cliff of despair, about to throw in the towel, a glimmer of possibility caught my eye. An old book of legends and myths, passed down through my family. I thumbed through the crumbling pages, less out of hope than sheer desperation.
Then I came across a passage that made my breath catch in my throat. Some ancient mystical ritual, involving a rare elixir and a blood sacrifice. It claimed to restore virility and stamina beyond imagination. I was equal parts skeeved out and intrigued. I mean, a blood sacrifice? That's some savage, primitive shit. But the more I read, the more I realized how far I was willing to go to get my manhood back. Even if it meant invoking dark forces beyond the veil.
I snapped the book shut, my heart pounding. This could be incredibly stupid or incredibly badass. I couldn't just sit on my ass while my junk withered and died, could I? That book said the ritual happened once a year, on the dark of the moon. I had just enough time to gather the items and ingredients I'd need, to plan out this ill-advised misadventure. It was crazy. It was dangerous. And god help me, it was the last hope I had. Fuck it, I thought to myself as I started making arrangements. Let's get this boner back by whatever means necessary.
Feeling desperate, I turned to the internet for information and came across an ancient medical healing that claims to cure everything. The website provided an address, so I decided to go there. I followed the nawer address to a small village that seemed lost in time. The houses were made of clay and straw, the streets were narrow and dusty. The locals wore colorful traditional clothes and stared at me with curious eyes as I passed by. It felt like stepping into a different world, or at least a different century.
After wandering for a while, I finally found the house I was looking for. A small wooden door, barely wider than a man, with a sign above it. "Ancient Holy Medical". I took a deep breath, feeling both nervous and foolish, but also desperate. This was my last hope, after all.
I knocked on the door, three quick taps. A moment later, it creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room and two women. One was black, her skin as dark as coal, her hair in tight curly braids. She was wearing a belly dancer's top, with exposed midriff and barely covering her ample chest, and loose harem pants. The other was white, her skin as pale as milk, her hair blonde and straight. She wore a similar outfit, showing off her curvy figure.
"Welcome sir. How may we help you today?" the dark-skinned woman asked in a melodious voice. Her smile was warm and friendly, and her eyes were kind. I felt myself relax a little in her presence.
"I... I have a problem. With... um..." I stumbled over my words, feeling embarrassed. I wasn't used to discussing such private matters with strangers, especially attractive women.
"Your male organ?" the blonde finished for me, her tone blunt but not unkind. "We can help with that. Come inside, we'll discuss this over some tea and dates." She stepped aside, gesturing me in.
I hesitantly stepped into the small room, feeling like I had entered another dimension. The floor was covered in richly patterned rugs, the walls adorned with colorful tapestries and strange symbols. Candles flickered in ornate candleholders, casting a soft glow. The air was thick with the scent of incense.
The two women gestured to some cushions on the floor, and I lowered myself onto them, criss-cross applesauce. They sat across from me, each pouring a steaming cup of tea. The blond offered me a silver plate with some dates. I took one, feeling out of my depth.
"So," the ebony woman spoke, sipping her tea, "tell us more about your condition. When did it start, how long has it been lasting?"
"Ah, two or three months," the dark-skinned woman nodded thoughtfully. "And have there been any...other changes in your life during that time? Stress, illness, relationship troubles?"
I shifted uncomfortably, the implications of her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Well, yeah, actually," I admitted. "I had a nasty bout of the flu about that time. High fever, delirium, the works. It knocked me on my ass for a solid week."
"I see," the blonde said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you seek medical treatment for that? Perhaps they could have given you some antibiotics or-"
"They basically told me to go home and ride it out," I interrupted, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over me. "Said it was just a virus, nothing they could really do. But it -" I hesitated, glancing between the two women, unsure if I should elaborate. But what did I have to lose, at this point? "It seemed to start soon after my recovery. I couldn't...get it up, you know?" I finished in a rush, my face flushing hotly.
The dark-skinned woman pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "A sudden onset, associated with a period of illness. That does suggest a different course of action than what we usually see," she murmured, more to herself than to me. She turned to the blonde, who raised an eyebrow in question. The two exchanged a look, quick as flickering candlelight, before the dark-skinned woman turned back to me with a smile.
"Don't worry, Mr. James," the ebony woman said, her voice soothing as warm honey. "We will help you find a solution. Please wait here while I inform the mistress."
"The mistress?" I repeated, my curiosity piqued.
"Yes," she nodded, a hint of reverence in her voice. "She is the one in charge of the ancient healing methods. Please follow me to meet her."
I hesitated for a moment, glancing around the dimly lit room one last time before reluctantly getting to my feet. The blonde woman gave me an encouraging smile as I followed my ebony guide through a curtained doorway at the back of the room. The air grew cooler and damper as we descended down a narrow stone staircase lit by flickering torches set into the damp walls. My heart pounded in my chest, equal parts fear and anticipation warring within me. What kind of mistress could possibly have the power to cure what modern medicine couldn't?
At last, we came to an ornate wooden door carved with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and writhe under my gaze. My guide rapped three times on the door, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. The room beyond was dimly lit by more flickering candles, casting long shadows across its stone walls. In its center stood an altar draped in red velvet, upon which rested an ancient-looking tome and various arcane implements I couldn't begin to identify. Above it hung a large mirror whose surface swirled with restless shadows that seemed alive with movement.