Unkillable leaned back, his unsettling grin widening as he began recounting the tale, this one darker and more twisted than the last. He reminded them that the essence of his second story echoed the first, but with one significant deviation—a version of himself, a variant from an alternate reality, where the rules of life and death had twisted into a grotesque parody of existence.

In this world, every male had been eradicated, murdered in cold blood by the very women who once loved them. But the women didn’t stop there. They evolved, their biology corrupted by an ancient, malevolent entity known as Nymphomania. This force transformed them into near-immortal predators, feasting on the flesh of males to sustain their ageless beauty and unnatural power. Any woman who refused this horrific ritual met a grim fate, drowned by her sisters and then possessed by the Nymphomania, her body and soul warped beyond recognition.

His variant had become the last man standing—an unlucky survivor, hunted down like prey, captured, and subjected to the most excruciating torment imaginable. He, like all the others, had been used, devoured, and violated, but his immortality cursed him. Death could not free him from their cruelty. He would regenerate, only to be tortured once more. This was his endless nightmare.

"They tortured him," Unkillable said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "they raped him until time itself became meaningless."

The variant had been tied down, spread-eagle on a massive bed draped with silk, each limb restrained at the bed’s corners by chains forged from some dark, unholy material. His legs were spread wide, the cold air making his skin prickle. His arms were fastened in a similar manner, though his middle fingers were manipulated into a grotesque imitation of an erect phallus, a cruel joke etched in his captors' twisted minds. His mouth was forced wide open by a cruel device, a metallic contraption that kept his tongue unnaturally stiff and ready for what was to come.

The first two women approached. Both were voluptuous, their bodies curvaceous, and their presence commanding. One of them, with raven-black hair cascading down her shoulders, climbed on top of him, her weight pressing him deeper into the bed. Without a word, she positioned herself over his hardened shaft, her slick heat enveloping him as she rode him, slow at first, then faster, grinding her hips against him with increasing ferocity. The second woman straddled his face, her ample breasts heaving as she positioned herself over his restrained mouth, forcing him to serve her. His tongue, manipulated by the device, flicked against her, exploring her depths as she shuddered in pleasure. Her juices spilled over him, her orgasm relentless as she continued using him for her own desires.

Even if his mind screamed in defiance, his body betrayed him, driven by a primal response to their unrelenting stimulation. His immortality made him a prisoner, doomed to experience every sensation over and over without the sweet release of death. The helpless variant could feel every motion, every pulse, as they took him, his will eroded under their lustful assault.

Meanwhile, two more women with striking, predatory features approached, their movements deliberate, sensual, as they took his rigidly positioned middle fingers, each woman mounting one. They moved in rhythm with the others, their moans filling the air as they ground against him, the parody of intercourse amplifying the absurdity of his torment.

Time lost meaning as the four women ravaged him, each taking their turn, prolonging his torment for what felt like eons. His eyes, wide open in silent horror, stared into nothingness as the sheer helplessness consumed him. Yet, even when they were done, his suffering was far from over.

At last, the leader of this twisted harem stepped forward. She was the most powerful among them, a demoness of haunting beauty. Her skin was a deep, crimson hue, her eyes glowing with a malevolent fire that seemed to pierce through his very soul. Her body was perfect, a vision of voluptuous strength and elegance. But her presence was chilling, like standing in the presence of death itself.

She approached slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes. Without a word, she mounted him, and the agony that followed was beyond anything his variant had known before. She was not like the others—her power surged through him, each movement stealing a part of his essence, draining his very life force even as he regenerated. The pleasure she derived from his torment was palpable, an intoxicating energy that filled the room.

The variant had become nothing more than a plaything, eternally bound to their desires, reliving the nightmare as they raped him until the end of time, with no hope for escape, no death to deliver him from this eternal hell.

"And that," Unkillable said, his voice trailing off into the silence that followed, "was his fate. Raped, devoured, and tortured forever, a victim of his immortality. Just as in my first tale, there was no escape... only the endless cycle of suffering."

***

"Is that all? I feel like there’s more to the story," one of the travelers asked, leaning forward. "The horrors your variant went through sound like they go beyond anything even hell could offer."

Joseph smiled, nodding. "Oh, there's definitely more," he replied. "I was just building up the suspense." He paused, then continued with a grin, "Alright then, let’s pick up right where we left off."

***

She climbed atop him, her skin slick with the heat of desire. Despite his broken spirit and weakened body, his member remained rigid, an unwilling testament to his cruel immortality. His body, barely responsive, betrayed him as her warm flesh enveloped him, her body moving with an unholy grace. She moaned, her pleasure growing with every merciless thrust as she rode him with the fervor of a predator toying with her prey.

Her hands pressed firmly on his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his skin with a deceptive tenderness as she stared into his eyes, her expression dripping with lust. Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light, and her smirk—a twisted, cruel thing—told him all he needed to know. He was nothing more than a vessel for her gratification, a toy to be used and discarded.

His vision blurred as his body trembled, paralyzed by the overwhelming sensations and the utter helplessness that clutched his heart. Tears formed in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks as the torment deepened. His ears rang with the sound of her moans, drowning out everything else. His limbs had long since stopped obeying him, leaving him mute and broken beneath her, his body nothing more than a canvas for her cruelty.

And still, she continued. Every thrust of her hips sent a ripple through the bed as if it might collapse beneath them, the springs groaning under the strain of their violent coupling. His mind was a haze of pain and exhaustion, yet he could still make out her form—her silhouette blurred by his tears, her horns curling menacingly from her head, her sharp fangs gleaming in the dim light. Her face twisted into something grotesque, mocking his suffering as she rode him harder.

Then, with a sudden shift, she leaned forward, her breasts pressed against his chest, their weight heavy and suffocating. His breath caught in his throat as her nipples released a stream of hot liquid—breast milk, but more like acid. The moment it touched his skin, it burned, searing his flesh with every drop. His throat constricted, his body writhing beneath her, but she only laughed—a low, menacing sound that vibrated through him.

Her body moved faster, the violence of her movements sending shocks of pain through his already battered form. He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but his mouth was forced wide by that cursed device, keeping him in silent agony. His eyes widened in horror as she squeezed tighter, her fangs gleaming in the darkness. With a final, sickening thrust, she climaxed, her body shuddering with pleasure as she let out a shriek of ecstasy.

Then, without warning, she sank her fangs deep into his neck.

The pain was blinding, every nerve in his body aflame as she tore into him, her sharp teeth ripping through his flesh with terrifying ease. His windpipe shattered under her assault, his esophagus torn out in bloody strips as she devoured it like some grotesque delicacy. Blood poured from the gaping wound, mixing with his tears as his mind spun into the abyss. But there was no escape. Not for him.

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With terrifying precision, she dug her claws into his chest, ripping it open to expose his still-beating heart. Her eyes lit up with satisfaction, her lips curling into a smile as she plucked it from him. He watched, unable to move or protest, as she held it before him, squeezing it gently between her fingers, savoring the moment. Then, with one swift motion, she tore it free, the string of sinew snapping as she brought the heart to her lips.

His vision darkened, the edges of the world closing in as she devoured his heart with a sickening crunch. Blood poured from the gaping wounds in his chest, neck, and groin, staining the bed beneath him. The sheets were soaked, the air thick with the metallic scent of his blood and her lust.

And yet, even in death, there was no release.

As she finished her gruesome meal, her body glistening with the remnants of his blood, she stood, surveying the broken, lifeless form of his body. His manhood, twisted and deformed from her violent use, still leaked a mixture of semen, blood, and urine, a final testament to his torment. She chuckled, a sound devoid of any warmth or humanity, before turning back to him with a savage grin.

With one last act of cruelty, she tore his manhood from his body, consuming it with the same hunger she had shown for his flesh. Blood dripped from her lips, her face smeared with the evidence of her feast as she let out a contented sigh. Her body trembled with satisfaction, her dark eyes glinting with unholy glee.

A few drops of blood dripped from her again, blending with the blood already staining her body, sliding down toward her vagina, which also leaked a mixture of blood and sperm from its opening.

As she left, her minions descended upon what remained of his body, their teeth gnashing as they feasted on his remains. But even as they devoured him, his cursed body would reform. And so, the cycle of torment would begin again.

***[Other translation]***

Unkillable began his tale, a twisted story that initially seemed sensual but took a sinister turn. He warned them it mirrored his previous story but with a darker, more disturbing twist. In an alternate reality, his variant was the last being on a planet where the women had evolved into predators, feeding on the men they lured and consumed. These women, ruled by a demonic entity called Nymphomania, thrived on male flesh, slaughtering every male in existence. Any woman who refused to participate in the feast was drowned and possessed by the entity, ensuring the ritual's continuation.

My variant became their victim. Captured, bound, and subjected to endless torment, he was repeatedly tortured and violated. Despite his immortality, they took perverse pleasure in devouring him, knowing he would always rematerialize from nothingness, only to be ravaged again. The cycle of torment was eternal, with no escape.

It began with two women. Their voluptuous forms—massive breasts and full hips—loomed over him as he lay spread-eagled on a large bed, his limbs tied tightly to the posts. His legs were stretched wide, and his hands were forced into obscene positions, with his middle fingers erect in a grotesque parody of an obscene gesture. A device held his mouth open, and his tongue was painfully extended, ready to be used as they saw fit.

The first woman straddled him, sinking down onto his still-erect member. Her movements were rough, filled with savage hunger as she rode him relentlessly. Meanwhile, the second woman took her place above his face, forcing his tongue deep inside her. She moaned with pleasure as her fluids flowed into his mouth, forcing him to swallow despite his revulsion.

On either side of him, the other women violated his fingers, treating them as phallic surrogates as they moaned and bucked against his hands. His mind was overwhelmed with the suffocating heat, the pungent scent of sweat and sex, and the cruel laughter of the women as they exploited every inch of his helpless body.

And then came their leader.

The demoness, a terrifying creature of seductive beauty, approached. Her skin was a deep, menacing red, and her large, curling horns framed her face like a crown of pure malice. Her voluptuous body, draped in an air of dominance, made even the other women tremble. She climbed onto him, her eyes gleaming with lust and cruelty. Despite his exhaustion, his body betrayed him again, his erection still standing at attention.

She impaled herself on him, her vaginal discharge slicking his member as she began her brutal, merciless rhythm. Every thrust was violent, shaking the bed as though it might break apart under the sheer force. His vision blurred, tears of pain and despair spilling from his eyes as he watched her, her face distorted with malevolent pleasure.

He could no longer feel his limbs. His senses were overwhelmed, his ears ringing as she continued her assault. All he could see was her blurred face, a cruel smile on her lips, and glimpses of her sharp fangs and massive horns. She leaned down, her massive breasts pressing against his chest, soft yet suffocating as they crushed the air from his lungs.

In a horrifying display, she allowed her breast milk to pour into his open mouth. It burned like acid, searing his throat as he gagged, barely able to recover before more splashed across his face, causing his skin to sizzle and blister.

Her moans grew louder, uncontrollable as she approached her climax. Her arms wrapped around him like a vice, tightening with every violent thrust until he could no longer breathe. When she finally reached her peak, she sank her fangs into his neck. The pain was excruciating, but he could not scream. She tore through his flesh, her teeth sinking deeper until she ripped out his throat, swallowing his windpipe with a grotesque slurp.

Her claws dug into his chest, tearing it open with precision. She stared at his still-beating heart with dark satisfaction before gently pulling it from his body. He watched, his silent tears mingling with his blood, as she brought his heart to her lips and consumed it, the last tether to his life snapping as the bed beneath him became a lake of blood.

Her body was drenched in the blood of her victim, her skin slick with the evidence of her sadistic pleasure. And yet, she wasn't finished. His mutilated, deformed penis remained erect, despite its twisted state, and with a sickening smile, she reached down and tore it from his body, testicles and all.

She devoured his scrotum first, crunching the remains between her fangs as she savored the last remnants of his seed. Then, she consumed his penis piece by piece, her teeth tearing through the flesh, blood dripping from her chin to mix with the fluids pouring from her own body.

Finally, satisfied and drenched in the blood and semen of her victim, she stepped away, leaving his mangled body to her minions. They descended upon him, feasting on the remains of his corpse, as the demoness watched with a twisted sense of fulfillment. The bed, soaked in blood and viscera, became the final resting place of a variant who had endured the unimaginable, all in vain.

As Joseph wrapped up his tale, the group sat in stunned silence—amazed, shocked, and a little terrified. None of them had ever heard anything quite like it. Some of the warriors and a few of the male travelers shifted uneasily, casting wary glances at the women in their midst, especially at one woman known for her nymphomaniac tendencies.

“Cowards!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at the nervous men. Joseph and the others who weren’t so easily rattled burst into laughter.

One of the male travelers, clearly unfazed, stepped forward, grinning as he took the nymphomaniac’s hand with a playful bow. “I’d be more than happy to relive Joseph’s tale with you,” he said, drawing gasps and laughter from the group.

“Alright, this is getting weird, even for me,” Joseph said, chuckling—only to be distracted by something else. “Oh no… is that…?” He pointed, laughing, as he spotted one of the male warriors trying to subtly hide an obvious reaction.

“What can I say?” the warrior replied, shrugging with a grin. “I’m only human. And, well… your story was kind of hot.”

Everyone broke into laughter, realizing he wasn’t the only one caught off guard. A few others shifted, trying discreetly to keep their reactions hidden.