text: d to know what you want." She moved her hand up his thigh as she continued right in his ear, "What is it that you want more than anything, Hank? Is it money? Do you want to have money beyond your dreams? Or maybe you want fame? How would you like to be famous right here in this little ol bar?" She moved her hand even higher so that it wasn't really on his thigh any more as she said, "But perhaps there's something else you'd like that I can give you? Would you like me, Hank?" She licked his earlobe and repeated, "Tell me, Hank, what is it you want?"
  
  > Hank wants money: lots and lots of money.
  Hank slowly turned his head towards Sasha. She backed up just enough so that he could turn his head. Her face was just inches away from his. He could feel her breath on his face as he whispered back, "Money. I want money."
  
  She leaned forward just enough to lightly touch his lips with hers. He started to try and kiss her, but she backed up quickly before he could. She licked her lips and said, "Okay Hank. Money it is."
  
  A second later his phone buzzed. He ignored it. Sasha tilted her head and nodded towards his pocket where the phone was sitting. It buzzed again. Hank wasn't going to get it, he was still trying to get Sasha. He leaned in towards her, but she put her hand against his chest and said, "Hank, I think you should get that."
  
  Hank looked at Sasha, puzzled, but pulled his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and saw that he had three messages from his bank app. Opening them up, he saw each one was the confirmation of a wire deposit of one hundred thousand dollars! He really was rich! He started to think of all the things he could buy with that money and then realized he might actually run out if he really went nuts. Then his phone buzzed again indicating yet another deposit. He really was rich. Then he started to wonder how this could happen so fast. What was Sasha really doing here? How could she just be sitting next to him and then deposits showed up? Hank started to realize that something really wasn't right here. He put his phone away and turned to Sasha to ask her what was going on.
  
  When he turned, she was staring directly into his eyes. He started to ask what was going on, but before he could get a word out, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Her lips tasted like heaven to Hank. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling. Her mouth opened and her tongue gently slid along his lips. His entire body went weak as he swooned. He kissed her back the best he could, but he was no match for the feelings she was giving him. He could feel her hands slowly exploring his body as well. He kept his eyes closed and didn't even care that they were in total public view sitting in a booth at a bar. He let the beat of the music wash over him as he melted into her body. When she stopped and drew back, he just sat there, sliding down the booth seat, his eyes still closed and lips still searching her out. The sound of her light giggle over the music brought him out of his stupor.
  
  He looked at her and said, "That was amazing."
  
  She smiled at him and touched his arm, saying, "Oh Hank, we're just getting started. I gave you what you wanted, now it's time for you to give me what I want."
  
  The smile dropped off Hank's face as he wondered what he was getting into. He looked around, but no one around seemed to even notice them there. She laughed again and said, "Hank, Hank, Hank. You look scared. I can't imagine why. Trust me, you're going to enjoy this almost as much as I do."
  
  Before he could react, Sasha jumped from the booth and climbed on top of Hank. Her massive mammories were just below Hank's chin. Her knees were on the sides of Hank's hips. She licked her lips again and pressed into Hank. She started sliding her body up and down his in time with the music. Hank looked down and was mesmerized at the view. Her giant globe were getting larger, then smaller, then larger, as she slid up and down. Hank wasn't sure he could contain himself very long in this situation.
  
  She looked up at him with her green eyes and said, "Oh, but then what would a party be without drinks, right Hank?"
  
  Hank couldn't trust himself to talk right now. The most beautiful woman in the world was scantily dressed and rubbing against him repeatedly. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he just nodded.
  
  Sasha reached behind her back, pulling her dress even tighter against her chest. She turned back around and had a beer in her hand. She put it up to Hank's lips and said, "Drink up!"
  
  Hank tried to wonder where the beer came from, but then the cold, golden goodness was splashing on his lips, in his face, and down his throat. If this girl wanted him to have a beer before she continued whatever she was doing to him, he was certainly going to do that. Right now he was pretty sure he'd do anything in his power to get her to keep going. He chugged and swallowed as much of the beer as he could while she giggled and poured it.
  
  Sasha put the beer down and then started sliding on Hank once again. He thought he should take out his phone and take some pictures of this, no one was ever going to believe him. And actually he figured this was way too good to last, so maybe he should get some pictures for himself to remember it. Those thoughts quickly disappeared from his mind as he noticed the room start to get blurry again. He didn't mind this time, in fact, he just closed his eyes and felt the music pounding through him while Sesha gyrated on top of him. It felt so good as his thoughts started to get blurry and then darkness swallowed him up.
  
  > Continue...
  Hank tried to open his eyes, but they didn't want to open. He could already see brightness through his closed eyelids, and it was too bright. He could feel the deep pouding headache plowing through his head from back to front once again. He was done sleeping, he could tell that at this point, but he really did not want to move. He knew that when he opened his eyes the pain would just increase. He knew this feeling well, and he didn't like it very much. He really did need to stop drinking so much. He promised himself that next time he'd just quit a little earlier so he wouldn't be quite this bad. He lay there for just another moment before he realized the reason he was awake: he needed to pee.
  
  He would prefer to not get up, but his bladder was warning him. He actually considered, just for a moment, just peeing in the bed. He really felt that bad. But he knew that his mommy wasn't around any more, so if he peed the bed, he was the only one that would have to clean it up. He even wondered, just for a moment, if he could pee the bed and hire someone else to clean it up. He wasn't sure how much that would cost, but whatever it was, he was pretty sure he couldn't afford it. No, he just needed to get his sorry, tired, lazy, hungover rear end out of bed to pee. He could just go back to bed afterwards, anyway. But that didn't mean he needed to open his eyes right now, he could wait on that agony.
  
  He managed to slide to the side of the bed, but even that was an effort. He felt almost out of breath. He still refused to open his eyes. He was going to put that off as long as he possibly could. He let his legs dangle over the edge until they found the floor. He reached out with his hand to touch the wall so he could guide himself to the bathroom without opening his eyes yet. He pushed himself up and stood there a moment, trying to stabilize himself. He was a little dizzy, but he still felt quite weak as well. Using the wall as a guide, he carefully and slowly stepped towards the bathroom.
  
  He made his way into the bathroom and didn't turn on the light. He felt along the sink until he was about where the toilet should be. Then he opened his eyes just a crack, enough to see the toilet. Even in the semi-darkness, the light hurt his head more. This was a real prize-winner of a hangover. He closed his eyes back up and lifted the toilet lid. While he knew where the target was, he knew he'd never quite hit it right without looking. He opened his eyes enough to see where he was going and relaxed to pee.
  
  In a fraction of a second the pain and shock hit him and he remembered yesterday morning. Yes, he was pissing fire again. His eyes shot open as the pain ripped through him again. Pee was flying all over the place as he tried to control himself, but it hurt so bad. He managed to get it aimed back at the toilet and he could see it looked like there was blood mixed in this time, too. He didn't really care about that at this point becuase the burning was so bad. He was sweating and crying again as he tried to remain standing and finish taking a leak. He didn't make it and fell to his knees as he was still finishing up. After he was done, he stayed on his knees, still crying in pain. He managed to gather himself and he reached out to the counter to try and make his way back to his feet.
  
  He had only glanced at his hand as he put it on the counter, but he could see something was off. He looked closer in the dim light and the hand didn't look like his own. It took him a moment to realize what it was: the hand look aged. It looked like his grandpa's hand. The skin was starting to wrinkle and the veins were bulging up. He turned his hand over and saw soft wrinkles on the other side as well. He stared at his hand for a moment because this didn't make sense at all. An STD he could get from banging someone, but what in the world was going on with his hand?
  
  Staring at his hand, he made his way to his feet. He moved across the room, his junk still hanging out, as he just realized that he was completely naked. He moved in front of the mirror and his jaw dropped. He was staring at a nude old guy. His muscles were all sagging and so was his skin. There were wrinkles all over the place and strange brown spots here and there on his skin. He reached up to touch his face and the figure in the mirror did the same. That could not be him. He was young and strong! He moved again and watched the skin flap in the breeze. He looked old, really old. But how could that be him? He turned sideways and could see his butt was sagging down as well. He turned back to the mirror and stared. He grabbed some of the flabby flesh on his arm and pushed it. It was real and it was old and worn out. He took a deep breath and watched the pitiful lungs in the mirror expand a tiny bit. That made him cough. He tried to stop, but then he went into a coughing fit. When he was done, he spit out a little more blood. Clearly he was dying. How else could he explain what was happening here?
  
  He left the mirror in a daze. He stepped back into the bedroom and sat back down on the bed. He looked down at his spindly legs. His hair had even turned white on his legs. He tried to remember what happened last night, but there was nothing in his memories. He remembered that he was going to go to the bar and see Sasha, but there was simply nothing else after that. The thought of Sasha bothered him -- what would she think of him now? There was no way she would want to have anything to do with this old fart. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that she must have or know something. Why would he keep forgetting what happened at night? Sasha was really hot, but his pee was still burning. Maybe he should at least tell her about that. Or ask her? He wasn't really sure. But he really didn't think there was anything she could do about whatever happened to him now. He remembered some movie about someone with accelerated aging or something, so maybe there was something that could be done here. Maybe it was something that a doctor would go, "Oh yeah, I know what that is, take this medicine and you'll be fine." Well, the odds of that were almost impossible, but Hank had to have some kind of hope. Still, he was already tired. His head was pounding and he'd really rather sleep now. Maybe he could sleep and he'd wake up later to find out this was all a dream of some kind. He just wasn't really sure if anything was real right now. Except Sasha, of course. She was real, and she was beautiful. She was incredible.
  
  > Hank heads to the doctor to see if he can get help.
  Hank decided that he really didn't know what was going on. He felt horrible. His head hurt. His body hurt and it didn't even look like his body. So he had to try something, he couldn't just sit there. He decided that he'd go ask a doctor and hoped that there would be some way they would have some kind of miracle cure for him. He really didn't think they would, but he didn't see any other options at this point.
  
  He stood back up from the bed and put his hand out to the wall to keep his balance. He headed over to the pile of clothes in the corner to put some on. He noticed as he moved, that once again the bed was a disaster area. It looked like he had really had a good time with someone last night. He smiled when he thought about sharing the bed with Sasha. He looked down and realized nothing else had happened when he thought of her, though. He carefully put on a tee shirt and some jeans. Neither one fit his new, emaciated body. The tee shirt looked like it was four sizes too big. He had enough room for two fists inside the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed an old charging wire to use as a belt and tried to tie it around. The slick insulation of the wire didn't really tighten well and when he let go, his pants fell down. He bent down and pulled them up again and realized he was going to have to hold them. Maybe this was why old people had belts.
  
  Holding his pants up with one hand, he shuffled towards the door of the bedroom. He stepped into his slides and kept walking. He realized by the time he reached the front door to his apartment that he was already breathing hard. Apparently he was also quite out of shape now. This was going to be a long trip to the doctor. He picked up his wallet and idly wondered how he would explain his ID picture.
  
  Hank made his way out the door and to the stairs to the first floor. He usually took the stairs two at a time, but this time he not only used each step, he could do little more than step one foot onto a step, then bring the other foot down to the level with the first. When he reached the landing between floors, he stopped to try and catch his breath. He thought that he should be sweating, but he figured he was probably still dehydrated. It didn't help that his head was still pounding despite everything else that was going on with him right now.
  
  He worked his was down to the entrace of the apartment and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The bright sunshine felt like daggers in his eyes. He put his wrinkled hand up to block the sun and squinted. He probably should have brought a hat for this trip, but he wasn't in the mood to try and make it all the way back up all those stairs to the second floor. Instead, he started walking, one step at a time, towards the urgent care center once again.
  
  It was so tiring, just walking, at this point. It really didn't make any sense. While he walked, he looked at his hands again and the wrinkles all over them. He pushed the door open to the urgent care center and stopped to try and catch his breath. He actually went over to a seat before he walked up to the counter. The receptionist gave him a nervous glance and said, "Do you need me to call an ambulance for you? We can't handle emergencies here."
  
  Hank feebly waved his hand at her and took a breath. He said, "No, just a regular visit. I'm a little tired, that's all."
  
  She brought forms and a clipboard out to him. He started to say that he had already filled them out, but he figured she wouldn't believe him. Heck, he didn't believe this. He worked his way through the form and when he reached the part asking for the purpose of his visit today he stopped and thought. After a little bit he wrote, "Shortness of breath." Then he handed the forms in to the receptionist.
  
  When she read them she asked him again, "Shortness of breath? Are you sure you don't want me to call an ambulance? There's not a lot our doctors can do for emergency situations."
  
  He replied, "No, it's okay, it's not that serious, I'll wait."
  
  Indeed he did have to wait and he was eventually shown into a small treatment room. The nurse took his vitals and said that the doctor would see him soon. He sat and waited.
  
  When the doctor entered the room, he was looking at the clipboard with the information and said, "This name looks familiar, weren't you just in here..." He stopped when he looked up and saw the old man seated in front of him. He mumbled, "Sorry, I must have been confused. I thought I recognized that name."
  
  Hank said, "Yeah, you did. That's me."
  
  The doctor looked confused.
  
  Hank said, "Check out the birth date there. It's me."
  
  The doctor flipped up a page and his eyes grew wide. He shook his head and said, "No, this can't be right."
  
  Hank said, "I know. I was in here yesterday looking pretty fit, despite the few, uh, diseases there, and when I woke up this morning, I looked like this. How does that happen doc?"
  
  The doctor moved in and looked into Hank's eyes. He felt his arms. He listened to his heart beat. He asked Hank to take a few deep breaths as he checked out his lungs. He pulled out the needle and equipment and told Hank that he needed to take another blood sample. When he was done, he packaged that up and placed it in a container. He took a deep breath and faced Hank. He said, "This, obviously, is quite disturbing. No, I don't mean you've done anything wrong, it just, well, it appears to be some sort of chronic wasting disease. But it normally doesn't come on this fast. I'll have to send these samples over to the lab to confirm things, but it looks like quite an advanced case. There's not a lot of cures for this sort of thing, but there are things we can do to make you more comfortable and to combat some of the worst effects of the disease. But to be completely honest, you really need to be in a hospital. We can call you an ambulance if you like, but I'm strongly suggesting that you get yourself admitted right now. I can certainly send over my recomendations and that will be sure to speed things along. I can't force you to go, but you're really going to be miserable if you don't go and this could continue progressing quite rapidly if it is what I think it is. You may want to think about this a minute, but I really can't be stronger with my suggestion that you go to the hospital directly from here."
  
  As Hank was trying to process what the doctor was telling him, his phone buzzed. Ignoring the doctor for the moment, he pulled it out and saw he had a text from an unknown number. He checked the message and it was simply a smiley face. It had to be Sasha. The doctor interrupted his thoughts with, "I'll give you a moment to consider your options, but please let us call you an ambulance and get you to the hospital. It really is the best thing you can do."
  
  With that, the doctor stepped out the door, leaving Hank alone with his thoughts. He should have asked the doctor if he was going to die. The doctor seemed to imply that, and if that was the case, he really should head to the hospital. He glanced at his phone and the smiley from Sasha. He wondered what she could possibly have to do with this. He felt tired. He felt exhausted. And he was half the man he was yesterday.
  
  > Hank agrees with the doctor and goes to the hospital now.
  Hank sat on the little examination table at the urgent care center. He looked at his wrinkled body once again. He sighed and decided that surely science could save him now. He really didn't have any other choice. If he went home, he might die on the way there. And if not, whatever was happening to him was likely to continue. He wondered if it would get painful as it continued, or if he would just fall over in exhaustion and die. He briefly thought about the bus schedule and routes and if he could step in front of a bus on the way home. With his luck, he'd just fall down and get injured, causing even more pain. He feebly called out, "Okay doctor, I'll go to the hospital."
  
  He wasn't sure if anyone heard him, but the door opened and the doctor returned. The doctor stuck his head in and said, "Are you ready to go? We've already called the ambulance and it's on the way." Hank looked confused and the doctor continued, "I knew that was the right choice, so I went ahead and called it so it would be ready for you. We really need you to get in a hospital room where they can monitor you very closely and try and determine how this condition is advancing. If we can find that out, we can probably stop the process as well." He walked in and grabbed the blood samples and said, "Be right back."
  
  A couple minutes later there was a knock at the door, but before Hank could answer, it quickly opened. Two men were there and they said, "We're here with the ambulance? Are you ready for transport?"
  
  Hank nodded and struggled to make his way to his feet. The fellow asked, "Are you okay to walk? We can get you a wheelchair or a gurney."
  
  Hank steadied himself on the bed as his legs wobbled a bit and said, "No, I can make it. It's just a short distance, right?"
  
  The men stepped up and helped Hank keep his feet as they slowly walked out of the urgent care center. The ambulance was parked right outside in a no parking zone with its lights flashing. They opened the back and helped Hank step into the ambulance. It was harder than it should have been. Once they got him inside, he sat down on the gurney. One guy got in to drive while the other stepped in back with Hank. He said, "You know, they want me to start an IV here, so that will probably be easier if you just lie down here on the bed. And there's no telling how far away from the ramp your room will be, so we can just set you up here and let you ride to your room. That will be much simpler for you."
  
  Hank considered for a moment, but then gave in. He was still tired. As he lay down he said, "And my head is still pounding. I might have had a little to much to drink last night. If you could give me a little something for the hangover, that would be great."
  
  The paramedic helped Hank lie down and strapped him it. He carefully worked putting in the IV while the ambulance was driving. It was not long before the ambulance reached the hospital. The rear doors flew open and the paramedics helped carefully move the gurney out with Hank lying on it. They wheeled him in to the hospital and Hank watched the pristine ceilings as he rolled past them. He went into an elevator, down a hallway, then into a room. They carefully transferred him from the gurney to the bed and the paramedic that was in the rear of the ambulance said, "Good luck, buddy!"
  
  Hank looked around the bleak and sterile room. As he did, a nurse entered and checked out his arm. She said, "You're awake? Nice. Welcome to the hospital. My name is Cindy. I'll be taking care of you as we get things set up for you. I'm sure there is a doctor on the way as well." She moved around to his arm and checked the IV as she continued, "From what I understand we're going to need to take a few blood samples and we've got the IV setup for anything else the doctor orders. I hope you're feeling comfortable as you can be. If not, this remote here allows you to adjust the bed until you are. The TV is broken, but we've got a ticket in for that, so hopefully that will get fixed soon." She smiled and turned, quickly exiting the room before Hank could say anything.
  
  He looked around the room some more and felt even more tired. He lay his head back on his pillow and thought about adjusting the bed, but it just seemed like too much effort for right now. He closed his eyes for a moment.
  
  When he opened them, there were a number of people around his bed. He looked around and a female said, "There he is. Hank? Hank? Can you hear me?"
  
  He tried to answer, but he was really tired. Instead, he just closed his eyes again. He enjoyed the darkness.
  
  Well, good reader, congratulations, you managed to get killed by the succubus. Feel free to try again and see where else Hank might end up! Thank you for reading.