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wolf hunt
21:48 May 29 2008
Times Read: 828

The first I knew that I was being hunted was the arrow that sliced my shoulder. Its silver tip burning the skin as it grazed the flesh near my neck. Another couple of inches and it would have been my throat.



I spun round and scanned the tree line, the nails of my hands extending into claws. A slight tingle in my eyes and I was sure they had taken on their sky blue colouration. They always did when I released the wolf within. I controlled the power and urge to let my lupine side free. Many of my kin had met their end because they weren't able to keep their beast under control.



I watched the tree line for signs of the next attack which I was sure would come. Ethereal fingers of fog glided through the tree as the waning moons light shattered and broke on the outstretched limbs of oak and pine, falling to earth in silver shards.



I allowed my lungs to fill with the night bourn smells of the forest. Two scents caught my attention, another wolf. A bitch if my nose didn't deceive me and the fragrance of roses.



The next attack when it came was two pronged. Another silver tipped arrow flew out of the mist while a wolf attacked from the undergrowth to my left. I was expecting the arrow and was able to snatch it out of the air. The wolf attack I wasn't expecting.



She launched herself at me and I felt teeth close on my shoulder. Ripping flesh and touching bone. Through the haze of pain my beast gained a little more control and I felt my muzzle elongate and my fangs push through my gums. A growl escaped my lips. The force of the attack threw us both backwards to land heavily on the ground. My ability to keep my beast under control paid off. Still in mostly human form I was able to gain the upper hand in the fall. Quickly rolling onto my feet before my hunter had time to react to my fall I was soon on my feet with the wolf bitch held in one arm. Holding her to my body by her throat, I held the arrow, which I still had in my hand, to her chest. I scanned the tree line again in the hope that this wolf meant something to my attacker. At this moment it was the only advantage I had. I moved my hand as if to plunge the arrow into the wolfs heart.



"No!" the voice that came from the depths of the mist was female and had a musical quality to it.



"Come out of the mist where I can see you." I commanded.



The figure that emerged from the mist took my breath away, I felt the beast relax its control and my muzzle returned to it human shape. My attacker seemed to materialize from the very mist itself. The figure was defiantly feminine; in fact she was the image of perfection. She walked with a natural grace and confidence that spoke of both strength and agility. Dressed in black from head to foot her choice of clothing allowed for both ease of movement and to compliment the soft curves of her body. Soft, flowing black hair with streaks of white cascaded over her shoulders reaching well below her waist. She wore a leather vest which revealed the soft pale skin of her arms. Intricate tattoos could be seen and I had no doubt that there was some mystical purpose behind them.



Just watching her I could feel passion rising again and the animal made itself felt once more.



"Drop your weapons" I demanded "and I mean the ones I can't see as well, or the bitch here suffers a broken heart" she striped off the harness that held a pair of cross swords over her back and various other bladed weapons from her clothing. "Now step over there." I said once she had dropped all the weapons that I could see. She moved away from the weapons. "If you are going to hunt me then at least have the balls to face me claw to tooth. Or maybe you don't have it in you to face me"



"I'll put you down like the dog you are" I was impressed, there was real hatred in those words.



I brought my mouth to the ear of the wolf and whispered a silent chant and its body slumped in my arms. I saw concern flash across my hunters face.



"Don't worry she will just sleep for a while." I said as I gently laid the wolf down......I had no desire to harm one of my own. No sooner had I released my grip that the hunter launched herself at me. I had expected this move and braced myself of the attack what I didn't expect was the jet black wings that unfolded behind her and lifted her into the air. Instead of hitting me she gripped my arms and lifted me a few feet into the air. She wasn't strong enough to carry me far but she was strong enough to launch me into the truck of a nearby oak. Pain erupted across my back with the impact and I fell, landing on my face.



As I got to my feet I was just in time to see her gliding towards me again, what I didn't have time to notice was the big fucking branch she had in her hands. She batted me across the head and once again I was airborne. Landing heavily, I lay there unmoving trying to remain conscious. I was getting my ass kick by a girl. As I lay perfectly still I heard her land softly nearby and advance towards me. She believed me to be unconscious and was coming over to finish me off. I sensed her leaning over me and acting on pure instinct I punched upward. It was a lucky blow that connected with her face. I was instantly on my feet and the few seconds in which she was stunned were enough. I launched another blow to her face and I saw blood in her mouth. Grabbing her arm I threw her against a tree and she landed near her weapons, but she was well and truly dazed and as she tried to regain her feet I took a belt from the pile of weapons on the ground. Walking over to her I wrapped the belt around her neck and dragged her to a tree where I then tied the belt around the trunk. She was going nowhere now, wings or no wings.



I walked round to face her and I could see fear in her eyes even with the defiant look she gave me. Two overwhelming desires surged through my body. The beast within me wanted to taste her flesh, while the man in me wanted to taste fluids of another kind. I would need to satisfy both. As I approached her she struck out with both hands and I had to take hold of her wrists. Pushing her arms above her head I brought my face to within a few inches of hers. The scent of roses filled my mind as I looked into those beautiful green eyes. I noticed them glance quickly to my shoulder, to the bite wound that was still bleeding. There was a hunger in those eyes even though she tried to hide it.



I cannot explain my next actions. There was no reasoning behind them. Shifting my position slightly, bringing my shoulder to within reach of her mouth. She looked into my eyes and something passed between us. Turning she bit into my open wound and drank my blood. Pain exploded in my wound and it took everything in my power not to pull away. Then after a few seconds of her feeding the pain was replaced with a kind of pleasure.



I began to feel the effects of blood lose and had to pull my shoulder away from her mouth. She wouldn't give up her feeding willingly and she bit harder into the wound and I lost a small piece of flesh to her mouth which she swallowed.



Looking into eyes I could see the bloodlust there and my blood around her lips. My own hunger welled up inside me. Moving so that I could hold both her wrists in one hand I used the other to grip her hair. I then brought my mouth to hers and kissed her, my lips meeting hers. She tried to struggle away but my hand held her firm. I tasted my own blood on her and risked sliding my tongue into her mouth, expecting it to be bitten for my cheek but no bite came. I broke the kiss.



"Bastard!" she spat into my face.



I took my hand away from her hair and gripped her throat, lifting her head and exposing her neck. Allowing my eyes to linger over the soft pale skin I entertained images of that delicate flesh being torn by my teeth. Moving my hand I allowed my nails to scratch down her white skin. There was once again fear in her eyes as she saw the hunger in mine.



My hand reached the top of her vest and with one swift movement I tore it open, revealing two beautifully formed breast. I brought my mouth to her nipple and sucked. My fangs pushed through my gums again and I felt them sink into the flesh. Blood oozed on to my tongue.



My passion had reached its height. Reaching round the trunk of the tree I released the knot. The belt fell away from her neck and taking it I secured her hands. Pulling her forward and spinning her round she landed on her back, on the ground. Moving forward I forced her legs apart using my knees. Reaching forward I gripped the top of her leather pants and tore them open, then pulled them down. They came away in my hands. Desperately she tried to scramble out of the way. Grabbing her ankles I pulled her back, forcing myself between her thighs. Pinning her by the throat I used the other to release my throbbing erection.



I leant forward and prepared to vent my passion deep within her. But I looked into her eyes and saw the fear and terror there and I was suddenly ashamed. I was part beast but also part human. I knew that she had come hunting me for the darkness that lay just beneath my surface; also I understood that if I did this act then I deserved to be hunted down like some monster. I was neither beast nor human so I had to be better than both. I looked deep into my huntress' eyes and saw confusion there at my hesitation. She was the most beautiful creature that I had ever seen and to desecrate her beauty would be a sin against my own soul. I felt moisture well up in my eyes at the thought of what I had almost done and a single tear fell from my eye and landed on her cheek.



Straightening up again I put away my manhood and stood up. I looked down at her prone figure and saw her stare at me in uncertainty. Something burned in my chest which resembled the passion that I had almost given in to, but this was something different and stronger. Could I possibly feel love for this beautiful instrument of death? She had come to take my life and would have not have taken it without a seconds thought about what she had done. To her I was just a monster to be wiped off the face of the earth.



But I am not a monster and I couldn't violate or kill her while she lay helpless before me. I knelt down beside her and I saw the fear return and it saddened me, but I just reached forward and with a talon I severed the belt binding her hands.



"See to your wolf" I said as I released her. "And don't worry I'll move on, out of your territory."



As the binding fell away from her hands she scrambled away from me and as quick as lightening she had regained her bow and had an arrow notched and aimed straight at me. Well what did I expect? I turned away from her.



"Stop!" she commanded but I just turned my back on her and proceeded to walk away. Any second I expected an arrow to strike me. But at that moment I couldn't have cared less. I'd almost become the monster that people expected me to be and I might just deserved the arrow. "Stop I said!" even when shouting her voice was captivating, but I kept on walking.



I heard the whoosh of large black wings and my huntress glided to earth in front of me, no weapon in hand and held her palm up to my chest to stop me. As I stopped the last of my beast retreated within me and my features returned to their human state.



My eyes locked on to those of my huntress and I saw great curiosity there as well as something I couldn't identify.



"Why did you stop?" she asked, her voice now soft and gentle.



"Because I'm no monster" it was all I could think of to say.



We looked deep into each other's eyes and I saw an understanding appear with hers. Now I knew that I no longer had to fear an arrow in my back from her bow.



I moved to step past her but was once again I was stopped by her palm on my chest. Looking down at her hand I noticed how delicate it seemed and how gently it pressed against my skin. Slowly the hand moved up and touched my cheek bringing my face up to look into her beautiful green eyes again. As I watched she stepped forward and brought her face towards mine. She closed her eyes as she touched my lips with her own and her hands moved around my face pulling me into a deeper kiss. There was sweetness to her tongue as it gently explored the edges of my mouth. Our kiss was slow and passion filled.



In a movement perfected with long hours spent training in a dojo she moved her leg around mine and twist at the hip, she used my own weight to drop me to the ground. I went down unresisting and she was instantly lying with me, her long graceful legs moving either side of me. While she lay on top of me her hand moved between us and I felt her fingers brush against my swollen erection. Moving with great skill she released my erection from the restriction of my pants. I gasped as I felt her fingers encircle my shaft and without breaking away from our kiss she raised her hips only to lower herself onto my engorged manhood. As she eased herself down she broke our kiss to let out cry of ecstasy.



As she sat on top of me she slowly moved her hips manoeuvring herself up and down my shaft. I brought my hands up to her perfect breasts but she took hold of my wrists and pinned them each side of my head, bring her nipples to my lips.



Greedily, like a starving man I took one into my mouth and sucked and licked for all I was worth, driving the movement of her hips into a more frantic rhythm. Moans of pleasure escaped her lips as my pelvis pushed up to meet her downward motion.



Each movement brought me closer and closer to climax. It took all my will power to hold back until I heard her moans become screams of orgasm. As she reached the peaks of her pleasure I released my own fountain of ecstasy and filled her with my seed.



She collapsed into my arms and she lay there recovering with her head on my shoulder. My arms encircled her and a whimper of contentment issued from her mouth. As she lay on top of me, my spent manhood still inside her I knew that the love I felt was being returned with equal force.



After a while my manhood began to swell again and she lifted her head to look at me with a playful smile on her face.



"We should continue this back at my place," she said moving her hips to feel the movement of my quickly swelling erection "in the comfort of my bed chamber." All I could do was nod my head in agreement. "What is your name?" she asked



"Darkiss, ......Darkiss Howl"



"Hi Darkiss, they call me Darkrose."

werewolf moon
01:33 May 26 2008
Times Read: 870

Part 1 Winslow Junction



1.



Dusk.



A few birds were finishing their songs as they settled down to roost for the night. A cardinal warbled four miles away, and a jay squawked almost two miles farther on.



He heard them as if they were sitting on a branch of the tree that was just outside the cavern.



The limb of the full moon was edging above the eastern horizon through the trees, like a pastel chalk drawing against a darkening sky. Its blood-red glow was baleful, foreboding. Its cold luminescence crept into the mouth of the cave like rising water.



He could already feel its power tugging at him.



Soon the Change would be upon him.



Derek Lawrence Talbot raised his head. As the moonlight bathed his blue eyes, they changed to a pale, golden-amber hue, and he smiled.



This business trip to the state of Washington was just what the doctor ordered. By day, he wheeled and dealed as the President and CEO of Talbot Enterprises, a successful, wickedly-handsome young man who drove a ruthless bargain.



By night, when the wild beast held sway, he hunted fresh prey; beautiful, innocent girls and young women who fell to his lethal fangs and talons -- and his cock - as wheat fell before a scythe. Fresh pussy, and fresh meat, to sate both of his appetites.



For Derek Talbot was a werewolf.



It was a family curse. His great grandfather Lawrence Talbot was the progenitor, having been bitten by a werewolf in the early 1940's while on a visit to the ancestral hamlet of Llanwelly in Wales. The curse was passed down to Derek -- along with the vast Talbot fortune -- by his father.



But unlike his forbears, Derek did not consider the so-called Curse of the Werewolf to be a burden. Not for him were the self-pity, the torment and the angst of his sires. He reveled in the change, enjoyed the power of the wolf and his heightened senses. The call of the wild sang in his blood.



He was not a "reluctant werewolf."



He enjoyed the hunting, and the killing -- and the feeding. The horror in their eyes when they realized what was about to happen, the way their soft young bodies came apart under his fangs and claws, the taste of their flesh, their blood, their entrails.



"Fuck 'em, fillet 'em, feed on 'em, and forget about 'em," he murmured. "Words to live by."



The moon was inching higher, and he could feel his skin crawl as stubbly, shaggy brown fur began to sprout all over his body. He was growing increasingly irritable; he felt as if his skin was on fire, and he itched all over. Quickly he stripped off his tee shirt, shorts, socks and running shoes and neatly folded them. Then he stashed the clothes in a duffel bag, which he placed in a fissure on a rock ledge.



He would need them in the morning.



The selection of the ritzy Hotel Royale had been inspired. It backed right up to a hiking trail leading into the Winslow Junction State Wilderness Area. The little town of Winslow Junction was about five miles away -- an easy lope for the werewolf. Already his super-acute animal senses told him there was prey nearby.



A human female -- wet and aroused, about three miles away.



She smelled young and fresh.



He scented testosterone, too. His lip curled in a snarl. An interloper! A man -- a boy? It didn't matter. Whichever, he would make short work of him.



He was hungry, and it would get much, much worse when the Change took him. The hyperaccelerated metabolism of the werewolf would demand food.



The thought of eating a young girl's sweet, tender flesh made his mouth water in anticipation.



Suddenly, the snapping and cracking of extending bone and stretching skin reverberated like a pistol shot in the cavern. Derek cried out in pain and went to his knees. His skeletal structure became elastic and malleable as his body shifted and flowed into a new, sinister shape, much bigger and more massive than Derek Talbot the man. His head pounded, and agony seared through his nervous system.



The Change hurt. The Change sucked! This was the only facet of his lupine existence that he didn't like.



But it didn't last long, and it was well worth it to gain the gift -- the power of the werewolf.



Derek Talbot jerked convulsively and cried out as the moon's rays washed over his naked body. He could transform himself at will, at any time, but he was helpless before the sinister glow of the full moon, its insistent tidal pull tugging at and distorting his brain. The primal urge was too strong for any of his kind to ignore at this time.



He felt the familiar twitching of his facial muscles and the lengthening of his teeth as they became long, sharpened fangs. His skin rippled and rolled as his muscles swelled and thickened. The metamorphosis was almost complete; he felt the Human part of his mind being submerged by the beast as coarse, thick, bristly animal fur sprouted over his entire body.



The thing he had now become drew its black lips back over its fangs, threw back its shaggy head and loosed an unearthly, bloodcurdling howl. Silver threads of saliva drooled from its snarling maw as it menacingly glared about its surroundings. Its bestial mind was driven by only one impulse: the urge...no, the need...to hunt down, to kill and devour its Human prey.



The werewolf loped from the cave and raced over the soft ground, running like the wind, silent and merciless.



He would find her, hunt her down, and ravish and kill and eat her.



It would not be long now....



2.



"Oh, God, Bobby -- eat me! Eat my pussy!"



Bobby Martin couldn't believe his luck.



Bethany Jensen, the hottest girl in the junior class, captain of the cheerleading squad, all four feet eleven inches of her, was naked in the back seat of his fire engine red Mustang convertible. It was a typically hot and humid evening in mid August; dusk was gathering as the full moon rose behind the trees. They had parked in a secluded pulloff, an open parking area near the head of a hiking trail.



Bethany curled her toes, and drew her shapely legs back until her knees touched her firm breasts. The delicate scent of her pussy was wonderful, like roses. She had probably douched with something, but he didn't care.



He studied her closely as he teased her, fingering her clit. Bethany was a wet dream come to life, an ethereally beautiful girl, all blondeness and blue eyes and peaches and cream, with a perfect little teenaged body. Nice ass, flat, well-toned belly, and full, rounded breasts that jutted up proudly from her chest, defying gravity. Bethany's tits were the stuff of legend. He loved watching them bounce and jiggle under her sweater as she led cheers at football games.



Now he was enjoying watching them bounce and jiggle in all their naked, pink-tipped glory as she squirmed under him.



Bobby had gone to her eighteenth birthday party last week, and had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her out. He had never dreamed it would lead to this! It was only their fourth date.



He was just an average guy. Good-looking enough, slender, but not movie star handsome. He wasn't a football player. He wasn't even the class brain; he was a slightly above-average student, but nothing to write home about.



Of course, he did have the Mustang, his own eighteenth birthday present last Fall!



As hard as it was to believe, Bethany was lonely. She intimidated guys without meaning to. She was shy -- shy! - and her reticence was mistaken for stuck-up aloofness. Even the football players didn't try to hit on her, figuring a beautiful little girl like Bethany had to have a boyfriend -- probably a college guy.



As it turned out, all Bobby had to do was ask.



He buried his face between her legs and ate her out, sucking and nibbling the wet, pink folds of her cunt with lips, teeth, and tongue, reveling in her clean scent and her salty-sweet taste. She screamed as the curled tip of his tongue found her clitoris, and she bucked and writhed, soaking his upholstery with her juices.



They were a little cramped for space in the back seat of the Mustang. Somehow she contorted her petite form beneath him until his eight-inch penis hovered over the wet opening of her vagina.



She stared at his big, rigid cock, looking suddenly lost now -- and a little scared.



"Hey -- you okay?" he asked.



"I-I want you to make love to me," she whispered. "But......I'm afraid."



"Afraid?" Bobby's tone was incredulous. "Why?"



She gazed down, shamefaced.



"I've never....I've never done it before!"



His eyes widened.



"You are kidding, right?" he asked. "A beautiful girl like you -- you've never....?"



There were tears in her eyes. She shook her head.



"I've never been with a boy -- I mean, not like this."



Bobby Martin was stunned.



She was a virgin!



Beautiful Bethany Jensen, the cream queen of Winslow Junction High, was a virgin!



Who would have thought it? Not only was he going to fuck her, he was going to pop her cherry as well!



"Are you sure you want to?" he asked hopefully.



"Yes....I mean, I think so."



She smiled through her tears.



"I really like you," she whispered. "I want to do it with you. Will it...will it hurt?"



He shook his head.



"Not really. Kind of like a flu shot. It'll sting for a second, but it'll feel so good afterwards that you won't even think about it."



"Then let's do it!"



She lay back on the seat with a sensuous smile then, and spread her legs wide.



Somewhere in the nearby forest, a twig snapped and leaves rustled -- but the young lovers were too wrapped up in themselves to notice.....



Bobby was only too happy to oblige. He entered her slowly. She was wet, and incredibly, pleasurably tight.



He continued to push slowly and gently until he met with resistance.



"Owwwwwwwwouuu! " she cried, tensing up. "Easy -- it hurts!"



"Just for a second, remember?"



Then, without warning, he shoved himself into her to the hilt. Bethany screamed as her hymen tore like wet tissue paper. Bobby began to thrust in earnest, and her sobs quickly became sensuous, throaty moans of pleasure.



"Oh, God -- yes!" she gasped. "Ohhhhhh......it feels so good!"



He came several moments later, and she quickly followed, screaming, whipping her head from side to side as she climaxed.



They collapsed in each others arms and kissed for a long time, their tongues wrestling with each other.



"Ohhhhh," she breathed finally. "I had no idea that could feel so good. I should have done this a long time ago! Thank you."



"My pleasure," he said as he caught his breath.



"I've missed out on so much," she said. "I've been so lonely."



Bobby shook his head in disbelief.



"Bethany, you're the most beautiful girl in Winslow Junction -- Hell, maybe the most beautiful girl in the state of Washington! I can't believe you've never made it before. You could have had any guy you wanted."



Bethany smiled.



"I want you," she whispered. "You've always been so nice to me, even before you got up the courage to ask me out. You weren't afraid of me because I was pretty. You'd think I was going to tear out their throats or something."



They kissed again.



Her dreamy smile became suddenly mischievous.



"Everybody thinks I'm Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," she said. "I want to do something really nasty to prove them wrong."



"Like what?"



Her grin became lascivious.



"I want you to do me doggy-style!"



Bobby gulped. Could this night get any better?



"Are you sure about that?"



"I'm sure," she said. "It's so dirty!"



Bobby's cock grew even harder and longer as Bethany got on her hands and knees and raised her perfect backside in the air.



'I've created a monster,' he thought. 'Here goes.'



Bethany Jensen's screams of pleasure rang through the forest. He began to fall into a steady, pumping rhythm. She was incredible; he threw back his head as he built to a climax, gently kneading her breasts.



And then Bobby Martin's world exploded in a crimson haze of incredible pain, pain so intense he couldn't even breathe, much less cry out. Razor-sharp, four inch claws dug in deep under his chin and jaw. He ejaculated reflexively, and semen spurted from his cock as he was bodily pulled out of Bethany and lifted from the back seat.



Through the scarlet veil that occluded his vision, he saw a powerful, thewed arm covered with thick brown fur reach down between his legs, long ebony claws gleaming like scalpel blades on the ends of elongated fingers.



The talons sliced up behind his scrotum and lopped off his genitals -- half-erect cock, balls and all - and then slashed upward, gutting him from crotch to chin. He managed only a horrible, wet, gurgling sound as his world went dark.



The last thing he saw was his hot blood and entrails spraying all over Bethany's well-formed rear end and back.



The last thing he felt was the searing agony of long fangs, like twin rows of daggers, biting deep into his neck under his chin, severing his jugular and windpipe and nearly decapitating him...



Bethany was rhythmically thrusting back, getting hotter by the moment, her head whipping from side to side. Guttural, slutty moans of pleasure issued from her throat. The sensation of Bobby pulling out of her barely registered through the orgasmic fog clouding her brain.



An instant later, though, hot liquid rained down on her back and ass. She pounded the seat in frustration.



He had pulled out and was coming all over her! How could he?



But the scalding wetness kept pouring down on her in torrents, and she realized, even as naïve and inexperienced as she was, that no guy could hold that much jism!



Slowly, fearfully, she turned her head back over her shoulder -- and screamed at the top of her lungs.



Bethany Jensen was being showered with blood and entrails, and they were spewing from what was left of the gutted remains of Bobby Martin.



Some thing had him by the neck, long fangs buried in his mangled flesh. It was shaped like a huge, muscular man, nearly seven feet tall, but had the face and shaggy head of...of a wolf!



Then the creature tore out Bobby's throat. The boy's severed head toppled from his shoulders and bounced on the seat next to her. His glassy, dead eyes stared unseeingly at her.



Bethany screamed in sheer terror.



The werewolf casually tossed the dead boy's mutilated corpse over his shoulder, as if he were a used Kleenex. The headless carcass lodged in the crotch of a tree eight feet off the ground.



With a swipe of his foot, the creature kicked Bobby's severed head out across the parking lot.



Bethany continued to scream, squatting on the back seat, rooted in place. Everything was moving in slow motion. The wolfman's huge cock was fully erect and stood up against his rock-ribbed belly. It looked to be as long as his forearm, with the head as big around as a fist. A droplet of pre-cum wept from the tip.



The werewolf grinned at her, drawing black lips back over long, gleaming fangs......



He was on her then, flipping her over on her belly, taking her from behind, shoving eighteen inches of thick, rigid meat into her. He thrust brutally, taking his time with her. Her screams were ragged and terrified.



"GOD, STOP -- YAAAAAHHHHH! PLEASE, NOOOOOO..."



Bethany's pleas were ignored. The beast continued to pound her mercilessly. Powerful paws brutally crushed her firm young breasts as he violated her.



After what seemed like an eternity of endless torture, the werewolf bellowed and flooded her womb with his seed. Bethany lay moaning in agony. She could feel blood and semen seeping from her torn sex.



"Uhhhh...ooouuwww ...oh, God.....hurts........." she sobbed. "P..please...nuh-nuh-no more....ooouuuwwwww..... "



She heard a menacing, vicious snarl and her eyes snapped open wide.



Bethany frantically rolled over on her back and stared up at the monster looming over her. She blanched; her face turned as pale as milk.



She saw her death mirrored in the werewolf's soulless golden eyes.



Bobby's blood dripped from his giant fangs as his snout and lips curled up in a snarl. Lethal talons gleamed in the light of the full moon as he raised a powerful arm high over his head.



She tried to move, to run, but her fear paralyzed her.



"Oh, God -- p-please don't k-kill me! Nooooooooo................."



Suddenly, the werewolf loosed a feral roar. The great paw whipped downward, ripping Bethany's face, breasts and stomach to bloody ribbons. She dropped back, face down and screaming on the seat. Her blood puddled rapidly on the upholstery.



*



Claws dug in deep, laying open her back to the bone and shredding her beautiful, fleshy ass.



And then she shrieked insanely in agony and terror as the werewolf swept her up in a bear hug with one huge arm, snarling ferociously. His claws slashed across her face from left to right, sliced open her perfectly-formed breasts, reducing them to mangled lumps of raw, bleeding meat. He mauled her again and again, carving her smoothly-tanned legs into gory tatters. Exposed muscle throbbed, and here and there white bone glinted where chunks of flesh had been torn away.



Bethany thrashed and kicked frantically, agonized screams ripping from her throat. The werewolf yanked back on her left shoulder; her collarbone and shoulder blade broke with a brittle 'crack.' The beast gutted her with a disemboweling slash, opening her stomach. Her entrails spilled out over her lower abdomen and hung down below her knees.



The werewolf lunged. He buried his fangs in her broken shoulder, and, with a terrible growl, lifted her and shook her like a terrier would a rat. Bethany's teeth rattled as she was savagely whipped from side to side. She spit up blood.



Finally, mercifully, it was over.



There was a flash of white in the moonlight as razor-sharp fangs found her unprotected throat. Bethany's screaming eroded into a pitiful, gurgling wail as powerful jaws clamped down beneath her chin with crushing strength. With a savage toss of his great head, the creature tore out her throat in an explosion of blood and mangled meat.



Her legs stopped kicking and twitched feebly as she succumbed to deep shock. A shudder rippled through her mutilated body.



The bloody maw bit into one of her shredded breasts and ripped it from her chest.



The last sensory impression of Bethany Jensen's young life was a visual one of an unholy monster gulping and swallowing a chunk of flesh that had once been part of her.



Then the blackness of forever seeped in.



But the beast continued to maul his dead prey in a frenzy of blood-lust. Deadly fangs and talons slashed and tore, raking the soft, tender flesh of the mutilated body until it was reduced to an oozing, shapeless mass covered in gory red slime.



Finally, the werewolf stopped. He stood up to his full height in the back seat of the Mustang, in a puddle of blood that was nearly ankle-deep. He raised the young girl's tiny, mangled body over his head with one powerful arm, as if she were a bloodied rag doll. Gruesome splashes of crimson dripped from his jaws and talons as he defiantly bayed at the moon, heralding his successful kill.



The werewolf dragged the pitiful remains from the car and dropped them on top of a large, flat boulder.



Then he settled down to feed



As the moon crawled slowly toward the zenith, the beast began to devour all the soft body parts and steaming, glistening organs. He ate her other breast first. He devoured her buttocks, tore out her loins by the roots, and then gnawed on some of her intestines.



When he finished, he would leave behind only scattered, bloody bones, teeth, and hair. The creature bolted down great pieces of flesh he ripped from Bethany's still-twitching corpse. The hunger was all encompassing; his overdriven metabolism demanded that he feed.



Headlights swept the parking area, and the werewolf snarled, irritated at having his meal interrupted. He faded back into the treeline just beyond the edge of the lot.An Explorer -- a Park Ranger's vehicle. The big 4-wheel drive rolled to a stop next to the Mustang. The ranger got out. She was a beautiful young brunette who filled out her uniform quite nicely. She frowned at the sight of the Mustang.



The beast's cock hardened again at the sight of the lissome female. He gathered his legs, ready to pounce....



Lieutenant Megan Foster of the Winslow Junction State Wilderness Area Park Rangers shook her head.



Bobby Martin's Mustang. It was probably the most well-known car in the small town of Winslow Junction.



'Looks like Bobby got lucky tonight,' she thought.



Megan wanted desperately to go home, but she had six more hours left on her shift. Her breasts were sore and swollen and felt as if they would burst; she was full of milk. She hadn't had time to pump them before she left for work.



She hoped Brandon, her infant son, was plenty hungry tonight!



"Kids!" she muttered. "Probably out in the woods screwing! Serve 'em right if a grizzly came along."



She cleared her throat.



"Bobby! This is Lieutenant Megan Foster with the park rangers. It's illegal to get some nookie in a State Wilderness Area. You and your little girlfriend better come out of the woods now with your clothes intact. If you do, we'll forget all about this and you can drive out. Besides, it can be dangerous in these woods at night."



Then her flashlight played over the sea of blood in the back seat of the Mustang and she gasped.



She saw Bobby's severed head lying face up in the parking lot, and she went white.



"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!"



Something was dripping steadily on the rim of her Smokey Bear hat.



Rain? No, it was red.



Blood!



She gazed around wildly, her head whipping from side to side. She caught a glimpse of Bobby's corpse hanging in the tree, and then her frantic gaze fell on Bethany's pitiful, eviscerated remains, which looked like a deer that had been run over by a dozen tractor-trailer trucks.



She gagged and retched.



She wiped her streaming eyes, hyperventilating, and reached for her shoulder radio with trembling fingers.



With an elemental roar, the werewolf leaped from the brush and landed at her feet. Megan shrieked in abject terror and wet her pants. Her radio went flying, and she clawed for her pistol.



As she pointed the weapon at the werewolf, he lashed out and tore off her arm at the shoulder. The severed limb flew into the woods, trailing a stream of crimson, and six foot jets of blood spurted from the stump.



Megan Foster screamed mindlessly. She staggered backwards, stumbling to the Explorer. Somehow, despite her agony, she managed to open the driver's side door. She sank back against the seat. Deep shock was clawing at her consciousness.



She was bleeding to death! She had to get help.



As she awkwardly fumbled across her body with her left arm for the car radio's microphone, the werewolf plunged a powerful fist through the windshield. He grabbed the screaming young woman by her throat and viciously yanked her out of the vehicle through the windshield in a shower of broken glass.He slammed her down on the hood. Shards of glass were buried in her bloody face, scalp, and neck. There were slivers imbedded in her eyes. Her blood was everywhere.



As Megan lay on the hood, moaning in agony, deadly talons slashed and tore until they had ripped away the last scraps of her bloody, sodden ranger's uniform and undergarments, leaving her naked and covered with gory claw marks.



The werewolf gripped her ankles, spread her legs wide and, without preamble, plunged his huge organ into the dying woman, forcibly opening her womb. Megan jerked and screamed as he violated her. She piteously begged for mercy.



After punishing her for several long minutes, the werewolf arched his back and climaxed with a howl.



The werewolf gazed down at his dying prey.



Megan Foster was trembling, cold and clammy and fading in and out of consciousness as the last of her lifeblood drained away. Her bloody breasts were swollen, and milk dribbled from her nipples. The livid pink scar of a recent Caesarean section stitched across her belly.



A new mama.



Her eyes flickered open. She saw the beast glaring at her with glowing red eyes.



"P...p..please......" she sobbed. "Get...me to a h-hospital. My....baby b-boy's...only five m-months old. He...needs...me..."



The werewolf bared his fangs in a feral grin.



Then slowly, sadistically, he traced the Caesarean scar with a long, sharp claw, slicing Megan open and gutting her as she shrieked. With a vicious tug, he yanked her intestines from her belly. He lowered his muzzle and cropped her huge left breast from her body and gobbled it down.



Megan's pitiful cry ended in a gurgling death rattle. Even though she was already dead, the beast tore out her throat for good measure.



Then, for the second time that night, a howl of triumph echoed through the thick woodlands of Winslow Junction State Forest, announcing another kill.



The beast turned his attention to the fresh carcass, eating ravenously. Blood streamed over the hood of the Explorer in glistening red torrents.



And somewhere in the nearby town, a man and his baby son would wait in vain for the return of a young mother.



3.



Sheriff Quint Tomlinson, chief of the Winslow Junction Sheriff's Department, was a seasoned veteran, but this gruesome bloodshed was beyond his ken. He had to look away to keep from getting sick. His round, baby face was bathed in sweat under his mop of brown hair -- and not from the heat.



Clouds of black flies swarmed over her mangled remains of the three victims in the pulloff. Overhead, an ever-increasing flock of vultures wheeled and circled. The corpses were bloated and stinking pretty badly, having lain under the hot morning sun for several hours.



Megan Foster -- what was left of her, anyway - sprawled spread-legged on the hood of the battered Explorer. Someone had retrieved her severed arm -- still gripping her pistol -- and had laid it near her head. Her breasts were gone, as was most of her stomach.



Tomlinson had met her before. She had been a pretty young woman.



Now her smashed face reminded him of raw hamburger.



And poor little Bethany Jensen. All that remained of her upper body was her slashed head, and a gnawed ribcage and spine.



Her buttocks and vagina had also been eaten.



Not to mention Bobby Martin. His decapitated corpse was lodged in a tree, and his head lay in the middle of the parking lot.



Tomlinson watched as forensics people dispassionately went about their business. Some of them poked and prodded the mutilated bodies, taking samples. Others were sweeping every inch of the parking lot and the nearby woods.



"Jesus God in Heaven -- what got at them? A bear?" Tomlinson asked no one in particular.



"Come on, Quint -- you know damned well no bear did this."



Tomlinson turned to face his old friend Colonel Jace Morgan, chief of the Winslow Junction Wilderness Area Rangers. Morgan's rangers called him a "poor man's Clint Eastwood." The resemblance was uncanny. Right now, his lean, weathered face was taut with grief and barely repressed rage. He squinted at Megan's mangled remains.



"Then you tell me, Jace -- if a bear didn't do this, then what in Hell did?" Tomlinson demanded.



"I don't know," Morgan drawled softly. "This is like nothing I've ever seen."



"That's not very encouraging, gentlemen," a beefy, middle-aged man said, mopping his brow. Blood from his surgical gloves soaked into his kerchief.



Sam D'Amato was the Chief of Forensics with the Winslow Junction Sheriff's Department. He could have been a Roman Emperor in a sword-and-sandals movie from the '50's. He was short, chubby, with a florid face and a thatch of receding gray ringlets that looked as if they had been airlifted onto his head.



All he needed to complete the ensemble was a toga and a laurel wreath.



"This is ugly," D'Amato muttered. "Ugly, ugly, ugly. The kids' clothes were in the back seat of the Mustang. They must have been screwing when...it got them."



He shuddered.



"What the Hell could have done this?" he asked, echoing the sheriff.



"God -- there're about two liters of semen inside her!"



The young woman who had been examining Megan Foster's remains stood up, wrinkling her nose.



Tomlinson couldn't help staring appreciatively, grateful for the opportunity to forget the gory tableau for a moment.



Brianna Lang was a vision. She was easy to look at, and round in all the right places. A cloud of auburn curls framed startling sea-green eyes in her lovely face. She wore a red denim shirt with rolled-up sleeves knotted under her full breasts. Her midriff was bare. Cutoff blue jean shorts hugged her smoothly-rounded backside.



She could easily have been a model.



But Brianna wasn't a model; she was a forensics investigator. At twenty-two, she was fresh out of college, trained in all the latest methods, using all the most advanced equipment. She was very conscientious, a real go-getter.



And she rubbed Sam D'Amato the wrong way.



"I'm going to run a sample and feed it into my laptop," she announced, holding up a syringe. "I wonder if some sicko did this and then sicced a mastiff on her -- or, even worse, did it after the mastiff tore her up?"



"Little Miss CSI: New York," Sam muttered under his breath. He raised his voice. "You're jumping to conclusions again, Miss Lang!"



"Surely you're not suggesting the animal that mauled her also sexually assaulted her, Mr. D'Amato?" she asked.



"I'm not suggesting anything until I've got some evidence," Sam growled. "I suggest you do the same."



"Well, let me see if I can get you some evidence," Brianna retorted.



She had a high-powered microscope and a laptop set up in her car. She put a droplet of the semen on a slide, focused on it, and gasped aloud.



"My....God!" she murmured. "What the Hell is this?" Curious despite himself, Sam hurried over to her car. Brianna got up to let him use the scope.



"Look at that, Mr. D'Amato!" she exclaimed. "It's got to be some kind of mutation."



"Great Christ!" Sam sputtered. He blinked, and looked again. "I've never seen anything like that!"



He turned to Brianna.



"Get that fed into your computer, Brianna," he said. "See if you can match it up with....well, anything!"



"Okay -- would somebody like to enlighten us laymen?" Morgan asked in irritation.



The two forensics people ignored him as Brianna patched in a cable from the microscope to her laptop.



"Sam!"



Exasperated, Sam D'Amato glanced over his shoulder. "This jism is....."



His voice trailed off.



"I dunno what it is. It looks like Human semen, but it's.....not. I don't know -- like she said, maybe a mutation."



"What in Hell does that mean?" Quint Tomlinson exploded. "You sound like you're talking about an alien -- or a monster or something."



Sam looked down. "Maybe I am," he whispered. "Or something. I don't know exactly what I'm talking about just yet, Quint."



Brianna's computer hummed for a long time, the microscope's image of the semen sample glowing on the screen. Finally a dialog box opened up.



"Unable to find a match," she said, frustrated. She typed in a new command.



'Find closest matches.'



Her laptop whirred and chuckled again. Finally the screen displayed images of two slide samples next to the one Brianna had taken from Megan Foster's vagina.



"Ohmigod," she whispered.



"This is not what I wanted to see," D'Amato muttered.



Jace Morgan leaned over Sam's shoulder and peered at the screen. The legends under the two slides read, "Homo Sapiens" and "Canis Lupus Lupus." Morgan couldn't speak for several long seconds, and when he finally did, his voice sounded strangled.



"Sam -- you sayin' whatever did this was part Human and part wolf?"



"I'm not saying anything!" D'Amato exploded. "Assuming it's working correctly, the computer is saying that Miss Lang's sample has characteristics of both Human and wolf semen."



"Yeah -- part Human and part wolf!" Morgan gritted.



Tomlinson laughed nervously.



"That sounds like a werewolf!"



"Bullshit!" D'Amato roared. "That's more conjectural than Brianna's mastiff! Hell, why not blame it on Bigfoot?""



Brianna Lang, meanwhile, had pricked her finger and smeared a droplet of blood on a slide.



"What're you doing?" Moran queried.



"Introducing a control sample."



She focused her microscope and fed the image to her computer. Almost immediately, the laptop identified the slide as a human blood sample.



"Damn!" Brianna said softly. "I was hoping we had an equipment glitch. Still, we should feed this into our computers back at the office to make sure."



"Over here!" a voice called. "I've got something!"



The group rushed over to Ranger Lieutenant Tom Stewart, who was squatting on the grass near one of the parking bumpers. He shook his head. "It's a track," he said. "But look at the size of it!"



He pointed at the impression in the soft mud.



"My God!" Morgan whispered. "It's a....a wolf track!"



Tomlinson swallowed hard.



"A wolf that wears a size sixteen! I take a size 11 medium, and that track's a good five inches longer than my foot."



He put his foot next to the gigantic pug mark for comparison. The huge print dwarfed his shoe.



"The tracks lead off into the woods -- that way," Stewart said, pointing.



Sam D'Amato was sweating even more profusely than before.



"This can't be real," he muttered. "It's a nightmare. That's it -- it's a nightmare! I'm gonna wake up and none of this will have happened."



"Could it be a fake?" Brianna asked.



"Somebody wearing boots or something?" Morgan mused, "Could be, I guess -- but these look real."



"Hey, you guys -- I've got the dash cam fixed!"



Steve Dante was the forensics department's techno-geek. He was a wizard with anything mechanical. Dante resembled a tall, skinny mulberry bush with a curly black beard and Coke-bottle glasses.



And he adored Brianna Lang, much to Sam D'Amato's chagrin.



"Stevie -- can you hook up the dash cam to my laptop?" asked the object of Dante's affection. "We'll be able to see things a lot better on my screen."



"Sure -- piece of cake, Bree. This is one of the new ones with a USB port."



He hooked up a cable to her laptop and set the computer on the passenger seat of the Explorer. He wound the dash cam back to the beginning of its last sequence and hit "play."



Fifteen minutes later they stared at the image frozen on the screen, numb and sickened by what they had seen. They were all decidedly green around the gills. Sam D'Amato had gone into the bushes to throw up. He staggered back to rejoin the group, his face chalky.



"My.....God!" Brianna quavered. "It...it raped her....then it tore her apart and ate her!"



"It's got to be some sick psycho in a Halloween costume!" D'Amato bleated, near hysteria. "It's got to be!"



He turned to Morgan, a note of desperate pleading in his voice.



"Jace!" he whimpered, pointing at the screen. "Jace! Please tell me that can't be real!"



Morgan stared at the image of the beast, at the unholy face that was some kind of obscene cross between a man and a demonhound from Hell. Its eyes glowed like burning coals, and blood dripped from razor-sharp fangs. Icy sweat trickled down his back as he remembered Megan Foster's piercing, agonized shrieks as the creature raped and slaughtered her.



He would hear those screams for the rest of his life.



"Jace!"



"That's no Halloween costume, Sam," Morgan drawled. "Whatever that son of a bitch is, it's real."



"Everything was fully functional," Brianna said. "The fangs and claws........."



She shuddered.



"They were real. The penis was fully functional, sheathed like a.....like a... wolf's. It looked like it was a foot and a half long."



Brianna closed her eyes, wondering what Megan experienced in those last, painful moments of her life. The violation of her body by that obscene organ....



Sam D'Amato lurched away and ran to the edge of the woods, where he promptly vomited.



With a snarl, Jace Morgan charged after him. He spun D'Amato around and grabbed him by the shirt front.



"Jesus Christ, man, get hold of yourself!" Morgan raged. "You're the chief of forensics! What the Hell's the matter with you? You've seen mauled bodies before!"



D'Amato wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was trembling in terror.



"It's not the bodies, Jace, and you know it." He pointed to the image of the beast on Brianna's laptop. "I defy you to tell me that you weren't absolutely scared shitless when you watched that thing tear Megan apart. Did you see it? It enjoyed raping her! It enjoyed slashing her to death and eating her! It's supposed to be an animal of some kind. Animals don't rape young women, and animals don't enjoy killing! It's a killing machine, a monster, and it's around here loose somewhere. What the Hell is it?"



Morgan closed his eyes.



"I...I don't know, Sam."



"It's a werewolf."



Morgan whirled on Tomlinson and glared daggers at him. The sheriff shrugged.



"If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck. I'd call it a werewolf." He paused. "There was a full moon last night, too."



"Oh, sweet Jesus!" D'Amato cried.



Morgan backhanded him across the face.



"You're in charge of the forensics investigation!" he hissed. "Take charge of it -- or turn it over to Brianna!"



Sam D'Amato held his hand against his red, stinging cheek. He looked like someone awakening from a nightmare. He nodded, and set his jaw resolutely.



"Bag the bodies and get 'em down to the lab," he said in a shaky voice. "Hopefully the autopsies will give us something we can work with."



Morgan held up a hand.



"Nobody breathes a word about this," he said. "For now it's classified as an animal attack -- nothing more. We're going to close the park. It's off limits to everyone -- including all of you -- until we track down this....thing."



"But we've still got a lot to do here!" Brianna protested. "Can't we...."



Morgan shook his head.



"Too dangerous. Off limits for everybody. We know what we're looking for; we can pick up the pieces later. Let the rangers and the sheriff's department handle it."



As the bodies were loaded onto the ambulances, Brianna turned to Steve Dante.



"I work until five," she said. "The Parker's Woods trail comes up out of town and passes within 30 yards of here; I won't need a car. I'm hiking back up here to continue the investigation. Want to come along?"



Dante shook his head, a mournful expression on his face.



"God, I'd love to, Bree. Alone in the woods -- with you? That's a dream come true! But I'm pulling a double shift. I don't get off until ten."



"Can't wait for you, babe!" she said. "I want to be out of here long before dark."



"Jesus, Bree, Sam'll have a cow if he finds out."



"He won't find out -- right, Stevie?"



"I won't tell him," Dante answered. "Just be careful!"



"Always am." She kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, we've got work to do back at the lab."



They got in her car and followed the ambulances out of the park.



As he watched the caravan leave the pulloff area, Tomlinson shook his head.



"So what's the official line, Jace? We tell people there's a rogue bear or what? Might cause a panic."



Morgan chuckled.



"And telling them there's a werewolf on the loose won't?"



"I see your point." He frowned. "I'll put the whole department on emergency duty -- every able-bodied man and woman."



"I'll do the same with the rangers," Morgan said. "We've got to get the park blocked off. And we're going to need guns -- lots of guns. High-powered rifles, the works. We might need to bring in some contract hunters to augment our forces."



"Might want to get a load of silver bullets, too," Tomlinson added.



Morgan laughed. When Quint Tomlinson's expression didn't change, the ranger colonel's smile faded."You're not joking."



"Nope. I'm going into town to Castellini's Gun Shop and have George make up a couple of cases ASAP. After what I saw on that pretty forensic girl's laptop, I'm not taking any chances."



He got into his squad car and drove off. Morgan watched him go and shook his head.



"Everybody's going nuts," he murmured. "Fill that thing full of enough lead, he'll go down."



He slid behind the wheel of his own car and pulled out of the parking area, hoping they could find the beast and put a quick end to this bloody nightmare.



He wondered what he would tell the kids' parents, and how he could tell Pete Foster what had happened to his wife.



***** On the crest of a ridge a quarter mile away, Derek Talbot lowered his binoculars as the ranger's car pulled away. He had heard every word of the conversations in the parking lot, as if he were standing right there with them. His cock stiffened as he thought of the beautiful forensics investigator.



"So little Brianna Lang is going to hike up here all by herself this afternoon," he mused. "Maybe I can give her a little help with her investigation -- a little first hand experience!"



He stood up and stretched, and headed back down the hiking trail that led to his hotel. He was looking forward to a quick shower and some breakfast.



Then it would be time to take a little stroll through the neighborhood.

For all its affected luxury, the Hotel Royale offered a merely adequate breakfast. Derek Talbot resolved that he would find a nicer place for lunch. Bow Hill -- the alleged resort town where he was staying - boasted one street, a strip that was a half mile long, burgeoning with all manner of restaurants, taverns and hotels. The place reminded him of Gatlinburg. As he drove his rented BMW out toward the main road that led to Winslow Junction, he noted a likely candidate -- Marlowe's Restaurant. Several people had recommended it, and he thought he'd check it out. It appeared to be fairly upscale, which was always reassuring.



Talbot made the short jaunt into Winslow Junction in less than ten minutes. Now this was more like it -- a small town of 15,000 nestled in one of the majestic forests the Northwest was famous for.



Prime hunting grounds.



As he cruised slowly down Aspen Street, he noticed Castellini's Gun Shop on the southeast corner of the intersection with Walnut. He saw a police cruiser with sheriff's department markings. Sheriff Jeff Tomlinson climbed out of the car and went inside the gun shop. Interesting.



Talbot pulled two spaces ahead of the cruiser and parked. He strolled casually up the sidewalk, a copy of the Wall Street Journal tucked under his arm, and sat down on a bench outside Castellini's. The door was open; he could easily hear every word of the conversation between Tomlinson and the owner.



"Let me get this straight, Jeff," George Castellini said. "Silver bullets?"



"Yeah," Tomlinson answered. "I read a journal article that reported they flew truer than lead slugs. Thought I'd check it out."



"Uh huh," Castellini returned, skepticism in his voice. "So happens I have a couple of boxes -- one for a .38 caliber handgun, and the other for a .3030 rifle. Made 'em up for this nutcase big game hunter who said he was tracking down a werewolf. Never saw him again." He paused. "You wouldn't be gunnin' for a werewolf, would you, Jeff?"



Tomlinson chuckled. "Come on, George -- there are no such things as werewolves!"



"Right."



Castellini was silent for a moment. Then he bluntly asked, "By the way -- what happened up in the woods last night? Heard that two kids and a ranger girl got mauled and eaten by some kind of animal."



Tomlinson didn't answer right away, and Castellini just waited. The sheriff sighed. "We think it was a grizzly. Can't talk about it too much yet."



"Well, that's a dirty shame." He paused, somewhat embarrassed. "Jeff, I know you're the sheriff and all, but I still gotta ask you some questions...."



"It's okay George -- it's the law. I'd have to run you in if you didn't. Jeffrey A. Tomlinson, 53 Trailridge Way, Winslow Jun..."



"Okay, okay," Castellini said. "Same info?"



"Yeah."



There was a rustle of paper, and the store owner said, "Say hello to Susie for me."



"Will do. I'm going home in an hour and a half for an early lunch."



Castellini guffawed. "Oh -- one of those lunches, right? No wonder you're always smiling in the afternoon. See you later."



"Bye, George."



Talbot watched the police car pull away, then he hopped into his BMW and consulted the GPS system. He smiled. 53 Trailridge Way was nestled in the forest only about two miles from his hotel. He drove back to the Royale as quickly as he could and stripped naked, then donned a pair of running shoes and shorts. He jogged easily up the trial, but as soon as he got out of sight in the deep woods, he put on a blazing burst of speed and sprinted through the undergrowth, far faster than a normal human being could possibly run. He wasn't even breathing hard as he came to the hillock that overlooked the Tomlinson property. It was rustic, a nice place carved out of the forest and overlooking a tumbling stream. Secluded, with no neighbors in the immediate vicinity. The house had an almost log cabin feel to it. A woman dressed in tight shorts and a tube top was hanging up laundry in the back yard.



Susie Tomlinson appeared to be in her late thirties. She was a blonde, a little on the high side of voluptuous -- not fat, but fleshy. What was the word -- Rubenesque? She was the kind of woman Italian men would love. She was pretty, even sexy, but definitely not model material. Talbot could see her being passed around like a bottle of wine at a drunken frat house fuck party during her college days.



He stripped off his shorts and kicked off the Nikes as she went inside. He had come to kill the sheriff. The wife was the proverbial "innocent bystander." She might make a nice appetizer, though.



Talbot willed the Change to begin; he managed to stifle his cries during the most painful parts of the transformation. Hair sprouted and muscles bulged. Finally he stood up, massive and lethal now, and he snarled. His keen ears picked up the sound of a shower running. He loped down the hillside to the house.



The prowling creature paused, sniffing the air. The back door would not budge at first, but powerful muscles easily forced and destroyed the knob and the lock. The werewolf stealthily slipped inside and stood in the shadows of the darkened house. Its shaggy fur stood on end, tingling in anticipation of the kill. He crept quietly up the steps and waited just outside the master bedroom.



The translucent door panel of the shower stall swung aside, and Susie stepped out. She toweled off and padded across the bedroom carpet. Her naked body was pink and clean and dry. She lay casually across her bed, a contented smile on her face. Jeff would find her like this, hot and ready for him when he came home for 'lunch!'



She barely caught the movement out of the corner of her eye.



Something large, dark and furry leaped at her with incredible speed. Sharp fangs and claws gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window as the beast's right arm began a deadly, downward arc.



Susie's mouth dropped open in terror, but before she could scream, she no longer had a throat.



*****



'There's no such thing as a werewolf,' Brianna Lang told herself savagely. 'I don't believe in that superstitious shit!'



The building had emptied out; everyone had left for lunch except for her and Steve Dante -- Sam D'Amato had announced that he was going to take an extended liquid lunch. It had become eerily quiet in the lab, which gave her the creeps.



She gazed at the image on her laptop screen again, the image of the creature that had slaughtered the three luckless victims in the wilderness area. She wanted to pee in her pants from sheer fright every time she looked at the picture of the beast.



She wanted to scream every time she consulted the results of the DNA testing of the semen sample that had been rushed through for her.



'Unable to find match.'



Brianna read further down on the screen and swallowed hard.



'Closest matches: Homo sapiens, .573; Canis lupus lupus, .427.'



Her sample was similar to human semen, and also similar to wolf semen. A blend of both - and neither. Definitely a mutant.



Werewolf?



She recalled the words of Sheriff Tomlinson, and could not repress a shudder.



'This thing looks like a werewolf, walks like werewolf, and howls like a werewolf. I'd call it a werewolf. What would you call it?'



"God," she whispered. It was almost a moan. "It's got to be some kind of mutation."



"What is it?" Steve Dante queried.



Dante leaned over Brianna's shoulder and peered at the screen. He couldn't speak for several long seconds, and when he finally did, his voice sounded tight.



"Sheriff Tomlinson was right. It looks like a werewolf, walks like a werewolf, and howls like a werewolf - it is a werewolf!"



"Bullshit!" Brianna snapped, visibly shaken. "All the test results are saying is that the sample has characteristics of both human and wolf semen."



"Yeah -- a werewolf!" Dante gritted. "Whatever you want to call it, it's deadly!"



"There's got to be a plausible scientific explanation for it," Brianna said. "If we could've just finished investigating the area..."



Brianna let out a slow breath as she turned back to the computer. She downloaded a disc which contained the autopsy reports of the victims and photographs of the remains, and she added it to the DNA report and the dash cam recording. She saved the file; then she brought it up and clicked on it.



"I'm going to post this on the web, on the F.I. Network," she said with a yawn. "Maybe somebody else has run into something like this. We'll see if we get any bites. I'm curious."



Brianna turned toward Steve Dante and frowned. He was tense. She could see it in the tight lines around his eyes, in his hunched posture.



"Hey, Stevie -- you okay?"



She was shocked to notice there were tears in his eyes.



"Bri -- please don't go back up there -- to that parking area."



She was touched at his concern. This guy actually gave a damn about her! She smiled.



"It's okay, Stevie. There will be rangers and deputies all over the place. What are they going to do -- make me walk back out? Besides, if I get into trouble, I've got this!"



She pulled a government issue .45 automatic pistol out of her backpack.



Steve Dante gasped.



"Holy Christ, Bri!"



"It has specially-made .45 hollow point hunting slugs in it," she said. "It'll drop a grizzly bear; makes an exit wound the size of a softball at ten yards. And I know how to use it. I can show you the marksmanship trophies and ribbons I've won at the gun club. So don't worry -- I'll be fine."



She caressed his cheek.



"It's really sweet of you to be so worried. Thank you."



He smiled softly, and Brianna looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.



He was actually kind of handsome under all that hair. And he was so sweet and considerate. He would do anything for her. She read the logo on his tee shirt: 'SELF-PROFESSED GEEK.' She smiled ruefully.



She had wasted so much time in bars and clubs cruising for jocks and hunks, and what had she gotten from it? She had gotten her tits mauled and her ass pinched. She had gotten catcalls and obscene remarks. "Hey, baby -- back that ass up over here so I can lay some pipe!" "Are those real, honey, or do you have stock in Dow-Corning?" Once she had bagged a Seattle Seahawks quarterback -- or so she thought. When she went to suck his cock, she tasted the juices of another of his conquests from earlier that evening.



Brianna later found out that she had been his third girl of the night The son of a bitch hadn't even had the decency to wash his prick!



She pursed her lips. She'd been looking for Superman, and maybe she should have been looking for Clark Kent!



Assuming Clark Kent had a beard and a modified Afro, anyway!



She kissed him.



Something unexpected happened. The flame that neither of them realized had been smoldering between them ignited with a bright flash. They were all over each other, groping and petting, their tongues meshing and sparring like a pair of fencing foils. He was a surprisingly good kisser -- fantastically good, actually. Brianna was beside herself with lust. She managed to shrug out of her red denim shirt. She hadn't worn a bra, so her magnificent breasts bounced and bobbled enticingly.



"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she moaned, kneading and squeezing herself.



And then Steve pulled away. He appeared to be terrified.



"What?!" Brianna squealed, her voice high and frantic.



"Ummm....I-I-I d-don't know, Bri!" he stammered. "Should we be d-d-doing this?"



"Yes, we should!" she cried. "You're not leaving me hanging like this, you son of a bitch! Now fuck me!"



"B-but I've never done...th-this is m-my first t-time...I mean, with a real girl!"



"Then this is your lucky day, Stevie!"



She practically tore his 'SELF-PROFESSED GEEK' tee shirt off his body as she wriggled out of her cutoffs and bikini briefs. Then she pulled down his jeans and boxers and gasped.



"Oh....my!" she breathed. "Oh, Stevie! Nice slide rule!"



It was long and thick, prime meat in Brianna's book. And he was ready; he wasn't going to need any foreplay.



Brianna hurried over to the door and threw the security bolt. Steve Dante's breath caught in his throat as he admired her slender, naked form. It was obvious that Brianna Lang took very good care of herself; her soft, supple curves bore testimony to that.



"If Sam came in and caught us, we'd give him another reason to get pissed off at me!"



Steve burst out laughing and pulled her into the circle of his arms. Now that he had calmed down, his kisses were soft and slow, and he hunted gently over her body with his lips until Brianna was beside herself with lust and frustration.



Then he knelt in front of her, and his tongue found her most intimate place, probing the thick wet tangle of bronze curls between her legs. Her sex opened to him like the petals of a moist, pink flower. He was incredible; his tongue sent jolts of electricity through her nervous system..



Her eyes widened.



"Unngghhhh! My God, what are you doOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHH........."



No one had ever eaten her pussy so thoroughly. He knew just what to do -- when to lick, when to nibble, when to use his fingers. She had no idea it was beginner's luck. It wasn't long before her body shook in the grip of a wrenching climax, and her rubbery knees gave out.



"Enough!" she finally moaned. "Enough!"



Steve picked her up and carried her to the kitchenette where he promptly laid her on the table. He spread her legs and entered her smoothly, and fell into a forceful but gentle rhythm.



He was awkward and he came almost immediately. He pulled out of her and blasted his come all over her belly and vagina, much to her dismay. But she was patient with him, and coaxed an erection out of him with her talented mouth.



He did much better the second time.



Neither of them could speak for quite a while. Steve recovered first, and noticed that Brianna was still breathing hard.



"Hey, Bri -- you okay?"



Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sweetly up at him.



She scooted off the table and threw her arms around his neck.



"That was nice -- the second time! I think you've got some potential, with a little work on your technique. I feel like I've been looking for you all my life. Someone who is a great lover, but who's also sweet, gentle, trustworthy..."



"You're making me sound like a Boy Scout!"



She kissed him and laughed.



"A geek Boy Scout! God, we'd better clean this place up. Look at that puddle on the table! I hope we have something to disinfect that with!"



Steve shook his head. "Just paper towels and water -- maybe some dish soap. We could get some alcohol from the lab, but that would really stink up the kitchenette. No sense in making it obvious."



"Then we'll have to do the best we can," Brianna said. "I hope nobody wants to eat there for a while!"



They laughed and set about tidying up the area. Then they cleaned themselves up and got dressed, and were back at their stations, hard at work, before anyone arrived.



It wasn't long before the staff members came straggling back in from lunch. Sam D'Amato came back earlier than expected as well.



"Sam! I thought you were going to be out for a while," Brianna said.



D'Amato shook his head. "I just drove around. Gave me too damned much time to think. I need to get back to work." He headed for his office, and as he passed the kitchenette, he stopped up short, frowning. "Anybody smell something funny?" he queried. "When's the last time we cleaned out the fridge?"



It was all Brianna and Steve could do to keep from bursting out laughing.



*****



Sheriff Jeff Tomlinson steered his car up the long winding driveway to his house. It had been a rough morning. Folks in Winslow Junction were on edge, and asking a lot of questions about the "animal attack." It was wearing on his nerves.



He smiled. A session with Susie would drive away all his tension. He thought of her nice, big bubble butt. She loved to take it up the ass, and after all these years, she was still good and tight. She swore by some kind of sphincter exercises she did, and he couldn't argue with the results!



Tomlinson parked by the front porch. He unlocked the door and strolled inside.



"Hey, Suze -- I'm home."



No answer. He smiled, and his loins tingled. This was going to be one of those days. She was probably waiting for him up on the bed with her jiggly rump in the air, her asshole well greased with KY Jelly! He entered the bedroom.



Hey, hotass, what do you say we...."



His anguished scream rent the stillness of the house. He tore his gun from its holster.



Susie Tomlinson's mangled torso was on the bed. The lower half of her body lay with the legs askew at a crazy angle by the bathroom door. Her face had been clawed into unrecognizability. Her breasts and genitals had been devoured, as had her big, beautiful ass. Entrails were strewn all over the room.



It was hard to believe that this bloody thing on the gore-soaked bed had once been his voluptuous wife. Whatever had done this to her had slashed and mutilated every square inch of her flesh. Her throat was gone; there was blood everywhere, splashed on the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. She lay in a great pool of it. Tomlinson's mind reeled crazily at his grisly discovery. He wanted to scream, but could not. It seemed to him that there was more blood and gore in this room than one human body could possibly hold. His stomach turned over and over, but somehow he controlled it. Tears streamed down his cheeks.



"Oh, Suze..."



A floorboard creaked behind him, and the hair on his neck stood on end.



Tomlinson whirled around -- too late! Powerful jaws bit down, and he screamed in agony as his gun hand flew across the room. Blood spurted from the stump of his wrist.



He slipped and fell, and the werewolf had him.



Tomlinson found he could not scream, even though this creature was the most horrifying apparition he had ever seen, even though the pain inflicted by its raking claws was excruciating. He lay on his back on the floor, watching in a sort of nightmarish fascination for as long as he lived, watching as his blood and chunks of torn flesh and great scraps of his uniform flew in all directions.



As the huge, shaggy head lunged for his throat, Tomlinson realized with a start that the misshapen thing he had seen bouncing off a wall was one of his mangled, severed arms.



It was the last thing he ever saw.

The lunch was exquisite, and his waitress even more so.



'Liz Brannigan,' her name tag read.



Derek Talbot watched her through hooded eyes as he finished his steak salad. She was petite and slender, barely five feet tall, with a slim waist and narrow hips. Her figure was almost boyish, which he found quite stimulating. Her breasts were nicely sized, and round; not too big, but not "mosquito bites," either. She was tiny -- and fragile.



But it was her face that stopped him in his tracks.



It was the face of a goddess: high cheekbones, almond-shaped jade green eyes, lush lips. Her blue-black hair was short and curly. There was obviously some Asian heritage, and the ethnic combination imparted a truly exotic aspect to her appearance.



'Marlowe's' was the restaurant's name. It was upscale and trendy, and it had the virtue of being close to his hotel. He was glad now that he had come here.



She stood in the order expediting alcove, a pot of coffee in her hand, talking to a fellow waitress, a cute, slightly chunky blonde named Emily. They were discussing him. He could hear every word, as if they were standing right next to his table.



"God, Liz. This is your lucky day. Look at that hunk! He's hot!"



"I know," Liz answered. "He's making me hot. It's hard to concentrate."



Talbot smiled slightly. One of the benefits of his "Curse" was that it gifted him with a muscular physique, and an irresistible animal magnetism. He was lean and lithe; he knew he looked good in his denim shirt and snug Levis. And he could turn on the charm, ensuring that the beautiful Liz Brannigan would be putty in his hands.



He brushed a lock of his bushy chestnut hair off his forehead and fixed his waitress with an appraising, blue-eyed gaze as she approached. She was indeed hot. She was wet between her legs; her musky scent was pungent and arousing. She was also exuding a tidal wave of pheromones, and he could feel his cock harden in response. He fought down the urge with great effort.



"More coffee, sir?"



"Not just now, thanks," Talbot replied. "I'd appreciate it if you'd check back in a bit, though."



She beamed at him and checked on a nearby table. Talbot followed her with an unabashedly appraising stare. He always chose the best. She was indeed the thoroughbred of this stable.



Yes, he would enjoy breaking her.......



The world was Derek Lawrence Talbot's oyster. At twenty-eight, he was the President and CEO of Talbot Industries, a multibillion dollar computer software and internet consulting corporation. The company was becoming a major player in the industry, thanks mostly to his drive and determination. He had taken over the company four years earlier, at the tender age of twenty-four, when his father had disappeared on a vacation to Tibet. Most industry analysts had expected Talbot Industries to go right down the drain. Derek Lawrence Talbot was too young and inexperienced, they said. They started writing the company's obituary.



But Derek had done his homework. He was a prodigy who had grown up with computers and software. He knew as much as -- if not more than - the men and women who designed them. And he was ruthless and driven, with a take-no-prisoners attitude. He relished his new position, cutting the fat out of the company and surrounding himself with people who were as driven as he was. Within two years, Talbot's market share had doubled. This year it had tripled.



Talbot watched the petite Liz Brannigan as she glided from one station to the next. He had never had a steady girlfriend, nor had he wanted one. There had always been plenty of women, plenty of sex. But no relationships. His view of women had been shaped very early on by a cold, brittle mother who had no use for him, and a father who traveled a great deal -- especially during the time of the full moon. His mother tolerated his father only because he locked himself away during the Change - and, of course, she tolerated him for his money.



It was only later that Derek would learn that his mother's icy attitude toward him was molded by fear of what he might -- and eventually did -- become.



Instead of learning about life and the "birds and the bees" from loving parents, he had been exposed to a twisted view that warped and damaged his impressionable psyche. He had stumbled upon it quite by accident. He was only ten years old at the time. He was outside the cottage of the gardener of the sprawling Talbot estate, when he heard a woman screaming. Curious -- and alarmed -- he had peered through the window and gasped in shock.



The gardener was watching a porn video that depicted three men raping a young, naked girl. She was on her hands and knees. One man lay under her thrusting into her vagina, another stood behind her sodomizing her, while a third shoved his organ down her throat. When they finished with her, they ejaculated all over her.



Then the attacker standing behind her yanked her head back by the hair and slit her throat from ear to ear with a huge Bowie knife.



As the girl lay jerking on the ground, blood spewing from her slashed throat, Derek saw that the gardener was masturbating, and he came at the moment the girl shuddered and died on the TV screen, his semen shooting into the air.



At the same instant, as he watched the dying girl convulsing on the ground, Derek experienced a tingling in his groin that he had never known before in his young life. At his tender age, he still had difficulty separating fantasy from reality. He didn't realize that it was only a movie, that the girl was an actress and the death was simulated.



Watching the girl die -- watching the power the depraved men wielded over her -- intrigued and thrilled him somehow.



The next day, while the gardener was out on the grounds, Derek 'liberated' his stash of pornographic videos. All of them were rape and bondage movies, and some "snuff" flicks; some of them featured the simulated murder and sexual mutilation of the victims, which enthralled him even more.



From there, Derek graduated to the internet, which he could navigate expertly, even as a small boy. He frequented websites like "rapedandroped," "ravishedbrides," and "snuffbabes.com."



In the absence of parental guidance, Derek Talbot developed into a budding sexual psychopath and misogynist. In a society where it was somehow acceptable to dehumanize girls and young women, he was brainwashed into the notion that females were sexual playthings, objects that gave pleasure to men, to be used -- and discarded -- by those men.



Then, when he reached the age of sixteen, something happened that changed his life forever.



Her name was Gretchen Farlow, a hot, sensuous redhead, a senior girl who was the slut of McKinley Academy, the upscale private school near Seattle that Derek attended. She seduced him. She took him out into the woods under the romantic full moon, and they had sex.



And when Derek climaxed, he Changed.



Pinned under the hulking, metamorphosing body that had been Derek Talbot, Gretchen's agonized screams rang through the woods as the werewolf slaughtered her, tore her apart and ate her. He took special pleasure in devouring her breasts and her sex -- destroying the parts of her that made her a woman.



As news of the "animal attack" spread, Derek's father John surmised what had happened. He took the boy aside and somberly related the story of the Talbot family and the Curse of the Werewolf. As Derek listened, he realized the power he now possessed. He barely heard John Talbot's self-pitying drivel about how the Curse was a terrible burden, and how horrible it was to kill.



Hell, he wanted to kill!



Derek could only remember how exciting, how liberating it had been to watch the redheaded bitch die, blood spurting from her savaged throat and mangled, naked body. He had fed on her fear almost as much as he had her flesh and blood. The expression of sheer terror and agony on her once beautiful, slashed face, the mouth frozen forever into a perfect little "o" of horror, aroused him beyond belief.



Even as he contemplated the freedom he would enjoy as a werewolf, his father had arranged for him to be locked up "for his own good" every month during the cycle of the full moon. He would spend his nights in a maximum security cell, raging and howling impotently, searching vainly for escape, until the sun rose the next morning.



And each night, in a nearby cell, he could hear his father snarling and roaring as well.



Then when his father had disappeared four years ago, Derek Talbot had taken control. He had only recently learned to Change at will, and had kept that ability secret. One by one, the handful of men who were charged with his monthly incarcerations "disappeared," and his secret had vanished with them. Now he was free to run -- and kill -- on his own terms.



His mother had left of her own accord. So great was her fear of Derek that she left it all behind - the money, the houses, the cars - everything.



He sighed. He had enjoyed slaying the sheriff and his slutty wife that morning. He was worried, though, that he hadn't found the silver bullets Tomlinson had purchased. He had torn the police cruiser apart - literally - to no avail. He was fairly sure that most - if not all - of the other law enforcement officers felt that the whole silver bullet scenario was nothing but a superstitious fable, but it would behoove him not to take any chances.



Liz Brannigan was returning.



"Anything else for you today, sir?



"Thank you, no." He flashed his most disarming smile at her. "Liz Brannigan. Funny, if you don't mind my saying so, you don't look like a Brannigan."



She blushed.



"My mom's Japanese, and my dad's Irish."



"And you're, what, then -- Japirish or Irinese?"



They both laughed.



"I guess I'm a mixed up kid," Liz answered. She stifled a yawn.



"Long day?" Talbot queried.



"Yeah. I work here for another half hour, until one. Then I'm off until five, come back and work until ten. And then I go to my second job!"



"And I thought I was busy!" He scribbled something on a business card, then slipped a couple of bills from his wallet. He handed the money, the business card, and the check to her.



"Well, Liz Brannigan, you are a thoroughly delightful and beautiful young lady. Keep the change."



She watched him go in dismay. Then she unfolded the money.



There was a hundred dollar bill on top -- and...and a thousand dollar bill underneath! For a $25 check?! She held the thousand dollar bill up to the light, flabbergasted, and she could see the red and blue fibers imbedded in it and the watermark, and the portrait of Grover Cleveland. It appeared to be authentic. The business card was for a Don Mannix of Global Exporters, whose title was 'troubleshooter.' The note on the back read, 'Room 203, Hotel Royale. How about a room service dinner of steak and lobster later, and maybe....dessert? Before and after dinner? See you a little after one.'



She arched her eyebrows, and her face flushed. The nerve of him -- thinking she would be swept off her feet by a handsome face, a charming smile, those intense blue eyes, and that...that hot body! He was bold, she'd give him that. Super cocky and confident. She didn't know whether to be flattered, incensed, frightened or excited.



She decided she was excited -- very excited.



Liz Brannigan found herself counting down the minutes until one o'clock.



*****



THREE AND A HALF MONTHS EARLIER SOMEWHERE IN THE DANIEL BOONE NATIONAL FOREST EASTERN KENTUCKY



'Something's wrong,' Gabriel Van Helsing thought. 'They should be in position by now!'



They had to lie low. The forests of Eastern Kentucky were very dense, but they had not yet completely leafed out in early May. He peered down at the clearing through his night vision goggles and winced.



The huge bonfires painted the clearing with the flickering, garish light of Hades. An ancient, rotting wooden coffin, apparently full of soil and dust, was propped up on a bier. A beautiful young auburn-haired woman, naked except for a long black cloak and a leather belt, stood next to the casket. She raised a serrated dagger in her right hand. Its silver blade gleamed crimson in the firelight.



Two terrified young girls dressed in white blouses and plaid skirts struggled in the clutches of a pair of enormous werewolves.



Schoolgirls -- probably from some nearby Catholic high school, judging by their uniforms.



On the open ground in front of the makeshift stage, hundreds of werewolves milled about, snarling and growling impatiently. A hulking beast of a man in a blood-colored robe climbed the steps to the platform, his shaved head shining in the night.



"Attend your mistress, Lady Deidra!" he bellowed, motioning to the cloaked woman wielding the knife.



The werewolves only grumbled more loudly. Deidra surreptitiously touched her belt buckle, and the creatures calmed down somewhat.



Van Helsing studied the wide leather belt around the Deidra's slender waist. There were small blinking lights and touchsensors in the buckle. Microchips? Was that how she was controlling the werewolves?



The fresh-faced young woman lying prone on the cool ground next to him was getting antsy. Like him, she was dressed in a camouflage uniform and helmet, and outfitted with all manner of lethal weapons and high tech equipment. Tessa McCallum turned toward him.



"Gabe, we've got to do something now!" she hissed sotto voce. "They're going to kill those two little girls!"



"We've got to wait, Tessa," he countered. The anguish in his voice was palpable. "We move too soon, four months of work goes down the drain. If this wolfpack is turned loose, hundreds may die -- or be turned to werewolves themselves. So if I have to sacrifice two innocent lives to stop that, then that's what I'll have to do -- whether I like it or not! We start blasting away and those weres will scatter to the four winds, and it could take us years to hunt them all down. I haven't gotten the signal from Taggart yet, and I can't raise him."



The woman on the platform nodded. The red-robed hulk roughly stripped the screaming girls naked. The blonde girl was slender and beautiful, with firm, pert breasts. The redhead was pretty, too, although still a little plump with baby fat.



"What are they doing?" Tessa asked in a strangled voice.



"Resurrecting a vampire."



"What?" She was aghast; her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.



"The werewolves are probably being controlled by microchip implants and a transmitter in the woman's belt buckle -- not the most reliable method. A vampire, however, can control hordes of werewolves and other dark creatures with ease."



"But who would want to control a pack of..of werewolves? And....why?"



Van Helsing shook his head.



"As to why...who knows? Extreme evil needs no reason. And as to who...."



He hesitated.



"Maybe Satan himself." He clicked on the mouthpiece of his helmet. "Christ! Come on, Taggart -- where in hell are you?"



The young blonde girl was strung up by her ankles head down over the open coffin from the limb of a tree that hung over the platform. Her piercing shrieks of terror split the night as she swung back and forth, and the werewolf pack began to howl in agitation.



"These virgins, both of whom have reached their eighteenth season, will be sacrificed to revive and nourish our mistress, Giselle du Meliere, the Queen of the Vampires!" the cloaked woman intoned.



Van Helsing stiffened. He paled, and his eyes widened in horror.



"Gods, no!"



"What?" Tessa's face was etched in concern.



"Giselle du Meliere lived in 15th Century France," he said. "She was an innocent eighteen-year-old girl, the daughter of a French nobleman. She was studying in Romania, and was the first victim to be 'turned' by Count Dracula , when he began his reign of terror. As a vampire, she is evil incarnate - as dangerous and cunning as Dracula himself. If she is revived....."



"My God!"



"I must stop her -- again," Van Helsing said. "It was I who........staked her and put her in that coffin in 1882."



Tessa shivered. She had to remind herself that Gabriel Van Helsing was an immortal. He was so handsome and virile. He appeared to be in his mid thirties, and yet he was hundreds of years old. Sometimes it creeped her out.



Deidra's lips moved in a silent chant. Then she shouted, "Dark Lord -- guide my hand!"



Suddenly she buried the huge dagger between the blonde girl's spread legs with a meaty 'chunk.' The girl's piercing screams shattered the stillness of the forest as Deidra savagely sliced downward, gutting her victim from groin to collarbone. Blood and viscera rained down, flooding the interior of the coffin.



The butchered girl's companion shrieked and passed out from sheer fright, and the werewolves, maddened by the smell of blood and raw meat, set up a hair-raising cacophony of howling. Deidra tapped a series of several buttons on her belt buckle this time, and the beasts finally quieted down.



Van Helsing closed his eyes. Beside him, Tessa McCallum wretched quietly.



The contents of the coffin began to boil and smoke. The girl's entrails dissolved and her blood was greedily absorbed by the bubbling soil. Something began to coalesce and take shape in the midst of the roiling mess. As the scarlet mist cleared, they could see what it was.



A skeleton!



As they watched in horror, blood vessels, nerves and muscle began to grow over the bones. Within seconds, pink skin began to form. Long, flowing raven hair grew down to the shoulders of the now fully formed body.



A beautiful young girl lay in the coffin now, where only moldering soil had been. She was as naked as the day she had been born....over 600 years earlier.



A last few droplets of blood from the dangling corpse dripped onto her too-red lips. A pink tongue flicked out and licked them away.



Suddenly, bright green eyes snapped open wide. The girl in the coffin sat up abruptly with a scream of terror.



"Why have you awakened me?" she demanded, her voice thick with anguish. "I was at peace!"



The werewolves on the stage and in the clearing suddenly grew silent. As one, they prostrated themselves before the newly awakened Giselle du Meliere. She climbed out of the coffin and stood on the platform, looking for all the world like a sweet-faced young girl, a terrified, innocent eighteen year old.



Van Helsing grabbed his compound crossbow and reached for a sharpened wooden stake.



"Wh-what time is this?" Giselle asked.



"It is May 2nd, 2007, Mistress -- the night of the full moon."



Giselle closed her eyes, and a single tear tracked down her smooth cheek. "I have been at peace for almost 130 years, and you have disturbed my rest."



Suddenly she cried out and went to her knees in pain, clutching her stomach. "S-so hungry!" she sobbed.



A werewolf stood up and pulled the unconscious redheaded girl to her feet, rousing her. A sudden, terrifying change transformed Giselle's guileless features. Her lips drew back over her teeth in a feral snarl, revealing long, vicious fangs. Her skin turned the color of putty, and her eyes became as deep red as a pool of blood, and glowed like twin coals.



The redheaded girl revived just in time for the attack.



She shrieked as the vampire sank razor-sharp fangs into her soft, tender throat. Giselle tore out the jugular and drank greedily. She drained every drop of blood from her victim within minutes, and the redheaded girl's bladder emptied helplessly as she died.



As her corpse began to sag toward the platform, Giselle grabbed it by the neck. She effortlessly tossed the girl's body out into the crowd of werewolves with one arm, and the beasts were noisily tearing apart their treat before it hit the ground.Giselle turned, wild-eyed, her face covered with blood. She yanked the blonde's gutted corpse from the ropes that held her ankles, and tossed her body to the crowd of lycanthropes as well. Her carcass met a similar fate.



Stronger now, Giselle turned to Deidra. She picked up the cloaked woman by her throat.



"Now -- you will explain to me why I was awakened!"



The red-robed giant lumbered forward to come to Deidra's aid. Without sparing him a glance, the vampire lashed out with her free arm and decapitated him. His head bounced off the platform, and was immediately fought over by three werewolves. His body sank to its knees, blood spurting from the thick stump of its neck, and then collapsed on the floor of the stage.



Shaggy, thickly-muscled arms dragged it off the platform and down to the ground.



"A-all will be e-explained in time, my M-mistress," Deidra wheezed in terror, her eyes bulging. "Those who c-command me won't arrive until after sunset this coming night. They have an offer for you. For now, won't you t-take command of your army?'



"My 'army?'" Giselle released Deidra, who shakily stood massaging her throat. "Hah! This motley collection of mangy, flea-bitten curs? I have commanded legions of thousands of the undead!"



Van Helsing's earpiece crackled.



"Gabe, it's Vic. We're in position -- a mouse couldn't get out of there now."



"What the hell took so long?" Van Helsing hissed. "And where's Taggart? Two innocent girls were murdered while we were waiting for you!"



"I'm sorry -- couldn't be helped. Long story. We ran into some....resistance. I'll tell you later."



"How bad?"



"Four dead -- including Taggart."



Van Helsing closed his eyes. Then he loaded the stake into his crossbow. He turned to Tessa.



"Be careful!"



She smiled and fingered the 14-K cross charm she wore on a fine gold chain around her neck. "Don't worry - I will. This is my good luck charm; you gave it to me."



Van Helsing nodded. Then he clicked his helmet's comm link. "Let's hit it!" he snapped. He sighted the crosshairs of his bow's scope on Giselle's chest, just to the left of center. He fired, and the stake shot away toward its target with a high-pitched "twang."



Giselle du Meliere saw it coming. She grabbed Deidra by the shoulders and planted the cloaked woman in front of her, using her as a shield. Van Helsing's missile pierced Deidra's back with a hollow 'thud' and protruded out between her breasts. Streams of crimson gushed from the wound and poured from her mouth.



"M-mis..t...tress?" she burbled, choking on her own blood.



And then all hell broke loose. Submachine guns opened fire, spewing silver bullets as Van Helsing's troops poured out of the woods. Grenades arced into the crowd of werewolves and exploded violently, flinging dozens of the beasts high into the air. Silver shrapnel flew everywhere. The mangled corpses that hit the ground were human.



Giant bat-like wings sprouted from Giselle's back, and she flung Deidra aside as she launched herself into the air. She landed feet first on Van Helsing and slammed him against the thick bole of a tree before he could aim his bow again. He cried out in pain and went down, his helmet tumbling off down the hillside. He was sitting slumped against the tree, helpless. Panic gripped him when he realized his arms and legs were useless; he had no feeling from the neck down. Giselle knelt in front of him and repeatedly smashed a fist into his face, driving his head back, slamming it against the tree trunk until he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.



"YOU!" she snarled. "How can you possibly still be alive in this time?"



"I...have connections," Van Helsing gasped as his blood ran in his eyes.



"You think you are amusing? I do not find you so."



The vampire backhanded him again and again, and his head snapped from side to side with the force of the teeth-rattling blows as his blood sprayed around the clearing. Tessa charged forward to help him, a sharpened stake in her hands. Just as she was about to plunge it into Giselle, the vampire slammed a locked arm palm-first into Tessa's face. The young woman was propelled violently backward and rolled down the hill, losing her helmet as well. She was abruptly stopped by a large gray boulder, and lay stunned, moaning in pain. Blood streamed from her broken nose and smashed mouth.



Giselle listened to the sound of machine gun fire and the howls of dying werewolves. She snarled. "Let's even the odds, shall we?" she said. She raised her hand over her head



Tendrils of blood-red mist began to creep along the ground. Within moments, the woods were filled with the billowing scarlet fog. A half conscious Van Helsing could see little of the area beyond where the stunned Tessa lay just a few yards away. The chattering of the guns ceased, to be replaced by the confused voices of Van Helsing's troops.



Then suddenly, a fearsome roaring shattered the sudden calm, and the agonized screams of dying men and women joined the din. The werewolves were on the attack now; they could see in the fog, and the tide had turned. The humans were functionally blind. They were easy prey for the savage beasts.



Tessa stirred. She lurched drunkenly to her feet and shook her head. Giselle's smile was savage as she raised her right hand over her head like a claw, her eyes blazing like twin ruby lasers. "Come to me, little one," she crooned.



Tessa jerked upright, as if she was a marionette on strings. She stared fixedly ahead with a sleepwalker's stare.



"You are indeed beautiful, my little one," the vampire whispered. "Take off your clothes so that I may admire all of your beauty."



"Tessa -- don't!" Van Helsing cried. "Fight it!"



But Tessa was deeply in thrall to Giselle du Meliere. She peeled off her camouflage jumpsuit and wriggled out of her panties, then slipped off her bra. She even kicked off her shoes, but she didn't take off her socks. She had the body of an athlete. She was small breasted, lean and supple, like a runner. Her nipples were hard in the chill night air. She shivered, her lower lip quivering. Her smooth skin puckered into goosflesh.



Something gleamed on Tessa's neck. The cross charm.



Giselle hissed and whirled away from the young woman, throwing an arm in front of her eyes. "That charm!" the vampire snarled. "Remove it now and throw it away!"



Tessa obediently unclasped the necklace and tossed it aside, and then she willingly walked into Giselle's deadly embrace. Their naked bodies came together. Tessa gasped and moaned. "Y...you're so cold," she quavered.



"As you will soon be as well, little one," Giselle murmured. Woman and vampire kissed, and Tessa gagged. Giselle forced herself on her prey, and before too long Tessa began to respond, moaning and thrusting her hips in arousal. Giselle probed Tessa's sex, spreading open her lips with two fingers, and a stream of her juices spattered on the ground.



Suddenly, Giselle pulled away and sank her fangs into Tessa's tender throat. She sucked voraciously.



"Noooooo!" Van Helsing screamed, but there was nothing he could do.



With a prodigious effort, Giselle finally yanked herself away from the young woman's torn throat, gasping, her face smeared with blood. Tessa was turning blue; she was dying. The vampire took a sharp thumbnail and sliced a deep cut in her left breast, just above her nipple, so that blood flowed. She shoved Tessa's head down, and the woman feebly sucked like a baby nursing at her mother's teats. Giselle's blood streamed from the wound into Tessa's mouth as Van Helsing shrieked in impotent rage. Once Tessa had ingested Giselle's blood, she, too, would be doomed to forever walk the night as one of the undead. The vampire arched her back in an orgasm, and ran her tongue across her upper lip. Her own icewater juices ran down the insides of her legs.



"Yesssssss," she hissed. "Now you are.....hhhhhhhhhhh......m ine, little one."



Tessa sagged forward like a rag doll into Giselle's arms. The vampire's fangs slashed again, and she finished draining her prey. She let Tessa's limp corpse slump to the ground; then she pushed the body with her foot so it tumbled down the slope. The vampire queen smiled triumphantly and returned her attention to the sobbing Van Helsing.



"She was your cunt, no, mon cherie?" she taunted. "Your lover? Now that she has been turned, you will have to share her with me. But we can have the ménage a trois, no?"



Van Helsing's tears mixed with the blood on his cheeks in a watery pink cascade. He spat in her face. "Go to hell, bitch!" he howled.



Giselle merely smiled. "I've already been there, mon cherie," she said, wiping the gobbet of his saliva off her cheek. "Such delicious irony, no? The great Gabriel Van Helsing, vaunted vampire slayer and inestimable monster hunter, turned into a vampire by little Giselle du Meliere. You will die tonight, along with your troops, but this coming night you will rise again to be with me as my consort. Your troops, alas, will be reduced to werewolf dung."



Van Helsing could hear the screams of his soldiers growing less frequent now, as the triumphant howling of werewolves echoed through the trees. If he could kill her, the fog would lift. But how....



Giselle tore open his shirt front. "I promise you, mon cherie, that your death will be exquisite, pleasurable."



She kissed him, and Van Helsing nearly threw up from the taste of hundreds of years of death and corruption. She licked the blood off his face; her icy breasts pressed against his skin. Her body was as cold as the deepest winter day in January, and Van Helsing shuddered. Her tongue traced its way down his body, lapping off his blood. He could feel her clawlike fingernails tearing bloody grooves in his chest. He started.



He could feel her fingernails!



Van Helsing realized that sensation was returning to his legs, and that his arms now felt normal, although he was still numb from the waist down.



Suddenly, a werewolf roared in triumph nearby, and a woman screamed in consummate agony. There was a good deal of frenzied thrashing in the brush; then the distinct sound of chewing and crunching could be heard, and the woman's shrieks doubled in intensity.



She was being eaten alive!



The screaming abruptly stopped. The naked torso of a woman, its head and arms torn off, sailed into the mist-shrouded clearing. A lycanthrope dashed through the fog and grabbed the mangled prize in his jaws and fled with it, trailing intestines behind, while another werewolf ran alongside in hot pursuit, ripping a breast from the bloody remains and swallowing it whole as he ran. Then he managed to sink his fangs into the belly, and a vicious, snarling tug of war began over the carcass.



Van Helsing desperately glanced over the ground, looking for a weapon. He had to find some way to defeat Giselle to save the remnants of his troops. He saw what he needed lying on the ground near his right hand - the stake that had dropped from his crossbow when Giselle had slammed into him. Could he get to it? He stretched out his hand; his fingers brushed against its roughened wood surface. If he could only get a grip on it......



The vampire squatted in front of him. Her smile grew bestial as she bared her fangs, and her eyes shimmered into pools of blood. "You will enjoy this, mon cherie. I will make you come!"



She attacked, burying her fangs in his jugular, and began to suck. Van Helsing moaned, but it was a throaty moan of sheer pleasure. The sensation of her fangs in his neck, his blood gushing down her throat as she sucked, was the most intense source of pleasure he had ever known. It would be so easy just to give in.....



And then, before she even realized what was happening, Van Helsing finally grabbed the sharpened stake and savagely drove it to the hilt into her chest in an explosion of blood. Giselle shrieked and convulsed; her wings receded, and he pressed his advantage, falling on top of her and driving the wood deeper into her. Then he grabbed a rock and hammered the stake in all the way.



Then Giselle du Meliere, the vampire, reverted back into Giselle du Meliere, the innocent young girl.



Her beautiful face was wreathed in a radiant smile as blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. "M-Mama...I have b-been released......" she gurgled. She turned to Van Helsing. "Th...thank y-you..."



Her head lolled to one side and she died.



Again.



The fog lifted almost immediately. The stuttering of machine guns began anew, and the tide shifted back in favor of Van Helsing's soldiers. The death cries of werewolves rang out through the trees.



Suddenly the forest lit up as bright as day as spotlights flooded the area. Two helicopter gunships, RAH-66 Comanches on stealth approach, opened fire with 20 mm cannons and specially-designed Hellfire missiles and assorted rockets. The choppers had been called in as reinforcements when the red mist had filled the forest. The werewolves were mowed down like tenpins now; the ground troops cheered and pressed their own attack with renewed vigor. The lycans were bracketed from above and below.



It was over within moments. The last werewolf lay kicking on the ground, quickly reverting to her human form as she died.



Van Helsing sat wearily against the tree as his troops mopped up. Vic Childress trudged slowly up the hillside.



"All the bodies need to be cremated," Van Helsing said without looking up. "The werewolves, our troops, all of them. You need to cut off the vampire bitch's head and fill her mouth with garlic, and burn it away from her body. We need to do the same...with Tessa. Use thermipalm to cremate them; that's hot enough that there should be nothing identifiable left behind from any of the bodies. I want a gunship to hover and scatter the ashes when the fire's out."



Childress nodded. As he turned to leave, Van Helsing added, "And I need a torch from the bonfire."



A young soldier ran and brought one back, and before their horrified eyes, Gabriel Van Helsing pressed the flaming brand against his wounded neck, screaming as the gagging stench of charred flesh wafted through the air. He nearly passed out; then as smoke curled up from the horrible, blackened burn, his trembling fingers grabbed a bottle of holy water from a pouch on his utility belt, and he liberally splashed the liquid on the wound.



Within moments, the flesh had totally healed. Not even Giselle's fang marks remained.



Van Helsing was to his feet by Childress and the soldier who had brought the torch. They half-dragged and half-carried him over to the clearing where Tessa's naked body lay, pale as snow now. He sagged to his knees and sat on his heels next to her, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. He slowly raised his head.



"Get me a stake and a hammer," he ordered.



"Gabe," Childress began softly, "I can do this...."



"Just get me the fucking hammer!" Van Helsing cried, distraught.



Vic Childress nodded. He walked off, and returned moments later with the implements Van Helsing needed. The vampire slayer's lips moved in silent prayer. Then he rammed the stake to the hilt into Tessa's chest with one mighty blow, just to the left of center, as blood arced into the air.



The "dead" woman sat up, screaming, clutching at Van Helsing's arm. She stared at him in horrified disbelief, as if she had just awakened from a nightmare.



"G....Gabe? What.....happened... ."



Then she slumped back on the ground, fangs gleaming in her open mouth.



Tears streaming down his face, Van Helsing slid a long bayonet from its sheath and decapitated Tessa. He drew on thick gloves and stuffed her mouth full of garlic from a pouch on his weapons belt. Vic Childress took the severed, dripping head from Van Helsing, while two of his men picked up Tessa's headless corpse and lugged it away.



Something glinted in the midst of the gore where Van Helsing had beheaded her. He bent down, heedless of the blood. His fingers closed over a charm. Tessa's body had rolled atop the 14-K cross charm she wore on a fine gold chain around her neck.



Her good luck charm.



Van Helsing threw back his head and loosed a scream of raw anguish.



"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...... ............. ."



Gabriel Van Helsing awoke with a gasp. He had fallen asleep at the computer terminal again. He rubbed his eyes.



They had gone into the compound in Kentucky with 257 troops and had come out with 84. It had been a bloodbath. He had lost many friends, and.....Tessa. They never had discovered who was behind the unholy convocation of werewolves and vampires, although he had heard rumors that the CEO of a mining company who was an aficionado of the occult had wanted to terrorize the residents of counties bordering the National Forest and drive them away from their property. The residential areas sat on some rich coal veins. His company could buy the property for a song and strip mine it once it was abandoned. There wasn't much incentive to stay when werewolves were running amok in your neighborhood, killing and eating people.



He shook his head. Such an elaborate scheme, just to satisfy simple greed. Satan could take many forms.....



It was only later that he learned Giselle du Meliere's coffin had been spirited away in the melee before the funeral pyre was lit. If there was any of Giselle's essence remaining in the casket - and he'd be willing to bet there was - she could be resurrected yet again with another sacrifice of virgin's blood.



He feared they hadn't heard the last of Giselle du Meliere.



Van Helsing gazed moodily out the window at the shimmering late August heat of the Kansas plains. He had been assigned to this satrap of Eglon Special Forces for rest and rehabilitation. Eglon was a quasi-military clandestine ops organization that specialized in.....unusual cases. Very few people, even inside the organization, knew that the real power behind Eglon was a secret society called the Knights of the Holy Order, who had been fighting the forces of supernatural evil for centuries. Van Helsing answered to no one at Eglon. As the Chief of Operations, he got his orders directly from the Vatican.



A light flashed on his monitor screen, and a beep sounded, informing him that Eglon's computer network had picked up an alert. Van Helsing sat forward, suddenly wide awake.



"Something come in?"



He craned his neck as Miranda Tyler, his new assistant, walked into his quarters. She was girl-next-door pretty, a slender brunette with brown eyes and a nice smile. He nodded.



"I haven't opened it yet," he said. "It's on F.I. Network, a forensic net. Coming in from a place called Winslow Junction, Washington."



He clicked on it and opened the file. Miranda gasped in horror when the image of the Winslow Junction werewolf came up on the screen. Van Helsing swallowed hard. "My........God! What a nasty-looking bugger! He's maximally transmogrified." He scrolled down the screen. "The video is from a dash cam unit on a Park Ranger's cruiser. She was a young woman; the werewolf violated and slaughtered her. The video shows it....all."



Miranda stiffened.



"You don't have to watch," he said softly.



"Yes, I do," she said. "Don't forget, I was in Kentucky, too. I saw the carnage first hand, and I'm still with Eglon. If I'm going to be your assistant, I'm to be spared nothing."



He nodded and pushed 'play' with his mouse.



When it was over, Miranda was numb with horror. Van Helsing was as pale as she had ever seen him. There was an almost imperceptible tremor in his hand.



"You were worried about me," she said softly. "Are you okay?"



He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "It brings back memories -- all of them bad," he said. "I keep going back over it all in my mind, asking myself if I could have done anything differently, and I keep telling myself 'no.' That mist Giselle generated -- only a vampire as powerful as Dracula himself could have done that. We weren't expecting that. I should have been prepared. All those people died. Tessa......."His voice caught, and unshed tears glimmered in his eyes. "I promised her father, as he lay on his deathbed, that I would do my best to protect her. My best wasn't very good, was it?"



She kissed him on the cheek. "You did do your best. Don't beat yourself up; I hate to see you torture yourself. I....care about you."



He affectionately squeezed her hand. "Miranda -- please. Don't go there. You know what I am, but you don't know what that costs me - to sit and watch people I care about grow old, wither and die - assuming they live long enough to die of old age - while I stay forever frozen in my thirties. You don't want to get involved with me. It's dangerous. People I get close to end up dead. Anna Valerious....Tessa. Don't join the list."



"I knew the risks when I signed up for this duty," she returned. "Please don't shut me out."



He sighed. "I won't. I'll do my best to protect you, but...no guarantees." Van Helsing pointed at the screen. "This may be our 'random werewolf.' The modus operandi fits. Little backwater towns, different one each month. He hits and runs, in and out. The brutal rape, the sexual mutilation -- eating the breasts and genitals. He's an elusive bastard, though. He's a real psycho -- probably is one in his human form, too. Maybe this time we'll have a chance to get him. Most of the time the law enforcement agencies won't admit that they have a werewolf on their hands, and by the time they do, it's too late - our beast has left town."



He glanced at her and smiled. "Ever been to Washington?"



"No. I hear it's pretty country though."



"It is," he said. "Let's go."



"Whoa, uno momento, cowboy," Miranda said. "You're forgetting the little matter of medical clearance. The staff is still concerned about the spinal trauma and bruising you sustained in your back when you hit that tree in Kentucky. It's almost cleared up, but they're not sure it's 100% cured - at least enough for you to go back into action."



"I'm fine," Van Helsing said defensively.



"Then let's see you stand up," she challenged.



He got up slowly and stiffly. He fought to hide the involuntary wince from Miranda, but she was having none of it.



"It's just a little creaky when I first get up," he said. "Once I get moving, it's fine. Maybe a cortisone shot..."



"That's up to the doctor," Miranda said.



"But I'm Chief of Operations!" he protested.



She chuckled. "On Star Trek, there was only one man who could pull rank on Captain Kirk, and that was Dr. McCoy! You, love, are in the same boat." Her eyes twinkled. "You could always do what James Bond did in Die Another Day."



"And that was?"



"He was still pretty banged up, and not really ready to go back on duty," Miranda replied with a grin. "007 persuaded the pretty young doctor to reactivate him by screwing her! You, however, my dear Gabe, need to convince Dr. Collins. He's 82 years old, been married 57 years, and is totally devoted to his wife!"



"I'm doomed!" Van Helsing groaned. "Come on, let's see if we can talk him into it."



He left the room. Miranda followed behind him. She glanced once more at the horrifying image of the werewolf.



A shudder coursed down her spine. She slammed the door and hurried after him.

sons of the dragon
22:52 May 25 2008
Times Read: 880

But first on earth as Vampire sent,

Thy corpse shall from the tomb be rent:

Then ghastly haunt thy native place,

And suck the blood of all thy race;

There from thy daughter, sister, wife,

At midnight drain the stream of life;

Yet loathe the banquet which perforce

Must feed thy livid living corpse.

Shall know the demon for their sire,

At cursing thee, thou cursing them,

Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

Wet thine own best blood shall drip

Thy gashing tooth and haggard lip;

Then stalking to thy sullen grace,

Go -- and with Gouls and Afrits rave;

Till these in horror shrink away

From Spectre more accursed than they!



Lord Byron, The Giaour, 1813



* * *



"Halloween's coming up too damn quick," Detective Cy Schmitt said somberly to Sergeant Ray Norton. "The chief wants to meet with us tomorrow. We better have the plan ready."



Last Halloween eight young women had been turned into zombies in a town just like theirs. On October 1, of last year, eight stakes arranged in a circle had been discovered outside the city where the atrocities occurred a month later. An unusual emblem lay in the middle of the stakes, which had been dipped in blood. A warning, but one that had been ignored. The farmer who found them called police, who at first considered it some sort of prank. But then eight nubile girls were found tied to the stakes, naked, the day after Halloween.



"This all seems like nonsense to me, Cy," Ray muttered irritably. "Just because some kids decided to have a little fun."



"The chief is taking it seriously, Ray. You saw the stakes and the emblem a week ago outside our city. Exactly the same. That emblem isn't something you can pick up at an antique shop. And it's over five hundred years old, according to Dr. Randolph. And those eight nude girls were found semi-comatose last Halloween. That's not nonsense, or having a little fun."



"I saw the pictures. They all had bodacious blinkers. I'm surprised that old dude who found them didn't just up and croak right there on the spot. Eight babes in the buff and on their knees. I would have made them my orchestra, and played pass the skin flute. When is Buffy the Vampire Slayer getting here, anyway?"



"Should be soon. Her flight should have landed half an hour ago."



"Why didn't you pick her up?"



"She told the chief she'd rent a car."



"What's she look like? Some old biddy?"



"I don't know what she looks like. And I've never seen or talked to her. The chief says she's a professor at some Ivy League school."



"And she is some sort of vampire expert?"



"Apparently she has spent a good deal of time in places like Hungary, Romania, Transylvania, and Albania, doing some sort of research on the subject."



"Wonderful. And I suppose we have to take orders from the bitch."



"Whatever the chief says. Speaking of which, here he comes."



"Yeah, look at that chick with him. Hot damn! Hope she's the new temp. I'd like to pat her ass, cop a feel on those knockers, and lick her pussy."



"You better put the booze away, Ray. The chief said next time he catches you, you're on suspension. Without pay. How are you going to settle up those gambling debts?"



Ray slid the bottle of Jack Daniels back into his top drawer. The chief approached their desks with the young woman.



The detective and the sergeant looked her over carefully. Tall, scarlet hair put up over her head, pale complexion. Very pretty and sexy despite her rather businesslike attire. Cropped black jacket, white silk blouse, check-print cotton pleated skirt. Mid-twenties, Cy estimated her age. Almost old enough to be his daughter, he mused, and young enough to be one of Ray's girlfriends. He stifled a chuckle at the thought. Not that Ray wouldn't try his luck. He often bragged to Cy that he was a babe magnet.



"Cy, Ray," the chief said, "this is Dr. Margaret Randolph. Like I informed you, she'll be working the 'Dragon' case with you. Now the three of you put your heads together and we'll meet late tomorrow afternoon. Got it?" They nodded. The chief turned and walked away.



"Cy, Ray," she greeted, and extended her hand. Ray remained seated, grasped it firmly and squeezed it hard. She didn't grimace. Cy stood and took her hand by the fingers, like a gentleman.



"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Randolph," Cy offered.



She laughed delightfully. "You guys can address me by my first name. I think we are going to be spending a lot of time together between now and Halloween."



"Okay, Peggy, so what's your plan to catch the vampires?" Ray asked sarcastically.



"It's Margaret," she snapped. Cy gave him a look that said, You better be careful with this one, boy. She's not one of your bimbos.



"That's your desk, Margaret," Cy informed her, pointing. He had pushed it up against theirs, facing them.



"Thank you." She placed her briefcase and notebook computer on the desk, and sat gracefully. "Let's get started, shall we?"



The professor gave them a lecture. Cy acted like a student, taking notes furiously. Ray looked bored, drifting off into space, but his eyes riveted on her long, lovely legs.



Margaret told them of the Sons of the Dragon, which the emblem represented. The Order of the Dragon originated as a secret fraternal organization founded in 1387 by the Holy Roman Emperor. The emblem of the order consisted of a dragon with its wings extended, hanging on a cross. Like the ones found in the middle of the circle of stakes, in that town, and now this town. The same emblem that hung over the door at Curtea Domneasca, Vlad Dracula's palace in Bucharest.



She explained that "drac" means "dragon" in Romanian, with "ul" being the definitive article. Vlad Tepes, or Vlad III, inspired Bram Stoker's novel. His father, Vlad II, had been a member of the Order of the Dragon. The father became known as Vlad the Dragon, or Vlad Dracul. The ending "ula" in Romanian means "the son of." Thus Vlad III became Vlad Dracula, "the son of the dragon."



Ray interrupted. "So you are going to tell us, uh…Margaret, that whoever tied those chicks to the stakes in their birthday suits are frigging vampires? Some sort of descendents of this 'Son of the Dragon.' I don't believe this bullshit!" He guffawed.



"Watch your language, Ray," Cy chastised, looking angry. "Tell us more, Margaret. What about the incidents last year? We have the police reports, the medical reports, and all that. But what…how…?"



"Yes, let me continue, Cy. The surname 'Tepes' means 'The Impaler' in the Romania language. Vlad Tepes enforced his self-righteous morality upon his country, expressing violently a particular concern with female chastity. His victims most often experienced torture or death as a result of their indiscretions. Some were impaled through the vagina. Vlad's own unfaithful mistress suffered such a fate." Suddenly she seemed a trifle distressed, and squirmed in her seat. "Uh…Cy, where is the bathroom?" He pointed her in the right direction.



After she got up and left, Ray began to grumble. "Those honey pies got impaled through the vagina all right, Cy." Ray snickered. "With a big fat python of pleasure, just like mine. Who is that snotty smart-ass bitch trying to kid? Those fur burgers got fucked silly and loved every minute of the fuzz bumping. Then they probably begged to get it up the heiny hole. This Halloween I think I'll wear a Dracula costume, and let the bearded clams grovel before me on their knees."



"Ray, I would appreciate it if you would watch your language around the lady. She's not one of those crack whores you just love to roust."



"They're all whores, and they all got cracks," Ray retorted flippantly. "Here comes the nut cracker back from the toilet. I bet she was sitting on the seat and tickling her tuna."



"Margaret, why do you think those eight women were chosen as victims?" Cy asked, as she sat back down. "None of them were prostitutes, or anything like that. Just girls out to have fun on Halloween. All dressed in costumes, out partying at clubs and bars. I even have a description of the costume each wore that evening. Let's see…three witches, a French maid, two angels, a Cinderella, and a Snow White."



One of them was my sister. An angel, but dressed as a "mekasefa," the Hebrew word for female witch, so she said. Margaret recalled sorrowfully their telephone conversation an hour before Katherine--Katie--left for the Halloween party at her favorite club.



"Hey, I saw those outfits those sluts wore," Ray noted, smirking. "Sexy stuff. Short skirts, a lot of skin. Cock teasers."



"Ray!" Cy snarled. "All eight women had severe bite marks on their necks, and a substantial quantity of their blood had been drained."



"The vampires sucked their blood out," Ray growled, as he bared his teeth and extended his tongue in a licking motion directed at Margaret. "Isn't that what vampires do? Suck? Are you a vampire?" he posed, glowering at her lecherously .



"Each young woman," Margaret responded, nodding at Cy and ignoring Ray, "was seen by companions talking with a tall, handsome, mustachioed man dressed in a black cape and some sort of red suit underneath it. But the victims' companions that night couldn't give me much more to go on. All except one. I talked to every one I could locate." Katie told me nothing. But I see the desperate look in her hollow eyes. She wants to talk, but can't.



"Tell us about the one exception, Margaret," Cy requested.



"One of the eight victims, Maryellen Patton, left with a mustachioed man in black and red, according to the girlfriend she went to the club with. This girlfriend, Amanda Morrison, told me Maryellen called her on her cell phone about 11:45 P.M at the club. The man, who called himself Radu, had left the motel room to get a pack of smokes, so he said. After they had a very strange sexual liaison for an hour. Then Radu returned as the two young women continued to talk on the phone. Amanda heard a terrifying scream. Then nothing."



"Tell us about the weird sex," Ray urged, becoming much more interested.



"Do you think we could get something to eat, Cy?" Margaret inquired, her stomach growling. "I'm famished." He nodded. "Let me check into my hotel and change, and I'll meet you in an hour." He nodded again. Cy wrote down on a slip of paper the name, address, and directions to his favorite neighborhood tavern. "I take it jeans and a T-shirt are appropriate attire?"



"Naked would be better," Ray rumbled under his breath, but the others heard.



"That's fine, Margaret, whatever you want to wear is fine. Don't pay any attention to the sergeant. His mother never taught him how to behave in the presence of a lady."



"Well, about an hour then, gentlemen." She coughed as she glanced at Ray, and got up and left.



* * *



The man in black and red followed Dr. Margaret Randolph from the police station to the Holiday Inn. He waited for forty-five minutes until she came back out and got in the rental car. The son of the dragon resumed surveillance.



* * *



Margaret walked into the tavern and spotted Cy and Ray at a table, already drinking beer and eating pizza. She approached them. "How did you know I like anchovies, Cy?" she asked, amused.



"Not me. Ray ordered the pizza."



"I like fish," Ray muttered impudently, staring right at the doctor's crotch, irritated about the rapport that Cy and she seemed to be slowly establishing.



Cy gave Ray a threatening look and pulled out a chair for Margaret. She sat. He gave her a plate and she took a slice of pizza. "What would you like to drink?" he asked.



"Sailor Jerry," she responded, "with a lot of ice and Coke on the side." She pulled a jar of garlic powder from her purse and liberally sprinkled it on her pizza.



"How do you kill a vampire, Margaret?" Ray queried rather pugnaciously. "Screw him to death?"



She froze him with a stare that Cy thought just might make the living dead quake in their coffins, if there were such a thing.



"I meant," Ray continued tentatively, "I've heard all kinds of theories about how to kill vampires. The old stake screwed through the heart, a nail through the temple, remove their heart and cut it in two, cut off their toes, cut off the head and boil it in vinegar, bury them face downwards, expose them to direct sunlight. So what works?"



"What about garlic?" Cy asked, watching her devour the garlic-saturated pizza.



"You must do a little cooking, Cy," Margaret responded, smiling at him warmly. "Garlic, indeed. In some areas of Romania they still today smear garlic on the windows and doors of their homes, stuff it in the bodily orifices of corpses to prevent the evil ones from entering the dead body, and things like that."



"Are you going to tell us about the weird sex, or not?" Ray asked impatiently.



"Did you know, Cy," she continued ignoring Ray, "that the French occultist Robert Amelian claimed it was arsenic not garlic that foiled vampires? Somewhere along the line garlic, which smells somewhat similar--so they say--was substituted because it was cheaper."



"How interesting. How about the kinky shagging?" Ray persisted, belligerently.



"Cy, did you notice anything else about the eight victims from the medical reports that we haven't discussed?"



"No, Margaret, not that I recall. Did you?"



"All of the girls have O negative blood."



"I missed that connection."



"Only six percent of the population is O negative," she observed. "Don't you think it's highly unusual that these eight young women all are O negative?"



"Not really," Rau grumbled.



"Statistically, the odds of a random group of eight people all being O negative is one in six billion."



"So what?" Ray blurted.



"I see your point, Margaret," Cy conceded.



"And O negative is the most in demand blood type for transfusions," she continued. "People who have any other blood type can be safely transfused with O negative blood. This becomes very important in critical medical emergencies."



"So you are saying that vampires like to drink O negative blood, 'eh?" Ray bellowed. "Don't matter to me. I got my red wings. I like it bloody. I must be one of them vampires myself. By the way, one of my favorite groups is Type O Negative."



She nodded. "I'm familiar with that group."



"Tunes like 'Christian Woman' about a chick with a cross on her bedroom wall and the image of a prick burning in her mind and between her thighs. Yeah, and 'Little Miss Scare-All' is another one I like. The vamp with the Devil's mark on her neck practices boo bitch craft. Which one are you, Margaret, the X-tian nympho or the horny vamp? Probably both, but let's talk about what the perps did to the horny chicks when they wing-wonged them and turned their minds into Jello. Not that they probably had much to begin with."



Turning a deaf ear to Ray, she smiled sweetly at Cy, and said, "What I think is a possibility is that perhaps certain other blood types might not be…uh…how should I put this…totally compatible with a vampire's palate. Just maybe the vampire's body rejects other blood types. What blood type are you, Cy?"



"A positive."



"That's the most common type. How about you, Jack?" She glared at Ray.



"My name is Ray."



"Oh. What blood type are you?"



"I don't really give a damn," he replied, disinterested in the conversation.



"Well, you could safely receive a blood transfusion from me, an O negative. Not that I would give my blood for you, unless it was contaminated." She gave him a confrontational, incredibly intense gaze.



"You two believe all this vampire crap?" Ray roared at her and Cy.



"If these perpetrators aren't vampires, then they think they are," she snapped at him viciously. Several tears fell from her misty, emerald green eyes.



"Margaret, don't let Ray get to you."



"Ray is not getting to me, Cy. No way is he getting to me. Quit staring at me like I'm a piece of meat, Sergeant Norton. And cease the profanity and sexual innuendos immediately. Or I'll be talking to your chief about harassment. That, or perhaps I'll kick you in the cojones. Do you understand?"



Ray looked quite dumbfounded. He intimidated most women and they dared not speak to him like this one did. One way or another, he found a way to stick his dick in their mouth and shut them up. He looked forward to doing the same to this witch bitch.



Cy changed the subject quickly to break the boiling tension between his two companions at the table.



"Margaret, what significance do you think is attached to the number eight? Eight victims last Halloween. Eight stakes found outside our city limits a few weeks before this Halloween."



"Eight, spiritually speaking, symbolizes resurrection or regeneration -- a new beginning."



"Those young women had a new beginning all right," Cy agreed. "In another world."



"Yes, another world," Margaret murmured softly. Like Katie. She visited her younger sister every Sunday at the nursing home. She read to her, and told her anecdotes about their childhood. But Katie remained expressionless. Margaret had raised Katie after their parents died. But was it really due to an automobile accident? Margaret now wondered more than ever.



The man in black and red who had followed Margaret entered the tavern. He sat at a bar stool sideways, so he could watch them without being obvious. But she noticed his uncommon interest. And so did Ray, who chalked it up to the guy fantasizing about getting in this babe's pants, just like he did.



"Vampires, the Nosferatu," Cy muttered, under his breath.



"What? What did you say, Cy?"



"Oh, just talking to myself, Margaret."



"What about the Nosferatu?" she persisted.



"I'm somewhat of a devotee of ancient horror films. Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horrors is one of my favorites. It first played more than eighty years ago in Germany. Kind of a take on Bram Stoker's novel. Too much of a take, apparently. Stoker's widow sued the maker of the film. She sought to destroy all copies but they continued to surface over the years. A remake entitled Nosferatu the Vampyre was released a little over twenty years ago. Then several years after that a restored copy of the original became available."



"Yes, I'm aware of that, Cy," Margaret said. "But did you know that 'nosferatu' does not mean 'vampire' or 'undead' or such?"



"What does it mean?"



"It's a Slavonic word that was derived from the Greek nosophoros, which means 'plague carrier.' Plague carrier, indeed. Our eight victims of Halloween past seem to have been infected with some strange malady. Something that makes them living corpses."



"Who gives a shit about some stupid old movie?" Ray objected vehemently. "We need to talk about what happened to those eight chicks."



"Oh, you mean the ones who are now vegetables?" Margaret gnarled viciously.



"Yeah. Are you going to tell us what the girlfriend of the victim said or not?" Ray pleaded, much more timidly.



"Yes, I suppose I must. Perhaps it will give you a clue we must deal with these creatures. In order to defeat evil, you must understand the nature of evil." She glared at Ray and he scowled in return.



Cy, furrowed brow and sullen frown, seemed to be deeply contemplating her last remark, and then he repeated it. "In order to defeat evil, you must understand the nature of evil."



Margaret told the two police officers the story as the girlfriend, Amanda Morrison, had related it to her. She and the victim, Maryellen Patton, had gone to the Catbird Club for the Halloween party dressed in skimpy little French maid outfits. Maryellen wore the baby doll maid costume. Ribbon adjustable straps, stretch satin with lace ruffle cups and lined with netting. Matching apron, attached garters, sheer panty and stockings.The one named Radu approached the two young women on the dance floor and asked if he might join them. Maryellen readily agreed and soon became totally infatuated with the man in the black cape and some sort of red suit underneath it. They went back to their table for a drink after about fifteen minutes of dancing, and Radu joined them. Maryellen hung all over him. His eyes and voice seemed to mesmerize her. He recited poetry in an English accent. Amanda herself said he had some sort of incredible animal magetism. Soon Maryellen whispered to Amanda that she would be leaving shortly with him. Amanda suggested a threesome, but her girlfriend said no. How fortunate Amanda felt afterwards, that she didn't go with them, after her best friend was turned into some sort of mindless zombie.



"What about the bizarre bone dancing?" Ray interrupted.



"Maryellen told Amanda that Radu ejaculated seven times in an hour. Four times in her vagina, twice in her mouth, and once in her anus. And he had a huge penis that never, not once, didn't stay totally erect during that hour and his seven orgasms. And she couldn't even count how many orgasms she had during that time."



"That's physiologically impossible!" Cy asserted.



"I can do that!" Ray boasted. "Hey, baby, how many times can you cum in an hour?" He leered at Margaret.



"With you? None, I'm sure." Her deadly look froze him into silence.



"And then, this Radu came back to the room and soon Amanda heard Maryellen scream, and then silence on the line?"



"Yes, Cy."



"Maybe he was doing her again and that's why she screamed," Ray offered tentatively. "I make them scream."



Margaret looked troubled, but not about Ray. "Cy, do you see that man dressed in black and red sitting at the bar? With the bushy, drooping mustache?"



"Yes, I see him."



"He's been watching us."



"So I noticed," Ray agreed. "Watching you, sweet meat," Ray suggested boldly. "You're one hot little number."



"It's probably nothing, Margaret," Cy offered feebly, upset by his partner's crudity, but not knowing what to do about it. Although he had learned to ignore Ray's blatantly misogynistic behavior, he found himself unable to do so now that it was directed at Margaret. He wondered how long Margaret could tolerate it. I hope she smacks him upside his stupid head, and stomps on his balls.



"Speaking of sweet meat, I see something at the bar I like," Ray said as he rose. "All this sex talk gave me a big boner. Would you like to see, Miss Margaret?" She pretended she didn't hear. "I need to get my hose drained."



Ray approached the young lady at the bar. She was displaying her ample wares in a halter top cut so low that her breasts looked like they would pop out at any moment and a miniskirt barely long enough to hide her panties--if she were even wearing any, that is.



"Hello, honey," he greeted. "I'm in town for a few days on business. He showed her one of the fake cards he had made for such occasions."



"Hello Raymond, I see you are a vice president," she purred seductively. "My name is Candy. Auto parts?"



"Yeah, do you need some body work?" he asked, with a chuckle.



"Oh yeah, baby. I love body work."



"What do you do?"



"Oh, well, I just don't know. Depends," the hooker cooed, letting him see even more of her voluptuous silicone-enhanced melons. She didn't think he looked like a vice cop. He looked like a chump who had an expense account and could be persuaded to spend up a storm. And the business card did look legitimate.



"How much for some Candy?"



"Why don't you buy me a drink and I'll check the price list?" He ordered her another Long Island Iced Tea." She drained it quickly and her look told him another one would be appreciated. He motioned for the bartender to do her again.



"So, Candy, what's some smoked pickle going to cost the bank?"



"Fifty for oral. A hundred for anything else. Condoms required."



"Even for oral?"



"Damn right."



He showed her his badge. "You just might be under arrest, Candy."



Her shocked look quickly evaporated. "Might be? I have an alternative?"



"Let's go in the bathroom and negotiate."



"Okay."



Once inside the men's room, which was rather large with two urinals and a commode, Ray quickly unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard and eager cock. Damn that Randolph bitch. What a cock tease. I'll just pretend she's the dumb cunt who's blowing me. I know she wants to. They all do.



Margaret gave Cy a vampire lesson in Ray's absence. She explained that the Nosferatu of Transylvania, according to some legend and lore, caused their lovers to enter into a kind of euphoric state, which then evolved into another stage where the "victim" eventually became emaciated and even catatonic in some cases. Hence, some thought it to be the result of disease or plague. She reminded Cy that the eight young women tied naked to the stakes last Halloween had all now lost a substantial amount of weight. Certainly, they appeared catatonic. They didn't want to eat, or do anything else. But no medical cause of their malady had been determined. Yes, and I have had all the so-called medical experts examine my sister. Nothing. They can find nothing wrong with her that they can explain medically, scientifically, or any other way. I can, but no one will believe me.



"Cy," she said softly, "One mind can interact with another, without words or any other apparent communication. I believe that it does happen. A person can generate a thought or feeling in his brain, and in the form of waves of mental energy, plant those thoughts or feelings in the mind of another. One who understands this phenomena can purposefully transfer thoughts to another. But only the alpha male has the 'dark gift' -- the ability to seduce women mentally, and then seduce them physically, over and over and over. Until the women turn into zombies, their bodies satiated with sex, and their brains satiated with remembrances of that sex. Euphoria that they try to relive in their minds again and again. It's all they obsess about."



"You are saying that a Nosferatu…well, what exactly are you saying, Margaret?"



"That this alpha male, a Nosferatu, is a "blood" relative of Vlad Tepes. A Nosferatu is not immortal, but is supernatural. The alpha female with whom they mate must be of a certain blood type in order to provide the…uh…necessary engorgement of the applicable member to maintain a continuous erection, despite multiple ejaculations. Thus the loss of a certain amount of blood on the part of our eight victims."



"But, Margaret, you are trying to tell me that…"



"I'm telling you, Cy, again, that in order to do battle with the forces of evil, you must understand the nature of evil."



Just then the chief of police, Tom Akers, walked into the tavern and found Cy and Margaret immediately. "Where's Ray? I have to get him to sign this police report. The assistant D.A. needs it for an arraignment first thing in the morning."



Margaret interrupted Cy, who started to speak. "The sergeant is in the men's room. He's been in there awhile."



"Well, I can't wait forever," the chief complained. He stormed toward the bathroom.



Candy had a lot of experience in getting them off quick. Ray proved no exception. On a good night she sucked around twenty cocks. Her current record was thirty-two at a stag party, and she did the groom twice, the last time for free. It all took only about an hour.



"C'mon, baby, guzzle some cum, give me your best hum job," Ray ordered, as he had pushed the young, voluptuous hooker to her knees.



Candy had been playing with his cock and now it stood straight up, begging for her soft wet lips to cover its head. She slid her mouth up and down over it, and swung her head around and around and around like a rag doll, as she twirled her lips gently around the ridge at the back of the head of his throbbing, eager-to-be-pleased meat. This dude is going to bust a nut in two minutes, for sure, she predicted to herself. She let his cock feel the back of her throat, and then took him back out again until her lips closed on the head. Back in all the way. In and out, in and out, in and out. Candy buried her face in his bush as he thrust viciously at her, trying to get deeper and deeper down the pipe. His body began to shudder and convulse, as he moaned and screamed every imaginable obscenity. She sucked it out of him, hard and fast, swallowing, and then took his cock back to the bottom of her throat as he took his last deep shot.



Just as Candy began to clean him off expertly with her lips and tongue, Chief Akers opened the men's room door. "God damn it, Ray!" the chief blurted. "If you weren't off duty, I'd suspend you for sure this time. For Christ's sake, don't you ever keep your dick in your pants? Here, sign this."



"Uh…Chief…I…uh…"



Candy, amused immensely by the situation, held Ray's cock on the tip of her tongue, and let the last drops dribble down her throat.



"Sign the God damn police report, Ray!" Akers roared. The sergeant did quickly, and the chief stormed out. "What a moron!" he snarled at Cy as he left the tavern. "Does the asshole ever quit thinking with his little head?" he added in disgust.



Ray came back to the table, a big wet spot on the front of his pants, and a serious grimace on his face. "The chief is really pissed at me," he concluded miserably.



"He damn well should be, Ray," Cy chastised. "That's only the third time he's caught you with your pants down."



"That's such a shame," Margaret consoled melodramatically, with just the right touch of contempt. "Well, I'm calling it a night, gentlemen. You too, Ray. I'll see you early tomorrow, a couple hours before we meet with the chief."



Margaret rose to leave. As she walked to the door, the man at the bar blocked her path. They spoke to each other as their eyes locked. He couldn't seem to look away from her and his facial expression changed from one of agitation to fear. The man fell to the floor and twisted about in convulsions. He made low gutteral sounds and chanted something frantically.



Cy and Ray took immediate control of the situation and summoned emergency personnel.



"What do you think is the matter with him?" Cy asked Margaret.



"Some sort of seizure, I would suspect."



"What did he say to you?"



"Nothing, really. He said I looked familiar and wondered if he knew me. I said I didn't think so."



"I think the witch cast a spell on the guy," Ray proposed, recovering somewhat from his ordeal with the chief.



"How did you know?" she spat at Ray. "I read minds, foretell the future, and prepare a variety of magical herbal oils, creams, and powders. I am a witch, and consort with the devils and put them under my spell. No, I didn't graduate from Harry Potter's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft. I obtained my Venefica at Hexenshule in Klagenfurt, Austria."



"Huh?" he muttered, perplexed.



"Never mind. I seriously doubt you have ever read Malleus Maleficarium, the witch hunter's Bible. It also contains a section on how to hunt and kill vampires."



"Wha…wha…what?" he stammered.



"I said forget it. But then, that little head you do all your thinking with doesn't have the mental capacity to comprehend much of anything, does it? Not to worry, I'll let the chief know, when I talk to him tomorrow, what a pig you are. But he already knows, doesn't he?" Ray's face turned beet red.



She turned to the older detective. "Cy, make sure they get some of this guy's blood at the hospital."



"Why?"



"I'm interested in blood, didn't you know?"



"Yes, of course you are, Margaret. Whatever you wish. They probably would anyway. I'll tell them I want the blood taken to ascertain if the man was inebriated."



"Thank you. Goodnight." She walked out.



* * *



Margaret called Cy on the cell phone number he had given her as soon as the sun rose and asked rather urgently, "Did you get the blood?"



"Yes. I'll give it to you at the station in a couple hours."



"No! I want it now!"



"Give me half an hour, Margaret, I'll bring it over to your hotel."



"Please do."



He made it in twenty minutes. She grabbed the container from his hand and rushed out, with, "I'll see you at the station right after lunch."



* * *



Margaret made the two hundred mile drive in about four hours. On the way, she thought fondly of Nellie, her nickname for Dr. Nelson Rutherford.



Dr. Rutherford, a forensic anthropologist, had given her numerous lessons regarding DNA when they talked. He told her that there are around a hundred trillion cells in a human body, and in the nucleus of cells are bundles of chromosomes. Genes consist of Deoxyribonucleic Acid -- DNA, the master molecule of life. The sequence of the base pairs with the DNA helix is unique for every person, except for identical twins, forming the individual's genetic blueprint or code.



DNA typing, he explained patiently, had significantly expanded the sources of evidence that could be tested and the amount of evidence needed to conduct a conclusive analysis. The DNA typing for humans is very similar, the professor maintained. The small amount of differences, known as polymorphisms, are what is analyzed to distinguish one person from another. Two methods are most prevalent. The first is VNTR, which measures the length of the the DNA at specific locations. The second is PCR, which determines the difference in the nucleotide letters to be found in a specific pair of bases. Blood, semen, and saliva are the best sources for accurate DNA testing, Nellie had informed her.



"Hello, Nellie." She embraced him warmly as he opened the door.



"Hello, Margaret. I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you again, my dear."



"I can't stay. Urgent business. Life and death. Do you remember my sister?"



"Why yes, of course. Such a tragedy."



"It's about her. And the others. Possibly more young women that may suffer the same fate this Halloween"



"My God!"



"Yes, my God, indeed. Here." She handed him the blood sample.



"Margaret, I will conduct DNA typing and other analysis and report back to you as soon as possible."



"Thank you, Nellie." She kissed him lovingly on the cheek, and ran back to her car, which she had left running.



* * *



Radu met with his chosen ones at the motherhouse they had established in an old abandoned church in the city.



"The Randolph woman has compromised one of our own. The one who I assigned to follow her. He must be destroyed before they find out."



He projected his voice to an earth-shattering level, and then spoke too low for humans to detect. But his minions heard.



"She must be stopped. Before the night of All-Hallows Eve, the night the worlds of the living and the dead become blurred, and our brothers the ghosts of the dead return to the earth to wreak havoc on the inferior human beings who populate this ungodly place. The coffins of hell are waiting to be filled."



Again his voice rose, causing the building to rattle and shake off its foundation.



"I have taken her family and now I must take her. She is a "mekasefa," a witch--the curse on the Nosferatu."



The wall cracked and dust fell from the high ceiling.



"Bring her to me!"



* * *



Margaret arrived at the police station too late to meet with Cy and Ray. They were already in the chief's office.



"Hello, Ms. Randolph," Chief Akers greet somberly, intentionally ignoring her pedigree. "Ray has been telling me you have a whole pile of wild and crazy theories about vampires." Cy just shrugged helplessly.



"The vampires are coming! The vampires are coming!" Ray gibed.



"Shut up, Ray," the chief ordered. "Please tell me about your theories, Margaret, I'm very interested," the chief said in a patronizing tone.



"Chief Akers, why did you bring me here?" she asked, very seriously. "The truth, please."



"CYA," Ray suggested, before the chief could respond. "To cover his butt." The chief silenced him with an ominous stare down.



"Margaret, I don't know exactly what happened in that other town," the chief began, "but I certainly don't want to discover eight naked young women tied to stakes the day after Halloween in my town."



"Nor do I, Chief Akers, nor do I," she agreed, as a single, large tear fell down her left cheek. "Let me ask you a few questions. Last Halloween's eight victims were all taken to the same hospital. That hospital used rape kits furnished by the Sexual Assault Evidence Collection Program. Each kit is a box that contains detailed procedures for evidence collection and all the medical equipment necessary to conduct a thorough medical examination on a sexual assault victim."



"We don't know that those sluts were raped," Ray objected. "They didn't say so, now did they?"



"No, the women didn't say so." Margaret glowered fiercely at Ray. "But a rape kit was completed on each victim. Semen was found in each instance. There is no question that the women did have sexual intercourse shortly before they had been tied to the stakes. The rape kits, in small white boxes, were sealed in plastic by hospital technicians, labeled with a case number by a detective, and stored in refrigerators in the medical examiner's office. But they were never tested for DNA."



"Of course not," Chief Akers interjected. "No reason to spend $1,000 to test each one. First, you don't have confirmation of rape. Second, you have no suspect to compare the DNA with. Third, I'm not sure exactly what crime we do have here. Some might say tieing naked girls to stakes is just a…uh…"



"I've tied up lots of girls," Ray offered. "They like it like that. You wouldn't believe how many chicks are into bondage."



"Thank you, Ray," the chief acknowledged irritably.



"Do you know what happened to those rape kits, Chief Akers?" Margaret asked.



"Happened to them? No. Tell me."



"They mysteriously disappeared from the medical examiner's office a few months later."



"I'm not sure that surprises me all that much, Margaret. We occasionally have evidence that up and vanishes for one reason or another and nobody knows why."



"Yeah, like the gun in that multiple homicide," Ray concurred. "Drug deal gone bad. The perp, Otis Simpson, got off, and then he did it again."



"We sure looked like fools in that one," the chief uttered. "That's what I don't want to see happen on Halloween. I'll dress as a clown and pass out candy, but I don't want the media all over the country portraying my department as a bunch of clowns. Now, Margaret, give it to me in a nutshell. Not possible theories. What you think. And Ray, you keep your damn trap shut until she's finished. Cy, you are unusually quiet." He just nodded.



"A Nosferatu, the name given to the vampire of Transylvania, possesses meta-normal perception, hyper-dimensional consciousness, and extraordinary telepathic powers. He also has super-human physical ability, which is increased even more dramatically by ingesting a certain type of human blood. The eyes of a Nosferatu are incandescent and hypnotic to humans. One of the victims of last Halloween, Maryellen Patton, described the eyes of the man she left with that night as flaming, beautiful, and alluring. She claimed to her friend he had sexual prowess beyond comprehension. A Nosteratu is infatuated with torturing humans. Vlad the Impaler, the first 'Son of the Dragon,' murdered 100,000 victims by impalement, one of the most gruesome ways of dying one can possibly imagine. He ordered his subordinates to oil the stakes and make sure they were not too sharp, or else the victim might die too quickly from shock. Usually the stake was jammed through the anus until it reached the throat. Except for unfaithful women. They got it in the vagina. And babies were frequently impaled on a stake forced through their mother's chest. But the 'Son of the Dragon' also liked to put nails in heads, burn them alive, scalp and skin, mutilate sexual …" A persistent knock at the door interrupted Margaret. The chief waved his secretary to come in. "Chief, there are two people who keep calling and saying it is urgent. One is a Dr. Rutherford who wants to speak to Ms. Randolph. The other is someone from the hospital who wants to talk to Detective Schmitt. They are both on the line now, insisting that I get them."



"Go take the calls," the chief growled at Margaret and Cy.



Margaret returned first and sat silently, waiting for Cy. He soon came back in.



"A forensic scientist friend of mine examined the blood sample from the man who collapsed in the bar last night as he spoke to me. Dr. Rutherford maintains that the individual is not human, not in the normal sense of the word."



Then Cy spoke. "That man died two hours ago. His body is on the way to the morgue."



"God damn it!" the chief roared. "What in the hell is going on? Ray, you go to the hospital and check it out. Margaret, please get a written report from this Dr. Rutherford. Cy, get a sample of that blood to the coroner. I want his people to examine it."



As they exited the chief's office, Margaret asked Cy, "Do you have a family?"



"A daughter in college. Her mother died in childbirth. My parents are deceased. A brother in California. Two nephews. You?"



"My parents are also deceased. Just a younger sister. She is in a nursing home. One of the eight victims of last Halloween."



Margaret rushed out of the police station as Cy stood speechless in shock.



* * *



Feeling totally exhausted, Margaret returned to her hotel room to rest. She lay on the bed and retrieved the books of poetry from her luggage. She opened Lord Byron's Fugitive Pieces, published in 1806 in a very limited edition, which contained To Mary--toMary Ann Chaworth, Lord Byron's cousin and one of the first of many lovers. She closed that book and picked up Don Juan, Byron'sbrilliant work that to her rivaled Milton's Paradise Lost, Wordsworth's The Prelude, and Spencer's The Faerie Queene.



And then Margaret opened the folder, the folder that contained Lord Byron's shocking verse and notes pertaining to the Nosferatu he wrote in Arabic while in Albania in 1808. This material had never been published anywhere, although some of his later poems did touch upon vampires in a quite disturbing manner. She had obtained the contents of the folder during her travels to the nether regions of Albania.



The despot of Albania, Ali Pasha, became infatuated with Lord Byron, and fascinated him with unimaginable tales of Nosferatu, endowed with "supernatural" sexual prowess, seducing women and turning them into zombies. Ali Pasha introduced Byron to the "dark gift" of the Nosferatu, the poet wrote.



Margaret's thoughts drifted to Mary Shelley, who conceived Frankenstein while in the embrace of Lord Byron on June 16, 1816 at Villa Diodati in Geneva, Switzerland. She wrote that horror novel, but lived a more terrible nightmare. Lord Byron seduced her half sister, Fanny Inlay, and also Harriet Westbrook, Percy Shelley's wife. Both committed suicide. Harriet drowned herself and her premature baby fathered by Byron.



Mary Shelley never told her real horror story until on her deathbed in 1851 in London. The nurse who cared for Shelley in those last days wrote an account of the author's seemingly incoherent ramblings of sexual liaisons with a vampire in her youth. The nurse had read Frankenstein, and chalked up the diatribe to an over-active imagination, fueled by morphine given to combat the pain. Margaret had obtained that account from the nurse's great-granddaughter.



Of particular interest was the nurse's description of Shelley's recollection of an abnormal feeling of being unable to move or talk, as she believed her psyche was being manipulated by Lord Byron. She claimed he psychically penetrated her mind and whimsically induced in her a state of both incredibly intense fear, and extraordinary extreme pleasure.



Even perhaps more enlightening was the short story, "The Vampyre," written by Mary Shelley's close friend, Dr. John Polidori. The doctor also happened to be Lord Byron's personal physician. Yes, Lord Ruthven, the vampire of the story, was Lord Byron, or so Polidori told Mary Shelley. He also told her that Byron had an obsession with blood, often drinking it from a wine glass, and would ignore questions about from whence it came.



Margaret began to recite the verses from Lord Byron's The Giaour, which she knew by heart. "But first on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corpse shall from the tomb be rent: The ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race; There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life; Yet loathe the…"



The ringing telephone interrupted Margaret's morbid contemplation.



"It's me…Cy." His voice trembled.



"What is it, Cy? Is something wrong?"



"Ray…he's…Ray…is…he's dead."



"Wha…what?"



"They found him at the morgue. In the locker where our John Doe from the bar had been put in cold storage. His body is now missing. Ray's body…" Cy's voice cracked.



"Tell me, Cy." But she already knew.



"Impaled. Wooden stake inserted through his anus. It came out his throat."



"Oh my God! Cy, I'm so sorry. I didn't like him, but this…"



"I identified the body. The look frozen on his face. Pure terror. Do you want some company, Margaret?"



"No, Cy. I'm tired. Need to rest."



He sounded very disappointed. "The chief wants to see us first thing in the morning."



"I'll be there."



"They must be stopped, Margaret--the Nosferatu. Your sister…now murder…torture."



"Yes, Cy, they must be stopped. My sister will be avenged. Soon, very soon. Tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She hung up abruptly.



Margaret retrieved the vial of water mixed with arsenic she had hidden. Enough to kill a football team, but slowly, she reckoned, as she drank it.



* * *



At midnight Margaret changed into the figure-hugging black, latex catsuit, went out and got into the rental car, and drove off to let them take her.



They followed her, as she knew they would. Margaret pulled over on a deserted stretch of road, popped the hood, and got out and looked at the engine, as if there was some sort of mechanical problem. The van pulled behind her. Three of them got out and approached her. Margaret didn't resist. They took her to the motherhouse. The ominous atmosphere and a demonic luminous radiation terrified her, but she gritted her teeth. I must do this. I understand the nature of evil, which I must use to defeat evil. For my sister. For my parents. For humanity. I must.



They threw her at the feet of Radu. Margaret rose slowly and stared him down. He wore a chain with a medallion around his neck. She recognized the Order of the Dragon emblem.



"Strip her," Radu ordered. But she pushed their hands away, lowered the back zip of the catsuit, and slithered out of it.



The Nosferatu walked around Margaret, inspecting her nude body. He came back to the front and looked her up and down, licking his lips lewdly. "Spread your legs!" he demanded, and she complied. He began to explore. "Yes, as I thought. Her clitoris. A mekasefa, no question, as is her catatonic sister and was her deceased mother."



Margaret glanced over his shoulder at the gigantic iron bed in the far side of the enormous room. She recalled the words of Deuteronomy 3:11, "For only Og king of Bashan remained of the remnant of the Rephaim. Indeed his bedstead was an iron bedstead. Nine cubits is its length and four cubits its width." The bed in this room was about the same size, thirteen feet long and six feet wide. Yes, the ancient myths of the Rephaim, the truth behind the vampire legends of the Nosferatu.



Radu's brilliant eyes fixated on hers. He emanated thought waves, darting forth like an electric spark, directed by his powerful will. I am stronger than you--my will overcomes yours. You desire me. You will do as I say. You will yield to me fully and completely.



Margaret could "feel" the force of the unspoken words. She put out of her mind all fear of the Nosferatu. You have no power over me. I defy you--my inner power casts off your influence.



Radu laughed. In Margaret's head it sounded like gravel moving down a playground slide.



Stop fighting me, Margaret. You can not resist. I will win. You will submit. You will.



She fearlessly spoke the words the Nosferatu fear, "Mene, mene, tekel, upsharin."



The psychic wire between them snapped. The Nosferatu laughed again, the sound of broken glass.



He retaliated with, "Die Zauberinnem soltu nicht leben lassen," and jolted her with another charge of electrifying physic energy, which Margaret once again fended off. She recognized the words of Exodus 22:18 he spat in German. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."



Radu swept up Margaret suddenly and with ease carried her to the magnificent bed. He threw her down and lay atop her. He quickly released his huge, menacing penis from the constraints of the red pants. No foreplay. He entered her violently. Dry and tight, she screamed, and screamed, smelling the stench of death on him as he plunged ruthlessly into her innermost being.



"She walks in beauty, like the night," he chanted. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright, Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellow'd to that tender light, Which heaven to gaudy day denies."



She recognized Lord Byron's She Walks in Beauty as Radu ejaculated his semen passionlessly and silently inside her.



"Mene, mene, tekel, upsharin," she whispered in his ear as he then turned his attention to her neck, and inserted his fangs and drew her blood rapidly. She could feel his engorged member ripping her wide open as it continued to grow as he fed upon her.



Radu rose from her body, his still monstrous and erect penis oozing cum, and his mouth dripping her blood. Suddenly his face began to peel off, and his body disintegrated before her very eyes. The arsenic, which she knew a Nosteratu's system could not tolerate whatsoever, worked even faster than she had hoped.



The others ran in terror as she rose from the bed and stood naked over the smoldering dust that had once been their leader, and screamed, "Mene, mene, tekel, upsharin! The Lord of this world has numbered your days. Your kingdom is finished."



* * *



Margaret had managed to call Cy on her cell phone just before she lost consciousness. He had sped to the address she gave him with the siren on and rushed her seemingly lifeless body to the hospital.



Now, forty-eight hours later, she opened her eyes for the first time to find Cy sitting beside her, holding her hand. She tried to smile.



"I'm going to die, Cy," she said weakly.



"The doctors have administered British antilewisite, the common antidote for arsenic poisoning."



"It's not working." She squeezed his hand tightly. "I am living, but I am dead. Soon. I want one last grasp at humanity before I pass. One last moment of human emotion. Help me, Cy. Please help me. Please?"



"Of course, Margaret. What do you want me to do?" Yes, I know the antidote isn't working. The doctors told me.



"Make love to me, Cy. I feel so violated, by evil. Violated by a darkness so black. Violated by the Devil himself, I would say. I can not stand the thought that the last one who knew me intimately was…was…"



What can I possibly say to her? he pondered. "Margaret, your sister has…is…she's fine. She wants to talk to you."



"Oh my God! Yes, I had hoped but couldn't be sure. Once the telepathic power controlling her was disrupted…the cataleptic phenomena…the…"



"Margaret? Margaret?" Her voice tailed off and her eyes closed once more.



* * *



On Halloween Margaret miraculously recovered. The nurses called the doctor on duty who examined her thoroughly. He explained, "You were close to death. That police detective who is usually here with you obtained an experimental antidote, DMPS, dimercaptopropane sulfonate. It's not approved by the Food and Drug Administration. He obtained it from some medical center in Bangor. How, I have no idea. We injected a massive dosage into your system as a last resort. Apparently, it worked."



"Apparently."



"Well, you rest, young lady, and I'll check in on you later."



"Yes, doctor."



As soon as he left, Margaret showered, fetched the catsuit from the closet and dressed, covering the garment with a hospital frock. No one saw her sneak out.



* * *



Cy answered the persistent knock at his door, with candy in his hand.



"Trick or treat?" the beautiful creature in the catsuit purred. "It's Halloween!"



"My God, a walking, talking miracle."



"Yes, Cy, thanks to you. You saved my life. I'll answer the question for you." She pushed him from the front door where he stood into his house. "I'm going to give you a treat, mister. Me."



Margaret pressed up against him tightly as they kissed passionately. His lips found her neck.



"She walks in beauty like the night, Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright, Meet in her aspect and her eyes…"



Oh my God, he reads Lord Byron? "No! Cy, no! Not…not you?" She squealed, struggling and thrashing frantically in his grasp.



"Hush, Margaret, hush. I'm not a vampire. You talked while under the influence of drugs as I held your hand at the hospital."



"Oh Cy, I hate you!" She cried, but tears of joy. "Why did you frighten me like that?"



"Like you haven't scared me?"



"I hate you, but make love to me. Lick the garlic off my body," she joked, "but why are you wearing those fake fangs? I knew you weren't really a vampire."



"All the better to eat you, my dear."



"Really?" she cooed seductively.



"Can that be my treat. Eating you?"



"Well…I suppose. Eat a beaver and save a tree. I'm into ecology, you know." She giggled like a school girl. "But do you think I could have a glass of blood first?"



"Of course, my lovely vamp." He quickly found two glasses and a bottle. "Red zinfandel. 2000 Montevina Terra d'Orod Deaver Old Vines. Hefty and hedonistic."



"To what should we toast?" she asked.



"To the one who walks in beauty, like the night," He tipped his glass towards Margaret and clinked hers. They drank.



"I am yours, my lord. Bite me, please. Take me to your ethereal world. Take me!"



Cy kissed her tenderly, her face, her lips, her neck. Margaret found the back zipper of the catsuit and lowered the front tantalizingly, slowly exposing her breasts. No bra.



"They are lovely, Margaret." His hands and mouth moved to embrace them. He slowly licked in a circled outside the areola of her left breast, and circled closer toward the nipple as he would an ice cream cone. Teasing her by zeroing in with his tongue, and retreating, he then quickly flicked her nipple, and very delicately bit it. She shivered.



"Ouch!" she complained insincerely. "Oh Cy," she moaned, "the other one is lonely." He remedied that in a hurry, as her right breast now became his focal point, as he alternated between licking, touching, and sucking.



"There is something to be said for a witch's teat," he quipped, as he tried to get as much of it in his mouth as he could, while tugging the tight catsuit to below her waist. He smothered the round curve of her belly with wet kisses. Lower and lower he pulled the garment down until it got it past her thong. He stroked her subtly through the silky fabric with his fingers, and then his nose.



"Are you trying to drive me crazy, Cy? It's working, you know. Soon you'll find out just how well." Margaret backed away a little, removed the catsuit the rest of the way, and kicked it aside.



"That is quite some Halloween outfit," he commented, glancing at the cast-off apparel.



"It's actually what I wore in "Misalliance."



"Of course. I knew that. I've seen the play. The gorgeous female Polish acrobat, mysterious passenger of the adventuresome young aviator. The setting of the play is the country estate of self-made underwear magnate John Tarleton. Speaking of underwear…"



Cy began to lower her thong with his teeth.



"What is that costume you are wearing, Cy?"



"Undercover detective."



"Oh, and just what might you be detecting tonight, under the covers?"



"This." He blew delicately on her clit, which was already exposed. "You have a very large clitoris, Margaret. I think you are a witch. Did you know that the word 'clitoris' comes from the Greek kleitoris, which means a divine, or goddess-like little hill? And I'm going to worship yours. I love that little patch of red hair." He nuzzled it with his nose. "In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined myself being with a woman as beautiful as you. Why me?"



"Because you are a cunning linguist, Cy." She laughed delightfully. "Not to mention the fact that you saved my life. Tonight, Halloween, I'm your witch, or anything else you want me to me."



"Tonight, I would like you to be my lover, Margaret. I want to touch and taste everything about you, your innermost being. I want to worship your fantastic body, know the thoughts of your incredible mind, and…"



"Cy, what you are touching is my heart. And I would love to be your lover tonight. You are a cunning linguist. Am I making myself perfectly clear? You got me wet, writhing, horny, and begging for you to do me. Now do me!"



"Yes, Margaret, my dear witch, your witch…uh…wish is my command." He licked from the back of her knees to her faint bikini line, and then traced the crease of each inner thigh up and down with his tongue. He still hadn't touched her clitoris or vagina, but he had her melting. "You have great legs, Margaret, so long and lovely."



"Oh yeah. Ohh yeah. Do you think you could get to where my legs meet pretty soon? I'll beg if I have to. Please, baby, please?"



"You're such a slut," he kidded. Suddenly Cy inserted his finger inside her sex, but quickly pulled it out, smelled it, licked it, sucked the juice of it, and sighed. "A slut with a hot, wet slit."



"Damn you, Cy, quit torturing me! I'm going to pull your ears right off when you really get going, if you ever do. But I think I better lie down. I don't think I can take any more of this standing up." Her knees buckled as he caressed her little patch of pubic hair, licked her inner lips, and then stuck his tongue inside her, moving it in an out.



Cy pulled out the futon flat and helped her onto it. He put a large pillow under her hips to tilt her pelvis up, got between her legs, and raised them over his shoulders. He spread her outer lips with his fingers, and began to flick here and there with his pointed tongue. Then he lapped her up and down with his tongue soft and flat. Her clit trembled noticeably as she groaned loudly, and started to grind against his mouth.



"Oh my God, Cy…ohh…my…ahh…"



Cy took her throbbing, eager clit into his mouth and gently sucked on it, at the same time flicking his tongue all around it. She put her hands on his head, pushing him down on her sex as she tugged on his ears playfully. But then he moved his mouth away from her clit, looked up, and made eye contact.



"No, Cy, don't stop!" She pulled on his ears, roughly this time. He laughed, and sucked her clit back into his mouth again. Flicking, sucking, flicking, sucking. Tongue, lips, tongue, lips.



Margaret screamed and bucked, and pulled him down to her in a frenzy, practically suffocating him. Harder and harder she rocked her pussy back and forth on his mouth. Faster and faster.



"Ohh…ahh…oh my fucking…I…oh fuck…"



Cy reached up with his hands and toyed with her hard, erect nipples as he sucked her clit and felt her love juice as she wailed and screamed like a banshee.But no, Cy didn't stop, even when she quieted down a bit. Time to ring her doorbell, as he found her G-spot, and began to press, release, press, release.



"You make me so hot. That feels so good. I told you, I'm doing this because you saved my life."



"I consider your debt paid in full. So I should stop? Yes…I better stop."



"No, you must not stop, Cy!" she demanded. He felt the power of her keshaphim, her love majick. Margaret emanated a concentrated cosmic invisible energy. Cy felt a electrifying jolt in his body and brain and it appeared as though a radiance of incandescent light surrounded her body.



"Margaret, you are such an insatiable harlot!" he chastised, saying the words he heard in his mind. "But not for much longer." They both laughed. "You made me say that, my darling, didn't you?"



"Yes, my lord." She tittered. "I love the way you said that, the 'but not for much longer' part."



"No matter, that you put words in my mouth, and a few other things. Press your knees up to your chest, my dear lovely horny one." He inserted his fingers a few inches into her pussy with a come-hither motion. "I'm going to flip your lust switch, you witch. I'm going to send you into orgasmic overdrive." He kneaded her G-spot with one hand as he teased her clit with the fingers of his other hand.



Margaret began to feel as though she were leaving her body, a state of super-consciousness, suspended in animation, a oneness with totality, a concentrated exhilaration of sensual awareness.



"Oh my God…I…I'm…oh dear God…no…yes…yes…yes…"



Margaret moaned, thrashed, and screamed as she pulled Cy's head down on her sex and ejaculated love juice in his mouth. It seemed like forever. Her orgasm echoed, and echoed, and echoed.



"I can't maintain an everlasting erection like the Nosferatu, but my tongue never stops wagging," Cy whispered in Margaret's ear, as they cuddled, and she continued to tremble slightly, winding down from the intense orgasms.



"What rhymes with wag, Cy?"



"Shag?"



"Very good! Shag me. Not just yet. But real soon. And then, if you wish, I might let you wag me again. In fact, I know I will."



"It would be my pleasure."



"No, this will be your pleasure." She took the powdered garlic from her purse and sprinkled it on his penis. "Just in case." Margaret's smile made his heart flutter as her tongue licked the garlic. I am a mekasefa, Cy, a witch," she said matter-of-factly, but winking at him as she fondled and stroked his manhood. "Would you like me to demonstrate my keshaphim, my love majick?" He nodded enthusiastically, not wanting to break the spell of the moment by suggesting she already did. "Watch me make this object disappear." And then she did.



"I hear whip cream works on werewolves," Cy moaned as Margaret took him to a world of ecstasy in her warm, wet mouth. The soundtrack from Nosteratu: A Symphony of Horrors played in the background. The track was on "Loading the Coffins."



At the moment that Cy's cock erupted in her mouth, Margaret felt another explosion. She trembled at the intensity of the telepathic communication, the esoteric breath of an etheric world intelligence. The shock waves reverberated in her mind from the extraordinary power of the supernatural force attempting to violate her psyche. It is I--Mircea--the brother of Radu…and Vlad Dracula. I will eat your soul.

last tango in bucharest
01:08 May 24 2008
Times Read: 890

This floor's clear, Diane. We can go up to the top level," Stan muttered as they met at the stairway. It was an elegant mansion: a dacha for a party official in the Ceausescu regime. Built around an elegant, three story entryway featuring a crystal chandelier, the ample dwelling had space for a large retinue, but now it was rather empty with drop cloths covering the furniture. Wan sunlight filtered in through the windows; they would have to find the vampire soon or else he would rise before they could destroy him. Destroying a vampire at rest was far easier.



Flashlights illuminated their way up to the third floor: the last level for them to investigate. The darkness was deeper here. Stan turned, pointed left and right, and whispered in Diane's ear, "Same as before: you take the high road and I'll take the low road." Before they could separate, a figure detached itself from the shadows and spun Stan over the rail; his cry of surprise sailed down to be broken on the floor forty feet below. Diane raised her cross; it was batted over the rail and a black gloved fist separated her from consciousness.



She awoke naked in an oven like room. Lying on a simple bed, her ankles were shackled on a short chain and her wrists were manacled to a long chain that ran through a pulley in the ceiling and then off toward a drum toward the center of the huge dungeon. Fearful implements hung on the wall indifferently, promising cruel unspecific horrors should they be employed. A hooded figure sat on a chair to her right. Seeing Diane awake, it rose.



Heavily accented English with the lilt of a Romance language sang in Diane's ears. "Good evening, Diane van Helsing. Daughter of Joseph, son of Jacob, son of Isaac, son of Abraham the destroyer of Vlad Tepes, better known as Dracula. I am afraid that your companion, Mr. Stanley Harker, will not be joining us; he met with an unfortunate accident. He was--delicious. Now it is time for us to pursue this evening's agenda. If you will stand for me, please." The figure walked to the drum and cranked it, pulling Diane's arms up over her head. She rose awkwardly in bonds that permitted a some motion but not complete freedom. Her hands were pulled high over her head without straining, and her breathing increased as the figure came close to her vulnerable torso.



He approached her with a lash. "Now you will pay for your little crusade," the voice hissed with a sharp edge. "Many of the wise and noble have met their doom at the hands of your family, and your intent tonight was to end my existence. Vengeance on the name van Helsing will now be played out on your flesh." The lash sang out: Diane's body jumped in response to the pain, but she resolved not to cry out. Remorselessly and impassively he flogged her, the whip working back and forth across her body, turning her entire back and legs into a nest of angry red trails. Diane was lost in the pain, just when she thought her body was totally consumed by flame, the merciless lash found a new place to burn her. Somehow, she managed not to scream although tears coursed rivers down her cheeks.



At length the lash fell to the floor. A black gloved hand traced figure eights on her breasts, pausing to tweak her nipples. The cowl provided a contour of the face: aquiline, with a proud nose and sensitive lips. The hand moved up to trace the tall neck, the cleft of the chin, the fine cheekbones. She breathed heavily and winced as the hand found sensitive spots. The voice began calmly: "No screaming? Very well, I am disappointed, but you are made of stern stock. Very beautiful stock as well, I must say." The gloved hand traveled to caress her features as he described them. "Such as beautiful, tall neck, strong arms, delicate hands, graceful sides, teardrop breasts that fit my hands so nicely." He gave one a squeeze and brought a moan from Diane. "A flat, well defined stomach, thin waist, apple hips sweeping down to an elegant blossom between your legs." Some attention there was repaid by moans, "You like my attentions, don't you? Centuries of practice: you might say I wrote the book. Strong, curvaceous legs that travel to elegant feet and dainty toes." The figure brought one foot inside the cowl; Diane shuddered as she felt a cold, wet tongue glide lovingly over her big toe. The gloved hands worked their way back upward again. "This is a rare pleasure, Diane van Helsing. Tonight is a night you will not forget."



The figure threw back the cowl: the head could have been a Roman God, with a mass of dark hair, olive skin that was not quite defeated by vampiric pallor and deep, brown eyes surrounded by the bloodshot whites of the vampire. Diane eyes bulged in horror as she thought: "Okay, this is where I get it in the neck." Glamorie, the vampire's hypnosis took her and batted aside her resistance. A cold kiss tenderly enveloped her lips, and trailed down her neck. The hint of the razor sharp incisors faintly dinted her flesh: on her neck arteries, on her ivory chest, down the swelling of her breasts, on her pink nipples, across her flat stomach. The face smiled and approached her navel: a questing ice-cold tongue probed the indentation, moving outward in slow circles until it ascended the summits again. The gloves came off: delicate hands with thin fingers began to caress the petals of her blossom interrupted by an occasional light scratch. The cold touch soothed her hot red lash marks, enchanting away the remnant sting of their making. Diane's breathing was growing more rapid: from a disjointed consciousness, she couldn't believe how this was exciting her, but primal sensations were overwhelming her. The bud was trapped by two sharp nails: the edges pinched but did not perforate. Her body started wriggling beneath his touch, the chains making a staccato tarantella as she spasmed with delight. Places were exchanged: the sharp thin fingers quested upward to trail a path between two pale white peaks while the icy tongue probed the blossom below. The effect didn't take long; Diane surged wildly as her climax took her, the chains clanging their harsh ecstacy for several minutes before diminishing to a rare chink. She hung there by the chains, her body unable to support her weight.



The figure went back to the drum to lower her to the bed. He flung off his robe, revealing a form once handsomely muscled and well endowed, olive skin fighting pallor. He entered her abruptly; she responded to his chill with hot enthusiasm. On a level of disjointed consciousness she thought: "Oh my God, he's fucking me with an icicle," but the chill provoked her more than it deadened her. He scratched red trails into her sides as he rode her. She reached the summit again; he flipped her over and penetrated her dark rosebud, teasing her blossom and her breasts once again with his sharp, thin fingers. After several minutes, she peaked and subsided a third time and he held her, savoring the seeping trails of red as she faded into a deep sleep. Convinced of her deep slumber, he got up, dressed, released her and carried her upstairs.



An old fashioned wind up alarm clock rattled Diane awake. The dim moonlight displayed five in the morning. She looked around; she was lying on a four poster bed dressed in a white silk negligee that reached the floor when she stood up. Her body was sore; muscles and nerves complained from their abuse, and faint wispy trails of red lined the gown. A candle stood on the night stand with a box of matches; she lit the candle and looked around. It was a bedroom out of a gothic novel: luxurious, filled with noble, ancient furniture and objects d'art. The room was a little cold; she was naked except for the gown. The door beckoned: she turned the handle and went into the hallway.



Across the hall, was a door with a faint light beneath it. Softly, she crept across and turned the handle silently. It was a huge library, crammed with two stories of books around three walls. A large picture window gave a stunning vista of the eastern horizon, full of stars and hints of Bucharest's lights. A figure sat in an overstuffed chair facing the window. The light came from a dying fire in a small fireplace. A voice said, "Come over, pull up a chair, and let us talk."



Diane's her bare feet crept tentatively across the polished wood floor. The vampire was sitting at the chair staring out the window. He was dressed as a guest at a Victorian dinner party, with a silk tie and pearl cufflinks. "Please, sit down and do not be afraid. Help yourself to a glass of very fine port on the sideboard." Reaching the window, she paused to regard him: this was the man who was torturing her earlier. "If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. Get yourself a drink: you need it, my child. I will wait for you."



Diane crossed to the sideboard where a sparkling crystal decanter three quarters full of dark fluid and a glass rested. She took a sniff of the liquor, filled the glass and sipped it. Relishing the flavor, she took a larger sip and moved a small chair to face the vampire. She said, "Why am I here? This is a surprising turn of events."



The vampire looked at her curiously. "How do you mean, surprising? Oh, that we would be having this entertaining chat after what has transpired between us? Yes, I imagine you thought your awakening would be quite different this morning. It is my desire that we have this little colloquium this morning before the end."



She took another sip. "The end? The end of what?"



"The end of the quest of the Van Helsings, my dear."



Her legs immediate drew up under her and she pulled back into the overstuffed chair, trying to make herself as small as possible. He smiled amiably and waved his hand dismissively. "As I said, my dear, if I wanted you dead then you would be dead now. Think about it. You felt the pressure of these teeth on many vulnerable parts of your body. Do you remember them penetrating?"



She thought over the night's events. Her hand caressed her throat, questing, and trailed down over her breasts. As she relived those events, her breathing accelerated and she became warm, but the threat of the teeth had only been a promise to spur her.



"Are you satisfied of my intentions?"



Her awareness jolted back into the present. She took another sip of port and nodded. "I think I'm ready to hear an explanation."



"A little personal history. When Vlad Tepes arose from the dead I was already ancient. My people took this land two millennia ago. I was sent here unwillingly, exiled for immorality by a powerful hypocrite. Octavian Augustus Caesar was one of the most lecherous goats Rome ever knew, yet he instituted a regime of rigorous virtue and chastity, sending me here when I wrote of the beauty of human love and how to savor it. I taught a generation to love, and in a way, contributed to the survival of the species. Ha, ha, ha.



"I became a vampire at the end of a long life, pursuing an exotic thrill at the end of a life pursuing exotic thrills. Exiled from life here after being exiled from home was agony: I was almost caught and destroyed in my blood vengeance against the Colonia here. But my rage passed, and I grew to appreciate my new existence. I saw empires rise and fall, occasionally taking a niche within them; at times I was a hermit and at times I led a community. The human race tore down and rebuilt this land over and over again, the technology changed but human nature did not. My family of vampires grew and I ruled them for centuries.



"Tepes was my enemy; I was glad when your great-grandfather destroyed him when he made his clumsy play at relocating to England. I have traveled more discreetly over the years: back to my beloved Roma again once, far to the Himalayas, over the sea to your new country.



I have painstakingly kept track of human progress over the years; it has been a hunger of mine to know what is going on."



"Hunger? That's an odd way to put it."



"But so very appropriate for a vampire. You see hunger is all we become as vampires. Once we were human, with other interests, other passions, other emotions. With dying and with taking the life of innocents our compassion and humanity is stripped from us: an explanation for our reduction of everything to feeding our appetites."



She nodded as she pondered what he said. "This makes some sense, but it doesn't answer everything I know about vampires. Most vampires I've met are afraid of the Cross and you weren't"



"I was never Christian; I grew up with the old Roman Gods, and they were rather indifferent to the human race unless persuaded otherwise. The vampire reacts in horror to what was considered sacred in life, as one who is beyond hope, at least, beyond hope to their reasoning. There is nothing sacred you could frighten me with."



A pause as she digested this information. She looked around the room, taking in the stacks. "We're talking in a library, surrounded by books. Did the books come with the place?"



"No, I brought them with me. They are my history of the nosferatu. Another hunger of mine: to write, to record, to leave a mark for posterity. One consistency from my breathing days: I was a published author long before the printing press was invented. It is not that much an intellectual pursuit now. As I said before, vampires of creatures of pure hunger. The difference with me is that I have many hungers; most vampires have but one All skill and reasoning and wit is devoted to feeding hunger."



Diane relaxed a bit. "There are things that are happening now that aren't well explained by hunger. I can buy writing as a hunger, and I can buy using your skill to feed hungers, but what was that session downstairs about?"



He chuckled a bit. "The driving hunger of my existence now is aesthetics; it drove me in my breathing days. I hungered for vengeance on your family: I took it. I hungered to know if I could please a woman once again; I wanted to know if I could still do that, even with a little assistance, you might say. Glamorie is usually the means we get our victims to submit to feeding us; it has never been used for pure seduction before. There wasn't time to seduce you in the ordinary way, so I took a short cut. Your response to my stimulations were your own; I did not force your pleasure with anything other than my--technique."



Diane shuddered at that; her body quivered at the memories and she found herself wanting them to return. "Oh. Well. I don't know what to say. Thank you?"



The vampire took a rare breath and sighed. "You are most welcome, my dear. I regret that it will not happen again." Outside the window the sky started to purple as dawn approached. "I have one request for you, my love. On this chair there are manacles built into the arms and legs. You will notice that three of them are secured. Would you secure the last for me?"



"Secure you to the chair? Why?"



"It will become apparent. Please, you must before we continue."



Diane went over and inspected the bounds. They had a strange, luminescent gleam, sprouting from the legs and armrests as branches from a tree. As she touched the right armrest his right hand lifted her hand to his lips for a cold kiss. He dropped her hand and put his own into the manacle for her to close. She snapped the link shut; he took another breath to sigh and looked out the window for a few more moments as the stars began to fade. "You are my best lover. Thank you. Now we continue.



"Your family's mission is over, or almost over. This will shock you: the vampires of this land have been destroyed already. There may be one or two in the world that I have lost track of, but I am certain that you will find them out. Destroy them with my blessing. Be more careful next time, my love, you would have died here last night had you found another of my race here.



"As a young man I studied philosophy. Aristotle was a favorite of mine despite the fact I rarely practiced what he preached. The beauty of his thought is evergreen is my mind. He said that it was beneath a man to live driven by his hungers, and using one's resources to feed one's hungers was not the route to true happiness. True happiness is what I hunger for now, and following his advice I have done so by working on other things.



"One by one I commanded the vampires I made to come here; here I destroyed them to their shock. I lured other vampires here or sought them out, they are also gone. This room as seen the demise of many."



"Why condemn your own race? Are there no virtuous vampires?"



"Not one, my dear. I am the closest, and it is aesthetics that brings me this close. Once I wrote of my horror and shame at striking my beloved mistress over nothing; now, the deliberate cruelty I visit finds no remorse in my being. I felt nothing as I whipped you last night or as I consumed your friend; the vengeance was only a matter of form.



"My race deserves to die; your does not. Your race thinks they can train the Darkness out of their hearts; it will never be so. Eden is barred to the human race as my native Roma is: there is no return through Science or Humanism. The cruel wars and crimes against humanity of the past hundred years have surprised you, yet you are still vulnerable to the evils they unleashed. These atrocities played out over the millennia and will play out again; the hunger for power, riches, and vengeance remains and will not go away. In the end, it will make you creatures of pure hunger as it made us. For centuries we deluded ourselves that we were a superior race, an elder race, a superior culture destined to rule our ignorant children who owed us their blood in payment. The wisdom we gained in life have gone unspoken and unpracticed as well as unheard, we stopped listening to anything but our hunger. Unless you understand these hungers, make it part of your awareness, plan for their assaults and withstand them, then Darkness will envelop you as well.



"There have always been vampires who do not suck blood; living vampires that pretend virtue as they selfishly suck from their siblings of dignity, promise and life. This is the way of death; it always has been. Our Fall is a mirror of yours, the arrogance of pride more sharply defined and the submission to hunger much clearer. I offer this history on these shelves to you as a legacy and a warning. Learn from us and live."



The sky in the east reddened with the promise of dawn. "There is one more hunger I must sate. Now my last lover, my most beautiful and dearest, sit with me as I seek my heart's last great desire. Two millennia of darkness are enough for me. I want to see the sun once again."



Diane sat aghast at the calm countenance. He looked in her eyes with an almost human longing. The hungry eyes softened; she reached over and stroked his cheek. He smiled and settled into her hand as the gloom slowly broke. The waxing light turned the horizon from purple through shades of blue, red and gold. He pulled away from her hand and gazed eagerly out the window. "Let go of me now. There will be pain, intense pain, but it will pass. The ending is all that matters, and I will pay the price it demands." The horizon lightened and a bright golden spear poked over the horizon. He gasped, wide-eyed, at the red ball of fire climbing upward and his body began shuddering and steaming. After a few moments, his face contorted in agony as his flesh began to melt, but as his features dissolved, Diane caught a slight peaceful smile that quickly turned to dust and fell away.

a haloween vampire lesson
02:38 May 21 2008
Times Read: 911

It all started in July of last year. I was single, fresh out of the Marine Corps and searching for a way to forget some of what I'd seen in Iraq. At 23 years old I was out on a Friday night doing a little bar-hopping with a buddy of mine. The women were in abundance and since he (also a former Marine) and I were in pretty good shape we weren't having a lot of trouble picking them up. We spent plenty of time on the dance floor and downed quite a few beers.



I guess I should tell you this much about myself: My name is Wolf. I'm an even six feet tall and weigh about 190 – give or take a few pounds depending on my workout schedule and how hard I push it. My brown hair is crew cut and, since getting out, I'd grown a moustache and goatee that was just long enough to be soft but not so long as to be aggravating. I did four years of ROTC in high school and enlisted in the Marine Corps when I graduated. I had just finished five years of active duty – with the last two spent in Iraq – when I was out on this particular night.



Usually I'm quite aware of how many beers I've had to drink as the night wears on for two reasons: one, I don't want to screw up my Honorable Discharge and good future with a drunk driving charge, and two, because I don't ever want to pick up what I think is a babe because I'm too drunk to see straight. Been there; done that. Hated myself in the morning.



As things worked out, I'd only had four beers across about three hours and was feeling happy without any buzz and certainly I wasn't drunk. At about midnight the hottest chick I'd seen in near forever walked in. She was about five-seven or eight with a figure that'd stop a train. She was built and fit. How to describe this properly? She had every curve a woman SHOULD have but none of it was soft. She was wearing leather pants and a leather vest... and as near as I could tell, nothing else beyond her boots. Her blond hair hung to about the middle of her back, pulled up in a pony tail. She was gorgeous.



Immediately behind her was another woman – equally hot but in a colder kind of way. I can't really describe it. With short raven-black hair and dressed all in black denim, she was built as well as the blond, but in a more lean kind of way. She just didn't have the same curves – but looked just as fit. And the curves she did have were more than sufficient to catch a man's attention.



The two of them came in the door and almost immediately stepped to either side of the entry way. The small voice in the back of my head – the one that always told me what to pay attention to in combat situations – noticed that they had taken themselves out of the easy target area. Shooting someone in a doorway is easy. They're nicely silhouetted and directing fire at them is simple: aim at the doorway. As soon as they'd gotten through the doorway they separated themselves by only a step or two but in doing so had put themselves out of the doorway.



It was then that I noticed that they both had busy eyes. They were aggressively scanning the dancing and drinking crowd as if looking for something. Turning to look at each other, their eyes met, a short nod was exchanged and then the blond moved off to her right while the dark haired lady moved off to her left. As they walked around the perimeter of the crowd it was obvious that they were still looking for something... or someone.



Making a decision, I moved off to intercept the blond. I didn't know what my chances were of actually picking her up – but at that point I'd be perfectly happy to chat with her for a few minutes and maybe make plans with her to meet there again sometime soon. After all, it was almost midnight. The guys in the bar who were trying to pick up women... and the women who were allowing themselves to be picked up where looking to get laid. I somehow knew that I had no chance of getting this beautiful woman in between the sheets, but I also knew that somehow my life would be better just for knowing her.



I stepped up beside her at the edge of the crowd just near the hallway to the bathrooms. To get her attention I reached out to softly touch her arm and said, "Can I help you find something?" I had specifically NOT said, "Hey there, sexy" or some other equally inane thing. I wanted her to have to look at me and answer a question. The fact that my question pointed out her obvious actions of looking for someone made her acknowledge me.



Turning to face me she almost looked like she was ready to bite my head off... or punch me in the face. Even as hard as I was from combat I had a fleeting thought that getting hit by this woman would hurt. That little voice told me again... her muscles had tensed the moment I touched her. As she turned to look at me her entire body tensed... her knees bent as if she was lowering herself into a fighting stance... her eyes identified me as a non-threat and she began to relax. But not much.



"No, thank you," she said. "I'm just looking for a friend." She started to turn away to continue on, but my hand on her arm – not grabbing her but just applying enough pressure to let her know it was still there – kept her from going.



"Would that be your brunette friend that you came in with?" I asked. The question again communicated that I knew more about her than she might have thought was obvious. Before she could answer I continued, "If so, she's right over there," I indicated with a nod of my head. "And she looks like she's hunting too." I don't know why I used the word "hunting" but it seemed appropriate.



The blond looked at me again, relaxed just a little more and then took a better look. I saw that I was being appraised and didn't flinch. She looked me up and down, checked out my hands, looked at my face, neck and hair and then back in my eyes.



"Actually," she said, "We are trying to find someone." She paused and took a breath as if what she was going to say took some courage. "But I think we should talk more sometime. You got something you can write my number on?" I'd have written it in blood on the back of my hand if I had to right then, but I just happened to have a pen and some business cards. She told me her name was Jessie and she gave me her cell number. I promised to call her the next day and she said that would be great and then added, "But not until afternoon sometime... I'll be out late tonight."



She walked away then, continuing in the direction she had been her eyes still seeking out whatever target she was hunting. Again, I wasn't sure why I viewed her actions that way, but it seemed appropriate language to describe her behavior. As I watched she met her raven-haired friend, the talked together for a moment and then the dark haired woman pointed to a man dancing on the floor. Jessie looked, nodded and together they went to him. He didn't look happy to see them but didn't resist as they led him toward the door. I wondered what was going on that a guy would be so unhappy to be leaving with two such hot women... but then forgot about it. Maybe I'd ask Jessie when I called.



I did call her late the next afternoon. She seemed like she was still waking up but we had a pleasant conversation that I later realized was more about me and my background than anything about her. We went out that night for dinner – and it was more of the same. That started a nice relationship that seemed to revolve around her constantly asking me about my family, service, values, etc. and working out. We went to the gym together nearly every day and we began enjoying social outings during the week. Whatever job she had – and several months later I still didn't know – she worked every Friday and Saturday night.



We enjoyed lots of "dates" during the weeks and months that followed. I was surprised at how often she enjoyed going to the shooting range... or to the archery range... or to the local gym where we could work out together, sometimes followed by sparring or wrestling in the mat room. Wrestling with Jessie always made me uncomfortably hard but she seemed to ignore it and not mind it at all. On more than one occasion I know she was equally excited but she kept her desires under wraps quite well.



Like any relationship, after a few weeks, after we'd been to a movie or dinner on our dates, we'd sometimes go back to my place. I shared it with my buddy – we'd served together – and often Jessie and I would snuggle on the sofa to chat, watch a softly burning fire, or watch television. Just as common to budding relationships, we often ended up making out – and I have to say that I truly enjoyed caressing her firm curves. Her kisses were aggressive – almost as if she was searching for something with her tongue. I didn't mind at all. Her lips were strong – and the rest of her body was equally strong.



It took almost three months of me being patient before I finally got her to take off any piece of clothing... and I found even more perfection. Her chest wasn't high and firm because of her clothing... her clothing simply covered what was already high and firm. Her nipples were sensitive and the first night I got to suck one of them she came gently as I nibbled her left nipple with my teeth. Thinking that I was making progress, I moved my hand down her belly as she came down off her orgasm... and I started to unsnap her pants. Her strong hand grabbed mine and she said, "Not yet." I wanted to argue, but the look in her eyes said I'd better not. I told myself that it must just be a bad time of the month and I only had to be patient another week.



Still, she'd obviously just cum and I was rock hard and throbbing. My cock was smearing a wet spot of precum inside my boxer briefs and if she wasn't going to do anything about it I knew I'd have to later. She NEVER spent the night so I knew I'd have the chance. At that point I wouldn't have cared if she stayed to watch, but I'd have rather she helped.



Almost as if she read my mind she said, "But I feel like I owe you... let me see what you've got." As she said that her hands reached into my crotch and she began to undo my jeans. Heaven began...



When she'd gotten my pants loose enough she pulled on them and I lifted my hips to help her wriggle them down. She took my underwear with my jeans and a smile crossed her face as my length popped free. I was as hard as I can get and we'd been making out long enough that I knew she knew what kind of equipment I had. Still, it was the first time she'd seen it... and she definitely didn't look disappointed.



I watched, holding my breath, as she grasped my manhood in her soft but strong hand and very slowly bent forward to place a warm wet kiss on the head. Her lips were just barely open but I felt her tongue touch the slick opening at the end of my throbbing cock, and as she pulled away from the kiss the suction made it clear I'd have no precum left seeping... and I was right.



With that she laid her head down on my shoulder and began stroking my length slowly... steadily... with her strong but oh so soft and wonderful feeling hand... and in a short while my cock was jumping, spitting thick jets of cum all over my belly, shirt and her hand. I heard a moan escape her as she watched my cum shooting and I enjoyed the fact that she kept stroking until no more cum was flowing... and then she squeezed my shaft from base to tip several times, milking my cock to make sure every drop had come out.



When my breathing had returned to some semblance of normal she lifted her head to look up at me. "Thank you," I said, smiling down at her.



"It's the least I could do," she said smiling back up at me. "Maybe someday soon we can do something more than just 'the least'."



"I look forward to it a lot," I said.



"Me too," she replied. Once again I wondered why, if that were the case, we weren't taking care of it right then? But it seemed not a good time to ask such a question. Patience that little voice cautioned me.



Together we went into the bathroom to clean up. She washed her hands while I took of my shirt and used a warm wet washcloth to wipe all of my cum off. Walking her to the door afterward I gave her a long kiss goodnight and felt every inch of her body against mine. We exchanged a few words about talking the next day and then she mentioned Halloween. It was coming up but I didn't have any plans. She mentioned a party and said we should go. I said that would be great. She suggested that I bring a friend. I said I might know someone interested in going, but why? She talked about her girlfriend who rarely got guys to ask her out because even though she was beautiful she was kind of intimidating looking. I knew she meant the raven-haired beauty that had been with her the first night I met her... but I didn't say anything.



We kissed again and she took off. I still didn't know where she went, where she lived or what she did for a living.



I talked to my room mate about the party and he seemed mildly interested. He had seen Jessie's friend at the club the few months before and remember how hot she was... but he wasn't big on being "set up". In the end he agreed to go provided nothing more promising came up. He didn't have a steady girlfriend and I knew he'd be interested to see if he could get the chick in between the sheets.



Things looked good all the way up until the Saturday of the party. Jessie and I had seen each other a few times but we hadn't had a chance to be alone again. I was kind of hoping that my room mate – his name is Rick by the way – would hook up with Jessie's friend – Kate – and we'd all end up back at our place in our separate rooms. But that Saturday morning, Rick's mom was in a car accident and ended up in the hospital. Since it was several hours away he felt he had to go over to take care of her – or just be there "in case". When I called to give Jessie the news she was quite for a few minutes before saying, "Well, we'll just have to keep Kate with us and make sure she has a good time."



I agreed even though part of me was disappointed. I knew that I wouldn't be getting Jessie home alone if Kate was tagging along with us. Oh, well... I'd just have to suffer through spending the evening in the company of two gorgeous women... at least one of which I knew was hot for me.



Since it was a Halloween Party, costumes were required. The easiest thing for me to dress up as was a Marine. After all I still had all the uniforms. Dress? Or field? I went with field and wore the battle dress uniform, or BDU. It was quite comfortable. Jessie and Kate showed up at my place to meet me so we could travel to the party together. Jessie was dressed up as a huntress complete with bow & arrows, and I do have to say that she looked exceptionally hot in the brown leather pants, light blue leather vest and those arm things that archers wear. Kate was dressed all in black leather with some kind of corset thing built into her outfit. It made her chest stand up and pushed it together to make it look even bigger than it was. Around her waist was a gunbelt with a holster on either side. Each holster had a toy handgun in it. I thought it was funny that I was dressed as a soldier and I was the only one without a weapon.



The party was being held at a huge mansion on the outskirts of town. It had a gothic look and feel to it – lots of stone and wrought iron.



While I'm used to going to parties that have, at most, forty or fifty people, I was overwhelmed at the number of people I saw on the grounds in front of the mansion. There were at least six young men providing valet parking service and they were carefully working in amongst the 100+ people who were socializing on the front lawn, coming and going out of the house. Virtually everyone I saw – with the exception of the valet servants – was in some type of costume. Pirates were in abundance along with the "typical" collection of witches, school girls, police officers, firemen... damned near any "character" you could think up a stereotypical costume or uniform for. To my delight I didn't see any other soldier costumes and no other female I could see was dressed in any way similar to Jessie. There WERE a couple of guys around dressed in dark clothing, some with overcoats, but most without – wearing gunbelts or other gear that almost made them seem like counterparts to Kate's costume.



Once our vehicle had been taken from us by one of the attendants Jessie led Kate and I into the main foyer of the immense building. The foyer itself was larger than most living rooms I'd been in. It had to be fifty feet by fifty feet and the triple wide curved staircase wound up along one side to landings on the second and third floors. Looking up I realized that the foyer was as tall as the mansion, reaching all the way to the roof of the third floor some almost forty feet above us. The floor was marble and the paintings on the foyer walls looked like they came out of sixteenth century England. Everything I saw screamed "Money" with its favorite attachment... "power".



As we stepped through the front door, Jessie slung her bow so that she no longer had to carry it in one hand. Once we were inside Jessie's lead gave way to Kate and I perceived a slight shift in comfort and control. Jessie stepped back slightly – taking my hand in hers as she did so – as we followed Kate into the main ball room which I'm totally at a lack of words to describe. HUGE is as close as I get. Hundreds of people were mingling about. At every corner I could see a bar and one wall featured a fireplace that had to have been every bit of twenty feet wide by fifteen feet tall and ten feet deep. Jessie, Kate and I could have all stood in the middle of it and been literally surrounded by the fire built there.



We followed Kate as she moved at a leisurely pace toward the fireplace, and I didn't realize where we were going until we found ourselves in front of a man seated in a comfortable old chair. Standing to either side of the chair were attractive women – one on each side. I noticed that they were dressed nearly identical to Kate, but neither of them contained her grace or beauty. When the man looked up to see Kate he immediately stood and hugged her. She appeared to return it warmly.



"Kate, my dear," the man said in a rich baritone voice, "It's lovely to see you."



"And you," I heard Kate say. "I've missed you so much. I never thought I'd get home again."



Looking over at Jessie I arched an eyebrow to silently ask, "Home?" She shook her head to indicate that she didn't have an answer... at least not one she'd share right then.



Breaking their embrace, Kate turned to introduce us. "Strasser," she called the man, "these are my friends Jessie and Wolf."



Strasser took Jessie's offered hand in both of us, lifting it to his mouth to kiss the back of it delicately, before saying, "Jessie, my dear... Kate has told me so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."



"The pleasure is all mine," Jessie said with a smile. I knew her well enough to know that the smile was forced and her body language told me that she was entirely uncomfortable with the kiss she'd gotten on her hand. I was willing to bet she'd wipe that spot on her pants as soon as she was out of sight of the man.



Releasing her hand Strasser turned to me and offered his hand. I extended mine and shook a hand that felt cold and clammy as if dead. No wonder Jessie hadn't liked his touch. "And it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Wolf," Strasser said.



Shaking his hand as strongly as I could – because his grip was nearly crushing my hand – I said, "A pleasure to meet you, Sir. Thank you for having us as guests to your party."



He didn't release my hand as he replied, "Any friend of Kate's is a friend of mine. Please make yourselves at home and stay as long as you wish." I nodded my quiet thanks and he finally let go of my hand. I'm not weak but damn my hand was throbbing. Strasser had a contained strength that was hidden beneath his mature exterior. He looked about sixty years old with refined features and a lordish bearing. I didn't know what to make of him.Kate stayed to chat with Strasser for a few more minutes while Jessie and I headed over to the buffet table to fill some snack plates. Plates full and in hand, we found a spot out of the way of the crowd movement where we could snack and chat. I looked around the room and realized that it was the nearly perfect place to have a Halloween Party – but I'd never host a Christmas Party there. It was too dark... gothic... dead feeling. The thoughts caused a shiver to run down my spine.



Jessie saw it and smiled. "Someone dancing on your grave?" she asked with a grin.



"More likely a whole party is being held on my grave," I grinned back. That I had made enemies in my short life and didn't let it bother me at all was no secret between she and I. She grinned, nodded and then her mood visibly changed. Her face got more serious.



"Listen," she said quietly, "there are a few things you need to know now."



"Okay," I said. "You sound quite serious, and I have to ask why now?"



"Because we've been together for several months," she said. I never enjoyed the world "together" so much. "And you've proven yourself to be all that I could hope for," she finished. My heart was soaring. "But there are things about me that you don't know and you need to know them so you can decide how we're going to proceed from here." Now she had me curious.



"First," she started off, "I'm not employed. I am financially independent thanks to a philanthropic endowment my family received decades ago for our public service work." I nodded and she continued.



"Second, and although this will be hard for you to believe it's imperative that you believe this before you can believe anything else I'm going to tell you..." I nodded for her to go on. "Kate is an actual vampire as is Strasser, the women on both sides of him and several other people here at this party." That one I almost choked on.



"You mean vampire like in they like to drink blood?" I asked. "Or vampire like they're the undead and immortal and HAVE to drink blood to survive?" The little voice inside me said that this was some kind of Halloween joke she was playing to enliven the mood. Another little voice said that she was totally serious and it explained a few things.



"I mean like they're really vampires, the undead and they have to drink blood to survive," she said. She was quiet for a moment, watching me... looking at my body language, my eyes, the set of my shoulders... she was looking for sign of disbelief or belief.



Did I believe in Vampires? I didn't NOT believe in them. I think there's a lot we can't explain in the world. The undead? Not sure about that. People who drink blood? Absolutely. There are all kinds of crazies out there. But if these people were Vampires who were the undead and who did need to drink blood to survive, why would Jessie knowingly be at a party with a bunch of them? It seemed to me like she was offering herself – and me – up as potential victims.



I realized I had been holding my breath and let it out... "Okay," I said slowly. "Let's for a second say I believe you and they are vampires... why are we here? What the fuck are you doing hanging out with Kate?"



"She's my friend," answered Jessie strongly. "She was before she was turned and she is now." The phrase, "before she was turned" caught me ear. Kate hadn't been a vampire for long. Jessie went on. "This is a group of vampires that don't believe in hunting humans for survival. They have a processing procedure for collecting voluntarily donated blood and they've gotten pretty good at cloning human blood..." She paused to let all that sink in before she continued. "But now I have to know that you truly believe what I'm telling you or else you won't believe everything else I have to say."



Once again I had to exhale hard. "Okay," I said. "I believe you. What else?"



Looking at my eyes as if to determine whether or not I really believed her, Jessie hesitated for a few minutes before going on. "The public work my family does? It's vampire hunting and killing. All throughout my youth I was trained to do the work and it's been my only occupation as an adult." Alrighty then. That would explain the huntress outfit. Maybe she really was just jerking my chain? I saw the look in her eyes and considered the past few months: Her fitness levels; her demonstrated skills with guns, knives and the very bow she was carrying; how hard it was to wrestle with her and not lose. Hmmm....



"Okay," I said again. "What else?"



In a startling moment of frailty, Jessie lowered her eyes in shame or embarrassment... and then raised them back up to meet mine. "As a result of my chosen profession, I haven't had many relationships... one in fact and once I told him the truth he laughed at me, called me crazy and then walked away." I could hear the pain in her voice. She must have really cared about the guy. She continued. "Since Kate was turned, she's had a hard time learning to deal with her own emotions and... well... her physical needs." That look of embarrassment / shame crossed her face again and I realized she was trying to build up the courage to admit something to me. When she did I didn't know whether I should be jealous, excited or grossed out. "As a result of both of our situations, and mostly due to our long friendship, Kate and I became lovers." THAT made my eyebrows go up in surprise.



I had long forgotten my snack plate but now suddenly felt like I needed a minute to think, so I took a mouthful of cheese and crackers and began chewing. I looked at the absolutely gorgeous woman standing in front of me. Then I looked over at the absolutely gorgeous Kate still talking to Strasser. A Vampire? Her? She was so hot! How could she be cold?



Another realization smacked me in the face and I had to give voice to it. More overwhelming than the reality of her lesbian or bi-sexual orientation, was the complete contradiction of how she could be a vampire killer but best friends with a vampire and bringing me to a vampire party! After I'd choked down my cheese and cracker, and in stuttered words that I'm sure barely made any sense I asked her about it and she explained it gently. As it turned out, Kate and this group of vampires didn't believe in hunting humans for food... in fact, they were so against it that they fought against those vampires who DID consider humans a food source. As a result, a centuries old war had been fought between the two vampire clans. Strasser was the leader of this clan. Kate had been turned by a member of the "bad" clan... and she'd been saved by Strasser. Okay... another deep breath.... Could all this be real?



"So what are we doing here?" I finally asked Jessie. "How can we be so comfortably socializing at a Halloween Party when there is this war raging?" Meeting her eyes I asked what was the more important question for me. "And if you and Kate are involved, what the heck are you doing with me?"



I'd have sworn she blushed. Her answer was straight forward. "Kate and I became lovers out of necessity. Neither of us had a boyfriend and both of us can be fairly intimidating. We live with a reality that most humans aren't strong enough to accept... and those that are usually so closed minded that they automatically assume all vampires are evil." Realizing she'd gotten slightly off track, she redirected. Taking my plate from me and putting it down with hers, she ran her hands up my chest and stepped very close to me, looking up at me, talking to me with our lips no more than inches apart. "But neither she nor I is homosexual. We're both very heterosexual and consider our own sexual dalliances nothing more than necessary release." I saw her eyes drop and then raise to meet mine again. "And there's another reason... All human sexual secretions have a lot of chemical similarities to blood. We've discovered that during our encounters... if she pleases me with her mouth, then my juices serve to quell her cravings for blood."



I found myself getting hard just thinking about the idea of Kate between Jessie's legs... licking and sucking her to orgasm... not out of a desire to please but out of a need to survive. Jessie felt the growing lump in my pants and continued. "We haven't discovered yet whether or not a man's juices have the same affect on her..." she took a deep breath and gave me a kiss before finishing... "but we want to find out tonight."



My dick was most definitely interested. My brain was screaming against the idea! Willingly stick my dick into the mouth of a predator... a woman who thrives on human blood... feed her? Oh, HELL no... but she was so hot... and Jessie let Kate eat her... and this was a chance to have them both...



How many men make the wrong decision because they think with the wrong head? That was me that night. The little head won.



It was at about that time that Kate came over to join us. I felt my own face flush and I wondered if a red-faced human looked any more or less edible for a vampire. Kate's words were pleasant and light-hearted. She sounded like she was having a good time.



"Hi, guys," she said to both of us. "Having fun?"



"A blast," I said, looking at Jessie as I answered. "Learning all kinds of stuff." Hearing the tone in my voice, Kate's face darkened and I could see the light mood drifting away. Jessie stepped up to save the day.



Putting her arms around my waist and cuddling against me she said, "I was just telling Wolf here all about you and Strasser and how we pass our time... both work and play," Jessie said with a smile. Kate's face brightened a little but not too much.



Looking at me she asked, "And what do you think about all that?" Obviously this was a make or break moment. I was either completely okay with her being a vampire or I was going to be tossed – however delicately – out of Jessie's life. Everything I'd been told made it clear that the friendship and commitment shared between Jessie and Kate was of ultimate importance to both of them.



Very carefully I answered her. "I think that if we're not careful we learn things everyday that can really knock us for a loop." I breathed. "I think that it's fantastic that you and Jessie share the friendship that you share, and that you're both so open minded you can assist each other with your shared needs." I was trying to be careful about how I said things to make it clear that I was talking about sex, but without taking the how conversation TO sex. "And I think that I'm honored that Jessie has chosen to share the truth with me and, in essence, asked me to help you both out in any way I can." I took a deep breath to see if my answer was being accepted in the same open way it was given.



Kate's eyes met Jessie's eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds. None of us moved. None of us dared hardly breath. Kate looked back at me.



"So, you really believe it all?" she asked. I nodded yes.



"And you're okay with it all?" she asked. I nodded yes.



"And are you saying that just because you want to get in Jessie's pants... or mine?" she asked. I couldn't just nod to that one.



"Kate," I said honestly, "I've wanted to get into your pants since I first saw both of you at the club some months ago. But at this point I've never been so unsure of my desires to get between a woman's legs in my life. I believe it. I'm okay with it. Everything else... we'll have to see how it goes." Kate absorbed all that without a word. The look on her face didn't change.



Looking over at the snack plates Jessie and I had put down, Kate asked, "Have you two gotten enough to eat?"



Jessie nodded, her head still against my chest. I said, "For now." Kate looked at me some more, and then at Jessie and then back at me.



"Okay," she said. "Then follow me." Arm in arm Jessie and I obeyed. Kate led us back into the foyer and up the staircase... to the third floor... and then down a hallway. The soldier in me kept track of where we were going so I could find the nearest way out. It was a good habit that might not be good in the relaxed civilian world. I also knew that after my time in combat it would never go away.



At the fourth door on the left in the hallway, Kate opened the door and gestured for Jessie and I to enter the room. Kate followed us in and I heard her lock the door behind us. The room was a large bedroom suite... complete with a huge attached bathroom and a sitting area. While the mansion seemed antique overall, the room was furnished in ultra-modern. All of the furniture was metal framed and there was a contemporary entertainment center along the far wall – across from the bed. The television was a plasma screen that looked about six feet wide and sat over what was obviously satellite input equipment. The stereo was also there and surround sound speakers were visible on the walls.



Jessie stepped away from me and over to a large chair... unslinging her bow and putting it across the chair arms. The bow was followed by her quiver and she started to take off her arm guards. Kate walked farther into the room and over to another chair where she stripped off her gunbelt and put them in the chair. Looking back and forth between them I realized that both women were undressing... and not just putting down weapons. Jessie was unbuttoning her vest – and I saw that she had no bra beneath it. Kate was unbuckling the front of the corset thing that was built into her leather outfit... I was falling behind the curve. Boots had to go first...



As I undressed myself I enjoyed watching both women finish stripping down. Jessie's body was everything I expected it to be after all of our time together. Just as with her chest, her butt was full and firm and it had nothing to do with the pants she'd been wearing. It was full and firm completely naked... and delicious looking. Her thighs were strong and feminine appearing at the same time. Her long hair hung down across her chest as she stood up after pulling off her pants. Her nipples were erect – and it wasn't cold in the room so I had to assume she was excited. Her pussy lips looked as firm as the rest of her and it took me two looks to see that what there was of her blond pubic hair was trimmed short and shaved into a thin line that disappeared into her slit. Her lips were smooth shaven and a shine of juice reflected light off of her puffy looking labia.



Kate had unbuckled the corset and was unzipping the leather outfit. I realized that it was a one piece outfit and watched as she peeled it off her shoulders and down her waist – revealing her chest, smaller than Jessie's but with equally erect nipples – and then wiggled it down over her hips. Her body wasn't as curved as Jessie's was, but looked equally fit. No flap anywhere. Not tanned, but not pale. Kate's pubic thatch was neatly trimmed and as dark black as her hair. If it weren't trimmed, her slit would have been hidden behind the tangle of blackness. Trimmed as it was, her full pussy lips were visible and they looked like they might be slightly moist.



By the time Jessie had shaken out her hair above her naked body and Kate had stepped out of her leather catsuit, I had pushed down my pants and boxer-briefs. The room wasn't cold, and my manhood was growing. Where were we going to start? With a wink at Jessie, Kate turned and headed into the bathroom. Stepping over to me, Jessie pulled me into a warm aggressive embrace. I felt her body press against me and my erection pushing into her belly in return. I could feel her erect nipples as she pressed against me and pulled me into a kiss. "Thank you," she said softly afterward. "Thank you for me and for her," she finished.



"I'm sure it will all be my pleasure," I said simply. Taking my hand she led me into the bathroom where Kate had started the water running in a huge shower. I mean huge... it was at least ten feet square and had about a dozen showerheads built into the ceiling. There was steam flowing out of the shower area. Kate was standing in the middle of it, the water raining down on her... plastering her raven-black hair across her scalp and onto her neck. Jessie pulled me into the shower by my hand and together we joined Kate.



Leading me by my hand, Jessie positioned me behind Kate... and turned her own body so that she was in front of Kate. Between us Kate stood motionless – her nakedness seeming to drink in the moisture of the hot water. Jessie put my hands on Kate's hips and then reached around Kate to me to pull me in. When Jessie was done my hands were on Kate's hips, my cock was pushing against Kate's lower back and the rest of my body was pressed against her. Her body was cold. She didn't feel quite like ice, but she wasn't 98.6 degrees either. It dawned on me that vampires, being dead, probably didn't maintain what we humans would consider a normal body temperature. So Kate's body was, in general, room temperature... so probably about 70 degrees, give or take a few degrees.



Jessie stepped up close to Kate's front, her breasts and nipples rubbing against Kate's... and pulled both Kate and I close against her. Together Jessie and I had made a Kate sandwich. And then I realized that between our body heat and the flowing hot water, we were warming Kate up. Jessie began to lick, kiss and gently suck on Kate's neck and shoulders and as she did so I used my hands to rub up and down what I could reach of Kate's body. When my hands ran up under Kate's chest, lifting and caressing her breasts, Jessie lowered her head farther and opened her mouth to suck in Kate's nipples as I raised them. It was quite an erotic feeling to feeding one woman's breast to another woman's mouth. Both of them moaned at the contact.



As her nipple disappeared into Jessie's mouth, Kate finally reacted to us... reaching one hand around Jessie and another back around me as best she could... pulling both of us harder against us. As Jessie worked back and forth across Kate's nipples, Kate leaned her head farther back and turned her face up to mine... her lips were slightly parted and I realized that I could see her fangs... and her tongue flicking out across her lower lip. When any other woman did that I took it as a sign of horniness. Was it the same with a vampire? Was I brave enough to kiss her? To offer my tongue into her mouth? A certain level of trust was required... and we were well past where I should be having such doubts. Lowering my mouth to hers I closed my eyes as our lips met... and our tongues danced... hers was chilly but skilled and I felt her body begin to squirm as our tongues caressed each other. Jessie looked up to see our mouths working together and a, "Yesssss," hissed out of her.



I felt Kate's hips and ass unexpectedly thrust back against me and when I opened my eyes, still kissing her now warming mouth, I saw that Jessie was still sucking Kate's nipple... but Jessie's hand had strayed farther down and was working in Kate's crotch. Moving my own hand down to join Jessie's I felt the juncture of Jessie's fingers where they were enveloped within Kate's pussy... Spreading my fingers along Kate's nether lips, I felt Jessie's fingers moving slickly in and out of Kate's sex... two strong fingers hooking in and out, Jessie's palm forced against Kate's mound with every completed entry... and sliding up across Kate's clit with every withdrawal.



Kate was beginning to warm... and warm quickly. I could feel the heat of her ass against my rock hard length as she bucked her hips back and forth in reaction to Jessie's fingers. I could feel the heat in her breasts as I continued to feed them to Jessie's hungry mouth. And then Kate pushed us both away, grabbing Jessie as she moved and spinning her around so that when the turn was complete, Kate and I had made a Jessie sandwich. Now it was Jessie's sex ass up against me; her chest in my hands; and Kate's fingers finding, opening and sliding into Jessie's slippery heat.



Passion seemed to be taking control of us as we moved together. Just before my lips met Jessie's – just as they had Kate's moments before – in a kiss, I heard her murmur, "Soon." And then our tongues were working just as Kate's and my bodies were working against Jessie's.



Kate lifted her head just far enough away from Jessie's nipple to say, "I need to feed."



"Do it," Jessie said demandingly. For a moment I thought Kate was going to sink her fangs into Jessie's tit... and then I remembered what Jessie had told me about sexual secretions and held my breath as Kate sank to her knees and pressed her face to the juncture of Jessie's now bowed legs. Jessie's body began to sag in pleasure and I found myself holding her up, continuing to kiss her as Kate's tongue and lips worked against Jessie's flowing womanhood.



Jessie's body writhed in pleasure and began to buck as her orgasm neared... and then exploded... and was almost immediately followed by another... and another... and another... and almost five minutes went by as I held and kissed my new lover whilst her female lover sucked hungrily on her pussy.



When Jessie's explosions of pleasure had passed and she could almost breath normally, Kate stood up and said, "More..." It was a question and a statement. She wanted... needed more. Could she have it? Where from I wondered?



Finding the strength to support her own weight, Jessie held my hand and led me out of the shower... both of us following Kate to the bed. I watched as Kate climbed onto the bed on her knees... and Jessie stopped at the edge of the bed, releasing my hand with a single word: "Wait." I obeyed. I needed more pleasure... and was having fun pleasuring both these women.



Kate was on her knees – with her legs spread pretty wide – facing us on the bed. Jessie climbed onto the bed giving me an excellent view of her delicious ass and now swollen dripping pussy... crawling onto the bed until her face was almost even with Kate's pussy. And then Jessie laid down, turned onto her back and slid her face under Kate's sex. With a smirk at me Kate said, "Get behind me," and then lowered her face back down to Jessie's sex. They were in a 69 and with no hesitation they were both eagerly eating each other's sex. I came out of my momentary trance and realized what Kate had told me.



Stepping around the bed I found myself looking down at Jessie's face below Kate's spread ass and pussy. Jessie was hungrily tonguing and sucking on Kate's pussy – and the undead though Kate may have been – she was certainly enjoying Jessie's attention. Looking up at me Jessie saw my cock waving at full length, needing attention and craving a hot moist opening to probe. Tilting her head just a little away from Kate's sex, Jessie opened her mouth and waggled her tongue. I took the offer and presented my cockhead to her mouth. She worked her mouth on it some, but was restricted by her position.



Pulling her head down away from my length she said, "Come on. Fuck my mouth." At those words I heard Kate make a noise that was some mixture of a moan and a whine. Ignoring it, Jessie made the same gesture she had before: open mouth, tongue waggling. An open invitation. Moving my length back to her mouth I didn't hold back. I slid my length in until I felt my swollen knob hit the back of her throat and then I began stroking back and forth. Through Jessie's mouth I felt her cum again against Kate's tongue and lips and I remembered that Kate was eagerly sucking up Jessie's pussy juice; living off of it much as she would the blood of either of us.



I heard and felt Jessie moan as she came and when the orgasm had passed she pushed against my cock with her tongue, forcing me out of her mouth. Looking up at me as I looked down in askance at her, she used both her hands to hold open Kate's pussy for me – and then looked at my cock and then Kate's pussy... and then my cock... and then Kate's pussy... and I finally got the hint.



Holding my cock, which was slick with Jessie's spit, I guided it to Kate's inviting pussy and pushed just the head in. Kate's pussy wasn't hot... it was kind of cool... but it was slick and otherwise felt just like every other woman I'd been inside of. With a short stroke out I pushed more back in and heard Kate moan. "Give it all to her," I heard Jessie moan, still holding Kate's pussy open for me. With my next thrust I sank my full length into Kate and reveled in the pleasure of hearing both women moan.



Holding my cock at full penetration, I ground my hips there for a few moments, feeling my balls rubbing on Jessie's nose as she went back to sucking on Kate's clit. Then I heard Jessie say, "Now fuck her. Fuck her hard, but don't cum in her." Then she was sucking clit again. Holding Kate's hips and realizing that my balls were bouncing across Jessie's face with every stroke, I began to slide in and out of Kate with strong thrusts. I wasn't going fast at first, just all the way out and then slamming back in. Jessie has said, "Hard," and I had no intention of disappointing either of them.



As I continued to stroke I built my rhythm and speed, gradually increasing my pace until I WAS literally fucking Kate as hard and as fast as I could. The thought that I had yet to fuck Jessie crossed my mind...



And, as if she could read my mind, Kate pulled her head out of Jessie's pussy long enough to say, "We need to move." Jessie apparently knew what she meant. None of us was going anywhere if I kept fucking into Kate, so I pulled out. Kate got off of Jessie and both of them got up on their knees in different corners of the bed.



"Lay down," Jessie said to me. She was breathless with the number of orgasms Kate had eaten her to and through. Both of them had pussy juice on their faces... across their lips and chins. My cock was smeared with Kate's juices and bouncing with every beat of my heart. Never have I been as thankful for still being in the physical condition I'd earned in the Marine Corps.



Laying down, I wondered what was next. What came next was Jessie straddling my cock and settling down quickly onto it. Here I was – finally where I'd wanted to be for months. Her pussy felt as wonderful as I thought it would. Compared it Kate's sex Jessie's was amazingly hot, much wetter and felt like a velvet vice. Settling herself down completely on me, Jessie ground her ass down and I could feel her cervix grinding around my cockhead deep inside her. With her hands on my chest, she began to ride up and down my length; full strokes that only kept my swollen knob inside her with each upstroke... and nothing but my balls left out on each down stroke.



As Jessie began to build her momentum, Kate through a knee over my head and straddled my face. I looked up into her pussy and realized that, dead or not, freshly fucked looked the same on all women. Her pussy lips were swollen and red. Her labia looked puffy and her slit was swollen open somewhat. As she spread her knees farther apart to lower her pussy onto my face, I put my tongue out and held it stiffly so she'd feel it and position herself accordingly. She did a good job as she lowered her body and my tongue slid directly into her hole.



Stopping to keep her weight from resting on my face, Kate began to hump her hips back and forth. All I had to do was keep my tongue stuck out. She rocked so far that I was licking her slit from clit to asshole... and back and forth. At the same time I was reveling in the pleasure of Jessie's tight pussy riding up and down my shaft, occasionally grinding down and around to stir my length inside her.



After a few minutes of riding, Jessie lifted herself off my shaft... and Kate leaned down to engulf my cock in her mouth. No matter what her normal body temperature was, her mouth was hot. She hungrily – and I mean more hungrily than any woman I'd ever been with – began to suck my cock. Absentmindedly I realized that she was still feeding... sucking Jessie's pussy juices off my length. When Kate was sure she'd gotten it all, she raised back up and Jessie settled back down on me.



"Don't forget," Kate said with a hiss.



"I haven't," replied Jessie. I wondered what they were talking about but wasn't in a position to ask.



The timing of Jessie pulling off and Kate sucking my length kept up for several rotations. Every few minutes Jessie would pop off and Kate would immediately suck my length in. She was aggressive about it. She was energetic about it. She sucked in my length until her nose was against my balls and my cock was buried in her throat. If she could have opened her mouth far enough I think she might have sucked in my balls too. I remember thinking that Kate, by far, gave the best blow job I'd ever had... and that it had nothing to do with my cock or her appreciation for it. It was all about Jessie's juices.



Finally my cock had had enough and I felt my cum begin to boil. I knew I'd be cumming soon and said as much. As soon as I had, Jessie popped off my length and Kate lowered her head to suck me more aggressively than she previously had. I don't know how she did it, but she opened her mouth and slid down my cock and began to bob her head and my orgasm just kept building.



When I finally came Kate positioned my cock so that my cum was sucked between her lips and the cum was spurting directly onto her tongue. I felt a number of strong spasms, each representing another thick rope of hot cum jetting into Kate's mouth, followed by an equal number of less intense spasms, each still representing more cum flowing out of my length.



Holding my cum in her mouth, Kate dismounted my head and I could see Jessie kneeling there next to me, looking at Kate. I looked up at Kate and watched as she gulped several times, swallowing my cum and then licking her lips clean. She worked her mouth like you would if you had peanut butter on the roof, and then swallowed again. Her face looked like she was in heaven.



"Well?" Jessie asked. In answer Kate only nodded. Jessie looked down at me with a big smile. I assumed that this meant that a man's cum was as acceptable of a substitute for blood as was a woman's sexual juices.



Together we all lay snuggled on the bed, Kate between Jessie and I so that her body temperature stayed up. When I'd recovered, little more than five or ten minutes later, the ladies were both back at my cock again, sharing it between them as they sucked back and forth. The second time around they sixty-nined with Jessie on the bottom and Kate straddling her face... but with me between Jessie's legs. I got to kneel between them and fuck until I came... FINALLY inside my new lover. Since Kate knew what my cum tasted like... and loved the taste of Jessie's pussy... combining the two only made sense. After I had cum deep into Jessie I got out of the way and watched as Kate sucked and licked Jessie's pussy clean of my load. Jessie had cum three times more while I was pumping into her and twice more as Kate ate her clean.



As we lay together the second time... recovering our breath... Jessie turned to me and said, "You've passed the final test. We want you to join us in our fight."



"Okay," was all I could manage.



"It's sometimes very hard," Jessie said seriously. "But every night, after the fight, we celebrate life together. Can you handle both of us every night?"



"I'll do my damndest," I answered her with a smile.



That was almost a year ago and it's been one heck of a pleasurable – and ugly – year. Almost every night of the week we're out hunting and fighting "bad" vampires. Successful in our hunt or not, we celebrate nearly every night. During Jessie's time of the month – oddly enough – she doesn't play with Kate and I – but merely watches television while Kate and I shower and then play. I have learned to love cumming deep into my love, Jessie, full well knowing that Kate is going to suck it all out. And it's quite a pleasure to always have a woman handy who is willing to suck down my cum after I've unloaded it onto her tongue between her hungry lips. I've got a few more scars than I used to have, but my weapons skills have improved if anything and I'm still in great shape.



Last week we found a beautiful young lady named Shelby that had been bitten but not bled dry. She turned and is now with Strasser. Jessie and Kate have both expressed their feelings about how attractive Shelby is... and their hope that, once properly trained by Strasser, she'll be sent to work with us. I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up with the three of them...

brides
22:37 May 19 2008
Times Read: 931

Charisma walked around the room alone as usual. It seemed these decadent, rich parties always turned out the same for a working class girl who made in a year what most of the party goers made in a day and a half. The lavish mansion ballroom was filled with the rich and selfish that only cared about her when she stood on the arm of the man who invited her, aside from that she felt like they could care less if she lived or died. Her date was currently no where to be seen so she was being ignored at the moment, walking through the room from one corner to the next holding a half empty glass of champagne hoping someone would help rescue her from her doldrums. No one ever did and tonight was no different so she did what she always did, eavesdropped on anyone who looked slightly interesting.



The only reason Charisma even got invited to these parties was her looks and her finely sculpted body. She spent many hours in the gym each week working out to maintain her incredibly sexy physique and her surgically enhanced breasts currently stood out at a double "D" cup and were both being barely contained in her low-cut evening gown. Her short hair was well dyed and maintained as was her make-up and expensive shoes but none of it did any good as far as granting the attention she craved. Attention she normally couldn't get away from when she was at work.



The strip club she worked at was a very highbrow gentleman's club and the only reason any of the rich and powerful in this mansion even knew she existed. She had seen just about every single man in the place at the club at one point or another and considering how friendly they were to her there she assumed she would get the same attention at this party but not to be. None of them gave her a second glance and only once in a great while would one of them even smile at her or more rarely, say hello.



As she walked by one couch she noticed that a woman was sitting all alone and looked like she was in the exact same situation as Charisma. Her eyes wandered left and right and she appeared to be deathly bored. Not a single male partier was anywhere to be seen so Charisma started to walk over to her to alleviate her own boredom and hopefully, make a new friend. As she approached a tall, pale gentleman approached the woman and kneeled by the side of the couch where she was sitting. They spoke a few words as Charisma walked slowly towards them, she didn't hear what they said to one another but she could tell that the woman was glad for the attention and the man was glad that he had her attention on him. Charisma wondered whose wife the woman was and how close she was to cheating on that husband right under his nose and all because he was too busy trying to prove he was the best whatever kind of guy he was to even notice. She couldn't help but smile as she began to write a fantasy about this gorgeous woman being unfaithful to a man that deserved it so badly.



Her daydream came crashing down on her head when she noticed that the pale man kissed the woman's wrist and a thin rivulet of blood ran from his mouth and down her arm to drip onto the floor. Charisma stood in shock as the woman continued talking to him as he sucked on her bite wound apparently unaware that he had drawn blood. How could that be? How could you not see that someone has just bitten a hole in your arm deep enough to spill a quart and a half of blood? But as Charisma stood watching she realized that the blood flow was getting worse. The man's lips were stained in her life fluid, her arm was now covered in her blood as it ran over her skin in torrents and even a small puddle was growing on the floor. Charisma rubbed her eyes and her mouth open as she stood watching this poor creature bleed to death without the slightest clue that she was being murdered



The woman was rubbing her eyes and trying to focus them as she kept loosing her train of thought. The blood loss was clearly getting to her as she began fading in and out of consciousness until her head rolled to one side and her body went completely limp on the couch. Her blood had not only run down her arm but also soaked part of her dress and left a huge stain on the floor where she was sitting, now dead.



The man simply stood, wiped his mouth clean of his victim's blood and walked off. Charisma followed him to a separate room at the end of a long hallway. He opened the door and turned around seeing her for the first time.



"You just killed someone didn't you?" Charisma confronted him. He just looked at her without changing expressions on his face. A couple of seconds passed and he opened the door to the side room and indicated for her to walk inside which she did without question. Once inside the room she spun on her high heel and looked him dead in the eye after he had closed the door.



"Why did you do that? You could have done anything you wanted with her, she was putty in your hands and you murdered her." Charisma spoke firmly.



"I wanted to kill her. It's been too long since I've fed and I was famished." He spoke to her quietly and approached her slowly. Charisma stood her ground.



"That doesn't make any sense, you didn't have to do that and now you're going to go to jail for murder." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited for his response. He just kept walking towards her taking a long time to cross the short distance.



"I don't think so." He said and the smile she saw made her own blood run cold and a chill ran down her spine. Quickly she turned to leave but saw that she was in a room that had only one entrance and exit and he was standing between it and her. She had just walked into a private room with a killer without realizing it and now she had no escape.



The murderer approached Charisma and finally closed the gap completely. Resigned to her fate she stood in place and waited for him to make his move. If she was lucky he would kill her as quickly and painlessly as the first woman, if she was unlucky he had a long night in store for her.



"What are you going to do to me?" she asked with far less confidence than she felt.



"I don't know yet. Let's see where the night takes us shall we?" he held his arm out for her to take and she hooked her elbow into it. Solemnly she looked at the floor as he led her behind a hidden door into a down staircase. Doing her best to maintain her dignity she allowed herself to be led to the room that would be her final resting place. The man was quiet and his arm was very cold, somehow sucking the warmth right out of her skin. His flesh was solid as well like his arm was made of steel rather than muscle and skin.



Once the door was open Charisma looked into the room and her jaw dropped. She was standing inside a huge bedroom that had three beds in it. The light came from several fixtures along the walls and three chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered in gorgeous tapestries and the furniture was ornate and appeared to be authentic antiques that were very well maintained. Two naked women were lounging on two beds that were opposite each other and closest to where she had entered. One of the women had Charcoal black skin and her hair was also black, her eyes were devoid of irises or pupils and were two narrow white ovals shining from her face. Her mouth was pursed in a frown that made Charisma's blood run cold. The other woman was pale, almost white in her skin tone and her hair was white as well. Her eyes were solid black and unlike her companion she wore a wicked grin that told Charisma she was happy to see the newcomer. Charisma was more scared than ever.



"Good evening my wives." The man greeted them.



"A new toy to play with?" the white woman asked. "Goody." She stood and walked directly at Charisma using slow purposeful strides taking time to examine her prey before approaching.



"Good to meet you." Charisma whispered swallowing.



"No it's not." The black woman spoke from her resting place. "Women who meets us usually spend the night wishing they were anywhere else. Even dead."



"That's ok." The white woman was smiling broadly and warmly as she brushed her hand along Charisma's chin. "I'll be gentle. It's Azriel over there that you should be worried about. She's a certified nightmare." Azriel hissed at the remark and stood next to the white woman examining Charisma closely. Charisma hadn't even seen Azriel move, she just appeared next to the white woman.



"Azriel, Ariel enjoy." The man said before leaving.



"I will." Ariel said giving Charisma a soft and gentle kiss on the lips. Ariel's lips felt like they were craved from ice.



"She won't." Azriel pinched one of Charisma's nipples through her dress so hard Charisma cried out in pain. Azriel laughed.



"I get her first." Ariel told Azriel.



"Take her." Azriel resumed her position on the bed Charisma had seen her lying on when she entered the room. Ariel led her to the opposite bed and sat down on the edge of the bed looking at Charisma with horny lust in her eyes. Charisma's pussy started to get wet despite the fear that was now turning her stomach into a knot. She was here to die she knew that and these two devious women had something in mind for her that Charisma was not going to enjoy she was certain but as Ariel removed the gown she was wearing Charisma grew more and more horny by the second.



"What's your name darling?" Ariel asked her unhooking Charisma's bra. Removed from their support Charisma's large tits hung free on her chest and her nipples grew to the hardness of gravel in less than a second.



"Charisma." She answered quietly.



"Speak up god damn it." Azriel shouted from the other bed.



"Charisma." Charisma answered quickly practically shouting. Azriel's demand caught her by surprise.



"How do you expect me to hear what's going on if you talk under your breath?" Azriel hissed.



"I'm sorry." Charisma responded stepping out of the panties Ariel had just pulled off her waist and down to the floor.



"Not yet you aren't." Azriel growled. Charisma was as frightened of the black woman as she was horny for Ariel who right now was rubbing her cold hands all over Charisma's naked body. The sensations were mind blowing and Charisma's breath caught in her throat as Ariel kissed her nipples and all around the soft mounds of her tits.



"Don't be afraid of her she likes to scare our playthings when I'm enjoying them. As long as you're with me she can talk all she wants. Its when I'm finished with you that you should worry." Ariel took one nipple into her mouth and began sucking on it, teasing it with her tongue until Charisma was moaning out loud despite herself. Ariel sucked on one tit and massaged the other with one frozen hand before switching sides and sucking the opposite nipple and then moving back again. The feeling of her hands was like being massaged by an ice statue but the cold was invigorating and only helped to heighten her passion. Charisma clutched Ariel's hair with one hand and held her other hand in her own hoping to soak in as much of the coldness as she could.



Ariel's seductive tongue was driving Charisma mad and she longed to feel the killer's mouth between her thighs. Ariel must have read Charisma's mind because she sank to the floor between Charisma's legs and spread them just far enough apart to fit her head between them. Ariel went to work right away on Charisma's clit and pussy lips bringing Charisma right to orgasm almost the same instant she felt the now familiar coldness of Ariel's mouth one her nether regions. Ariel didn't skip a beat as she continued to attack Charisma's pussy brining her victim quickly back to the brink. Both of Ariel's hands massaged Charisma's ass cheeks and Charisma clutched Ariel's head holding her face against Charisma's pussy. In what seemed like no time at all Charisma's body rocked and she screamed as another unbelievable orgasm washed over her. She convulsed and bucked under the assault of Ariel's frozen tongue and when it finally finished she felt spent and could barely stand.



Without warning Azriel took a hold of Charisma's short hair and yanked her head back so that she was looking straight at the ceiling. As she did Charisma felt to piercing fangs puncture her tit just above her nipple, the pain of the attack was driving her wild with lust, she felt like she was about to come for a third time as Azriel kept a tight hold on the scruff of her neck while Ariel dined on her blood. All too soon, Ariel released her tit and Azriel led her across the room to her bed and Charisma was now on all fours. Renewed fear gripped Charisma's stomach as Ariel's words from earlier rang loud and clear in her mind.



"I know you're going to kill me so just get on with it." Charisma whined. She was answered by a vicious slap on her ass that made her recoil in pain and scream from the sting. Her pussy glistened with her juices and despite how much the strike had hurt she wanted it to happen again.



"Why should I do that? That's no fun." Azriel reinforced her point by slapping a large paddle against one palm. "Just stay on all fours and this will be easy."



"For you." Charisma spat. Azriel violently spanked her ass with the paddle in response, the assault was almost more than Charisma could take and she screamed at the top of her lungs every time the paddle struck her ass. Blood from Charisma's bite wound still flowed from her tit and dropped onto the sheets forming a large red stain. After what felt like an eternity Azriel paused to admire her handiwork on Charisma's ass. Charisma could barely see almost blinded by the burning fire that used to be her ass cheeks. She wasn't certain but her pussy felt so wet she felt like she had come.



"That's the point bitch." And Azriel slapped Charisma's ass one last time with the brutal paddle before setting it aside and pouncing on Charisma's left ass cheek. Her fangs bit deep and finally cut the skin after Charisma screamed again in agony. She spent less time than Ariel did sucking out her blood but the sheer torture of the bite almost brought Charisma to the brink of tears.



Ariel took a moment to position Charisma's ass in front of her face and start sucking on Charisma's clit and tonguing her pussy lips with a fury that matched Azriel's pounding with the paddle. In seconds Charisma felt her body rock and buck with an orgasm that left her with doubt of its occurrence. Once again the session was far too short and Charisma was back in Azriel's ferocious hands.



"Lay on your back my pet. I guarantee you're going to love this." Charisma obeyed silently this time dreading whatever the black woman had in store for her but at the same time all too eager for it to happen. She wasn't sure why but the torture and rape she was going through was exhilarating and driving her crazy with horny desire. No matter how badly she was treated her pussy and nipples begged for more. Her mind was terrified and her heart was lost in depression waiting the inevitable end of her life but her entire blood stained body couldn't care less as long she got more of the treatment and many more orgasms.



Azriel made sure to tie Charisma's hands and ankles to the bed so that she couldn't escape the next torture. Ariel lay down on the bed next to Charisma's prone form licking the blood off of her still bleeding tit. Azriel's naked black skin actually gleamed in the light of the overhead chandelier while she rummaged around a large bag that held various instruments of pain and agony. Ariel caressed Charisma's hair and rubbed her hands across her skin while they waited.



"So beautiful. I think I'm falling in love with you." Ariel smiled at Charisma.



"That's not going to get you off the hook, however." Azriel held up a pair of clips attached to each other by a long shiny chain. Charisma cringed, Ariel whistled.



"You're fucked now." The white vampire whispered into Charisma's ear.



"Oh shit." Charisma hissed as the clamps were firmly attached to her pert nipples. The clamps were so tight that Charisma could see her skin turn bright red almost instantly.



"Ow, ow, ow, ow." Charisma whimpered. "Those fucking hurt."



"You talk too much." Azriel complained and wrapped a gag with a large rubber ball around Charisma's mouth. Ariel fitted the gag and fastened it behind Charisma's head and the two women lay in wait for what Azriel had planned. The black vampire held up a small whip and twirled it in the air.



"Let's really have some fun." Azriel struck Charisma's inner thigh with the small whip causing the human to squirm in response. Ariel giggled and writhed in response to Charisma's muffled cries of pain.



"You're being really good. This is going to suck when it's finally over." Azriel lamented as she climbed onto the bed to straddle Charisma's hips. She struck Charisma on both sides of her body with the tiny whip causing sharp stinging pain in her sides. The strikes became more frequent and more painful Charisma screamed in pain through the gag as loud as she could, the sound muffled heavily by the large rubber ball. Ariel bit hard on Charisma's left arm and began sucking greedily on Charisma's blood once again, it didn't take long before she was writhing and bucking under her tormentors as another orgasm wracked her entire body.



"Don't think you're done yet." Azriel growled putting the small whip away. From the bag she pulled out one of the largest strap-on dildos Charisma had ever seen. Ariel released Charisma's arm and hissed loudly at the huge plastic member crawling away in horror. The blood loss and mindset she was in did nothing to hide Charisma's fear and she bucked and moaned trying to free herself from the restraints. Azriel laughed wickedly mocking her struggles.



"Give it up sweetheart you can't escape. Besides, this will be over before you know it." Azriel straddled Charisma's hips once again and folded her legs as far back as they would go to give the massive dildo easier access to Charisma's soaking cunt. As she pushed the oversized member into Charisma's pussy Azriel bit her calf and sucked some of her blood while entering her. Charisma's pussy strained and stretched to accept the dildo and she screamed in pain as it forced her farther and farther open. She struggled to accept the giant strap on and her body arched and squirmed as it pushed itself into her pussy as far as it could go.



Azriel stopped sucking on Charisma's leg and took hold of her thighs. "Ready or not, here you come." Azriel told her in a nasty voice. Charisma screamed at the top of her lungs as Azriel fucked her furiously with the massive strap-on. Her body was now coated in sweat as well as blood as another fierce orgasm wracked Charisma's body. Ariel bit her other tit and began drinking her blood again while Azriel drover her huge strap on dildo into Charisma's pussy with such force that Charisma thought she was going to burst. The blood loss finally becoming too much for her Charisma's heart fluttered as she felt the beginnings of a heart attack, Azriel must have somehow sensed Charisma's end was near and stopped fucking her.



"I'm actually going to miss you." Azriel moaned before biting Charisma's inner thigh.



"As will I." Ariel kissed Charisma's cheek before biting down on her neck. Both vampires sucked greedily and Charisma felt her strength rapidly fading, her vision went dark quickly and soon she felt herself falling into eternity.



Azriel stood up and looked at the dead woman strapped to her bed with a feeling of sorrow. Ariel removed the gag and kissed Charisma's lips gently.



"Don't tell me." Azriel placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side watching Ariel rub her body against the body of their dead lover.



"Ok I won't." Ariel replied laying her head on the corpse's shoulder.



"I don't believe you. I don't blame you either."



"Good, don't."



Charisma woke up some time later. At first she didn't remember anything at all, not even her name but as she lay in the bed and looked around at her surroundings memories flooded back into her mind at such a pace as to leave her delirious. It took quite a while but eventually the night's events came back to her and she sat up startled that she had woken up at all. She was still in the same bedroom but now it was empty and she was still nude albeit free of bite wounds and dried blood. Near as she could tell the bed she was on was the third bed of the room, the one bed that Azriel and Ariel didn't use when they tortured and murdered her or at least she thought they had.Standing on wobbly legs it took Charisma a few minutes to gain the strength to walk again. She felt cold and weak and a little light headed but otherwise ok but when she walked up to a nearby full length mirror she realized she was far from alright, she had been murdered after all.



Her skin while not as white as Ariel's was still far paler than it should have been. Even though her face was only inches from the smooth glass her breath left no fog on the mirror, mostly because she wasn't breathing at all. Placing her hand on her chest she struggled to find a heartbeat but there wasn't one. She was as dead as the woman she had seen at the party only she was up and about despite the fact. She was also different in other ways that she noticed as she examined her figure in the mirror.



Her facial features were different slightly and her body seemed to be smoother and had developed much more attractive shape. Her breasts were perfect before but now the shape seemed to be even more so, they stood more and her nipples were nearly perfect circles and just the right color. Her hips were unchanged but her waist was narrower giving her body more of an hourglass look like when she used to do corset training. Her ass was just as round but much smoother and her skin was formed over taught muscles that rippled with every movement of her body. In short while she didn't really look different she looked far more attractive sexually even to herself.



Still wobbly on her legs Charisma sat down on the bed and tried to make sense of what had happened to her the previous night. She had watched a man kill a woman by drinking her blood from her wrist and after confronting him he turned her over to two women who raped and tortured her finally killing her by drinking her blood. It had never occurred to her before now that the three of them were vampires but feeling the razor-sharp fangs in her own mouth brought it all together, she had been murdered by vampires and now she was one of them.



A muffled voice called out to her from a corner of the room and she saw a man tied up and naked on the bed she had once been tied to. She wasn't sure how she had missed him but she was sure of one thing right now, she was hungry and he was dinner.



Charisma approached the helpless man and reached for his large dick. Even limp it was a handful but as she stroked his length to hardness she was amazed at how large the thing got. It still wasn't anywhere near as big as the huge dildo Azriel had fucked her with when she had murdered her but it was still very impressive. Hungry as much for this man's sex as she was for his blood Charisma didn't give it a second thought when she swallowed his cock with one gulp and slowly dug her teeth into the flesh at the base as she sucked him. The strange man moaned and squirmed under the assault of her mouth and fangs and Charisma held him firmly by the buttocks to keep his dick in her mouth. She turned her head from side to side as her fangs dug deeper and deeper into his skin finally breaking the surface and spilling his hot blood into her mouth.



The taste of his life was exquisite. Searing hot his blood burned her mouth but she didn't dare let go instead she dug her fangs into his flesh as deep as she could and sucked eagerly at the open wounds filling her mouth and spilling from her lips. His blood gushed faster than she could drink it and it ran down her chin onto the sheets of the bed. Moaning loudly through the gag the man struggled against his bonds and tried to break free, Charisma sucked on his cock and started teasing the tip with her tongue to keep him somewhat calm.



It took several minutes but eventually she drank her fill and finished sucking the man off. His come shot hard into her mouth and burned just as hot as his blood. She pulled her head back and let his gisim hit her face instead of swallowing it. As she watched his orgasm subside she noticed that he stopped moving and breathing as soon as he finished. Full of blood she smiled at her first kill.



"Enjoy him?" A familiar female voice asked her from behind. Charisma turned to see Azriel and Ariel standing behind her.



"I was hoping you'd save some for us." Ariel pouted.



"What the...?" Charisma started to ask. Azriel's skin was now the natural dark brown color of an African American female and Ariel's skin while pale was no longer white and looked more natural as well. Ariel had very light blonde hair and Azriel's was a very dark brown color, almost the same as her skin tone.



"We can change our appearance at will. Its limited to our skin and hair color but fun nonetheless." Ariel answered Charisma's unanswered question as she sat down on the floor next where Charisma was sitting. Charisma embraced her despite the anger she was beginning to feel.



"What did you do to me?" Charisma asked.



"The only thing we could. We killed you and brought you back as one of us." Azriel replied without emotion.



"Our master was none too pleased but he went along with it after a while." Ariel kissed Charisma gently on the forehead.



"How long was I out?" Charisma asked them. Both Azriel and Ariel had changed back to the same skin and hair color they were when Charisma first saw them while they were talking to Charisma. Azriel examined the body of the man Charisma had just killed while Ariel cuddled Charisma next to her on the floor where she had sat down.



"Two years." Ariel responded. Charisma leaped up to a standing position knocking Ariel to the floor.



"TWO YEARS!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.



"Well the process takes time." Azriel told her placing her hands on her hips. "Calm down."



"Two years I've been lying in that bed dead?" Charisma wasn't sure why that startled her so much but right now she was confused and unable to make any sense of the two women and what they had done to her.



"I said, calm down." Azriel growled at her. Charisma stood frozen in place now as afraid as she'd been as when they met last. "You obviously are none the worse for wear."



Charisma stood for a while and looked at Azriel and then Ariel who stood back up and embraced Charisma once again. She clutched the other vampire and fought back the urge to cry. She had no idea what was in store for her now that she was a vampire but she knew she was now dependant on the women who raped and murdered her two years prior.



"So what do I do now?" Charisma finally asked.



"Trust us, we're going to take care of you." Ariel told her.



"What about my job?" Charisma asked.



"The thing about being one of us, you don't need a job. Master has all the resources we need to get along. The only rule is that we don't leave the compound without his knowledge, other than that we're free to do whatever we please." Azriel told her. "Now get dressed, we have a party tonight to get ready for and it's going to be killer."



Charisma lounged on a lonely couch in a dark corner of the main room where the ball was being held. Unlike previous parties where she craved attention she never got this time she avoided attention like the plague. Since waking up as a vampire her skin had developed a pale tone and her eyes slowly grew darker. Within minutes her eyes were completely black, her lips were also black and her skin shone brightly almost as white as Ariel's skin before she somehow changed it. The other two women told her it would take time for her to be able to change her own skin and hair color at will and at this party no one would even notice.



That didn't bother Charisma so much as her growing desire for blood. Although she had just fed she looked at the men and women attending the ball as food to sate her hunger. Not only did she want to feed on them she wanted to fuck them as well and that confused her all the more. Being a vampire had awakened desires in her that she wasn't familiar with and were a little overwhelming. Ariel and Azriel, too interested in finding prey of their own had left her to mingle with their potential victims. Charisma wondered how the partiers felt being hosted by killers that wanted nothing more from then their very lives.



Unable to withstand the tension Charisma stood up from the couch and walked to the far side of the room where a young man sat with a young woman. Charisma was highly attracted to them both and she guessed their youth would keep their blood rich and fresh.



"Enjoying the party?" she asked them before sitting down on one arm of the small couch.



"Yeah its kind of slow but we like chatting with everyone." The male of the couple said.



"I love these kind of parties. They're always so decadent." The female replied. Charisma did all she could to not salivate for the handsome couple.



"Yes well, that is the whole point. I'm Charisma." She introduced herself by holding out her hand. The female shook it gently and the male gave her wrist a light kiss.



"I'm Shelly and this is Carter." Shelly smiled.



"It's a pleasure to meet you both. Would either of you like to have anything else to drink?" Charisma asked standing. "I'm running empty myself."



"We'd love some." Carter held up their glasses for Charisma to take.



"White for both of us, please." Shelly asked.



"White huh? I prefer red myself." Charisma winked. She had a hard time hiding her fangs in her smile but the couple didn't seem to notice. It was going to be a glorious night.

love bites
22:22 May 19 2008
Times Read: 938

Everybody thinks vampires are so damn sexy! I mean, even in the movies they are portrayed by the likes of Tom Cruise and Stuart Townshend. Meanwhile, we lycanthropes are stuck with Jack Nicholson and Michael J. Fox. Where's the justice in that I ask you? Of course, there are other issues that separate our kind. Vampires tend to be solitary creatures, while werewolves are very social, the original party animals, you might say. Another reason I've never much cared for vamps is their scent; vampires are dead, after all, and most of them smell like it. So, all in all, I've never been a huge fan of the undead...never really bought into the sexy stereotype...until I met Kim.



It was a regular Friday night for me. It just happened to also be Halloween. The full moon was out, but I've been dealing with my condition most of my life so I'm able to keep it under control. Besides I was hanging at TJ's, a hangout owned by a member of my pack, so I wasn't exactly worried. Normal humans rarely wander into rowdy werewolf biker bars, and those that do usually deserve what happens to them. I know, I know, there's another lycanthrope stereotype for 'ya. We're not all bikers. I say it's sheer coincidence that most of the big, hairy guys I hang out with turn into big, hairy wolves when the moon is full.



Anyhow, there I was, nursing a beer at the bar, when my finely-tuned animal senses noted an unfamiliar presence at the door. Yeah, okay, I saw her come in. So did most of the crowd, and every one of them, even the few women present, turned to stare at her. There was just something about her.



She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, or waif-thin like most vamp girls I've met. She wasn't dressed head to toe in skin-tight black leather either. Still, she drew the eye of everyone in the joint. Then she calmly took a step toward the bar, and it seemed the spell was broken. Conversations restarted, the juke box music faded back into focus, and the balls on the pool table in the back room cracked loudly.



The next thing I knew she was standing next to me at the bar. In an instant I knew she was a vampire. Her pale, pale ivory skin gave her away. No one's that pale unless they're dead. Everything else about her read as human though. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, and a silky-looking black top that accented her voluptuous curves. Her ash-blonde hair was short and curly, and when she turned her big, hazel eyes to look at me, I could see the faint freckles dancing across the bridge of her upturned nose. Then she smiled at me, and I caught a glimpse of fang, confirming what I'd already surmised. Surprisingly, the knowledge didn't bother me much.



I started to turn away, but again found myself surprised when she said, "Hi, my name is Kim."



Kim? I thought to myself. What the hell kinda name is that for a vampire?



But I caught myself, and instead offered up my hand for her to shake.



"Uh, Matt," I found myself blurting out.



"Nice to meet you, Uh Matt."



I chuckled in spite of myself.



"So, to perpetuate a cliche..." she said, "do you come here often?"



"Most weekends," I replied, trying to be polite...trying not to stare.



Frankly, I wasn't sure what to do. I mean here's this woman, she's hot as hell, she's a vampire, she's not the type you usually find slumming with the dogs, and she's talking to me. Chatting me up. I didn't know what to do. Should I snarl at her? Buy her a drink? I wondered what she'd drink besides blood? I was at a loss. So, like a typical guy, I just sat there and gawked.



Things got even worse when she leaned toward me, and I caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like no other vampire I'd ever encountered. Yes, there were traces of the meaty scent I associate with vampires, but it wasn't overpowering. Overlying that was the warm smell of sugar and cinnamon, and overlying that was the musky smell of a woman.



Imagine, if you can, the smell of an extra rare steak, still dripping with blood, and at the same time the smell of a freshly baked apple pie, then add the smell of sex. Now, multiply that aroma tenfold to account for the sensitive nose of a wolf. That's what she smelled like! I was in olfactory heaven.



I barely recollect the rest of the evening at the bar. I must have been at my most charming, because the next thing I remember the two of us were staggering through the door of the slum I call home. I must have also been drunk off my ass to bring a chick like her into a dump like that. Most guys I know are not exactly neat freaks. Combine that natural tendency with my animal instincts, and well...you can probably guess what my apartment looked, and smelled like.



It didn't seem to bother Kim though. She seemed more interested in tearing my clothes off than checking out my pad. As soon as I kicked the door shut she was on me like a swarm of fleas. Her hands slowly slid up underneath my black T-shirt, surprisingly warm. I found the thought that she had probably fed earlier in the evening reassuring. Not that I feared her draining me of blood. By virtue of their regenerative powers werewolves are almost immune to vampire bites. Still, it was nice to know that she wouldn't be looking at me like a snack.



Yeah, uh, turns out I was wrong about that one.



She slid her hands along my sides, her long nails tickling my ribs as she slid my T-shirt up toward my head, sending shivers up my spine. I reached down, grabbed my shirt by the hem, and whipped it off. It joined the large pile of dirty laundry strewn across my floor. With my T-shirt gone, Kim was free to explore my muscled chest and cut abs to her non-beating heart's content. Okay, so that sounds conceited, but it's true.



I have been told by a lot of women that I have a nice body. Mostly I have my natural high metabolism to thank for that. Wolves are pretty lean. Of course, most wolves don't scarf down Twinkies and beer either, so I had been known to work out occasionally. Kim must have thought it was passable, because she dropped her hands down to my black, studded leather belt, and practically ripped it off. Before I knew it my remaining clothing was gone, and my naked ass was being shoved onto the futon.



Somewhere along the line she had also shed her blouse and pants and now she hovered above me in sexy, black panties with a lacy matching bra. Her scent and the sight of her alabaster skin already had me hard as a rock, but I felt my groin tighten further when she leaned close, brushing my chest with hers. My hands came up to clasp her tiny waist.



"Trick or treat?" she whispered. Then she kissed me!



I know from experience that kissing with fangs is not easy. First kisses are awkward as it is, never mind trying it with inch-long, razor-sharp fangs in your mouth. Still, she made it seem effortless. Her mouth melded with mine as if we were made for each other. Her tongue darted lightly into my mouth only to pull away again. She was teasing me. Only as she drew away did she nick me lightly, leaving me with the faint, coppery taste of blood in my mouth, which, I have to say, was actually a turn-on.



It goes without saying that it was a turn-on for her too. Next thing I know she's got my hands pinned above my head, and her mouth is at my throat. Still, I wasn't too worried. I figured pound for pound, my supernatural strength against hers, I could take her. Right then, unless she went for the jugular, I was still planning on getting laid. So, I relaxed, or tried to, and waited. Finally she pulled back from my throat.



I could tell she was excited. Her eyes took on a faint, reddish glow, and she had a look in them that could only be lust...or starvation. I was crossing my fingers that it was lust. Once again she leaned in close, and began nuzzling my neck, nibbling and sucking on it, driving me wild. Then I felt the slight prick of her fangs against my skin, but it wasn't enough to break through. It did however nearly break my control. My cock was throbbing as she drew her fangs down along my neck.



I felt a surge of pain-pleasure when her sharp teeth grazed over the thin skin of my collarbone, fang nearly meeting bone. She trailed her fangs and tongue down my chest until she reached my left nipple. A sharp nip, followed by a flick of her tongue had me gasping in ecstasy. Her fangs were like steel sliding across my skin as she worked her way slowly over to my other nipple, sharp and cool. A faint line of red appeared on my skin in her wake, but she didn't actually puncture the skin. I admired her control; I'd finally given up on mine.



I could feel myself arching into her as she drew her mouth along the line of dark hair on my abdomen. She released my hands, but I seemed to be having trouble making them move. Maybe there was some truth to all those tales of vampire mind control. As she kissed her way down my body her fingers drifted lightly across the exposed skin of my thighs, until finally I felt her warm hand close around my engorged cock.



Then her mouth was on me, and I was groaning with pleasure. Now, I know that having razor-sharp anything close to one's dick is pretty scary, but honestly her fangs were the last thing on my mind. I was totally focused on the sensation of her tongue as it glided across my skin like a whisper. She swirled her tongue around the taut head of my cock once before closing her mouth around me.



Her mouth, like her hands, was surprisingly warm for a dead chick. It felt so good as she sucked me, soft, wet, warm, just like I imagined her pussy would be. I could feel a climax building quickly; she'd had me on the edge even before she went down on me, so I was half-disappointed, half-relieved when she pulled her mouth off my cock, and began licking along my thigh. One hand splayed across my thigh, her nails digging slightly into my skin. Her other hand took up where her mouth had left off.



It wasn't nearly as good as having her lips wrapped around me, but it was still getting the job done. I could feel a tightening in my balls, a sure sign of things to come. Suddenly, I felt a stab in my groin. I looked down. Oh shit! She'd bitten me in the femoral artery. I felt a sharp, blinding pain, and then a warm wave of pleasure. As my hot blood spurted into her mouth, my cock spurted as well. I could feel the pulsating rhythm of both my blood and my semen as I found my release. I don't remember a time when I've come as hard.



I think I passed out, just for a second. Whether it was from a sudden drop in blood pressure or just extreme pleasure I don't know. Either way, it was unusual. We werewolves are tougher than that. When I opened my eyes again, she was licking my leg, a mixture of blood and cum smeared across her mouth. Not surprisingly my thigh barely hurt at all, there was just a slight ache in my groin. My wounds were already starting to heal. Come to think of it, I felt great.



Kim looked up at me, a sexy, feral smile on her face. Slowly, she licked her lips, then her fingers, clearing the lingering traces of my bodily fluids from her skin, and I felt my lust kicking in again. There's a lot to be said for the recuperative powers of a lycanthrope at times like this. My cock was already hardening.



Grabbing her arms I tugged her up until she sprawled full length against my body. Her breasts rubbed against my chest as I crushed her to me. I nuzzled her neck, drinking in her smell, feeling myself growing more turgid by the moment.



"My turn!"



Before she could realize what I had in mind, or protest, I rolled over, pinning her body beneath my own. She smelled delicious. I slid down her body and spreading her thighs, buried my face in her pussy. My nose filled with her rich smell, which left me quivering with need. I wasn't content just to smell her, I had to taste her, so I drew my tongue along her slick folds. The tangy taste of her pussy had me slavering. I pushed my tongue deeply into her wetness, licking and sucking her clit, flicking my tongue against her heat.



When I slid a finger, then another, inside her tight sheath, she wriggled against my mouth. Thrusting with my fingers and tongue I soon had her gasping beneath me. Finally, with a cry she arched against me, grabbing at my hair, pulling me closer as she reached her climax.



Now I had her where I wanted her, well, almost. I rose up, kneeling on the bed, and flipped her over on her stomach. Her back gleamed white in the moonlight. It awoke in me a need, a need to let my own hunger run wild. I let slip my form, let the moonlight shining through the window do its work. I felt my nails harden into claws, felt my own fangs lengthen. Enough, just enough...



Kim was still beneath me. She waited as I had, limp with desire, not afraid. I lowered my body to hers, and in the way of my pack gave her a gentle nip on the neck. She yelped, just like a bitch, but she didn't move away. So I snuffled my nose into her neck, nuzzling, and nipping, licking, nibbling. I sunk my teeth into her firm, plump flesh, feeling it give beneath my fangs, leaving red marks all over her body. She moaned beneath me as I worked my way across her back, giving her tender love bites. I drew my claws down along her sides, brushing them lightly past her breasts, down to her hips, then back up.



She began to squirm a little, still, I teased her. I could smell her arousal. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I slid an arm beneath her, hoisting her hips up. The entrance to her pussy glistened, and I couldn't resist touching a clawed finger to her cleft. She wiggled against my hand, and I could feel the warmth and wetness gathered there. I reared back on my knees, and grabbing my cock guided it into her slick passage.



My hands went to her hips, pulling her back as I thrust deep inside her. God, she was tight and wet, as warm and alive as any woman could be, even though she was dead. I slid slowly out of her, then thrust back in hard, watching as her flesh closed around my cock. It felt sooo good. She must have thought so too, because she pushed back against my hips, like she couldn't get enough of my dick.



I set up a slow rhythm of thrusts that soon had her moaning. As for me, I was panting with desire, but I knew I could hold out, I had to. I stepped it up just a little and was rewarded with whimpers from Kim. I felt a sheen of sweat building up on my body, and knew I was getting close, I just hoped I could make it last. I plunged into the warm depths of her pussy, hovering on the brink, until finally I heard her gasp. I felt a warm rush, then her muscles clamped down on me, sending me into a spiraling orgasm of my own. I stiffened and managed to thrust deeply into her one last time, before we both collapsed.



"Definitely treat," I told her.



I couldn't move. Her skin was damp beneath my cheek, and I knew my weight was probably crushing her face into the pillow, but I swear I was incapable of movement in that moment. Finally I summoned the strength to roll to the side, dragging her with me, burying my face in her neck. So much for superhuman stamina. All I wanted to do was cuddle up to her and sleep. My newfound love had other ideas however. Unfortunately, they weren't the sexy kind, they were more the get-the-hell-outta-Dodge kind.



Although I protested, she wiggled away from me and began retrieving her clothing. Normally, I wouldn't have protested, I'm the love 'em and leave 'em type myself, but I was feeling selfish. Kim wasn't human, I couldn't hurt her like I would a human woman, yet she was far more exotic than the pack bitches. I could totally see this working out.



"Stay," I begged.



"I can't."



"The sun won't be up for hours."



"It's not that," she said. "I'm a daywalker anyhow."



A daywalker, an anomaly, a child infected by vampiric bite while still in the womb. Well, that explained a lot, like the warm skin for example, and her scent.



"Why not stay then?" I asked.



She couldn't think of a reason...so she stayed.



And to think some people think love bites!

full moon rut
22:06 May 19 2008
Times Read: 942

"Look! She's receptive to his advances," the older biologist whispered excitedly to his assistant. "It won't be long now..."



The pair were hunkered down in a carefully maintained blind a short distance away from a clearing where the activity was taking place. The setting was surreal; deep in the woods near midnight under the piercing glare of a bloated full moon. It was also the only possible time for such a study, a rare three-day period when the lycanthropes were drunk on the eldritch moonlight and engaged in a fierce breeding session. There were only five individuals in this particular pack: the Alpha male and female, who were currently near the bonfire in the center of their temporary encampment; another lesser-ranked bonded pair off to one side; and one lone solitary male who was sitting at the far edge of the camp and sulking.



The scientist had named the Alpha pair Pitch and Glow for the purposes of identification; Pitch was a gigantic scarred veteran who had led this particular pack for well over three decades. Right now he was still in his human form, his muscled chest and arms twitching impatiently while his mate, Glow, a silver-haired woman of astonishing wild beauty was playing a game of cat-and-mouse with him. She would dart in, ruffle his wild black mane with a giggle, and dance away again when he grabbed for her. When he finally stood up, the two humans could plainly see his arousal.



"Do you have the recorder ready?" the biologist, Mitch Warner, asked of his assistant.



"I'm already taping," Sheila Dover responded, her lens trained on the lesser pair, Grey and Blondie. The male, Grey, was in a partial shape-shift, his body covered in swatches of the fur for which he was named but not in a full metamorphosis. He had forced his mate onto her back and was between her legs, licking her with a tongue that was longer than it had any right to be. The female was in full estrus and her vulva was enflamed and ultra-sensitive to her mate's sloppy ministrations. The long tongue lapped at her weeping cunt with animalistic slurps and drool was beginning to drip from his lower jaw as it began to elongate. Mitch was right, it wouldn't be long now. The female, Blondie, was mewling in pleasure, her body beginning to sprout golden hair and her limbs starting to shift while Grey held down her twitching thighs and deliberately thrust his long tongue up into that delicious channel, making her growl in pleasure.



Off to the side in full werewolf form, the outsider licked at his own engorged cock and shifted position uncomfortably. Brown was a newcomer to the pack and relatively young in lycanthrope terms and so didn't have enough seniority to get a mate. He was forced to watch the breeding from the sidelines and forbidden to participate, an ordeal that Sheila figured must be pure torture for the virile male.



"Here we go," Mitch said in excitement, interrupting her feelings of pity for the smaller male. He grabbed her shoulder and pointed to where Pitch had managed to catch his teasing mate and wrestle her to the ground. She became suddenly submissive under his authority and dropped her eyes to his piercing glare. She rubbed her hand into the lush thatch of pubic hair at her crotch and offered it to him. He sniffed at her palm and began licking it eagerly, his breath starting to come out in harsh pants of lust. Knocking her onto her back he nuzzled her full breasts and nipped at the erect nipples, his form beginning to warp and grow dark with coarse hair as the Change quickly enveloped him. Muscled arms became powerful forelegs that pried her thighs apart and his long muzzle impatiently prodded the wet slit of her cunt. He tasted her thoroughly, slaver and juices coating his jaws as his tongue tasted and prodded until she was panting in excitement.



With a massive effort, she managed to get away from him and shape-shifted into a stunning specimen of werewolf femininity. Standing erect on two powerful hind legs, her silver fur was longer than normal for her breed, immaculate and groomed and practically glowing under the light of the moon that was poised overhead. It was no mistake that she was the chosen mate of this seasoned male. She looked over her shoulder at him and dropped down to all fours, moving her thick tail to the side in unspoken invitation.



Pitch was on her in an instant.



"See there?" Mitch was whispering, "You can plainly see the os penis as the prepuce retracts. Like any canine species, there's a bone in the organ called the baculum that provides rigidity regardless of the male's level of sexual stimulation. A shame that us lowly humans don't have one of those, eh? Now soon we should see the bulbus glandis-"



Sheila had heard all of this before and tuned him out as she zoomed in with the recorder. Pitch had his mate in the unmistakable doggy position and he was mercilessly fucking his mate as hard as he could. His long cock was unlike any human organ; narrow at the head but noticably expanding towards the base where the erectile tissue became a massive blood-engorged ball. He was jackhammering the female with harsh grunts of effort and Glow staggered under his greater weight, releasing whines with each thrust that could either be in pain or pleasure.



Sheila knew that werewolf copulation was different from human sexual intercourse, because human males become erect first, and then entered the female; lycantrope males enter first, then swell and become erect. Pitch's cock was growing as the coupling continued, the bulbous gland at the base first slapping up against the female's wet cunt and finally entering her, where she released a pained yelp at the invasion.



"Aha! The coital tie!" Mitch exclaimed in excitement.



Pitch bit down on the back of her neck and his hindquarters shuddered as he climaxed into her receptive channel. When it was over, he awkwardly levered one leg over her back and the pair collapsed to the ground, lying with their rumps close together, panting in the dirt from their efforts. Between their furry asses was a mass of engorged tissue, the male's cock was still embedded in her spasming cunt and trapped there by her powerful vaginal muscles. It was a guarantee that the thick cum wouldn't leak out and the slower sperm would have a chance to swim up to the fallopian tubes and ensure fertilization. They could remain connected that way for minutes or, in the case of inexperienced breeding pairs, hours.



With a weary grunt, Pitch raised himself on one elbow and twisted around until he touched muzzles with his mate. With a weary bark, Glow began licking his face and around his ears in gratitude. Shortly after that her vagina muscles relaxed and he pulled himself free and laid down close beside her. The pair shape-changed into their hybrid forms and cuddled near the fire in a display of affection that was almost human.



"They'll be at it for the next three days," Mitch said with a smile. "Alternating between sleeping, hunts, and breeding. It won't stop until her scent changes and he's sure she's pregnant."



Lucky bitch, Sheila thought to herself as she considered her last boyfriend; a one-pump-chump who had been oblivious to the concept of foreplay. That had been over two years ago and she had let work take over her life since then, and it was a job that rivaled no other. To be taken on as junior scientist in the Lycanthrope Project? It was a dream come true.



Seeing that the Alphas were out of action for the time being, she swiveled her recorder back to the other pair. It was clear that Grey and Blondie had engaged in a rut of their own and they had missed it. Right now the hybrid male was on his back, clearly exhausted and the female, in her human form, was cleaning his shrinking cock with long swipes of her tongue. Clearly visible between her spread legs, a thick stream of cum was leaking from her recently fucked cunt.



For some reason, Sheila couldn't stop looking at the sight.



"That's enough taping for now," Mitch said, grabbing for the camera and shutting it off. "The neutralizer on our clothes will only protect us for another hour and I want to be out of here before it wears off. We'll come back tomorrow night. Alright?"



"Sure," she agreed. As they carefully left the blind, she spared one backwards glance to Brown, the outsider, who had moved off to the shadows with his back deliberately set towards his amorous pack members. It was a sight that haunted her as she and Mitch finally made it back to the van.



>>>>>



Brown was one miserable lycanthrope, that was for sure. His cock was as hard as a branch and it wasn't going away. It didn't help when Pitch and Glow began groping one another in that unmistakable precursor to another rutting session. He watched helplessly as his powerful leader began suckling his mate's breasts and teasing the pert nipples with playful growls. When she spread her legs to his questing hand, Brown's head almost exploded with the heady scent of her sex that wafted all the way over to where he was lying. He could smell the combined union of their juices and his mouth exploded with saliva while his hard cock throbbed against his lower belly with almost painful force.



With a whine he slowly inched forward, barely aware of Grey and Blondie who were humping fiercely on the far side of the camp. The youngest pack member had his brown eyes trained solely on Glow who was on her knees and licking at her mate's balls. Her tongue lapped at the heavy spheres, making him writhe in the dirt, while her free hand rubbed at his flaccid shaft. Her bare ass waved invitingly at Brown, the swollen slit of her sex clearly visible, the lips spread apart and streaked with drying cum.



It was just too much for the virgin male. With a growl he pounced atop her back. Glow released a livid scream and in a flash, Pitch was on his feet and throwing the youth off her. Brown landed in an undignified heap at the edge of the camp and scampered away before his leader could punish him for his insolence in a way that would make the ache at his groin seem normal. With his tail between his legs, he raced through the woods, his ears flat against his head and disappeared into the night.



His body a vortex of whirling emotions, shame and anger the most prominent, he stopped at a stream the pack used for bathing and shape-shifted into his human form, stepping into the cold depths with a pained hiss as the water caressed his still aroused shaft. It helped to lessen his desire and he sat down on a submerged rock and stared up at the moon in exasperation. He howled once, a plea to those back at camp that he was sorry and waited breathlessly for an answering call. There was none. Until he was invited back, he was banished from the camp.



Snorting in frustration, he dipped his head into the chilling water and shook out his long mane of hair. He then scrubbed at his skin with a handful of sand, trying to do anything to get his mind off of the moon and the breeding season it evoked this time of the year. It was the only time that lycanthrope females went into heat and emotions, like hormones, were running wild tonight.



There was a light breeze that brought gooseflesh to his already-chilled flesh and he instinctively scented the breeze. Even here, he could smell the heady aroma of an excited female and his eyes suddenly dilated in surprise. The wind was coming from the opposite direction of the camp! He scrambled out of the water and ran through the forest, led by that unmistakable odor and letting it eclipse all logic, only slowing down when he caught sight of a campfire. Proceeding silently through the undergrowth, he hunkered cautiously down when he caught sight of a lone female lying on a blanket. She was on her back, naked, with her legs deliberately propped up to let the wind carry the scent of her sex into the forest.



Sheila knew that she was no longer alone but remained as she was, intent to wait him out. She was no longer wearing the neutralizer but had lathered on a lycanthrope musk that helped to disguise her human scent and possibly make her more acceptable. This was obviously not something that Mitch would condone but her scientific curiosity outweighed the possible ramifications. She knew from studying the logbooks that single males had a higher mortality rate than bonded pairs, specifically around rutting season. With their instincts scrambled by the sensory overload they tended to die stupid, needless deaths. Lycanthropes were rare, and Sheila knew from her studies that Brown was too special to lose by an unrequited heat. She wanted to help him and herself, too, in the bargain...



After almost an hour, Brown finally appeared at the edge of the camp, his dark eyes suspicious and eager.



Sheila mimicked Glow's earlier behavior and rubbed her hand against her excited pussy and held her hand up towards him, the juices from her snatch coating her fingers. Scenting the arousal, Brown snorted impatiently and studied her for a few moments longer, his muscled form shivering with need and unease. His earlier excitement prevailed and he cautiously crept over to where she was laying, his dark eyes darting about for any sign that this might be some kind of a trap.



Sheila knew that Brown, like the rest of his pack-mates, were not unaccustomed to humans. She would never have tried this in any other place than the Reserve, where Pitch led his small pack in relative peace with only the occasional study group keeping tabs on their supernatural behavior. As a result, they were tamer than their wild counterparts up north.



"It's alright," Sheila whispered, dipping her hand into her pussy again and offering it to him. "I'm here for you. Only for you."



At the sound of her words, Brown's young face tightened up in suspicion but quickly relaxed. He didn't understand English but he was responsive to the tone of her words that were trying to convey that she wasn't a threat. The muscles across his hairy chest twitched as he squatted down beside her. Tentatively, he grabbed her hand and sniffed it and began licking her fingers. A sound that was almost a purr began to emanate from deep within his chest as he began sucking on the digits.



Sheila remained carefully prone on the blanket and let him investigate her. He ran his rough hands among her arms and sniffed at her hair, drawing back slightly when he realized that she was fully human. The hesitation lasted only for a few seconds and he began nuzzling her jaw line, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he worked his way down. She wasn't worried about a bite that could afflict her with his arcane taint; she had her inoculations up to date and was immune to it.



He grabbed her breasts and kneaded them with inexperienced fingers, watching the nipples stiffen and rise with intent interest. When he began licking them, Sheila broke her paralysis and betrayed a moan. He recoiled in surprise, cocking his head to the side in an almost amused gesture and went back at it, studying her face for her reaction. Her nipples were always sensitive at the best of times and when he began lightly biting at them, she couldn't stop writhing in excitement. There was actually a lopsided grin on Brown's face as he realized he was successfully pleasuring her.



He moved down along her stomach, licking at the soft flesh, and finally buried his nose in the small thatch of her pubic hair, inhaling deeply.



Here we go, Sheila thought and wasn't disappointed when he began licking excitedly at her clit. She spread her legs wider and offered herself to him. He buried his face into her snatch and licked with compulsive eagerness, his muscular body shivering with exhilaration. It was a strange sensation being eaten in this position; his tongue running in the opposite direction of what she was used to and the sensations only heightened her lust.



He was stretched out beside her and she could plainly see that his cock was hard and aching with need. Even in his human form it resembled a canine penis, with the glans hidden at the base instead of at the head of the shaft, giving it a slender, tubular appearance. Twisting her body she reached for it, gripping the foreskin and retracting it further so that she could get a closer look. It was covered in a spiderweb of bloodvessels and almost purple with arousal, a droplet of pre-cum oozed from the slit and she licked it off with a flick of her tongue.



Brown jerked in shock at the unexpected sensation and swung his head around to see her wrap her lips around his shaft and begin to suck him. It was like no feeling he had ever encountered before and he came almost immediately, surprising her. One volley of thick cream went into her mouth, and the other splattered against her face as she gagged. A third, weaker stream landed on her breasts.



"Ah crap," she muttered. Well, really, what did she expect? Don Juan of the forest? She began getting up to go clean herself off and Brown suddenly pushed her back down, frowning and shaking his head. To her astonishment he began cleaning her, licking up the sticky puddles of his own spend from her chest and then moving over to her face. When his tongue grazed across her lips she stuck her own out, sharing the taste of his tart semen as their tongues fluttered and probed against each other.



He didn't stop until he was certain he had washed all traces of his ejaculate from her face and then moved back down between her legs again, intent on that particular region that intrigued him the most. Sheila's hips jerked in reaction when she felt his tongue brush against her clit and then deliberately prod her cunt, invading the slippery walls and scooping out the thick juices with growls of pleasure. His claws were gripping her legs with almost painful force-



Wait a second- Claws? Yes, he was starting to Change in his heightened sexual state, probably not even aware of it. She pulled away from him, earning her a frustrated snarl of confusion, and rolled over and got up on her hands and knees, spreading her legs.



Brown recognized the invitation with something akin to amazement and came up behind her. He nosed her wet slit and licked it in gratitude one last time before climbing on top of her, clumsily pawing her breasts as he licked at the back of her neck. He hunched impatiently but couldn't find the entrance until she reached down and guided his cock into her pussy. After that assistance he slammed it home, making her cry out in surprise.



The feeling of her shuddering walls around his throbbing member was indescribable and he surrendered to his full wolf state as he fucked her. Slobber dripped from his jaws and soaked her hair while his claw-like hands squeezed her tits with each maddened thrust. His tail was lifted high like a flag as his furry hindquarters thrust into her, his heavy balls rocking back and forth. It was a scene out of a horror movie; a small human woman being brutally fucked by a slavering beast in the middle of the woods but Sheila's cries were not one of fear or pain.



It was excitement and pleasure.



She could feel his engorged cock grow bigger as the savage rut continued. The engorged glans at the base were slapping up against her enlarged clit and she released a panting scream as she climaxed. A gush of fluid exploded in her stretched channel, easing the way for his huge rod. She partially collapsed under his greater weight, her cheek resting on her folded arms, and Brown accepted this better angle of entrance and hammered into her with renewed fervor. Instinctively he knew that the coupling wasn't yet over, there was still something that had to happen. He dug his hind claws into the dirt and lunged forward as hard as he could with a savage growl. The bulb at the base of his cock entered her and Sheila released a choked scream of pain at the invasion, struggling under him.



Holding her firmly in place, Brown's thighs flexed with each spurt of his come. Sheila could feel her pussy being filled with his copious cream, the bulb firmly entrenched inside her cunt ensuring it that the semen could not be forced back out. The pressure was unbelievable and her body spasmed with each squirt of his cock until he was drained. Still, he didn't let her go, compelled by an unknown imperative that dictated he had to ensure the coupling so that she could be fertilized. She could have told him it wouldn't matter; crossbreeding between lycanthropes and humans was impossible.

She tried to pull away from him and his jaws lightly clasped the back of her neck in warning. She wasn't going anywhere. It came back to her that inexperienced pairs sometimes stayed this way for hours and that filled her with the first sensations of worry. She had hoped to let this male vent his sexual urges on her, not trap her for an hour in a rut position with his spent cum sloshing around inside of her sore pussy.



Lunging forward, she managed to disengage his engorged cock with an audible 'pop' and his seed immediately began leaking out of her cunt. Brown released a livid snarl and tackled her before she managed to get away from him. Unacceptable! His forearms wrapped around her waist with almost crushing force and he began fucking her again, impatience and need driving him to mate with this creature, even if she wasn't his breed.



Sheila's entire body rocked with the force of his hammering blows. Her fingers clawed futilely at the blanket and she released whimpers and cries with each frenzied thrust. Sperm-laced juices were running down the insides of her legs, forced out by his rapidly pounding member. She was coming again as the girth of his cock expanded and rubbed against the excited froth-rimmed circle of her cunt. Just as she climaxed, he forced the bulb back into her and they both cried out together; a pained scream and satisfied howl of triumph that echoed in the still forest.



More thick cream was shot into her bruised womb until his balls were finally empty. This time, Sheila let him remain locked inside of her. She was really too exhausted to struggle. She fell asleep with his greater weight pinning her down on the blanket and woke up shortly later to still feel that uncomfortable packing of her bruised cunt. It was clear that Brown was going to wait her out for the duration and she groaned at the thought. Every time she dared to shift position to try and lessen that unbearable pressure, he grumbled and his muscular forearms tightened around her. It wasn't until dawn when the bulb finally disengorged and slipped from her pussy, and she could feel the spill of his semen oozing from the swollen lips of her sex. Sheila groaned with relief.



There was a distant howl in the woods and Brown's ears cocked with sudden alertness. The pack was allowing him to return! He sat up and then considered the prone female beneath him, clearly hesitating between desire and duty. Shape changing, he assumed his human form and let his fingers glide over her scratched stomach and dallied briefly in her soaked cunt, making her groan. He stared tentatively up at her face. Leaning over, he licked her lips and then offered her a grateful smile.

frankenstein
02:51 May 19 2008
Times Read: 946

Frankenstein, the lost journals.



Hampton-on-the-bay, Dec. 18, 18---



It is with much foreboding and dread that I set these words to paper. For many years since my encounter with the mad man, Victor Frankenstein and his abominable creation in the frozen North, this story has weighted heavily on my soul and tugged on my sanity. But this is the story as it was originally told me by Doctor Frankenstein, shortly before his passing, Rest For His Soul. I had thought the tale too sorted to sent down in my original manuscripts, so certain events related to me by the dying man were revised for the sake of all that is decent. However the story he told to me has left pictures of the unfortunate events seared into my mind, to the point of insanity.



Those few who have read my previous epistles may well remember how my ship and I, marooned in Northern ice, were chanced upon by an Englishman, a doctor, Victor Frankenstein and his murderous creation, the creature he had animated from dead flesh.



Both ultimately ended their miserable existence in the icy sea, but not before Frankenstein had imparted his tale of dread to me. He related how in an act of vile murder the creature had strangled the betrothed of the doctor, and how he had pursued the monstrosity across the world and finally into that frozen wasteland, where we discovered them and I was told his grim tale. This the is the actual tale related by the dying man, which I have carried these many years, may God have mercy on my soul.



Robert Walton



Well did I remember the creatures threat, “I will see you on your wedding night.” and I did not expect to live the remainder of the eve. Elizabeth and I took lodging in an hotel not far from the piers and prepared for our first night of wedded bliss. My darling cousin! How she made my loins turn to fire! In spite of my dread, I felt myself responding to her playful flirting as we settled in for the night. I was insistent that the doors and windows be bolted and locked, which she made much fun of.



After checking my precautions not once, but twice, I felt at ease enough to join my beloved cousin on our bed. Elizabeth was undressed and covered by a single sheet as I removed my breeches and blouse. My heard was pounding in my chest as I gazed upon her beauty. Her hair was like spun gold and her eyes the color of the clearest sky. The milky white flesh of her neck and shoulders flowed down to abundant breasts, also of the lightest complexion. Her rapid and deep breathing caused those breasts to rise and fall under the sheets, beckoning to me, summoning me to my paradise. All thought of the vile beast that pursued me was gone from my head. I had thoughts only for her, my beloved Elizabeth.



I had removed my clothing and was rewarded by a gasp from my prone lover as my erect manhood sprang into view. I bent over her and kissed her, brushing the sheets from her chest with my hand. I slide atop her and started to enter her body.



Suddenly I felt a presence in the room and heard a gasp from Elizabeth. As I started to look up, A hard blow struck my head and I was rendered unconscious.



I regained my senses a short time later. How long I have no way of telling, save that it was long enough for me to be tied setting up in a chair, my hands bound behind me and my ankles pulled back and lashed to the back legs, my genitals exposed. As my vision cleared I saw the horrible, misshapen form of my misbegotten creation, setting on the bed. Elizabeth was there with him, tied to the four corner posts by stout cords. The fiend was holding her head up and giving her drink from a wine bottle. He noticed my alert state and, setting the bottle down on a small table, walked over to where I was tied.



“I promised you, my creator, that I would see you this night. Tonight I will take more from you than your pathetic life! You refused to make me a mate so I will take yours and use her as my own. Even now, the strong aphrodisiac that I prepared for her is having its effect. Soon she will be mine and you shall have the miserable fate of watching her be taken.” The huge head, with its white teeth and black lips withdrew from my sight, and I hear the monster walk across the room to the bed where Elizabeth lay in a state of near senselessness. I saw him towering over her, gazing at her naked form as he released her bonds. Freed, she made no effort to flee, only gazed up at him with a vacant stare. Oh my beloved! If only I could save you from you fate!



The creature then removed his cloak and blouse, revealing his massive deformed torso, covered by that green-gray skin and rippling with vein and muscle. I felt horror run through me as the hideous beast then removed his trousers, his penis already hardening.



The size of a man’s forearm, and throbbing with a life of it’s own, it stood nearly straight out from his rippling abdomen, pulsating with lust for my new bride. I could scarce stand to look upon the scene, yet was powerless to look away.



On to my wedding bed, he crawled, parting my Elizabeth’s thighs with his huge hands, caressing them as he moved his over sized body onto her petite form. I found myself near to vomiting with fear as he guided his penis towards her tiny pink womanhood. My setting position had been well chosen as no detail of the horrific events before me was to hidden from my view. I saw how his lust flowed from the tip of his penis and hung in strings to my beloved’s tender pubes. The creatures cockhead, nearly the size of a large apple, touched the lips of her vagina, drawing a moan from Elizabeth, the first sound I had heard from her. Hunching his hips, the fiend drove forward, attempting to drive his huge length into her. As he pushed, I heard a noise begin to issue forth from my cousin’s throat. It started low and soft and quickly built to a sobbing cry as the creature battered at her opening. Unable to enter her, he withdrew and settling onto his haunches, inserting instead a finger, longer and thicker than my penis. Instantly, Elizabeth’s legs parted, giving the probing digit access to inner most parts. I watched, horrified as the vile creature plunged his finger in and out of her increasingly wet hole.



I could scarce believe my ears when I hear Elizabeth’s gasping cry of ecstasy. My heart pounded in my chest and in a state of madness a wave of arousal settled over me. I felt my manhood begin to stir as I watched my creation position himself to enter my wife.



I watched with mounting lust as this time her lips spread and allowed his throbbing cockhead entry. My own penis lurched to full erection as I saw his huge tip disappear into Elizabeth’s crotch. A loud moan escaped her lips, of pain, or pleasure, or a mixture of the two. Her breath was harsh and loud, as if she were competing in some great athletic endeavor, and shuddered as the fiend drove deeper into her. From where I sat, I could see their loins locked together, his weapon piercing her core, opening her wider than I would have thought possible. Several inches of his penis were embedded in her belly, and many more were remained unsheathed. My own cock was throbbing in the air with its unholy desire. I was unable to look away as he began to saw back and forth into her, Withdrawing until the over-sized head was nearly visible and then thrusting in as far as she could take him. Her moans were loud and timed to each movement of his length, in or out. I watched with mounting desire as my hideous misshapen creation and the woman I loved coupled with ever-increasing passion on my wedding bed. I heard my brides moans become screams as the truly monstrous cock within her brought her to orgasm. I felt a stream of precum bubble out of the tip of my cock and run down the pulsating shaft. My arousal was complete and my lust demanded release. Bending forward as far as possible, I trapped my hardness between thighs and belly, groaning myself at the pleasure.



On the bed, the hideous coupling of monster and woman was reaching a crescendo. I heard a grunt issue from the creatures black lips, a short, low sound that caused my heart to race. His climax was approaching! I redoubled my efforts at my makeshift masturbation as I heard another moan from his mouth, longer and more forceful than the first. Elizabeth also gave voice to her pleasure as the squeaking of the bed increased in speed. My heart raced as I watched the creature’s buttocks hunch into Elizabeth’s body, powering his penis into areas of her I could never reach. I listened in rapture to her sobbing climaxes, rapid now, and more powerful than any I had ever given her.



Harder and faster, he plunged his huge penis into her open, oozing vagina, nearly half of his horse-like length filling her. I rubbed my swollen cock by hunching by hips back and forth as I bent forward on my trapped member, the intense arousal fueling my need to ejaculate. I could make little movement in the position I was tied in, but only a small amount of friction was necessary. I was being driven to climax by the scene before me.



The creatures gasping grunts now took on a new urgency, as did the breathless panting of my wife beneath him. Cries of “Oh!” and “Awwhh!” escaped Elizabeth’s parted lips as she doubtless felt the immense cock swell within her. I saw a look of disbelieve and intense pleasure-pain wash over her as suddenly the creature shook as spasm wracked his body. I saw Elizabeth lift her tiny ass to meet his thrust as his orgasm over took him. A long beast-like growl issued from the fiend as he emptied his seed into the deepest reaches of Elizabeth’s womb. I saw nearly three quarters of his penis go into her as they pushed together, Elizabeth sharing his climax with one so intense that the creatures sperm and her own juices were expelled in a gushing stream that wet the mattress and filled the room with the smell of her aroused sex.



Having spent himself in her, the creature attempted to withdraw his penis. I watched as he slid back from Elizabeth’s body, but was unable to pull his huge length free of her. Nearly dragging her body down the bed, he grunted and pulled, until finally, with an audible popping sound, his organ, the head now swollen to the size of a man’s fist, pulled loose from it’s fleshy prison. A flood of semen flowed from my beloved’s wrecked cavity. So enlarged was she that, from my vantage point, I could see up into her and could see the opening to her womb. Great quanitities of sperm flowed out to form a puddle on the mattress of my wedding bed.



Settling back, the foul fiend looked with amusement at my beloved Elizabeth. She moaned and reached for the fleshy length that had just violated her. I was shocked to see her take it in hand, rubbing and stroking it’s massive stalk and mushrooming head. Her hands were too small to circumvent it’s girth. Releasing his cock and placing her hands on the creature’s chest, Elizabeth pushed him back to a prone position on the bed. I was again amazed as I witnessed her rolling on top of his huge, shaggy form and guiding the monster’s penis to her mouth. It was far too large to place in her mouth, so Elizabeth kissed and licked her way up and down the length of it, paying special attention to the swelling glans. Mesmerized, the creature lay motionless for a short time and then responded to her oral administrations by thrusting towards her mouth with his hips. When the organ was restored to it’s full nearly inhuman size, Elizabeth mounted the fiend and sank down on his weapon, impaling herself on it with a loud grunt. I watched as the opening of her vagina stretched over the massive head and then slid on down the veiny stalk. When Elizabeth had lowered herself as far down it as she could, a shudder ran through her petite body as another orgasm overtook her. She paused briefly until it passed and then began to thrust back and forth on the huge cock. With each movement, she moaned and sobbed. My own organ, minuscule by comparison, was by this time leaking profuse amounts of precum onto my lap and thighs, but my climax was unobtainable. I was not able in my bound state to apply enough stimulation to gain release.



Faster and harder they coupled as both once again reached fulfillment. Elizabeth sounded barely human as she shrieked from one orgasm to the next, with barely a breath between them. She thrust down hard on the massive length of cock that stretched her to the point of tearing, the mangy fiend beneath her thrust upwards equally hard as his black lips drew back in a savage snarl. I could hear his ragged breathing become gasps as his organ suddenly spasmed in Elizabeth’s belly, filling her with his sperm once again. I watched as the vile fluid leaked from her, oozing past the thick penis that was plugging her opening with its girth. At the sight of his lust spewing forth, my own penis quivered and shot its fluid forth, nearly causing me to pass out from the force of my orgasm. The white stream shot across the room and landed on Elizabeth’s back as she threw her head back in a convulsion of ecstasy.



Slumping forward, Elizabeth stayed impaled upon his length. I saw how she quivered around it, her intimate flesh pulsating with orgasm after orgasm. Her rippling vagina forced the softening penis from her depths as she continued to experience after-cums. I witnessed the large head being expelled from her, exiting with a pop and a fresh wash of sperm. It appeared as if nearly a quart of the monsters seed was released, so great was the deluge from her. It hung in strings from the stretched lips of her vagina, which were obsenely opened. My beloved Elizabeth! Would my own organ ever serve her again? Surely, the fiend had ruined her for me, so distended was her sex! Yet, at the same time, I desired to enter her, as the creature had done, and release my again growing lust into her.



Laying her head on the creatures massive chest, Elizabeth slid her hands down to her crotch, down to the site of their unholy union, to her reamed sex and its fluid dripping lips, which now were open like a double stable door. She rubbed the opening where the creatures large penis had penetrated her and where his fluids still remained. I saw her fingers slide into her cavity and then back out as if in disbelief at the events that had occured. She rubbed herself again across her mound and then inserted her hand inside her self. As deep as her wrist it went, and with ease she took it. Upon removal, it was coated with the beast’s sperm, which she proceeded to rub into her breats and then, moving her hand to her face, lick. Long strings of the thick fluid hung from her lips as she ate the vile seed of the fiend. He looked at me, his leering grin cutting through my soul like a knife. My wife was his, and his alone.



“As I forewarned, so it is, my creator.” The huge shaggy head was now just inches from my face, it’s leering grin a mockery of my humiliation. “Live and know I have had mt revenge.” With that, the creature, my creation, pulled on his garments and left the room. I listened as his footsteps faded to nothing before I attempted to free myself of my bonds. The ropes were old and supple and yielded very slightly, but my desire to be free of my restraints was great and with much effort, loosed myself. My wrists were scrapped and raw, but I paid little heed. My sole desire was my bride, now swooning and motionless on our honeymoon bedding. I cradled Elizabeth in my arms. She was limp, but moaning softly. I could smell the sex on her, the sharp smell of fresh semen, and her own passionate scent. My lust was still great, and my penis still erect. I laid my senseless cousin on our bed and spreading her legs, crawled between them and entered her. Her sex was dilated and offered no resistance to my entry. I plunged full in, and felt the great space within her that I could not fill. My only sensation was the incredible heat radiating from her orifice and the slippery ooze of the fiends fluids, which dripped from her sex. I exploded into her as soon as I was completely in. Her eyes snapped open as my penis expelled it’s lust within her, drenching her cavernous cunny with my load, miniscule though by comparison with the ones delivered prior. Her eyes locked on mine and with horror I heard her rasp these words, “Your seed is useless to me for I am already with child. The child of your creation grows within me. I am no longer yours, dear husband.”



With that, Elizabeth pushed me away and rolled to her side and resumed her seemingly senseless state. I was overcome with dread at what had transpired, and knew that she had spoken the truth. My creature had taken the ultimate revenge, cuckholding me on my wedding night and impregnating my wife. At this thought, an even deeper fear overtook me. His child! The godless fiend had sired a child. It must not be born! For the sake of future generations, I must end the demonous gestation. Nearly senseless with rage, I threw my self upon Elizabeth, hands circling her white throat, fingers crushing her flesh inward as the life was strangled out of her. In minutes, the deed was done, but still I held on, choking the lifeless body as if I could some how kill her even more. Finally, I regained my senses enough to realize what I had done. Murder! I had to hide her corpse. The old inn had many exits and it was no problem to wrap her limp body in a rug and carry it out a back doorway. I quickly found the waterfront and a rowboat unattended. An hours row and I found some heavy stones with which I weighted the body of my spouse and then rowed to a deep area, where I pushed her remains overboard. I left that night for Genova, swearing revenge on my misbegotten creature, vowing to hunt him to the ends of this earth and on to the next.



This is the tale told to me by Dr. Frankenstein, shortly before his passing and I fear that it is truthful in everyway. The doctor killed his wife not the creature as I had previously written and I believe that that act had driven the man completely insane, insanity cured only by death. And of the creature? Of him there has been no report. Does he live on to this day or did he perish in the frozen waste? God alone knows







Capt. Robert Walton, retired.

eviline
02:36 May 19 2008
Times Read: 958






I woke up, feeling warm, satiated and content. As I rolled over I reached out for her - and found nothing, just an empty place in the bed. I screamed from pit of my stomach and hurled myself from the bed.



"Jesus Christ, Paul!" Annie yelled, dashing in from the bathroom, "What the fu..." She saw me, standing shaking against the wall. My heart was pounding and I was covered in cold sweat. As she watched my knees gave way and I sank to the floor.



"Oh my God, Paul, what's the matter?" Annie leapt to me and cradled me in her arms, my head resting on her breasts as I sobbed the sobs of a terrified child. Slowly I calmed down.



"It's alright." I said shakily, "It was just a nightmare."



Annie chuckled. "Thank goodness for that, lover. You gave me a scare though."



"You and me both! Sorry!"



"Come back to bed, you're freezing cold and shivering."



I climbed back into the bed and Annie drew the covers over us before wrapping me in her arms and legs. I breathed in the perfume of her body. So warm and comforting, so different from... I quickly shied away from that thought, as my heart raced again.



"You're tensing up again, what is it gorgeous?"



"Just a memory of the nightmare." Nightmare? Hah! I only wished it was. I had spent a long, long, time walling those memories away and still they had burst out. It was not something that I wanted to share with Annie either. We were in love, but my story would strain anyone's love and credulity. I still tried not to believe it for God's sake! I settled down with Annie again. I didn't go back to sleep at once. Instead I kept my mind firmly on Annie, remembering when we had met and what had brought us here.



I had decided to go out for a drink that summer's evening. I didn't do that often because recently I'd taken to a solitary life, but that night I wanted to be around people. So, there I was, sitting in a relatively quiet Pub, looking at my distorted reflection in the side of my soft drink when I saw a woman making her away towards me. She was short, a bit plump but curvy with it, had mousy hair and when she got closer I saw that her eyes were a brilliant green. 'Contacts' I thought, but I was wrong about that.



"May I sit here?"



I rose to my feet. "Yes, certainly. My name is Paul, by the way."



"I'm Annie. I haven't seen you here before, are you waiting for someone?"



"No, I'm all alone." This said a bit more bitterly than I'd intended.



"Sorry to hear that. Tell you what, I'll talk to you and make you feel less alone."



That made me laugh, although I was dreading that what she meant was that she'd chatter non-stop at me. I was to be pleasantly surprised, however. Instead of inane chatter we had a good conversation and I found that enjoyed her company. At closing time I drove her home and saw her to her front door. As she left the car, she kissed me, but I was glad she didn't invite me in, I wasn't ready to deal with intimacy. However, we'd exchanged 'phone numbers and agreed to call.



We met a few times more and then went out to dinner together. Afterwards, when I drove her home she invited me in for coffee and I accepted, gratefully. We actually did have coffee, but when it became obvious that she wanted me to stay the night I found that I couldn't.



"Look Annie, I've got to go. I can't stay with you tonight."



"Don't you like me?"



"It's not that at all. Look, all I can say now is that I've been through a truly traumatic relationship; no, please don't ask me to explain it yet, I'm still trying to deal with it and I'm just not ready for this yet. But, please, please, don't give up on me yet; just be patient with me and give me a some time." By the time I'd finished speaking I was pale and shaking.



A look of deep compassion crossed her face, she came to me, reached up, and patted my cheek. "Don't worry about me giving up on you Paul, I have absolutely no intention of doing that."



"Thanks, Annie. Thank you so very much. I'll explain it all to you, once I can." I hugged her tight and left. It took me a few minutes just sitting in the car to get myself calmed down to the point I felt I could drive safely.



We continued to see each other over the next few weeks. It became obvious that we were falling in love- I missed her like crazy when we were apart. We phoned each other every day and talked for hours in the evenings. I took Annie to the theatre and after the show invited her back to my place.



"I'd like to Paul, but I want you to understand that if I come back with you, I'm not leaving until the morning at the earliest."



"I know that. And I don't want you to leave, I want to spend the night, hell the rest of my life I reckon, with you."



"Do you really mean that?"



I grinned at her, "Which bit?"



Annie laughed. "Both bits, idiot!"



I nodded. "Yup, I'm being pretty serious about this. But please, Annie, I still need your patience, this is a big step for me right now. I want to, I want you, but I'm still scared and I still can't explain why."



"I won't say I understand, I don't. But I will say this; we'll work this through Paul, whatever it takes - I love you."



I tried to stop my voice shaking "Love you too, so very much."



In the car Annie started to chuckle.



"What is it, Annie?"



"Actually I was thinking that I hope it is hard for you, in one way at least."



That made me chuckle too. "Hard for you, is more near the point, don't you think?"



"There is that." Her hand squeezed my thigh.



I locked the front door of my flat.



"Where's the bathroom?"



"Second door on the right."



After a few minutes she came back into the living room.



"Do you want anything?" I asked, waving my hand in the general direction of my kitchenette.



"Yes. I want you in bed with me, right now."



"O.k. This way." I took her hand and led her to the door and pushed it open. "Can I use the bathroom first, though."



"Go right ahead, it's your flat after all. You're not going to get cold feet again are you?."



I turned her in my arms and lifted her face so that I could look right into her eyes. "Annie, I have no intention of that. I want this, you, so much; it's just that ..." I spun on my heel and went into the bathroom.



I 'performed my toilette' then took a good look at myself in the mirror. 'Right,' I told my reflection, ' the past is over and done with. This is a new place, a new town, this is now, this is Annie. You both want each other, you know you can't keep your hands off her. Keep calm and her love will keep the memories at bay. You can do this - and enjoy it."



As soon as I entered the bedroom Annie came up to me and we started to undress each other. Within a minute I was naked and she was down to her underwear. I knelt before he and removed her bra. Her breasts were moderately large and somewhat saggy - not that that mattered in the least. I took one nipple into my mouth and sucked on it whilst rubbing the other with my hand.



Annie groaned and her legs trembled slightly. "Keep doing that and I'll cum. But not tonight, I want my first cum with you when you're inside me."



I nodded, then kissed my way down to her knickers. I hooked my hands under the sides and pulled them down, following with my mouth until I was kissing her already wet pussy. Her hands drew me away.



"Not this time." She did a nude twirl A shy note entered her voice. "What do you think of me?"



"Nice. There's enough of you to hold, know what I mean?"



"You say the nicest things, Paul."



So saying Annie moved to the bed, drew down the covers and lay down; legs open, knees bent. She opened her arms and looked up at me.



"I want you right now."



I climbed onto the bed and between her legs. Her hand snaked down and grasped my hard cock, stroking it gently a few times.



"He's so beautiful. I want him in me this minute." So saying I was guided to her lips.



As I thrust into her Annie's hips rose to meet me. It was wonderful. I felt peaceful and immensely excited all at once.



Annie was kissing my neck. "What's this plaster here for? Did you cut yourself shaving?" she mumbled.



I tensed momentarily before resolutely ignoring where that led. "Something like that."



I didn't last long. It was too good for that, but Annie kept pace with me and though I came first, she was a close second; both of us shouting out our joy in our serial climaxes. Afterwards, once I'd slipped from her body we lay in each other's arms and went to sleep. Remembering the joy I'd had with Annie I finally did doze off.



The alarm rang.



"Damn! I gotta go. Will you be o.k. Paul? You still look shaken. You should ring in sick and take the day off."



I watched as Annie bustled around into the bathroom and back out, breasts bouncing, ass swaying. I watched her putting her clothes on. Even though she didn't mean it to be her reverse strip-tease was sexy - or I thought so anyway.



"No, I'm fine. I'd rather work. Say, can you make it over tonight as well?"



"Sorry, Sugar. I'm away on business for three days. I'll call you tonight and I'll be straight over as soon as I get back. Gotta go, bye."



So saying Annie was out of the door and away. I missed her dreadfully for the next two days, but we did keep in touch by phone. She kept her promise too and we started to spend nights together. Annie kept remarking about the plaster on my neck and I kept fobbing her off. However, my 'nightmare' recurred about two weeks later, and again the next week ...



"Paul!" Annie said, once she had got me calmed down a bit and back in bed and I'd stopped shaking. "This can't go on. You must tell me, or someone, about whatever it is that's upsetting you so! You may need counselling, or therapy. It also scares the hell outta me every time. What is it?"



I drew a shuddering breath. "O.k. Annie. I'll tell you. You have got to promise me something though. I want you to hear me all the way through without interruption and without judgement. I will be totally honest about this. I'll tell it all to you Parts will seem fantastic, parts horrific, some maybe hurtful. But perhaps if I tell it all, every last thing, you will understand."



"Paul, I won't judge you - ever. I know you are a good man."



"Thanks. But don't make promises you may not be able to keep. Just let me tell the whole story. "



Annie nodded, looking very serious.



I sat up in bed. Staring straight ahead at nothing I started to tell the tale. Trying to distance myself from the telling of it.



"It all began about two and a half years ago. I'd been on my own for a while and I wanted some pussy. And I wasn't going to be too fussy about it either. I decided to visit a newly opened night-club in the town, one specially for people in their 30s to early 40s. I paid the entrance fee and went in. One look was enough. It was too noisy, too crowded and too smoky. I went straight back out again. The girl at the desk said 'You don't get no refunds y'know'.



'Gee, I'd never have guessed!'



Outside I strolled off into the night, cross with myself for even thinking that this had ever been a good idea. I'd just turned down a side-street when I heard a scream. I must have been crosser than I thought, because I ran towards the sound - normally I'm not brave at all - and as I came round a slight bend in the street a saw, under a street-lamp, a group of three yobs starting to flee from a woman. 'Hey!' I yelled, picking up my pace. The yobs had taken to their heels, one dropping a knife as he did so, whilst the woman seemed to shrink in on herself and slide down the lamp-post to the ground. I reached her, scooping up the knife as I did so. One yob looked back and I brandished the knife, pretending to throw it at him. It was enough to make him put is head down and bolt for it. I turned to the woman. 'You alright?' For a moment I could have sworn she looked angry, but I guess that was a trick of the light.



'Yes. They did me no harm and they didn't steal anything.'



I extended my arm and she took my hand, her long, cool, fingers in my palm, grip surprisingly strong. I helped her up. On her feet she was almost my height and slim. Despite the distorting effect of the Sodium street lighting, it was obvious that she had pale skin and very dark hair. For some strange reason, I found her very alluring, attractive, and sexy. I helped her brush her long coat down.



'Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?'



'My name is Eveline, call me Lynn, and yours?'



'Paul. Pleased to meet you, though I'd have preferred under other circumstances."



A silvery laugh. 'Yes. And there is something else you can do, take me home please.'



'Certainly. May I know your address.'



Lynn smiled. 'No. I meant take me to your home.'



'Ah, I see.' I will admit that I was startled. The air between us was charged with a sexual electricity. I could hardly believe that I was going to score with this beauty. 'Pussy hunt successful, I think' I thought to myself. I walked her to my car and drove her to my flat.



I let us in and turned on the light. Eveline flinched slightly.



'Sorry, it's a bit bright.' I turned the light down with the dimmer.



Looking at her under the light I could see that my initial guesses had been quite accurate. She had jet black hair, eyes as dark as sloe and very pale skin that seemed to glow from within. I felt my desire for her grow. I wanted her badly and my cock was half-hard.



'May I take your coat, Lynn.'



'Not just yet, where is the bedroom?'



I must have looked blank.



'You do want to fuck me, don't you Paul?'



'Definitely! That door there.'



Eveline glided across the floor and went into the bedroom and I followed eagerly. Once inside, she stood with her back to me and I heard her unbutton her coat.



'Take my coat, Paul.'



I did so, slipping it from her shoulders. As I did so, I gasped. Eveline was revealed as wearing just a bra, thong and knee length boots. As my eyes travelled down her body I could see the flawless perfection of her pale skin, the thong strap rising between two perfect firm buttocks and the long slender legs disappearing into the boots. She turned round, revealing her small, high, breasts that obviously needed no support from the bra.



'Do you like what you see?'



'Very much.' I croaked, then cleared my throat. 'At the risk of telling you something you already know, you are very beautiful, not just pretty, beautiful, and I want you, badly.'



'Kiss me.' I did and she returned the kiss with equal ardour, our tongues entwining in each other's mouths, her breath cool in my face, while my hands roamed over her back and down to squeeze those firm buttocks.



"Remove my bra." I needed no urging. I had already seen the nipples straining against the material and now that her breasts were fully revealed, they did not disappoint. High, round and firm, the perfect handful, nipples almost the size of the top joint of my little finger jutted forward proudly, begging to be sucked. I took one into my mouth and started to suck it, gently at first, then harder as Eveline sighed. She grasped my head and crushed me to her with startling force. I opened my mouth and sucked her whole breast in, teasing it with my tongue, then, when she let up the pressure I transferred my attention to the other breast.



When I came up for air she firmly pushed me away a bit.



"Wait."



She sat on the bed and removed her boots revealing shapely calves and small elegant feet. Then she removed her thong. Her pussy was completely hairless. Smiling, she stood and turned round, almost seeming to float above the floor.



'You are incredible!' I breathed. I think that I was already totally infatuated with her.



Eveline sat back on the bed, one leg stretched out, the other raised and supporting her elbow. She rested her head in her hand and looked at me with an appraising air. I just stared at her. She was so incredibly beautiful. Perfect body, glowing skin, I could scarcely believe she could exist. Her open legs giving me a glimpse of her inner lips which were almost blood-red in colour, contrasting oddly with the pallor of the rest of her skin.



'Take your clothes off.'



I hastened to obey, concentrating to make sure that I didn't tangle or knot anything. I couldn't possibly compete with the elegance of her disrobing, but I did want to try not to seem a clumsy fool in front of her. I succeeded in not making an exhibition of myself and stood before her, my cock standing to attention.



'Hmmm. You'll do" Her eyes roamed up my body. Suddenly she flinched and turned her head away. "Take that cross off. I don't want to be banged by it while you're banging me!"



I hastened to comply.



A nod. 'Make love with me."



She laughed her silvery laugh as I practically leapt onto the bed to do her bidding - which was what I wanted to do anyway. I kissed her face, neck, hands and arms, her skin cool beneath my lips as she slithered down onto the bed. I kissed and suckled her breasts again, then kissed my way down to her pussy, over it and onto her inner thighs. I kissed my way up them until my lips were brushing against her velvety smooth, hairless pussy as I moved from thigh to thigh. By now her legs and belly were contracting rhythmically, the muscles coming into sharp focus as they tensed. I moved in and ran my tongue up between her lips to lap up some of the juices that were now flowing freely. To my surprise they had neither odour nor flavour that I could detect. My tongue moved up to her clitoris and I began to flick it: up, down, left, right, then back down to her pussy where I pushed my tongue into her as far as I could. The contractions of her muscles grew in intensity, her back arched; she lifted her whole ass off the bed and howled as she came - an almost inhuman sound - her muscles clenching and relaxing spastically. Slowly her movements died away. She relaxed for a moment, then gripped me beneath the shoulders and without apparent effort dragged me up the bed, turning me onto my back at the same time. Before I had hardly had time to register this display of strength, she had slid down my body and taken my cock in her hands. She stroked it a few times, her thumb gently brushing over the top, then lowered her mouth towards it, her tongue snaking out to lick the tip of my glans where it poked through the foreskin. I sighed with pleasure. Making sure I could see her every move, she withdrew the foreskin, her cool breath sending tingles from my cock-head up to the base of my dick, then she slowly engulfed me with her mouth. Holding the base of my prick with one hand, the other cupping my balls she started to move up and down on me like she meant business. My sighs became moans, I could feel me body tensing, my back started to arch off the bed, I was getting close when a sudden pressure at the base of my cock erased my arousal and I fell back onto the bed. Eveline moved up my body and guided me into her. Like her skin, her pussy was cool. She started to ride me, slowly building up both pace and depth. She leant forwards so that her nipples brushed up and down my chest with her movements, with every sweep of her nipples a jolt of electricity surged into my brain. Her hands were gripping my shoulders and as she got closer to her orgasm and I to mine her grip grew ever stronger. She leant deeper onto me, her breasts now crushed against my chest as she started to kiss and nibble my neck. I gripped her buttocks and started to pound into her from below. We came together yelling with the release. As my orgasm died away a terrific lethargy swept over me. Just before sleep claimed me I managed to mumble my thanks and tell her she was wonderful.



I awoke the next day with the dawn light streaming through the open curtains and window. Eveline wasn't there. There was a note on the pillow it said: 'Sorry I had to fly. Really enjoyed last night. Thanks for all you've given me. P.S. I'll see you around. E'

I mentally shrugged. I'd got laid and the sex had been fabulous. I didn't really expect to see her again though. She could do much better than me. I went to the bathroom to wash and shave. As I started to lather my face I found a sore spot on my neck. Looking carefully in the mirror I could see a couple of red weals on my neck. 'Damn!' I thought, 'she bit me when we came.' I didn't really think anything about it and by mid-day the marks had faded. All through that day and the next I couldn't get Lynn out of my mind. My cock ached for her, my body tingled with the memory of her touch.



I few days later I was aching so much for Lynn that I did something rather silly. I drove into town in the evening and, as darkness fell, I re-traced my steps from the club, just to help me remember my meeting with her. As I walked down the street where I'd first come across Lynn it was obvious that it was totally deserted. There was no one in the street. Even so, I had an odd feeling that someone was watching me. I peered into the shadows, no darker shadows lurked there. I reached the lamp-post where I'd found her. I looked up and down the street as far as I could see - empty, deserted. I looked down at the lamp-post. The faintest rustle behind me, a firm grip on my shoulder.



"We meet again." Said Lynn's voice in my ear.



Needless to say, I jumped about eighteen inches into the air, or rather I would have done had her grip not held me to the ground. Needless to say she laughed her silvery laugh. I was being laughed at, but I didn't mind.



"Lynn. I'm so glad to see you again. You scared me half to death though. What are you doing here?"



"Nice to get your blood pumping, Paul. Take me home."



I did, of course, and she was wonderful, enthralling, exhilarating. Next morning though, she was gone. A note on the pillow said she'd call me. And my neck had a sore spot, which faded by midday.



That evening the phone rang.



'I'm coming over. I'll be there in 30 minutes.' Said Lynn's voice over the phone.



I had hardly had time to say 'great' before she put the phone down. I was ecstatic, elated, over-joyed. I actually whooped and hollered "Yes, Yes, Yes!" several times before I got a grip. The next twenty minutes were spent tidying up feverishly and then a quick five minute shower. I was in my dressing gown when the door-bell rang. I opened the door and Lynn swept in, head high. She headed straight for the bedroom.



'Wait here until I call you.'



After a few minutes wait, I was just about hopping from foot to foot, she called me in. This time she was already lying naked on the bed.



'Take off your gown' she said. I did so and then 'And that cross, I told you I didn't like it.' This was said in a chillingly cold tone.



I must have looked startled and perhaps a little hurt, for Lynn laughed her silvery laugh and said. 'Now come here and make love with me.' Even so, I never wore that cross again until our relationship was over.



Again the sex was brilliant, she had several orgasms and we finished by climaxing together. Next morning she was gone again before I awoke. Again there was a note on the pillow. It said the same as before, just in different words. Again I had a sore spot on my neck, another bite.



That set the pattern of the next five weeks. Lynn would tell me she was coming over three, maybe four times a week. Even though I was out some evenings she never got it wrong, I was always available when she said she was coming over. I soon realised we weren't making love (despite what she had said) we were fucking, but she was the best fuck I'd ever had. I'm an average guy and here was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen fucking my brains out three or four times a week. I reckoned I'd never get this lucky again so I wasn't about to start complaining. I will admit that there were two things that bothered me but not much. Just little niggles at the edges so to speak. Firstly, she was always gone when I woke up. Now, I'm usually an early riser, so that surprised me. The second thing is that I was always left with a sore spot on my neck where I'd gotten a love-bite from her when we were in the throes of our simultaneous orgasms. Mind you, if that was the price I had to pay for fucking her - so be it!



Then I got sick. I became lethargic. I couldn't take exercise. I even put Lynn off, telling her that I was ill and didn't want to risk her catching anything from me. I went to my Doctor and he ran a battery of tests on me. A week after my first visit, the Surgery rang to tell me to make an appointment to see the Doctor. That told me something was wrong, of course.



"I've got your test results." The Doc. when I went into his consulting room, "you're anaemic."



"You've got to be kidding!"



"No. You are. Your red cell count is dangerously low. I don't know why yet, so I'm running some more tests."



More blood was taken and I was even booked in to have a bone marrow sample taken (which I was really looking forward to). However, before that happened the surgery called me in again. By this time I was already feeling much better, back to my old self in fact.



'I owe you an apology." My Doctor said, "the second set of blood tests show that your red cell count is within normal parameters. I think the lab messed up the first test. I'm giving you a clean bill of health, unless you think otherwise.'



'No, I'm fine. I was feeling awful the week before last, but I feel back to normal now.'



'It was probably just a virus. If it happens again though, don't hesitate to see me.'



That night Lynn called me. 'You are better now?'



'Yes, I'm fine.'



'I'm coming over.'



I was exhilarated at the thought of seeing and fucking her again. Once I'd started to get better, Lynn had never been out of my thoughts and I'd wanted her every day. Now I knew I was well again I couldn't wait. The doorbell rang and I let her in. I grabbed her and would have screwed her then and there on the floor hall except that she pushed me away with that surprising strength of hers.



"No. I want to make love with you in the bedroom. It's been while, I want tonight to be special. You may take my coat."



I did. Lynn was wearing a silky blouse and a mid-thigh length skirt. I could already tell from the way her nipples dimpled her blouse that she was bra-less and I wondered if she had knickers on. Lynn kicked off her shoes and led me to the bedroom. Once inside she closed the door and turned to me putting her hand on my chest to stop me as I reached for her again. Without a word she started to un-button my shirt and helped me to shrug it off, running her hands down my back as she did so. Her touch was electric and made me gasp. Then she started to kiss my chest, working her way down until she reached my trousers. She knelt and skilfully she undid the buckle and slid my trousers down to my ankles. She moved her head lower and nuzzled at my cock and balls through the material of my underpants. My dick hardened immediately. Her hands slid to the sides of my briefs, there was a tearing sound as she ripped them from my body and, almost simultaneously she sucked my cock deep into her mouth. I moaned with pleasure as she swirled her tongue around my dick. She withdrew me from her mouth with a faint 'plop' and started to lick my cock with her tongue, broad wide strokes from its base to its tip, sending shivers of pleasure through my body, all the while staring up into my eyes whilst I stared down, mesmerised by what she was doing. She slipped me back into her mouth, instantly I felt the suction as she sucked her cheeks inwards. She worked me hard, remorselessly driving me to ejaculate in her mouth, which I did, groaning as I shot my load into her.



'That was sexy.' I said. Lynn rose gracefully to her feet.



'Good. Now undress me.'



I knew that I'd have to match her effort with me. I wanted to make this a bit special for her, too, it seemed only fair to return the compliment. I moved to stand behind her. I reached around her and and started to stroke her breasts and belly through the silky material. I felt her nipples harden under my hands and a flutter in her hard belly muscles. Using only my sense of touch, I started to un-button her blouse from the waist up, caressing her cool skin and up onto her breasts. I gently pinched her nipples, then harder, just as she liked it. I swept my hands up over her shoulders, slipping her blouse from her so that it hung down from her waist. She laughed a silvery laugh of pleasure as I started to kiss down her back, whilst still fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples. I knelt behind her and ran my hands down her flanks and managed to undo her skirt. Both it and her blouse fell to the floor leaving her naked. Lynn neatly stepped out of her skirt and I threw her garments aside. I ran my hands over her hips and down onto her pussy. She was wet. I started to play with her clit and lips whilst kissing her ass. As I did so, Lynn slowly straddled her legs, then bent forwards, giving me a view of her pussy with its blood-red inner lips. I knew what she wanted me to do. I put my tongue into her as far as I could and lapped at her. I continued to lap whilst rubbing her clit with my fingers until she came, shaking with the power of it, her breath hissing between her lips. She straightened and moved to kneel on the bed, her ass towards me, her legs spread. She looked over her shoulder at me.



"Fuck me." She commanded.



I almost started to protest that I wouldn't be able to, so soon after cumming, but as if in response to her command I felt my dick stiffen. I moved behind her and thrust into her. I fucked her hard, pounding into her. I'd missed fucking her and I was determined to fuck all the frustration out of myself. Lynn must have felt the same way, because I could feel her trembling as she built to another orgasm. She howled out again, that same almost in-human cry she made on occasion, and I felt her cunt spasm around me as she came. She wound down and I was almost about to come myself, I could feel the tingle at the bottom of my cock.



"Stop."



The level of command in her voice, quietly though she'd spoken, was enough to stop me in my tracks. She pulled herself off me and turned around. She must have seen my startled and perhaps slightly hurt expression.



"Don't look like that, Paul. I just like to watch when you cum in me."



So saying she lay down on her back and slowly bent and raised her legs until they lay up on her shoulders. Then she spread her legs out wide. Her pussy opened like a flower and her tunnel lay open to my slack-jawed gaze.



"Have me like this."



I all but dived between her legs. I was on fire for her. I drove my cock into her open hole until my balls were squashed against her ass. Her legs crossed over my back, her hands gripped my ass and she urged me to fuck her and fuck her, pushing and pulling at me with her arms, bucking her hips to meet my thrusts. As I climaxed she was kissing and nibbling my neck and I felt her orgasm join mine.



I awoke on my own the next morning to a note on the pillow and damn! Yes, she'd bitten me again.



That week and for the next few, she came over three, four, times a week. We would have fantastic sex , or I would anyway, I suppose I shouldn't speak for her, but she sure seemed to enjoy it!, go to sleep together and she'd be gone in the morning. I still thought a sore neck was a small price to pay. One time I'd asked her why she left so early. She answered without answering that with her 'lifestyle a very early start was essential.'



Then I started to feel ill again, my lethargy returned. I went back to the Doctor. More blood tests. The surgery called me in for the results.



'This time I am certain you are anaemic. I had two separate labs run tests just to make sure.' The Doctor said. 'I'm going to run more tests. We need to get to the bottom of this.'



'Hold on. I think I may have an idea about the cause. Will you give me a week's grace and I'll see if I can't sort it myself.'



'Tell me what you think it is then.'



'Sorry, I can't explain to you just yet. Call I a lifestyle issue. You can go in for more blood-letting in a week. But meanwhile I'd be grateful if you'd sign me off sick this week, though.'



He laughed. 'O.k. Paul. On your head be it, though.'



A hideous feeling was growing in my mind. I scarcely wanted to name it. I am a rational, thinking, human being. This was out of the stuff of legend.



When Lynn next rang, I told her I was ill and couldn't see her. She did not sound surprised. She said she'd call in two weeks.



I wasn't quite as ill as the last time, so I made my way to the main town Library, quizzed the librarians and collected a stack of books. The subject of my study was Vampires. By the end of the day, conclusions were forming in my mind, not withstanding some contradictions in the literature, and I was terrified. As I started putting the pieces together, all the evidence pointed to the impossible fact the Lynn was a vampire. Her pale cool skin, her amazing strength. She'd once easily pinned me down. I'd broken free a few seconds later, but had she in fact just let go? Her photophobia, she hated bright lights. Her dislike, or was it fear, of the cross I had worn. The fact that in the throes of passion she always bit me and that I'd twice developed 'anaemia' after seeing her consistently for a few weeks. Was it anaemia, or had she drained my blood? I was also worried by the accounts that indicated that sometimes the bite of a vampire turned the victim into a vampire as well. Recounting events carefully brought other pointers to mind. What had made three fit, strong young men flee from her before I'd arrived on the scene. They hadn't been just running away, they'd been running scared. How had she got into the middle of that empty street the second time I'd 'found' her without me seeing her coming? Why did she always leave before day-break and never arrive until after dark? Why did she always evade questions about where she lived and what she did? Why was I never allowed into the bathroom if she was there? She was anything but shy, so that wasn't it; but it was the only room in the flat with a mirror.



I kept trying to make the evidence fit other hypothesis. Vampires were just the creation of fantasy, weren't they? But no matter how I tried, I could not escape the conclusion that Lynn was a vampire. The only odd thing was that she hadn't killed me. But perhaps she'd realised that she could 'tap' her victims rather in the manner in which a rubber farmer taps latex from his trees. That way she'd get more blood from her victims, not less. However, I had no doubt in my own mind that I'd be a dead man if she found out that I knew. I wondered if, in the end, she did kill. That opened a new line of research and I scoured the archives for reports of unexplained deaths of males. I found quite a few. The information was very scarce, but I wondered. I noted that one reporter for a national paper had filed stories on several of the deaths. I phoned him.



'Hello, is that Jim Carpenter.'



'Yes, speaking. And you are?'



'My name is Steve Rogers. I would like to ask you if you could tell me anything about several deaths. The names of the victims are...' I reeled of the names from a list I'd written down.



There was several second's silence.



'Are you in Town, Steve?"



'Yes.'



'Meet me at the King's Head, on Bankside in twenty minutes. Mine's a pint of Worthington's by the way. Let the barman know who you are, he'll direct me to you.'



His pint was sat beside me when he came over. Jim plonked himself down and drained his pint quickly.



'Well, what do you want to know?'



'Were there any unusual features about the cases?'



He laughed mirthlessly. 'Yup. It had the Police bothered to hell and back. I only found out by accident and I had to promise not to report it.'



'Well?'



He looked at me slyly. 'Another pint first. I don't want to talk about this at all, and certainly not stone cold sober!'



I got his pint. He downed it swiftly.



'O.k. Here's the freaky stuff. None of the stiffs, at least the three I know about, had any blood in their bodies and they had puncture marks on their necks. In the end they were recorded as drugs over-doses, death by mis-adventure or other excuses. Police forensics found nothing on them, or in their properties, at all. Not a print, not a hair, not a skin cell that wasn't theirs. At least, they found nothing human that wasn't theirs. And yet, in some cases it was obvious that they'd not died alone. The cops were freaked out I tell you - and I'm talking hard-bitten murder squad guys who've seen it all. And that freaked me out. That's all I've got and I'm outta here."



I could feel myself going cold as he talked. He turned to look at me.



"Christ! This all means something to you doesn't it? You poor bastard!" Another humourless grin. "Good luck, you'll probably need it." So saying, he was gone.



I was now convinced. If I didn't want to end up like the other guys, I could see only one possibility. I made my preparations. I bought a piece of timber and fashioned it into a stake with a very sharp point. I got some holy water from my local Church. I told the Priest I liked to anoint myself whenever I went in or out of my flat. I got a curious stare, but I also got the water. I anointed the stake, not me. I also nailed my cross onto the stake. I did not use garlic. I did not want to alert Lynn - if she realised I knew, I was a dead man. I wondered if it was murder to 'kill' someone who was not alive but not dead, merely un-dead. To hide the smell of the stake I unnecessarily replaced some skirting-board in my bedroom. Then I hid the stake just under the bed - and waited for Lynn to call.



All the while I rehearsed what I was going to do in my mind. There was one moment when I believed her guard was down. Just after she orgasmed, she always seemed relaxed, un-aware, vulnerable. That was to be my moment. But to do this, I knew that I'd have to avoid being ensnared by her. Instead of being swept up in passion and desire I'd have to keep cool and not let her know. At least I now knew I wasn't fucking a real woman, I was fucking an un-dead non-human. That did a lot to temper my desire for her.



She called. She came over. When I opened the door and saw her standing there she looked so radiantly beautiful and desirable that I had to forcibly remind myself of who and what 'she' was. She led me to the bedroom and we fucked. I won't bore you with the details, but part of my mind was aware that it was as exhilarating as ever; the rest of my mind was cold, chilled with my purpose. She came with me inside her, biting my neck, and as she relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss, I acted. I shifted my position and changed the rhythm of my movements inside her - nothing suspicious in that - picked up the stake, reared above her and drove it with all my strength towards her breast. Her eyes snapped out. Time for me slowed right down, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The change in her was terrifying , beyond anything I could have imagined. What happened must have taken place in less than a second, yet it still seems like a long time to me. I saw her eyes, the pupils now red vertical slits glaring at me. Her mouth opened in a feral snarl revealing the long pointed canines, still stained with my blood. Her hands, the fingers tipped with talons, snapped towards the stake so fast I knew she would grip it before I could drive it into her. I knew I was dead. Then light glinted off the cross on the stake. Her expression changed in an instant to one of total fear, her hands jerked away from the stake as if they'd been burnt. Next moment, the stake pierced her breast. I felt it grate past the ribs and penetrate deep into her. A gigantic flash of light filled the room. I was hurled up and away from the bed. I must have hit my head on something, because I remember nothing more until I came to, lying in a heap on the floor. I checked myself over for injuries, but apart from an impressive lump on my head and some dried blood on my chest I was fine. I looked around the room. The bedroom window seemed to have been forced wide open in the blast, the curtains, half torn down , were dangling out through the opening fluttering forlornly in the breeze. There was no other damage I could see. Steeling myself, I sat up and looked at the bed. There was nothing there. No body, nothing. Just the stake, rammed through the sheet and mattress. I'd expected a body, perhaps a pile of ash; but there was nothing, nothing at all. I noticed a faint, faint smell of burning. Pulling myself up to the bed I saw that the surface of the stake was slightly charred. Just a thin film of carbon on the surface, hardly noticeable. I slumped back with relief. I hadn't really thought about how I would dispose of the body and at least now I didn't have to. Then a new fear arose in my mind. Without some evidence, could I be sure I'd destroyed her? Was the window and curtain evidence of her hurried escape into the night? Was my life now in mortal peril? I felt a twinge in my neck. I put my hand to it and it came away bloody. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Blood oozed slowly from twin punctures in my neck. I wiped it and my chest clean with a flannel, and then put a plaster over the wound. It's never fully healed by the way. That's why I have a plaster on my neck to this day.

The rest of that day I concentrated on the practical. I burnt the stake to ashes. Broke up the bed and took it and the mattress to the tip. Bought a new bed. I put the chain back on my cross and put it on. I started anointing myself with Holy Water. I put the flat on the market and persuaded the Company to transfer me to the City. I reasoned that, on the principle that if the best place to hide a pebble is on a beach, the best place to hid a person is in a big city. I called Jim Carpenter again, just before I left to come here.



'Jim, it's Steve. You remember that stuff we talked about in the King's Head?'



'Don't want to, but yes.'



'Reckon I met the person responsible. And I've dealt with it, I think. Hope you don't get any more deaths like it to report.'



'Bloody hell! You think you've stopped it? What was it?'



I noted he said 'what was it', not 'who was it'. That made me chuckle, though without humour. 'I see you've got some ideas of your own. To answer your question, a vampire.'



'Yea, won't pretend I'm surprised to hear it. No story in it for me, though. Editor would think I'd gone mad, might be right too! Thanks anyway.' The phone went dead.



Annie, You said I should tell someone, go for counselling. Who should I tell? Who would believe me? The Authorities would either arrest me for murder or section me to a mental institution, or both. And I think that a similar outcome might occur with a counsellor. I could tell no one, at least not until today. And that's it. The entire story. I hope that you understand why I have 'nightmares' about it."



I sighed.



"I said that was all, well not quite. There is one more thing. Just as the stake stabbed into her, her face changed again. Her pupils became round again and in her eyes I saw the human soul she had been. A soul tortured and agonised. And as the explosion hurled me from the bed I thought I heard her whisper 'thank you.'



As time has gone on my fear has subsided. I will never take off my cross and I'll always use holy water. But although I've looked, I've seen no more reports of strange deaths; so perhaps I did destroy her, or it. Or perhaps she's gone a long way away, knowing that some people at least were alert to what was really going on."



I sighed and finally looked at Annie.



Her eyes were searching my face and slowly her expression of horror softened.



"I don't know that I can believe what you've told me, Paul. But it is obvious that you believe everything that you've told me; and that's good enough for me, at least for now. I'm not going to tell anyone what you've said either. It is too fantastic."



"Annie, you are a truly wonderful person."



"Thanks. I should be terrified of you, shouldn't I Paul. On the face of it you're either a murderer or delusional, or more likely a delusional murderer. But I can't believe that about you. I don't believe you are delusional and if she was what you said you aren't really a murderer either. I don't know what to make of it."



Her face and voice filled with compassion. "But right now I want to hold you. It must have been a terrible ordeal for you and I can see how much talking about it has upset you."



We snuggled down into the bed together. Annie took me in her arms. The touch of her hands soothed me and I felt myself start to relax again. I felt warm, comforted and safe.



I startled to kiss Annie's face and then moved down to lick and nibble her neck just as she liked it. Annie sighed with pleasure. The tip of my tongue felt for and found the pulse in her neck.



A soft murmur. "If what you said is true, I must admit I can see the logic of your conclusions. As for her being able to pin you down, that's scary. You're much stronger than you look Paul, so her strength must have been amazing."



"Um. Surprised that that is what gets you to believe me, though."



"I didn't say I believed it, not yet anyway. You really don't have proof of any of this do you?"



"I don't know what you would call proof." I whispered. "There is one thing you forgot though ..." I reached out and took one of her hands in mine. Caressing her fingers I moved her hand to my neck.



"I can show you ..." My tongue sensing her delicious pulse I took the sweet flesh of her neck into my mouth, I could feel her pulse surging between my teeth. Whispering around my mouthful of flesh, I pressed her hand to the plaster on my neck and added, " ... exactly where she bit me."

dove
02:33 May 19 2008
Times Read: 959

The rain finally stopped but Lea didn't even notice. The bath felt so good. She had worked hard all week and this was her reward. One last night in this grand hotel, with a bath room nearly the size of her apartment back home. So she had turned on the CD player in the other room, striped out of her clothes and ran a bath, lit some candles and now she closed out the world. She let her mind drift as her hands played with the bubbles. Her new boss was a little skittish, he would not come in the room yet insisted she remain there.



This was a bit new, just handing her things to research and then leaving. Normally he would stay in the room and work with her on reports and lining up buyers or raising funds. They made a good team, but this trip he was not acting himself. A month ago at the company picnic she had worn a halter top dress and she could swear that when he saw her he felt ill, the color drained from his face and he excused himself rather quickly to hide in the house. When she saw him later he seemed alright and he told her that they would be coming to New York for a week of research.



Her mind drifted again let her mind drift with the music and erotic images of a lover, that she didn't have, but she dreamed of sometimes, just the thought of him would make her wet. She bit her lower lip as she slowly began to stroke her breasts, she really should thank her boss for the bath set. It smelled wonderful, exotic. The smells exciting her a bit more as she felt carried away to some garden. Her fingers toyed with her nipples and they became hard peaks. She closed her eyes as her hands slid down her body to her pussy.



He walked into the bedroom and clamped a hand on the man's throat. "She is not the one. You said you would bring her. You have betrayed me, you die." His grip tightened as the man fought for breath gasping out words.



"No...tonight..she will tonight..I promise..just watch..once more..please.." He clawed at the inhuman hand on his throat.



He let the man go with a snarl. "If you betray me human, your life is over." He moved to the window and paused, "As is your family."



"I swear she is the one you seek. You saw the mark on her back. I know she is the one, just one more night. Please, I beg you."



He looked down on the man and with a nod he stepped out into the night. Great wings spread out and he glided back up to the roof. The rain had stopped and he landed lightly near the skylight. He heard the music first, soft and sensual. He looked down through the glass and there she was in the bath. She was beautiful of face and body, but that meant nothing with out passion and so far, he had seen none. She cannot be the one, the mate that he has sought for over a hundred years, the one that would cause his blood to boil and set his passions soaring.



He blinked in shock as he watched her hands stroke her breasts, her lips parting a bit on a breath, then her blue eyes closing as she arched and her hands slid lower under the water and bubbles. He watched as she stroked herself and her face became a bit flushed, her breath quickening, her gasps and moans easily picked up by his keen hearing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and smiled as he felt himself grow hard after all these years. Yes, she is the one. He has found her at long last. He looked back down as her gasps become louder and her hands worked faster, he felt his blood racing as he reached down to stroke his hard cock. He was very hard and his need for her was great. He closed his eyes and shivered as her gasps reach a fever pitch then her cries of joy mixed with passion as she found her release. He shuddered with her and as he looked down again his eyes burning with light of their own. She will be his and he will have her now. He turned and stepped off the edge into the night.



Lea panted quietly, catching her breath. "Mmmm yes..." She relaxed a bit and finally noticed that the bath had gotten cold. What she wanted to do is turn on the hot and warm it up but she got a wicked smile as she thought of the vibrator she packed in her bag. She always took it with her when she traveled. She stood up and pulled the plug on the bath with a thought to the king sized bed in the other room. It was a huge medieval thing. Just right to lie back and think of a brave knight come to take her and make his. She walked into the room and shivered. She had left the windows open but the rain had made the room cool. She tipped her head and thought to leave them open, things were going to get warm anyway. She went to her case and took out the vibrator. She started to walk to the bed when the lights went out. She closed her eyes a moment to get her night vision. When she opened them, she screamed. There was a pair of glowing gold eyes in front of her.



She was lovely, soft, large breasts, long legs and built up passion. He watched her from outside the open window as she came into the room, her body still wet from the bath, a few stray bubbles clinging to her legs. When she took out the vibrator with a soft smile, he smiled. "Oh yes, tonight." He whispered to the wind. He waved a hand and turned out the lights, throwing her into darkness. Quietly he slipped through the window and stood before her. He smiled when she screamed, the sound bringing a low growl from his throat.



Lea stumbled and hit her back on the doorframe as the thing before her growled. Before she can turn to run, who ever it was grabbed her and threw her to the bed. With a sensation of flying and tumbling, she does not know which way is up. She felt the bed under her and she pushed up to roll over but a large hand held her down on her back. She heard a ripping sound and she screamed as she envisioned a knife ripping her back open. "Don't hurt me..please..don't hurt me."



"I won't do anything you don't want me to." A voice hisses in her ear.



"Then let me go. I want you to let me go." "I can't let you go. You belong to me. You were chosen to be mine." He leaned down and licked the circle scar on her shoulder blade.



Lea twisted her head on the bed to try to get a better breath. "What?" She shivered when she felt him lick her scar. What is he talking about? Chosen? He is insane! She tried to push up against him but he was too heavy and strong.



He smiled down at her as he ripped another length off the bedspread. He let her up a bit just enough to roll her to her back and quickly tied one hand to the headboard and though she kicked at him, he caught her other hand, smiling as he takes the vibrator that she is still holding. "Perhaps later my little Dove." He quickly tied her hands together and leaned back a bit. "I am sorry to tie you my Dove, but I don't want you to hurt yourself."



"I'm not your Dove or your anything. Let me go!" She kicked at him and missed. He is just a dark shape with those glowing eyes. His hands felt rough and with long nails when he held her down. She cursed at him and kicked again at his comment when he took the vibrator from her hand. She kicked again only to have that long fingered hand grab her ankle. "No! No! Don't tie me. Stop it!"



He easily caught her leg and taking another length of the bedspread he shredded, he looped it around the foot posters of the bed to tie her legs spread wide apart. He took a smaller length and moved to the head of the bed. "I am sorry my Dove. Nevertheless, I cannot have you screaming. At least not that kind." He cut of another string of curses as he quickly gagged her. He can only hold off the lights for a short time and the time was nearly up.



Lea glared at the shape in the dark. He is large, well muscled she can tell that much and wearing some kind of weird leather jacket. She could feel something brushing her legs from time to time. When the lights come on she was blinded and she closed her eyes. She thought for a moment not to open them. If she does not see him then she cannot testify. He might let her go. Let her live.



"Turn and look at me my Dove." He chuckled when she shook her head. "You will need to see who your mate is to be. Your husband."



Her eyes flew open and she turned. It took her a moment to scream, not understanding what she is seeing. A monster. A demon with wings. Skin, leathery, nearly pitch black. His golden eyes shining a bit less in the light of the room. Long black hair running down his back. When he smiled she saw sharp teeth. She took a breath and screamed, pulling madly on the ropes. Knowing in her heart, he is going to kill her.



He shook his head. "Shhh be calm my Dove. I will not hurt you. There might be some pain at first, but that will pass and the pleasure will be far better for it." He can see she is panicked so he bent down over the bed and slowly licked one of her nipples. She jerked and tried to roll to the side. He easily held her still and cupped her other breast, his thumb rubbing and teasing the peek while his tongue teased and toyed with the other. Her body responding to his touch, just as the stories said his one true mate would. Only one would be his, only one would respond to his touch and see him for the beauty with in and not the demon he was. He had read the stories, the legends that were passed down about how to find their mate. But he had given up ever finding her. Now here she was in his arms. His tongue swirled around her nipple, the circle that binds them together. He could feel the skin on his shoulder blade burning as the same scar that marks her shoulder, slowly forms on his own back, linking them together forever.



She tried to buck and twist away but he held her easily, his strength far greater then hers. She bucked as his tongue did wonderful things to her nipple. Oh God she had never felt pleasure like this. No, he is a demon. She screamed again and tried to twist but his other hand only tightened on her breast and toyed with her nipple more. Her body responding and the pleasure so intense, like nothing she has ever felt before.



Such fight, he hoped she would have some spirit in her. He wanted more than just a union. He wanted a bond that would last and be adventurous as well. He smiled as her nipple hardened to a peak. "Your body knows what it needs. Let me give it to you my Dove." He sucked her nipple into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue, sucking and nipping with his teeth. When she arched and gasped, he knew she is his.



She felt the waves of pleasure racing down through her from his mouth and hand on her nipples. She wanted more. She didn't want it to end. She arched and a soft moan growled in her throat, her mind shoving aside what he looked like, only thinking of the pleasure. In some dark corner her brain teased her with her own fantasies of a demon lover, someone who takes her and fucks her, making her scream with passion. Here he was and ready to take her.



He looked up and smiled his free hand ripping the gag from her mouth when she moans with pleasure. "Oh yes my Dove. I will give you much more." His cock throbbing with the need to be inside her, but she must be ready. He didn't want to hurt her and he knew his size might if she was not ready. He knelt between her legs and continued to lick and stroke her breasts. One hand gently and slowly was sliding down her abdomen to her pussy. His long fingers slipped between the folds and he groaned as he found her already very wet. "I can't wait much longer. I must have you."



Her head tipped back as she arched into his hand and mouth, her hips sliding on the bed a bit a she writhed under his teasing. When his hand pressed tighter, she went still a moment until his finger stroked to toy with her clit. She arched into his hand, amazed at her wantonness. At his growled words, she whispers softly. "Yes...please.."



"Oh yes. I shall!" He let out a roar as he rose up and thrust into her, his large cock stretching her wide as he thrust into her. His hands griping her hips and ass to hold her impaled on his cock. He growled low as her muscles fluttered and gripped him tightly. So intense was the pleasure he had to pant to hold him self back. He hears her whimper and looks down to see her face a mix of pleasure and pain, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eye. " My Dove. My love, don't cry, the pain will soon pass as I do this." He slowly drew out and then slid back in just as slow. He kept up the slow rhythm as he watched her face, his eyes locked with hers.



The pain was intense. She panted through it as she adjusted to the size of him. When he started to move the pleasure started to build. Soon her panting turned to whimpers of pleasure and small cries of joy as he quickly brought her to a climax. Her hips lifting into him wanting him to go faster and maddened that he will not.



He watched her face come alive and her body responded to his. As she begged and whimpered for him to go faster, he slowly began to build the pace, his cock sliding in and out now with ease as her wetness coated him and her muscles gripped him tightly. "Yes. My dove."



She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts as a fire built, her muscles tightened and her heart raced. "Yes! Now!" She tipped her hips up to him faster as he thrust into her deeply, pushing her over the edge as she screamed out her passion. She watched as his wings spread out wide and he threw back his head in a growl that built into a roar as he thrust quickly a few times then held him self in deeply as he shuddered. He drew out to thrust in again and she can feel his cock pulsing with in her.



As her muscles gripped him, he lost all control and thrust into her with quick strong thrusts. Finally reaching his release, his muscles tensing he roared with delight as he filled her deeply. As he shuddered through his orgasm, he looked down at her and reached up to untie her arms and then her legs, not wanting to pullout of her warmth gripping his cock. He smiled when her legs slowly caress up his own and back down, her hands doing the same to his arms. "What is your name?"



"I have no name. Only you can give me a name. It is so written."



She looked up at him and smiled. "Then I shall call you Goliath." She purred his name a few times. "Again Goliath. Fuck me again."



"It will be my pleasure. You have but to ask my Dove."

johnathon harkers journal
01:53 May 19 2008
Times Read: 966




My name is Jonathan Harker. I had been looking for employment since I graduated from college six months ago with a degree in Eastern European history. My resume and photo on the Internet had not garnered me any job offers. In fact, I hadn't even had an interview.



Then, I received an e-mail from an employment agency working for a prospective employer in Romania offering me employment as a personal secretary. As a college exchange student, I had been to Poland and Czechoslovakia, but had not made it to Romania. I was excited by the prospect of spending time in an Eastern European country, and since I didn't have any other offers, I decided to accept. In only a matter of days, I was provided with a plane ticket and directions to a mansion where I was to be personal secretary to a Romanian count named Vlad Tepes Dracula,



I arrived just before dusk, the final few miles in a horse-drawn carriage from the nearby village. The driver dropped me off about 500 yards from the entrance before dumping out my bags, turning the carriage around and whipping the horses away. When I got to the entrance, I used the huge knocker attached to a carved gargoyle on the door. Presently, the door opened, and I saw the largest man I had ever seen in my life. He was bald, with a coarse, brown/gray beard. He was at least 6-foot-8, and seemed as thick as he was tall. At 5-7 and only 135 pounds, I felt more than a bit intimidated.



"Uh ...." I cleared my throat . .... "I'm Jonathan Harker. Are you Count Dracula, sir?"



The giant gave a grim smile, took my bags from me and ushered me inside.



"No sir," came a deep voice from the large man. "My name is Renfield, sir. I am Count Dracula's servant. The Count is expecting you, sir. Please wait here in the drawing room while I take your bags to your quarters."



I looked around as I stood there, straightening my tie, and shaking out my longish blond hair. I looked for a mirror, but there was none in the room. I smiled to myself over being so uneasy. I came here for employment, and I had decided that I wouldn't be intimidated by being in a strange country. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the Count. He seemed to materialize right next to me. He was a tall man, about 6-3, bony and gaunt. His jet-black hair slicked back, his face heavily lined, and when he spoke, it was in a rather teasing, thick Romanian accent.



"Welcome, Mr. Harker," he said, and for some reason a chill went down my spine. He offered me his hand to shake. It was so very cold and clammy, and his fingers were so long that my small, slim hand was lost in his.



"You must be hungry, Mr. Harker, after your long journey," he said. "Please come into the dining room. Renfield has prepared your supper. I have already dined, and will join you shortly."



I sat and ate a very satisfactory chicken dinner along with a glass of red wine. When the Count returned, he stood by the table. I asked him if he would be having a glass of wine with me.



"I never drink," said Dracula ..."wine."



Another cold chill went through me. I stuttered a bit when I asked him about what my duties would be. He smiled, reminding me of a crocodile.



"There will be plenty of time to discuss your duties tomorrow evening, Mr. Harker," he said. "You must be quite fatigued from your travels."



I was suddenly quite tired, but managed to ask the Count why he said tomorrow evening.



"I dislike the daytime," he said. "We will do all our work at night. Would that cause you terrible inconvenience, Mr. Harker?"



"Uh ... no ... no sir," I replied.



Dracula slowly looked me up and down and exhibited that crocodile smile again. "You look very much like your Internet picture, Mr. Harker. Renfield will take you to your quarters. I hope you will have pleasant dreams."



Renfield appeared and led me upstairs to my room. The stairs creaked under his massive weight. He opened the door and let me in before respectfully backing out of the room. The door closed, and then I heard a key turning.



I walked over and tried the door. It was locked!



"Renfield," I called out. "Renfield! Why did you lock the door?"



There was no answer. I decided to just go to sleep and worry about it in the morning. I slept fitfully, dreams of howling wolves and dark mists preventing me from feeling rested when I woke up. Renfield came in and told me I was expected downstairs. I asked him what time it was. He told me 6:30 p.m. It was already nighttime. I couldn't believe how long I had slept. I figured I must have been more tired than I thought from my journey.



Not knowing how formal the Count was at meals, I put on my best suit and tie. I was about to go downstairs when Renfield came in again.



"That will never do, sir," he said.



Suddenly, the count appeared at the door. A foul, gray mist began to filter into my room as I saw him nod at Renfield just before I began feeling dizzy. Renfield's big hands picked me up as I passed out.



The next thing I know, I'm seated at the table across from Count Dracula, who was wearing a black, high-collar tuxedo. I didn't know how I had gotten there ... and I didn't know how I came to be dressed the way I was.



My body had been shaved of every trace of a hair, and I caught the scent of a subtle feminine perfume. It was coming from me! Renfield came over, carrying a large mirror. He put it in front of me. I couldn't believe what I saw. There I was in a lovely, light blue chiffon off-the-shoulders dress. My blonde hair was fashionably and expertly coifed atop my head. I looked at the Count in confusion. His face was stern, his eyes hypnotic. I was suddenly terrified. I wanted to get up and leave, but my mind had lost its will.



"You are a lovely young lady, Mr. Harker," said Renfield.



I wanted to scream, to get away, but instead, my bare shoulders slowly shimmied and my wine glass moved from my neck down to my small cleavage.



"What?" I thought. "I ... I can't have cleavage."



The count reached out and touched my chin with his long, cold fingers. Another chill went through me.



"Yes, Mr. Harker," he said in his heavy Romanian accent. "Or perhaps I should say, Miss Harker? Your transformation is proceeding in a very satisfactory manner."



My mind screamed, "My transformation! What?"



But I heard myself in a soft feminine voice purr and say, "Thank you, Count Dracula."



My hazel eyes were locked on his. They were purple and bloodshot ... and overpowering.



"You have lovely shoulders," he said. "So slim and soft, and your neck....You will want to go to bed now, won't you?"



It was more a command than a question. It was also the last thing I heard before I passed out. When I awoke, I was in my bedroom, under a rich, red coverlet. I was wearing a sheer, white off-my-shoulders nightgown showing a good deal of my new cleavage. My blond hair was now down, cascading over my shoulders. I was feeling strangely soft, frail, sensual. I shimmied my bare shoulders with my back against the pillow. My fingertips slowly worked their way down my taut, curvy body until they came to rest between my legs. I appeared in every other way to be a woman, but I still had my slim 5-inch, circumcised penis.



My mind was a blur of confusion and feelings of unaccustomed femininity. My small breasts pushed against my flimsy nightgown and my nipples were aroused. My hands moved back up my body until they came to rest on either side of my head. Then I heard a voice inside my mind. It belonged to Count Dracula. I tried so hard to ignore it. I had never backed down from a fight or felt any man was superior to me, But Dracula's voice in my mind just went right through me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, but the voice was too strong.



I rose from the bed, my back straight and my posture perfect. I walked out of the room, feeling sensual and pure, my blonde hair cascading over my slim, white, bare shoulders as I came to the head of the staircase.



At the bottom of it stood Count Dracula, staring up at me with those penetrating purple eyes. Slowly, inexorably, he glided up the stairs. I was frightened out of my mind, but I couldn't move. Finally, he was right in front of me, looking down at me with a hideous, bloodless smile. He smelled like formaldehyde. His mind overpowering, I was only able to back away into the bedroom, one small step at a time, while he hovered over me, his eyes devouring me, until I was backed against the bed.



His hands reached out and grasped my bare shoulders. His touch was cold, like a corpse's, slimy and foul against my pure, white skin. My skin crawled, even as I felt myself surrender to his will. He maneuvered me onto the bed. His hands, with his fingers so long and bony, remained on my shoulders as his face approached mine. That formaldehyde stench intensified as he opened his mouth to reveal to my silent horror, sharp fangs on either side.



I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. His tuxedo jacket and shirt pressed against my bare chest as his mouth captured mine. When I writhed and tried to get away, he smiled evilly and put his cold, slimy tongue into my mouth. I felt a combination of awful revulsion and irresistible desire as the last traces of my masculinity dissipated. I was terrified, yet I wanted the kiss to last for hours. For all I know, it did. Time lost all meaning to me. My mind was a helpless blur. I breathed heavily, my modest, tender breasts moving as Dracula's cold, bony hands kneaded them through my flimsy nightgown. His eyes bore into mine. My slender wrists seemed glued to the pillow on either side of my blonde head as my lovely shoulders slowly shimmied. Then slowly, Dracula's confident, grinning face descended. His hot, fetid breath repulsed me even as I opened my mouth to accept his serpentine tongue. Then, his hands caressing my shoulders, he ended the kiss, opened his mouth in an animalistic sneer and revealed his razor-sharp fangs.



He could see the fear in my eyes, even as I stretched my head to one side, revealing more of my slim, regal neck in surrender. His evil smile grew more broad. My little hands impotently grabbed at his sleeves as his mouth descended upon my helpless neck. My slim, lithe body tensed. Then, as his fangs penetrated my soft, tender skin, I felt my slim penis explode in the most powerful orgasm of my young life. My world was awash in brilliant colors. I felt my back arch and heard myself cry out as I drifted off into oblivion.



I had no idea how many hours I slept before awaking, feeling unusually fresh and vital, my senses alive as never before. I shook my head, figuring that the whole experience of the night had just been a nightmare. But it seemed that as I moved my head that my blonde hair was longer. I sat up, and I was in the same, white, off-my-shoulders nightgown. It was still clean and fresh-smelling, but my breasts had grown somewhat larger. They weren't huge by any means, but they were perky and prominent as they pressed against the silk nightgown.



I rose and walked to the windows and the drawn curtains. My steps were sensual and feminine, my blonde hair halfway down my slim back. I moved the curtain aside with one hand and peered outside. It was nearly dusk. Almost mechanically, I moved to a dressing table where I found a hairbrush. As I brushed my hair, it came away from my neck. Looking in the small mirror, I noticed two tiny wounds, but when I ran my fingertips over them they disappeared. Perplexed, I bit my lower lip, wondering why I was looking at the reflection of a lovely girl instead of the slim young man who had arrived at Dracula's mansion.



I walked to the closet, where I found only one garment. It was a formal, mid-thigh-length jet-black halter gown that seemed made for my slim, pantyless body, and I glided into it, revealing just a bit of cleavage. On the floor of the closet were matching black high-heeled shoes. Since I had never worn women's shoes before, I was surprised how well I could walk with them. Some of my long, straight hair fell over my slim, bare right arm and the cleavage of my right breast while the remainder rested on my bare neck and back. My posture perfect, I opened the now-unlocked door and moved to the stairway.



"Good evening, Miss Harker. Allow me to accompany you down to the dining room."



I was startled. Count Dracula had seemed to just materialize next to me. I femininely rested my hand on his tuxedoed arm as we walked downstairs. My mind was screaming "no," but his eyes controlled my fresh, young body. They seemed to be taunting me as if to pretend that last night never happened. When we got to the table, he kissed my hand. His cold lips made me shiver. Goosebumps appeared on my bare arms and my nipples pressed against the black halter.



Dracula's eyes bored into mine as he smiled cruelly, revealing those awful fangs. He moved slowly toward me. My arms helplessly at my sides, my shoulders back, my breathing labored, making my breasts strain against my dress, Count Dracula arrogantly moved my hair aside with the back of his right hand, exposing my neck. He looked so tall, so masterful, so dominant. I tilted my head, and felt his fetid breath on my neck as I trembled.



Then ... I heard Renfield's deep voice.



"Master," he said, a bit fearfully. "I'm sorry, Master. The mayor of the village is here with the council members. They say they need to talk to you about the land in the cemetery you said you wanted. They are in your library, sir."



Dracula hissed angrily, then smiled evilly.



Guiding me with a firm hand against the small of my bare back, he led me out to the library. I was terrified, but perhaps I could appeal to the men to help me escape. But when we entered Dracula's library, all I could do was stand there, my small hands femininely holding on to the Count's crooked elbow. The old mayor and the three council members gasped when they saw me. They were undressing me with their eyes, a sensation I had never experienced. It was disturbing that part of me enjoyed the idea that these men found me attractive.



"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dracula in that thick accent. "May I introduce Miss Harker, my new secretary?"



My mind screamed, "MISS Harker! No, I'm MR. Harker!"



But I just stood there demurely as the gentlemen bowed, and the mayor kissed my hand. He told Dracula how fortunate he was to have such a beautiful secretary, as the others nodded their approval.



"Yes," said Dracula with a sly grin as he held me by my right hand and twirled me in front of them, my hair moving sensually as the men eyed my bare back and slim thighs. "I intend to enjoy her company." He paused. "For a very long time."



He turned his attention to the mayor.



"Miss Harker will excuse us as we go to the cemetery so I can complete the purchase of the land I desire. It is very gracious of you, Mayor, to accommodate my need to do this at night."



He kissed my hand.



"I shall return in a few hours, my dear," said Dracula. "We will resume ... our conversation ... when I return."



They left, two of the councilmen stealing a last, lustful glance at me as they went out the door. I returned to the table, where Renfield brought me dinner. All I wanted was a little soup and a glass of wine. Renfield's eyes were all over me as I sat, my arms, my back, my crossed legs. He asked me several times if I had enough soup or wine or if I needed anything else.



My mind was a blur, and I don't know how much time passed, but for a moment, my head cleared. By the way he was looking at me, Renfield obviously found me attractive. Perhaps he could help me escape. He was a giant, so strong, so powerful. Surely he wouldn't be afraid of Dracula.



"I'm going to my room now, Renfield," I said. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a glass of wine in about 10 minutes?"



The big man appeared eager to please, and said he would bring me the wine. I gently touched his face with my right hand and went up to my room. I wanted to look as helpless and in need of a strong man as I could, so I oozed out of the halter dress and put on the white, off-my-shoulders nightgown. Soon there was a knock on the door. After I told him to come in, Renfield entered, carrying a tray containing an open carafe of wine and a glass. The big man saw me standing in the nightie in front of the bed with my arms demurely behind my back. This caused my half-revealed breasts to be more prominent and my bare shoulders to look even more vulnerable. I didn't plan the pose. It just, for some reason, came naturally.



"Renfield," I whispered. "I must escape. I need your help. Please ... you must help me."



The huge man's eyes grew big. He began to breathe heavily, his dull brain trying to process what was going on.



"Help you?" he roared. "Help you?"



I looked into his eyes and immediately became alarmed.



"Help you?" he yelled.



With one mighty arm, he threw the tray against the wall and ran over to me.



"No!" I cried.



"Here," he yelled, his eyes bugging out. "I'll help you!"



He grabbed me in his massive arms, crushing me to him as his mouth engulfed mine. I was trapped in his arms as his tongue plunged violently into my little mouth. Effortlessly, he tossed me onto the bed. Lying on my back, I shuddered as I watched him tear off his shirt and remove his pants. His penis was uncut and by far the biggest one I had ever seen. His eyes were aglow with lust. He was no longer thinking. All he knew ... all he wanted to know ... was that he wanted me.



"No!" I pleaded. "Please ... Renfield, no!"



But the big man was not to be denied. Drool dripped down upon his heavy beard and he leaped onto the bed. His massive hands on my bare shoulders, he kissed me hard. His hard, muscular body pinned my slim one to the bed. His beard scratched my neck, and I could feel his penis up against my hip. Then his big left hand grabbed my hair and pulled me toward his huge, smelly organ.



"You want to suck Renfield's cock, missy?"



He was taunting me. I shook my head "no," sobbing softly, keeping my lips shut tight.



"SUCK IT!" he commanded.



I shook my head, pitifully.



Renfield then slapped my face with his right hand. I saw stars. My pretty body went limp. The giant penis moved closer and closer. Renfield's hand in my hair hurt as he continued to taunt me.



"You're so beautiful," he said derisively. "First, my pretty one, you're going to suck my big cock. Then I'm going to shove it up your pretty, virgin ass."



His hand still in my hair, he bent down and kissed me like he owned me. When his tongue finally stopped its assault on my little mouth, I was crying,



"Please, Renfield," I begged. "Please stop."



Instead, he slapped my face with his huge penis.



"Suck it!" he commanded, his beard wet, his massive, naked, sweaty body pressed against my nightgown.



I didn't know whether my slim body could survive an anal assault from that giant sex organ. I pushed against his chest, but it was no use.



Then I heard the angriest sound I've ever heard. More of a hiss than a voice, it belonged to Vlad Tepes Dracula, who appeared out of a mist at the bedroom door.



"RENFIELD!"



With one bony hand, Dracula lifted the giant off of the bed. With the other, Dracula began an assault that defied description. The huge man was no match for the count's ferocity. My hair all over my face and torso, my nightgown far off my shoulders, revealing one breast, I cowered femininely on the bed as Dracula continued his assault like an animal tearing open the body of its prey. Dracula's long fingernail slit open Renfield's jugular vein. Blood was everywhere, and it was over in seconds. Renfield was dead, and Dracula - his eyes now on mine -- disdainfully drank the big man's blood for a few moments.



The ferocity of Dracula's assault had left me speechless. I looked at Renfield's lifeless body, his terrified eyes staring into space.



Sated, Dracula slowly walked over to me, stroked my hair and adjusted my nightgown properly off my shoulders. His accented voice was amazingly tender, considering what he had just done to Renfield.



"I did not bring you all this way to allow you to be with anyone else, my dear" he said. "You are mine. You will belong to me forever. Do you understand?"



My mind was clear. From my feminine transformation to the horror of seeing what Dracula had just done to Renfield, I knew my life would be forever changed. I tossed my hair and nodded. Those dominant eyes sapped me of any resistance. Somehow, I knew what I must do. With one of my delicate hands, I reached out and unbuttoned the shirt of a man I now realized was a vampire. Dracula's chest was hairless, his skin cold like that of a corpse. With one fingernail, he made a vertical cut on his chest, causing a trickle of blood to appear.



He placed his cold, bony hands gently on my bare shoulders, guiding rather than forcing my face to his chest. I moaned softly ... purely out of desire as I sexily shimmied my shoulders in his grasp. Slowly, sensually, I moved my mouth to his wound. My hands tenderly up against his chest, I writhed submissively as I tasted the vampire's rancid blood. Dracula closed his eyes and his head moved back as I kissed his chest and licked his blood. My eyes peered over to the lifeless form of Renfield, but it seemed not at all strange to be doing what I was doing.



After a long time, Dracula moved me back by my shoulders. His eyes on mine, he reached down and effortlessly scooped me up. I crossed my slim arms around his neck, and my straight blonde hair hung down as he carried me into the basement. There was an ornate bed and nearby, two coffins.



Gently laying me down on the bed, he slowly removed his clothes. His body was repulsive, like some slowly decomposing animal's. His penis was long and thin and smelled of formaldehyde. Part of me wanted to run away, but some sort of perverted desire caused me to writhe sexily on the bed, shimmying my bare shoulders and making little feminine noises of pleasure.



Dracula looked at my heaving breasts and my slim, curvy body. I could see the lust in his eyes as he moved his body over mine. His ice-cold hands caressed my soft shoulders as his mouth covered mine. His breath was terrible, but I didn't care. I moaned deep in the back of my throat as I kissed him for all I was worth, running my slim tongue over his fangs. His hands were all over me, pulling at my nightgown. The vampire was sexually turned on ... by me! He pulled his mouth away from mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to plunge his fangs into my neck. But he wanted more.



He pulled the elastic of my nightgown top down, revealing my breasts. His mouth went first to my left breast, then my right, biting, nipping, sucking. My little hands grabbed the coverlet as Count Dracula made my entire body tremble. His hands pulled the nightie off my body, and he kissed me again. I could feel the hunger in his kiss as I seductively wiggled under him.



We kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he broke off the kiss and looked into my eyes. I knew what he wanted without him saying anything. I moved my body down to his penis, moved my knees between his legs and took the cold, putrid member into my sweet mouth. It was the first penis I had ever tasted, and I surrendered myself to its power.



"Yes, pretty girl," the vampire said in his Romanian accent as his right hand stroked my hair. This was preordained ever since I saw your picture on the Internet."



I felt so feminine and submissive as his penis continued to grow in my moist mouth. I moaned and purred as it snaked down my throat. I wanted to gag, but I didn't. It was at once the most repulsive and sexy thing that has ever happened to me. My hair hung over my face as I found myself wiggling my slim body, trying so hard to please this demon I had just seen murder another man. His penis, covered in my saliva, popped out of my mouth. I couldn't believe how long it had become. He smiled at me and masterfully turned me over on my back.



"No, please," I murmured, shaking my blonde hair. "It's too big. Please ... no."



Dracula smiled cruelly and swiftly pinned my wrists over my head with one of his cold, bony hands. His right hand slowly, slowly played with my left breast, then ran over my slim, curvy torso again and again while his cold lips made love to my mouth, shoulders and neck. My body was on fire, my mind a blur, a reflection of Dracula's lust. With my body being so deliciously defiled, I didn't notice that he had maneuvered between my trim, milky thighs. His left hand still holding down my wrists, he moved a sharp-fingernailed finger into my anus, then another. Meanwhile, he nipped at my earlobe, collarbone and neck, making me tremble with desire.



Slowly, he removed his fingers, and in a lightning move, plunged his snake-like penis inside me. I struggled, but it was no use. Immediately, he began pumping into me. His eyes captured mine, and I surrendered myself to him. I don't know when he released his grip on my wrists, but I soon found my arms crossed gently around his neck.



Dracula looked down at me, triumphantly, as he continued to pump inside me and run his hands over my lovely body. He was my lover, my master, and I felt my small penis getting harder and harder. His penis seemed to reach all the way to my throat as I writhed and moaned under him. I don't know how long he was inside me, but I knew that dawn couldn't be far away.



"Please, my darling," I whispered, not needing to explain what I wanted him to do.



The foul-smelling vampire moved his hands to my soft, tender shoulders as he raised his head over my face.



He kissed me tenderly, his tongue slowly thrusting to play with mine. I could feel both our orgasms building. He raised his head and I moved my head to expose my lovely neck. Dracula smiled at me one more time, then rapidly sank his fangs into my neck. He grunted as his penis exploded inside me. I shimmied my shoulders while he held them tight. I screamed, and my little penis released my puny load of cum.



My breasts heaved as I tried to catch my breath. My body was limp, exhausted while Dracula drained my lifeblood. I gave it willingly as I grew faint and finally passed out.



It seemed like years later when I awoke. I was back in my bedroom. No trace of the carnage done to Renfield remained, and I was once again wearing the lovely white nightgown. I felt a little dizzy as I moved my hair from my eyes. Then, as if out of a mist, appeared Count Dracula.



I moved my hand immediately to where his fangs had punctured my neck. As I touched my wounds, they began to disappear. I looked up at Dracula.



"Am I ....? " I asked. "Am I a ....a ...?"



He laughed cruelly and smiled that crocodile smile.



"Are you a vampire, my dear?" he said derisively. "No, I considered it, but I have decided that you are too lovely to make one of the undead. You will remain my secretary, my live, human, beautiful secretary."



He ran his cold, bony right hand slowly from my bare left shoulder, over my collarbone, over my chest and to my right shoulder, which he caressed sensually.



"You must eat and build up your strength, Mr. -- or rather - Miss Harker."



He was laughing a sinister laugh now.



"There is no doubt," he said with a sneer, "that I shall be in need of your services again. And again. And again."



The vampire pulled me to him, caressing both my bare shoulders. He showed his fangs, then covered them with his lips. He moved his mouth over my neck. I could feel his hot, fetid breath, and although repulsed, I could not resist him.



But he merely kissed my neck, gently scraping his fangs over it.



"Have a pleasant day, Miss Harker," he said, before disappearing in a foul-smelling mist.



I snuggled back down into the bed, feeling trapped, but more sensual than I ever felt as a man. Am I to remain Count Dracula's lovely slave forever? Or will someone one day find this journal and rescue me from his foul clutches?



If you are reading this, please help me.



Please!