Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Midori And The Bloodlust Blues ❯ 3rd Night, Part Two ( Chapter 5 )

MIDORI AND THE
BLOODLUST BLUES:
3rd Night, Part Two


By Hardcover


“Come on baby...don't fear the reaperBaby take my hand...don't fear the reaperWe'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaperBaby I'm your man...”

--Don’t Fear The Reaper


The small green insect crawled purposefully along the slightly brown twig, moving around within its glass encased habitat, looking as contented as could be. Reginald, smiled, watching it move. It was a rare species, and one of the prides of his rather impressive collection. It seemed to be healthy and happy, and that was all Reginald wanted. He loved insects, as far as he was concerned they were the most fascinating creatures on the planet. Reginald was still fascinated by them even after all these years.

He pushed his small round glasses back up his nose and made a few notes. Reginald was a small man, only about five foot four, with light blonde colored hair that he wore slightly long over his ears and parted down the middle. He was dressed in an expensive brown suit and tie and a white shirt, but was not wearing a jacket at the moment.

He looked around the large room, lined with shelf after shelves of tanks containing all manner of obscure species of insect. Entomology was still one of his primary passions, and one of the many perks of his long employ to the reclusive enigmatic millionaire businessman Luca Raddlav was that his employer gave him plenty of time to peruse it, and adequet space within his sprawling de Janeiro mansion to do so. Reginald was frequently thankful for Mr. Raddlav’s consistent and extravagant generosity.

There was a vibration in Reginald’s pocket as his cell phone rang. He fished into it and picked up the phone, looking at the screen. It was text message from Mr. Raddlav: ‘Reginald, come see me in my office asap–R’. Reginald put the phone away and put down his clipboard, quickly climbing up the steps that led to the door. Whatever he wanted, Mr. Raddlav never bothered Reginald when he was with his insects unless it was something of particular importance. He had better go see what the boss wanted.

The world at large knew very little of Luca Raddlav, certainly no where near as much as Reginald knew about him. ‘Luca Raddlav’ was actually only the latest in a long line of aliases that his employer had used over the years. During his long employ to Mr. Raddlav, Reginald himself had gone by several different monikers and identities. As far as the world knew, Luca Raddlav was a reclusive Howard Hughes like tycoon, shunning public view and running his many business ventures from a place of secrecy. But Reginald knew that he was oh so much more then that. It was still a distinct honor to be his right hand man, and to be trusted with so much.

He made his way through the mansion’s main lobby, a huge expansive room with exquisite furnishings. The room was furnished mostly with dark wood, giving it a nice old world feel, leading most of its inhabitants to refer to it with a bit of levity as The Castle. As he made his way towards the central stairs, he spied three of Mr. Raddlav’s girlfriends, lounging on some nearby couches. There were all clad in various states of undress, mostly in sexy expensive lingerie, although one of them simply wore a white tank top and blue panties. A good portion of their soft pale bluish grey skin was exposed, as usual, something Reginald never argued with. They lay against each other, arms wrapped around each other sensually. Many of Raddlav’s women lived here in the mansion, and they were referred to somewhat humorously as The Brides.

These weren’t the only ‘Brides’ by a long shot, living in the Castle was somewhat like a vampire version of living at The Playboy Mansion. The girls straitened up and smiled as Reginald walked closer, Reginald could just make out the elongated canine fangs jutting down from their upper jaws, not to mention the telltale bulge of a penis in each of their panties.

“Hi, Reginald.” One of them cooed lovingly, and was followed by more greetings.

“Good evening, ladies.” Reginald replied good-naturedly.

One of them, the one in the tank top, sat up, “Reggie, we’re bored. Wouldn’t you like to play with us?”

They spoke in Sarkish, the vampire language, which Reginald was proficient at himself.

Reginald smiled, that was another one of the many perks of his employment: Being the right hand man of Raddlav himself, the girls took a lot of interest in him as well. Given his stature with the boss, The Brides never tried to drink his blood against his will or vampirize him. Also a plus, as Reginald didn’t care to throw up his humanity just yet, the Boss had already preserved his youth and life through other means. Though he preferred not to be called ‘Reggie’.

“Sorry, ladies.” He told them, “I’ve got to see Mr. Raddlav about something.”

They flopped back on the couch, disappointed, returning to caressing each other lazily. One of them turned around and looked at Reginald as he went up the stairs.

“Well, we’re all here for you later, Reggie.” She called, “Don’t forget about us, okay.”

How in the world anyone would forget about those lovely creatures short of getting hit over the head with a coconut was something Reginald couldn’t quite comprehend. He smiled and waved to them as he hurried up the stairs and through the door that led to Mr. Raddlav’s office.

By contrast to the rest of the house, Mr. Raddlav’s office was mostly done up with modern décor. There were no windows and the office was decorated mostly in black. Soft leather chairs sat around and a long black desk lay right in the middle. On the left side of the room was a flight of stairs that led to the second floor where Mr. Raddlav basically lived, which was always kept dark. A large fireplace decorated the opposite wall in which a warm fire crackled invitingly, sending a dancing orange glow over the room.

As Reginald entered, he spied a figure standing by the desk. It was most definitely not Mr. Raddlav, but a lovely woman dressed in a sensuous white evening gown that clung to her voluptuous form like a lover. The gown was backless, and slit up one side all the way to the hip. The woman’s long wavy blonde hair spilled down her back, flowing down her exposed pale skin. She turned as soon as Reginald entered and her eerie red eyes fixed on him. Her gown was low cut in v, leaving her ample cleavage delightfully exposed. She smiled, revealing her fangs in a very pleasant manner.

“Good evening, Reginald.” She spoke with pronounced English accent.

“Good evening, Lucille.” Reginald replied amiably.

Of course, he knew this woman too: Lucy was another of The Brides, but she was the one who had been with Mr. Raddlav the longest, earning her a certain status amongst the others. Of all the brides, Lucy had the closest relationship to Luca. Wisely, she had never quite let that go to her head. And like the others, she had no qualms about letting herself be shared by others, especially Reginald.

Reginald had a bit of soft spot for Lucy, having been around her for so long, and been through so much with her, you couldn’t help but become friends after all that.

“What brings you here?” She asked coyly, “Did you come looking for me?”

“Ah, dear Lucy, when am I not looking for you?” Reginald laughed, “Seriously, Mr. Raddlav sent for me.”

Lucy approached him, moving close with sure, seductive movements. She got close to him and put her arms around his neck, her full lips pressing together invitingly. Her blood red eyes spoke without words. Slightly taller then Reginald, she looked down at him, but not in a dismissive way they way many human women did.

“He doesn’t seem to be down here yet,” She purred, “Wouldn’t you like to keep me company while we wait.”

Reginald put his hands on her hips. He noticed a light movement under her dress and he knew she was getting hard. Poor timing, actually.

“Lucille, dear, I would like nothing better, but I don’t think this is going to wait.” He told her.

“Ah, Reginald,” She said leaning closer, “You know he never minds us being together. You are his closest friend. As you well know, we vampires are creatures that live by our hearts. Very . . . uninhibited.”

She leaned down like she was about to kiss him, then her eyes moved, looking off to the side. She abruptly relaxed her hands and let them fall to the side, and took a step back, not changing the position of her eyes. Reginald felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he felt unseen eyes one him. He turned and followed her gaze, over the room and towards the stairs. He jumped, startled.

Damn, even after all this time, Raddlav still managed to spook him. A figure stood at the top of the steps, swathed in the darkness; a darker shadow within dark shadows. He remained there for a bit, and then descended the stair quickly, stepping into the light of the office.

Luca Raddlav cut an imposing figure: At over six feet tall he was striking enough, but he balanced that with enormous charisma. His long black hair, streaked with some grey, was brushed back on his head and tied in the back. He kept a thin v shaped goatee on his chin. His red eyes were narrow and piercing, set deep in his face. He had a long but unobtrusive hawk like nose and a long, narrow face. He was dressed immaculately in fine pleated dress pants and a black silk shirt. He wore no tie, but had finely polished Italian loafers on his feet.

As Raddlav reached the bottom of the stairs, he broke into a wide amiable grin and spoke, his deep, imposing voice flowing off his tongue like music.

“Good evening, Reginald. Lucy.” Raddlav spoke, “Sorry to interrupt you two, but I’m afraid business must always come before pleasure.”

Reginald smiled sheepishly at Lucy and then turned to his employer, “You wanted to see me, Mr. Raddlav?”

“Yes, sorry to pull you away at such short notice,” Raddlav apologized, “Lucy, if you would excuse us, I wish to speak to Reginald in private.”

“Of course.” Lucille said, giving a differential bow, and obediently turned and left the room.

Oboy, this had to big. It was very rare that Mr. Raddlav didn’t allow Lucy to sit in on any of his meetings. The fact that he’d asked her to leave meant that whatever he needed was particularly important. As the door closed, Reginald approached the desk, one of those long shaded glass constructions common in high roller offices. Luca sat in the chair behind it, while Reginald remained standing as was his custom.

Mr. Raddlav pulled some files out of his drawler and handed one of them to Reginald, “This is a report out of in Niperica. I’d like you to take a look at that.”

Reginald took the file and began to read. It was a medical report, detailing the emergence of a lethal new virus. As Reginald ran down the list of symptoms, he grimaced. This was a frightening malady, destructive in so many different ways.

“That sounds nasty.” He commented, making a bit of an understatement.

Raddlav handed him another file, “And this, it a report from the Cascade Bureau of Health, measuring increases in the populations of various disease carrying vermin. Take a look at that, would you?”

Reginald took the file. Mr. Raddlav had a tendency to make people figure out his point themselves rather then spelling it all out for them. Many people found this practice irritating, but Reginald rather liked to solve the puzzles. He went over the report, noting small increases in the mosquito and cockroach populations. He stopped when he saw the numbers associated with rats. The rat population in Cascade had virtually quadrupled over night with no end in sight. He glanced back at the report of the new disease, making a simple connection, but he was sure that wasn’t all Mr. Raddlav was driving at.

“And this is a series of missing person’s reports, up and down the SasamiThe first one is the important one.” Mr. Raddlav said.

The missing person in the police report was one Barry Cartwright, a shipping coordinator for a large section of the river. It seemed he had disappeared a few days ago without a trace. Not long afterward, his wife and daughters had vanished as well. No evidence had been recovered of any of them. Reginald ran his eyes over the reports, his mind making some uncomfortable connections.

But Mr. Raddlav wasn’t finished, “And this, is a report from a Pack living just outside of Cascade. It seems they’ve noticed lots of suspicious re-routings of shipments, minus documentation, all along the river.”

Reginald looked at the report. The Packs were notoriously secretive, only sharing any information when they thought it was crucial. If a member of a Pack told you anything, you could be that it was something important.

“All shipments under Cartwright’s jurisdiction.” Reginald noted, glancing over the paper.

“Exactly.” Mr. Raddlav said.

With a deep breath, Reginald looked over the reports. As his mind arrived at the connection, his heart skipped a beat, and his blood froze. A part of his mind screamed at him not to believe the direction his thoughts were taking him.

He looked at Mr. Raddlav, his eyes serious, “You don’t think this might be . . .?”

He let the sentence trail off, watching the meaningful gaze of his employer’s eyes.

Raddlav took a deep breath, “I think I’d be a fool not to consider it.”

Reginald looked back at the paperwork, feeling his skin go cold and clammy, “Why? Why now?”

“Who knows,” Raddlav shrugged, “Has there ever been any rhyme or reason to his madness? Who knows what the endgame is? But, unfortunately, I may have an idea, as much as I don’t like it.”

He shoved a folded up map over to Reginald, a certain section deliberately facing up.

Raddlav tapped the map, “This is map of Sappraska Sate in Nipperica, and I’ve opened it to the area around Take a look and tell me what you see.”

Reginald looked over the map; it only took him a few seconds to see it: a few miles up the river on the opposite bank: Burning City. Icy fingers of dread clawed at his spine. Fear clutched at him, dredging up many unpleasant memories that he had long whished he could forget. Reginald thought he’d start trembling any minute.

There was a long silence while Reginald stared at his employer, trying to read his face.

Finally, he said. “He doesn’t know.”

Raddlav said nothing, simply stared at Reginald levelly.

“He can’t possibly know.” Reginald insisted hopefully.

“My friend, you could fill a football stadium with the amount of things people know that they shouldn’t.” Raddlav answered with a heavy sigh.

“Has the council been informed of this?” He asked, knowing it probably didn’t really matter.

“Yes, by a rather surprising source.” Raddlav nodded, tossing a printed up email across the desk.

Reginald read it over, and almost smiled at the name on it. Not really that surprising at all, “And what was the result?”

“What you’d expect,” Mr. Raddlav snorted, “They’re going to do nothing and keep their posteriors firmly planted in their seats. Same strategy as always: Ignore the problem and hope it will go away by itself.”

Reginald nodded glumly, He’d expected as much. The council, as always, was mainly a bunch of useless bureaucrats: as frustrating as vampires as they were as human beings.

With a quick motion, Mr. Raddlav gathered up all the files and handed them to Reginald, “Reginald, find out everything you can about this for me, would you?”

“Of course, Mr. Raddlav.” Reginald said firmly.

“And have the plane gassed up and standing by, we may have to take a trip to Niperica.” Raddlav said, standing up.

“Of course.” Reginald said and turned and left the office.

He strolled down the stairs, the files gripped under his arm. Lucy was talking to the other three brides as he passed. She turned to look at him, registering the expression on his face instantly.

“That bad, huh?” She asked.

“Worse.” Reginald said darkly.

He strolled past them, a look of determination on his face. He’d have to get one of the brides to take care of his insects for him: This was more important.

*****

In dark and virtually empty holding cell section of the Burning City Police Station Precinct 12, and Officer Akira Honda had pulled the unpopular watch duty again, sitting at the desk across from the block’s lone occupant: That creepy looking Natasha girl. He hated getting this assignment, he knew holding her was just formality: They had no hard evidence against her, and they were going to have to let her go soon. Just as well, Honda didn’t like to admit it, but this chick scared the hell out of him with her eerie red eyes and pale skin. He flipped through a newspaper, agitated. He’d read the article about Matheson Motor Company’s financial performance twice. Not surprising, MMC made some of the best sports cars in the world right here in Niperica, but reading about one was not as exciting as driving one. He would much rather be up flirting with Kyung Mi.

He glanced over at the prisoner and saw that she still lay motionless on her cot, her arms crossed across her chest like she was in a coffin. Freaky bitch, Akira couldn’t wait to get away from her and spend some time with Kyung.

God he loved to be with Kyung Mi. Such a beautiful woman and heart of gold to boot, he had envisioned all sorts of scenarios with the two of them together. It was a bitter thought for him that she was married. Not just married, but married to that white trash loser asshole Chuck. The way he treated her, it made Akira’s blood boil. He’d never admit it, but many of his fantasies involving Kyung also involved him murdering Chuck: Killing Chuck and taking Kyung into his arms to live happily ever after.

The other officers more or less knew about Akira’s crush on Kyung Mi, and tended to rib him a lot about it, especially because of the age difference: Kyung was ten years Akira’s senior. The other cops liked to call Kyung ‘Akira’s MILF’, when only he was in earshot. He wasn’t sure if Kyung knew or not, but he was sure she wasn’t that stupid. God, how he longed to kiss those beautiful lips, he’d met hundreds of women and he’d never met one as simply wonderful and big hearted as Kyung Mi.

He set the paper aside and reached the report he was supposed to be filling out, when a voice from his right startled him.

“If you’re finished with that newspaper, may I read it?”

Akira jumped and stood strait up, reaching for the gun at his side. The voice had sounded like it was right next to his ear, but there was no one there. He looked in the cell and jumped again; Natasha was now standing at the bars, looking at him with those devilish eyes, having risen and walked across the cell as silently as a breeze.

“What?” he asked, feeling a little foolish as soon as he’d said it.

“That newspaper, if you’re done with it, may I read it?” Natasha repeated, her whispering voice blending with the stillness of the room.

After a long pause, Akira shrugged and replied, “Well, I don’t suppose you can pick the lock with this.”

He walked to the bars and handed her the newspaper. The spooky girl reached through and took it, her hand brushing past his and she did so. Akira felt both a shudder of fear and a thrill of desire at the contact. Natasha wordlessly took the paper and returned to her cot, sitting down and reading the front page. Akira shook his head, looking at the peculiar woman, and sat back down at his desk, continuing with his report.

Natasha’s eyes scanned over the paper, looking at the usual garbage that passed for news: The Prime Minister of Niperica was planning a visit to in a few days, big news in Burning because was several miles up river from here. And pop star Kamilla was also in the area on tour to promote her new album. Natasha smiled; of course she was.

She looked through the pages and quickly spotted what she was looking for: An article on a strange new, frighteningly virulent virus erupting at Generalin . She read over the article, curling her lips as she read about the symptoms. In a side bar, on the same page, she found an article about a missing shipping coordinator named Barry Cartwright, who had disappeared along with his wife and daughters. Natasha bit her lip; all the connections were falling into place.

Across from her at the desk, Akira glanced at Natasha and was surprised to see an expression on the prisoner’s face that he’d never seen before.

Did she look . . . worried?

*****

Rain soaked the large dark monolithic buildings in ’s outer section, the dark empty structures standing stark against the blackened cloud laden sky. Mostly empty now, as Burning’s outer section was locked down and evacuated during the flood time. Everything closed, and everything was abandoned during this period, waiting to reopen when the floods were over. Of course, it all remained above water during the flood anyways, it was only the river itself the swelled, but in the interest of safety, and because so few people remained during the period, city officials shut down the outer section during the flood period and kept everyone in the inner section along the Sasami Kawaii sublet.

So the outer section was mostly empty now . . . mostly.

As with most seasons, there were still those who snuck out to the outer section to enjoy the relative freedom of the unpatrolled area. With no cops to get in the way, raves, and all sorts of underground clubs would pop up to take advantage of the anarchy, a fact which city officials turned a quiet blind eye to.

One such place was a roughneck biker bar called The Metal Spike. It operated year round, but its owner kept it open illegally during the flood period to squeeze as much income out of the dive as possible. The Metal Spike was one of those shitholes that you had to access by walking down a flight of stairs to a basement door that led to the bar, effectively a room meant to be a basement or storage room.

The Metal Spike was owned and operated by a twenty six year old woman named Tasha Turner, a product of the foster care system who had bounced around from home to home for most of her youth before running away and living on the streets when she was fourteen. For a lot of her teenage years, she had drowned her misery in an endless amount of alcohol and drugs, hitting rock bottom so many times she had lost count.

After a while, she had begun to get her head together and start looking out for herself, learning the hard way how to run a business first by selling drugs, then herself. The experience had proved valuable, however, and she had moved on to legitimate business as soon as she turned eighteen. After scraping out enough cash at a series of crappy jobs, she had managed to make enough money to buy her own business. Though she wasn’t sure what that would be.

Hitching a ride with a biker gang and hanging out with them for a few years had given her the idea, and eventually she’d gravitated towards Burning City and purchased The Metal Spike from the down on his luck previous owner. And now, here she was, for what it was worth.

Tasha was a good looking blonde with streaks of black in her hair, who had tattoos covering almost every part of her body. Piercings decorated her eyes, nose, lips, belly button, nipples and clit. She was dressed in a leather button up vest and blue jeans.

Although Tasha would never admit it out in the open, most of her clientele scared the hell out of her. Still, she kept a hard face, and take no shit attitude, and packed a shotgun behind the bar. It was usually all she needed to keep the peace in here, especially during the flood season when she wasn’t actually supposed to be open. If there was a huge fight, it wasn’t like she could call the cops.

This particular night seemed fairly mellow, and Tasha was hopeful that she could get through till closing without and problems. The bar was long and rectangular, with tables down the middle and worn leather booths on the sides. The bar itself was located at the far end, as well as a side door to the back. A jukebox sat on the side. On the opposite side, two doors led into the men’s and women’s bathrooms. The bar was low lit, even more so during the flood season as Tasha didn’t want to attract any undue attention. It was an all male crowd tonight, but a quiet one. A lot of ugly, brutish guys, but some good looking ones mixed in; at least what passed for good looking in this place. The rough looking bunch sat around, drinking and occasionally muttering to themselves.

She swabbed down the bar, keeping an eye on her customers. An old rock n’ roll instrumental played on the jukebox, a song Tasha couldn’t quite remember the name of. Sort of a cross between rockabilly and surf music. She thought it was Link Wray, but she wasn’t sure. Tasha kept her fingers crossed, there hadn’t been any problems tonight, and so far, it looked like there wouldn’t be.

And then, SHE came in.

At first there was the sound of a motorcycle outside, not an unusual sound of course, but it heralded the arrival another tragically sober customer, and so Tasha glanced at the door, over which hung a neon sign that read “If you’re done drinking, get the fuck out.” The sound of footsteps coming down the steps outside could be heard, muffled through the door, and then there was a long pause as whoever it was seemed to stand waiting at the door.

All of a sudden, Tasha noticed a bizarre trick of the light. She swore she could hear a low rumbling, like the growling of some animal at the far side of the bar. The shadows cast by the cheep yellow lights shimmered and changed, and seemed to move with a motion of their own, in contrast to the stationary figures that cast them. The sounds and shadows began to move across the room, heading from the far end towards where Tasha stood. Just as it seemed it was about to reach her, it stopped and faded, disappearing into the room. And just like that everything was just as it had been before.

Except for one shadow, right next to the bar; it was vague, and unformed, but Tasha couldn’t see what was casting it. It moved forward, across the right side wall, pulsing and twisting as it went, moving almost spent like in it motions. It traveled across the room and onto the far wall, selling on the entrance door. And then, it seemed to fade, no make that bleed into the door and disappear.

And then, finally, the door opened.

She came in, standing tall (despite being quite short), strutting into the bar like she owned the place. Her face wasn’t visible in the low light, but her body was as it moved almost sensuously forward. She wore a long black leather coat, and tight black dress cut low in the front in a v that would have put Elvira to shame. The sides of the dress had zippers on it, meant to be zipped tight along her legs, but the woman had unzipped them all the way to her hips, even showing a bit of her black panties. She wore black leather knee length boots, with uncomfortable looking ankle breaking stiletto heels. On her hands she wore fingerless biker gloves. A metal chain was around her neck on which a razor blade hung. Tightly pulled metal straps, five in all, were wrapped around her midsection.

As she moved, Tasha could make out a slight clinking sound with each step. At first she thought the girl must have had a lot of change in her pockets, but then with a start, she realized what it was: Spurs. Fucking hell, the damn crazy bitch was actually wearing spurs like in an old western. It was the first time Tasha had ever seen spurs on high heels, this girl must be some kind of bondage freak, which was usually okay with Tasha, he liked it rough herself, but something about her was just off. It was hard to tell in the light, but her skin looked unnaturally pale.

As she came, Tasha still couldn’t see her face. With each step forward she took, she came further into the light, but every time it looked like you were about to see her face, you didn’t: As if the lights had dimmed just for her. The other customers had all noticed her by now, and stared at her with interest. The woman came forward without a care, all eyes in the room now on her black clad figure.

The woman reached the bar and sat down on a stool on the far left side, slipping off her jacket and placing it on the stool beside her. With her jacket off, Tasha could see that her arms were well decorated with tattoos. Tasha walked over to her, tossing the cloth she had been wiping with aside. As she approached her, the woman looked up and finally her face came into the light.

It was all Tasha could do not to gasp.

She was actually quite beautiful, with a round, soft face, tiny petite nose, and thick high eyebrows, but much of the rest of her complexion was bizarre. The woman’s skin was just as unnaturally pale as it had looked across the room. Small bluish red veins spider webbed her skin just under the surface, faint but noticeable. Her eyes were a deep blood red color, somehow skewed by strange cat like pupils. Her hair was black and long down to her shoulders, slightly wild and streaked with shades of deep red. Two wicked looking scars ran down the left side of her face, starting at her hairline and running down over her eye and ending just next to her nose. But that was nothing compared to the nasty, grotesque looking scar on her throat. The ugly gash ran all the way from one side of her neck to the other.

This woman had survived getting her throat cut, Tasha realized with a shudder, slit open from ear to ear and she was still alive. A twinkle of admiration welled up in Tasha: My kind of survivor.

“What can I get ya’, honey?” Tasha asked the woman in front of her.

The woman reached into her coat and pulled out a small four inch metal tube with a flat white disc on one end and what looked like a speaking on the other. Tasha recognized it as one of those voice replicators, like the kind they give to throat cancer patients after they’d had their larynx removed. The woman pushed it to the side of her neck and moved her lips.

The buzzing electronic voice came out of the tube, muffled and droning, “Whiskystraitup.”

It took Tasha a second to decipher: ‘whisky strait up’. All the advances in medical technology and they couldn’t make one of those things that sounded better: figured.

“You go it, honey.” Tasha said, turning and grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and a shot glass.

She dropped the glass in front of the woman and filled it.

“Thankyouleavethebottle.” The woman’s device droned.

Tasha nodded and put the bottle in front of her. The woman knocked back the whisky with one quick gulp and smacked the glass down hard, quickly refilling the shot glass. Boy, she sure knew how to drink. Tasha was about to turn around when she realized a rather large, bloated ugly brute of man had drunkenly come over to the bar, lust filled eyes on the silent customer.

“Man, ain’t you a hot little slice o’ pie.” He slurred, “You got a name, pretty thing?”

There was a bit of hesitation, as if the girl was deciding whether to answer or not, and then she pressed the tube to her neck.

“Celeste.” She replied without looking at him.

The man ignored the cold response, Tasha got the feeling she should be reaching for her shotgun.

“Well, honey, how about me and some o’ tha’ fellas take you somewhere and party, Waddaya say? I got me a whole lot booze for ya, and as long as ya play nice, we can get ya’ some other stuff.” The Neanderthal said, moving closer.

Celeste ignored him, swallowing another shot. Unable to take a hint, the brute moved closer to her.

“Hey, didn’t ya hear me? You deaf as well as mute?” He demanded.

Again, Celeste made no response, simply refilling her glass. The ugly drunk bastard bit his lip in frustration. It was hard to imagine this guy thinking he could ever get anywhere with any woman, but it appeared he may have gotten a few so drunk they wouldn’t know better. This was getting bad; Tasha would have to get a lid on this one fast.

“Hey, listen ta’ me slut, you’re lucky anyone’d wanna fuck you with them ugly ass scars all over ya’!” He hissed at her.

“Hey!” Tasha yelled at him firmly, “Knock that shit off and go sit down, she ain’t interested.”

“Shut tha’ fuck up, bitch, I ain’t talken’ to ya’” The Neanderthal bellowed, and then grabbed Celeste by the shoulders, “You listen real good, cunt, you gonna come party with me if I have ta’ tie you up and butt fuck you stupid, you got that whore?”

Celeste made no response; simply staring at him was cold, angry eyes. Suddenly, her arm moved, a rapid, quick motion that Tasha barely saw. There was a quick whistling sound, and then a wet sucking noise like someone cutting open a cantaloupe. All at once, Tasha realized that Celeste was holding a long, curved metal knife in her hand. It was a wicked looking medieval style dagger, just a little bit shorter then a machete. There was blood dripping along the sharp edge. Where had she been hiding that?

Had she cut him? Tasha hadn’t seen her do anything, but the brute was suddenly standing very still. Abruptly, blood began to seep from his head in a thin circular line that ran diagonally from his left ear, under his left eye over his right eyebrow all the way around his head until it reached back to his left ear again. To Tasha’s horror, the whole top left half of the man’s head simply slid off with a sickening squishing sound and he collapsed into a lifeless heap on the floor, dead as can be.

Everyone in the room stood up at once and Tasha knew there was gonna be trouble. Right or wrong, this knife crazy bitch had to go. Tasha pulled the shotgun from out of the bar and cocked it. She placed the barrel firmly against Celeste’s head while she was distracted by the other customers.

“Get the hell out of my bar, bitch.” Tasha ordered.

Celeste turned to her, not an ounce of fear in those fucked up red eyes. She stared at Tasha hard, and then made a sudden lightening fast move of her arm. There was a loud cracking sound and then suddenly the shotgun came apart in Tasha’s hands. The front and the back separated and the black pellets from the shells spilled out of the remains of the gun, falling all over the bar.

Tasha couldn’t believe what had just happened: Celeste had cut her shotgun in half with a knife. That wasn’t possible, but she’d done it.

Dropping the two severed halves of her shotgun, Tasha backed up against the drink shelves, now in total fear. From the back, she could now see where Celeste had kept that knife: the straps around her midsection held two scabbards in an X shape behind her back.

All around the bar, knives, clubs, chains and other weapons began coming out. Bikers where very much like a wolf pack and if you fucked with one you fucked with them all. The music in the jukebox changed to some kind of fast beat old rock n’ roll song. Celeste pulled the second knife out and took a few steps forward, holding her arms crossed in front of her, a dagger in each hand. Her feet spread wide; she looked from person to person, preparing for the first attack.

When it came, all hell broke loose: Two of them lunged at her and she swerved out of the way, striking out with one knife and piercing one her assailant’s heart. The other she spun kicked and sent crumpling to the floor. From then on, it all looked like a blur to Tasha; Celeste whirling and twisting as bikers ran and lunged for her, bodies flying in all directions, some unconscious, and some very dead and mutilated. The coppery smell of blood filled Tasha’s nostrils as fans of arterial spray bathed the inside of the bar. Celeste’s movements were so fluid, so blindly fast; it was like watching a dance.

Damnit, why did she have to pick this bar to start this shit in. Tasha clutched her hands to her chest, watching the carnage, crazy thoughts running through her head. It almost seemed like Celeste was only killing the ugly ones, while leaving the good looking (for this place) men still breathing.

Tasha’s odd observation was interrupted by a severed head landing on the bar, its face still in shock, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream of death. Tasha yelped and backed away, only to be confronted with another biker slamming against the bar, both his arms now severed at the shoulders. Blood sprayed from the mutilated stumps, soaking the bar as he bled out.

“Help me . . .” He begged before sagging to the floor and dying.

Now Tasha screamed; horror and panic over taking her usual tough exterior. She ducked behind the bar and curled up with her back to it, covering her ears with her hands, trying to drown out the sounds of the carnage and men screaming, bodies hitting the hardwood floors, and blood spraying in gushing sounds. She pressed her hands over her ears tighter in a vein attempt to block out the sounds of the slaughter behind her. It was no use. She closed her eyes, mumbling to herself in terror; all at once she was a little girl again, stuck with some abusive foster family, begging an uncaring and unsympathetic god for relief.

“Please make it stop. Please make it stop.” She moaned.

She lay there, curled in a fetal position, mumbling to herself until the last screams had stopped and sounds of the carcasses falling to the ground were gone. After a long pause, she crawled timidly towards the end of the bar on all fours. Carefully peeking around the corner, she could see the crumpled forms of the customers strewn about her now blood soaked bar. The closest one to her, she could see, was still alive, his chest still rising and falling.

She watched in horror stricken fascination as Celeste came over to the man and knelt down over him. She carefully cupped his head with her hand and then turned it up ward, raising his neck. As Tasha watched, Celeste leaned in close to him. What in the world was she planning to do? Take a bite out of him?

And then, to Tasha’s shock, Celeste opened her mouth, revealing two long white fangs jutting out of her upper jaw. With a slight mushing sound, she sank her fangs into the throat of the unconscious man, causing a stream of blood to erupt into her mouth. He made a slight groan as his flesh was penetrated. With a satisfied sucking sound, she began to swallow the man’s blood. Tasha couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was she . . . feeding? She was drinking the man’s blood like she was some kind of . . . some kind of . . .

Vampire.

The word screamed in her head, but Tasha didn’t want to accept it. She ducked back beneath the bar, covering her ears again, more scared then she’d ever been. The notion was crazy, completely silly, but something primal inside her was reacting to what she had seen. And long buried childhood fears of the risen bloodsucking corpses that popular culture had named vampires clawed at the irrational side of her brain, she began to tremble, pulling her knees to her and hiding her face in her arms. Hoping against hope that Celeste would just forget that she was back there.

She could hear Celeste moving around, and then the soft groans of her victims as she bit each one. That was why she had let some live and killed the others, she wanted to feed off them. But why only the good looking ones? Tasha didn’t know or care, she just wanted this nightmare to be over, for this freaky fucked up chick to get out of her bar and never ever come back.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tasha heard the jangling footsteps of Celeste and her spurs approaching the bar. She heard a swallowing sound, and then the sound of a glass being slapped down on the wood. There was a small sliding sound, as Tasha heard the crinkling sound of paper and metal scrape of coins being shoved across the bar. It seemed almost comical to Tasha, after killing all those men and drinking who knows how much blood, Celeste still felt the need to actually pay for her drink.

The footsteps began again, this time moving away from the bar. The continued moving away, growing fainter and fainter, until finally Tasha heard the most beautiful sound she had ever heard: The sound of the exit door opening and closing again. She waited for a long time, listening to see if Celeste was still there. She heard nothing.

Carefully and cautiously, Tasha once again peeked out around the side of the bar, crawling on all fours. She looked around, not seeing Celeste anywhere, just the crumpled forms of the customers. Staying on her hands and knees, Tasha crawled out from behind the bar, trembling as she looked around at the massacre in that used to be her business. There was no sign of that woman. Tasha breathed a sigh of relief: She must have really left.

Tasha stood up and surveyed the room; she had no idea what she was going to do about this. She might have to call the police, in which case she could look forward to loosing her bar and probably having a stiff fine. She looked at the ones that were still alive, the ones Celeste had bitten: They all seemed to be moving and squirming a little bit; almost as if something was happening to them.

The hair on the back of Tasha’s neck had begun to stand up; she got the nasty sudden feeling that she was being watched. She glanced over to the side and saw that Celeste’s jacket was still folded up on the bar stool. Oh no, she’d be coming back for that unless . . .

Unless she hadn’t left. Tasha whirled around and screamed as she found Celeste behind her, perched on the top of the bar, squatted down looking like some kind of human formed bird of prey, her red eyes locked on Tasha.

Tasha screamed, flying into a complete adrenal panic. Her legs went soft and she collapsed between the bar stools crawling in between them and going fetal with fear again. Now she had started to cry, tears running down her face as she blubbered like a baby. The bar stools offered no protection what so ever, but she was too panicked to think rationally.

She sobbed uncontrollably as she saw Celeste’s head lower in front of her, hanging upside down as she leaned over from on top of the bar, her hair falling around her head like a stream of water. With an athletic movement, Celeste jumped off the bar flipping around and then reached down in between the stools and gripped Tasha by the shoulders.

“No! No! Leave me alone!” Tasha blubbered, trying to fight her.

Celeste pulled her from out of the stools and stood her up flat on her feet, her hands still gripping Tasha’s shoulders. Tasha stared at her, expecting the fangs to come out at any second, or maybe even the knives. But Celeste’s expression had seemed to soften, and there was no trace of malice on her face. With one hand, she gently brushed the hair out of Tasha’s eyes, and pulled Tasha closer to her with the other, bringing her face nearer and nearer.

A strange flow of electric tingles seemed to course through Tasha, as if some form of energy was radiating out from Celeste’s body and into hers. The effect was pleasant, and stimulating, despite Tasha’s gut wrenching fear. The face and demeanor was totally different then it had been before, Tasha realized, it was almost like she was going to . . .

Celeste put one hand on Tasha’s neck and kissed her; a deep, sensual kiss on the lips, pressing her body up close to Tasha’s. Tasha’s body relaxed, melting like butter into Celeste’s arms, kissing her back before she even realized it. Something was wrong; Tasha’s brain had begun to sink into a thick fog, her body responding without her being able do anything about it. Tasha had never been a lesbian, had always hated lesbians, in fact, but now she knew she would do whatever Celeste wanted her to.

Tasha yelped and fear came rushing back to her as one of the long knives reappeared in Celeste’s hand. Naked terror rushed through her veins and her bladder threatened to empty as Celeste slid the blade under Tasha’s vest, and underneath her bra. For one horrible moment, Tasha thought Celeste was going to cut her heart out. But then Celeste ripped the knife upward, slicing through Tasha’s vest and bra in one fast motion, cutting them both open right down the middle. They both fell open, exposing Tasha’s breasts all the way to her pierced nipples. Celeste pushed them over her shoulders and the slipped down Tasha’s arms and fell to the floor.

Tasha was now topless, and Celeste smiled wickedly looking down at her bare breasts. She moved one of her hands over Tasha’s nipples, teasing them a little, making them hard before planting another kiss on Tasha’s lips. Tasha’s body was quivering with excitement that she couldn’t control, this woman was somehow making her incredibly horny. She kissed Celeste back, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling of her lips.

Moving her hand down, Celeste undid Tasha’s belt buckle and yanked her belt off violently, cracking it like a whip as she pulled it off causing Tasha to jump. Celeste then took the knife and inserted it along Tasha’s waist. She cut downwards, ripping through the denim of her jeans, slicing them open along the side from the waist to the ankle. Tasha was powerless to stop her. The ruined leg of her jeans fell open, exposing all the tattoos down her leg and the side of her panties. Moving to the other side, Celeste made short work of the other one and then yanked the torn remains of Tasha’s jeans right off of her, while Tasha’s chest rose and fell, getting more and more excited.

Stripped to nothing but her panties and her boots, Tasha was pulled forward by Celeste who kissed her lips again, her tongue invading Tasha’s mouth. Pressed up this close to Celeste, Tasha felt something odd underneath the front of her dress. She hoped it wasn’t another knife.

Celeste stepped back and slipped her own dress off her shoulders, letting the top half fall to her waist. Her breasts were exposed, and Tasha could see that, like herself, Celeste had both nipples pierced. Celeste placed both hands on Tasha’s cheeks and kissed her, giving her a deep smooch before picking up the knife again and cutting off Tasha’s panties, stripping her completely naked.

Placing her hands under Tasha’s arms, Celeste effortlessly picked her up and sat her on the bar, lifting her up with such ease like she weighed almost nothing. Stepping up on the stool, Celeste then climbed up on the bar as well. She brought her lips to Tasha and kissed her deeply, their naked breasts rubbing against each other. She then lay Tasha down on the bar and began to kiss down her body, kissing her ample boobs and teasing her nipples with her tongue. Tasha moaned as she was stimulated.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Tasha was completely at this woman’s mercy, unable to stop her body from responding to her touches, unwilling to try. She moaned as her breasts were squeezed, closing her eyes. Celeste moved down, pushing Tasha’s legs apart, spreading her wide. Her legs moved almost with a mind of their own, exposing Tasha’s pussy, already wet and swollen from arousal. There was still a stab of fear; Tasha wasn’t sure she should trust Celeste putting those fangs so close to her pussy.

As Celeste leaned down and licked at Tasha’s vagina, running her tongue over the lips, Tasha let out a moan of pleasure, her body shuddering a little at her touch. She no longer seemed to care about the piles of dead bodies around her, nor the strange convulsions that the survivors were going through. It was like all that mattered was Celeste and what she was doing to her.

Tasha moaned and wiggled as Celeste slipped a couple of fingers inside her, while sucking on her clit. She gasped as Celeste’s tongue slipped skillfully under the hood of her clit, making her quiver as her hips rolled with the pleasure that flowed from between her legs. She’d never felt this good before, never felt this turned on before.

Celeste stopped and rose up on her knees. Tasha wanted to grab her head and push it back down between her legs again. But Celeste began pushed her dress down, slipping it past her hips and down her legs, sliding it all the way off. Tasha looked at her and suddenly gasped, sitting up; there was the unmistakable bulge of a hard dick in Celeste’s panties. What the hell, was she some kind of shemale?

Clearly entertained by Tasha’s shock, Celeste grinned mischievously and slid her panties off, turning to her side to slip then down her legs and off. That done, Tasha was in for one more big shock: Oh my god! She had BOTH!

Celeste did have a good sized male penis between her legs, but under it was unmistakably a normal female pussy. She had balls, too, though they were a lot smaller and tighter against the base of her cock; out of the way, she realized of the vagina. Tasha felt like she was going to faint: Celeste was hermaphrodite, probably one of those functional ones that had been appearing lately. What the hell did they call those . . . ? Futas, that was it. Futanari.

Reaching out with her right arm, Celeste put a hand behind Tasha’s head and brought her forward towards her. Tasha knew what she wanted, and although this might have freaked her out a few hours ago, now that she was under Celeste’s spell she wanted nothing more then to try these freaky sex organs out. After all, how many people like this was she ever going to be with.

Tasha reached up and ran her fingers over Celeste’s cock, making sure it was hard. Cocksucking was nothing new to Tasha, who’d sucked cock for various reasons most of her life. She ran her tongue along it, starting at the base before slipping her lips over the head, kissing it wetly and sensually. She opened her mouth and slipped it in, swallowing the shaft into her mouth and began to suck, bobbing her head up and down.

Celeste ran fingers through her hair, silently moaning, no sound coming out but her eyes closed and her mouth open, enjoying it. Tasha switched to harmonica style, licking the side of Celeste’s cock, running her lips across it and Celeste moved her body in obvious enjoyment.

All around the bar, the survivors were beginning to convulse more, twisting, some of them awake now. What the hell was happening to them? Tasha couldn’t seem to bring herself to care as long as she had Celeste’s dick in her mouth.

After letting her do that for a bit, Celeste spread her knees and guided Tasha’s head a little lower, firmly gripping her skull from behind. Tasha hesitated; she had never eaten pussy in her life, the thought had used to gross her out. But now a part of her she’d never known existed was rising to the occasion, driving her on to experience this. She flicked her tongue out and licked at the tissues of Celeste’s lips, running her tongue over them. Gingerly touching the organ with her hands, Tasha began to lick and suck at it, trying to stimulate her as well as her inexperienced mouth could. It was hard to tell if she was doing it right; Celeste’s pussy was nice and wet, but because of her slit throat she made no sounds, and from this position, Tasha really couldn’t see her face. But she kept up, sucking on her clit, and penetrating her with her fingers. This didn’t seem so gross anymore, and actually, Tasha was starting to like it.

When Celeste stopped her and pushed her back on her back, Tasha was afraid she had done something wrong. But Celeste’s face betrayed no disappointment as she crawled over Tasha’s body, lowering herself down on her and kissing her mouth. Tasha eagerly returned the kisses, and their tongues intertwined, exploring each other’s mouths. Tasha wrapped her arms around Celeste, pulling her close. She was not longer afraid of her, vampire or not, only desirous of her touch. So captivated by Celeste was Tasha that she didn’t notice the pain in her crotch at first.

When she did, she winced and Celeste rolled off her, laying on her side next to Tasha, playfully running her fingers along her arm, looking down at her crotch expectantly. Tasha gasped as a strange pressure had started to form just above her vagina. She looked down pushing herself up on her elbows and saw the her shock that the flesh above her pussy was rising in a lump. What was happening to her?

Tasha gasped and stared in disbelief as something GREW out of her skin, something rising up out of her like those time lapse photography films of plants growing that she used to see during the brief period that she actually went to school. It rose up, like a mushroom with no top, and Tasha screamed when she realized what it was, had known all along what it was but just didn’t want to admit it. She was growing a penis, a big one from the looks of it.

When it was full formed, her new penis flopped over on the side, lying across her skin. Tasha was practically hyperventilating, staring in shock at the cock. Her cock, attached to her. Jesus fucking Christ, she could feel the thing; feel WITH the thing as it lay on her. Suddenly, she had been turned into a freak just like Celeste.

Tasha stared at Celeste, eyes wide, “What have you done to me?”

It was a rhetorical question in a way; Tasha knew full well that Celeste couldn’t answer her; her speech synthesizer was probably sitting on the floor somewhere. Instead, Celeste gave her a wicked looking smile, and reached down and took Tasha’s cock in her hands. With a slow and fluid movement, Celeste began to jerk it, moving her hand up and down along the shaft.

It didn’t feel bad. Actually, it felt quite good, and Tasha would have been enjoying it more if weren’t for how badly freaked out she was be this new development. Although she probably would have been freaked out a great deal if weren’t for whatever Celeste had done to her to make her submissive to her like this. There was more of a pressure in the new organ, and a bit of soreness along it. With a gasp, Tasha realized that this was because she was hard.

Celeste moved down on the bar, keeping Tasha’s cock in her hand and gazed up at her with those wicked red eyes. She moved her head into her crotch and gave Tasha’s cock a nice big lick. One again, Tasha felt the nagging fear that she didn’t want those fangs anywhere near her new dick, but she was powerless to do anything, just groan as Celeste slipped her cock in her mouth and began to suck, skillfully moving up and down on the shaft, causing Tasha to writhe a little and moan with the sensations. God help her, this felt good, really good. She shouldn’t be, but she was enjoying getting a blowjob from Celeste.

Tasha’s mind was in a complete state of befuddlement; could she really be enjoying being a futa this much? What if she stayed like this for the rest of her life? Tasha knew very little about futas, only that both organs worked perfectly but the rest of their body was almost always female, and that they had been appearing with more frequency over the last hundred years or so. Supposedly, there was an island out in the pacific somewhere populated by nothing but futas.

The thoughts were interrupted as she heard loud moans from the rest of the bar. The survivors of Celeste’s carnage were mostly conscious now, and were twisting and writhing as their bodies pulsed and warped. They were changing, Tasha realized, they’re bodies were altering, mutating into something. Some of them had ripped their clothes off as they changed, and Tasha could see chest’s swelling, faces changing, arms thinning and the like. They were turning into women, she realized.

One of them had pulled all his clothes off as he changed, and Tasha got a look between his (her?) legs. Scratch that: They were turning into futa women. How was it possible for Celeste to do that?

More pleasure rolled through her as Celeste shoved a few fingers into Tasha’s pussy. Tasha rolled her hips, moaning as the pleasure stimulated every inch of her body. For the moment, she was even glad she’d been turned into a futa.

Celeste straitened up and pushed Tasha’s legs open and back. She rubbed the tip of her cock against Tasha’s pussy, making her squirm and her penis, surprisingly, tremble. Celeste moved her hips, rubbing the shaft of her cock against Tasha’s clit, the head rubbing teasingly on her tiny balls and the base of her dick. Tasha moaned and closed her eyes, experiencing an altogether new series of feelings that she desperately liked.

Staring right into Tasha’s eyes, Celeste pushed her cock into her pussy. Tasha arched her back and cried out as she was penetrated. Celeste began to silently fuck her, moving in and out, making no sound except the slapping of her body on Tasha’s. Tasha moaned and wrapped her arms around Celeste, feeling the pleasure building inside her. Tasha loved to get screwed, but this was altogether different. She could feel Celeste’s breasts rubbing against her own, and she shivered with excitement.

“Ah! Oh my god! More!” Tasha cried.

Around her, the survivors had mostly all finished their transformations. They had all stripped completely naked in the process, revealing the extent of the alterations: Hair was long, down past the shoulders, shoulders were smaller and narrower, arms and legs thinner, muscle mass gone, skin softer and smoother, breasts of varying size decorated chests, faces were different; softer and pretty, waists were narrow, hips were curved, body hair was gone, and dual genitalia sat between legs. They all seemed to have shrunk a bit as well. A few stared at themselves and each other in bewilderment, one was examining himself . . . make that herself in one of the scruffy mirrors on the bar wall, and some of them watched Tasha and Celeste as they fucked. Tasha had good idea of how they felt.

Her breath panting in rapid shots, Tasha squirmed under the body of the strange vampire. She lifted her hips and let her get deeper, wiggling herself with Celeste’s motions, kissing her silent lips with uncontrollable passion. She felt like such a slut, doing this in front of people, but that no longer felt like a bad thing. Tasha ran her hands through Celeste’s jet black and blood red hair, slipping her tongue past her lips, and past her fangs to explore her mouth. Tasha could feel her new penis sandwiched between herself and Celeste, both their skins rubbing against it, and the pleasure mounted. This felt so good; she never wanted it to stop.

“Yes! Oh god, that’s good.” Tasha wailed.

Tasha opened her eyes and saw that a few of the “girls” had become so turned on by the sex that they were making out with each other, apparently keen on exploring each other’s new bodies. Others just watched the show with a leer, and Tasha began aware that every dick in the room was hard. The idea made her shiver with glee, and she returned to Celeste’s attentions. They wanted a show; she’d give them a show.

Pulling out of her, Celeste took Tasha by the shoulders and flipped her around on her belly. Gently, she pulled Tasha up into a doggy style position and the entered her from behind. Tasha gave a gasping cry and moaned as Celeste resumed fucking her, her breasts and dick slapping back and forth with the motion. Celeste reached around her and squeezed and rubbed Tasha’s boobs as she fucked her, kissing her cheek in the process. Tasha undulated her body, loving every minute of her penetration. She felt like she was no longer the woman she had been, like new doors of experience had been opened to her.

The other futas were turning to each other in lust: kissing, licking, sucking each other’s cocks and eating each other’s pussies, completely uncaring of the dead bodies around them. It was hard to believe that these horny needful dick girls had been a bunch of roughneck biker guys less then half an hour earlier. It was like all semblances of their former selves had been wiped away. Moaning, groaning, and sucking sounds filled the bar and the futas writhed against each other with uncontrolled lust.

Tasha felt Celeste pull out of her and rub her dick against her pussy teasingly. Tasha moved her body snake like, waiting for her to put it back in. When Celeste did, Tasha cried out in shock when she touched to tip to the other hole.

“No! Not that!” Tasha screamed in alarm.

Celeste looked at her hard and simply nodded before shoving her cock up Tasha’s ass. Tasha shrieked and some pains shot through her, but oddly enough no where near as much as she’d thought. She struggled and thrashed, trying to push away from Celeste, but the vampire held her fast and shoved deeper into her. Tasha groaned an unintelligible sound; her eyes and mouth wide open as her butt was violated. Celeste began to thrust in and out, making Tasha grunt and yelp.

All Tasha could do was grit her teeth and endure her violation. But the pain had already begun to subside, to become easily acceptable, and then non existent as Celeste shoved her penis in and out. And then, Tasha felt something she hadn’t expected, pleasure. This was actually starting to feel good, now that she was used to it. She’d never dared had anal sex before, always thinking of it as submissive and perverted: something that only faggots and masochists would do. But somehow, the feeling of that big dick in her ass was making her feel good, really good. The fact that it was forbidden and taboo was turning her on even more. As Celeste reached around her and between her legs and started to jack her off, Tasha’s cries of pain had turned to squeals of pleasure.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I love that! I can’t believe it! I love it!” Tasha wailed.

She was learning so much about herself, and Celeste was a good, if brutal, teacher.

All around the room, like a painting from some weird artist, the futas were falling all over each other. They kissed, sucked and licked, quite a few of them going all the way and having sex with each other. It was a wild orgy of the kind usually only seen in porno movies and bad futanari fan fiction. At least one of them had taken a cue from Tasha and was taking it up the ass, reverse cowboy style. Another of the girls saw the other neglected opening and ran over to stick her cock up the anal sex recipient’s pussy, turning it into a double penetration session.

It was all too much for Tasha, the feeling of Celeste’s skilled hand masturbating her brand new dick was causing the pleasure to course through her, and soon she couldn’t hold back any longer she felt and explosion of pleasure, her body writhing in delight, and with her whole body shuddering she ejaculated all over the bar. It was the weirdest feeling possible: She was cumming, squirting like a guy. That was her cum all over the surface of the bar that she’d just wiped.

Before she was even finished, she felt Celeste go rigid and shove her dick as far up as she could. She felt Celeste convulse above her, and then felt the hot sticky sensation of semen squirting into her ass. Celeste thrust her hips, trashing as she came, keeping it up until every last drop had come out. When she was finally finished, she pulled out of Tasha, who collapsed spent on the bar, her own cum mooshing on her stomach.

After breathing heavy and collecting herself, Celeste hopped off the bar and went into the ladies’ restroom, presumably to clean herself up. Tasha, drained of energy, lay on her side on the bar, and watched the rest of the futas as they finished with each other. What a bizarre sight it was: all those dead guys, all that blood, and all those horny dick girls making out, naked and fucking and filling the bar with the moaning and groaning sounds of love. God, they looked hot. And Tasha was one of them now.

By the time Celeste reappeared, still naked, the futas had all finished and they were sitting or standing around, unsure of what to do next. Tasha sat up on the bar, and watched her as she gathered up her clothes and redressed herself. So strange that this tiny woman had walked in out of no where and changed all their lives forever. Tasha probably should hate her, but didn’t really feel the need. At any rate, she was too tired to hate anyone right now.

As Celeste finished dressing, one of the futas spoke, “Uh . . . so what happens now?”

Celeste put the tube to her neck, “IdcleanupthismessifIwereyou.”

‘I’d clean this mess up if I were you’. That went without saying, and Tasha had an idea of how to get rid of those bodies. Dick or no dick, she wanted to get back to her business. A little callus of her, but it was a rough world out there.

Tasha hopped off the bar and walked up to Celeste, “Why?”

Celeste handed Tasha a disposable cell phone, and made a cryptic non-answer.

“IllcallyouifIneedyou.” Her synthesizer said.

And with that, Celeste left the bar, walking up the steps and closing the door behind her as mysteriously as she had entered it. There was the roar of a motorcycle engine, and she was gone.

Tasha walked up to the front of the room, not sure what to say, “Umm . . . we’ll have to get rid of these bodies. I have an idea how, and umm . . . we’ll need to mop up and clean up the bar. We don’t need the pigs coming around and . . . well . . . not knowing which prison to put us in. And . . . well, we all need to help.”

The futa girls all nodded in agreement. Tasha looked at them, looking at their eyes. These all used to be men; they should all be screaming bloody murder and swearing revenge at being turned into such cutesy little naked sex kittens.

“Uh . . . you guys don’t seem very upset about this?” Tasha asked, “You know, about being turned into . . . uh . . . cock girls . . .?”

The futas all looked at each other, and then giggled. One threw her arms around the nearest girl to her and kissed her on the cheek. Then she looked at Tasha grinning.

“I don’t think we’d ever want to be turned back.” She proclaimed laughing.

All the other girls laughed and nodded, hugging and kissing each other like teenagers at a slumber party. Wow, thought Tasha, definitely not the same bunch that they were when they came in here, the metamorphosis of their minds was just as stunning as that of their bodies. Didn’t bother Tasha too much, these would be better customers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open and two young teenage couples came into the bar. They were the kind that sometimes did, rich kids looking for a thrill, combing all the underground scenes that outer Burning offered at this time of year. They came in laughing and joking with each other, but stopped dead as they looked at the room, filled with dead mutilated bodies and naked dick girls standing around.

Tasha stated the obvious, “We’re closed.”

*****

The rain had let up to a slight drizzle on Hayase Pass the long twisting highway that snaked through the Hikaru Hills on the far side of inner Burning City, and the small droplets were caught by the light of the sleek black MMC Inferno sports car as it roared through the night, speeding with reckless velocity along the curving highway, with Midori Ichise at the wheel.

Midori slammed her foot down on the accelerator, sending the car faster around the turns. She felt so alive, so invigorated in this car. Not like that boxy Saab, this car felt like it was part of her. She loved the sleek, black look, the comfortable leather interior, and just how damn good and powerful this car felt.

It was night again, the darkness wrapping her in its familiar velvet embrace. The shadows felt so tangible to her now, as if she could pull them around her and dress herself in the dark.

She’d pulled into the lot on complete impulse, but the minute she’d seen the Inferno, it was love at first sight. She knew she had to have it. She’d be paying this off for the rest of her life, or at least the rest of what her lifespan would have been before she was turned into a vampire, but she really felt like it was worth it. And she’d managed to get a pretty good deal on it owing to the fact that the salesman was scared to death of her. They’d gotten the car home, and after she and Natalie had tried on some of the goth clothes that they’d bought, Natalie had talked her into taking the new car for a spin. Now Midori was glad that she had.

Gothed out as she was, Midori was dressed in a tight leather black tank top with the zipper in the front pulled down to reveal more cleavage, a mesh fishnet shirt over it, cut off tight denim shorts, fishnet stockings, and long knee high lace up boots. This was not the sort of outfit that she would have been caught dead in before, but she’d been surprised at how much she liked the way she looked now.

Likewise, Natalie was wearing tight black leather shorts, and loose fitting black and white tank top with an ‘anarchy’ symbol on it, and black combat boots. Like Midori, Natalie would never have dressed like this before. Now, she showed skin with pride, her long hair spilling over her shoulders.

Midori floored the accelerator, making the V8 engine roar with power as she sped over the road, way far above the speed limit. She had never realized how good it felt to just open up an engine let her rip. That god awful Saab had been holding her back, she decided. She couldn’t understand why she had liked it all those years. This car was what she was really meant to be in. Beside her, Natalie cheered and whooped, pounding her fists on the roof, as excited as Midori had ever seen her.

“Woo hoo! Faster! Faster!” Natalie was screaming.

This was, Midori knew, more changes in her personality ever since Natasha had turned her. As a human being she’d never even had a speeding ticket, now that she was a vampire, here she was, tearing down the road at ungodly speeds, and loving every minute of it. She knew she’d feel weird about this later, but she was too fired up right now to care. The street was a blur in front of her, and her red vampire eyes glowed with anticipation.

And then, as she sped on, another car pulled up next to her, a blue sports car with two guys in the front seat and a girl in the back. Midori slowed down as the driver rolled down his window.

“Hey, nice ride.” The guy said, he was blonde with spiky hair.

“Thanks.” Midori shouted back, “I just got it.”

“You two hotties wanna race?” His companion, with slicked back brown hair asked.

Natalie turned to Midori, a grin plastered on her face, “He called us ‘hotties’.”

Natalie had undergone radical personality changes as well; ever since her accidental ‘familiarizing’ she had adopted all of Midori’s new personality traits into her own. A few days before, Natalie would have just blushed crimson at being called a hottie, now she just reveled in it.

“Race? To where?” Midori shouted back.

“First one over wins.” The blonde called back through the window.

Some part of Midori’s brain was still registering that this was a very bad idea, but the new adventurousness in her was screaming at her to leave these guys in the dust. She contemplated what she wanted to do, but Natalie went and made the decision for her.

“You bet! Bring it on, motherfuckers!” Natalie yelled.

Midori had never heard Natalie use the word ‘motherfuckers’ before. It sounded strange coming out of her mouth. Midori remembered Officer Honda mentioning something similar about her.

All at once the other car tore off down the street. Midori’s eyes suddenly flashed, and she floored it, sending the Inferno after them at breakneck speed. The car sped forward, matching velocity with the other vehicle, wet gravel kicked up behind it as the engine roared. The two cars zig zagged up the twisting road, neck and neck as they plunged onward on the wet pavement. Midori was suddenly determined; she would NOT lose to these guys.

The Inferno’s wheels hugged the asphalt as she maneuvered the twists and turns of the winding road, keeping pace with the other car. All at once, as she sped around a turn, a huge truck was in front of her.

The trucker blew the horn, unable to stop in time. With lightening fast reflexes she’d never known she had, Midori hit the brakes and then swerved into the lane behind the blue car. The truck sped past, and Midori pulled out and gained on the other car again. Her heart raced with excitement and her blood pumped, and she actually began to feel her penis stiffen a little between her legs.

Natalie asked, “Hey, should I try to distract them?”

“What?” Midori asked, “You mean flash them or something? It’s up to you.”

With a giggle, Natalie grabbed her top and slipped it off. She wore no bra underneath, and her large dark breasts flopped out, exposed and bare. She rolled down the window and leaned out, wiggling her tits at the other care, squeezing them with her fingers.

“Hey guys, look at what’s gonna wait for you at the finish line.” She chortled merrily.

Both guys cheered, but the girl in the back got angry, “Hey, put your saggy tits away, slut.”

Natalie ignored her and slipped back in the car. She thought for a minute and then started giggling some more.

“Awe, what the hell . . .” She said, and undid her pants.

With a wide grin, she pulled off her shorts and panties, stripping herself naked, exposing every inch of her dark brown flesh. She laughed happily, running her hands over her body. It was more distracting to Midori, who could see it all close up. Natalie was a strikingly beautiful woman, and her new found comfort in her body just made her that much sexier.

As the two cars sped down the road neck and neck, Natalie was cheering but then turned and looked at Midori.

“Midori, you get naked too!” She insisted, “This is more fun naked.”

“I’m driving, Natalie.” Midori replied, somewhat exasperated, “I can’t take my clothes off when I’m driving.”

“Then lemme grab the wheel and you just take your top off.” Natalie said, “Then you can take the rest off after we win.”

At least Natalie seemed confident of victory, but as far as she was concerned, Midori was on top no matter what happened. Partially just to shut Natalie up, Midori let her grab the wheel and stripped both tops off, letting her ample breasts fall out, her nipples hard and puffy. Once topless, Midori grabbed the wheel again. The two cars raced down the road, their headlight glinting off the street lines.

The dark haired guy said to the other, “Holy shit! Now they’re both naked in there.”

The woman shouted in fury, “Put your clothes back on, whores.”

Midori had to admit, Natalie was right: This was more fun naked.

The cars tore across a bend, and up ahead, Midori spied the opening to . She floored the accelerator and the Inferno sped forward, neck and neck with its rival. The wheels turned in unfocused blurs as both cars tore towards their goal. Midori held the wheel firm, her heart pounding and her blood racing. She realized she was completely hard now. She wondered if that made her deranged.

With a quick hard movement of her hands, Midori slammed the car into gear and it lurched forward with one last roar of power, picking up speed and passing the blue care, it sped over the bridge and off to the other side where the road widened and flattened out. Midori and Natalie both cheered with elation while Midori eased on the break, bringing the Inferno, her pride and joy, to a stop. The blue car pulled up and stopped a few feet back.

Midori turned and looked back at the other car, and suddenly, she could see them clearly. Scratch that: She could see their BLOOD clearly. Somehow, through the metal of two cars and through the flesh, she could see the spider web of veins, pulsing with precious blood as it pumped through their bodies. All three of them, she could see their life juices coursing through their veins, glowing faintly in the darkness. Midori felt her fangs extend, the thirst and desire rose in her. She wanted what they had, wanted it so badly.

She felt Natalie’s hands at her shorts and looked down; Natalie was undoing her shorts and pulling them down, along with her panties, in one motion.

“A deal’s a deal.” Natalie cooed, “So get naked.”

Midori smiled at her friend and let Natalie strip her naked. Natalie’s eyes lit up so much whenever she saw Midori stripped, it was actually kind of cute. Natalie pulled them off and tossed them in the back seat, Midori’s hard cock bounced out.

Natalie grinned, “Naughty girl, Midori. You look so hot naked. I love you.”

Midori only half listened to her, she was still looking back at the other car. Overcome by her desires, she opened the car door and stepped out into the night completely naked. The rain had stopped for now, and a cool chill ran over her body. She began to approach the other car. Natalie got out, still naked as well, and waited by the car.

Inside the blue car, the blonde guy named looked through the windshield and his mouth dropped open. He nudged his friend.

“Fuck me, Bobby.” He said, “She’s coming over here. And she’s still fuck’n naked.”

The women in the back seat leaned over and screamed with venom, “Hey, slut, get back in that fuck’n car and put some fuck’n clothes on you whore. Hey! Don’t you two look at her.”

“Chill, Karen. What are you so worked up about?” Bobby shoved her back in the seat.

Karen spat darkly, “She’s just doing that to get attention. Don’t give it to her.”

replied, “You know, you’d get more attention if you showed your tits once in a while yourself.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” Karen barked, “You should respect me enough not think of me like that.”

Bobby smirked, “Don’t worry, we don’t.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” Karen said, livid.

“Didn’t you suck off a roadie to get backstage at a Kamilla concert?” Bobby chuckled.

“That was different.” Karen insisted.

“Awe shit, man.” exclaimed, looking out the window, “I think she’s a dude. Look!”

“Ha!” Karen shrieked, “Serves you two right for lusting after whores.”

“No, man. Look. Look.” Bobby said, “I think she’s one of those futa people. Yeah, she is, look she’s got both.”

“Rock on!” laughed.

Karen looked at both of them with contempt, “Oh, I know you guys aren’t getting turned on by that.”

Chadreplied, “Hey, I like to think that I can expand my sexual horizons.”

Midori approached the side of the car; both men ogled her naked body through the glass. Karen leaped forward again in a fury of jealousy.

“Go away, bitch! Don’t come near them!” She shrieked.

grabbed her by the mouth and shoved her back in her seat. Bobby rolled down the window eagerly.

Bobby turned on the charm, “Why, hello there, miss.”

Midori leaned down, and as soon as Bobby saw her face his features dropped. Midori grinned, her sharp teeth exposed, her red cat like eyes staring at them all hungrily. She was being driven totally by desire now, entirely by thirst. She licked her lips, looking them over, smelling the sweet scent of their blood.

“Hello, there. Would you like to play with me?” Midori cooed.

With amazing strength, Midori tore the door open, ripping the lock to shreds. Baring her fangs, she leapt into the car, sinking her teeth into the first juicy neck she found while the other two screamed in horror. Wonderful, luscious, exquisite blood flowed over her lips and down her throat, the world dissolving into a sea of red tinged bliss and delight.

Natalie stood naked by the Inferno, leaning against the car, unconcerned about her nudity. She watched the blue car rock back and forth and heard the screams as the love of her life fed. It looked kind of scary, but in her heart, Natalie knew that Midori was always doing the right thing, no matter what. So she sat there, nude, waiting for Midori to come back to her.

Across from where they were, there was a large wooded area thick with trees. Faintly, Natalie thought she saw something moving out there. Something huge, from the look of it, at least the size of a gorilla. She thought it might be a trick of the shadows, but then she could also make out a low growling sound. Just in the line of the trees, Natalie saw two yellow eyes staring at her from the darkness. It sent chills through her, but Natalie believed that no matter what, Midori would protect her.

She watched as the shadow, whatever it was, turned away and melted back into the night. Natalie watched it go, thinking of her love for Midori and all the amusement they’d had tonight.

This had been a really fun night.

*****

John Miner thought he was getting a little glimpse of what hell was like.

He was still in the chair in the penthouse suite in the Castle Royale Hotel in . He was still in the presence of the hideous, malformed man who had introduced himself by the moniker “Mr. Lovelock”, although John was positive that wasn’t his real name. And he was still paralyzed from whatever poison the madman had slipped into his drink.

But he could still feel. Oh god, he could still feel everything. And he could move his eyes a little bit. To make matters worse, the madman had taken a huge pair of scissors and cut away all of John’s clothes, leaving him completely naked and exposed, and tossed them into the fire place. Frightened out of his mind and humiliated, all John could do was stare back at the horrible face of his captor, who stared at him silently, regarding him with some unknown, unspoken malice. A frightful visage to be captured by to be sure; his grey, pallid skin, his yellow deep sunken eyes, his large malformed ears, his bald hairless head, the long talons and the ends of his fingers . . . and those weird teeth: God they were unnerving, two pointed fang like teeth jutting down from the middle of his upper jaw, right next to each other, hideously suggestive of a rat.

The fire in the hearth sent its flickering tongues of light throughout the room, bathing everything in its golden glow. Outside, wind still howled, almost as if it had been called up just for this place. Behind the madman, the door had opened and John could make out several figures moving around in the dark. He could also still hear the slight sobbing of a woman somewhere in there, and that damnable scratching a scurrying sound, like millions of rats all at once. God, what the hell was he keeping back there? John wanted to shudder but he could not.

His eyes were drawn to something else: a large box sitting next to the fireplace that he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to jerk and move every once in a while. What could be in it, John wondered? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. He returned his gaze to his captor, who still stood there, motionless, his hands at his chest in that peculiar stance of his, palms down, one on to of the other, and the top one rubbing the bottom agitatedly. The fire crackled noisily in the hearth. Those evil looking yellow eyes stared down at John’s helpless naked form.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man spoke, that sickly sounding but still powerful heavily accented voice spilling from his corpse like lips.

“Are you afraid, Mr. Miner?” The man asked.

John could not respond.

“Are you afraid, Mr. Miner, that I might kill you?” The man rasped.

Again, John could make no response.

“Ah, Mr. Miner, you shouldn’t fear death so much.” The man said ominously, that wheezing and rasping of his breath penetrating every word, “This world is so fretful of death that they don’t even like to say the word anymore. They just pile on euphemistic language to hide the truth of they’re own mortality. You don’t die anymore; you pass away. Or perhaps you expire like a magazine subscription. Whatever you call it, it doesn’t matter, what’s dead is dead. And there are far worse things awaiting man in this life then simply death.

“Imagine, Mr. Miner, centuries of existence, not being able to age or pass from this world. Imagine, if you would, a life so hideous, one day blurring into the next. The doldrums and tediousness of every day existence becoming like salt in an open would. Imagine everyone that you love, withering away and dying leaving yourself to do nothing but watch it happen. Imagine, Mr. Miner, the slow and agonizing horror, of realizing that as years turn into decades, decades turn into centuries, the only true constant is man’s infinitely inspired cruelty to his fellow man. Would such a life be preferable to death? I think not, in fact I know not. With all that cruelty and sadism, all you can do, Mr. Miner, is wallow in the beauty of it all. All you can do is find the art and the passion of sweet suffering.”

What in the world was he talking about? John’s mind seized on a ludicrous idea that still chilled him to the bone despite its absurdity: Was this man some kind of . . . vampire? Behind the man, John could see the figures starting to emerge from the room, still hidden in the shadows. And then he noticed the flooding movement at their feet.

To his horror, thousand as rats suddenly began to stream out of the room, scurrying everywhere, covering the floor in their furry bodies. A chorus of squeals and squeaks filled the room as the rats fanned out into it. John wanted to scream and run, but he could do nothing, just sit there in helpless horror as the vermin ran to and fro. He glanced back to his captor and saw that one of the figures had stepped into the light and was coming up next to him. Three other figures remained against the wall, hiding in shadows as the first once came to John’s captor.

It was a woman, and holy hell, she looked just like him. Not really hideous like him, she still seemed to have beauty in her face. She looked like a woman in her late thirties or early forties, it was hard to tell. But like the man, her skin was grey and ashen and she was completely bald. She had the same deep sunk yellow eyes, the same claws on the end of her fingers, and those same rat like pointed fangs instead of her two top middle teeth. She was dressed in a long, thin black gown that went down to the floor. The front, however, was completely open and her breasts were exposed. They were lovely, even with the light grey skin and dark grey nipples.

She put an arm around the madman and pulled her self close, tracing her other hand over his chest with a sick, twisted affection, staring at the monstrosity with a horrid infatuation.

The man put an arm around her, regarding her coldly, “Ah, my dear Mrs. Cartwright. How you have served me so well. I assure you, such efforts as you have made on my behalf would have made your late husband proud. And see, we have a visitor. Perhaps he is to your liking?”

John noticed something else moving towards him, something crawling on the floor with the rats. He couldn’t see what it was, couldn’t imagine what new horror might be approaching him, but it was huge, as big a large dog. And it seemed to slither at him, moving flat on its belly.

Some of the rats had come up on the chair, darting here and there across his naked body. He wanted so desperately to scream and shake them off, but his body wouldn’t respond. Again his eyes were drawn to that box; what was in there?

The woman, Mrs. Cartwright, looked John over, still pressed perversely to the man’s chest. She ran her eyes up and down John’s body, her pale pinkish tongue snaked out and licked her lips, her yellow eyes lighting up as she took him in. She turned her body towards him, and John was not sure whether she was showing off her breasts to him or not. She moved her arms down her sides, looking the helpless man over.

The mad vampire put his hands on her shoulders, “Well, Anna? Does he meet with your approval?”

“Very much, Master.” Anna spoke, her voice had the same low whispering quality, but without the sickliness of her master’s.

The pitiful, sorrowful sobbing continued in the back. John noticed yet another figure coming out of the doorway, crawling through the rats on its hands and knees. The sobbing seemed to be coming from that figure. But then John was distracted by the thing on the floor; it was closer to him, wiggling its way across the ground, pushing the rats aside, and John saw to his horror that it was, in fact, a young girl. She was maybe eighteen or nineteen, and completely naked. She was pretty, but contained all the same peculiarities as the other two, bald head, yellow eyes, fangs and all. But what shocked John the most was that she had no arms and legs, only stumps and barely even those. What made it more shocking was that he could see stitch marks on each stump where the skin had been pulled over and sew up over the ends. This girl’s limbs had recently been amputated.

The limbless girl crawled across the floor, pushing herself forward with her stumps. She raised her head and stared at John, moving forward in his direction. She stared at him with a frightening intensity.

The man looked down at her, a wry humorless smile running across his lips, “Well, Mrs. Cartwright. It would seem your daughter has also taken a liking to our guest.”

‘Guest’. Interesting way he put that, John thought with irony.

Mrs. Cartwright stepped forward, looking down at the limbless girl, “Is that true, Naomi. Do you like this man?”

“He looks tasty, Mommy.” Naomi responded, the same hissing quality to her voice.

Behind them, the other figure had emerged from the room, still crawling on all fours. John realized that this definitely was the one making the sobbing sounds. It was another girl, maybe nineteen or twenty or so. Like the other, she was naked; her skin had a slightly pale quality to it. Her blonde hair was falling out in huge clumps, leaving large patches where there was nothing but scalp, and most parts thinning to where scalp was visible. She was becoming like the rest, John realized. She trembled and shook as she moved, like she was in a tremendous amount of pain. She moaned and cried despairingly. She reached up and touched her head, and huge handfuls of hair came off with the hand. She screamed and wailed in despair, and John could now see to his dreadfulness that her eyes had been gouged out of her head, leaving only two empty pits in her face.

The master’s voice pulled his attention away from her, “Well, my dear Mrs. Cartwright, I have been most appreciative of the assistance of you and daughter of late. Such unwavering loyalty does not go unrewarded. Please, accept this as a token of my deep gratitude to you and your lovely daughter. I only regret that your other daughter is not ready to partake of your revels as well.”

“Thank you, Master.” Anna said excitedly.

She stepped forward, licking her lips while she looked over John. She gripped the neck of her dress with both clawed hands and slipped it down her shoulders, letting it slide off her and drop to the floor. She wore nothing underneath it, and smiled as she revealed her nakedness.

John would have gasped if he’d been able when he saw between her legs: She had both male and female sex organs down there, a large already hard penis over a dripping wet vagina.

Naomi spoke up from the floor, “I want him inside me, Mommy.”

“Of course, honey.” Anna replied, “Mommy will help you with that.”

Anna reached down and picked up her daughter, lifting her up and bringing her over to where John lay in paralysis. John saw that Naomi was a hermaphrodite like her mother. Holding Naomi with her arms around her hips, Anna came over and stood before John. Both women looked down at John with an unhealthy, sinister looking expression of desire.

“Hello.” Anna spoke, “I’m Anna Cartwright, and this is my daughter Naomi. We would like to entertain ourselves with you.”

“We’re both horny!” Naomi insisted, “We want to fuck you.”

“To right we are.” Anna smiled, running a finger over her daughter’s cheek with a look of perverse pride on her face.

John’s mind was swimming in conflicting emotions. The two woman, though bizarre looking, were seductive in their strange sexuality. But the unrelenting horror, the painful fearful reality of his situation as anything but arousing, and all he could do was stare at them with wide fearful eyes. His eyes kept dropping to their crotches; both women were hard, both were dripping wet. It was obvious what they wanted, they’d said as much out loud, but what sort of twisted version of sexuality did these admittedly lovely but fearfully malformed creatures subscribe to?

Kneeling down in front of the chair, Anna placed Naomi on the seat next to John. She then reached over with one hand and turned Naomi’s head towards her with one hand. To John’s complete and utter surprise and shock, Anna leaned down and kissed her daughter full on the mouth. It was a deep, sexual kiss, and John winced when he saw their tongues meet each other and intertwine. The incestuous kiss was loving and perverse at the same time. John realized how twisted these two had become.

They broke the kiss and they looked down at John with expressions of bemusement.

“Oh, it looks like we’ve shocked him.” Naomi cooed wickedly.

Anna squeezed one of her daughter’s breasts, “Our Master taught us how to play with each other. Now we play all the time. Unfortunately my other daughter, Stephanie, isn’t ready to experience that yet.”

With a sickening sense of nausea, John realized that the other daughter was crawling around on the floor, eyeless, blind and despairing.

In the back of the room, the three other figures had moved into the light. They two were all female, but futas, naked and possessed of the same nightmarish traits as the others. The rats still scurried around on the floor, the flames in the hearth continued it dancing flickers, bathing the room in the changing moving lights, almost making the walls look like they were alive, and there in the center of it all, stood their ‘master’ standing motionless with his hands in the peculiar position, watching John with malefic, sinister eyes. Eyes that felt like they could cut like scalpels.

John’s attention was snapped back to the women in front of him when he felt Anna’s hand on his penis. He looked down and saw her gently masturbating him, being careful with her claws (thank god), moving her hand sensually up and down, looking up at him with lust filled eyes. For a split, horrible second, Johan was afraid that they’d try to suck it, with those long sharp teeth. He was relieved when they didn’t, but only a bit. John tried to will himself not to respond to her, but his body was betraying him. His penis swelled and stiffened in Anna’s hand. Her touches were too sure, too practiced for him to resist, and he got hard in spite of himself.

Once she’d gotten him hard enough, Anna reached over and gripper her daughter under her stumps, lifting her up. Naomi spread her leg stumps wide, revealing her dripping wet pussy under the hard dick, and she wiggled her stumps in anticipation.

“Ready to have that nice big cock inside you, Honey?” Anna cooed in her daughter’s ear.

“Oh, yes, Mommy.” Naomi squealed, “Put him in me, please?”

Anna lowered her daughter down onto John’s penis, and he felt the wet tight feeling of her pussy around him as she slid down, taking him all the way into her opening. She threw back her head, her body moving and undulating as she was penetrated, letting out a long high moan. Anna kissed her lips again, slipping her tongue into her daughter’s mouth. She broke the kiss, running her hands over Naomi’s breasts, teasing the nipples, as Naomi began to move and wiggle her hips, having just enough leg stump to drive John in and out of her.

“You look so cute with a dick in you.” Anna said lovingly.

“Ah! Thank you, Mommy. Ah!” Naomi moaned as she moved her hips and rolled her body.

John couldn’t help himself, the limbless little vampire did feel good, and despite his horror, his body was feeling the pleasure of being inside her. He couldn’t make any noise, nor move his body to the motions, but he felt it just the same, and Naomi seemed fine doing all the work herself. She jiggled her body on him, moaning and squealing in pleasure, almost cobra like in her movements. Her breasts waggled back and forth with the movie. Anna slid her hand down further on Naomi’s body, and took her erect penis in her hand. With a tender, sensuous motion, she began to masturbate her daughter, kissing her cheek and nibbling on her ear while Naomi rode on John’s hard penis.

Laying there watching them, John wanted desperately to deny that the incestuous behavior wasn’t a turn on, but the taboo nature of it was undeniably a thrill.

Taking her hand off Naomi’s dick, Anna pushed Naomi forward, so she was lying across John. She continued moving, driving John’s cock in and out of her, wiggling her stumps in delight. John saw Anna move up behind her daughter, leaning totally over her, her hand reaching between her legs and gripping her penis. She edged up closer to Naomi’s moving form. Naomi looked over her shoulder, licking her lips at her mother with anticipation. John realized with a wince what Anna was planning to do.

“Mommy needs some action too.” Ann purred.

And with that, Anna Cartwright pushed forward and sodomized her own daughter.

Naomi hissed and grunted a wide smile on her face, “Uh! I love that!”

Anna began thrusting her hips, shoving her cock into her daughter’s ass. Naomi writhed and thrashed in between them, clearly loving the two dicks in both of her holes. As she wiggled, her erect penis was moving against John’s stomach, a peculiar feeling. Anna shuddered, fucking her daughter good, moving in and out rapidly. She kissed Naomi on the cheek and then kissed John on the lips. Naomi followed suite. And god help him, John actually wished he could kiss them back.

There was a high pitched, pitiful wail from Stephanie, the eyeless girl. She was somewhere behind John now, off on the other side of the room. She must have just realized what her mother and sister were doing with each other. The sobbing from her continued, as Anna and Naomi continued to writhe on top of him.

“That’s it, Honey.” Anna panted thrusting into her, “Take it deep.”

“Oh yeah! I love it deep, Mommy!” Naomi wailed, “Fuck me deep in my ass, Mommy! Fuck my pussy whatever-your-name-is!”

The two bald heads bobbed up and down in above John like Satanic bobble heads. He was loosing himself to them, his cock felt so good deep inside Naomi, and he found himself wishing he could fuck her back. He could actually feel the bulge of Anna’s penis inside Naomi’s ass pressing against his own, and it actually felt pretty good. John wondered is he was loosing his mind.

The three other vampire women came forward a little, watching their sisters with envy in their yellow eyes. They stayed close to each other gripping each other’s hands and running their fingers over each other. Their tongues ran across their strange teeth.

John could no longer hear Stephanie sobbing. He wondered if she had passed out. Again that box by the fireplace moved, and he could hear some kind of sound coming out of it. What the hell was in there?

With her head rolling to and fro, Anna began to pick up speed and fuck Naomi rapidly. Her breathing quickened and then her whole body quivered as she cried out and filled her daughter’s ass with her cum, shuddering with the orgasm until the last drop was spilled. Naomi wiggled her stumps in delight, enjoying every second of it.

Pulling her dick out of her, Anna pulled Naomi back up to an upright position. She took her daughter’s penis in her hands once again and started to jerk her off. Rapidly pumping her hand up and down, Anna masturbated her daughter quickly as Naomi wiggled her body in circular motions, moving John’s dick inside her. Her head was tilted back and her mouth was wide open, exposing those weird teeth. Her body shook and shuddered and then with a long cry, she ejaculated all over John’s chest and stomach, writhing in delight. In only a few minutes, she came with her vagina as well, wildly thrashing on top of him.

“Oh, Mommy!’ Naomi wailed, wiggling her stumps in ecstasy, “That was so good. I want his blood, I can smell his blood, I want it.”

John registered what was said, but had no way of responding. He tried to stop himself, but the pleasure was building and he knew he couldn’t hold on much longer, not with the way Naomi was still writhing on top of him. Soon the pleasure burst from him and he ejaculated inside the limbless vampire (he was sure now that was what they were, though they had to be some kind of freakish species), cumming hard and squirting inside her. He had a brief, ludicrous; worry that he might have gotten her pregnant.

Naomi fell over off him and lay on his left side inching up to him with eyes filled with a malevolent desire. Anna lay down on the opposite side, also moving up towards his head, eyeing him with an unnatural hunger. John cringed in fear, trapped in his body, a prisoner of his unresponsive flesh. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. Tears began to run down his face and horror like he’d never felt gripped his mind.

He felt some motion above him and looked up. His mind screamed inside him as he saw the other daughter, Stephanie, blindly feeling around the top of his chair. Her transformation was compete, her hair was gone except for a few wisps, and her teeth had elongated into those strange rat like fangs. She poked around, unseeing, feeling with her long claws.

“Thirsty.” She mumbled, “So thirsty.”

The three women leered at him, apparently intent on playing with him a bit before they fed. John begged whatever god might be listening to make it quick.

On the other side of the room, one of the other vampires spoke up, “What about us? Are we to have nothing?”

The one they called their master turned and looked at her. With a slow motion he went over to the box next to the fireplace and kicked it over to them. He then retrieved the other box, the one that John had brought with him, from the table and moved into the room near the dining table, hastily opening it. The three women crouched down around the box, moaning with hunger and anticipation. Their bodies moved and swayed as they jostled around it each other trying to get at it. One of them tore it open.

As the lid of the box was opened, the sounds from within became more distinct. John felt an ice cold chill run through him as the sounds of baby crying reached his ears. They wouldn’t . . . they couldn’t.

The three women tore into the box, shrieking hungrily. Like a trio of mad harpies, more animal then human, they ripped at the contents of the box. The baby’s cries turned into high pitch squeals of terror and pain, accompanied by a sickening tearing and dripping sound. John wanted more then anything to be able to cover his ear, to block out the sound of the atrocity being carried out right in front of him. The baby’s screams suddenly cut off, and all John could hear were the sucking, slurping sounds of the vampires feeding. Silently, he called to God to wake him from this nightmare.

God, it seemed, had left the phone off the hook.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his chin. Stephanie hand located him and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Raw terror flooded him, his life flashing before his eyes. He was powerless to prevent his doom at the hands of these monsters. No! He screamed inwardly, No! No! No!

The mother and her two daughters lowered their heads, their fangs extending, looking like the venomous fangs of snakes, and John felt the burning pain as they were buried in his neck.

Leaving the women to feed, the one they called ‘master’ strode across the room, dropping the packing material on top of the dining table as he pulled the contents of the package out. He smiled in smug satisfaction, it was long one handed antique sword, intricately carved in silver and iron and razor sharp along its hand crafted blade. A good sword. A strong sword. His sword, lost to him for many years, he had finally been able to locate it, and being auctioned off at Christie’s no less.

The far side of the room had a large window that rand from the floor to the ceiling. It looked out over the night sky of Below it was the roof pool for the elite guests of the Castle Royale, empty at this time of night. The wind blew with its haunting melody, and the thick clouds in the sky had parted just a bit to let the moon shine through.

Standing at the window, he raised the sword towards the moon, holding it up in his outstretched arm, letting the light glisten and shine on the blade.

“Once more my arm is complete.” He hissed to the night sky.

*****


Roj Bernsen pulled up in the parking lot of the south side telephone station in sighing heavily. He really wanted to be back with Melinda, but duty had called. The landlines were out in several areas all over the city, and with the cell towers down as well, it was major pain in the ass for all concerned. And to top everything off, the main office had now lost contact with the south side office, and it was Roj’s job to check the place out and see what was going on. It was probably nothing major, but the sooner he got inside and checked it out, the sooner he could get back to The Mikimoto Hotel, and back to Melinda and her lovely body.

Looking over the building as he got out of his car, he didn’t seem to see any movement going on, but the lights were on. He strolled over to the front door, and found it unlocked, which wasn’t unusual. Anyways, the sooner he could get in and file a report about the breakdown, the sooner they could start restoring telephone service. The first station to go down still hadn’t been able to repair the damage, and Roj wondered if this would be anything of the same sort. He hoped not, someone running around demolishing landline stations was the sort of bizarre problem that incurred a lot of paperwork and political nonsense.

As soon as he entered, he had a feeling something was amiss: The trio of receptionists that would usual have manned the front seemed to be absent, and he didn’t see any activity. He decided he should check the manager’s office and then get the hell out of there if he didn’t find anything. He skin started to crawl at the strange desertedness of the place.

The door to the manager’s office was behind the reception desk on the left wall, so Roj moved around the desk and headed for it. As he passed by, he checked on the desk and noticed that somebody had been filling out a report, but apparently left before finishing it. There was also a half empty cup of coffee on the desk.

He pushed opened the door of the manager’s office and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Bill Krenwinkle’s familiar balding head from behind. He was sitting in his usual long backed chair, looking out the window in the back of his office.

Roj stepped forward, “Hey, Bill, the main office just sent me down. I’m supposed to see why the lines are down, and why they can’t contact you.”

Bill made no reply, and continued staring out the window. Roj stepped a little closer.

“You know, there’s no one at the front desk out there.” Roj said.

Still no reply. Frowning, Roj went around the desk to talk to Billy face to face. When he got around the chair and looked, all he could do was scream at the top of his lungs.

The only part of Bill that was in the chair was his severed head, which hand been skewered on a metal pipe that had been driven into the seat of the chair. Dried blood caked the pipe and the chair, and Bill’s lifeless face was still frozen in a haunting expression of horror.

Roj lurched back, covering his mouth with his hand, his stomach lurching with disgust. Nausea welled up in him as well and panic driven fear. He ran for the door, he had to get the hell out of here and call the cops. He banged open the office door and ran out behind the desk.

He saw something move on his left and spied a woman over in the back corner, dressed in what looked like a short white dress. She had long blonde wavy hair. She was curled up in a fetal position, hunched down and facing the wall, her shoulders jerking as though she was crying. She might have been Janice, one of the receptionists.

Roj ran up to her, “Hey, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

The figure made no move like she had heard him, just continued that weird jerking motion with her shoulders. As he got closer to her, Roj could hear a strange rapid clicking sound coming from her. Roj reached over a put a hand on her shoulder.

“Come one, we’ve gotta get out of here.” Roj told her, “Is anyone else here?”

The woman turned and Roj lurched back, screaming in shock. It was Janice, in fact, but she was barely recognizable. Her skin was a pallid dark grey color and seemed to be wrapped close to her skin making her resemble a holocaust victim. Red veins spider webbed through all of her flesh. Her lips were chapped and broken. Dark rings encircled eyes that were sunk deep into her skull. Her eyes themselves were all black, like doll’s eyes. Grotesque sores dotted her skin all over. What Roj had thought was a short dress he now realized was a long blouse, ripped open down the front. Aside from that, she was completely naked.

She opened her mouth, revealing a set of flat triangular teeth, resembling shark’s teeth, knife like and serrated along the edges. All her teeth seemed to be like that now, upper and lower. Her mouth trembled like she was having some kind of spasm, and her teeth smacked against each other, making the weird obscene clicking sound he’d heard before. She growled at him, a hideous inhuman sound, and raised her hands: On the tips of her fingers were long black curved talons, the bottoms of her fingers now studded with small rose thorn like barbs. There was no recognition or human emotion in Janice’s face anymore; only a wretched animalistic hunger and need.

Roj leapt backward as Janice ran at him, trying to grab him. He stumbled backwards and fell, pain shooting through his spine as he landed. Janice as on him in a second. The sickening, nauseous smell of decay assailed Roj’s nostrils as she got close. Roj threw up his hands to defend himself, and the thing that used to be Janice grabbed his arm, the barbs and claws shredding his flesh. She, no IT, opened its mouth wide, much wider then it should have been able to, and sank its teeth into Roj’s arm. Roj screamed in unimaginable pain as the woman thing thrashed her head back and forth, again like a shark, severing a huge clump of skin from Roj’s arm. She then took the meat and ran a few feet, crouching down.

To Roj’s horror, it began to feed, chewing and eating the severed hunk of his flesh. He grabbed his arm and held it tight, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. In an instant, the woman had finished the skin and ran at him again. Roj pushed himself backwards with his feet, desperately trying to escape it. As it lunged at him again he threw his good arm out to shove her away. It bit down hard on his hand, thrashing its head, sawing into the flesh and bone with its shark teeth. With a sickening crunch it tore all four fingers from his hand, the bloody remaining stumps showering gore over the woman’s face and clothes. Roj screamed, agony racing down both arms and into his body.

Again, it ran a few feet and began swallowing the meat. Roj shakily tried to get to his feet and run. He heard more of those clicking sounds and realized that a second one was around somewhere. He was half standing when he saw the other one: A man this time, no one he knew. It was crouched on top of the reception desk, its black lifeless eyes staring at him. He too, was naked, his penis dangling obscenely between his legs. Blood and pieces of skin dripped from his toothy mouth.

Behind him, Roj heard the woman running at him again, and he whirled and shoved her backwards. As he did, the man leapt at him, jumping onto his back. Agonizing pain exploded as the man sank his teeth into the meat of Roj’s shoulder, tearing through the fabric of his T-shirt in one bite. Roj trashed and shook his body, trying to dislodge his attacker. The man’s claws sliced into his skin, drawing huge amount of blood. Roj spun himself, almost like wrestler, and managed to dislodge the man and send him flying backwards. The man slammed into the woman hard, and they both went down sprawling on the floor, hissing and screaming and making that bizarre clicking sound.

Roj realized there was no way to get past them and out the front door, so he ran towards the back, heading for one of the rear doors leading deeper into the station. He pulled open the closest one to him and dived in. The two monstrous creatures were already on their feet and running after him, their claws outstretched, screaming in fury like banshees, not a trace of human reasoning between the two of them.

Roj slammed the door hard, pain shooting through his mutilated arms. He heard the loud painful impact as the two creatures slammed into the door. The door began the shake heavily as the creatures screamed and clawed at the locked door. Roj backed away from it, his body throbbing all over from pain and weak from the loss of blood. He had to find a way out of here and get to a hospital.

The room he was in was a large utility room, filled with rows of electronic equipment for routing the calls. It almost looked like a small warehouse. Roj began to stumble around looking for another door.

It was then that he heard it: More clicking sounds. A whole LOT more.

And then they all appeared, the room was filled with them, at least twenty or thirty of those things. And as soon as they saw Roj, the screamed in mad fury and attacked, rushing at him. Roj tried to run, but they swarmed over him in a second. They tore and bit into his flesh, like a school of piranha. As soon as one took a bite and ran away with it, another shoved in and took its place. Roj battled furiously, but they were eating him alive. More pain then he could ever have imagined screamed through his body. Something wet and soft and spongy touched his hand. With horror he realized it was his own intestines.

“God help me!” Roj screamed weakly, “God help me!”

But there was no god in the South Side Telephone Station that night. By the time the monsters were done, there was nothing left of Roj Bernsen but broken bloody bones.

*****


Lying asleep on her cot in the jail cell, Natasha’s eyes snapped open. Peering up at the dark, she shivered as a horrid chill washed over.

“It’s starting.” She whispered.