Erotic Vampire Fan-Fiction

September 26, 2012

There was a shuffling sound, her eyes opened and she looked around the dark room. She couldn’t see him, but there was a coolness in the air, she could sense him staring at her. She reached over and tapped her lamp flooding the room with light and sure enough, there he was, in the corner, head bent, eyes staring intensely at her. If she hadn’t known he was a Vampire it would have been a shocking sight to see a young man standing in the corner of your room in the middle of the night, hunched over, fangs exposed, almost looking like someone with down syndrome.
“You came.” She said, feigning surprise.
“Not yet.” He replied, smirking.
The light of the lamp sparkled in his eyes and made his skin sparkle, as if it was covered in glitter. If she hadn’t known what he was she would have thought he was a gay stripper with down syndrome.
Silently he walked towards her, mysteriously, as if gliding. He brushed her long brown hair out of her eyes.
“You are so sexy.” He said with a lisp.
She tried hard not to laugh, Vampires were known for their fury.
“So are you.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not truly. Probably because he was a Vampire his magical blood oozed with sex appeal, he probably released pheromones, like a bug… that thought repulsed her… and although he was decently ugly, and, well, kind of downy, she couldn’t help but crave to ride him, wildly, like a mechanical bull in a pub, screaming and waving her arms around.
He bent over and sniffed at her neck. It kind of tickled, but he smelt strange, like frozen semen or maybe horse radish.
“You’re making me so wet.” She said.
His fangs extended lightly pressing against her neck, the pressure hurt, but it was a good pain. The sharp tips lightly broke the skin and the Vampire ravishingly licked at the blood. It wasn’t sexy. It was like a Dog licking sloppishly.
She pushed him off and down onto the bed. She’s had enough of that. The Vampire was like any teen boy. Horny. But he had been saving himself for 400 years. She couldn’t imagine the sexual frustration, but he imagined her to be a virgin, that was what she had told him. But the truth was, she was a huge slut. She had once had the entire football team in a 24 hour period, while on her period.
She began unzipping his pants, he was now panting, like a dog.
She began kissing at the bottom of his belly, just above his crotch. Then the noises started. Whining noises, like a dog that begs you to keep scratching.
Finally she went lower, and stuck his frosty penis into her mouth.
It wasn’t like any penis she had tasted before. It wasn’t salty and warm it was cold and bland, like a home brand ice block.
She licked the tip as the Vampire roared like a Lion. Eventually fitting the entire thing into her mouth she lowered, until it went down her throat, lifting her head again, up and down she went, slowly, and building faster.
The Vampire’s body shook, like he was a giant vibrator.
Faster, faster she went. The room was filled with slopping and gagging noises.
Slowly a long thunderous sound built within the Vampire, releasing a cracking sound like lightning, and the cum erupted from the Vampire’s penis exploding out the back of the girls head.
Pieces of her brain and skull stuck to the roof, soaked with cum. The Vampire sat, wide eyed in shock as he looked at the tip of his penis still oozing cum over the back of the girls head, mixing with the blood. It only made him more hard.
Suddenly the young girls Ghost appeared looking down over her body and exploded head. A piece of brain and cum dripping from the ceiling falling right through her.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!” She screamed.
“Surprise?” He said and began to eat her brain out the back of her head as if it were watermelon.

Advertisements

Harsh Winds

December 3, 2011

The man leaned over.
He was fat, moustached and red faced.
His body wobbled and flobbed like the tides of the ocean.
His rolls jiggled and collided like continents.
Mountains of fat burst from orifices they hadn’t been before.
A loud sound built and grew throughout his body as he emitted a slight noise from his lips: ‘Eeeeeee’
Suddenly like the crack of lightning he released a thunderous fart, shock waves vibrating through his whole body, shattering his spine as he fell to the ground in a mass of fat and skin, melted down like a pancake, he covered the floor.
‘Eeeee’ he said.
Finally his last breath left him.
He had died.
A tragic spine shattering death that smelt strangely like honey.

MEANWHILE

In another part of the world, a butterfly flapped it’s wings, producing a small gust of wind that moved a small fleck of dust that moved a bigger fleck that started a chain reaction causing harsh winds 300 kilometres away, causing a airport to have delays, delaying the plane that would arrive at another part of the world causing a man to break his wait and sit down at a restaurant and eat dangerously hot chilli that would release his bowels that would release his wind, that would break his spine.

If you believe in such things.

I think everybody knows what it’s like to be sexually repressed. I mean, I’m not ugly, but I can’t seem to catch a break. Maybe it’s my cynical view of reality, maybe it’s my lack of job or car, maybe I’m just a bad fisherman, and even though the ocean is swimming with fish I can’t catch one.
And I’m not Japanese, so there is no way I intend to catch myself a whale…
And so, I am left with the internet. With goddess’ like Sasha Grey, Destiny Porter, Danielle FTV, Eva Berger, Nina Hartley, and an assortment of others to fantasise over.
4 times a day fulfilling the lust that burns inside me. But rather than whacking off over them, I longed to whack off onto them… into them…
But no. Instead a sock caught the glory I spilled. My cum sock, my soup catcher, after the five knuckle shuffle.
Of course, I’m not here to bitch and moan, I’m here to tell a story.
So my story starts 2 years ago. My girlfriend left me, for a guy, not better looking, not more intelligent, but richer, with a job, with a car, and with muscles that make him look like he’s covered in tumours. And that’s when my luck went downhill, when I couldn’t catch a break, when my cum sock started.
But alas, after 2 years that sock had become festy, rank, a crusty sock, stained yellow and smelt of rotting fish…
I probably should have washed it…. quite a few times, or just got rid of it for another sock. But my esteem was dead, and so were my cares…
Until one day, I managed to get a date. With a stunning gorgeous, angel of a girl. I rushed around, preparing for our date, I showered, I shaved, I plucked my eyebrow, I shampooed my hair, I masturbated fresh into the sock, to relieve anxiety on the date… I got dressed into good clothes… Now I needed socks..
All my socks were at the wash… NO.
I had no socks to wear… I suppose I could have just worn shoes, but the pants I wore showed off my shoes, I didn’t want her to think I was weird…
But I did have one pair of socks left…
No..
I couldn’t wear them…
Crusty yellow socks, smelling of rotting flesh…
I pulled them out of the draw…
OH GOD the smell! It reeked like death… DEODORANT.
That’s what I needed. So I sprayed… for 20 minutes I sprayed, until the can was near empty.
But the fresh splooge… I pulled them apart to the sound of ripping and tearing, like Velcro. They were stiff and as I tried to put my feet slowly in under the fear they would just snap… I could feel the sticky cum on my feet and tried my hardest not to vomit. Finally I had them on.. You could see yellow splotches and stains.
Oh god this is awful, I thought, it’s the worst luck in the world.. I should’ve just went bare footed. I could still smell them.
DING DONG!
The door bell. Fuck, she was here!
The entire date she had a bad look on her face, the kind of look you have when you smell shit.
I tried my hardest to be charming, but I felt like my feet were crawling. Like the billions upon billions of potential children were crawling along my feet.
When I had got home, and our date had finished, needless to say I wanted to cry. While pulling the socks of (which seemed to have attached to my flesh) they snapped into pieces.
I did not receive a call back from her… and am once again left to the glory of the screen goddesses.
But I’ve learned my lesson. I no longer jizz into a sock. Tissues will work fine…
And I am still hopeful.
One day, this fisherman will catch a fish.
One that doesn’t smell like the dead rotting corpse of a fish.
I’ll catch the beauty of the sea. A Mermaid. My own.
Until then, just know, ladies. I am DTF.

Bliss

June 8, 2010

It is night outside, the light shines in from the street lamp across the road. The moon is full, and if all were quiet you could swear it was humming… But all is not quiet. They’re at my window, eating the bars. Ugly little bastards aren’t they? That awful gut-wrenching stench of dried blood and that haunting cry, like cats getting raped. I think I might have a milkshake.

Two minutes later, sipping at my chocolate milkshake I ponder on how I got myself into this ridiculously absurd situation. Soon the conclusion dawns on me, that this all occurred, because I was in dire need of a blow-job.

8:32am that morning I wake with an erection. After having a glorious tug I get out of bed and proceed to make a coffee. Caramel latte. Three sugars. Sipping my coffee I stare around at the cesspool that is my house. I should really clean it…. I frown and shake that depressing thought from my head, I guzzle the last of my coffee, pack my suitcase and leave for work.

9:23am- I sit impatiently in my car. I drum on the steering wheel to a Guns ‘N Roses tune. I twitch now and again with annoyance. I’m going to be late for work… I’m going to be late… late…. fuck. I beep at the traffic ahead and throw myself around the car like a sped with bees up his ass. I’m going to be late for work. FUCK.

10:30am- My face is red with rage. My heart is pounding, my teeth gritting. I’ve been coping it from my boss for the last twenty minutes. I can’t concentrate on anything but my anger and stress. I daydream of vicious Velociraptors tearing my co-workers to shreds, blood splattering the office floor as they scream, being torn limp from limp apart while alive, meanwhile I am in a toilet cubicle getting laid by the sexy receptionist.

11:59am- Bored with graphs and statistics I change screens on my computer and log onto MSN. No one is online. Suddenly ‘SxcRecipe’ signs in. It’s the receptionist from my fantasy, we’ve been flirting for days. Suddenly I feel myself go hard. Dreams and fantasies fill my mind again. So I open a convo, and begin to chat.

1:02pm- I’m sculling my sixth coffee. For the last hour I’ve been dreaming of raptors. Killing everyone. The screams of my co-workers makes me smile. I picture the big claw on their foot cutting through that sexy, slutty face of the receptionist. That god damn dumb bitch. I finish my coffee and throw the cup across the room at the wall. My colleagues stare at me and I flip them off. I go into the toilet cubicle and pray for raptors. I beg God, Satan, Steven Spielberg, anyone I can pray to. That receptionist I talked about? She’s black mailing me. FUCK. I should have never asked for a blow-job!

8:43- This is about where you came in. A still silent night besides the constant cries of these hideous beasts, screeching, hissing, snorting. They really are foul. I begin drinking my milkshake panicky. My hands get sweaty and I feel dizzy. How did it get to this? Truthfully I don’t know. I was at the supermarket, and then I watched, starring in disbelief as the check-out chicks turned into blood thirsty Velociraptors, ripping customers into bloody shreds before my eyes. Hell. I still don’t believe it. And now, they’re outside my house and soon they’ll be inside my house. Ripping me to shreds. Soon I’ll be dead.

I finish my milkshake. With a sigh, I sit down on the couch, and I wait.

All to Die

April 22, 2010

He begins carving his own face. Blood spills to the floor like water from an overflowing drain. The thick salty smell fills his nostrils as he hacks at his face like a butcher. Skin and blood fall like the fat chunks of meat they are.
The knife has reached his cheekbones and the man begins chiselling away at it. Chunking crushing sounds like sticking a shovel in sand.
He bashes at the bone as he screams, haunting long and painful screams. He cuts ferociously at it like knife against a dinner plate.
The screaming continues, long hard yelling amidst howling and crying.
The salty tears burn against the places where flesh once was. It stings so much that it is unbearable, yet the man continues, breaking through the bones and moving on to his own nose. He slices at it like a child would slice at cheese, there is nothing more then a deep dark bloody gap within a few seconds as the man’s screaming only radiates louder. He stops, and slowly moves over to the mirror for a look.
He inspects himself, raising an eyebrow and attempting a smile into the mirror.
He quickly dashes away and begins searching within the dark oak drawer next to the bed.
He is in a small dark room with little bits of dust floating around. He is rushing, and attempting to gain a hold of his new body, he is unsure of how to breath yet, he knows air fills his lungs but the feeling is strange without a nose.
He pulls out a small black object from the drawer. Holding it in front of him it begins flashing. It is a camera.
After a few minutes of photos the man picks the knife back up, and continues his carving.
He begins with simple symbols in his chest, but he does not know how long until that wont be enough… until he needs more destruction, more pain.
His teeth grit as he feels the insane hate and rage build within him, the urge rises again.
He screams with ravenous anger and begins punching himself in the face. Pulling and tugging at his teeth. He wants them out, they have to go.
He continues punching as blood and spit fly across the room. He runs back and forth across the room, beating himself, along the way bits of his face squishing in between his toes and sticking to his feet.
This annoys him. He begins stabbing at the chunks of his face now layering the floor.
He wants them to die. All to die.
He will burn them. Again in the oak draw he pulls out a bottle of Metho and some matches. He opens the lid and dances across the room, spraying the Metho everywhere, it sprays over his own body. It burns. He licks the place where his lips once were and grabs a box of matches. He begins to light before noticing a cheese grinder in the corner of his eye. He stops.
Before he goes he must use it at least once. He grabs a hold of it and pretends it is a bar of soap, as it slices skin from under his arms and his legs, ripping skin from all over his body. Satisfied, he proceeds to light a match. He holds it, staring deep into the flame.
He drops it.
Screams fill the night.

Preventer

April 4, 2010

What do you do, when you wake up in the morning and look in a mirror but don’t see yourself? My sky blue eyes…. now black, lined with red veins. My short, neat blonde hair, now brown and greasy and reaching my shoulders. My nails once pink and perfect, now overgrown and filled with dirt. Once bright clean teeth, now yellow and rotted.

What do you do, when you wake up in the morning and can’t even recognize yourself? How does one become this way. How can ones life turn so wrong? One day a normal life, normal friends. Next day being through as much loss as one can. Losing wife and kids. Parents and grandparents. Brothers and sisters. Killed. Slaughtered in a fashion so disgusting if I was to describe it you might cry. And what for? For being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Seeing the wrong crime being committed. Dying because someone else couldn’t be fucked to kill them elsewhere.

On the run. Living off scraps of McDonalds. Running from my own shadow, hiding from my own reflection…

No. I couldn’t live like this. I was going to start a new. I got a job. Not the greatest. Then what is great about whoring yourself out… I had the money… I had it. I bought a ticket and was on my way out of here. This plane would take me far away. Away from my sorrows and pain. Away from my fear and confusion. As I sat thinking of the plane I’d be on tomorrow it began to rain. I stood up enjoying the cool water splashing against my skin. The water washed away my fears, my confusion, my sorrows, my pain. It washed away my dirt. It cleaned me. As I looked up to the heavens the water stung my eyes. No more…

I caught my plane. I caught my plane on the 11th of the 9th.

It burned away my fears. It burned away my confusion, my sorrows and my pain. It burned away my life. My sad pitiful pathetic life. At least… I wish it did…. I wish this story was true… some facts are. But the cold hard truth…. My story it’s… it’s much worse.

I’m Alive

March 25, 2010

“It’s hot.”
“I know.”
“It’s too hot.”
“I know!”
“Calm down Samuel, no need to get angsty.” I spit as I wipe the sweat from my forehead.
“Well you’re pissing me off, just shut up we have a long drive ahead of us!”
As our car drove over the heated sand of the desert, I put my head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. The warm air pushed against my face and filled my lungs as I slowly brought my head back into the car.
“How long is this long drive going to be?” I asked, flicking Samuel’s ear.
“Will you bugger off! We’ve got seven kilometres till the ridge.” He yelled back.
“Drive off road for a bit!” I whine, pointing to the desert sand.
“No!”
“Oh you’re no fun!” I moan, sinking down in my chair.
“I am! I’m just not stupid! Some spots in the desert the sand is weak, and just walking on top of it can cause it to collapse into an underground tunnel, and they stretch for miles!”
The car continues to drive along as dirt flicks up onto the rear of the car and the sun belts down upon it showing no mercy.
“I can’t take it!” I screech in an insane rage.
I lunge forward, twisting the steering wheel to the left.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing Tony!” He yells as the car stumbles over sand and weed.
“I’m going insane! I need to get out!” I scream with spit spraying from my mouth.
There is a crunch, and everything goes dark. We are both thrown to the roof of the car. There is a loud smashing sound, and just as soon we are thrown back into our seats.

I awaken and drag myself out of the car window, smashing my hands upon the rough icy ground. I lay down a second, catching my breath. I put my hand to my face. I feel the nice warm blood dripping down my face. I take a moment to gather my wits and then check on Samuel. He is still.
“Samuel?” I ask shakily, giving him a poke.
He does not move, so I slowly move my hand to his neck. No pulse. My brother is dead.
“No!” I scream as it echoes through the cave.
I can’t believe it. He can’t die, no, it wasn’t my fault, it was my fault, I killed him.
“No!” I cry, screaming with agony. “No!”
I fall to my knees crying. Blood continues to run down my face, now mixing with my tears. I punch the ground in anger, my knuckles begin to bleed, but I don’t care. I need some sort of realism. Yet I don’t want this to be real. I must wake from this horrible nightmare. I scream, yell, curse and cry as I throw myself around the dark and empty cave. I curl up into a ball as I lay there and cry. My eyelids get heavy and I slowly drift off into a nice peaceful sleep.

I awaken to the sound of buzzing. Slowly I raise myself and look across to Samuel. The buzzing noise is flies, and he’s covered with them. But that’s not what bothers me. Something was here in the night… how did I know? The first thing I noticed when I saw Samuel was that half his head was missing. It was eaten off. Unable to hold it in, vomit flies from my mouth and I just can’t stop. I continue to vomit over and over again. Eventually when I stop I collapse and fall into it. I give up. I can’t move. I feel pain, grief, guilt, anger and the sickening feeling that my life will never be the same. As all these things make their way through my brain, I fall asleep once again, as good as a corpse, surrounded in vomit.

Thud!…. Thud! I open an eye. There is a massive figure nearby, big enough to be a bear. It comes closer and begins sniffing me. I don’t move. I don’t care. Let it eat me. It let’s out a snort of disgust and moves on to finish off my brothers body. Then I realise, I’m covered in vomit. What luck. I can’t help but let out a laugh as I lay down in my vomit with a smile on my face. I’m alive. I am so damn lucky to be alive. I’m never going to forget that!