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.

Darkness of the Unknown

December 20, 2010

O death, where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?
(1 Corinthians 15:55)

Men fear Death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. ~Francis Bacon, Essays

“I wont ever be what you want me to be.”
“You’re not human. You will never be a human. Lord of the Darkness. Destroyer of Worlds.”
“No. I am human. You know why? I may not be able to dream and you can say I don’t have a soul. But I that’s not what makes someone human.”
“Oh,” says the darkness that haunts me “What makes you a human?”
“The ability to look back at things in life, the ability to see situations and wonder. Wonder, what if? What if you’d hadn’t said or done something. Regret. That’s how I know I’m human, how I know I have a soul. And you can say I’m not a human. That I’m this monster, this lord of the darkness. But I will never, NEVER be what you want me to be!”
“Hmm.” The stitched faced being says to me. Scratching his face.
We stand in the centre of tar road. Willow trees line the streets side. There are no stars, no moon, it is complete darkness but some soft light from a lamp post.
“What is a monster?” asks the being. “Humans are close. They kill for fun. Butcher innocents. But you. You are less then they. You cannot dream. You are my son. Born in darkness. Others are born in the light. Or some at night. You see, some say that darkness doesn’t exist. That there is light. And absence of light. This isn’t true. There is light. Absence of light, and us. And you can feel it. Feel it grow.”
I feel it.
I feel an evil overcoming power inside me. I feel the intense darkness. I feel it grow inside me.
“No!” I scream. “I will NEVER be what you want me to be!”
The creature moves towards me, truly not of this world.
His face is close to me, I feel his breathing, like death had turned into air. I feel the cold of it touch my skin, I feel it’s cold sting, I feel death. I stare into the white pits of his eyes. Though they are complete white I feel the dark. I can see it. Unexplainable the darkness within his soul. This creature. My creator. My father…
“I. Will not. I wont.”
He smiles. I feel his grin in my heart. I feel it like a dagger.
“You cannot outrun fate.” He whispers. The cold stench of death on his breath stings my face. “You cannot out run death,” he hisses. “You cannot outrun ME.” He groans.
His rough charcoal burnt arm reaches out. Entering my stomach I feel a squeeze. My eyes widen in fear and pain.
“You were right.” He chuckles. “You did have a soul. But, I destroyed it. I’m very disappointed in you son.” He says.
He removes his arm. I feel my life fleeing from me like air escaping from a balloon.
He begins to walk away, up the road. Into the thickest of the dark. Tears drain from my eyes, I try to scream, try to beg, the life dies, and all I feel is fear.
He turns his neck, I cannot see his face.
“You could… always change your mind?”
“Fuck… you.” I whisper.
“Hmm, so be it.” He says and walks off, vanishing from my view.
I feel the last of my life existing my body, I feel cold and lose all feeling. The thoughts from my mind become muddled. I lose focus and feel my face plough into the pavement. It doesn’t hurt. And slowly all becomes fuzzy. The last thing I hear is the slow, rhythmic breathing of the creature from the darkness. Death.

Faces in the Dust

September 20, 2010

I stood alone in the empty room. Dust lined the floor and walls; it floated around me as I walked across the room. I sneezed, as a line of dust shot from my nose. A small beem of light shot into the room like a laser through a crack in the wall. The dust seemed to spiral through the line like a magnet.
I ponder to myself as to why this room was here. The house had been abandoned 70 odd years ago. Yet every room still had some semblance to why it was there. You could tell which room was the kitchen or a bedroom. But this room, isolated and empty, what was it here for?
I turn around examining the floor of the room, and notice a slight groove on a spot the dust had cleared from my footsteps. I kneel down and sweep away the dust with my hands. I cough and splutter as clouds of it fly into my face. After a few moments I wave it out of my eyes and see what the dust had hidden so well.
The Trapdoor.
I stand up, tingling and feeling nervous in the stomach. I get Goosebumps on my arms and wonder what could be hidden down there, yet a sinister feeling creeps over me. Nothing good can come of hidden rooms…
Yet the feeling of curiosity was too strong, I had to know what was down there, what skeletons this family had been hiding.
That’s the problem, perhaps, with the human species, it delves into things that should not be meddled with, sticks its nose where it does not belong. A curiosity our species has developed and has often caused disastrous consequences. Yet without it, we would not be men.
I place my fingers around the edges of the rough wooden door, and begin to lift.
The wood feels damp around my fingers, but solid. It does not crumble and is curiously heavy, but soon I place it aside and stare, gaping at a long dark ominous pit.
The sinister feeling washes over me again, and I begin feeling nauseous. I breath heavily, trying to get my breath, but decide to leave the house for some fresh air, before proceeding down the hole.
After some fresh air and feeling back to normal besides the pain in my stomach, which I can only interpret as fear, I head back inside, pick up my torch, and drop myself down the hole.
It isn’t too deep, maybe a 3-metre drop. I turn my torch on and look around.
There are wooden pillars everywhere, but, like the room above it, every square inch is covered in 2cms thick of dust.
I walk to the nearest wooden pillar and brush some of the dust away. After a second or two my sight returns again. My eyes widen in shock and I get a feeling in my gut like I am about to throw up.
A thick bloodstain covers the pillar.
Rusted, dirty blood. Not clean blood. This wasn’t stained in the one instance, it must have taken place over many, and whoever’s blood it was, certainly hadn’t been freshly scrubbed.
I trudge from one pillar to the next. Each one stained with blood.
Finally at the end of the room I come to a little chest. I open it and reach inside. It is empty except for one photo frame. I pull it out and blow the dust off the photo. It is the same family I saw in the photo frames upstairs. Except here the photo has a different effect. The smiling on their faces isn’t friendly and inviting, its evil and sinister and looking at their faces makes me fury with rage. I feel like I wished they were alive, so I could kill them for what they had done to people down here.
Suddenly the room grows darker and as I shine the torch back I realise that the little light coming through the trapdoor is gone.
I trudge back and stare up. The door had indeed closed.
I jump and push the door, hoping to move it. But it’s no good from down here.
“Hello?!” I cry. “Hello is anyone there?!”
There is nothing but dreadful silence.

Somniloquy

June 12, 2010

“And there will be such intense darkness that one can feel it.”Exodus 10:21

A feeling of trepidation, falling through a spiral of darkness. Deep intense darkness. The deepest darkest black. So much nothingness that I can feel it press upon my skin. I scream and hear nothing… nothing. Absolute nothingness. Not even the ringing of noise damage in my ears. There is only silence.

I wake from my bed. It is dawn. What was that awful dream? A lucid dream of falling. Falling through the darkness… falling through nothing. It is completely silent. The sun slowly rises but it feels like an eternity. Birds begins calling outside my window. I rise and open the blinds. Small droplets of rain dribble down my window. The rays from the sun warm my cold flesh as it shines through the window. Words echo throughout my thoughts.

“Cloaking your soul. Wearing a mask.
Faceless entity, you deceive yourself.
Heartbroken and Scared.
Rediscover what was, buried beneath what is.
Emerging from the dark and into the light.
The shadow grows, light forgotten within.
Former life destroyed in four years of turmoil.
Pain hidden behind your Heroic Mask.
Your cracks are showing; faceless God.”

My hands tremble with fear, as I reach for the desk beside my bed. I pull my hand out with a little container marked ‘Sonata’. My Zaleplon. My eyes droop. I am so tired, a restless night. I had fallen asleep without my drugs, I was in the clothes from the night before. Deep blue jeans, and an oversized leather jacket.
I remove the jacket and swallow some pills. Now I shall rest without the darkness. Without the fear, sleep, and rest easy.
I lay down upon my bed. Head aching. The light fades… a dark shadow creeps through my room and the last thing I see before I sleep is a big… wide… smile…
I try to scream, but I fall into a deep sleep.
The voice rings in my ears as I fall through the dark.

“Sleep now. Feed Mara. Lord of the Shadows, your time draws near. Feel the darkness, feed it. Let it consume your flesh. Let it wash over you like a wave of enlightenment. Feel it’s power coarse through your veins. Feast, and be born a new. Wake from your slumber. And fill time with darkness. Spread and devour the light.”

My heart pounds furiously, but I cannot feel it with the intense darkness pressing upon my chest. I feel as if I am going to explode.
I do not want to die.. Not trapped here within my mind.
The voice speaks once more.

“Death is impossible. Until I am free.”

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.