Vampires aren't real of course, but imagine if they were?
Let's say you're stumbling home after another lonely night at the bar, trying to avoid seeing your disheveled form in the darkened windows of the stores you pass. You're already dreading working tomorrow. All of a sudden, you hear a noise coming from the alley. It's something between a sob and faint gurgling. You can't say why, but you decide to investigate.
The noise grows as you approach, along with soft whispers in a voice sweeter than any you've ever heard. You turn into an outcropping and see a blob in the darkness, the sound of smacking lips and devouring. You remain frozen, waiting for your eyes to adjust. The blob shifts into two humanoid shapes, one on top of the other, tearing into it. A faint red glow illuminates a dark liquid that you hope isn't blood. The bottom shape twitches, letting out a soaked groan, leading to the top shape biting down where the neck would be, silencing it. You let out a gasp, and the world goes still.
The top figure looks at you, two eyes, blood red. They look human, but they aren't. Something animal, something predatory colors it, awakening some ancient fear in you to run, run. You remain frozen. It's eyes are glowing, lighting up enough of its face to see a mouth full of sharp teeth and a face covered in blood and viscera. The two of you stare at each other, neither moving, until it speaks, in a voice too sweet for it:
In a blink, it's pounced from its corpse and onto you, and the world goes black
You jolt awake as you walk into your apartment. You laugh, must've drifted as you walked home. You should probably stop drinking so much. You stumble inside and collapse onto your bed. The feeling of dread does not leave you, and sleep does not come easy, but eventually, it does come.
It's late afternoon when the most attractive woman you've ever seen in your life walks into your gas station. She's tall, built like a super model, hair black as ink, and with a strut that knows she's the hottest person in the room. She's wearing sunglasses and a large black sun hat with a dress to match. She wanders around the store for a bit, glancing your way, as if she knew you were staring at her. Every time she catches you, she grins like she knows something. After a while, she approaches the counter with a few sticks of beef jerky and says:
"What is a cute girl like you doing in a place like this?" Her voice is honey, seeping into your ears. It has a slight accent, but you just can't place where it's from. Every syllable she uttered seemed design to imply attraction. The fact she called you "cute" or a girl are secondary. The fact that someone this beautiful even talks to you in such a way makes your heart flutter. You struggled to think anyone even tolerated you, much less could be into you.
You must've been frozen in shock because she just starts laughing. Not a harsh one of mockery, but soft, understanding, like you told her a bad joke.
"My name is Elanor, and yours is?"
You tell her, and she cringes.
"That's not a proper name for someone like you."
You don't understand what she means by that. A name is just a name, your parents, for better or worse, picked it, and its the name you've just responded to ever since.
"We'll need to pick a better one at some point."
You manage to work up the courage to ask, "we?"
"Ah yes, I forgot. I saw you at the bar a few nights ago, and I seemed to have caught feelings for you. But you left before I could ask you out. So here I am."
She... wanted to go on a date with you? She was attracted to your shlubby, anxious mess of a body? You pinch your thigh to make sure you're not dreaming.
"How about this, can I come to your place at some point?"
Your heart races. Don't blow it, you think to yourself.
"Absolutely," You give her your address. "when?"
She grins, showing off a sliver of her very shiny teeth. "Oh I don't know," she says. "I'm a very busy woman right now. I'll let you know when I'm free."
"See you then!" She says, turning and walking out the door. You look down to see a couple of crumpled bills and you realize you never gave her you number.
You spent the rest of the shift kicking yourself for such an amateur mistake. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how would you two ever go on a date now? Night had fallen as you walk inside your apartment. You shiver and look behind you. Nothing. Strange. You could swear you felt like you were being watched.
You do your nightly rituals and tuck yourself into bed, still not over losing such a chance. Your nerves are hard to shake, but eventually you drift to sleep.
That thing is still chasing you. It's faster than you. Two red eyes hunting you down a never ending alley. You can feel it's blood soaked breath behind you. It pounces on you and...
You jolt awake, heart pounding out of your chest. Your room is dark. You take deep breaths until you're no longer panicking. You fall back to the bed and wonder why you had such a horrid dream when you notice two red eyes in the corner of your room. It approaches you, crawling onto the bed and pressing you onto the mattress. You're frozen. This couldn't be real, this wasn't real. It gets close to your face, and you can smell the blood that stains it's sickening smile. It raises a finger up to it's mouth and simply says:
And everything goes black.
You wake up with a terrible headache. Groaning, you thought you left your sleep paralysis demon behind when you moved out of your parent's place. Getting ready for work is a painful affair, every light pounding at your skull. Stepping outside, the sunlight is even worse. You stumble back in your room, half blinded by the pain, and put on a pair of sunglasses. It doesn't stop the headache, but it does make sunlight bearable.
Your coworker asks if you're doing alright. You explain that you've been having trouble sleeping and have a bad migraine. He says you look pale too, though looking in the mirror, you can't understand what he means. You've always been very pale.
The girl doesn't show back up, so there goes any chance that your virgin ass goes on a date. The shift goes by fast, and mercifully, the night lessens your symptoms.
Another dream, this time a soft memory. Your mom is cradling you in her arms after you broke a vase, whispering that it wasn't your fault and that she's not mad at you. You know it'll be short lived, soon Dad will be home to scream at you, and then Mom will standby and watch.
And yet, it never comes. The tranquility is never broken. Mommy just holds you and kisses you and tells you you're the best little girl...
Wait. You look up, and instead of your Mommy, it's that woman you saw at work. She smiles at you, teeth razor sharp, as she tells you she loves you, more than anything else in the world. You try to be scared, but you can't help but believe her. She loves you, She will protect you, you're her precious child, forever. She says that she knows what you need, peeling off a shoulder strap to reveal a deep cut, blood spilling from it.
"Drink up, little one." she says, in a voice that allows no compromise. You lean in and suckle the wound, tasting blood sweeter than anything else you've ever had. Any apprehensions you had fade as you drink more, more, more. All the while, she rocks you, humming a soft song.
The migraine is worse, making any action a lesson in pain. It's a miracle you drag yourself to work at all. Not that it did any good. Even with few customers, your shift is hell. Your unkempt hair keeps getting into your eyes, a constant reminder that you need to get it cut. Your body is achey and sensitive, especially in the chest and hips. And no matter how many snacks you ate, there was this subtle hunger gnawing at the edges of your stomach, refusing to be mollified.
Now even your manager has noticed, and when he asks you if you're doing okay, you throw up, half digested food mixed in blood. Needless to say, he tells you to go to the doctor and stay home till you were better.
You're too poor to go to the doctor, so you drag yourself home, sun hot and harsh on your skin as you do. When back, the hunger demands attention, and you devour whatever is in your fridge, then in your snack cabinet, then pantry.
By the end, every crumb of food in your house has been eaten, and still that hunger claws at your stomach. Maybe it's part of whatever illness you have.
You crawl into bed, enjoying the warmth it provides, and drift asleep.
You're chasing something. No, that's not right. You're hunting something.
You can't see it, but you can hear its pounding heart, its ragged breath, its panicked whispers of self delusion. It's slower than you, and now it's running out of breath. Soon you shall feast, soon your hunger will come to an end, soon.
You catch up, the shadows revealing its shape to be human. It's a poor excuse for one, shabby, poor fitting clothes, clearly out of shape. An easy meal.
You can almost taste it's blood, almost. You're so close, just one more lunge and...
The work alarm you forgot to turn off wakes you up. The hunger pains are almost as bad as the migraines, and it takes over an hour to force yourself out of bed. You drag yourself to the kitchen before promptly realizing you already ate everything there. You sigh, don a mask, and stumble to the grocery store.
Everything there is too much. Too loud, too bright, too overstimulating. All of your senses are under attack as you pick some meager supplies that don't break the bank. The cashier calls you Ma'am, and when you try to correct her, your voice comes out high pitched and warbled, sing-song. That too doesn't seem to convince her, and she says "have a nice day miss," as you leave.
Arriving back home, you stumble to the bathroom to puke. Afterwards, you wash your face, and notice that despite it being days since you've shaved, there isn't a lick of stubble on your chin. You're too tired to cook, and collapse onto your bed, trying in vain to sleep. As the late afternoon drifts by into night through your curtains, there's a knock at the door.
You wait for it to go away, but it keeps getting more and more persistent. Finally, you work up the last of your energy to limp to the door and look through the peep hole. It's Elanor.
You panic. Of course she comes when you're the most disheveled you've ever been. You scramble to put on your least bad looking T-shirt and jeans and race to the door before she changes her mind. Opening it, she flashes a quick grin before it shifts into a frown.
"My, My, look at yourself?"
You mumble out an apology, saying you're sick and that maybe you should reschedule your date.
"Oh no," Elanor says. "We're still going on our date. There will just be some adjustments when we get there."
Before you can ask her what kinds of adjustments, she has grabbed your hand, and drags you down the stairs. Her grip is a lot stronger than you would've assumed, and despite your feeble resistance, she drags you out of the apartment building. Outside is a car that looks like it's worth more than what you could make for the rest of your life.
Elanor opens the door and pulls you inside, placing you in seats that are oh so soft. She says something too quick for you to understand and the car drives off. The black out windows prevent you from seeing where you are going. In a better state, that would've made you anxious, but you're so tired and it's so comfortable. You find yourself drifting, jolting awake, only to drift again. At some point, Elanor is holding you, running her soft fingers through your messy hair. You're too embarrassed to tell her you had a dream like this, so you let her coddle you, drifting in and out of consciousness. She whispers sweet little nothings for you in words you cannot understand. Everything feels so right.
At some point, the car stops, and you feel yourself being carried into a building. Someone kisses your forehead and you jerk awake to find yourself in a bedroom ripped straight from the Victorian era. Elanor is sitting above you, grey eyes so full of care and curiosity.
"Ah, the cutie's awake." she says, smiling. Her teeth are so shiny, so pristine.
You blush at her compliment. You've never been cute, certainly not in this state. But before you can counter, she interrupts:
"Let's get you properly dressed for the occasion."
She gets up from the bed and strolls over to the dresser, shifting through clothes until she finds something. She turns and tosses it at you, landing in your lap. It takes you a moment to realize what it is.
And not just any dress, but an expensive one at that, all frills and almost invisible designs.
"I can't wear this," you say. "I'm a..."
"I'm sorry, but we simply don't have anything else that would fit you, darling. And besides, it would be quite rude not to dress well for a date."
There's something about how she said the last few words that told you that there would be no compromise. How would you look in a dress anyway? They had always looked so pretty on your mom and sisters. And yet, the idea of wearing one terrified you. This was something meant for women, not you.
"You know," Elanor says. "I think it will look quite good on you."
The words worm themselves into your mind. Maybe it would? Part of you scoffs at the idea. You'd look ugly, a caricature. Elanor would laugh at how you look. There was no point to this.
"Hey," Elanor says, her hand grabbing yours with a sort of tenderness it hasn't felt in a long time. "Just try it, I promise I won't judge." She smiles, and you can tell she's being sincere.
You sigh and say, "No peaking."
"Wouldn't dream of it darling." She points to an object covered with a blanket. "Under that quilt is a mirror to look at yourself when you're done."
She walks to the door, looking back at you and saying, "Let me know when you're ready for our date," before closing the door.
You look down at the dress and apprehensions start bubbling in your gut. Were you really going to put on a dress just because a hot girl asked nicely? But she would be disappointed if you don't wear it, and she said she wouldn't judge. You sigh and take off your clothes, trying your best not to look down. Putting on the dress took a bit of trial and error, but your worries of it being ill fitting proved wrong. It in fact, fit you almost perfectly, except for a hint of space in the chest and hip area. Working up all your bravery, you slide the quilt off the mirror and brace for the horror on the other side.
Instead, you see yourself.
you've been avoiding mirrors for longer than you can remember, and yet, you don't remember ever looking this good. The dress suits you very well, accentuating your eyes, hugging your body in all the right places, hiding the parts you hated.
You looked different too. Paler, yes, but there were some others too. Your hair was a lot longer now, and you seemed a bit thinner. Was your face softer too? And your shoulders weren't even massive anymore?
What had happened? It wasn't perfect, and there were still certainly areas that you cringe at, but you looked better than you had for most of your life. You feel tears swell up in your eyes and don't know why. This is all so confusing, you think, better focus on the date.
You call Elanor, and she steps in, face glowing with pride, glee, and attraction. "My, it appears I was wrong," She says. "You're even prettier in that dress than I ever could've imagined."
Your face feels on fire. she steps forward and wipes away a tear that trickles down your face, "Awwwwww, don't cry. You look gorgeous."
"I-I don't know why I'm crying," you say. "I haven't cried in years."
"Because you're happy, darling." She picks up your hand and kisses it, and you could swear your face could melt steel. "Now come, my sweetest rose, dinner awaits up."
She leads you down a maze of halls. Wherever you are, it's big, and expensive. You could swear you've only seen a fraction of it as she leads you into a dining hall, table lined with food.
This was all too much, but when you stammer out your worries, Elanor just says, "Only the best for someone as beautiful as you." She pulls you to your seat, forcing you to sit with just the slightest pressure, and then takes her place across from you. You sit there, paralyzed by choice, until she laughs and calls you silly, warmer than a ray of sunshine.
You start picking at the food at the table, but soon begin to dig in, eating more and more. Yet, none of it is filling. You devour a whole chicken and are still famished. Elanor watches you, occasionally taking a bite through grinning lips. You'd be ashamed if you weren't so hungry.
Then, you hear a soft, "ouch."
You look up to see Elanor cradling her hand, blood trickling from her thumb. That gnawing hunger in you roars, and you realize you're drooling. Why are you reacting like this? This isn't normal.
Elanor looks at you and smiles. "Well don't just stare," she says. "Come over here and clean this up."
Before you know it, you're crawling towards her, she laughs and every tone feels like it could reawaken your dead heart. You kneel in front of her, watching every drop of blood trickle down her thumb. You know it's wrong, know you shouldn't want this, but you want to drink every ruby jewel that spills from her.
Elanor looks down on you, smile wider than you ever thought possible. Her mouth is so, beautiful, teeth so pretty and sharp. "I suppose you've been a good girl," she says. "Still... Beg for it."
"I'll be a good girl for you," you say. Any pride you had is secondary to the hunger. You will say anything to taste her. "Please just let me clean it, please, please, pleaaaaaaase."
She laughs. "Good girl. Such a good girl for Mommy. Drink up, little one." She tilts her thumb down and a drop falls onto the soft carpet.
You don't need to be asked twice. You lunge at her hand, wrap your lips around her thumb, and suck. You expected a metallic taste, but her blood is sweeter than anything you've ever had before. It tastes like your favorite fruit, dipped in chocolate, and smothered in sugar. Elanor looks down on you with her beautiful red eyes, whispering sweet little nothings you're way too far gone to understand. You can almost taste her pride, her joy, her love in her blood, and it makes it even better.
You drink and drink and drink, only stopping to breathe. Now that you've tasted heaven, everything else feels bland. You need more, you cannot live without this. Even as you start to become drowsy, you continue to suckle on her thumb, and she's so proud of you. You use the last of your energy to lick the wound dry and then fall into her arms. You feel her pick you up and carry you as you drift into dreamless sleep.
You wake up from that strange dream, feeling better than ever. The headache and fatigue is gone, replaced with newfound clarity and energy. The hunger is still there, but is only a background thought. You sit up and stretch, then scream as you notice someone else is in the room with you. A girl sits in a bed in a luxurious room, beautiful but equally panicked. She's shirtless, small boobs accentuating her thin frame. Her doe eyes stare back at you, wide, at the brink of tears. You ramble off a variety of apologies, chastising yourself for being such a perv, when you realize she's mirroring you. You wave a hand, and she waves back. Wait...
Elanor bursts in, face sharp and eyes ready to kill. "What's the matter little one?"
You point to the mirror, and sputter out, "That- that can't be me."
Elanor tilts her head slightly, looking at where you're pointing, then all the tension in her face melts away. "Of course it is darling." She comes toward you, picking you out of bed like you weigh nothing. She poses you in front of the mirror, forcing your face to stare at it.
You remember being taller than Elanor when you first saw her, now you're a good foot shorter. Your blonde hair is to your shoulders, and the face looking back at you is much too soft and pale to be yours. You body is thin, but any fat you had has moved to your hips and... breasts. If there wasn't still a dick between your legs, you wouldn't be able to tell it was you.
"Of course my darling little girl looks that pretty." Elanor says, then leans in. "And its only just starting."
You don't know why, but the idea that this wasn't the end, that you would continue to change, made your heart jump. You see your face consumed by blush in the mirror, along with your dick twitch.
Elanor laughs, even better than the last time. "Someone is excited."
"W-what am I doing here?" you ask. "I thought it was a dream?"
Elanor squeezes you. "It was all real darling. You fell asleep after our meal, so I put you to bed. You're much too sick to be out and about."
"B-but what about my job?"
"You quit it, remember? Such a terrible place for a beautiful girl like yourself."
Elanor's piercing stare and frown stop you from finishing your sentence.
"But..." you continue, picking your words carefully. "If the rest of the dream was real, then does that mean..." Your stomach growls, loud.
Elanor giggles. "Looks like someone is hungry. Well, let's get you some food."
You expect her to take you back out to the dinning room. Instead, she pulls out a knife and slices open a finger. Blood pools, then spills, and you scramble to prevent a single drop from hitting the floor. it tasted even better than before, sweeter, each drop lovingly made to make every taste bud in your mouth sing.
The last thing you comprehended before falling to a fugue was Mommy Elanor saying "Good girl."
This pattern repeated itself for the next while, you couldn't tell how long. You'd wake up, pick out the changes as you became more and more of a girl, Mommy Mother Elanor would come in, slit open a finger or wrist, and have you drink her blood until the wound healed after a few minutes.
The rest of the day, you would be caught in a haze, only half comprehending what Elanor was having you do, or what she was telling you. Sometimes it was putting you in exquisite dresses, others it was doing your make up until any trace of manhood was erased, sometimes she would teach you how to braid your growing hair, or how to properly walk and dress. She constantly complimented you, asked for your input, told you how much she loved you. In the evenings, she would feed you while cradling you in her arms, leaving you feeling safe and warm in ways you hadn't in a long time.
You don't know how long it took you to realize that all the windows were blacked out or how there were no lights in the entire house. Yet, you could see just fine, better even. Still, anytime you looked for an exit, the mansion confounded you, hallways appearing to shift, leaving you in a maze. On the occasions when Mother Elanor took you out, it was at night, and for short spans of time. You didn't really know how long you had been here.
One day, you wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of distant moaning. Even as sleep demands your attention, you force yourself out of bed and towards the sound.
As you get closer, the sounds become more distinct, soft moans mixed with sweet whispers. They echo through the halls, leading you to a door you never tried opening before. Part of you wants to ignore it, to go back to bed and hope its gone when you wake up. Another part wants to run and hide with Elanor and have her investigate. You scoff at both, and turn the doorknob.
It's the woman on the bed you notice first. She's beautiful, despite her chestnut hair being a complete mess, and her eyes far off and cloudy. Blood covers her chest, red on tan, sparkling even with no light source. You feel drool pool in your mouth, hunger gnaw at the edges of your stomach.
On top of her is a mound of wild black hair, glimpses of a pale hand groping the woman and a long tongue licking blood off her. You gasp, and the mound freezes, turning to you. Two red eyes stare back at you, animal like and ravenous, a maw full of sharp teeth covered in blood smiling. The same eyes and mouth from that nightmare so long ago
"Hello there." It says, and you realize, it's Mommy Elanor.
"Lucy," Elanor continues. "My daughter."
The woman gives a lazy smile and wave. Your cheeks go red.
"Lucy is one of my frequent prey. Don't worry, I ne..." You don't have a chance to hear the rest as you bolt. You run, twisting and turning, trying to find an exit. Instead, the mansion coughs you up back in your room. You can hear Elanor behind you, and out of options, you scramble under the bed.
You hold your breath as she enters.
"Now where did my little girl go?" She says. You hear the closet open "Is she here? No. What about here? Nope." Your heart pounds in your chest and you know she can hear you. She's playing with her food. "What about..." A hand grabs yours and in a moment you're pulled out from under the bed and left hanging in the air. Mommy Mother Elanor looks at you with a mix of amusement and joy.
"There's my daughter," She says words full of glee. "Now why did you run? Were you jealous that someone else was getting Mommy's attention?"
"I'm not your daughter, you monster!" You shout.
All the humor drains from her face. "Nonsense, you're my daughter and will be forever."
"You- You changed me!" You said. "You're making me..." The word remains stuck in your throat, too horrific to escape.
"A Vampire, a ghoul, a creature of the night. I did..."
"Silence," She says, stopping you dead in your tracks. "You will not interrupt." All the softness in her eyes is gone, replaced with blood red eyes looking at a meal. You shake your head until your neck hurts.
"When I saw you in that alley way, I saw you. Not the disguise you wore to survive, but a terrified little girl in need of a mother to protect her. I decided then and there to make you into my daughter, to gift you the body you deserved to have and immortality to enjoy it. And this is how you respond?"
"I have parents!" you responded. "They love me!" It felt hollow
"Those things that birthed you aren't even worth being drained. I've walked through your memories, and they showed over and over again to be less than scum. They treated you like an object, something to use and abuse until no longer useful. You've been missing for over a month, and they haven't even noticed."
Mommy Elanor grabs your head and forces you to look at the mirror. "Look at yourself, do you see any of the boy your parents raised?"
Looking back at you is the soft, sweet girl you've watched yourself grow into. Even full of terror, her eyes are soft. Her body is perfect, curves in all the right places. Her skin is pale and flawless. Her face is round and beautiful. Her hair is magnificent even with bedhead. You try, you try so hard to see the old you, and you can't. The more you look, the more you see things that say otherwise. The shape of your face, the way your eyes glimmer, the soft expressions you have, and all at once it hits you. You look like her. Not exactly, but like a close relative, like a daughter.
You can feel her smile on the back of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your skin. "You see it now. It's time to finish my work."
"I'm going to drain the last of your manhood, the last of your humanity, out of you."
Before you could object, she starts stroking your incredibly sensitive penis, making you moan. Your voice is so high pitch and feminine, how did you never notice? She smiles again, exposing all her teeth, and leans into your neck. The bite makes you jerk and moan even louder. Your blood spurts out, spilling down your body and painting your breasts. A new hunger fills Mommy's Elanor's eyes and her tongue rolls out of her mouth, long and wet. She licks your blood, a slow stroke that goes from your abdomen to your collar bone. She shutters, then says
"You taste delectable, little one. So full of fear and lust. I wish I could bottle your blood and savor it."
Each lick is heaven, burning arousal growing in the aftermath. Your skin becomes more sensitive, overshadowing the stimulation she's giving your penis. The air is full of the smell of metal and lust, and your head spins. You don't know which way is up, down, or where you are. Your only ground, the only thing keeping you on this earth is Mommy Mommy Elanor.
She continues, an endless assault on your flesh, on your sanity, bringing you closer and closer to the peak, but never over it. Some part of you knows you're not allowed to, haven't been told you can yet.
You blink the tears out of your eyes to see that Mommy Elanor is cutting her throat with her nails, ruby blood gushing out. You lunge at her, licking and sucking and drinking with endless gluttony. It tastes of love and pride and joy and lust that makes your head spin. All the while, she gropes, fondles, plays with, and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, building and building and building, pushing against the wall, but never breaking. You drink and drink and drink, coating your mouth in the warm, wonderful, sweet, beautiful substance, gulping it down. You need it, more than anything else in the world. Food and wine is ash and mud compared to her blood, her beautiful, gorgeous blood.
It goes on for who knows how long. A minute, an hour, an eternity? It doesn't matter, she has you, she loves you, she will love you forever. Then a pressure starts below, burning, mind melting heat searing your pelvis. Mommy is doing something down there and you don't know what until her strokes stop and her skilled fingers start pressing into you. It feels better than anything you've ever experienced. Her fingers find all the right spots inside to play your moans like a fiddle. Her thumb massages your new clit with the skill only centuries could provide. If your brain wasn't flooded with pleasure, you'd tell Mommy how much you loved her.
Mommy's voice cuts through the haze, breaking through whatever parts of yourself you somehow still have kept hidden from her, from yourself. She says:
Before you can even comprehend the words, your body complies. Your whole body orgasms, every muscle and synapse firing in devotion to Mommy. And when you think it over, the second wave hits, then the third and fourth wave. Any delusions of a life before her, without her, is decimated. Mommy is everything, your shining star, your beckoning moon. How were you such a fool to fear her.
As the final wave crashes and recedes, you're left in the buzzing afterglow of her love. Mommy carries you into bed and cradles you, telling you how proud she is of you, how much you'll get to do together now. How much she loves you. You drift asleep to her telling you these things, and smile, because you know she means it.
You bite into Kathy's breast and feel her body shake to yet another orgasm. Her moans echo down the alleyway behind the bar, letting all the passerby know without shame. You can taste the heady lust and terrified love in her blood and it is delectable. Not as delicious as Mother's blood, but good in a different way. This is the third time she's let you drink from her and she's fast becoming one of your favorite prey.
You drink your fill, not enough to kill her, but she's definitely a bit light headed, especially with the alcohol in her system. You call her an uber and escort her to her ride, bidding her adieu till the next rendezvous. After, you step back into the bar to pay both your tabs and leave.
When you step up to the bar, it's only through your improved sight that you notice the man slipping a roofie into an unattended drink. He's one of those frat boys, from wealth based on his watch. You're about to just dump the drink and walk away when you realize you're still a bit hungry. You smile, then drop into a drunken stupor. Stumbling up to him, you give him some not so subtle flirts, and watch as his ego balloons. You can smell the false pride on him, could from a mile away.
It doesn't take long to convince him to give you a ride back to his place. The apartment is a mess, and you pretend to trip on one of the bottles littering the ground. In response, he lifts you into a princess carry and tosses you onto his bed, scrambling to peel off his clothes. You watch this display and hold back a laugh. When he looks up, stupid grin plastered across his face, you strike.
You're on him before he can even react, and it only takes one quick bite to shred his throat. His blood is sweet and sour with pride and bitter with terror. Different than what you're used to, but still delicious in your own way. You gorge yourself, gulping down blood spurting out of his hollowed out throat. His face is stuck in that giddy grin, but eyes wide and scared. Perfect
You hear a creak at the door and look up. Looks like he had a roommate. Another guy, but wait. The way he holds himself, the way his terror is not like those of his roommate, the loose pajamas that cover his body. Mother would adore another daughter, and the idea of having a sister fills you with warmth. It's only for the best. You smile and say:
This fic is heavily inspired by the superior "The Crimson Red Door" by @thecrimsonreddoor, which I highly recommend reading, along with its sequel.
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