Patient: I keep seeing vampires with fangs dripping blood.
Doctor: Have you seen a psychiatrist?
Patient: No, just vampires.
Sheila looked mournfully out of her bedroom window at the full moon. It was night time. The sky was very dark, apart from the moon, which was full and in it (the sky). And quite bright. Because it was the moon. Somewhere, Sheila didn’t know where because she wasn’t very good at geography, a dog howled, possibly at the moon. A soft breeze flowed sensuously and not a little sexily through her open window and caressed her seventeen-year-old breasts. They were large for her age. Sheila wasn’t wearing a bra, or indeed a blouse, because she was waiting for a visitor…a nocturnal visitor! And having her magnificent tits out was the best way to get his attention, like an erotic Bat Signal.
And then…there! Up in the sky! Blasting through the dark clouds like a human-shaped Red Arrow came her…vampire lover! He could fly because he was a vampire! And had magical sexy powers powered by blood and sex! Sheila thought he was the most magical, sexiest man she had ever known, and she had known many men in the last year. Intimately, that is, because she liked to have sex. As her mother often told her: “You’re a young woman now, Sheila, not a girl, and life is going to open its doors for you the moment you learn to open your legs.”
Sheila’s mother was a broken woman, whose former career as an underwear model had hit the skids the moment she got pregnant. Now, she lived vicariously through her daughter, which was amusing in its own way as Sheila’s mother had found religion, or more accurately: God. At the bottom of a bottle. She was a drunk, and Sheila hated her for it. But, if it meant her mother was too toasted to realise she was now erotically linked with a man three hundred times her age, then that was okay.
“Oh!” she sighed mournfully, as Chris, the sexy vampire, levitated down from the Heavens. He wore a classy black cloak and fashionably ripped jeans. Sheila found his beard and Alestorm t-shirt highly arousing as she secretly liked beards and pirate metal bands.
“I have answered your siren call,” Chris intoned. His eyes were like Malteasers, painted black and stuck in his eyeballs.
“Oh Chris,” she sighed. “I want you to take me.”
Chris held a pale hand to his rugged face and turned everso-slightly away from Sheila. “You know that I cannot violate your flesh, without the risk of either killing you or making you as I am…a vampire!”
“Make me like you,” she begged. “When I kiss you it’s like fireworks go off in my knickers. Only you can put that flame out!”
“I would not be able to live with myself were I to turn you, Sheila.” He turned away a little bit more as he artfully hid a lone tear that stealthily crawled its way from the corner of his left eye. He was having a memory. A memory flashback! His last girlfriend, Amelia, had been younger than Sheila, but no less voluptuous. He had turned her into what he was…a vampire! She had survived the transformation, and they even had a baby together, but she died in childbirth, and the baby had a genetic disorder common to babies born of mixed parents – it had the body of a bat and the head of a baby, but both were the proportions they should be, making it too heavy to fly, since the baby head part was pretty big, and the bat body was pretty small. In fact, when it tried to move it ended up pushing its forehead along the floor as it dragged itself forwards by its puny wings. It was a terrible, sorry, and terrible sight, and Chris had been only too happy to kill it. But now he felt sad whenever he thought about killing it, because it might have grown up to be a viable financial commodity that he could have toured as a sideshow freak. Chris wasn’t good with money, and it was this memory of his financial shortcomings that caused the aforementioned tear to ooze gothily from his eye.
“We do this same old song and dance almost every night!” she cried, but softly. Her breasts heaved, and Chris ogled them with his vampire eyes. Yes! He was a vampire! “And at school you ignore me!”
“If anyone were to know we are inexplicably linked soulmates, my enemies would use you against me. I have to go to school because I get education benefits from the council, and I need that money to afford cool stuff like this cloak. Plus it gives me a good cover story for not being a vampire. All I have to do is avoid direct sunlight, otherwise you know the effect reveals that I am…a vampire!”
“Yes, I remember. Your hair stands on end and you turn bright pink.”
“No. I explode.”
“Oh yes that’s right.”
“Luckily, England has terrible weather so I can walk freely during the day. I just made a joke about this country’s weather, Sheila.”
She laughed, and her breasts heaved. Chris ogled them even more with his eyes, which were still the eyes of a vampire, because he was still a vampire!
“Invite me in if you wish,” he said. “But I can only kiss you and touch you up.”
“Works for me,” she said. She moved from the window sill so Chris could float elegantly into her room.
He grimaced at the posters of Fallout Boy and Panic At The Disco that adorned her walls. “Music of my youth was far superior to this,” he said. “I wish you would consider listening to some.”
“You’re three hundred times my age,” she said. “All the music from your youth is boring and like really old-fashioned.”
“Sheila. I’m 317 years old. That’s not three hundred times your age.”
She pulled a confused face, which Chris found deeply sexy because he secretly liked stupid girls.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked. “When my mum passes out I bleed her a bit.”
“So that’s why the blood you give me makes me feel tipsy. Yeah, I’ll have some of that.”
Sheila pulled a special tankard from beneath her bed, followed by a bottle of dark liquid. It was blood! She poured the dark liquid, which was her mother’s blood, into the tankard, and handed it to Chris. He greedily knocked it back.
“Tastes like the good stuff I get in Whitby!” he exclaimed.
She poured him another drink, and another. Soon, he was feeling woozy. More woozy than the alcohol-laced blood usually made him feel.
“I feel woozy,” he said. “More woozy than the alcohol-laced blood usually makes me feel.”
“Rest your head,” she said, gently helping him down onto her bed.
“I feel woozy,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, gently taking his clothes off. “I put Rohypnol in the blood.”
“But it shouldn’t affect me this quickly,” he said. “I used it on a girl once and had to wait 30 minutes until it kicked in.”
“I added some of my mum’s sleeping pills to the mix too,” Sheila said.
“Ah,” Chris nodded. Slowly, his eyes closed. Soon, he was asleep.
“Now it’s time for the good stuff,” Sheila said, doing something rude to his junk. She began to touch his willy, is what she did. She vigorously worked her own brand of sexy magic until Chris’s vampire willy was ready for her.
She put his willy in her, and started to have sex with his sleeping body. It was wonderful, and better than any sex she had ever had. It felt like someone had rammed a stick of dynamite up her chuff and lit the fuse in her brain. The flame was burning its way down and through her teenage body. She started to say erotic things like “Oh yes” and “More, more” and “That feels nice, Chris, oh yeah that’s nice”. She didn’t swear though, because she felt there was no need for that sort of thing.
A good amount of time later, let’s say five minutes later, Sheila felt Chris climax his vampire goodness into her, and she exploded with joy. Literally exploded with joy. Chris had not been lying because he was really a frigid vampire. He had been telling the truth! Unprotected sex with a vampire when you’re not a vampire can kill you! Or at the very least give you a bad disease! Unfortunately, Sheila was not alive to learn this valuable lesson, because she was exploded and dead, all over her Fallout Boy posters, and all over Chris.
He woke up a bit later to find Sheila’s groin resting on his lap, and the rest of her spraypainted on the walls. It was a good thing he was a vampire and not nauseated by the sight of blood, because he might have felt like being sick, or even…fainted! Resisting the temptation to lick her up, he put his clothes on and flew out the window. His keen vampire vision picked out Deidre at number 45 flashing her tits to signal him and he swooped down towards her open bedroom window.
THE END! OR IS IT?
Dedicated to Colin Hall-Williams, who dared me to write terrible teen vampire fiction, and Chris Heald, for following my dare of writing 'I HEART RAPISTS' in a Twitter post. Salut, mon amis!
