Vampire Story 4

My name is Nicole. I once was a little girl. I was the girl afraid she would never grow up after she was turned into a vampire.

It has been around ten years since I was raped and bitten. I have grown thankfully, but I grow very slowly since I was turned. I think I might have been ten when I was turned. But I don’t remember anymore. I can’t remember anything from before. I can’t remember my mother’s face. I know I used to live in Brooklyn by the beach, but even that feels like a dream you forget the minutes after you wake up.

In those ten years I’ve aged maybe three. I’ve got boobs now! Little ones, but boobs. They help a lot with the hunt. I’m no longer a little girl, I’m a monster in a teenager’s body. But I guess people would say that about all teenagers. LOL

I no longer sleep in dumpsters. I sleep in luxury hotels. I learned to use technology, how to use the dark web to clean out my prey’s bank accounts after I take them. I’ve also met other vampires and learned how to kill more cleanly.

I used to kill primarily in the park. I would wear a pretty pink sun dress and wait for a disgusting pedophile to try to rape me. Then I would tear him apart.

I have a signature move I use outdoors, a horizontal flip that rips their throat from ear to ear. Its good I came up with that, I didn’t know the rules before I met more of my kind, I just lucked out. You have to really fuck up the prey if you don’t want them to come back. You can’t just drain them all sexy, Anne Rice style. Had I not been doing that move, I would have been creating a race of immortal pedophiles. No one wants that.

I’m much more sophisticated now, the internet changed everything. That and advice from other vampires. I met a vampire a few years back that taught me his signature move. He poisons the prey first. He uses cyanide gas.

Now I use the dark web to pose as an underage prostitute. There are child porn sites all over the place on there, filled with men that will line up to fuck a 13-year-old girl. They will pay handsomely for it too, though some won’t bother bringing any money, thinking they can just have their way with me.

When they get to my hotel room, I make the gas on a hotplate, or the stove if it’s a full suite. As soon as they get to my room, they almost instantly pass out. I try not to use too much. I kill pedophiles, not the other guests. Then I tear out their throat, and if I can, snap their neck. It’s harder to snap a neck than it looks in the movies, so sometimes I just have to maw them.

I then take their wallet and valuables, roll them in a canvas tarp, dispose of the body and check out. It’s easy to dispose a body in a fancy hotel. You just throw it down an empty staircase and leave. No one expects a teenage girl to be able to tear out a throat, and no one uses the stairs in a fancy hotel, so the kill isn’t found for days. My kills always get blamed on the mafia or gangs.

After feeding, I like to go to the park. My favorite place in New York City is Bethesda Terrace. I used to catch food there constantly. Generally, now I don’t feed twice in a day though. I just like taking off my hooker pumps and dipping my feet in the pond.

The City has changed a lot in ten years. It used to be all ugly orange lights at night. Now it glows like a rainbow at night. It’s actually somewhat painful in some places. I never go to Time Square, though maybe that’s just the tourists. Here in the park I feel at peace, almost alive again, watching the multicolored lights reflecting of the pond.

It was on a night like this several years ago that I met my first vampire friend, the one that taught me the cyanide trick.

I was washing my feet, watching the pond and he creeped up behind me. I’m not sure how I noticed him. We aren’t psychic or anything, but suddenly something just felt off. I think it was the smell. Humans smell like the best steak you’ve ever tasted. You can smell them from yards away. Vampires smell like practically nothing. They do have some odor but it’s hard to make out, you don’t really even smell them until they are practically on top of you.

I heard his footsteps and noticed the odor and turned in shock. He was looming over me, sizing me up like a viper sizes up a mouse. All male vampires I’ve met give off a strong psychopath vibe. Maybe I do too but my “clients” are just too dumb and horny to notice.

I was terrified. In the books, they say the only rule to being a vampire is, “Don’t kill your own kind.” But I don’t know if that is true in real life.

I got ready to do my signature move. Was this just another pedophile vampire looking to rape me again? I was dressed as a hooker; I had switched out my pretty pink dress for black cocktail dresses when my boobs came in. Maybe he thought I was just another disposable prostitute for him to rape and mutilate.

Instead he said with a small smile, “I’m Jon, I know what you are. It’s nice to meet you.”

“How can you tell?” I asked, wondering how much trouble I was in. He was still giving off that total psycho vibe in spades.

“You smell bad.” He answered.

“Are you here to kill me?” I asked.

“No, vampires don’t usually kill other vampires. There really wouldn’t be a point, we taste terrible.” He told me.

Jon and I became good friends. He taught me how to make cyanide. And together we terrorized the streets of Manhattan. Jon killed indiscriminately. I kept to my pedophiles. I didn’t like that about Jon, but I just had to accept our differences. He was over 100 years old, and very set in his ways.

After a few months of poisoning and bloodshed, I hesitantly asked Jon a question.

“So, do vampires sometimes kill other vampires? Is it against the rules?” I asked.

“Vampires have no rules. We kill who we want. It’s not very common though. Why, do you have someone you want to kill?” He asked.

I pulled from my bag the police sketch from ten years earlier. It was yellow and faded, but I had had it laminated at a 24-hour Kinkos years ago. You could still see the image.

“This vampire raped and turned me when I was ten years old. I plan to kill him when I find him. Tear off his head.” I said, instinctively blinking away tears my body no longer produced.

“Well it is usual for vampires to rape humans before they kill them, though it’s not something I do. I prefer my own kind. I’m surprised you turned, not one so young as you. Usually a little girl’s neck is too fragile.” He said, chillingly.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“I know of him; his territory is Brooklyn. You can probably find him in Prospect Park. But he he will be much stronger than you. You don’t even know how to fight a vampire; he will kill you.” He said.

Jon had lived over a hundred years and in that time had mastered several martial arts. He offered to train me. We found a boxing gym and bribed the owner to let us use it overnight. Every night we would spar, and Jon would teach me various moves and techniques.

When fighting as a vampire your primary weapons are your fangs. But Jon and I were not going rip each other apart sparring. Instead we agreed to just kiss the place we would have bitten.

At first it was brutal. Jon was much stronger than me. He would do things like sweep my legs then hold me to the ground effortlessly and kiss my neck. I would try my signature move and he would dodge, one time I even accidently kissed him on the lips as he parried the move. It was the first time I ever saw him look bashful.

Months when by and I grew a little older. I was 21 now, I think. With Jon I fed more then I normally would just due the exhaustion of our sparring sessions. I began to go through a growth spurt. Instead of 13 I now more resembled a girl of 16. I also began to feel things with Jon I had never felt before. I wasn’t lonely anymore. He was the first man I had let touch me (that I wasn’t ripping the throat out of) since I had been raped. I came to enjoy our sparring sessions almost more than taking the food.

I had learned through our sparring that I would never match him in strength. But I was far faster than him. I had to dodge his attacks, parry and retreat, then strike. But sometimes I started letting myself be a little slow or a little clumsy, just to get one of those little kisses, on my neck, or thigh, or back.

As the days of training went by, I fed and fed. I began to look older, to really grow up. I was finally becoming a monster in the woman’s body I had always wanted. This presented a problem. The pedophiles started losing interest. They really weren’t fans of hips and boobs.

I could still get “work” (feed) as a “prostitute” but I wasn’t comfortable feeding on guys that just wanted to pay for sex with a consenting adult.

Jon would make fun of me for it. He would say, “Why do you care about the food, they are just food, they are all going to die anyway! They don’t care about their food. Do you think any of them give a shit about the cows and pigs and chickens they eat? They don’t even give a shit about the trees; this whole city is going to be underwater soon!”

I stuck to my moral high ground though. The Sex Offender Registry became my new bible. Jon actually approved of this, he loved breaking and entering, and it was an activity we could do together. We would locate a particularly heinous rapist, get their address, break in the door, and eat them together. It was a real bonding experience.

One night while sparring I used a move I hadn’t quite been able to pull off before. Jon threw a lightning fast punch at my face, but I rolled to the side to dodge it. Then I did a handspring forward, wrapping my thighs around his face, which sent a tingle up my spine. Then I rolled him to the side whipping him to the ground. I didn’t use my full strength, I would have shattered his spine.

He lay there panting.

“I think you’re ready to kill your rapist and maker.” He said between breaths. “But I have something I want you to take with you. I found this in the house of one of the creeps we ate last week.”

He handed me a long, matte black knife, with a partially serrated edge.

“It’s for insurance. He is going to know you will use your fangs. But he might not see this coming. It won’t kill him, but it will slow him down. I can’t come with you, this is your kill. Please don’t get yourself killed.” He said.

I took the gift and headed to Prospect Park.

It took nights of searching. The park was deserted. It used to be filled with homeless people, but I guess he was feeding a lot.

I walk through the dark park, wearing my black hooker dress and platform pumps. I figure if he saw me before I saw him, I could maybe lure him in and get the upper hand. He was after all a rapist and you know what rapists do to prostitutes.

That didn’t happen though. I smelled him first.

I pulled off my shoes and my dress. I grabbed the knife from my oversized purse. I ran toward him wearing nothing but my underwear. I got him from behind with my signature move, spinning through the air, ripping his throat from ear to ear.

Jon was right, vampires really do taste like shit.

He stood there dumfounded for a second. Brown-black blood bubbled from his throat as he tried to speak, pouring down his body in gushing waves. I’m glad he couldn’t speak now, I would hate for this motherfucker to get the last word in.

“You raped me you motherfucker; you turned a little girl into something she never wanted to be. Now I’m turning you into something you don’t want to be, I’m turning you into DEAD!” I screamed.

But I wasn’t done with him yet. He lunged at me grabbing me by the throat, spraying blood the color of used motor oil from his mouth. That worked in my favor though, the blood made me slippery so that he could not keep a hold of me.

He was strong, but I was fast.

I dropped to the ground and slashed his Achilles tendent. He fell on his back but managed to grab me by the throat again, but the blood loss was making him weak. I used my free hand to tear out his eyes. I stabbed him in the back with the knife, through the ribs, but he did get in a good bite on my shoulder. Vampires don’t feel pain like people do. It hurt, but it was a distant sort of hurt.

I used the leverage of the knife to flip him on his back. I stabbed him again and again through the rib cage completely destroying it. He was now bleeding out from his entire body, losing the ability to fight.

I went in for the kill.

I wrapped my fangs around the back of his neck biting down on his spine. I bit harder than I ever had. Ever. Spines are harder than concrete. I could hear the teeth grinding against bone in my mouth, the steel grinding against bone from the knife in his back.

Then there was a crunching sound that even as a vampire I found disgusting. I had crushed one or two of his vertebrae.

I opened my mouth and screamed with rage. I grabbed his head and spun it 180 degrees so that I could see his eyes as he died, and he could see mine. Then I sawed off his head with the knife.

“I’m keeping your head; I’m going to mount it on the wall!” I exclaimed.

I took his head and dunked myself in the lake to get all the oily blood off both it and me. Then I put my dress back on, my hooker shoes back on, and stuffed the head in my bag. I left the knife; I didn’t need it anymore. I grabbed a car back to the gym, where I knew Jon would be waiting for me.

He was. I walked through the door and threw the head in the ring.

I was still dripping wet from my bath, my dress sticking to me, my hair wrapped around my face. I looked like I had just come out of the rain.

“It’s over, that’s him. We need to find a bribable taxidermist, because I intend to keep it.” I said. Then I ran up to him and kissed him. A real deep kiss, the type I’ve never had before.

We made love in the center of the boxing ring, in front of the severed head of my rapist. He was dead, he couldn’t really see us, but I love that my real first time was in front of his eyes.

When we were done, and it took a while, one hundred plus year old vampires are shockingly good in bed; I asked him, “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure.” He said, lighting a cigarette. It’s such a cliché, but vampires don’t get cancer. Why not smoke after sex?

“Can you only take bad prey like I do?” I asked.

“Actually, I’ve been quite enjoying it. It’s not like the City is going to run out of rapists anytime soon. They taste just as good as the next guy.” He responded.

“Do vampires ever marry?” I asked.

“Usually not for more than a while. Immortality is a long time.” He said.

“Would you marry me?” I asked shyly.

“Yes, I love you.” He said.

It turns out that it’s difficult to find a church that performs weddings at night. We wound up going with a Satanist group out in Queens. They were willing to marry us, but only for certain favors in return. I’m sure you can imagine the type of favors they wanted, but if not, suffice to say there are now a bunch, or group, or coven, or murder of vampires tearing its way through Queens. (What do you even call a group of vampires?)

The wonderful thing is they are all our children now. On my wedding night I didn’t just get a husband.

We made an entire family.