A night of change

Her transformation was nearly complete. Claire remained unconscious as the molecules in her body rearranged themselves, changing her very DNA. Outwardly, the changes were subtle, but hours from now, when she awoke, she would feel invigorated, stronger. Her body would feel lighter somehow, more responsive. Her hair would glimmer a little more, her breasts would seem a little firmer, her already taught abdomen would have a touch more definition. She would be, in almost all senses of the definition, “better”.

Claire enjoyed her career as a librarian. Yes, she knew it was cliché. She was a tall voluptuous blonde – she could have been a model – but every weekday day for the last 3 years, she trotted off to her little desk at the public library, her long hair up in a conservative bun, her wide rimmed glasses planted exquisitely on her forehead. It wasn’t that Claire loved books to some phantasmal degree or that she was shy or any of the reasons one would suspect, Claire was the city librarian by chance. She had been looking for work, liked the opportunity that government employ would provide her as far as future security was concerned, and had simply applied for the job as posted on the city’s website.

There were two employees at the library. She had started off as an assistant, but in a year, her boss had quit and moved on to other things. She found herself running the library.
There was a current opening for a replacement assistant that Claire had been interviewing for. Her old job. She was having trouble filling the position and understood more and more why the powers that be had been so eager to hire her in the first place and eventually promote her with basically no background in this field – there were not a whole lot of people that wanted to spend endlessly long days or nights surrounded by books in a musty old library.

That was where she met Michael. He appeared in front of her desk late last night. She had been staring down at her desk filling in some paper work to track some books that hadn’t been returned yet and she more sensed his presence then heard him. It startled her when she looked up to see him standing there.

He was tall – at least six feet. He wore a long faded overcoat, most likely to ward off the incessant rain, but it seemed to hang from his muscular physique in such a way that it was as if it was a part of him. He had jet black hair and very dark, almost black eyes. His facial features were rugged, but not unruly, his hands in his pockets, his stance casual but decided. It was as if he owned the land where ever he happened to be. This was a self confident man.

Her metamorphosis complete now, Claire began to regain consciousness. Even in this state, her foggy mind seemed to process things better, faster. She immediately recognized the surroundings of her Victorian home. An instant later she confirmed that she was alone in her room, although without being able to pinpoint exactly how, she also knew without a doubt, she was alone in her house as well.

Her mind cleared its morning dew very quickly. This caused Claire a momentary pause as she was NOT normally a morning person. “I must have had a really good night’s sleep”, She thought to herself. Nevertheless she bounced out of bed and began her morning rituals.

She puttered around the house gathering up old dishes and forgotten cups, and noticing that the sun hadn’t fully come up yet. In passing, she glanced at her wall clock in the kitchen and saw that it was 8:00. She thought it strange that it should be brighter outside for 8 but thought little of it. She realized, however, that her alarm clock hadn’t gone off.

“Damn thing!”, she thought to herself. She knew she would have to replace the old thing before someone at work actually paid attention and realized that she was often late in the morning because of it. As her rounds took her by her bed she casually picked up the old digital cock – its little number flap changing to 8:04 from 8:03 as she lofted it to her view. Briefly her mind registered that yes, indeed, the alarm should have went off at 8:00and hadn’t, and then she focused in on the smaller little am/pm flap in the bottom corner.

PM – “what the hell?”

“Damn clock!”, she would finally go get a new one today. Then she second guessed the little device, “It can’t be right….?”

She moved to her little computer desk in the corner of her bedroom and wiggled the mouse. As her monitor came to life she placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose and studied the teeny numbers in the lower right hand corner.

8:04PM. “What the fuck!?”, she said aloud.

She quickly looked back outside to find it slightly darker then when she first got up – she raced to the Television and turned on the local television guide – the ever present clock indicated 8:04PM. As she stared in disbelief, the digital presentation changed to 8:05.
Claire had slept the entire day. No, the entire night before and the entire day. Her mind traveled back to the last thing she remembered.

— 2 —-

He stood there, in front of her desk. A glorious representation of a man. She didn’t even remember his voice. “Did he even talk to me?”, she thought. No matter how hard she tried, that was the last coherent memory she could capture. She had passing vivid thoughts of limo rides, swirling lights and deafening sounds of club music filled her memories. She had snap shots of her involved in incredibly lewd behavior. Visions of a massive cock in her mouth, riding another, her hands deep inside a woman’s pussy, her ass being invaded… The nameless, faceless, debauchery flashed in her brain like a strobe light. She thought she remembered the feel of a rope, and the coldness of a table on her bare back. Their faces out of focus – laughing – cheering – her own voice screaming “MORE!”

She remembered silence. A dark room. His face appearing out of the night as he did at her desk when they first met. She remembered his pale face, accented only by the smallest hint of blood at the corner of his mouth. Deep, red blood. Her blood.
“Welcome to the Jungle”. The only words of his that she remembered.

Somehow the memories calmed her awakening. Perhaps it was that they were so clear, so vivid that despite her confusion about the time of day she was actually turned on. She had begun to flow; her hands had automatically lodged themselves between her legs. She found herself sitting on her couch at 8-something PM! masturbating.

The absurdity of the situation didn’t even faze her. She recognized her need now. A primal desire for release – and something else. Something she had never felt before. A hunger as if she’d be stranded on a deserted island without food. Almost painful, she associated it with her desire to cum. Harder and faster she rubbed herself. One finger, then two and finally three fingers penetrated her body. If it wasn’t attached, her arm would have lifted her completely off the ground, so vicious was her onslaught.

Her apex came and seemed to be as, or more powerful then any she’d ever experienced by herself or even with a partner, however, this time it seemed to only take her to a higher plateau – a further step of heightened senses and erotica – and left her there, wanting “more”.

She didn’t know what “more” was. Wild eyed, she pounced from her position and paced around her home like an animal in a cage. Room to room she stalked; suddenly she heard a low animalistic growl. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that the sound came from her.

“Settle down Claire”. She scolded herself. “What the hell has gotten into me”.
Still her eyes were wide. She was restless. Her mind in overdrive. Like an animal in a cage, she couldn’t stop herself from continually glancing at each wall of the room, the cage she was in, she felt like she needed a way out. The thoughts raced through her head like a steam engine with afterburners. Her mind raced through one thought process only to immediately jump to the next, only to restart a parallel process back on the first.
Claire held her head in her hands in a useless attempt to stop the swirl.

“I NEED to get out of here. Go out for a while”. She said aloud. She broke her rhythm and pranced to her closet to check her wardrobe. Her hand brushed down the fabric of her favorite jeans…. all her sheer tops… The nerve centers in her fingers causing synapses in her brain to fire a million volts of descriptive feeling to her mental vision. She could almost “feel” the colors of the fabric. She could taste the smells from her freshly washed clothing.

Her hunger grew.

Her hands swept, cat like, through her wardrobe and came to rest on the smooth texture of her leather pant suit. She felt the color was black. With her eyes closed she pawed the outfit. From the hem of the pant to the fold on the hanger. The sleeves of the suit styled leather jacket. The feedback was exquisite. It seemed to satisfy part of her mysterious need. As the fabric slid across her naked body, even with her eyes closed, her mind painted a mental picture that she found more than pleasing – she found it wonderfully erotic.

She woke from her trace to select red velvet stilettos with 5 inch heels. She had purchased them on a whim and never wore them. She found them hard to walk in. Tonight, however, they slid on her feet like gloves on her hand, and she pranced around the room like a Gothic ballerina excited about her first recital.
Focused now, driven by a powerful force, she automatically turned and walked out the front door.

Claire felt as if the ground slipped away from her. It was like an out of body experience. Her eyes registered the lane way slipping away, the trees getting smaller. Her thoughts consumed by her need.

She arrived at the club as if by magic. She didn’t recognize the place and come to think of it, didn’t even remember setting this as her destination. The hunger inside her grew.

There was a line at the entrance. It stretched far down the side of the immense building. Without even a second glance at the sheep waiting in the line, she directly approached the doorman. At first he appeared to stand his ground, but as Claire approached him her eyes caught his stare and he noticeably softened. His eyes never left hers as he removed the clip on rope that sealed off access to the building. As she walked past him she lifted her arm and dragged a fingernail across his chin.

In a word, the club was intense. The blonde strode through the crowd as if surrounded by a force field. The patrons simply parted as she surveyed her domain. Every man within eye shot of Claire simply stopped their evening’s events to stare at her as she passed by – and most of the women too.

Claire was not just hot – she was on fire. Her sexuality was airborne now, infecting those around her. Enticing them into her spell. As the beat from the speakers pounded on, Claire noticed people in the darker corners of the club. Her enhanced vision picking out the smallest details.

There was a woman on her knees in front of a black man. His hands pulling on the back of her head. Right of them sat a brunette, perched on a high barstool with her legs spread just enough to allow a red head to have access with her hand. The brunette hunched over, holding her lover’s forearm, in the deep throws of an orgasm.

All around her couples were in various stages of public sex. Claire’s hunger had no bounds now. A man approached. In yesterday’s life Claire would have thought him to be very attractive. His shaved head and goatee accenting his square jaw line. He had a medium build with some visible tattoos. Yes, yesterday she might have even purred – today she simply looked him up and down and said ”You’ll do.”

Claire turned on her heels grabbing her prey by his tie. She led him to a chair that became vacant as soon as she approached it. Here, in the darkest of corners she would fulfill her need. He was a piece of meat for her to use. Her minion to own.

She may have lifted him onto the chair or he may have been heading that way on his own – either way he virtually floated into position and found himself staring into the eyes of the most beautiful blonde her had ever seen in his life. Her hair remained up in her librarian’s bun, her glasses perched atop her forehead. But her eyes. They were, to say the least, intense.

As he stared into her yes he could see swirling lava flowing around her pupil – he briefly wondered where she might have found contacts like that! But his thoughts were lost as he slipped into a trance like state. Her hands came off the armrests now as she began to undo his pants. Her mouth watered in anticipation of her first taste. His head fell back against the chair as she lowered herself to him.

Claire felt that she was not in control of her own body. She was simply a very willing participant in a scripted play. His cock felt warm in her hand. She gripped it tightly. Owning it. Claire’s mouth opened to accept her prize. She felt her lips drag across her incisors as she opened ever wider, intent on downing him completely.

As his cock bumped the back of her throat and began to slide down, she closed her lips around him. Her elongated incisors penetrating the soft skin at the absolute base of his cock. She sucked. She sucked and sucked as her world spun, as the music’s beat blended in with the lights and became one swirling mass of overheated senses attacking her brain from all directions simultaneously.

She never backed off his cock but kept it lodged deep in her throat while she sucked. He was coming now. The root of his shaft pulsated against her teeth. She felt his fluid travel the long length of his shaft down her throat directly into her. She pulled him closer with both hands so as not to chance loosing a drop. Their underworld coupling complete she savored the feeling as her hunger finally dissipated.

She opened her mouth to release him from her outwardly grasp. She felt his cock relieve itself from her throat and his still swollen head drag across her tongue. She swirled around his head as he departed, savoring his taste.

Her mind now returning to the real world, her body traveling down from her artificial plateau, she stood up. Her mind was like a revving V-8 engine – random impulses firing off explosive flashes of realization into different parts of her mind. Sequential, but overpowering.

She turned and ran from the club. On the street she hailed a cab and gave him her address.

Away from the music and incessant beat of the bass speakers – away from the debaucherous act she had just committed she tried to grasp a fleeting reality that was still just out of reach.

She leaned against the window in resignation. She felt like she had just had the most massive orgasm of her life – this is how she ‘should’ have felt earlier after her personal release.

Even with the cabby’s lecherous glare constantly attacking her from the rear view mirror, she smiled to herself in the reflection of the side window.

“That was fucking good.” She thought.

The cabby adjusted his rear-view mirror in a vain attempt to see more of his charges partially exposed body. He was a normal 35 year old male attempting to pay for his return to college with a part time job chauffeuring mostly drunk people around into the late hours of the night. Often his job was half policeman, part bouncer, and mostly irritating. But tonight was different. Had he not stopped at the sex shop to refill his prescription of lube for his nightly rendezvous with himself behind the old factories on the edge of town, had he not hit every fucking red light on the way to the club in hopes of a large fair to pay for one more book in a never ending stream of scholastic expenses – then he’d not been pulling up at the precise moment that this vision in her red heels and black leather outfit stumbled into the street looking for a ride. Looking for him.

She talked to him then. An almost imperceptible, “hey”.

He nearly missed it as his concentration alternated between the road ahead and her exposed cleavage in his mirror.

“Yes”, he responded.

“Have you ever wanted to just let go for one night?” She asked seductively.
“All the time.” Was his reply.

“Take me somewhere.”

At this point he didn’t know if she meant another club, a restaurant perhaps, or was she a hooker looking to score a trick? He glanced into the rear view and adjusted it up to meet her eyes. They were waiting for him. Those deep dark eyes with swirling red centers.

He knew what she wanted.

He drove to ‘his’ place behind the warehouses and the long forgotten machinery. He’d been here before, and other then the occasional cop that cruised by looking for vandals, he’d never been bothered.

As the cab glided to a stop, he placed the car in park and left the motor running. In a single fluid motion that kept him captivated, she was with him in the front seat. Her eyes seemed to never leave his during her entire journey.

Her hands crept down his chest, her fingernails seeming to slice off the buttons on his shirt one by one until none remained. She undid his western buckle with the same flair an experienced lover would unhook the bra strap of his latest flair. Already the top of his hard cock leaked lubricant as it became exposed to the night air.

She unfurled the package from the adult store like she knew what was in it. Broke the seal on the bottle of lube and emptied a good portion of the contents into her hand and onto his cock.

Never once breaking eye contact with her chauffeur, Claire’s hand began to slide up and down on his meaty shaft.

When he was hard enough, nearly at the point of no return, Claire rotated on the bench seat presenting her ass to her new lover. He wasted no time in reaching around to undo her leather pants. They seemed to glide over her hips and down her legs as she alternately removed one then the other from her pant suit. Her red stilettos remained on her feet as she spread her self for him to see.

He hunched up over her back, his sex edging closer and closer to her. As the tip of his prick brushed her puffy lips, she reached between herself and guided him up. His lubricated cock touched the outer rim of her tight asshole. He instinctively knew what she wanted and was going to give it to her.

He pushed a little then. Parting her entrance slightly. She felt herself opening up to him and as the tip of his cock broke the seal on her virginal hole, she pushed back roughly and impaled herself on him.

Almost seven inches of meat forced themselves into her bowls. Her head flailed back in glorious pain. In and out she rode him as he fought back his orgasm. She clenched around his already abused cock in a vain attempt to rip it from him and keep it as her own. He reached forward and grabbed her hair, now pulling her towards him. Harder, faster he pounded into her.

She grabbed his arm from her hair – her now elongated nails digging into his flesh. She pulled him closed to her. She could feel his chest against her back as the dark coupling continued. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, his hand against her face. He followed her lead and put his hand over her mouth. She tongued his fingers. They probed her mouth. She turned her head slightly towards his arm and licked his wrist.
Her own desires exploding now, controlling her, willing her to make him her own. She clamped down on his wrist and buried her pointed teeth into the meat.

His orgasm triggered, he began to pump semen into her. Load after load traveled the length of his engorged cock, past the vice like opening of her ass and filled her insides.

She sucked on his wrist like her survival depended on it. Her own body shuddered as the kaleidoscope of colors replaced her vision one more time tonight. It was an elevator ride to the top of Everest.

The nuclear explosion in her mind dissipated. She could feel her lover shrink and eventually withdraw. She released his wrist.

As he lay slumped, breathing heavily back on his side of the cabin, she opened the door and exited. She gathered up her things, threw a twenty down on the seat and made her way off into the night.

Her hunger was satisfied. For the moment.

Caprice awoke to find herself in her bed. It was 8:02. She immediately looked at the AM/PM tag and to her horror it read PM again!

She threw her hands to her face – “What the hell!!” She said aloud.

“Not quite hell”, was the answer from the shadows in her room.

Claire bolted upright, her naked breasts forgotten for the moment swayed to catch up.

“Who the fuck is there!” She wailed.

He stepped from the shadows then. His flowing dark hair cascading over the old dark long jacket that he wore made it look like a cape. He was the vision of her dreams – and her nightmares. The way he moved indicated that he was a man used to being in control. His jet black eyes, never loosing contact with her, seems to hold her in place. His incisors peeked out from under his top lip in a horrifyingly erotic way. He was captivating and terrifying all at the same time.

He did not answer her plea. He simply moved to her bed and sat down beside her.

“I have given you a gift.” He spoke softly now, but even still his voice held her mind and body like a vice. She looked into his deep dark eyes and was confronted with a vision of herself. But not as if in a mirror, more a look into her lust filled soul. He could ask her to jump out her second story window and she would do. He could ask her to drink acid, she would comply. She would Kill for him.

His hand hovered to her exposed breast. It was electric. Their body temperatures so well matched it was as if she had touched herself.

He fondled her protruding nipple. Pulled it almost to the point of pain. His sharpened fingernail flicked the edge of her nipple drawing the smallest trickle of blood. She felt only pleasure.

He leaned forward and placed her nipple in his mouth and sucked. She immediately orgasmed. Not one, but one after another. A staccato of ecstatic peaks rocked her body like automatic gunfire.

Releasing her nipple he moved his hand to her neck and decidedly escorted her head back to the pillow.

He placed his head beside hers. His hand still on her neck and spoke to her soul.

“The path remains uncertain. You must commit. It is by your choice only that you remain in this transient state.”

Through the semi-consciousness of her trance, the words rang like church bells and echoed in her head. With a flick of his wrist, Claire was face down, uncovered on the bed. He glided on top of her back, his head still beside hers, his voice still ringing in her mind.

He whispered into her ear, stories of a land far away and a time long forgotten. From beneath his now open cape she felt his hardness lodge between her buttocks. She heard memories of fields of darkness and fire. The Gothic images became her reality, her memories as he entered her from behind.

His massive manhood parted her like a spring flower. She reached an orgasmic plateau almost immediately, but stayed there while he spoke. While he spoke and fucked her. His long slow strokes letting her feel every ripple of his cock. Every vein, every subtle movement of his hips. She was not on a roller coaster ride as she had been with so many other lovers, she was on a mountain top – the highest mountain ever – circling above herself in orgasmic ecstasy. Nothing mattered now but the coupling.

In and out, relentlessly. Finding new depths within her. Her cunt spasmed, pulling his meat deeper inside her. He slid his right arm across her mouth, his left holding her head tight to his. Her claws shredded the bed covers as she grasped to hold on while her teeth sunk deep into his arm.

“Forever?” He asked.

Lost in their gyrations, she didn’t comprehend the question. She only understood the explosions rocking her body.

“Forever!” He sunk his claws into her neck. She bit down harder on his arm, her eyes closed tight as she tried to digest his words.

His thrusting increased in tempo. His cock began to spasm. Rope after rope erupting from within the depths of his darkness to fill her with his seed.

“FOREVER!!” He screamed!

In a mentally cataclysmic explosion of ecstasy she understood what he meant. She let go of his arm.

“Yes, forever.” She whispered.

As his orgasm peaked, her turned and sunk his teeth into her neck.

In the darkness of her room, watching silently, stood a pale faced cabbie and a seemingly lifeless tattooed man with a goatee.

Tonight they would fly, free of body and soul. As one they would hunt and live. Free from the confines of this world. Tonight was the first day of Countess Claire’s life. She would live upon that mountain peak of her ecstasy and she would feed. Her sexual hunger would be satiated nightly and the number of her minions would increase until there stood an army, beside a one time librarian’s side.

She was no longer a librarian. Some would even say she was no longer human.

But for the very first time in her life, she knew who and what she was.

—end—-
(for now)

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