I Thirst
Introduction:
A Night Watchman corners a thief
I Thirst
Stan quietly turned in his gear and clocked out as the first rays of dawn filtered through the dusty windows of the security office. The screen door slammed abruptly as he left with the same squeaky harshness he’d grown accustomed too over his short tenure, triggering a soul sourced sigh of relief. The brick two-story structure with mesh covered windows where Stan patrolled served as a storage facility for unused bodily fluids like blood and sperm on the second level, with a small “quality control” lab on the first floor. Folks he never met arrived dutifully at the same hour in their Lincolns and BMW’s, and departed long before Stan returned in the middle of the night. Located in an abandoned and mostly forgotten part of town, it was close to the one room apartment where Stan spent his free time, away from the stress and pressure of modern city life – just the way he liked it.
Not so long ago, Stan had been a rising star in a large manufacturing firm with a mortgage, wife, and second hand car, and filled with dreams and energy. But downsizing quickly dispatched his assets, and while his pregnant wife ran home to momma, Stan set out alone. Weeks of rejection eventually sapped his hopes, and found him slowly climbing the stairs to his second floor flat where beer, bologna, and bread awaited his palate and darkened windows and an overstuffed mattress promised rest to his aching torso. He snapped on the TV and adjusted the ruptured clothes hanger antenna until the snow disappeared and the news droned its boring sensationalism in black and gray. Sleep rapidly overwhelmed him as the city just beyond his neighborhood burst into renewed life.
Night fell too quickly, as it usually does, and all too soon Stan was shaving his stubble to the tune of a whistling teakettle. It was Saturday night, and after his shift was complete, he would have 48-hours to watch football, and spend some time at Rileys, his favorite pub located just across the street. Rileys was seldom empty when it was open, catering to the locals and vagrants with feigned interest, cool brews, and a closely monitored flat screen. Every night after midnight, Mr. Riley would throw a porn disc in the DVD to a packed house that would openly comment on the action or the lack therein. A sharp watch was maintained for local law enforcement that seldom came, and when they did, normally actively joined in on the commentaries while downing canned sodas.
All was going well on watch for Stan until about three in the morning when a subtle noise could be heard in one of the nitrogen storage rooms unlike those he was accustomed too. After fumbling with several different keys, he was able to make his way into the darkened room and flick on the light switch. Beneath the austere flicker of fluorescent bulbs he spied a huddled figure in the back corner with several small milky colored vials scattered haphazardly leading to an open storage door. Stan hurriedly pulled his sheathed tazer and raced towards the trembling figure.
“Please don’t. . .” a frail feminine voice squeaked from beneath the dark shawl obscuring all but her tiny bare feet.
Stan half slid to a stop right before her on the shiny grey tiles. “Geez lady, what the hell you doin’ in here?”
The shroud slowly slid from a dark mountain of long disheveled hair to reveal two large black eyes made prominent by her pale white complexion. “I thirst,” she mumbled with a barely audible voice.
The fight or flight response kicked in even before Stan saw the two sharp points of her fangs protruding into her lower lip. His mouth became “death valley dry” as his mind fervently sought his next course of action. Somehow, this form of theft didn’t fit in any of the response scenarios outlined in the security manual he had been required to memorize. Stan fingered his phone nervously, wondering if his security chief would believe or terminate him. The latter appeared far more likely. “Get out of here, and don’t come back,” Stan snarled in the most vicious voice he could muster, and watched her slide through the wire mesh that was pried open and disappear. He then dialed the local law enforcement agency.
Endless questions and intimidating glares after the police arrived, Stan was finally released. He emerged exhausted into the bright sunlight. Prudence had dictated the Stan omit any reference to the pointed tooth nymph he had found, in an apparently successful attempt to hold his job. The entire event was more than he cared to consider, and he trudged home in an exhausted daze. As he entered his darkened abode, he briefly considered a brew, but settled for the comfort of his bed and was out within seconds.
Visions of fanged toothed creatures drifted in and out of his troubled dreams when he was awakened by a forceful tug to his BVD’s. In the subdued light, he could barely make out a huddled figure tugging at the last vestiges of his modesty fervently.
“What the hell . . .,” he mumbled.
“I thirst . . .,” came the plaintive reply. Stan’s blood instantly ran cold and he froze, as the last fabric was pulled away from his torso. The rush of cool air on his genitals was quickly replaced by the unmistakable warm and wet suction of an experienced mouth magician. Her tongue rapidly massaged his glans, protruding into his slit forcefully on several occasions. Her tiny hands massaged his maleness fervently, gently coaxing his life giving essence from the depths of his groin. With one hand pumping the straining shaft, and the other gently pressuring his quivering gonads, her oral ministrations went into overdrive, and brought Stan to an explosive dick burning eruption, in record time. When his boiling seed spewed into her mouth, her two razor sharp incisors punctured the delicate flesh beneath his glans, pricking one of his veins and sending a stream of warm blood into his frothy cum which she gulped down until the flow completely ceased.
Stan arched his back in ecstasy, barely aware of the two pricks responsible for draining his manhood so rapidly. Months of stored sperm were completely consumed by his hungry guest as she murmured her approval. She rolled from his exhausted body and sighed contentedly as Stan fell back into an exhausted sleep. Within his sleeping body, the serum she injected began to circulate slowly, settling into his prostrate and testes. Within hours, his body would become a virulent sperm factory and she would be there to relieve the pressure and help him adapt to his new life as her provider.
Stan quietly turned in his gear and clocked out as the first rays of dawn filtered through the dusty windows of the security office. The screen door slammed abruptly as he left with the same squeaky harshness he’d grown accustomed too over his short tenure, triggering a soul sourced sigh of relief. The brick two-story structure with mesh covered windows where Stan patrolled served as a storage facility for unused bodily fluids like blood and sperm on the second level, with a small “quality control” lab on the first floor. Folks he never met arrived dutifully at the same hour in their Lincolns and BMW’s, and departed long before Stan returned in the middle of the night. Located in an abandoned and mostly forgotten part of town, it was close to the one room apartment where Stan spent his free time, away from the stress and pressure of modern city life – just the way he liked it.
Not so long ago, Stan had been a rising star in a large manufacturing firm with a mortgage, wife, and second hand car, and filled with dreams and energy. But downsizing quickly dispatched his assets, and while his pregnant wife ran home to momma, Stan set out alone. Weeks of rejection eventually sapped his hopes, and found him slowly climbing the stairs to his second floor flat where beer, bologna, and bread awaited his palate and darkened windows and an overstuffed mattress promised rest to his aching torso. He snapped on the TV and adjusted the ruptured clothes hanger antenna until the snow disappeared and the news droned its boring sensationalism in black and gray. Sleep rapidly overwhelmed him as the city just beyond his neighborhood burst into renewed life.
Night fell too quickly, as it usually does, and all too soon Stan was shaving his stubble to the tune of a whistling teakettle. It was Saturday night, and after his shift was complete, he would have 48-hours to watch football, and spend some time at Rileys, his favorite pub located just across the street. Rileys was seldom empty when it was open, catering to the locals and vagrants with feigned interest, cool brews, and a closely monitored flat screen. Every night after midnight, Mr. Riley would throw a porn disc in the DVD to a packed house that would openly comment on the action or the lack therein. A sharp watch was maintained for local law enforcement that seldom came, and when they did, normally actively joined in on the commentaries while downing canned sodas.
All was going well on watch for Stan until about three in the morning when a subtle noise could be heard in one of the nitrogen storage rooms unlike those he was accustomed too. After fumbling with several different keys, he was able to make his way into the darkened room and flick on the light switch. Beneath the austere flicker of fluorescent bulbs he spied a huddled figure in the back corner with several small milky colored vials scattered haphazardly leading to an open storage door. Stan hurriedly pulled his sheathed tazer and raced towards the trembling figure.
“Please don’t. . .” a frail feminine voice squeaked from beneath the dark shawl obscuring all but her tiny bare feet.
Stan half slid to a stop right before her on the shiny grey tiles. “Geez lady, what the hell you doin’ in here?”
The shroud slowly slid from a dark mountain of long disheveled hair to reveal two large black eyes made prominent by her pale white complexion. “I thirst,” she mumbled with a barely audible voice.
The fight or flight response kicked in even before Stan saw the two sharp points of her fangs protruding into her lower lip. His mouth became “death valley dry” as his mind fervently sought his next course of action. Somehow, this form of theft didn’t fit in any of the response scenarios outlined in the security manual he had been required to memorize. Stan fingered his phone nervously, wondering if his security chief would believe or terminate him. The latter appeared far more likely. “Get out of here, and don’t come back,” Stan snarled in the most vicious voice he could muster, and watched her slide through the wire mesh that was pried open and disappear. He then dialed the local law enforcement agency.
Endless questions and intimidating glares after the police arrived, Stan was finally released. He emerged exhausted into the bright sunlight. Prudence had dictated the Stan omit any reference to the pointed tooth nymph he had found, in an apparently successful attempt to hold his job. The entire event was more than he cared to consider, and he trudged home in an exhausted daze. As he entered his darkened abode, he briefly considered a brew, but settled for the comfort of his bed and was out within seconds.
Visions of fanged toothed creatures drifted in and out of his troubled dreams when he was awakened by a forceful tug to his BVD’s. In the subdued light, he could barely make out a huddled figure tugging at the last vestiges of his modesty fervently.
“What the hell . . .,” he mumbled.
“I thirst . . .,” came the plaintive reply. Stan’s blood instantly ran cold and he froze, as the last fabric was pulled away from his torso. The rush of cool air on his genitals was quickly replaced by the unmistakable warm and wet suction of an experienced mouth magician. Her tongue rapidly massaged his glans, protruding into his slit forcefully on several occasions. Her tiny hands massaged his maleness fervently, gently coaxing his life giving essence from the depths of his groin. With one hand pumping the straining shaft, and the other gently pressuring his quivering gonads, her oral ministrations went into overdrive, and brought Stan to an explosive dick burning eruption, in record time. When his boiling seed spewed into her mouth, her two razor sharp incisors punctured the delicate flesh beneath his glans, pricking one of his veins and sending a stream of warm blood into his frothy cum which she gulped down until the flow completely ceased.
Stan arched his back in ecstasy, barely aware of the two pricks responsible for draining his manhood so rapidly. Months of stored sperm were completely consumed by his hungry guest as she murmured her approval. She rolled from his exhausted body and sighed contentedly as Stan fell back into an exhausted sleep. Within his sleeping body, the serum she injected began to circulate slowly, settling into his prostrate and testes. Within hours, his body would become a virulent sperm factory and she would be there to relieve the pressure and help him adapt to his new life as her provider.
