Bango

Note: some of my characters will speak foreign languages. I could have left the original text (because of course I'm prefectly fluent in both indi and thai ;-)) but for your sake I decided to translate it into bad english (;-) again). So to signify that the characters aren't speaking in english I've inserted the - sign at the begining and ending of each sentence.

This technical little convention being set, i wish you all a good read and hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it...

Comments are highly apreciated.

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1.

The hot spring sun is about to rise from behind the chrome and glass skyscrapers of central Bangkok. The economical beating heart of the Siamese peninsula is buzzing with its twelve million workers having breakfast and getting ready to go to work.

A completely different kind of breakfast is taking place in one of the many back rooms of a miserable Karaoke parlor of the Pat Pong district. Let´s clarify here, Karaoke parlors are not the same in Asia as they are in America. When in the western world, people go there to sing poorly and drink a lot, in Asia it's a gentlemen's only entertainment bar. The miserable singing and the excessive drinking does take place but it's not the main activity. The main activity involves young poor girls providing older lonely men with the comfort of a warm body and a nice rub.

In the Karaoke parlor we are talking about, the woman who is having breakfast is neither younger than her client, despite the fact that she does look younger, nor warmer, as she's as cold as a Popsicle in the arctic. If she's cold as the dead, it´s because she has been for quite some time and to keep walking in the night of her native city she needs, from time to time, to have a breakfast like the one she's having right now.

It's a strange breakfast where the traditional warm noodle soup is not the main course. It's a strange breakfast made essentially of blood. No Irish pudding blood but warm human blood taken from the source directly from the neck of the main character, me. I am, or was, a high school boy with all the troubles of a not so popular high school boy could have. What am I doing in Thailand? Well I live here because my parents work here. I've been living here for the last three years and sadly I'm dying here right now. "Sadly", it´s strictly a manner of speaking as even if I'm technically going to die - all things are destined to die at some point - I'm soon going to be reborn a much more interesting creature.

I'm having mixed feelings at the moment. The avid fangs buried in my neck are quite painful, but at the same time the voracious vagina pumping sweat, saliva and sperm from my sore dick is quite pleasant. It's been a while since I had sex and it feels damn good to shake the webs from my far too often polished genitalia. As I drift away into darkness my last thought goes to my parents who will worry a lot. How sweet...

And indeed as the day goes by and my body goes through amazing changes, people I used to care for start worrying. When I don't show up at school at 7:45 my classmates worry, there's Mary my best friend and confident, there's Fanny, the half Canadian, half Thai weird girl, there's Madeline, the chubby funny girl who always hangs out with an older crowd and there's Tiffany, the so small yet so hot sweet morsel. When I don't show up in class, my teachers worry, especially my Spanish teacher who's always been so good to me. When I don't show up at home my mother worries, she then calls my father who worries in turn. But the sun will soon be setting over Bangkok and I will rise anew...

Absolute darkness surrounds me when I wake up. My lungs are filled with dirty water, my arms are entangled in what feels like seaweed. My first reaction is to panic. I know it's the worst course of action, but somewhere deep inside I'm still human. After a while, realizing that the lack of air is not a problem for me, I start swimming towards what seems to be up. I hit the bottom of the body of water I have been dumped in. I turn around and finally pierce the surface of the Chao Phraya, the large river that cuts Bangkok in half. I swim towards the shore. Sitting on the south bank of the river, I spit and caught the damn filthy water from my mouth and lungs. My pockets are empty and my shoes are gone, taken either by the one who dumped me or by the strong current of the river.

A tuk tuk driver approaches me. By the look he gives me, I must be a terrible mess. He spits something in Thai. Over the last three years, I've learned a very basic version of the language that shouldn't allow me to understand, but to my amazement I understand perfectly.

" - Are you all right? -"

There something odd with his skin, it's kind of ... transparent. I can see his veins and arteries; I can see his blood... The thought of it makes my mouth water. I feel uneasy, hungry and horny. With all the strange illnesses running wild in south East Asia, it's not uncommon to find this kind of freaks. I shake my head and tell him to fuck off. Cursing my mother and my loins, he moves away. I stand still for a while letting my body gather forces. Really soon, I feel much better but I can't shake the hunger and the horniness. Finally I walk away.

2.

The walk home is a long one but as I progress through the crowded streets of Bangkok I feel stronger with every naked step I take. Life explodes around me, people walking, cycling, running, people working, sleeping, fighting, people talking, screaming, singing, people going home, going to work, going out. Each and every one of them appears to me in a new light. It's hard to explain but tiny details I would have missed appear to me in their exquisite perfection. The place and purpose of everything makes sense to me, now. The man has to cross the street in front of the overloaded bicycle that in turn will have to modify its path to cross the trajectory of the truck from which a cage full of chickens will fall, bumping into the motorcycle making the girl on it fall and hurt her hands. I see it as it happens, but I anticipate the outcome as well. The girl is hurt... There's blood on her long white gloves... Blood... I want to get closer, I want to help the girl and help myself, I want to...

An old woman is screaming at me.

" - Foreign Demon! -"

Is she screaming at me or screaming about me? I don't know but people are starting to notice me so I move on leaving the girl with her blood and her pain and the old woman with her racism and her superstitions.

Eventually, I reach the residential quarter of Sukhumvit. My whole life is here: most of my friends live here, my school is here, my house is here. The three stories high residence I call home stands in front of me. My room is on the third floor, my parents have large bedroom on the second floor and the maid lives in a small bungalow by the pool.

Savitree opens. Savitree is the maid, she started working for us a year and a half ago, she's nineteen and it's her first experience working for foreigners. Her cooking is great and despite her poor English we often have a good laugh. She seems highly relieved to see me but as I enter she wrinkles her small impish nose. I must smell terrible.

"Are you O-Kay, Bri-an?" she asks.

"Yes..." I stop for a second.

I haven't taken the time to think about what happened to me. It's still very confusing and the deliciously slender line of her neck is so appealing that I decide to postpone the thinking part to a later time, after a shower for instance.

"Yes, yes, I'm all right."

"Everybody very worry," she insists, "Ma-ma at police, very worried. I call her, her happy."

I can't take my eyes of her neck, of the vibration of life under it. She turns around and goes to the phone. I follow her. My dick is painfully erected in my pants.

"Hello, Ma-dam?"

I want to take her in my arms.

"Good news, ma-dam."

I want to kiss her.

"Bri-an is home."

I want to stick my dick up her virginal twat.

"He smells very bad."

I want to eat her.

She hangs the phone and turns around to find me just behind her. She jumps, I step back. Panicked I run up the stairs. What the hell was that? I was about to rape the maid! Leaving my clothes on the ground I rush into the shower. The cold water on my shoulders has a powerful soothing effect. A mix of soap and dirt from the river flows down the drain. Once I'm done, I wrap a towel around my waist and exit into my room.

Savitree is sitting on the bed. Once again I'm submerged with the need to fuck her. I try to hide the bulge of the towel but she doesn't seem to mind. Her stare is a bit blank; she smiles as she starts to unbutton her white shirt. She struggles for a bit with her bra before releasing her perky brown tits from their prison.

" - Savitree? -" I ask both extremely horny and extremely ashamed.

" - What are you doing? -"

" - I do what you ask, Bri-an, -" she answers.

Did we just spoke in Thai?

" - Savitree, I never asked you to... -"

" - Yes, you did Bri-an. You told me in my head, -" she interrupts me before letting her long skirt fall on her knees.

She steps out of the circle of fabric at her feet with only her white panties on. The smell of her pussy running soaked with her juices reaches my nose trills. I let the towel fall among my clothes and close the gap between us. Her tiny hands take my dick and start stroking. I grab her face with both my hands and our tongues engage in a delightful ballet. The stroking intensifies. My hands are on her jaw; I lift her head and start licking her neck. The delicious pulsation of her blood behind her skin electrifies my lips. Instinctively I bite. I bite hard. I bite so hard that the skin breaks and her blood starts pouring down my throat. She moans pulling harder on my dick. The delicious nectar of her life is quenching my thirst. I release her, letting the marvelous blood flow down her chocolate colored chest.

My incisors are long and sharp in my mouth. I'm starting to understand. I grab her by the neck and rise her in the air, she looks at me with devotion and admiration. I rip her panties with the talons that have grown in place of my nails, she compliantly wraps her legs around my waist and I penetrate her virginal hole. She frowns when the thin layer of skin is torn. She screams when the tip of my dick reaches the back of her cavity. She moans when my member escapes her labia's grasp with a wet noise.

I sit her on the bed and, kneeling, I start licking the blood from her wounded pussy. I gorge myself on her bloody juices. My fangs tear through her sensitive skin making the flow of blood steadier. As I drink the virginity and innocence of the daughter of a peasant from up north who came to the city to make her life a little less harsh, the last shreds of my humanity are washed away by the red flow of darkness, or so I think.

When my mother finally gets home, I'm thrusting my dick in the young Thai girl's bubbly ass. In a long orgasm, I release my seed into her guts.

" - Bri-an, I love you... -" Savitree says in a whimper before fading into death's embrace.

"Brian?" my mother shouts.

"Give me a minute I'm taking a shower." I shout back.

I wash the blood, the sweat and the wide array of secretions from my body. Quickly my dick and my fangs are ready for more. Savitree's been a delight but I'm still horny and hungry. With my enhanced senses, I hear my mother nervously moving stuff around the kitchen. I look at the new me in the mirror. Before going out, I instinctively hide the fangs, the talons and the fever in my eyes. I dress and go down the stairs to meet my mother in the kitchen.

She is pissed.

"Where have you been young man?"

She's also terribly relieved. Just a year ago a guy from school disappeared and wasn't heard from since. I can understand her worry, not that I actually care but I can understand.

I don't answer. I walk to the fridge, take a can of beer open it and look at her with disdain.

She doesn't answer either. Cool a staring contest! She used to beat the crap out of me at this game, let's see how she does against the new me.

I take a sip of the beer.

She's losing ground, I can feel it.

I can also feel that the beer thing was a mistake. My stomach is not pleased with it. The sweat rapidly covering my forehead gives her a boost of confidence.

"So?" She says.

I can't hold a loud burp.

"Are you on drugs?"

She looks worried again.

I take a step and my guts spill all over the floor.

Little problem: my guts were filled with Savitree's precious fluids and now there's a huge puddle of blood in the middle of the kitchen.

My mother starts to scream. It's my turn to be fucking pissed. What a waste! What a stupid waste!

"Shut the fuck up!" I spit through my fangs.

She does but not for long.

"Brian? What's wrong with you? Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?" She sounds terrified.

Just like with Savitree, I can feel that I have control over her. Partial control obviously, she's my mother after all, but at least she asks for my permission, that's good.

"No you won't call a doctor, I'll be fine."

I have hidden again my inhuman features and I erase them from my mother's memory but I will need to feed soon. I look at her, I hesitate.

She's not that young, I was the youngest of a pack of six and despite my improved personality I'm not comfortable with the thought of her on knees sucking my dick. She won't do. I need something fresher.

3.

The park surrounding the Bangkok international school is empty at this time of the night. The peacefulness of the place makes a violent contrast with the madness of the city behind the large bamboo fence. This late on a Friday night the school should be closed but a light comes from the large building to my left. For the past six months Mrs. White, my Spanish teacher, has set her mind on using the school's theatre for something else than graduation ceremonies. She has decided to create a play with the students. Bold, right?

After cleaning the pool of blood in the kitchen, my mother tried to stop me from going out but I managed to put her to sleep. I'm still struggling with my new powers; they seem to be linked with my emotional state. I'll have to work on them, but, if I'm not mistaken, I should have plenty of time to do so now that I am a vampire... The word sounds ludicrous even when I tell it to myself, but I have to face the facts: fangs, hypnotic powers, blood lust, it all screams Dracula. And Dracula needs blood. Famished, I left home not knowing exactly where to go, I had a few destinations in mind but my feet took me here, to school.

A gecko on the wall above a window of the theatre observes me with curiosity as I silently slide into the changing rooms beneath the stage. The smell of sweat and youth in the air stirs up my hunger. Above me I can hear the voice of Mrs. White giving the last instructions to her cast.

"I don't want anyone not knowing their text next week. This goes for you especially Boyd. Now go home and enjoy your weekend."

"Good evening Mrs. White."

I wait, silent in the darkness, as the would-be actors leave me alone with my next victim. Why her? Why coming here now when I could have gone after my friends? I still wonder.

Mrs. White is pretty young for a teacher, no more than thirty, she's not excessively beautiful, at least not as much as Mary for instance, but there's something generous about her, something motherly. I've always had the impression that there was more between us than just a regular student teacher relationship.

I'm pretty sure the feeling appeared during our first class together; I was being a smartass, distracting the rest of the group and preventing her from giving her lecture. She stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked at me. Her eyes didn't carry anger, just compassion and a bit of pity. Her silence prolonged a bit too much and with one single word she managed to stop me in my tracks and make an ally out of me.

"Muchacho!" she said.

It wasn't what she had said but how she had said it. The way she had said the two "shh" in the word omitting the "Ts", just the way an Argentinean would do it, and the disdain she had charged the end of the word with, it had fascinated me. I was a child again caught doing something wrong and I loved it. Instantly I was hard as a rock. Mary, sitting by my side, noticed it and she had made fun of me for a few weeks, before forgetting about it as these things tend to pass. But I hadn't.

Alone at night, I had masturbated time and time again thinking about that word and the moment had stayed carved in my memory.

I push the door to the backstage; her scent is all over the place, a sweet and sour mix of flowers and cheap deodorant. She hasn't noticed me; she's gathering her things getting ready to leave. She walks to the light rack and one by one she turns them off leaving only one single bulb by the entrance on the other side of the theatre. She grabs her bag and walks down the small flight of stairs between the stage and the orchestra.

I clear my throat, she jumps.

"Who is that?"

She doesn't see me. I can feel her fear growing. It smells delicious.

"Is someone there?"

"It's just me Mrs. White," I finally say.

"Brian?" she says, "Brian, you scared the hell out of me. It's so good to see you. I was so worried about you."

"Only you?"

"Err.." she says "... I mean, nobody knew about you, so ... we were all worried."

"No, you said that you were worried."

"I..."

She's confused; I can feel my mind rubbing against hers. I push my advantage, instinctively forcing her to open her thoughts to me. Her memories start flooding my mind. I see her wedding, her parents, her husband, her pastor. I dismiss those; I'm not looking for that. I see myself in her memories, in her thoughts, I see how she sees me: good student, a bit lazy, a brilliant young man too. All this admiration must lead to ... Here it is ... Deep inside I find this memory, this one time...

Outside her small flat the moon is high; she's having boring sex with her husband. He's grunting in her back. She thinks about work, waiting for him to come but then she starts thinking about me and a sparkle lights in her guts. Slowly, the sparkle grows to be a blazing fire. She sees me at her mercy, she sees me as her fuck toy, she sees me as her vigorous stallion riding her with the ardor of youth, she sees me begging for her to satisfy my teenager spirit, again and again. She reaches a powerful orgasm before falling asleep a bit ashamed with her fantasies.

I bring up the memory; I make it explode in her mind. She lets out a loud moan.

She blushes. I walk to her. I grab her by the waist and force a kiss on her lips.

"Brian, stop, we can't, I'm your teacher!"

She doesn't sound very convinced.

"Shh," I say before kissing her again.

With my talons I rip through the soft fabric on her back. I dig deep making her bleed and mixing the perfume of her splendid arousal to the delicious aroma of her blood. She doesn't resist me anymore.

She repeats my name. I love the sound of her voice saying my name, begging for me to take her. I lift her skirt finding her underwear soaked in her juices. I pull it down. My fingers find their way inside her. She starts crying, pouring her warm pleasure in the palm of my hand.

She repeats my name, again. Expertly she unbuttons my pants grabbing my dick. She turns around displaying her swollen peach. She guides me in. Her welcoming innards are warm, so warm I fear I'll burn myself. Her delicious walls press against my member. She starts rocking her pelvis, I start a slow back and forth motion. Her bared back is weeping blood. My fangs extend, I bend over.

"Muchacho," she says as my fangs tear through her skin again and again.