Vampire Boffing

Author's Note: The original title of this story was A DARK AND TERRIBLE STALKER OF THE NIGHT. Unfortunately, Literotica's title requirements rendered this moot. For those of you new here, one does not need to read the first Alpha and Omega story, but it may help. And if you enjoy this story, check out my bio and find the others. Now, at the time of the writing, there is only this one and another. But...well, spoilers from the future.

I write a lot. Now, without further adieu - Alpha and Omega 2: Vampire Boffing

###

Arnold Dumant LeFlurr Alamode lounged in his coffin and sighed as dramatically as he could. When no one noticed - save for a single spider that hung from the ceiling on a tiny strand of webbing - he breathed in and sighed even louder. Now, the spider swung backwards and forward like a pendulum and...still. No one noticed him.

"Woe..." Arnold whispered. "Woe is me..."

Still no response.

Arnold scowled and forced himself to sit up. His hands - narrow and wrinkled, like that of a desiccated corpse - grabbed onto the edge of the coffin and he pushed himself until he was seated. He looked around, his eyes shifting from blue to red as they focused. The world bloomed into sharp relief despite the near pitch darkness of the room he lay in. Dust covered every painting and every bit of furniture. Cobwebs spread between the arm-rests of chairs and their backs, while others filled the corners of the room like small tunnels. The door was open and lead into another corridor - the carpet of that corridor as blood red as Arnold's eyes.

"WOE IS M-"

"Sorry, master!"

Penelope hurried into the room - her hair bouncing as she sprang in. She was a young girl, barely into her senior year of high school, and was dressed in the most absurd outfit. It was frilly and poofy at once, with a white black skirt, a tight white corset that pushed her youthful bust into the air, with narrow straps that covered as little of her shoulders as possible. She held in her hands a silver tray, and sitting on the silver tray was a goblet of sloshing red liquid. She knelt beside the coffin, then set the tray on Arnold's lap.

Arnold looked at the goblet.

Then he looked at Penny.

Then he looked back at the goblet.

"...

cold

blood..." he whispered.

"Master!" Penny said, her voice firm. "You know what the doctor's said - no warm blood until they find someone from the Pack who can help you." She tapped his nose with her finger, beaming. "Once you do, you can feed on me all night! Also, did you do your homework?"

"Did I do my..." his face twisted. "I am no

mortal

, Penny. I don't need to do my

homework

."

"You were turned two days ago, Arnie," Penny said, her lips twisting slightly into a frown. "You're only a month older than me."

Arnold flung himself back into his coffin - a puff of dust bursting from around his impact. He threw one arm over his forehead, wincing at the creaking sound of his dessicated skin. He closed his eyes, hissing. "Don't

remind

me of my frail, mortal form - Penelope, I-"

"You called me Penny earlier," Penny said, her voice amused. He could tell she was smiling. "I thought that you were too refined and

elegant

for nicknamed, Master."

"I...argh!" Arnold growled, flinging his arm off of his forehead, glaring up at her. "I just want to drink you, Penny!"

"Hey!" Penny put her hands on her hips. "I'm the one who gets off every time you suck on my thigh! Do you think I

like

having to rely on Mr. Dildo, Master?" She scoffed. "I'm an eighteen year old who likes the B and the D, not a freaking Nun."

"Nuns don't

use

dildos," Arnold muttered.

Penny scoffed. She picked up the goblet, then held it to his lips. "Open wide, Master - drink it up. All of it. Very good!" She beamed. Arnold glared at her - the aftertaste, the cloying, thick aftertaste of that

blood

made him want to retch. Cold blood. Cold blood was the

worst

. His memories of being a mortal, before he had been turned, were fresh enough when he drank cold blood - it was like eating undercooked oat meal and someone else's snot.

It kept him alive.

But he didn't

like

it.

"Now!" Penny clapped her hands together. "I'll be sure to get you your homework when I go to school. Oh! And did you want to say anything to Bruce? About Jean?" She sighed, softly. If Jean hadn't died, then Arnold wouldn't be in this position. Penny hadn't been a

great

friend with Jean...but it was still a shock, to have someone so vibrant and full of life, torn from the community so shockingly, so suddenly.

"Bruce?" Arnold asked. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the ceiling - his mouth opening, then closing. He licked his fangs, before finally wheezing: "I don't remember this...

Bruce

."

"We have Bio with him," Penny said, frowning down at her vampiric master. "He made you shoot milk out your nose when you were at school last week."

Arnold sighed - dramatically - and closed his eyes. "I remember not any passing connections I made with mortals. They live mayfly existences, here today, gone tomorrow. Crushed into dust by the endless gears of ennui..."

Penny flicked him in the forehead, hard.

"Owww!" Arnold clapped his hand onto his forehead, curling up slightly. "Fine! Tell Bruce I'm sorry Jean is dead! Ow!"

Penny nodded, then beamed. "I'll bring flowers!"

###

"Doooooooooooo herrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" Jean whispered.

Bruce Robert Kinsey - the newest Alpha (and Omega) of the local Pack of werewolves - sighed. He loved his girlfriend - the fact that she was dead entirely nonwithstanding. And he loved that she could give him advice in the new and somewhat terrifying and strange world that he had been thrust into, ever since he had been turned from slightly pudgy and hairy teenager to slightly pudgy and very hair AND crazy muscular teenager ("It's unBEARable to watch you! It gives me PAWS! I really want to ride your COCK!" - to which he had responded with 'that's not a pun Jean' and she just stuck her tongue out at him.)

But at the end of the day, the fact that half her advice boiled down to-

"I mean, she brought flowers and everything, you're GOLDEN!" Jean said, giving him thumbs up - invisible to all save those who could see spirits - while Penelope Lopez held up a bouquet of black roses.

"Thanks, Penny," Bruce said, smiling as he took the flowers.

"Arnie says that he's very sorry about Jean too," Penny said, nodding.

"Yeah...why...hasn't Arnie been coming to school lately...I'm getting kinda worried about him. And that group project we were on," Bruce said, grinning slightly. "Even with an extension, we should still get together and finish it up ASAP."

Penny looked to the side, then at the ceiling. "Well...he's...just still...kinda...dead!" She nodded. "You might even say he became a vampire!" She laughed. "And is, even now, in a coffin! Hah!"

She turned and walked off.

"Goth girls, man," Jean said, shaking her head, her voice bemused. "They just really need a good hard fucking. Did you SEE that lipstick!?"

"...did she just..." Bruce blinked, then looked at Jean. "Was that the best worst lie ever, or is Penny just being Penny? Because before, I'd have said she was being Penny and-"

"Blue tooth, blue tooth!" Jean hissed.

"Blue t-" Bruce stopped, realizing that Charles - one of the other kids from his English class - was looking at him as if he had gone completely insane. Bruce started, flushed, and turned to face his locker. He opened it, then grabbed a Bluetooth headset from inside, sliding it on. He tapped it to make it look like he knew how to actually use it, then started walking along the corridor. "Right, uh..." he glanced at Jean - who floated along beside him, phasing through other students. Which honestly was far more distracting than the fact she was completely buck naked. Well. Almost more distracting.

"Well," Jean said, frowning. "Before I got murdered by a puritanical Paladin, the local VC - that is, Vampire Council - said that they were bringing in a relation of their current matriarch, Rosa LaFlurr. Some ancient fifteenth cousin five times removed." She waved her hand. "They tapped me in case there were any issues - vampire bites are not an exact science. Except for in Wisconsin, weirdly enough, they actually

have

specially designed needles there, it's really neat!"

"Do you think I should ask Penny?" Bruce asked. "W-What if she was just being Penny?"

"The worst thing that happens is that you tip her off, she starts spouting it off on the local news, and a Paladin you're not currently giving the D too gets wind, swings into town, and blows you away with explosive silver tipped bullets!" Jean said, smiling.

"So..."

"Walk carefully and carry a big dick," Jean said, nodding sagely.

###

Purity.

The word seared itself through Alison Nguyen's mind as she hooked her legs on the pull-up bar and hung upside down. She pressed her arms to her chest and tightened her core, curling herself up to touch her chin to her thighs.

Purity.

Sweat glistened along her body - tanned a golden brown by a lifetime of working out in the sun. She had been taught, from an early age, to combat the night-pales that came from working and hunting in the darkness. Nothing

screamed

Paladin to the monsters and demons of the world better than being as pale as them.

Purity.

I had sex with a demon,

she thought, tensing and curling again. Sweat beaded on her nose as she let herself hang back down. It dripped to the exercise mat underneath her. She closed her eyes.

Twice. And I liked it.

Purity.

The door to the gym opened and other students started to arrive - walking in, chatting. Alison kicked herself, mentally. She used the school gym, but she was careful to not seem

too

good at what she did. There were things that being on the gymnastics and water polo team would

not

explain - and one of them was the meditative exercises that helped enhance her strength and fortify her mind against the wickedness of the monsters she was sworn to slay. She unhooked her legs - her palms spreading as she lightly landed on them. She let herself roll forward and came to her feet, darting behind some bleachers as the other students kept talking. She crouched there, panting.

Identify targets - track angles of attack. The ingrained instincts - flaring to life in the moment of adrenaline. She beat it back with a slow breath...and tried to pray to God. Instead, all she could think of was Bruce Kinsey's

dick

.

It was super frustrating.

And, more, it was a bit terrifying.

"So, honey, how did your hunt go?" Her father had asked when she had walked home form the mall. He had been working on his silver sword - a short, stabbing sword that could be easily concealed under a jacket of even moderate thickness. "Did you find out if that Bruce kid was tainted too?"

"Yeah," she had said - her voice bright. The first lie had made every other lie easier - she had told him that Bruce was clean. That he was a pure, sweet kid. That he had asked her out on a date. That she thought that he and Dad would get along.

Alison put her hand over her face. "You're a

fucking

moron, Alison! Why the hell did you say that?!"

Dad had rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure how I feel about you dating the boyfriend of the monster you killed - what if he finds out? People who aren't aware of our mission can be pretty irrational about it."

"Oh, no," Alison had said. Even now, looking back on her actions, she had no idea what had compelled her to say what she had said. It was like the thoughts of Bruce had not just invaded the naughty part of her mind she tried to keep chained up and quiet...but they had also filled the

other

parts of her brain too. "No, don't worry, he was going to dump her before she died - he was honestly more bemused than anything else."

"Smart kid!" Dad had said. "Why don't you invite him over?"

"I'll do it at school, tomorrow!" Alison had said.

Now, behind the bleachers, Alison did the same thing she had done then. She grabbed onto the support struts of the bleachers and smashed her forehead into the crossbeam as hard as she could. Her head rang and she staggered backwards. "Augh!" She gasped - barely biting the sound back. Right. Metal. Harder than the wood of her bedroom. Ow. Shit.

Then, to add more pain to her day, the bell rang. She had five minutes to clean up and get to her first class...great. Just

fucking

great.

###

Jean grabbed at Bruce's shoulder, tugging - or trying to tug - on his sleeve as he walked towards English. "Bruce! Bruce! Bruce! Alison is coming, she's going to murder you, run!" she said, her voice coming out in a panicky jumble. Bruce turned around just as Alison - still smelling faintly of sweat - came to a stop before him. She wasn't wearing her full on punk attire - school didn't have uniforms, but it definitely had codes of conduct as to what could be worn - but she still had fingerless gloves, thick stompy boots. Blue lipstick. Bruce bit his lip and tried to not imagine kissing those lips.

"You need to get into a big, visible fight with me today," Alison said, her voice soft.

"...why?" Bruce asked.

"So that my Dad will know why you're not coming to my house tonight," Alison said, glancing aside - away from him. She looked at the wall, at the ceiling, at the floor. Everywhere, really.

"...why?" Bruce asked.

"Because...I..." Alison bit back her first response, then muttered. "Because I...said...I'd...ask you to come over."

"Ooooooooooooooooh!" Jean called out, rubbing her palms together - acting like Bruce's very own Jerry Springer audience. Bruce shot her a glare, then looked back at Alison.

"Why don't you just

tell

him we had a big fight?" Bruce asked.

Alison blinked. She opened her mouth - then closed it. Then she turned and walked away as fast as she could. Bruce watched her go, shaking his head slowly back and forth - his eyes dropping from her shoulders to the tight, heart shaped form of her ass. He bit his lip, slightly, and felt the intense urge to

smack

that ass. Bruce wanted to blame that urge on his new status as a werewolf. But he knew, in his hearts of hearts, that it was because he was a teenager.

"Mr. Kinsey."

The cold voice - coming from about two feet over his head - made him start and turn to face his English teacher, Mr. Bilingsly. He was a narrow faced man with a broad nose and a bristling mustache that perfectly complimented his circular glasses, and he seemed to have a perpetual frown set on his lips. He also had the magical ability to take classics of American literature - things that had spellbound generations of adults and earned their way into the eternal fame of the literary canon and...just...wring pleasure and magic from them. Reducing lyrical language to nothing more than bullet points.

It was enough to make someone who liked reading want to curl up and just

die

.

"Are you going to stand outside of class all day, or do you think you might actually find it in yourself to actually bring yourself to your

seat

and maybe

pay attention

today?" Mr. Bilingsly said, frowning down at Bruce.

Jean - who was floating behind the teacher - started wanking off an invisible dick while rolling her eyes as hard as she could.

Bruce got himself seated between two kids he didn't know very well and settled in to try and take notes. Put all thoughts of being an Alpha (and Omega) out of your mind, Bruce. Time to

pay

attention. He looked from Mr. Bilingsly to his notes - and scribbled the date and his name as the English teacher started to talk about

Catcher in the Rye.

Once he finished writing down the first few notes that actually seemed useful, Bruce nodded to himself. He could do this.

A note bumped his ankle. His brow furrowed.

The hell was this, the 90s? He had a freaking cell phone for notes in class. He bent down, subtly, and picked the note up.

"So...BORED!" Jean groaned. "Is it all right if I perv on anyone fucking in the bathrooms? Ghosts do it all the time, that makes it okay."

Bruce gave her a subtle thumbs up, smiling a bit wistfully as Jean flipped through the air, waved at him - then soared through the wall. Then he unfurled the note and...rather wished he hadn't let Jean get gone, because he just realized that he had never actually

asked

her a rather important question. A question that now becoming rather important. The note was a simple one - scrawled in pencil - and said:

Hey, want to fuck, stud?

-

Julia

He looked up.

Julia Morton - the curviest, most gorgeous girl in class, and current girlfriend to Daniel "Spud" Lowenstein - grinned at him. She was fifteen leagues away from being close to Old Bruce's league, and smelled like trouble. For one thing, she already

had

a boyfriend. For another thing, she was the kind of girl who seemed to enjoy telling everyone about everything - something not really congruous with any kind of secret affair. But while he looked at her, his phone buzzed. Checking, he saw a text from Cindi Fong. She and he shared numbers because she was

also

in the drama club.

He looked at her. She was looking away - but her cheeks were crimson.

Bruce looked down at his phone, as subtly as he could.

Cindi had sent him a picture - illuminated by the flash of the cell phone camera - of the area under her skirts. Her pussy was completely exposed - glistening faintly with arousal.

"I need to go to the bathroom!" Bruce said, standing up, his cheeks red.

Cindi, Julia, and five other girls and three boys also started to stand up.

Mr. Bilingsly spun around from the white board and

glared

at the class. "What is going on here!?" he asked, scowling. "Everyone, sit down!"

Bruce gulped...and went for the low blow. He felt like total scum for doing this, but he

had

to get out of here. So, he closed his eyes and stammered. "I...I just..." he blushed. Being embarrassed about this - and feeling terrible for manipulating people - both would be far easier to deal with than the way this class was going. "J-Jean...I..."

Bilingsly sighed. "Go on, go." His voice was curt, but gentle enough. In so far as Bilingsly could manage.

Bruce fled.

###

"Jean?"

He paused at a bathroom door, whispering - and not for the first time, he thanked the fact that his progressive as sin high school had gender neutral bathrooms. If only because then, he wouldn't look completely insane for going into the one that Jean was inside.

"Jean?" He whispered again - ready to move on.

The door opened and he found himself face to face with Penny. She grinned at him, then grabbed him with both hands and dragged him inside. The door shut behind him and he found that Penny had turned off the lights - leaving him unsure of where she stood. Then he felt her hands sliding along his belly.

"I

knew

it!" She whispered. "You're not nearly broken up enough. Almost as if you could see her ghost! She turned you before she got whacked, huh?"

"Not...exactly," Bruce said, squirming as those hands slipped up. One of Penny's long fingers rubbed around his nipple, teasing him.

"Mmm...you're an Alpha? I need an Alpha

bad

..." she shivered slightly, her chest pressing against his back. Bruce could feel the hard tips of her nipples through her frilly shirt. Her breasts were smaller than Alison's or Jean's, and her whole body seemed to vibrate with a kind of nervous energy. It was like being groped by a small, yappy dog. A small yappy dog with a killer body and the dress style of a Tim Burton character. Who was currently sliding her hands from his nipples to his neck. She stroked him. "So thick!"