The Psychosexual Vampire

A paranormal Erotic Escapade

by R Hyull

Copyright © 2014 R. Hyull

All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction and any similarity with real persons or events is entirely coincidental... All characters are over the age of 18.

The contents of this story include explicit erotica not suitable for an audience under the age of 18.

Chapter One

I suppose the first thing you want to know is what does it mean? The title of this book. Well, I have to call it something. What I do has aspects of psychology and sex is definitely involved. The vampire bit, well I don't bite people. But I do have a way to get fluids from unsuspecting females. It just doesn't happen to be blood, if you know what I mean! So don't bother getting out the garlic and the crosses. They won't help you if you happen to be an attractive female. In fact, you'll never even realise I've had you even though you will be awake the whole time.

So now I expect you want to know what I do and why I wanted to write about it. Well the second part is easier. I wanted to write about it because I wanted a safe way to be able to share my experiences, maybe to brag a little and have people thinking 'darn it, I wish I could do that'. This is safe because it's fiction isn't it. You can read it and you will believe it is no more than the product of an author with an over-active imagination.

Because I don't want you to actually

believe

it's real If you did, you might feel you wanted to track me down and try and take what I have. So yeah, just so we understand each other, this is fiction and none of it is real but we can pretend it is. Right? Just like those books where the author tells you he found an old manuscript in a dusty box in an attic. Or the thing suddenly appeared on her kitchen table from a parallel dimension.

As to what it is I do, that's more difficult. I don't have the right technical words to explain it and I probably wouldn't use them even if I could. Because then someone might start wondering about the fiction thing. So it's easier and safer to just tell you what happened and maybe blur the details a bit. It still makes what I hope you will find to be a pleasant way to spend a few hours and maybe daydream a bit.

It all started with Angela of course. No one who ever saw her would need to ask which Angela, or why Angela. There was only ever one. Just as there was only one Helen of Troy. The face, the body, the way she moved. No one could remain untouched by even a glimpse of her walking down the street. Few could see her without experiencing a driving urge to possess her, to own her, to lock her away in a place no one else could even see her and to beat off any competition with a baseball bat. And for some reason, out of all the men in the world, she had chosen me to be her boyfriend and partner. And lover...

You're probably thinking I must be something exceptional to look at; maybe someone with a ton of money or a famous celebrity, or perhaps it was because of my special ability? Not so, I was just an average looking guy living an average kind of life. and I didn't even have the ability back then. Perhaps I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

But you want to know what happened and I digress. I said it was all about Angela and it was. I didn't know it immediately though. I woke up believing I had gone insane. I mean, you know how you can dream that you are awake but when you really wake up, there is a point where you can't believe any longer that you are dreaming, however hard you try. So if you wake up, not just in a strange room, but in a completely different body to the one that you normally wake up in, it's natural to firstly try and believe it's a dream and then to decide you must have gone insane. Or perhaps that you had

been

insane and this was a return to reality.

OK, I'm getting to it, but it's my book and an author's privilege to tell his story as he thinks best even if he seems to be wibbling around the subject. So the room was small and bare except for the bed where I woke up. No windows and the door was locked. There was a dim light set into the ceiling. The walls didn't fall down when I hit them and the door didn't open when I kicked it. I gained nothing by those actions except some physical pain, so I sat on the bed and tried using my brain instead. That was painful too but in a different way.

How do you tell if you went crazy or not? I suppose a padded cell and a straitjacket would be clues but without that you have to look for signs like believing you are a famous historical figure. That was about the extent of my technical knowledge and didn't take long. There was no mirror in the room so I couldn't check that I didn't look like Julius Caesar or Napoleon but I figured I was on fairly safe ground by dismissing those ideas.

On the other hand, I knew I wasn't the me I remembered. I mean even if you're not vain you do get used to being familiar with how you look and feel and it wasn't me. Or rather, it wasn't me as I remembered me. It also wasn't any room in my house either. So I started poking around in my memory, bringing up things from the past.

Angela figured heavily in those memories, which had the effect of making me check again that I was awake. But at least in my mind I was certain she existed and that we lived together. I could remember lots of other things too, trivia much of it but logical trivia that spelled out a history of someone who grew up, went to school and so on. No doubt you've woken from a dream and thought it was real but when you start to pin it down it's a confused jumble that makes no sense. It wasn't like that at all. It all fitted together too well.

Now this is a bit I'm going to skate over some because this is fiction, right? And if it wasn't fiction, I wouldn't want you to know the exact details anyway. So I'll just say I found what I can best describe as a set of parallel memories that I didn't remember having as a part of my life.

The first one was that I wasn't supposed to be awake. I should have slept through and been back in that familiar body but something had made me wake up too early. Perhaps it had been a mistake or carelessness but I wasn't intended to have access to this parallel memory. Which made me wonder about schizophrenia. But as far as I knew, that was only a sort of split personality, not having two completely different bodies.

Have you ever tried to follow a single, rather elusive, chain of thought without any branching off or skipping about? I always found that the most difficult thing to do. My brain seemed determined to run away with itself every few minutes. But I did my best to stay with that extra set of memories that didn't fit me and the first thing I got was that they went back a long way. Not just a long way like 50 years but a long way like 500 years. They were patchy, just like my other memories but unless I was completely loony, I, or whoever the memories belonged to, had been an alchemist at the court of the first Elizabeth, known as John Dee.

So that set me back a lot. Not an obvious one like Napoleon but a definite historical figure who I vaguely recalled had been a spymaster or something of the sort. But what saved me from retreating into a corner and sucking my thumb until the white van showed up was that I knew they weren't

my

memories. They belonged to the body, which also wasn't mine.

In fact, I also knew now that it wasn't John Dee's body either. Or not his original one at any rate. It was one he had appropriated in some way, kicking the original inhabitant out into an old, used up body. And it wasn't the first. He had been doing it periodically for ages. It had something to do with the Philosopher's Stone which had nothing to do with turning lead into gold. That was a smokescreen put about by alchemists to hide the fact they were actually researching immortality.

Well, given the times, when people believed in witchcraft and sorcery, it was safer to be looking for something that just blinded observers with a reflection of their own greed.

So OK, maybe I was insane but at least I was logically insane since those fragments all hung together and implied Dee had actually discovered a way to be immortal by moving to a new body when an old one was worn out.

No, I'm not going to give you any clues how it worked. I can't be bothered to invent some spurious ritual involving the blood of chickens and full moons. I'll just say it involved a specific meditation which could be learned and it could either result in a permanent shift (difficult) or a temporary one (a lot easier).

So if I accepted this, and believe me, it sounded crazy to me even when I was actually seeing some evidence of it being real, I had been the subject of a temporary transfer and was supposed to have slept through it instead of poking around in the memories Dee had left in this body while his consciousness took a holiday in my own body.

Yeah, crazy but isn't all fiction about magic and psychic powers and stuff like that just as crazy when you get down to it. And we did agree this was only fiction, didn't we?

It was all because of Angela. That made sense too. There was only one thing in my life that would make anyone want to change places with me and she was it. But it also pissed me off to no small degree. Some old pervert was using my body to shag my girlfriend.

In fact it pissed me off so much that it overshadowed what should have been a sense of amazement, awe or self-interest in the fact that if he could do it, and if I could use his memories to discover exactly how, then I could maybe do it too. You see, Angela doesn't just look fantastic, it gets even better when you go to bed with her. You never just make love to Angela, you taste her, inhale her, wallow in her as she takes over all of your senses and you want nothing more than to swim in an ocean of Angela-ness forever, while her smoky grey eyes regard you and taunt you to try harder to survive the eddies and currents, to surmount the tsunami and to finally bring her to submission before you drown in those eyes and get cast up once more on the beach of inadequacy, wanting nothing more than to catch your breath so you can dive back in.

No, I won't make a habit of such flights of purple prose, I promise. So to put it another way, Angela was a really hot shag. There, is that better?

Anyway, after being pissed for a while, and kicking the door again, I limped back to the bed and sat down. Fortunately I hadn't tried to head butt anything so my brain had its turn again.

The first thing I thought coherently was to ask myself why the door was locked if I was supposed to be asleep and how would the alchemist get out of the room himself. I literally asked myself that too, since I had those memories and the answers were right there in my brain. The brain I had or whatever. It gets complicated so try and keep it straight. The reason the door was locked wasn't to keep me in, it was to keep anyone else out while Dee left his body here. And he got out of the room by doing a quick transfer to the body of an elderly servant so he could unlock the door.

That all made sense, and reinforced either my claims to sanity or the inventiveness of my imagination.

The next thing I thought was what was I going to do about it. While I knew that technically speaking it was still me who was shagging Angela it still didn't feel like it was me and I didn't want to just sit around waiting until he got bored. That could take months. Years even. Or maybe he would like it enough to make the transfer permanent and I would be locked in this room forever.

Now an observant reader will have noticed that there was no bathroom in evidence. Not even a bucket. That reader may have assumed I was skating over such things but I wouldn't do that. The simple answer was that since I was suppose to stay unconscious in a state almost of suspended animation, the metabolism of this body had been slowed down to almost nothing. It was a part of the transference, since Dee didn't want to return and find himself in dire need of a shower.

I was awake now though and starting to feel uncomfortable. So I had my first good idea. I could dredge up the method and I could try it out on the servant. It would be an easy start because it was one John Dee had done quite often. So I tried to focus my mind on the meditation and I discovered three things. Firstly I could do it with a bit of practice, secondly it was the middle of the night (well it was dark outside anyway and that's the sort of poetic license authors use, the sort that would be called a cliché anywhere else). Oh and third, old people don't like waking up in that selfsame middle of the night. But I hardened my heart (another cliché) and steered the arthritic old body around an unfamiliar house, until I found the locked door and opened it. Then I steered him back to his bed and returned to the room, opened the door and went out.

Well that was an interesting experience but I was still in a strange body in a strange house. I wasn't stupid enough to try and kick John Dee out of my own body. He had been doing this since almost the middle ages. But at the same time I wanted to know what was happening. Even though it would be my body in bed with Angela it still felt like it was someone else porking her without her knowledge and that was really bugging me.

I tromped through his memories a bit more and found some quite interesting things about the house I was in and the bank accounts Dee had in various places and things like that. I also found that a transfer was only possible if you had a clear image of the person involved and it wasn't cross-gender. So I couldn't swap into a woman. Not that I specially wanted to though swapping into Angela and kicking him in the balls had its attractions. But since they were also technically speaking, my balls and I would be feeling the results of that kick eventually, it wasn't really tempting even if it had been possible.

So I thought about it some more and decided that the easiest experiment would be to swap into Alan, my best friend, and then I would have a natural reason to go visit myself. Yes, I know, language isn't really cut out for this sort of situation but just pay attention and you'll do fine. After all, it could get a fair bit more complicated if Dee tried to swap back when I wasn't actually in his body.

I thought about having that happen but I wasn't that confident yet and I didn't want to be stuck in Alan's body while he took over mine.

So to cut a long story short, something authors never actually do unless they want to gloss over a bump in the narrative, I made the preparations by going back into the small room and had the aged retainer out of bed again to lock the door. I was still concerned about what would happen if said aged retainer dropped dead but John Dee trusted him to keep on doddering for some time yet, so I put that thought aside.

With a clear mental picture of Alan, I got into the meditation and sure enough, after maybe ten minutes I could feel the bed under me become more comfortable. Opening my eyes (Alan's eyes but lets keep it simple) I could also see some light filtering in from a window and hear a sawing noise that represented his sleeping wife. Interesting, he had never mentioned they had separate beds.

It must have been getting towards dawn but, not having thought things through enough, I obviously couldn't just get up and go visit myself so early in the morning. I thought I could use the time to scan Alan's recent memories to find out if I had been acting differently in the past day or two.

That was when everything hit the fan with a massive thud.

As soon as I started looking at memories of myself, I discovered that my best friend had been shagging Angela behind my back for months. And if that wasn't bad enough, he also knew at least ten others who also took turns on her. My world started to fall apart but I forced myself to keep looking. If it had just been one of them. I could probably have come to terms with it. After all, Angela was so desirable and must have guys hitting on her all the time. But it wasn't like that.

It felt like I was wading through treacle, or some far more noxious substance. But like the song says, when you got nothing you got nothing to lose. I dredged it out of his brain with a horrified fascination and mounting anger. The anger was because Angela had been the instigator, not the weak willed victim giving in to temptation. The fuel for that anger was that not only had they all agreed, but not one of them had tried to tell me what was happening.

So OK, bear with some narrative license because I didn't just get this all neatly packaged like I'm going to relate it. But I don't want to have to go back through the stages of turning over mental rocks and seeing what crawled out. This is the précis version of those explorations so you understand what followed on.

This is how it worked. Angela wanted a secure base where she could live comfortably with an unsuspecting sucker (me) while she 'explored her sexuality'. Or rutted around, or played the slut, however that you want to phrase it. She had chosen me because I was reasonably well off, easily duped, not the really assertive type and didn't have any wife or kids around to complicate things.

Once she got established with me, she had set out to seduce a selected list of targets. It seemed Alan was mostly on it because he was close to me and she didn't want to risk him finding out and telling me. So she made sure he got his turn between her legs and it was enough for him to betray me and remain silent. The rest of them I didn't know but they seemed to be what I would tend to call greasy lounge lizard types. It seemed she aimed pretty low and never had a problem with hitting a target.

They all knew each other since she kept them all on a schedule and they all had a sort of network where they compared notes and had a good laugh about the blind sucker who never suspected anything. Even Alan had joined in yucking about my innocent faith in her fidelity. I think that was the bit that hurt most. After all, I had known him about 20 years and we had shared so much together. Turned out we had shared even more than I realised.

I made sure I had all the important bits memorised and couldn't bear to stay there any longer. There were too many memories of Angela as he fucked her. I kicked him back into his own body, confident he hadn't woken and if he did remember anything would figure it as a dream. Then I got the room unlocked and found there was also a cook and a maid in the household. I didn't feel much like eating but the anger I was feeling burned calories so I did anyway.

Dee apparently lived well, in an old manor house that could have been around since he was born. Both cook and maid were female of course. The former approaching ancient status herself while the maid was much younger and apparently had some extra-curricular duties as a sometime bed warmer. But I also identified a couple of gardeners, so I fixed them as potential backups in case ancient retainer croaked at an inconvenient moment.

Then I set out to plot my revenge.

It's perhaps remarkable how quickly love can turn to hatred, and how fast the most beautiful woman in my world could suddenly turn into an unappealing slut. But Angela certainly caused that transition, aided by the way everyone had been laughing about me behind my back. True I was easy going and trusting but there was also a side to my character that rarely saw daylight. It was a cold, burning fury and it was going to be appeased.