Vampire Omicron: Chapter 1 – Home Invasion (Part 1/2, updated) [M29/F35][rape][slow start][sniffing][NC][blood][death][pissing][breastmilk] READ DISCLAIMERS

Links to all my stories and more chapters to this story are in comments.

*New strain of COVID, I’m now a disgusting perverted vampire. Each chapter is like a ‘stealth mission’, with lots of slow build-up and pervy creeping around. The protagonist’s mission is always to rape and abduct his victims, adding to his harem of vampires. Then occasional chapters show his sexual family lifestyle with his mind-controlled free-use slaves. Then right back to another stealth mission.*

*In this one, I sniff and creep around my former milf boss’s house, then rape, kill, and feed on her.*

DISCLAIMERS

-I’m just trying to be helpful with these disclaimers. I don’t want to spring things on anyone!

-My writing is SUPPOSED to be gross and wrong, which is what makes it so thrilling to write! You SHOULD feel icky reading it, which is why I consider it HORROR! I try to creep myself out as I write, getting into the mindset of a perverted VILLAIN. We’re all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously these things should never be done in real life! I’m assuming we’re all mature adults that can separate fantasy from reality.

-This is more PORN than PLOT.

-All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

FETISHES/WARNINGS

-Death / Blood / Murder (SORT OF SNUFF, but with a twist. I mean it’s a vampire, I’m going for it, but I keep it minimal)

-Creeping around (lots of this, sorry if it’s boring)

-Sniffing / tasting (panties, armpits, sweat, bodily fluids, everything)

-Breast milk

-Pissing

-Rape / Sadism / Violence towards women

-Slow start, builds to brutal ending

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Chapter 0 – Prologue

Slipping in and out of sentience, fragments of memory come back in sputtering waves. A panic jolts through me. Sound. But I’m unable to move. Blackness. A hundred voices at my funeral. Maybe less. Fake sympathy, shallow words. Whispers of “how pervy he was”, rumors of “what they found on his laptop”. The voices, my family, acquaintances. Their lives carry on. Mine has ended too early. I never saw 30. A virus? Doctors label it the Omicron Variant, the weaker one. To them, I’m just another number. Another life lost to the pandemic. But no, it’s not the same. They barely looked into it. In truth, it’s something far worse.

Then darkness, for months, below the ground, aware but immobile, helpless. Weak, but slowly gaining strength. I wait, with nothing but my own thoughts. Recalling my pathetic life, anger rising in me. Hatred, twisted thoughts. I’m not myself. Every bit of humanity within me, every good quality and honorable virtue, all of it has fallen away. And all that remains is the darkness. The man I was is gone. He doesn’t matter. Now I’m reborn as something else, something evil.

A full year I lie like this, transforming. Until finally one day I hear movement. The earth, the dirt around my coffin, it shifts, flows like mud. I reach up and push. The lid opens slowly, mud pouring in all around. I climb, clawing desperately at the earth, struggling until finally I surface. Rain pouring down on my head, the cold autumn night fresh on my skin. A graveyard, a plaque next to me, not even a full headstone. I was too poor and unimportant. My old name etched into it. I crawl with all my strength until I lie panting, wheezing on my side. The earth stops shifting and I feel my power completely drained.

Too weak to move, a year’s worth of strength expended in minutes. As the rain stabs down at me, drenching my decaying suit and tie, I finally realize what I am. Technically the Alpha, the first of my kind, but as weak as the Omicron in which I was labeled. A pathetic name for a pathetic creature. Crawling in the mud, barely able to lift my own weight, I am cold and miserable. But free. I no longer need to follow the laws of man, I’m no longer shackled by society or shame or fear. A true villain, I feel the urge to commit atrocities. I will do exactly what I want, fulfill my disgusting fantasies. Women, girls. Endless bodies flash in my mind, limbs writhing, flesh wet and dripping. I feel lust, an urge to hurt, to rape, to kill. An urge to feed.

The next few days are cold and treacherous. I wander the roads, learning that daylight hurts. I feel like I could die if I stay in it. So I avoid day and stick to the safety of darkness. I pass a church one night, and the cross outside hurts my eyes, burns, so I flee. I hunger, but not for food. For flesh, for blood, for innocence and beauty. My body seems to work mostly the same as it used to. My senses, my breathing, heartbeat, adrenaline, all seems the same, or at least the illusion of those things seem to remain. Now that I think of it, I can just hold my breath and nothing happens. It’s like I cling to these bodily functions out of habit.

I find a park where I used to walk my dog, trails and thick woods, a nice fresh pond where I can clean myself and my clothes. I learn that even the coldest water doesn’t really bother me much. But running water, even little streams in the park, I can’t cross for some reason.

After a few days, I give in to the hunger. A passing old lady, just walking at the park on a dark morning just before the sun is fully up. She’s so frail, so slow. She never sees me coming. One bite and she’s loopy and half-conscious. Drinking blood fills me with life. I don’t waste a drop, hiding her in the woods afterward.

I do this a few more times over the next few nights, a few more helpless weaker people on the trails. Gaining a bit more strength in that first week. My eyes grow strong, able to see perfectly at night, better than normal, even in pitch blackness. My muscles grow stronger too, my body lean and fit. I feel like I did in high school, when I played sports and worked out. I need to follow this urge, need to feed more, gain more strength.

But mostly I feel a stronger urge. An urge to find her. Victoria. My boss, from my office job before I died. I don’t know why she comes to mind, and not anyone else. Most everything from my old life is starting to fade away like a dream I’m having trouble remembering. I know things, I remember things, but it’s as if it was a lifetime ago, like someone else lived the experiences.

But Victoria is fresh in my mind. I need her, need to make her mine. I always had a crush on her. She was stern, some said bitchy, but only because she had to take charge in her position, be taken seriously. Married, a bit older than me, mid-30s. Strong, mature, someone that I could never have. But also someone that always showed my coworkers and me such kindness. She even invited a bunch of us over for dinner once. She said we were welcome “anytime”. A passing phrase, mostly just being polite, but now it seems so important. Deep down I know I can enter her home. I can make it mine, and I feel the urge to do so. It’s a weird gut feeling, like that stupid little stream of running water back in the woods. I just could not cross the water, it wasn’t possible. My gut says I can’t enter certain places either. As if I need to be welcomed, invited in.

I test this out that night. Houses on the edge of the park, their back yards butted up against a trail. In the dead of night, I jump the fences and try out different doors until I find one left unlocked. Sure enough I can open the door, but I can’t enter. It’s impossible, like a force-field blocks my way. The feeling of permanent ownership, a purity that protects the place.

On the bright side I also learn how silently I can move, a shadow in the night, jumping fences with ease. And how aware my senses are, avoiding cameras and dogs, seeing them long before they see me. I later walk to a gas station and learn that I can enter as long as it’s not someone’s permanent dwelling, a true home.

A few days later and the hard part is done. I’m a block away from her house. I wipe my mouth again. His blood tasted better than the frail old people. Victoria’s husband, Rick, kind of always a dick, or maybe the word just comes to mind when I say his name. Maybe I was always just jealous of him.

I sit inside his BMW, texting Victoria with his phone, telling her I’ll be home late again. It’s not unusual with his big important corporate job. She texts back, “k babe drive safe love you”. It took days to learn their patterns, to make a move and jump him. But he’s out of the way now, hidden deep in that forest.

I wait until it’s late and then pull up to her house. The nice big houses here have plenty of space in between, plenty of privacy from neighbors. Lights are off inside. I pull into the two car garage connected to the house, shutting the overhead door behind me. I leave the car and notice some shelves of tools on the wall. I grab a roll of black duct tape, having a feeling I might need it.

Silently, I open the door to enter into Victoria’s home from the garage. The door creaks a bit, but the house is perfectly dark and silent, everyone asleep still. I step inside, and sure enough, my “invitation” worked, no force-field.

I walk in and find myself in a dining room, hardwood floor, beautiful dining table right in front of me. The space is huge, an ‘open concept’ layout. To the left, the same room opens up into a huge kitchen, an island counter, expensive appliances. To my right, the room drops down into carpet, a grand living room. Big leather couches, expensive furniture and entertainment cabinet. And the living room opens up further beyond that into a gorgeous sunroom off in the corner, huge glass windows overlooking their dark back property outside, and ceiling windows open to the stars. I already feel at home.

I make sure all the couches and furniture are actually empty and then silently creep around. I explore the living room, keeping an eye out for crosses or anything silver. A nice fireplace and mantel. Cute family pictures of Victoria with her husband and new baby. Adam is his name. I feel a longing, almost wishing I was Rick in the picture, that this was my newborn son, Victoria my beautiful wife.

I move to the kitchen, the excitement of being where I’m not supposed to be keeps growing. A giddiness in my stomach. I peek around a corner, the kitchen leading to a hallway. I check doors quietly. A half bathroom. A door down to the finished basement, which looks very nice, but unimportant tonight. Past the hall, the ceiling opens up, going way up two stories high. The foyer at the front of the house, a grand entrance guests normally walk in to see. With a wraparound staircase leading up to a balcony above. On one side of the foyer is an office, a den, masculine wooden walls. Expensive liquor and cigar cabinet, a huge desk and leather chair, a Mac desktop, a Windows laptop next to it too. This whole place bleeds wealth. I find the WI-FI router nearby and disconnect it. I hear a couple beeps as a few home security devices disconnect around the house too.

Back in the foyer, on the other side, another doorway. I peek in and see a massive sitting room. More expensive furniture, another room beyond that, wrapping back toward the kitchen. This house is huge. But the bedrooms must be upstairs.

I return to the stairs and start creeping up silently.

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Chapter 1 – Home Invasion

I stand at the foot of the massive wraparound staircase, looking up at the beautiful railing and balcony above. I slowly creep up, soft white carpet on every step, a roll of black duct tape still in my hand. The house is pitch black, but I see better than most people do in perfect daylight. Beautiful artwork and decor line the wall as I ascend, more family pictures of Victoria, Rick, baby Adam.

I reach the landing at the top, everything is dead silent. Ahead of me is a full bathroom, for guests, not used much. I peek my head in. So pristine and wealthy, I could really get used to it here. I look up at the mirror above the sink. I’m not in it, there’s no reflection! I back out of the bathroom, a bit freaked out. I guess it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me recently.

To my left and right, hallways going in both directions. To the left, a couple doors, one of them open at the end, a baby room. I sneak inside. There he is, little Adam. Victoria’s first-born. He’s cute. Since my awakening, I haven’t felt anything, any emotion or empathy, not seeing people as anything more than food. Until now. This baby is special. He’s important, but I don’t know why. I feel protective as I stand above his crib watching him slumber peacefully. I leave, closing the door silently behind me.

I check the closed doors in the hall. A guest bedroom. A closet. I walk back the way I came, back to the bathroom and stairs again. Then a storage room. An office. I silently creep along the soft carpeted floor. A laundry room. I slip inside there.

Big expensive washer and dryer, and a hamper with some dirty clothes. I set down the duct tape I’ve been carrying, and I pick through the clothes. A mix of men’s and women’s. One of Victoria’s undershirts, thin and white, I put it to my face and inhale. Her scent is so bright, so feminine, floral. The armpits only have a slight deodorant smell, nothing unpleasant.

I dig more and find some shorts of hers. Very short, cute and sexy. She’s a mom, but still dresses in attractive clothes. A coolness, a sportiness to her fashion sense. I sniff the shorts. Similar floral scent, mild. Nothing of hers seems to stink. Such great hygiene, such an inviting, motherly smell.

My cock starts to harden in my pants, and I dig deeper. A black bra, classy and modern. No wires, expensive, cups indicating a decent breast size, much more than a handful. I cover my face with it, the familiar scent again, but a bit different. Not quite sour, but a sharpness of some sort. I look inside the cups, and right where her nipples would be, a slight residue, a slight white stain, on both. I sniff again, then lick, tasting where her breasts were held tightly all day. Milk. Fucking hell, she had been leaking a bit of breast milk! My cock stiffens even more as I lick and inhale. There’s a slight sweetness to it.

I lift my head suddenly as the house creaks. My heart jumps in my chest. I hold my breath for a moment, listening. It was just the wind. Then I smile and hold my hand to my chest, realizing my heart and lungs are just imitating what they used to do. I don’t need air, and my heart doesn’t actually pump blood. I reach down and rub my stiff cock through my pants as I continue to dig through the laundry. My dick seems the same as always at least.

I find a pair of panties toward the bottom. Heather-gray-colored Calvin Kleins. A standard hipster low-rise style, elastic band at the top. Meant to be comfy, but damn are they sexy. A bit bigger than I expected. She’s a thinner woman, but these held some thickness. I look inside, the crotch. God damn, there’s a bit of a stain. Nothing too gross, just the slightest streak of residue. Discharge, dried pussy juice. Ok a bit gross, but not to me. I stuff my nose straight in, inhaling deeply. This is what my boss’s cunt smells like. These panties spent a whole day stuffed inside her warm pants, clinging tightly against her pussy. It smells strong, but sweet. A pungent musk of woman, a sharp slap in the face. But not gross like some girls. A spiciness, pure femininity. I lick and taste where her pussy was. My cock rages, precum wet beneath my pants. She has such a strong flavor, a sourness that wakes you up, shoots through your brain. But then pleasant, sweet. I toss them back, pick up the duct tape again, and head back into the hall.

Only one more door at the end of the hall. Double French doors actually. I sneak up and hold my ear up to them, listening with my sharpened senses. Nothing. I reach down and open the door.

Pitch black, but I see clearly, every detail of the room. It’s big, a bit excessive actually, taking up what seems like a fourth of the entire second floor. Truly a master bedroom. Two pillars, from floor to ceiling flank either side as I step in on the soft white carpet. To the left, a nice sitting area, a nook for reading by the windows. To the right, big cabinets and dressers, and a walk-in closet left open. In the back corner, an open door leads to the master bathroom, pristine white tile flooring and a huge standing shower visible from here.

And right in the center of the bedroom, straight ahead, a big king-sized bed, cushy upholstered headboard, intricate wooden frame. With a little lump of blankets on one side of the bed. There she is, Victoria, sleeping peacefully as I sneak into her room. I close the door to the bedroom behind me, giving us some added soundproofing.

I can only see her raven-black hair peeking out from the blankets, she’s so snuggled up. Her hair is just a bit ruffled from bed, but still has the nice wavy locks of shiny black she always had at work, making her look rich and classy.

I take a quick detour to the dresser at the side of the room. I carefully slide open the drawers until I find some of her late husband’s clothes. I strip down and start changing into them. A simple tshirt and shorts, but both are soft and expensive. I’ve been cleaning myself as best as I could out in the wild, and I don’t seem to sweat at all anymore, but I’m so tired of these dress clothes they buried me in. He was a similar size as me, and this simple comfort is such a cozy relief.

I bump my elbow on the dresser as I pull the shorts up, a slight noise disturbing the silent room. I stop and hold my breath, looking over at Victoria. But she’s sound asleep.

I creep toward the bed, careful with every muscle I move. I turn and see her cell phone on the night stand. I pick it up, turn it off, and hide it on the floor. Then I set down the roll of black duct tape I’ve been carrying.

Standing over Victoria, I cautiously pull back the comforter to reveal her face. She has a stern look to her, somewhat sharp features, high cheekbones, striking. Dark eyebrows that always look a little furrowed, serious and intelligent, like some sexy teacher or librarian. Olive skin, Mediterranean complexion. All that, but with a softness, a nurturing, motherly look. Natural beauty even without makeup in the middle of the night. A face that makes you feel welcome, makes you like her, respect her.

But tonight, I make her mine, make her respect me. The man I was is gone. Now I’m just a fiend, a creature stalking her in the night. Driven only by sick urges and lust.

I pull out my hard cock, above my shorts, and stroke it slowly, inches from her sleeping face. Inches from her gently parted soft lips. Obliviously sleeping.

I put my dick away and crouch down beside the bed, farther down toward the foot of the bed a bit. Carefully, I lift some of the blankets that drape over the side. I burrow my head and arms in, sliding into warm sheets. Lifting just enough to start exploring. It’s hot underneath, body heat keeping it nice and toasty. The air is tight and stuffy. My night vision lets me see perfectly. I lift gently through the silky white sheets. Until I find bare skin.

Her smooth legs are right in front of me. Tone and thin, a hint of a tan, but still pretty fair-skinned. She lays on her back, her legs comfortably spread a foot or two apart. Oh god she’s only wearing panties. The same style as the ones in the laundry room, only a pale lavender color. Low cut, a standard comfy style, elastic strap at the top. I can tell how thick her hips are. She hides it well at work, always in a slimming business skirt. But she’s nice and curvy.

I continue lower, checking more of her out, carefully lifting and sliding under the sheets. Damn, even her feet are nice. I’m not usually into feet, but she’s so pedicured and well-maintained, I have to appreciate it. Her toenails are painted a classy maroon.

From lower down like this, I can lift the blankets slightly and see straight at her crotch. That pale purple fabric tight against her pussy, the cleft of her lips is ever so slightly pronounced. Just enough to hint at what lies beneath. I breathe in the warm air under the blankets. That same floral scent that her clothes had. My cock is so hard as I savor the moment.

Her leg shifts and I freeze, wondering if the jig is up finally. I almost want it to be, I ache for her so badly. I hear her sigh deeply, still asleep.

I back out slowly and move to her husband’s side of the bed. I carefully lift the blankets and slide in, seeing how far I can take this before she realizes I’m not him. I wear his clothes, might feel similar, smell similar. My hard-on makes it awkward but I scoot slowly into bed with my boss.

I feel her shift, but her breathing hasn’t changed, still out cold. I get closer, on my side, brushing up to her arm, her hip, her smooth leg. Her head is tilted away from me and I nuzzle up to her neck carefully, my face feeling her long silky hair. I kiss her shoulder gently, breathing in her scent again. She’s so cuddly and inviting. My boner pokes her in the hip gently.

I lift the blankets to carefully inspect her. She wears a tight beige camisole, a simple nighttime tank top, with thin little lacy shoulder straps. I reach out and feel her side and belly. The cloth couldn’t be any thinner, so feminine and soft, her flesh slightly squishy underneath. She’s tone, but a tiny bit of plumpness clings onto her after giving birth not long ago. It makes her so womanly and natural.

I slide my hand up to her breasts. The top she wears isn’t meant to hold them firmly, so they hang loosely underneath, her nipples slightly visible, little bumps under the fabric.

She shifts in her sleep, turning her head toward me suddenly. She opens her eyes. Beautiful brown eyes, half asleep and out of focus. I see her perfectly, but she only sees my shape in the dark room. She leans forward and casually kisses me full on the mouth, a quick “welcome home, honey” sort of kiss. A slight wetness, her lips so plump and warm. She gave me a bit of tongue. It was just meant as a quick peck, but it was sensual and sexy. Is that just how she kisses every time? I stare in shock as she immediately rolls to her side, facing away from me, going back to sleep.

I scoot in close and wrap my arm around her, spooning her. I press my legs to hers, my belly to her back, my face buried in her thick waves of black hair. I breathe in her scent, my face enveloped. My cock rages up against her butt crack. I slide my arm under the covers, under her arm, feeling and groping and hugging her close to me. I grasp at a thick breast.

She’s bustier than she looks. At work she hides it so well in classy loose button down shirts. But up close they’re so full and plump. Much more than a handful, it spills out around my hand as I grasp. She’s a taller woman, maybe 5’7”, maybe more. And while overall she gives off a “thin” first impression, she’s actually quite curvy in the hips and chest, a nice hourglass figure. But mostly it gives her a natural, nurturing appearance. You just want to grab her, hug her soft body, sink into her.

She shifts again, wiggling and grunting softly. Half asleep, trying to shrug me off, not in the mood for all this. She moves my hand away from her tit. I allow it, instead moving the hand down across her hips, feeling her up and down. I slide over her ass and squeeze a soft cheek. God damn it’s perfect. Pliable and squishy, but not too much, not fat. I slide my hand down between her cheeks, feeling the soft fabric of her panties, and the warmth of her crack. I push deeper to feel across her pussy from above the panties. Very warm, humid, almost moist to the touch. I can feel her lips and folds underneath. I inhale her neck and hair again, my cock twitching, precum wetting the inside of my shorts.

She wakes up more, turning her head back toward me a bit, “Honey, it’s so late. We can do it tomorrow night.” I don’t respond. I just slowly grind my hips, rubbing my erection on her ass, my hand rubbing at her pussy. I find her neck through her hair and kiss at her skin. The nape of her neck so soft and sexy.

“Rick…” I ignore her and gently nibble at her neck, the slightest of a bite, teasing her sensually with my teeth, feeling her pulse beating in my mouth. She inhales sharply. I lick slowly, my tongue barely touching her skin, across and up her neck, reaching her earlobe. I nibble and toy with her ear, my breath teasing her.

“Rick, it’s so late…” But she starts to give in. Her hips pressing back into me. She grinds slowly, matching my movement. I feel her hand reach between her legs and lay on top of mine as I continue to rub her panties. Her crotch is almost hot to the touch, moistening under my fingers. Her hand presses down on mine, egging me on harder.

Her breathing is getting heavy as she gyrates a bit harder, my hand moving a bit faster. I suck on her earlobe and she moans softly. The slightest bit of saltiness to her skin. God it’s so hard not to bite. I want to feast on her, rip her apart. But part of me wants to savor her, not treat her like food like I did with my other victims.

I move the crotch of her panties to the side, slipping my middle finger inside her. She lets out a surprised gasp and moves her hips harder, humping at my hand. Her pussy is drenched, she’s one of those women that really gets sopping wet. I swirl and dig around, exploring her insides. The rippled walls clenched tight around my finger. I nibble at her neck again. A swift bite of my jaw and I could be feasting, drinking her life essence. I resist. She has no idea how close she is to death, no idea who is fingering her wet cunt right now.

Another minute of this. Sticky sounds coming from beneath the blankets, my finger moving in and out quickly. Her breathing is heavy and hot. Then she starts to turn, trying to face me, ready for the next step. Before she can, I quickly dive down beneath the blankets, hiding and slinking down between her legs.

I get her on her back and roughly pull her panties down her legs. “Whoa, Rick, what are you doing?” Her sopping underwear still hanging on one foot, I spread her legs apart and lay facedown between them. Still completely hidden under the covers.

It’s so hot and humid under here. Her smell is strong and musky. A sexy feminine scent, not unpleasant at all. Just sharp and erotic. I shift my hips sideways so I don’t lay on my hard-on, and I dive face first into my boss’s wet pussy.

She gasps and laughs in surprise, “Oh my god, honey, what’s up with you tonight?” I still stay silent. Her juices are sublime, her flavor is so concentrated and strong. A sourness, but so delicious. Like a sour apple, a bit sweet. Her fluids are thin and watery, in a good way, unlike some girls who are thick and mucusy.

I lap away, digging my tongue in and swirling. Flicking through her folds. I can see perfectly under the pitch black blankets. I stare at her as I lick and suck. Her mound is covered in thick black pubes, but they’re trimmed very short and shaved and cleaned up around the edges. Perfectly smooth and well-kept around the folds, but enough hair on top to give her a lovely, natural look. A mom, a wife, a real woman.

The folds of her pussy are dark, a nice brown that goes with her Mediterranean complexion. Outer lips soft and a bit puffy, so fun to kiss into. Her inner lips splay outward a bit, partially protruding outside her vagina, flowering open nicely, a bit on the thick side, but not too much. There’s so much to lap at, lick behind, nibble and bite at.

And below, her little asshole. Brown and wrinkled. Clean and hairless, but it looks extremely tight and unused.

Victoria is going wild up there, apparently not used to this. Totally shocked at my weird behavior, but not stopping me. I flick my tongue up, finding her clit. It’s a bit on the puffy side, but it matches her thicker, womanly body. Everything about her is strong and sexy and unapologetically natural.

I stick a finger inside her hole as I lick wildly. I pump my finger in and out rapidly, finding her g-spot and shifting my mouth up to assault her clit again. I inhale deeply through my nose, filling my lungs with her musk. Her breathing is husky and strained.

And suddenly she starts clenching my head between her thighs. She moans loudly, a lewd sexy outburst that takes me by surprise. I feel her insides push a bit, and get wetter suddenly. She cums hard. It didn’t even seem to take very long. She was so utterly turned on. My head pinched tightly between her thighs with my mouth and nose still pushed against her pussy, I inhale her sharp scent again, my cock raging. So spicy and erotic.

She grabs my head with both hands, running her fingers through my hair as she trembles and grinds my face, coming down from her orgasm. She grips at my hair, feeling around.

Then she stops suddenly, freezes. She grips again, realizing the hair feels strange. She tenses up and her whole demeanor changes.

“Rick? What’s-” She whips up the covers and squints down between her thighs at me. It’s dark, but she has just enough light from a street light out the window. I smile at her, showing my fangs. Just as she opens her mouth to scream, I turn and bite hard into her inner thigh next to me. High up, right near the crotch, right in the middle of her tender meat. Blood rushes into my mouth as I suck in.

The rush to my head is intense. Warm life filling my body, making me stronger. Victoria thrashes around, trying to scream, trying to get me off her. But as I’ve learned, a good first bite renders my prey immediately weak. She lets out a strained yelp, but it’s not very loud. Especially after her orgasm, she has no strength, her energy depleted. She rolls and tries to crawl away, but I hold her steady, sucking her blood from her warm thigh.

I let go, letting her claw her way to the edge of the bed weakly. She looks drugged, lethargic. My cock still rages as I smile and enjoy watching her struggle. She starts to fall from the bed and I reach out and grab her top, keeping her from falling. I pull her back toward the center of the bed. Laughing, speaking finally, “Where are you going? Where do you think you can go? Come back here.”

To be continued.

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*Thanks for reading! Links to all my stories and more chapters to this story are in comments.*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/xtckh0/vampire_omicron_chapter_1_home_invasion_part_12