Bloodlines 3 Bats All in Leather
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Bloodlines 2: Post-Vampire Depression free porn video
BLOODLINES 2: POST-VAMPIRE DEPRESSION
BY Cassandra Anaconda Morrison
Being a vampire is not as easy as you might
think. In the first place, one has to pretty much
swear-off direct sunlight - which means you can
forget about that golden tan which is considered the
epitome of sexual desirability. Instead you have to
cultivate that alabaster pallor most people associate
with dead things. One can compensate for this with
body make-up of course but I would advise any
fledglings out there to avoid those "sunless" tanning
preparations as they will give your undead flesh a
case of particularly persistent hives. (It took
OCEANS of blood to cure mine - and now there?s a new
ghost town in the West - c?est la vie).
I have already told you how I became a
vampire... and even how I underwent this curious
change of gender in the process. Not that I?m
complaining, you understand... being a girl can be a
lot of fun (and it can certainly blind a potential
victim to the immanence of their destruction -
witness my final vengeance on Rick Herzog, the
ipsissimus of dumb jocks, who believed I was in love
with him... believed it right up to the night when I
suddenly grew tired of his bs when, after slashing
his jugular with my razor sharp fangs I completely
drained him of blood. (He was 0+, in case you were
wondering and quite tasty.)
But afterwards, as I lay there in our bed
beside his rapidly cooling cadaver I realized that
the time had come to move on. I mean I obviously
couldn?t continue to dwell there... people were bound
to grow suspicious about his continued absence and a
vampire really can?t survive too much prying into her
private life... there are too many things that give
one away... bottles and bags of blood in the fridge,
never being seen in the daytime... things like that.
With a snort of disgust I threw off the
bedclothes and padded into the bathroom, stripping my
babydoll over my head in the process and tossing it
on the floor. Once in the bathroom I started to turn
on the shower, catching sight of my body in the full-
length mirror as I did so. (Yes, I know you had heard
that vampires don?t have reflections... that myth is
very convenient for us as it helps to keep most
people blind to our existence. This is how we can
smile tolerantly when we hear that nonsense spouted
in every film and television series. The idea the
ancients had was that mirrors reflect the SOULS of
those who look into them. Vampires do not HAVE
souls... at least... not according to the experts...
therefore vampires don?t have REFLECTIONS. It?s like
a syllogism, you see. But even if we DIDN?T have
souls... and there has been some debate about that
among the kindred recently... we would still have
reflections. Do trees have souls? Does a rock? Okay,
then.)
Anyway, I caught sight of my reflection. Long
blonde hair, taut, sinuous body, jutting breasts and
it suddenly hit me: I was a stone fox! And my left
hand reached between my legs for my pleasure crevice,
my breath began to come in short, sharp gasps, my
vision grew misty and...
Later, after I had finished my shower and was
toweling myself off, I happened to glance at my
reflection and my hand began to reach between... "I
SO don?t have TIME for this!" I shouted and left the
bathroom in a hurry. "When will I learn to avoid
mirrors when I am unclothed?" I cried. There was no
response from the stiff on the sheets (I hadn?t
really expected any) so I started opening drawers and
rummaging through my closet for something to wear. I
selected a denim skirt, the hem of which couldn?t see
my knees without a telescope, and a white cotton tee.
Then, thrusting my feet into my calf-length black
leather boots I grabbed my purse, threw my silent
witness a farewell kiss and left that place forever.
You see, while I had been showering (and so
forth) an idea had come to me. In order to avoid
pursuit by the law all I had to do was retake my
original form... and the gender that went with it.
Pretty sharp, huh? Hey, all us blood-drinkers are
natural Napoleons of Crime. Naturally, I had
absolutely no idea how to go about accomplishing
this, but I DID know someone who might be able to
give me some very useful hints: dear old Uncle
Gregory!
Actually, going to ground at Uncle Gregory?s
place was an excellent idea on several levels. There
was nothing... NOTHING... to connect the woman I now
was (and had been for several months) with the
frustrated high school student I had been... and even
less to connect me with Uncle Gregory... so it would
have to be a very LUCKY cop indeed who would stumble
across me in THAT refuge.
3 AM found me punching the front doorbell of my
uncle?s decaying manse in the Hollywood Hills. As I
listened to the faint strains of Bach?s Toccata and
Fugue in D Minor (my uncle goes in for the exotic in
doorbells) it suddenly occurred to me that there was
a difficulty in my path that I hadn?t concerned. The
last time my Uncle had seen me... which was just
before I made the Black Pilgrimage (see "BLOODLINES:
VENGEANCE IS MINE" by Cassandra Anaconda Morrison
elsewhere on this site - editor?s note) I had been
his NEPHEW. A trifle sexually ambiguous, perhaps, but
DEFINITELY a nephew... now I was returning as his
NEICE, if anything. I began wracking my brain for
some more or less sane explanation for my gender
apotheosis but all too soon the door opened and
Rogers, his butler, hastily attired in bathrobe and
slippers opened the door and stood there, doorknob in
one hand and baseball bat (I suppose to discourage
housebreakers) in the other.
"Yes, Miss?" he rumbled in those cavernous
tones I had known from childhood.
I laughed rather wildly. "Good eve... er...
MORNING," I said. "I must see Professor Crowley at
ONCE!"
"Professor Crowley has retired, miss," he said.
"If you would like to return at a more convenient
hour, miss..."
"But I CAN?T!" I said, for I was well aware
that dawn was not that far off and I had no resting-
place. "I have to see him NOW you old fool! It?s a
matter of life and death!"
"I?m very sorry, miss," said he (not sounding
in the least sorry). "But once Professor Crowley has
retired his orders are that he is not to be disturbed
for any reason other than the house being on fire. So
if you?ll permit me, miss..." and he began to close
the door.
"Wait!" I cried, blocking the door with my
foot. "You have to LISTEN to me!"
"If you do not remove your foot, miss, I shall
be forced to press the button that summons our
private security officer," Rogers said sternly.
"Oh the hell with it!" I said, and shoved the
door with enough to send both it and the old man
flying. I stepped in, shoving the door shut behind me
and, kneeling down to where Rogers was struggling to
sit up, I grabbed his head in both hands. "I just
suck at this damsel in distress stuff," I told him,
and gave his head a sudden, sharp, twist. I rose with
a sigh, for I had liked the old man... and headed
purposefully for my Uncle Gregory?s bedroom.
"Wakey-wakey," I said, ten minutes later, as I
shook my uncle?s sleeping form.
"Huh?" he mumbled. "Wha? Who?"
I grabbed him by the throat and dragged him
downstairs to his library where I sat him at the
computer. "Now see here!" he began in outraged tones
as soon as I released him and began punching buttons.
"Shut up!" I said, in tones that managed to
convey even to his half-awake brain that I was in no
mood for an argument. "There?s something on-line that
I want to show you... after that I will answer your
questions."
"Very well... very well!" he snapped. "Then
show it to me and be damned to you!"
I smiled delightedly as the warning page at
Fictionmania.tv came up. "Scroll down and click
enter," I told him.
He complied. "Now what?" he demanded. I
indicated a letter of the alphabet. "Click on that,"
I said. Again he followed my directions.
He was so cooperative, in fact, that in less
time than it would take to tell you we were staring
at a story called "Bloodlines: Vengeance is Mine."
"Read it," said I. "It will explain
everything."
He pursed his lips, either in annoyance or some
other emotion and did as he was bidden.
"Great gobs o?Gronsky!" he cried some thirty
minutes later as he turned away from the screen. "So
you actually made the Black Pilgrimage!"
"Obviously," I said, gesturing at my rather
ample feminine charms.
"And you are really a vampire now?"
I nodded. "Would you like me to prove it to
you?" I asked.
"No... no. That won?t be necessary, my dear
neph... ah... NEICE. I have been studying the field
of the occult for a great many years and I have no
doubt that what you have told me is the truth."
"Good," I said.
He began drumming his fingers on the desk, "But
I am wondering..." he began.
"What brings me to you?" I said, finishing his
sentence for him.
He nodded. "Dare I suggest that you have
finally taken your revenge on that cerebrally
paralyzed football player?"
I smiled. "You might say that," I said.
He nodded. "Umhum. Umhum. "Then you certainly
couldn?t remain in the home you two were sharing.
Hmmmummmmhmmmm. But why would you come to me? Is it
that you need help and that you think I might be able
to provide that help?"
"On the nose, Uncle," I said approvingly. "I
want a Ritual that will change me back to the body I
had before I made the Pilgrimage,"
His jaw dropped. "Oh, my dear," he said. "That
is simply not possible!"
"Why not?" I asked reasonably.
"Well because you have made certain oaths to
Choronzin for the abilities you now have... there is
no going back from there... please believe me... he
would destroy you if you were to even make the
attempt!"
I sighed. "I was afraid of this," said I. "But
what, then, am I to do? The police will be looking
for me in THIS form and..."
"No doubt... no doubt," said he. "But they
certainly wouldn?t be looking for you HERE! Let me
summon Rogers to get a room ready for you and then
tonight we can... what?s the matter?" he asked, for
he saw a rather rueful expression cross my face.
"It?s about Rogers," I said. "Sorry to have to
tell you this, Unk, but I?m afraid Rogers is..."
"Dead?"
I nodded.
"And you killed him?"
"Look, Unk, I didn?t MEAN to but I got
frustrated because he..."
Uncle Gregory held up one hand. "Stop," he said
quietly. "I do not wish to listen to any of your
excuses. It is clear to me that since the Pilgrimage
you have totally succumbed to the lure of the Left-
Hand Path. I?m afraid you really leave me no
alternative but to..." here he slid open the top left
hand drawer of his computer desk, yanked out the
automatic pistol that was lying therein, and fired
the entire clip straight at ME!"
Later, as I was in the bathroom washing off
bits of his flesh and blood I glanced in the mirror
to check that the bullet holes were healing. They
were... though a bit slowly for my liking. "Man!" I
said. "I really hate it when people shoot me!"
Then, all of a sudden, it hit me... in spite of
the bullet holes I was a total FOX!" My hand reached
down for the pleasure crevice between my legs and...
The Bloodlines Chronicles will continue.
Cassandra Morrison
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
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