Ethan lifted his mouth from the neck of the girl whose name he’d now forgotten. Blood dripped from his fangs and lips onto his chin. Wiping the blood away with the back of his hand, he stood up and stretched his lean, athletic frame. The strain against his tendons and muscles brought satisfaction. He tilted his head back, letting the last remnants of the viscous liquid slide down his throat. He closed his eyes and felt the effects as his body began to metabolize her life force. He shivered and looked down at her form. She was naked, as gorgeous as a fallen angel, and completely unconscious. Her breasts lay free like two soft magnolia flowers. Not a half-hour earlier they’d been locked together, fiercely making love, and sleep had come quickly for the girl. Ethan knew he needed to wait until she was completely asleep before feasting, and the swiftness of her slumber was convenient.
He blinked, taking in her beauty for a final time in the the muted lights just off the French Quarter. When he’d spied her at the bar, she looked like either a tourist or a university student—or both: it certainly was the season for that. He’d been particularly relieved to learn that she had an apartment. Feasting in a hotel was always less than preferable, and vacation luggage provided fewer options for him when he was finished. She’d already had a few drinks in her by the time he’d approached, clad in chinos and a white linen button-up. He established unbreakable eye contact within seconds and grinned, showing her his supernaturally straight teeth. The neon lights of the liquor shelf behind the bar flickered in her eyes. She looked away only to take in the way the rolled cuffs of his shirt settled against his forearms. He took her by the hand, brought her to her feet, and led her to the dance floor.
The incision marks on the right side of the girl’s neck were small and already coagulated. There was only a spot of blood on her pillow. He pulled her sheet and quilt over her body, tucking her in. Although he’d used her for sex and ravenously fed on her and would soon steal from her, he wasn’t cruel—he didn’t want her to be cold when she eventually awoke.
He rinsed his face in the bathroom sink and walked naked from her bedroom to the kitchen. Hers was a spacious apartment in one of the new complexes that had sprung up to accommodate the wealthier students eager to flaunt their parents’ money in the the Crescent City. Despite the humid air, he felt a chill spread across his body. His skin, the color of polished copper cookware, broke out in gooseflesh as his body hair now largely receded. He rubbed his chin, feeling smoothness where stubble had been just minutes ago. In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and looked around, eventually withdrawing a box of Chinese takeaway. He sniffed it before feeding himself chunks of sauce-slathered deep-fried shrimp with his fingers. The blood had satisfied an essential bodily craving, but it didn’t sate the more basic feelings of hunger. He helped himself to a bottle of sweet tea.
As he returned to the bedroom, he felt his gait shifting as his hips widened, his member retracted, and his rear swelled. By the time he’d reached the bedroom, he felt the unmistakable weight of blooming breasts. He stopped before the bedroom window, observing the reflection of a ghostly yet distinctly feminine form. He turned to the side to see his reappearing curves in profile. He took another gulp of the tea and set it down on the desk. Wavy locks of brunette hair now touched his shoulders, and he instinctively brushed a strand behind his left ear. He turned around and looked at the unconscious college student in her bed. If she were awake, she would have observed that the handsome and athletic guy she’d brought home was now a beautiful and naked girl who could pass as his twin sister.
“Surprise,” he whispered, as if unconscious girl could hear his breezy Southern accent. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you to be careful of the spirits in the night?”
He—she, more appropriately—belonged to a isolated community of vampires, descended in a bastard lineage of French and West African vampires and nestled down in the swampy pit of Creole country. Years of spells and curses from heirloom grimoires had bred into them a quirk that made their physical sex shift involuntarily based on the sex of the human from whom they fed. It was in the way their bodies metabolized the DNA in their victims’ white blood cells, and rather than being a hindrance, it seemed to ensure their safety and prosperity.
Like all vampires in her familial line, she had been born female, but it was impossible to determine whether she was biologically female and able to become male, or biologically male and merely born female as a consequence of subsisting on feminine blood while in utero. The debate was, she thought, ultimately irrelevant; she’d experienced a changing of sex for as long as she could remember, and whether at her core she was more Thana (her given birth name) or more Ethan (her given alternative name) was a distinction without much difference. She responded to both names and was comfortable in both forms, having fluctuated between the appearance of an attractive twenty-two-year-old guy and an attractive twenty-two-year-old girl for nearly a hundred years now. Her time as both indelibly contributed to her personality. No matter which gender form was manifested, she was able to blend in with the university twenty-somethings and the steady stream of springtime tourists.
Thana shimmied to the closet, humming and dancing to the boozy and jazzy saxophone riff from the Bruce Springsteen song that had been playing in the bar earlier that evening. She’d have it stuck in her head for a week, and when she heard it later, she’d no doubt think of this girl. She relished and welcomed the weight of the flesh on her chest and her ass as she gyrated and swayed like Spanish moss in a zephyr. She gasped happily as she opened the closet door. She’d targeted the girl based on the fact that their sizes would be very close once she’d fed and morphed into her female form. Because she was having a great deal of fun in male form, she had gone longer than usual in that form and had resisted the urge to feed. But as she ran her fingers across the array of clothes and contemplated her choices, she was thrilled to be back in female form. She helped herself to the essentials as well as a dark red top with embroidered lace sleeves, a short skirt that stopped mid-thigh, a small purse, and a pair of heels that were impossible to resist. She was incandescent.
She readied herself as if she’d merely gotten a late start at joining everyone in the weekend bar scene where besotted and sweaty bodies mingled and thirsted for more. It would be a few weeks before she would need to feed again, and Thana intended to have a little fun before selecting a male close in size to her masculine form. She emptied the pockets of the chinos she’d worn to the apartment and gathered her belongings, fully intending to drop the masculine clothes in a dumpster as she left the building. She stuffed her wallet, phone, and keys in the purse. Smiling down at the unconscious girl, she leaned forward and planted a tender kiss on her cheek.
“Thanks for everything,” Thana whispered. She pulled the bedroom door closed, leaving the unconscious girl in the dark.
I don’t know too much about hoodoo, but I like the idea of the supernatural in sultry New Orleans. My ideal approach to this prompt would be a long-term, patchwork-style story. I’ll play Thana/Ethan and you can play varying male and female human characters that I’ll bed and bite. I enjoy detailed imagery and character development. I’m relatively vanilla. It makes no difference to me whether you—the writer—are actually male or female, as long as you're 18+ and interested in the scenario.
Submitted March 31, 2016 at 06:35AM by vdude2 http://ift.tt/1V7qM6h dirtypenpals
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