This is my first official work in erotic fiction. I'd like to thank Kammie [Kammie1624] for her editing skills and encouragement!
This is a work of fiction. I do not condone any acts of violence for any reason.
Cindy had just moved to the city, eager to start a new life as she began her first year of college. She had been raised in the Heartland, and she just wanted to be someplace where corn did not grow on every road but Main Street.
The brown haired, green-eyed beauty was fit and tan. Though her stomach was flat and taut, her hips were wide and her shoulders square. She'd learned at a young age that keeping in shape was important; her mother had died from a complication of diabetes when Cindy was only a child. Ever since, Cindy's father had been extremely stern about working hard and keeping in shape. She didn't need to be a model. She wasn't hindered from enjoying junk food, and she'd never had body image problems. Her father was simply concerned with moderation and good health. It taught character, he had told her when she was in high school.
At the time, Cindy had been less worried about character and more about becoming Prom Queen with her boyfriend, 'Captain America,' the local football star. She had been proud to stand on that stage, her chest shimmering with the glitter sprinkles she'd used instead of jewelry, as the principal placed the crown on her head above her flowing long, wavy brown hair. An established county beauty queen, Cindy smiled shyly -- yet almost flirtatiously -- at her classmates. Health might have been a benefit of 'moderation and hard work,' but to her, it carried the benefit of being the prettiest girl in town. Though she had graduated with only 146 others, she was proud of the fact.
Cindy had heard stories about the 'Freshman Fifteen,' and she knew her father would be disappointed if she let herself gain excess wait. So, the first thing Cindy set out to accomplish, after touring the university she'd be attending in a few weeks, was to find an affordable gym within walking distance of her small apartment. Tom's Tough Tigers, only a mile away, was perfect.
After a long day of picking classes and buying books, Cindy decided to spend a few hours working out. She had to dig through three boxes before finding her running shorts and her sports bra. The neon yellow bra was a bit small for her -- as were all the bras she'd owned since gaining her DDD breasts in 8th grade. Over it, she wore a loose, black tank top that left little to the imagination.
Once she'd pulled on her skin-tight running shorts, she laced up her shoes and headed for the door with a bounce in her step. Cindy began to jog from her apartment, but soon slowed to a walk. Her large breasts bouncing up and down drew unwanted and unnerving stares from the men she passed.
Within a few minutes, she was inside the safe walls of the gym. It was small and looked as though it had been a warehouse years ago. Little of the sunset's light was allowed through the dirt caked windows, which necessitated the hanging florescent lights. The cardio equipment and free weights were kept to the sides of the great open room. In the center, two boxing rings, separated by a few hanging punching bags, sat under additional lights increasing the ambiance of a male boxing gym. That was exactly why she'd chosen this gym; the people here were serious about keeping in shape. If someone were 'distracted' by her, they would probably end up hitting the ground less than gracefully.
After spending an hour on the elliptical and two hours lifting weights, Cindy stretched her muscles thoroughly. With the move to the city, and the beginning of college, it had been over a week since she'd spent this much time at the gym.
In over three hours, she'd not been hit on, stared at, or paid much attention at all. Though Cindy usually loved being the center of attention, like the night she had dawned the crown of prom queen, the gym was the one place she enjoyed solitude. Her father had made one in the garage for her, having bought free weights, a workout bench, and a cheap treadmill to make her a private gym. "You can always go for a run outside. If you run around all the crops -- that should be a mile or two I think..." he had said at the time. She had spent hours in her home-made gym nearly every day, with the turned the music up loud enough that she could barely hear herself counting her reps.
After loosening her muscles with several stretches, Cindy left the gym to head home with thoughts of a semi-scalding shower and a hot cup of tea. The evening air brought a breeze, and as it hit Cindy's skin, she shivered. Preoccupied with the thought of her shower and planning tomorrow's activities on her phone -- shopping, salon, and coffee shops -- she took a left on 6th Street instead of the right which led back to her apartment. She'd walked four blocks before she realized her mistake. Empty warehouses, flickering street lamps, and the sound of the docks suddenly surrounded her up ahead. Her mind flashed back to the news report she'd watched with her father a few nights ago:
Another body was found near the docks this morning. Shipyard workers discovered Mary Anne Summers, a young woman new to the area, early this morning. One of the workers described her body as 'mutilated' and 'completely unrecognizable.' Local authorities refuse to comment on whether this latest death is the eighth victim of the killer who's been named the Bay's Butcher. If you have any information regarding Mary Anne's murder or any of the other Bay Butcher's murders, police urge you to call their anonymous tip line at (800) 555-HELP.
Cindy shook her head, the ends of her pulled up hair grazing her biceps. She would simply turn around; she wasn't a junkie or a whore. Cindy wasn't the kind of woman who'd be in this part of town at night. It was a simple mistake that could be could be easily corrected. Turning quickly, Cindy began to jog despite her protesting muscles. The sheen of sweat had yet to dry in the damp air, and the few street lamps that did work picked up every long line of her muscular legs and toned arms. Cindy focused all her energy into turning her jog into a run.
Suddenly, she realized the smack, smack, smack of her shoes on the wet pavement disappeared. It took her a few moments to realize why as she hit the chilly concrete. Confused and a bit stunned, she began to lift herself off the ground. Before her brain could register the pain from her broken wrist, Cindy felt a swift kick to her side. Then the pain hit her like a huge ocean wave, and she struggled to breathe.
The sickening sound of Cindy's ribs cracking brought a loud burst of laughter from above her. Curling into a ball, she looked up to see the most beautiful blue-eyed man she'd ever set eyes on. His eyes didn't sparkle however; they were vacant and dead. Something was off about his smug, but slight, smile. He didn't appear to be happy; he didn't appear to have any emotion at all. His jet-black hair and stone face seemed eerily still.
Blinking and guarded, Cindy met his stare. He smiled widely; revealing dazzling white teeth with long, pointed canines. Gasping, Cindy cowered below him, breaking his gaze, as she began to force her head to clear so that she might figure out a way to escape. In a second, she was lifted up, though not on her feet, as they dangled below her. Each of his arms held her as she was lifted to face the monster.
"Please," Cindy whispered. "Please, I don't want to die. Please ..."
His smile faded into blankness. "They always say the same thing," he mutter, annoyed.
Cindy's eyes searched the darkness. Goosebumps rose on her arms and on the back of her neck; she felt a cold drop of sweat fall from her neck only to be embraced by her breasts.
"You'll find in time, darling," a sweet, Southern voice answered, "that they are all the same. Humans are as predictable as cows."
As the woman walked into the light, Cindy saw only her fangs. She didn't notice the tight and very short denim skirt that brushed against long, lean legs. She didn't see the blood red bikini top that held the woman's small, pert breasts, or the nipples pushing through the fabric. She didn't note the short, sassy blonde hair. All Cindy saw were the long, glittering fangs.
"You know, my parents always told me not to play with my food, Beth," the monster said calmly, "but she's so delicious. Do you think I could make an exception?"
Trevor, wearing a fitted black t-shirt and tight jeans, revealed a sculpted body as he turned slightly to look at Beth. Had she been paying more attention, Cindy might have noticed Trevor's request was almost necessary rather than rhetorical. Cindy's arms began to protest against the cold steel of her attacker's hands. Her feet were too far from the ground and her arms were pinned beside her.
Attempting to free herself, she kicked as hard as she could, her aim for the genitals perfect. Trevor's head whipped back to Cindy, angry. He threw her violently to the ground.
"You stupid, little bitch! Did you actually think that would do anything but piss me off? Do you think you -- a puny, helpless human -- could best me?" Trevor growled.
"Trevor, darling, I'm not your mother. If you want to torture the poor creature, that's up to you...especially now," she whispered in his ear, just loud enough for Cindy to hear. She stroked the back of his dark hair and ran her hand down to his neck. "If she wants to play rough, I'd give the lady what she wants..."
Cindy cringed. The cold air nipped at her sweat soaked shorts and forced her nipples to harden and poke through her shirt. All the same, she thought. I'll be different then. I'll be different; maybe if I put up a fight... She clinched her jaw firmly, accenting her thin neck.
"You will regret this!" Cindy spat threw her teeth and glared at Trevor. "If you kill me, you should dig two graves, because my father won't rest until he has erased you from this world."
Cindy looked past him and met Beth's sharp eyes. She wore a playful smile -- a smile that reminded her of something, someone. Her brief look at Beth's reminded Cindy of the smile the cheerleaders wore at every football game. It was fun and flirtatious, with just a bit of shyness. Though, Cindy couldn't imagine why. But then, Cindy never saw the blow that knocked her out either.
Trevor picked Cindy up with ease and threw her over his should as he and Beth headed into a warehouse. There, Beth decide to eat before the night's entertainments, so she went to the corner of the open room to a man she'd met in an underground Vampire-wannabe club earlier that week. It had only taken him minutes to follow her home after she showed her teeth and offered him the time of his life. Now, his mascara had drawn rivers of tears down his face. His wrists were raw from pulling against the chains that held him in place. He whimpered through his gag as Beth's teeth approached his neck for the third and final time. The 'honor' of the idea of giving your life to an immortal was far more romantic than the act itself.
While Beth finished off her meal, Trevor hauled Cindy's limp body to the center of the room and wrapped her wrists in rope. He hung the rope on a hook attached to a chain that reached to a pulley. He cinched the rope up near the high ceiling, leaving the toes of Cindy's shoes dragging the floor. She woke in agony, her head throbbing in beat with her wrists and shoulders. When she started to moan, Trevor began stroking her hair.
Slowly, as she came to, Cindy realized she was unable to move. Her broken wrist screamed against the bindings. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg for mercy, for her life. But, she had decided in the alley, she would be different. She would show these monsters no fear, no pain, nothing. If it didn't save her life, at least she'd die knowing she hadn't given in.
Cindy's eyes had trouble focusing in the dark warehouse. Naturally, she jumped as Trevor ran his hand down her face and traced his fingers along her neck. His hand fell to her side, and he followed her natural curves back around to her ass. He grabbed her ass firmly before smacking it. Once. Twice. And again. Then he gently traced his fingers around her waist, up her side, and back to her throat.
"My God, you are gorgeous. I am going to take my time with you."
Summoning all her strength, she clenched her mouth shut and whispered, "It's your funeral, asshole."
Cindy tried to sound strong as she forced her face to conform; her brow furrowed and her lips firm as her nostrils flared.
"I already had one," he chuckled, "but thanks."
Cindy wanted to be different than the other women. Maybe if she was different, she reasoned, she wouldn't end up as the other woman on the news. Trevor ran his fingers through her chestnut hair, pulling a few strands forward so they fell upon her surging breasts. As he followed the strands down, his cool, dead fingers grazed her black tank top dangling on her shoulder.
"Why bother to wear this?" he asked, sliding his hand between her shirt and bra. He caressed the material, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers. Meanwhile, the back of his hand absentmindedly stroked her left nipple, forcing an involuntary solidifying effect. Cindy concentrated on keeping her face hard, determined, and fearless.
"It seems so pointless..." he sighed as he casually ripped the garment off of her.
Caught off-guard, Cindy inhaled sharply before resuming her 'go-to-hell' face. A glimpse of the tank top lying on the ground a few feet away caused a distinctive chill to creep swiftly up Cindy's spine. She remembered the party after her senior Homecoming dance. After a night of drinking and Special K, 'Captain America' -- the Homecoming King who'd led the 'Mustangs' team to a vigorous victory over their longtime 'Bulldog' rivals -- craved more physical intimacy than Cindy was prepared for that night. For a few moments, her high school sweetheart transformed into a groping asshole; and for those few moments, she'd actually been concerned about his aggressiveness.
Cindy had gone home alone though, and he'd screwed a cheerleader. It wasn't the first time 'Captain America' has slept with another girl. The girls didn't want to admit they'd been used for sex. Since her boyfriend was sweet and patient with her, Cindy was fine with that arrangement. -- As dysfunctional as it may have been, she had the title of the star football player's girlfriend. She received gifts, went to parties, and was never forced to be known as 'the virgin who was waiting for marriage,' which would have been social suicide. It was only during that couple of minutes of their 'relationship' that she'd felt pressure to 'put out.' At the time, the chill that ran up her spine, made the hair on her arms stand up, and left her speechless, had been fleeting.
After tossing Cindy's shirt aside, Trevor ran his hands up her arms to her elbows and gently caressed them as he eased back down. His hands glided effortlessly downward, excruciatingly slow. She shivered slightly when his cold skin made contact with her bare waist before his hands found their way to her running shorts. At her hips, he paused, using his thumbs to trace the line of her hip. Every millisecond that he touched her sent minute electric shocks through her, which made holding her face rigid more and more difficult.
"I love the smell of sweat on a woman. So sweet and musty, so alive!" Trevor stated. His hands crept up to Cindy's side; she could feel his entire hand moving around her waist. His hands were large, cold as a stone surround by snow, and lay flat against the sides of her stomach. He saw her close her eyes, and he smiled. Her jaw had loosened, and her brow seemed more relaxed. His hands continued their journey upward, pausing at her shoulders.
"I don't think we'll really need this either," he said as he hooked his index fingers around the upper straps of her neon sports bra. He lifted the fabric gently, tracing his fingers on her skin. Cindy sharply inhaled, and then she let her breath out in slow measured sets. She kept her eyes closed, but Trevor noticed the muscles in her neck had tightening. He bent toward her casually while he pulled the front of her strap forward. Instantly, his sharp teeth ripped the cloth apart.
Because it was tight, Cindy's sports bra didn't simply fall away. Her breasts fell forward, allowing them to return to their true size and shape. Trevor frowned as he brushed back the straps; she hadn't moved, and her face hadn't changed. He might as well have asked her for the time.
Broadening his stance, Trevor stared at her, watching her even breaths and slowing heart rate. He made a point of walking around her, rather than simply turning her on the hook she dangled from. He leisurely slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and eased his thumb over it. Cindy's breast bounced freely, the action provoking Cindy to press her lips together momentarily and open her eyes. Smiling, he took a small step back, and then positioned himself in front of her again.
"I realize that humans move slowly, but at this rate, darling, she'll still have her panties on at sunrise." Beth complained. She was to Cindy's right, smoke hung around her in the air like fog over a lake. Dark circles under her eyes were accented by the black holes she had for eyes. They had the same emptiness, bordering on an eternal sadness, but the person they belonged to was no melancholy young girl. Running her pink tongue over her fangs, a sparkle from her tongue ring caught Cindy's eye for a moment.
"I'd prefer to take my time," Trevor murmured softly. "I have been waiting so long to find the right girl. I saved myself for so long before... If you don't mind, I do promise to be done by morning." He had turned to look at Beth, his eyes on the floor in front of her. From this angle, the little light that had made its way from the outside lamp allowed Cindy to see the puncture wounds on Trevor's neck. They hadn't healed.
"Alright," Beth breathed out with a trail of smoke, "so long as you're done by bed time."
Trevor's eyes met Cindy's; his eyes remained clear but empty, hers were bloodshot and puffy. To her utter embarrassment, the cool night quickly hardened her large nipples. She shivered, then, after taking a deep breath, closed her eyes again and attempted to resume her apathetic demeanor.
Beth slid through the haze of smoke, and with a gentle push of her hand, she took Trevor's place in front of Cindy. Beth's lips were puffy and slick from her lip gloss. Cindy could smell the strawberry scent as Beth's lips met Cindy's creamy, ivory skin. Beth traced her tongue around the nipple first, then opened her mouth and allowed it to envelope the entire areola.
While gently sucking and nibbling at the breast, she motioned for Trevor to join her. He watched intently for a few moments before copying Beth's approach. Beth pulled her lips from Cindy's breast and led Trevor's hand to it. She molded his hand in a kneading motion, helping him to tug and twist, causing both pleasure and pain. The muscles in Cindy's neck began to tighten again. The thought of a woman... Cindy simply had not been raised in that manner. Trevor worked vigorously on both breasts, switching back and forth so often her nipples never had a chance to dry. After mauling her, he could no longer resister his inner urge.
Cindy did scream in pain -- loudly. As Trevor's fangs pierced her skin, she cried out. And when he began to pull what little blood was available, she grunted and nearly hyperventilated. He pulled back, a smudge of blood on the bottom left of his chin. Cindy gagged and hurled forward, but with nothing in her stomach for hours, nothing but dry, rough air came up.