Vampire Omicron Ch. 01

DISCLAIMERS

Please read!

These disclaimers are to help you know if my story is for you or not. I don't want to spring things on anyone. Back out now if any of this doesn't sound like your kind of thing!

The POINT of my writing is to combine VIOLENCE, HORROR, and EXTREME TABOO themes, trying to creep myself out as I write. This whole story is told through the eyes of a VILLAIN. If you do not enjoy very dark themes, this is not for you!

This is a work of fiction. I do not condone any of the things I write about. All characters are 18+. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

FETISH WARNINGS

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

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

-Breast milk

-Pissing

-Non-con / Sadism / Violence

-Slow start, builds to brutal ending

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Chapter 0 - Prologue

Life went on for most that knew me. I remember about 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". But afterwards, their lives carried on. Mine ended too early. I never saw 30.

I was just another number. Another life lost to the pandemic. Doctors called it the Omicron Variant, the weaker one. They barely looked into it. In truth, it was something far worse.

I laid in darkness for months, below the ground, aware but immobile, helpless. Weak, but slowly gaining strength. Months I waited, with nothing but my own thoughts. Recalling my pathetic life, anger rising in me. Hatred, darkness. I'm not myself. The man I was is gone. He doesn't matter. Now I'm something else, something evil.

A full year I lay 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 me. I climb, clawing desperately at the earth. I push and struggle 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 push and crawl with all my strength until I lay panting, wheezing on my side. The earth stops shifting and I feel my power completely drained.

I lay like this for hours, too weak to move, a year's worth of strength expended in minutes. Laying there in a decaying suit and tie, I realize what I am. Technically the Alpha, the first of my kind, but as weak as the Omicron they labeled me. For now, it suits me, a pathetic name for a pathetic creature. Until I can regain my strength. I am twisted, sick, depraved, but free. I no longer need to follow the laws of man. A true villain, I feel the urge to commit atrocities. I don't care what people think, 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 it and stick to the safety of night. I pass a church one day, 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. I learn that I don't need food or water or even sleep, but these things don't bother me if I do them. My body seems to work mostly the same as it used to. My senses, my breathing, adrenaline, all seems the same, or at least the illusion of those things in my mind. Now that I think of it, I can just hold my breath and nothing happens. It's like I do these things out of habit.

I find a park I used to like to walk my dog at, 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 saw me coming. One bite and she was 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 days, 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 a lot more. I 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 feed, 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 I such kindness. She even invited a bunch of us over one time. 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 away 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, 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 just disconnected 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 pleasant, 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 jumping 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 a 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.