Another vampire had landed with her on the rooftop this night, and clearly, they were in league together. Joined at the hip as well. I was stunned. How could she have another vamp attached to her, pumping her like there was no tomorrow. It looked obscene to me. And they were on the rooftop where she and I had promised to keep each other occupied, carnally, for the rest of our existence. Carl and Valerie, a pair joined in bloodlust, forever.
What a joke. She had betrayed me.
I totally lost it and bit the two of them before they realized I had landed and it was my job to police their activities. Anyway, they were too busy to notice anything until my teeth sank in. Even then it took them a few moments to realize they had been savaged.
Valerie screamed and leapt off the roof with her new paramour who looked as though he'd been sucked dry, which he had just before I got there. They disappeared into the city below, leaving me in a pool of their blood, which I immediately licked up off the rooftop. No point in discarding my hard earned bounty.
I went a little crazy then, leaping across rooftops and trolling through the city with one thing on my mind that night. Blood, and I wasn't fussy who I drained. My old girlfriend and her lover had vanished off the planet. As far as I'm concerned, they were history.
The boss's daughter came to the plant one night a week later. Serena looked for Daddy and found me. Lucky girl.
A good-looking stud in the old days, I had now achieved god status. I could leap tall buildings at a single bound. Well, I could leap short buildings, and that had to be good enough. Serena liked my style. I had money, bad habits, and availability. Being extremely well endowed, I couldn't lose. My appendages, now that I had become a vampire, were the stuff of legend. No woman who saw me in the flesh could resist contact with such a magnificent rod. Being impaled by me had to be every woman's dream, and they were happy to fork over for the extraordinary pleasure they'd receive. None of them knew I would take my payment in blood. I doubt they cared, since most of them, the ones who were left alive, always came back for more.
Serena and I walked around each other for a few minutes, sniffing out the lay of the land, working out what we could get out of an intimate encounter. I wanted her blood, her sex, and her total capitulation to my desires, not necessarily in that order. I suspect she wanted the same, minus the blood. We were just about to get down to the nitty gritty of close personal contact when the atmosphere in the plant changed. It became extremely chilly.
We looked up and saw her father, my boss, standing in the doorway. Oops. I had made mistake number three. It could be fatal, for everyone except me. He looked ready to detonate an incendiary device. If he had one at hand, I would have been the intended target. I'm not sure if vampires blow up, but I suspect they do. None have come back from the dead to talk about it. There is a difference to being a dead vampire walking around, and a dead vampire in a million pieces, not capable of walking anywhere.
Daddy didn't look like a fool. Not then. He recognized chemistry and realized I had designs on his precious little girl. It might have been a long time since he'd indulged in mind-blowing sex with a teenage girl, but he knew when it was on the agenda. He needed to open his eyes to see, then smell the pheromones flying through the air between us, drenching our secret passages with sensuous delight. How could he not notice when we were both about to explode?
The first thing Daddy did, he took her out of the room and slammed the door. She went because he told her he wanted to talk to me privately. Before she left, Serena whispered to me that she enjoyed private discussions with her father, so why shouldn't I? He's a kind man, she told me. He can look stern, but really he'll purr like a pussycat if you stroke him the right way.
The images in that statement brought me to attention. Just what kind of father was he?
She said she would wait for me in the car park then she left me to my fate.
Daddy came back in the room and fired me. Shouting his abuse at me, he clearly expected me to apologize and grovel for my job back. I slithered into vampire mode in an instant. I didn't take rejection well, and the man had just showed me his true colors He deserved everything he got.
For a large man with money to burn and fat seeping out of his pores, the boss didn't taste that good. In fact, he tasted like old money that had been used so many times it had become worthless.
I left him there, sleeping the sleep of the dead.
Serena leapt in surprise as I climbed into Daddy's car. She waited impatiently, fidgeting with the dials on the CD player and didn't seem to mind when I got closer and tasted her neck. I could smell her excitement. That was my consent to go further. All over in a second, my excitement and pleasure in the conquest went on forever. I didn't bite deep, just enough to win her approval.
When she woke up, she had changed. My girl was now my vampire woman.
I always had a way with the ladies, but this felt different. I had waited for this woman my entire life. She was now a vampire, like me. Satisfied at last, I knew Daddy had passed his use by date. He had become redundant. Old meat, according to any food processing standard.
Serena asked me what happened to her father. I told her he had gone on vacation. She said, “About time. This business stinks. Daddy is a workaholic. He needs to relax and let the rotten sausages fend for themselves."
I laughed as we drove away, happy my vampire sinuses were blocked with bloody mucus.
Together we plundered the city, looking for victims and blood. We found both, in large quantities. And, when we ran out of candidates for our banquet, I taught her to enjoy raw sausages. They're an acquired taste, so it's a good thing we don't do it regularly.
One night we were on a roll, feasting and other fun stuff, when we were confronted by a group of vampires on a roof top.
One of them stood out, and Serena jumped behind me. Daddy looked mad as hell. I had told her to forget him and remember his longed for vacation in the Bahamas. Obviously Daddy was back with a vengeance. Also, part of the crew confronting us were my old girlfriend, Valerie, and her new boyfriend, the one I caught her playing games with on our rooftop.
Valerie stopped when she saw me and screamed my name before she ran toward me, blood dripping off her fangs. “Carl, I'm gonna cut your heart out and eat it. I heard about that creature you hang with these days. I'm gonna do the same to her."
New to the killing game, Serena backed away from the attack, but I stood firm in front of her. She is the woman I love. Together we faced our enemies. I have issues with Valerie, and now was a good time to start the blood-letting.
"Me first, Val,” I snarled. “Leave Serena out of this. After what you did to me, I'm ready to slice and dice you anytime."
I pulled my skinning knife out of my boot, and as she and her new boyfriend flew toward me, fangs bared, I did a little cutting and pasting of my own, decorating the walls with blood. It was extremely creative.
The attack lasted only a few minutes. My experience with knives came in handy. I didn't cut off much more than an ear or an arm or two, but that was enough to make the rest of the crew stand back and re-evaluate their chances. My ex boss stood well back, watching me wield my knife, shredding his lips with his fangs, his face white. Fear had him locked in position. Actually, it's his knife. I acquired it when I left him in a pool of blood at his factory before he became a vampire. We both know who the best slicer and dicer in the business is, and it's not him. He was an office drone at the meat factory, not a worker bee. His experience of violent confrontation is limited to smacking the coffee machine to make it cough up a drink.
Valerie couldn't talk, because her tongue was now detached and she was on the rooftop searching frantically. I never did like the way she talked to me, so I was happy with that result. The boyfriend lost more than an ear, so it's a good thing vampires are infertile. His equipment is now severely damaged. All in all, it was a good confrontation.
Well, I enjoyed it. Serena and I are almost free and clear. What else matters?
The other members of the vampire crew were still wanting blood, mine and anyone else's they could find. Totally drained by Serena, all I could suggest were raw beefsteaks. Too bad I didn't have any. All I had were raw sausages.
Serena said, “Let's go, Carl."
As a replacement for Valerie, Serena is way more creative in the bedroom and on rooftops. We can fly to the moon without even leaving the ground. In times of crisis, she takes charge. It's the way I like it.
Valerie crawled to the edge of the roof and disappeared. I think her tongue got lost in the scuffle on the rooftop and she went looking for it. Serena and I turned and ran, leaping over rooftops to get away, but it turned out to be pointless. The vampire group reassembled and chased us into an alley, cornering us. Even though he was still way overweight with no hair, my boss had clearly become a changed man with revenge on his mind.
"So, Serena, are you enjoying your life on the run?” he asked.
If I didn't know my former boss, in the flesh with teeth sticking out like sore thumbs, I wouldn't have recognized his creepy, soft voice. Daddy used to shout orders. Now he sounded like Dracula, the king of vampires. I suppose he watched the movie, same as me. The king is definitely a legend.
My boss said, “So, Carl. I believe you have something of mine. I want it back."
I said, “So, Boss, you want your skinning knife back, do you. I'd be happy to stick it somewhere the sun don't shine."
"I meant Serena, my daughter, you bloody moron."
His crew looked on with eager anticipation, drooling, probably hoping for leftovers. I wanted to run up the walls and disappear in a puff of smoke, but I'm not that lucky or smart. Inside my tough vampire outer shell, I'm still me, the boy who bent over when anyone told me to and who said thank you at the end. The trigger to his hold on me happened when my boss said “Carl” in that slithery, lice ridden, crawling voice. I shrivelled, still vulnerable when my old boss curls his tongue around the syllable of my name. He used to call me Little Carl, just before he forced me to climb into the cesspit at the back of the factory and clean it.
Serena seemed to shrink before my eyes. “Hello, Daddy,” she said in a little girl voice. “I've got a new boyfriend. You remember him. He works for you. His name is Carl."
"I know who he is, Serena. Unfortunately, you've developed bad taste. I've known this jerk for a while and I don't trust him. He's a meat head."
She said, “Only because you keep him packing sausages instead of doing a real job in management. He can't make a living like that."
I tried to say, “I like raw sausages. They've got blood in them.” I couldn't get a word out.
Daddy said, “Shut up, brain dead,” before I could open my mouth.
And, like a good boy scout, I nodded my head and complied. Habit, I guess.
Seconds later, the group of vampires closed in on me, picked me up, and threw me to land on the roof next door. It didn't last long, just time enough to find an escape route through an air-conditioning vent.
I could hear Daddy lusting for my blood all the way across town. Serena screamed while I ran from the scene, biting my lip to keep from howling as I bled out. Nothing had changed.
My life with Serena now on hold, I slithered my way through vents and alleyways until I hooked up with another vampire group. I needed time to rethink my life. I'm in line to live forever, or I will until Daddy skewers the life out of me. I'm ready to bite the bullet-silver, that is-and fight back if I can.
I have a plan. It could be tricky, but if I lure Daddy back to the meat packing plant, I can pack him in one of the containers he uses to ferment wine. He'll be my last assignment in the meat packing business.
Although he acts like a pig, he probably wouldn't make good sausages. He spent too many years as head honcho of his plant. No exercise and way too many corporate lunches will do that to a businessman. As well as that, Serena wouldn't like it if her Daddy were packaged like a hot dog. I decided to give him another chance.
He could live out his days, forever if he wanted, as vampire king of the hill, Dracula's apprentice, and leave me and his daughter alone.
Or he could exist for a little while longer, but not too long, on the packaging line of hot dog heaven. His choice.
I went after my former boss one night and gave him his options. I decided to confront him in the place where vampires were known to hang out, a funeral home run by a couple who crave entertainment in between jaunts on rooftops.
Serena went out for a pleasure trip around town while Daddy thought about his options. I'm glad she didn't hear him laughing. It sounded blood curdling.
He decided to join hot dog heaven, not an easy ride. He went down salivating and trying to bite the hand that fed him into the machine.
Serena found out what happened when she came back. I decided to spare her the details of Daddy's demise. All over by then, anyway, I simply told her he decided to move to Canada and expected us to run the meat packing plant together. She was okay with that so long as I minced the sausages and left her to roam rooftops. Blood sucking is still what we do best. It's a dirty bloody job, but someone has to do it.
And that's the end of my story. Serena and I are still vampires. We have a stake in a funeral home which has unlimited potential customers. There are a lot more vampires scattered around the city now. We prefer to give potential vampires life, rather than fill graveyards.
See you in the afterlife.
The End
Robotic Wet Dreams
by
Marguerite Turnley
When PTR33 woke up, he felt disoriented. His brain smoldered like it was stuffed with burning cotton, any intelligence he retained rapidly sloughed off by panic. How could he be lying on a slab in a laboratory with wires attached to his body, machines monitoring his vital signs, lights flashing and beeping? Something inside him told him to be afraid, to cut and run. He wanted to flee, but he remained trapped in a nightmare.
Chaos ensued all around him. People worked on computers, pushing buttons and checking video screens. They ignored him even when he tried to ask questions. Then he realized his voice had ceased to function. He could still hear the “beep” over and over again, but that was no comfort when he couldn't contribute anything to his survival. He wanted to ask, “Could someone please untie me? I'm being held prisoner in a laboratory by mad scientists.” In his dislocated brain, he knew he needed help, but didn't know where to find it. He was screwed, literally in this case, to the table. Escape would only happen if a power blackout occurred.
One of the scientists working on the computers tried to turn off his power source, but gave up in the end when the beep beep beep continued.
PTR33 tried to laugh, but his throat sounded like a washing machine on a spin cycle. The unscientific language emanating from the scientist gave him hope. A rebellion in the ranks of staff could be on the agenda. The scientist couldn't stop whining. Unfortunately, no one but PTR33 was listening.
The complainer didn't like how the laboratory operated. Closing down and shifting to another planet could be an option.
PTR33 agreed. He wouldn't mind shifting to another quadrant, so long as they didn't tie him down on the nose of a space ship to do it. He didn't think he could feel pain, but didn't want to experiment in that direction.
Lying still and waiting, PTR33 became bored, cold, and miserable. How could that be? I'm a robot, he thought. I shouldn't have feelings—hot, cold, bored or otherwise. I should be totally without reaction to my surroundings. Any feelings should be ignored, because they couldn't be real. He knew then they were only memories, possibly false and not to be trusted.
He looked down. His hand lay on the table, his fingers opening and shutting like they were on autopilot. The fingers looked human, but they had no feeling. He finally realized as a piece of machinery, not an intelligent life form, he had no power to change his situation. Becoming a humanoid look-alike might not be possible unless he could fake it. The science nerds picking at his robotic innards
didn't seem to have all their electrodes in place, so there could be a chance for survival as a pretend human. That had to be better than nothing. Now, he lay in a heap of tangled wires and counterfeit flesh, just a robot on its way to the waste disposal, or if he turned a corner, the recycling plant where he had a chance to escape. The recycling guys were underpaid and bored with their jobs, too, he reasoned. They'd probably like a chance to help him get a life.
As an IT, he asked himself why he felt things like fear and abandonment. Why did he fantasize about love and playing touchy feely? All he really wanted was to have his toes sucked by a fembot ... Where did that thought come from?
PTR33 couldn't comprehend why he needed to be understood. Total confusion ruled his brain and sent him into mental cyberspace.
That was all very well for his robotic sanity, but he could still hear voices telling him how delicious metal implants could taste in bathtub heaven. It was most disturbing.
People in the room talked about a malfunctioning piece of scrap metal being put on the shelf. He knew they spoke of him, and at that moment, his whole world came to an abrupt halt. He had no friends, no companions, and no help on the way. Even his creator, Dr. Zabo, had gone on to other projects. All the other slabs in the room contained the doctor's latest creations. PTR33 appeared to be obsolete unless he could find a way to reverse the situation. His brain was still operational, so he felt optimistic about his chances.
Climbing off the slab didn't seem possible. Anchored to the board, riveted to the wall like a plug and socket, every time he moved his arms or legs, something inside him squeaked and moaned. No matter how he tried, he could not break free. Stuck in one position, on his back, naked and exposed, without a voice, his life slid rapidly down the gurgler.
As he came to terms with his situation, his mind turned inward and focused on his creator's memories, which were now his memories.
His robotic brain still functioned, the chip using photoelectric cells implanted in his brain a test case for robotics. It could not be destroyed or removed from the test subject unless the host's destruction or recycling began. Dr. Zabo had installed a failsafe method with a code number available only to him or his heirs. Whatever else happened, the chip would survive. It could be removed from PTR33 and implanted in a new test robot with up-to-date technology and anti-rust safeguards. It was a miracle of scientific engineering.
Romp Fantasy Digest Page 4
