by Lacy Maran
Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games
Fifty Shades Of Sparkling Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games
Midpoint
Introduction
Fifty Shades Of Sparkly Vampires With Dragon Tattoos That Play Starvation Games: A Parody Of A Spoof Wrapped In A Wet Blanket Of Irreverence
Lacy Maran & Kevin Michael
To spank or not to spank? That was a question Nil Moralsson never asked himself. The bad boy loved smacking some tushy. But when you had enough money to roll around naked in, you could get away with a lot of weird sexual kinks.
The decision to give Nil her fanny for walloping was one Katnella Everswan did not take lightly. After all, girls didn't dream of brooding manipulative sadists. But who could pass up a hunky white hot mess of a billionaire? Katnella went down the checklist in her head. Bad boy? Check. Fixer upper? Check. Deep buried family dysfunction? Ding ding ding. And from then on, her rump was in sadistic territory.
So when the two met for an interview, it was no surprise his dong would win the day. Not to mention the guy had a trouser snake like an anaconda on steroids. He could swing from vines with that sucker. Nil smoldered with desire when he met Katnella. She was a bushy blank slate. Just the kind of virgin to be swept up by his spoils. Besides, what girl didn't love a good mansion?
Katnella was immediately fascinated by the dragon tattoo on Nil's bare chest. And by the way, bravo on showing up to an interview with pecs in full gear. Swoon! The man was a G spot goliath. A clit conqueror. And he made Katnella fifty shades of tickled pink. Bye bye virginity. Nice knowing you. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
Damn, torrid passion was the bomb diggity. Katnella was in erotic ecstasy. Until she woke up from her dream. That's right, the sweet S&M fantasy was just that--a fantasy.
Back in reality, imagination was a dangerous thing when you lived in a post apocalyptic dump. Pangea was what remained of the scorched Earth. In her mind, Katnella had kink going in spades, but in truth, she lived in a little shanty with her little sister Trimgrove Everswan and their folks.
Anxiety was high with the Starvation Games gearing up for another round of hormone raging homicide. Yup, the evil Ruling District liked getting all gladiatorial with it, Ancient Roman style (orgies sold separately). Every year two poor schmucks from each region would go apeshit on each other until only one stood--or limped up--to victory.
Selection day was not kind to the old Everswan clan. Poor little Trimgrove drew the short straw of suffering. But in an act of epic nobility--or the biggest brain fart in history--Katnella volunteered to take her place. Which was a good thing, because poor little Trimgrove had pooped her pants just getting selected. Imagine what would have happened if she'd gone to battle.
Meanwhile Katnella was going to be joined by Nil Moralsson himself. Unlike Katnella's dream though, Nil was not a billionaire. Nor did he walk around shirtless with pecs of sexy steel. Instead, Nil was a baker--yay scones! Hell, least the guy wouldn't starve out there.
Katnella never gave much thought to why she had dreams featuring Nil as a bodacious bondage billionaire before that day. The apocalypse made introspection seem sillier than skinny dipping with snapping turtles. But maybe the universe was giving her a wink wink and a naughty nudge. Or maybe Nil was the only guy in Katnella's village that didn't have a beer gut and manboobs.
But with the Starvation Games and brutish death waiting just over the horizon--screw you horizon--Katnella had to focus on her plan of survival (hint: it did not involve wet willies). Training was intense. Good thing Katnella had earned that apocalyptic archery merit badge from summer camp. While preparing for certain death, Katnella made a pit stop to befriend Blue, a girl miraculous similar to Katnella's sister Trimgrove--damn, look at me dropping a metaphor on you.
Nil meanwhile pulled more than a rabbit out of his hat (metaphorically speaking--the guys too poor to own a hat) when he confessed his love for Katnella over live tv. Not only was Katnella shocked, but she couldn't help but wonder about the size of his trouser snake. Maybe dreams did come true. By the next morning, the duo was painted as star crossed schmucks.
With the Starvation Games beginning, there wasn't time to investigate whether Nil owned a whip, although one could come in handy both during hanky panky and a duel to the death. It wasn't long before teens started dropping like flies. Luckily for Katnella, her competitors were dying by no action of her own so she didn't have to bother making any morally complex decisions.
In all the ruckus though, Blue went and bit the big one. Katnella moped for a while, learning the harsh lesson that when a society forces children to kill each other like rabid animals, your new best friend/sister parable might be sacrificed for the sake of the plot. With Blue's heavy handed death fresh in her mind, Katnella reluctantly carried on, using her archery and hunting skills to do everything but actually kill anyone else.
Soon enough, the Ruling District decided it would be ok to have two winners from one territory with the games, so long as those two were the star crossed schmucks (can you say ratings bonanza?) With the news, Katnella went and tracked down Nil, only to find him shirtless and wounded in the forest. Somehow she thought seeing his pecs would have been far more sexually appetizing.
The real stunner was how Nil was sparkling, like he'd bought a glitter set and spilled it on himself. Much to Katnella's surprise though, Nil actually did have a dragon tattoo though. Nil came clean, revealing he was a century old Swedish vampire masquerading as a poor bozo. And although Nil was old enough to be her great great great grand pappy, that didn't stop desire from biting her naughty bits. Hell, age really was just a number when you were going to look like a Transylvanian underwear model for eternity.
Katnella wanted to get freaky deeky with Nil's weenie, but the middle of a death match was hardly the place for wanton coitus. Instead she settled for a kiss that made her tongue explode like fireworks on the fourth of July. Unfortunately, their make out session was interrupted by a rival vampire with no regard for tonsil hockey etiquette.
Jerk VonBiteMe didn't like humans and vampires getting jiggy with it. He didn't think the muff and meat stick of mixed races should co mingle and was willing to kill for his beliefs. Luckily Jerk ended up with the pointy end of a stake through his heart, leaving the new lovers as the two remaining survivors.
But at the last minute, in a swift about face, the Ruling District said "just kidding" and pitted Nil and Katnella against each other for better ratings (hey, those constipation cream companies won't advertise on just any show). Yet again proving how allergic to morally complex decisions she was, Katnella defied the Rulers and said nani nani boo boo and refused to fight. Instead Katnella pulled out poison for both her and Nil to swallow. It was either going to be a double suicide or a kinky victory party for two. Afraid of losing vaunted Denture Cream advertising sponsors, the Rulers let both Katnella and Nil win--a decision they'd come to regret when the Rulers got their asses handed to them in the subsequent revolution.
Once revolutionary fever passed like a case of bad diarrhea, Katnella, Nil, and oppressed survivors everywhere were free to carry on their post apocalyptic business. Luckily for Nil and Katnella, thanks to spearheading the revolution, they snagged bad ass sponsor money from a few enterprising Beheading Companies (two for one guillotine's, now with less clean up than ever).
Finally, the post apocalypse was behind them and from the rubble of oppressive tyranny, kinky romance could finally bloom.
Flush with cash and newly in love, Katnella and Nil decided to explore each others glorious genitals. Soon Katnella's dreams featuring sadism and heiny heroism were coming true, with mixed delight. It turned out being over a hundred years old and Swedish made for some twisted dickery.
Nil wasn't interested in just scrumptious stuffing or delectable dicking. There was more on his man meat menu than having his trouser snake ridden into the sunset. Bondage was his best friend. In Nil's mind, sado and masochism took pleasure cruises in the Caribbean. Whips, paddles, and the occasional lederhosen were all required.
And while Katnella had no interest in her butt turning into an all you can paddle buffet, it was undeniable that Nil had a dong that could ring a gong. The man had a prowess for pleasuring. He was the duke of deep dicking. A G spot general. A libido legend. Yup, the coital kitchen was always well stocked with Nil around.
But between the latex loving and handcuff hanky panky, something was missing for Katnella. It turned out she wanted more than an immortal billionaire bad boy that knew how to sling his schlong around. She wanted romance. Hell, she would have taken being able to have a male waiter serve her food at a restaurant without Nil going into an apoplectic fit.
So Katnella probed into Nil's past. What was the deal with the dragon tattoo? Sure Sweden was butt cold and shunned sunlight half the year, but not all Swede's treated sex life like a trip to a dominatrix dungeon, right? Were meatballs really all Sweden had to offer world cuisine?
Nil was reluctant to answer at first--especially about the meatballs--but finally came clean. In the pre apocalyptic days, Moralsson had an abusive childhood that led to him turning to his libido for comfort in his twenties. But while he was amidst a boning bonanza, one of his conquests turned out to be a vampire even more kinky than he could have imagined. It was the best orgasm he ever had. So mind blowing that Nil woke up the next morning naked in a gutter with only half his memory, having been turned into a sparkling vampire forever.
Nil decided to make something of his life and took up raconteur journalism that eventually teamed him with a goth-tastic computer hacker. And when he wasn't boning everyone with ovaries in search of recreating the miracle orgasm, Nil and the hacker Bisleth Talander investigated a families horrid history of murder and sexual abuse. The mohawk sporting hacker had a long family history of dysfunction and poor fashion choices. Over the years, the duo fought evil and predatory forces while Nil slung his dick around as much as possible.
Finally when the last lowlife gave up on barbecuing the duo, Bisleth and Nil reunited with lust in their loins. But while Nil would live forever, Bisleth was very mortal with the wounds to prove it. She also wasn't interested in giving her tortured soul a spin through eternity, no matter how well hung the old hunkmeister was.
Years later, when Bisleth died of natural causes, Nil was crushed. He got a dragon tattoo in her honor. But that wasn't enough. So he turned to a shrink to screw his head back on straight. But by strange twist of fate, Nil had written the therapists office down wrong and stumbled into an S&M parlor. Nil had been chasing heiny's with whips ever since.
After hearing that explanation, only two thoughts went through Katnella's head. One--Nil could find her clit in the dark, so why couldn't he find a therapists office with a map? And two--damn those Swedes were nut jobs. But while Katnella finally had answers, she still questioned how long she could be with a man that thought hand cuffs and spatulas belonged in the bedroom.
About that time, a newcomer sprung on to the scene. A werewolf. His name was Rakub, although Katnella preferred to call him Hunky McSixPack. He had his shirt off so much you'd think he was deathly allergic to cotton. And he had his sights set on robust romance. Even a box of silver bullets would have trouble keeping Rakub from humping Katnella's leg.
So Katnella threw down the gauntlet. If Nil wasn't going to change his hanky spanky ways, Katnella would leave him hand cuffed to the bed post to cavort with the wolf and his bad ass doggy styling skills. Nil had never considered the possibility that some women might not be wildly aroused by whips and emotional detachment. It was a foreign concept that chivalry was about more than lancing a lot. That passion had a bigger part in a woman's heart than a paddle.
But with the wolf howling at the moon in her honor and adopting a highway in her name, the flirt fest was on. Hell, if Rakub registered a star for Katnella and took her miniature golfing, Nil might just lose her heart forever. So Nil did the unthinkable. He packed the whips, chains, and handcuffs away, then went to the therapy appointment only sixty years late. And amazingly enough, he didn't pork the shrink while he was there.
Instead he reconciled his sordid past and came back even more schlongtastic than ever. Nil bought Katnella flowers, then took her out to a romantic dinner. But the bedroom was the true test. And he did not disappoint. The pounding was profound. The most romantic rodding Katnella had ever had. It was a meat stick masterpiece. Finally, Nil's dong destiny had been fulfilled. And their sex life would never be the same.
The End.
The Complete Sparkling Vampire Parody Collection
Hey Sparkling Vampire, Let’s Get It On
It was hard to believe a mopey girl like me could attract the attention of so many guys when a goth convention wasn't even in town. But there mousey old me was with guys literally willing to rip each other apart like sumo wrestlers at an all you can eat buffet. I hated to report that popularity wasn't all it was cracked up to be though, unless your idea of a good time involved hunting teenage girls for sport (did I just stumble into a Starvation Games spoof?). But with all the blood lusting and loin lusting going on, I may have gotten ahead of myself. Let me take you back to the beginning:
In the beginning, God created the heavens and earth...no no no. Not the biblical beginning, although kudos God for this kick ass planet. I was talking about the beginning of my gangly little awkward story (are you tired of me emoting yet?)
To Phoenix we go, the birthplace of oppressive heat (and some pretty decent chalupas too). But even though it was 120 degrees in the shade, at least it was a dry heat. Anywho, there I was, just pouting my life away. Then my Mother had the nerve to go and be happy, leaving me to be sullen and oversensitive alone. What ever happened to "the family that mopes together, stays together"?
Yup, my Mom went and got smitten like a newborn kitten, marrying a minor league baseball player (way to hit a home run Ma). Baseball analogies were not so kind to me though. My life turned into one big whiff as my Mom shipped me off to Spork, Washington so she could canoodle in private.
***
Wow. It turned out Washington state was as rainy as my disposition (and I was worried I'd have nowhere to brood). My Dad picked me up with as much interest as anyone would having a teenager pawned off on them. You'd think we'd have a lot to catch up on after so many years apart, but my Father could only carry on conversations with saxophones. At first I thought it was strange that a man could be fluent in brass instruments yet dumbstruck by English. Then I saw the creepy, isolated, middle of nowhere adjacent cabin he lived in and the years of bumbling awkwardness finally made sense.
I could not begin to tell you how jazzed I was to live in a creepy cabin that scared sunlight away. The locals were friendly though. One neighbor in particular, a guy named Second Fiddle who'd had a crush on me since we were both kids. But since he hadn't gone off and developed a dreamy six pack yet, I was not going to swoon so soon.
School came by in a hurry, and brought a new bonanza of awkwardness with it. I could have hid in my sweater and developed a new set of submarine social skills I was so uncomfortable. But maybe chemistry class would make the perfect metaphor for my hormones to bubble over. Remind me to send a thank you card to metaphors, because of all the pale as an albino hunks in the world, my butt got to park next to the palest. If I haven't mentioned it before, nothing made me go hubba hubba like a guy that made a whiteout seem colorful. And Hunky McBrooding was as pasty as a girl could ask for.
My heart sta
rted to do a little happy dance the minute I saw Hunky. But just my pessimistic luck, the guy seemed to hate the very sight of me. You would have thought I'd farted in his mouth by the way he scowled at me. Once I ruled out renegade halitosis or a stray booger hanging out of my nose, I was stumped at how I could have made an enemy so quickly (he hadn't even heard me do karaoke). And what a hunky enemy he was. The dreamiest kind of perfection. I could have swooned all the way to June if he wasn't busy burning a hole in me with his debonnair death stare.
Since I'd suddenly become enemy number one to the hottest guy in the history of the universe, school became as appetizing as moldy cafeteria food. But because of some weird new thing called education, my Dad forced me to go back the next day. To my shock, ol' hunky mcglares a lot was a no show. And then again the next day. Had I driven him to a life of solitary alpaca farming? Had she skipped town and joined a band of nomadic unicycling mime's? Or maybe he just had diarrhea. Wait a minute, perfectly good hunks didn't ever have runny poop. Immediately I scoured for the nearest alpaca farm.
After popping a few over the counter horse tranquilizers, I calmed down. Well, as much as a teenage girl deep in irrational infuated lust could. Much to the exasperation of my ping ponging emotions, the hunk returned the following day with his luscious loins all accounted for. Luckily for me, he also decided to bring some chill pills along with him, allowing us to have a genuine conversation instead of a staring contest into the abyss. Granted the conversation was about complex carbohydrates, but I got a sweet tooth just looking at the guy.
But from a couple of syllables to a breakthrough we went. And I had a dumbass to thank for it (yay for stupidity). It turned out parking lots were dangerous places (and surprisingly enough this story did not involve a geezer from Florida driving like a blind bat). It did however involve a pick up truck on a collision course with my mortality. But before some dumb teenage driver ran me over (is there any other kind?), a knight with skin as pale as armor swooped in out of nowhere and saved my heiny. My life flashed before my eyes, peanut butter stained unicorn pajamas and all, but it turned out the afterlife didn't have a reservation for me.
