Everything was simple in the beginning.
My mother was from Akita, a city on the northern
shores of the island of Honshu, the main island of Japan. She moved to
Tokyo when she was about 15 and did—well, enough that it allowed us to
live well enough that we could enjoy life.
My name is Ogata Hotaru. My sister, Setsuna, and
I were born in Tokyo a few days after my mother’s twentieth birthday. I’m
the "little sister" of the family; though Setsuna and I are twins, she
emerged seven minutes sooner than me, and when we were younger she reminded
me all the time that she was the "oldest." It was all done in jest, as
Setsuna—"S-Chan," as I like to call her—and I have always been best of
friends.
Our life in Tokyo was pretty normal. We went to
school and studied there and at home; we played; we relaxed. Oh, and Mama
made us learn English well enough so we didn’t sound like Ropponggi bar
girls. She seemed almost insistent upon that.
We never thought it strange that "Papa" was never
around, that it was left to Mama to raise us. Nothing strange there: a
lot of Asian men don’t make good fathers, and single-family units with
women doing all the work aren’t all that strange in Japan.
We also didn’t think it strange that Mama didn’t
look very old. We’d always told her how beautiful she was, and as we grew
older it was pretty apparent Mama was not only beautiful, but very youthful
in appearance as well. A lot of people who we met when we were out were
totally surprised that she wasn’t our older sister.
We also never thought it strange that we never knew
what it was Mama did. Sometimes she’d leave for a few days, but this was
only after S-Chan and I were about 10. She’d just disappear after telling
us she’d be "away," and we wouldn’t see her for two, three days. There
were other times when Mama would dress up very sexy and go out for
the evening. She liked high heels and short skirts and sexy tops, and we
figured Mama was—well, Mama had told us when we were seven what our vaginas
were for, and what you did with it. So we figured she was out with a man
.. . . .
So things were pretty normal—
Until we were fifteen.
It was late afternoon on a Sunday. I’d been out
getting a few things for Mama—she would be cooking tonight. I came in,
put on my slippers, headed up to the room I shared with S-Chan—
She didn’t hear me when I opened the door. She was
lying on her futon, masturbating, two fingers rubbing her clitoris very
fast. She was naked except for these white boots she had on. I’d seen them
before; they were Mama’s. They were platform boots made of this stretch
stuff that looked like vinyl that clung to your legs—and cling they did,
reaching all the way up to S-Chan’s crotch. Mama had bought them a couple
of years ago, and we’d seen her wear them more than a few times when she
was "going out." I’d once told Setsuna that they made Mama look a little
like a prostitute; she nodded, but told me, "Yeah, but they look so cute
on her!"
And I couldn’t help but think how cute they looked
on my sister.
While she played with herself—all the while mumbling,
"Oh, yeah . . . yeah . . . oh, fuck, it’s good"—I walked over to my futon
and began undressing. Don’t ask me why, I just did. I saw S-Chan’s
fingers in her pussy, the tiny beads of sweat on her breasts, and knew
I wanted to feel her, taste her—love her. That shouldn’t be too
hard to understand. We are twins, and twins already share a special love
for each other—
Once naked I knelt quietly next to her, not touching
her yet. I stared for a few minutes, watching as she brought herself to
orgasm. When she came her eyes opened just enough for her to look over
and see me. She didn’t seem that surprised. "H-Chan . . . you liked watching
me?"
"How long—?"
"I heard you come in . . ." She smiled. She pulled
her knees to her chest, her legs spread open. She licked her left knee.
"You think I look sexy, H-Chan?."
Now it was my turn to smile. "Yes, I do, Big Sister."
With that I leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. I’d never kissed
anyone before, and to have that "someone" be your sister—I know, people
will think it’s sick. Maybe so, but at the moment I didn’t care.
S-Chan and I held our kiss a long time. Then I started
kissing her neck, then her shoulders, then . . . her breasts, which made
her moan aloud as she released her knees and ran her hands through my hair.
While I sucked her nipples one of S-Chan’s fingers found its way into my
pussy. As she fingered me I couldn’t help it: I didn’t moan, I cried
out, "Big Sister, fuck me, please!" I knelt there as her fingers moved
faster and drove deeper, my pussy seeming to grow wetter and tighter with
each stroke. It didn’t take me long to cum; my juice was running down her
fingers only a few minutes after she’d entered me.
We lost track of time as we enjoyed the pleasure
that was each other. We kissed, we fondled, we touched everywhere, inside
and out. We explored with our tongues, and cherished the other’s special
fragrance. Setsuna discovered that if she fingered me just right, liquid
would squirt from my pussy, and bet me she could make me squirt six times
in a half hour. I said she would be my slave for a month if she couldn’t;
she said I’d be her sex slave for a month if she could—
We never found out who would win, because after
the forth squirt we discovered—
"What the fuck?" S-Chan sounded like something was
the matter. I opened my eyes, but did see anything out of the ordinary
.. . . until I looked at her.
Her hands were cupping her breasts—her new
breasts that had suddenly appeared lower on her chest, just under her original
breasts. She was letting her fingers dance lightly over the skin, touching
her nipples . . . from the look of pleasure on her face—her mouth open
in a silent moan, her eyes closed—it was evident they weren’t fake or an
illusion. They were real.
And her other breasts . . . both of us had breasts
which were normal for Japanese girls; no more than a pert, firm B cup.
Her original breasts had inflated; they looked as if they were twice as
large as they had been. And on her body—S-Chan wasn’t very tall, a meter,
five, just like me—her breasts seemed enormous! And these new breasts she
had just developed looked to be about the same size, too. Shit! I thought
S-Chan would become the object of desire for every guy in Tokyo; Japanese
girls with big tits were in demand, and I’d heard all sorts of stories
about girls with big melons having guys give them furs, cars, even apartments
just so they could fondle those fuck pillows now and then . . . .
Then S-Chan’s eyes opened—all three of them. I screamed—as
did my sister.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Setsuna asked
me.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "What’s wrong with
you?"
S-Chan reached down and took my arm. I was having
a hard time looking at her; she had this eye in the middle of her
forehead, and it was slanty like her normal eyes, but to see it staring
at you like that . . . .
She dragged me to my feet and turned me so I was
looking into the mirror in the corner of the room.
I screamed again.
S-Chan and I were twins—in every way. There I was,
four breasts on my body, as big as my sister’s, and I had a third eye in
my forehead as well. "Wha . . . what the fuck happened to us?!" I asked.
My voice was climbing from the panic I felt.
"I don’t know," S-Chan told me. She was gripping
my shoulders tight. "We’ve . . . I don’t know. It’s like—"
"It’s like you’ve become the young ladies you’re
suppose to be."
We both turned at the sound of Mama’s voice. She
was standing in the doorway. There was a smile on her face, which surprised
me. I would have thought for her to find her daughters standing naked in
their room, their bodied changed in a strange fashion . . . well, I think
I would have done more than smile.
Then she opened her third eye. Cocking her
head to one side, she told us, "It’s time you learned the facts of our
life."
Mama spoke while we bathed. I had never noticed before
that Mama had four breasts just as S-Chan and I now had—but then, it had
been a while since Mama had bathed with either of us. Nor had I even noticed
just how big she was . . . .
This is what she said:
Thousands of years before a race of immortal being
came to Japan with the Chinese invaders. While the Chinese assimilated
the natives who originally lived here and eventually became the Japanese
people as they are now known, the immortals played their own game, attempting
to subjugate the supernatural creatures who also existed here. While the
natives were powerful, the Chinese immortals had great powers they could
call upon, and did so with impunity.
In order to defeat the immortals the supernatural
beings begged for mercy from the gods. Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, heard
their call and asked for someone to accept her gift, which would allow
them to defect the immortals. A young girl—a human who knew of this war—came
forward and was given the power to defeat the immortals—but she was to
use her power only to defeat the invaders, and nothing else.
The girl defeated the immortals, who returned to
China, but as with all humans given god-like powers, she defied Amaterasu’s
command and transformed a man who had once raped her in a sow who eventually
birthed hundreds of piglets. Amaterasu was pissed—naturally—and turned
the girl into the first kyuuketsuki, a female vampire.
That girl had been Mama’s ancestor.
And we—S-Chan and I—were now her descendents.
"There’s a point in our lives, early on, where we
first mature into the young ladies we will become, then we mature into
kyuuketsuki," she told us. "That second maturing is brought about
by a heightening of our sexual nature." She eyed us both. "I knew you were
both close to sexual maturity, and that your true natures would soon be
revealed. What I didn’t know was that you would find your sexual awakening
in each others arms."
We both looked a little embarrassed. "I’m sorry,
Mama," Setsuna said. "It’s just—"
"Hush." Mama wasn’t mad, you could tell. "It is
part of our curse that we always find love in the arms of another woman.
Being twins, it’s natural you would turn to each other."
"But . . ." I looked at S-Chan. True, I loved her—however
.. . . "We are sisters, Mama. Aren’t you—revolted by what has happened?"
Mama shook her head. "One, we are not human. We
never have been. We are beings who have been cursed by a goddess, so human
law does not apply to us. And, yes, while society generally frowns upon
incest, at one time Japanese brothers and sisters would sometimes share
love and not become the object of scorn because of their actions. It was
considered a part of life." She shook her head. "If you have found each
other pleasing, then it was meant to be. There is no point in worrying
over the matter."
Then Mama started to tell us what it meant to be
a kyuuketsuki.
We had powers—magical powers which would develop
as we grew older. A lot of them involved being able to transform ourselves
and others. Flying was not out of the question, either. We also did not
require sleep any longer. While we could rest—and it was needed sometimes—we
had no reason to sleep. Not that we would want to: to sleep meant to suffer
from horrible dreams—
And then she told us about the bad things
.. . . .
We would live a very, very long time. Mama
told us her "mother" had been just over seven hundred years old at the
time of her birth, and she figured her mama was "young" then. All kyuuketsuki
were women, and we would always find ourselves taking female lovers, as
they were the only ones who could satisfy us sexually. But men did serve
a purpose. "While we can feed from the blood of women, it will not always
satisfy us fully. Only the semen of men will completely stave our hunger."
"Which is why you go out dressed sexy every so often,"
I said. "So you can attract men." She nodded.
Setsuna was curious about something. "Uh, does that
mean—"
"You will absorb all semen taken vaginally," Mama
said, "but there will be times when your nourishment needs to be taken
orally."
We both looked at each other and made a face.
"Don’t worry; after a while you get used to sucking
cock," Mama said. "Besides, you can’t go too long without feeding—"
"What happens if you do?" I asked.
Mama looked at us for nearly a minute without saying
anything. "You get pregnant," she finally said. "If you allow your hunger
to become too great . . ." She hesitated once more, then: "You end up becoming
somewhat—insane. Your body then requires that you conceive. But
we are unable to conceive as a human. To do so we must consume the chi
of another person, and from that a child will be quickened." She looked
almost ashamed. "That is how you were both born."
"You killed someone?" Setsuna asked.
"Yes—by eating them." I think I gasped. "I
was young and foolish. I allowed myself to go too long without feeding
.. . . I believed I would not be controlled by this curse, but I was wrong.
I was struck by my hunger, driven to conceive—which I did by eating my
lover. Her sister walked in on me while I was feeding, and I ate her, too.."
She smiled weakly. "Which is why I had twins. I devoured their chi,
and in doing so I gave birth to you both."
While we took this in, she told us about our breasts
and eyes. The third eye was the one through which we channeled our magic.
It was originally possessed by the Chinese immortals who invaded our country,
and had become our aspect as well. The extra breasts . . . Mama told us
that Amaterasu supposedly had four breasts, and that every time we looked
at ourselves we would be reminded that the Sun Goddess had cursed us for
our ancestor’s folly. Not to mention that the additional sensitivity would
help drive us crazy . . . .
"You see, that is our real curse," Mama told us.
"Back in the days of the First Ancestor, rape didn’t exist as we know it.
The First Ancestor simply didn’t want to have sex with that particular
man, and so turned him into a sow condemned to have many children. Amaterasu
decided that our ancestor—and her descendents—would be consumed with sex,
and that she—and we—would need it to survive.
"We feed off the semen of men who wish to fuck us,
but we derive no other pleasure from the act. We can orgasm, but only at
the hands of women who truly love us, and give themselves to us freely.
We can feed off their blood as well, but again . . . And we are always,
perpetually, yearning for sex . . . ."
We didn’t really know what Mama meant until that
night. We were in our room, talking about what had happened, what Mama
had told us . . . when it came over both of us. We were horny. No, not
horny: HORNY. We began rubbing our breasts and our nipples and our
pussies—but it did no good. I leaned over and began giving Big Sister oral
sex, and she did the same to me. It helped—we both had orgasms—but it didn’t
stop anything. No matter how much sex we had, we stayed horny.
Then it hit me. "S-Chan," I said. "We’re horny because
we’re hungry."
She nodded. "I thought that might be it . . ." She
looked a little worried. "Think we should tell Mama?"
I said yes. We told Mama what was happening—as if
she couldn’t hear us in the next room—and gave us a sad smile. She took
us into her room and began laying out her "bar girl outfits," as she called
them. "The good thing about feeding in this day and age," she said, "is
that you can also be paid for it."
An hour later we were sitting on stools in a bar
Mama worked. We had told the yakuza lieutenant that we were there
to work, and also mentioned Mama’s name. "Yuki certainly knows some good
looking girls," he said, smiling. We smiled back.
So we sat in our short skirts and tops which showed
up our breasts—all four, people loved that—and a lot of leg, and
it wasn’t long before men started showing up, buying us drinks, then talking
us into the rooms upstairs . . . .
And Mama was right. Oral does satisfy you
quicker.
A couple of years later we moved from Tokyo to Seattle.
Mama was bored, and figured the United States would be a good place for
us to live. Well, that was part of it. Another part was to avoid having
to deal with all the yakuza goons Setsuna and I had killed one night
because—well, better to not talk about it right now.
Mama enrolled us in high school because she thought
it would be good for our development—and because our birth certificates
said we should be there. We didn’t argue. After all, school is a good place—to
find your next meal.
S-Chan and I had become accustomed to our new life.
We feed when necessary, never denying our bodies. We both worked the street.
I hate to say it, but I loved being a prostitute. It was something of a
game, finding the right person, baiting them, drawing them in, then giving
them what they wanted while you got what you wanted. I wasn’t interested
in guys who just wanted a quick fuck; I was more interested in those who
were looking for something different. Often this meant finding men—and
women—who weren’t even interested in sex with a strange woman.
S-Chan and I were also lovers. We found that we
could gratify our sexual needs with the other’s touch, and decided not
to seek out other women—at least not for the long run. Why should we? We
were "Hot, Incestuous, Lesbian Vampires," to paraphrase Charlie Sheen,
and loved every moment we were together. There was little we wouldn’t do
to make the other happy. We would spend hours caressing the other’s breasts,
sucking nipples until they were raw, leaving black and blue marks on the
other’s tits. We could finger each other for hours, and when it came to
dispensing oral stimulation—heaven.
Then we learned about transforming each other.
Magic came slowly. We first learned on people Mama
had brought home—people who wouldn’t be missed. I remember the first time
Mama brought home a young girl who she’d seen trying to mug an old woman.
Normally the yakuza would take care of a foolish girl like her.
Mama found her first.
First her legs vanished, replaced by something that
looked like a snail’s foot. Then she grew six more arms. Her breasts became
the size of footballs, then Mama had her grow two more pairs, which S-chan
and I sucked and fondled, driving the crying girl crazy. The girl’s eyelids
vanished, allowing her to watch Mama turn into a huge, black, leathery
naga with eight rows of breasts and three vaginas. She told the girl to
satisfy her—or else. The girl—probably insane by that time—cried and gibbered,
unable to do what was asked, so Mama swallowed her whole, shitting her
dead body out three hours later in an alley a few kilometers from our house.
I was amazed she could do that. I couldn’t wait
to try it myself.
Most of the time S-Chan and I changed ourselves
and each other for sexual reasons. You know, extra vaginas, breasts, arms,
legs—you name it, we did it. She once grew a dick where her clitoris should
be and started fucking me with it. It felt fantastic—even when she began
expanding it to where is was twice the size of her arm. I could feel my
pussy expanding, trying to contain this massive cock, and though I should
have been in pain I was so high on the orgasm that was building inside
that my screams weren’t of pain, but pure pleasure. I knew S-Chan couldn’t
cum, but I know I did . . . .
I once shrunk myself down to where I was only a
few centimeters tall, then crawled inside her. I moved into her uterus
then slowly began making myself larger. Not only did she feel as if she
were pregnant, but I was fingering and tonguing her from the inside out.
She grew another set of arms and pulled hard at her nipples, watching herself
as she knelt before our mirror, my long, reptilian tongue slithering out
of her cunt and licking her wet, engorged clit. She "went into labor" when
I was half by normal size, and with every contraction came a very intense
orgasm.
Then she did the same to me. I almost went nuts
with lust, and had to have at least ten men that night . . . .
Anyway—
To say we attracted attention was an understatement.
We were the new girls, and though there were a lot of Asians in our school,
few of them looked like us. It had been made clear to many teachers that
we were special because of our "Quadro-polymastic" disorder, and that great
pains should be made to assure we were not made the butt of student jokes.
Shows how much some "educated" people know.
First, a lot of guys like Asian girls. That was
a plus. They like big breasts on girls. Another plus. When they found out
twin Japanese girls, each with four D cup tits, had just become members
of the student body—we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by as many guys
as we wanted.
Not that this was a bad thing, mind you. Young,
horny guys meant never having to go hungry. But I wasn’t interested in
most of the guys who "introduced" themselves to us in the first few days.
The majority of them were jocks who thought they were doing us a favor
by letting us be seen in public with them—guys, as S-Chan told me, "ripe
for having their asses drained."
S-Chan kept getting hit on by one boy who, it turned
out, was captain of the "football" team ("American football", right; the
people in the U.S. have never really understood what real football
is about). He kept saying that he’d "let" S-Chan "hang with him" if she
were interested. He also let slip that he "owned" a nine inch dick—"but
you should see it when it’s hard." She’d smile at his lines and never let
on that she could have killed him in a second had she wanted. She finally
got rid of him by asking if he’d ever considered performing a live reenactment
of the Columbine High School incident . . . .
As for the girls—
I had my share of guys wanting to sleep with me,
but I could give a shit. There was one person in particular who I wanted:
a girl named Betty Quail. Quiet, "mousy" types are common in Japan, and
possess a certain cuteness which makes them irresistible, but in America
girls like Betty are shunned and ridiculed simply because they don’t fit
some bubble-head’s idea of the "right" woman.
She was tall—maybe a meter, eight. She was thin;
not anorexic thin, but she could have stood a little more meat in the right
places. "Boyish" would best describe her figure; no hips, hardly any waist,
tiny breasts. Her complexion was clear, but pale—but then, this was Seattle;
who wasn’t? Her dark brown eyes didn’t really shine, not behind those oh-so-stylish
thin black frames she wore. Her black hair was flat and dull, screaming
out for a new cut to set it free.
People didn’t pay attention to Betty. I discovered
she was smart, and honor student, read a lot, seemed interested in movies
and roll playing games . . . In Japan she’d be an otaku, but here
she’d be forever labeled a "geek." She didn’t fit in, she didn’t socialize
much, and didn’t date.
I had to have her.
Sitting next to Betty in home room wasn’t that difficult;
she was pretty much by herself, her only companion this girl on the other
side of the table; shorter, dirty blond hair, pimples over most of her
face, black lipstick and heavy eye shadow, wearing a long black smock,
ripped black stockings, and a pair of scuffed granny boots. The book she
had open was for advanced calculus, so I figured she’s a geek playing Goth
wannabe.
Both girls gave me hard stares. Probably because
of my outfit; a wine-colored sleeveless knit pullover beneath which the
lumps of my taped-down lower breasts could be seen; red leather mini skirt,
which was a lot shorter than the school should have allowed; bare
legs and very high platform sandals. A number of girls in school had already
commented about the way S-Chan and I dressed, wondering how it was we could
get away with it.
I think they would have shit had I told them how
easy it was for us.
I sat. "Hello," I said to the table.
"Ohayo," Betty chirped. "Ogenki desu ka?"
"Ah, genki desu. Nihongo o hanashimasu ka?"
Betty shook her hand back and forth. "A little.
It’s been a while since I’ve had someone whom I could speak with. I'm out
of practice." She smiled, but her eyes told me she was sizing me up. "So
what brings you here, Firefly?"
"You know what my name means?"
"I do speak Nihongo, neh?"
"Hai."
"What would you like?" Betty asked, then looked
across the table to her friend. "By the way, this is Cassie Matthews."
"Hi," Cassie said. Her voice was like whipped butter,
smooth and soft.
I responded to Cassie, then told Betty, "I was wondering
if you’d like to go—I don’t know, shopping or something some night."
"Shopping?"
"Yeah. I’d like to talk—get to know you. I figured
that would be a good way to start."
Betty thought for a moment; Cassie was staring at
me like she’d seen a new growth pop up on my forehead. "Why do you want
to get to know me?" Betty asked. There wasn’t any hint in her voice that
she was being sarcastic; it was a simple question.
"Because . . ." I smiled. "I just do."
Again Betty looked as if she was deep in thought.
"May I ask a personal question?"
"Sure."
"Rezutta koto aru?"
I wasn’t surprised to be asked if I were a lesbian--more
specifically, if I'd ever done it with another woman. Betty was perceptive
and intelligent, so it should have been obvious I was hitting on her. "I’m
bi," I told her, "but I prefer the company of girls. Particularly girls
like you."
Having preternatural senses, I detected the following:
Betty’s pupils dilated slightly, and there was an almost imperceptible
flush to her skin as her heartbeat quickened. But Cassie . . . the Goth
Geek emitted a pheromonal rush which would have been picked up by a human
with little difficulty. As it was I was awash in her scent.
It was easy for me to see there was more going on
here than most people in this dump recognized. Betty was probably a little
bisexual herself, and was interested in my come on. Cassie was a full-blown
lesbian, or at least she enjoyed girls a lot more than she did guys.
Either way, her mucus was flowing as images of her bedding down with this
little Japanese sushi filled her mind’s eye.
"So, what sort of shopping do you want to do?" Betty
asked. Her demeanor had changed to one that was very coy. I figured she
might be a little submissive.
"You know—I’d like to buy you something that would
make you look—hot."
She blushed. "I’m not what you’d call very ‘hot’."
"You could be." I winked. "Haven’t you ever wanted
to be like that?"
"Sure . . ." She shrugged. "I just don’t have the
body."
"Well, you could have . . ." In my mind’s
eye I could see me transforming her, giving her bigger breasts, wider hips,
a bigger ass—changing her appearance totally. Maybe giving her another
set of breasts, or arms, or . . . I had once taken a girl and replaced
her mouth with another vagina. I’d stuck a vibrator between her legs then
spent the evening licking her new vagina, making her cum like crazy. She’d
hit such a sexually stimulated peak that when I drank her blood . . . god,
it had been like sipping fine sake.
And Betty gave off the same sort of feeling. I figured
if I could make her cum non-stop for a couple of hours—
"Have you ever drank anyone’s blood?" Cassie asked.
I was a little shocked to hear this—it wasn’t
the sort of question I’d been expecting. "Do you eat pussy?" yes. But drink
blood?
Betty saved me. "You have to forgive Cassie," she
said with a slight laugh. "She’s been pretending she’s a vampire for so
long—"
"You’ve played it, too!"
"Yeah, but I don’t think I’m my character!"
There were roll players in Tokyo, and I was somewhat
familiar with this sort of game; it consisted of people pretending to be
undead creatures of the night subsiding on human blood for eternity. If
they only knew. "What sort of character do you have?" I asked, genuinely
interested.
"Ilsa Nabalov, a very old vampire," she told me
without blinking an eye. "Created in 1631; lived in Moscow, London, New
York, Seattle. Very much the patron of the arts."
"She like sex?"
Cassie gave me a deadly smile. "God, yes." She looked
me up and down. "You really have four breasts?"
"I do."
She looked across the table to Betty. "God, I’d
love that." She touched her own meager endowments. "Four really big
tits. And a smokin’ body to go with them."
A plan was forming in my mind. It would require
asking Mama a few questions, but . . . "So, when do you girls want to get
together?"
Three nights later it was time to party.
I had told the girls to met me just down the street
from my house. I didn’t want them standing about outside, since there was
a chance they might run into Mama and S-Chan, who would be out on their
own this evening. Mama had found a girlfriend—a little Chinese girl named
Jun—and had been spending a lot of time with her. I knew she’d be gone
for the evening.
Setsuna was going to a party of her own where at
least four guys—one of them the "friendly" Captain of the football team—would
be drinking and doing drugs. S-Chan would pretend to get loaded, then have
sex with them all. "They're a contemptible bunch," she told me. "If I wasn’t
hungry I’d just not go." She was hoping to take the Captain and "put him
through a few changes." "I’ll get him to describe the ‘girl of his dreams,’
then I’ll transform him," S-Chan told me. "I pray he’s keen on dumb girls
with gigantic tits who can’t get enough ass sex . . . ."
Betty and Cassie were waiting for me where I expected.
I can see very well in the dark, and the expression on their faces when
they first spied me—priceless. I’d wanted to feed a little before meeting
the girls—just to make sure I didn’t get carried away from hunger—and I
was in my streetwalking clothing: flat white platform thigh highs, white
vinyl shorts, and a white PVC vest which did an adequate job of covering
my breasts. Barely.
Betty was wearing slacks and a tee shirt along with
tennis shoes. Cassie was in a long skirt and satin corset, both black.
Her posture indicated she was wearing high heels. "Where have you
been?" Betty asked. "You look like you’ve been, well . . . ."
I was next to the girls by this time. "Hooking,
maybe?" I asked, playing along.
"Well, yeah."
"I was." I winked at both girls.
Betty seemed a little shocked, but Cassie—her pheromones
were gushing once more. I could read her mind: My little bisexual Jap
toy out being a naughty girl, sucking cock and spreading her legs . . .
God, I can’t wait to lick her clean! Oh, if she only knew what I had
in mind for her . . . .
Betty cleared her throat as they filed in behind
me. "You, ah . . . I didn’t know—"
"That I’m a prostitute?" I smiled at her discomfort,
brought about because I was being so open. "I wouldn’t expect you to know."
"Do you . . . like doing that?" Cassie asked.
I shrugged. "It’s something I need to do," I deadpanned.
We halted before my place. "This is it. You both still want to come in?"
Cassie—I didn’t need to ask twice. Her body language
was clear; if I asked her to drop to her knees right now and lick my boots,
she’d do it. But Betty . . . she was the one I wanted. I needed for her
to say yes; I wanted to do something for her—and in turn, me—so badly—
Betty looked at me, paused, then: "Yeah. I want
to come inside." Cassie only nodded.
We went inside.
The girls stood in the living room while I went
into the kitchen. When I came out with the big bottle of sake, they looked
even more surprised that before. I think they expected me to change—get
out of my "working clothes" and slip into something more—presentable.
Cassie asked, "Are we drinking?"
"Sure," I said. I put the sake and the ochokos
on the coffee table. "Why don’t you guys sit?"
Betty again looked uncomfortable. "Uh, Hotaru, maybe
this, uh—"
"Sit!"
Cassie was down in a flash, legs together, hands
on knees, Little Miss Submissive. Betty was a little more slow to move,
but she didn’t disobey me. Now with the growl I put behind the command.
I opened the sake and poured. "Drink," I commanded.
"And don’t sip it; knock it back. It’s easier that way."
Betty looked a little flush afterwards; sake can
hit you in a strange way if you’ve never had it before. Cassie was a little
sterner—she powered the sake down and was ready for another.
I gave them two more drinks before pouring one of
my own. "Now, there’s something I have to tell you," I told them, kneeling
on the other side of the table. "I’m not what I seem."
There were exchanged glances, then Betty asked the
inevitable: "What are you, then?"
No preamble: "I’m a kyuuketsuki." And with
that I opened my third eye.
Cassie was trying not to look scared, but she was.
Her fear was like stale body odor. Betty’s eyes were wide with fright,
but she was handling the news a little better. "You know what I am?" I
asked her.
She nodded. In a choked voice she said, "A sort
of vampire—"
"Vampire?" Cassie had heard the magic words.
"Not like you would know vampires," I told her. "I’m
more an oni—"
"What’s that?"
"A demon," Betty told her, then looked at me. "Ain’t
that right?"
Cassie didn’t like the "D-word" very much; my first
impression was that she was going to freak and bolt. I wanted to calm her
down, get her chilled out before she ran screaming into the night—which
would have been bad, since it might have forced me to kill her. "I’m not
a bad person—"
"Just a bad demon?" Betty quipped.
"Are you going to kill us?" she asked, her voice
trembling.
"No." I smiled. "I want to give you something."
"What’s that?" Betty asked.
I looked them both over slowly, refraining from
licking my lips. "What you want," I finally stated.
The girls were staring at me. Rather than frightened,
they seemed—curious. And who wouldn’t be? You come over to a girl’s place,
you think you’re going to have sex with her, and then she’s telling you
she’s some sort of demon and that she wants to give you something— sure,
that would peak the curiosity of most people.
"And what do we want?" Betty asked slowly. I could
tell—she knew. She knew what I had in mind—and her mind was working
overtime trying to figure out what she was going to ask for.
"You—" I told Betty. "I think you want to be smart
and sexy." I stood up and turned around, showing them my body. Then
I undid my vest, letting them see all my breasts for the first time. "I
think you not only want to fondle these, but you wouldn’t mind a pair of
your own, to start. Neh?"
There was a very long pause while Betty just stared
at my chest and said nothing. Finally she whispered, "I can have the body
of my dreams?"
"Yes."
"What’s the catch?" She looked me in the eye. "You
aren’t giving things away for free, are you?"
"No, I’m not." I sat next to her. "I wish to have
you as—well, one of my lovers—"
"Don’t you get enough of that now?"
"No. I gain no satisfaction from sexual encounters
with men. I’m cursed in that only women can give me what I—desire." I ran
my eyes over her body. "But, you have to willingly give yourself to me.
If I take you, I will be left frustrated."
"What about . . . feeding?" she asked softly. "Aren’t
you like a vampire in that you have to feed on people?"
"Again, I can get this from women only if they willingly
give themselves to me." I took her hand and kissed it. "You have to want
me to be your lover, Betty."
"Don’t you have one now?"
"I do. But I want you as well." I winked. "It's
best to have variety."
Betty was once more very quiet. The good thing was
she didn’t remove her hand from mine, which to me meant she was giving
my offer a lot of thought. I was hoping, say yes, say yes, knowing
that she probably would, but if she didn’t . . . well, I’d have to do something.
I couldn’t have her going to school next week telling everyone Hotaru was
a demon—
"What do I get?" Cassie asked softly.
I looked around Betty and smiled. "I’ll make you
a vampire."
I thought the girl was going to shit. Her eyes brightened,
her cheeks became flushed, her breathing quickened . . . you’d have thought
she was having an orgasm. "A real . . . vampire? You mean like—"
"I mean like undead creature of the night, yes."
I looked at her and smiled. "Of course, there’s something else you
need."
"What—"
I concentrated, knowing my third eye was glowing.
It always did whenever I performed magic. I was chuckling to myself; Cassie
was going to have to take that tight corset off, and fast—
Her breasts were starting to flow over the top of
her corset. Their growth was visible to the naked eye. She leaned back
on the sofa, feeling how they’d almost doubled in size in the blink of
an eye. But I knew she was feeling discomfort elsewhere on her body . .
.. "Oh, fuck, FUCK! What is this? Damn! I got—" Her arms were behind her
back, trying to undo the corset. I knew she wasn’t going to get it off
in time, so I twisted my hand—the corset unsnapped and went flying across
the living room.
Her torso now naked, we could see her breasts growing.
Besides the ones she was born with, two more pairs grew from the middle
of her abdomen, and out of her tummy. Cassie was laying back, her head
on the armrest, her breathing shallow as she ran her fingers over these
new presents. I didn’t make them tremendously large, but having six D cups
on your body—well, I knew what having four D cups was like. Cassie probably
wasn’t going to spend a lot of time walking around--not without a little
back pain.
Maybe.
"Isn’t that a little of what you wanted?" I asked
Cassie. I could smell her musk; she’d cum in the last few seconds just
touching herself.
She touched her middle breasts and moaned. "God,
yes . . . shit. This is . . ." She placed one hand down her skirt, wanting
to play with herself. "I’m so sensitive—"
I moved next to her and whispered in her ear, "You
think you can handle this for eternity?"
Cassie barely nodded. "Y—yes."
I didn’t think she was really listening to me, but
I didn’t care. "You want anything else?"
"Just . . . just make me beautiful."
I waved my hand . . . and in an instant Cassie was
beautiful. Her hair shined, her skin—now blemish free—glowed. Her hips
and waist—the later obscured by her new breasts—reformed to give her an
hourglass figured. Her ass filled out, stretching the fabric of her skirt;
her legs slimed, becoming free of cellulite.
As a human she was now very beautiful . . . .
I moved my lips to within centimeters of her . .
.. and started sucking out her chi.
I had spoken to Mama about what I was going to do,
since I didn’t actually know if I could do this. Kyuuketsuki
can’t actually make true vampires—well, not the way people think
they can be made. But . . . our blood does offer immortality to a human
who drinks enough of it. It even allows them a little access to the chi
lines which we use to control magic.
But to make a person truly undead—
I was removing as much of Cassie’s life force as
I could, while at the same time transforming her body so she would never
need to breathe, she wouldn’t need any nourishment except human blood, she
would be able to heal almost any damage, she would be unable to go out
in the light without combusting—all the normal vampire curses and advantages
she likely knew. But would she be undead? Yes, and no. She wouldn’t actually
be human any more—she would be too corrupted by my blood—and she would
cease aging, as her body would, for all intents and proposes, have expired.
But enough of her life force would remain to make her seem alive
.. . . I had to be careful; if I did this wrong and took too much of her
chi, she’d become a rotting, yet animated corpse.
When fingertips began to tingle, I knew I’d taken
enough of her chi. With that I slapped her until her flickering
eyelids snapped open, then I stripped off my shorts and straddled her.
Mama had said our life blood—that of the kyuuketsuki—is
most powerful when it comes from one special part of our body, and that
Cassie should drink from there. I didn’t need Mama to tell me just where
that part of my body was; I wasn’t stupid.
I knew she was drinking well when I orgasmed. I
was trying to keep Cassie’s face pressed against my vagina, as I didn’t
want blood on Mama's sofa. She’d have killed me. I could hear Betty making
vague retching noises behind me; I didn’t care. And as long as I could
hear her, I knew she hadn’t left . . . .
It took about five minutes. The moment I started
cramping, I knew Cassie had consumed enough of my blood. She would now
be immortal, a "vampire," just as she’d wished.
Of course, as it has been said, one should be careful
what they wish for.
I stood, moving next to Betty, who was not as out
of it as I might have thought. In fact, she hadn’t been retching; she’d
taken off her tee shirt and bra and had been playing with her breasts.
She’d become flush with excitement watching me transform Cassie. It was
a good sign for later.
Cassie slowly stood, her firm, spherical breasts
swaying slightly as she got to her feet. The change was obvious. Her skin
seemed like alabaster; in some places it was vaguely translucent. Her fingernails
had become longer; they were maybe three centimeters now. In growing they’d
cracked off some of the dark blue polish she’d been wearing, and her nail’s
albino perfection shown through. Her lips were fuller, much more alluring.
All six of her nipples were a dark, fleshy crimson and fully erect.
Her eyes were her most outstanding feature, though.
Sharp and piercing, they seemed as if cut from blue quartz, the color was
so vibrant. They didn’t quite glow, but being so prominent they would be
the center of attraction for just about every human near her. Her high
cheek bones and thin face made them even more dazzling.
Cassie tried to say something, but it came out as
a gasping wheeze. "You have to take in air and force it out to speak,"
I told her. "You don’t breathe any longer."
She concentrated and tried not to look as if she
was working hard to say a few simple words. "How do I look?" she asked
in a breathless whisper.
Betty spoke for us both. "You’re—magnificent," she
said, awed. "Really fucking hot."
She looked around; I knew she was seeing things
which only I could imagine. "Everything is so . . . alive."
"Your senses have been enhanced," I told her.
Cassie lightly touched her naked breasts and moaned
the moment she felt her nipples. There was a new sent in the air; Betty
probably didn’t notice it, but I did. I didn’t know if Cassie realized
it, but she would no longer produce mucus for vaginal lubrication. This
didn’t mean she wouldn’t ever have lubrication—but she might discover future
partners being turned off by discovering her hot little fuck hole awash
in blood.
Bringing herself to climax in a matter of seconds,
Cassie panted, "God, this is wonderful." Touching herself some more, she
told me, "I guess I should have realized having six big tits like this
would present a problem when it comes to clothing—"
"It’s something you should have thought about,"
I replied. "Although I can help you with that."
Cassie smirked. "I can walk around naked for now
.. . ." She turned her gaze on Betty. "And what about her?" she asked.
Betty was quivering with—Excitement? Lust? Fear?
I couldn’t yet tell. It didn’t really matter—she was all the more exciting
to me because of her demeanor. "I don’t know," I said softly. Placing one
arm around her shoulders, I lightly ran my fingers over her stiffening
nipples, causing her to draw a sharp breath. "I wonder how she would like
to be changed?"
Betty was on the verge of an orgasm; I could feel
her body and smell her scent as she rushed towards climax. It was obvious
she was in heaven—due to her sexual exhilaration—and hell—because
of the fear of what I might do.
I probably could have killed her right now and she’d
have died with a smile on her face.
She tensed, then shuddered as she came. "What .
.. . what would you do to me?" she asked, smiling weakly.
"Ah . . ." As I touched her—calmed her—I explained,
"I’d first make you Nihonjin—kawaii no shojo . . . long black hair,
dark eyes . . . skin like cream—" I pinched her right nipple. "I’d keep
you the same height so you tower over me . . . shorten your torso but accentuate
your hips—give you a beautiful ass, round and soft . . . make your legs
slim and long . . ." I kissed the underside of her left breast, then ran
my tongue over it, over her nipple, up to her neck and into her ear, bringing
forth another orgasm. "You would be my living anime girl," I whispered
in her ear. "My little fuck toy . . . with eight tits."
"E—eight?" She didn’t sound shocked—the tone of
her voice was much different.
"Four rows; B cups—all very sensitive." I danced
my fingers over her chest, her tummy. "I think I would also make your clitoris
the size of your nipples—" I squeezed her to emphasize my point. "And make
your pussy swollen . . . you would crave what you have denied yourself
for so long."
"I would . . . you would make me want sex
all the time?"
"Yes," I whispered. "You would not only crave my
touch, but that of others." I giggled. "I would curse you so if you did
not give into your cravings, your tits will grow."
Betty panted and thought about what I’d said. I
could almost see her thoughts; her as this horny Japanese girl, eight delicious
breasts on her body—then the tits starting to swell if she didn’t have
enough sex . . . getting bigger while she grew more horny . . . I’d know
in a minute if she would like to be this way. Not that it mattered—I’d
already made up my mind . . . .
"You would turn me into a slut," she told me. Not
a question. Fact.
I nodded. "Yes. You would be my slut. My lover—"
I kissed her on the lips before finally telling her, "My nourishment."
For a moment I thought Betty was going to cry. Her
eyes were closed, and her face . . . see seemed to be in pain. But her
scent . . . she was excited, in all probability more than she’d ever been
her whole life. She was being offered a chance to indulge a segment of
her life that had never been exploited. In doing so, she would be selling
her soul to a demon—me. She knew to agree meant being condemned to a life
as someone at the mercy of her desires—and the desires of others. Once
in, she’d never be free—
I knew her answer before she told me.
"Do me," she whispered. "I give myself to you."
"Freely?"
"Completely." She opened her eyes and swallowed
hard. "I will love you forever."
I shook my head. "No, you won’t . . . but you’ll
try." With a wave of my hand her clothing vanished. She stood next to the
sofa, her eyes never leaving mine. I saw that Cassie had striped and was
in the corner of the room, masturbating, her fingers coated in blood as
she tried out her ultra-sensitive organs. I ignored her and began working
on Betty.
Her change was simple, and I didn’t want to draw
it out. I clapped my hands and suddenly her features were that of a young
Japanese girl. Her skin had taken on the slightly yellowish tint which
we also carry. Her hair became black and thick, her bangs severely cut
just above her eyebrows. I allowed her hair to grow until it was only centimeters
from tiny and shapely ankles. She gasped when she realized how heavy her
hair had become.
Her waist contracted and her ass swelled. She touched
it when that happened, a smile crossing her face. Her fingers found her
belly button, then slid down over her hairless mound to the top of her
labia. I didn’t want her playing with herself—not yet—so I developed her
breasts.
I wanted them to simply pop out. One moment they
weren’t there—the next they were. Eight firm B cups, arrayed all the way
down her short torso, coming to a stop just above her pubic mound. Her
nipples were all standing up; she touch two and cried out as she came,
juice from her pussy streaming down her thighs.
As a last touch I made her clitoris the size of
her nipples . . . she gasped as it pushed against her labia, trying to
wriggle out of her swollen pussy. She touched it and came ferociously,
dropping to her knees as orgasms wracked her body. Cum was now coating
her thighs; the smell—to me—was overwhelming.
She smiled. "So good," she mumbled in Japanese.
"I never knew it could be like this."
"You are happy, Betty?"
"Madoka," she corrected. "I’ve always loved that
name."
"Madoka it is." I took her by the hand and led her
to my bedroom. "I am ready to feed," I told her.
"I know." She lay upon my futon. "Take me, please."
I started to kiss her, lick her . . . I was intent
on whipping her into a frenzy. The more excited she was, the better her
essence would taste. As I sucked each of her breasts in turn Cassie entered
the room and began sucking on Madoka’s toes, working her way up her legs.
She paused above my girl’s pussy and gave me an wanting look. I nodded.
Cassie’s fangs appeared. She sunk them into Madoka’s femoral artery and
began to feed. Madoka came again, her juices spraying over Cassie’s hair.
My own fangs appeared as I moved towards Madoka’s
soft, tender neck. I would feed on not just her blood, but her life essence.
She was primed, worked into a sexual fury. With her peaked like this, she
would be so much better . . . .
And she was. As I sank into her throat and tasted
her, I moaned myself. She was delectable. Setsuna was the best, of course,
but Madoka—I had created a prize with this one.
And so I fed, not caring that my little girl would
spend the rest of her long life fucking and sucking to relieve the sensations
she would never be rid of . . . that eventually I’d tire of her and seek
a new lover, leaving her to a debased future rife with sexual escapades.
And Cassie: my little vampire had yet to realize
the sort of hell she’d entered. Even with her sensitive body, she’d never
be satisfied by anything other than her own touch—and blood. Of course
she’d been driven to copulate as my Madoka would, but it would be to no
avail: she could fuck non-stop every night and never cum. Only by playing
with herself and drinking blood would the pressure be alleviated. And she
would soon discover it’s a very lonely existence when you are the only
one of your kind—
As I said, I didn’t care. I was hungry. I wanted
to feed.
And feeding is so much better when you prepare the
meal yourself.
The End