Vampire Omicron: Chapter 1 – Home Invasion – Updated

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DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don’t agree with his choices, and you’re not supposed to either. We’re all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That’s the POINT. This is HORROR.

This is more PORN than PLOT.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.



FETISHES/WARNINGS

-Death / Blood / Murder (SORT OF SNUFF, but with a twist. I mean it’s a vampire, I’m going for it, but I keep it minimal)

-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 towards women

-Slow start, builds to brutal ending



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Chapter 0 – Prologue

Slipping in and out of sentience, fragments of memory come back in sputtering waves. A panic jolts through me. Sound. But I’m unable to move. Blackness. 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”. The voices, my family, acquaintances. Their lives carry on. Mine has ended too early. I never saw 30. A virus? Doctors label it the Omicron Variant, the weaker one. To them, I’m just another number. Another life lost to the pandemic. But no, it’s not the same. They barely looked into it. In truth, it’s something far worse.

Then darkness, for months, below the ground, aware but immobile, helpless. Weak, but slowly gaining strength. I wait, with nothing but my own thoughts. Recalling my pathetic life, anger rising in me. Hatred, twisted thoughts. I’m not myself. Every bit of humanity within me, every good quality and honorable virtue, all of it has fallen away. And all that remains is the darkness. The man I was is gone. He doesn’t matter. Now I’m reborn as something else, something evil.

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

Too weak to move, a year’s worth of strength expended in minutes. As the rain stabs down at me, drenching my decaying suit and tie, I finally realize what I am. Technically the Alpha, the first of my kind, but as weak as the Omicron in which I was labeled. A pathetic name for a pathetic creature. Crawling in the mud, barely able to lift my own weight, I am cold and miserable. But free. I no longer need to follow the laws of man, I’m no longer shackled by society or shame or fear. A true villain, I feel the urge to commit atrocities. 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 day and stick to the safety of darkness. I pass a church one night, 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. My body seems to work mostly the same as it used to. My senses, my breathing, heartbeat, adrenaline, all seems the same, or at least the illusion of those things seem to remain. Now that I think of it, I can just hold my breath and nothing happens. It’s like I cling to these bodily functions out of habit.

I find a park where I used to walk my dog, 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 sees me coming. One bite and she’s 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 nights, 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. I need to follow this urge, 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 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 me such kindness. She even invited a bunch of us over for dinner once. 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 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, and 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 disconnect 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 bright, 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.