88 - The Suckling

Leroy picked up two candles, handing one to his sister. He sat back down, leaning against her.

"It ain't all about making babies," he said after a moment. "No, sometimes it's just about sex...and all the horrors that can bring. I call this story

THE SUCKLING

Mister Estovi had come to Dagon's Hollow from somewhere in Eastern Europe. He had been an actor, back then, and found a place here as a horror host for the late-night local affiliate, before cable and satellite took over. Dr. Boris Lugosi Lee, with the name of three monsters, entertained three generations of children and teens, before age finally caught up with him.

Mina Wolff had been one of his biggest fans. When the word came out that the old man needed a caregiver, she leaped at the opportunity. She was 19, with dark hair and eyes that came from the father she never knew, and the full lips and generous curves of her mother, that might run to plumpness in later life.

Estovi was silent, never voicing a word, face inexpressive. Everything seemed to have drained out of the old man, who sat slumped like a decaying pumpkin. He spent most of his life in his wheelchair, on oxygen. Watching old black-and-white horror movies from his seemingly endless collection.

It was Mina's job to get him up and dressed. To feed him and help him in the bathroom. To wash him and get him into bed.

When she unbuttoned his pants and took his ancient, greying, withered pecker into her mouth, that was not part of her official duties. It was absolutely why she had taken this job. Mina still remembered what Estovi had looked like in his heyday. Proud and regal in his opera cape, with grey streaks at the temples of his dark, slick-backed hair, the thin mustache and the fangs—and he did, she had discovered, have prominent canines, not just plastic fangs. They were almost the only teeth he had left.

Her tongue played over his glans. The old man's grey eyes rested on her as she slurped. Felt him swell and stiffen in her mouth. A little flutter in her chest of anticipation as she thought that she was slowly sucking away what little was left of the old man's life. Draining the legendary vampire of his unnatural vitality.

It became her little hobby. She could see his knuckles tense before he came. Hear the little indrawn hiss of breath as something salty and coppery exploded in her mouth. A hobby that became an obsession.

Day after day, she began to **** him, teasing out ejaculation after ejaculation. Forcing him to remain hard for hours at a time. Sometimes, she wore nothing at all. His eyes chasing her around the room. Unable to stop her whenever she chose to go down on him.

Mina chose the videos now. Old sexploitation horror and horror porn films. Classics like Vampyre Lesbos and utter trash like Trans-Sylvania. In a closet she found his old cloak, and at his dressing table she would sit, completely nude, applying the makeup. To greet him mockingly, tormenting him with the pussy he would never touch.

The young woman who had first come to serve her idol would not have recognized herself now. The grey eyes seemed to burn into her brain, and Mina's pussy tingled, mouth salivating. It was a queer bond between them now, something that surpassed any relationship she had ever had. He became, slowly and silently, the center of her life.

The changes were subtle. A strand of white in her hair. Breasts a little heavier. Lines on her face a little deeper. Her lips beestung, swollen, sensitive. The grey eyes would haunt her sleep, and she would sometimes dream of his cock. Where once she had sat with him to watch his films, now Mina found herself on her knees in the afternoon, his cock buried in her mouth, methodically sucking on his hard shaft, mind empty of all else.

It became second nature for her now to shed her clothes as soon as she entered the house. He awoke in the morning with a cock that was no longer wrinkled and grey, but hard and pink as that of a young man in the prime of his life. Mina's days as a caretaker grew strange and vague, his grey eyes haunting her, her mouth never off of his spit-slick shaft for long.

A year had gone by when Mina looked in the mirror and saw that her reflection was thin, wavey. A dribble of semen mixed with blood ran from the corner of her mouth, and she gathered it up with her thumb and pushed it back into her mouth. The sunlight from the window was hot, too hot, against her skin. Yet what sent a cold shiver of fear through Mina were her eyes.

They were grey. Like his.

When Mina walked home that night, she ran into me on the sidewalk. I was shocked to see how she had changed. It had only been a few months since I had seen her last, yet she looked older, more mature, lips plump and swollen.

We reminisced for a little while, over a cup of coffee at the diner. She seemed eager for company, and slowly the story came out. Details I'm sure she hadn't meant to share, and yet needed to tell me. At the end, she turned to me and said:

"You know, I never asked where he came from. Where he really came from. Eastern Europe? What part? When? How old is he really? What is he? Was it always an act? I don't know, I don't know. I feel his eyes on me. I thought I was in control, that it was just a bit of fun, but now I can't..."

Her grey eyes seemed to glaze over. She stood.

"He calls. He calls to me and I must go..."

It was the last I saw of her.

Leroy finished, and pinched out his candle. By now, all eyes turned to Latoya, expectantly. She smiled back.

"Yes, I know what happened to her after that. And I'll tell you," she promised.