Blood of Brothers
Chapter 1: What a Fucking Loser
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Rape, Heterosexual, Fiction, Horror, Vampires, Body Modification,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1: What a Fucking Loser - Tim was just a normal adopted 16 year old with an unfortunate family situation until he got wrapped up in a demonic war. Vampires, monsters, the unnatural, demons come from another world, attracted to ours for our vast life energy. Hunters, demons, and humans all will struggle for the fate of the world.
Where does a good story start? Does it start with the birth of the main character, his horrible life leading up to his present situation? Do readers want to hear about the back story? There are no real answers to these questions. Often times there are no good answers to anything. Some people aren't given any answers; they have to find them on their own. This story started thousands of years ago, but the telling will begin at the present.
"Timothy! Get your ass in here!"
Susanne stood by the sink with a wooden spoon in her hand, tapping it menacingly on her left, her gaze directed at the weed of a boy that walked into the room. Her mouth opened carnivorously as she played with her serving utensil, "I thought I told you to clean out the sink! How many times do I need to tell you to do something around here?" She threw the spoon at the sink; it clanged loudly off one of the pans within. Tim stared at the pans as if they had been expelled from the maw of some foul beast. The pans were clearly fresh, having been placed in the sink moments after Tim had finished scrubbing earlier that day.
She continued without even pausing to look at where the foul spoon landed. "If I knew that you were going to be so much trouble I never would have taken you as a foster child. I never have this kind of problem with Sarah and Violet. You should be more like them."
She advanced on her prey, the cowering high schooler, "Would you like me to help you? I'm sure I can find a couple of dresses that would fit. I am sure you would love to go to school wearing your sister's hand-me-downs, considering how much of a shit you are. I think that most of their old dresses would fit. Go get one and let's see."
Tim was never a normal teenager. In his sixteen years of age he had already been bounced around through five foster homes before he was accepted into the home of Brian and Susanne Nickels. Each stay ended when he was removed by the state due to one violent act or another on the part of the foster parents whom he was placed in the care of. Tim had seen far more physical abuse than most children. He had taken more beatings than he could remember, and he bore scars all across his body. Each of his previous five homes had been cold and piercing, much like a shard of glass, broken from a glass cup. They had enjoyed tormenting him; some out of drunkenness, others out of hatred. All of his foster parents had been cruel to him.
He had developed a surprisingly positive outlook on life despite his mistreatment. When a child is raised knowing only punishment and deprivation, it tends to grow up cold and mean. These are the settings that breed bullies and criminals.
Tim was different. There was something deep within his heart instead of hatred. Tim was a dreamer. He was too often consumed by what could be and perhaps would be, instead of what was. He was a loner in school, and he didn't care. He didn't hang out with anyone; at times it is uncertain he even understood the definition of "hanging out". He didn't have any friends. Who wanted to be with the quiet guy who hid in a corner and read?
Instead of the usual distractions associated with children of today, Tim spent a lot of his time at the public library. He did a lot of writing, nothing profound, but he liked to write down his dreams. He had read every story with a dragon in it. He had also read many books acclaimed by others to be classics.
It is sad how a person can go through life without having any real connection with other people. The boy was surviving alone. He dealt as little with his current family as he could get away with. They weren't as bad as his previous families. He hadn't been scarred physically by them. To some extent they showed love toward him. He was taken in by the Nickels at the age of 8. Susanne Nickels and her husband Brian Nickels had two daughters, Sarah and Violet. Brian had always wanted a son but his wife had become barren after complications with Violet's birth. After registering with the foster system they were contacted about helping with Tim. Mr. Nickels was a doctor of medical science, a surgeon. The family was very wealthy from not just his practice but also because both he and his wife were from wealthy families. To Tim, this was being rescued from his life of pain and taken to a world of privilege.
Brian Nickels immediately took to his foster son. In response to his care, Tim became active in the family. Brian gave Tim gifts and taught him how to fish. The two of them would go off to the family cabin to fish at least every other week. They would sit out in their boat and just enjoy each other's company. Tim got a lot out of having Brian in his life, and Brian felt complete now that he had a son to carry on his name. Within the first two weeks of living with the Nickels Tim had legally changed his name to match theirs. He was their son. They were his family.
Susanne Nickels was absolutely in love with her husband. Since the day they had met, her life revolved around him. She would have done anything to please him, including taking in a foster child. She wasn't ready to deal with the possibility that Brian would become so attached to the boy. Susanne wasn't jealous of the love her husband had for her children. She couldn't understand how he could love Tim with the ferocity he portrayed. As her husband and her now adopted son became closer and closer over the next seven years her jealously grew. She knew that the two of them were becoming more like father and son and it hurt her. The inequity of being unable to bear another child fueled her hatred of Tim.
Sarah and Violet didn't welcome Tim into the family with open arms either. The love given to him by Brian was meant for them; jealously bred hatred. To them, Tim was an outsider who took their father away from them, almost from the first day he arrived. While were never overtly offensive when their father was around, they would play small pranks and tricks on him. The girls particularly enjoying his reactions to them taunting him with their bodies. They wouldn't do anything to jeopardize what love their father did give to them however.
Brian was the kind of man who everyone wanted to be loved by. He brought out a need to feel loved in the woman in his family, especially his daughters. He never even noticed the dissension within his own family. He loved each of them. When he had heard some of the things Tim had gone through he had decided to be the father the boy needed. Brian would raise Tim as his son and teach him everything he knew. Tim was a part of his family as far as he was concerned and he didn't expect the reactions from the rest of his family.
Tim did not look strong. He had very gentle features for someone who had seen so much, lightly tanned skin, and soft eyes. His strength was completely masked beneath his flesh. He appeared very weak, gentle. He had the strength to pull a fish out of water, but he had never been bulky. Then again, he was only sixteen. In his previous homes he had never gotten the things a child craved. When his clothes fell apart he would get replacements. Yet he never got video games. He had no toys. He never had a computer. He had used the family one depending on the home, but never for long. He had to make do with the library. He had his flights of fancy, though he often wore t-shirts and jeans, both articles with multiple holes.
His new life with the Nickels changed drastically when he was fifteen. Brian and Tim were going out to the cabin to go fishing. They piled into Brian's Cadillac at four in the morning and hit the road. The hitting of the road actually happened after they had reached the highway. Though for them it was early in the morning, to the drunk driver who hit them it was late in the evening.
The Cadillac flipped as the Hummer smashed into it. The car rolled three times finally being stopped by the metal guard rails. It took the emergency medical technicians five minutes to get to the scene. It took the firefighters another five to get enough of the car open for them to get to either of the Cadillac's two inhabitants. Brian was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. Tim had a broken arm, two broken legs, and internal bleeding. He survived but was kept in the hospital for almost two months.
Tim's happiness was officially over. When he was finally released from the hospital and got back to the Nickels everything was different. Susanne blamed him for her husband's death. She still hated that he was a constant reminder of her inability to provide her husband with a son. Tim was a constant reminder of the love she had lost from her husband. She just couldn't forgive him for surviving when her husband hadn't.
Over the next year, Susanne had become more and more aggressive toward Tim. She blamed him for everything wrong in the family. When an appliance broke, it was his fault. When a light bulb blew out, he caused it. Without him, her husband wouldn't have gone fishing that day. It was Tim's fault Brian died. It was Tim's fault her husband was no longer there to love her.
Tim couldn't stop shaking as he went toward his eldest sister's, Sarah, room. The girls hadn't worn dresses in years, but their mother insisted that they keep some that fit for going to fancy occasions, not that the family, if it could be called that, was ever invited to any. As he got to the door, Tim heard his sister's music playing loudly; the house was large and provided a little privacy to everyone who was deemed to be worth it, he knocked on the door, almost afraid to make a sound. He knew that every minute that he wasn't downstairs with a dress one was another ten he would be punished. What he didn't know is that Susanne had already set this up with Sarah, Tim had a surprise coming.
After a moment without a response he knocked again louder, again without a response he banged on the door. "Sarah, can I come in?"
Tim opened the door, the happy pop techno becoming almost too loud, as he poked his head into the room. He looked over and saw his sister laying on her bed, naked, her hands between her legs masturbating, her eyes closed. Tim couldn't help but look, she was so beautiful. Her long blond hair splayed around her head on her pillow like a brilliant shroud. Her tan skin seemed fair and delicate, not a single blemish, and the red flush of excitement made her seem even more attractive. Her c-cup breasts showed the sag of a seventeen year old, none, still perfectly firm and formed as the day they were divinely gifted. Her tight, firm body was perfect, not too soft, not too hard. He stared at her long legs for a moment, mesmerized by the trap of Venus herself. He tried not to look but failed miserably, cheerleading certainly does a body good.
The first time he saw this goddess he never imagined she could be capable of the evil she had done to him, how could something so beautiful be so evil? The answer, as Tim had found, is very easily. His sisters had been doing this sort of thing for as long as he had been with them. Leaving their bedroom door open enough to show off as they changed clothes, or walking to and from the shower wearing only a towel, these seemingly accidental occurrences were just the start when Tim moved in. As Sarah and Violet became more accustomed to him, more specifically, they had caught his scent and knew that he couldn't run any more, they upped the ante. It seemed a competition between the two to see who could make him try to claim one of the forbidden fruits. All three knew what would happen if he submitted to temptation, the girl would scream rape, and it would just be the girls again. It did however, seem to give the girls some perverse pleasure to tease him, showing him something he could never have, but would always want. They were a drug, a sick twisted drug. One that you didn't need to smoke or swallow, the mere sight of it seemed enough to make you an addict. Tim had no hope, he found himself weak and helpless against their predatory powers.
Every girl he met he had to compare to his sisters, both of who were beyond beautiful. When compared to the dictator of the cheerleaders, and the beautiful president of the student body, all the other girls seemed to be lacking. Tim had never dated, and likely never would. As if sensing his presence and knowing the exact moment when his body would betray him, Sarah's eyes popped open, "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" Even naked, playing with herself Sarah seemed more powerful and in control than Tim had ever felt in his life. "Well, I asked you a question runt. You are so fucking pathetic. If have to come in here to get your rocks off, then by all means pull out your cue tip and start playing with your self. "What, can't you find it? I have tweezers and a magnifying glass in the top drawer of my dresser if that will help." Tim just stood there dumbfounded for a moment before Sarah continued, "What do you want sissy?"
"Mom sent me to get a dress from you." Tim said in a very quiet voice. Though the punishments doled out from his foster mother were usually odd and seemingly uncalled for, Tim knew better than to ask why, but this time it seemed worse. How could he actually wear one of his sister's dresses? If nothing else she was about six inches taller than him, and while she was large of chest and was built for cheerleading, he was sickly and thin.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you,"
Tim blushed a bright red as he stuttered out the dreaded sentence, "I need a dress to wear."
"I couldn't hear that over the music, one more time." Her timing was perfect, right as Tim started with, "I NEED TO WEAR ONE OF YOUR DRESSES!" she turned down the music with the remote. Sarah pulled on her bath robe and strutted over to her closet, moving with the grace of a panther in its favorite hunting ground. "So my sissy little brother wants to wear one of my dresses. I am so fucking glad that you are not related to me. Oh well, I would expect something as queer as this from you." Standing near her closet door, Sarah paused, and turned back, "OK, convince me. Why should I let you wear one of my beautiful dresses, they in no way suit a turd like you."
When he thought he had sunk as low as he could possible had gone, Tim was again planted into the sludge of the jungle by his sister. "What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing much dear brother, but if you are going to wear one of my pretty dresses you should look pretty yourself, and you do not look pretty. Because I love you so much, and you are my brother, I will give you a hand, you sit right over there," Sarah glanced over at her cosmetic table, "and I will make you beautiful enough for one of my dresses. If you are really good I will even let you choose the one, and don't worry about how long this takes, I will make sure mom understands."
All of the fight taken out of him, Tim wandered lost over to the horrific table, colored with fruits and fish and other things with names that are not colors. Smells of things that don't smell like their names, such as passion, filled the air as Sarah began her work. Tim watched as Sarah first started with his hair.
Tim's hair was kept long, and ragged, part at his request, mostly because Susanne didn't want to pay for his hair cuts too often. Sarah combed out his hair for at least twenty minutes, she tugged as hard as she could, was liberal with strange smelling oils, none of which Tim will ever be able to name, and when something would not get into place, Sarah cut it off.
Sarah worked fast, but was efficient, even though every minute felt like a life time to Tim. Finishing with his hair, Sarah moved to his face, and she used various makeups and lotions, and creams. Sarah kept telling him how beautiful he was going to look, and that if any of the other guys from school saw him, they would all want to fuck him. She verbally drug him through the dirt, and tortured him with half truths, after another hour his make over was done.
Tim couldn't even recognize himself in the mirror when she had finished. The mirror held portrayed a very fair skinned girl, with beautiful dirty blond hair down to her shoulders, hair which seemed to shine in beauty. Her face was perfect, pale and yet full of life, showing no signs of the terror which the man underneath was facing. "What did you do to me?" Tim yelled. He jerked from the chair and ran towards the door, he had to get away.
Sarah let him get out of the room before she yelled for her mother, "Mom, Tim is trying to get out of his punishment!"
Tim didn't even seem to hear, he rushed down the hall and heading down the stairs he seemed to fly taking leaps at a time. At the bottom he was suddenly face to face with his foster mother. "What the fuck are you doing? I don't see a dress. Isn't that why you were to go to Sarah's room? What have you been doing in there? Get back up there you little shit and go get into one of those dresses."
Every time he opened his mouth to say something, another of her vile sentences assaulted him only stopping when he surrendered and climbed the stairs with his head hung low. Time slowed down, and sped up all in the same instance, every second seemed to drag on, and yet Tim could not remember the moment that had just past. His sister reapplied the make-up redoing the lines his tears had smudged. She then began picking out a dress for him to wear.
To Tim it was as if this dress had been picked out for him, not that it was exactly what he had wanted, but that it was designed to be as hideous and flowery as possible. The white full length dress was complete with pink ribbons, pink bows, ruffles, and petticoats. Sarah had never worn this dress as far as Tim remembered and it looked brand new. To finish off the ensemble were white stockings and sandals with two inch high heels, naturally, white.
"It's just perfect," Sarah finally exclaimed after she had decided that Tim could not be more pampered. Having been powdered, painted, padded, and placed into a dress made for a young girl, Tim no longer appeared to be a young thin boy, looking in the mirror all he could see of himself is any pedophile's wet dream. He had always been short, and being very slim all that really was needed were the finishing touches to pass off this terrifying charade. "Let's go show mom."
"Kill me now." Tim thought to himself. "Please... oh lord... kill me now."
"Oh Sarah, she looks so beautiful; I mean he, oh never mind it doesn't matter. I think you are going to be going to school tomorrow in that dress. Bambi... you look much more like a Bambi right now."
Tim stared blankly for a moment, his mascara enhanced eyes became glossy with tears; with a primal scream, he shoved Susanne violently into the coffee table, ignoring the sound of shattering glass, pushed past Sarah and ran into the street.
Once outside, he simply ran. Every animal has a fight or flight instinct hidden within, some show it more openly, others keep it locked up. Humans tend to hide it, but sometimes a man will get so intimidated by imminent danger that he must flee. For Tim, he was facing a loss of self, he faced that terrible moment when he realized that soon he would lose who he was and become something else, someone else's plaything, and he couldn't stand for it. Tim had been accepting and acquiescing to others for so long that he was already in danger of becoming lost, this could be the final nail in the coffin if he didn't fight it.
Tim was one of those kids that had never won a fight in his life, at least one that didn't have a virtual avatar for him to be. He was orphaned before he ever knew his parents and bounced around the foster care system in sunny southern California, San Diego to be precise. He lived a model life, or at least the textbook definition of pathetically average. His record is chock full of fun tidbits from his past. Moments buried under walls of protective frosted glass, perfectly clear on the inside, but absolutely fogged from out. Times when he was used as an ash tray because all of the other ones in the house had already been broken when they were used as discuses, yes, he was the target, are hidden within, along with such other childhood memories like when his foster father wanted to perform a magic act he saw on the television, so Tim found himself with his hand splayed out on a table as his father loomed overhead with a knife in his hand, plunging it up and down between his fingers as fast as possible. It's a good thing heavy drinking doesn't impair depth perception and eye hand coordination, otherwise Tim might have more than just a scar on the inside of all of his fingers. His body shows the marks of years of torment and torture, things which cannot be hidden in the locker room showers, which is one of the many reasons Tim waits to shower last, not that showering was at all on his mind, well it was, but only to get off the make-up.
"Hey little girl, where's your mother, you shouldn't be out this late alone," Tim didn't even realize that it was so late, it had been dark outside three hours by now, however, his attention was drawn to the man giving him the come hither. Sitting on a park bench sat a middle aged man, who seemed very interested in Tim at the moment. "Do you need a ride home? I can give you a hand. I was just about to leave since I finished my paper." The man had a newspaper in his hands, it was on page A1, and didn't look like it had ever been opened further. Almost everything about this guy oozed sludge, his shoes were too polished for the amount of wear his pants showed, his hair was thick and greasy with something almost living; they must have some sort of symbiotic relationship, it keeps his hair in shape, he protects it from water. The man was wearing a white button down shirt with a worn brown and green patterned sweater on over it. The sweater showed stains from some unknown liquid, likely alcoholic in nature. The guy was pale to the point of looking sickly, and his eyes seemed to be focusing on something deeper within Tim than his face, something nearer his chest. Tim shuddered as this guy reminded him of one of his foster fathers, specifically the one that used to beat him... all of them.
"No I'll be fine thanks," Tim made a hasty attempt at fleeing from this disgusting man, but it seemed no matter how fast he ran, the stranger easily kept pace.
"Now, now, there is no reason it be afraid of ol' Lenny. Why don't you come over to my place and tell me all about yourself?"
Tim reached the stop light and pressed the button to cross the street, he could have continued on this side walk, but wanted to get as much street between him and 'Lenny' as possible. He looked back to see if he needed to just keep walking, but didn't see the man, only the park and the sidewalk. Letting out a sigh of relief, Tim thought to himself, "well at least things are looking up, he went away."
Tim should have been looking up himself. He felt himself being jerked up from the ground, and flew into the air. Painfully strong hands gripped his shoulders and heaved him up into the tree above him. He was tucked under an arm and again found himself flying, this time through the air as something dragged him with it deep into the park, from tree to tree. He was not able to see who or what was holding him, every time he looked up to see, an ill placed branch of leaves or some underbrush swatted him in the face.
The abduction was over almost as suddenly as it began. Tim was thrown into a depression in the ground of the park. There was a series of caves deep in the park which were mostly ignored by the fair citizens that frequented it. This area was considered on hold for those that had no home. Terrified and covered in scratches, his face a bloody mess, Tim found himself again facing danger, this time he had nowhere to run. Opening his eyes was a chore as his eyelids didn't want to allow in the flood of blood, his lids wavered, and as they opened, he felt something sharp touch right on his right eye, "This is not the time for you to be looking around, let me help you with that." In one swift motion the blade stabbed through his eye, and jerked across to the other side of his face, digging into his left eye on its way. Time slowed and he felt every second as his right eye seemed to explode, the pain clawed through the top of his nose, and deep into his left eye, causing it to rupture.
Something dug through the pain to reach him, he felt a pressure on his left eye, and heard a sucking sound, followed by extreme pain as the remaining juice and leftover pieces from his eye were sucked from its cavity, just like an oyster from its shell. He felt a pulling sensation as the optic nerve was sucked out like a single spaghetti noodle. "Mmmmm... I love fresh eyes, but enough playing, time for the main course." Tim felt a sudden pain in his neck followed by a feeling of loss from deep within his soul. He grew faint, and lost consciousness, his last human thought being, "I may die dressed as Bambi, killed by a psychopath, but at least I die as me, I will not lose my 'self'."
"What are we?"
"We are, Student. We are."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"We would be called vampires by humanity. Others will simply call us demons. You could say that we are demon-kin. We are certainly not human."
"But what makes us different?"
"Humans live on this realm of existence. We, and all demon-kin, are linked to another plane."
"So we are demons because we come from a different dimension?"
"No, where we are from is complicated, especially when it comes to us vampires, since most of us are originally from here. We are not undead, though we once were humans who passed through conventional death. Demons are linked to another dimension, where they came from originally is unimportant."
"So what happens to a human when he is bitten by a vampire?"
"You have to ask the complicated questions don't you? That one is answered by that it depends on who the biting vampire was. Everything we as vampires do is limited, that is a discussion for another time, but the general point is that the stronger the vampire, the more he can decide on what happens. Many vampires will turn anyone they bite into a vampire. The short version that explains this is that it is the main theory. However, there are a lot of vampires who can choose who to turn, and that requires some of their blood."
"What makes a strong vampire?"
"Let's save that one for later. Write that question down and we will get back to it. It is time for you to work on your exercises."