Chapter 1

It all started with Stacey. I was 14 years old and all of the girls in my school and my neighborhood all knew of my condition. It was nearly impossible to get an erection, but when I did, it was next to impossible to get me off enough to make it come all the way down.

At 17 I was a veteran with all of the women on my block and most of the ladies in town as well. Stacey had been the first girl I had ever gotten a hard on with, and it had lasted for three freakin days. My mom kept me home from school rather than have a middle school kid walking around with a pipe in his pants. I had jerked off for almost two days straight, finally blowing such a huge load that it clogged up the drain in the shower. The 'Biggie' as I liked to call it had finally brought down my erection, allowing me a full nights sleep.

The problem was, as I grew older and got more sex, I was getting less and less release. I had some seriously experienced women and it was never more than a mouthful. I could feel my full nuts, just aching to get a big old come to get empty.

My parents brought me to doctors and specialists. Most of them were stumped. Most of the opinions agreed that my condition was a form of priapism, satyrisis, and other such things. The biggest difference was, with most of them, the patient was afflicted by some form of deformity. I just couldn't come enough. With a lot of the conditions I read about, they mostly had to do with painful medical conditions while mine was just that I had to get my rocks off, all day long. Frustrating yes, painful, not really. Sleeping wasn't easy, but it was possible.

It was while I was doing some research that I came across the myth of the Vampire like creature that existed on male ejaculations instead of blood. Her nickname was CumPire. Legend had it that there was a creature that existed on copious amounts of sperm and that she had ravaged several large cities over the centuries, leaving men dead or close to death from dehydration and other things of the sort.

Man, did I have the solution to her problem! I scoured the net for clues as to her whereabouts, sifting through a whole lot of bullshit to find a true fact or two among all of it. Legends turned into old clippings, turned to newpaper articles, and then about 80 years ago, nothing. I started doing queries into phrases that were used in the articles I came across. One kept sticking out at me from everything that I read - "Life to live..."

I had decent access to corporate research db's, as well as several college and government level db's since my condition was totally stumping current medical science. I had gotten access to several db's based solely on medical experiments I had done for the government concerning sperm production, and research into the hyperstimulation of my hypothalamus. It turned out that the hyperactivity in that area of my brain kicked the spermatogenesis into overdrive. In other words, my over active brain caused the rest of my body to produce WAY too much sperm. So much, that when I did get an erection, I couldn't stop comming until I had released a gallon or so, culminating in a final orgasm that would blow the doors off the dam.

I ran a general query across several db's looking for the phrase "Life to Live". Didn't find anything, so I made it more general, ignoring case sepcific lettering, and other things that would narrow it down too much. I knew that the query would take a lot longer so I let it run and went to sleep.

A bell ringing in my ear woke me abruptly. I turned to my computer seeing it flashing a message. "1 result found" was in bright letters before me. I clicked on the link and followed it to an article in a psychiatric journal. The journal was written by Dr. Jacobs of Atlanta Mental Health. It detailed several of his patients, focusing on passive delusional, semi-violent women that he had been treating for the last 35 years. Seems that Dr. Jacobs was about to retire and wanted to give the public a taste of what to expect in his new auto-biography.

"Several of my patients have neurosis and delusions about being sexual creatures. One of the strangest is Emilia Banks, who thinks that she is a lycanthrope that changes into an animal when the moon is full and runs on rampages, sexually molesting any man in sight." I continued reading the article, until I saw the section I was looking for. "Mrs. Vandia Noend, a longtime resident of the facility, is one of my uncrackable cases. Every attempt to get something concrete out of her is frustrated by her constant repetition of the phrase 'Lyfe to Liv' which I took to be something about life and living or, but with strange accents. It is about the only reaction we seem to be able to get from her other than her attacks on the male genitalia. She kept attacking men's crotches, centering on their genitals. With her weakened condition, it's easy to restrain her, but that is only because of her advanced age."

"That's her, that's the cumpire." I said to myself. I found the address to the hospital, and made plans to take a trip to visit Mrs. Noend.

Lying to my parents was pretty easy, they were used to me being invited to conferences and all that. I told them I would be gone for a week or so, and to tell the truth, I think they liked when I left. Dad was jealous of the size of my dick, and I think Mom probably entertained some pretty impure thoughts on the care of her son's 'condition'.

I had a nice little nest egg saved up for a rainy day that a ticket to Atlanta didn't make a dent in. I packed some clothes, but more importantly, I packed a thermos full of semen, harvested from my last episode. Mrs Johnson had been eager in her offer to help, but it had taken Mrs. Forester, her daughter June, and Mrs. Evans, my nextdoor neighbor, to get me to door-blowing release I needed. I had saved quite a bit for the Cumpire, and I was on my way.

I landed at the airport in Atlanta, dropped off my stuff at the hotel and made my way to the institute. She was in a minimum security ward that allowed visitors. I noticed in the log I was signing that she hadn't had one in over 50 years. Probably why she was in such an advanced state of withdrawal. I showed some bogus credentials of a student at a northern university, explained why I was interested in talking to her, and was shown into a sunlit wing with wicker chairs and a chessboard. Sitting alone in a corner off was a wizened old figure who didn't even look up when I sat down.

"Mrs. Noend?"

"Hm? Wha?"

"Mrs. Noend, I'm a student, my name's Milroy. Edward Milroy. If you don't mind, can I ask you a few questions?"

She turned to me, sniffing the air. She looked at the orderly who was standing near me and shook her head. The orderly walked away as I took out a notebook and a pen, and put my thermos on the table. She inhaled deeply, her eyes widening.

"Mrs. Noend, how long have you been here?"

She grunted at the thermos, "Whuzzat?"

I smiled, knowingly. "All in good time. How long have you been here?" I repeated.

She whispered, "80 years, 6 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days."

"Wow, that's a long time. All for attacking men?"

She smiled, displaying brown crooked teeth. "A few of them asked me to do it..."

"Really. Why did you attack them?"

"Read the file kid, it's all there."

I paused, opening up the thermos. "Really Mrs. Noend? Not everything is in that file, is it?" I watched her reaction. She stiffened, her gaze burning on my thermos. "Nothing in there about you being the Cumpire, is it?"

A coughing wheeze came from her mouth, alarming me until I realized she was laughing. I moved the thermos to my side of the table, out of her reach. "So..." she said ominously. "Come to speak of the Lyf Stealer have ye lad?" Her clouded gaze was now replaced with something clearer, something more alive.

"Yes, I have. Tell me about her."

"Give me a sip of yer cock-tail there lad, and I'll tell ye."

I poured some of the sperm into the cap, measuring out about a mouthful. Granted, it was probably cold and the sperm dead by now, but I didn't think it would hurt. If what the legends said were true, it was the fluid AND the sperm, not just the live sperm, that kept her young and beautiful. She reached out a dry clawed hand for the cup, holding it reverently as she slowly brought it to her mouth. She sniffed it first, wrinkling her nose.

"The lyfe is dead in this laddie, won't do very much..."

I nodded as she downed the cup, her long dried out tongue licking every ounce of moisture from the cup. I saw a flush come to her cheeks, her eyes were less cloudy, and her back less crouched.

"It's been 15 years since I had any at all." she said wistfully. Her gaze snapped back to me as her now stronger voice said, "What do ye want of me? Ye obviously know the stories, the dangers, the deaths. Why are ye here?"

"Do you know what overstimulation of the hypothalamus does?" I continued when she shook her head no. "It's a medical condition that usually causes physical problems in males. One of the side effects is over production of sperm." Her eyes lit and she grinned at me. I continued, saying "I don't have the deformities that usually accompany these maladies, just one or two side effects that you might find to your advantage."

"If that's true, and you got a big one, I think we'll be great partners. I take it your condition doesn't let you come down until ye get it all out of ye?"

I nodded, my smile confirming the size of my tool. "Can you control your shape?"

"What do ye mean?"

"I mean if I give you the rest of this now, even though it's mostly dead, can you drink it now and wait until I leave to change yourself then walk out of here?" I opened the bag at my feet, showing her the clothes inside. "I can leave this in the bathroom for you to change into..."

Her eyes were darting everywhere at this point, calculating. "Ye better not be playing me false laddie. I can be a dangerous enemy!"

I swallowed, knowing her threat to be true. I shook my head, "I have just as much as you riding on this. Come to this address when you can," I said, putting a slip of paper in the bag. I pushed the thermos across the table at her, watching as she grabbed it and looked around to see if anyone was looking. When she saw no one was watching her, she tipped the thermos back, and let the cold cum slide down her throat. She grimaced slightly, putting the container down.

"Ugh, no lyfe! But... ugh!" she stammered, struggling to gain control. "Aye, it'll be enough" she said, looking around once more. I capped the thermos and stuck it in the bag. I said goodbye, whispering, "See you tonight, don't disappoint me. There's money in the bag for a cab." and made my way to the front desk. I walked to the bathroom, stepping behind a large plant between the mens and women's room. I looked over at her, catching her eye, and put the dress behind the plant with a pair of shoes. She nodded and went back to staring out the window.

The desk assistant asked me if I had had any luck, I shrugged saying no. I thanked him, and went out to my car. My cock was already stirring in my pants in anticipation. Finally, I had found someone who might be able to satisfy me. I wasn't looking forward to making love to an old lady, but I thought anything would be worth a real orgasmic release instead of spilling out for days.

I drove back to my hotel, took a long hot shower, watching my dick inch further and further towards erection. I tried not to touch it, not wanting to waste any of the fluid being created by my body. At around 11pm, I began to get worried. Cum was already leaking out of the tip of my penis, making it difficult to piss. That was one of the biggest problems was having to piss while hard. I had a washcloth that I used to wipe the leaking come off the head of my cock.