Babyface
by (Hidden)
Humor Story: What better way for a Vampire to go incognito than Halloween night? Hieronymus Von Elsen is a little jaded, being a 250-year-old who looks like 20, but it is a round birthday and he gets stood up by his date for the night. Attending a Halloween party at a club promises to be fun. Then, he sees a girl in a vampire costume, and his rather quiet undead existence suddenly gets very interesting again!
Caution: This Humor Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Horror Vampires .
Stood Up
Hieronymus
Hi, my name is Hieronymus, and I’m a blood addict. No, this isn’t Vampires Anonymous, but it’s true. I need regular blood uptake every three to four days to keep ... well, let’s call it living. I can also stay under the radar pretty well in our enlightened times. In my 230 years of undead existence, I have been able to sock away quite a nest egg, real estate mostly, but also Treasury Bonds and — call me old school — some bullion from the first 100 years of my run.
My best investment by far is a private blood bank in my hometown. Concentrated red blood cells last a little under five weeks before they expire, and somebody has to do the disposal of expired bags!
For forty-three years, I haven’t had the need to extract blood from the source. Admittedly, donor blood tastes a bit bland, but it’s tested for pathogens and relatively low carb. As culinary experience, blood is overrated anyway.
The best of this? I feel good about myself that way. I’m not a perv getting off from sucking virgins dry; the whole sex angle is a myth anyway; blast that Stoker joker and his bungled story about old Vlad Dracul! I need blood because I have a weird metabolism, period. Not having to prowl during the nights also gives me a healthy work/life balance and minimizes the risk of discovery and termination by my banes, the van Helsing family of vampire hunters.
Modern times have also given me the chance to be outside, at least under cloud cover, as long as I wear long sleeves and SPF 50 sun lotion. It’s another myth that my kind bursts into flames when exposed to sun light, but we do suffer from porphyria and break out into painful blisters, and I rather not risk that. Still, my favorite is the night, and that means that late fall and winter are my fav seasons.
My tale really starts on Oct 30, 2025. I was finishing my day of toil in my cozy, darkened office, going over the latest market data, the month’s rent income, and real estate ads. I had snacked a little over the day, both regular — for you muggles — food and donor blood, so I was sated. I also had arrangements in place for the visit by a nice young woman from an escort service. I would have to find a new service soon, to avoid the inevitable discovery of my unchanging outer appearance, but Star Struck Escort Services was still my go-to agency.
No, I’m not shallow, but how do you explain to your wife that you don’t age? Besides, the logistics of my existence and nutritional needs could not be kept hidden, even from a blonde wife.
Note to self: blonde jokes are dated! Avoid!
As I was saying, a regular matrimony is not feasible in the long run, and frequent divorces are ruinous. Yet, I still have a sex drive, even at 250 years of age! The urge is not as urgent anymore these days, but I usually rise to any occasion. Oct 31 was also my birthday, and for 230 years, I had always celebrated my birthday in the company of a lady or wench; I’m not a snob that way. So, on my birthday, I would be visited by the very talented and delectable Susan. She is in her early thirties and the consummate professional in what she does for a living, and so far, the dates with her had been pleasant experiences. I was quite looking forward to seeing her again, but that was still a whole day away.
As it was, and it was dark outside already, I went to the movies. They had a Tarantino retrospective going, always a good appetizer for my kind, and I watched both parts of Kill Bill. It was after eleven when I left the theatre to walk the four blocks to my office building where I also had my penthouse apartment. I felt safe on the dark street, my vision perfectly good. Or not. I was already close to home when two young men stepped from behind a parked car. I could see at least one knife, and I had to sigh heavily. This would require planning. The secret to survive as a vampire these days is to not come to the attention of law enforcement. The city had installed CCTV cameras on every corner, and throwing those two punks across the street would be a bad idea. Getting stabbed did not appeal to me either, since a knife through the heart does the job as well and better than a wooden stake. Going to a hospital to get a stab wound treated would likely result in screaming X-ray technicians and fainting nurses. Well, there’s always the old fall-back of just showing the two punks my fangs.
It worked. A simple contemptuous yawn was enough, and the two would-be robbers dropped their knives and ran as if their asses were on fire and their dicks catching. I felt relief. One possible disaster averted. What has America come to if not even a creature of the night can feel safe at night?
I worked a little until close to five am before going to bed. I don’t need complete darkness to sleep safely; slightly tinted windows and light curtains were perfectly enough, and triple-pane windows refract the sun light enough, anyway, to render it harmless to me.
When I woke up at 3 pm, my smartphone was blinking, alerting me to a missed call. I had to smile. It had to be Heinrich, my cousin and childhood friend. We had both been transformed in the same night, when two pretty strumpets had lured us to their lair, draining our blood rather than our ball sacks. Heinrich still lived in the old country, meaning the City of Hamburg in Germany, but he never failed to call me on my birthday.
“How’s life for you these days?” he asked when I called him back.
“Same old, same old. I almost got mugged last night.”
Heinrich chortled. “How did that play out?”
“I just dropped my fangs and scared them off.”
“Yeah, that works most times. You still remember that stupid Franzmann and how he shit in his pants when you did that?”
“Yeah, in 1811, wasn’t it?”
“I think 1813, but shit, it’s long ago. What are up to tonight? You’re still on processed food?”
“Of course. You?”
“Barely. I almost fucked up two weeks ago. I brought this cute girl home, and afterwards she stayed. I had this stupid dream about those two cunts who bit us, and I nearly sank my fangs into the girl. I was lucky she was sleeping off her drunk. There were marks on her neck, but I covered them with a hickey.”
“Good catch! I’m having an escort over tonight to celebrate. I had her before, and she’s really great.”
“You’re an old fart hiring escorts.”
“It’s not that I’m an eligible bachelor.”
“Yeah, it sucks. Then again, what 249-year-old still has regular sex?”
“You have a point. How’s the blood bank business on your side?”
“Can’t complain. We produce artificial blood now. Only small batches for testing, but still.”
“Wouldn’t that be tasting?”
Heinrich laughed. “Yeah, I tried. It can tide you over for a few days, but not completely. Still, it’s a start. Oh, old Ladislaus is gone!”
“Shit! How did that happen?”
“Did it himself. Threw himself into a stake. Wilhelmina was staked by the van Helsings, and he didn’t want to go on anymore.”
“Willie! Oh, damn! That’s sad!”
“Yeah. Sneak attack in a crowd. The van Helsings have this Youngblood now, total cowboy, messes with their regs. Even killed a mortal, mistaking him for a vamp. He’s a loose cannon, and their elders lost any control over him.”
Most elders of the van Helsing clan were old school, due process and all, but some of the younger van Helsings argued for a stake-first-then-check policy.
“Well, thank God the NSA here keeps them on a leash. What was he thinking killing a mortal?”
“Has his own site on the Dark Web now, showing how he stakes vamps. Total asshole, but he gets lots of clicks. Sells his own brand of signature stakes made from bamboo, nasty stuff.”
“Damn, where is the world going? Well, we leave no trail of drained corpses, so he’s not likely to latch onto us.”
“There is that. Yet, last week we thwarted an attack on our server. Somebody tried to access our private customer database.”
“That looks fishy.”
“You bet it does. The van Helsings must have gotten wind of my side business.”
Like me, Heinrich was also supplying other vamps who were sick of the risk of prowling on mortals. It was growing into an attractive side business.
“I better watch my servers, too. Thanks for the heads-up. I hate to brush you off, Cousin, but my date may show up any minute.”
“Yeah, have fun! I’ll keep you posted on any new developments. Until next year!”
I closed the call and saw that somebody had tried to reach me. The number belonged to my date, Susan. I called her back.
“Mister Innes, how nice of you to call back. I’m afraid that I must cancel today. I tested positive for Chlamydia, but it must be very recent, and you’re not affected.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Susan. Tell your boss that I’ll still pay half of your fee to help tide you over.”
“You’re a real gentleman, Mister Innes. I’ll think of something special for you for the next date. Expect to be pleasantly surprised!”
“Have a quick recovery, Susan! Will anybody fill in for you?”
“Sorry, no, everybody’s booked solid tonight, Halloween, you know? Sarina has an opening for tomorrow morning at ten?”
“No, that won’t help. I guess I’ll go to the big Halloween party at the Emporium. Not that anybody there will be as pretty as you.”
“Flatterer! Be careful, and don’t catch anything. The crabs are making the rounds.”
“I’ll be careful. Thanks for alerting me.”
I closed the call and sat back in my chair. This was a shot in the ass for my planned birthday celebrations. Maybe, I should really try the Emporium and the Halloween party there. I could don a black cape and mingle with the young crowd. After all, I’m still only twenty years old, counting only my years alive, and I look the part, save for my eyes. They look ancient, a girl had told me some thirty years ago. Or was it forty? I start having problems remembering.
Anyway, I dug up my old swallow-tail suit. It was tailored for me in 1874, and it still fits perfectly. It also comes with a silk cape. I quickly dressed and called a cab this time. Time to celebrate!
The Emporium was decorated with all the usual Halloween paraphernalia, i.e. cheap haunted house props. They charge a moderate cover fee and the drinks are ludicrously cheap since they draw a college crowd. Of course, wearing a swallowtail suit, high hat and spats, I drew the looks. I must have looked like some rich trust fund kid playing dress up, and some of the looks cast at me by the female club population were of the interested category. At this point, I was rather sure to spend the night in company. Still, maintain the facade! I stood at the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary, keeping to the cliché.
I sipped and found it drinkable, but then I turned to scan the dance floor. Lots of cute young women wearing costumes of all sorts. There was even a girl vampire among them. I could only see her backside. Russet-colored hair, a trim waist, and endless legs going all the way up to her perfectly formed derriere. I mentally prepared myself for the disappointment that was sure to come when she turned around, but no, her front looked even better when she did. She looked up and saw me, too, and I felt the hairs on my neck rising. I knew her, but it couldn’t be her.
Meeting Gramps
Viola
Hi, I am Viola van Helsing. You may recognize my last name from Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The Professor van Helsing he presents in his tale was indeed moulded on my great-great-great-grandfather and the founder of our family, who helped defeating Vlad Dracul and ending three-hundred years of terror in present-day Romania. The family is still in the same business of hunting down vampires and neutralizing them, a modern day euphemism for hammering a sharpened stake through their hearts.
Of course, growing up as a van Helsing, even from an estranged brach of the family, I was fed the family’s world view from well-meaning aunts and uncles: van Helsing: good; vampires: bad, with not even a tiny sliver of grey between them. Lately, that cute woodcut picture has developed cracks. An operative of the Dutch branch, Abraham, had gone off the rails somewhere in Europe, driving a stake through an entirely innocent, mortal human, who just happened to suffer from porphyria. Interpol had issued an arrest warrant for him and Granduncle Willem, our current elder, had almost suffered a heart attack when learning of that disgrace.
For over 150 years, the van Helsing family has stood as a bulwark between the unspeakable evil of vampirism and the human race. All this was in shambles now, and word was that their real bosses at the NSA were in panic mode, issuing orders to use tranquilizer darts instead of stakes at first, to avoid another tragic death and PR nightmare.
You see, in the US, the van Helsings are just one of the dark branches of the NSA. Old Willem wanted to have all those nice and expensive gadgets for our work, plus a job with a pension, and he sold out some 20 years ago. Now the European and Asian branches of the family work independently, although the Europeans have a loose association with Europol. All very complicated and not conducive to successful cooperation.
Myself, I am a family member, but not a member of the family. I am currently a junior at college, majoring in Biology, with a focus on Genetics. You see, the lab tech branch of the family is trying to pinpoint genetic and epigenetic markers of vampirism, and that is the direction I would like to take once my education is completed. I’ll never be a field asset since my grandmother, my mom and I are not trusted. This started with my great-grandmother already, for reasons lost in the mist of time, but I’ll admit freely that I could never hammer a wooden stake through another human’s heart. Vampires are not vampires by their free will, and to kill them in such a barbaric way is too much for my stomach. That is why I want to help to find markers to aid in the decision making and avoid tragic errors. If not, I’ll still get work, maybe with a police lab.
Anyway, I had decided to use the Halloween night to let my hair down a little. I had even given in to the whimsical idea to don a vampire costume, to thumb my nose at the family. I also think it looked good on me, and I caught quite a few interested looks. I was sitting at the bar of the Emporium club, waiting for the barkeeper to notice me, when I felt a look on my back. Curious, I turned around on my barstool, and I froze immediately. There, just ten feet away from me, sat Hieronymus Babyface von Elsen, dressed to the nines in what had to be an authentic, 19th century swallow tail suit, complete with high hat and spats. Spats! His blue eyes were fixated on me, and he stared at me with equal incredulity. And then, while I still sat, frozen to the spot, he slipped from his own stool and approached me.
“You must be a van Helsing, aren’t you?”
I nodded, feeling a bit of panic encroaching.
“Would you be so kind as to reveal your given name? I really mean no harm to you.”
“Viola,” I croaked, still mesmerized. He really was looking to be twenty at the most, even though I knew from the family tales that he was over 200 years old.
“Viola,” he repeated, letting my name melt on his tongue. “And with a body to match!” he added with a grin.
My face had to be glowing in the dark. Yes, I have an hourglass figure with a prominent butt, much like a viola braccio, but I had never made that connection to my first name.
“Forgive me for flustering you. Let me repeat: no harm will befall you at my hands.”
He looked quite flustered to me himself, or was it an act?
“Do you per chance know the name of your great grandmother?”
“Why?”
“You do know who I am, don’t you?”
“Yes, you’re Babyface von Elsen. My great-grandmother’s name was Felicitas van Helsing.”
He nodded as if he felt relief. “So she lived to have children?”
“She had my grandmother only. She never married and lived away from the family. Why are you asking?”
“I believe I knew her. She looked much like you.”
“Why ... are you here to ... meet me?”
“Pure serendipity. I’m ... celebrating my birthday? It’s a round birthday and I felt compelled to celebrate 250 years of wretched existence. And you?”
“I’m at college. I thought I’d have some fun tonight.”
Again a melancholic smile. “With a somewhat whimsical choice of a costume. I wonder if admiring you makes me a dirty old man.”
“That’s what you worry about?”
“Vanity has no age limit.”
“Well, you look twenty, so nobody will be able to tell that you are a dirty old man,” I quipped, surprised at my nonchalance. I was standing three feet away from a monster with superhuman strength and cunning, yet I felt no fear anymore after the initial shock. It was fascinating, meeting and talking to the ... man? And then he gave me an open, boyish smile, and I almost melted into a big puddle on the floor.
“You don’t play fair!” I accused him petulantly.
“Why is that?” Again, that smile. Curse him!
“You had 250 years to practice that damn smile.”
“If you liked my smile, those 250 years were not completely wasted.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. When was your grandmother born?”
“1957. This is weird.”
“Yes, a little. I knew Felicity; we were ... together, in the summer of 1956. Was your grandmother born in March by chance?”
This was uncanny and unsettling. How did he know that?
“Yes, March 20. What in the hell is it to you?”
“Everything, Viola, everything. I should leave you in peace now.”
“Stay! Why are you asking me all those questions?”
“Because you look and sound like the woman I once loved and still miss.”
“M-my great-grandmother Felicitas?”
“The very same, my dear girl.”
Suddenly, the alarm bells in my head sounded. “You’re not ... you didn’t...?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we did.”
“Will I turn into somebody like you?”
“Hardly. I know a few of my kind who sired perfectly healthy children with mortal women. It does not work the other way around. My sisters cannot bear children. Must be the unhealthy diet.”
“What happens now?”
He gave me a fond smile. “For one, I shall have to alter my last will. I only hope...” he paused, and his eyes turned watery.
“What do you hope?”
“That I shan’t outlive you, too, now that I met you. I must be gone. Feel free to report to your elders about meeting me. Give my respect to your uncle Ambrosius. We had a little dust-up many years ago. He is a brave man. So long, Viola. I must be gone from your life.”
And then he did the neatest disappearing act I had ever seen, or rather, not seen. One moment, he smiled that rueful smile at me, then his cape whirled, and when it faded away, he was gone, too. I blinked my eyes, but he really was.
“What the fuck?”
I had to sit down and think, but I needed a drink first. At the bar, I had to wait for three already drunk guys to get their orders, and when I was finally able to place my order for a Mochito, they were still hanging around.
“Hey, Baby, you you can bite me anytime!” came a slurred taunt from one of them.
I simply ignored the idiot, but hoped that the bartender would concentrate on his job and not flirt with a fake blonde MILF, who was resting her massive mammaries on the counter. Talk about showing the wares! Finally, he was done with my drink, and I handed him a five dollar bill, when somebody bumped into me from behind. I stumbled, but managed to catch my fall. Turning around, I saw one of the guys, grinning broadly.
“Ssorry!”
“Watch it, you moron!” I warned him, grabbed my drink and returned to my table. Sheesh! What was it with high school graduates that they turned into assholes as soon as they were away from home? Taking a sip of my Mochito, I looked around, almost hoping to see Babyface again. Some other guy I knew from one of my courses walked by, and we talked a little before he went to see his girlfriend again. When he left, something felt strange. It was almost as if I was watching myself from the outside, and I somehow could not think properly. My eyes fell on the drink and some addled synapses in my frontal lobes fired alarm signals: the drink had been spiked! I had to get out of the place.
Stumbling blindly towards the exit, I found my jacket with some difficulty and stepped out into the parking lot in front of the club. Shit! I needed a taxi! I tried to start walking again, but my legs had a mind of their own. Suddenly, my arms were grabbed and I was marched towards one of the corners, where the lights did not reach. Shit! It was those guys, and now they were dragging me away from the club, and I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t cry for help, couldn’t fight them.
“I’m gonna tap that ass!” a jubilant whisper came from behind me, but suddenly, a dark shape swooped in. The guys stopped in their tracks, and I almost fell. My eyes could not focus really well, but it had to be Hieronymus von Elsen whose face I saw, but it wasn’t a babyface anymore. His mouth was wide open, with inch-long fangs gleaming in the weak light and an angry hiss emanating from it. Suddenly, the guys who held me were plucked up and flying through the air, crash-landing some thirty feet away like ragdolls after a little boy’s temper tantrum. One of them made it to his feet again and made for Babyface, and even in my drug-addled stupor, my brain formed the word ‘moron’. A second later, he was flying again, but this time he landed on top of a wrought iron fence, and he screamed in pain and terror. Then, Babyface came and swooped me up in his arms, and a few seconds later, I found myself in the back of a taxicab and I heard the hissing voice again.
“Here’s two hundred bucks. Bring the girl to the emergency ward of Sacred Heart! Tell them that she was roofied! If I can’t find her there later, I will find you and rip you apart. Got that?”
I could not hear the cabbie’s answer, but the cab started and five minutes later, a nurse and an EMT in the drive way of the emergency ward loaded me onto a gurney. That was my last memory before the vertigo became overwhelming.
Rage
Hieronymus
Never in 250 years had I felt anything comparable to the red rage that washed over me when I saw those worthless punks dragging Viola towards the dark corner in the lot. I had stayed behind, watching her, to see if she would call in the family stormtroopers, when I saw her leave, none too steady on her legs. I followed, worried about her, and when I came through the exit door, I saw the three goons dragging her along.
Without conscious effort, my fangs dropped, and I felt the power wash over me. Two dozen steps and a long leap landed me in front of the group, and without hesitation, I picked them up and threw them as far as I could. They landed in a heap, but one of them wanted more. He got up and then made for me, producing a switchblade. This time, I threw him over the wrought iron fence of the neighboring lot and let him hang there to dry. The fence has those leaf-shaped tops, but I didn’t care. Still don’t. He’ll think twice before trying to drug up a girl again.
I picked up the tottering Viola and carried her to the curb. There was a cab waiting for customers, and I carefully laid out Viola on the rear bench. I then gave the cabbie hell, to deliver her at the ER and not try any funny stuff. He seems to be a smart guy: he was scared and did what I told him.
Then it was time for me to think of the consequences. I was not really worried about the police. Nobody had seen me handling those punks, and even if Viola had seen me, she’d been drugged and her testimony would be dismissed. The police might be a problem, but there had been several people in Dracula costumes that evening and if need be, I could always buy an alibi from one of my employees.
The old swallow tail suit would have to go, though, together with hat and spats — a small price to pay for Viola’s rescue — and I would have to take a long bath, then clip and clean my fingernails. Walking home eliminated a possible trail, too. With all those things to take care of, I was a little late arriving at the hospital, and I settled in my car to watch the entrance.
Police cars arrived, and officers stepped out frequently. At some time close to 8 am, a large sedan drove up and disgorged three men who pinged my van Helsing radar. I waited patiently until they left about an hour later, arguing with each other as it seemed. I had to grin a little bit. If Viola was awake again and had told them what she remembered, they would have some thinking to do. I also imagined that the police might have posted somebody at Viola’s room, so asking for her would be unwise.
Instead, I clipped on my employee ID from the blood bank I owned, Eastern Transfusion Services — ETS — and entered the main lobby of Sacred Heart Hospital, the real one, not the sitcom one. At the reception desk I asked for their head of procurement, Mister Calvin, and was told that he was not in yet. I had expected that and sat down on a chair in the waiting area after leaving my visiting card.
Of course, my current identity was not Hieronymus von Elsen, but the rather prosaic Graham Innes, VP for Sales, ETS, known amongst the medical profession as the rather young heir of the late Wilfred Innes, my next to last identity. I am told that I look like the spitting image of my late grandfather in his younger days...
It took almost an hour for Calvin to arrive, but as soon as the receptionist showed him my visiting card, he almost came running. You see, I run ETS to secure nourishment for me and a few of my kind, not to make a profit, and Sacred Heart had good reasons to keep me happy, what with our nearly-at-cost price list.
“Good morning, Mister Innes. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting...”
“Never mind, my dear Mister Calvin. I should have called ahead. I just thought I’d pay a visit and see if there are complaints or suggestions about the way we serve Sacred Heart.”
“Of course, let’s go to my office. Lydia, no calls until further notice,” he threw at the receptionist-slash-phone operator and led the way to his fifth-floor office where he offered me a plush visitor’s chair. I had a few legitimate questions for him, such as a projection of their future needs. He woke his desktop computer from sleep and printed out a few spreadsheets and charts which he handed me to study, before remembering good manners.
“Have you had breakfast already, Mister Innes?”
“No, but I can grab a cup of coffee to go from your cafeteria,” I answered modestly.
“No, no! Please, let me!”
With that, he already bounced up from his chair, to get my coffee. He even closed his office door after himself, and I jumped up immediately, my ears peeled for footsteps in the hallway outside. I could only hear his distant steps and quickly bent of his desk. Five or seven mouse clicks later, I had screen shots of Viola van Helsing’s admission files, including home address and preliminary diagnosis. Shutting all the windows I had opened, I put the computer to sleep before I sat in my chair again. Still, it took Calvin three more minutes to arrive with two cups of latte. I stayed for another twenty minutes, sipping my coffee and waxing about ETS’s expansion plans and future product portfolio. It was easy for me, because I have a natural interest in our products. I left a smiling Mister Calvin then and found my way to the visitor’s parking.
I waited for a full week before I reconnoitered Viola’s address from the safety of a company car. I saw her returning to her apartment at 6:20 pm, likely from classes and left five minutes later. After her experience and more so, after meeting me, she would be suspicious of being watched.
Over the next two weeks, I cased her about twice weekly, always using different cars from our pool, until I thought that I knew her schedules. She didn’t go out much, but she often burned the midnight oil, with only the shine of a desk lamp coming through her windows. I was patient, though. The van Helsings were known to be patient, too, and I didn’t relish the thought of them ending my existence before I had got to know my great-granddaughter a little better, and so I bided my time, watching her place every three to four days.
It was Christmas Eve, and I dropped by once more, only planning to stop my car for a few minutes. I killed the engine and looked up at her window waiting to see a moving shadow when my passenger door was yanked open and somebody dropped into the right seat.
No, I don’t recommend sneaking up to and scaring a vampire. The power of my shock response very nearly made me lose control. I bared my fangs and hissed at the intruder.
“Easy there, Gramps! Jeez!” came Viola’s shocked response.
For a moment, I thought that I had the big one; too much cholesterol-rich blood meals over the last 230 years were finally taking their toll on me. Her soft hand on my arm slowly calmed me.
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