Dead and Back - Cover

Dead and Back

Copyright© 2011 by Veritas

Chapter 3

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Young Desmond died a violent death. He didn't stay that way though - somehow, he came back a vampire. He must now adapt to his new condition, while investigating his own murder and how he was turned.

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   Hypnosis   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Horror   Vampires   MaleDom   Violence  

Besides the more obvious physical changes, there was another significant consequence to my vampiric condition. Though it took much longer for it to be noticed, it would inevitably bring much greater disruptions to my life.

My body had not been the only thing to be transformed - my mind, my instincts, and my personality had been ... shifted. Maybe even my very soul. I no longer viewed the world and people around me in just the same way. I was no longer a regular man, and it eventually became clear that I couldn't keep on thinking of myself as one.

I was now a predator.


Sleep was reassuringly familiar, yet a completely new experience at the very same time.

On one hand, it felt like any other night of sleep I had ever had. In fact, in spite of the disturbingly bad dreams, I felt completely relaxed, not having moved a muscle the entire time. When I did wake up, I felt energized and ready to face the day ... or night.

On the other hand, I experienced an entirely new and unexpected phenomenon – while I slept and dreamed a part of my mind spent the entire time fully conscious of my surroundings. I was able to hear John snoring as he slept. I heard his alarm clock blare, waking him up. I then heard him go about his morning rituals and eventually leave for the day. I was even able to hear some of what happened in the apartments around me, vibrating through the floor, ceilings and walls, throughout the entire day.

Checking my bedside clock – I had lost my wristwatch sometime during my beating – I saw that I still had a few hours until sunset.

While I waited, I decided to do something useful, so I went online and researched my "condition". I pretty much already knew the basics about vampires, thanks to books, TV and movies. I really doubted Wikipedia would have anything approaching the truth, or the answers that I really needed, but it would be a good starting point.

Sitting at my desk, waiting for my laptop to finish booting up, I laughed out loud at an errant thought. Maybe I could find and online FAQ for newbie vampires ... or maybe a "bloodsuckers" discussion group.

After just a few seconds at my web browser, I was inundated by information. I was surprised at the great variety of vampire-like entities recorded by the world's cultures throughout the ages. For example, there were the Babylonian and later Jewish estries, shape shifting women who fed on the blood of babies; the ancient Indian vetālas, ghoul-like beings that inhabited corpses; the Greek and Roman lamia, that fed on the blood of children, while still in their beds; the Malaysian penanggalan, a demonic being, usually in the form of a young girl or woman, that could detach its fanged head, which then flew around the night sky, looking for blood; the jiang shi, a Chinese hopping vampire that fed on the life force of the living.

I decided to stick with the traditional European vampire for now, since that was where it seemed that I fit in.

First things first, how exactly was a vampire created? This seemed pretty important, seeing as I couldn't remember how I was changed. The last thing I would want is to go around making more vampires accidentally.

Older folklore pointed towards demonic possession, witchcraft or even divine retribution, with the victims of suicide and prolonged disease amongst those believed most likely to rise from their graves. I think I could rule those out, at least in my case. In more modern stories, on the other hand, all it would take is a bite (or three), or a significant exchange of blood, either drunk or transfused directly into the circulatory system, to initiate the change from human to vampire. That seemed much more plausible ... it could mean that vampirism was some sort of blood transmitted disease.

My next biggest worry was how could I be hurt or killed? Different variations on a stake through the heart, decapitation or dismemberment and burning were the norm on dispatching the undead. But wouldn't that kill just about anybody or anything? Given enough time, I just might be able to successfully heal from anything else.

Just exactly what was I now ... undead? I felt my wrist for a pulse and waited ... and waited ... and kept on waiting. I gave up after a couple of minutes.

I had no pulse – just call me "dead man walking".

I wondered how that was possible for a moment. Perhaps later on I could hire someone with basic medical training to run some tests? No way - the possibility of ending up as some sort of lab experiment wasn't exactly worth the risk.

I next took my temperature with a glass thermometer that I kept with a small "sick kit" by my bed, along with some painkillers, antibiotics, vicks vaporub, etc. After sticking it in my mouth for a few moments, I saw that my body temperature was just a few degrees above room temperature.

Then there was my need for oxygen ... I had already gone through long periods of time without breathing, but did I have to at all? Seeing as I had no pulse, I doubted that I needed to breathe, but I'd have to test that out later.

All in all, it seemed that I was quite dead. At least from a clinical point of view. I still could feel and think though, so it wasn't a total loss.

On the up side of the equation, I was definitely faster and stronger than before, and my senses were exceptionally improved, but also easily controlled, so as not to overwhelm me. My body clearly had an amazing healing capacity, allowing me to recover from near fatal wounds. I still had a reflection, as well as a shadow and, after checking with my cell's camera, saw that I could still show up in pictures.

Good. That certainly could have been awkward to explain.

I had already found out that I was sensitive to sunlight and weakened during the day. At least I didn't burst into flames when directly exposed to it, or worse yet, sparkle.

I dug around my drawers for a while until I found my wooden cross which I had received on my first communion. Its presence didn't repel me, nor did touching it harm me. Did this mean that I wasn't an evil creature? Maybe it was because I had never had much true faith.

Nevertheless, I put it around my neck, deciding to wear it from now on, hoping that it now held some sort of deeper meaning for me.

I'd still have to see if holy water, consecrated ground, silver, garlic, wild roses and running water would have any kind of effect on me. Plus that whole "not able to enter a home without an invitation" thing.

Many vampire myths stated that they had the power to change shape. The famed Count Dracula, for instance could transform into the form of a wolf, a bat and even into mist. That sounded real unlikely, but then again, the very idea of the existence of vampires sounded impossible just a short time ago. Maybe I actually could change shape. But how the hell could I test it out ... through sheer force of will? Maybe with meditation and visualization?

I laughed as I imagined myself sitting cross-legged on the floor, with my eyes closed and focusing on a mantra. "See the mist Desmond; feel the mist. Now you must be the mist..."

Again, just like with Dracula, numerous accounts portray vampires with some sort of ability to mesmerize or control minds, human and animal. That could certainly come in handy, but it would have to wait for the right conditions to test it. I wouldn't want to show off my new fangs to somebody off the street only to find out that I couldn't make him forget afterwards.

Strangely, there was even a wide-spread belief about arithmomania associated with vampires – a mental disorder compelling sufferers to count their actions and objects around them. In South America, Europe, India and China they would spread seeds, rice or sand at the grave of a presumed vampire, in order to keep it busy all night counting the grains.

As if my life wouldn't be hard enough as a vampire, I just might have a form of OCD too.

I spilled a half box of paperclips that I had in a desk drawer onto the ground, and then waited a few moments. Nope, no inclination to count them whatsoever. Good. I left them there on the floor and continued reading, trying to gleam any useful facts and speculations from dozens of websites.

As soon as I felt the sun set though, I was dressed and hurrying out of my room and the apartment. I had a few important errands to run tonight.

Payback was high on my list, of course. Something deep inside wanted nothing more than to crush the Winter Born Motorcycle Club for what they did to me. In doing so, I would no doubt discover why I was attacked and killed, who changed me and why. But if I was going to face an entire violent criminal organization, vampire powers notwithstanding, I wanted to face it armed.

There was another factor that I had only just realized, thanks to my research. Since I was now a vampire, it stood to reason that I was changed by another vampire. I doubted that in the entire world, there were only two vampires, so I could only assume that there were many more; entire communities, perhaps. Now, if vampires existed, who was to say that other creatures from myth, legend and folklore didn't exist?

I had already died once this week, I had no intention of dying anytime soon, whether from outlaw bikers or supernatural monsters.


I couldn't afford a car, so my usual means of travel was public transportation. Buses, subways and the occasional cab was how I normally got around the city. Now though, I tried something new and simply ran.

Sticking to the shadows, alleyways and secondary streets I avoided most people out and around, but those I did pass had no chance of getting anything more than a fleeting glimpse of me. I reveled in the experience, my footfalls beating out a rapid, but near silent staccato on the pavement, the wind whipping past me, and a new feeling of power and excitement coursing through me. With my speed and endurance, I now knew that I could beat any vehicle in a race through the city.

Another nice little perk of being a vampire.

After a near hour long run, I finally reached my destination. The only reason that it had actually took that long, was that I was enjoying the experience so much that I had decided to take the scenic route. Still, on arriving I was quite pleasantly surprised to notice that there was no hint of tiredness or fatigue in my body. I most likely could have kept on running at top speed for a few hours.

A small wind chime sounded as I opened the door and entered The Outdoorsman, a camping and hunting supplies and equipment store.

"Sorry, but I'm about to close up now. Come back tomorrow." A man called out from behind his circular counter directly in front of me, more or less in the middle of the store. He was working on some paperwork and didn't even bother looking up.

"I just need a couple of minutes." He looked at me then with a skeptical look on his face as I slowly approached.

He was older, in his 50s or 60s, short and stocky, but clearly in excellent shape for a man even half his age and with tanned, leathered skin indicating years spent in the sun.

"I'm a guaranteed sale." I showed him a thick roll of cash, hoping to convince him.

He simply stared for some time, not saying anything with a pensive and slightly annoyed expression.

"Five minutes tops." He said gruffly then turned back to his paperwork.

"Thanks," I answered as I quickly moved through the rows of shelves, looking for what I had come for.

The possibility of buying a gun was shelved for the time being, seeing as I had no idea what Ontario's gun laws were, nor did I have any experience whatsoever with firing one. Plus, if I had a gun, I knew that I would eventually be tempted to use it, and then it would sooner or later be traced back to me. In my mind, that left me with only one practical alternative for weapons – knives and blades.

It was a surprisingly large store, given its modest sign and facade, and filled with an amazingly diverse selection of equipment and supplies. Looking around, I could see everything for campers, hikers and survivalists, from arctic to desert gear, big and small, for pros and amateurs alike.

I quickly found what I was looking for and begun browsing through the ample and impressive selection of knives, blades, axes and their accessories trying to narrow down what I wanted. I couldn't help but eye the large display of crossbows along one wall longingly. Totting a crossbow on your back might make you stick out of the crowd and attract unwanted attention, but just imagine how cool it would be to actually use it.

Maybe another time.

I ended up picking half a dozen knives, in different styles and blade sizes, with matching sheaths, a couple of machetes, a camp axe, sharpening tools and a couple sets of black sturdy hunting clothes.

I was crouched down examining some duffle bags to carry my selections in when I once again heard the wind chimes from the front door.

"I'm about to close up boys, sorry." I heard the old man call out.

Without tearing my attention from what I was doing, I focused my hearing. Three people moving quickly deeper into the store; their breathing was rapid, like they had been running or were very excited.

There was a sigh of annoyance and the old man spoke again, "I really don't-" A slight sound of rustling clothes and then two mechanical clicks interrupted him.

"Get your motherfucking hands up! Step the fuck back!" A new voice screamed. "Stay by the door goddamnit! Keep a look out!"

I immediately stopped what I was doing and, still keeping low to the ground, leaned over and took a look around the shelf that had thankfully kept my presence hidden. I pretty much already knew what was happening though.

There was the old man, still standing behind his counter, but now with both hands raised well above his head. From what little I could see from his face, he was calm, with a hint of annoyed defiance. That was pretty impressive seeing as two young men were pointing guns right at his face.

They were both white in their early to mid twenties, and dressed like rich rappers in sports clothes a couple sizes too big and garish gold chains around their necks. The way they looked and sounded though, I was willing to bet that they were more at home in the suburbs than the ghetto. Just a couple of over-privileged jackasses trying hard to be 'gangsta'. They even held their revolvers sideways in their hands. Even with my negligible experience with guns, I knew that was stupid.

Still, these were dangerous jackasses.

One very tall and thin guy was standing directly in front of the old man, disturbingly calm and collected given the circumstances, especially compared to his friend. That one was doing all the talking and covering the old man from the side, seemingly unable to stand still, almost trembling with a mix of excitement and rage.

Shit. This was just what I needed.

"Let's all keep calm here." The old man said, trying to diffuse the young man's nervous anger.

"Shut the fuck up!" the apparent leader of this little gang screamed out at the old man. "Start emptying the damn registers, NOW!"

Shifting my position and looking down the other side of the shelf, I could see the last robber standing close to the front entrance. He looked and dressed like the others, only he seemed much younger, in his mid-teens at most. His face was still covered in pimples and peach fuzz, for Christ's sake. He kept shifting his stance, glancing nervously around him and cradling his own revolver in his hands, as if its mere presence would somehow keep him safe.

The old "me" would have simply laid low, waiting for them to leave, and only then called the cops. It was the smart and reasonable thing to do.

Don't misunderstand me, it wasn't that I was a coward, it's just that I tended to be the quiet and cautious type, much more given to thought than to overt action.

The new "me" wasn't going to lay low now though. Hiding from these petty punks offended something deep inside me. They needed to be dealt with... I needed to deal with them.

As I fully realized that I was about to do something potentially very stupid and dangerous, I was already running at a crouch along the store's wall, keeping the rows of shelves between me and the robbers. I swiftly made my way toward the lone robber by the door, seeing as he was more isolated, and busy dividing his attention between keeping a lookout on the street outside the store and what was going on with his friends.

"You're taking too fucking long asshole! You don't think I'll do it? I want to do it motherfucker!" The voice had started out sounding menacing, but was slowly rising in pitch and speed, as if he could no longer contain his excitement.

"I'll get you everything you want, I just have to get the right key." The old man's voice was still calm and level. I was fully convinced that he had great big balls of solid steel. "Just calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do cocksucker! Nobody tells me what to do! Nobody!" Even though I couldn't see him anymore, I could tell that he was losing it. No matter what the old man did, it seemed that the gunman was going to shoot him. Maybe that was what he really wanted all along.

Reaching the front of the store, I turned and sprinted down the aisle toward the lone kid. I slowed down only slightly as I reached him, without him even noticing that I was there. His fear, not only noticeable physically, was obvious by his scent as I approached. As I passed by him I gave him a blow to the back of his knees sending him falling forward. I didn't leave it at that though ... as he started to go down, before he could even make a noise or react in any way, I gave him a stiff shove in the middle of his back, sending him head first into the closed door. It would most likely knock him out cold and not do him any permanent harm.

Hopefully – I was new to this vampire super-strength, after all.

With one down, I pivoted and changed direction, heading down the store's central aisle, directly toward the counter, the old man and the remaining two wannabe gangbangers. Unfortunately, the head robber had caught a glimpse of me running toward them and of his partner smacking his head into the door, cracking the glass. He was clearly surprised, breaking off his red-faced tirade mid-word, but he didn't let it slow him down at all, immediately shifting his aim from the old man to me. The last robber, though closer, had his back to me and hadn't yet noticed a thing.

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