The Vampire Priest NonHuman

Father Wayland never much cared for Halloween. He couldn’t fathom why parents would allow their children to run amok through town every year impersonating hideous creatures while begging for handouts from strangers. And the sugar! Nothing rots a child’s brain quite like a bucket of sugar. A truly deplorable holiday, if it can even be called a holiday at all.

The fortyeightyearold priest swiftly parked his car along a curb swarmed with crispened leaves and exited with a heavy sigh. The two nuns who usually assisted him with these appointments exited as well.

Father Wayland inspected the suburban neighborhood with obvious judgement. He rolled his eyes at the tacky Halloween decorations up and down the street. Skeletons littered across underwatered lawns. Pumpkins left on porches to rot. Plastic limbs protruding from the ground in an attempt to escape their graves. A mockery, all of it.

Father Wayland nearly jumped out of his polished dress shoes as he passed what must have been a motionsensor figure designed to cackle loudly at unsuspecting pedestrians. He took the grayhaired, crookednosed, wartriddled figure to be a witch a poor imitation of one at that. The obnoxious laughter followed him for the next two blocks.

He hoped to be done with this mess before trickortreating commenced. He had no intention of leaving his house at all today, but all plans for prayer and solitude were interrupted when he received a call from a fretful married couple in his congregation. Tom and Linda Miller shared with him their deep concerns for their eighteenyearold daughter, Rachel. She’s been dressing herself in dark clothing and black makeup and calling herself a vampire. The Halloween holiday has only emboldened this behavior. Any other set of parents might think this is simply a teenager going through a goth phase. Thank goodness Tom and Linda had the sense to see the situation for what it truly is: a young girl being tempted by the devil.

“Is our daughter a devil worshipper?” Tom had asked Father Wayland on the phone earlier that morning.

Father Wayland was an honest priest. “She very well might be. It’s clear that the devil has penetrated her young and impressionable mind. You needn’t worry much longer I’ve much experience with matters such as these.”

Surely, the three of them looked very ominous walking down that street, a priest and two nuns dressed all in black, wearing solemn expressions at odds with the cheerful holiday. Father Wayland carried his bible while Sister Esther and Sister Ruth carried a small trunk between them.

He arrived at the Millers’ house with a job to do.

Father Wayland surveyed Tom and Linda’s modest, two house with a sense of pride. The pair were a good, churchgoing couple who didn’t concern themselves with such nonsense as Halloween decorations or trickortreating, the only levelheaded people left in this neighborhood.

Mr. Miller opened the door before Father Wayland’s knock could land, clearly having been watching from behind the curtains. He quickly ushered the three of them inside.

“Is this an exorcism?” Linda’s fear was prevalent in her shaky voice, the word ‘exorcism’ barely more than a whisper on the woman’s tongue.

“It’s really more of a ‘cleansing’, Mrs. Miller. I’ll need the two of you to stay downstairs while my assistants and I examine your daughter. Don’t be alarmed by any sounds you might hear that’s to be expected during the cleansing process. I’ll also need to lock the door in order to prevent her from escaping. Do I have your permission to proceed?”

Tom Miller shifted on his feet. “Anything you need, Father. We know that you’ll take good care of Rachel. Thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course, Tom. It’s my sacred duty to care for members of my congregation.”

The girl sat unsuspecting in the center of her bed, her face heavy with blackandwhite paint, studiously focused on an unmarked volume clutched between her hands. Black nail polish glistened at her fingertips. She didn’t notice the priest standing in her doorway until he knocked softly, the sound seeming to wake her from a stupor. She looked up from her book and frowned.

Rachel Miller used to be pretty. She was a rather petite girl with a heartshaped face and big doe eyes, a set of features that surely allowed her to escape punishment throughout her childhood and adolescent years. Her previously golden locks had been dyed pitchblack, save for an attentionseeking purple streak on the left side of her head.

Father Wayland knew just how to handle this one.

Recognition surfaced in Rachel’s eyes. “Father Wayland? What are you doing here?”

“Your parents are worried about you, Rachel. They’re concerned about your recent behavior. The makeup, the clothes, ditching school. Surely, you know that you’re causing them a great deal of stress?”

She tossed her book on the bed and folded her arms across her chest. “So, what, they asked you to have a talk with me? Nothing you say is going to change me, you know. It’s not a phase.” The protruding of her lower lip and the hard set of her jaw suggested the girl intended to be difficult. Good. “I’m a vampire!”

“I believe you,” said Father Wayland, rather agreeably. He strode into the room and sat calmly on the edge of her bed. “I have to tell you: real vampires don’t go walking around dressed like goth teenagers. They are discreet creatures who go unnoticed during the day and stalk their prey at night.”

Confusion colored Rachel’s innocent face. Two hundred years ago, the girl would have been burned at the stake for her behavior. He would know he witnessed such events himself.

Father Wayland said to the nuns, “Sisters? Prepare the girl, please.”

Sister Esther and Sister Ruth grabbed the brat by the arms and hauled her to the small bathroom just next door. “This will go easier if you don’t struggle,” Father Wayland called after them, while Rachel thrashed and screamed. He remained in the bedroom while the nuns prepared the girl by scrubbing her face clean and stripping her naked, listening to the harsh sound of running water as they did so.

Father Wayland didn’t have to be in the room to know what was happening, as he was all too familiar with the nuns’ cleansing routine. At that very moment, the two sisters were forcing the girl into the shower and soaping her from head to toe in order to wash away her sins and rid her face of that horrible makeup. Any moment now, Sister Esther’s hand would slip between the girl’s legs, rubbing a little harder than necessary, paying extra attention to that sinful little button. The girl’s protests were abruptly cut off as she experienced the unexpected stimulation.

Father Wayland’s exceptional hearing allowed him to listen to the soft moans coming from the bathroom. No doubt, the girl was spreading her legs wider while Sister Esther rubbed her mound (the young ones always do), surrendering to the pleasure despite herself. Unfortunately for the girl, Sister Esther withdrew her hand long before Rachel could reach her peak.

Minutes later, the nuns returned to the bedroom with the flustered girl between them. They had wrapped her in silk, pink robe. The cold shower had thrown her for a loop, as did the intimate touching. A lovely blush kissed her porcelain cheeks.

Father Wayland flashed a rare smile at the girl. “All clean?”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, still visibly flustered.

Father Wayland ignored her question. He said to the nuns, “On the bed, please.”

The nuns pulled Rachel to the bed, situating her on her back directly in the middle of the mattress. Sister Esther produced a length of cord from the trunk. The two nuns made quick work of tying Rachel’s hands to the bedpost above her.

Sister Esther and Sister Ruth knelt on either side of Rachel. The nuns each took hold of a leg and lifted it high, exposing the girl’s pink center for Father Wayland to examine.

The robe was more of a courtesy. Untied, it fell away to reveal the girl’s taut abdomen and a pair of generous breasts. A soft patch of black hair peaked out from between her smooth thighs.

Rachel didn’t struggle. Instead, she watched the priest with wide eyes, eager to see what would happen next. She looked more the part of the innocent young girl without all that makeup, and Father Wayland preferred her this way. The rise and fall of her chest revealed her heavy breathing. Father Wayland smiled as he scented her musky arousal.

“Rachel,” he said, drawing out each syllable. “So, you want to be a vampire? Do you have any idea what such a transformation entails?”

“Not really,” she admitted, after a short pause. She glanced between Father Wayland and the nuns in search of some kind of explanation. She was struggling to make sense of this whole situation.

“It involves giving yourself over to your vampire master,” he said, while slowly dragging a finger up the center of her slit. She shivered beneath his cool touch. The nuns kept a tight hold on Rachel’s legs, preventing her from closing them. “Would you like that?”

Perhaps Rachel didn’t truly understand what was happening here, but she nodded regardless, driven by hormones. “Yes,” she squeaked.

Father Wayland pinched Rachel’s left nipple, and she yelped. He then used both hands to spread her pretty pink lips, exposing her glistening center to the room. To Rachel’s credit, she didn’t look afraid. Perhaps she was beginning to suspect something more than a simple cleansing was going on here. Father Wayland gently brushed his thumb over the girl’s perfect little nub, watching it twitch in response. He ran his thumb over her quivering entrance, which had begun to leak a thick, warm fluid.

Rachel’s eyelids fluttered in response to Father Wayland’s featherlight movements. “Your hands are cold,” she noted, between bated breaths. Father Wayland smiled at her observation.

Rachel’s body went slack while Father Wayland rubbed her, surrendering to the pleasure despite the confusion in her mind. He could tell by the way her legs tensed within the nuns’ grips that Rachel was chasing a climax. The two sisters tightened their grip on the girl, kept her spread and exposed to the priest.

“Why are you doing this?” Rachel wanted to know, her words breathless and barely distinguishable.

“I’m giving you exactly what you want,” Father Wayland answered simply, while simultaneously slipping his index finger inside of her. Rachel gasped, her whole body going taut. He added a second finger and began to stroke her sweet little hole, enjoying the way her supple young body twitched in response. Her sweet little cunt clamped down hard on his fingers, urging them deeper.

He withdrew his fingers just before the girl could come, and she cried out in frustration. Father Wayland patted her belly. “Patience, my dear. It’s all part of the process.” The purpose of fingering her was to prepare Rachel for Father Wayland’s own cock, of course.

The nuns held the girl’s legs wide, ready to receive Father Wayland’s gift.

Rachel watched with wide eyes while the priest she’d known her whole life unbuckled his pants and took out his cock. Father Wayland was very aware of the fact that he was wellendowed. His impressive eightinch member often startled members of the opposite .

He brought the tip of his cock to Rachel’s lower lips and swirled it through her wetness. Rachel’s head tipped back, falling against the mattress in ecstasy, but Sister Ruth gripped a fistful of her hair and directed her eyes to Father Wayland’s cock. “Watch,” she instructed. “Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

Father Wayland entered her slowly, allowing Rachel ample time to adjust to his considerable size. The sweet girl’s moans filled the room while he stretched her, sliding easily past her silky folds and into her tight tunnel. Rachel was not being quiet in the slightest, and Father Wayland wondered absently what Tom and Linda were thinking on the level below. How stupid of them to put their blind faith in the priest.

“Oh, God,” moaned Rachel as Father Wayland continued to push his cock into her. She was practically mewling like a kitten. He withdrew slightly, only to swoop back in with one quick thrust. Rachel was positively gushing on Father Wayland’s cock.

Several minutes passed while Father Wayland fucked Rachel Miller. Sister Esther and Sister Ruth kept the girl spread wide while Father Wayland stood at the edge of the bed in between them, his cock pumping the eighteenyearold with increasing speed. The two nuns smiled appreciatively at their priest, ever the obedient servants.

“Are you close, my dear girl?”

“Yes!” Rachel’s face was beet red and slightly frustrated, close to reaching the edge but perhaps embarrassed to do so in front of three other people.

Father Wayland continued to fuck her without abandon. He could do this all day if he wanted to, never growing tired, never needing to rest. Those were the benefits of being immortal. “I want you to come on my cock, Rachel. Can you do that for me? Can you give me a nice, strong orgasm?”

Father Wayland’s words were Rachel’s undoing, for she began to violently convulse in the nuns’ grip. A fresh wave of hot liquid gushed from the girl and drenched Father Wayland’s cock as well as the mattress beneath them.

Father Wayland did not relent he climbed upon the bed and continued to thrust into her, harder this time, driving her towards a second orgasm. Rachel’s guttural screams floated through the house, sounding just like the screams one would expect from the recipient of an exorcism. Tom and Linda would be satisfied.

Finally, Rachel sagged into the mattress, completely spent.

Sister Esther tapped Rachel smartly on the head. “Father Wayland just gave you an incredible gift. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Father,” she gasped, attempting to recover from such a violent orgasm. She would soon become addicted to Father Wayland’s cock, just like the others.

“You were such a good girl, Rachel. I knew you had it in you.”

With a few more pumps, Father Wayland finally blew his load into the girl. Rachel smiled dreamily while her priest’s cold seed flooded her womb. Surely, when Father Wayland first arrived at her bedroom, she had not expected to be rewarded for her bad behavior. The girl certainly did not expect Father Wayland to bare his fangs and sink his teeth directly into her soft, warm neck.

She cried out as Father Wayland’s sharp teeth pierced her skin. The pain didn’t last long, however, as a result of the numbing properties in Father Wayland’s venom.

Surely, it was a shock to Rachel to discover that the priest she had known since girlhood was in fact a vampire, the very thing she strived to become. The venom he’d just injected into her neck would trigger a transformation that would be complete in approximately twentyfour hours. Then, the cravings would begin. But Father Wayland would teach her how to feed unnoticed.

He kissed the beautiful girl on the forehead and commanded her, “You will come whenever I summon you. You will answer to me and me alone. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” she answered breathlessly, still woozy from the incredible orgasms Father Wayland gifted her. At that very moment, his seed was taking root inside of her, cementing his spell upon her young mind. Though the wasn’t necessary to the vampire transformation, it was indeed necessary to sire Rachel to Father Wayland forever. And that was the whole point, really.

Father Wayland smiled to himself. Posing as a priest was the best idea he’s ever had. It allowed him unlimited access to impressionable young acolytes, right under their parents’ noses. Soon, he would have his army.

Yes, the girl will make a fine follower.

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