The hallway smelt of burnt plastic and Bishop's freedom piss.
Elise's fingers twitched at her side, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. She pulled a glittering lip balm from her pocket, twisting it open to release a scent both sweet and oddly threatening. Moments later, her lips were slick with Bloody Bubblegum Bite—marketed as strawberry but tasting like despair and expired bubblegum.
And now… the lure.
A bottle of her homemade potion, Fanged Femme Fatale Mist. She doused herself with it, slipping a hand inside her Nirvana T-shirt to mist beneath it, under her arms, over her bra, and across her small, perky, uneven breasts. An extra spray over her boobs made her nipples hard, buzzing with excitement. She even sprayed some into her mouth—and instantly regretted it. "What am I doing? Spraying this into my mouth could lure flies straight in…"
Then she lifted her loose velvet skirt and sprayed over her panties, fingers brushing the fabric like a dark enchantress, before misting around her most intimate area—somewhat redundant, considering her Fatale Mist was distilled straight from her own vaginal juices. It was, in essence, spraying my vagina with… more vagina.
The scent was a heady mix of roses, midnight shadows, and wicked mischief—like the perfume of a vampire queen plotting chaos. Each droplet that touched her skin seemed to pulse with a life of its own, making her nipples hard and sending shivers down her spine, as if the darkness itself were licking her.
She learnt about this so-called vampiric essence potion online—naturally, on the weird side of the internet. The ritual was laughably simple: while indulging in a rather passionate reading of a vampire poem, one was to gather the resulting "essence" with a miniature Liquid Suction Pump, then syphon the sacred yield into a little fireproof glass bottle she'd picked up on holiday in Pompeii—right beside the infamous statue of the Masturbating Man.
"Ah, come on out…" Elise murmured, senses alive with the scent. She felt strangely powerful, the potion a dark force coursing through her body, making her feel both vulnerable and… almost dangerous. "I know you can sense me, Mr Penis Monster," she said, lifting her chin. Her breath hitched as her eyes drifted closed. "Come… and taste… my Fanged Femme Fatale Mist…"
She knew Mr. Dummura's penis had no ears, yet she was certain it could sense her—the thick, intoxicating scent of her own dark, forbidden essence clinging to her skin.
The corridor was deserted; everyone was in class. The only sign of life was a cleaner gingerly placing a 'tripping hazard' sign over a puddle of urine.
He bellowed, "FFS! Another bloody puddle of piss! Can't believe these students are still acting like damn toddlers, pissing all over my precious floors... In my day, we knew how to use a bloody toilet, didn't we? Never got it on our legs once!"
Why was he complaining? We were keeping him employed. Without messes like this, he wouldn't even have a job. With AI creeping into everything, he should've been grateful for his secure little gig scrubbing piss off the tiles and fishing tampons out of the women's toilets.
She heard somebody coming, and it wasn't a guy watching hentai.
A series of glorp-slurp, squelch-swill noises echoed down the corridor. Elise's eyes widened as something wobbled and squirmed into view—Mr Dummura's penis monster, drawn like a moth to a flame by the thick, intoxicating scent of her Fanged Femme Fatale Mist.
"Mama?!" 'It squeaked,' its voice oddly high and pitiful, wobbling toward her as if every droplet of her perfume had painted her as the most perfect thing in existence. It was erect, quivering with anticipation, utterly captivated by her irresistible scent and vampiric beauty.
Elise held out her arms to cuddle and embrace the tiny creature. She was beautiful, of course—but they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Only this little thing had no eyes for judgement, no real concept of beauty, and nobody else could even see her. And yet… it came for her as if she were the very definition of it. In short… the saying made absolutely no sense here.
A deafening crash rattled the corridor. She spun around to see the cleaner hurtling down the hallway, flailing wildly as he scrambled to his feet. "Who put that stupid sign there?!" he bellowed—only to freeze mid-shout, eyes widening, as he realised he had tripped over the 'tripping hazard' sign he himself had planted smack in the middle of the corridor.
"What a bellend," she muttered, eyebrows shooting up…
She whipped her head around, eyes wide—and froze. The penis monster had vanished?!
It got spooked again… because of that crash!!
Not again…
She felt something tingle between her tits…
Something—like a finger tracing forbidden lines under her bra, grazing one nipple…
Was there another invisible ghost vampire out there, trying to caress and feel her up?!
Maybe I'm not the only vampire at Brightwater Academy?!
A tingly touch skated over her other nipple, sending shivers racing through her. A sudden, spreading warmth made her gasp—it felt good, she had to admit.
It slid between her tits. The head of the penis monster peeked out from her oversized, baggy black T-shirt and murmured, "Mama…" before curling up into a lazy, relaxing sleep between her breasts.
The monster… the penis… was now hers. Every twitch, every little glorp and squirm, every tiny sound it made—it belonged to her.
But to truly claim it—she needed to give it a name. Something that captured its personality, her vampiric flair, and the absurd intimacy of their new arrangement.
Noctiprick!
The name was perfect—cute, prickly, and entirely her little vampiric pet. She imagined it curled up between her breasts, looking as smug as if it understood its own ridiculousness. The word flashed in her mind like a flasher in a foggy cemetery, trench coat whipping open to reveal—exactly what she'd just adopted, and somehow, the image made her snort with laughter.
Yes. This little creature was hers. All hers. Every twitch, every sound, every absurd, impossible bit of it belonged to her alone.
Now to make it more of a goth and less of a poser...
Looking down at the sleeping monster between her tits, Elise pulled out her black kohl eyeshadow with a brush and carefully applied some to the top of the cock. It didn't seem to mind—in fact, it relaxed even more between her breasts. Turning it around, she dusted it further with her little black powder. It let out a soft, contented mmm, then shrank slightly. Her eyes widened at her ebony goth pet.
"You are now one of me… But I thought cocks were bigger when Black, not smaller," she muttered, glancing at the shrunken penis.
Never worry… You're mine now!
We're going to have so much fun.
I'm going to attach you to my husbando's pillow and ride you all night.
My husbando's pillow is now going to have its own penis!
Waifu pillows had these tiny, ridiculous little holes for men to shove their…dicks into and enormous, squishy boobs just begging to be grabbed—but we women got absolutely nothing. Our pillows were completely flat, impossible to ride, impossible to squeeze, and impossible to get even the tiniest hint of pleasure from! I mean, it was like they were mocking us—just a soft, useless rectangle while men got all the fun!
I'm pushing for equality! We deserve pleasure as well! A vampire girl deserves more than just self-love.
"Noctiprick," she whispered, testing the name on her tongue. It felt right—like a secret only they shared.
She glanced down at the tiny goth cock napping between her breasts, now dusted in black eyeshadow and looking like it belonged on a vampire's mood board. It let out a soft snore—a high-pitched mmph—and curled tighter against her chest, completely at peace.
Then it stirred.
One twitch. Then another.
And suddenly… it lifted its head slightly, blinked (somehow), and looked up at her with what could only be described as devotion.
"Mama…" it squeaked again, softer this time—less frantic, more intimate. Like it had found home.
Elise smiled—a slow, wicked thing that lit up her whole face despite the dim hallway. She gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear with one hand while using the other to very carefully adjust Noctiprick back into place between her tits, like tucking in a child or arranging pillows for maximum neck support.