I am very much enjoying writing this book! I am on page 70 as of today and, loving vampires, this book is extremely fun to write. It's not so much about emotion that I put in to it, but rather confusion. This poor guy named Michael is going around his city all confused after trying this new drug that has him living the life of a vampire even though he is human. He becomes addicted to it eventually, and that's where things get interesting. He must enter the world of vampirism to find out what fate has in store for him.
There are a few interesting parts in this book that I am really proud to have thought of. In the beginning of the book he wakes up with the back of his shirt torn open and claw marks, as though he had been mauled by a tiger, all over his back. It's painful for the whole day but at night every ounce of pain he had turned into sexual pleasure. Every touch of the wound sends orgasmic clinches up and down his body. Here's an excerpt from the book that I particularly enjoyed:
(This still might be revised in some parts, so this isn't the final copy. The scene is in a restroom in his office at night just after he woke up from a mini coma. He didn't know if he was all alone in the office or not. KEEP IN MIND THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED YET.)
- Shaking and zipping up, he approached the sink and, running the water, splashed a few handfuls on his face. His head was sticky and his body felt as though, and rightfully so, that it had been sweating all day. Again combing his hair with his hands, Michael turned the tap off and exited the restroom. With the door ajar and his head sticking out of the restroom he looked both ways, still a bit weary of the situation. He didn’t feel right, yet he felt absolutely right. It was as though he had won a million dollars and the cash was sitting in his pocket at that specific moment, the only thing keeping him from entering the world as a rich man being the physical will to walk out of the building.As his head was looking both ways down the hallway the bathroom door, not being air pressurized to close slowly, swatted into his back, right on the wounds that covered the battlefield. Immediately his eyes widened and his head shot up, his focus on the ceiling. There was no sound from him but rather just a state of frozen bliss. While the door rested against his back, another load of sperm ran down his leg. Rather than collapsing into a hysteric vision again, Michael stood there shaking in ecstasy.It took him a moment to recover from what had happened. Rather than moving out of the way of the door he slowly backed up into it. Every molecule that touched the cold wood sent pleasurable shivers down the muscles of his body like vibrations, waving from his head to his feet and back up again. His penis flexed inside of his pants, pressing against his boxers as it dispelled more of its fluids. Fisting his hands, Michael backed up into the door until it was between him and the wall, sandwiched. Much like having an itchy back, he shoved himself against the pointed frame and twisted both left and right. As he did so he let out a few moans of pleasure that reverberated and echoed down the hallway. Much like his leg, Michael could feel a rush of liquid covering and crawling down his back, and though he knew he was ripping the wounds of his torso open, there was absolutely no ounce of pain. It was all pleasure, and it confused the hell out of him.His back eventually stopped rubbing against the frame of the door and rather started sliding back and forth. It was quite noticeable as it wasn’t jerks to the left and right but rather slips that caused him to have to stick a foot out lest he fall onto the floor. Taking a chance, Michael gently lifted himself from the large wooden rectangle and sauntered over to the sink, once again turning to view the happenings of his back. Unlike when Bob had seen it where there were scratches all over, the skin of his back was just one large sheet of blood so thick that one could draw in it with their finger.With a hand that shook violently, he sent it flying towards the torn skin and, upon touching it, let out another gasp of pleasure. His eyes zoomed and loomed on the liquids that poured from the many slices and scars that showered behind him. His fingers slid as he tried to grip whatever there was to grip on to. Retracting his shaken hand, Michael slowly looked down at it as he brought it towards his face. The actions caused his bottom lip and jaw to shiver at different frequencies. He looked up into the mirror and, switching his gaze from his back to his face, saw a most frightening picture. The face that had followed him all throughout his life was sagging, as though it belonged to a smoker. Dark rings circled his eyes and his complexion was daftly pale white.Looking back down to the blood that swayed in his hand as though colored water, Michael took his time bringing his hand towards his mouth, desperate to not spill a single drop. His tongue slithered, like a snake, from between his lips and dipped into the small pool that centered his palm. The pink organ stained itself with red as his lips came closer and closer until his lips were pressing against the center of his hand, his fingers wrapped along his face, and slurping noises resounding from his mouth.Shuddering back to reality, Michael threw his hand from his face and erupted into a coughing fit. Blood sprayed from his mouth and onto the mirror and sink, running down and creating red streaks that were like paths, connecting with one another the lower they got. Turning, he bolted towards a stall, dropped to his knees, and praised the porcelain god as he gripped the seat, hurling all the acid in his stomach, the organ so desperate for more water.“Oh God…” Michael muttered as he lifted his head before thrusting it back into the bowl, his stomach tensing and his mouth gagging, though there was nothing more to come up.It took him three minutes to show even a glimpse of not gagging at every movement he made. His right hand was absolutely coated in blood, which also made it all over the toilet seat, the blood hardening the more it was exposed to air. Just the sight of it caused him to go through even more convulsions of gags and hurls. After 10 minutes of shaking, tears streaming from his eyes though he was not crying, and hurling, Michael slowly, steadily, but with chance, plastered a foot onto the ground, now being on one knee. Adjusting himself, he put his other foot on the ground and stood, a few blood drops falling from his body.In an almost limping fashion, Michael made it out of the stall and grabbed the bag that was on the floor. Reaching in, he pulled out a black shirt that seemed to not have any smudging on it from the dirty shirts he had already put inside earlier on in the day. The man grabbed a hold of the shirt on his body and ripped it off down the buttons, the hard, stringy circles popping off and onto the ground, rolling around and finally coming to a stop at some random point along the floor.Slipping the shirt off, Michael stuffed it back into the bag and slipped on the black shirt. He may still have been bleeding, but blood was hard to see on a completely black shirt. He regrettably exited the bathroom leaving it as though it looked like someone had been murdered in it, blood covering the door, the mirror, and one of the stall’s toilet seat and floor.As he walked down the hall towards the ceiling he swayed from left to right, and then from right to left, almost crashing into each wall as he did. Though his body operated as though he were drunk, the expression on his face was sly and confident, his body in another sort of a daze. He was himself, but not himself all at the same time. He was away of what was going on but nothing seemed to matter. He was ready to rob a bank, kill the security guards that had laughed at him, or fall asleep at home. It made no difference to him. He was indifferent.Michael tapped the elevator button and, leaning against the frame, gave the machine its time to come up to his level. The elevator, in both symbol of his attitude and the physics behind it, was below him. The doors pried open after the operation let off a DING, letting him know that the vertical ride had arrived. As the doors open he entered. Inside was a lady of the age of 50 who clung to her person, moving aside without a smile but a rather desperate look on her face as Michael entered the car. Through the whole ride down he crossed his arms, leaned against the wall of the elevator, and stared at her as she tried to refrain from staring at him. The instant the machine touched ground the woman took off at a rather fast walking pace towards the security guards, both of them standing at the door motionless as though statues provided to watch over the entrance.As the woman exited the elevator Michael’s head lowered. Shaking it a bit, he regained a bit of his senses and staggered out of the cart just as the doors began closing. He drunkenly swayed from left to right as he trudged for the door. The Guards eyed him peculiarly as they opened for him, letting him out into the open world.
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