The click of receding footsteps surrounded the Priest as he lay sprawled and helpless upon the floor. His bared chest bore the scars and fresh wounds of many a vampire bite and gouge, body shivering as much from shock as from the cold that seeped through the very walls and halls of the Sola Mira hive. He’d known that it had been a trap as soon as he’d set foot in the place, yet the other priests that had accompanied him had either disbelieved him or acted as though he hadn‘t spoken at all. Instead of heeding his warnings as they should have done, they’d ploughed on, his words continuing to fall on deaf ears until he had no choice but to fall silent and follow them.
In the end, he’d been right, the ambush seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, lithe vampiric bodies swarming like ants over the walls and towards them. They’d grabbed the dark-haired priest first, being the closest to them and all he could think as he’d stared back into the faces of those who’d accompanied him was - why didn’t you listen?
His body had dragged against the dusty floor, strong vampire hands dragging him away from his brethren, screaming at them for help which never came. He’d tried reaching for them fruitlessly when the screams hadn‘t worked, yet they’d merely watched as he was dragged away with no hope of reprieve nor redemption. Instead, they'd run, left him there to be savaged and bitten by the vampires, and now he feared that he would die there, would bleed out upon the floor of Sola Mira like an animal.
If he didn’t die first, then he knew that he would be turned, yet into what he didn’t know. Most humans were turned into Familiars, those monstrous beings, all ghastly fibrous bodies and sightless eyes, gaping maws filled with too many teeth. They were the very literal stuff of nightmares to scare children and adults alike, to keep them indoors on ghost-ridden nights. Unlike most, however, he wasn’t entirely human; from birth he’d had special powers that marked him out from the rest, aided him in his fight against the very beings he was now trapped by.
His chest heaved again, skin aching from the cuts and wounds gouged deep into the musculature of his chest, eyes blinking painfully in the cold, hazy blue light that permeated everything. He felt cold, life drifting on sullied wings further and further away from him, eyes suddenly feeling as though they were deceiving him. Above him, a reptilian head cleaved into view, spindly body reminiscent of a praying mantis hovering over him. It was then that he knew that he was staring into the insect-like face of the Queen vampire herself.
He opened his mouth, whether to talk or to scream, he wasn’t entirely sure. He breathed instead, each breath burning like wildfire in his struggling lungs, until the first splash of blood spattered down upon the curve of his lips. He coughed, throat and lips working as he tried to twitch the invading fluid away. Despite his best efforts, the blood trickled deep into his mouth, past his teeth and permeating his throat, until he had no choice but to swallow. It was either do that or choke and die all the faster. Despite not liking the idea of potentially becoming a Familiar or something else entirely, he knew that even that was better than ceasing to exist at all. He didn’t want to die.
He slowly became aware of his whole body then, oscillating between rivers of fire and ice, wings of phoenix-fire flame unfolding through him, cleansing him of pain, of sin, of all hope of redemption. He screamed then, both at the state of release and the resultant pain that flared its way through his entire body, being and soul. Every inch of him screamed, seemed more aware and cognizant than it had ever been and it hurt. He cursed and bucked, shivered away from the touch and the will of the Queen vampire, all to no avail. It was too late for him now; perhaps it always had been too late, right from the very moment he’d set foot inside the Hive.
He cursed the Queen’s name, eyes flying wide as his body ratcheted up from the ground, flames licking through his very system, burning out the last of his humanity and replacing it with something no one had seen before; a crossed hybrid between human and vampire, strong Priest’s blood helping him to survive the transformation and escape the damnation of becoming one of the Familiars. His eyes flew wide, bleeding from soft hazel to harsh yellow and he cursed again, teeth elongating until sharp fangs poked from beneath full lips.
Everywhere upon his now cursed body, he felt as though he’d been bitten by flames, desire and need and disgust battling for dominance across his whole being. He tried to resist, tried to hold off the change for as long as he could, but he failed. He had to bow down beneath the weight of the Queen and the changes she’d invoked, until there was nothing much left of the man he’d once been; he’d been cleansed by the fire of the Sola Mira Queen’s creation. In his place, a new breed of monster had been born, and his screams and curses turned to vicious, hedonistic laughter, neck craned back, yellow gold flecked irises glinting in the meagre light, fangs exposed to full view to an audience of one.
He became dimly aware of the Queen still waiting nearby, curious head cocked to the side as she watched his transformation with rabid fascination, eyes roving over his half naked body, which even now was beginning to heal from its prior wounds. Her eyes were a heavy weight, bearing down upon him and seeming to see right inside him. The changed man, yellow eyes now blazing, tried to twist away from her, but found that he couldn’t move. Somehow, she’d managed to trap him, telepathic bonds strapping him invisibly to the floor like a vice. He could feel her presence inside him, burning like a flame, burning just as much as her blood had when it had transformed him. He twisted towards her, eyes blazing and tried to talk.
“Let me go,” he said, voice rough from his earlier screams, hoarse with heavily laden threats.
He would not beg, refused to beg her, yet he had the feeling that that was what she most wanted from him. He stared at her, defiant, unyielding, bold. He would not let her know how scared he was, refused to let her scare him. He was stronger now, possibly almost as strong as she was. His Priest blood already had marked him out as stronger than humans and now with the addition of her blood, it made him stronger still. He wondered if that was what had made him still relatively human instead of turning into one of the monstrous Familiars, two strong genetic types at war with one another inside his very body, counteracting the venom that produced Familiars from the masses of teeming humanity.
He felt her inside him, delving deeper, deeper, deeper still, mind an intimate telepathic burning touch inside him. He tried to push her out, uncertain as to what her intention was. He found that although he was strong, stronger now than he had ever been, he still was not quite strong enough yet to push her out. The transformation had taken more of his strength and will-power than he‘d at first thought.
The pressure against his body grew stronger, despite the fact that the Queen had not moved. Instead, she stood at a distance, staring, staring, staring at him so silently, it was quite frightening. Occasionally, her hands would twitch by her sides and the pressure began to build against his body, seeming to grow and build with every twitch of ghastly white fingers. It felt, to him, as though she was using some kind of mind trickery upon him, sliding invisible inquisitive hands over his body with only the strength of her will and her mind.
He felt the Queen working lower, exploring him, unseen fingers caressing the planes of his body, inquisitive as to what made him who he was. He frowned again, tried to push the feeling away yet again, despite the fact that the sensations were quite damnably pleasurable. His resolve was beginning to weaken and he hated himself for it.
“What are you doing?” he rasped out, coughing slightly and tensing when the hands stroked lower, lower, lower still and stayed upon his groin. “No. Don’t.”
He couldn’t push her away, as the sensations of hands were never really there, merely felt. She wrapped invisible fingers against his cock and applied pressure against him, working at him, stroking him and he reacted, erection hard and pressing up against his pants. His hands balled into fists, as he tried to fight it, yet he knew it was a losing battle. Her hands, a mental pressure against his heated flesh, were still inquisitive, yet still surprisingly pleasurable and he capitulated, gave in mere moments before his impending orgasm crashed through him, forced from his body by vampiric hands unseen. His hips bucked upwards, yellow eyes staring sightlessly into a thousand mile stare, hands clawing at the dusty floor beneath him as he came and came hard.
He could feel her influence over him leaving as the vampire Queen melted back into the shadows and away from him, yet still he remained laying upon the floor, empty and alone, body cycling down from the highs he’d just experienced. He breathed heavily, trying to force down the bile over what he’d just been forced to do. He sat up, finally, rubbing sweat-damp hands through his hair and over his face, blowing breath out unsteadily. He felt a little shaky after his experiences, shame fading now in the backwash of power that continued to pervade his system.
Finally, he stood, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sticky mess in his pants, yellow predator’s gaze skimming over everything. He was alone, much more alone than he ever had been in his entire life before. He couldn’t even feel the Queen anymore, and he decided that that was a good thing. His thoughts shifted to the Priests that had left him behind, to die and to be reborn and to come into himself in a blaze of orgasmic glory. His slow grin was feral, as his agile brain decided upon a route to take revenge upon those that had left him behind.
“It’s time to wage war,” he said, before striding purposefully from the Hive, into the midnight darkened night and on into his new life and the promise of impending revenge.