Bangkok by Night

Actually, I don't tell him out loud but he understands. He agrees. He takes off his shirt, his boxers. His dick points at me, accusing me of something. But I'm innocent, all I want is give him love so I take the incriminating turgescence between my lips. I wrap my tongue around it. I let it slide between my fangs. Brotherly heat radiates into my cold mouth. My saliva drips down his scrotum. His virginal scrotum...

Is he a virgin? No, he isn't. That little slut from his class has deflowered him already; she has taken this privilege away from me. But I don't blame her; my little brother tastes so good. Actually, I only have love for her, for her and her sisters. Yes... Sisters... She has two sisters, and she has two parents and a maid and neighbors... I will go see her to give her my love but that will be later because now I am with my brother. My delicious brother who just came between my lips, filling my mouth with his warm seed.

Yet, I am not finished with him. I tell him. Once again he agrees and he is ready to give me more, to fill my pussy with his manliness, his cock, his seed. I climb on the bed and impale myself on the erect shaft of my rutting brother. I kiss his lips, I kiss his neck, I bite his neck; but not too hard because I still need him to make me whole; just a bit, to make the edge go away. He moans, I moan, we moan.

***

But I'm not Fanny.

"Who am I then?" the child cries.

"Can I be Mrs. White?" I ask.

***

Laura

My name is Laura White but my students call me Mrs. White. My students... My delicious students, all around me, my flock, my own little army. Mrs. White and the seven students... Yes, I must be Mrs. White.

The moon light reflects our deformed faces on the glass doors of the hotel. A large luxurious hotel full of little lives for us to take and fuck and suck and drink. The sniggering faces of our devilish little posse disappear when I push the door. My students flow into the reception hall like the burning lava of a volcano upon a doomed roman town.

It is late and the reception hall is almost empty. Boyd, my little stud, walks towards the couches to our right where two girls, two friends probably, are enjoying a last glass of champagne before going to sleep. Veronica and Samantha, slutty little tramps, are already behind the counter to our left taking care of the three receptionists. Tiago and Jenny, sweet couple in life and dreaded pair in death, run into the closing restaurant to sink their teeth into the waitresses arranging the tables for tomorrow's breakfast. My four remaining little monsters have called the elevator, impatient to satiate their lusts in the upper floors. I look around; this leaves me with the sculptural whore coming down the stairs. Wait a second. Is she a ...?

Secretly I've wanted to see this all my life. In the midst of the screams of both pain and pleasure that start filling the hall, I order my victim to undress. With an impish smile she slowly slips out of her elegant red evening dress. Her breasts, firm and large, apparently impervious to gravity, defy me. She turns around to allow me to see her perfectly equilibrated bubbly ass. I walk to her, rubbing my chest against her bare back, my hands exploring her belly. They explore further down, until I find it. Yes! This is marvelous; she used to be a he.

Yet another local delicacy I would have never tasted if it hadn't been for Brian's gift. And she seems to like my touch; she seems to like it very much as I gently run my fingers up and down the decent sized vestige of her lost manhood. I want her to take me. I want this magnificent woman to fill my wetness with the firm relic of her previous life. And she does. Marvelous sensation of her tits rubbing against my back and her dick penetrating my pussy. She makes me peak leaving her seed in my dead guts. I happily return her the favor sinking my hungry teeth into her cock. I allow her to keep her perfect beauty frozen in time forever and ever. Never growing old, never decaying, never suffering from the terrible curse of age. She moans, he moans, my dirty little students moan, I moan, we moan.

***

But I'm not Mrs White either.

"Am I Mary?" asks the child.

"Am I Mary?" I wonder.

***

Mary

I am Mary. I was the most brilliant girl from school but now I am voracious. Blood and sex are my sustenance and I will take my sustenance where I happened to die, in this city of sin, in Bangkok.

I push the door to the massage parlor. The smell of sperm, lubricant and sweat would have disgusted me not so long ago but tonight it makes my mouth water. The short corridor has six doors, three on the left and - yes you counted correctly - three on the right. I smell men being rubbed by women. The last door to the right is already in the happy finish so if I don't want to let them slip through my fingers I should go there first.

The fat German man on the table has his eyes closed. The girl has turned her innocent round face towards me, she looks alarmed. I smile. Hesitantly she smiles back. Her insolent naked breasts are calling for me. I wrap my arms around her tiny body. Not only does she looks delicious but she tastes fabulously as well. The sharp smell of her drenched cunt fills the room. But she has a job to do, a hand job actually. I incite her to continue stroking the fat man on the table. And she does until she can't anymore, until she expires.

Like a feather, she silently falls at my feet, as if she had lost all her weight. I lick the last of her blood from my lips and take the rigid manliness of the German in my hand. He'll soon come so he barely notices the swap. I slip a finger in his ass to increase his pleasure. Soon, a warm fountain gushes on my hand. I continue pleasuring him. He opens his eyes. I smile, fangs bared. He's about to scream. I don't want him to spoil the surprise for the rest of my dinner so I suggest him to stay quiet. After tilting his head, I find a nice artery on his sweaty neck. The moment my fangs pierce the skin he comes again under my touch and he does a third time as he's about to die.

I let them both together on the table so they can keep each other company until they rise and their new appetites pull them apart never to be alone again. The Australian mercenary on the table of the next occupied room has quite a promising equipment. Soon he moans, I moan, we moan.

***

But I'm not Mary.

"Who am I then?" the poor little thing screams to the darkness.

"I can't be Mrs. Prasad, can I?" I question.

***

Jayanti

Jayanti... A name I've carried with love for the last forty years and I will bear with pride for the next millennia.

Jayanti means victory and I feel victorious when finally my late husband, Chitra, dies in my arms. The bastard had too much time on his hands, too much liberty, playing around with Thai whores while I raised his daughters in the strict respect of the Indian tradition. But now I know that this tradition is absurd, so false and so mistaken. A cage made to entrap our narrow minds away from the freedom of pleasure.

My daughters leave the bloody wrists of the old man to carry him off the large nuptial bed. It has been a very long time since he has given me pleasure but the juices mixed with his seed that are pouring down my butt crack prove that tonight he has. Geeti and Svana, my sweet daughters, crawl between my legs, hustling their way to have the honor of cleaning my slit of their fathers sperm. I close my eyes enjoying their loving tongues playing in my recesses, their devious fangs brushing my sensitive intimacy.

Unfortunately, the door opens. The bold and ugly assistant of my late husband passes the head by the door.

" - Mistress, the girls are here, -" he says in his terribly annoying high pitched voice.

My daughters grab their clothes and dress. I pull the blanket to cover my naked body and the bloody stains left by Chitra.

" - Let them in then, -" I finally spit in response to the unpleasantly obsequious and far too curious handyman.

A line of six beautiful women, all coming from the motherland, enter the room. They are part of the embassy's staff: cooks, chamber maids, ladies-in-waiting, washerwomen... But this matters little as they have been selected to be brought to us only on pure beauty criteria. The door closes behind them leaving them at our mercy, leaving them here for us to abuse and enjoy. Realizing that something is wrong they cuddle against each other as Geeti and Svana circle around them like cats among pigeons.

Soon undressed and mesmerized they all rejoice with us on the bed. I dive into the magnificent human mess that moans on the bed. I bite and finger. I lick and bite. I bite and suck and I gorge myself on love and blood. They moan, my daughters moan, I moan, we moan.

***

But I am not Mrs. Prasad either.

"Why can't I be one of them? Why does it keep changing?" The child sobs.

"Kulap? Is Kulap my name?" I scream.

***

Kulap

Kulap, Ku-Lap. It sounds right. Ku, Lap, the sound lashes under my tongue. The name is correct, my birth given name. My baptism name, the name of my great grandmother who got forcefully converted by the catholic missionaries so long ago.

Buddhism, Hinduism, Islamism, Catholicism, how wrong could they all be? How far from the truth? Such a morbid denial of the pleasure and yet I had to die and be reborn to realize it. But I will not keep this revelation to myself. I will share it with all my university and in turn they will take the good word to their friends and families. The girl whose alabaster thigh is trembling under my fangs for instance, she will carry our illumination to her relatives. So will the one that is slowly dying on the next bed and so will all the ones I will rape tonight. Yes rape, because in the great tradition of the catholic missionaries, a faith that can't be forced upon someone is not worth believing in.

The flow of blood runs dry and the girl finally draws her last breath. The next girl is a special one; she is the last of this dormitory; I made sure that she would be. She has been my nightmare since I joined the Assumption University of Bangkok. She was my most terrible sin, she was the incarnation of my own personal demon, she was the reason of my bigotry, she was my darkest object of desire, the one you don't talk about, not even to the priest in confession. She was the one at the mention of whose name I would grow weak in the knees, she was the one that made me look away blushing when she smiled at me, she was the one I would have shameful dreams about. But my beliefs were wrong, now I can face the fact that she was and she is the love of my life.

I crawl by her side. She's still asleep. For the first time I allow myself to observe her guilt free. I admire her tiny chest rising as she breathes. Her round cheeks, her large eyes, her thin lips, her flat nose, her tiny ears, her long hair, her slim neck... Her slim neck pulsating with life, so close, so warm. She turns to face the other way. Her neck...

Under the thin white sheet, the contact of her skin against my cold fingers electrify me. I push further down, I rub her belly, I slide my hand under the waist band of her pajamas. The rough hair of her bush is a delicious trap for my fingers. She holds her breath for a second; a loud whimper reaches out from her guts. The tip of my talon meets with her flower, a dripping flower. I dig even deeper wrapping my finger with her warm and moist flesh.

She moans.

I strike.

There is no other communion than the communion of blood.

She moans, I moan, we moan.

***

But I am not Kulap and yet...

The child cries one last time and the child is no more.

There is only me. Me, Brian, me, me, me. But I am not alone. I am definitely Brian and, at the same time, I am all of them. I am them and they are me and we are one. One terrible unity.

I am, we are all the myths, all the tales, all the legends combined. I am the monster that hides under your bed, the beast that stalks you from the edge of the forest, the big bad wolf and the evil witch. But soon, you won't have any more blankets to cover your heads, you won't be able to find safe haven, there will be no more hunters to slice us open us and no more ovens to throw us in.

I am an apocalypse of depravation and there's no hope for humanity anymore as I rise among the ruins of my former school. We have lost some tonight but I am too powerful, too many to be taken out. I laugh into the night as the pleasure and blood drawn by all my children allow me to regenerate my wounds.

Bangkok is my playground tonight; tomorrow I'll take care of the rest. So hold on tight; open your doors and windows; because I'm on my way, because I am many, because like the biblical demon I am legion. And I will be very soon paying you a visit, a very pleasant one, to make you mine, to make you me...