The Pastel Gift

[Personalias]

The Pastel Gift

Vampires don’t have many heroes, historically speaking.  When one lives their unlife in the shadows, it’s very difficult to pick their own historical role models.  Vampirism resulted in a secret society less like the Illuminati and more like the Sith. Eternal nocturnal existence wasn’t a vast sweeping empire that secretly influenced society through the ages as much as it was secretive little pockets of vampires and the thralls they let in on the joke.  

If you were a member of an undead secret society, the emphasis would more than likely be on the secret; and less so on the society.  Vampires didn’t have George Washingtons or Cleopatras, or Louis Pasteurs. Both because if anyone had given the Dark Gift to those people it would have potentially ruined the big secret, and because vampires by and large still thought of themselves as people.  

The historical, philosophical, scientific, and artistic influences of the human world were the same in the darkness as they were in the sunlight.  Simple as that.  Still, if Melissa had to name any great ‘vampire history’ figures, she would have put a disproportionate amount of weight on the likes of Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Charlene Harris, and Stephanie Meyer.

Each of them had gotten close enough to the truth to aid vampirism and yet got so many details scattered and just plain wrong that the quality of unlife for those of the blood sucking persuasion was better for their work. As a result, most everyone knew what a vampire was, even if they didn’t know the exact strengths and limitations of said vampire.

The many contradicting details in the various fictional novels and mediums vampires were portrayed in kept the real vampires like Melissa safer by relegating her in people’s minds to being fictional herself.  No one went looking for vampires when vampires weren’t considered an option anymore.  Conversely, it made thralls easier to recruit and manage.  Everyone knew what vampires were, and all it took some years to recruit an ideal servant or snack was to prove that the fictional status was incorrect.

Yet those fictions kept things easy for Melissa.  Knowing or just suspecting that vampires were real was one thing.  Knowing their weaknesses was another.  Melissa hated sunlight, and preferred to sleep in total darkness, but Apollo’s chariot did nothing to harm her beyond making her eyelids droop and muscles ache.  Crosses and other religious iconography had no effect on her other than making her uncomfortable about the sort of people that wielded them and how they chose to worship their god.

Finally, vampires had no need to be invited into any domicile to force their way into it.  Breaking and entering was simple when you could walk up walls and force open windows that had no fire escape next to them.  Few people would think to lock the point of entry and even fewer would look for it as a point of breach.

 Being a thoroughly modern vampire, Melissa pitied her ancestors who had to find less suspicious ways to feed simply because people lived in single story, poorly ventilated huts that would have collapsed had a vampire tried to use their strength to enter.  Come to think of it, that might have been the origin of that particular bit of superstition. 

Besides attributing weaknesses that just weren’t there, the various fictions completely missed out on many of the actual limitations of the condition.   For starters, the Dark Gift had increased her dietary needs instead of transforming them altogether.  Melissa had to eat, drink, pee, and poop just like anybody else. The blood sustained her immortality and strange abilities, but she largely sated herself on hamburgers just like anybody else.  If she was careful she could make the blood in her system last for days, sometimes over a week before her fangs started popping back out looking for more.

That bit of misinformation, that vampires subsisted on only blood, had helped her dodge a hunter seventy some odd years ago.  Proving her ‘innocence’ had been as simple as eating a salad, popping off to the little girl’s room and then ‘forgetting’ to flush.  The idea had felt particularly inspired, Melissa thought.  Better than submitting for a blood test that somehow might find evidence of mixtures of different types of blood.

Another fun secret about vampirism was what the blood could do for Melissa.  The Dark Gift had a way of giving her more than just her victim’s life fluids.  Whenever she fed, Melissa would take on the traits and skill sets of her victims.  It was how she’d managed to live so comfortably when she wasn’t on the prowl.  A nibble of an investment broker here;  a lawyer there; a witness protection expert for good measure, and Melissa could continuously drum up money, pose as her own descendant, and inherit her own generational wealth again and again and again.

Ironically, the pulpy television show about a crime solving zombie was a more accurate portrayal of vampirism than any number of fang laden love triangle melodramas.  It’s also why vampires tended to be metropolitan monsters.  Dracula, if he really did exist, most likely moved to London because he was sick of having the skill set and temperament of a superstitious Eastern European serf.

Which brought Melissa to tonight’s hunt.  Lorraine Schmitt’’s was an insurance agent, a good one too, and Melissa badly wanted to know of any loopholes that could be exploited.  Her winter home in Alaska was almost up for coverage renewal, and Melissa had reached that point where she was looking to either cut costs or arrange an ‘accident’ to recoup her investment.  It turned out the downside of having thirty days of continuous night was having to live in Alaska.

With an aura that dampened the sounds of every footstep, creaking floorboard, and even the occupant’s quiet purring snores, Melissa opened the door to the insurance agent’s bedroom.  She frowned and shut the door behind her as she entered.  This was supposed to be Lorraine Schmitt’s bedroom.  The layout and floor plan matched what her thrall had researched perfectly.  If her spacial awareness and memory wasn’t beyond anything remotely human, Melissa would have doubted herself.

No.  This was the exact address and apartment that her insurance snack was supposed to reside in.

If that was the case, though, why was the only bedroom home to a baby’s nursery?

No.  Not quite.

Back in the early 1970’s, Melissa had experimented by sampling psychedelics.  For an instant, Melissa was brought roaring back to a bad trip when scale, perspective, and common sense was thrown into a shredder.   

A quick blink and rapidly adjusting night vision brought Melissa back to the present. As her eyes adjusted to the soft night light and her ears took in the gentle lullabies playing softly on a speaker, the vampire soon understood that she was neither tripping balls nor was she in an infant’s room.  Rather she was in a bizarre funhouse replica of one.

Like a patron in a museum, Melissa glided through the room taking in each sight, sound and smell; piecing together a story from the room’s contents like a carefully curated experience.  The closet was filled with professional looking clothing that might be expected for a white collar industry. Based on the size and style, an adult woman clearly lived here.  There.  Full-stop. Out with the expected.

The chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room was not actually a chest of drawers.  Originally it might have been, but it had since been heavily modified into an enormous changing table.  If the sturdily padded top hadn’t tipped her off, the alcoves containing tubs of baby wipes, rash cream, and baby powder dashed that lie.

Speaking of padding, the diapers on the middle shelf were definitely not for a baby.  The size of the pre-folded disposables would have smothered an actual child.  Though the cartoon prints might have fooled a casual observer.  Adult diapers that looked like baby’s?  Adult baby diapers?  How was that even a thing? Why was that even a thing.

By the time her eyes locked onto the stacks of folded up adult sized onesies, baby t-shirts, and decorative panties, Melissa already felt she knew more than enough about her latest snack. It looks like Little Lorraine had a dirty little secret.

Compared to the feast for her eyes, the other senses felt left out by comparison.  Yes, she heard the gentle lullaby that Lorraine played on loop in the faux nursery.  Yes, her nose detected the lavender scent of baby powder masking the subtle aroma of urine and feces sealed inside a diaper pail.  The problem, as far as curiosity was concerned was that it was very difficult to scale up the babyishness where smell and hearing were concerned.  

Sure, her heightened sense of smell detected the scent of bodily waste through even ‘odor lock technology’ but it didn’t smell any more odious to her nose than a bathroom that hadn’t been freshly scrubbed.  Of course her fantastic ears noticed the faint whispers laced into the lullaby- she could hear a mosquito buzzing its wings from a football field away-but she’d fed upon numerous people who listened to soft whispers in their sleep.  ASMR was a thing!  She didn’t quite understand what it was, but it was a thing!

Compared to the cake and icing that was the oversized furniture and clothing, she paid no mind to the decorative fondant of the music and smells.

Melissa was fresh out of surprise by the time she approached the crib.  She looked down at the slumbering woman-child, sucking on a pacifier in her sleep.  Revulsion wasn’t even a factor in Melissa’s mind looking down at the girl. In nearly two centuries of unlife, Melissa had seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer.  A woman sleeping in a pink-onesie and wet diaper was hardly anything to get upset about.  

It was odd, perhaps, but she’d felt she’d encountered odder. The infantile sights, sounds, and smells did nothing to stop her fangs from extending.  Melissa stopped breathing.  Like most of her snacks these days, this baby woman would survive and just wake up a little woozy tomorrow morning. 

If she didn’t feed soon though, her next meal might not be so lucky. Binge eating was a potentially deadly habit to those with the Dark Gift.

Everything was academic after that.  It was nothing to slide down the side of the giant crib; no different than parting a bed curtain during a more genteel era.  Like always, the girl didn’t wake up as Melissa slid her fangs into the precious neck artery; the magic of the Dark Gift being less disturbing than even a mosquito bite.

From there it was pure elementary.  This.  This was the best part of the Dark Gift, where Melissa took the blood, thoughts, and perhaps even part of the soul of the young lady.  All of that knowledge.  All of that experience flowing into her.  Literally living vicariously through this complete stranger that she’d never met before.

This.  This was better than sex.  Better than heroin. Better than Kobe beef.  Better than caviar.  More so than the immortality and the physics destroying power, this is what Melissa un-lived for.  She might still need food to survive, but the experience gained through the blood made existence worthwhile.

Her task complete, Melissa licked the wounds she made close.  Playfully, half-instinctually, she pressed the button on Lorraine’s pacifier.  As expected, the girl started sucking on the rubber teat.  Good. Melissa hadn’t taken too much.

Quickly, her eyes darted over to the changing table and the stacks of diapers contained therein.  A feeling of deep longing mixed with guilt creeped up the base of Melissa’s brain.  Unexpected, but not surprising.  Unconscious tendencies were the first thing to surface after drinking. 

 So for now, she had a fetish. Great.  Whatever. She’d once spent nearly a fornite with the brain of whorehouse madam. The behavior of her thralls had greatly improved as a result and she continued many of the habits long after that particular morsel had worn off.  So what if her heart fluttered a little bit at the thought of getting padded up (there was an errant thought if ever there was one)?   So long as Melissa knew all the loopholes that the insurance companies didn’t want her to know she’d be satisfied.  

“Yup,” she whispered to herself, “It’s all there.”  She gave her temple a self satisfied tap.  Dampening the sound of her departing feet, Melissa glided out on the breeze slipping through the window she came in.  Her conscious mind picked up only the (suddenly) pleasant sounds of a slight crinkle on a sodden diaper and the scent of baby powder.

Her unconscious mind though...

If only she’d paid more attention with her impeccable senses to the underlying whispers in Lorraine’s music box lullabies, this night would have been little more than a curiosity and a metaphorical bullet dodged.  Melissa didn’t though, and stole off into the dark of the night with a new kink, and a mind that had been experimenting with some very interesting subliminal hypnosis tracks.

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Catherine O’Hara was never going to be a vampire. She’d decided that long ago.  It wasn’t due to her vanity, Lord knew that.  She was well past her prime, and her prime wasn’t that great looking to begin with. The pale skin and dark hair (assuming hers didn’t turn white) might have even looked appealing from a certain angle.  The blood red eyes whenever her temper threatened might have been a bonus.  A little intimidation never hurt anything.  So overall, the Dark Gift as her master called it, likely would have smoothed a few things over in the looks department.

Not that Catherine was particularly homely either.  She could stand to lose a few pounds for her height and her hair was something of a curly tangled mess that wasn’t getting any better as stress and old age hung like the sword of Damocles over her, but no one would be calling her Quasimodo or Igor, neither.  

Matronly, some might have called her, if not motherly.  A lifetime ago she would have been perfectly content being a sexless school marm out in the settler days, happy to keep whipper snappers in line and teach good little boys and girls all about the three R’s.  If she’d been born into money, she’d be looking forward to being the Old Maid Aunt or the stern lipped Matriarch leveling judgement at passing generations.  Unless reincarnation was a thing (and Catherine O’Hara very much doubted it was), she’d lost the lottery on that front.

No, what this lifetime had in store for Catherine was an abundance of service to a vampire.  While the idea of becoming immortal had initially appealed to Catherine - and the promise of eternal night as a reward had been the thing to initially string her along- experience had taught her that the Dark Gift was something she didn’t want to accept.  

What was the saying? No faster way to turn a Catholic into an atheist than getting them to read the Bible?  Well, the fastest way to turn a vampire’s thrall into someone aching for the stillness of the grave was to have them actually live with the vampire.  Vampires were nutters, the lot of them!

One time, her master came home after drinking from a professional daredevil, and spent the better part of four days trying to chase an adrenaline rush, and it was Catherine’s job to sort out the details.  An adrenaline rush?  A death defying stunt?  For someone whose very existence already defied death?

But did her master give her any options?  Did she appreciate how hard it was to quickly and legally (okay, sort of legally) acquire and learn to plant dynamite just so a semi-immortal being could jump over an explosion?!  NO!  NO SHE DIDN’T! NOT EVEN A THANK YOU!

  At least the ramp had been easy to find.  Catherine had been wise not to scrap the scenery from Starlight Express when her master had gone through that “Theater Director” phase.

Presently, it was Friday.  This meant that her Master was going hunting tonight.  Thankfully, the master was going after boring blood tonight; insurance agent. The only thing safer (from Catherine’s point of view) might be an accountant.  

The master came back to the manner early that night well before the pubs and clubs had closed.  Catherine took this as a good sign.  The insurance agent must be kicking in; why else would the master be home this early if not for the influence of a little boring blood.   The master preferred to feed on the sleeping, and Catherine had gone out of her way to find the most boring candidate possible. Nothing had been on the target’s social media profile beyond etsy photos and niche office jokes.  That explained why she was in bed by ten.  

Good.

Maybe that meant this would be a relatively easy week.

“Good evening, Miss Catherine!”  the master practically chirped.  She skipped in and left the door behind her wide open. 

Catherine shut the door behind the master, then did a double take.  Skipping?  Was the vampire actually skipping?  “Good evening, master.”  Catherine replied.  “I trust your hunt went well?”

The master stopped and spun around, fluttering a little bit.  “Oh yeah!” she said.  “Super good!  Lotsa fun!”

Catherine arched an eyebrow.  “And you decided to come back early?” Candice asked.  “Not go out to a club or a bar or…?”  The thrall wasn’t sure where to lead this line of questioning so she just let the question drop.  

Raven hair went flapping as the master shook her head.  “No, ma’am,” she said.  “Too loud and smelly and sweaty!”  She pinched her nose as if she were imagining it then and there.  “I just wanted to come home and watch some cartoons.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Catherine said.  Her body began to ache in sympathy.  That dull tired sickness that people get only when their body starts to feel as if it can lower its defenses was creeping in.  She just wanted to watch some T.V.  Maybe this would be an easy week.  Maybe Catherine would finally be able to get some...   “Wait?  Cartoons?”

The master tilted her head curiously.  “Yeah!  Do we still have the DVR?”

“Yes, master.” Catherine stumbled.  “But I don’t think we have any cartoons stored on there.”

The vampire slumped a bit.  “Awwww.  Okay.”  She let out a tired, disappointed sigh.

Catherine’s more servile second nature kicked in.  “I think I have a few streaming services.  Netflix? Hulu? Disney?”

That did the trick.  “Disney?!” Her embrace was cold but strong, and Catherine was reminded why she was terrified of the undead, (not that she needed much reminding).  

“Yes, master.” Catherine blurted out.  “You can have my password!”  

The vampire released her servant.  “Yaaaaaay!  Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”  Then she went skipping, literally skipping.  “Take the rest of the night off, Ma-! I mean Catherine!”

“Yes ma’am.”  Catherine replied automatically.  There was a look of emotional confusion on her master’s face; like she understood what was being said but didn’t like what she was hearing.  “I mean, yes, master?”  Nothing changed.  “Yes...Melissa…?”

That did the trick.  “Kay-kay!” she said.  “Have a good ni-ni!  Is it okay if I wake you if I need anything?”

Catherine felt a kind of shock.  “What?”  Why was she asking? If the ancient creature wanted something she usually just demanded it. “I mean, of course.  You know where to find me if you need me. Ma-...Melissa.”

“Kay kay! Ni-ni?”

The aches of long forgotten relaxation was just starting to set into Catherine, and with it a new lingering question.  Who had her master fed from? It certainly wasn’t an insurance agent.

*********************************************************************************************
Melissa bobbed up and down on her bottom, belting out the lyrics to her new favorite T.V. show in the whole world.

“Whoa oh oh, Vampirina!  I may be blue with pointy teeth!  Whoa oh oh, Vampirina! But I’m not so different underneath!”  This insurance agent blood had done a number on her in the best way.  Cartoons seemed brighter and happy songs seemed happier.  She felt like she had all the time in the world and yet everything seemed to move along at a rollercoaster pace!

It was the best of all worlds and experiences as far as Melissa was concerned.

She had already cleared straight through an entire season of this children’s show and was ready to devour another.  Like so many things about vampires in fiction, many of the finer details were missed about the Dark Gift, but at least it was a positive portrayal.  If Vampirina were a real vampire girl, Melissa knew deep in her heart of hearts that they would have been best friends.

More than best friends, actually.  Melissa pictured herself in the cartoon girl’s bat wing pigtails, and spider-web pattern jumper dress.  It still seemed so much bigger and more mature than how Melissa envisioned herself.  She would have been perfectly happy wearing a onesie; maybe one with a decorated hoodie that she could pull over her eyes while she was feeling shy.  Vampirina wouldn’t be her best friend; she’d be more like a big sister to play with Melissa take care of her when Mommy wasn’t around.  Shame she wasn’t real.

Melissa let out a little yawn and looked out the window.  Dawn was approaching, the first traces of amber light cresting over the horizon.  No wonder she was feeling so sleepy.  It’s what Melissa got for finding Doc McStuffins first and bingeing that.

A tired yawn escaped from the little vampire’s throat and an even tinier trickle leaked out into her panties.  The yawn turned to a gasp and Melissa patted herself down to her panties.  It was only a tiny accident, she assured herself.  Not enough to stain the pretty (but very grown up) dress she was wearing today.  “Ooops,” she whispered.  “Gotta go potty.”

Nervously she hugged the couch pillow.  It wasn’t as nice as a teddy bear, but it would have to suffice till tomorrow.  Before sitting down to watch cartoons, Melissa had gone on an online spending spree.  Nothing major.  Just stuffed animals that looked cute as well as some...other things.  Things that would help her play and watch cartoons longer.  She spent extra money to have them all expressed shipped so hopefully they would all be here by the time she woke up tomorrow night.  

She felt a strange itching in her being at that thought as well as a muted wave of embarrassment.  She both wanted these things and felt ashamed for wanting them at the same time.  Did this come with the desire to sleep in cribs, or was it a natural tendency of insurance agents?  Melissa didn’t know.

Whatever it was, it hadn’t stopped Lorraine from living her best life, and it wasn’t going to stop Melissa either.

Oh yeah, and she’d figured out a way that her little home in boring old Alaska could basically pay for itself by turning it into a timeshare.  So that was neat.

“Time for beddy-...”  From her place on the floor, Melissa looked behind her to the couch and only then did she realize that Catherine wasn’t there.  Rationally, she realized that Catherine shouldn’t be.  She’d given her thrall the night off because it was a nice thing to do.  Rationally, she realized that Catherine wouldn’t be interested in something like Vampirina (even though Vampirina was clearly the best thing in the world!).  Still...it would have been nice to have someone else in the room with her.  Someone to keep her company and occasionally say nice things to her.

Melissa got up and started to walk to the bathroom.  First potty.  Then bed.  Then she’d wake up.  Eat some sugary cereal, and get to play and watch cartoons all tomorrow night.  Technically, she could do that all day since Catherine wouldn’t make her go to bed.

Catherine.

The vampire stopped at the door to her thrall’s bedroom.  It was a relatively tiny space.  Only room enough for a Queen size bed, a closet, and a dresser.  Melissa had hidden in motels with more floor space.  But it was cozy.  Her own bed and living quarters was sunproofed and far more luxurious.  But it was also empty.

A strange impulse overcame the undead stalker. “Maybe…” she said, opening the door with preternatural quietness.  Yes.  Maybe indeed.

Maybe a day cuddled up secure to the closest thing she had as a friend might be better than sprawling our in a big empty room on a big empty bed.  Cozy even.

Maybe she could hold off going potty until tomorrow night too...

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Catherine woke up thinking she was dying!  She’d never watched the vampire feed, but with the fangs and the blood red eyes, she’d always assumed that the act of feeding was dangerous and messy and above all bloody.  So she could be forgiven for thinking that the wet feeling that was engulfing her and drenching her legs was that of her own blood spilling out onto the bed. Her master had finally tired of her and was going to consume her whole.  That’s why she’d gotten the night off of work.  It had to be. 

That’s what Catherine thought as she started screaming her head off, leaping out of her bed.  “NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOO!”  It didn’t help her misconception that Melissa was in bed right next to her. 

For a split second, her master appeared for all intents and purposes to be a corpse.  Vampires just looked that way while they slept.  The corpse soon animated though as eyes fluttered open.  “Huh?” she looked down at herself and the puddle that had gathered in the middle of the mattress.    “What?!  Oh no!”

She flew out to the other side of the bed, and landed daintily on her feet.  “Cahterine!” she shrieked. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-!”  Her skin remained as ivory pale as always, but her eyes turned a shade of rose petal pink.  Was this the undead equivalent of blushing?  “I’m so sorry!  I’m sooooo sooo sorry!”

“Sorry?” Catherine echoed.  Not only was that a word that the thrall couldn’t remember hearing out of her master’s mouth, but she wasn’t sure.  She looked down at her legs, there was  They were wet but not with blood.  “Did you...?”  Her nostrils filled in the rest of the sentence.  Yes, Melissa, vampire queen of the night had wet the bed.  Correction: She’d wet Catherine’s bed.

“I just wanted to cuddle and I forgot to go potty and...and...and…”

Flabbergasted beyond comprehension.  Catherine remained silent.  What was this? Some kind of test?  Hurriedly she started stripping her bed as adrenaline pushed her the rest of the way awake.    She looked at the clock.  The sun hadn’t even been up for two whole hours.  That made Catherine feel even more exhausted.  Living under a vampire’s roof had long ago shifted her sleep to third shift.  Even with the night off, Catherine had only managed to claim sleep an hour or so before dawn.

“I’m sorry Miss Cathy!”

A bundle of peed on bedsheets in hand, Catherine glared at the slender immortal standing blushing across from her.  “Miss Cathy?”  Her vision started to come more into focus. “Are you wearing one of my nightgowns?”  She’d never seen Melissa wear anything that pink before.

“It looked comfy…” She took the foul smelling thing off and unhelpfully added it to the pile.  “I’m a big girl.”

“Of course ma’am...” Catherine said.  “Sure you are.”

“Say it.” the vampire said.  “Say it I’m a big girl…”  her voice was right on the edge of trembling and a tantrum.  This was something she needed to hear and if she didn’t that nightmare that Catherine just imagined might be more than just a misunderstanding.

“You’re a big girl…” Catherine said.  Then she ventured.  “You’re a very big girl...Melissa.”

That seemed to do the trick.  “I’m gonna go…” Melissa said.  “Lay down in my bed. I mean.  If that’s okay.”  Once again she’d become submissive and demure.  

“Of course, dear.”  The ‘dear’ came naturally, this time.  A vampire’s thrall learned to anticipate their master’s needs.  What Catherine couldn’t anticipate for, she could at least quickly adapt to new situations.  This was certainly new.  “Go get changed and go back to sleep.  It was just an accident.”

She noticed the slight flutter in Melissa’s posture, both at hearing her own name as well as the pet moniker of ‘dear’. Something in her was getting a major thrill out of just hearing it.  

This was certainly a development.

The two parted ways, with Melissa floating off to her much nicer bedroom, and a still exhausted Catherine headed for the laundry room.  She’d need a shower if she was going to get back to sleep.  But first...

“Melissa…” she called back.  

Melissa stopped and looked back over her shoulder.  “Yes, ma’am?”  There was a bit of guilt still rattlign around that skull.

“Who did you eat last night?”

“Insurance agent,” the vampire said.  “Why?”

“Just an insurance agent?” she asked.  “No one...younger?”

“Nuh-uh.  Why?”

“No reason…”

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DING-DONG!

Catherine stirred from her sleep, still feeling exhausted. The couch wasn’t nearly as comfortable as her own bed. “I’m coming!” She called.  Damn it.  Damn it! Damn it!  Damn it!  Even when her master was high on insurance agent blood, she couldn’t get a full rest.

The thrall had little doubt that what was at the door was some kind of impulse buy that Melissa just couldn’t resist.  The real question was a matter of what.  Blearily she eyed the nearest clock. It was just after three.

The usual courier was waiting at the doorstep.  Being an overpaid mailman he didn’t ask questions.  Good for him.  It made the frequent deliveries more bearable when Catherine didn’t have to explain anything.

This time, the middle aged thrall had wished there was some kind of explanation.  Boxes and boxes and boxes lay piled up at the doorstep. All looking fairly heavy, and none looked the least bit distinct.  Catherine spared a glance at some of the labels.

“LKB LLC?”  She read.  “Strom Holdings?” said another.  What was this stuff?

“Sign here,” the courier said.  He was sweating.  He’d needed several trips to get everything unloaded.  

“Sure, sure.” Catherine sighed. “Do you mind helping me get these in?”

Brow drenched with sweat the delivery man let out his own sigh.  Both of them were thralls to blood sucking monsters in their own way.  It’s just one was more literal than the other.  “Yeah.  I guess so.  I’ll get ‘em across the door for you.”

It was the most talking either of them had done to each other in their many years.  Strange.

“Do you need a box cutter?”  The courier offered. He went to go for his pocket but Catherine waved him off.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Then she remembered a bit of kindness.  “Can I offer you some water?”

“That’d be great...thank you.”

Strange, Catherine thought.  Melissa never offered such basic courtesies.  She had infinite time and wealth, as did a certain delivery mega corporation,  but it was the servants who showed one another the most respect.  A sad state of the world she thought.

After the water glass was drained, refilled, and then drained again, the courier went on his way. Most days, Catherine would leave the packages where they lay, letting her master’s impulse determine where they should go next, but a certain amount of curiosity had infected the woman.
A sharp knife from the kitchen did the trick to satisfy her curiosity.  The first box had vacuum sealed t-shirts. The colors were soft and muted.  Pastel mostly.  Some had, frankly, childish patterns on them.  Light Blue with Frogs wearing scuba gear;  another mint green with playful pigs; and so on.  The dark one with the amalgamation of a cat and a skull seemed more Melissa’s aesthetic but it was still far too whimsical for her baseline mood.

Tearing into a second package filled with bottles and pacifiers caused Catherine to go back to the box of shirts and fully unwrap them. Just as she hadn’t thought.  These weren’t t-shirts, they were unitards.

Except these unitards weren’t the kind that gymnasts wore. These were onesies, the kind that had snap buttons right in the crotch area.  The kind of thing a baby might wear over their…

Oh no!  She tore into another box, and just as she suspected found the diapers. Packs and packs of them.  Over half of the mountain of cardboard hid thick, tapable, plastic backed underwear that had bright and smiling cartoons on them.  

Everything that wasn’t a diaper wasn’t much better.  Pacifier, bottles, rompers, frilly panties just barely big enough to cover the diapers; Lolita-ish dresses; jumpers.  All of it looked like a carnival version of something a toddler or younger would be dressed in.

Had Melissa eaten a baby?  Had that actually happened?  No.  That didn’t add up.  Babies wore those sorts of things because their parents dressed them in it.  Left to their own devices they might just…watch cartoons all day…

And crawl into their parents beds…

And wet the bed…

But did they buy their own diapers or toddler dresses or onesies?  In sizes that fit them no less?  Looking at the pile of accumulated nonsense in front of her, Catherine realized that there was also a distinct lack of practicality involved.

There were diapers, but no wipes. Bottles but no milk.  Bibs but no food.  No powder or rash cream or any of the other little touches that an actual child might need.  

Catherine dug out her phone.  As a thrall, it was her job to anticipate her master’s needs.  She might not have eaten a proper child, but there was something certainly screwy going on.  It was only a few hours before sunset when the master would wake up.  She had some additional shopping to do and….

WHOAH...a lot of reading apparently.

“Ay-Bee-Dee-Ell?”

********************************************************************************************
“Ma...Catherine?” Melissa moaned herself into consciousness and yanked the thumb out of her mouth.  How had that gotten there?  

Her mo...thrall was already in her room and appeared to be rifling through her closet.  “This one can go...this one can go...this one can go…”  Long black dress after long black dress was being draped over Catherin’s forearm.

“Hey!” She Melissa called out.  “I wasn’t done wearing those!”

Catherine stopped.  “Good evening, Master!” she chirped.  Melissa sounded much brighter and cheerier than she usually did.  Normally the woman was relatively reserved.  The almost forced happiness in her tone made Melissa’s brain tingle in so many ways.  “Did you sleep better?”

Melissa stretched and felt oddly refreshed.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Actually…” she rolled over to get up and froze when she heard the light plastic crinkling.

She KNEW that sound.  She LOVED that sound.  But a part of her FEARED others hearing that sound.  Stupidly, as if in a trance, Melissa slid the rest of the way off of her bed.  Clinging to her waistbut lightly wet, was what her mind told her was something called a PeekAbu.  A drawing of a yellow giraffe with smiling eyes poked its head out shyly just at the waist band.  The sizing star on the right told her it was a medium, even though it was a “Size 8” according to the branding.

“Why am I wearing a diaper?”  The question came out of Melissa’s mouth even as her psyche provided the answer.  This morning!  The bed!  But not her bed! Catherine’s!  She could feel her eyes turn rose petal pink.  Her own sheets had already been stripped.  She’d been sleeping on a bare mattress with a spare comforter!

That meant that...that...neither part of her mind wanted to fill in the blanks.

Catherine continued to fold sheik black dresses and put them in cardboard boxes.  She eyed the vampire with the same casual wariness that all mortals in the know tended to do, but she remained calm.  “Your new clothes came in this morning with the diapers, and I’m putting your old ones away until it’s time to put them back on.   Is that alright, little Master?”

Little Master!  Melissa wanted to swoon.  Not at the master part, but at being called ‘little’.

I’m a good little girl, she thought.  Gingerly, her thumb crept up back between her lips.  “Yeah.  That’s fine, Miss Catherine…”

“I put the diaper on because you had another accident in your sleep and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Are you comfortable?”

“But how?”  Melissa reached down between her legs and squeezed the soggy padding.  She knew it was wet only because she had a keen knowledge and memory of what a slightly damp diaper felt like.  As far as her skin was concerned, she was wearing regular panties.  Thick, crinkly panties that another woman had put her in and taped up for her while she slept.  And she was perfectly comfortable.

Good little girls use and wet their diapers.  They need their diapers, even when they’re asleep.  They don’t worry about going to the yucky old potty.  As long as they have their diapers they’re perfectly comfortable.

“You’re a very deep sleeper, little Master.”  Again, Melissa inwardly rejoiced at the l-word.  “It’s why you have me here.  To protect you.”

Melissa sniffed.  “Did you use baby powder on me?”  She winced. As much as she liked it… “I don’t remember ordering baby powder.”

“You forgot a few things that should have been on your list,” Catherine explained.  “So I took care of them for you. You forgot some things.  Nothing big.  Just some silly mistakes.  I took care of it.” 

The vampire’s eyes blinked red.  Some primal, undead part of her raged at the idea.  Her thrall was correcting her. How dare she-?

Good little girls always listened to their Mommies and Daddies.  Their Mommies and Daddies take care of them and know what’s best…

“Thank you,” Melissa said.  She started.

“But you’re up,” Catherine said. “So I’ll put away your big girl clothes later.”  She strode up to Melissa.  “Hmmm...I can’t tell how wet you are.  Do you want changed yet?”

Good little girls don’t decide when their Mommies and Daddies change them.

“No…?”

Catherine took her free hand and started leading her out of her bedroom.  “I think you’ll be okay for at least one more wetting,” Catherine said.  “Or a mess.  I can change you then. But let’s get you some breakfast first.  How’s that?”

**************************************************************************************************************
“Catheriiiiiine!”  Melissa’s voice whined out.  “Where’s my chicken nuggies!”

“Comiiiiing!” Catherine called back, exhausted again.

Three days...

It had been three days.  Three days of changing diapers, and wiping mouths, and feeding bottles. And reading stories AND finding stuffies that were THERE one minute but then dropped and forgotten about the next until an hour later they were the vampire’s favorite thing in the world.  

Three days of Catherine feeling even more like a servant than she usually did.  When she’d peaced together that these Adult Baby fetishists were, she thought this might be an easy week.

Oh boy had she been wrong.

“Catherine, look at this!”  

“Catherine watch me!” 

“Catherine get me grilled cheese!”

“Catherine I wanna play a game!”

“Catherine where’s my stuffie?”

“No, not THAT stuffie!”

“I wanna watch more cartoons!  Catherine what’s a good cartoon?”

“Catherine buy me that! Buy me that!”

From one angle, it was like having to be a nanny to a child who could murder her.  From another angle it was like having to be an undead monster’s thrall AND wipe her ass for her.  Yes, she blushed more and she was unusually cheerful most of the time, but it was no less draining than when Melissa had feasted on an MMA pit fighter and needed a sparring partner. 

She thought that adult babies were supposed to be submissive!  Now, Catherine had learned that there was such a thing as topping from the bottom.  Whenever Catherine changed her diaper or fed her a bottle, she got quiet in a weird type of happiness paralysis, but it was like when a lion had you rub her tummy.  Purring or not, you didn’t take your eyes off the teeth.

When Catherine had been tempted into this service, she practically knew she’d be giving up motherhood...now she wished she had.

“CATHERIIIINE! NUGGIES!”

Catherine took the plate of chicken nuggets into the T.V. room.  It was two in the morning and Melissa was watching the same episode of Vampirina for the seventh or eighth time.  She bounced in her highchair, slapping the feeding tray.  “NUGGIES! NUGGIES! NUGGIES!”

Oh yes, the vampire had an adult sized high chair, now.  The entire manor was slowly being converted into a giant daycare.  Packages kept arriving at the manor.  Not just diapers and clothes either.

  Highchair. Changing table. Crib. Melissa had ordered them all and it was up to Catherine to assemble them while she slept.  All proportional and very very heavy.  And then, in a few days when the blood war off, Catherine would have to disassemble them, and fold all the cute big baby clothes and put them off somewhere to be forgotten about or burnt.  Then she’d have to get the habits and hobbies of whoever the next victim was.  

But for tonight, it was just chicken nuggets.  Melissa was well into her fourth helping, and had honey mustard and barbecue sauce smeared all over her lips.

“Here you are, little Master.”  She put the next course of overly processed children’s food on the tray. The babied vampire looked down at them and her face twisted into one of pure disgust.

“These aren’t dinosaur shaped!”

“We ran out of the dinosaur shaped ones,” Catherine said carefully.  “These are still very good.  They’ll taste absolutely lovely 

“I! WANT! DINOSAUR SHAPES!”

The strength and speed of the plate being flung against the near wall was practically a lightning strike.  The shattering of the dish and the scattering of the chicken rang out like thunder.  Melissa had shown such an unpredictable temperament before.

Under most circumstances, Catherine would have been terrified; startled into submission.  She should be scrambling to pick up the pieces while saying bright and happy things to appease her master.  Catherine knew this.

This wasn’t most circumstances, however...

Catherine stepped up to the adult sized high chair and waggled her finger.  “Nnnno!”  She sounded like she was scolding a puppy.  “Nnno!  Bad girl!”  Was there really that much difference between one and the other?

“Bad girl?”  Melissa echoed.  She looked spooked.  Genuinely hurt.

Hurt!  Yes!  That was something she’d read about.  Something Catherine hadn’t done yet.

With as much courage as she could muster, the middle aged woman unclicked the tray off of the high chair and tossed it onto the floor.

“Bad girl?  What are -?”

Before the vampire could react, Catherine grabbed her by the ear and started dragging her out onto the couch.  It felt like her heart was about to explode.  She was grabbing a tiger by the tail and hoping it thought it was a kidden.  “Bad girl!  We do not throw our food!”

Spurred on by her own momentum, Catherine sat down on the sofa.  Incredibly, her vampire master followed, splaying across the heavy set woman’s lap. Only one thing left to do.

“NO!”  She slapped the immortal’s padded bottom as hard as she could.   “NO! BAD GIRL!”  The sound was impressive, but from the cushion and the pulp from the diaper, Catherine knew it couldn’t have hurt too badly.

Even real children required more than a few swats to leave a mark.  A nigh invincible predator wouldn’t feel a thing.

Except...the most miraculous thing happened.

Melissa started to cry.  She started to wail and bawl and squirm in Catherine’s lap.  And even though she could likely bench press a grown-man, she screamed and mewled impotently.

So what did Catherine do?

She kept spanking the brat of course!

*************************************************************************************
Bad little girls get spankings! Bad little girls get time outs!  Bad little girls lose their Mommy’s and Daddy’s love!  Being a bad little girl was the worst of all possible worlds!  

Those words, unprompted, were racing and raging through Melissa’s skull.  She couldn’t help it!  When the words came to her, even if they weren’t her words they were said in her voice.  They were the same words that told her if she wanted to be good she shouldn’t use the potty and shouldn’t hold it in.  They were the same words that told her to eat in her highchair and watch cartoons. The same words that made her want chicken nuggies and cuddles and attention. Ooooh the attention!

Now she was getting attention; the wrong kind of attention.   The words were screaming inside her own skull, with Melissa powerless to stop them.  Her body was unimpressed with the flurry of blows raining down on her diapered bottom.  The words in her mind, however, insisted that they hurt. 

So they did.  Like a steak being driven through her heart.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  STOOOOOOOP!”

“You’ve had this coming for a long time, little missy!”, Catherine yelled.  She didn’t let up for an instant.  “A! VERY! LONG! TIME!”

Little!  She was little!  Helpless!  A baby!  A bad baby!  A bad little girl!  NO!

Melissa had wanted to be good!  She hadn’t meant to be bad!  She was trying to be good! She just thought that doing what she wanted to do all the time was good!  She wasn’t being mean on purpose! She just needed someone to tell her what good and bad was!  She just needed...she just needed a ….

“Moooooooommmeeeeeeee!” Melissa wailed, kicking feebly over Catherine’s lap.  “Pleeeeease!  I’ll be good!”

The spanking paused.  Melissa could feel Catherine peering down at the back of her head; could feel the spanking hand still raised, ready to strike.  “What did you call me?”

Like an owl, Melissa turned her head all the way around.  Despite being something no human could do, she felt weak and helpless in the normal woman’s lap.  “Mommy?”

A bizarre glint came to the woman’s eyes.  “Yes,” she smiled. “Yes you did.  Now, are you going to be a good little girl for Mommy or am I going to have to spank you some more and put you in time out?”

Time out?!  Not time out?! Not more spanking! Be a good girl!  Good girls listened to their Mommy!

“I’m going to be a good girl.”  The predator brain inside the vampire realized how hard Mommy’s heart was pounding, but the thousand pounds of kink and conditioning that was piled up on top attributed it to excitement rather than fear.

“You’ve made quite a mess of everything,” Mommy said.  “After I change you and put you into a clean onesie, you’re going to clean up your mess.”  Mommy started standing up.  Reflexively, Melissa made herself lighter.  Mommy noticed.  “Good girl.”

The words were music to Melissa’s ears.  The only thing better was what came next: “Let’s get you into a nice dry diaper.”

“Yes Mommy…I’m sorry Mommy.”

Mommy repositioned her and started patting her on the back on the way to the changing table.  “I know you are, Melissa. I know you are.”  She sounded kind of sad, actually.  “You’re nothing if not sincere when you’re like this.”

“I just wanted…” Melissa stumbled. “I didn’t mean to be bad...I just wanted…”  What was the word.

“Attention?” Mommy offered.

“Yeah…”

“Hmmmm…..” Melissa heard Mommy smiling, her ears literally pricking up at the upturning of her lips.  “I think I might have an idea…”

******************************************************************************************************

Lorraine Schmitt stood shaking in her shoes.  What kind of fucked up place was this?  On the outside it was an impressive estate; upper echelon on the edge of the city.   And on the inside?  On the inside it was a dream come true.  Just the wrong dream….the dream Lorraine never would have told anyone.

A play pen.  A ball pit. A walker. A bouncer. A playmat for tummy time and one with a mobile. A rocking horse. A sit and spin. A tricycle.  A frankly absurd amount of non-choking toys.  This place had a baby; just one that was much bigger than usual.  

That’s how the fantasy went.  That’s how Lorraine’s fantasies went.  A giant nursery for a giant baby that was already done growing up.  Usually run by an idle rich person with too much money and love to give who would just love to spoil a little girl rotten.

Lorraine wasn’t really a little girl, not by most definitions.

But since she started those self-hypnosis tapes, it was getting easier and easier for her to think of herself as one.  Especially in her nursery at home...her nursery that now perfectly paled in comparison to this palatial wonderland.  It was better than even Capcon.  This place was so big it could be it’s own ABDL convention center.

“And this is the kitchen,”  the client, a Miss Catherine O’Hara finished the tour.  “Any questions?”

“Um…” Lorraine choked out, “What does this have to do with insurance?”  She was playing dumb out of self-preservation and habit more than anything.

“Oh? That?”  the middle-aged, slightly overweight woman said.  “That was a lie just to get you here.”

“Why do you want me here?”

“Because,” Miss O’Hara said.  “I’ve already got one lovely little girl. I thought I could use a second.”

Little girl!  She was a little girl!  She wanted to be a good girl! A good girl!

The insurance agent bit her tongue, doing her best to block out the voice in her head that sounded so much like her own.  “I’m not running an adoption agency…”

Miss O’Hara let out a little growl.  “Fine, little miss.  We’ll do this the hard way.”  Her voice went into a high, playful musical tone.  “You can either come with me and get everything you ever wanted like a good girl.”  Her voice lowered back down, “Or you can be a bad girl and after I spank you and put you in time out, I’ll tell everyone you know know about your nursery and diapers at home.

Lorraine nearly fell over, feeling like her brain was on fire.  So many of her trigger words set off at once!  It was almost too much to stand.  This wasn’t supposed to happen!  Not until she found someone to trust!  Not until she was ready to be little full time with someone.  

This wasn’t real!  It couldn’t be!  It was like...it was like so many of the stories that she read online.

“The hypno recordings you’ve been playing in your sleep are quite a doozy,” Miss O’Hara cooed.  “Poor thing.  I’m very sorry it’s going this way.  But I’m a little short on time.  I’ve only got a night or two left, you see.”

Lorraine almost collapsed from excitement and mental exhaustion. Her walls wouldn’t last long.  They weren’t meant to.  “Please…”

“Of course,” Miss O’Hara said.  “Of course I’ll please you.  Mommy will take care of you. Good good, care.”

Mommy!   She had to be a good girl for Mommy!

“Stand up, dear, Mommy can’t carry you.” On wobbly, Bambi-like legs, Lorraine was being led deper into the house.  She couldn’t resist; not enough of her wanted to.  How did one fight against their wildest dreams when the alternative was one of their darkest nightmares.  “That’s right.  Come with me to the nursery.  Then we’ll get you into a nice dry diaper.”

Diapers! She needed diapers!  Good girls wore their diapers!  

A wet patch blossomed between her legs.  Her bladder wasn’t even waiting for her to be wrapped up and secure in crinkling plastic.  “Why...why are you doing this?” Lorraine whimpered.  “How do you even know this?”

“It’s my job to know such things, little girl,” Miss...Mommy said.  “Or it was.  If I must confess, I got a little sloppy when I was researching you.  Good thing I did.  Otherwise I might still have my old job.”

“What...what are you talking...?”

They were entering a bedroom; an adult baby nursery.  Lorraine wasn’t even close to surprised, and only eighty percent of her was thrilled at this.  She was powerless to resist when she was boosted onto an ornate adult changing table.

“Mommy?” A new voice called out from a darkened corner of the room.  “Is that her?”

“Yes Melissa,” Mommy said.  “But I need to get her changed first.  Then you two can get to know each other.”

A brick of Lorraine’s willpower fell out of the wall as she started sucking on her thumb.  “She really is a baby,”  the new voice said.  “Just like me.”

Mommy yanked the young woman’s pants and underwear off.  “Oh you have no idea,” she chuckled.  “I think you two will have a lot of fun together.”

She was being changed!  By someone else!  It was finally happening!  Finally!  She was a good baby! A good girl!  Lorraine boosted her hips up so that a thick four taped Bunny Hops could be slid underneath her.  That was one of her favorites!  How did this woman know?

“”I don’t believe in fate,” Mommy said.  “But I do believe in happy accidents.” She gently and expertly wiped and powdered Lorraine clean, then brought the diaper up and taped it on.  “And you’re going to have a lot more happy accidents, my little girl.”  She sat Lorraine back off and removed her bra and blouse from her.  “The only hard part for you, I think, is adjusting your sleep schedule.  You’ll get used to it though.”

“Get used to what?” Lorraine asked, thrilling and hearing the crinkle with her tits out and bouncing.

Another woman, another little girl crinkled forward.  She was skinnier than Mommy. Taller and paler too.  Her long black hair was done up in pigtails, which was funny, because that’s exactly how Lorraine would have styled it if she had hair like this.  Same for the use of the dark purple onesie to complement her pallid flesh.  She was something of a goth by the looks of it, but definitely still a baby.

“So...first thing’s first,” Mommy said.  “Lorraine.  This is your new sister.  You don’t know it, but you’ve been a very positive influence on her this last week.  You’re going to continue being a positive influence.”

“Yes...Mommy…” Lorraine was already shivering with joy.  

She was going to be a good girl.  She was going to have a sister.  She was going to have a Mommy!

“Melissa,” Mommy said.  “This is your new sister.  Whenever you need blood, you feed from her.  Not too much though. She’s very delicate.  Do you understand?”

The paler baby girl smiled.  “Yes Mommy.  I’ll be super careful.”

That’s when the fangs came out…

As the fangs sank in and Lorraine started feeling woozy, she heard Mommy coo.  “Good girls.  Both of you.  Forever.”
 

[kerry]

2 hours ago, Personalias said:

Like a steak being driven through her heart.

Waste of a good steak if you ask me. Now if it had been a stake, maybe...

2 hours ago, Personalias said:

It was better than even Capcon

Ahh...sniffle...Capcon. 

I LOVE this, Personalias! Good vampire stories are the best! Have you read mine? It's called Eternal Kiss and the link is here in my siggy. Thanks so much for this story!

[TerranV]

This was fun.

And hey! A shoutout to Starlight Express!

[YourFNF]

Really creative and interesting take on the lore. I've only seen something like this once or twice. ?

[YourDiapersCute]

Well shit. I might have a new favorite one shot. Quick paced, great follow through, and satisfying in the begining, middle, and end.