TITLE    : Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer Ch. 02
STORYID  : buffy-the-shemale-vampire-slayer-ch-02
SUMMARY  : Buffy waited until twilight.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2005-06-22
CATEGORY : celebrity-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |vampire|shemale|transsexual|


Buffy waited until twilight, hiding out in her bedroom, as she tried to come to terms with the bizarre fate that had befallen her, thanks to the Feral demon's bite. It wasn't easy, psychologically, physically, or otherwise, to have gone to sleep a girl and to have awakened a hermaphrodite. She wasn't sure how to feel about the weird transformation that had changed her into a shemale. It was strangely titillating. At the same time, it was also horrifying. She knew one thing, though. She didn't want anyone to know that she was a he-she. No one, that is, except Willow. She and the witch were best friends. Besides, Willow knew what it felt like to be "different." The witch had always been something of an outcast, even before she'd discovered that, her teenage crushes on Xander and Oz notwithstanding, she was gay. She'd never quite fit in with the crowd. More than anyone, even her mentor, the Watcher Rupert Giles, Willow (and maybe Xander, who, like Willow, had also been something of a pariah in high school) would understand how Buffy felt as a hermaphrodite who was no longer completely female or male but was suddenly both--and neither. Besides, Buffy hoped, Willow might be able to cast a spell that would make Buffy's male genitals disappear, restoring her femininity.



As daylight faded under a pink and purple sky, Buffy crept downstairs, went outdoors, and hastened toward the sidewalk beyond her front yard. As she neared the tall oak near the sidewalk, a shadow loomed out of the gathering twilight, and a familiar voice greeted her: "Hello, Cutie."



Spike! The one person Buffy didn't want to see tonight, or ever, was the platinum-blonde, Sid Vicious look-alike vampire. Ergo, here he was. "What do you want?" she growled.



"I heard about the Feral demon."



Buffy ignored him, maintaining her hurried stride.



He kept pace beside her. "Feral demon bites can be bad," he warned her.



"That's why I'm going to see Willow. I hope she'll be able to do something." As she started to go on her way, Spike spun around, caught her in his arms, and kissed her hard upon the lips.



She spluttered, breaking his embrace.



He snatched her back, and she let him hold her. Their mouths locked upon one another. Their tongues slipped through one another's lips and swirled about each other. Spike's hands found Buffy's buttocks, and he squeezed them firmly.



Again, Buffy broke away.



"Now what?" Spike demanded, frustrated and angry.



"We go inside," Buffy said.



"It's almost dark. No one can see us."



"There's a streetlight not thirty feet away, the porch light's on, and people can see us."



Spike shrugged. Humoring her, he started toward her house.



"Not inside my house!" Buffy protested. She took his hand in hers, leading him away.



Spike shook his head. He'd never understand women, not if he lived another couple hundred years. Oh, well, he thought, as long as he got the good stuff, what did it matter?



It was dark by the time that Buffy and Spike arrived at their destination--the mausoleum in one of Sunnydale's dozen cemeteries in which the vampire had set up housekeeping. In all the years that Buffy had been trespassing on the town's burial grounds, she hadn't been arrested once, nor, for that matter, had Spike. In fact, Buffy seldom saw police officers on patrol in the vicinity of any of Sunnydale's graveyards. Most likely, the cops knew or suspected that something inexplicable and evil was associated, if not caused by, the cemeteries and that these cities of the dead were best left alone. The lack of a police presence in and around the cemeteries made Buffy's (and Spike's) comings and goings simple and easy.



Now, as they walked through the graveyard, Buffy was glad to be alone with Spike. Although she and the vampire had a longstanding love-hate relationship that equally excited and disgusted Buffy, the Slayer was unable completely to dissociate herself from her former lover and sometimes-enemy. Their relationship was complex--and, to Buffy, at least--disgusting. She hated herself for not totally hating Spike. Having feelings for the undead was, well, unhealthy, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. There was, within the platinum-blonde, Sid Vicious look-alike, something dark. There was also something dark within Buffy, and she didn't like to think about that. When she was with Spike, especially when she was fucking him, it was hard to repress her knowledge that, in the depths of her being, there was a darkness that was not altogether unlike the blackness at the bottom of the vampire's heart. Buffy knew that she was good, but she also understood that, as with all opposites, there was a thin line between good and evil.



The couple wended their way among the headstones, many of the names upon which Buffy knew, because of the inordinate amount of time she'd spent in this city of the dead. Buffy was glad when she spied the familiar mausoleum in which Spike made his home. She wanted Spike, but she wanted him quickly. Then, she could find Willow, and maybe--after she and her best friend had had sex with one another--the witch could find a spell that would remove her male genitals. She wasn't concerned that Spike might discover that, in addition to her breasts, her womanly buttocks, and her pussy, Buffy now also possessed a cock and a pair of balls. She'd get him all hot and bothered and then suck his cock; once he'd gotten his rocks off, Spike wouldn't think about Buffy anymore. When it came to sex, Spike was totally into his own needs.



At the mausoleum, Spike made a show of standing aside so that Buffy could enter the tomb before him, which might have been pleasant had she not known that such gestures were more ironic, or even sarcastic, than they were sincere and chivalrous. Nevertheless, she smiled at him, playing the game, and stepped into the crypt's dark interior. It was cool inside, and there was, despite Spike's repeated efforts to deodorize the tomb, a slight odor of decay that, Buffy thought, wrinkling her nose, did absolutely nothing to create a romantic mood.



Turning to face him, Buffy told the vampire, "I want your cock."



Spike smiled. "Let's not waste a moment on foreplay."



Buffy knelt before him. Reaching around his thighs, her hands held his ass cheeks.



Spike unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, tugging them down, over his hips and thighs, past his knees and calves, to let them drop in a heap around his ankles. His cock stiffened and swelled before Buffy's eyes, and she smiled to see how quickly and fully the vampire's manhood became erect. He must have drunk plenty of blood of late, to have his penis fill with the vital fluid so quickly and completely.



Hungrily, Buffy took his prick into her mouth, letting the wide circle of her lips slide down the smooth, stiff shaft, all the way to the vampire's balls. Spike moaned, watching her blonde head as it bobbed up and down.



Buffy loved to suck cock. She'd had plenty of practice, too, not only with Spike but also with Angel, Riley Finn, and even Xander Harris, although only she and Xander knew about their occasional trysts.



She loved the way Spike's penis lurched and strained within the ring of her lips and thrust back and forth inside the warm-soft-wetness of her mouth. She loved the silky skin of his risen scrotum, which had become taut and small at the base of his prick. She loved the way his fleshly member went, magically, as it seemed, from soft and limp to hard and stiff. She loved her power to transform his impotent little penis into a huge, omnipotent erection that would spew his seed from the depths of his balls. Her ability to make Spike weak in the knees, to make him almost swoon from overwhelming ecstasy, and to make him ejaculate in spastic, frenzied passion made her as much his mistress as her power to beat him to a bloody pulp or even to kill him if she wished. Buffy had learned that sex, like everything else in life, was more about power than it was about love. Maybe that's why, when it came to sex, Buffy liked a little monster in her man, when possible, settling for guys like Riley or Xander only when someone like Angel or Spike was unavailable. There was something forbidden, even bestial, about fucking one of the undead.



Spike groaned, his thighs quivering and his hips bucking. Buffy plunged her open mouth down the vampire's saliva-slick cock until her nose and cheeks were firmly pressed into the vampire's lower belly. Holding the back of her head, Spike surrendered to the flood of passion that swept through his loins. He closed his eyes, threw back his head, and howled as jet after thick, cold jet of his viscid semen launched from his balls and filled the reservoir of the Slayer's mouth. Buffy swallowed again and again, drinking the vampire's salty seed. She held his member inside her mouth until he'd spent himself and his cock had dwindled back to its normal, flaccid state. Best of all about sucking a vamp's cock was that doing so resulted in a flood of ice-cold semen. Like other demonic creatures, vampires' seed was freezing rather than warm, even if they'd filled their veins with a human's blood moments before sex. The iciness of Spike's semen was terribly exciting, reminding Buffy, as it did, that she wasn't having sex with another human being, but with one who shunned the light and the warmth of the sun and skulked among the sepulchers of the dead. There was something perverse about swallowing semen that was freezing cold, something that suggested necrophilia.



"You suck cock better than anyone," Spike said, watching the last drop of his semen drip from the tip of his purple glans.



"Better than Drusilla?"



Spike nodded.



"Better than Darla?"



Again, the vampire nodded.



"Better than Angel?"



Spike frowned, an angry look on his pale face. "What the hell are you implying?" he demanded.



Buffy shrugged, considering him with her most innocent, wide-eyed look. "That Angel's a cocksucker?"



"Bloody hell!"



"Oh, don't act so outraged, Spike. You and Angel have been close for a couple centuries. You guys must have--"



"Get out!"



"Am I better than Angel, Spike?"



"Get out of my bloody home, you depraved bitch."



She stared at him, offering him a haughty smile. "Why don't you throw me out?"



Spike started toward her, and Buffy kicked him in the groin. The vampire screamed, falling to his knees as he clutched his balls.



Buffy left him there, kneeling before her, as, a moment before, she had knelt before him. She smiled at his pain. "See you later, lover."



It felt good, leaving him that way. After all, although he was a lover (when it was convenient to her and she was needy), he was also one of the undead and, as such, he was also as much an enemy as he was a friend--and she, whatever else she might be, was a Slayer.



Faith, the reformed renegade Slayer, had gotten it right when it came to "men" like Spike: "get some, and get gone." Now, having "gotten some," it was time for Buffy to "get gone" to Willow's place. In the doorway, she paused to blow Spike a kiss. Then, she stepped back into the starry, warm southern California night.



A moment later, the vampire recovered enough from the pain in his groin to utter, through clenched teeth, a single-word retort: "Bitch!"



By then, though, Buffy was long gone.



<i>. . . to be continued. . . .</i> 

