FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

[Warning! Contains very graphic content such as rape, blood and death.]

It is a world of Darkness. The Sin of Cain has spawned the cursed horror that stalks the night in search of living blood. The Kindred have longed in a secret influence, through all ages of human history, plotting against eachother in a neverending jihad. Their immortal proginy are among us to this day. Hidden from the eyes of humanity by the Masquerade.

---

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Emma's voice was fragile and crisp, her breath fast, almost hyperventilating. "Hey, I already told you to relax twice. I've done this a hundred times. Now lay down." Sarah commanded. Emma looked around her. She was feeling very uneasy now. Something was terribly wrong, she could feel it in every limb, in every little strand of hair. There were candles, so many candles. On the floor, on the table around the stretcher, on shelves all over the place. There were signs, dark runes of a language she could not comprehend, written in blood all over the place. On the table, on the walls, around every pathway in and / or out of here. And there was the bowl of goat blood. Fermented as it was it filled the dark room to the brim with a sulfuric stench. She felt pearls of sweat run down her forhead, but she could not tell if she was hot or cold. Her heartbeat raised even more and suddenly she felt afraid, so very afraid. Her chin started shaking as her eyes teared up and she desperately tried to hide her sobs by inhaling deeply. "Lay down!" The command lashed from Sarahs tongue like a whip. Emma whimpered but nodded, tears now running down her pale face. What had she gotten into? What was this? It had seemed cool at first. Exciting. Something new and bold. It had felt so good so shut her parents up by being the bad little girl they feared so much. She had never meant it, it had all been a game to her. But now the game had backlashed upon her, and there was no way to step back now. She had to go through with it. She had to go through. She had to.

She carefully climbed up the table, or the Altar as they called it, and laid down. The metal was cold as ice, and she could feel it suck out the warmth and life of her body. She regretted herself now, but it was too late. It was either this, or they would have her instead. This was the only way she would come back out alive. She turned her head to look at him, try to find the slightest piece of empathy in him. But all he did was stare back. Stare and smile. His eyes were gleaming of a frightening insanity, almost on fire out of excitement for what was about to come. As Sarah loomed over her, she started crying. She could no longer hold back. "Please, please!" She cired. "Please! I dont want to do this anymore! Please!" "Shush darling rose." Sarah said back with her softest voice as she unsheathed the ceremonial dagger. "Please, please, pleeeaaaseeeh..." Emmas beggings for mercy toned out into sobbing groans as she realized things had gotten totally out of hand. Sarah held the dagger with both hands as she closed her eyes and started to speak phrases in latin. Emma panicked. Throwing herself up in a attempt to get away, but at once they were all around her, the dark cloaks covering their faces, only a tiny gleaming light that reflected their eyes - their eyes gleaming for bloodlust. They pinned her down as she screamed and squirmed, wriggled and attempted to wrestle her way out. "Shush and stay put, darling." Sarah said, before she completed the latin phrases with "Ave Satani" and let the dagger pierce through Emmas round and swollen belly. Her screams bounced off the cold dark stone walls and returned to her, ringing in her own ears. She kept screaming while the dagger cut her belly open all the way and she could feel warm floods of blood cover her body. Through her tearfilled eyes, she could see Sarah hold up her unborn baby, moving its tiny limbs, it was still alive. She longed for it - to feel it, to hug it, to hold it tight - she didnt even know if it was a boy or girl.Sarah carried the infant over to the bowl of fermented goat blood, and it started to cry. Tiny tiny cries of a baby so small - and destined to die. And then Sarah pressed the babies crying face down into the bowl of fermented blood, and Emma could hear the squeaks and bubbles as it screamed itself to asphyxiation - drowned in blood. And then a dark mass came over her as Matt - the insane father of the child - laid on top of her. He licked her pale sweaty face, and as she cried and howled in sorrow and desperation, she could feel his rock hard shaft force her nethers apart and enter her, hard and deep. He groaned as he thrusted himself into her, meanwhile the others had broken into a dark hymn chorus, a few of them cheering him on. He grabbed her bloodied tits and squeezed them hard until he came inside her with a grunt. In the corner of her eye she saw some of her guts and intestants having been squeezed out of her open wound and now laying on the cold stone floor. She knew she was lost. Unredeemed. She knew where she was going next. There was no turning back from there. Or perhaps, she was already there.

As Matt smeared his smudgy dick over her lips and pushing it into her mouth to rub it off against her tongue, she had already began to grow cold. Her eyes were empty. And there was only Darkness.

---

5 years later, Los Angeles, California

It was a late night in the shady excuse for a club he was in. Not that he could complain much, at least they gave him pay and free drinks. Ever since the event it had been almost impossible to get jobs. He sighed for himself where he sat on a stool by the bar, and downed the last of the cheap beer he had got and decided that perhaps it was time to go home for the night.The club (called Fuzzbawl) was small and located in the basement of a warehouse near Santa Monica Pier. It was excluded from the regular night life, and only people who searched for trouble or wealth through unnamely methods would visit here. It was small, dark and dirty. The atmosphere was very warm and had a tingling smell of puke, not to mention the smell near the restrooms. Most lamps in the cieling were broken, but the red light emitting from the stage and the bar was usually enough, at least as guiding-light. 2 junkies, a girl whom claimed to be 19 but who he was sure was not a bit older than 17 recieved some pills in a zip bag from the other one; a guy, strained and skinny and looking to be around 35. She would pay him $50 from her bra which he stuffed in the chest pocked of his open shirt, before she went down on her knees in the dark. The bobbing of her head up and down made it obvious she had signed up to pay off the rest through "work".

He turned his head to the left. There was the bar which he now rested his arm on, and the bartender; a chubby bald guy in his 40s who - judgning by the large blacked out inks - was a ex-biker or ex-member of the Aryan Brotherhood. His name was Stewie. Creepy guy but never was interested in other people's business, he kept to himself - except for a cheap prostitute now and then. The bar itsself was made of dark wood, now scratched and torn through years of efficient use and brawls.

He turned his head to the right. There was the dance floor, filled with drunk and probably high people, and on the far side of the room the small stairs leading up to the wardrobe and the exit. The dance floor was not overly filled with people, probably no more than 30, yet the small area made it look as if it was a popular hotspot filled with people. One person stood out. She was closer to him than the others. Her light brown hair in pigtails and her deep tired eyes combined with her pale skin made her look sickly and strained - most likely another junkie. But what creeped him out was that her eyes were dead. She stood there dancing for herself, lost in the trance music, but yet she was not there. It was like whatever soul had lived inside her had moved out years ago but forgot the lights on. It gave him a eerie feeling.

Now it was time to make a desicion of what to do.