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My Futa Vampire 3 (Sample)
🕑 Added 2024-02-16 09:47:28 +0000 UTCThe clone-tastic conclusion of the size-loving couple's tale. Here, Camille is forced to reckon with the danger that she's dealing with, dating a shapeshifting vampire. But she's determined to make it to a happy ending, even (or especially!) if she has to drown in growing futa clones to get there!
I posted this simultaniously with part 2 because I'm dumb and forgot about it, but Part 3 came out today! Please give it a look; I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
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Some things are worth a little death.
It was my fault. I got too greedy, pushed too far. But how could I not? A gorgeous vampire girlfriend, willingly shaping her body to my deepest desires? Even a Saint couldn’t resist that temptation—and I’m anything but. So when I found that I could have two of her in my bed at once? Three? More? I wanted to drown in her towering futa twins and nothing in the world could have stopped me.
Except, perhaps, dying.
Maybe that’s why mortals don’t usually date the undead. But I’m no quitter—and I’ll make our relationship work, even if it kills me.
This 6,900 word story contains the following: Futa on Female, Huge Futanari, Transformation, Growth/Expansion (Curves/Endowments/Mild Muscle), Size Kink (Mini-Giantess), Twins/Clones, Power Play.
Get it on Amazon. (And please leave a review/rating!)
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She came to me as I drifted between life and death. My lover. My Velvet. Out of the formless mist of my mind, she gave shape to my desires, plucking me from the void and into her arms.
Was I dreaming? I couldn’t tell. I floated in the middle of nothing until she appeared; and when she did, everything else ceased to matter. Those alluring, red eyes, the black, luscious lips; curled at one end with a touch of sly amusement at how obviously I wanted her. I didn’t care about her sharp fangs, her towering stature, her dangerous strength. Or rather, I did care: I loved her for it, loved how beauty and risk came together in harmony in her form, joining into my ideal lover. She could force me to do anything—and she would never need to, because I’d never tell her no.
Her body took shape as I looked upon her, a blurry silhouette snapping into focus before me. Gorgeous and pale-skinned, Velvet stood naked before me, graciously allowing my eyes to drink their fill. She was at once curvaceous and muscular, her limbs toned and defined on a hyper-feminine body, with slender shoulders, wide hips, and massive, shapely breasts. There was not an inch of her that I wouldn’t gladly pepper with kisses. The thought naturally drew my attention downwards, towards the forbidden prize between her legs:
Her cock. Her enormous, outrageously fat girlcock. Only a supernatural being could be that indulgently endowed, hung almost to her knees, and armed with such a heavy set of nuts that I couldn’t help but fear (and hope) that they might one day drown me in their love. She was plucked straight from my deepest fantasies and I couldn’t help but quiver as she started to grow hard, her heavy, pulsing throbs sending shivers down my spine (and between my legs).
Velvet leaned down and kissed my cheek, her warm, sultry lips leaving a tingle upon my skin. Was she taller than usual? She looked that way, towering above me. even on my toes, my kisses could not hope to reach her face, let alone her neck or shoulders. This observation only made me wetter, of course—especially when it left me in the happy circumstance that her gorgeous breasts were presented to me at eye level, enveloping my face as she hugged me once more.
“Velvet…” I mumbled, squirming in place. Pressed to her body, wrapped in her strong arms, I couldn’t help but hyper-focus on the touch of her cock between my legs, the uncompromising firmness and the sheer, erotic heat of her hardening shaft slipping between my thighs to rest its veiny girth against my slit. My hands scrambled blindly over her back, finding only more firm muscles and rounded curves to fuel my growing lust.
“Yes, sweetling?” Velvet replied, her voice low and sensuous. It came from all around me at once, a tone that would’ve left me willing and obedient any day. She ran her thick, pulsing shaft back and forth, her strong, elegant fingers grasping my ass and lifting me off the ground—a feat that I couldn’t help but wonder if her penis could achieve on its own.
“Where… are we?” My speech was as sluggish as my mind, each word feeling strange and unfamiliar on my tongue. The fog still lingered at the edge of my vision. She was all that was clear to me, my personal goddess, as pale and seductive as the moonlight. But though she dominated my senses with her touch and heat and scent, another impression rose in the back of my mind, fighting through the haze of lust to deliver another message to me: a sense of foreboding.
I heard voices, music, the clinking of glasses. A wall materialized behind Velvet, raw brick covered with worn posters for punk and metal gigs. At the edge of my vision, I saw people drinking and laughing over bottles of beer, indistinct faces and long shadows in a a dimly lit venue. The shadows surrounded my Amazonian lover, adorning her like a cloak of inky blackness. The semblance of modesty did nothing to diminish her raw erotic aura, however, and her iron-hard cock only felt stronger, hotter, and bigger between my legs. I, on the other hand, was painfully aware of being naked in the middle of a crowded bar, my face burning bright at the prospect of having sex in front of a dozen random people.
“Velvet, please! Not here!” I hissed. “They’ll see!”
“So?” came her laconic reply, her teasing smile hovering above me. If she was at all moved by the prospect of pounding me in public—or indeed, our otherworldly transportation to the grungy bar—she did not show it. “I thought you wanted to show me off. Are you ashamed of me? Of being with a vampire?”
“There’s showing off and there’s getting arrested for public indecency! Don’t you play that card with me.” I was aware of movement behind me, but being held in my lover’s hands, straddling her cock and smothered in her tits, I could only catch glimpses of the shadowy figures leering at us. I redoubled my squirming and twisting, though of course I could never escape her iron grip—nor could I truly find it in me to pull away from her fat, juicy erection.
“Gods, of all the times for you to develop an exhibitionist streak…”
“This is all you,” she replied, her low, sultry voice thrumming through me. “You wanted wilder. You wanted more. No matter the consequences.”
“A threesome with a pair of hung futa hotties isn’t the same as inviting a throng of strangers into my bedroom!” I said hotly. Behind me, I heard steps approaching. “Velvet, come on…!”
“But I’m not a stranger,” the unseen woman behind me said and put her face against the nape of my neck, her breath hot and alluring as she left a trail of kisses on my shivering skin. “Don’t you recognize me?”
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. But Velvet was in front of me, holding me up in her strong, shapely arms—so why did I feel her lips against the back of my neck, whispering sweet nothings into my ear?
Velvet did not play coy about the fact that there was two of her for long. The vampire behind me turned my head and pulled me into a savage kiss, leaving no doubt about her identity, as the ‘first’ copy of her continued to squeeze my ass, her monstrous cock shaking me to the core with its every powerful throb against my clit.
Fuck. There was so much of her. She overwhelmed my senses with her touch, her voice, her scent, a pair of curvaceous futa goddesses sandwiching me between their naked bodies. And with every deliriously lustful through rattling through my head, every new sensation that made me gasp and shudder, I felt her grow more, still: taller, bustier, and more maddeningly hung.
“Velvet…” I mumbled, as her tongue left me a moment’s reprieve. Her face loomed above me, as if cut from marble; her black, sensuous lips tempting me at every turn, her very gaze threatening to destabilize my attempt to think straight. Her cock rubbed against my back, its impossible size making me shiver. But, drowning as I was in carnal fantasy, the sense of dreamy disorientation still nagged at me with the sense that something was terribly wrong. I had forgotten something important from the night before, and the more I tried to focus on it, the deeper that thorn of worry wedged itself into my mind.
“Velvet,” I repeated, “why are we doing this here? This isn’t your place, your bedroom. It’s…”
I finally had a revelation, recognizing my surrounding. Absinthe’s bar! Of course! The sexy blonde vampire from the night before; the very one we had a steamy threesome with. The last thing that I could remember…
I twisted myself sideways, hoping to see her at the bar, certain that she could restore my memory. But though the dreamy fog receded, I did not find her face among the indistinct figures who stepped out of the shadows and, one by one, revealed themselves to be none other than my lover.
Velvet, in the dozens. As tall and enticing as ever, wearing naught but the strands of inky blackness. She approached me, surrounded me. How could I ever have failed to recognize her?
“Forget about her,” Velvet’s voice intoned all around me, a curvaceous coven of clones. “Forget everything.”
She was everywhere I turned to look, her wry smiles looking down at me, albeit with a new, unsettling touch of malevolence that I had never before seen in her. My heart hammered it my chest and I froze, utterly helpless in her arms.
“Velvet…” I pleaded, looking up at the ring of implacable faces.
She was always so stoic; I’m the one who had to pull out her monstrous side. And yet, now, I found myself yearning to slam that drawer shut, seal her up nice and tight and go back to nothing but a good, chaste cuddle.
But there was no turning back. Her embrace was a prison, her love a threat. Above, I saw her fangs gleam terribly in the half light, her lips running red with blood. My blood.
“Your desires carry a steep price, sweetling. I warned you. Again and again. And yet you keep demanding more.”
“No…” I whispered, fighting my rising panic. “That’s not what I meant!”
And yet more of her kept appearing, larger, curvier, fiercer.
“My love,” she said, full of melancholy, “It can end no other way.”
Her fangs descended upon me.
