The Beast and The Lamb
Content WarningThe following story contains themes of blood, gore, death, and NSFW content. So in other words, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Cass «Owly» Python, 2024-08-03Twilight has broken like the first night Blackbird is sleeping like a still lamb Praise for the silence Praise for the moon Praise for the beast that walks the land With sheer intent in his eyes, the foul creature looked at the moon in the sky. It was beautiful, he was also beautiful in his own way. This was his land, he knew it so well, he was a friend of the night. This was his domain. He stood tall, an all-but-naked creature, only covered with blood on his lips. He scanned the fields for movement. A rabbit. An owl. A wolf. Anything. Anything was all he needed to sink his teeth into - to strike. He pressed his body low to the ground, unmoving in an almost dead-like state. The beast was neither alive nor dead right now as his eyes flicked through the darker-than-black hills. Then his eyes stopped. There it was. A lamb. A poor little lamb would be his next victim. The creature of wrath stood tall in the nighttime behind a silent church whose only noise was the wind blowing between the gravestones that he walked past on all fours. The grass was cool against the palms of his hands and soft on his feet. The boy's heart was racing at the sheer thrill of the game. The game of the chase that only he knew he was playing. Now leaving the church, he took one last look at the forever-smiling gargoyles. He smiled back. They would be his only witness to his upcoming magnum opus. Moving between the trees, his fangs were begging to taste more blood to sustain his lust. He was so close to the upcoming farmland that he could already taste the flesh. His mind was racing as he paused to kneel on the fallen leaves, he moved his hands to his chest as he felt his tummy rise up and down. Up and down, up and down. The creature moved these wet hands over his body now, one moving to his breasts, the other to his cunt as his fingers slipped inside of his undead body. He loved this. He wanted, no, needed to be covered in blood. He shivered picturing the thought of a person walking upon him right now, seeing such a foul act of him changing his skin from a corpse white to that of a sinful red. It felt amazing to know that his last victim was now over his body. He moved his hands to his nose as he took in a deep whiff. The iron. The iron smell was electric to him, but the blood was running thin. He needed more. He needed more now. Going back on all fours, he made his way to a wooden gate as he wrapped his arms around it, almost becoming a part of the object as he began to peek over to see it. To see the lamb. It was only Spring; the four-legged animal would only be young. He began to slowly move through the stile gate, leaving his greeting card; the blood of his last meal on the wood. He was low on the ground, walking so slow, but with determination in his eyes as he slowly started to see the lamb's fur appear over the horizon, like a ship over the ocean. Grabbing the lamb from the back of the creature's neck, he struck the poor thing down, with only one last noise of fear coming out. He drank the blood like he had never drank before, the rush in him felt like a drug as the sound of static in his head grew the loudest it had ever been before. The blood ran down his naked body as it covered him. His leg spazzed up and down as the life blood was drained. Enjoyment was all he felt as he became full. He let go of the lamb now, looking at the drained creature on the ground. So still soft, he thought as he ran the back of his hand over the face of the baby. Standing up, his body was dirty with blood and mud as he looked up at the sky, breathing out of his mouth, he could taste the iron of the red liquid. The noise in his head was so loud now, like a binder on his body getting tighter, he needed to scream as his panting got louder. The clouds softly passed by as he closed his eyes and smiled as blood ran down from his mouth over his body. He wanted to be like this. Killing made Pitt the Bat become more alive than ever. He was an issue that needed to be dealt with. He was fearless. He was a wild beast. Pitt felt the cold night air pass him by, his matted blond hair started to cover his face, and then the gods of storytelling looked down upon our hero; out inside of the woods, he heard something amazing. He heard the sound of wolves howling at the moon. He started to run towards the thunderous noise of Hell itself breaking loose like a choir, he joined in on the heavenly sounds of the animals awooing. This was it. This was his Valhalla, his pleasuredome of noise struck the Earth like atom bombs as the other wolves heard the beast's cry, announcing to the world that he was here, right now. The animals heard him. The rabbits. The owls. The wolfs. Anything. Everything. God Himself heard him as he ripped apart the sky with his noise of pure unleashed poetic sound of his vampire horror. Pitt the Bat was alive and stronger than ever before, no more was he shy, or weak, or anything else, oh no, he was a titan. He was alive and he was death incarnate. The gods looked down at our Pitt, knowing that this was the genesis of something amazing for him. |