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BABY, I’M NOT A MONSTER
Gay Vampire & Other Paranormal Erotica
Gay erotica you can really sink your teeth into.
If
around 10 per cent of the male population is gay then it stands to
reason 10 per cent of vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and other
paranormals must lean toward a predilection for their own gender. This
volume of erotica explores the world of gay male ‘monsters’: from a
dentist who treats a vampire with a fang problem, through a young man
who has the annoying ghost of his favorite gay porn star living in his
wardrobe, to an Icelandic troll who finds a new career on a gay cruise
ship as a Viking stripper. These and other stories, told with Barry
Lowe’s infectious good humor, will give you shivers of hot pleasure.
**
This Complete Digital Edition includes – The Vampire’s Guide to Dental
Hygiene, Stupid Cupid, Pride & Joy, My Dad’s a Vampire, Gadigal,
Guys & Trolls and Seeing Things – All originally published as
individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica.**
Excerpt
From The Vampire’s Guide to Dental Hygiene
The
dark, deserted, and pot-holed car park was no place to linger at any
time; let alone at night. I shuddered that I had been reduced to this.
When I decided on dentistry as a career, there was the prospect of a
rapid rise up the ranks of the middle classes followed by a comfortable
middle age and fulfillment in my senior years. But it seems people’s
teeth, and the care thereof, feature very low on the rungs of the ladder
of necessities when money is tight.
Silly really, considering a good set of chompers is essential to good health as well as the ability to savor one’s food, be it succulent home-cooked, restaurant-prepared or even the ubiquitous take-away meals that prevail today. But when dental hygiene costs as much as a plumber or electrician, then a trip to the dentist is going to slip to the bottom of the Must Do pile. Especially as only the most tooth conscious or masochistic are going to actually enjoy a dental visit. Unless the oral emergency is life threatening people shunt it aside in favor of more important everyday items, such as eating or paying rent and utility bills.
It seemed a good idea when I moved into the area to set up my practice. There was not another dentist within a twenty kilometer radius which should have told me something, I guess. Plus the suburb was relentlessly depressed. House prices were tumbling, crime was on the increase, repossessions and evictions rife. I was egotistical enough that I thought I could make it work. Now I knew how wrong I was.
Even more wrong was my choice to set up in the far from choice Brookston Mall, home to a fast food outlet that hedged its bets by selling chicken and burgers as well as noodles and curry, and a pharmacy with reinforced steel bars across its shopfront and a huge sign that declared No Drugs of Addiction or Cash Left on Premises. The sign was all-too-true as the owners had left the premises vacant months earlier, tired of the constant muggings and attempted robberies in the area. There was also a forlorn convenience store that sold essentials such as cigarettes and sugary soft drinks but very little in the way of nutritious foodstuffs, and a DVD hire where the shelves were lined with horror movies and teen sex comedies, a fitting comment on the tastes of the denizens who dared patronize the otherwise boarded up shops.
Bill who ran the DVD rental business was the only retailer who dared remain open after dark, mainly because his customers were usually the ones who lay in wait for the more defenseless souls in the darkened car park. I had won a sort of immunity from the gang leaders, having patched up a number of mouths that had come in contact with baseball bats or other sporting equipment – not on the fields of endeavor but rather on the streets where most major gladiatorial battles took place. I asked no questions, merely got on with the job at hand. There were still a few rogue elements, however, and I could never be sure they wouldn’t mistake me for an easy target.
I avoided the mall after dark as far as possible but this particular evening I needed to collect important paperwork which I wanted to examine at home. As things stood it looked as if I would be another casualty of the economic climate within the month if my practice did not pick up and the likelihood of that happening was on a par with Doris Day making a comeback.
There was something spooky about the above-ground car park, the lights barely illuminating the gloom. I locked the car, striding quickly toward the darkened mouth of the arcade where my dental surgery lay. There was enough light pulsing from Video asty, the proprietor had never bothered to fix the N after it burned out, for me to see my way to the reinforced door of my shopfront. The plate glass bore the declaration that this was a DENTAL SURGERY, in large bold capitals, below which my name and qualifications were tastefully inscribed in gold lettering using a clean modern typeface. I’d escaped the more outrageous vandalism inflicted on the mall, having replaced the glass frontage only once after a break-in, and the only graffiti was the spray painted Jameel is a wanker down the tiles on the wall dividing my premises from those next door. Some of the lettering had splashed over onto my glass frontage but my attitude was that if it upset Jameel, let him clean it up.
Inside I was rifling through the desk in my consultation room when I heard the bell above the front door jingle. I could have kicked myself. In the hurry to get in and out, the security was such a complicated bugger I didn’t want to have to go through it twice, I had left the door unlocked. I’d also left the waiting room light blazing which must have been an open invitation to Rob Me.
Quickly picking up the cricket bat that I kept handy for such eventualities, I summoned up the courage to confront my would-be tormentors. Having the element of surprise in my favor, I switched off the desk light and crept toward the door, wrenching it open and launching myself into the waiting room with a loud and, I hoped, fearsome cry. I guessed I looked more like a frightened dickhead than a formidable opponent.
I did succeed in my intention, however, as the young man sitting patiently in one of the uncomfortable molded plastic waiting room chairs dropped the magazine he was flipping through to raise his hands to his face. He had that startled expression of a chook with its head cut off.
In the split second or so it took me to appraise the situation I realized he was actually a patient who had mistaken my surgery hours because the light was on. It was an easy surmise as his mouth was covered in blood which was still bubbling from between his lips. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like terror and shot to his feet ready to bolt. I dropped the bat, my eyes glued to his wound. The poor chap must have noticed my preoccupation and that I had dropped my weapon for he sat down with a look of utter defeat in his eyes.
Hoping I was conveying sympathy after my look of horror, I mumbled, “You poor bastard, what have they done to you?” I led him back to the surgery. This time I did remember to lock the door in case his attackers were still in the neighborhood, and switch off the waiting room light. I helped him into the chair and donned gloves and glasses before turning my attention to his plight.
“Can you open your mouth?” I asked.
Grimacing in pain, he opened up slightly. From a quick observation, the volume of blood obscured a thorough examination, it probably looked worse than it was although at this stage I didn’t understand where all the blood was coming from.
“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry,” I said as I began spraying saline solution into his mouth. He jerked a little at the initial contact but trusted me enough to go with it. Poking and prodding, scraping as gently as I could, I cleaned out his mouth then told him to rinse and spit. I was puzzled. His teeth were in fairly poor shape even apart from a plaque build-up and the beginnings of a cavity or two, but there was no sign of the source of the copious amounts of blood. One explanation that occurred to me but which I banished from my mind as far too fanciful for the 21st century was that he’d been snacking on a live animal.
Putting the instruments down, I righted the chair to take a good look at my patient now that I'd cleaned the blood from around his lips and chin. An involuntary gasp escaped my lips. He was a young man of exquisite beauty, his skin paler than I would have expected for the hot southern climate. He wore black clothing in the style of Goth and emo youth but his black shirt, now unfortunately stained with blood, hugged his body to reveal he had definition while his tight black jeans clung to a surprisingly inviting package. He wore a pair of fashionable leather boots with chains dangling around the ankle. He was a magnificent creature. I’m ashamed to say a primitive urge stirred my loins.
He must have seen me examine him almost forensically for he smiled and, in that moment, I was quite giddy with desire. I never allowed myself this sort of familiarity with my patients, it was highly unprofessional, but it was almost as if I were hypnotized by this succulent stranger.
I managed to drag my professional face back with great difficulty.
“I don’t know what happened but your teeth are fine. I pity the other guy; it must have been his blood. Were you attacked?”
He nodded. “A group of them. They bashed me with a metal bar.” He lifted his shirt and I saw the red slash across his stomach which was threatening to become a nasty bruise.
“Would you like me to call the police?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. The people who attacked me will be long gone. I managed to bite one of them in the neck before they fled; otherwise I believe they would have killed me.”
“Look,” I said kindly. “You’re probably a bit shaken. Would you like me to make you a coffee or tea? Or something stronger. I have brandy in my drawer.” Shit, I suppose I shouldn’t have offered alcohol without knowing the extent of his injuries.
“That’s very kind,” he said. He had a peculiar old-fashioned manner of speaking which probably attracted unwarranted attention. I watched as he seemed to struggle with something that was bothering him. “You seem like a kind man, and I have to trust someone or I will die.”
“I like to think I’m a nice man as you put it,” although I was glad he couldn’t read my mind and see what I would like to do to his body while he lay in my chair.
“I can, you know,” he said.
“Can what?”
“Read your mind.”
Oh no, I had a crazy in my chair. This was bound to end badly.
He smiled. “No, I’m not crazy.”
That was just a fluke.
“It wasn’t a fluke.”
I’m actually home in bed dreaming or I’ve been the victim of a mugging and I’m lying in the gutter hallucinating.
“Neither dreaming nor hallucinating.” He put his hand up to stop me. “Look we can keep this up all night but you’re never going to believe me. But please believe this. I am in incredible pain and if you can’t help me I will surely die.”
I switched my brain off to concentrate on his needs.
“Okay, doc. Thanks for that at least.”
“I’m not a doctor, I’m a dentist, so if there’s anything medical you need that’s not to do with your teeth I’m afraid I won’t be able to help. You need to go to a hospital.”
“It’s to do with my teeth,” he mumbled.
The way he flinched and fingered his jaw as he spoke convinced me there was indeed a problem – unlike me to miss something.
“I guess we were destined to meet because I’ve been driving around looking for help when I noticed your light on. Providence.”
I wish we’d met under better circumstances. A gay bar or something.
“Me, too,” he said.
I shook my head, bemused by the stranger’s ability to second guess my thoughts.
“I think I’m perilously close to passing out from the pain. I will have to trust you. Either way, you are my last resort. I ask that you keep my presence here a secret until I can explain. You are in no danger.”
“I promise. Now, lie back, so I can take another look.”
“You will be surprised but I reiterate you are in no danger. Please believe me.”
“Open.”
He opened his mouth. I watched as he reluctantly concentrated and revealed all. It took me a few seconds to work out that the volume of blood gushing into his mouth came from a broken tooth that he had retracted into the roof of his mouth. I was so shocked I reeled back. My chair skidded across the highly polished vinyl flooring, crashing against the cupboard on the other side of the room.
Silly really, considering a good set of chompers is essential to good health as well as the ability to savor one’s food, be it succulent home-cooked, restaurant-prepared or even the ubiquitous take-away meals that prevail today. But when dental hygiene costs as much as a plumber or electrician, then a trip to the dentist is going to slip to the bottom of the Must Do pile. Especially as only the most tooth conscious or masochistic are going to actually enjoy a dental visit. Unless the oral emergency is life threatening people shunt it aside in favor of more important everyday items, such as eating or paying rent and utility bills.
It seemed a good idea when I moved into the area to set up my practice. There was not another dentist within a twenty kilometer radius which should have told me something, I guess. Plus the suburb was relentlessly depressed. House prices were tumbling, crime was on the increase, repossessions and evictions rife. I was egotistical enough that I thought I could make it work. Now I knew how wrong I was.
Even more wrong was my choice to set up in the far from choice Brookston Mall, home to a fast food outlet that hedged its bets by selling chicken and burgers as well as noodles and curry, and a pharmacy with reinforced steel bars across its shopfront and a huge sign that declared No Drugs of Addiction or Cash Left on Premises. The sign was all-too-true as the owners had left the premises vacant months earlier, tired of the constant muggings and attempted robberies in the area. There was also a forlorn convenience store that sold essentials such as cigarettes and sugary soft drinks but very little in the way of nutritious foodstuffs, and a DVD hire where the shelves were lined with horror movies and teen sex comedies, a fitting comment on the tastes of the denizens who dared patronize the otherwise boarded up shops.
Bill who ran the DVD rental business was the only retailer who dared remain open after dark, mainly because his customers were usually the ones who lay in wait for the more defenseless souls in the darkened car park. I had won a sort of immunity from the gang leaders, having patched up a number of mouths that had come in contact with baseball bats or other sporting equipment – not on the fields of endeavor but rather on the streets where most major gladiatorial battles took place. I asked no questions, merely got on with the job at hand. There were still a few rogue elements, however, and I could never be sure they wouldn’t mistake me for an easy target.
I avoided the mall after dark as far as possible but this particular evening I needed to collect important paperwork which I wanted to examine at home. As things stood it looked as if I would be another casualty of the economic climate within the month if my practice did not pick up and the likelihood of that happening was on a par with Doris Day making a comeback.
There was something spooky about the above-ground car park, the lights barely illuminating the gloom. I locked the car, striding quickly toward the darkened mouth of the arcade where my dental surgery lay. There was enough light pulsing from Video asty, the proprietor had never bothered to fix the N after it burned out, for me to see my way to the reinforced door of my shopfront. The plate glass bore the declaration that this was a DENTAL SURGERY, in large bold capitals, below which my name and qualifications were tastefully inscribed in gold lettering using a clean modern typeface. I’d escaped the more outrageous vandalism inflicted on the mall, having replaced the glass frontage only once after a break-in, and the only graffiti was the spray painted Jameel is a wanker down the tiles on the wall dividing my premises from those next door. Some of the lettering had splashed over onto my glass frontage but my attitude was that if it upset Jameel, let him clean it up.
Inside I was rifling through the desk in my consultation room when I heard the bell above the front door jingle. I could have kicked myself. In the hurry to get in and out, the security was such a complicated bugger I didn’t want to have to go through it twice, I had left the door unlocked. I’d also left the waiting room light blazing which must have been an open invitation to Rob Me.
Quickly picking up the cricket bat that I kept handy for such eventualities, I summoned up the courage to confront my would-be tormentors. Having the element of surprise in my favor, I switched off the desk light and crept toward the door, wrenching it open and launching myself into the waiting room with a loud and, I hoped, fearsome cry. I guessed I looked more like a frightened dickhead than a formidable opponent.
I did succeed in my intention, however, as the young man sitting patiently in one of the uncomfortable molded plastic waiting room chairs dropped the magazine he was flipping through to raise his hands to his face. He had that startled expression of a chook with its head cut off.
In the split second or so it took me to appraise the situation I realized he was actually a patient who had mistaken my surgery hours because the light was on. It was an easy surmise as his mouth was covered in blood which was still bubbling from between his lips. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like terror and shot to his feet ready to bolt. I dropped the bat, my eyes glued to his wound. The poor chap must have noticed my preoccupation and that I had dropped my weapon for he sat down with a look of utter defeat in his eyes.
Hoping I was conveying sympathy after my look of horror, I mumbled, “You poor bastard, what have they done to you?” I led him back to the surgery. This time I did remember to lock the door in case his attackers were still in the neighborhood, and switch off the waiting room light. I helped him into the chair and donned gloves and glasses before turning my attention to his plight.
“Can you open your mouth?” I asked.
Grimacing in pain, he opened up slightly. From a quick observation, the volume of blood obscured a thorough examination, it probably looked worse than it was although at this stage I didn’t understand where all the blood was coming from.
“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry,” I said as I began spraying saline solution into his mouth. He jerked a little at the initial contact but trusted me enough to go with it. Poking and prodding, scraping as gently as I could, I cleaned out his mouth then told him to rinse and spit. I was puzzled. His teeth were in fairly poor shape even apart from a plaque build-up and the beginnings of a cavity or two, but there was no sign of the source of the copious amounts of blood. One explanation that occurred to me but which I banished from my mind as far too fanciful for the 21st century was that he’d been snacking on a live animal.
Putting the instruments down, I righted the chair to take a good look at my patient now that I'd cleaned the blood from around his lips and chin. An involuntary gasp escaped my lips. He was a young man of exquisite beauty, his skin paler than I would have expected for the hot southern climate. He wore black clothing in the style of Goth and emo youth but his black shirt, now unfortunately stained with blood, hugged his body to reveal he had definition while his tight black jeans clung to a surprisingly inviting package. He wore a pair of fashionable leather boots with chains dangling around the ankle. He was a magnificent creature. I’m ashamed to say a primitive urge stirred my loins.
He must have seen me examine him almost forensically for he smiled and, in that moment, I was quite giddy with desire. I never allowed myself this sort of familiarity with my patients, it was highly unprofessional, but it was almost as if I were hypnotized by this succulent stranger.
I managed to drag my professional face back with great difficulty.
“I don’t know what happened but your teeth are fine. I pity the other guy; it must have been his blood. Were you attacked?”
He nodded. “A group of them. They bashed me with a metal bar.” He lifted his shirt and I saw the red slash across his stomach which was threatening to become a nasty bruise.
“Would you like me to call the police?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. The people who attacked me will be long gone. I managed to bite one of them in the neck before they fled; otherwise I believe they would have killed me.”
“Look,” I said kindly. “You’re probably a bit shaken. Would you like me to make you a coffee or tea? Or something stronger. I have brandy in my drawer.” Shit, I suppose I shouldn’t have offered alcohol without knowing the extent of his injuries.
“That’s very kind,” he said. He had a peculiar old-fashioned manner of speaking which probably attracted unwarranted attention. I watched as he seemed to struggle with something that was bothering him. “You seem like a kind man, and I have to trust someone or I will die.”
“I like to think I’m a nice man as you put it,” although I was glad he couldn’t read my mind and see what I would like to do to his body while he lay in my chair.
“I can, you know,” he said.
“Can what?”
“Read your mind.”
Oh no, I had a crazy in my chair. This was bound to end badly.
He smiled. “No, I’m not crazy.”
That was just a fluke.
“It wasn’t a fluke.”
I’m actually home in bed dreaming or I’ve been the victim of a mugging and I’m lying in the gutter hallucinating.
“Neither dreaming nor hallucinating.” He put his hand up to stop me. “Look we can keep this up all night but you’re never going to believe me. But please believe this. I am in incredible pain and if you can’t help me I will surely die.”
I switched my brain off to concentrate on his needs.
“Okay, doc. Thanks for that at least.”
“I’m not a doctor, I’m a dentist, so if there’s anything medical you need that’s not to do with your teeth I’m afraid I won’t be able to help. You need to go to a hospital.”
“It’s to do with my teeth,” he mumbled.
The way he flinched and fingered his jaw as he spoke convinced me there was indeed a problem – unlike me to miss something.
“I guess we were destined to meet because I’ve been driving around looking for help when I noticed your light on. Providence.”
I wish we’d met under better circumstances. A gay bar or something.
“Me, too,” he said.
I shook my head, bemused by the stranger’s ability to second guess my thoughts.
“I think I’m perilously close to passing out from the pain. I will have to trust you. Either way, you are my last resort. I ask that you keep my presence here a secret until I can explain. You are in no danger.”
“I promise. Now, lie back, so I can take another look.”
“You will be surprised but I reiterate you are in no danger. Please believe me.”
“Open.”
He opened his mouth. I watched as he reluctantly concentrated and revealed all. It took me a few seconds to work out that the volume of blood gushing into his mouth came from a broken tooth that he had retracted into the roof of his mouth. I was so shocked I reeled back. My chair skidded across the highly polished vinyl flooring, crashing against the cupboard on the other side of the room.
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