Need

Need

I sit and stare at the machine, the Need beginning to overwhelm me. If I don’t get what I Need, I will go feral.

I feel thought edging away from me, it is becoming harder and harder to keep my composure, to keep seated, to keep sane. My claws begin to grow, my death grip on the edge of the table scoring the shiny table top, as I fight the need to tear away from the table and go out to kill.

The machine produces a soft “ding” as I scrabble for the tray that it offers and the bag of blood, delicious blood, that it holds for me. I grab the bag with the last bit of my sanity hanging on for dear life as the need makes my extended fangs pierce the bag and drink the elixir of life.

As madness recedes, I once again consider the way of life I have chosen, while sucking on the bag of blood for dear life, my long, luscious black hair tumbles down my back, drops I regret losing dripping on my breasts while I finish the bag.

Sanity returns and I am flooded with happiness, not only induced by the blood but also by the fact that I have, once again, been able to avoid killing, taking lives of humans, as I once was.

Without blood, my mind would be gone, I would become an animal, with no rational thought left, prowling the streets and killing indiscriminately to sustain myself, driven by the Need.

Eventually, I would not be able to sustain myself, the dark magic would eat my soul and the worst would happen.

No, I would not die, I would live hell on Earth.

I would turn male again.

As I leave the room, I tap the button to start the new cycle of generating synthetic blood and leave the dark room. Who needs light, anyway?



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