"Okay, pretty boy, we're done for the day."
That was the cue that the miserable scheduled day was done. And Jacob "Jack" Romulus would have it no other way. His modeling coach was a skeevy sort, insisting on Jack "paying his due" and that "certain things were just natural in the circuit". What that meant was a neverending spree of attempts to get Jack to sleep with him. Unfortunately, with his money cut off and a less than stellar situation at home, Jack was either doing this, or stuck on the mean streets of Las Vegas.
One would not assume the tow-headed Jack to be the misfortunate type. He'd grown from a scrawny and sensitive teenager into a well muscled adult via countless hours in the gym, diet and aerobic exercises. His slate grey eyes were fierce and drew attention, both from the girlfriends he had back in high school and in the modeling circuit. He'd started trying for the job when he was 18 - he was 23 now . However there was only so much he could do without an "in".
Louis Clyve was indisputably the "in" - one he desperately wished he never went for considering what Louis did to him. It set his blood to boiling. Made him wish he could just take that bastard in his hands and wring that scrawny little neck.
Jack ruminated on the circumstances that led to this. His mother had remarried after his father disappeared in a backpacking trip out in the wilderness of Romania, heartless rumors starting up that he had been attacked and slain by a vampire. Jack bought none of it, and even slugged the man who started the talk right after hearing it out. But his mother...had been much less prepared for such things. She was naturally superstitious, and whittled her life away in panic and attempts at warding off the vampire she was so sure was now keen to drink her blood too.
It had been a cold winter morning when Jack's stepfather Ian Caldwell found her body. She'd mistaken the rapping of the cold dead branch of the tree outside for the claws of a vampire, and the fear had driven her to a heart attack...supposedly. Jack had never liked his stepfather, and the man had been a little too eager to commence using the prodigious funds of his family. And much, much too eager to disrespect his mother's wishes and slash Jack out of any inheritance.
Not that he particularly cared for being rich at all, but it was the spirit of the thing that bothered him. And the sheer contempt the man showed throughout. He saw no reason to feign affection any longer, as falsely sugary sweet as it had been before.
His home now was a shack on the family property, where he was supposed to stay in between doing handyman work for his stepfather. A job he despised. Especially when his stepfather so readily remarried, and brought in that foul harpy Ellen Calcolme. The things Jack had to endure during the time when that was his sole income made him shiver even as he stepped outside into the dusk. He could not stand it. He needed other employment.
Yes, Jack was left after all that to become a male model. "Well," Jack mused to himself as he picked up his backpack, "The one thing I'm definitely good at is looking good. Not like that's a talent with much future." As the young man headed out, he looked up into the night sky. In the midst of all the stygian darkness that seemed all too topical to his life, he saw the shining eye in the midst of it all - the full moon. Something about that seemed to set his mind at ease - and just as well make him feel a strange sense of urgency. It was contradictory but it was what he experienced every full moon it seemed.
As Jack set on his route home, waiting for the bus, he found himself sharing the bus stop bench with a strange looking homeless man. Grotesque and deformed likely from some heavy drug use, Jack turned away. He didn't need to think about what had done that to this poor soul...and then a throaty, deep whisper came out of the man's much abused throat. "...It's...your time tonight, Jackie-boy."
"...Excuse me?" Jack asked, trying to look for the bus, it should be here by now it should be here by now it should be here by n--- 'Ignore him ignore him cmon leave me alone...'
"Look at the Full Moon, Jack. Soon enough, the Strip will be your buffet." The crazy homeless looking man was now twisting his neck to stare at Jack, face distorted in a disgusting grin that exposed rotting teeth. Jack could smell it from him. The decay, the rot. He could almost swear the man was a rotting corpse disguised as a human being.
Jack was utterly confused and completely disturbed, but thankfully the bus was approaching. "L-Lovely chat we're having, but there's my bus!" As it arrived, Jack made sure he had everything. The man almost seemed to be drooling. Jack grimaced and hauled ass into the bus, sitting down as soon as he could in the first available seat, the bus driver seeming to stare at him.
The man from outside wasn't moving.
'Thank God.' Jack thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, surprised that he was feeling such a heavy perspiration. The bus started to close the doors, and Jack was again relieved by the fact that creepy bastard outside did not make any moves. The bus started its route off from there, and Jack watched the creepy man disappear off into the distance.
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By the time Jack arrived back at the Romulus Estate, he was calmed down a bit from that...experience. There was the tremendous, palatial estate...and there right by the entrance just past the gate was the shack that functioned as his home. It was an odd little pre-existing building that was better built than most shacks, and there were a number of books located in some locked briefcases under the bed when Jack moved in. It was all very strange.
As Jack entered he found himself face to face with the harpy herself, Ellen Calcolme.
She had a very artificial sort of beauty to her. Tits so fake that Pamela Anderson would bristle, a face subjected to one too many botox treatment, leaving her looking like a smooth, disturbing living Barbie Doll, long, dark brown hair, and nails that looked just a little too sharp. She always wore these exceedingly showy dresses, even when she was out after dark doing a walk around the property, always red and always selected for showing off her unnatural endowments.
Jack almost felt like he could cringe all the way from head to toe.
"There's my sexy, sexy little stepson..." She licked her lips and looked over his modeling gear for the day. A button up black shirt Jack was now kicking himself for leaving so showy at halfway buttoned up, and shorts. Jack kept his eyes on her and then shifted a little to try and look for a plausible getaway line or excuse, a way to get over to his home. "My little boy toy loves showing off his tight, toned body...and such a toned little bubble butt!"
He gulped as he felt her walk over and outright openly objectify him, pinching his ass and running her hand on his chest, pinching his nipple and making an ashamed Jack choke down a gasp. She saw when she had an edge on him, "Ohh you are being absolutely no fun tonight, Jack."
"Aren't you supposed to be my stepmom and fucking married?" Jack got out, enjoying when that made her take some steps back.
She spat on the ground, "No fun indeed. What, are you gay? Just fagging around in Vegas and stringing that poor, poor girl Vicki along? Oh, maybe I should tell her you're a fag. Should I tell her you're a fag? I mean, I could tell everyone, but I figure I'd start with her. The poor girl would just be devastated if I should, say, come up with evidence..." She was now really enjoying herself. It was a sadistic kick she shared with her husband. "Evidence" being Deepfaked photographs. It seemed to be her one true passion.
"Fuck you, lady." Jack snarled, glaring at her, and for a moment it seemed she was surprised by something. Like she saw something in that glare that she was scared of. She took another step back, and then started to wordlessly walk away, gripping one fist tightly.
Jack breathed and headed inside. He knew she was going to make up some bullshit thing he did to her husband just to get back at him for...for what? Not sleeping with her? Vindictive plastic bitch. And she was willing to lie to his girlfriend just out of sheer spite.
As Jack entered his shack, he looked around and breathed, locking the door behind him. Well, today was absolute shit. He got creeped on by his modeling coach, his stepmother, and one random creepy hobo. It wasn't like the last few years had been much better though. There WAS however one distinct bright spot.
One he was reminded of when his phone started ringing. His girlfriend. Vicki Lansing, a girl he met back in high school. She gave him a chance when he was scrawny, nerdy, and awkward. Now the two were going strong in their relationship, despite the efforts at sabotage all around. Answering the phone, Jack said, "Hey babe, Jack here, what's up?"
"Oh you know, just wanted to ask if you're up for a date this weekend, big boy."
"You know it! I was getting kinda lonely." Jack grinned, there were some good points. Definite good points. "We good to meet up at your place. My folks continue to be assholes."
"...Yeah I figure. You know if you want to come live with me..."
"No, it's...it's fine, really. I don't want to be a burden on you." Jack looked down. Even when living like this could be a fucking pain, Jack couldn't let himself be a drain on his girlfriend. She was dealing with her own problems, and she didn't deserve to have to deal with the inevitably psycho-drama that came with having Jack in her house.
"...Looking forward to that date, studmuffin. Hopefully you can get out of there soon." She was not liking his choice, but she respected it. The call ended.
Jack sighed and looked around his small residence, and found himself tilting his head a bit as he saw some sort of book resting on his bed. He hadn't ever read anything on his bed, and it looked like one of the books that had been in the briefcases. Black and red bindings, strange leathery material, countless pages. Just picking it up after reckoning with the odd placement, Jack felt a gnawing sense of both foreboding and odd, curious excitement. He licked his suddenly dry lips.
He felt a stirring in his groin oddly enough, he started sweating again. Something felt urgent and necessary about this book. It was like experiencing a combination of excitement, apprehension and a fear boner all at once. Jack bit his lip and rolled his shoulders. He gulped and started to grip the side of the book. It was like his vision was going like a tunnel, focusing in on the book. Was there even a title? The red, slice-like letters seemed to blend and move together as he looked at them. Forming new words - different words - every time he looked at the book.
He was as erect as he had been when his girlfriend went down on him, he couldn't stand the feeling of this eerie, grotesque book. It was like he was fucking his girlfriend, it was like he could feel something horrible staring at him out from this book--- he slung it open with astonishing force, and mentally steeled himself. He prepared himself to see any number of horrible things inside. But what he saw exceeded even his worst expectation. It was countless black circles and pentagrams, shifting on the pages into new numbers and configurations. Dark images and utterings. Blackhearted experiment records shifting and distorting.
This book...this book was EVIL. In its most pure, distilled sense.
The book flew through the air and smacked into the wall of the shack, sliding shut and landing perfectly as if to close itself and lie on the ground. Not disorderly. Still lying ready to be opened. Jack breathed and shifted his back as he felt something in his back seem to slide and move. He grimaced and did some stretches as he sat there. He glanced over at the book. The urge was no longer there. He could ignore it. But something felt like it had leaked out somehow.
Jack breathed and once he was sure whatever weird problem was done in his back he tried to sit back down. But it seemed something was making his back less easy to rest on. Groaning, the young male model stripped off his sweat stained shirt and tried to get some sleep, turning off the lights. He felt itchy all over, maybe it was all the sweat or the persistent arousal in his pants. He was gonna need to take care of that before sleep.
Jack crudely jerked himself off not once but six times before he managed to get himself to sleep. He was rather astonished by the sheer volume and tenacity in his arousal, if only he could manage that when he had sex with his girlfriend next. He in fact fell asleep right in the middle of grunting out that he was cumming the last time.
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Jack awoke the next morning to see the offending book from last night had only stayed with him in his nightmares. It was gone, but the impression it left on him was thorough. He had not slept very well if at all last night. But even so he awoke that morning feeling more capable and aware than he ever had in any other morning. He yawned and went ahead to check out the mirror in what passed for his bathroom in there.
Jack was greeted with an unusual sight.
His sideburns seemed to be longer and the hair there heavier, his gym honed musculature seemed just slightly more developed, and was given a very slight amount of hair across the chest and slightly down his abdomen. Jack rolled his eyes. As a male model, hairless was the in look. And he did not much care for the thick sideburns. He was gonna need to get a shave sooner rather than later...but that could wait until he was fed this morning.
For whatever reason Jack was feeling ravenous. He had his usual place he attended for a nice cheap breakfast, or stuff here at home.
Jack fetched his phone and looked at the news. He gasped as he saw there was news about some kind of attack that happened near a bus stop. Supposedly some guy was coming to wait for a bus when someone attacked him. The poor guy ended up chewed on, clawed, and had his valuables stolen. People were saying it was apparently some crazy vagrant, and when Jack saw the included security cam footage in the news report, he felt his stomach sink.
The supposed offender? The creepy guy from last night. Jack felt horrible - if he had only known, if he had just been able to do something. Then that poor guy who went by there wouldn't be fucking dead. Jack grit his teeth. He needed his breakfast first, but he also needed to look into this gruesome series of events...