Yeah. A romantic vampire story because that's never been done before. But this time, no one here is perfect. The sex isn't the best and the humanity's still there. Sometimes there's less than desireable qualities in females that take away from the act. Minute men do exist (No, this isn't projection at all. Shut up.). But the important thing is to remember those factors shouldn't be the end all be all when it comes to the enjoyability for sex. At least in my eyes. Think what you want. Enjoy.

Beatrice sits on her throne, basking in the spoils of her riches. Every foe that she’s come up against has been vanquished and devoured without much effort. She has the highest bounty on her head. She’s easily the most powerful vampire the world has ever known. Her prestige is unmatched. She’s unstoppable. No one can compete with her. That is, until today.   Her relaxation is cut short as she hears someone kick her doors open. She places down her wine glass, staring daggers at the culprit. She then grins as she notices it to be the well known bounty hunter, Ulrich Fleece: slayer of all beasts, natural or unnatural. Conqueror of those tormenting the innocent. Obtainer of the last stand in every battle he has ever been a part of. Or in Beatrice’s eyes, all except one.   “You have a lot of nerve,” she starts with a light chuckle, “Only a fool would dare intrude so suddenly and so rudely.”   Ulrich doesn’t say anything. He just cracks his neck, staring down the ferocious vampire before him.   “Hmm, a man of few words. That’s understandable. Talk is cheap. Well, since you’re a man of action, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. I grow famished, anyhow. Have at you, knave!”   She stands up from her throne, taking off her robe, revealing her battle gear: blood red drawstring shorts with a black outline and a black bra with a red outline. But just as she manages her arms through her sleeves and gets in her battle stance, Ulrich just presents to her a piece of paper. This completely takes Beatrice off guard. Confused, she says,   “What’s that?”   “Come over here and read it,” Ulrich says, confidently.   Confused even more, Beatrice teleports over …

Taiga encounters his ex, who harasses him while he's working at his day job. How does he properly deal with such disrespect?

Alright, how much time’s left?...Three and a half hours. Sure. Just half an hour passes after five hours of looking away from it. Fan-fucking-tastic. Ok, you know what? Not that bad. That’s 60 minutes three times and then one half. Each of those 60 minutes is just...uh...15? Yeah, 15 minutes 4 times. And 15 minutes is just 3 minutes 5 times. So in all actuality, I’m waiting 3 minutes...70 times and then my shift’s completely over. And I think one of those three minutes passed just thinking about that. So 69 more to go...heh. Oh, the joys of being bored as all hell. At least one good thing came from school. I can now add a bit of flair to counting down the minutes. Totally worth the 7 hours every day for half my life.   My internal calculations are interrupted by a loud thud on the conveyor belt, shocking me to my core. Once I recover from my jolt, I look in front of me to see the source of the noise. To my dismay, it’s someone I’m quite acquainted with, Mason. Oh, goody. As if my day needed more hell to endure. Whatever. Just need to scan his shit and he’ll leave me alone. As a matter of fact, he might just ignore me completely. He’s looking on his phone.   “Taiga?” he questions in an exaggerated tone, “Little gayby Taiga? Is that actually you?”   Fuck.   “Oh my God, I didn’t notice you here. How are you?”   “Sir, I’d thank you to refrain from calling me that,” I respond, scanning and bagging his things,   “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you all fussy. You want me to find you a guy to give you your pacifier?”   I ignore his taunting, scanning and …

So this is a story all about how two guys switch bodies with their female bullies and have a reeeeeeeeally fun time.   I saw this as a commission and took it a while ago and kinda took too long with it, so if the OP is still here............sowwy. Hope you enjoy anyways.

Milo couldn’t be happier with his life right now. He’s at the tail end of the worst part of his life, his freelancing career is starting to get off the ground, and he’s now in a relationship with the greatest girl he’s ever come into contact with. He never thought he’d be this happy in his senior year.   “Shut up,” Rosaline says with a giggle, lightly shoving Milo, “I like kittens. Leave me alone.”   “I’m just saying they’re little prissy brats,” Milo retorts with a shrug, “Yeah, they’re cute, but they just go around ordering you around like they own everything. They’re like the late stages for a spoiled rich kid.”   “Well, I don’t care what you say. I’m getting one.”   “And I’m not gonna stop you. I’ll just place it somewhere really high if it annoys me.”   “Then it’ll climb back down and scratch you.”   “Then I’ll eat its food.”   “Then it’ll bite you.”   “Then I’ll bite it back to assert dominance.”   Rosaline giggles again at Milo before saying, “Oh my gosh, you’re such a jerk.”   “What, you never complained when I ate your kitten before. What’s different now?”   “Milo, stooop.”   As the pair enjoy each other’s company, Milo’s friend, Rayleigh approaches them, taking note of their merriment.   “What’s up, lovebirds?” he starts, “What’s going on here?”   “Nothing much,” Milo answers, “Just discussing how she wants her kitty in my mouth and how it’ll result in me getting scratched.”   Rosaline gasps and blushes at Milo’s phrasing before pounding his shoulder, prompting him to laugh at her embarrassment.   “Classy, you two, real classy,” Rayleigh says with a smirk, “Well, the reason I came over here was to inform you that Alex is inviting everyone …

Being different is both a blessing and a curse. You don't have to conform to everyone else's norms, so you can just be you. But on the other hand, others aren't always receptive to the fact that you're different. And depending on your will, it can leave you vulnerable to less than ideal outcomes.

It’s not fair. Why do people keep treating me like this? It’s not my fault. I didn’t ask to be born like this. And it’s not like I’m being a nuisance. I try to stay out of everyone’s way as much as I can. So why? Why does everyone feel the need to make fun of me? To laugh at me? To hurt me? Did I say something I shouldn’t have to someone really important? I didn’t mean to. This isn’t right.   “Ooo, what a fox,” I hear as I walk through the halls. I clench my bag.   “Hey, say something, foxy,” I hear someone else say. I walk faster.   “Shouldn’t pets be on a leash?” someone else adds on. My eyes start to water.   “Nevermind that, where’s her owner?” someone else chimes in. I run on the brink of tears, hearing nothing but the sounds of everyone’s amusement.   I make it to my safe space. It’s an empty hillside marked by a single oak tree. It’s pretty far from the school and very secluded from society. It’s the perfect place to go when I need to calm down. I place my bag down and curl up beside the tree, recalling the events of the day. They do nothing but push me. Pull my tail. Ask me what I say...Laugh at me. That’s the worst of it. They laugh at me. I hate it. I don’t know how much I can go through with this.   A few tears hit the ground. They’re doing this to me. I come to them in kindness and they do this. Maybe I should transfer again. There’s bound to be a place for me where I can be amongst humans without being jaded. There has to be. Right?   …

Exploring another world is always neat. New places, new faces, and new ideologies to compare existing ones. It's just a good time all around.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, blast off!” I announce to the crew.   Funny how something as simple as that still sends chills down my spine. Granted, it isn’t really relevant in this case. Ships and rockets are completely different. But I don’t care. It’s fun.   I wave at family, friends, colleagues, and everyone else gathered around to watch us take off before finally putting a year’s worth of dreams and plans into action. I start gaining momentum, preparing to take flight as everyone else braces themselves. Once I gain enough speed, I bring us off of the ground and retract the wheels. We are now airborne. I guide us all the way to the top of the world, taking in the last sight of the beautiful land that I’m gonna get for 6 months. See you soon, guys. Once I’m far enough in the air, I bring my hand hovering above the thruster controls, preparing for the jump.   “Alright, hang on, everyone,” I warn, turning to my crewmates, “It’s gonna get a bit bumpy.”   After they grab onto their solid objects, I activate the thrusters and go full throttle, pushing us through the thermosphere all the way to the exosphere with the g-force proving to be strong, but us proving that we’re stronger. You’re nothing to us, science!   Once we breach past the last layer of the Earth, I ease up on the acceleration, bringing us to a stable cruising speed. All of us take a breath, relaxing as we head toward our target. I then decide to lighten the mood even more by turning on the intercom and saying in my best pilot voice,   “Attention, passengers, this is your captain speaking. You’ll be happy to know tha-”   …

A story involving the #1 fantasy of every heterosexual male who has ever touched the gournds of the Earth coming to frutition: obtaining boobs on their person.

God, I’ve missed this. This is all that I’ve wanted for so long; a stress-free day, spending time with the people that I don’t hate. No books, no meaningless words, no packets, no slides, no worries. Just being in the front yard, tossin’ the ol’ pigskin around with my pop and lil’ bro. I hate how I just took moments like this for granted. Times like these were always the best.   “Yo, Chad, how many 1’s and 0’s would it take to simulate yourself a girlfriend?” dad jokes, tossing the football to Jason,   “About as many as it would take to shield everyone from the glare of your bald head,” I joke back, earning a laugh from everyone,   “Joke all ya want. I still got your mother, didn’t I? How do you think I got with her?”   “A bad dare and terrible luck with drawing straws?”   “Alright, smartass, that ‘Bad dare and straw drawing’ got ya here.”   “And I’m forever grateful for mom’s friends.”   We share another laugh as Jason passes the ball to me. I toss it to dad and he says,   “Alright, poindexter, let’s see if your reflexes are as quick as your mouth. Go long.”   I do as instructed, running back as he draws back for the throw. Once I’m far enough, he throws his signature “Perfect Spiral” directly towards me. I keep my eyes right on the ball, being sure that my momentum matches it perfectly. Then, unsurprisingly, it lands directly into my perfect hands. And I waste no time. I charge right back at him, aiming for the street lamp right behind him.   Jason then charges at me, stepping in the way between me and my goal. Big mistake, little man. We charge closer and …

It's easy to possess and direct someone physically. But the real challenge is helping their mental state. The mind and body are the most integral duo when it comes to making what you want a reality. So it's only right to teach someone that fact if they don't know it. Especially when they don't know why their mind and body aren't cohesive in the first place.

“Great job, Gina!” Ms. Rhodes says as the rest of us applaud, “Outstanding form!”   Gina gives a dramatic bow before getting back in line. Showoff.   “Ok, we’ve got time for one more performance,” Ms. Rhodes says, scanning the line to decide who’s going.   Don’t say me. Don’t say me. Don’t say me. Don’t say me.   “Tana!” she announces.   Oh, thank God.   “Remind your mother to order you another leotard. That pink streak is an eyesore. You’re up, Passion.”   I hate when she does that.   “U-uh, Ms. Rhodes,” I say, raising my hand, trying to figure out an excuse not to do it,   “If this is another doctor’s notice where he couldn’t find any paper, so he had you personally announce it, his objection is overruled. On the grounds that I said so. Now, let’s go. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can do my yoga.”   Goddammit. There’s no getting out of it, then. Might as well just get the humiliation out of the way. But let me at least do something I’m at least halfway decent at. I step away from the line and head to the uneven bars.”   “Excellent choice,” Ms. Rhodes says as pity applause follows.   I reach the low bar, taking a breath in an attempt to clear my mind. Ok. It’s just me. No one else is here. I’m all alone. Just here to do my standard routine. Nothing fancy. Nothing outlandish. Just something quick. Something simple, land, leave. Easy. Just a quick Shaposhnikova into a Tkatchev, a Shootover with a Pak Salto, Markelov, Double Tuck, done.   I hop and grab onto the low bar, perching myself up to a handstand. I then give two swings before leaping onto the high …