Title: Knorg’s Vampire Tarot
Category: Paranormal
Author Pen name:
Knorg
Email: paxgronk@hotmail.com
Description: These card stories use a variety of well-known and
popular as well as more obscure characters, from Marge Simpson to Elvis, from
Bloodrayne to Jon Arbuckle, as well as my own characters. Each story is around
1000 words.
Stories: Death/Rebirth by
Vampire, catfight, sex, girl-on-girl, and similar.
Song lyrics used without
permission.
Characters/places/trademarks
that aren’t mine are used for this parody without permission.
This story concept is a
parody of Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot by Neil Gaiman.
“P-P-P-P-PUPPY POWER!”
Scrappy cried, standing in the moonbeam that lanced through the window of Old
Man Felchett’s Dog Food Factory and waved fist-paws towards the top of the
ladder. Far below the mincing machine - newly repaired since the last act of
‘ghostly’ sabotage - was churning on a late night cycle.
“Well… I guess the ghost
isn’t up here after all!” Scrappy turned quickly, to discover he wasn’t alone
on the high catwalk after all.
“Daphne! I thought you and
Fred were searching the spooky old cemetery for the ghost? Uncle Scooby and
Shaggy following an important lead in the staff kitch… Hey! Put me down!
Daphne? Wha? No! NOOOOO---ARRGGGHHH” The meaty grinding noise sounded up from
below. The redhead adjusted the green scarf about her neck, and looked down
with icy cold glints glittering in green eyes. The darkness had shown her the
way and brought out the strength to that which needed to be done.
Scrappy Doo was dog food.
***
Fred’s whole body hurt
from head to pins-and-needles toes. Pain cut into his wrists, bound tightly behind
his head with what felt like rough rope. The angle strained the tendons in his
arms as he groaned and opened blue eyes beneath the damp blonde fringe of his
hair.
“Daphne?” he asked,
straining to see anything in the pitch-black surroundings. Confused and alone
in the darkness, Fred worked his mental way back to just after they’d spotted a
shadow moving against the wall by the Felchett family crypt. Then… yes… Old Man
Felchett had been dressed as a vampire, with a strange twisted facemask. He’d
cackled something about sabotaging his own factory to bring them there and
then…
“Jinkies! Fred!” The high
voice cut through the dark. It sounded close, yet he’d heard no approach.
“Velma! I’m tied up here!”
The shout made his head pound and waves of nausea passed through his body. Fred
groaned anew as he felt Velma crouch next to him. He wondered how she could see
to find him in the dark.
“There you are Fred! He
said I’d find you here… I’ve wanted you for so long… but you never noticed me.
All I ever wanted to do was make you happy. I never gave up on you and now? Now
I have you!”
“V…Velma? Can you untie
the ropes?” he asked, only to feel her hands on his thighs, “What… what are you
doing?”
Velma’s strangely cold
hand had unbuttoned his fly. Fred’s face burned with embarrassment as one of
his closest friends gently jerked his cock, bringing him to a full hard
erection.
“Velma… I’m hurt, ooohhh…”
He felt the wetness of her mouth on the head of his cock and humped into her
mouth, painfully stretching his elbows. He couldn’t see a thing, only feel
Velma’s careful blowjob as she licked and pleasured, sucking him with a skill
he would never have believed she possessed.
“Ahhhhhh-ahhh-ahh—AAHHHH!”
Fred came, bucking his hips in the darkness, shooting his load into Velma’s
slurping mouth.
A torch flicked on in the
darkness, dazzling Fred’s eyes. The spent male slowly regained his vision only
to see Velma holding the torch campfire-tale style under her chin, face twisted
with hunger; a perfect white fang at each corner of her mouth.
Velma flicked the torch
off, and pounced.
***
“Wow Scoob, Good thing old
Man Felchett keeps his staff well fed, eh? There’s everything we need to make
some late night ghost-hunting snacks, and breakfast in the morning too!”
“Ru-roh!”
“What’s that Scooby?”
Shaggy put down the butter knife and walked to where his faithful Great Dane
was standing on hind legs at the meat locker door. Looking inside, his stubbly
face fell.
“Old man Felchett’s
staff!”
Turning in perfect
synchronicity the cowardly duo gazed with horrified thought on the foil-wrapped
processed chicken Shaggy had been working into layer four of the perfect
sandwich.
“Gee, Scoob, are you
thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Ruh… Run?”
“Good plan, man! Lets get
the others and get the police!”
Kicking up dust from the
floor, they burst through the doors from the staff kitchen side-by-side and
simultaneously collided with Daphne and Velma. The Scooby Gang went down in a
heap, and all four scrabbled to stand up.
“We need the Police!
They’re all dead!”
“Who, Shaggy?” Velma asked.
“The Staff!” Scooby
stammered an agreement as he felt Daphne’s hand on his collar, cold through his
fur.
“I think you’d better show
me. It’s probably mannequin’s again, like that time in Texas” Velma rolled her
eyes, taking Shaggy by the elbow and drawing him back into the kitchen. The
oft-hungry coward was surprised to find Velma’s pull as impossible to resist as
a perfect sandwich.
“Scooby?” The Great Dane
turned his head sideways to Daphne, “I have a special Scooby-snack for you
tonight…” the redhead lifted her skirt before his face. She wasn’t wearing any
panties. Twisting his collar, she pulled the dog’s wet nose into her red-furred
snatch.
***
“Look! See Velma? See?
They’re real! They’re really real! Old Man Felchett must have been lying when
he said the ghost scared them all away last week!” Shaggy shivered in the cold
air from the meat locker door. To think, if they hadn’t wanted to defrost some
bacon for the morning…
“All I can see is a lot of
cold, dead meat, Shaggy.”
Velma’s voice sounded
different to normal, harsher, colder, “You were just like Fred… never noticing
me… always wanting Daphne!”
Shaggy turned around to
see Velma’s fanged smile, and terror shook his naturally cowardly form, forcing
the truth from his lips, “Everyone thought you were gay, Velm… I mean Everyo—OOFF!”
He wouldn’t have reckoned
the power in her muscles as he bounced off the hanging meat like a pinball off
bumpers. It felt like something important broke in his back and he hit the
ground, breathing hot air into the icy cold of the meat locker.
“Velma… please… Don’t don…”
She ignored his pleas as
she tossed her now unneeded glasses aside. She could see perfectly in the cold
gloom as she dropped astride Shaggy’s terrified form and tore his pants to
shreds. Fear of impending death had lent arousal, and Shaggy was ready to go as
his former friend rode him roughly and wordlessly in the cold, pinning his
hands to her orange-sweater’d breasts. Outside the kitchen, Daphne was
shuddering an immoral, beastial climax into Scooby’s hungry maw. Dropping onto
bare knees she nuzzled his neck with her mouth, kissing deeply.