Confessions of a V-Shock Addict
“Hi, my name is Vladimir and I’m an addict.”
“Hi Vladimir,” they chorused. A few of them mumbled, either because they couldn’t quite understand the name under my slight accent or because they simply couldn’t pronounce it through the chattering teeth of withdrawal.
I scratched my leg nervously, the cup of coffee jittering in my left hand. No one drinks the coffee, but holding a cup is just what you do at these meetings. Coffee, cigarettes, maybe a pastry. The whole thing was made up to remind those of us who had gone to meetings with the living exactly what they were like right down the scratched up podium and uncomfortable folding chairs.
“You can’t tell from looking at me, but I’m nearing 110 years old. When I chose to be turned, I thought it was going to be all fun and games. Bram Stoker’s Dracula had just been released in Kiev and the vampires in it were so sexy.” My story wasn’t atypical. I had told it a hundred times by now. But every week there were new faces and our group grew so each week I told it again.
I’m sure you know how it goes. Boy meets girl. Girl turns out to be a vampire. Girl turns boy into a vampire. Wham, reality sets in.
VED Addicts Anonymous wasn’t exactly on the circuit of self-help groups offered at the local Y. We met in an old funeral home, the stone walls reminiscent of the castles in the novels that enticed so many of us into the life. Joey stood by the door and bounced any of the living who somehow found out, but there weren’t many of them, what with meeting at from midnight to three each night.
“When I met Briana, I instantly fell in love,” I continued over the murmurs of agreement. “She was beautiful, her skin smooth and pale and milky. After a few wild nights from sunset to sunrise, she told me her secret. I was stunned at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be like her, living forever in her arms.
“Of course, it wasn’t actually living, I now know.” I cursed her under my breath, but the bitch had long since been staked. The USSR wasn’t kind to the undead during the wars and revolutions of the early 1900s. That’s why I escaped to New York and the promise of America.
The coffee spilled a little, its warmth on my hand reminding me of what life really felt like.
“The first time I made love to Briana after the turn, my brain was going crazy with lust. I was fresh off the ecstasy of the embrace, the blood burning hot inside me.”
I saw a few of the others lick their lips in anticipation. I could have been detailed and told the story like blood smut, but this wasn’t the venue and I’m not that kind of guy. People came here for help, not to get their proverbial rocks off.
“It came easily then, the sex. But it didn’t last. Within an hour we were done; our lust sated; our hunger returned.
“It was a few days later when she came to me, fresh off a kill, looking for sex. In my mind, it was like every other time, the desire there in full. But I couldn’t get it up.”
Heads nodded in agreement. After all, this is why we were here.
VED stands for Vampiric Erectile Dysfunction syndrome. It’s one of the symptoms all male vampires suffer from. Maybe if we had known better or gotten sexual education in school, we would’ve known that it takes blood flow to create an erection. And guess what vampires don’t have except immediately following a kill. This is the shit they don’t tell you beforehand. Hell, I’m not sure any of us would’ve volunteered to be turned had we known.
“It was the first time I had suffered from VED and all she could do was laugh at me. A week later, she left me. I never saw her again.”
“Heartless bitch,” someone called from the crowd. I smiled slightly. I wasn’t alone here. That made me feel better.
“For the last 80 years, whenever I’ve gotten the urge to fuck someone, I’ve had to feed during or before. And I guess that’s not the worst. But the guilt of accidentally draining a girl and finding myself nailing a dead body is just too creepy.”
“Amen, brother,” came a shout from Gerald, a reformed necrophiliac who turned because he thought it would be the ultimate thrill to be a walking, talking, fucking corpse instead of a living person fucking a corpse. He was wrong, of course, be we all found these things out the hard way.
“For years I was too embarrassed to mention it. I would claim I wasn’t in the mood if I hadn’t fed recently enough or didn’t feel like feeding. I started lashing out, picking fights with random strangers. It wasn’t any contest and I only felt worse afterward.
“One night I found myself in one of the covenant clubs, crying into a glass of a vintage red, when the bartender came over and offered me a little blue pill. He told me to take it and stick a finger in a socket for a second an hour later and everything would get better. I was amazed when he was right. It was like magic. Suddenly I was fucking anything that moved, just like I was 17 again.”
We in the know call the treatment V-therapy. The Viagra or Levitra or whatever erection medication is the current rage works on vampires as well as humans. The shock gets the blood flowing, and as long as the medication is in our systems, it keeps flowing. It simulates the high of the embrace, the ecstasy of blood zipping through the arteries and veins once more, the rush of too much oxygen and nutrients suddenly reaching the gray matter, as well as giving us the hard-on we’ve been craving.
“Soon, the effects began to lessen. Sometimes, I would do it seven or eight times in a night instead of the one or two needed before. And the highs got lower. Soon, even naturally feeding no longer provided the joy it once had.
“I was standing in a stairwell, waiting for sunrise so I could walk out on the roof and blow away when Tom found me. He talked me down and got me off the pills.” I saw nods and smiles as Tom waved from his seat in the front row. Tom was my sponsor and my savior.
“I’ve been clean and sober for just over three years now. And it’s tough. Everyday is tough. But the joy of feeding is slowly coming back and I think I can make it.
“I just have to take it one day at a time.” The room clapped quietly as Tom got up and gave me a hug, taking over the podium.
“Thanks Vladimir.” He turned to the room at large, “Who’s next?”
The coffee in my hand had long since gone cold, so I dumped it into the cold coffee pot. Tom would reheat it and drop it off before the early morning Alcoholics Anonymous around the corner at the church. They didn’t mind. They were used to shitty coffee anyway.
“Hi, my name is Zack and I’m an addict,” said the newcomer as I shuffled back to my seat, not really listening to his story. It would be just like mine. And I’d nod and cap and say yes and no at all the appropriate times.This is how it goes for guys like us.
Just another night as a vampire; just another night recovering from VED.