"THE LAST VAMPIRE HUNT"- There's vampire hunting---and there is X-TREME VAMPIRE HUNTING! In this Special Posting for Halloween, a courageous BOY VAMPIRE HUNTER (who hunts 'em down wearing a hot combo of leather, breeches, steele jock cup, and lace-up logger boots.) But our fearless hunter meets his match in the evil, ancient , and ugly Vampire, VASOCULATO, who has developed a special taste for the tender necks and assorted other vulnerable body parts of BOY VAMPIRE HUNTERS. Thanks to one of our members for this story-----HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND SWEET DREAMS!

The hardest part of killing a vampire is finding him. He'll be in a coffin, usually in the moldy cellar of some out-of-the-way deserted building. (Ancient dungeons or crypts in ruined castles are preferred.) And when you find him, he better be sleeping--I mean deeply sleeping! Once a sleeping vampire is located, it’s really a simple matter of driving a wooden stake through his black heart. That may require a strong arm to wield the mallet, a vampire’s chest often being hardened and encrusted almost like an insect’s exoskeleton. But if you’re strong enough to pound the stake in, he’ll scream horribly for a few seconds, then he’ll go straight to hell . It’s just that simple--ASSUMING (and this can't be stressed enough!) you catch your vampire SLEEPING. Vampire hunting is totally a day job. After sundown, it becomes far too dangerous. At night the vampire is always awake. And although he may appear weak and even wasted, he possesses super-human strengths and many mysterious powers that are not yet fully understood. It is nearly impossible to kill a vampire after he awakes at sundown. If you’re not sure if sundown as occurred, best retreat until morning.

Unfortunately, the hunting and killing of vampires has lately become a sort of sport among certain young men, many of them college students who've tired of traditional X-TREME sports, and are looking for even riskier ways to prove their masculinity. After feeling the rush of adrenalin as they hunt down their evil prey, then drive the stake home and hear the foul fiend scream out as he goes to hell, they can come to regard themselves as invincible. With the impetuousness of youth, they become over confident, careless. There’s the sad case of a handsome fair haired lad , who at the tender age of 21 already had earned the status of “ACE” , having tracked down and racked up 50 verified kills of U-B-S's (Undead Blood Suckers). He had the bloody wooden stakes to prove it! At first the pure excitement of the hunt in dank and mysterious places was intoxicating. The physical act of driving that stake through the rib cage and straight into the heart of an Evil One and hearing the fiend scream in its agony was all he needed. But after so many easy vampire kills, he began to crave the chance to prove his manly superiority by dispatching a vampire after sun down, when the fiend would not be so totally defenseless. Like a downhill skier who tires of the sport of just going down hill and so starts doing summersaults and back flips off snow ledges, this young vampire hunter developed a taste for the forbidden task of taking on one of the Evil Ones at night.

One particularly ancient vampire, VASOCULATO was rumored to be a "specialist" of sorts. He chose to sink his incisors only into the necks virile young men. Once bitten, of course, the young victims turned into vampires themselves. Accorging to legend, VASOCULATO kept some as his slaves, but most he turned loose to roam the countryside. It was getting to be a real problem. Our ACE vampire hunter identified with the unfortunate men and boys whose necks VASOCULATO had feasted on, and he resolved that VASOCULATO would become # 51 on his list of kills. The hunter made one fateful decision. Once he found VASOCULATO's coffin, he would wait to drive his sake into the vampire's heart until the very instant of sunset. He wanted VASOCULATO to be enough awake to know that he was being sent to hell by a young man, just like those he had preyed upon.

But there had been serious delays, many mistaken turns. When the hunter finally located the basement chamber where VASOCULATO’s closed coffin stood, the sun had long since set. The hunter hesitated, but only for a second. He felt himself ready for any encounter, and he looked the part. He wore a jacket of scarred, thick brown leather (very hard to bite through.) He was sure his lace up knee high logger boots were impossible to bite through. His snug fitting army cavalry riding breeches were reinforced with heavy canvass for protection in close combat. And for the jock strap that would hold his family jewels, he had custom made a a protector cup of case hardened steel. A rough hewn wooden stake, a mallet, and a coil of climbing rope were tucked into the wide leather belt that hung loosely around his lean hips.

It is said there are old vampire hunters and there are bold vampire hunters. BUT SADLY, THERE ARE NO KNOWN OLD / BOLD VAMPIRE HUNTERS. Holding a blazing taper before him, the young hunter stepped boldly forward. Muffled thuds from his high boot heels echoed and re-echoed as he moved past a sort of stone altar, toward the dim outline of a coffin emerging from the gloom. He felt relief at the sight of the closed lid, assuming VASOCULATO was sleeping in, and had not yet arisen to begin his nightly prowl.

With his gaze fixed on the coffin, the hunter walked right by- but did not notice- a figure hunched and hiding in the folds of a black cape. It was VASOCULATO, fully awake! The monster’s knurled hands, with impossibly long jagged nails , were folded within his cape as if engaged in some satanic prayer. His hairless scalp and grotesquely elongated, pointed ears awere dimly illuminated by the hunter’s torch. But the hunter saw only the closed coffin before him, sure that the vampire must still be sleeping within. He did not suspect the he, the hunter, had already become the hunted.

As he has done so many times before, the hunter braces himself, planting his booted feet wide apart in front of the coffin. He takes up his mallet and stake. He bangs the the butt end of the sake against the coffin lid and proclaims contemptuously, "Wake up you blood sucking bastard! I have come to send you to rot in heeeeeeh----“
He does not finish his sentence, for as soon as he attempts to lift the coffin lid, it springs wide open. A column of yellowish sickly sweet stinking mist shoots upward and envelops him. As if directed by some insidious power (which it was) , the cloud divides into long tentacles that encircle the hunter’s head, quickly forming a strangling, translucent cocoon around it.

The young man cannot breathe. He cannot think. He stumbles backward, and still grasping in his hands his mallet and stake, his body falls helplessly into the welcoming, enfolding arms of .......the Vampire, VASOCULATO. The fiend drags the stunned hunter backwards away from the light, the boy’s heavy boot heels leaving two crooked trails in the dust. The vampire’s first act is to rip open the hunter's sweaty shirt. As if he's following some familiar plan, he begins teasing one the boy’s exposed nipples with his long, jagged nails until the nipple issues forth a drop of (you guess it) blood! The vampire uses a crooked , yellowed index finger to transport the scarlet drop to his rimless lips. He sniffs it, then his forked tongue darts out and takes it. VASOCULATO grins with the cultivated satisfaction of a true gourmet. He whispers in the young hunter’s ear, “ You have the fresh taste of a strong young vintage. You're hat is called these days a '20 something', aren't you? I accept you, My Beauty!”

VASOCULATO gently turns the hunter's head aside. Brushing the boy's blond hair away, he exposes a broad , sinewy neck. He bares his fangs but then hesitates and does not bite.

"It is said that the blood of one who has slain a vampire can be especially intoxicating. I will take my time and I will take a taste from every part of you. We won't be disturbed here. There is no need to be hasty." He withdraws his fangs and extends his forked tongue. He begins to slowly lick the hunter's neck, from shoulder to earlobe.

Vasculato's body -what can be seen of it- appears puny. But he has enormous strength. He effortlessly slings the body of the stunned hunter over his boney shoulder. The young man's muscular arms and high laced boots sway only slightly as Vasculato carries him past the empty coffin and lays him on his back across an adjoining stone alter. A quiet moment passes. Then the hunter becomes dimly aware that the laces of his boots are being slashed. still too dazed to react, he lies motionless as his boots are pulled violently off his legs. The offing of his boots is followed immediately by the shredding of his riding breeches and his jock strap, its steel cup bouncing with muffled clinks across the stone floor. The hunter's leather belt is severed. His weapons, the sake and mallet, drop away- useless. The young hunter, impaler of 50 vampire fiends, now finds himself sprawled across the sacrificial alter of the fiend who was supposed to be his 51st conquest. All of what he had thought of as his "body armor" has been easily taken from him. All that remains of his clothing is his pair of sagging knee high wool boot socks, the toes of which VASOCULATO now snares with his incisors. He shakes and tugs at them, growling like an angry cur, until the boy’s socks are yanked simultaneously off his feet. The boys toes are spread wide, his feet trembling.

Anyone just happening upon this scene would be struck by its serenity. In the gloom, against the dark stones of the alter, the now totally naked and defenseless body of a young man appears to emit a pale glow from within. A hooded figure bends over him and begins to silently feed on small droplets of red oozing from a wounded nipple. The figure raises the young man’s arms. He sniffs then tastes the musk clinging to the fine blond hair within the hunter's armpits.

A closer look would show the vampire now licking at a pink, froth bubbling from the corners of his slit of a month. His eyes fix on one part-then another of the young man’s body. He begins a careful survey of his prize.

The fiend lightly brushes his jagged finger nails over the hunter's firm deltoids and across his shoulders, then down past the three neat rows of abdominal muscles. He pauses briefly to probe the hunter's bush of blonde pubic hair. He lays a finger on the head of the young man's penis which responds with a slight involuntary twitch. He then moves on, continuing his inspection down the boy's thighs--down, down, finally spreaing apart -and incerting his forked tongue between the toes of the hunter's bare feet. VASOCULATO looks, licks and then laughs softly to himself.

"Fear not , my young vampire hunter. Though tonight I will drink of your blood until I bring you within an inch of death, I promise I will not permit you to die. Not now. Not ever! You will serve my needs of nourishment and pleasure for ions to come. And you will not age as long as I possess you."

During all of this slow-mo molestation, the hunter has kept his body limp, but slowly, he has fought his way back to full consciousness. Now, as the vampire bares his fangs preparing to suck the life force from the young man's neck, the hunter suddenly lifts his arms; his hands seize and close tightly around theold vampire’s scrawny neck. The muscles of the hunter’s naked body are suddenly taught and alive, straining to hold back the long bloody fangs of vampire #51.

Aiding the young man’s fight to survive is the rage he feels at being stripped and dragged unto the alter like a child. Rage was quietly building while his naked body was inspected and fondled by this evil, withered creature. He is resolved to destroy vampire #51 and wipe it forever from the face of the earth. While he holds tight his grip on VASOCULTO's scrawny neck, the hunter reaches out a bare foot, just managing with his toes to nudge the tools of his trade- the mallet and wooden stake-- to within his grasp. VASOCULTO seems now to grow feeble, unable to resist, and the hunter feels confident enough in his own strength to release his hold on the vampire’s neck just long enough to grasp the wooden stake, pound it through the evil one’s heart, and send him straight to hell.

But hell is not where VASOCULATO intends to go this night.

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