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He's Like The Wind	By : LordKuyohashi Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 6265 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, or any related characters, and neither accept nor receive any monetary or compensatory reward for this story.

Chapter List
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“Hurry up, Lisa. I think I can hear the Reverend starting.” Marge admonished her eldest daughter, who was sluggishly climbing the stairs to the church. Usually, it was Homer who lagged behind the rest of the family, but today, it was Lisa who was trailing, her sleepy, distant eyes fixed on Bart in his Sunday best. Marge smiled; as far as anyone outside the family knew, Lisa was simply happy to have her brother, who had until recently been absent from the household for several weeks without explanation, back in her life. But Marge knew, secretly, that Bart had enthralled his own sister, claimed her as his immortal servant, and even as his personal cumdump.
Marge was the only one who knew Bart was, like his mother, a vampire.
A small aside, dear reader, on the nature of vampires. Perhaps you’ve seen them in movies, or read about them in books. It would be trite to say that popular culture had corrupted the truth of vampires to serve an audience’s demands, but it is what it is. Vampires could, with small effort, walk around in the daylight. They could enter houses of worship. They could eat garlic, bathe in holy water, sleep in beds, and, if the proper preparations were to be made, even have children.
Lisa climbed the steps to the church, trying hard to keep her eyes and mind off her brother’s ass. He hadn’t fucked her since that first night, since he fed from her and made her into his devoted thrall, so she was anxious and desperate for his attention. And Bart, ever the cruel Master, knew this very well, getting a sadistic shiver of glee at the thought that his ignoring his sister was driving her even madder than she already was.
It took a common grasshopper landing on the step ahead of her to snap Lisa’s attention, and even then, only long enough for her to snatch the insect out of the air as it tried to jump away, then shoveling it into her mouth. She glanced around to see if anyone had spotted her catching the grasshopper, and, satisfied that they had not, crunched down on the wriggling bug, savouring its bitter taste and the squishy bits flowing down her gullet.
Her impromptu breakfast finished, Lisa followed her parents into the church, and found a seat in one of the back pews, next to Bart. She leaned against him, hoping that he would grace her with a look, a word, a touch, ignoring the proceedings happening at the front of the church.
They were there this cold autumn Saturday to say farewell to Helen Lovejoy, the good Reverend’s wife, who had only a few days ago slipped in the shower and landed jugular first onto a barbecue fork. The police, if they had been issued standard police-issue braincells, might have thought to ask why anyone would have a barbecue fork in the bathroom, where slips and falls and accidental impalements can and do occur, but alas, this was the Springfield Police Department, whose motto was less “Protect and Serve,” and more “Biscuits and Gravy.” And so the death was ruled accidental, and as is so often the case in Springfield, less inquisitive minds simply let that be. Few would have suspected that Marge Simpson had an active role in the Reverend’s wife’s demise.
Timothy Lovejoy sat in the gallery with the other parishioners, next to his daughter Jessica, the both of them looking devastated at the loss. A guest preacher, some Reverend Kathy Gallaghan from Capital City, performed the funerary rites, droning on and on about how Helen was a light in the community and how she was loved and missed, and Marge only snickered to herself, let out a furtive burp, and thought, Please, the little cunt was a busybody and a gossip and she didn’t even taste all that good. The only thing she was good for was eating me out before I ate her up.
Beside her, Homer had already drifted to sleep - in fact, that was his entire reason for attending the funeral; there was no finer place in Springfield for a good nap than in the church. Maggie curled up against her father, sound asleep in her own little dreamland, and next to them, Lisa was rubbing her thighs together, hoping Bart could smell how hot and aroused she was for him.
The guest Rev kept on talking, about what exactly Lisa had long since stopped caring, and eventually the congregation stood and followed the funeral procession out to the cemetery. As the adults rose and filed out of the church, Marge even nudging Homer awake so he could catch up, Lisa tugged on Bart’s arm needfully.
“Bart, please, I need you. Stay with me and we can defile this church together!”
Bart pretended to try to pull away, but as soon as the last person was out the door, he turned to his sister, his thrall, and smiled, showing off his sharp, terrifying fangs.
“Fuck, Lisa, I really did drive you crazy if you want to screw in a church at a funeral.”
“Well, I was going to suggest we fuck in the cemetery, Master, but it’s so much warmer in here.”
Lisa squeezed Bart’s hands, biting her lip in anticipation, while Bart looked around to make sure the church was empty. He closed his eyes, focusing his vampiric senses on picking up any prey or living heartbeats in the area, and satisfied that they were alone, led his thrall-sister up to the podium, fishing his already-hard cock out of his church pants.
Standing before the Reverend’s dias, Bart held his arms outspread, making Lisa think briefly of the Crucifixion, before her thoughts turned to her Master’s raging hard dick.
“Get this cock in your mouth, little thrall. Show me how well you can suck me, for a change.”
Lisa fell to her knees, overwhelmed by the glory of her brother’s cock, drool running down her chin as she madly scrambled towards her Master. Sidling up to his feet, she placed her hands on his hips, and took him into her mouth, moaning at the heady flavour. Bart took a hold of Lisa’s head, and began moving it back and forth along his shaft, fucking her skull mercilessly. Lisa gulped and moaned and loved every second of her use, thick, foamy curtains of slobber dripping from her chin as she choked on Bart’s cold, hard cock. She looked up at her brother, tears in her eyes as she tried to massage his rod with her inexperienced tongue, forcing herself to gag on him. She humped her hips up and down as he skull-fucked her, imagining that he was taking her at both ends. Lisa slipped her tongue under Bart’s foreskin, teasing under the rim of his knob, giggling madly through a mouth stuffed with fraternal cock, worshipping him like the brain-broken slut she was. She wanted the little lives hidden inside his balls; he said she could have little lives, insects and vermin, and right now her brother’s cum held billions of little lives for her to take into herself and absorb.
Bart pulled out of her throat, looking down at her, smiling at the sight of his sister, eyes wide, red and teary, mouth a gaping abyss, her tongue curled as if teasing a cock no longer there, spittle and precum drenching her face. She was truly his thrall, his slave, and he wanted to enjoy every inch of her.
Lisa smiled through her fucked up face, licking the precum off her lips. She wiggled her ass happily as she cleaned herself up.
“Thank you, Master. Your cock was so wonderful, I loved choking on it!”
In a surprise outburst of force, Bart clutched Lisa by the throat, hoisting her up with one hand, and carrying her over to the nearby altar. She kicked and flailed as the air was crushed out of her, tears running down her face, her eyes rolling back. Bart slung her like a sack of flour onto the altar, and leapt up, landing on his haunches. Lisa lay there for a second, gasping and coughing, trying to catch her breath; she pushed herself up, her eyes pleading to calm her Master’s rage.
“Please, Master, I’m sorry! Whatever your stupid, worthless slave did, she’s sorry! Have mercy on me, Master!”
Without a word, Bart grabbed her by the ankle, pulling along the altar until she was prone on her back, staring up at him through fearful eyes. She knew what a monster her brother was, at least on some level, and even though she feared he could hurt her, at the same time she thrilled at the idea.
Bart stooped down, pulled up her pink Sunday dress, and tore at her pure white panties, until they ripped, exposing her bare slit. He clutched the tattered shreds of her underwear in front of her face as if rubbing her nose in a mess she had made. “What are these?”
“Wh-what?” She was scared and confused, and too dazed to respond.
Bart bared his teeth, fangs glinting in the coloured light wafting through the stained glass.
“What. Are. These?”
“I don’t–panties! Those are my panties, Master!”
Bart threw the torn panties away, the wad of shredded cloth landing with a forceful thud near the organ. “You are never to wear such offensive garments again, slave! Your holes are to be available to me at all times, is that understood?”
Lisa nodded excitedly, a mixture to fear and madness in her eyes. “Yes, Master, no more panties, I understand!”
Bart’s monstrous visage softened, and he knelt between Lisa’s legs, swinging his slimy, hard cock in his hand. “Good girl. Now spread those legs, we’re going to desanctify this fucking altar before the Rev gets back. See how his God likes it when His church becomes an incestuous whorehouse of the damned!”
Lisa let out a shrill squeal as Bart hoisted her ankles onto his shoulders, and teased her bare, hungry slit with his sticky cock knob. She whined as he sank into her, a hiccupping cackle escaping her lips as his hips ground against hers, his cock buried into her tight, wet cunt.
As Bart began working his hips back and forth into Lisa’s, she fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, pulling the soft pink dress open and exposing her dark nipples to her Master-lover.
“Yes! Oh god, fuck me, Master! Fuck your worthless whore-slave! Use my holes! Fill me with your cold seed and fucking destroy me!”
Bart didn’t need the encouragement from his cumdump sister-thrall, but he did appreciate it, hammering himself in and out of her tight, young pussy, watching her bounce against the altar as he fucked her like an animal. Her warmth enveloped him completely, milking his rock hard shaft as he pummeled her cervix.
Lisa writhed and wriggled as Bart fucked her savagely, her juices pooling under her small ass onto the altar, running down onto the carpet. She clutched at her brother, her Master, her Lord and King and God, pulling him closer to her so that she might taste the sweet death on his lips, her tongue caressing his fangs, drawing out her blood as she forcibly pricked her own lips on his teeth. Bart lapped at her bleeding lips, tasting her life essence, his cock hardening inside of her, threatening to explode into a monstrous orgasmic fury.
Lisa bucked her hips at him, slamming her cunt up against his rutting cock over and over, her gasping, hiccuping laughter ringing throughout the church. Her eyes were wide and wild with insanity. She clawed at Bart’s chest, unaware of her actions, simply acting out of instinct. With one final surge of ecstacy, she arched herself upwards, wrapping herself around Bart’s neck, burying his face into her throat, and panting, “Do it, Bart! Drink me! Eat me! Take all of me!”
The raw, animalistic scent of her sweat, her cunt, her blood, drew Bart’s mind to a blank, and his mouth opened slightly, his fangs ready to strike, already prickling the skin of Lisa’s throat. All he had to do was bite down, just once, and feed from her, and all his hungers would be satiated. He applied a molecule of pressure, a crimson tear running down her neck as he broke the skin, before pulling back. WIth a grunt, he felt himself release his thick, cold seed into his sister’s hot womb, groaning as he dumped a creamy load into Lisa’s cunt. She collapsed against the altar, giggling insanely as her Master’s seed dribbled out of her bruised and ravaged twat.
After a few minutes, Bart helped Lisa off the altar, cum running down her legs. She scooped the creamy leavings from her thigh, and shoved the gooey mess into her mouth, moaning at the cold, bitter taste.
“Mmmaster, oh god, I love your cum.”
Looking around for some way to clean up the cum flowing out of her cunt, Lisa placed a folding chair from the podium near the stoup of holy water by the entrance, squatted over the font, and squeezed out the bulk of Bart’s load into the holy water, turning it into a cloudy soup.
Adjusting their clothes, the siblings walked out of the church, hand in hand, looking for the funeral procession. Instead, they found their mother waiting for them at the bottom of the front steps, hands on her hips and an impatient look on her face.
“There you two are. What kept you?”
Lisa tried to think of something to tell her mother, when Bart confidently piped in. “Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t feeling too hot, and Lisa offered to stay with me until I felt better.”
Lisa and Marge both looked at Bart in disbelief. Marge knew it was a lie - of course it was a lie! She could have smelled the sex on them even if she didn’t have a vampire’s sense of smell - but only smiled warmly at her two offspring.
“That’s very sweet of you, Lisa. But, it seems your father went and invited the Lovejoys to a cookout at our house to make them feel better about Helen’s passing, and then thoughtlessly asked them to bring their own barbecue forks, so it looks like the funeral is over for the most part.”
Bart stifled a laugh. “Holy shit, Dad, of all the wrong things he could have said, he picked the Platinum trophy!”
Marge murmured. “Yes, well, now we’re headed home again, so you kids get in the car. And watch the language, Bart. I’ll excuse it as you still ‘not feeling well’ but be more careful in the future.”
The kids raced to the car and piled in, Marge watching after them. She climbed up the stairs and poked her head into the church, inhaling the raw smell of their coupling still hanging in the air. She noticed a sour smell, and a sound like water boiling, and noticed the holy water stoup, it’s contains frothing and bubbling, a trickle of white cream dangling loosely off the edge of the font. She scooped it up with her finger, and licked it off, savouring her son’s taste. With a smile, she shook her head, chuckling. “You’re a lucky little slut, Lisa Simpson.”
Inside the car, Bart buckled himself in, Lisa taking the spot behind the passenger side seat. She stared lovingly at her Master, running her hand along his leg.
“Bart,” she whispered in a hushed tone, so as not to draw Homer’s attention from the driver’s seat, “can I suck you on the way home?”
Bart glanced at Homer from the corner of his eye. He knew his father wouldn’t say anything if he saw them screw around - Lisa wasn’t the only thrall in the family, after all - and nodded to her, unzipping his dress pants and pulling his cock out. Lisa grinned, “Thank you, Master,” before she leaned down to rub her face all over her brother’s wet, pussy-tinged cock. Bart leaned his head back as Marge got into the car and Homer started the engine, sighing as Lisa took him into her mouth and began working him back to full hardness. He caught sight of his mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror, glancing back at him, glowing a dull red.
I don’t know which one of you did that to the holy water, her voice rang out in Bart’s head, but that was fucking brilliant. Defiling the church will really hamper their ability to harm us, if it comes down to it.
Bart grinned. That one was all Lisa. She’s going to be an amazing vampire, Mom. There’s an evil streak in her I don’t think any of us imagined.
Mm. Well, Marge’s brow furrowed, you’ll have to embrace her soon. I know you enjoy being her Master, sweetie, but she’s too unstable as she is. I want her embraced by the end of the week. Do you think you can do that?
Bart closed his eyes, enjoying the lewd sucking sounds Lisa was making as she worked his shaft with her tight throat. He reached over, and slipped a hand under her dress, playing with her tight, virgin asshole as she sucked him off.
Yeah, I can do that, Mom. Give me just a few more days to train her holes before I eat her.
The battered pink station wagon pulled away from the church parking lot, filled with the sounds of sibling sucking sibling, as the sun disappeared behind a cluster of thick clouds. Bart was going to thoroughly enjoy his sister before finally devouring her.
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He's Like The Wind