* * *
Jesus awoke at dusk, hungry for blood. Stepping from his sepulchre, he saw a young woman standing near Joseph of Arimathea’s tomb. It was a distraught Mary Magdalene, her lovely visage causing him to raise an eyebrow.
“Why do you weep woman?” asked Jesus in his disguised voice, walking to her.
“They’ve taken the master and I know not where.” She moved the hair from her tearful eyes in an unconsciously seductive manner, which was seen but ignored by the vampiric Christ. A very attractive woman, the Magdalene was of his more trying tests of self-control when he had been a preacher.
“No they haven’t, I am he,” said Jesus, staring at her neck.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed, “You’re alive!”
“No, I am far from alive,” said Jesus, “Let’s put it this way, I exist.”
“What do you mean master?” asked Mary, wiping her tears, confused by his reply, yet willing to listen and learn a new lesson from her rabbi.
“I mean I’m a vampire,” said Jesus, grabbing her by the shoulders and plunging fangs in her soft throat. She gave a short muffled cry like that of a small animal injured, collapsing in his arms. He sucked her blood, but not enough to kill her, as he had always thought this dark haired, green eyed, Jewish – Benjaminite prostitute attractive, and had actually loved her deeply when alive. During his ministry, he had greatly enjoyed her company, her beautiful smile and past seductive glances crossing his mind while he beheld her unconscious body; even her sharp wit and intelligence had drawn him to her from the beginning. He gently placed her in a recessed corner in his sepulchre and walked to Jerusalem, heading to the home of procurator Pontius Pilate.
Mary Magdalene would recover quickly, accompanying her master Jesus to Anatolia and later to the continent of Europe, traveling with him as a vampire.
In Jerusalem, a party and sex orgy was being held at the Pilate residence, a gigantic pearlescent marble structure located in the downtown section of the city. Arriving, Jesus strolled through the open bronze clad doors, noting the debauchery, several couples openly having intercourse on cushions placed on the marble floor. Standing near a hall entrance to the atrium, two men, one a praetor, the other a consul, noticed Jesus. Finding him attractive, they approached and propositioned him.
“A lovely party isn’t it friend?” asked the consul, looking to Jesus.
“I suppose,” Jesus answered in Latin, instinctively knowing them for what they were.
“You’re a beautiful man, I think I’m falling in love with you this very moment,” said the consul, batting eyes sensually at him.
“Indeed,” said Jesus, hiding his disdain from the future victim.
“He’s a Hebrew Urbanus, those like him trim the prepuces of their phalli so the head protrudes even when unaroused,” said the praetor, named Carinus, having had homosexual encounters with many inhabitants of Judea.
“I must see this wonder for myself,” a smiling Urbanus declared, looking to Jesus’ crotch.
A disgusted Jesus, seeing them as nothing more than food, played along, the three moving to a secluded storeroom for their fateful encounter. Closing and locking the door, the Romans disrobed, fully aroused.
“Why aren’t you naked friend, remove your robe and undergarments so we can love each other,” said Urbanus, staring at Jesus’ crotch while caressing his forearm.
Revolted by the sight of his nude homosexual suitors, Jesus answered, “Because I’m hungry, not queer, and I’m going to kill both of you.”
“Surely you jest,” said a smiling Carinus, falling into Jesus’ arms for what he thought would be a prelude for rough sex.
“No, I’m a vampire and I need your blood to survive,” Jesus replied, fangs showing as he held the enraptured man, not quite realizing how depraved he was.
“Love me to death with your stiff and conquering phallus,” Carinus cooed, kissing Jesus on the cheek, his reason clouded by his arousal.
“Certainly not,” retorted Jesus, staring into the victim’s eyes.
Not wanting to hear more lewd proposals, he hypnotized Carinus, but Urbanus, a rare, mentally inflexible man incapable of entrancement, realizing he was in mortal danger, attempted to flee. Moving quickly, Jesus appeared in the doorway, blocking his escape. Lifting him bodily, he broke the consul’s back with his bare hands, placing him in a sitting position, still alive, near the door. The horrified, frozen praetor could only watch as the vampire bared fangs and knelt down to suck Urbanus’ blood, plunging razor sharp incisors in his throat. Disposing of the troublesome man, Jesus then slaughtered Carinus, draining the life from him in seconds.
“Silly queers,” said a smirking Jesus, holding the nude body of Carinus. Refreshed by the nourishing blood, he dropped the corpse to the floor and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Where the hell’s Pilate?” he spat, looking about the opulent reception hall. Told by a Gallic slave that Pilate was having sex with a set of twins in the central courtyard, he headed there.
Appalled at the scene he observed, Jesus yelled, “Hey, shithead!”
Pilate was leaning on a trellis in ecstasy, a naked blonde slave rapidly fellating him.
“Jesus Christ!” Pilate exclaimed, standing up and pulling his suddenly flaccid organ from the girl’s mouth as the vampire approached.
“That’s me,” said Jesus, enjoying the sight of Pilate’s fear.
Pilate had turned as white as his disheveled equestrian toga, beholding the late Son of Man. “It can’t be you, you’re dead!”
“It is, and I am undead, thank you,” said Jesus, looking in disgust at the much shorter Pilate and his slaves, the girls cringing and attempting to cover their nude bodies with their arms.
“Why are you here?” asked a shaking Pilate, arranging his toga, trying to gain some control of the situation.
“You condemned me to death on the cross,” said Jesus in his strangely accented voice, staring into Pilate’s eyes.
“No I didn’t, I tried to stop them! All those Jews wanted you dead, what could I do?”
“You didn’t try hard enough,” Jesus answered, entrancing Pilate and the two slaves.
He killed them by sucking their blood, dropping the emptied bodies to the ground. Pausing, he ogled the bodies of the nude girls in disgust, lifting one by a leg, noting while looking closer at the body that she had been only a child, not even having pubic hair.
Better to be dead than to live a life like that, thought Jesus, staring at the lifeless body of the other child slave.
Frowning, he threw the corpse into a fountain thirty feet away, the body bouncing off a bronze statue of Venus and landing in the water with a tremendous splash. A surprised Jesus raised eyebrows at the superhuman feat, not recalling he had easily moved the huge boulder blocking the entrance to the tomb, his physical strength having increased over tenfold.
“What a pervert,” he muttered, looking to Pilate’s remains, the body having a chalklike pallor, contemplating the man’s unsuccessful defense of his actions. Thinking further, he conceded Pilate might have had a point. “Oh well,” he added with a shrug, staring at the bloodless body, knowing it was much too late for a reprieve.
Seeing a silver goblet filled with perfumed wine on a table, Jesus paused to take a delicate sip. It wasn’t his particular brand, but found the taste of the fermented nectar quite palatable. “I can still enjoy wine,” he said with a smile, emptying the goblet. Grabbing the bottle, nearly full, he corked it and slipped it in his robe.
Bloated with blood, he moved past the oblivious guests, occupied with their debauchery, and left the ostentatious mansion. Nauseous, he staggered a few blocks down the street, entering a local lavatorium. I suppose there’s a limit to the blood I can consume, just like with wine, he thought, leaning over the basin, vomiting excess blood into the sewer. Comfortable and sated, he left the
lavatorium and walked about Jerusalem, taking in the sights, making way to his tomb near sunrise.
Mary Magdalene sat in undead repose in a corner, her unconscious body transforming into a vampire. I imagine it’ll take a few days for her to wake up, thought Jesus, looking to the comatose Magdalene as he removed the bottle from his robe. Pulling the stopper with his teeth, he spat it to the floor and took a deep gulp of undiluted wine. “Not bad,” he observed with satisfaction, finding the fermented nectar quite tasty. He finished it, soon finding he had become a delightfully inebriated vampire. Back in his mortal days, he and many of his followers had been, for all practical purposes, alcoholics, often getting drunk together while discussing religious philosophy. Deeply satisfied with the wonderful revelation that he could still enjoy wine, Jesus lay down on a slab, closed his eyes, and settled into blissful sleep.