Victim Complex


Daria and Jane cringed as the tortured sobs of Stacy Rowe echoed over the Ferris wheel.
Just when they thought they would have some peace from the noisy crowds of their classmates here at Lawndale High's wannabe Renaissance Fair, one of the most annoying jumped right in between them. She had not stopped crying about the boy who dumped her through the entire journey.
Clearly, something had to be done.
"I even wore my crushed velvet tank top," Stacy wailed. "The one with the scoop neck. And he still didn't ask me out again! If only you were popular enough to understand..."
"Yes. If only," Jane muttered sarcastically.
"When is this ride going to be over?" Daria asked, equally vexed at the pigtailed nightmare. She had no tears for girls like Stacy: perpetual victims, relentlessly weak and self-pitying, exhausting the sympathy and patience of everyone she met.
"Why?" Stacy cried. "Was it something I said? Something I wore? Oh, I wish I were dead!"
If they threw the girl off the ride, Jane wondered, would it be justifiable homicide?
"Look," Daria interrupted. "Don't flush your whole world down the drain just because some jerk didn't ask you out on a second date. It probably had nothing to do with you anyway."
"Unless you did something really stupid, like bore him with your petty problems and convoluted logic." Jane added helpfully.

Stacy was so startled that she stopped crying and stared at them. "W-why would I do that?"
A dim, smoldering spark lit in the corner of Daria's eye. Jane noticed, leaned over and shook her head frantically. No. Not here.
"Because you like it," Daria said, ignoring her. She was focused only on Stacy now. "You love to play the victim, don't you, Stacy? I hear you on the phone with my sister every night. 'Help, I wore the wrong lip gloss.' 'Oh no, my collection of wrap skirts is so last period!' 'Help, my boyfriend shoved me!...While I was clinging to his heels to keep him from leaving.' I almost pity her for having to listen to you every day."
Jane's gaze swiveled between the two of them and the ground, which was no longer coming up at them. Apparently the Ferris wheel was stuck, with the three of them at the top. This was bad. She couldn't control Daria when she got like this.
Tonight, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Daria leaned closer to Stacy as she cringed away. "Girls like you are my favorites. Did you know that, Stacy? You're so beautiful, so perfect. And you have so many f*cking problems."
Her eyes glowed brighter. Stacy whimpered in fear.
"Daria..." Jane pleaded.
"Don't ruin it, Jane," Daria hissed. "Unless you want to miss out on the fun."
"No, please!" Jane cried. "I want her so badly."
"As I thought," Daria's ravenous eyes shifted back to the fashion princess. "So, want to be a victim, huh?"


Her hands moved faster than sight, tearing Stacy's faux-medieval dress at the shoulder.
Stacy screamed and cowered away, trying to cover herself. Jane grabbed her arms and slammed her lips onto Stacy's with bruising force, her tongue exploring eagerly. The other girl thrashed and bit down hard, but the pain only excited Jane further.
Daria shuddered at the sight of Stacy's breast exposed in the moonlight. "Mmmm, so soft." She dove in and sucked her nipple hungrily. Stacy's whole body jerked as if shocked. Just as Daria thought, she liked it. Behind the soap and cheap perfume she smelled something more, dread and desire in equal parts, and the bittersweet scent drove her mad.
"Oh God. You're going to be so delicious..." she purred, pulling harder at the dress.
The tearing noise caught Jane's attention, and she shoved her friend's hands away furiously. "That's mine! You take her mouth!" She licked her lips as Daria gladly obliged. This was Jane's favorite part besides the end: disrobing them. Finding the seams, making the cloth rend and tear bit by bit. She could spend an hour exposing them if she were really into it-but time was of the essence now. She gripped both sides of the struggling girl's gown and pushed outward, ripping it down the middle. More bare flesh rewarded her, filling her vision and driving her mad.

Stacy let out a muffled cry as Daria's rough, stubby fingers fondled and caressed. But the outcast held her with inhuman strength, forcing her own agile tongue deeper and deeper in with obscene moans. The girl choked as her mouth was used, but her troubles were just beginning. As Daria's saliva mingled with hers, her body warmed with desire against her own will, and a final ominous tearing sound brought cool night air flooding between her legs.
She looked down to see her beautiful dress reduced to tattered fragments, and Jane crouching over her with a frightening hunger in her eyes. A strange blue light emanated from that gaze, filling her with yet more involuntary pleasure.
"Okay, Stacy," the eccentric artist-and what else?-whispered. "Now you can scream."
For once the little crybaby didn't disappoint them. She cried and struggled pitifully as Jane dove into her damp folds.
"Mmmmm," Jane's head swam with pleasure as she tasted her. It had been a long time, so very long. She had what she wanted-and Daria was soon to get hers.
The girl squirmed and strained as the brunette gripped her shoulders, easing her onto her back. She couldn't look away from those eyes if she wanted to. Daria started in once again, biting at her all over until she bled from dozens of tiny wounds, then licking them up with reverence.
"Beg, Stacy," she said as she came up for air. "Beg us."
Stacy did. Whether she begged them to release her or give her more was unclear, but it didn't matter either way. Jane's tongue ravished her without mercy and all too soon she was pulled to the brink, the yawning gulf before her, desire turning her to molten liquid until she melted over the edge-

Stacy's head snapped back, eyes beseeching the stars as her body was wracked with pleasure. It was the deepest, most powerful orgasm of her young life, and it would have blown her socks off had she still been wearing them.
Gripping a braid in each hand, Daria leaned down and plunged her fangs into the popular girl's neck. The gushing red filled her mouth, euphoria flowing down her throat as she drank deeply. Stacy barely felt the pain as her high refused to come down. The force of Jane's hunger filled her, more deeply than a girl could dream of being filled, and then blood was no longer necessary, nor was breath...and finally, nor was she.
So this was what it was like, she thought dreamily, to be consumed with pleasure. To be a true victim.
It was all she ever desired.


All was quiet when the ride started up again, with the two less popular girls alone once more.
"The vampire and the sorceress," Jane mused. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"
"I guess. Just promise me that if I ever start sparkling, you'll do the right thing," Daria's teeth slowly and grudgingly returned to normal. "I assume you cast the necessary spells on the crowd?"
Jane nodded. "Didn't see anything, won't remember anything. Kind of a shame, when you think about it. They missed quite a show."
"It's our show, Jane," Daria reminded her grimly. "We don't do it for them."
The ride was soon over, and the girls smiled at the carny as he waited by the exit.
"Good job. Thanks," Jane winked and slipped him a few bills.
"You never saw her." Daria added.
He nodded. "Pleasure doin' business with ya, ladies."
Daria disappeared once more into the sights and sounds of the fair, Jane following faithfully behind her. The night was young, and Quinn now owed her a favor.

The End