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Garfield And Friends (The old TV cartoon series where, no offense to Bill
Murray, Lorenzo Music did a fantastic Garfield voice. Imagine those voices,
not the movie ones!)

Codes: MF, cons, pwp


Garfield And Friends: Jon Arbuckle - The Fool And The Vampire
by Knorg ([email protected])

Light bursts. Random memories. Dream melds with reality. Cleaning the
booths. Mopping the floor. Serving a millionth coffee refill to a
beer-gutted trucker who doesn't even slap my ass. Steak and burger meat
fumes. The chickens screaming. Sore feet and aching back. Lifetime of toil.
The stranger.

The waitress's eyes flickered open as a car pulled up outside. Freezing like
a winter's morning. Focusing on a splash of blood across the strip light in
the kitchen, drying now. She feels no pain even from the bloody neck wound
that stains her collar and black uniform. It itches like grass on a hot
summer day. There's a hunger building in her cold stomach that twitches her
hand towards her neck, and she feels the wetness.

It's a hunger even the legendary he-man burger couldn't satisfy.

"IRMA?"

Jon Arbuckle stood in the empty diner doorway - amazed to find for the first
time ever that Irma wasn't in her customary place behind the diner's long
counter. Dressed in a purple tartan suit and bow-tie he considered himself
the epitome of style and sophistication. He'd not been the slightest bit put
off when his pets had laughed so hard they'd choked on their food - Garfield
had even managed to choke on some of Odie's.

'She probably saw the suit and ran' commented the portly ginger cat as he
peeked around Jon's legs, 'Let's go raid the kitchen before she comes back'

"She keeps this place open 24 hours. She's probably napping. C'mon
Garfield."

Jon sounded depressed. He was depressed. As a forty year old almost virgin -
he briefly remembered Kimmy, the girl raised by wolves who, like a typical
alpha female, hadn't taken no for an answer - he still had a high sex drive
and wanted action with the chicks. It was his persistence in calling them
chicks that had in part severely stunted his chances, as had an
over-eagerness that had caused him to ask out almost every woman he'd ever
met.

He'd even hit on Irma once.

They took their seats at the diner's counter, and carefully managed to not
touch the slickly glistening plastic.

"What happened tonight? I was wowing her! She was wide eyed with awe and
amusement... then she ran off..."

Garfield wondered if delusion had reached new depths.

'What's the weather like in Jonland?'

"What'll it be... hon?"

"Irma! You're Bleeding!"

"Special sauce, hon..."

Garfield's claws flicked out and dug into the counter. Suddenly hyper-aware
the ginger cat could smell a dead body in the kitchen... chef Tony. Irma
also smelled... wrong. Her black hair was down about her shoulders, freed
from the constraints of her hairnet. Her glasses were gone though she held a
bloody pad in one hand, and a pencil in another. She stopped in front of cat
and dork and flashed them a grin with teeth to match the cats.

'Check please!' Garfield could tell this wasn't some Diner promotion like
the three bean special that had seen Irma dressed in an oversized sombrero.
Jon seemed to be under a different impression as he gazed into Irma's eyes.
He'd try it on with anyone. Rumour had it anything while trying for a new
year's eve date.

"Why Miss Irma... you're beautiful..." Jon took the dorky stereotypical
reaction to Irma with her hair down and glasses removed.

Garfield's claws were stuck fast in the counter. He pulled with all his
strength, teeth grinding together, but couldn't budge.

'JON! JON! FORGET ABOUT YOURSELF! SAVE ME!

Irma reached out and stroked a blood-spattered finger down Jon's face. The
hunger snarled within her, a raging beast of lust and fury. The emotions
failed to flicker across her immobile face, worn with years of service in
the diner. Jon felt the frustrations of the night forcing blood into his
crotch.

"That's sweet, hon... sweet as suger..." She knew what she had to do. He'd
seemed like such a nice young man, coming into the diner on a Saturday
night. She could see his friends slumped in the back seat of the car through
the window. Tired from their journey. "What'll it be?" she asked. "You." He
punched Tony's head right off as the old chef tried to stop him taking her
into the kitchen. Slaking his thirst. Thirst she now shared.

"Well, Irma, a smart sophisticated guy like m-ARRGGHH"

Irma pulled Jon over the counter and held down on the sticky, stained
surface with just one cold hand.

"Why Irma... this is all so sudden!"

"WAKE UP GARFIELD! WAKE UP!'

"I want you, Hon."

Jon's leg accidentally booted Garfield in the head. Now he was seriously
annoyed, but even the anger couldn't yank his claws from the bench. He
hadn't felt so helpless since he was too fat to run away from the big dog
next door. Irma mounted Jon with cruel abandon, as he pushed her skirt and
apron up, and pushed her knickers aside to feel for her snatch. He was
surprised to find it so cold. With his other hand he pushed his trousers
down as much as he could to pull out his cock.

He was getting laid! Jon wasn't even stopping to think of the craziness of
Irma pulling him on the counter, or the blood, or any of it. Irma looked
down at his neck and fancied she could see his jugular pulsing fit to burst.
The hunger howled within as Jon penetrated her, so happy he felt as if his
bow-tie was twirling.

'JON! YOU CRAZY...' Irma casually flicked out her arm hard enough to knock
Garfield back out through the diner door. He lay stunned on the tarmac as
birds snickered overhead, 'This is a job for the caped avenger...' the cat
fuzzily thought before losing consciousness. Jon had his eyes screwed tight
as he held onto Irma's hips and pumped into her.

"Wow! My sock collection's got nothing on this!"

Irma let the hunger build as she held Jon's head to the side. Rolling her
head back she ran her tongue across her teeth, letting the anticipation
build. She envisioned breaking all the diner's customers in the same way,
taking their blood.

"Irma! Kiss me!"

"Sure... Hon..." Jon felt like Iram was crushing him against the counter as
she pressed herself close into his warm body and bit deep into his throat.

"Arrhhh! Lovebite!" Jon began to cum, hips jerking against without conscious
effort against her. Heat and lust; hunger and death. Jon's eyes were now
wide with panic even as he pasted her undead womb. With terror lent strength
he tried to pry Irma from his neck. The waitress thrilled as the blood
washed her tongue, finer than any coffee, as Jon's life pumped into her from
neck and crotch.

"Irma... please..." Jon felt the exquisitely erotic sensation as Irma lapped
at his lifeblood, and kept Cumming. Irma pulled herself off of Jon slickly,
and stepped down beside him. He weakly looked into her eyes and saw the
embers of the hunger. Irma rubbed his wilting penis with one hand, and
slurped seminal fluid from her finger.

"Bye hon. Come again soon."




    

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