Taylor Swift

 

Taylor Swift

Dracula crafts his plan. He knows this will take strategy and all his supernatural power. Proud feminists and small town Christian girls do not often overlap in their ideology, but not wishing to become his slave for eternity would be one where they do, and Taylor is both. But the challenge of accomplishing that desecration only adds to the thrill. He knows for all her modernity and girl next door girl image, will not be able to resist he summons of a Prince. She is has been obsessed with American royalty like the Kennedys, the writing of Shakespeare, a royal invitation to a genuine castle will stoke the fires of her ambition and imagination. At home, next to her fiance, Travis Kelce, she opens the letter. The invitation, signed with Dracula's blood takes a subtle, quick hold over her. Travis, not the most introspective notices it, but it is quickly brushed off.

The pair arrive at the castle. Taylor marvels everything she sees. Travis looks a little lost, out of pace, though his eyes dart towards a suit of armor, holding an axe. He can't help himself, admiring it. Taylor warns him not to touch it then...clang. Taylor is mortified, especially as their host makes themselves known.

Dinner is served, a spread and layout impressive even to a woman who has everything. Dracula regales Taylor with tales, historic and tragic, the icon's eyes grow heavy in their lids. Not bored, entranced in fascination. Most of the details go over Travis's head, but it is the setup that is truly bewildering. Which is the salad fork, which is the carving knife. His large, firm grip is a victim of its own success, when a server pours him a glass of wine, it pours everywhere. Even Travis is embarrassed. Dracula calmly lets him know a servant take him to change into a new shirt.

Travis is taken to change. Now they're alone, Dracula beckons Taylor to follow him. She is vaguely hesitant, shouldn't they wait for Travis. He tells her the athlete will rejoin them soon enough. But he has something to show her only a true artist would understand. They make their way a music hall, a grand piano at the center. A one of a kind Blüthner. Taylor steps forward, touching the keys, delicately, as if it, or she, would shatter under too forceful a touch. He invites her to play, to read the composition on the front. Taylor starts on the keys, a strange energy emanates, her eyes almost glow. Little does she know she is casting a spell to that erodes her own will, binding her to her host.

After she's done, he bids her to rise. She does so, somewhat stiffly, her face blank, and yet he can sense her heartbeat, her breath, even the moistness below, as if her body was more aware of what comes next than her mind. He takes her to a suite. Whether or not she is fully of her faculties, it is truly opulent, a worthy wedding bed for a woman who is a sovereign nation unto herself. With a mere wave a hand, Taylor somehow knows to undress. She lays upon the bed. Dracula steps forward, disrobing.

He claims the icon of his generation, savoring the magnitude of his defilement. Then, Taylor feels the cold sting. She is briefly rouses to awareness, the horrifying reality of what's happening, again, there's two things a proud feminist and whole Christians girls agree on, and it's that they won't want to be the bride of Dracula. But she struggles in vein under his grip, as he drinks, until her mind is again washed out with euphoria.

Travis, cleaned up, looks for Taylor and his host. He looks around, calling after her. Then he hears. Her moans. Her cries. Taylor's cries but...words, with depths he never thought the curated star was capable. Her words, of filth and submission. He opens, he sees a sight, hears sounds that are almost the antithesis of what everyone pictures when they hear "Taylor Swift".

As if ready for an audience, Dracula shows Travis how powerless he truly is, how Taylor is thoroughly his, how corrupted she is. He calls for her to make the most profane cries of pleasure, the most explicit proclamations of her pleasure, to to prepare for positions that would shocks the world if they would see, the scene playing out before Travis's eyes. He plunges his fangs into her again, and Taylor Swift, icon, role model, dies, in submission and debased pleasure.

Her body then grows lifeless, he takes her to their coffin.

The next night Taylor rises, her long legs, her luminous face, now elements in a spectral beauty. She greets her Lord and master. Dracula smiles. Taylor Swift...*the* Taylor Swift, is his. *His*.