Author’s Note: This is the most current version of this story. As promised I am releasing what I have so far in terms of the re-write. I have to admit this story was much easier for me to write the first time around. Essentially, this version is a different story with the same concept. It just doesn’t feel nearly as interesting or as fresh to me.
“The big reveal of season 20 of the mega popular reality television show The Jersey Score, was that handsome lothario, Tony was in fact a 200-year-old vampire hailing from the island of Sicily. The bloodsucker revealed his morbid past after becoming noticeably uncomfortable, when spray-tanned slut, Shamwow decided to go vegan and disposed of all the red meat in the house.
After brutally raping Shamwow on set he had to be talked down by the other male cast members to not dismember her body with his supernatural strength. Tony who claims to be a lover and not a bloodthirsty masochist bent on worshipping Satan looked noticeably embarrassed by the incident. Shamwow despite having undergone the painful public sodomy on camera did not file charges. Media exposure received by the episode has boosted ratings for the show that until recently had been in decline. “
– The Hollywood Scandal
I grew up in Sicily where my father was a wealthy estate owner, and could provide his family with just about anything they could ever desire. He had five sons and three daughters, and I was the youngest. With the money and political connections that my father had acquired, throughout the island as well as Europe, us men were given a privileged life that was untouched by wars with Germans, French and the mainland.
I lived what would be considered a fast life for someone living in the 1800s. A stable of horses, and a number of female household employees to keep me occupied in my young adult life. When I was 25-years-old while visiting a brothel in the south of France I received the mark of Satan in the form of two small bites given to me by a whore name Margót. At first I thought the woman was being quite feisty but on second inspection and a fever that caused hallucinations I had realized what had happened. Three days later I found myself locked away in a box under the earth. I was mistaken for dead and buried as any common corpse would be.
Upon freeing myself from the earth I frightened my family with my disheveled and soiled appearance. My mother went into shock after seeing her now undead son standing in front of her, and in complete confusion about his current situation. She fainted and in her weakened state I got my first taste of blood. I drained my mother of her life force allowing her to take my place so that I might live.
The murder of my mother is by far my biggest regret, and despite the forgiveness of my family who shielded me and hid me from the world, I could hardly live with myself. I left the family estate to roam the world eventually finding myself two-centuries later living in New Jersey.
My story at this point is old news. People know about how I and another vampire massacred the cast and crew of the show. The footage like any good snuff film is floating around the internet. Did I rape, murder, behead, disembowel and engage in necrophilia with the people on set that day? Well the answer is pretty much yes to all those things. However, I wasn’t aware the body was dead when I initially fucked it. The few we did leave alive have shared their story. It is no doubt a horrible thing we did, and is something almost entirely out of character for me.
I wanted to share my thoughts though, share my side of what happened, and how it ever got to the point that it did.
Since moving to the Jersey Shore several decades ago, I had cultivated a personality, and an image as the resident party boy. I’d change my name each decade or so to keep the vampire hunters off of my trail, and to continue living a life filled with sex, drugs, and debauchery. When I first moved here I was still using my Italian name – Antonio. I eventually became known as Antoine, Tommy, Tom, and finally Tony.
When I say the wholesale death of the cast is out of character for me I truly mean it. Those actions are quite unusual for me, it was a violent outburst that was motivated by passion for my co-conspirator. That isn’t to say there weren’t periods in my life filled with madness and death. Vampires, unlike what the hunters have led so many to believe, are not the awful violent creatures they have portrayed us to be. However, the nature in which we must acquire our food is somewhat horrible. Also, the fact that we are nearly invulnerable to just about anything can make some vampires drunk with power.
I wasn’t one of those vampires, and I’m still not for the most part. Really I just like to have a good time, which is why I was attracted to that area in the first place.
Aside my thirst for blood, I also had an addiction to pussy. It was almost at an unlimited supply for me as well. I had managed to use the fortune I’d inherited two centuries ago to create a number of successful small businesses. I was rich, and with my money, I could always find some pretty young thing willing to swallow my seed. These also were victims, not that I killed them, but biting was always part of the deal when fucking me. It was an aggressive sexual act, and some girls got off on it. I’d bite them right on the inside of their legs before licking away on their cat. I was swapping them pain for pleasure, it was a deal most were willing to make.
I’m getting ahead of myself though. You will have to forgive me.
When I first joined the cast it was in 2014, I had been a successful restaurant and bar owner, I owned about four or five of these things, and owned several rental properties. I did very little work at that time in my life, I had set up all of the work to be handled by other people. I would collect a fat paycheck and would spend it having a good time.
It was on a Thursday night that I found out about the casting call for the show. I was snorting cocaine off of the naked body of a small chested, brown haired, college student on spring break. Her name was Mary, she said she was in love with me, those emotions were probably not genuine. It was probably the E talking. Just moments earlier she had agreed to give me a blow job for the small amount of ecstasy I had on me.
However, while riding high on the chemically induced cupid’s arrow I’d given her, she told me of an audition for a show. The show was one I was vaguely familiar with, The Jersey Score, it was one of those bad MTV reality T.V. shows. She wanted us to go together. The girl was a master with her lips, I told her I’d do it if she blew me again. That evening I managed to get her to swallow my load for a second time, but she could hardly remember telling me anything about the show after we came down from the drugs. That didn’t bother me though, because my interest was now intrigued.
It was a sunny afternoon when I auditioned, I woke up early to go. This is the part that confuses most people, the very fact that I walked out into the day to audition. All the Bram Stoker shit about the sun and garlic is pretty much bullshit. I’m Italian, I love garlic, especially in spaghetti. As for the sunlight thing, that is a half truth, the sun is irritating, but it won’t kill ya.
Either way, it was a lot of yada yada, they asked me some questions and I answered. I showed off my abs, and acted as douchey as I possibly could. I was perfect for the part they told me, they told me they’d be in touch.
That evening, I was off to the bar for a drink and to see who I was going to bring home for a late night snack. I spotted one of the people that had interviewed me, her name was Monica, she was in charge of casting for the show. She was in her late thirties, almost forty, with blond hair and what looked to be a fairly tight body. She was a mother of two, and had boring sex with a husband she was no longer attracted to, but still loved. She missed the days of her youth, drunken nights with friends, doing drugs, and having hook ups with strangers.
I didn’t need to fuck Monica, I didn’t need the fame and if anything it could draw dangerous attention to me. I was a vampire after all, most people at that time didn’t believe we existed, the ones that did wanted us dead. However, it was narcissism, I liked the idea of being on T.V. and in the magazines.
When I saw Monica though, I could tell she was going to be an easy target. One night with me and I knew I could convince her to put me on the show.
She was acting like prey the moment I saw her, she was alone at the bar being dangerously chatty with the people there. She was a few drinks in, and I could overhear her talking to Norman, the bartender. He was telling him she was dissatisfied with her sex life, that she needed a big strong man, the type of man that could give it to her rough and deep.
Norman was my employee, we were at my bar, he knew I had a thing for strange tail. He’d let me know about potential girls who might want to ride my pole. This evening he came over to let me know about Monica, but there was no need, she was letting everyone in that bar know, based on her actions, that she was looking to be fucked.
I approached Monica, I reintroduced myself to her, she said she remembered me. She remembered the outline of my penis in my pants, she remembered my hard muscles, and my tanned body.
I asked her, “So do you wanna touch it then?”
Her reply, “Do I! Absolutely, but you see I’m married. Married to a man who has become a fat piece of shit not worth riding anymore. I really shouldn’t.”
She wanted so desperately to be a whore again, she refused though, mostly because she was trying to be the grown up society had wanted her to be.
I sat down next to her at the bar. I then took her hand into mine. She didn’t refuse this gesture, I then moved it to the outside of my pants where my crotch was. She began to rub me through my pants.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Monica said. “I’m a wife, I have a family. I’m just so damn unhappy all the time though.”
She was pouring out her soul to me, and I signaled to Norman without words to give her another drink. She takes the drink, throws it back and continues to speak.
“It’s just that I never thought I’d be so, so… so domesticated. I know that it is the proper thing to do, but I just miss being a crazy little girl, snorting coke and getting gorilla fucked by some hot guy I’d only just met,” she said.
I looked her dead in the eyes, I said nothing, the intensity of my staring was making her uncomfortable. I got up from the bar and told her to follow me, and she obeyed.
We walked to the back room where my office was at the bar.
“Should we be back here,” Monica asked, not realizing I owned the place.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” I said to her, walking behind my desk to retrieve some cocaine I had stashed there. “I own the place.”
I pulled a small baggy and laid out two lines of cocaine. One for her and one for me. I took a $50 bill, rolled it up and snorted the line. I then handed her the rolled up $50 and told her to do the same.
The sight of drugs was making her uncomfortable.
“Look I really shouldn’t,” she said, motioning with her hands to keep the stuff away from her.
“Look you just said you miss cocaine,” I replied.
“I know I did, but I’m a mother and…”
I cut her off.
“You keep saying you’re a mom and how unhappy you are. For one night why don’t you stop doing mom shit and instead do the shit you wanna do. Don’t you think you deserve a little fun from time to time?”
She agreed she did and she then took the $50 and went to do a line.
“Goddamn that was good,” Monica said as she came up from snorting the drugs.
“I have more,” I told her. “We can do more cocaine.”
“Can we,” she asked.
“Absolutely,” I replied. “But for each line you do you have to take an article of clothing off. So what’s it going to be pants or shirt?”
She gave me a mischievous look and took off her shirt revealing a stunning pair of boobs in a black lace bra.
“Now where is my next line at?”
She did another line and this time she was down to her panties. I asked her if she wanted more.
“No I think I have something else in mind though.”
She then got down on her knees, undid my pants, and pulled my cock out of my boxer shorts.
Staring up at me she said, “I want you to fuck me rough like the little whores you normally fuck, I want you to leave bruises so my husband has to ask me what happened, I want to drown in your cum.”
Ok the last part I made up about drowning in my cum, but the rest I swear she said. We had rough and wild sex, I left hand marks on her ass from my slapping her, choke marks left around her neck, her eyes watered as I force fed her my cock.
I had her laying across my desk, my hand around her throat, while fucking her I asked, “So do I get the part on the show or what?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes,” she screamed. I then pulled out and shot my seed up on to her belly and parts of her chest.
“I’ll be expecting that phone call,” I said. I then pulled on my pants and shirt and walked out the door.
I didn’t hear back from Monica or anyone else on the show for two days. Perhaps I wasn’t getting the part. Then on Monday I get a call, it was from Roger, he was one of Monica’s underlings, he said she had asked him to call me. I asked if I got the part, Roger hesitated for a moment, he was trying to play it off like he had bad news to tell me.
“Are you sitting down,” asked Roger.
I wasn’t but I told him I was.
“Well, you see, lots of people audition for the show, but not everyone gets it,” he paused. “But you made the cut, we want you to meet us next Saturday at Little Italy for a meet and greet with the rest of the cast. Can you make it?”
I told him I could, and that I would see him there.
Little Italy was my restaurant, but the people booking our meet and greet didn’t know this. Until they told me that the meeting was there I hadn’t known either. I rarely deal with the business side of things. I collect money, and I finance things, that’s what I do. However, I wanted to make sure that this evening was something special, I wanted the restaurant to make a good impression.
I phoned ahead and spoke to the restaurant manager Mario. Mario is a relative, a rather distant one. He is mortal, and can trace his bloodline back to my sister Francesca. So in a way, I am his great, great, great uncle. The kid has always been a hard worker, I put him in charge of Little Italy and a few other my ventures.
“Mario,” I say. “It’s me Tony.”
“Uncle Tony how are you,” he asks on the other line.
“Good, good. I’m calling because there is a group that has booked the conference room for the evening. I want it to be special. Whatever, you do make sure you give them all the best shit,” I say. “Who is the cook tonight?”
“That is no good,” I tell him. “Raphael is the worst cook we have. Where is Joseph?”
“Joseph has the day off,” Mario replies.
“Tell him he has to come to work tonight and that you will give him an extra $500 to make it worth his evening.”
“Will do Tony.”
Later in the evening I met with the new cast of the show. Needless to say I was unimpressed.
Day one of Jersey Score shooting
It was nearly three months after my meet and greet with the cast of this seasons Jersey Score. I had already forgotten their names and faces. They were an unimpressive bunch that embodied a number of New Jersey stereotypes. Yes, in a way I too was a stereotype, I embraced a certain look, and a certain lifestyle. Yet, being centuries older than the rest of my cast you tend to learn things and get perspective on your life.
The first day of shooting was treated almost as a fabrication of sorts. On camera it would appear we were all just meeting for the first time as we moved into the oceanside mansion that would be our home for the next several months.
There was me –Tony, and three other male leads on this show: Michael, Cody, and Luigi. On the female side there were only three people this season: Shamwow, Rita, and the Michelle or as I called her the forgettable one.
Michelle was the strangest pick for this show. While the men all inhabited the horny jock stereotype most common for the show. The women, for the most part, were all sluts with daddy issues; and then there was Michelle. She was a virgin, she didn’t drink, and she was Christian. She was on the show purely as a favor to Rita. The two were best friends oddly enough, and Rita had no problem spreading her legs for the male producer on the show.
Nothing about Michelle was interesting, except for the fact that she was uninteresting. She was a juxtaposition of character for a show that made its money on the loose morality of idiotic twenty-somethings.
My first re-encounter with a cast member on this show was with Michael. He was 6’2 and had spikey black hair. He clearly enjoyed the gym… wait maybe it wasn’t Michael, I think it was Cody, or perhaps Luigi. The point being is that all three of them, and I suppose I am in that camp as well, could fit that description.
Regardless, to whoever it was I met. I was instantly challenged to display my prowess in some sort of bench pressing competition. This isn’t really the sort of thing I would go for… typically. However, I was being paid by the show to flex a certain amount of masculinity from time to time. When the challenge was presented I was almost forced by contract to agree. The two of us went toe to toe in a bench off with my other two male cast members eventually joining in. There was an onsite gym for us to use, the maximum amount of weight available to us was around 700-pounds. My competitors tapped out at 350-pounds, now I was showing off. I loaded the bar with all 700-pounds. The bar was bending from the weight, and I proceeded to rep out the weight for 20-reps. This was hardly a warm up.
My bro cast members were impressed. It was at this point I realized that this would be my life for the next several months. I would be in constant competition with these frat boys. It would be easy, but annoying.
The women were having their own conflict as well. Shamwow and Rita were loud and proud about how slutty they were. From across the mansion, the men and I could hear the two screaming. The point of contention was about who had the tighter asshole. Michelle was being asked to judge, a role she hadn’t really wanted.
The men and myself jogged to where the three women were only to witness the bizarre contest of champions. From the looks of it the two women both had fairly loose buttholes, although Rita could stand to wax it once in awhile. Michelle determined it a no contest and then we all proceeded to unpack our luggage.
Was this a set of a reality T.V. show or a porn shoot?
The First Night Out
We were prepared by the producers that the first night out had to be wild. We were creating a caricature of ourselves for the television viewing audience. We were all chosen because we represented a middle class depravity that was both appalling, but also appealing as well. People hated the way we lived our lives, but secretly wished they us. We embodied a carefree freedom… perhaps I did most of all. I’d have centuries to master this lifestyle.
We were scheduled to party at a local club called the BoneYard. Aptly named that because of the suggestion that if you come there you are likely to “bone.” I was familiar with the place, but I was also banned. Karen Xxtreme was the the club owner. She was an haggard 57-year-old ex-adult film producer. We had been business rivals, and friendly for the most part. That was until a few years ago when one of her drink servers alleged that I had raped her. She also alleged that sucked her blood. Only one of those things were true, and Karen provided the funds for that server to file her lawsuit against me. I won the case but now there was bad blood between us.
I began spreading rumors that Karen was a transgendered necrophiliac, also only one of those things happened to be true. Because of that I was banned from all of her establishments.
We approached the nightclub, the cast for the most part was already drunk and were enthused to be going to the club. I’d probably drank 80 or more beers, and two fifths of Jose Cuervo, I wasn’t really feeling much. My biology was different, drugs like alcohol had less of an effect on me. Everyone was let in as expected, that was with the exception of me. The bouncer informed the film crew that I was on a banned list. Typical, but it didn’t make it impossible for me to get in.
The bouncy was ‘Big’ Johnny Walker, he was a 310-pound NFL washout that at one point in time worked the door at one of my own clubs. Walker and I had always gotten along, but apparently he had been caught stealing, so my nephew Mario was forced to let him go. It was never my decision, but it was good for business.
“Hey Johnny,” I said.
“Hey Tony. How are you doing?”
“Good I replied. “Is Karen in today?
“Nah, she hasn’t been feeling well.”
I withdrew ten $100 bills out of wallet.
“Look, here is a $1000. I don’t want to get you in trouble, but I am doing this T.V. thing and this is the place they chose for us to go,” I told him.
The sight of money was all it took to get that magic red rope out of my way and into the club.