Larry found himself beginning to regret his spur of the moment decision to hop out of the moving carriage and lope along beside it. The long ride up the mountain road from the tiny village was wearing on his nerves, especially the incessant buffeting he was receiving in the creaking, driverless carriage the Count had sent down for him. He could never seem to get used to that pounding, uncomfortable trip year after year, even less so when he realized that the horses were unguided in their galloping trek up the rocky cliffs of the Transylvanian Alps.
He felt he could depend on his own lupine skills and instincts much more than a pack of snorting, unholy steeds, so, with little actual thought, he had leaped from the carriage and easily matched its speed with his own four paws. It was the first Halloween in decades in which the moon was radiantly full, and he felt his bestial power at its fullest. As always, the beast in him took over. With hardly any effort, breathing as easily as a man strolling at a leisurely pace, he ran beside the bouncing carriage rather than remain a captive inside it.
What he hadn't planned on, however, was the sudden storm which had come up over the mountain and descended upon it's entire southern slope like an avenging angel. Oh, it wasn't the howling wind nor the driving rain which heaped regret upon him, but rather the effects of those elements on his pristine fur. What bristles weren't matted by rain, were just as thoroughly whipped by the incessant wind into unruly knots and spikes. How dismally unattractive.
Dracula's Halloween parties were renowned far and wide as THE place to howl, if he could forgive himself the pun. Every year the most incredibly seductive and succulent women were in attendance...hand picked by the Lord of the Undead to service the needs of himself and his fellow revelers. Every curvaceous wench Dracula could lure up from nearby villages and countrysides was there for the tasting...in more ways than one. Any decadent desire his guests could come up with were immediately catered to by any woman, or man, they chose. The ones who weren't mesmerized by the undead Lord's cold eyes and hypnotic gaze were convinced in other ways...usually by sharp fangs, which drained both blood and will. Any depraved act a guest wished carried out for them, was theirs. In short, refusal was not an option. To Dracula's credit, however, he had chosen his "party favors" well. Lusty, bawdy women with a sexual glint in their eyes, were his usual choice...and they generally gave themselves to his guests willingly. Likewise, horny, virile men with that same glint were chosen for his female guests to enjoy. Only rarely did one of his hand-picked playthings refuse to satisfy the urges of a guest...and such infractions were dealt with swiftly and...with sudden finality.
But even though he knew he could have any woman he wanted throughout the entire weekend, any way he wanted her, Larry still had his pride...and vanity. He wished to seduce woman after woman with his hirsute beauty and bestial charm. But this impetuous little jaunt beside the carriage in windswept rain was rendering his lupine beauty null and void. It would take some work - and, regrettably, time - to spruce himself up once he got to the castle. For only when he was in his full animalistic beauty could he seduce and conquer slave after love slave to quench his sexual thirsts. This little scampering adventure would cost him only time, but it was time he could have spent having his way with one or two of Dracula's little "party favors". Oh, well...he would have to enjoy those he did ravage that much more thoroughly to make up for it. The thought made his toothy snout curl into a wicked smile...and his thickly sinewed legs propelled him up the mountain ever faster.
Easily outdistancing Dracula's dark steeds and their bouncing, creaking burden, Larry arrived at the castle a good half mile ahead of it. Even so, the pelting rain had done its damage. With a throaty huff and snarl, Larry shook himself from head to tail, ejecting gallons of rain water from his drenched fur. Somewhat protected from the elements by the stone archway above the massive door, he ran one hairy paw along his soaked body, noting with a tiny mote of satisfaction that he'd done an adequate job of drying himself. He also noticed something else, however. As always, his sudden transformation from man to wolf had left his clothing somewhat the worse for wear. There was next to nothing left of his shirt, and his pants were reduced to tattered briefs. It was anyone's guess where his shoes might be. If he was lucky, they might have survived the change and still be hiding somewhere in Dracula's coach. If not, no matter, as he had plenty of clothing in his suitcase. A werewolf was always prepared with extra clothing during the nights of the full moon. And, on a more pleasant note, his current near naked appearance seemed rather sexy to him, and would to the "party favors" too, he thought. Again his muzzle formed a toothy grin.
As he rapped the old iron knocker against the solid oak of the door, he saw the steed-drawn carriage entering the servants area, to be relieved of any passengers or cargo by those charged with doing so. He wondered if they would be surprised at the lack of a guest inside, but the presence of luggage. Then he thought better of it. This was, after all, Dracula's castle...and more specifically, Dracula's castle on Halloween night... the night all the creatures of the night got together for one hell of an orgy! Surely, once they saw the name Talbot on the suitcases they'd simply bring his belongings to whatever room Dracula assigned him and leave it at that. Servants rarely asked questions with so many lethal claws and fangs about.
His musings were cut short by the loud creaking of the castle door. By the time he turned his head to see who would be greeting him, he was being crushed in a vice like hug. His super sensitive nostrils were assaulted by two of his favorite scents...alcohol, and blood.
"Larry, you old hound dog, you! We've been vaiting for you! Come inside. But...you're soaking vet. Vas there an accident viss the coach?" The thick, Transylvanian accent bore into his keen, pointed ears as he felt powerful hands whisking him sharply into the cavernous main hall.
Larry returned his old friend's enthusiastic greeting, his tail wagging involuntarily, despite his conscious efforts to discourage it from doing so. In his throaty growl he replied, "Oh, my own fault, really. When the moon comes up I get restless and I just couldn't sit in your carriage, though it's a lovely carriage indeed," he lied. "I just had to run on my own power, and then this damnable storm blew up out of nowhere, destroying my lovely fur."
Dracula chuckled his slow, emphatic laugh, clapping Larry on the back of his tattered shirt. "Vell," he said with a wink, "you von't be needing clothes much this veekend anyvay. I have some of my best ever party favors for you this year. Now, dry off a bit and join us in the ballroom, von't you?" Before Larry could reply, his host snapped his fingers for a servant girl to bring a towel for him.
Larry's right leg began to twitch, his paw involuntarily tapping repeatedly on the stone floor, like a puppy whose belly was being rubbed. His tail wagged faster than a hummingbird's wings, quickly wearing out the material of what remained of his pants. His eyes grew huge and his long tongue licked his lupine lips. The servant girl dripped with sexuality, her hips swaying hypnotically as she hurried to him with the luxuriant towel. Larry, ravenous eyes piercing the skimpy maid's outfit to the flesh beneath, still retained enough brain power to reach out for the towel, although he wanted to touch much more.
