Dreams of Fur

Somewhere in the deep forests of the Carpathian Mountains, lived a very old, very large and very vicious wolf. It was so old that it was said that legends about him had inspired Charles Perrault for his tale: "the little red riding hood". It was so large that even the bears would flee through the forest when they smelled his terrible stench. It was so vicious that when he had decided to have a bear for supper, said majestic animal could run all he wanted because in the end the wolf would always catch him.

If this wasn't enough, this big bad wolf hadn't always been a wolf, long before the time this story begins, this particular wolf had been a man, a nobleman actually, a noble nobleman, not the kind that steals from his subjects, a hero that had stopped the Ottoman invasion of Europe, a fair and just ruler loved by his people and loved by his lords. But this man, in his crusade for his land, for his kingdom, for the whole Christianity, had been forced to give up many, many things. Among those things were the woman he loved and his eternal soul. The sacrifices he had done, had made him a tyrant, a despotic monster, preying on the weak and the innocent. So, after being cursed by God, he had been cursed again forced to live in the pelt of an animal, this dire wolf.

Radu Vladislav didn't know all this when this very old, very large and very vicious wolf appeared in the sight of his hunting rifle. Radu Vladislav was a poacher, he wasn't evil or greedy but he had a family to feed and he knew a man in Brasov, who knew a man in Bucharest who knew a rich American who was ready to pay a lot of money for a wolf pelt as beautiful as this one. So Radu Vladislav shot the wolf and thus ended the life of this creature of legend.

***

"Fur You Coats and accessories Banks and son Established 1934"

The sign over the small Pasadena shop says it all. Putting aside its potential vulgar twist, the name of the shop is terrible. A Fur shop is supposed to inspire opulence, luxury, warmth, superficiality... I don't know, anything but "a gift". A Fur coat is an investment not a God damn souvenir. But well what can I say, we, the Banks, are not really good at business and when we make it work it's usually more due to luck rather than talent. My great grandfather, Samuel Banks Senior, for instance, came to the west coast after losing everything in the 1929 crack and opened a fur shop in a region where the average temperature oscillates between fifty and eighty degree. It should have been an epic failure worthy of the building of the town of Pompeii on the skirts of that funny smoking mountain if it hadn't been for the movie industry. The movie industry and the fur business have a very profitable relationship. Every movie star has to have a fur coat; every year or so the pool of movie stars is renewed; so every year or so there's a new batch of potential clients for my uncle, Samuel Banks the third.

My name is Erin Banks; I'm a nineteen years old redhead. I fucked up my final exams last month and I've been working here, with my uncle for the last two weeks. The idea is to raise some money to do something with my life... maybe. I'm a bit lost at the moment.

I push the door and enter in the excessively air-conditioned realm of my uncle. I'm in charge of the shop until eleven, not that my uncle trusts me to meet the high standards of his select clientele but honestly who buys a fur coat at eight thirty on a Tuesday morning?

The shop is cozy, precious wood on the walls, thick furry carpet, luxurious dressing rooms with big leather couches for rich old man to admire the twenty or thirty grand they will spend to decorate a trophy wife bought the week before.

I flip the sign, put on my most commercial smile and get ready for a long morning of boredom and nothingness, alone in the freezing palace. At first working here excited me, first proper job, the opportunity to meet the rich and the famous, luxury, glamour and all that. But well what can I say, standing behind a counter for hours waiting for someone to come in and when eventually someone does come in, staying behind the same damn counter because, it's either my uncle, his wife Sandy or their daughter Mindy who gets to drive the client through the selection of magnificent pelts, coats and other accessories, is clearly not how I had pictured this job. What about the glamorous rich and the luxurious celebrities you will ask. Well, Tom Cruise is a dwarf, Megan Fox a pretentious ass, Channing Tatum a retarded poser and Mel Gibson a misogynistic pig... Enough said... It's always better not to meet the artist when you love the art.

Lost in my thoughts I nearly miss the tall man who enters the shop carrying a large bag with our logo on it.

"Good morning sir," I say despite the fact that, judging by the general aspect of the man, his morning must have been anything but good. "How can I help you on this beautiful day?"

The man is in his mid forties, athletic, wearing a three pieces suit and tanned to a crisp like your average Angelino. That's pretty much all the positive you can say about his aspect. The rest is, as a matter of fact, a wreck, the shadows under his eyes are the size of a weather balloon, the look he gives me must have originated somewhere in a graveyard, the trembling lip, the three day beard... A wreck I tell you.

"Yes..." he says, "yes, there's something you can do! You have to take this back!"

He takes a beautiful fur coat out of the bag. I recognize it because we received it last week. It's a large woman's coat made from a very rare Carpathian Wolf pelt. I remember it clearly because the piece is magnificent and also because I have something with wolves and the Carpathians, but if need be I'll tell you all about it later.

"I'm terribly sorry sir but it's against house policy to take back merchandise that has been worn, if you want I can direct you towards a reseller that will most certainly give you a fair price for it," I say.

"I don't care about the money all I want is to get rid of it. If you don't want it I'll throw it."

"I'm sorry sir but I really can't take it back." I say, "I can't pay you back."

"Oh fuck it," he says storming out of the shop leaving me with the pelt.

I'm breathless. Not that I haven't had complicated customers before. In this kind of trade half of the customers can be considered complicated and the other half is plain pain in the ass. No what left me with my jaw halfway through the floor is a thing I saw on the man's neck. A thing you usually get to see in movies, not in real life: a bite mark, a small half circle of normal sized upper jaw teeth marks finishing on each side with two deep wounds, small and round, covered with encrusted blood, a peculiar bite mark, the bite mark of a vampire...

Do you remember that I told you that Carpathians and wolves were a thing for me, right? Well, maybe it's time we talk about it. It's always hard to say this, even to myself... but I have this vampire fetish, I've had it all my life, or at least since I was old enough to have fetishes. I dig them... My ex, Mike, had this pair of a bit oversized incisors- nothing supernatural mind you, but, damn, they did made me hot. I loved to kiss him just to touch them with my tongue. When I kissed him, I always hoped that he would tilt my head and sink them in my neck. He never did... What do you want, this is real life, there aren't vampires running around. Or are there?

No that's bullshit; this is California, Lala land; Hollywood is just a few miles away; that man must have been an actor or something...

Suddenly I realize that I've been caressing the fur for the last minute or so. I stuff it back in the bag, I leave the bag in the back and, planning on talking about it to my uncle as soon as he gets in, I go back behind the counter waiting for the next customer to arrive.

But when he gets in, around twelve, I'm taking care of a customer, when I get rid of the pompous bitch that was "just browsing", it's his turn to be taking care of someone else, and so forth until I completely forget about the bag.

I leave work around four. As I walk back to the car my uncle lent me, I realize that the bag with the pelt is in my hand. I don't even remember picking it up. For a moment I want to turn around and give it back, but something stops me. After all, there's no reason why I shouldn't keep it, the man wanted to throw it away, in a sense it's as if I had found it, in a sense this pelt is mine. All the way back to my uncle's home the coat on my back seat occupies my every thought. Each time I stop at a traffic light I have to put my hand in the bag to feel the supremely soft hair of the dead Carpathian wolf. The coat is quite amazing; when I touch it, a warm electric feeling runs through my fingers. It's highly erotic. My mind is so clouded with it that I nearly run an old man over. When finally I arrive home all I can think of is locking myself in my room with the pelt.

"G'd evening Aunt Sandy, G'd evening Mindy."

The two girls are watching some stupid talk show. They don't even acknowledge my presence.

"I'm not feeling well tonight I'd like to get a good night sleep so I can work properly tomorrow."

The grunt coming from the couch indicates that at least one of them has heard and processed what I just told them. Good, that was the general idea.

Shivering, I go to the small room I occupy over the garage, lock my door, close the curtains and take out the coat. I respectfully spread it on the bed. It is simply magnificent. With my hands I rummage through it. The tingling sensation is even stronger than before. I can sense it riding up my arms, my neck, my breasts. I put the coat on. The sensation is absolutely blissful. I have the impression that the long hairs of the pelt try to wrap around my neck. It's as if it was alive. I want more of it. I take the coat off with great effort and undress keeping only my thong and bra. I wrap myself in the coat again. I fall on the bed. The sensation that every fiber of the pelt is trying to swallow me is too much for me to take. The dark fur slips under my underwear, reaching for my intimacy. I'm soaked wet. The world around me explodes in a thousand pieces as my body is overrun by a monstrous orgasm. I pass out.

When I wake up, I'm not in my room anymore. I'm a wood, but I feel at home. It is night time, but I can see as if it was daytime. It has been snowing, but the cold doesn't bother me. In the distance I spot a small house, a cabin in the woods, a fairy tale house. I walk towards it. I knock on the door. Nobody answers. I knock on the door again.

"Go away," says a woman's voice in a strange language I've never heard, "I won't open my door at night."

It's strange because I understand perfectly what the woman is saying and it's even stranger that I am able to answer.

"Katya, open the door, it's me Oloff!"

I have a man's voice now? What the fuck? I look at my hands. I have man's hands. I look at my body... What the hell is that? What is this? What the fuck is this?

"Oloff? Is that really you?" the woman asks.

"Yes Katya," I answer, "open the door, it's cold out here."

No it's not you filthy liar!

"Oh, my dear Oloff," she says opening the door, "I was so worried. Since you went to the Castle, we all thought..."

"Shush now," I say.

I wrap my cold and strong arms around her warm and young body. A pretty strange sensation coming from my pants hits me. I think I have a boner. I lift her like a child and enter the small cabin. The furniture is rudimentary to say the least, medieval even. But I'm not interested in the setting at all, all that I care for is her. I carry her to her bed and lay her on the rudimentary tanned pelts used as covers. My eyes are locked into hers. She takes off layer after layer of clothing. I do the same.

Wow, I do have a boner and my dick is actually quite big... and pale. In comparison with her skin, I'm livid. It's almost scary. But I don't seem to mind and she doesn't either. She looks delicious naked on those furs. She spreads her legs. I force myself into her moist intimacy and start drilling hard. Wow, man, what happened to tenderness? Never heard of foreplay? I don't seem to mind and she doesn't seem to mind either. Okay then I'll have to ride the wave.

She pants, I pant. I thrust my shaft into her slit time and time again. It's pretty strange but the feeling is amazing. The sensation of taking over, of owning the woman below me is mesmerizing. It does feel good to be a man. I thrust my shaft as the pleasure builds up, both our pleasures. It doesn't take me long to reach the edge of my peak. I unload my balls in a long and powerful orgasm. She moans as I fill her up.

But I'm not finished. I start kissing her neck, my lips against her skin, I bite, hard. A strong flow of warm liquid pours down my throat.

I take my first victim. I can hear her scream of pleasure.

And that's it. I wake up from this fucking dream right then.

It's still dark outside. I stumble to the bathroom, turn on the light. Right at the base of my neck, a pair of bite marks, linked together by a small half circle of normal sized teeth. I hold my breath. I turn around. The fur on my bed seems to be vibrating, calling for me, begging for my flesh.

The morning at the shop goes by like in a dream. My uncle tells me to go back home around noon because, according to him, I'm totally useless in my present state, and don't count on me to pay you for today young lady. I crawl back home.

I know I shouldn't sleep on the pelt, I know this coat is evil but... I can't force myself to throw it away.

A bit later, naked in the moist wetness of the Californian summer afternoon, I lay on the furry coat. My legs are spread, I have a hand between my thighs and one on my neck, on the scars I got last night. All my life I have fantasized about vampires, all my life I have dreamed about them. But never, ever I have had such a vivid dream. It felt like it came from someone else, somewhere else... Some when else... At the memory of the girl's moaning I come again. I could go on for hours but I stand to grab the bottle of water on my night stand. Damn I'm thirsty! As I drink the cold water, I look at the magnificent pelt. I stop, I've been rubbing myself for quite some time now and I know I squirted at least twice but the fur under my ass is as clean as it was before. It's as if the wolf was drinking my juices, my cum. I shiver at the thought. I rest my head against the bed's headboard and close my eyes. I fall asleep.

This time, I'm standing on the uppermost tower of an ancient castle. I look at my hands. I sigh in relief, I'm a woman this time. I'm wearing a white nightgown. I look at the void between the crenellation of tower, I step on the edge. Stop right there! I'm not afraid of heights but there's at least a hundred yards between the top of the tower and the bottom of the moat. Lady, I said stop it! I take one more step and start falling. The ground is coming in my direction really quickly when suddenly everything blurs around me and I become blind. Literally, I become blind. I can't see anymore but I can hear my surroundings. I flap my wings and fly into the night guiding myself with my sonar.

Okay, so first a man, now a fucking bat! These dreams are getting weirder every fucking night!

I fly towards a large building, south of the valley, beyond the village. I can hear the top of the trees passing below my little furry belly. I can hear the chimneys of the town pouring their black smoke into the cold winter night. I finally arrive on the top of the building. I land on the roof and change back into the woman. I'm hungry and horny and there's nun on my menu tonight. I penetrate the convent and walk its hallways. I end up in front of a small door, sister Mary sleeps behind it. I know it. How you ask. The hell if I know. I know that's all. Careful not to wake her up, I enter the small cell. Beside her bed table and the rough stone bed, the place is pretty austere. I push her hair to a side and deposit a cold wet kiss on her forehead. She opens her eyes.

"Sister Rosa?" she asks in what sounds like Latin."What are you doing here? I thought you were back in Rome."

I think it's Latin, not sure.

"Sister Mary," I answer in maybe Latin too, "I never went to Rome. That was a lie the mother superior told all of you. I was given to the count so he would leave the town alone."

"The count?" She seems terrified now, "you mean Dracul?"

"Yes, the count Dracul, Vlad Tepesh," I answer. "my master..."

I gently comb her hair. I can feel her, shivering terrified in my arms. I run my hand along her neckline holding her head tight against my chest. She starts crying. I shift positions ending up on top of my former friend, on top of the delicious morsel I'm going to take tonight. She continues crying silently as I've ordered her not to make a sound. Her trembling chest is soon freed from the rough fabric that imprisoned it. I suck on her dark aureoles leaving a cold trail of saliva. I explore further down. Her belly is shaken by hiccups of fear. I leave my wet mark around her button, going further down, reaching the bushy carpet of her intimacy. My fangs penetrate her skin just above her pelvis. She jolts in pain before falling back. The pleasure ravaging her, rushes into her blood, making it taste much sweeter.

I take my first victim. I can hear her scream of pleasure.

I wake up screaming too. I try to breath but the fur is all over my face, around my neck, strangling me. I finally manage to push it away. I'm naked on all four when the door of my room bursts open. It's aunt Sandy, she looks really preoccupied. I cover myself with the coat.

"Erin? Erin what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I had a bad dream."

"It must have been a terrible dream... Wait a second. What is that you're holding?"

She walks towards me furious.

"You little thief!" she spits.

The pelt is moving against my skin. I can feel it taking over.

"Samuel!" the old hag screams, "SAMUEL!"

Wrapped in the coat I'm already behind her. I force her to turn around. My eyes are now deeply buried into hers; my hands are over her face, holding her head as if I was to snap it.

"You have seen nothing," I whisper in anger, "there's nothing wrong with me having this pelt. But you won't say a word about it to anyone. You hear me old bitch? Not a word to anyone!"

Her features have lost all anger, she's blank. She tilts her head, smiles and walks away. I close the door behind her.

What was that? I seat on the edge of the bed. I stay there totally still for a long while. Finally, as the sun rises and the birds start to sing behind the closed curtains of my room, I stand and go take a shower. The cold and sticky sweat washes away with the hot water. A new bite mark has appeared on my pelvis. Just like in my dream. I feel tired and horny at the same time. I feel so thirsty too. I won't be going to work today I know that.

There's no one home. I randomly roam my uncle's property. I try the pool but the bright sun bothers me. I go back in and try absolutely all the drinks I can find in the fridge in a desperate attempt to quench my thirst. I know perfectly well what I actually need but I can't decide myself to face the fact. I go back to my room and browse the internet, watch some TV. The day passes very slowly.

Around five, my cousin comes back. She must have covered for me this morning.

Around six, she finds me in my room sitting in the dark.

"Erin?" she asks, "are you all right?"

She sounds genuinely preoccupied. That's odd. We've never been the best of friends, too different, too far away, me, the sophisticated New Yorker and her, the superficial Californian bimbo. I know that we're falling in stereotypes here as I'm not sophisticated at all and she's not a... well no actually she's a bimbo. Totally. But that's not the point.