Screams of Pan

By Jery Tillotson

Fantastic Fury! Grab this one! Brazenly original with dazzling eroticism! Vampires! Werewolves! Muscle Gods! Over-the-top-sex! Youll find them all in Jason Furys thrilling new fantasy novelScreams of Pan!

Christina Tremont rules Manhattans supernatural world of bat boys, wolf girls, fauns and satyrs. Then she meets the incredible new Mr. Universe, the fabulous and over-sexed Johnny America, who is pursued by a monstrous vampire sect, the Dark Ones. Even Christinas magical powers cant withstand these enemies and together with Johnny, theyre forced to seek out the terrifying Great God Pan for his protection.

Best-selling cult author, Jason Fury, weaves an intoxicating tale of fantasy, eroticism and horror, guaranteed to enchant even the most jaded reader.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 21, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469712970

Jery Tillotson

Jery Tillotson, writing as ?Andrea D'Allasandra?, shocked readers everywhere with his terrifying debut suspense thriller, Death House. His stunning sequel, Horror House, continues the pulse-pounding saga of the monstrous mountain psycho, Benji, who wields his axe with renewed frenzy among the unsuspecting tenants of Horror House during a ferocious blizzard. Lock your doors!

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All Rights Reserved © 2001 by Jery Tillotson

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ISBN: 978-1-4697-1297-0 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

FORBIDDEN LOVE

THE DIARY OF ALEXIS TREMONT, AUGUST 3, 1898

DAILY JOURNAL OF COMTE DE JACOMBZCH ~ AUGUST 3, 1898

LETTER FROM AMBROSE TREMONT TO J.R. SKULLER, AUGUST 14, 1898

DIARY OF ALEX TREMONT, OCTOBER 31, 1898

THE NEW WORLD

AUGUST 3—POLICE VIDEO REPORT #1437. WITNESS RAMON GARCIA

SOCIETY OF LUPINE SCORES LEGAL TRIUMPH (NEW YORK TIMES)

ANCIENT ITALY REVISITED

ON ISLE OF SATYRS GARY ROSENSWEIG, PH.D ARTICLE FROM THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE

DIARY OF CHRISTINA TREMONT, DECEMBER 19

JOURNAL OF ZACHARY STEELE-OI/I3

NIGHTMARE FROLICS IN THE OLD PYRAMIDS

E-MAIL OF IKE SILVER TO ANDREA D’ALLASANDRA ~ 1/27

RECORDING OF CHRISTINA TREMONT ~ FEBRUARY 1

THE BATTLE OF DARK AND LIGHT

MY GRANDFATHER VISITED THE ISLAND OF HELL

RECORDING OF DR. LARRY-FEBRUARY 12

RESIDENTS FEAR ATTACK OF VAMPIRE BATS

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Also by Jery Tillotson Writing as ‘Jason Fury’ Naked Fury

The Secret of Jimmy X and Other Stories of the Macabre His Eyes Were Dark, He Licked His Lips The Kiss of King Kong Eric’s Body The Rope Above, the Bed Below With ‘Big’ Bill Jackson’

Eighth Wonder As ‘Andrea D’Allasandra’ Death House The Master of Hell Mountain As ‘Jerry Tucker’ Daddy

DEDICATION

For my long ago demon lover James-^Hamilton

of East Carolina University Circa 1963-78 wherever you are today, this one s for you

Pan was believed to be the cause of sudden, unreasoning fear—panic—that could overcome people in desolate, lonely places…he was a lusty, playful god: sex was his principal diversion as benefited a god who was worshipped in connection with fertility.

The Illustrated Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, by Michael

Stapleton

#

To the great god Nodens (the god of the Great Deep or Abyss), Flavius Senilis has erected this pillar because of the marriage which he saw beneath the shade.

Inscription on an ancient Roman pillar, as described in Arthur Machen’s

The (Great God Pan

#

The clearing in the forest hinted at something beyond human experi-ence.it was large and round, sparkling with a golden sand, and then I noticed the animals, the serpents, the birds. all had gathered silently around the rim and then I heard the sound of a lute or a pipe, playing a bizarre tune that made everything around me darken. and suddenly, from a thick wall of foliage and trees pranced a terrifying creature—half-bull, half-man, powerfully built, with horns growing from his temples, and a tremendous phallus which reached his chest. He whirled around madly, playing his pipes, watching me intently from the corner of his enormous, black eyes.. .for here was—at last—the Great God Pan.

From the l881 Journal of Antonio Rinzinni

PART I

FORBIDDEN LOVE

Alexis and Zachary ~ 1898 How a dynasty of vampires marry Into a clan of werewolves… And the terrible consequences

CHAPTER ONE

THE DIARY OF ALEXIS TREMONT, AUGUST 3, 1898

Storm clouds had already flooded the sky this afternoon when I slipped away from the castle.

How I hate having to sneak away like one of our maids. But if my father and brother found out, they would tie me up and throw me into my closet unless I promised to behave myself.

And if they discovered I’m meeting my wonderful, ravishing lover, Zachary Steele, then they would certainly lock me away and throw away the key. We all know that any relationship between the mighty Tremonts and the powerful Steeles is strictly forbidden.

Because we’re who we are and have been since recorded history. Even during the days of gladiators and Cleopatra, ours was a name to reckon with. And right along with our family tree snakes the lineage of the Steele’s. They, too, are heirs to a mighty name, rubbing elbows with Nero and the high priests of Arkham. Back before the Sphinx and the pyramids were even built.

We’ve managed to coexist peacefully since the earthy days of mad Roman emperors.

Our coat of arms features the face of a bat. Theirs outline the grinning visage of a wolf. We become bat people at night and they throw themselves on the ground to become wolf men.

Supernatural law, written on a secret chamber in the Sphinx, dictates that neither of our dynasties will ever join together for lovemaking. It will mean certain termination for one us. Our genes will battle each other to the death.

But I’m making some definite changes in my life now that I celebrate my eighteenth birthday. I, Alexis Tremont, am now heiress to the Tremont dynasty and from now on my father and all my other men folk will treat me as something more than their golden-haired pet.

For I am the first daughter to enjoy this name for more than a hundred years. I am the only maiden in this remote section of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I can see myself in the full-length mirror and behold a shimmering young woman. My hair glimmers like spun gold around my shoulders. At eighteen, my breasts have become full and large.

I’ve inherited the much-acclaimed Tremont complexion of glowing, fair skin. Even when we become our bat selves, our type has always been accorded much praise for our lustrous fur and sparkling dark eyes.

My father and brother are so protective. They realize that the gods must have had something extraordinary in mind when they brought me into the world. I can turn into a bat—and become sought after by the most powerful earthlings and demons.

When I tiptoed into the stables for my horse, our swarthy stable hand, Antonio, naked and sweaty and aroused, as usual, was awaiting me with my beautiful horse, Stardust.

Before I could take my reins, Antonio thrust them behind his back and with the other hand, rubbed himself, making it clear what was going through his mind.

I’ll give you my big rein to pull on, he grinned, his dark eyes glinting with a hot flame, offering me his manhood. You’ll be giving me more than a kiss this time for keeping your secrets, now, won’t you?

Before I could answer, he grabbed me to him and mashed his warm mouth on mine. Although I was in a hurry, I felt dizzy from his powerful sensuality: the scent of his bronzed skin, smelling of hay and horses and sex, his manly chest, dusted lightly with hair, his magnificent torso, his nipples erect, his phallus pressing hard against me and which never softens.

Antonio, I can’t today! I gasped, pulling myself away and mounting my horse. There’s not time! If anyone discovers I’ve escaped, there’ll be hell to pay!

Don’t play hard to get, you yellow-haired minx! he grunted, trying to pull me from my horse. You’ve been teasing me all week! I can wait no longer.

I leaned down to pull his face closer to mine and kissed his thick lips again. I can’t play now but when I return—

You spoilt brat! he muttered softly. I’ve been saving myself all day when all the servants want me! Men, women, everybody. Even your father and brother were down here and I only let them handle me and suckle my teats. Go on, then, to your fine gentleman friend. But I’ll be a-waiting for you!

Still glaring at me, he turned and pressed his hips against his joy spot, a wooden opening near the stable door that he likes to use between trysts. He claims he can never be satisfied because he once visited a place called the Isle of Satyrs and something magical happened to him there.

I became a satyr! I’m never, ever satisfied. All I want to do with my life is to have sex, from morning til night, around the clock, with anyone who comes my way!

He was still humping his hips, his marvelous naked rump trembling, as I turned my horse and galloped away. Although Antonio is a wonderful

play toy for everyone at Tremont Castle, my young lover, Zachary Steele, is the only man in my life.

As I raced Stardust to our meeting place, a twinge of uneasiness marred my excitement. If either of our families found out about us, it would be a scandal of the supernatural underworld without precedent.

For my family, the Tremonts, have nothing physically to do at all with the family of my boyfriend, the Steeles. We’re always polite and friendly to each other and come together for company during our big Christmas bash.

We’ve had to erect this barrier because both our families sport some of the most handsome bucks to be found in the world. We Tremonts tend to be slender, sensitive, artistic and strictly the indoor type.

The Steels, however, are rugged, bawdy, high-spirited, who love to hunt and rough house and play jokes on each other. They’re like this new land here of America. They’re still pioneers at heart. Nothing delicate or sensitive for them. They wrestle and fight and get drunk and go chasing in their wolfen states for rabbits.

Opposites always attract and they most definitely would out here in this remote part of the country.

We Tremonts have ruled the world of vampires since recorded time and we’re now the last of our kind. We don’t have to wait for the full moon to turn into our batty selves. We say the sacred mantra and even in daylight, can shrivel down and let our wings expand and fly off.

My lover and his kin tear out of their clothes and bay at the moon. For they are the ruling family of werewolves in the world.

We both have different branches, especially us, the Tremonts. We’ve been bitter enemies for centuries with the Dark Ones, a mutation of bat people who were created during the days of Cleopatra and have tried to battle us to extinction.

But we’ve always won for we tend to live more like ordinary citizens—whereas the Dark Ones are notorious for being brooding, gypsy-like, artistic, with handsome good looks and plenty of muscular charisma.

They’ve given all us bat people a bad reputation, though. Instead of taking a little blood from several people, thus leaving them unaffected, the Dark Ones focus on one victim, drain all their blood and throw their corpses aside.

They can create other Dark Ones by blood supping three times from the poor soul, then muttering the Dark Chant. Thus, a new vampire is created. We hear of poor farmers around here burying their once strapping son, only to meet him on a lone path through the woods at moonlight.

The corpse now white and blazing eyed and long fanged. What a shocker that would be!

Wind whipped my black cape around me as Stardust, sensing the coming storm, raced even faster up the steep side of the mountain. I sensed my animal was eager to get away from the over-sexed Antonio who thought nothing of finding his sexual relief from the nearest animal—especially the horses—if there were no humans around.

Even these creatures find it difficult to take all of Antonio’s enormous equipment. Yet, most recipients of his energy cannot get enough. Once tasted, they want more, more! And Antonio is only too happy to oblige.

Stardust paused for just a moment. We had come to my favorite part of the mountain for from this point, I can look down to my right and see Tremont Castle. It perched on the highest mountain in North Carolina. Turrets pierce the low-hanging clouds. Even at night, the beautiful structure glows because of its pale limestone.

Indeed we are so high up I often see a cloud drifting below my window located in the highest tower of the castle. Father had chosen it as my suite so I can practice my flying out on those special nights when he and my brother flap their wings over the Black Woods.

And since Antonio is also a batboy, my father assigned him to stay with me on my first flights. The rugged, handsome stable hand was only too happy to comply. He taught me how to jump out into the air, my wings spread, and glide on the night air.

To my left, sprawled Steele Manor, the ancestral home of my lusty young boyfriend. Constructed of dark wood and stone, it made no attempt to stretch upwards. It was built like a man—handsome, solid, in the English Tudor style and Zachary said there were so many rooms he had not seen them all.

One thing he loved about his home was that it was a great place to race and prowl around at night when the moon was full. Then, he, his father and his two brothers could all become their secret, hairy selves. All the servants would be gone and the pack of handsome wolves skidded and raced and howled to their hearts content.

I glimpsed the nearby city of Asheville. From there, we managed to find rugged, healthy youth eager to work at the castle and make good money. They also gave us some of their clean blood at night. Not enough to make them ill. But when we whispered the mantra into their ears, they slept heavily, unaware that we had visited them to swallow more than their sex.

Our secret incantation assured that they did not become part of our race. We discriminated greatly as to who could become blood friends of the Tremonts.

I had reached the top of the mountain and hopped off Stardust. I hurried to our secret cave that Zachary had shown me and as I came near, I saw his golden lantern from within, on the floor next to our pile of soft furs and quilts.

Standing there, completely nude, with his strong arms stretched out, was my miracle lover.

It’s about time, he laughed, grabbing me and pulling me hard against him. He was like a healthy, hot animal, as his long tongue licked my face and neck, tasting me and sniffing me.

To be a werewolf, his magnificent body was smooth of any hair, except beneath his arms, a neat little lawn above his jewels, a delightful darkening across his chest. He had already pulled away my cape and the few clothes I wore beneath it. Then, I was as naked as he was.

He pulled me down on the luxurious fox and bear furs that covered the floor. From his square, rugged face with the rakish moustache, my hungry mouth tasted the rest of his delectable feast: his thick nipples, nearly as prominent as those of Antonio, the flatness of his stomach, and then to his pulsing wand of flesh.

He had carefully secured his dicky-cap of lambskin over the tip. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant to the taste. Zachary had aged and prepared it so that it was almost like his own flesh. He bragged to me that he needed a half dozen when he was with me. One cap couldn’t hold more than one of his gushing climaxes.

Then, I began loving him the way Antonio had taught me, using both my hands to give him pleasure while my lips became the major force of showing him my desire. I knew how careful we had to be.

One drop of his liquid jewel inside my body could be disastrous. His species was completely different from mine. It went without saying that even a trace of his blood or fluid inside me, or vice versa, could bring us an early death. That was what had been drummed into our heads all of our lives.

You can be friends—but nothing more, Father had lectured me.

We were to love and reproduce strictly with our own kind. Our blood was lethal to anyone outside of our families.

Ah, careful! he gasped. I’m ready—so you’d better stand back!

I watched in awe as he streamed out his desire for me. For several seconds, I beheld the velocity of his love and then we carefully washed away all traces of his outpourings. He had combined pure mountain water with the crushed essence of mountain laurel and wolf bane, which obliterated any traces of his semen.

Or so we hoped. But this chance of danger merely enhanced our passion and after I helped him secure a new dicky-cap, he began lunging deep within me. I felt faint, dizzy, exhilarated and after he once again found relief, his full, pink lips began traveling down my body until my breath was nearly gone.

He entered me with a moaning thrust, and had me nibbling his sharp ears and teats. When he finally reached his relief, he withdrew so that we could behold another outpouring of his passion.

We paused to enjoy a bottle of my family’s wine. Father had built up our winery, Tremont Wines, into a worldwide business. He had actually formed the business back in the late l600s so that some of our wine was already nearly 200 years old.

Zachary’s father had founded the Steele Minerals, Inc., just across the valley. Rough jewels and rubies were so plentiful that Zachary said he threw them at squirrels and birds as a pastime when he was a little werewolf.

I spread a repast of cheese and grapes from our arbors. I sat in his lap and fed him tidbits of food, while holding up the gold goblet to his mouth so that some of it dribbled down his chest.

My tongue licked up the drops. He spattered more wine over his hardness and I kissed that off, too. So well, in fact, that he swelled up once more and proved to me his passion for me.

I could do this twenty-four hours a day and never get tired, he sighed in his endearing Southern accent. His eyes are the color of warm brandy, his teeth large and white. He got up to entertain me and pretended to be a Roman gladiator as he went into muscular poses.

Just think, I remarked, your ancestors and mine both fought in the arenas of old Rome. Even then our powers of change could make the emperors quake on their thrones.

In both our residences, we had ancient engravings of our forefathers changing into their real selves. There was one in our second story hallway, which displayed a handsome gladiator, naked and muscular, sprouting bat wings.

In his residence, he pointed out to me at the last Christmas Party ancient etchings of his people becoming wolves in the public arenas—as thousands of Romans applauded the transformations.

At one time, mobs of spectators demanded more than blood and animals and beheadings in the arena. Priests transformed some of the slaves into lions, snakes, and sometimes terrifying mutations.

One of them was a half-elephant and crocodile, with the head of a gladiator screaming on top. Another favorite change was to force some unfortunate woman to become an octopus.

Even the most jaded of the Romans were terrified of this thing that had a woman’s shrieking head atop a mutation that was worse looking and slithery than a squid. An army of gladiators finally murdered the hideous thing.

Falling back on the furs beside me, Zachary purred: All through history we’ve thrived. But we were never allowed to intermingle.

And we’re finally breaking the law, I whispered. There could be so many repercussions, Zachary!

Oh, don’t worry about that now! You’re so goddamned beautiful, Alexis! Those big, blue eyes, your golden hair, your body. And the way you can take my big club up your little butt—and into your valley! And your tits! You’re a miracle person!

And just think—if it hadn’t been for that Christmas party, we’d never have met.

Yes, yes, the wonderful Christmas party that changed our lives!

#

Although segregated from each other, our two dynasties existed peacefully together through the centuries. We had no grudges against each other but we were competitive.

So when my great-great grandparents decided to establish a winery in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Steeles decided to exploit the rich deposits of minerals and coals in the same area.

Strangely, they found the richest veins right near our estate. And so, the Steele Minerals was founded. Fortunately, both our products became famous around the world and it wasn’t unusual that our ancestral homes were built just a few miles apart, in the virgin forests of Black Mountain.

Once each year, we dropped our barrier of polite manners and commingled together. Our Christmas Day festivity was a time of tremendous excitement and fun, of boisterous, raucous whooping and laughter.

For after a steady stream of holiday cheer and wine, we finally made contact with each other. Although there was no intercourse, you can be assured there was a great deal of fondling, caressing and feeling up each other’s goodies.

Since I was now eighteen, my father and brother, Ambrose, treated me like a princess. I designed and created my special Yuletide outfit: a gown made from midnight blue velvet, with hundreds of glittering stones. It had taken a dozen old women to fasten the gems onto the dark material. A flowing cape of ruby satin completed my outfit.

My father, Jeremiah, was a handsome, bear-like man with whiskers. My brother, Ambrose, was slender and jovial and even though I reached his shoulders, he still loved suddenly grabbing me and throwing me onto his back and running around with me.

Often, my father and brother would grip my hand and we’d all go down to the stable to enjoy the delightful talents of Antonio. My father had come across him in Rome when Antonio was selling himself to tourists.

When Antonio was brought back to their hotel room, he told them his strange tale of visiting the Isle of Satyrs, of something miraculous happening, and that he had become a satyr. His goal in life was to provide sex to everyone who wanted and needed it.

There was never any worry of his fathering a bastard. His male elixir was abundant—but without that ingredient that made babies.

He was mysterious about his visit to the Isle of Satyrs, but whatever happened, it made him a sensation with whomever he was with. He never wore clothing of any type, except for a cape, when he was out in public. His miraculous tool was never soft. He was always in a frenzy to find relief.

Father brought him back to America and put him in charge of our stables.

The stable master proved himself a priceless asset to our household. Not only did my relatives and I enjoy his bountiful gifts, but the rest of our household.

The maids could romp with him, too, because they never had to fear becoming with child.

When my father entertained business associates, they were also introduced to the always rampant Antonio. Father was offered small fortunes to part with him but our faithful servant never left us.

On this Christmas Day, we Tremonts were entertaining the Steeles. Around six o’clock in the evening, they began to arrive.

Our great hall rang out with music from our string orchestra from the cities of Asheville and Brevard, and the laughter of nearly a hundred celebrants. We, Tremonts, had invited fifty or more of our relatives from across the country to visit us for this occasion. From New York, Savannah, Birmingham and Chicago they came. By carriage and train.

There were also fifty other vampires from lesser branches who came from Idaho, Maryland and Indiana. Father felt sorry for them for they had lived in such isolated places and I found them charming and rustic.

I had arranged with Antonio my descent into the crowd. That naked rogue gave the orchestra a signal and they struck up The Moonlight Waltz, a popular ballad, and everyone became quiet as they gathered at the bottom of the steps.

Antonio had whispered to me that I was a creature of amazing beauty and since I was the youngest child, I would one day inherit the fabulous Tremont Wineries.

My eyes became fixed on a strapping young giant who had taken his place near the bottom step. With his big paw wrapped around a gold goblet, he leaned against the banister and sang out:

Here! Here! For the fairest young maiden in the land! Even though she is reputed to be a little batty!

As everyone roared with laughter at his impudent charm, I noticed how my father and his relatives gave him a startled look for he was incautiously letting them know how much he admired me.

Yet, alcohol had put everyone into a convivial mood. His observation was greeted with strong applause and whoops. They laughed especially loud when I mocked his words by scrunching up my face and rolling my eyes.

Although there were a dozen or more of female vampires and werewolves present, I was the youngest, and I must say, the fairest, and therefore the most popular.

When the orchestra played a high-spirited polka, men grabbed the available women and when there were not enough, they merely clutched the nearest male and took off across our ballroom. I stood apart—waiting for him to come to me and he did.

Zachary approached me with a boyish swagger. His grin was blazing hot and irresistible.

Would you find it in your heart to dance with a mountain bumpkin like me? I’m afraid you’ve brought out the, eh, wolf in me.

His trousers were so snug they clearly outlined his endowment. His jacket and white shirt bulged with his masculine curves.

You might find me too fluttery—but let’s give it a try.

He beamed, came closer and pulled me close against him. My father and brother were prancing around in the arms of Steele men, so there was nothing amiss. It was our responsibility to make sure everyone had a ball.

Although I had seen Zachary every year I could remember at the Christmas Balls, he had never shown any interest. He was too intent on playing bruising games of ball and nude wrestling to notice a little girl like me.

He and his kin loved rough housing, boxing and fist fighting and playing tricks on little maidens like myself.

But already our highly spiked punch was making everyone loose their inhibitions. Several men had already stripped naked and pranced around in uninhibited abandon. Some of the women had daringly dropped the tops of their gowns.

A few had gathered around our ever-rampant Antonio who lay seductively on a white bear skin rug, before the hearth. Three of them were Steele men and they hungrily lashed their tongues along his body, his nipples and pulsing phallus.

He writhed in delight—at being the center of attention and of having so much exercise performed on his muscular, bronzed body.

The servant boys squabbled over who was hogging Antonio’s gift. Three of our Tremont guests turned into sluts and took turns sharing his rod.

You’ve already had your fill of Antonio! screeched a tipsy guest. It’s my turn!

That impossible creature raised his head up to laugh: Be patient! You’ll have your fun! Only four at a time!

My father and my brother, Ambrose, were also out of their clothes and their partners had guided them to a dark corner of the ballroom. All the men had carefully put on ahead of time our dicky-caps. We women were also diligent in creating our own protection.

Our Christmas gatherings were scenes of outrageous sexual shenanigans but we were always careful to make certain our cocky protectors were securely fastened.

My partner feigned great outrage when his handsome father, Willis Steele, broke in to waltz me around. He kissed and nuzzled me and was guiding my hand down between his legs when one of his older sons, Simon, barged in and swept me away.

All the Steele men, I discovered, were virile, blunt men who said exactly what was on their minds.

I’d love to have my shaft plunged up between your thighs! whispered Simon. And have your pink lips wrapped around it, too!

Your father said the very same thing! I drawled. As did your younger brother, Zachary!

Pshaw! he snorted. None can compare with the mighty dagger of manhood that’s bulging in my britches! See?

He had whipped out his mighty dagger and I had to stand back as he stroked the head. But before he could prove to me what all he could do with it, Zachary stepped up.

You can put it back in your britches, little brother, he mocked. We’ve all seen how impressive you are. But I think it’s time for me to take over and show our Golden Princess what a real man looks like!

Be careful now, Zach! warned Simon. Fun’s fun but don’t play with fire!

I’m my own man, mocked Zachary. I enjoy being nibbled by the flames.

This time he embraced me in a way which brooked no interference from anyone. He swept me into one of our little used reception rooms.

Father called it The Chinese Suite, since everything Oriental at that time was all the rage. It was your usual Victorian cocoon, stuffed with Tibetan and Japanese doo-dads, fans, incense burners, varnished fish under glass.

Saying nothing, my lusty admirer locked the door and began stripping off his clothes and I did mine.

You—you’re beautiful! he stammered. I’d heard you were. Your breasts! My God, they’re enormous!

With a moan of joy, he grabbed me to me him. I had known no man except for Antonio and I thought that all men were like him. But Zachary proved to me that each person is different. They carry their own enchantment, scent, and skills.

We knew what we were about to do was taboo but this merely added to the exhilarating joy. His codpiece bulged from the enormous pressure it contained. His mouth covered mine and I thought of wild woods and storms and lunging hips and male hardness.

It was so natural the way he entered me and used his powerful young body as an instrument of delight and power.

All those times I wrestled naked in the mud, he panted, I was trying to impress you! I didn’t know how to approach you. Your father and brother were so protective!

I can’t believe we’ve finally met!

Of course I should have acted shocked and rejected him and repeated to him all the usual folklore of why we couldn’t consummate our lust. But an inner voice urged me on. Do it! Enjoy it! He’s the one for you.

He snarled and growled in delight, throwing his head back several times to howl. In the flickering flames of the hearth, I realized what a magnificent wolf he would make.

For an hour or more, as the orchestra played The Black Mountain Waltz over and over again, Zachary transported me into sensual regions that amazed me. I felt dizzy, joyous, and wonderful as he urged me to enjoy his body in any way I wanted to.

While Antonio’s glorious torso was gold all over, Zachary’s beautiful body was fair and glowing and he smelt so damned good! I nibbled at his neck until he whooped and cackled:

Ha! I know what you’re wanting to do, you damned little bat!

We heard a gong struck twelve times. This meant it was nearly midnight and for us, this meant the most important part of our gathering was about to take place.

Zachary leaped to his feet and pulled me up.

I’ve got to go now and join my folk, he whispered into my ear, as you have to join yours. But we must see each other again.

He described to me his secret hideaway on the very top of Black Mountain and I promised to see him there the next day.

Without putting on our clothes, we carefully slipped out of the room and joined our own naked families.

Zachary raced to one side of the cavernous ballroom and I went to the opposite.

All the outside guests had been sent home, as had the orchestra, even the servant boys who protested because they had not had their turns with the sizzling Antonio.

Tomorrow, he had told them. You’ll have your hands full when you visit me. You will have all the Antonio you want.

He rose up from the mound of animal furs. His body glistened with sweat; his instrument gleamed with spit, as it stood out from his hips. Then he came over to put his arms around me. I nestled my face on his powerful chest and rubbed his nipples. I felt his hardness surge against us. I stood back and saw that he had become erect again!

He grinned and winked. Let’s get ready, he whispered.

Enormous banks of white candles were lit. Lilies the hue of chalk were banked in huge masses along the walls. We had spent a small fortune of buying every lily we could find in surrounding communities. Flames from the huge hearth blazed, throwing shadows dancing over the room and ceiling.

A gong began to peal. One, two, three...

In unison, we began to chant our bat mantra, one first heard in a secret chamber of the pyramid, and taught to all family members from then on.

All around me, people were changing. Like the other Tremonts, I began to shrink, my ears growing sharper, longer, my teeth extending into white fangs.

From my arms sprouted fine fur and my hands and feet became claws. We all began to flutter our wings and flew up into the air. Antonio brushed up against me, signaling me to follow him. On one of the huge chandeliers, we joined father, Ambrose and several of our relatives from New York. From there, we witnessed the Steeles undergoing an even more dramatic transformation.

They had fallen to their hands and knees. Their bodies began to stretch and become longer and thicker. Their arms and feet became paws while heads swelled up like huge, oblong balls, noses turned into snouts, sharp teeth gnashed down over thin, dark lips.

With their hairy heads thrown back, they brayed and snarled, but their howls couldn’t overpower the trills of a flute being played from outside the windows.

We listened in wonder. Each year, on this occasion, the strange series of notes wafted in, pure and piercing, but we could never find the source.

Antonio assured us it was the Great God Pan creating a tune, to let us know that his protégée, Antonio, was in our house. Was this another fantasy of Antonio’s? He loves to weave so many fanciful tales; we never know what to believe.

As we Tremonts swirled up into the air, the Steeles were romping around beneath us—huge, powerful wolves and the most magnificent one of all was my own lover.

His slanted eyes, glowing emerald in the dark, glanced up at me and he suddenly reared up on his hind legs and pawed the air, while a lupine grin flashed across his hairy mug. His magnificent hardness was visible to everyone.

He pranced around, barking and whining, watching me.

His father and brothers playfully nipped at him and he chased them, sometimes overpowering them, then they would wrestle and bark and impishly leap away.

Then they all raced out into the night, greedily in search of wild life to consume, while we winged creatures flew out into the rays of the moon, to

find some lusty country lads guarding their sheep.

#

Now, I looked up into the smiling face of my loved one and he gave me a final kiss for it was getting late.

He pulled me to my feet and together we stood for a moment at the entrance of the cave that looked down upon the thick forest.

The storm had gone but clouds still banked on the horizon, dark and menacing. A clean, cool wind blew over us and suddenly, we both heard the eerie tremble of a flute being played, sounding far away, yet eerily near.

It wasn’t the music one heard from an ordinary pipe. Notes so high and piercing that they were almost inaudible conjured up dark shores, strange creatures, half-men, half-goats,