My name is Jonathan Harker. I had been looking for employment since I graduated from college six months ago with a degree in Eastern European history. My resume and photo on the Internet had not garnered me any job offers. In fact, I hadn't even had an interview.
Then, I received an e-mail from an employment agency working for a prospective employer in Romania offering me employment as a personal secretary. As a college exchange student, I had been to Poland and Czechoslovakia, but had not made it to Romania. I was excited by the prospect of spending time in an Eastern European country, and since I didn't have any other offers, I decided to accept. In only a matter of days, I was provided with a plane ticket and directions to a mansion where I was to be personal secretary to a Romanian count named Vlad Tepes Dracula,
I arrived just before dusk, the final few miles in a horse-drawn carriage from the nearby village. The driver dropped me off about 500 yards from the entrance before dumping out my bags, turning the carriage around and whipping the horses away. When I got to the entrance, I used the huge knocker attached to a carved gargoyle on the door. Presently, the door opened, and I saw the largest man I had ever seen in my life. He was bald, with a coarse, brown/gray beard. He was at least 6-foot-8, and seemed as thick as he was tall. At 5-7 and only 135 pounds, I felt more than a bit intimidated.
"Uh ...." I cleared my throat . .... "I'm Jonathan Harker. Are you Count Dracula, sir?"
The giant gave a grim smile, took my bags from me and ushered me inside.
"No sir," came a deep voice from the large man. "My name is Renfield, sir. I am Count Dracula's servant. The Count is expecting you, sir. Please wait here in the drawing room while I take your bags to your quarters."
I looked around as I stood there, straightening my tie, and shaking out my longish blond hair. I looked for a mirror, but there was none in the room. I smiled to myself over being so uneasy. I came here for employment, and I had decided that I wouldn't be intimidated by being in a strange country. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the Count. He seemed to materialize right next to me. He was a tall man, about 6-3, bony and gaunt. His jet-black hair slicked back, his face heavily lined, and when he spoke, it was in a rather teasing, thick Romanian accent.
"Welcome, Mr. Harker," he said, and for some reason a chill went down my spine. He offered me his hand to shake. It was so very cold and clammy, and his fingers were so long that my small, slim hand was lost in his.
"You must be hungry, Mr. Harker, after your long journey," he said. "Please come into the dining room. Renfield has prepared your supper. I have already dined, and will join you shortly."
I sat and ate a very satisfactory chicken dinner along with a glass of red wine. When the Count returned, he stood by the table. I asked him if he would be having a glass of wine with me.
"I never drink," said Dracula ..."wine."
Another cold chill went through me. I stuttered a bit when I asked him about what my duties would be. He smiled, reminding me of a crocodile.
"There will be plenty of time to discuss your duties tomorrow evening, Mr. Harker," he said. "You must be quite fatigued from your travels."
I was suddenly quite tired, but managed to ask the Count why he said tomorrow evening.
"I dislike the daytime," he said. "We will do all our work at night. Would that cause you terrible inconvenience, Mr. Harker?"
"Uh ... no ... no sir," I replied.
Dracula slowly looked me up and down and exhibited that crocodile smile again. "You look very much like your Internet picture, Mr. Harker. Renfield will take you to your quarters. I hope you will have pleasant dreams."
Renfield appeared and led me upstairs to my room. The stairs creaked under his massive weight. He opened the door and let me in before respectfully backing out of the room. The door closed, and then I heard a key turning.
I walked over and tried the door. It was locked!
"Renfield," I called out. "Renfield! Why did you lock the door?"
There was no answer. I decided to just go to sleep and worry about it in the morning. I slept fitfully, dreams of howling wolves and dark mists preventing me from feeling rested when I woke up. Renfield came in and told me I was expected downstairs. I asked him what time it was. He told me 6:30 p.m. It was already nighttime. I couldn't believe how long I had slept. I figured I must have been more tired than I thought from my journey.
Not knowing how formal the Count was at meals, I put on my best suit and tie. I was about to go downstairs when Renfield came in again.
"That will never do, sir," he said.
Suddenly, the count appeared at the door. A foul, gray mist began to filter into my room as I saw him nod at Renfield just before I began feeling dizzy. Renfield's big hands picked me up as I passed out.
The next thing I know, I'm seated at the table across from Count Dracula, who was wearing a black, high-collar tuxedo. I didn't know how I had gotten there ... and I didn't know how I came to be dressed the way I was.
My body had been shaved of every trace of a hair, and I caught the scent of a subtle feminine perfume. It was coming from me! Renfield came over, carrying a large mirror. He put it in front of me. I couldn't believe what I saw. There I was in a lovely, light blue chiffon off-the-shoulders dress. My blonde hair was fashionably and expertly coifed atop my head. I looked at the Count in confusion. His face was stern, his eyes hypnotic. I was suddenly terrified. I wanted to get up and leave, but my mind had lost its will.
"You are a lovely young lady, Mr. Harker," said Renfield.
I wanted to scream, to get away, but instead, my bare shoulders slowly shimmied and my wine glass moved from my neck down to my small cleavage.
"What?" I thought. "I ... I can't have cleavage."
The count reached out and touched my chin with his long, cold fingers. Another chill went through me.
"Yes, Mr. Harker," he said in his heavy Romanian accent. "Or perhaps I should say, Miss Harker? Your transformation is proceeding in a very satisfactory manner."
My mind screamed, "My transformation! What?"
But I heard myself in a soft feminine voice purr and say, "Thank you, Count Dracula."
My hazel eyes were locked on his. They were purple and bloodshot ... and overpowering.
"You have lovely shoulders," he said. "So slim and soft, and your neck....You will want to go to bed now, won't you?"
It was more a command than a question. It was also the last thing I heard before I passed out. When I awoke, I was in my bedroom, under a rich, red coverlet. I was wearing a sheer, white off-my-shoulders nightgown showing a good deal of my new cleavage. My blond hair was now down, cascading over my shoulders. I was feeling strangely soft, frail, sensual. I shimmied my bare shoulders with my back against the pillow. My fingertips slowly worked their way down my taut, curvy body until they came to rest between my legs. I appeared in every other way to be a woman, but I still had my slim 5-inch, circumcised penis.
My mind was a blur of confusion and feelings of unaccustomed femininity. My small breasts pushed against my flimsy nightgown and my nipples were aroused. My hands moved back up my body until they came to rest on either side of my head. Then I heard a voice inside my mind. It belonged to Count Dracula. I tried so hard to ignore it. I had never backed down from a fight or felt any man was superior to me, But Dracula's voice in my mind just went right through me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, but the voice was too strong.
I rose from the bed, my back straight and my posture perfect. I walked out of the room, feeling sensual and pure, my blonde hair cascading over my slim, white, bare shoulders as I came to the head of the staircase.
At the bottom of it stood Count Dracula, staring up at me with those penetrating purple eyes. Slowly, inexorably, he glided up the stairs. I was frightened out of my mind, but I couldn't move. Finally, he was right in front of me, looking down at me with a hideous, bloodless smile. He smelled like formaldehyde. His mind overpowering, I was only able to back away into the bedroom, one small step at a time, while he hovered over me, his eyes devouring me, until I was backed against the bed.
His hands reached out and grasped my bare shoulders. His touch was cold, like a corpse's, slimy and foul against my pure, white skin. My skin crawled, even as I felt myself surrender to his will. He maneuvered me onto the bed. His hands, with his fingers so long and bony, remained on my shoulders as his face approached mine. That formaldehyde stench intensified as he opened his mouth to reveal to my silent horror, sharp fangs on either side.
I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. His tuxedo jacket and shirt pressed against my bare chest as his mouth captured mine. When I writhed and tried to get away, he smiled evilly and put his cold, slimy tongue into my mouth. I felt a combination of awful revulsion and irresistible desire as the last traces of my masculinity dissipated. I was terrified, yet I wanted the kiss to last for hours. For all I know, it did. Time lost all meaning to me. My mind was a helpless blur. I breathed heavily, my modest, tender breasts moving as Dracula's cold, bony hands kneaded them through my flimsy nightgown. His eyes bore into mine. My slender wrists seemed glued to the pillow on either side of my blonde head as my lovely shoulders slowly shimmied. Then slowly, Dracula's confident, grinning face descended. His hot, fetid breath repulsed me even as I opened my mouth to accept his serpentine tongue. Then, his hands caressing my shoulders, he ended the kiss, opened his mouth in an animalistic sneer and revealed his razor-sharp fangs.
He could see the fear in my eyes, even as I stretched my head to one side, revealing more of my slim, regal neck in surrender. His evil smile grew more broad. My little hands impotently grabbed at his sleeves as his mouth descended upon my helpless neck. My slim, lithe body tensed. Then, as his fangs penetrated my soft, tender skin, I felt my slim penis explode in the most powerful orgasm of my young life. My world was awash in brilliant colors. I felt my back arch and heard myself cry out as I drifted off into oblivion.
I had no idea how many hours I slept before awaking, feeling unusually fresh and vital, my senses alive as never before. I shook my head, figuring that the whole experience of the night had just been a nightmare. But it seemed that as I moved my head that my blonde hair was longer. I sat up, and I was in the same, white, off-my-shoulders nightgown. It was still clean and fresh-smelling, but my breasts had grown somewhat larger. They weren't huge by any means, but they were perky and prominent as they pressed against the silk nightgown.
I rose and walked to the windows and the drawn curtains. My steps were sensual and feminine, my blonde hair halfway down my slim back. I moved the curtain aside with one hand and peered outside. It was nearly dusk. Almost mechanically, I moved to a dressing table where I found a hairbrush. As I brushed my hair, it came away from my neck. Looking in the small mirror, I noticed two tiny wounds, but when I ran my fingertips over them they disappeared. Perplexed, I bit my lower lip, wondering why I was looking at the reflection of a lovely girl instead of the slim young man who had arrived at Dracula's mansion.
I walked to the closet, where I found only one garment. It was a formal, mid-thigh-length jet-black halter gown that seemed made for my slim, pantyless body, and I glided into it, revealing just a bit of cleavage. On the floor of the closet were matching black high-heeled shoes. Since I had never worn women's shoes before, I was surprised how well I could walk with them. Some of my long, straight hair fell over my slim, bare right arm and the cleavage of my right breast while the remainder rested on my bare neck and back. My posture perfect, I opened the now-unlocked door and moved to the stairway.
