Taboos of Transylvania

He could not make out where the snarling and gravelly, throaty noise had come from as he stepped out of the rickety carriage early that dark moonless evening. It was as if somewhere in the acoustics of the steep ridge, someone old and throaty sounding were speaking in a primitive language, but just before the end, he could make out the words in English "foreigner" and "love". It was the first sign in the traveler's adventure into this forlorn locale that something may be amiss in a supernatural way.

His assignment for his Fleet St. employer just a year earlier had been to write a biographical profile of the eccentric investigator of vampires, Montague Summers. It had been Summers who had provided author of "Dracula", Bram Stoker the inspiration to model the central character after the historical Vlad Dracule. Summers believed in vampires and his investigations had taken him to this difficult terrain in northern Romania in the ethereally beautiful and steep Carpathian mountains, once identified as Transylvania. The journalist who followed in Summers footsteps, 18 years after the first publication of the sensational novel, had seen autumnal visages in late October: steep escarpments and mountainsides, gnarley old-growth forests quickly divesting themselves of vermilion foliage, ruins of old castles, and charming antique but solid old word dwellings of thick beamed wattle and daub and tight thatched roofs. First rail, then motorcar had carried him to one of those larger Romanian villages whose names he could not pronounce. That Sunday morning he set off on the final leg of his journey to a noisy and oddly syncopated clamor in sharps and flats from church bells within mushroom shaped steeples. It had taken all day, traveling on bad roads through narrow and sometimes frighteningly steep mountain passes to arrive at his final destination in a creaky old carriage. The charming inn gave off a warm and hospitable glow from its many lamps in what was otherwise a deathly damp chill evening in an uninviting landscape.

"You tourists seek out your vampires." The fat innkeeper spoke with a sort of fearful resignation in his eyes. The new guest was ingesting the last morsels of his boiled and roasted supper. The fires crackled and blazed in more than one fireplace in a cozy and charming interior rural setting. The host's German was in thick vernacular dialect, but the journalist acclimated to it soon enough. "There are as bad and worse things in the night, though." His fat wife sat next to him on the verge of tears, clinging to both an eastern religious icon and rosary, whimpering as if trying to restrain her husband's open confidences. Occasionally he would just wave her off. "We have known wolves and werewolves. Bears and beasts we know not what of have plagued us in the night. But such things have not been so present in the forests and mountains in recent years. To wander about the night now, one would surely be set upon by one of Lucifer's servants. These are demons that are neither animal nor human, but a sort of beast like a werewolf that is a combination of the two." The speaker kept repeating a Slavic word, struggling for the German translation. "drool-a-cu". Finally he conjured a word that was the same in English, "incubus".

"You know that just over the mountains is Hungary. In a convent nearby the local Bishop of the Roman church would often visit, because one nun or another would frequently become pregnant. In his investigations, he would be told that the incubus would come in the night and rape them. Finally, they reinforced the old wall around the convent and the pregnancies stopped. But the nuns all birthed dark eyed boys of great intelligence but unruly and disobedient dispositions. Their vandalisms would earn them all imprisonments, but they would always disappear into the forests just as the jailers would pursue them.

"In the mountain pass not ten miles from here, the priests tolerated a Benedictine monastery of the Roman Church." The innkeeper lowered his voice and glanced out of the corner of his eye almost conspiratorially. "It is said that they could produce a good wine for the communion mass. But some of us know they fermented a brandy wine to suit the palate of the patriarch in Bucharest. It would seem these demons in service to the prince of darkness also pursue men in their unholy and unnatural lusts." His wife now truly burst into tears and her husband scolded her impatiently. "Out of here you weeping strumpet. Our guest is entitled to know what could injure him in his visitation." She ran off sobbing, clutching her apron to her wet eyes and wailed into the kitchen. He genuflected before he spoke next. "The monastery has been abandoned and barren for nearly 50 years, and it is said that sometimes one of the monks would be seen wandering in the open, naked in a daze, blood and foul fluids oozing from the back hole God has given us to excrete our dirt. Sometimes splashes of white spray, like what farmers know to be the wet seed of horses and bulls, would smear their faces and lips. More than one priest of our own church has ventured to investigate, never to be seen again."

The journalist still had not shaken off the chill of the night and so they both reseated themselves closer to one of the fires. "The most recent was a cheerful young priest from our closest village. This makes my wife very sad." The listener started to protest that he had never intended to cause such distress. "No, no, no," the storyteller protested. "You want your story for the people in the west. No matter how unbelievable, we want people to know. Now!" He fidgeted to recollect where he was in the continuity. "This young man of the church would protest to his superior clerics that he would need to return on many occasions to know the full extent of crimes committed here. Later it was learned that, in the flush of his youth and vigor, he was corrupted and had become a deceiver. He had been seduced in the woods and would return to the scene repeatedly to disrobe of all his vestments and love one or more of the beasts in the dark of the night." The storyteller crossed himself again, his eyes rolled back as if to look to the heavens. "In the flush of youth in God's service he had profaned himself so savagely. When the ecclesiastical council defrocked and excommunicated him for his crimes, he was exiled to Bucharest. It is said that he still lives and frolics in the shabby quarter where men love each other in disgrace, in the eyes of our Lord."

The innkeeper shifted his chair right next to his guest as if in a gesture of intimacy. "Now I am going to tell you something that I hope will convince a sensible man such as yourself to not venture off in our dangerous lands in the dark of the night. It is said that the incubus, while of varied heights is usually shorter than the average man. Despite this, he has, in his nakedness, a disproportionately large male member that hangs and swaggers between his legs that is much more like a horse's. When stiff to satisfy his lusts, surely it causes great injury to the blessed chamber of a woman from whence we all come. And for that nearby passage from which we all must eliminate our filth, the only one available to it among men, it must rend the vessel open into our very viscera." The journalist thought this was quite enough offense to his Edwardian sensibilities and was about to protest and retire to his assigned chamber for the night. "Pardon my frankness friend, but this must be spoken. For all its awful evilness, it is said that one glance upon the gigantic member in its dreadful exposure, whether to a woman or a man, the beholder is struck by a powerful seduction, a spell, a terrible enchantment that paralyzes the poor victim, who is then powerless but to succumb to the advances of this vile apostate from hell. Despite what must be awful pains visited upon its victim, the poor wretch certainly is transformed into a disciple of the devilish cult that demands the most depraved acts of carnal debauches between humans."

The journalist reassured his host that he had no need to gallivant in unfamiliar territory at night. He lied. In his small room he nearly chuckled to himself as he unpacked and contemplated the depths of imaginative superstition these isolated people have been immersed in. He only had two days here and he certainly would wander about within as much as two miles from the premises in the dark. He remembered to take one of the new electric torches he had packed called a flashlight. He was amused that the innkeeper had written a note littered with bad German spelling. "If you are so foolish to fail to heed my advice and wander out into the night of horrors, please take these as added protection." He openly laughed as he snatched the rosary and three or four cloves of garlic and stuffed them into his satin lined woolen tweed pockets.

He heard his own footsteps trudge along the road that was little more than a stony path. They clearly had already experienced their first frost in high elevation. There was barely any cricket or insect noises. He thought he heard a wolf or dog howling in the distance, but it seemed to be far enough off not to cause concern. But the dampness of the cold, visible in the mist that clung low to the ground, chilled him to the bone despite many layers of clothes. If he was going to find anything at night that might suffice as the source of superstitions, he had to work fast as his pocket watch showed it was less than an hour before midnight. The cold irritated his swollen bladder. He remembered he had not urinated since a stop more than six hours earlier and he stood facing the woods in wider stance to fumble at his trouser buttons and reach in through other layers of clothes to his respectable length of male hose and expose into the frigid night air. He pulled back his foreskin enough just in time when his bladder seemed to start to empty itself of its own accord. Maybe it was the cold, but his warm discharge seemed to smell more acrid than usual and added to the night humidity as it streamed to the cold ground.

They were upon him long before his bladder was completely empty. He never noticed or heard their approach. Three of them, small and bundled in monk-like cowls they were extremely powerful nonetheless and when they restrained him, one of them grabbed hold of his penis to direct into the woods as he continued his evacuation. He was startled and out of control, he could not stop. The monk captor wound his penis about so that the stream flailed on tree trunks and branches. The three of them cackled in German, "good, good, yes, yes, pisssssss!" He was dragged into the woods, realizing it was too far for anyone to hear him, but his struggles were pointless for they seemed to only have the effect of tightening the grip of the assailants. Within seconds, one of them started to tug at his clothes as if they were starting to disrobe him. In less than a minute he became alarmed with the progress of this activity. Both of his boots were off and one of his stockings was being wrenched away in short order. Short of some miracle of intervention they were going to subject him to the humiliation of having him stripped both stark naked and of all his dignity. His captors knew the transformation that was at hand would have him delight in his nakedness within the hour.

He went into a sort of mental shock of denial but started to snap out of it when the top of his undergarment was stripped away to reveal his upper torso. The cool night air actually tantalized his exposed skin and hardened his nipples in a sensation not like anything else since a moonlight skinny dip frolic he had enjoyed with his new bride during their honeymoon. He was startled to realize that he actually enjoyed the captors tug away at the lower half of the reinforced underwear and expose him birthday suited, in communion with an eery gothic surrounding that seemed enthralling and blissfully connected. A nearby owl hooted in celebration. He suddenly realized he was no longer restrained as his captivating companions lifted their cowls and smiled mischievously when he appreciated they were liberating themselves in nudity as well. He wondered whether they would chase each other about in some animal-like play. He wanted to connect himself in exuberance with his new experience by pissing again. When it was apparent he didn't have anything to pee, it crossed his mind to use his male organ in its other purpose of life affirmation. That is when he heard that noise again.

It was the same gravelly voice that made him panic momentarily with a flight response. But where would he run to? -- back to the inn to pound on the door in his undignified disgrace and subject himself to the worst assumptions by the ogling inn keeper and his wife? The audible low-pitched language spoken shifted about to identifiable German and finally, "foreigner".

Before he could run, one of his captors had picked up the flashlight and flashed it in the direction of the approaching silhouette. The light shone directly on what was a plainly visible animal phallus. Long, thick, and almost purplish dark, it was festooned with a palpable glans. Elegantly serpentine, it was decorated at its base with a magnificent mane of dark maroon fur, almost glistening in the light with a sheen of sensual silkiness. A line of thick fur could be seen to grow part way from the underside of the fleshy staff. At the end was a slight tuft of hairs like at the end of a bull phallus. The journalist was frozen with mesmerism. How beautiful it was to be naked in the dark of night and struck by this vision of sheer sensuality, this icon of elegant flesh certainly worthy of worship and veneration. The low gravelly voice continued in English. "You like what you see, foreigner. We wondered whether we would see you tonight. " The phantom chortled. "It was not hard to find you by the smell of your water. You humans are always the easiest to prey upon." The naked traveler just swiveled his hips involuntarily in the deep trance that continually heightened all his senses. He was unaware that his own phallus was stirring to life and stiffening out visible to his captors. "My boys," he continued. 'We have found an easy one. The festivities will be especially raucous tonight. Bring the naked one over here and have him take my scent. His kidnappers dragged him over directly in front of the beast on his front and lifted him as if to encourage him to prop himself to gently grasp the superb flesh that hung before him. "Sniff it, foreigner. Know my power from my wand of magic even before it turns hard."

The deep inhalation was a drug more powerful than the journalist had known in his days of experimentation with a number of distillates of opium. His head spun with a whole new hunger and his loins burned with an intensity of lust he had never known with a woman. He inhaled the flesh again and the sensuality of his nakedness now prompted him to grind and hump his lower torso into the ground twice. "Oooooaaahhhh," he moaned. The heated stimulus came over him like a wave of bliss and his delicious spasms of orgasmic missive shot through on the ground all about the beast's feet. The splendid intensity of the hot spasms of his ejaculation were the most intense in his life and he felt energized sexually more than ever before. Next he was encouraged to lick and suck about the lengthening and thickening roll of magic flesh. He clung to the beasts furry legs as he did so and warmed by the silky hairs against his bare upper chest and shoulders. The great serpent heated, thickened, and stiffened into a great black and blue pole. Its raw flavor was of an intense morning dew and a vaguely sweet treat of mother earth. His head spun even more and his loins throbbed with heat anew. He moaned with the delirium and relished the greatest treat of his life. He licked and sucked on the low sack of monster orbs where the juices of evil itself percolated with fierce heat.

The beast snorted his approval as his new supplicant smacked his lips and feasted with wild abandon only to pause every three or four minutes or so to unleash the hot tension that would build in his loins again and again, sending great heated increments of slithering new man seed to gush forth from his desperately stiff and quivering bare organ on to the terrain all about them. The creature growled and snarled in the throes of his own mounting desires. "Yes foreigner! Kiss and suck my awful cock from hell. Better than any man's, it is the supreme desire of all the men who are apostles of our race. You are about to be awarded our greatest prize." The low grizzle in his voice now thickened and strengthened in volume. The naked captors were now stepping about in a weird sinuous dance in unison, thumping in sympathy with the great intensely physical frenzy that played out before them. The beast suddenly let loose a great deafening wail into the night. His hairy head with its large wide black eyes thrown back toward the sky. The enormous tube steak in the hands of the helpless captive flailed about, jettisoning great shots of off white almost burning beast seed into the attending naked man's face, mouth and upper torso. The stench of it filled the night air, but it was an enthralling odor, primal and fecund with a fresh ripeness. The journalist greedily slobbered down as much of the milky nectar as he could, only stimulating his libido even more.

For the first time, the captive noticed that a nearly full moon had risen above the tree line and the landscape of dense intertwined forest blended well with a greatly menacing apparition. This stocky animal, shorter than himself was covered with the silken fur. A great head was ensconced with large human ears except they pointed sharply at the upper ends. The mouth was shaped almost as a snout with pointed teeth more like a dog's. On his red forehead, two knobs on either side suggested emerging devil's horns. Two deep set but very large eyes from a furrowed brow glared down on the improbably naked and vulnerable captive, garnished with the most stinking of obscenely lascivious fluids. It was a frightening but somehow intensely sensual and erotic moment of surrender to the journalist. It was his most enlivening moment and he reveled in his heart and soul to be suddenly posessionless excepting all the highly sensitized body that was released from his mother's womb. He was entirely at the mercy of a monster in an ancient forlorn forest seemingly at the edge of the world, but to the captive it seemed the moment of his greatest good fortune - to be trustingly submissive to a powerful ogre of unknown genesis. The beast suddenly moved his head from side to side and glanced at his attending "boys", still naked. In that gravelly low pitched voice, "see that the foreigner is laid out that he can be taken like a woman."

It was the culminating moment of truth for the journalist. All the perfidious acts of lewdness and unparalleled subjugation to the most decadent pleasures of the flesh led to an apparent unspeakable act of bestiality. Yet sensations emerged in the depraved naked man's seated orifice he had never experienced as he was shifted about so that his rump was raised from a position of resting on his knees. He shifted his hips in yearning that his vacancy would be filled and stretched to be skewered alive by a monster's massive roll of heated male urge. For all the peril to his physical well being, the captive still languished in a haze of libidinal desires. The beast stepped menacingly from in front to around and behind his captive. The naked man waited for the momentous impact to his tiny anus, but instead felt a very wet and greasy slobber to the muscled ring of his intensely personal opening. The muscle expanded involuntarily in delight to the caress to such a sensitive exposure. His mind flashed back to one particularly raucous event of love play with his young wife with whom he wanted to experiment with these acts of intense intimacy, but her mood changed instantly as she recoiled in horror. He turned to see the beast protrude a long thin tongue with a forked end and notice it in persistence insinuate through the barrier with its sensual slime and grease into the captive's delighted rectum. He swooned with new feelings of exalted lust. The vivacious feelings of liveliness instilled a new confidence in him to be the lover of the beast and succeed in satisfying all his beastly urges despite whatever physical assaults that might entail.

He barely noticed the withdrawal of the tongue and rise of the creature to bend and cling to him about his lower ribs and step up behind him to mount him like some female four legged animal. The "boys" about him, still ever-naked themselves, held him down as the semi-animal from hell pointed his great phallus at the appointed spot and impaled the vulnerable naked man with great force. The victim gasped with the flash of instant pain. It was as if his insides extending into his vulnerable belly were being torn asunder in a single thrust of great violence. For all the pain and bodily shock it was as if his mind was shifting into a domain of profound peace. Every muscle was tensed in reaction to great injury to his person, but somehow he felt himself beautiful to be selected by this horrible glutton for sadistic pleasure. He thought that he could die then a passing of sensual and subservient majesty. As the revolting creature viciously stroked his mammoth battering ram of rigid flesh into the victim's mightily wounded cavity, he was consoled and actually gratified by the disgusting snarling spewed by his assailant who reveled to the friction of the small human rectum against his excited appendage. The minutes went by like hours, and the victim transfixed in his assault became convinced that he was trapped in a hell where a beast would love him physically for eternity.

The attendant "boys" turned him over and made sure that his legs were shifted up and back so that his rump would be facing up, allowing for even greater penetration. The eyes of the semi-animal were turned red as it bent over with his grizzly mouth to kiss his victim on the lips, all the while retaining the pace of stroking invasion. The journalist in helpless assault astonished himself even in trance to open his mouth and move his tongue to meet the greasy slender forked tongue of his assailant. He was further transfixed by the elegant eroticism of the silky fur on the beast's abdomen rubbing against his almost desperately excited man parts in all the physical frenzy. The tension of pleasure climaxed and he squirted out his last measure of festered jism that night on to both himself and the beast. The incubus felt the effect of the climax on the man's injured but still functional internals and the snug grip of a velvety moist grasp on his flesh. He thrust his hips with rapidity and howled into the moonlight. His own sex let loose with an explosion and great profusion of heated effluence pumped up and out by virile loins. It was a soothing splash for a victim who now grasped and clung to his assailant in a gesture of hellish love. The mess of fluids swirled about in an intimate coupling and flowed freely from the victim's stretched opening while still penetrated.

As the great beast withdrew his softening pole and disentangled himself from the victim, he spoke softly in grizzled tones. "Foreigner loves his master, now." He stomped off as if disappearing onto thin air. While, still trying to recover his wits lying on the ground, two of the attendants were covering themselves with their cowls while the third gathered up the naked journalist's clothes to help him dress. Now dressed, the very sore injured journalist could never have arrived back at the inn had the attendants not escorted and aided him so. Opening with his key to a back entrance, he felt the cozy warmth welcome his senses and one of the three attendants call out to him in accented German, "listen to the dreams."

The journalist slept fitfully the remainder of the night and most of the next day. He drank all the bottles of hospitable warm beer the innkeeper had provided. He used all the handkerchiefs he had packed to clean away the mix of blood and other fluids that oozed from his anal passage. Every time he awoke, he was amazed at how much the soreness about there had diminished. He dreamed many eerie and yet shadowy beautiful landscapes. In strange locations of great mist the beast would come to him. "You will come back to me, foreigner. You love your master now and must obey me to serve my needs and urges." He spoke much else, beside.

The journalist set off from the inn once more and later into the night. It was not until nearly midnight so the moon had risen completely over hills and mountains and he did not need the aid of the flashlight to his appointed destination as instructed in the dream of his sleep. He was already in a trance like daze and the fact that he only wore his outer cape over complete nudity except his house slippers did not cause him a chill in the night air. He strolled slowly unobstructed, his face aglow with a sense of profane love. He loved the beast and hence was a disciple to all the incubuses and by extension the prince of darkness and all that permeated his realm. It was more than a Faustian bargain, it was a love affair and discipleship that would last into eternity. He and all his male descendants would be devoted disciples to unbridled profanity henceforth. The incubus growled approvingly as his supplicant arrived and approached into the woods. The attendant "boys" watched nearby naked and aroused, but silent in the arrival of the hypnotized one. He removed his cape to expose his own nudity and arousal before lowering himself on the moist cold ground to prostrate himself before the master he loved with unwavering devotion and obedience.

...to be continued