Beth lay in bed, grinding against her pillow—her mind filled with thoughts of her son's mouth, his hands, that insufferable smack to her ass. She was practically dripping—soaked through—and Jerry had never even made her wet like this. Not once.
Meanwhile, in the garage, Morty was calm—methodically checking portals. Which universe next?
Morty adjusted his portal gun settings, scrolling through the multiverse directory. Hotel Transylvania—Universe 772.
"Okay," he muttered, checking the parameters. "Johnny doesn't exist in this one."
That changed everything. Without Johnny, Mavis would never have fallen in love with a human. She'd stayed safe, sheltered, and lonely.
"Right," he corrected himself with a small smirk. "Until she meets me." He pressed the trigger on his portal gun, opening a swirling green vortex. Without hesitation, he stepped through—leaving Beth behind in her bedroom, lost in lustful thoughts of him. He landed softly in a dark, spooky castle—Hotel Transylvania. Universe 772.
Morty knew what would happen if he walked into this castle as a human—the vampires would swarm, panic, and attack. He needed to blend in. Be seen as one of them.
He reached for the Omnitrix on his wrist, dialing through the alien DNA.
"Omnitrix: Transformation sequence initiated."
He slammed his palm down on the watch—Blitzwolfer.
The transformation was instant. Blue fur covered his body, claws extended, and his face became a wolf-like muzzle with glowing yellow eyes. He stood on two legs now, tall and imposing—a werewolf, but clearly not like the Wolfman stereotype. This was Blitzwolfer: an alien werewolf with advanced technology built into his suit.
Perfect for blending in with supernatural creatures.
Morty checked his watch, setting the Omnitrix to LifeLock mode. "Omnitrix: LifeLock activated. Permanent transformation engaged."
He stretched his clawed fingers, feeling the power of Blitzwolfer's sonic howl.
Perfect. No ticking clock, no running back to human form. He was now stuck as a werewolf.
Morty surveyed his surroundings with glowing yellow eyes—the dark, twisted forest of Transylvania stretched out before him. Twisted trees, fog rolling across the ground, and in the distance... the towering, gloomy silhouette of Hotel Transylvania.
His enhanced senses picked up everything—the rustle of bats, the distant howl of actual wolves, and the unmistakable scent of vampires.
"Okay,"
Morty started moving through the forest—his Blitzwolfer senses picking up everything. The crunch of leaves under clawed feet, the scurrying of small creatures, the distant howl of wolves. He could smell vampires from miles away—their ancient, dusty scent.
And then he saw it—the glowing windows of the hotel, the tiny figures moving behind glass. Mavis would be in there.
Morty arrived exactly when Johnny was supposed to—no more, no less. He watched as the hotel entrance remained empty. No human boy showed up to disrupt the supernatural status quo. Mavis wasn't going to have her "human encounter" today. Instead, she'd be greeted by a literal wolfman.
Morty approached the massive, looming entrance of Hotel Transylvania—his Blitzwolfer form giving him an imposing silhouette against the moonlight. The hotel sat imposing in the fog, with hundreds of windows and a grand, ornate doorway.
He was exactly in Johnny's place—only there was no human boy with a backpack.
Morty stood outside the hotel doors, his yellow Blitzwolfer eyes scanning the architecture. He knew every plot point.
Dracula built this place after humans killed his wife, Martha. He kept Mavis locked away like a prized possession, feeding her horror stories about humans. Today was Mavis's 118th birthday. The big party. The monster friends coming.
And Johnny was not coming this time.
"This is going to be interesting," Morty muttered to himself, his wolf ears twitching at the distant sounds of monsters preparing for the party. No human boy, no 'zing', no chaos. Instead, he was here—an alien werewolf in Dracula's hotel. He'd have to fit in perfectly.
Morty paused, doing the timeline in his head. The party wasn't for another week. He had time.
He could scope out the hotel. Meet the guests. Maybe even get close to Mavis before the big day.
"Perfect," he murmured, adjusting his stance. He needed to make Dracula trust him. If Dracula saw him as a monster guest—not a threat—he'd have access to everything.
Morty approached the grand entrance, his clawed hand reaching for the ornate door handle. He took a deep breath—well, as deep as a werewolf could—and pushed the door open.
The lobby was massive—vaulted ceilings, flickering chandeliers, and hundreds of portraits lining the walls. But most importantly... Dracula himself stood there, tall and imposing in his cape, arms crossed.
Morty walked up to the front desk, his Blitzwolfer claws clicking against the marble floor. The concierge—a skeletal figure with glowing eyes—looked up from his ledger, unimpressed by the new arrival.
"Reservation?" the skeleton asked, his voice like dry leaves scraping together.
Morty cleared his throat. "Room for one."
The skeleton scrolled through the ledger with bony fingers. "A werewolf... how original. What name, stranger?"
"Blitzwolfer," Morty said, using his alien name rather than Morty. It sounded more like a legitimate monster name.
The skeleton tapped his pen. "Ah, Blitzwolfer. Very nice. We have a lovely suite on the fourth floor."
"Excellent," Morty replied, handing over a gold coin—standard currency for monsters. The skeleton nodded, sliding a room key across the counter. "Room 412. Welcome to Hotel Transylvania, Mr. Blitzwolfer."
As Morty turned to leave, he caught sight of a familiar figure descending the grand staircase—Dracula himself, looking every bit the overprotective father.
Morty turned toward the staircase, his Blitzwolfer eyes catching a glimpse of Mavis descending—black hair, pale skin, adorable vampire fangs. She was breathtaking.
As they crossed paths, their eyes met.
*Zing.*
The magical, instant connection of true love. Morty's heart—or what passed for one in Blitzwolfer form—thumped loudly.
Mavis froze mid-step, her violet eyes wide. Her breath hitched—something vampires rarely did. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Morty felt it too. Every fiber of his Blitzwolfer being pulled toward her. His wolf ears twitched. His tail—yes, he had a tail now—wagged involuntarily.
"Whoa," Mavis whispered, her cheeks flushing a faint purple.
Dracula swept past Morty without a second glance—too busy fussing over decorations and guest lists. He didn't even notice the alien werewolf who had just ZINGED with his daughter.
Mavis shot Morty one last lingering look before scurrying after her father. Her cheeks still flushed purple.
Morty stood there, stunned. *It actually happened.* The Zing. With Mavis.
Morty stood there, watching Mavis disappear down the hallway with her overprotective father. The Zing. It didn't matter what species a human was. It just happened. A magical, instant connection that defied logic.
He had been a human a few minutes ago—now he was a Blitzwolfer. And Mavis had ZINGED with him anyway.
*Interesting, *
Morty made his way to Room 412, his mind racing. The Zing. With Mavis. Dracula's daughter. The overprotective vampire father who would absolutely murder him if he found out.
He entered the room, kicking off his boots and flopping onto the massive four-poster bed. His claws dug into the silk sheets as he stared at the ceiling.
"Okay, Morty," he whispered to himself. "You Zinged with Dracula's daughter. He hates humans. You're technically an alien, but close enough. You have one week before her birthday party."
He sat up, his wolf ears perking. He needed to get close to Mavis. But how do you woo a vampire without alerting her father?
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
Morty opened the door to find... Wayne the Werewolf. The famous monster guests had arrived early. Wayne was mid-argument with his wife Wanda—
"I'm just saying, Wayne! Seven kids? Seven?!" Wanda shrieked.
Wayne scratched his head—standard werewolf behavior. "They're... energetic?"
His yellow eyes landed on Morty.
Wayne blinked—recognizing another werewolf but sensing something... different. "A wolf, huh? New around here?"
Before Morty could respond, Wanda pushed past her husband, eyeing Morty up and down critically. "Cute fur. What breed?"
Morty hesitated. Blitzwolfer wasn't a breed—it was an alien. But he couldn't exactly say that.
"Rare," Morty said confidently, his Blitzwolfer tail swishing slightly behind him. It was technically true—Blitzwolfer was extremely rare in Transylvania. Wanda nodded approvingly, while Wayne just grunted and turned to discuss something with his wife.
Wayne glanced at his wife proudly. "Wanda just had another litter—that's 302 kids now!"
Wanda shrugged, looking surprisingly fit and slim—hardly showing any signs of having just birthed another batch of pups. "They're energetic," she echoed Wayne's earlier defense.
Wayne grinned at Morty. "You a family man, rare breed?"
"you could say that."