Gender: Male Age: 26 Location: N/A
Headlights. That was the last thing I saw before the darkness came. They weren't even the good kind of headlights. You know, the kind that are attached to a beautiful woman. No, they were the bright angry headlights of oncoming traffic. Possibly a semi on a long haul, but more probably a pinto. Just my luck, ran off the road by quite possibly the least safe car on the road. I guess I should be thankful I swerved off the bridge rather than creating a huge pileup on the road with a head on collision. I probably should have been, but instead I just screamed until my poor car hit the river adding new dents to its grill.
I'd love to say that I fought valiantly out of my car and swam through the raging current to save myself, but that would be a lie. Instead, I managed to bash my head so hard against the windshield that I was knocked unconscious. This is no small feat when you are driving a car with a steering wheel the size of a serving platter. It was probably assisted in my failure to wear a seatbelt.
That would probably be a good commercial; "Wear your seatbelt or you'll drown." Ok, maybe not applicable in all cases. Actually I'm not even sure if that's applicable in my case. I'm still not sure how I died. The last thing I remember was those bright headlights informing me I was probably in the wrong lane for driving in the United States. The next thing I realize I am cold. Extremely cold.
Imagine being dumped at the North Pole, on Pluto, naked. If you can imagine that try dropping another dozen degrees or so and you would approach the depth of the chill that wracked my system. You might be a little short of breath too, which isn't too far from how I feel. Actually I can't breathe at all.
After what feels like an eternity in the dark, cold abyss; a sudden warmth rushes over my back. I turn to see a globe as bright as the sun only it was pure white and simply floating on the shoreline. It burns my eyes with its brilliance. Or at least it would if I still had eyes to burn. With its light, though, I can see that I was standing on top of the river. Actually I am a few feet above the river, but I don't really feel like quibbling over spatial directions.
I can feel myself being drawn towards the light. The rushing stream underneath me slows down and the warmth starts to envelop me as my essence drifts toward it. Maybe partially from shock, or maybe because of my innate arrogance and stubbornness, but I balk. I pull back against the pull of the glowing sphere. A faint memory surfaces that makes me think that going into the light is the endgame and I do not want my life to end yet. I still have things to do.
I turn and run as hard as I can into the freezing chill that is at my back. For a moment I feel like I am on a treadmill. I am running as hard as my legs allow, but I cannot make any headway. Slowly as if fighting my way out of a vat of tapioca pudding my legs start to find purchase in the air. I start to move forward and as soon as my speed begins to match my exertion two things happen instantaneously. The light and warmth behind me immediately evaporate leaving nothing but the crushing freeze. I also fall once more screaming into the water.
The strange thing is the water does not quite feel like it should. It is darker and somehow more oppressive than the open air, but texturally it still feels just like the air above. I do not even realize until I hit the bottom of the river that I am still dry for all intents and purposes. I still feel the deep bone-chilling, though I'm not sure if I have any bones now, freeze that has accompanied me since my death. From out of nowhere the thought pops into my mind that if I fail to find a way to warm up soon I might just curl into a ball and lose any motivation to move again. Not wanting to spend the rest of my afterlife cowering at the bottom of a river I decide moving on is my best option.
So, in an effort to hopefully find a source of warmth, I swim towards the shore. If you've ever taken a sky diving lesson where the instructor taught the breast stroke, than you might understand what swimming as a corpse feels like. Then again, a corpse is technically a soulless body. I guess that makes me a ghost. Funny I don't believe in ghosts so how can I be one? I'll deal with that later. Swimming in my new existence is like sky diving in a vacuum. I feel no resistance. Also on the plus side of the equation it appears that I am immune to tiring despite the exertion.
As I make my way towards shore a sudden thought occurs that stops me in my tracks. I have no idea what was so vitally important for me to do. It was so clear when I was running from the nice warm light. Something needs to be done in my life or rather afterlife. I was heading somewhere when I ran off the road. Or was I heading away from somewhere? Or someone? My girlfriend, Daisy. No, that isn't right, Diane? My memories are seeping from my mind like water through a sieve. And the complete loss of heat is making concentration impossible. I need to find some lasting heat or I will never be able to remember what I need to do.
With my mind decided and a goal in hand, I resume my swim towards the shore and nearby town. I hope that with the town I can find a house with the heat cranked up or at least a fireplace to heat myself up.
I reach the far edge of the river and with a final look back to where my car has now sunk to the bottom I start off at a jog towards town. When I finally make my way to the edge of town I realize another change that is no apparent with my new existence. I am now completely colorblind. My vision of the entire town is in shades of black and white. I suppose that everything is in black and white, but between the darkness of the river and the road into town this new aspect failed to register. Now that I am back amongst lights and more frequent road signs the difference is obvious.
I take a look around as a stroll down Main Street, but I do not see any people wandering the street alongside me. I start to worry that my death had kicked me into a separate dimension or something and I could no longer see any of the inhabitants of my previous world. With that thought sending a new chill down my back I move on in search of heat. I finally come to the First National Bank and see on the large digital clock that it is almost three in the morning. That might explain why I haven't been able to spot any other humans out on the street. Although this also raises the question of how long I have been like this. My memories may be few and far between but I am sure I was not out driving at three in the morning. Or was I?
Despite not knowing how long my body has been absent I need to find some way to warm up, and if everyone is in bed and asleep the possibility of a roaring fire was dwindling. Instead I set off to find a house with the heat on high. Hopefully I can make my way through a wall or window instead of trying to break into a house without the use of real fingers.
That thought stops me short. Can I float through walls? Ghosts in the movies can always do it, why can't I? I walk up to the front doors of the dark bank in front of me. I lean forward and cup my hands over my eyes to see beyond the glare of the streetlights. As the edges of my hands touch the glass doors they meet no more resistance then when I fell into the river. Unfortunately experience has taught me that when I lean against a glass door the door will stop me so I continued to lean forward as my hands and then my head went through the glass with nothing to prevent me from falling flat on my face.
Luckily the tiled floor of the bank's vestibule stopped me from sinking down into the center of the Earth. As I turn over though, I wonder. I look out to my legs still sitting on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the doors. The entryway cuts across my shins, so the ends of my legs appear to be separated like the traditional magician's trick. Though if this is a trick it's a damn good one.
I wiggle my toes just to be sure they are still attached as I think about what just happened. The seemingly solid door gave way to my essence as if it were nothing more solid then the air. Or maybe I'm simply less dense than normal matter at this point. So if the second is true why am I still able to walk around on the Earth? Wouldn't I gradually sink as gravity took hold of whatever was left of me?
As I ponder this distressing possibility my toes slowly disappear from my sight. I lean up to try and see what happened just in time to see the tips of my shoes descend into the sidewalk. As I watch, transfixed by the sight my legs start to follow my feet into the earth. Once my butt starts to succumb to gravity I panic. I push as hard as I can against the ground in an attempt to lift myself back out of the ground. Surprisingly it works and I release a sigh of relief.
Then I notice that I am now floating a few feet above the ground with my legs still sticking partly through the bank's front door and I let out a gasp of shock. With that gasp, I promptly fall back onto the tile with an audible whump.
I breathe deeply as I try to figure out what just happened and what it means. With a start I realize that before at the river I couldn't breathe at all.
What is going on here? I know that I could not breathe before and now I am sucking in air like a landed fish. I walked all the way into town from the river with my feet firmly on the road and then seemingly at random I start sinking into the ground. Then I find myself floating in the air before crashing to the ground once more. Is everything about my new existence entirely random?
Then again, maybe not. I was wondering if I could move through walls now and as soon as I tried to lean against a solid object I fell through. Then as soon as I started to question what was keeping me from sinking straight to the core of the earth I almost lose myself. In my panic I pushed myself into the air, but only fell when I realized I was no longer attached to gravity. Maybe my own thoughts and beliefs are what lead to these changes in of themselves.
Tentatively I hold my breath to test this theory. I find no strain on my lungs. No desire to gasp for breath. My recent spate of deep breathing appears to have been pure habit from the years of needing to breathe in order to subsist. Wanting to further test my current limits I stand up pulling my legs the rest of the way through the door.
I decide that the best thing to get figured out would be how to fly. Like most earthbound creatures I always thought flight under my own power would be amazing. But looking up I see darkened fluorescents and a drop ceiling tiles. Ghost or not I do not have an awful lot of flight clearance.
So I reach out to the push bar to move out into the open air. In a repeat of the earlier performance my hand does a remarkable impersonation of a hologram by moving right through the bar and door. Startled, I pull my arm back into the bank. This time I make a conscious effort to physically touch the push bar and open the door, but despite my best efforts I get the same result.
With one last try I back up a few steps and rush at the door as fast as I can. I brace myself for impact, and manage nothing more than to cause myself to stumble as I pass straight through the door again. I land in a heap on the sidewalk leading up to the bank doors. Picking myself up once more, I start thinking that I will not be going on any hotel room trashing poltergeist attacks anytime soon if I can't even touch a door.
This train of thought is slightly derailed once I notice that my left arm is fading away. My body itself appears to be a bit more ethereal then I remember it was in life, but as I watch my arm abruptly dissolves and goes numb. I still feel a slight tingly sensation coming from the arm though. I recall reading something about phantom limb pain after amputations. Can a phantom have phantom limb response?
The other sensation that returns with the loss of my arm is the crushing cold. My worries of slipping into the earth and subsequent experimentation helped to distract me from my temperature, but now that I perceive it again it has returned with a searing vengeance that will not be denied. I start to worry again that this cold is sapping the last of my ability to hold myself together. I sprint off down the street in search of a heat source.
As I dash through the grayed out town I head towards the small residential section of houses along the outskirts. I run as hard as I can which is substantially faster than I could when I was alive since I don't have to contend with air resistance or a stitch in my side from being out of shape. So I guess it was inevitable that I collapse into a tumble of disembodied essence when I catch a flicker of color out of the corner of my eye. I fail to adjust my momentum while I change direction to see what it was.
As soon as I disentangle what's left of my limbs I walk towards the only source of color I have yet to see in the entire town. Now that I am moving at a speed more in tune with normal humans I can see that the brief flash of color I glimpsed before is a dull green light. The light seems to be radiating from a pile of rags in an abandoned building's alcove. My footsteps slow once I realize that the glow is also accompanied by the first breath of warmth I have felt since I turned my back on the last glowing object at the river.
I halt not sure what this might mean. Despite the lack of memories associated with my prior life I still know that I do not want to move on. My thoughts war against each other between the desire to examine the warmth and abolish the chill and fear over what might happen if I do. The rags themselves make my decision for me when they shift exposing a scruffy beard and dirty face.
Taking a closer look I realize the pile of rags is actually Happy Harry the Hobo. I remember him from my living life. He is a homeless man that has lived in town for years. As far as I know to qualify as a Hobo you have to move from place to place, and I'm not really sure if his name is even really Harry, but sometimes these nicknames just stick and there is nothing you can do about it.
Once I get over the shock of recognition I realize that the greenish glow I noticed previously is coming from Harry. The color appears to suffuse his skin with a gentle warm light. Without thinking of my prior fears I reach out to touch the glowing face before me.
For a moment I see nothing but a bright flash of green light. Then my stomach twists like I just dropped in the Tower of Terror at Disney World. I clutch at my belly to try and alleviate the sensation, but my hand is tangled in rough cloth. I pull it free of what looks like a tattered coat wrapped around me like a blanket. Looking around I see no trace of Happy Harry.
My mind starts racing. I worry that I might have done something to the poor guy by touching him as a ghost. I try to stand up, but my back aches like I have been sleeping on an old futon.
Finally my thoughts catch up to the sensations. I can feel the rough fabric of the coat and scraps of gloves on my hands. My left arm is back and not only that but my entire body looks more solid than it did a moment ago. And although I do feel a bite to the air without the coat/blanket the death chill that has assaulted me since the river is completely gone.
I stumble a bit down the street holding onto my aching back. I'm still unsure of what is going on, but I figure it can't be worse than having my arm pull a vanishing act on me. My head is lost in my thoughts until I reach a plate glass window on an abandoned storefront. I look into the reflective glass but I do not recognize myself. In fact, I am not myself. The face staring back at me from the storeroom glass is Harry.
In shock I take a step backwards and trip over the curb. Abruptly the chill creeps back into me. My body is once again somewhat see-through, but I am back up to two arms. Thankfully I won't need to use my toes to count to ten any more. I look back into the window and see nothing but an empty street with a crumpled hobo lying in a heap right off the curb. Turning to the poor man I see that while I managed to stay where I was floating upright an inch or two away from the curb and above the street, Harry without my unearthly powers had landed on his ass. In an effort of self preservation I must have ejected myself from his body rather than take the fall.
It looks as though Harry just received a rude awakening. He sputters and moans as he tries to make his way to his feet. Without thinking I reach down to help pull the guy up. With the same gut wrenching sensation I find myself back in a human body again. Picking us up, I walk back towards Harry's impromptu bedding. Now that I have added a pain in the ass from the pratfall to the guy's back ache I decide to leave him be and continue on as a ghost.
Unfortunately leaving the body is easier thought then done. Despite my best mental effort I remain laying under the tattered coat in this human shell. I also begin to notice an increasingly annoying buzzing in my head. Focusing on the noise I am able to catch fleeting words and emotions, though mainly a discomforting feeling like being in a dream you cannot awaken from. After listening to this noise for a few minutes I realize that I am hearing thoughts that aren't my own. The occasional promise to never drink again is what clinches it since I never had a sip of alcohol while I was alive and I doubt I can now that I'm dead. Through the process of elimination I come to the understanding that if these thoughts are not my own they must be the thoughts of Happy Harry.
With the acceptance that I am connected to Harry while in his body a flood of new thoughts race through my mind. They must be the memories of this man though I cannot grasp any individual image. I feel like I am trying to grasp a specific drop of water from a flowing river.
I try to focus on one specific memory to see if I can catch a glimpse into this man's life. Just when I can almost grasp the thought I hit a new surge of resistance. A wave of nausea crests through my being and an earthquake goes off underneath me. When the nausea subsides I find myself in the middle of the road sans body.
Harry looks around wildly like a man possessed. Although I suppose that isn't too far off. Reaching into his bedding he pulls out what looks like a crumpled paper bag and hurls it into the street. For a second I worry that he can actually see me and is going on the offensive. But the bag misses me by a mile and crashes into the building across the street with the tinkling of broken glass. I guess he was just making good on his promise to stop drinking, at least for now.
I move on down the street leaving Harry to his sleep. As I walk I flex the fingers of my left hand to reassure myself that they are still there. They feel much like they have since I died. A little ethereal, but no numbness or tingling. I wonder if my limb recovery is linked to my time inside Harry. A small part of me worries that I regenerated myself by stealing a bit of his essence. But I quickly drive that thought from my mind. Mostly because I am barely keeping a handle on being a ghost and I'm not sure if I can deal with being a soul vampire as well.
As I walk down the street my mind wanders back to the bank before I noticed the loss of my arm. I was planning on trying to fly, and I figure now is as good a time as any. I stop in the center of the road and close my eyes. I focus on lifting myself upwards without moving. I think about floating through the clouds and over the top of the town.
I open my eyes and look down to see my feet firmly on the pavement. I hadn't budged an inch. Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. The last time I was able to escape the ground was unconscious. I might need to simply try without trying. Okay now how do I do that?
I continue walking, but I get out of the middle of the road. I may be dead but I figured it can't hurt to walk on the sidewalk. At least not when they are empty of people that I might run into. I continue on my way thinking about how to float without trying to float consciously. As usual when I am thinking too hard about something I don't really notice my surroundings too much. So it comes as a bit of a surprise when I look down and see the sidewalk three feet underneath me. Of course now that I realize it I fall and reconnect with the cement soundlessly.
I wonder if the last time I fell the sound was all in my head, but I have bigger fish to fry. How did I pull it off this time? I look around in hopes of spying some clue in the terrain. I hit pay dirt with the sidewalk itself. I had come to a modest hill near the edge of the commercial area in town and the sidewalk becomes graduated to align with the street going downhill. Gauging the height of my mid-air suspension, it looks like I was floating at about the same level as the top of the hill. A brief flash of the Wile E. Coyote comes to mind. With my mind occupied I must have continued walking a straight path above the sidewalk until I noticed of course and fell again.
Maybe if I can maintain my height while walking on air I can walk upwards instead. I set off again towards the residential area, but this time I walk as if I am going up a set of stairs. Without looking down and doing my best not to over think it, I walk upward stopping each foot before it reaches the same level as the one behind it.
Looking straight ahead I still see from the corner of my eye the tops of the nearby buildings come closer to my eye line. Though as soon as I start thinking that this is working I drop back to the sidewalk.
Not willing to give up the ghost I close my eyes completely and start off once more. One foot in front of the other with each step slightly higher than the last. I'm not sure how long I walk onwards and upwards, but at some point I decide that if I don't open my eyes and check where I am I will never be sure if this experiment actually works or not.
The scene before me took my breath away. I must have been walking for longer than I thought because the sunrise is in full splendor. I am beyond the sight limits of trees and buildings to the point where I have a nearly unobstructed view out to the horizon. And despite the muted black and white tones of the town, the sun itself is still in brilliant color much like Harry was. In fact the sun itself is the only color I can see. The clouds and sky around the sun rise are all shades of grey. But Sol more than makes up for their lack with the tumultuous swirl of eddying colors all warring with each other for dominance in the big ball of burning gas.
The scene is so arresting that I simply stare for several minutes before looking around at my position. I am several stories above the ground at this point standing on an invisible platform overlooking the edge of town. At least I want to believe it is a platform because otherwise I might not remain airborne much longer.
I really need to stop having doubts about my abilities. However, belief would be a lot easier if I did not start plummeting to the ground at that point.
At least I think I am. Looking down the ground seems to be getting closer. The flock of geese about to fly underneath me seems to be approaching very rapidly. But I feel no wind from the fall. No rush of air blowing past my non-existent body. The strangeness of falling with no environmental effects is eclipsed by the wrenching feeling in my gut. Suddenly I feel the wind rushing through my feathers, the effect of gravity pulling at my slight weight, and hear a distant honking in the back of my mind. I am also under the impression that I am wearing a straight jacket that is five sizes too small.
In a panic I pump my wings in a valiant effort to keep myself away from the ground. Regardless of my intense effort, I cannot get a handle on the mechanics of flying as a bird. I don't want to turn it into a pavement stain simply because I can't keep us both airborne. I close my eyes and try to force myself out of the hapless bird.
Abruptly the rush of wind through my feathers vanishes and is replaced by the biting chill I am accustomed to outside of a body. After faltering a bit in mid flight the goose rights itself and flies back into formation the end of the formation with the others. With the goose taken care of I return to staring at the rapidly approaching ground.
Suddenly I was standing upright on the ground. One second I was accelerating towards the outer branches of a tree and the next I was standing under the tree looking around and wondering what happened. I did not suffer any shock from my long fall or any recoil from landing. I just stopped completely once I hit the grass, as if any and all inertia was completely removed from my falling body.
The laws of physics in my new existence are a whole new mystery for me to discover, but I am rapidly becoming too tired to think about anything else. Physically, if that word can be applied to my current state, I am probably capable of running the New York Marathon; but my mind is exhausted. All of the changes I have gone through and the new things I now need to focus on have drained me substantially.
I need to find a place to lay my head and just tune out for a few hours. I look around and realize I overshot the edge of town by a few dozen yards. I head back the way I came to reach the residential outskirts and hopefully a bed I can borrow for a bit.
On my walk a sudden thought stops me cold. In just a few hours after my death I lost my arm completely. Not to mention the cold biting at my soul. What if I go to sleep and lose the ability to force myself awake again? What if I wake up with nothing but my head left and the rest of me floating off in the ether? I need to find a body to nap in or I might never awaken again.
I also learned a lesson from my first possession. I can be forced out if I fiddle too much with my host. Then again, do I even need to be aware of my host? If I go to sleep do I remain dormant while whoever carries me goes about their day? I guess these questions will just have to be answered by trial and error. Besides if I am forcibly ejected from my resting place the sudden chill should shock me awake . . . hopefully.
Once I reach the edge of town I can see that people are already starting their days. Several children are standing at a bus stop waiting for school to start. Parents waiting off to the side either in their cars or standing at a sufficient distance to not embarrass their kids. In a town as small as this everyone knows everyone so the parents are talking amongst themselves as they try to watch their kids with furtive glances.
In a blur, a sudden flash of memory returns. I remember seeing a recent news article about some ghoul robbing the First National Bank a few nights ago. It may not have anything to do with children, but in a small town parents see any proof of disreputable characters as a direct threat against their young.
The children and parents are all glowing in a multitude of different colors. For the most part the children were all much brighter then the parents coloring. One child standing off to the side is barely glowing and his frequent coughs send ripples through his auric coloring. I really do not want to think about what that means on top of everything else I am trying to deal with.
Instead I focus on picking a "bed" for a bit of R and R. I automatically decide against any of the children. Possessing a child just seems way too creepy even for a ghost. Besides if my experience as a goose is any indication I need to be in a body with a little elbow room or I feel constrained. Unless that feeling was the result of being in an animal. Either way I think one of the parents is my best bet.
Not really sure how to make a decision I pick one of the father's on the edge of the group and tap him on the shoulder. The twisting nausea flashes for a moment and the chill is replaced once again with warmth. This time; however, I try to keep myself away from the controls. The man shivers for a second, but keeps talking to a fellow parent with no other signs that anything happened.
I still feel the wind against the man's skin and the clothes on his back, but his speech and movement are still under his own control. I manage to pick up that the man's name is Duan Krueger. The unfortunate guy must have had interesting parents. Then again, he doesn't seem to take an issue with his name judging by the thrill that runs up his spine whenever the woman he is talking to says it.
From the ring I can feel on Duan's finger I wonder what his wife thinks of her fellow mother and her effect on her husband. But I am too tired to follow that train of thought. I close my eyes, actually the sensation is more akin to closing off my awareness, and settle into oblivion.
I awake to find Duan walking swiftly on a rough path through some trees. I'm grateful that I am still capable of waking, and my mind is nice and alert now, but my body feels strained. I guess that I am simply experiencing the exhaustion from my host's hurried pace. I decide that I should just let him get where he is going then maybe I can jump ship and shake of this exertion-like fatigue.
Soon we come to a break in the trees and see a barn sitting open with a banner that announces "School Dance" above the doors. A little concerned about what is happening I try and make a cursory examination of the other mind in this body. I quickly pick up on the reason for his hurry. Foremost in his thoughts are worry over being late. One of his children is in High School and he had agreed to chaperone the dance tonight. For some reason I can't seem to glean from his thoughts he is running late. Satisfaction is warring with guilt for shirking his responsibility.
Now that we have reached a destination I decide to leave and stretch my legs a bit, metaphorically speaking. I close my eyes and focus on staying put while Duan moves forward into the barn. Immediately, all the physical sensations stop and I am once again standing as a ghost. Taking a quick examination I am grateful to find all my limbs where they should be and the fatigue is also gone. Looking up; however, I see the man that kept me that way walking into the dance. But as I watch I can see the coloring around him harden and eventually fade to a dull gray.
Alarmed I run after him and grab his shoulder. I find myself thrown back onto my butt as soon as I touch him. My head aches like I just tried to run full tilt into a brick wall. In a burst of inspiration I realize where my fatigue was coming from. My protracted stay inside the man must have met with some passive resistance from his essence. Since I was not overtly trying to scan his mind or maybe because I was not actively fighting for control of his body I was able to hold the assault off while I slept. He must have shored up his defenses once I was out making it harder if not impossible to reenter.
This could become an issue, especially in a small town like this. I need to find someone who is either receptive to a passenger or too out of it to put up a permanent fight. If nothing else but to rest and recharge in the back-seat of someone's body when needed. I think that the best chance for both options would be hormonal teenagers so I guess the dance is as good a place as any to begin my search.
Looking around the barn I see a slew of teenagers dancing to the music. I glance around for a reasonable looking person to try. Admiring the multitude of colors emanating from the dancers I wonder what the colors mean or if they have any relevance at all. Upon closer inspection I can see one or two that are not colored. They have the same dull grey that Duan became after I left him. My guess is those individuals have natural shields against things like me so I should probably avoid them.
On a brief tour I find myself at the snack table. One kid in a green shirt is really putting away some corn on the cob. Sitting next to him is a huge Great Dane also chewing at some corn. I figure he was as good a place to start as any. His aura glows a deep leafy green, and from the amount of corn cobs at his side he must have some serious munchies. He is also dipping each cob into a jar of chocolate syrup, so my guess is he is either high or pregnant.
I reach out to grab his arm, but before I connect the dog pops his head up right through my elbow in a bid to get another corn cob from his owner. Unlike my other attempts at possession I feel no disorientation. No nausea grips my stomach. One moment I am reaching for the stoner and the next I am gnawing on a fresh ear of corn. A sense of need I hadn't realized I was carrying within me is abruptly fulfilled. I feel safe, warm, and comfortable; as if I am coming home from a long trip walking in a biting cold rain.
I bring my paws off the table still chewing on the corn. Unlike my previous human and goose hosts the canine mind I inhabit is an open book. I can hear him barking playfully in our mind. I have the sense he is welcoming his master home. After a quick scan I discover the kid in green is one of this dog's owners. He travels with a few others in a green van checking out mysterious occurrences. That brief examination is all I manage before hunger pangs start. Not wanting to give my new host any reason to reject me I pad over to the snack table and dig in.
In the middle of chowing down the lights suddenly go out. The chaperones round up the students to keep anyone from getting injured, but the kids still want to have some fun. Someone from the darkness suggests everyone heads down to the malt shop to continue the party. Everyone starts to filter out at this suggestion except for my green colored companion. When Duan notices him he walks over to try and get us out the door. My owner suggests we stay back and clean up. Duan seems to take to the idea quickly and follows others out of the doors. I'm not sure how much I can help with cleaning a barn, but from the way my companion is looking at the food I think he wants to put off cleaning for a bit.
We polish off the remainder of the refreshments together and he piles the leavings into a trash bag. We take the trash out to throw it away. Or rather he takes it and I accompany him. Having no opposable thumbs can make life difficult.
As we move over to the dumpster our way is blocked by a ghoulish green monstrosity. Waving his arms in the air he lets out a guttural call of, "Creeper, Creeeeeper." At the sight of this apparent monster my companion turns tail and runs for the barn.
I pause for a second staring at the green thing standing in front of me. Who does this guy think he is? Every sane person knows ghouls don't exist so it must be some idiot in a mask or something. I am already turned around and running after my owner as my mind processes the fact that a lot of sane people do not believe in ghosts either. If this thing is a ghost that can somehow manifest itself physically it might realize what I am. This huge Great Dane is far too comfortable to let some random ghoul dispossess me.
I quickly overrun the green guy and make my way around the corner of the barn just in time to knock down some guy in an ascot. He is with two high school girls a brunette and a redhead. I pick up that these are the other owners from the mind of the mutt. The must have come back to collect us after our cleanup efforts. I stick my muzzle back around the corner and see the fourth member of the group catch up. Luckily the green creep is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly a low growl comes from the barn doors. The green guy jumps out behind the others and yells something about a piece of paper in guttural tones. Seeing the apparition the group scatters and runs away. I head off in a mad dash for the trees hoping to lose our pursuer. The stoner runs with me and with an admirable burst of speed, or perhaps adrenaline, keeps up my pace as we dash into the surrounding vegetation. Once we make into the brush line I find it more difficult to keep up with him instead. Despite my legs being nearly as long as his are, my having four of them makes for rough going.
I listen closely for the crash of brush behind us that might indicate the pursuer. I worry for a second that if he is a ghost he could go incorporeal and run after us far faster than we could escape. Pushing that thought from my mind I focus on making my way after the glowing green light and hopefully through the forest.
We finally break through to a solid road just as a bright green van pulls up and the door slides open. I slip back from the controls in a moment of panic, but the dog climbs up into the back of the vehicle in front of his owner. With relief I see the other three in the front seat of the van. They must have ran for the van when we split up and driven around to pick us up.
Now that we are driving away from the green creep I can finally settle down a bit. Of course as soon as I settle back my stomach lets me know it wants something more to eat. I marvel at the empty pit this canine has in his gut. Then again it might be the effort of keeping two separate entities content in one body. Either way, unless I want to chew on the upholstery I'll have to find some snacks later.
I sit with the green one in the back and think about where we might be heading. My companion apparently does not like being patient. He digs around in his pocket searching for something. He dumps out a hunk of lint, three rubber bands, a blank piece of paper, a box of matches, and finally a fresh joint. Using a match from the box he lights up and settles back with a sigh. He also drops the match on the floor without bothering to blow it out.
I reach over with my paw to snuff it out before the paper catches on fire when I notice something odd. Before my eyes a splotch of gray was growing and rapidly spreading across the paper. Pretty soon the entire paper reveals itself as a photograph of some guy shoving cash into a briefcase. The name Mr. Karswell jumps out of the dog's mind along with something about a bank. I turn to my cohort and try to get his attention.
He looks far too out of it to pay attention to me. I try barking quietly to him about the picture since I don't want to startle the driver. My bark gets his attention, but he eyes me strangely for a moment as if I just grew a second head. "Picture," I bark again putting my paw on the paper. Only this time I hear it myself. Although I was thinking "Picture," out of my mouth came the word "Rricture." Apparently my influence on this dog extends to speech as well. Though I guess there is only so much a human mind can have on canine vocal chords and lips hence the abuse of the letter R.
He figured he was hearing things, or he's just too high to care, and shakes it off before reaching down to the paper turned photograph. His eyes widened as he saw what happened, and he stumbled to the front of the van to share with the other members of our group.
Things happen pretty quickly after that. We take the picture to the local sheriff and the humans explain they received the paper from a bank guard at First National Bank. The bank president Mr. Karswell had been robbing his own bank and dressing up as the green ghoul to put the suspicion off of him. Once he found out the guard had installed a hidden camera and caught Mr. Karswell in the act he went after the film. Realizing later that the guard passed the last print to us he came after us to get it back.
Mr. Karswell is arrested and I find out that I was right in the first place. It was just some idiot in a mask and I had no reason to worry about him. At least, not this time. Then again, ghost stories abound in this area and the group I'm with likes to hunt them down. Maybe I will come across a real ghost that can teach me a thing or two about my existence. But I think maybe discretion is advised and I shouldn't come to any future ghosts with open arms.
Besides, with the amount of calories this mutt craves I need to be careful about getting lots of exercise. And running from ghouls is good exercise. Right?
"Scooby-Doo! Where are you?"
Well, that's my cue.
Lounging on a rug in the middle of the living room I think life can't get much better than this. A full belly, a warm body, and the loveable mutt in here is just fine and dandy with me taking over whenever I want. My owners love me and take care of me better than probably any other Great Dane out there. Life is good.
I even have the place mostly to myself. The ascot kid and his fashion loving woman are out on one of their frequent walks and the stoner is out getting some more herb and snacks. The only one still here is the brainy girl. She doesn't seem to realize how beautiful she is by the way she hides herself under bulky sweaters, but the short skirt is a genuine treat. Plus she has a tendency to scratch my belly and ears more than the others.
Speak of the devil; I can hear her soft footsteps coming my way. I lumber to my feet at the smell of grapes and peanuts. She must have been making a PB & J because she is still nibbling at it as she walks into the room. I let my tongue loll out of my mouth a bit as I stare at the half-finished sandwich. This body still needs a lot of food to keep both of us happy and comfortable.
She approaches me as I stare at the morsel of food as it travels back and forth through the air up to her mouth and back down to her side. Asking if I'm hungry she rips off a bite of her sandwich and offers it to me. Never one to forego free food I lap it up out of her hand. Once it is down I lick at her fingers where a bit of stray peanut butter remains from tearing off the piece.
Giggling she leans over to wipe my excess saliva back onto my coat. But to show me there are no hard feelings she stays where she is and scratches my back. I kneel down a bit to give her fingers better access as soon as I realize she is willing to give me a little scratch. I also lean my head down so she doesn't have my muzzle pushing against her chest.
As I duck down I smell a little bit of peanut butter and jelly. Sniffing around, I found it sticking to her inner thigh. Still hungry I figure she won't mind if I clean her off a bit. Besides since she thinks I'm just a dog she shouldn't be concerned with where I'm licking her.
I still am not a master at using my enhanced canine senses, and her skirt covers my sight line to where I think the forgotten foodstuff is hiding. So, I have to use my tongue to find the goods. I send out a quick test lick where I think the peanuty goodness is hiding. I don't find anything, but my back scratcher pauses.
Worried that I might have upset her, I bow my head a bit farther and let out a low whine to encourage her to continue. She mumbles reassurances at the noise and resumes scratching my back. I resolve to stay put, but the scent of nearby food starts to entice my nose once again. My resolve further crumbles once she starts moving. Spreading her attention out to my sides and a little farther along my back forces the aforementioned skirt to flow back and forth with her motion. Looking up I can see the smear of butter a little above the skirt's hemline as it moves.
The sight ends my resistance and I slowly move my muzzle up to the peanut butter. Not sure what might happen if I partake I decide one long lick should at least grant the greatest amount of nutrition. With all the precision of a drunken sailor I stick out my tongue and lick along her inner thigh up to where I remember the position of the food.
The petting paused again and she shuddered. Afraid that I might have pushed too far in the search for a fuller belly I stopped as well. But rather than stopping or hitting me, I feel a gentle weight on my back as she slumps a bit onto me and gives me a hug around the middle. She resumes the light scratching now along my belly. Of course with her lying along my back her skirt slides half-way up her ass completely exposing her legs and the remaining dropped food. Taking the new position as encouragement I resume my efforts to clean off her leg.
With every lick along her thigh she scratches a little farther back along my belly gradually moving towards my back legs. And with every inch she moves she exposes more of herself for me to search for a lost morsel. Eventually though she moves too far along my back and I can no longer reach her thighs from our position. So instead I lower my head and lick at the crumbs that have landed near her ankles.
Increasingly, the scratching and petting shifts to caressing and fondling as she nears my crotch. I don't even realize she has my sheath in her hand until she starts to gently stroke it back and forth coaxing my member out. I raise my head from the surprise of her touch and shock of pleasure that surges through me. With her stance I end up rubbing my neck against the base of her panties as my muzzle sticks out from between her legs. The bump also pushes her a bit farther down my back so her hands automatically move down to caress my balls. Under her attention my dick frees itself from its hiding place completely.
The brain child starts rubbing herself back and forth against my neck slowly and deliberately, and she returns her ministrations to my shaft. She plays a bit with the length, toying with it before gripping it firmly. She strokes me up and down as she grinds against the nape of my neck.
Abruptly she slides off to my side still holding onto me. Gently, she pulls my extended phallus to her lips. Shifting it to the side she gives it a small kiss. She then follows the kiss with a small lick. After a small pause as if testing the taste on her tongue she slowly trails kisses and licks down the length of my rod. Once I am lightly covered with her favor she returns to the tip and presses it firmly against her lips. I can feel the hard enamel of her teeth as she presses me against her mouth. Gradually the hard presence erodes as her teeth part and she slides me fully into her warm cavity.
I watch as her lips devour me and I shudder with the delight waving across my body back and forth in tune with her motion. The waves surge forward as she pulls my cock deep into her mouth sliding and teasing her tongue along the shaft. Then they ebb as she languorously pulls it from the warmth of her orifice. Thankfully every time she pulls me completely from her she kisses the tip gently and sucks me down and back into her throat.
Soon not content with merely pleasuring me orally she cradles my orbs with one hand. She teases them and caresses them until the waves of pleasure arcing through my body stop ebbing back with the release from her mouth. They surge faster and stronger pushing forward until my legs start to quiver.
With a slow shift of her weight, she reaches up with her other free hand and slowly strokes my phallus as it comes from her mouth. She massages her saliva into me with increasingly smaller strokes as I disappear once more into her waiting mouth. The triple threat swiftly becomes too much for me and as she draws me in deep enough to kiss the fully grown knot at my base with open wet lips. She gives my balls one final squeeze as they release their contents deep into her mouth.
Without a moment of hesitation she eagerly drinks the extent of my offering with deep greedy swallows. The motion of her mouth and throat entice a few last spurts of my seed into her belly. She pulls back gently, but before I am fully released she toys with my slit with the tip of her tongue. Once the point is cleaned off she takes a few last pulls from my dick as if it was a straw in her favorite malt and it was almost empty.
Pulling back from my crotch she kisses the top of my head and asks, "How was that baby?" Too shocked and exhausted over what just happened I am unable to respond as she makes her way out of the room with a serene shake of her hips that makes her skirt flare marvelously.
I collapse onto the floor in exhaustion. I would lick myself clean, but it feels like she did that job better than I ever have. From the floor I hear a light clatter from the kitchen. It sounds like she is rooting around in the cupboards looking for something. My eyes loll a bit in blissful satisfaction until I hear her footsteps approaching the hallway once more. Appearing in the entryway she looks at me lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor. I can see the tub of peanut butter in her other hand, and I hope that she is going to feed me again. Instead she just gives me a little wave.
Taking the lid off of the brown deliciousness she dips her finger in and retrieves it with a dollop of the spread. She licks her finger clean slowly while she watches me. The lure of more food is enough to get me to my feet and I wag my tail in anticipation. With a laugh she dips her finger back into the jar and brings the peanut covered offering to me. I lap the butter off of her finger leaving it completely clean except for the generous amounts of saliva I added. Giggling softly she scoops out some more and tastes it as she walks back to the hall. With a final wave she pads off towards her bedroom. I lay down crossing my front paws beneath my head. With a last lick of my chops for any lingering specks of food I close my eyes for a nap.
I wake up with a start with the sound of a crash. I take off at a run towards the sound. I find myself at the brainy girl's door. It is slightly ajar, but the inside is dark. I nose my way in and hear a quick intake of breath.
"Oh, good it's you." I heard from the darkness. "I made a bit of a mess in my bed could you help me clean it up?"
I can hardly see a thing in the darkness despite the gentle glow filtering in from the hallway. But I can smell the thick scent of the peanut butter coming from the direction of her bed. I make my way over to the smell and hear her say, "I spilled some more of that peanut butter. Could you help me clean it off the sheets?"
I don't need a second invitation. I dig in with fervor licking the bedspread where I can scent the peanut spread. I find the edge of the stain almost immediately lapping it up with generous licks and making sure I don't leave any edible bits left on the fabric. She must have cracked open the entire jar based on how much is spread across the bed. Luckily I remember it was a plastic tub or I might be worried I would split open my tongue on broken glass.
Once I finish cleaning the bedspread where my head is I move on to a new area. This part of the bed is much smoother under my tongue. It also is bunched a little so I have to lick up and down off the bed to reach the edge of the stain. It feels like I am lapping at silk or possibly satin. I am briefly puzzled by the fact that no matter how hard I draw my tongue against the sheets they barely move. They do shift gently and often shiver a bit along with the entire bed. Then I realize the woman is still on the bed. She must be holding the sheets steady so I can lick them clean.
As if to confirm my thoughts she reaches out and scratches behind my ears from the bed. With the added encouragement I continue my cleaning as I move deeper onto the bed with my tongue. I continue to lick up the smear of peanuts, but I start to scent a different odor mixed with the peanuts. Ignoring the other smell I keep sucking the butter into my belly.
Moving along the sheets, the other scent becomes stronger and I realize that the source is at the edge of the sheets I am currently salivating over. Pausing for a moment I move a little farther and lick at the source of the new scent. A moan escapes my owner's lips as soon as my tongue touches the new scent mingled with peanut butter. Her hands on my head go stiff and pull gently towards her.
I finally realize that the "sheets" that I have been cleaning off were in fact her leg smothered with peanut butter. And I just discovered she has taken off her panties and added peanut butter to her snatch also. Well, fair is fair and she did give me one hell of a blowjob. If she wants a little reciprocity I will oblige her.
I pull my muzzle out of her crotch to mild protests, but her hands aren't quite strong enough to hold my head in place. I pull back to her right knee where I had not yet added my saliva to her budding sweat. A quick sniff confirmed she did not place any food on this leg. I suppose she wanted to give me a linear path, but I decided she deserves more than that.
She still pulls gently at my head with one hand trying to get me to return to her cleft. From the smell she is also globing additional butter into it to give an unneeded incentive to return. Instead I start licking her thigh. Her hand quickly loses volition and returns to a gentle scratching as I laboriously run the length of my tongue across her skin. Inch by inch I slowly travel back to where she was trying to guide me. This time I let the trip take as long as I can enjoying the scent of her skin as I taste it and hear her gasp with every movement of my rough tongue against her.
When I finally reach her slit again I pause once more. I breathe deeply of her scent still powerful through the gathered peanut smell. I exhale warm breathe across her lips. For several moments I stay there breathing in her scent, breathing out warm air that tickles her pubic hair. The instant she lets out a small whimper of protest I reach out with my tongue and give her one solid lick from the base of the bedspread up against her vulva and up into her belly button.
A shiver of anticipatory release shoots through her as I return to breathe in her scent once more. Before she can protest this time I dig in with fervor. I inhale the remaining butter lure and focus in on her sex. Parting her lips with my tongue I lap at her juices as they flow down her crack. The more I lick the more escapes her as her legs begin to shake. She crosses her legs behind my head to keep them under control. Her legs behind me have the additional effect of pressing me against her box increasing the pressure of each caress. Thankfully my muzzle keeps her thighs apart far enough for my nurturing licks to have full reign.
The continual pressure forces me against her and my tongue starts slipping directly into her cleft each time I extend it. Light gasps escape from her lips every time I shallowly penetrate her with my muscle. I decide to take the hint and increase the penetration. Rolling my tongue as much as I can I push deep into her vagina funneling her juices down my throat as I go. A sharp moan erupts from her lips as a new shudder wracks her body.
I push and pull my tongue in and out of her precious box. With each thrust her legs force my muzzle harder against her. The taste of her flowing down my tongue is exquisite. The juice flows freely as I push deeper and deeper into her with every plunge. As her hole loosens my explorations eventually halt against her cervix. I gently tickle the entrance to her womb with the tip of my tongue eliciting a load moan and a stronger grip around my neck.
After a few passes at her with my tip I withdraw only to push immediately back into the full depth of her cavity. With every stab of my tongue I reach the base of her womb. I flick the tip of my tongue against it each time causing my tongue to roll and twitch through her cavity pushing against her slick walls. Soon her moans are continuous and inseparable as I delve deep into her crack.
With a final gasp she the wave of pleasure pulsing through her crests and her legs contract hard against my neck. From the force of her thighs my tongue is forced through the hole in her cervix. I wriggle my tissue inside her womb as her spasms squeeze at it and force a gush of her fluids down my throat.
As the majority of her spasms subside she lifts her leg over me and lies down on her side as the orgasmic aftershocks make her body hum. With the changed position I can barely reach her. So, I lumber up onto the bed and lie down beside her back. Turning my muzzle I lightly lick at the top of her thighs. I can barely brush against her slit from her backside.
After a few tender doggie kisses she turns over and looks at me. Now she is facing my crotch once again. Her warm breathe against me forces my rod, already partially exposed from her scent and orgasm, completely out of its sheath. She gives it a few feathery licks as I continue lavishing attention to her nether region. I feel her breathe leave my crotch and see her shifting her weight. Disappointment sets in fearing that our time together is coming to an end.
Contrary to my fears, she moves towards the pile of pillows at the head of her bed and leans down offering her ass to the sky to do with as I please. Turning around I sniff at her waiting sex. I give it a few more licks to make sure the combination of her juices and my saliva are keeping her slick and ready. I give her one more full thrust of my tongue too. Rolling around inside her elicits another gasp muffled by the pillows. I withdraw and step over her.
I grab her waist with my front paws and rub against her ass. My phallus slides between her lips and across her stomach. Her breathe quickens as my pointed cock brushes against her clitoris and spreads her liquids over her belly. I continue slowly humping her ass letting my cock become slick with her juices as well. She reaches back and grips my penis. For a few thrusts she presses it firmly against her opening. But, the mixture of saliva and fluids makes her hand too slick and she loses her grip. Against my better desires I cannot keep teasing her. If she allows this again in the future we can have more time to play, but I can no longer hold back.
Rearing back far enough to slide my tool up, I approach her orifice. I hold back for all of a second as I gently probe at the entrance. With no further hesitation I sink myself fully into her. I can hear the wind huff out of her sharply as most of my full length enters her love glove. The tip is pressing gently against the entrance to her womb. I pump slowly in and out widening her opening. Gradually with each slow careful thrust I slide farther into her one millimeter at a time. Luckily, with the earlier kisses and sliding against her soaking slit my bulb is fully engorged. So, while my staff penetrates her farther than my tongue's explorations it is kept from completely impaling her.
Gauging myself carefully I start humping the prone beauty in earnest. I am careful not to pull out too far and slip from her warm embrace, but with most of my length inside her I still have plenty of room to thrust. Soon her moans begin to rise from where her head is buried in the pillows. Her noises spur me on and I pull against her waist with my paws increasing my speed.
I eventually sense my rod pulling back farther then I intend to with each thrust. Her waist also pulls forward against my legs as I pull back. I realize that she is trying to match my strokes to increase the pleasure for the both of us as I delve into her cavity. After a few gentle movements back and forth she catches my rhythm and begins to drive her ass into me with earnest in time with every plunge of my phallus into her.
The additional force presses my knot hard against her lips coating it in our juices as they flow from her pussy. Following a few passionate pitches of her ass my swelling sinks into her flesh tying us together. Her moans cut off at the sudden widening sensations. Not only do her lower lips stretch out to engulf my knob, but also her cervix is forced to extend even more as an extra few inches of dogcock are thrust through it.
Breathing deeply she grinds against my crotch settling my length within her. She takes a few moments to adjust us and get used to the bulbous member trapped within her cave. Then she begins to pull away. With my knot inside her she can't move too far, but she pulls at me before slamming back into my crotch and releasing a protracted moan of pleasure.
Taking the hint I grip her firmly with my front legs and begin pumping in earnest into her sex. With every stroke she shivers beneath me. She pushes back against my thrusts harder and harder. She can no longer match my pace as I hump her mercilessly driving myself into her so she increases the intensity of her movements. Leaning down I lick at the base of her neck. I explore with my tongue around her back and up to tickle her ears. She turns her head to me and licks tentatively at my thick tongue before taking it into her mouth. She sucks me down into her throat as if she is giving my tongue a blowjob. Toying and teasing it with her tongue.
She lets my tongue slip from her lips as her shudders increase in frequency and magnitude. She lightly licks at my teeth before her body begins convulsing and she loses control. She bucks fiercely against my piercing shaft. Her vaginal walls ripple and arc with her orgasm. The added motions push me over the edge and my semen rushes forth from my balls down the length of my meat and finally releases directly into her womb. I continue pumping into her as both of our surges subside.
I give her ear one more lick before turning myself around. My knot is still inflated to keep my semen deep inside her. With our asses in the air I lean down on my front paws turning us into a loose triangle. I decide I need to reevaluate my previous thought. Not only could life be better than it was before, but it might get even better in the future depending on how much alone time we can find.
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