Full-Bodied Apparition

"Please fuck me, Jeremy."

The young man responded without further consideration to anything besides himself and Hannah, plunging deep into her snug, waiting warmth. A gasp followed by one of those husky, low moans he had heard before filled his ears, and he felt her back arch and her pelvis thrust up to meet his. For an instant, a small smile formed on her full, soft lips, and she reached her hand up to stroke his face.

"That feel's perfect," Hannah murmured, and he felt his manhood twitch in response, silently agreeing with the lovely girl below him. Emily was tighter, but sometimes entering her had been difficult, even uncomfortable. And with respect to the other two girls he had been with before, they had both felt tighter going in, yet Hannah's vagina gripped his length, clung to it, in a way neither of theirs had. It was as if he was made for her and she for him.

"Like it was designed just for me," she continued, echoing his thoughts.

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed, taking a few more seconds to enjoy the feel of Hannah around him.

The young woman looked like she intended to say something more, but only a small whine came from his lips when he pulled out so that just the head remained inside of her. Biting her bottom lip, she pleaded with her eyes, with her hands that grabbed his waist and pulled, and with her groin that thrust up to try to engulf more of him. Jeremy let her squirm for a little bit before ramming himself as deep into her as he could go.

Hannah yelped, shuddered, and moaned, her eyelids fluttering. Jeremy tried to pull back, but he felt her clamp around him, trapping him. Then the pressure was gone, and he withdrew again until only an inch at most stayed in. He did not make her wait this time before he thrust back inside of her. Nor did he let the spasms in her pussy keep him from establishing a driving rhythm. Her large breasts bounced with every impact, and a continuous string of throaty, animalistic moans escaped her parted lips while she stared up at him through half-closed eyes.

"Oh fuck, I'm coming!" she gasped, surprising him with how quickly she reached her climax.

Hannah grabbed him around his neck, pulling her torso up against his. She kissed him once, then arched her head back. Periwinkle blue eyes rolled up beneath her eyelids as her vagina trapped him, almost vibrating around his suddenly throbbing length. At the same time, the young woman's muscles quivered as her body tensed, and for several seconds no sounds escaped Hannah's wide-open mouth. Then a loud moan, higher-pitched than expected given the girl's prior ones, seemed to echo around his mind and the room.

It was all too much for the young man, and he erupted inside of her. He could not have pulled out, even if he had the time to do so, because her still spasming vagina held him trapped. But still guilt filled him as he filled her, and he worried whether she was on birth control. But in the next heartbeat, Jeremy's concerns were driven out of his mind. A banshee-like wail pierced his eardrums, sending pain lancing through his head while blinding light forced his eyes shut and the already cold air around his nearly naked form turned freezing. He attempted to concentrate on the heat of the pussy still gripping him, but then that was gone too as his body flew back, away from Hannah.

The shrieking sound faded as Jeremy landed on his bottom several feet away. Pain from his tailbone and buttocks competed with the lingering agony in his head, and he wondered what had happened to the lantern. The room had gone completely dark after the bright flash.

Your eyes are closed, he told himself, and he realized it was true.

His eyelids snapped open, and at first, even the dim light shone too bright for him. But as his eyes adjusted, he saw a figure standing above him, dressed in a shimmering, low-cut, green dress. At first, Jeremy stared at deep, pallid cleavage, the bluish white flesh laced with purple veins. Then long tresses of curly, red hair drew his eyes. His gaze drifted up, and a deeper chill than the cold already afflicting him enveloped him. Hannah stared down at him, fiery blue eyes lit by a shimmering, eerie glow. He threw up his hands to push her away, but he snatched them back the moment they touched her, an icy cold shooting through his fingers.

The woman smiled at him, a smile devoid of warmth or happiness or even humanity, and he recoiled, scrambling back against the wall of the room. The grinning figure seemed to glide with him, trapping him against the wall as it towered over him.

Her bottom incisors weren't crooked before, some rational part of his mind asserted.

Jeremy examined the woman closer and knew it was not Hannah, despite his initial reaction. Yet she looked very much like the black-haired woman, say for the slightly crooked teeth, the red hair, and perhaps the shape of her nose. And her eyes. They were a darker blue and contained none of the warmth of Hannah's lighter eyes.

"Who are you?" he managed to get out through trembling lips, but the woman did not answer.

You know who she is, the rational part of his mind told him, at least it sounded like the rational part. But it could not be. What it was suggesting was not at all rational. Indeed, it was the opposite of rational.

"Ghosts aren't real," he whispered.

The woman still did not respond, at least not in words. A bluish hand reached out, fingers stroking his cheek as Hannah had done earlier when he entered her. Cold deeper than any he ever felt stung his flesh at the touch, and he pushed himself up against the wall.

"Why do recoil from me so, Gus?" the redhead asked him, her Irish accent both melodic and jarring to his ears. "I hate to see fear in those gray eyes I love so much. Is it because I caught you riding that filthy trollop?"

"I'm not Gus," Jeremy said, watching both the steam of his breath and the way the woman's shimmering eyes narrowed.

"No, you are not," the woman replied, examining him. "For a moment, I thought... but it doesn't matter. You'll serve another purpose."

The woman—who half of his mind knew must be the specter of Honor Quinn while the other half, the increasingly emotional half, insisted she could not be any such thing—grew fuzzy and dim, as if that which bound her together loosened somehow. And as she faded, Jeremy saw Hannah lying unmoving on the floor near the opposite wall. He wanted to go to her, to cover her nakedness, to protect her. But before he could act, Honor re-solidified before his eyes.

The apparition no longer wore the green dress. Only black stocking held up by equally black straps around ghostly pale thighs and a silvery corset that covered her midsection but left her loins and bosom bare adorned her pallid body. The massive swell of her breasts, supported below by the corset, drew his eyes. They seemed larger than Hannah's, although in a detached way that seemed odd given the fear coursing through him, he wondered if that just appeared to be the case because the corset shaped her lower torso and lifted her breasts up and together, and maybe also because Honor's hips and thighs appeared slimmer than Hannah's.

"This will not do," the woman scolded, drawing his attention away from her chest.

Jeremy gasped and grasped her forearm to deter the icy fingers that caressed his flaccid penis. At the agonizing touch, his testicles shrunk and pushed their way up as far as they could go in his scrotum. He attempted to move further away, but he was still trapped against the wall. All he could do was try to shove her arm away. But he found he did not have the strength to do so, and soon his hands stung from contact with her frigid skin. Breathing heavily from both exertion and terror, the young man dropped his hands to his side in defeat.

"I'll get you ready," Honor smirked, licking her purple lips.

Faster than his eyes could follow, the red-haired head descended to his lap. Shivering, Jeremy scraped his fingernails along the hardwood floor, pushing himself as far back against the wall as possible. Unbearable cold took his soft, tender flesh, and Jeremy screamed. But the agony lasted only an instant.

Warmth spread out from his manhood and up through his loins. Despite his fear, despite the chills lingering where her fingers grasped his thighs, his arousal grew. And as Honor suckled his shaft, her tongue moving in ways that bespoke an experience far greater than Emily's or even Hannah's, the warmth turned to heat that surged through him, bringing perspiration to every part of his body save where her skin touched his.

"Please..." Jeremy croaked, unsure whether he begged the apparition to stop or continue.

"Lie still," the woman cooed after letting his now rigid manhood slip from between her lips.

Jeremy could not have moved even if he wanted to. A paralysis of terror, disbelief, and desire held him in place. He didn't even raise his hands as Honor shifted in a blink from kneeling between his spread legs to kneeling astride him, her trimmed bush mere inches above his twitching pole.

"Relax," she murmured before frigid fingers took hold of his length and guided it between the cold, damp folds of her labia.

A deeper cold than he had ever felt entombed Jeremy. He fought for every breath, his body trembling. But like when she had taken him into his mouth, warmth replaced frigidity, radiating out of his genitals even quicker this time. Within a matter of seconds, a blistering heat built deep within him, warming him so that her touch brought only a mild chill.

Smoldering, icy eyes never leaving his, Honor rode him, picking up speed, her full, rounded breasts bouncing. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed her bosom, fingers finding frozen, burgundy nipples where they protruded from crinkled areolas the color of day-old bruises. And as he toyed with her firm, thick nubs that felt so much like Hannah's, save for the lingering chill that not even the heat inside him could counter, his digits grew numb.

Honor, eyes now closed, moaned and placed her hands against his chest, the cold seeping through his shirt but meeting the fire raging in his chest. A voice screamed in his head, but it sounded far away, removed from the terrible ecstasy of fire and ice that consumed his flesh and his being. Pulsating spasms around his hypersensitive manhood told him that the redheaded spirit must be close to climax. Dread and anticipation filled his mind, and his own need surged through his loins. Nearly every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to explode inside her, but the part of him that was screaming warnings feared what might happen when he achieved his release.

Mere moments before Jeremy reached the point of no return, the apparition's eyelids snapped open, and she looked to her left, anger burning in her blue eyes. The world around him seemed to rush back in, and Jeremy drew in a long, shuddering breath. Pain and cold assaulted his body, and shouts of "no" and "stop" and "get the fuck off him" sounded in the room. Turning his head, he saw Hannah—still naked—standing near them. Something he could not make out glowed red in her outstretched hand, and her pretty face bore a determined look.

The high-pitched, piercing wail he had heard before rent the air again, and he shifted his focus back to the redheaded woman. What he saw sent his skin trying to crawl off his body and brought bile to his throat. The specter's flesh had turned from pale, bluish-white to purple-gray. A raw, gaping wound bled where her left breast should have been, and dark, almost black blood flowed down her corset and pooled where their hips met. Desperate, Jeremy pushed at the thing on top of him, ignoring the burning cold. She did not move, except to reach a hand toward Hannah. The naked girl grunted and grimaced in pain before flying backward, landing several feet away in a crumpled, whimpering heap. Jeremy pushed at the apparition with all his strength, but to no avail. She did not move.

"She will not bother us again," Honor purred, the horror of moments before gone, replaced with her prior pale beauty.

But all Jeremy could see was the dead thing, the thing of nightmares. He struck her torso with his fists, pounding her corset covered abdomen and bare chest. But it did not phase the specter at all. With a smile on her full, purple lips, she rocked back and forth, then slid up and down his penis, which seemed to be frozen erect despite his terror. The heat from her loins, the heat inside him as well, built and built, searing his insides as the ghost of the Irish prostitute slammed herself along his length, faster and faster.

"Enough, Honora," a deep, stern voice commanded.

A tall man coalesced beside the pair, sunken eyes lost in the shadows of a gaunt, bearded face.

"Get away, Gus," she snarled, baring her teeth at the new wraith. "This is no concern of yours."

"But it is, whore," he barked, hand in her hair as he yanked her away. "Not only are you still my wife, a bond not even death was able to break, trapped here together as we are, but I will not let destroy this boy in your futile attempt to escape our fate. Enough is enough."

"NO!" Honor screamed, and in that instant, she stood before the ghost of August Stanton, leaving Jeremy slumped against the wall and shivering.

Seeing a chance for escape, the frightened young man scrambled to his hands and knees, intending to crawl away, but fear and the frigid cold overwhelmed him and he vomited onto the floor, his body shaking. A bright light grew behind him, and he turned just in time to see the shimmering glow around Honor build to an eye-searing level.

Jeremy looked away, dropping flat on the floor so he could cover his ears as the banshee wail erupted out of Honor's mouth. A roar followed the shriek, then darkness fell, turning the room black except for the faint glow of the LED lantern, which had somehow ended up on its side in the far corner of the room. Risking a look back, the young man did not see either apparition.

After several deep, calming breaths, he again forced himself to his hands and knees. Cold still lingered in his flesh and his bones, and Jeremy wondered if he would ever be truly warm again. But the agony of the deep cold had fled with the spirits. As quickly as he could, he crawled to where Hannah lay. When he reached her, he had to shake her to rouse her, and she stared at him with confused eyes.

"Honor?"

"Gone," Jeremy sighed, helping Hannah sit up. "August showed up, they screamed at each other, then disappeared."

"That's it?" the young woman asked, brow furrowed.

"He said something about being trapped here together and about being married despite their death. Oh, and that he wouldn't let her destroy me in an attempt to escape their fate."

"She was drawing energy from you," Hannah mumbled, almost to herself. "She wanted to use it to break through."

"To the real world? She was already through. I mean, she was as solid as you or me, at least when she wanted to be."

"Not between the spirit realm and our world," the girl explained, her voice growing stronger. "That veil is lifted on Samhain night. I meant the barrier between the cage that holds her here and the Summer Lands."

"The Summer Lands?"

"Wicca heaven, in a sense," Hannah shrugged. "Peace with the undying ones, the Lord and Lady. It has been denied to her, and to August too, because of the evil they did in life. I knew it must be so when I read a story about their ghosts, so I came here tonight, when the veil is lifted and the dead can enter our realm fully, hoping to help her find peace."

Jeremy shook his head. What the young woman was saying would have seemed like nonsense to him an hour before, but now it made sense. And that caused him to wonder if he might be losing his mind.

"I never expected her to be the problem. I always believed August must be the reason they are trapped here."

"What?"

"She's evil. Or more accurately, she did something in life that made her spirit evil. It had to be something even worse than what August did, and he was a thief and a murderer."

"She was his decoy. She lured men to their death."

"I never believed that part of the story, until now," Hannah sighed. "But that can't be it. It's no worse than anything he did."

"It's too late to worry about it now," Jeremy shrugged, standing and helping Hannah to her feet. "They are gone..."

"It's not so late," a frosty voice said behind him as Hannah's light blue eyes widened.

"Honor," the naked girl breathed, and red light and warmth enveloped her and Jeremy alike as he turned to face the source of that horrible voice.

"Your little protection spell will do you no good, witch," the apparition sneered. "Just like it failed before. I'll have the boy. I need him to escape the Nameless One."

"You cannot have him," Hannah said in a voice he was sure she intended to sound confident and commanding, yet Jeremy heard a tremor in it.

Taking her hand, he squeezed it. Hannah glanced at him, smiled, and the light around them grew brighter and warmer. The specter of Honor Quinn hissed. A blast of bright light assaulted their eyes, and a chill descended around Jeremy only to fade away within seconds. Hannah, not letting go of Jeremy's hand, stepped in front of him. The glow emanating from her hand turned gold, lighting her face.

"No, it can't be," the spirit said, moving back and diminishing until only a pale, half-naked woman remained. "You are dead. A long time dead. You must be."

The two stared at each other, and Jeremy marveled at how similar they looked. Both stood roughly the same height, a bit above average for a woman but a few inches shorter than Jeremy. And while it appeared to him that Honor's waist and hips were indeed slenderer than the dark-haired girl's, as he had surmised earlier, seeing them together confirmed that their bosoms were the same size, or close to it. The only significant difference between their breasts, other than coloring, appeared to be areola size, with Honor's looking slightly larger. Then the spirit's comment about Hannah being dead filtered through his preoccupation with their bodies, and Jeremy almost dropped her hand.

"What do you mean...?" he started to ask, looking from the ghost to the seemingly living girl, but at the same moment, the male wraith reappeared. His eyes, no longer shrouded, shown a pale, silvery gray as he narrowed them and examined Hannah.

"You told me she died," he said, and Jeremy saw something like fear cross Honor's face. "You told me our baby died, Honora. Yet this must be her, for you two are as alike as any two women could be, in face and form."

"She cannot be our daughter. She'd be long dead, August," Honor said, her low voice flat. "Too much time has passed."

"One hundred fifty years," Hannah said.

"You are her descendant, our descendant," August said after a moment of silence.

"Your great-great-great-great granddaughter," the young woman nodded, her fingers tightening around a relieved Jeremy's hand as both her words and her grip assured him she was not a ghost too.

"No! Lies!" Honor's spirit shrieked, the intensity of her white aura building again. "That baby died."

"Or so you told me, Honora," August said, his voice so cold that it sapped what little heat Hannah's spell provided.

"What life would she have had with us?" Honor groaned, turning to face her husband's ghost, the light around her fading once more. "You were a thief, Gus. Yes, you saved me from death in the streets, but only to make me a whore. We weren't fit to be parents, to raise the lass. I gave her to someone who could."

"We did what we had to do, Honora. To survive. For her, we could have changed. We would have changed. But when she died—when you told me she died—darkness took me, took us both, led us here to... this. And now we suffer here, trapped, atoning for the lives we took. Had I known she was alive, maybe I would've never become the murderer you grew to loathe."