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Unread 10-02-2022   #1
thunderwing
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Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good [Story: Possession, Quasi-Bimbofication]

Two ghost hunters help a pair of dead porn stars get to the other side - but not in a way they'd anticipated...

...

An attractive Dutch Colonial estate, the Anson Mansion was a popular venue for weddings, proms, and film shoots – or it was, until Halloween, 1995.

Due to its proximity to a number of adult film studios, the mansion was especially popular for shooting porn, and the owners were happy to hire it out. On that fateful day, however, two of the most popular porn stars of the day, Trent Girder and Desiree Diva (born Marvin Helgenbolgen and Deborah DiVitale, respectively) were crushed to death, mid-coitus, by a falling chandelier.

The filming stopped for a while. Eventually, it was determined that it was a freak accident; repairs were made, a handsome plaque was placed outside in honour of the dead, and business as usual continued.

Briefly.

Immediately, people entering the mansion reported that their activities were disrupted by moaning, screaming, and banging. The noises soon became so loud and frightening that the film crew trying to set up fled in terror, and never returned. Soon, the weddings, proms, and film shoots took their business elsewhere, and the mansion was shuttered.

Until now. The mansion had recently changed hands, and the new owners wanted to put it to use – and had hired the best paranormal investigators in the country to banish the ghosts within.

When they called something called “The Technorcists”, people had been conditioned to expect a jumpsuit-clad Bill Murray and Kate McKinnon jumping out of a siren-bedecked ambulance; instead, they got a shapeless brunette woman in a series of similarly shapeless sweaters, and a guy who looked like the runner-up in an Eddie Deezen lookalike contest. Rita Bridgeport was the team’s folklorist and spiritualist, while Warren Monroe was the paranormal technical expert – although his gear was considerably less flashy than ghost traps and proton packs. Also, they drove a Dodge Journey.

This was, perhaps, why they’d never landed a TV deal.

Rita had set up shop in the master bedroom – the backdrop for the doomed duo’s final scene. One would never know that two people had been gruesomely killed there withing living memory. Both the chandelier and the handsome four-poster bed it had crushed had been replaced in anticipation of new filming that had never come to pass.

Candles had been lit, runes had been etched, and a salt circle had been laid down on the floor. The room was also lined with electromagnetic field detectors, infrared cameras, and ultra-sensitive microphones.

On the way here, they’d had a rather awkward viewing of a selection of the Girder/Diva filmography, to better understand their quarry. Well, it had been awkward for Warren, who often poured his little heart out to Rita about his romantic misfortunes during their long nights at work. It didn’t bother Rita at all – sexuality was just an aspect of human life that she no longer participated in. She’d had it before, but she had reached an age – thirty-two – where she simply didn’t expect to have sex again.

Warren looked at the equipment and frowned – Rita really didn’t know what was going on, but the things that went ‘bloop’ seemed to be blooping faster than they normally did. “Getting some readings from the sensors in the hall. You stay here, I’m gonna check it out. Be right back.”

Moments after he left the room, the door slammed shut. A chill filled the room.

Rita felt a cold, long-nailed hand stroke her cheek. Her heart began to flutter.

She managed to stammer out a message to her ghostly visitor. “Deborah DiVitale! We’ve come to free your spirit from this place.”

A honey-dripping voice came out of what seemed like every corner of the room. “Oh, you have – you just don’t know how you’re going to do it yet, babe. And please, call me Desiree.”

Before Rita’s astonished eyes, the faint, spectral image of a woman materialized out of thin air – the nude, voluptuous form of Desiree Diva. She’d had contacts with the spirit world before – cold spots, voices, orbs – but nothing like this!

“I…I’m here to send you to the next world, so you can rest. To finish your unfinished business. You can’t stay here.”

“I know, right? Like, this place was fun to shoot in – until the last time, of course – but I wouldn’t want to live here. Or…well, be dead here.”

“So…so you have unfinished business. Is there someone we can contact for you – some message you’d like to pass on to your family?” Rita was starting to get a bad feeling about this, and started to reach for the nearest talisman.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. No, my problem is that the chandelier fell on us before Trent and I could finish our scene. You see, we never came.”

Rita blanched. “…so your unfinished business was that you didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Orgasms were our business, Ms. Bridgeport. Giving them to our viewers…and each other. I never had to fake it – that’s why I was the best. I loved having sex on camera, knowing that in a few months, people all over the world would be making themselves come as they watched me on-screen…just thinking about that was enough to make me come, too. And we’ve been trying to get off ever since we died – that’s what scared everyone away. All that moaning and screaming…well, we have fun here.”

Down the hall, Rita heard Warren scream.

Rita gasped. “Warren! Please, let him go – “

Desiree sighed. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just Trent possessing your partner – Warren, is that right? That’s Trent for you. There’s a lot of grunting and groaning when he’s trying to get in you, but once he’s inside, you’re both going to have a good time.”

Rita could feel cold hands on her body as Desiree continued. “Thankfully, you get the gentle touch of a woman. You ever had…a woman’s touch?”

“N-no…”

“Well, lucky you. You know I won Best Girl-On-Girl Scene in 1993? I made Sinnamon Sanders squirt so hard she had to get an IV drip to rehydrate herself.”

Desiree’s spectral hands were still caressing her body, but now they weren’t just touching her – they were plunging into her, making her tingle and squirm as tiny electric jolts arced through her flesh.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m possessing you, and then I’m gonna use your body to have sex with Trent, who is in Warren’s body. It’s not that we can’t have sex as ghosts, but it’s just not quite the same. We need a solid, tangible, human orgasm to get us off…and then get us off this plane of existence.”

“But I don’t want to be poss…”

The words died on her tongue as Desiree’s ghost fully sunk into her, taking over full control of her body. Rita could still see, hear, and feel everything, but her frantic attempts to move a single muscle were completely futile. She was a prisoner in her own body.

Rita’s mouth moved, her tongue formed the words – but they weren’t her words. “Nice place you have here, Rita. Barely been used. I think I need to do a little redecorating, though.”

Her entire body felt wet…and hot. Desiree looked down, letting Rita see that beneath her unflattering clothes, her body was shifting from shapeless to shapely. Her stomach was firming up, her butt plumping, her legs slimming and lengthening – god, she was even getting taller!

“What are you doing to me?”

Rita’s words echoed inside her own head, heard only by the spectral porn star who now dwelled within it.

Desiree’s girlish giggle emerged from Rita’s mouth. “Nothing against your body, Rita babe, but I’ve got to feel comfortable if I’m going to have the kind of orgasm that’ll send me to the afterlife. And I’m comfortable inside a very particular kind of body…but trust me, you’ll like it, too.”

She started to undress herself, flinging Rita’s clothes off like they were radioactive.

“Gotta get these clothes off – and if I had the time, I’d burn them. Our bodies weren’t meant to be hidden, and especially not the one you’re about to have.”

As she undressed, Desiree held her hand in front of her face, letting Rita see her short nails extending into Desiree’s carefully-maintained French manicure. She was down to her underwear now, and the clicking of her tongue indicated that she did not approve of Rita’s choice in undergarments.

“My god, Rita. I guess you just never expected anyone to see these, huh? I wore shirts that had less material than these huge panties. And this bra isn’t even close to being the right size for you…of course, even if it had been, it wouldn’t be the right size for these…”

She flung the bra aside, just in time for Rita’s unremarkable breasts to become…increasingly remarkable. Rita couldn’t help but notice Desiree’s implausibly perfect boobs over the course of her research – they had been implants, of course, but her surgeon had been very talented. Desiree moaned as her hands wandered over increasingly full and firm breasts, her delicate fingers tweaking her erect nipples.

“You are going to love this, girl. I felt so sexy after I had my boobs done – and yours are all-natural! Well. All-supernatural, maybe.”

She reached down to pull of her final garment – Rita’s granny panties. She tossed them aside, revealing a thoroughly unkempt bush.

“If I’d been a ‘70s porn star, Rita, this would have been just fine – and I guess girls are going full Brazilian these days? But I like something a little in-between…”

She stroked the wiry hair, which began crumbling into nothingness – save for a neat little landing strip. Her hand wandered a little lower, where Rita’s womanhood was wet with desire…but not wet with its typical wetness.

Desiree held up her hand so Rita could see the glowing ooze on her fingers. Rita, still trapped in her own body, gasped. “Ectoplasm!”

“Mm-hm. God, I could rub myself off to an amazing ghost-gasm right here, but I need to save my energy.” She looked down at her body, which was far from the one Rita had woken up to. It was as if her body had been melted down and poured into a Desiree-shaped mold. She had perfect skin, shapely legs, a killer ass, flaring hips, and a pair of gravity-defying tits.

Ugh. Rita didn’t even want to think of them as ‘tits’, but it seemed like some of Desiree’s ‘90s-porn-ness was seeping into her brain. Helpful hints about maintaining her makeup and nails, ‘90s Valley speak, and most of all, a veritable Kama Sutra of lewd sex acts, were crowding their way into her memories.

Desiree finished groping herself and stood up, then walked – a little stiffly – over to the ornate vanity and its enormous mirror.

“Almost done, Rita. You’ve got a perfectly nice face going here – nice eyes, good bone-structure, you take good care of your teeth. I’m only going to make a couple adjustments.”

She pointed at Rita’s thin lips.

“Now, these just won’t do. They’re barely there.”

She ran her tongue over them – once, twice, three times – and with every pass, they inflated, just a little. After three passes, they were quite plump indeed, giving her a sexy pout.

“Mmm. Much better. So much better for kissing your lover…or whispering in his ear…or sucking his cock. They call them dick-sucking lips for a reason, babe. Dee-ess-ells.”

“Ick.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, girl – and I’m in your head right now, so I KNOW you haven’t tried it. It’s a total power move – a dude trusts you enough to put his most prized possession in your mouth, with all your sharp little teeth? So hot. And they love it so much, they totally lose control, even more than they do when they’re fucking you. And I, personally, like to swallow, but every now and then it’s nice to have a dude totally bust his nut all over your face. It’s great for your skin. And hey, maybe everyone doesn’t love it the way I do, but it’s only fair if you want a guy to go down on you.”

She racked her memories – Rita’s memories – for a second. “Aw, you haven’t had much of that, either. Well, don’t worry. A bod like this with my mad skills? You’re going to be fighting them off with a stick. A word of advice – guys can be taught, but women catch on much faster.”

She started running her fingers through Rita’s long brown hair – it wasn’t long because she particularly cared for it to be long, but because she hadn’t bothered to get a haircut for a few months. “Girl, do you even use any product in this? Well, whatever, doesn’t matter.”

Where Desiree’s hands went, her hair gained more color, more volume, more bounce. In minutes, she’d gone from lank, flat, and mousy to having a full, glossy mane of teased, tousled ‘90s hair. She could have stepped out of a shampoo commercial – albeit one that ran during an episode of Mad About You.

Her vision went gray for a sec, then became blurry – until Desiree took Rita’s thick-framed glasses off. She blinked a few times, her vision becoming crystal-clear. “20/20 vision – I had it, and now you do too. Keep these glasses, though, but put in fake lenses. The sexy librarian look is totally fab. Guys will love cumming on them. Now, just a few more touch-ups…”

She ran her fingers over her eyebrows, tidying them up, and flicked her eyelashes, making them thick and long. She smoothed out a final few wrinkles, and the transformation was complete.

“Mm. All done. How you feeling in there, Rita?”

Rita was barely feeling like Rita at all. It was hard to tell where she ended, and Desiree began – they were both blended together in a miasma of extreme horniness. She was trying to summon her own memories – getting her Folklore degree, working in an occult bookstore, founding the Technorcists – and while they were still there, so were memories of breaking her ankle at a cheerleading meet, going to porn conventions, getting her breast implants, and…

…and GETTING FUCKED! Getting fucked SO MANY TIMES! In SO MANY PLACES! In her pussy, her mouth, her ass! Blowing her boyfriend under the bleachers, getting tit-fucked in a million-dollar penthouse, having an all-girl threesome in a suburban basement. The feeling of hot cum splattering on her tits. The taste of a dominatrix’ strap-on in her mouth. The sound of cries of passion, muffled by pussy. The scent of Astroglide and hair spray and musk and spit and cum and SEX!

And despite all that – she needed to get fucked again! Her body was now harboring all of Desiree’s decades-long pent-up desire, and it was driving her insane! She needed a cock in her pussy like she needed air in her lungs!

Rita couldn’t fight it any more. She surrendered to the tidal wave of lust, and let herself be swept away.

She was a mere passenger in her own body now, too overwhelmed to even speak to Desiree. But she could still see, hear, and feel everything Desiree did. Right now, they could hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall – closer, closer, closer, until they stopped in front of the door.

Desiree purred. “Mm. Here comes our mystery date.”

It swung open. There stood Warren, totally nude – or at least it used to be Warren. It looked like he’d been reshaped into a Greek god – his muscles sculpted, his facial features sculpted. His eyes glowed with an unearthly luminescence, as did the precum that oozed from his enormously erect manhood.

Desiree rolled over on to her front, kicking her legs up in the air coquettishly. “Trent. You big stud.”

“Desiree. Holy shit, girl. You look as hot as you did when you were alive.”

“I had some solid raw materials. How are you doing with that dweeb Warren?”

“He was pretty pissed off until he got the Trent Girder Experience. He looked down at this fucking monster and I think he just passed out. He’s just kinda been moaning for like ten minutes.”

“Maybe there just isn’t enough blood left in the rest of his body to keep both of you fully conscious.”

Trent started crawling on the bed. “God damn, Des. So many things I’ve wanted to do to you all these years…”

“As much as I want to give you every inch of this body, Trent, we gotta save all those ideas for the other side. We’re gonna need all the energy we have for the biggest fuck we’ve ever had.” She savored saying the word ‘fuck’ – it had been decades since it had passed her lips.

He cuddled up against her, his diamond-hard cock brushing against her thigh. “Okay. What do you want to do? You were always better at planning shit out.”

“Cowgirl was always my favorite – and yours, too. It hits my g-spot juuuust right, and I know nothing makes you harder than feeling a big pair of tits.” She pushed them together, for emphasis.

She also knew that she didn’t really want to give Trent anything too complicated to do.

He didn’t object. “Mmm, yeah. God, it has been so long since I’ve had my hands on some real flesh-and-blood boobs…”

She climbed up on top of him, sliding his enormous organ carefully into her ectoplasm-lubricated pussy. She squirmed as she felt every inch stretching her out. “Fuuuuck. I haven’t had a tangible cock in so long, this thing feels like the fucking Sears Tower.”

“Holy fucking FUCK, Des, your pussy is even fucking tighter than I remember!”

They were both professionals. They’d spent years having sex for the cameras, and even more years contorting their ectoplasmic bodies into every sex position imaginable. They knew what they liked. They knew what they wanted. And they knew what they had to do.

Although they were still feeling out their new bodies, they got into a rhythm quickly. Trent thrust into Desiree with mechanical precision, stimulating her g-spot just right, even as his strong hands were groping her bouncing boobs. They kissed, their tongues entwining as supernatural sparks fizzled from their touch.

She threw her head back, moaning in pleasure as Trent’s manhood stretched her to the limit, a sensation enhanced by her delicate attentions to her own clit. She’d forgotten how much she loved feeling those big hands on her tits…fuck, he still knew exactly how she liked her nipples pinched.

If they’d been filming it, it would have been a best-seller, an awards contender, and a streaming sensation. As it was, it was certainly letting everyone within a mile know that something was up; windows were rattling, lights were flickering, doors were slamming, and dozens of car alarms were going off at once.

For Rita, it was a revelation. Sex could be more than a few desultory pumps followed by a trickle of cum down your thighs; sexual pleasure could be more than mindlessly fingering yourself while half-watching reality TV. It could be intense, it could be mind-blowing, it could be fun! She could feel pleasure seeping into every cell of her body, delighting as her newly womanly body was pushed to its erotic limits. She hoped Warren was enjoying this, too.

Finally, Trent came, moaning as his cock erupted ectoplasmic slime into Desiree’s supernaturally-tight pussy.

Rita and Desiree orgasmed together, instantly. Her back arched, her heart raced, and the wails of the damned emerged from her mouth.

It just kept coming and coming, her body rocking with wave after wave of unholy pleasure. It was like an out of body experience – but the soul being drawn out of her body wasn’t hers. She could feel the walls between worlds crumble with the force of their combined orgasm. Unfathomable arcane images flashed before her eyes, as the afterlife beckoned to the two formerly-bodiless spirits with a spectral glow that pervaded every corner of the room.

Desiree’s voice, quieter than before, whispered in her ear. “See you on the other side, Rita. Thanks for letting me crash. Sleep well – I know you’ll love what I’ve done to the place.”

Suddenly, everything was still. The house settled back into place. The car alarms were silenced. The room was once more nothing more than a room.

And every iota of energy in Rita’s body was gone. In moments, she and Warren were sleeping the sleep of the dead.

Hours later, Rita was awakened by warm rays of sunlight streaming in from the windows. Slowly, as consciousness returned to her, she realized that she was again alone in her body.

Well. Warren was inside of it, but only part of him. She rolled over on to her back, feeling the unfamiliar heft and movement of her body as she did so.

The ghostly presence was gone. Their equipment – still set up in the corner of the room – showed no spectral energy.

But the ghosts had left something behind.

Rita gingerly poked her still-huge breasts. All the changes Desiree and Trent had made to the ghost hunters’ bodies had remained. And in Rita, at least, something ELSE lingered. Desiree’s libido, her exhibitionism, and her mental library of sex acts – they were all still there. Rita wasn’t complaining – and she certainly hoped Trent had had a similar effect on Warren.

Rita summoned up her best Zelda Rubinstein impression. “This house is…clean.” She looked down at her new body – which was thoroughly splattered with faintly glowing goo. “Ugh. I’m not, though.”

Warren was still terribly confused. “I…I couldn’t do anything about it, but if you’re pregnant, I – “

Her fingers slid in the glowing ooze. “Don’t worry about it. You were shooting ectoplasm, dude. Better wrap it up next time, though – I think you’ll have to special-order them.”

“Oh good. So, uh, what do we do now?”

Rita grinned, and wrapped her fingers around Warren’s morning wood. “We collect our pay check from this job. We’ll get some new clothes, and then we’re going to get that fucking TV deal. They said no to the old, boring us, sure – but just imagine two sexy-as-fuck ghost hunters going to the world’s most haunted places and having wild, unsimulated sex in them.”

“Uh…uh, holy shit.” Poor Warren’s little mind was seemingly still blown from last night – or he’d retained some of Trent’s lunkheadedness.

She moved towards Warren’s unflagging erection, licking those so-called DSLs. “But first, let’s get this taken care of, babe…”
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