"Mhm?" Lydia responds, tilting her head slightly when he addresses her. She then scoots back abruptly at his closeness, eyes wide and cheeks darkening in their ashy pallor. She watched him crawl over, sure, but she'd convinced herself that he was going to stop sooner. He didn't. Obviously.

And then BJ's hot breath is on her face – followed by that horrid stink of tobacco and sweat – it takes everything in her not to cover her nose, the immaculate skin around her eyes creasing as her face scrunches up involuntarily into a grimace. Even she knows that that would be insanely rude, and it's not like her dead, ghosty hand would offer much of a physical barrier between her and that flavourful stench, but it's invoking her fight or flight response.

"That can't be good for you," is a tiny, squeaky little husk of a sentence that escapes her mouth before he talks. When he speaks, she soaks it in – and just blanks at his words, head tilting all the way to the other side in unhidden confusion.

"You'll let me...?" Lydia peeps, stunned at his offer. He's gone before he can hear it, and she's glad because one, thank God he's going to shower, and two, she's freaking out.

Immediately her heart screams 'yes!', and her brain, in the interest of her self-preservation, whines 'no.'. The ghost stands, clutching her cheeks, hovering and stomping her feet into the air. She'd never had a sleepover with anyone besides mama before, and that was just sleeping with her in her bed, cooing into her hair – not to mention the fact that that was literally a decade ago. If she did, she'd feel that warmth again… Her dead heart leaps in her chest. But she was freezing cold, right? Wouldn't that be awful for him? And what if it was all a ploy to hurt her again… But he'd been so kind earlier. Not even making her move her boxes herself, and offering her his game, not hurting her then when she did something wrong… And even if it was some ploy, she could just run away. Hide from him forever and steal his Gameboy all for herself. She had to take this chance. He could be the last human to ever offer her his touch willingly in a very long time. It had been so lonely, like a sad little princess locked away at the top of her tower. Now she had a king. (She'd rather a knight, but BJ really wasn't much of one of those.)

By the time he comes back, Lydia's got her hair neatly tied into two low plaits, and she even braved the basement for her pajamas – a black cotton baby doll set and a pair of knee-length socks. Alice is held tightly in her arms, and she squirms nervously from foot to foot.

"Um, I'd – I would… It'd be really nice if we could share, BJ," she ducks her head, focusing on her feet, "I like to sleep, but I don't need to… I do it a lot to pass the time. I did it a lot when I was sick, too… But I'm really cold, so I understand if you don't want to or anything. If it was a joke, I guess I fell for it, ha…"

Lydia fiddles with the hem of her shirt, feeling suddenly incredibly silly. "And I don't believe in cooties anymore..."


With his teeth brushed, sweat, dirt, and grime washed down the drain— as well as a heavy load of cum in case he struck out with the little princess— BJ was feeling infinitely less gross and more likely to get his way. He dressed for bed in the bathroom, not wishing to push her too far, but she was going to have to get used to the sight of his nude body eventually. He wasn't about to leave the room to change clothes every time he needed to dress.

His pajamas consisted of a soft pair of green plaid pants that hung low on his hips and nothing else. No shirt, no boxers, no nothing. Really, this was him being generous. Most nights he slept au naturale.

When the sight of his little pet in that sinfully short baby doll nightdress assaulted his gaze, his cock once more stood rigidly at attention, as if he hadn't been furiously beating off in the shower for the last half hour. Fuck. It was a good thing she was down to share, or he didn't know what he would've done watching her float around like that.

"Y'should." He licked his lips, barely concealing his interest while digging a sheet out of a box. "Cooties're real. Ask my ma, she's gotta go see a doctor about the clap every other month. You prolly ain't gotta worry about that shit though."

Could dead chicks get STD's? Probably not. Good thing he was clean.

"Help me dress the bed, cupcake, and then we can get nice n' snug. I dunno about you, but I'm beat."

It wasn't a lie. He was tired. He just wasn't that tired.

"That's a cute lil outfit," he buttered her up further as she took the opposite edge of the sheet and tucked it under on her side. "All your clothes like that? Bows n' laces n' frills n' shit? Yer parents never gotcha a pair o' jeans or nothin'? I mean, don't get me wrong, the look suits ya. Just curious."

These dumb as shit parents had done her a disservice. By keeping her hidden and ignorant of the evils of the world the way they had, how would she ever be able to spot the danger he presented? It was only a bonus that everything she wore provided easy access. She bent to tuck the sheet in at another corner, the hem of her dress rode up, and BJ was for a moment privy to a flash of pure white panties covering a lush little bottom. He groaned, drank in the sight for as long as it was allowed, and subtly adjusted his loose pants.

This was going to be fun.


Setting Alice down in the lap of her bear, Lydia all but skips over to him to help, excited that he really meant it.

He's wearing a lot less than she thought he would be for pajamas – but then again, she'd never seen a guy wear pajamas before, besides her daddy in a bathrobe for his morning coffee. Maybe they all only wore bottoms? Either way, she's quite worried that he'll get cold, especially sharing with her. The 'cupcake' makes her chest fuzzy, just like all of his other pet names. It was like he had an endless supply… and she was just devoid of imagination.

"It's … I never have any energy. I'm tired a lot," Lydia replies, cheeks staining the shade of a wilted red rose at his comment on her dress. She nods meekly, tugging at one of the bows and finding covers for his pillows.

"Uh-huh, all of them, even when I was a baby. Mama used to say, 'A man's home is his castle, and you're my little princess'. Like Rapunzel, as I said before - she wanted to dress me up like my dolls so we'd match, and I guess sometimes it was like I was her dolly, too. Daddy didn't really mind… though I think sometimes he'd argue with her about it, but," she twirls in her dress innocently, oblivious as the whole skirt lifts to reveal her body from the ribs down, pristine panties on display, tiny white bow detail and all. "I like it."

The dress settles, and she sits on the bed with a soft plop, giggling a little.

"Now, at least… I remember wanting to be like the girls on TV, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore, huh?" Lydia offers him a small smile.


Did she still have blood in there? She didn't leak any when he cut her earlier, asserting dominance in the wake of her half-hearted threats, but the pearlescent apples of her cheeks were pooling red now as he commented on her outfit.

Where else might she bleed? What memory of biological function remained in that tight, soft little body? No doubt she died a virgin with the innocent, fearless way she conceded to sharing his bed, flattered even that he would so kindly offer. Poor doll.

Fascinated and riled, he watched, salivating as the otherworldly sprite moved seamlessly into a graceful twirl that revealed far, far too much of that perfect, icy flesh, only to crumple weak and boneless right in the center of his mattress. She didn't have to be there. There was enough room to scoot to the other side, each of them sleep in their own space without touching or bothering the other.

No, she wanted to cuddle.

"You like being owned?"

BJ couldn't relate. He lurked near the light switch under a shadow while she finished up making his bed, fluffing his pillows, little panty-covered ass and milky thighs on full display. The way she preened so proudly at being her mother's little porcelain doll gave him a sick feeling, but again, he was all too happy to take advantage.

"Mama ain't here no more, Lyds."

Darkness swallowed the room, all except for a spotlight of moonbeam coming in from a high, circular window. It illuminated her brilliantly, making her appear more ghostly than ever. Tension coiled at the base of his spine; a predator ready to strike.

"… but you can be my doll."


A cold shiver shoots down Lydia's spine when he speaks, skin bursting into gooseflesh. She frowns at his words, about to say something when the light turns off. Squeaking in surprise, she pulls a pillow to her chest, pouting and trying to shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Warn me next time, BJ..." Her tone is more than a little timid, and she looks around for him - being dead, her eyes don't adjust at all, but she could see better in the dark than bright daylight. Though, honestly, not much better.

"A-and I don't know what you mean, being owned... Mama just liked to dress me ..." Lydia gets gradually more frantic, tugging again at the ruffles on her dress, trying to understand what he meant. "I don't want to be your doll, BJ‒ You're scaring me!"

His mention of mama makes the hair on the back of her neck prickle up. Not like she needed any reminder that she was alone and mama was gone. It really wasn't any of his business.


What a delicious change. How easy it was to scare her. It gave him a power rush like no other to watch her shiver and dissent in his bed in his room, stolen from her. He could scare ghosts.

"You don't wanna be my dolly, Princess?"

He lurked beyond her sight still. Trying his best to keep his steps light, he savored the way she fidgeted, saw the thought in her head as it occurred that maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"That hurts my feelin's. You think I don't take care o' my stuff?"

Hopefully, his Gameboy was still working after that nasty hit it took to the floorboards. Buying another one would be annoying. The moment came where he would have to either strike or watch her cry out and sob again, her fragile emotions building higher and higher for reasons beyond her comprehension.

The floorboards creaked, her wide, teary gaze darted toward his place in the shadows, and he tackled. Careful not to hurt her, he slammed a hand over her mouth to stifle her surprised scream and tickled her "accidentally" uncovered ribs with the other.

"Got you!" He cackled as if it was all a great joke, only releasing her mouth when he was sure she would laugh rather than shriek. "I scared you! Lydia's a scaredy-cat, na na na na na na!"


"W-Well you – you…!" Involuntary tears well in her eyes and Lydia draws her arms around herself, feeling herself start to shake. She wasn't afraid of the dark, she was afraid of… what could be in it.

And that happened to be BJ, who had already shown how scary he could be. Memories of his threat to her, as well as his total disregard of her beautiful porcelain dolls, are still fresh in her mind. Really, from what she'd seen, he wasn't very good at taking care of his stuff either, despite how he'd asked the question. Therefore, it's not like Lydia wanted to belong to him or felt like she belonged to him in the slightest.

Now that's she's thinking about it again, Lydia starts to really panic, fists balled up in the frills of her dress and eyes flitting toward the source of any little noise the attic makes – which is every noise imaginable on this particular night, it seems. When a loud, weighty creak sounds from somewhere in the attic and makes her physically jump, Lydia's head whips toward it– and then her body is enveloped in warmth so shockingly fast she lets out a scream that's muffled entirely by a large (though clean, at least) hand covering her mouth.

He's tickling her. Lydia's guard is so far down on this front that it might not have ever been considered – she squirms and kicks and screams with laughter, even as his hand rides far too high up her nightdress. Relief floods her system, followed by aching sides, (already – Lydia hadn't laughed or been tickled for a very, very long time) and pleas of mercy tumble out of her mouth once he lets it go, in between uncontrollable giggles and deep gulps of air.

After long enough for her cheeks to be wet from tears tickled out of her tear ducts, BJ lets her go – and she flops back to the bed on her back, still shaking with silent laughter and warmth. Her socks have fallen down to her ankles and her loose dress is half off of one shoulder, ridden up high enough for a glimpse at her chest through the sheer ruffles at the bottom. Lydia doesn't notice this, laying there and recovering for a minute before sitting up at facing him, shaking her head, long hair swaying and a little frizzy. She pushes at his chest, weak little arms still feeling like jelly.

"I'm not a scaredy-cat! That wasn't funny, BJ!" The smile on her face says otherwise.


"You sure?"

He pinched her side gently, threatening more tickles at any point, just to keep her on her toes.

"You were laughin' a lot. I thought it was pretty fuckin' funny."

For now, he hovered over her on one elbow, eating up the flash of pale pink nipples teased beneath her nightgown's ruffles. His hand never left her. After tickling her into a breathless state of submission, it lay flat and heavy over her ribs, holding her in place without any real effort. It wasn't like she was trying to squirm away or anything.

"Gosh… yer so pretty, Lydia…"

Unable to help himself, he stooped down to press a brief, soft kiss to her cheek.

"Sorry I scared ya. I's just trynna make ya loosen up a lil. Yer so jumpy. I ain't gonna bite."

Not unless the going got real good. That baby-soft flesh was freezing cold under his palm, the large limb moving in slow easy circles in a fruitless attempt to imbue some heat into her. His cock had yet to flag from all the tantalizing glimpses and touches of untainted flesh, in danger of poking out of the opening in his fleece pants. With a grunt, he curled tighter around her, cuddling the way she wanted.

"You are cold… that's okay. I'm warm enough for the both of us."

With a tug, his heavy comforter was pulled up over the both of them, conveniently hiding his raging erection as he pulled her bare chest in against his furry one.

"Come snuggle up, baby…"


If the threat of tickles wasn't enough to keep Lydia on her guard, she didn't know anything that would be.

"I was laughing because you were assaulting me with tickles, BJ!" She scoffs gently, wrinkling her nose up at him - and then it's as if her senses come back in a rush as she catches her breath. The warmth of his huge hand against such an expanse of her bare skin is suddenly so apparent that she gasps, and then she gasps again, louder when he compliments her - suddenly aware of her state of dress.

Though now focused on the fact that her panties were fully on display, Lydia doesn't get the chance to fix it before her brain melts at the feeling of his lips on her cheek. The thought goes out of the window at the sensation of his warmth spreading over her face, and - though still - her heart feels as though it's going to explode, hands shaking and legs quivering.

"I've never been kissed before," Slips wistfully and absently between her lips in a gentle whisper - she smacks a hand over her mouth quickly, looking away in pure embarrassment, "S-Sorry - and, um, it's fine! I just. I'm not used to... touching."

Despite this, Lydia complies without any struggle - just a slight bit of hesitation at the mention of her temperature.

"Sorry," She murmurs again, eyes looking anywhere but BJ's face, the nickname 'baby' slipping down her spine in an oddly hot shiver. Her pause is quickly overrun by his invitation, allowing herself to press up against him comfortably, head resting against his fuzzy chest. The way his warmth surrounds her freezing body and sinks beneath the surface makes her moan - one tiny little sound that she presses into his skin.

"Thank you, BJ."


I've never been kissed before.

He knew already. Of course he knew. How could he not? But why did she say it? The longer BJ held her tiny, frozen frame to his chest, the easier it was to convince himself that this was an invitation of sorts. She wanted to sleep in his bed, didn't she? She was the one giving him that peep show earlier. She didn't say anything, not one word when he kept touching her after that playful bout of tickling.

She was silent now, too; laying on top of him like he was a mattress all on his own, not a syllable of complaint to be found as he rubbed his hand up and down her tiny back under her nightgown. Slowly, he caressed from shoulder to thigh, dragging his heavy, warm palm over her silken flesh and panties, feeling her up indulgently under the guise of providing "warmth."

She was so small. Too small. It was tragic, made his heart ache for her. Sickness must have kept her from getting the nutrition she needed to grow properly. Despite how underfed and developed she was, she was still so soft, a thin, cushy layer of fat padding her tiny form all over, bouncing back easily as he pressed down. Eventually, his petting came to a pause over her ass, the pads of his fingertips flirting dangerously with the lacy hem of her panties over those squeezable cheeks.

Currently, her soft, skinny thigh was pressed up lax and shameless to his covered cock. She couldn't possibly know. If she was aware anything was amiss, she didn't say so.

"Lyds…?"

He hushed very quietly minutes into their cuddling, unaware if she was even still awake. Against his will, his hips shifted up, pushing his groin into her thigh delightfully. If she was asleep, maybe he could get away with rubbing up against her just right. If she was awake, well…

"Can I kiss you?"