Some ten years ago, Lisa Loud's life underwent a drastic change.
For the better.
At this stage in her life, Lisa could scarcely remember when it happened, for it seemed now as if Phantasma - her proverbial and quite literal other half - had always been part of her, and life before her had taken on a hazy cast, as if glimpsed through a gathering fog of dementia. Looking back on life before Phantasma was roughly equal to looking back at ancient history from the advanced and civilized year of 2040. As historians had split time into Anno Dimini and Before Christ, Lisa tended to divide her life into BP and AP - Before Phantasma and After Phantasma.
Not that she gave the matter much attention. Quite the contrary, in fact. There passed entire weeks and months where she gave no more thought to the ghost residing inside of her than she did to her own nose. Like an old married couple content to exist in companionable silence, she and Phantasma could go without speaking for great lengths of time. Often, Phantmasa nestled herself so deeply in the folds of Lisa's brain - whether figuratively or literally, Lisa did not know - that Lisa in effect absorbed her like an embryo consuming its twin. Phantasma would, as it were, tap into Lisa's central consciousness and they would, in a way, share one body and one mind. On other occasions, Phantasma would break from Lisa, like one cell splitting from another, and become a distinct and individual entity again, albeit one that lived inside of another. In jest, Lisa referred to her as a tapeworm, but when you got right down to it, that comparison wasn't far off.
And Lisa wouldn't trade her friend for the world.
Even if she did have a tendency to be too flippant and irrelevant at times. And mischievous. You can't leave that designation out. Lisa didn't understand the biology and psychology of ghostly beings, but though Phantasma would be approaching sixty if she were still alive, she was frozen as a teenager, never (Lisa hated to say this) maturing or growing world-weary despite the spark of her consciousness having existed in and experienced at least six decades. She remained a carefree and frivolous sixteen-year-old.
Especially as it pertained to her hormones.
It is perfectly normal for a teenager to be constantly "randy" (a term Lisa disdained, but far less than "horny") and Phantasma was extremely normal than most in that regard. When she melded with Lisa, Lisa would be turned on by the slightest thing, from the warmth of the sun on her skin to the caress of her underwear against her genitals. When she unmelded, she would pester Lisa to "pounce David and let him get you pregnant again."
"Two children aren't enough?" Lisa would ask, already knowing the answer.
"No. Have more."
Lisa enjoyed psychoanalyzing those close to her, and hypothesized that in life, Phantasma was on her way to developing a pregnancy fetish. Had she lived, it would have coalesced and Phantasma would be well aware of it. Because she died young, however, she never got the chance to fully excavate that part of herself. She would deny it when pressed. I do not have a pregnancy fetish. You're imagining things.
You made me wrap my legs around David so he couldn't pull out.
I just like the feeling of him cumming in us.
Well...Lisa couldn't fault her for that. She enjoyed the feeling of Davd "finishing" in them as well.
Before she gave birth to Delanie six years ago, Lisa did not think she would be adept at motherhood. She was, to borrow a term her elder sisters sometimes used, a "space cadet" with her head in the clouds. She was always absorbed in thought, her brain a neverending databank flashing ones and zeros and complicated formulas. Even as her stomach swelled with hers and David's daughter and a faint flicker of excitement ignited in her chest, she worried that she would be too distant and self-concerned to be an adequate caregiver. When she finally held her child in her arms that first, magical time, all of those fears melted away. She didn't plan to have anymore, but was pleased when she found out she was pregnant again three years later, and especially so when she found out it was a boy. Lisa never imagined she would love anyone or anything as much as she did Delanie, but then she held Leland for the first time and realized she was wrong.
She had given some thought toward having more children, but she doubted she would go through with it. She loved her offspring dearly but she did not relish the rigors of having and maintaining and infant - the lack of sleep, the midnight feedings, the hours-long shrieking that nothing can soothe or quiet. On the other hand, she missed many aspects of having a baby. She would give the matter more consideration in the future. For now, she was content with what she already had: A wonderful husband, two wonderful children, a high-paying job, and a two story home in one of Royal Woods' most upscale neighborhoods.
And Phantasma, of course.
Since graduating from college, Lisa had been a consultant for NASA and a technical advisor for TV shows and documentaries. For two years, she served as editor of Scientific America and wrote two books of physics that were, she heard, used in colleges and universities across the country. Presently, she was working on a book for high school aged children that explained the wonderful world of science in simple language. Her goal was to foster and propagate a love of science in today's youth. It was much harder than it sounded. How does one describe the sixteen steps of thermohydrodynamic fusion in a way that the typical fifteen year old could understand? She attempted to write in a casual and conversational tone but found, upon rereading, that she still came across as stiff and formal. After editing, she came across instead as an old person trying, and failing, to sound hip and in touch.
It was a delicate balance, and one that she consistently failed to strike. She wrote her last two books in a matter of weeks, but this one had taken months and she was less than three quarters of the way through. With her other works, she was bold and confident, racing along like a cross country runner who had run the same race on the same track a thousand times. With this one, she picked her way along with great uncertainty, like a fawn slipping on ice. It was rewarding, however, and never truly felt like work.
Lisa never foresaw this career path for herself. She envisioned a full time teaching or research position but she preferred this as it allowed her to be home with her children rather than on-site working prohibitively long hours in a lab or classroom. Once the kids were older, she would reconsider her career options, but for now, this suited her fine.
It did not, however, suit Phantasma.
Phantasma wanted action. She wanted new sites, new experiences, new fun, new adventure. Being "laid" wasn't enough for her the way it had once been. Once in a great while, she would leave and possess someone else for a day or two, usually going for rich women who could afford to travel or, at the very least, owned a house with a pool, as Phantasma loved to swim. Any woman Phantasma commandeered was in danger of becoming pregnant...typically by a man they didn't even know. "Casual sex is fun," Phantasma would say.
"One of these days, you're going to come back with a disease," Lisa would reply.
She never did, but she always came back. They had been one for so long that being without the other was liking missing a limb. When Phantasma was "out", Lisa had the queerest feeling of emptiness and would be anxious and on edge until she returned. The longest Phantasma had ever been gone was four days. She entered the body of a wealthy socialite and went on a cruise with a man, but wound up leaving the socialite and coming back. Right in the middle of the gangbang, she said, covered in cum, ass in the air and ten hunks waiting their turn, I got homesick, so here I am.
The ghost said crude and outrageous things to get a rise out of Lisa, so she doubted that the quote-unquote gangbang really occurred, but that Phantasma would leave in the middle of a tropical cruise was notable in of itself. She missed Lisa just as much as Lisa missed her. Neither expected to spend the rest of their lives with the other, but such is life - things simply happen, whether we plan for them or not, and many of those things change us forever.
Neither expected to spend the rest of their lives with the other…
Now there was a statement that begged investigation. Phantasma, technically, was not alive. She was not bound by the laws of physics and mortality. As best Lisa could understand, Phantasma did not have a biological end point the way most living matter did. She did not grow old, her organs did not fail (ha, what organs?), and her mind was in no danger of rotting away with dementia. For all intents and purposes, she was immortal and would be around long after Lisa herself had died.
Pondering her own death was not somthing Lisa was fond of doing, but she did it every now and then. What would become of her? When she was younger, she disbelieved the preternatural. She had no reason not to. Science had neither verified nor seriously suggested ghosts and the afterlife and she clung to science the way a superstitious woman clung to the rosary. When she met Phantasma, her understanding of the world was shaken to its core, and now, she allowed that there was, indeed, another plane of existence. She did not know if there was a god or a heaven or hell, but she was sure that our consciousness continues on after our bodies die. Could one control what becomes of them after disincorporation? Phantasma did not remember the details of her death or the events shortly thereafter, so she did not know if she "chose" to eschew some final destination (heaven or hell) and remain on earth or not. She claimed to have met several others like herself over the years, and that indicated that the majority of people either go somewhere when they die...or don't go anywhere at all.
Death, then, was just as much a mystery to Lisa now as it was when she was a child. Perhaps even more so, as she was secure in her faith of its natural processes. You lived, you died, and that was that, much like going to sleep.
After meeting Phantasma, she became interested in unlocking the mysteries of the grave and peering past the vail, but she hardly knew where to start. Her hypothesis was that the human consciousness is a separate entity from the organic body and is made up of electrical impulses that store and retain data much like a computer. This energy can, she believed, be captured and inserted into other bodies, like a USB drive being inserted into a computer. It could also influence and override the consciousness of other beings...if it was self aware and knew what it was doing. And Phantasma knew exactly what she was doing.
Lisa did not fully understand how Phantasma was able to "log in" to her senses, as it were, or how she could take control of someone. She used analogies and metaphors that were familiar to her (such as "logging in") but she did not understand the intricate hows and whys. She intended to one day throw herself fully into researching them and attaining an understanding of death - or perhaps even defeating it entirely - but that would take a lot of time and focus away from her family. She would wait until Lee and Delanie were older.
For the time being, she would continue writing and consulting while David taught English at Royal Woods Community College.
And speaking of RWCC, that's where Lisa found herself on the morning of April 28. She sat in a white wooden folding chair with Leland drowsing on her lap and Delanie sitting silently between Mom and Dad. Mom's hand rested absently on Delanie's knee and Dad's arm was hooked around Delanie's chair. Lily's five year old daughter Emily burrowed into Mom's bosom to escape the noise and people filling the commons and Mom brushed a comforting hand up and down the little girl's leg. Emily, small with big green eyes and delicate features, was shy and did not react well to crowds. Lisa couldn't say she was fond of them either, but it wasn't every day that your youngest sister overcomes single motherhood to graduate college.
Five years ago, while still in high school, Lily met Emily's father at some sort of social function. A "house party", Lisa believed. She did not know for sure, but she suspected that Phantasma was involved in some way, either by possessing Lily directly or by influencing her libidio the way she did Lisa's. The encounter fit Phatasma's modus oprandi to a tee: Casual sex moments after meeting resulting in a pregnancy. Phantasma adamantly denied responsibility and Lily had never mentioned anything strange about that night ("I cannot recall a single moment of it, Lisa. Furthermore, I was particularly aroused that night and experienced a slight tingling in one ear").
Whatever the cause of Lily's free-spirited romp, she and Emily's father didn't quite work. They made what Lisa assumed was an honest attempt, but Emily's father was immature and couldn't handle being a father, and one day, he disappeared. Lisa could not fault him for his unpreparedness - he was seventeen when Emily was born - but she could, and did, fault him for leaving his daughter. It had been three years, or close to it, and in that time he hadn't even called her. Lily was left to shoulder the burden, and cost, of raising Emily alone. His leaving Lily to do it all alone was bad enough, but how could he cut his own child out of his life that way? She could understand if he couldn't or wouldn't pay child support - she didn't like it or think it was right, but she could fathom it - but why didn't he call or send a card for Emily's birthday? Lisa tried to imagine walking away from her own children and it made her ill. So ill that each time she entertained the thought, Phantasma would yell at her.
Knock it off, you're making me sad.
Lisa did everything she could for her niece, including babysitting her while Lily worked and attended class, but she was painfully aware that she, or anyone else for that matter, could replace her father. She had Dad for a father figure, and sometimes she had her Uncle Lincoln. Lincoln lived two towns over with Ronnie Anne and their six year old son Rafel. Lincoln worked for the Michigan Highway Department holding roadwork signs for twenty dollars an hour and Lisa rarely saw him. The others all lived fairly close by as well, though they were all busy with their own affairs and seldom graced her with their presence. By some impossible stroke of fate, they had all managed to come for Lily's graduation. As it was a school day, the ones who had children - Lori and Luan - came alone. Lori's husband and Luan's live-in boyfriend were both at work, but Luna's girlfriend Sam and Lana's boyfriend Skippy were present.
Lee nodded off and began to snore and Lisa smiled to herself.
The chairs faced a raised stage, and shortly, the dean of the school came out to welcome everyone. The ceremony began thereafter, each student coming onto the stage one at a time, accepting their degree, and exiting to the left while the others waited their turn like bullets being fed into a cylinder. Lily was next to last. Though she was in her early twenties, she was small and petite and looked much younger than she actually was. In her cap and gown, the effect was double. Everyone clapped as she made her way to the podium, and her face glowed with pride. She had surmounted many obstacles to get where she was and she had every right to be satisfied with herself.
Deep in Lisa's head, something stirred.
Yawn. We're still here?
Just when one child falls asleep, another awakens, Lisa replied.
Get bent. I'm bored.
I'm not. This is a great achievement for Lily and I'm practically on the edge of my seat.
Onstage, Lily took her degree and shook the dean's hand, a beam touching her face. Dad clapped and Leni yelled, "Yaaaaay!"
I'm happy for her, Phantasma said, but we've been here for hours.
Oh, stop, we have not.
I'm hungry. And thirsty. And horny.
Ugh. Lisa hated that word. You'll just have to wait for food and drink.
What about dick?
David's at work.
Phantasma sighed. This is his work. Can't we go inside and have a quickie in the girl's room or something?
And risk being caught? I'd rather David didn't lose his job.
For a time, Phantasma was quiet and Lisa returned her attention to the stage. Slowly, however, heat began to spread through her, beginning in the tips of her toes and radiating out. Her middle twinged and her nipples stiffened. She uncomfortably shifted her weight and tried to focus on the young woman currently accepting her degree. When her panties dampened, she pursed her lips. Will you stop it?
Oh, "cum" on.
Okay, Luan.
I bet Luan would let David drill her from behind in a bathroom stall.
For one, Luan is married. For two, David is married as well.
Okay, fine. I bet she would let her husband drill her from behind in a bathroom stall.
Lisa had no response for that. Benny didn't strike her as sexually adventurous, but then again, she doubted that she struck people as sexually adventurous despite being just that. Last week, she let David cuff her to the bed, face down, and -
You're bringing up these memories in a bid to turn me on.
Is it working?
...somewhat, yes.
You know what would be cool? Phantasma asked, changing the subject. Taking over a guy and seeing what sex with a woman feels like.
Then do it.
Lily came down the stairs and everyone got up to greet her. "I'm so proud of you, honey," Mom said. Emily held her arms out and Lily took her.
"How does it feel to be officially smarter than Lana?" Lola asked, giving Lana a sidelong look.
"Hey," Lana said, offended. Lana did not go to college. She did, however, attend a technical school and graduated with a certificate in automotive engineering. She currently worked at an auto repair shop in Hazeltucky.
Shifting Emily to her hip, Lily said, "Oh, I've always known that, so it's no big."
"I make thirty dollars an hour," Lana said, "so yeah, I'm real dumb."
"But what do you do with it?" Luna asked. "You live in a trailer."
"And drive a 60 year old pick up truck," Luan added.
"You obviously don't spend it on nice clothes or make up," Lola said. She leaned in and sniffed the air. "Or deodorant."
Lana cocked her fist, and, laughing, Lola held up her hands. "Not the face."
From RWCC, the Louds made the three mile pilgrimage to Mom and Dad's house, which Lisa fondly referred to as the nexus of the Loudverse. Mom and Dad had set up something of a party in the dining room, and while they ate and talked, Emily, Delanie, and Lee played together upstairs. Lisa sat with Lucy and Luna at the table and made quick work of a finger sandwich. That's yummy, Phantasma said, eat more.
Lisa did.
"...somebody," Lucy was saying. She drew a deep sigh and hung her head in shame.
"Nah, man, it's easy," Luna said. "All you have to do is be yourself."
Lucy looked up at her. "It's not that easy. When I be myself, I come across as flat and cold. No man wants that."
Sounds like Luce is having man trouble, Phantasma said.
Lisa crammed another finger sandwich into her mouth. It would seem.
Was it possible to feel a ghost slyly smiling in your brain? Lisa thought it was.
I should help her.
If there was one thing Phantasma excelled at, it was attracting men. Lisa was not exactly comfortable with the prospect of interfering in her siblings' lives but she trusted Phantasma. Phantasma might be flippant and irrelevant but when it came to their loved ones - and Lisa's siblings were very much her siblings as well now - she displayed restraint and responsibility.
Which is why she didn't seriously believe Phantasma was the one who caused Lily's pregnancy.
As long as you don't -
I won't get Lucy pregnant, okay?
That's all I ask. Well...that and don't put her into a situation where her heart will be broken.
Have I ever let you down, Lise?
Lisa made a show of thinking.
Bitch, Phantasma said.
No, you haven't, Lisa admitted.
Alright, then, Phantasma replied smugly.
Lisa's ear prickled, and there was an unpleasant feeling of disconnection that Lisa couldn't help but compare to two strips of velcro coming unstuck. She did not see Phantasma pass into Lucy, but she knew she had done so when Lucy brushed her earlobe.
Inside Lucy's mind, Phantasma attached herself to Lucy's nerve center but did not take control yet. She had never been here before and wanted to get a lay of the land before doing anything. Sam came over and sat in Luna's lap, and Phantasma darted Lucy's eyes to the blonde's tiny breasts. Phantasma wasn't gay but she had always thought Sam was kind of hot. Maybe she'd take over Luna and then have sex with her.
Focus, she told herself, you're here to help Lucy get laid. And maybe find a boyfriend.
Suddenly, Lucy got up. In the bathroom, she peed, washed her hands, and looked at herself in the mirror. Phantasma gazed into Lucy's face like an artist at a fresh canvas and visualized it with a thousand different shades, hues, and brands of make-up. She would look best with red lipstick and black eyeshadow, Phantasma decided. Maybe a little rouge, but Phantasma didn't like rogue very much.
Done, Lucy snapped the light out and left the bathroom. In the dining room, Leni and Lori sat together, Leni looking dejected. "I, like, work really hard and put in my best effort, but I can't get a raise," Leni said.
Leni worked at Broadway Boutique in the mall, a high end women's clothing store where a pack of underwear could cost you a hundred bucks. Phantasma liked nice clothes but that was really pushing it.
"I get there at six in the morning," Leni continued, "and I stay until seven at night. I open by myself, I close by myself, I do everything, and my boss won't still won't give me a raise."
Lucy passed by on her way to the kitchen.
"Have you asked?" Lori asked.
"Not in a while," Leni said.
"Try again."
"What's the point?"
"Just do it. When do you work next?"
"Monday."
"Do it then."
Back in the kitchen, Lucy got a drink from the fridge. Phantasma tapped into her mind and was immediately bombarded with a rush of dark emotions. Huh, she never knew that Lucy was bipolar and took medication for it. She also didn't know that Lucy was so cripplingly shy around guys. She had only had one boyfriend and they did it exactly once...so long ago that Lucy had basically regrown her hymen. Whew. That was an easy fix. Phantasma had oodles of confidence and could easily pass some onto Lucy.
Knowing what Lucy's problem was and how to fix it, Phantasma grew bored again. It occurred to her that she had not been inside most of Lisa's siblings so decided to temporarily inhabit each one for kicks. Every person has their own thoughts, memories, personality, worldview - their flavor, if you will - and it was always exciting to explore them.
She pulled away from Lucy and took Luan next. Luan winced and dug her finger into her ear then went back to her coffee. As expected, Luan's head was filled with jokes, routines, and monologues that were amusing only to her. Phantasma learned that Luan was writing a joke book for children but, after work and being a mom, she had almost no energy to work on it. Luckily for her, she had a ghostly sister she didn't know about, and ghosts don't need to sleep.
Adding "Help Luan finish her dumb book" to her to-do list, Phantasma moved onto Lynn. As soon as she entered Lynn's body, she knew, from, like, the hormonal atmosphere, that Lynn was pregnant.
And very excited about it. She hadn't told her boyfriend yet but she planned to soon. Oh, and he asked her to marry him a few weeks back, so things were all good here.
Time to move on.
But she would be back.
Next, she hit Luna. Luna and Sam were sitting alone in the living room and deep in what looked like a Serious Conversation. "I just think we should try it," Luna was saying. When Phantasma entered, Luna waved her hand nx to her ear like a horse swishing its tail to keep flies off its butt.
What are we talking about, girls?
Phantasma read Luna's thoughts and grinned.
"I'm not against having a threesome," Sam said, "but the guy has to be hot. Like, really hot. And not too, you know, manly. I'm not into muscles and shit."
So Luna was a freak. Why was Phantasma not surprised?
Lucky for Luna, Phantasma was a freak too.
I hope you like foursomes, she thought.
Luna picked up on that and furrowed her brow. Gee, that was a strange thought to have. It came totally at random.
After making a note to come back to Luna so she could be there for the epic threesome, Phantasma went for Lola next. Buried deep in the back of Lola's mind, Phantasma found a hurtful memory: Lola walking in on her longtime boyfriend Winston on his knees behind Lindsey Sweetwatr and humping like his life depended on it. Winston joined the military out of high school, getting a cushy commission as an officer thanks to his family's ties, and Lola rarely got to see him. Six months ago, while he was on leave, Lola went to surprise him at his apartment, but she was the one in for a surprise. The last Lola knew, Winston got a posting close by and he and Lindsey were living together.
Lola Loud was not the kind of woman who took that sort of thing sitting down. She was proud, she was kind of arrogant, and she never let someone get one over on her, never. She wanted to pay them back, but how?
She didn't know...but Phantasma did.
From Lola, Phantasma went to Lana. Unlike the rest of her siblings, she was good; no painful break-ups, no glass ceiling at work (she was the star mechanic at her garage and made more money - and had more respect - than anyone else. The only thing of note was her strange and obsessive power tool fetish. More often than not, she made Skippy wear a welder's mask when they had sex, and just holding a buzzing drill made her wet.
Uh...okay. You do you, Lan.
Lastly but not leastly, Lincoln. Like Lana, he was a normal, well-adjusted adult. He had stresses and worries, but nothing serious and nothing that Phantasma could help him with.
But there was something he could help her with.
She took full control of him and looked around, finding Ronnie Anne washing dishes with Mrs. Loud. Phantasma cracked a devious grin, got to Lincoln's feet, and walked over. She was intensely aware of the penis between Lincoln's legs, and the fullness of his balls aroused her so much that she started to get an erection. Ooooh, that felt strange. She stood next to Ronnie Anne and cleared her throat. "Can I talk to you for a minute."
Ronnie Anne dried a plate and sat it in the drying rack. "Sure, lame-o, what's up?"
"In private," Phantasma said.
Grabbing a dish towel, Ronnie Anne dried her hands and followed Phantasma up the stairs and into the bathroom. "Why are we going in there?" she asked.
"So no one can hear us," Phantasma said.
She shut the door behind her, locked it, and turned to Ronnie Anne. Ronnie Anne's eyes went to the boner tenting the front of Lincoln's pants and her brows raised. Before she could protest, Phantasma swept her into her arms, molded their lips together, and kissed her deeply. She half expected Ronnie Anne to push her away, but instead, she threw her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him back. Their tongues grappled for dominance and Phantasma pushed her back against the wall, pinning her in place. She ground her boner against Ronnie Anne's center and Ronnie Anne rocked her hips. Phantasma trailed kisses down Ronnie Anne's throat and hiked her dress up, her fingers hooking into the waistband of Ronnie Anne's underwear.
"Can you be quick?" Ronnie Anne asked.
"Probably," Phantasma said.
Ronnie Anne turned, yanked her panties down to her knees, and bent over the sink. Phantasma pulled Lincoln's pants down and guided his dick to Ronnie Anne's opening. Phantasma had never fucked a woman before and it took her a minute to find the hole. When she did, she thrusted, and Lincoln's dick sank into Ronnie Anne's boiling core. Ronnie Anne jumped with a gasp and held onto the edge of the sink.
Holding Ronnie Anne's hips, she established a frantic pace, the feeling of her balls slapping Ronnie Anne's clit both alien and exciting. Ronnie Anne's walls molded to Lincoln's dick like a glove to a hand and her muscles closed around the shaft. Sweat coursed down Lincoln's face and his heart slammed wildly, but Phantasma went faster, faster, slamming into Ronnie Anne. Ronnie Anne panted and moaned.
Finally, when she could stand no more, Phantasma thrusted as deep as she could and released her load into Ronnie Anne's waiting womb. Ronnie Anne shook and panted as she came, and when they were done, they pulled apart.
You know...that was fun and all...but Phantasma preferred being a woman and getting fucked by a man.
"Thanks, lame-o," Ronnie Anne said and kissed Lincoln's lips.
"Thank you," Phantasma said, "I've wanted to do that forever."
Ronnie Anne raised her brow. "Fuck me in your childhood bathroom?"
"Exactly," Phantasma lied.
Back downstairs, Phantasma returned to Lisa's head, which felt like coming home. I'm back, she announced.
Did you assist Lucy with her troubles? Lisa asked.
Not yet, she said, but I did get to be a man and do a woman.
Oh?
Ronnie Anne came into the room on weak, shaking knees. She smiled at Lincoln, who sat at the kitchen table, and a look of confusion crossed his face. He hung his head and rubbed his temples like a man waking up from a three day bender, and Phantasma could imagine him wondering why his crotch was "suddenly" wet and sticky.
I see, Lisa said. How was it?
Meh.
Lisa chuckled. Just meh?
I like being a woman better.
The party broke up shortly, and on the way home, Phantasma drew up a mental list of things to do. If she helped one Loud a day, she wouldn't be bored for a good week. Maybe more.
Awesome.
Phantasma loved having plans and going out.
Early Monday morning, long before the first light of day colored the eastern sky, Leni Loud left her little apartment on West Street and walked six blocks to the bus stop. It was a cold and blustery morning and the wind blew through her blonde hair, messing it up. At the bus stop, she took a comb out of her pocket and quickly brushed it.
The bus pulled up just as she finished, and she scurried on, dropping her fare in the coin box. At this hour, only a few other people were on the bus, all of them grumpy and indifferent looking. Leni's neighborhood wasn't the best and all of the people were, like, so guarded. She tried to make conversation with them and brighten their day, but most of them looked at her like she was crazy. Who's this goofy white bitch and why is she talking to me? Leni was a bright and happy person who found it really hard to frown. Not everyone was like her, she got that, but she honestly couldn't understand why so many people insisted on being miserable. It, like, takes way more muscles to frown than it does to smile.
At least that's how she saw things, and, to be honest, she was a little naive, so maybe she was wrong.
Who knows?
It's not like she had a charmed life or anything. She faced adversity and could be a Gloomy Gus but she didn't want to be.
Though lately, she was closer to that than she was to a Happy Helen. At thirty six, she was single, lived in a one bedroom apartment, and was working the same job she'd been working since shortly after college. She didn't mind the single part (boys were too much drama), and her apartment was cozy enough, but the job thing really bothered her. She loved her job but she needed more money and honestly felt like she had earned more money. She worked five days a week, came in early, left late, always filled in for other employees when they called in or no-showed, and even came in on her days off to do invoices and receive orders. She had even learned how to do payroll. There were days, once a whole week, where her manager, Bob, didn't even have to come in because why would he? Leni could handle it.
She didn't want a crazy huge raise or anything, just a couple more dollars an hour. She was worth it, wasn't she? She might be a little naive but she wasn't stupid; her boss was lucky to have her.
Fifteen minutes later, the bus approached the mall and Leni yanked the pulley-stoppy cord. The bus came to a rolling stop at the plexiglass shelter and the back doors opened. "Thank you," she chirped.
In the mirror, the driver looked dead inside.
Royal Pines Mall sat in the middle of a vast parking lot, its ramparts overlooking a rush of gas stations and casual dining restaurants. Leni went through the main entrance and walked along the promenade. She met a handful of people on her way to Broadway Boutique, most of them seniors who used the mall as a staging grounds for their morning walks. A few of the men nodded to her and she responded with a smile and a nod of her own. Leni liked old people. They appreciated politeness in a way that younger people just didn't.
The store was at the end of the fairway, catercorner to Sears. The gate was up and the lights were on. Bob was behind the counter, going through a catalogue, and Leni shuffled to her a stop, her heart slithering into her stomach. She had resolved to ask for a raise as soon as she saw Bob, but he usually came in around eight.
She thought she would have more time to psyche herself up.
Something brushed her ear and she scratched it. Alright. Maybe she would -
Just like that, Leni's mind swam away and she knew no more.
Phantasma took her place.
Turning her head from side to side until her neck gave a determined and satisfying crack, Phantasma surveyed the concourse and the stores opening off of them. The names were all unfamiliar to her. When she was alive, Phantasma loved the mall. It was the place to see and be seen. If you were cool in the eighties, you went to the mall on Friday night. Or to the video store. Man, she missed the video store. Sitting behind your computer and downloading a movie just didn't hit the same as browsing red wire shelves stacked with a finite number of movies.
Her gaze fell on Bob, who stood behind the counter. A tall, weasley man with rat-like features, he wore a pale pink button-up tucked into khaki pants, his cellphone in a holster on his belt like a gunslinger's trusty iron. He was really scrawny and kind swarthy (Greek or Italian), and he looked like a ferret on crack...but Phantasma had no problem sucking his dick, especially if it got Leni a raise.
What was she wearing?
She looked down at her chest and for a second, her head spun in confusion. Where are my breasts? Then she remembered she wasn't in Lisa's body anymore. Lisa had big ol melons. Leni had...un...some smaller fruit. It wasn't important. What was important was that Leni was wearing a dress. She undid the top couple buttons and made sure her cleavage was on full display. Ready, she went into the store and walked over to the counter. Bob looked up at her, and his eyes instantly went to her chest. Ha, the hook has been baited. "Hey, Bob," she said.
"Hey," he said.
"You're early." She leaned over the counter to give her breasts extra lift.
Bob's gaze lingered on them, his mouth open in a thirsty O. "Uh...yeah," he said and held up a catalogue, "I had to, uh, place an order."
"What for?" Phantasma asked.
"Underwear," he said.
Phantasma grinned. This was too perfect. "We don't have underwear, huh? That's a real coincidence, neither do I."
Their eyes locked and the corners of Phantasma's smile sharpened.
Two minutes later, maybe less, they stumbled ass backwards into the office, their hands all over each other and their tongues knotted together. Bob kicked the door shut with his foot and ran his hands up Leni's outer thighs, hiking her dress up over her butt. Phantasma's stomach swelled with lead and for a split second, she considered skipping the blowjob and just letthing him fuck her.
Without warning, Bob pulled away. "Shit. I have to do something. One minute."
Before Phantasma could speak, he was gone.
Way to get me hot and then leave, jerk.
While she waited, she looked around the office, and her eyes landed on the desk. A framed photo stared back at her. Bob with his arms around a woman and a stupid little smile on his face. Phantasma searched Leni's memory banks and gasped.
He was married.
Mood killed. If you were to call Phantasma a slut, you might to be far off the mark (she considered herself a normal teenage girl who liked sex but apparently only dudes can bang everything that moves without being called out as trash for it), but you could not call her a cheater. If she knew a guy was married, she wouldn't do him unless she first possessed his significant other. Normally, she would walk away, but this was for Leni.
An idea struck her.
Working fast, she took out Leni's phone, started recording, and hid it on a filing cabinet between a book and a potted plant. She hurriedly got to her knees and pulled her dress down one shoulder. A moment later, Bob came back. "Hi," she said seductively, "welcome back." She bit her lower lip and beckoned him forward with her index finger. He came, and lifting up on her knees, she undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She pulled them and his underwear to his knees, and his dick sprang out like a spring loaded snake from a gag can of peanuts.
Can of penis. Lol.
Bob was kind of fugly, but his dick was nice. Then again, most dicks are.
Wrapping her hand around its base, Phantasma brought it to her lips and swirled her tongue around the tip. Bob's breathing changed, getting heavier, and a tremor raced through his body. Phantasma molded her lips to his head and went down slowly, the musky taste of penis tantalizing her senses. He touched the limit of her throat and she pulled back, lapping his shaft and swishing spit around it.
Bob forced her face back to his crotch, grabbed her hair in both of his hands, and started to fuck her mouth. His balls slapped her chin and his dick pounded her uvula. Thin, sticky pre-cum coated her tongue and oozed down her throat like sweet nectar of the gods. Phantasma dipped her hand between her legs and rubbed her clit through her panties. Bob went faster, grunting and pulling her hair; tears filled her eyes and she moaned in pleasure, her pussy soaking the fabric of her underwear.
Suddenly, Bob's dick swelled in her mouth, and hot, creamy cum shot down her throat. Bob pulled her hair, threw his head back, and shivered. Phantasma swallowed every last drop and spat him out. "That's one way to start the day," she said.
"A great way," he said.
He pulled his pants up and left. Phantasma retrieved the phone, uploaded the video to the Cloud, and went out to the sales floor. Bob was back at the counter, looking through the catalogue again. There was only one way to go about this.
Be blunt.
Phantasma went up and asked, "So...can I have a raise?"
Bob looked at her and arched his brow quizzically. "A raise?"
"Yeah."
He took a deep breath and Phantasma knew he was going to say no. "It's not really in the budget. Maybe next quarter."
"Okay."
Phantasma pulled out the phone and played the video back. "This is a great video of you fucking my face," she said, "it'd be a shame if your wife saw it."
The color drained from Bob's face. "W-What?"
"Just let me find her on Facebook…"
Bob shook his head. "Wait, you're serious?"
"Yep," Phantasma said. "Can I have that raise now? I've earned it. I mean, I do everything around here plus I just sucked your dick."
For a moment, Bob could only gape, then he sighed. "How much?"
"Three dollars an hour."
He sucked his lips into his mouth. "That's a lot."
"But not as much as your wife will get in the divorce."
To his credit, Bob knew when he was beat. "Alright. Fine."
And that's how easy it is to get a raise.
All you gotta do...is suck dick and blackmail.
On Tuesday afternoon, Luna and Sam walked into Sal's Strap-Ons, an "adult entertainment" shop perched on a hillside overlooking I-96 west of town. A cyclone fence separated it from the highway and religious and fast food billboards lined the way.
Luna and Sam were surprisingly vanilla for a pair of sinful lesbians. Their gay agenda consisted of smoking the occasional doobie, observing Taco Tuesday, and having regular lezzie sex. They weren't into whips and chains or getting it on in public. Luna was content with that, but lately their sex life had gone kind of...stale? Was that the right word? She loved Sam and enjoyed having sex with her, but they'd been together for seven years and they'd fallen into a rut, like that couple in The Pina Colada Song. Everything was the same old same old. Same old apartment, same old routine, same old day 365 times in a row. They had sex once or twice a week, and it was usually plain old missionary.
They both realized that they needed to spice things up and Luna had suggested having a threesome with a man. She and Sam were mostly gay, but they both had a secret little streak of straightness. Luna liked toned guys like Daniel Craig while Sam preferred traps - men who looked like women.
Since Luna first brought up the idea of them finding a guy, they had gone to a few clubs around Royal County but so far they hadn't found a suitable candidate.
Rather, Sam hadn't found a suitable candidate. Luna was willing to forego washboard abs and muscular arms for Sam's sake, but Sam wasn't as...accepting, shall we say. She was sooo picky. Jesus. She didn't want a guy with facial hair, she didn't want a guy who was bigger than her, she didn't want a guy who was too manly. The list went on and on and on.
While they searched for the perfect guy, Luna suggested they try "other things." What she meant by that, she didn't know, but she had a vague image in her head of handcuffs, vibrators, and other kinky stuff. She had no idea what was even out there, but today, she was going to find out.
The inside of Sal's was bigger and cleaner than the outside suggested. The showroom floor was brightly lit and boasted rows of shelves like a grocery store, only instead of cans and bottles, they contained handcuffs, lube, and edible underwear. Off to one side, racks of fetish gear clustered around a group of mannequins in leather, and Sam and Luna were naturally drawn to it. Everywhere Luna looked, she saw whips, chains, ball gags, jumper cables, dildoes, fleshlights, and things whose name and nature she couldn't even begin to guess. She paused to look at a box, then frowned deeply. DRILLDO. It was a fucking drill with a dildo attached instead of a drill bit.
Ouch.
She picked the box up and turned it over in her hands, as curious as she was repelled. TURN YOUR VAGINA INTO A CONSTRUCTION SITE, it did not say but should have. She'd used drills in her life and was familiar with how fast they were; the thought of a dilldo spinning at full speed in her fun place made her cringe. Did women actually like these? No wonder they couldn't get off with a real penis! After using a fucking jackhammer on yourself, nothing else compares.
Her ear prickled, and she had the strangest feeling of fullness in her head. The room started to rock and reel, and darkness quickly stole across her vision.
What was happening?
That thought followed her into the void.
She stumbled, but before she could fall, Phantasma took control and caught herself, the box dropping from her hands. She shook her head and pressed her hand to her temple, pressure swelling against her skull, then gradually fading away.
Alright, let's -
Her eyes went to the box at her feet. Oh, right, Luna was holding this. What was it, anyway?
Phantasma bent over and picked it up.
Drilldo.
Pictures of a big, black penis stuck onto the business end of a drill graced the cover. Phantasma's eyes widened and her jaw clacked open. Oh wow! Look at this! You could literally churn your pussy at three different speeds: Schoolgirl, Experienced, and Gutter Slut.
"I love the future," Phantasma said and hugged the box to her chest.
She was totally getting this.
Sam was standing in front of a display of fursuits with a quizzical expression on her face. She stroked her chin and visibly attempted to understand who would wear one of them and why. Walking over, Phantasma stood beside her and studied a purple bear suit with holes in the crotch and nipples. Uh...okay. If she was with a dude and he wanted her to wear one of these, she might, but it was kind of creepy. Look at this thing. Big, frozen smile, fixed, soulless stare...she liked sex and a little bit of kink but wow, some people are total pervs.
"What's that?" Sam asked and nodded to the box.
"It's a drilldo," Phantasma said. "Basically a drill for your girl parts."
Sam knitted her brow. "Since when do you like being drilled?"
"I like to try new things."
And speaking of new things, she needed to find a guy for her and Sam. She looked around the store, but the only other person in the store was a big, butchy woman with spiked hair and glasses. Hmmm. Maybe they'd have better luck in town. "Let's go," she said.
They went up to the counter and waited.
No one was there.
Phantasma let a full minute pass, then lost her patience. "Hey! We're trying to buy a drilldo!" She rang the bell by the register.
A door opened and a scrawny boy with delicate features and longish hair came out. "Sorry," he said and hurried over. He laid his small, girl-like hands on the counter and uttered a put-upon laugh. "I'm alone today so I'm kind of all over the place."
His skin was nearly translucent and his big brown eyes sparkled in the overhead light.
He looked like a girl.
This is the one, Phantasma thought. Or maybe that thought somehow came from Luna. Either way, Phantasma knew in an instant that she and Sam were gonna fuck this kid.
"Oh, that's okay," Phantasma said. She sat the box on the counter. "We wanna buy this. Next best thing to a real one."
The kid laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is. It might even be better."
Meeting his gaze directly, Phantasma said, "Nothing beats the real thing."
"You're right," the kid said and rang up their purchase.
Phantasma looked for a nametag but didn't see one. "What's your name?" she asked.
Sam favored her with a questioning sidelong glance.
"Noah," he said.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Looking uncomfortable, Noah said, "No. I...uh…" he shrugged. "It's complicated."
"How so?" Phantasma asked.
Noah sighed. "Well...I'm bi and I'm with a guy named Mason, but, it's like, we're not really together. He just has me suck his dick and won't...this is embarrassing." He laughed.
"No, go ahead," Phantasma said, "he won't what?"
For a moment she didn't think Noah would reply. "He won't do anything for me. He won't even kiss me."
"Do you want to be kissed?" Phantasma asked.
"Luna," Sam said under her breath, shocked.
Noah shrugged one shoulder noncommittally, but Phantasma could see in his eyes that he did. Leaning over the counter, she motioned him closer. He hesitated, then bent forward to meet her. She snaked her hand around his head, cupped the back of his neck in her palm, and pulled him to her lips. His eyes widened in shock and Sam looked between them, her interest piqued. Noah's sweet breath filled Phantasma's mouth and the tip of his nose grazed hers, sending jagged bolts of sensation into her pussy. "I want to be kissed too," she said.
With that, she molded her lips to Noah's and swept her tongue past his teeth. He kissed her back immediately, hungrily, and Phantasma grazed her nals over his scalp. When they pulled apart, he was panting and blushing deeply. "What time do you get off?" Phantasma asked.
"Right now," he rasped.
An hour later, Noah lay back on Sam and Luna's bed, naked save for a pair of plain white boxers. Sam and Phantasma knelt on either side of him, Sam in a pair of blue lacy panties and nothing else and Phantasma in a purple tank top and socks. She almost gave herself whiplash trying to admire Noah's sizable boner and Sam's pert breasts at the same time. She didn't know which she liked better, but Sam's pink, suckable nipples, hard and ridged with bumps, were just as hot as any dick she had ever seen.
Phantasma scooted closer to Sam and wrapped her lips around her nipple, flicking it with her tongue. Sam brushed her teeth across her lower lip and let out a breathy sigh. Phantasma moved onto Noah, stroking and squeezing his dick through his underwear. She hooked her fingers into his waistband and pulled his boxers down, freeing his dick. She kissed the head, then went down, one hand splaying on his taut stomach and the other on his leg. He twitched and squirmed, his breathing ragged. She pulled back and looked at Sam. "Your turn."
Sam brushed her hair behind her ear and took him into her mouth with the grudging anxiety of a virgin. In moments, however, she bobbed her head joyously up and down, her lips tight against his rod and making a sloppy squelching sound. Noah arched his back off the bed and rocked his hips, mindlessly rutting Sam's mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head and his muscles tensed. If Sam kept up, he was going to fill her mouth with his hot cum.
Pushing Sam away, Phantasma straddled Noah and sank herself slowly onto his dick, the feeling of it spreading her walls knocking a gasp from her throat. She pinned Noah's shoulders to the bed and slid her hips forward. Noah put his hands on her hips, and she firmly guided them to her breasts. "Pinch my nipples," she said. "Be rough."
He tweaked her nipples through her shirt and she set a rising pace, going faster and faster by degrees until the bedframe squeaked and the headboard slapped the wall. Each time his dick touched the opening of her womb, she came closer and closer to the edge. Sam crawled over, climbed onto Noah, and sat on his face, facing Phantasma. They kissed and skimmed their hands over each other's breasts. Sam rubbed her pussy back and forth over Noah's lips and nose and Phantasma thrusted harder, screaming into Sam's mouth when Noah's load flooded her passage. Sam came too and for a glowing, perfect moment, all of them shook and moaned together.
When she drifted back to earth, Phantasma rolled off of Noah and lay next to him, snapping her thighs closed to trap his seed. Only then did she realize that she goofed and let another dude finish in her. Whoops. She didn't get Lily pregnant (honest, she had only possessed her, like, once) but she may have just gotten Luna pregnant.
Well damn.
Now she was worried.
So worried that she didn't realize Noah and Sam were up to something until the bed started shaking. She glanced over, and they were going at it again, Noah on top and Sam's ankles propped on his shoulders. Hot. Phantasma rolled onto her side and watched, the sights and smells of thor coupling turning her on again. She rubbed herself and came just before they did.
Afterward, Sam and Phantasma snuggled up onto either side of him and rested their heads and hands on his chest. "That was a lot more fun than I expected," Sam said.
"I figured you'd like it," Phantasma said.
"When you're right, you're right," Sam admitted.
Phantasma grinned. "I know." She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Now let's fuck him again."
Thursday morning dawned cool and wet. Fat beads of rain dribbled down the window pane and a light wind rustled the emerald green leaves. Lola Loud came slowly and languidly awake, the world swimming into focus like a vision glimpsed through a sheen of water. She stretched like a cat and hummed in the back of her throat when her back popped. She was almost twenty-seven but years of cheerleading had taken its toll on her body. Most girls who cheer in high school and college end their careers with a few scrapes and sprains, but not Lola. She liked attention and she was competitive, two traits that pushed her to jump higher, spin faster, and train harder than other girls. When she was in front of a crowd, made-up and pretty, she felt alive. She wanted every eye on her and her alone, and to do that, she worked her ass off. You can stand there and look nice, but what does that matter when you're surrounded by other girls who look nice? She learned that during her beauty pageant run. You can be beautiful but that's not enough to get everyone's attention when beauty is everywhere.
So she drove herself to be better. She would practice her high kicks for hours, she would do backflips until her head throbbed and her vision blurred, and she would do anything, anything, to make sure everyone at the game saw her and remembered her.
Everything comes with a price, and the price Lola paid was back pain in the morning and leg muscles that occasionally went haywire and pulsed under her flesh like an alien from an old B-movie trying to burst out so it could eat someone's face. It wasn't so bad, but like Vanzilla on a frigid January morning, she needed time to warm up before she got going.
Sitting up, she stretched and yawned, the silky fabric of her pink nightie pulling tight across her tiny breasts. A thought dislodged from the back of her mind like a killing blood clot, and she squashed it, but not quickly enough.
Winston.
A hot ball of anger began to form in her chest and she took a deep breath through her nose. No, she told herself, not today. She was done letting Winston dominate her mind and heart.
But she wasn't. She thought of him, and what he did, every single day, and every single day, the wound got a little deeper, a little more painful. She scolded herself for not moving on, but…
She loved him. She honestly loved him and though she didn't dwell on it, she did look forward to spending her life with him and to having his children. But he turned out to be a cheating bastard who wouldn't return her calls for hours on end but had all the time in the world to put it in Lindsey Sweetwater's ass. God, she loathed both of them. They'd get theirs.
One day.
Lola got up and padded to the bathroom on bare feet. An errant strand of hair tickled her ear but when she went to brush it away, there was nothing there.
In the bathroom, she snapped on the light, filling the space with frosty white glow. Hiking her gown up, she sat on the toilet, propped her chin in her upturned palm, and peed. When she was done, she stayed where she was, fighting to keep her eyes open. Today was her day off so she could go back to bed.
Eh.
Wiping, she got up, and all at once, the room started to spin. Vertigo came over her and she started to fall, but shot out her hand and caught herself on the counter. What was happening?
She tried to stand up, but her knees went weak and she fell against the counter. She looked up, and that's when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Veiled by her hair, her eyes...her eyes glowed blue.
Lola fainted, and when her head hit the tile floor, Phantasma hissed through her teeth. "Ow."
Really? She swooned? What a drama queen.
Sitting up, Phantasma rubbed the back of her head and gritted her teeth. Was she bleeding? She felt like she was going to start bleeding. She touched the back of her head and looked at her fingertips. There was no blood but she could feel a bump beginning to form.
Nice one, Lola.
Phantasma got to her feet, pulled the nightgown over her head, and admired herself in the mirror. Hmm. Lola had a really nice body. If she was a guy, Phantasma would drill her hard.
Damn, speaking of drill, she left her drilldo at Sam and Luna's place.
And she didn't even get to use it.
Tragic.
Oh well, she had a plan to execute. Phase one: Beautification. She hopped in the shower, turned the water as hot as she could stand, and washed herself. Her hands lingered over Lola's breasts and when she ran the loofah between her folds, her eye twitched and she bit her lower lip.
Done, she got out and took a whole hour to do her make-up. Purple eyeshadow, pink lip gloss, a touch of rouge to each arrogant cheekbone. Lola really was a pretty girl. Why would that bozo Winston cheat on her? What a clown. LOL.
When her face was on, she stood in front of the closet for a while deciding what to wear before settling on a sparkly purple dress. It was loud, gaudy, and fit tight on her hips and butt. She pulled on a pair of stiletto heels and stopped to look at her reflection in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She looked like a stripper.
Good.
Outside, a chilly drizzle fell from the leaden sky and the wind lashed her from the west. Lola lived in an apartment building in a nice neighborhood on the northeast side of Chippewa Falls, the county seat. Her car, a blue Hyundai, was parked at the curb. Behind the wheel, Phantasma searched Lola's memories. Winston should be home.
The man, the myth, the scumbag lived in a tiny pink house five miles south of town, LOL. What kind of faggot lives in a pink house? No wonder he joined the military: It was an all you can eat dick buffet.
Hmm. Maybe she should look into enlisting.
Not.
She drove past, turned around, and parked behind a pick-up truck a block away. JACKSON '28 read the faded red and blue bumper sticker. JACKSON had to be a politician, but Phantasma couldn't remember -
Oh, wait, Curtis Jackson. AKA 50 Cent. He ran for President as a Republican in 2028 but dropped out after Chelsa Handler reminded him that he was black and therefore wasn't allowed to be a Republican. Thank God for blonde white women, otherwise black men like 50 wouldn't know their place.
Sarcasm.
Phantasma killed the engine and took Lola's phone out. Lindsey was not in the contacts list but Lola remembered her number by heart. They were best friends at one time. She dialed, tossed her hair out of the way, and pressed the phone to her ear.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Phantasma was just about to hang up when the line clicked. "Hello?" Lindsey asked guardedly, already knowing who it was.
"We need to talk," Phantasma said.
"About what?"
Phantasma sighed. "I want to bury the hatchet, okay? I'm hurt by what happened but you and Winston both mean a lot to me and I don't want this...crap...always between us."
Lindsey didn't reply for a long moment, and Phantasma started to think she never would. "Okay."
"Meet me at your house in twenty minutes."
"Okay. Just let me tell my boss."
Phantasma hung up, threw open the door, and climbed out. The rain had stopped and she made it to Winston's door without getting wet. Or wetter. She'd been going through Lola's memories of Winston, and while he was a douchebag, he was fan-tastic in bed. God, he could do things with his tongue that made Lola curl up and cum in minutes. Phantasma wouldn't have sex with him for fun, not after what he did with Lola, but it would be a lie to say that she felt too put upon having to do it for work.
She rang the doorbell and waited. A car passed in the street and somewhere, a bird cried in mid-flight. She knocked again, and a moment later, Winston appeared in a pair of white polo shorts that outlined his yummy bulge and a white polo shirt. He realized who his guest was and blinked in surprise. "Lola?"
"Hi, Winston," she purred.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Phantasma took a step forward, and Winston fell back, a look of fear creeping into his eyes. Jeez, you'd think she was a leper instead of a sexy blonde in a slinky dress. Biting her lower lip for maximum sex appeal and followed him, her hands flattening on Winston's ripped chest. "I miss you," she said.
"Lola," he trembled, "y-you shouldn't be here."
Either he still had feelings for Lola (unlikely), or he was just a horny bastard (more likely). The lust in his eyes was unmistakable, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down was practically Morse Code for I want you.
"I know," Phantasma said.
Winston backed into a wall, and Phantasma slipped her hands under his shirt. His skin was hot and smooth and his heart reverberated through his entire body like the frantic beat of a war drum. Phantasma pushed up on her tippy toes and trailed wet kisses along the side of his neck, her fingers curling into his chest like the claws of a playful kitten. "L-Lola," he said, "y-you need to leave."
Ignoring him, Phantasma squeezed his crotch through his shorts. It was full, hot, and getting hard. "You don't really want me to," she said and slid her hand down the front of his shorts.
"Yes, I do."
His voice broke and his hips reflexively jerked. Phantasma pushed his shirt up with her other hand and kissed his quivering stomach. "I miss your dick in me," she said. "I just want to feel it one more time." She brushed her hand up and down his rigid shaft and touched her thumb to the tip, collecting a drop of his sizzling precum.
Winston swallowed hard and shook lightly, reminding Phantasma of a drug addict jonesing for a fix. His face turned bright red and for a second, she thought he was going to explode into a million pieces.
She squeezed his dick, and that was all he could take. He scooped her up like a caveman and the world spun like a merry go round; Phantasma let out a squeal, part delight and part terror, and held on as he carried her to the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed, hurriedly undid his belt, and peeled his pants off, his dick jutting proudly before him like the masthead of a mighty ship. Phantasma buried her heels into the mattress and parted her knees, the air painfully cold against her pulsing center. Winston mounted her and thrusted, his body penetrating hers with the smooth, well-oiled precision of a man who remembers every sacred inch of his lover's body. Pressure swelled in Phantasma's head and her back arched off the bed, taking him all the way to her limit.
Fuck, he was big.
Planting his hands on either side of her head, Winston slammed into her, pounding her cervix like a fucking battering ram. "Fuuuuuck," she moaned. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and dug her nails into his back, making sure to scratch as hard as she could to draw blood. Winston bowed his head and fucked her with the need and power of an animal; he fucked her so hard that her mind scrambled and her tongue lolled; fucked her so hard that her eyes rolled back into her head; he fucked her so hard that she came again and again, her fluid soaking him, her, and the blanket.
He fucked her so hard that neither of them realized they weren't alone until a piercing sob rang out. Winston jumped off of her like a startled cat and Phantasma lifted her head. Lindsey Sweetwater stood in the doorway, her hand pressed to her mouth and tears brimming in her eyes. Winston paled and looked helplessly around. "Lindsey, I…"
"How could you?" she demanded, as though she hadn't done the same exact thing that Phantasma had just done. "How could you?"
"Lindsey, wait -"
Spinning in a swish of red hair, Lindsey ran away. Winston jumped up, pulled his pants on, and ran after her.
Ha.
How does it feel, bitch?
Getting shakily to her feet, Phantasma climbed out the window and left.
After leaving Lola's house, she possessed Luan and helped her write 20,000 words on her novel and then she stopped by Lucy's place. Coming in through a light socket as an orb of pure energy, she was a little surprised, and a lot pleased, to find Lucy on her hands and knees with a fairly hot goth guy behind her.
Guess Lucy didn't need her help after all.
Later that night, Lisa was lying in bed next to David and reading when she felt a familiar sensation.
A fond grin spread across her lips. You're back, she said.
I'm back, Phantasma confirmed.
Neither had to say I missed you, because they both did miss the other, and they both knew it implicitly, the way a woman who has been married to her soulmate for sixty years knows that he loves her without him saying so.
DId you have fun?
Loads.
Is that a dirty joke?
It wasn't supposed to be, but yeah, I took some loads. LOL. Actually, your sisters took some loads, but who's keeping track?
Did you help them solve their problems?
Yep. Except for Lucy. She solved her own.
Good.
They lapsed into comfortable silence and spent the remainder of the evening reading.
Then they fucked David.
THE END.