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Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "First off, thank you for reading my story. I have over 500. Around 400 which will be published on various sites in a quick and whirlwind fashion. Please like, comment, or share my stories wherever you want. Anything is better than nothing. But do follow if you like my writing. There is so much more to come! Second, I do commissions and this is like 4 years of backlog. They are not edited, they have shit for blurb, no book cover, no REAL title, and the tags are shit. If you are interested in doing any of these things so that I can put it into a main file and distribute the blurb, better tags, or book covers and stuff, please reach out, or put it into the comments section. If I present better, I will have more clients in a segregated category and thus will be able to write more of these unique individualized kinks. Equally so, editor needed. Now, I know what your thinking--- WHY am I not doing this myself? Well, good dear reader, Rough guestimation, I have over 5k pages to tinker around with. I've not shared my backlog because of want for perfection. Would you rather my words not perfect, or not have my work at all period? Backlog of 4 years. And if I don't push it out, I never will. I also run two businesses to keep me afloat. Unlike that one song, time, my friend, is not on my side. \nThank you again for being amazing! \nPLEASE like, rate, or whatever. Trying to build a community instead of being an invisible thumbprint on the far reaches of the vast internet. \nA final note. If you know anyone, or community, or website that might be of use to me... Never, ever, ever hesitate to contact me. This job is a HARD job, it is fulltime, but I love it so much. Help me continue living this dream of learning about unique kinks and desires. \nAnd if you have a complaint on my tense shifting or my comma splices. Take a number! I know my severe weaknesses. I know I am not the best writer, I also know that I am not the greatest, but I feel my gift is UNDERSTANDING a persons wants. That, alone, is my skill set, not writing. \nCHECK BIO FOR LINKS. Also, newsletter everyone. Sign it, please. \n\n\nThe third time the curtains on the four-poster rustled, Gina knew that something was amiss.\n\nThe mink was sitting upright in the bed, shrunken so deep into the soft mattress that she barely made a bump in the heavy covers. Her red hair spilled in curly tangles over the white expanse of her breasts, a few ringlets caught in the depths of her cleavage.\n\nHer chest was heaving with deep breaths, long and silent as something unseen toyed with her curtains. The first time it had happened, she'd dismissed it. The wind from outside had disturbed them, or her tossing and turning had. She would have believed a second time.\n\nShe didn't know what to believe when they began to pull back.\n\nSome icy claw was gripping her heart, preventing her from moving. Anything that could steal into her bedroom unseen could easily catch her if she ran - perhaps was within arm's reach of her even now. The presence was nowhere and thus everywhere, weighing her down with its immateriality, appearing to her like an undersea leviathan known only by the immensity of its half-glimpsed mass.\n\nIt crept towards her. Moonlight struggled through the curtains and poured through the breach, a great spill that breathed with the shifting of the translucent fabric. And yet the invisible intruder's bulk did not disturb the blankets. Whatever was brushing the curtains aside must have been doing so because it wanted Gina to see.\n\nA gradual chill was settling over her even under the thick down, making her fur stand on end. She pulled the blankets around herself, shivering. She winced as her forearms pressed against her nipples, the stiff black peaks pressing into the blanket.\n\nIt didn't help the cold, and Gina curling into herself only pressed her breasts together and made her cleavage that much more inviting.\n\nGina realized this when something invisible traced a questing line through the fur on her breasts. It dipped between her cleavage like a dripping snow cone on a hot day, her fur parting for some spectral fingertip. The icy touch was proof positive that this was no dream.\n\nShe passed a hand through the air in front of her. Nothing but frigid air.\n\nWhat did a ghost want with her?\n\nGina clung to that question even as the presence laid more chill fingers on her. She shuddered as a roughly hand-shaped patch of ice palmed her breast. Her hips writhed as it ground the heel of its invisible hand into her nipple.\n\nThe hand traced a path down Gina's side, sweeping aside the last traces of her denial. She supposed a ghost could be doing much worse to her than pawing lewdly at her body. She might as well try to enjoy it.\n\nIt wasn't like she could escape.\n\nAnother patch of cold engulfed her other breast, squeezing, ruffling her fur. It was bizarre to feel this pleasure from nowhere, see her breast shifting and deforming seemingly on its own - not least because of how good it felt. The heat bubbling up between her legs was starting to seep into her chest and into her limbs, tightening her muscles, infusing her whole body with a yearning to stretch her bones out of her skin, to bend everything in her that could bend, to burst and not stop.\n\nOnce Gina got started, she could never stop. She slipped one hand under the blanket to get herself off, searching for the red patch between her thighs that even now was growing matted with her juices.\n\nIce seized her wrist, firm and cold and certain. Whatever was done in this bed would be done to Gina.\n\nThe ghost knew what it was doing. Its fingers crept over her hip. Kneaded muscle. Sent buzzing spikes into her core, a mockery of what Gina wanted, needed, knew this thing to be capable of doing.\n\nIt was less a tease than a prelude. The cold pressure shifted from Gina's hip to her inner thigh, rubbing it up and down before sliding between her nether lips. She was wet there and warm, the cold of the mysterious fingers a delicious counterpart to her growing heat.\n\nThe mink arched her back into the sensation, pressing her head into the pillow and stretching her neck as far back as it could go. It wasn't enough, could never be enough; the ghost matched its firm thrusts into her pussy with a practiced spiral assault on her clit, thumbing her into impossible oblivion.\n\nAll this through the thick layer of blanket. The ghost only took up space when it wanted to, only manipulated its surroundings when it wanted to, fingered Gina through the down comforter because it wanted to. A voyeur would have seen her tossing and turning and assumed she was having a wonderful dream, little knowing how real her pleasure was.\n\nShe begged for more, found herself imagining the most bizarre of pleasures. Nothing was off the table now that ghosts were real, now that one was exploring her cunt with fingers that could reach anywhere and everywhere inside her. She wanted the thing to squeeze her spine and work the kinks out of it. She wanted it to burrow into her womb and massage her innermost depths until the entire bed was soaked with her juice. She would have thrilled at her very heart pulsing in its grip, the core of her being converted into just another erogenous zone for the thing to toy with.\n\nIt withdrew from the mink's pussy, leaving behind an emptiness that yearned, demanded to be filled.\n\nSeconds passed without satisfaction. A minute. Gina fancied the air was getting warmer, that the dream sensations might be fading from her waking body.\n\nA second after she'd given up, the cold returned with an exquisite vengeance, plunging into her at the height of her lustful agony.\n\nThick, firm, insistent - she didn't even know if it was hard, or just that huge. Whatever it was was filling her cunt to bursting, stretching her and battering at her cervix without mercy.\n\nSharp heat stabbed up into Gina's abdomen with every spectral thrust. She rolled her hips into it, impaling herself on the unseen cock, letting out little barks and whimpers as it lavished her with affection unbound by living shape.\n\nIncorporeal it may have been, but the thing throbbed all the same within Gina's pussy, a familiar sensation that she canted her hips to meet.\n\nA burst of chill liquid exploded between Gina's hips, pouring into her womb and leaking invisibly out of her cunt into the sheets.\n\nAnd still the ghost thrust into her, never losing steam, never wilting. It existed beyond the laws of the physical world, unbound by exhaustion or refractory periods. In under a minute it was pumping another load of its ectoplasmic cum into Gina.\n\nThen another.\n\nThen another.\n\nApprehension dawned at the back of her mind when the sheets began to rise over her abdomen. Gina's stomach felt full, like she'd eaten a heavy dinner, and she felt it growing tighter as the ghost lanced orgasm after orgasm, load after load into her helpless cunt.\n\nHow much more could she possibly take? What would happen to her if the ghost kept filling her full of its bottomless reserves of spectral semen?\n\nDisturbing visions came to her mind of her body giving out, bloating, bursting from the frigid liquid. But the heavier her belly grew, the more she felt the strain echoing across her stomach, the more curious Gina became.\n\nShe needed more, threw her body into accepting the thing's cum like a full-body stretch that just wouldn't pop the knot in her back. She needed to push her body further, devour more through her hungry cunt, until she reached her limit, whatever it might be. Her tail, red as her dripping muff, swept back and forth under the blanket, wagging with pure bliss as her unknown assailant used her.\n\nThe orgasms bled into each other, her senses entire radiating from the hard, pulsing wetness in her core. And still her belly swelled, ice seeping into her stomach, her veins, the spaces between her organs, bubbling under her skin like her blood was boiling.\n\nThe ghost stroked her face with incongruous gentleness for the intensity of its thrusts, as if taunting prey it had caught in a trap of its own devious design. Gina was dimly aware of her skin rippling, bulging, deforming around the thing's touch in much the same way as her breast had. What was happening to her? What did she look like? How was this thing bloating her, filling every inch of her with its cum just by fucking her? Did its cum just flow through her like a ghost walking through walls?\n\nWhatever was happening, it was inflating her chest, swelling her breasts into one solid mass with the rest of her belly, her thighs filling with ghost cum, thickening like overstuffed sausages, her arms disappearing into the expanse of her torso. All this while her pussy throbbed with delight, gulped down the instrument of her destruction, greedily lapped up everything the ghost was feeding her.\n\nIt was cold, it was pressure all around, driving at every inch of her, searching for a weakness to rupture forth from, leaking from her eyes like tears of joy, oozing from her mouth like delirious drool. The sheets were soaked with it, and Gina could feel her body overlapping the edges of the bed as she bloated fatter, wider, fuller of the otherworldly substance.\n\nShe never wanted it to end, but the inevitable result was the next best thing. An orgasm came that would be her last, her most intense, the moment of euphoria that she clung to in the agonizing stretch of her final moments that drew seconds out like hours of insane ecstasy.\n\nThere was a rumble from somewhere deep inside her, a tingle, a splash, light, and finally darkness.\n-\nShe was weightless when she awoke. Gina couldn't feel her body, knew no heat or cold, no hunger or thirst. She was aware simply that she was aware.\n\nHer surroundings came to her as if she were waking up from a dream. The bedroom swam back into her awareness: the open window, the four-poster with its curtains, the rumpled sheets behind them.\n\nThe rumpled, soaked sheets, coated in spectral cum and everything Gina had once been.\n\nA pang of regret flickered inside her as she looked at herself, or what she had once been. It faded just as quickly as any other sensation might, without a body to cling to it. Even floating bodiless in the middle of the bedroom, she was still the mink she remembered herself being.\n\nBut she was so much more, too.\n\nShe was embraced from behind. Not warm, not tight, just... there. Existing in her space, mingling with her being - nonbeing? - and exploring her as nothing else had, as nothing else could, when she was-\n\nAlive?\n\nShe supposed that that was the case. It was only a supposition, could only be a supposition, and drifted out of her reach as the other presence mixed with her. Gina's body seemed so far away, so long ago, so alien to what she was now and would forever be.\n\nBut some things never changed.\n\nSomething intruded - something large, insistent, seeking out intimate corners of her that she found much to her liking, that would have stoked memories of former encounters and put them to shame if she clung to her old life.\n\nThe presence at least was familiar, and filled her like she never thought could be possible. The ghost's cock slid into every inch of her at once, seizing her senses even as she sorted them out, even as something unspoken sowed instinct into her, perception, awareness, control.\n\nShe had a body again, or at least demarcated limits to her incorporeal self. Limbs, a torso, a cunt swam back into her consciousness, and readily accepted the other ghost into her.\n\nAnd where there was a body, where there were borders, where there were beginnings and endings to her and not her, there were acts and sensations that fucked, filled, and bloated her beyond them.\n\nGhostly cum poured into her without limit, without end. There was no threshold of bloat she couldn't pass, no size or capacity that was beyond her reach. It wasn't like she could die again.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "First off, thank you for reading my story. I have over 500. Around 400 which will be published on various sites in a quick and whirlwind fashion. Please like, comment, or share my stories wherever you want. Anything is better than nothing. But do follow if you like my writing. There is so much more to come! Second, I do commissions and this is like 4 years of backlog. They are not edited, they have shit for blurb, no book cover, no REAL title, and the tags are shit. If you are interested in doing any of these things so that I can put it into a main file and distribute the blurb, better tags, or book covers and stuff, please reach out, or put it into the comments section. If I present better, I will have more clients in a segregated category and thus will be able to write more of these unique individualized kinks. Equally so, editor needed. Now, I know what your thinking--- WHY am I not doing this myself? Well, good dear reader, Rough guestimation, I have over 5k pages to tinker around with. I've not shared my backlog because of want for perfection. Would you rather my words not perfect, or not have my work at all period? Backlog of 4 years. And if I don't push it out, I never will. I also run two businesses to keep me afloat. Unlike that one song, time, my friend, is not on my side.
Thank you again for being amazing!
PLEASE like, rate, or whatever. Trying to build a community instead of being an invisible thumbprint on the far reaches of the vast internet.
A final note. If you know anyone, or community, or website that might be of use to me... Never, ever, ever hesitate to contact me. This job is a HARD job, it is fulltime, but I love it so much. Help me continue living this dream of learning about unique kinks and desires.
And if you have a complaint on my tense shifting or my comma splices. Take a number! I know my severe weaknesses. I know I am not the best writer, I also know that I am not the greatest, but I feel my gift is UNDERSTANDING a persons wants. That, alone, is my skill set, not writing.
CHECK BIO FOR LINKS. Also, newsletter everyone. Sign it, please.


The third time the curtains on the four-poster rustled, Gina knew that something was amiss.

The mink was sitting upright in the bed, shrunken so deep into the soft mattress that she barely made a bump in the heavy covers. Her red hair spilled in curly tangles over the white expanse of her breasts, a few ringlets caught in the depths of her cleavage.

Her chest was heaving with deep breaths, long and silent as something unseen toyed with her curtains. The first time it had happened, she'd dismissed it. The wind from outside had disturbed them, or her tossing and turning had. She would have believed a second time.

She didn't know what to believe when they began to pull back.

Some icy claw was gripping her heart, preventing her from moving. Anything that could steal into her bedroom unseen could easily catch her if she ran - perhaps was within arm's reach of her even now. The presence was nowhere and thus everywhere, weighing her down with its immateriality, appearing to her like an undersea leviathan known only by the immensity of its half-glimpsed mass.

It crept towards her. Moonlight struggled through the curtains and poured through the breach, a great spill that breathed with the shifting of the translucent fabric. And yet the invisible intruder's bulk did not disturb the blankets. Whatever was brushing the curtains aside must have been doing so because it wanted Gina to see.

A gradual chill was settling over her even under the thick down, making her fur stand on end. She pulled the blankets around herself, shivering. She winced as her forearms pressed against her nipples, the stiff black peaks pressing into the blanket.

It didn't help the cold, and Gina curling into herself only pressed her breasts together and made her cleavage that much more inviting.

Gina realized this when something invisible traced a questing line through the fur on her breasts. It dipped between her cleavage like a dripping snow cone on a hot day, her fur parting for some spectral fingertip. The icy touch was proof positive that this was no dream.

She passed a hand through the air in front of her. Nothing but frigid air.

What did a ghost want with her?

Gina clung to that question even as the presence laid more chill fingers on her. She shuddered as a roughly hand-shaped patch of ice palmed her breast. Her hips writhed as it ground the heel of its invisible hand into her nipple.

The hand traced a path down Gina's side, sweeping aside the last traces of her denial. She supposed a ghost could be doing much worse to her than pawing lewdly at her body. She might as well try to enjoy it.

It wasn't like she could escape.

Another patch of cold engulfed her other breast, squeezing, ruffling her fur. It was bizarre to feel this pleasure from nowhere, see her breast shifting and deforming seemingly on its own - not least because of how good it felt. The heat bubbling up between her legs was starting to seep into her chest and into her limbs, tightening her muscles, infusing her whole body with a yearning to stretch her bones out of her skin, to bend everything in her that could bend, to burst and not stop.

Once Gina got started, she could never stop. She slipped one hand under the blanket to get herself off, searching for the red patch between her thighs that even now was growing matted with her juices.

Ice seized her wrist, firm and cold and certain. Whatever was done in this bed would be done to Gina.

The ghost knew what it was doing. Its fingers crept over her hip. Kneaded muscle. Sent buzzing spikes into her core, a mockery of what Gina wanted, needed, knew this thing to be capable of doing.

It was less a tease than a prelude. The cold pressure shifted from Gina's hip to her inner thigh, rubbing it up and down before sliding between her nether lips. She was wet there and warm, the cold of the mysterious fingers a delicious counterpart to her growing heat.

The mink arched her back into the sensation, pressing her head into the pillow and stretching her neck as far back as it could go. It wasn't enough, could never be enough; the ghost matched its firm thrusts into her pussy with a practiced spiral assault on her clit, thumbing her into impossible oblivion.

All this through the thick layer of blanket. The ghost only took up space when it wanted to, only manipulated its surroundings when it wanted to, fingered Gina through the down comforter because it wanted to. A voyeur would have seen her tossing and turning and assumed she was having a wonderful dream, little knowing how real her pleasure was.

She begged for more, found herself imagining the most bizarre of pleasures. Nothing was off the table now that ghosts were real, now that one was exploring her cunt with fingers that could reach anywhere and everywhere inside her. She wanted the thing to squeeze her spine and work the kinks out of it. She wanted it to burrow into her womb and massage her innermost depths until the entire bed was soaked with her juice. She would have thrilled at her very heart pulsing in its grip, the core of her being converted into just another erogenous zone for the thing to toy with.

It withdrew from the mink's pussy, leaving behind an emptiness that yearned, demanded to be filled.

Seconds passed without satisfaction. A minute. Gina fancied the air was getting warmer, that the dream sensations might be fading from her waking body.

A second after she'd given up, the cold returned with an exquisite vengeance, plunging into her at the height of her lustful agony.

Thick, firm, insistent - she didn't even know if it was hard, or just that huge. Whatever it was was filling her cunt to bursting, stretching her and battering at her cervix without mercy.

Sharp heat stabbed up into Gina's abdomen with every spectral thrust. She rolled her hips into it, impaling herself on the unseen cock, letting out little barks and whimpers as it lavished her with affection unbound by living shape.

Incorporeal it may have been, but the thing throbbed all the same within Gina's pussy, a familiar sensation that she canted her hips to meet.

A burst of chill liquid exploded between Gina's hips, pouring into her womb and leaking invisibly out of her cunt into the sheets.

And still the ghost thrust into her, never losing steam, never wilting. It existed beyond the laws of the physical world, unbound by exhaustion or refractory periods. In under a minute it was pumping another load of its ectoplasmic cum into Gina.

Then another.

Then another.

Apprehension dawned at the back of her mind when the sheets began to rise over her abdomen. Gina's stomach felt full, like she'd eaten a heavy dinner, and she felt it growing tighter as the ghost lanced orgasm after orgasm, load after load into her helpless cunt.

How much more could she possibly take? What would happen to her if the ghost kept filling her full of its bottomless reserves of spectral semen?

Disturbing visions came to her mind of her body giving out, bloating, bursting from the frigid liquid. But the heavier her belly grew, the more she felt the strain echoing across her stomach, the more curious Gina became.

She needed more, threw her body into accepting the thing's cum like a full-body stretch that just wouldn't pop the knot in her back. She needed to push her body further, devour more through her hungry cunt, until she reached her limit, whatever it might be. Her tail, red as her dripping muff, swept back and forth under the blanket, wagging with pure bliss as her unknown assailant used her.

The orgasms bled into each other, her senses entire radiating from the hard, pulsing wetness in her core. And still her belly swelled, ice seeping into her stomach, her veins, the spaces between her organs, bubbling under her skin like her blood was boiling.

The ghost stroked her face with incongruous gentleness for the intensity of its thrusts, as if taunting prey it had caught in a trap of its own devious design. Gina was dimly aware of her skin rippling, bulging, deforming around the thing's touch in much the same way as her breast had. What was happening to her? What did she look like? How was this thing bloating her, filling every inch of her with its cum just by fucking her? Did its cum just flow through her like a ghost walking through walls?

Whatever was happening, it was inflating her chest, swelling her breasts into one solid mass with the rest of her belly, her thighs filling with ghost cum, thickening like overstuffed sausages, her arms disappearing into the expanse of her torso. All this while her pussy throbbed with delight, gulped down the instrument of her destruction, greedily lapped up everything the ghost was feeding her.

It was cold, it was pressure all around, driving at every inch of her, searching for a weakness to rupture forth from, leaking from her eyes like tears of joy, oozing from her mouth like delirious drool. The sheets were soaked with it, and Gina could feel her body overlapping the edges of the bed as she bloated fatter, wider, fuller of the otherworldly substance.

She never wanted it to end, but the inevitable result was the next best thing. An orgasm came that would be her last, her most intense, the moment of euphoria that she clung to in the agonizing stretch of her final moments that drew seconds out like hours of insane ecstasy.

There was a rumble from somewhere deep inside her, a tingle, a splash, light, and finally darkness.
-
She was weightless when she awoke. Gina couldn't feel her body, knew no heat or cold, no hunger or thirst. She was aware simply that she was aware.

Her surroundings came to her as if she were waking up from a dream. The bedroom swam back into her awareness: the open window, the four-poster with its curtains, the rumpled sheets behind them.

The rumpled, soaked sheets, coated in spectral cum and everything Gina had once been.

A pang of regret flickered inside her as she looked at herself, or what she had once been. It faded just as quickly as any other sensation might, without a body to cling to it. Even floating bodiless in the middle of the bedroom, she was still the mink she remembered herself being.

But she was so much more, too.

She was embraced from behind. Not warm, not tight, just... there. Existing in her space, mingling with her being - nonbeing? - and exploring her as nothing else had, as nothing else could, when she was-

Alive?

She supposed that that was the case. It was only a supposition, could only be a supposition, and drifted out of her reach as the other presence mixed with her. Gina's body seemed so far away, so long ago, so alien to what she was now and would forever be.

But some things never changed.

Something intruded - something large, insistent, seeking out intimate corners of her that she found much to her liking, that would have stoked memories of former encounters and put them to shame if she clung to her old life.

The presence at least was familiar, and filled her like she never thought could be possible. The ghost's cock slid into every inch of her at once, seizing her senses even as she sorted them out, even as something unspoken sowed instinct into her, perception, awareness, control.

She had a body again, or at least demarcated limits to her incorporeal self. Limbs, a torso, a cunt swam back into her consciousness, and readily accepted the other ghost into her.

And where there was a body, where there were borders, where there were beginnings and endings to her and not her, there were acts and sensations that fucked, filled, and bloated her beyond them.

Ghostly cum poured into her without limit, without end. There was no threshold of bloat she couldn't pass, no size or capacity that was beyond her reach. It wasn't like she could die again.

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