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Frederick was dead, had been dead for so, so very long. He lived, no, he existed now inbetween. The world, his world, was a cold, static place. His form was intangible, he could move through walls, through anything if he chose to do so. Touching things was harder. He could do it, if he tried, if he focused, if he was angry. This half-life he occupied was…boring. Not much aroused his anger, besides the people who attempted to lay claim to his home.

It was a sprawling thing, well made, built to last, rising up four stories to tower over the nearby trees and descending deep into two dank and musty basements. In life, he had lived and died there. In death, he knew every corner of it. Once every decade or so some family would buy his home. None had lasted a month. Oh, it would at all times take time for his rage to allow him to…affect things, but once their dishware was shattering and their cheap drapes from someplace called ‘target’ were torn to shreds, they’d run. They had at all times run.

This time…was different. Frederick didn’t know how to feel. He was torn. Someone had moved in. No, not someone, many people, a ‘sorority’ they seemed to call it. When he had been alive the only sororities had been assembled by childless wives intent on occupying one another’s time with…baking or something? He hadn’t cared enough to understand. This sorority was entirely different. These were women…young women. Gorgeous, luscious women.

Frederick was beside himself. He didn’t know what to do. It had already been two months. Thus far, he’d contented himself with watching. He watched them dress; pulling up their lacy panties and stuffing themselves into form-hugging dresses. He watched them shower; soaping their delicious breasts and shaving their legs and pussies. It had all been much too much…

One of them in particular had his attention. A raven-haired little harlot with a supple bosom and tanned skin. Her name was Monica. The way she moved. The way she laughed. Frederick was obsessed. He needed her. He wanted to touch her, to hold her. He wanted her to feel him…

Monica was masturbating again. She writhed as her little, purple toy vibrated against her clit. Her breaths came in shallow pants and bursts of pleasure. She was so gorgeous. So needy. Her wet slit pulsing as her legs folded. He watched her cum, her hand squeezing and teasing her breast. She lay there a while, relaxing, basking in her orgasm. Then, with an irresistible perkiness, she danced across the room, hit the light, and cuddled a pillow before falling asleep.

A furious heat rose within Frederick’s spectral form. A static, almost electric feeling he had only ever known when enraged. Now, it had come to him when he needed it most desperately. Still, he controlled himself. He waited…

Monica shifted in her light sleep. She rolled onto her back and…began to snore.

A lightness filled Frederick. She was adorable, endearing. He hadn’t known love in life…perhaps this was that feeling…

He drifted, in his way, across her bedroom, up to the edge of her bed. He watched her sleeping. He reached out, not to touch, but to feel her heat. She was so hot. Her body emanated an agonizing warmth that tore through him. He leaned in closer, basking in her vibrancy.

She wore a cut off tank top that rested lightly between her breasts and left her belly bare. Below, beneath her covers were a pair of white cotton panties still wet with her juices.

Frederick reached out and his hand touched the outside of her breast. He moaned. So soft, so incredibly soft. His fingers pushed in and to his delight he watched and felt as her flesh moved under his influence. He straddled her and took her other breast in his hand. He began to grope and knead her in his palms, under his fingers. He relished in the pleasure of her body and as he did, he felt his strength growing. No longer was he some clumsy wisp of memory, his form was changing.

Monica stirred, whimpering, but she did not wake. Her head tilted, exposing the curve of her neck. In her sleep, she shifted, moving about beneath him. Not struggling, not yet. A soft moan escaped her. Beneath the thin fabric, her nipples rose, poking two dark points upwards.

Frederick delighted, smiling. He began to tease her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips. As he did, his excitement, his body continued to strengthen. He felt something he hadn’t in so many long years. He began to become hard. It was an odd sensation, to have a spectral cock let alone to have an erection. His arousal growing, Frederick pressed his love against Monica’s chest and his hips began to move.

Her body bobbing up and down under Frederick’s thrusting, Monica woke. Like a shot, she sat up in bed and nearly bashed her head into Frederick’s erection. She felt his form there, a solid nothingness over her and in alarm, she batted at him, and flinched backwards. “What the fuck?!” she whispered. She covered herself with her blanket and glared around the room, but she was alone. She heaved air into her lungs. “What the fuck…?” she whispered again, running a hand through her hair.

Frederick watched her from the edge of the bed. He was not done. He was not finished. He needed her. He needed to be inside her. He needed her to feel him reach deep inside her. He threw himself at her.

Monica reeled in panic as a hand composed of nothing was wrapped over her mouth, a second placed itself on her belly and began to inch down towards her pussy. The hands were cold, so incredibly cold. No scream escaped her lips.

Frederick braced himself against her, holding her mouth shut as his fingers reached her pussy lips. With a strength he hadn’t known, he gripped the feeble fabric of her panties, and ripped it from her body. At once, he slipped a finger, then another inside her. Maybe tomorrow he’d savor her body. Tonight, would be quick, but there would be more nights. If nothing else, he had time. He sighed with pleasure as her slit wrapped around his fingers. He could feel her. He could feel her warmth, her sex like nothing he had ever felt before. He listened to the noises of protest and stifled shock as he curled his fingers and drove them deeper inside her. Her walls embraced him.

A dream. A nightmare. So real, so terrifying, and yet…Monica could feel the body against her, the fingers groping into her as they shifted, growing stronger, warmer. This thing her mind had conjured…

Frederick withdrew his fingers from her love and he stared in disbelief. There he could see her sweet juice glistening on his fingers. He was real. The elation rocked through him as he threw himself on top of her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head. With first one leg, then the other, he forced her thighs aside. He held her wrists above her head with one hand and wrapped his fingers around her throat with the other. He braced his hips and angled himself to align with her wet, warm, pussy. He squeezed her throat, just enough, knowing now the extent of his strength. Not that anyone or anything could stop him, but still, he didn’t want anyone to spoil their moment.

Monica gasped as the demon squeezed, constricting her breathing. The thing’s strength was overwhelming, and her eyes widened as she felt her lips start to part. No longer cold, it was hot. The thing that began to enter her was so terribly hot.

Frederick roared with pleasure as he sank his spectral cock into her fiery love. Deeper, and deeper he sank as she stretched to take him. Nothing had ever felt so good. He wondered he might break down weeping from pleasure as he disappeared inside of her. Holding her, wrists locked over her head, neck bound, thighs forced open, he rocked himself in and out of her. He loved her. He loved her grip on him. He loved the noises she made. He couldn’t take it. It was unbearable to be tortured with so much pleasure.

Monica’s mind was a thing of shock and disbelief as the demon fucked her. She couldn’t bear to struggle any more, her hips rocked back to take him deeper. It fucked her harder.

Frederick was gone, there was only the thing that drove itself in and out of her. A formless beast of boundless strength with a singular end. He let go of her wrists and her neck and drove the strength of his arms into her shoulders, driving her down into the mattress, locking her in place as he-

Something erupted within her.

Frederick roared again as she took everything he had. In his ears, her screams of surprise and pleasure were a distant thing. There was only the lightning rod and the embrace of her body. His strength twitched and slowly, so slowly began dwindled inside of her. A light, heavenly warmth carried through him. His roar fell to a moan, to a whimper as his iron strength was spent.

…Monica lay there, breathing and reeling and…elating. A thing could be wrong and really goddamn good at the same time, couldn’t it. Her bosom heaved up and down as she laid there, resplendent, her raven hair wild and tangled, a flush across her neck, her cheeks. She whimpered.

There was a knock at the door. “Hey, Monica?”

Startled, she sat up. “Uh, yeah?”

The voice belonged to Brit. She was…almost coy. “You good?”

“Fine. Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

She heard giggling from multiple sources. “You want to share whoever it is you have in there?”

Monica looked around. She was alone. “Nobody, just a dream.”

“Damn. Sounded like a good one,” said Brit, through the door.

More giggling.

Monica said nothing. She reached down and felt the wetness between her legs. As she pulled her fingers towards her, she saw something else there too. Something…like cum. “…What the fuck,” she whispered staring down at the substance on her fingertips.

Frederick lay next to her on the bed, a hollow spirit again, but a satisfied one. He sighed. He loved her. He would show her how much he loved her again. Perhaps, in time, the others would feel his love too…

NSFW: yes

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