CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue.
All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted Possessions: Zeke
Zeke had always been "troubled," not the typical problem student, but he wasn't very easy to handle.
He loved excesses, and that was obvious, so was his constant state in the afterlife, lethargic and cheerful, remaining on what seemed like an eternal journey. He didn't complain, but... It was difficult to get anyone to take him seriously, or to respect his boundaries...
He had become well-known among the ghosts for his "irresponsible" possessions, leaving his hosts in rather compromising situations and almost with their reputations in tatters. A clear example was the substitute chemistry teacher. His story was known to both mortals and ghosts. He was teaching a class like any other, almost the last before the regular teacher returned from maternity leave. He was serious but undoubtedly attractive, with a good pair of muscles. He was about to explain the assignment when he fell silent, began to laugh, and watched his body with fascination until he ended up slamming his manhood against the table. Yes... Goodbye to his teaching career.
And it wasn't because Zeke was bad or even mischievous, no. He was just so far gone that he didn't measure the consequences of his actions, as if everything were a game to him. The worst part? It wasn't the first time he'd messed with a teacher and done this.
A few years ago, a new coach started teaching at the school. He was quite young, with good muscles, a face to die for, and the target of more than one ghost. Julian and Brady were having a heated argument over who had the best right to take over Coach Stevens's body.
Too bad for them, Zeke had already gone ahead. He sneaked into the gym, where at least there was no one else but that man, his elegant, strong, imposing demeanor; those enormous muscles wrapped like candy in that tight compression shirt. He was arranging a couple of pieces of clothing, like balls and mats, unaware that he was being watched.
A cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer it.
— Hello? Yes, dear. I almost finished packing everything up to go home. Don't worry, I'll pick up what you ordered for dinner – Zeke approached slowly, then pushed himself up to his nose. He entered forcefully, causing spasms and grunts from the man who was trying to resist whatever was invading his body. The "confrontation" lasted a while until the man slowed down, the phone still to his ear, his wife worried about the noises.
"He" opened his eyes with a crooked smile, listening to the woman's screams on the other end.
— Yes, yes, yes! I'll call you later, byeee!
He said, tossing the phone aside, not even bothering to hang up. His strong hands shot to his pecs as he kneaded them with a soft chuckle, the stench of sweat swirling in the air.
— Shit, yeah... You really stink – he said with a chuckle. He didn't even have to go near his armpit; the shirt itself was soaked with sweat, like a warm scent wafting straight into his nose.
He felt his pants tighten.
Zeke was always very sensitive to sensations, as if his state quadrupled his perception. This also influenced the way he ended up reacting and making his decisions, hasty and almost irrational.
He spent a long time massaging his pectorals, only with a broad smile, tilting his head back, enjoying his touch, those strong fingers burying themselves in his flesh, the soft yet solid touch enough to make him gasp. He loved the way his new voice rumbled in the middle of his throat, that thick Adam's apple that underscored his masculinity... And shit, that jaw! Sharp enough to cut marble, he felt so masculine, so powerful.
In life, Zeke wasn't bad-looking at all, but he'd never been like this. So full of muscle, with that penetrating musk, the fabric clinging perfectly to his body.
He still felt the tension in his pants, that thick piece of flesh, throbbing, yet he ignored it. There was something arousing about just feeling it rub against the fabric, over and over again, his heavy, slow breathing, those pecs rising and falling.
He had to sit down for a moment to try to control what he felt. One of the "disadvantages" of possession was that if the ghost went through a series of very powerful emotions, he would lose control of his body. So he tried to resist, painfully prolonging this euphoria.
He felt so heavy, so big. He took out his new phone to take a couple of good photos, even noting the missed calls from the coach's wife; it wasn't his problem.
He really loved seeing how the shirt fit, the thick muscles, the broad chest... And that stench, damn. So perfect... He got rid of his shoes to let his new feet breathe through the smelly socks, and he giggled again.
— Wow, coach... Who knew you were so sweaty, so smelly – he inhaled again – so delicious...
He wiggled his toes, still laughing, fascinated by the length. He felt like he was enormous in every way, and that was fascinating him more and more.
Even though he was hungry, he felt his abs growl, causing him to let out a slight groan as he brought his hands to the solid structure.
— Gosh! It's like a wall… – he whispered, smiling, caressing and counting each of those bumps – But shit, why don't you eat something?
He gave a long moan, constantly hitting his new skin as if trying to create a cacophony between the bumps and his own moans. That's when he noticed a backpack. He got up to open it. There were other clothes, but he saw a large glass. He opened it and sniffed a little; it smelled like some kind of milkshake, although when he took a sip, he didn't like it at all.
— Ugh – he made a disgusted face, even though he was so hungry...
He let out a sigh before downing the entire container, drinking eagerly, letting it all fall straight into his stomach. Every now and then, he glanced at his reflection with a small smile.
Flexing and stretching his arms, he licked his lips, still feeling the protein on them, but he chose to ignore it and just focus on the feeling of satisfaction and admiration before his arms, looking curious.
— Let's see...
He raised his arm to inhale, his nose captivated by that stinky, intoxicating stench... His nasal tip colliding directly with those hairy armpits, he spent a long time smelling, slowly and deliberately, every pore that gave off that stinky odor...
His tongue moved up and down, trying to catch even the slightest trace of sweat, as if he wanted to clean it all off.
He continued with those random push-ups, and then, deciding to stay in only his underwear, a tight outfit that left nothing to the imagination, Zeke licked his lips, not even knowing where to begin. It was like having a buffet in front of him, just for him.
— Oh yeah, I'm way too handsome to be wasting my time being a PE teacher, don't you think? – He boasted, puffing out his chest. He loved caressing it, how sensitive it was – I should be keeping these bad guys busy with something else – He flexed again, weighing his pecs as if they were simple baking dough.
He tugged at the ridges on his pecs, letting out deep moans. His legs even had to be crossed to keep from letting out an even louder howl. Although he couldn't stop himself from sticking out his tongue and starting to pant like a dog, with a silly expression on his face. Zeke was undoubtedly one of the ghosts who got carried away the most in that regard; he loved getting under someone else's skin so much.
Sometimes he justified himself by saying it was "enriching," that it allowed him to explore so many perspectives (yeah, sure…). He was uninhibited, and dirty-minded, even before he finished there. So there was no need to say why he loved possessing so much.
— If I'd had these arms, believe me, I would have gone crazy over them – Another chuckle, a raised eyebrow, and that intense twitch of his pecs – But now I have them, right?
That mischievous, ecstatic smile appeared.
Zeke spent at least thirty minutes in the gym, stroking himself over and over again. The coach's skin was already so red from his insistence, though that didn't stop him; he remained euphoric, his nervous eyes flitting around the exquisite delicacy inside. He continued to be curious, rummaging through his backpack again, finding two outfits: One looked more formal, probably what he was going to wear to return home, but the other was a sleeveless black compression shirt, tight pants, and a sweatband. He raised his eyebrow, somewhat confused. He also had a pair of oversized shoes that smelled pretty bad, but that only encouraged him more.
First, he placed the shoes directly against his nose, sniffing, fascinated. It stank so rich, so rancid... All for him.
He was about to continue when an idea popped into his mind—at that moment, Zeke was finally thinking. He reached for the glass to take it, starting to pour it into his shoe, and then began to drink it.
The pink liquid escaped from the corners of his mouth.
He felt ridiculous for that action, however, he just let out a small chuckle, making his pecs bounce, and continued drinking the liquid. He could taste the staleness of sweat on his taste buds, combined with the sweetness of the shake. He felt the liquid dripping onto his pecs, which made him laugh a little more and lick his lips. He felt so silly, so smelly and dirty.
He sniffed his armpits again, a smile on his lips. He decided to start walking to the shower, his sweaty, damp feet pounding against the tiles, leaving a trail like footprints.
He stepped into the shower, smiled as he felt the drops hit his skin, those sore muscles (perhaps from routine, stress, or the simple exertion of exercise), rubbed the soap against his enormous pecs, enjoying the lather that formed and how it left them "adorned."
— Seriously... Why do you waste this body just being a physical education teacher? – he flexed his biceps self-centeredly – When you can have so many possibilities...
He also traced the path of his abs, taking advantage of the fact that the water followed that same path, running over his skin. He continued soaping himself, on the one hand saddened by the idea of losing that musk that was hypnotizing him, but on the other hand, enjoying every second of feeling his new muscles between his calloused fingers; each caress was driving him crazy.
He hadn't paid enough attention to his new obelisk, which had only been waving like a flagpole, demanding his attention. He spread his new hands around the shaft, only able to cover it like that. He really had a good tool!
The shower continued for a while, with deep moans echoing all the way to the gym, the steam swirling until he emerged with a towel wrapped around him and drops of water running all over him.
He stopped in front of the mirror to flex, still smiling smugly.
— Okay, man. Let's see what you had in your suitcase.
He took out the same outfit he'd noticed before, the one he probably wore to the gym or who knows what. He put on the tight pants, feeling them cling to his thighs and calves like a glove, then he put on the compression shirt, feeling the fabric cling to his pecs, even making him gasp slightly as it pressed against his areolas. Finally, he put on the sports band.
He noticed his reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. He felt so ridiculous; he looked like some kind of retro TV coach. But far from being bothered, Zeke gave a goofy grin, nodding and flexing his arms. He ran his finger across his shapely biceps.
But a phone notification pulled him out of his reverie. He lifted the screen to read: "Love."
He thought it was probably the coach's wife, meh. What does it matter?
— Okay?"
— Hey! Where are you? I'm worried. The guys and I are waiting for you for dinner. You were supposed to get home an hour ago. Is everything okay?
Zeke was silent for a moment. What could he possibly say to a woman worried about her husband?
— BROOOOUUUP – a thunderous burp escaped his lips. He let out a mocking chuckle as he patted his stomach – That smoothie was good, huh? I'll be there in a bit, sorry. I got too caught up in stroking these huge muscles!
The silence on the other end was almost spectral. Until shouts began to be heard, Zeke just averted his gaze slightly, shaking his head.
— Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way. Bye, bye.
The coach's wife continued screaming like crazy until she hung up. Zeke shook his head slightly, looking at himself in the mirror one last time.
— Okay, big guy. I think you have things to do.
He licked his lips and brought his hands to his pecs to give them one last squeeze. Zeke let out a sigh, almost a kind of annoyed groan.
— Ugh... I'm too full to come out by the mouth.
He pulled his pants down slightly. The coach's expression turned strange, before he let out a groan, a thunderous gas erupted from between his buttocks, and a greenish smoke billowed out. The coach collapsed on the floor as Zeke materialized, cracking his neck and stretching his shoulders
— Well, good luck, buddy! – he said with a chuckle before slapping that fluffy butt. The guy walked forward until he vanished into one of the walls, leaving the coach in a heap, his pants down, a "heavy" shake in his stomach, and at least five calls and twenty texts from his wife.
----
Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is the first part of a series of special stories about each ghost. There will be eight stories in total. Two will be publicly accessible, and the rest will be on my subscription channel on Patreon: Swap Acess Pass. They're separate stories from the original plot, but they'll still be packed with interesting details if you'd like to read them. You'll definitely love them.
Also, in that subsciption channel you'll find over 30 special and exclusive stories, everything that can't lives in Tumblr, is there.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.
All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted: Intangible
Previous part: Haunted - It's Another Day Of Sun
Benji didn't know how much time had passed; the last thing he remembered was really vague: him walking, the hallway, someone's hurried footsteps, something bumping into him, the Rex figurine shattering on the floor, and then, nothing.
He opened his eyes slowly, feeling like he'd slept for almost a month. His throat was dry, his vision blurred, and his head ached. He was in the same hallway, only... Shit. Was it already morning? He could see the windows flooded with light, but the worst part wasn't that. It was when the bell rang. He felt the floor vibrate, as if several people were getting up, the creaking of chairs and tables being moved aside, and the doors swinging wide open, letting students out of different classrooms. Benji's stomach sank. That would literally be social suicide; his reputation would be ruined. Who would fall asleep in the middle of the hallway? He got up as best he could, trying in vain not to fall. People started moving around him, and the mortal instinctively raised his hands to protect himself, only to notice how the others walked past him as if they hadn't noticed him at all.
He could have sworn someone walked right through him. His heart pounded as if it were about to explode, and a cold sweat trickled down his spine as people circled around him. He got to his feet as best he could, trying to get someone's attention.
— Hello?! Can you hear me?! – He tried to stand in front of a girl from the school band, but she just spun around as if someone had spoken to her, but he couldn't see anyone. He practically ran away – HELLO?!
He tried a couple more times with other students, getting the same result. He was getting paranoid. What kind of nightmare was this? Maybe he just... He just needed to wake up, didn't he? It was nothing more than that, just a silly nightmare. Soon he'd be back in his room. His birthday would have been just a few hours ago, and everything would be alright. He tried pinching himself, without any success. He tried until his skin was almost purple from the pressure.
— What the hell is this? – he murmured, his eyes watering. He ran his hands through his hair, sitting back down on the floor, trying to calm himself. The next class started at the same time, so the students dispersed, leaving him alone in the hallway again with a few other students trying to get to the bathroom.
— I don't know, he's been acting strange for the past few days. Something doesn't feel right, you know? Like... he's not himself – he heard in the distance. He thought the voice would be accompanied by footsteps, but it was just the sound of a voice.
— Maybe it's just our imagination, it's... You know – Someone else was coming with that person, their tone of voice was resigned, and again, there was no sound of shoes hitting the floor.
The curly-brown-haired guy looked up, tearfully, and saw two familiar figures walk past him unnoticed. He wanted to speak again, but it was as if his voice caught in his throat. Then one of them turned to look at him, his eyes widening at the sight.
— Benji? – Tobias asked – But how is this possible if we… – Before he could answer, Ben jumped up and hugged them both, sobbing and trembling as if he'd been out in the cold all night. In fact, he felt just as frozen, devoid of any warmth.
— I don't know what's happening. No one can see me or hear me. It's like I don't exist, I don't know what's happening – His voice was rapid, stumbling over his own words, the sobs weren't helping matters.
— Calm down, breathe. Everything's okay – Rex pulled him away to take hold of his shoulders, but Ben's expression was pure terror and dismay, the same as... Oh shit.
— B-but-
Rex attempted a risky move, trying to lunge forward to enter Ben's mouth and possess him, but instead, he only ended up colliding with him, as if they were both physical beings on the same plane. Tobias's jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock.
— What's wrong with you?! – Ben clutched his face in pain, and the oldest ghost took note of it.
— No... This can't be happening, because... W-we saw you just five minutes ago, in the cafeteria, you were there – Tobias stammered. There was only one explanation: if Benji couldn't be possessed and was as tangible as the two of them, completely ignored by everyone else, he was a ghost.
Rex remained lost in thought, saying nothing, simply starting to backtrack the way they had come.
— Where are you going?! – They both followed him. The punk continued moving with a determined stride, reaching the cafeteria's threshold, but not opening the door so that "the wind" wouldn't open it on its own. Just peeking through the glass panel in the door, Ben peeked his head out, and his heart almost stopped (again, it seemed) at the scene before him: Himself, sitting at one of the tables, eating with a gentle smile, chewing slowly as if he wanted to savor every last flavor. He, he was there, sitting in the cafeteria.
— It can't be, but...
— Ben's soul and body are different, aren't they? – Rex continued to eye his friend's doppelganger suspiciously. He received only silence from the other two – Didn't you say that, Tobias? – he said in a drier, colder tone that made his boyfriend react immediately; he needed to focus.
— Yes, that's right. But in any case, why didn't the same thing happen when you possessed him?
— It was a different situation. Ben let me in. I'm afraid someone here forced their way in. What's the last thing you remember?
— I... I was coming back from the party, I felt someone following me, and suddenly, something jumped. I can't remember anything after that – The two ghosts exchanged puzzled and worried glances – What?...
— Ben... Your party was 20 days ago.
— Who do you think did it? – Rex murmured. Ben was at the edge of the property; this was the ultimate test to determine the state of his soul. His two friends just watched from behind.
— I don't know. I know that those of us who were at the party couldn't have done it, at least that's what I want to believe. I doubt it was Zeke; he wouldn't have that much peace in his body. He would have already caused a lot of damage. And Julian? He wouldn't be capable of it.
— And Marco?
— We could leave that possibility open, but there are still loose ends with Brady, Daniel, and Elliot.
— Or Mr. Ashford, and all the other ghosts from the institute.
— I highly doubt anyone in that group would dare to do that; they don’t usually possess – Rex said, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists.
— And yet, it could happen. You know how special Ben is. Maybe… maybe someone else has already noticed.
The mortal fearfully stared at the property line, took a step forward, closing his eyes. The energy around his foot began to concentrate, like a lightning storm unleashed directly onto the sidewalk. He felt as if he were crossing an invisible barrier or something. With all his might, he tried to push his foot in (or rather, pull it out) to get out of that place and finally reach the sidewalk, but it was like trying to walk on water. He moved further forward, with all his strength. The energy crackled again, menacing, and threw him backward.
Ben propelled himself several meters, crashing into the grass and almost feeling like he'd been sucked out of air. Rex and Tobias ran to his aid, though the frightened looks on their faces weren't just because of the fact that, officially, Benjamin was a ghost.
— Are you okay? – Rex tried to approach his shoulder, but Ben just backed away, tears streaming down his face.
— DO YOU THINK I'M OKAY?! WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE?! – The pressure shot out like a wave in the middle of an ocean storm. Ben's eyes were filled with tears and resentment.
— We'll find a way to help you, we'll see how to fix this, you just have to trust
— You?! The same ones who got me into this?! – He got up as best he could. Rex tried to reach him, only to be met with a swatting motion – Don't you dare touch me, Navarro!
— Ben! What the hell is wrong with you?!
— If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened. I'd have my normal life. I wouldn't know about you or any of this. I'd be alive, unlike you.
The silence was cruel and heavy. The guy's chest rose and fell with the stress of the moment. The three of them exchanged serious glances. Ben turned around and went back inside.
— That son of a-
— No – Tobias said, grabbing his shoulder and stopping him – Understand him. Remember the first time you woke up like this? The helplessness, the anger, he says things impulsively, he doesn’t understand anything that’s happening, just give him time.
— What if the others find out?
— Let’s hope not. We have to keep an eye on him, away from everyone. Especially Julian. We don’t know how he’ll react when he finds out his boyfriend hasn’t been himself for almost a month.
Ben stormed through the hallways like someone unleashing a storm in a glass jar. The lockers creaked silently beneath his feet, the air felt colder, and it was lucky no one was there to witness such a thing. He continued on until he reached the gym, the same place where he had first seen Julian and Marco up to their antics, where he had first seen a ghost. His jaw clenched; he was truly going to explode at any moment.
He moved through the place, heavy with that musky, salty smell. It wasn't very noisy, except for the hum of a machine – a stacking machine being used by Marlon, a senior jock who had repeated a year after being suspended for six months for getting involved in a bullying incident with a nerd. He was already muscular, but all that time out had made him focus even more on the gym, lifting weights nonstop until he had muscle on his muscles. He also had a biker vibe, perfect for making girls "swoon", in his own words. He was the only one there.
Ben approached, once again, trying unsuccessfully to get the guy to see him, or at least hear or feel him, but all he managed to do was give him goosebumps when he touched his shoulder.
— Damn, dude! I almost had a cramp – he said, putting his hand to the area, much to Benji's dismay. What was he supposed to do in that state? He was screwed. Completely screwed. He thought about leaving; the stench was already too much. Why didn't that guy at least put on deodorant? His feet were already moving when a strange curiosity struck him. If he was a ghost, that meant... No, maybe not. What if possession required months or years of practice? Like a... seniority or something? It would be foolish to think that someone with a few... were they hours? Days? Could manage it.
— No, it's a waste of time – he thought to himself, shaking his head. Maybe he should try to find answers elsewhere, like going to the old wing. After all, he was a ghost too, and...
What Ben hadn't counted on was that at that precise moment, the unsuspecting athlete would stand next to him and take a deep breath, exhausted from the effort. Automatically, Benji's "tangible" body transformed into a cloud of indigo smoke that was quickly sucked in by Marlon. The guy felt the energy of the novice ghost fill him from within. His eyes rolled back in his head as his face tensed, his hands stiffened as he felt himself losing control of his body. It was like a flash; his legs trembled electrically before he collapsed to the floor. His chest rose and fell, bewildered, his fingernails digging into the ground.
— Uhhfhfh – incomprehensible sounds escaped his mouth as he convulsed. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He let out a deep, choked gasp until he collapsed.
After a while, he opened his eyes again, an indigo glow in them. He jumped up with the ease and agility of a gazelle, looked around, frightened. He tried to take a step forward but ended up slamming back to the ground because of the difference in his weight. He was agile and, at the same time, as heavy as marble. When he stood up again, he looked at his hands, confused. They were enormous, rough, calloused from exercise, his fingers thick as sausages.
— What the hell?! – a high-pitched voice escaped his lips. His gaze wandered around until it settled on a mirror. He practically ran over to get a better look at himself in the frame. He was wearing grayish-white sweatpants, a cap, and a beige tank top, but the most important and obvious difference was: he was inside Marlon. His enormous biceps responded to him; he could even bounce his new pecs and... move them? Shit, he couldn't even do that on his own body! And his thighs were so... thick, oh shit. Benji wasn't used to any of the sensations that were overwhelming him right now: not the smell, the pain of the workout, the sheer size of his new muscles, shit, not even the clothes he was wearing. Everything was new to him and yet so familiar. Like putting on a custom-made glove.
— Damn, damn – he said, bringing his hand to his forehead, then tracing his cheekbones, his chin, his skin free of pimples and acne marks; he even had a piercing. He was so... manly now.
Part of him had always envied athletes like Marlon, strong, big, and muscular, always at the top of the popularity pyramid, adored (or feared) by everyone, handsome, getting what they wanted; besides, of course, they also did something else to him when the blood rushed to his legs. He never thought he would be (literally) one of them, but instead, there he was. Piloting that guy's body like a mecha, his huge arms and smelly armpits moving if he wanted them to, the idiotic expressions on his face could last for hours if he wanted, tongue out and snout up like a pig. This was fantastic!
— This is amazing! Fucking awesome! – He chuckled, his voice still not quite matching his new prize. He cleared his throat – Woah… – he murmured again, gazing at the thick outline that now belonged to him.
He didn't hesitate for a second before taking off his shirt, letting it fall with a soft, wet "plaff". His hands went to his thick pecs to squeeze them, and he let out a ragged gasp, smiling with pure ecstasy.
— Holy mother... Mghhh – he breathed again, sticking out his tongue and savoring the musky air around him. He felt so good, so powerful and free at the same time. He was no longer the same skinny guy he'd been just minutes before; now he was strong, powerful, everything about him was enormous. His pecs, biceps, Adam's apple, thighs, feet, everything. Even his tool and his new, fat buttocks, even his new, thick lips. All his.
He stuck his tongue out again, delighted by the reflection, and raised his arm to reveal his smelly armpit. He didn't have much hair, but what little he had was enough. He brushed it aside with his fingers, making little figures in the process, and smiled between victorious gasps. He'd never understood why ghosts were so obsessed with possession, almost fixated on it. But now he understood everything! To have a different physique, those thick muscles or pecs he could only imagine in dreams, even to be able to move like him, to be him. Fantastic!
— Hey – he growled at the mirror with an arrogant smile, adjusting his cap backward, puffing out his pecs – My name is Marlon, how are you? – He clicked his tongue, his torso springing again, his deep laugh echoing loud and imposing. He adored every second of his new discovery. He felt so wet and... sticky. He'd never been so drawn to someone's body odor, but right now, he seemed addicted, inhaling the acrid air around him. He needed that salty, strong smell so badly.
— Mmm, yeah. Shit, yeah – even his voice and demeanor were gradually changing, as if he weren't entirely Ben anymore. He was more of an amorphous mix of Ben's psyche and the remnants of Marlon that were now subduing him. While he'd had overwhelming success in possessing the athlete, he also faced something equally dangerous: control.
An inexperienced ghost could be overwhelmed by the new sensations, personality, and psyche he was exposed to upon entering a new body, like merging into a new environment. If it was too much for him, his psyche would be subdued, with no sure way back.
— Shit, this is wrong – Tobias muttered, watching the scene.
— I know. I wanted to use that guy, his motorcycle is a beast – Rex said with a grimace, causing the other to nudge him with his elbow.
— Focus!
— Ouch, I know, love. What a spoilsport you are – he rubbed his side, shaking his head.
— Keep any ghosts that want to come near here away. I'll take care of it.
His boyfriend nodded, ready to keep watch from the opposite side; ghosts loved to pass through walls to get into places.
— And Rex.
— Yeah?
— Don't let Julian find out about this for anything in the world.
----
Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. All the stories features only adult characters.
If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted: Distractions
prologue: Haunted
part one: Possession Play
part two: The Bet
part three: Occupied
The weeks that followed for Benjamin were the worst. Not because of the grades, not because some people would judge him for his sexuality, or any other teenage cliché that might cross your mind.
《 Sup? Do you want to go for a drink? 》 - he checked his phone, noticing a notification. Fuck, how did they get his cell number?
But for the constant harassment from the ghosts. Benji didn't have them all recognized yet (because there were surely more of them, as many as cockroaches hiding behind the walls of the school), but he already had a few of them memorized.
This by their behaviors, after a while, it was easy to remember them no matter how much they changed their skin (more because they were also predictable in their behavior, or rather, in what bodies they used)
He had recognized four so far. First Zeke, who had wreaked havoc in the principal's office, he didn't know how the deputy principal got out of that accident unscathed. He liked to occupy a wide variety of bodies, from muscular to lean.
The big detail here was: the scent. Ezekiel always gave off that characteristic smell of “herbs”, in addition to his relaxed or even "goofy" act, to say the least. He was the spitting image of liberalism, he didn't care about anything, and while he didn't try to get between her legs (or at least not so much anymore), he didn't want to pay attention to him either. After all, he was still the target of that bet they were so focused on winning.
- Come on. Talk to me, Kenji
- I told you it's Benji, Benjamin for you. And I have nothing to talk to you about.
He muttered dryly, moving down the school hallway, clutching his backpack.
- Not even a "hello"?
- Fuck you, Zeke. And you better get out of that body, the debate team has rehearsals this week.
- What's the difference? Come on, let's talk.
Maybe Zeke was the quietest of them, but on the other side.
We had Daniel, who was a headache, he was bossy, with a straight and authoritarian attitude that was suffocating, he didn't show up with a nice attitude, wanting to be your friend (as Zeke sometimes tried to do), this idiot wanted to boss you around, bend you over almost. He used to be president of the class of '65, until an aneurysm cut his potential political career short in the middle of a political speech (yes, he'd forced him to listen to his monologue for at least an hour, about his "tragic life"), and Benji had discovered with him... That ghosts had powers, and to his bad luck, Daniel's power was to control others. When he possessed a body, he had a small window in which,he could command people whatever he wanted. The ability was short lived but, he had the bad luck that their first meeting would end in a very... Peculiar way.
The bodies he used to occupy, were those guys with self-sufficiency on their faces, sports team stars (mind you, with enough brains to house his own), school committee guys, even the president of his class – "To relive the old days" - he had said as it seeped into him.
A total egomaniac. Although he had lost track of him in the last few weeks, it was as if he had lost interest in trying to convince him to listen to him beyond his suggestion.
Then there was Tobias. He could remember him the day this whole nightmare started, his voice, raspy... with that melancholic touch that went with it, he always had that somber aura about him, plus a kind of Nancy Downs emo boy vibe or something, and to top it all off. He was the oldest of them all, dying in "unknown" situations in 1930. Quite the old man.
And with it, all his stigmas of the time.
The bodies he chose had that vibe of... guy of few words. Edgy or dark style. Like some dark poet or some guy with a cigarette problem.
He never tried to get intimate with him, at least not carnally, he always said he wasn't gay but he could see how he would stare at his lips more than usual or how he would concentrate madly on touching his pecs, quite the virgin.
Although, he always had great conversations with him, existential ones. He was hardly interested in the bet, more like someone lonely who longed to stop being lonely with all his might. They'd talk for a while, and then, he'd leave his host's body just like that.
But then there was Brady. Apparently the one who started the whole gambling thing, his bodies were diverse, but he was always a casanova, with a smirk, huge biceps or squandering “charisma” to tempt him, he was a jerk, and the most insistent of them all.
- Come on, Benny, don't you want to try all this? You've got the best athlete in the school at your feet, what do you want?
- From you, nothing - He said trying to stay as firm as he could, he had to admit that having so much jock, hot teacher and handsome guy paying attention to him and flirting with him so insistently, was tempting. There were several occasions when he almost “gave in” to those tactics, however, he knew it was all fake somehow, none of those guys wanted to be with him willingly, it was just delusional. And he wouldn't fall for it, no matter how much Brady would occupy his entire arsenal, such as possessing the principal or much of the teaching staff.
But Benji was far from knowing all the other ghosts. Like Elliot, a nerd from 2003 who had been ghosted after an asthma attack, and why hadn't anyone helped him or gotten to his inhaler? Because he had been locked in the bathroom by his bullies. Something sad, but that not many people remembered because he was not a sports eminence (as they remembered Julian).
Elliot had several peculiarities, but the greatest of all was his way of possession. All ghosts, without exception, entered through cavities such as the mouth, nose, etc.. It was a prerequisite to complete the possession, for all but not for Elliot. The way in which the nerd entered his hosts was by touch (who knows why?). Julian and Mark sensed it had been thanks to the circumstances of his death), but it remained a mystery.
Elliot had been in favor of the bet, but similar to Tobias. Beyond his carnal desires, he was lonely. Too lonely, he wanted a friend, he had Julian and Marco, yes. But he wanted to be seen by someone else, he was sick of being a ghost, "doomed" (he wasn't complaining about his friends, let's be clear on that) to know and see the same people for perhaps, all eternity. So to have a new guy who could see him, and talk to. It was certainly excellent news, the possibilities were great.
The bodies he always chose were those with glasses, slim, sometimes he liked slightly muscular, although sportsmen were completely out of his list. Of all the ghosts, Elliot was the one who possessed the least, maybe because he avoided it, it didn't seem right to him to usurp someone else's place, although when loneliness could outweigh his morals, he owned some guy, just to feel normal again, seen. That was the one thing Elliot longed for with all his might, to be seen.
He had thought for weeks about how to talk to Benji, whether to occupy a body or present himself as him (he preferred the former, it would be less invasive and wouldn't leave the guy looking like a maniac talking to himself), what topics to talk about, he had mapped out a whole imaginary path to occupy the perfect body. A senior guy, just like Benjamin, they were going together in calculus so it wouldn't be hard. All he had to do was walk across the school from the abandoned wing to the central wing, easy.
What Elliot didn't count on, was that he had to go through the gym, right in the middle of PE class. During a game of dodgeball; the nerd was trying to dodge every container that darted back and forth, totally oblivious to his presence. He hated dodgeball, and now he hated it more; that guy almost hit him!
Something else unusual about Elliot: He did not control how long his possessions lasted, while all other ghosts could come and go at will from their hosts, for him, the rules were very different. That lasted until one thing or another happened.
A. The body would eventually expel him
B. Something from the outside forced him to leave.
Elliot could almost spend a month inside someone if something didn't get him out, because he couldn't get out on his own, so he was also extremely careful about when and who he possessed.
He was a few steps from the entrance, past the hallway, he would be safe to carry out his plan. He was so close! He quickened his pace, running.
- Okay, guys! That's enough, practice is ov-!
What Elliot didn't count on was that someone would run right into his path. And boy, he run into someone.
It was like slamming into a brick wall and then turning to dust, swirling in anguish and near panic, until everything settled. He opened his eyes lazily, feeling heavy, big, he had always been very thin so feeling his center of gravity shift was a strange sensation. He'd been around big guys, yes, but nothing equaled that.
- Coach... Are you all right?
Elliot looked around, trying to find the coach with his eyes, but no one was there. He looked down, and then he understood.
- Holy shit - he muttered under his breath.
- Coach, is everything all right?
- Ah... - a deep voice escaped his lips, he didn't even know what to answer - Yes, yes, everything is in order. We're done here, everyone get changed.
- But there's still more time left...
- Let's make it free time.
Little by little they left the gym until they left him alone, his heart pounding. Everything had gone wrong for him, almost backwards. He put his hand to his head as he felt a kind of dizziness, not because of illness, but because everything that shouldn't have happened, had happened, it was regret. Now what would he do? He was trapped in that body, who knows for how long, and worse, it wasn't just any body.
He would have to keep a facade up, coordinate classes, see about some sports teams, fuck, fuck. Out of sheer inertia he flexed his arms, feeling his strength. Something he'd definitely never felt before, he'd been in some jock bodies when he'd been transformed into a ghost, but it had been years since then, so much so that he didn't remember the sensation. But now it was there, in the coach's body.
He walked over to a mirror nearby to begin flexing with a mixture of surprise and fascination. He watched as his biceps swelled with a trace of amazement in his eyes.
- What a thing!
He said with a chuckle, still flexing over and over again, making funny or even a little more... flashy gestures. He laughed softly, it was strange to see the trainer like that, a stern man, who forced the students to do at least 10 laps around the track if they made a mistake, he almost barked when he spoke, but with him in charge, he looked so docile and fascinated by his new skin.
He left the gym with wooden planks that squeaked under his new weight to go to the weight room, fortunately for him, it was completely empty: He took two weights of at least 40kg each and lifted them with a loud grunt, almost like a bellowing bear.
- Pfff! - he smiled boastfully - How simple, damn it!
Elliot never cursed, never. He was like a shy and fearful mouse, but now in the man's body, he had become something else.
He flexed his arms again and again, staring at the mirror as if there was no tomorrow, he laughed under his breath, not even satisfaction could describe what he was feeling in its entirety. All a lifetime (and even on the “afterlife” path) he had been a wimp, almost like a spaghetti, while other ghosts could lift at least “normal” things, he couldn't even lift a box, but now he was more than strong, with those imposing biceps and pectorals flexing at his will, every time he wanted and felt like it, like simple jellies that quivered with a single touch.
- And what a fucking smell - he muttered as he inhaled, the trainer's scent was deep, penetrating and extremely rancid, but it caused a deep gasp to escape his lips.
The nerd felt so many things inside him, things he didn't even get to experience in his most ambitious dreams in life: strength, body hair, stench. Elliot didn't smell like anything when he was human, hopefully peanut butter but that was as far as the story went. But now, he stank, he really stank, he was stinking, sweaty, like a monument to masculinity.
- Fuck yeah...
He kept lifting different weights, smiling as he discovered the limits of his new body, intoxicated was too little to describe it.
He had always found it strange the way the trainers dressed, with those sports suits, short shorts or tight t-shirts, but now he thanked whoever was on top of them, that it was so. Because shit, he looked delicious.
He felt like every muscle would explode, but he didn't care, he wanted more and more. Until he ended up exhausted, his back wet against the back of one of the sports machines, his forehead sweating like rivers, his chest rising and falling like a drum, and that smug smile on his face, not erased by anything.
— Fuuuuck, yeah...
He finally got up, and walked to the gym office, right where "his" desk was. He slumped against the seat, making it squeak and creak, which made him let out a low chuckle, he took off his tennis shoes and socks to let his huge feet breathe.
If any of the other ghosts saw Elliot act like this, they'd be infarcted (again), the guy was no saint or anything, but he was innocent, lazy in the realm of possession, and now he had a container that was distinguished in more ways than one.
He stroked his thighs, enjoying the sensation of his calloused fingers running over his cloth-wrapped legs, he wanted more. Desire more.
- Maybe we need to get these cumbersome things off.
He moaned to slide his pants down to just a tight lower garment. It gave off a scent that would have made anyone's nose twist and recoil, but the guy just dipped his fingers between his new balls and his slit, rubbing hard and then bringing it to his nose.
- It stinks like a man should smell.
Yes, again. Any of the ghosts would freeze to see him like this. Maybe the coach's scent was too much for little Elliot, submissive to a new identity and instincts that were pulling him to the bottom. He stuck his tongue out to direct his fingers to it and from there, underneath, wanting to lubricate the area to be discovered.
- Uh... - his eyes were lost in the impulse. His hands tried to look for something in those drawers to enhance the experience, who knows, maybe the trainer was as "crazy" as he was. But he found something completely different: a singlet, neatly folded and placed under some files, he took it between his hands, noticing the stench - Wow... It seems that the coach also has a very strong opinion on the subject.
He scoffed before taking it to his nose, rubbed the front and back area against his nostrils over and over again, eager to further scramble his brain cells with the aroma. He gasped quietly until his eyes lit up with an even better idea, he quickly slid the fabric down his thighs until he left it at his waist. He giggled eagerly like someone who is debuting a toy.
- How tight... - he laughed low - What? What do you want me to grade you up? Well, I don't know. Maybe we should talk about it in other... terms.
He laughed again, flexing his arm to suck and lick the armpit, his senses sharpened as never before, even the cold blowing of the wind made him roll his eyes with a long moan. So engrossed and distracted to realize the door was opening.
- Professor, I wanted to ask you about... - And yes, Benji's bad luck again, he had stumbled upon the scene head-on - Holy shit, Zeke, is that you again!!!?
Words could not even be articulated for Elliot, he was blank. That wasn't the time, nor the plan he originally had, much less the body; he only watched as Benjamin gave a gesture of what appeared to be disavowal before leaving the room, slamming the door. The nerdy ghost lay back in the chair, defeated, tears even appeared on his face, how could he ever try to approach again after such a... dreadful slip? He lay there for a long moment until he thought about it, he hadn't even realized who it was, for Benji, maybe it was Zeke making his messes again, he had no idea who Elliot was. And he could use that to his advantage.
He took off his suit to refold it and put it back in place, putting his clothes back on to leave the place.
It was almost two o'clock, so the school hours were almost over, he walked through the school, he had no idea what the next few days would bring, he would have to prepare for classes, practice with the soccer team (holy god, what were the rules of soccer?), although as he walked, thoughts were dissipated by the rush of the wind, as the vibe hit against his face and his borrowed hair flew with it. As a ghost, sensations are reduced to a minimum, by a miracle he could feel the air or the warmth of the sun, but now, he was there.
And the worries vanished. What could happen if he didn't fully adapt to his new role? Nothing would happen, he could be wrong, the important thing was to start over. And what about returning to his ghost form? The day would come when it should, now he had opportunities in front of him. Beyond the carnal (although a rather.... “ambitious” crossed his mind, after all, those muscles equated to those of a superhero).
But besides that, he could again feel the taste of food on his palate, the aroma of another place than the Institute, different sounds, everything beyond... He smiled at the idea, ready to start whatever fate had in front of him.
Although so much positivism and optimism ended up hitting him in the face, literally. As he was about to go down the sidewalk to leave the student property, an invisible force detached him from his body and propelled him backwards, he rolled on the grass as if a rocket had hit him.
- Holy shit, are you serious? Holy shit! - the ghost shouted angrily, he had forgotten a cardinal rule: Everything that belongs to the school, stays in the school - Is this a fucking joke?!
---
Benji walked forward with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. He was fed up, completely fed up with every ghost in this school, how everyone wanted to talk to him, or get between his sheets. It was hell! And the worst part was that it was just for him, the school sucked, the subjects sucked, the homophobia sucked. And now this!!!
He didn't need any of that theater, he didn't want that power, he was sick of it. The ghosts seemed to be as interested in him as someone who wants to find a spoon to eat, a mere object, that was not what he wanted. They saw him, yes, but so what? Just that, there was nothing else. He was so alone and ignored, by humans and spirits alike.
Just a lonely pawn; to the other humans, he was just a source of tasks, favors and advice that vanished once his mission was completed, and to the ghosts... Well. It seemed he had no one in the world, at least no real connection, not even to his blood, it was no coincidence that of all places he had ended up at that school (because yes, it was partly one of the only ones in the state), but there was something peculiar about it (besides his economic status and whatnot), that it was a boarding school.
Keeping him as far away from home as they could, out of his parents' care, right in the blind spot. So he had absolutely no one, and he was so alone. Desperate in the midst of his anxiety, rage and melancholy. The corridors were behind him until someone slowed him down.
- Benji, are you all right? You look distressed - Peter, a friend (or at least when he remembered him), the one who had helped him so much after the gummy incident. He stood in front of him with a worried expression.
- Yeah, just... Stuff. - He lifted his shoulders without being able to say much, because who could he tell about what he was seeing without being thought crazy? Exactly, no one.
- Well, do you want to go get something to eat in the cafeteria with me? Maybe I can help you clear your head.
- That'd be nice, thanks, Pet.
- You're welcome, buddy. Let's go.
The guy smiled, Benji nodded. There was something strange about his friend, not bad, like the typical shadow that accompanies ghosts, it was something different, more... Revitalizing, but whatever it was, he liked the way it felt.
----
Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it. Also, I have a question for you:
Which story do you want to follow
Zeke
Daniel
Brady
Tobias
Continue with Benji's story
Voting ended onJul 26, 2025
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.
All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Haunted: Cold As Ice
Previous part: Haunted - Left Behind
Julian was somewhat... screwed, in a way. He still couldn't tell Benji the truth, even though he'd promised Marco he would. The moment he thought about telling him the truth, it was like a lump formed in his throat, preventing him from speaking. The moments had piled up until winter break, and as much as he wanted to keep Peter's body there, he knew it wasn't possible. Peter had to go home, and Julian himself would stay there, like every year.
So how could he stay in touch with Benjamin? Easy. He'd seen Daniel's strategy, he was practically using his cell phone day and night. He just had to make Peter "lose" his phone, and that way he'd maintain contact until he returned. It was easy, though risky.
Until he found out that Benji was going to stay there with them.
— No, the answer is no – Mr. Ashford said firmly to Rex and Tobias, the mortal's main "helpers".
— Please, he’ll be left behind and he’ll have no one to spend the holidays with.
— And that’s his problem. I told you from the beginning that mortals and ghosts don’t have to be living together. We already have enough problems with you going around possessing people left and right.
Julian just lowered his gaze. It was a miracle the professor hadn’t found out about his romantic escapades. Although Elliot’s dangerous look was like a threat that the truth could come out at any moment. Since Halloween, their relationship had been forever changed. They practically didn’t speak anymore; his gazes were filled with resentment and bitterness, his eyes brimming with pain. Julian knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but that constant reproach seemed to burn him worse than the sun.
— He’s our friend. It won’t hurt anybody if he comes to dinner with us – Rex tried to be more assertive, even adopting a somewhat haughty posture in front of the professor – He already sees us. He knows ghosts exist, who we are, what difference does it make anyway?
— If he needs someone to have dinner with, then he can go to the cafeteria. It's not like the school leaves students who stay for Christmas without food – the teacher said with an indifferent wave of his hand.
— No – Tobias seemed to grow bolder – He'll come to dinner, whether you like it or not. And if you keep refusing, then we'll all go to the cafeteria. It's up to you whether you want to risk losing what little control and respect we still have over your advice.
Ashford's jaw tightened, staring at the ghost. The other maintained his defiant gaze, clenching his fists. The silence between them was abysmal, as if either could make the other disappear with a snap of his fingers.
— Fine – he said sharply – The mortal can come – Rex and Tobias could only celebrate while Julian watched the scene almost in horror, Elliot pretending to read an encyclopedia while listening to the whole conversation with a half-smile.
Ben lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of his room, feeling rather listless. His mother had given him the news he already suspected: they wouldn't be spending Christmas together. They had a business trip and preferred he stay in the "safety" of the school rather than be surrounded by the staff who were his only company during the holidays.
And Peter? Well, he'd only said he was going home for the holidays but that they'd stay in touch, which had partially relieved Ben but also made him feel alone. He knew it was impossible for Peter to stay home for the holidays like he did; after all, Peter had a family that celebrated the holidays together. He didn't hold it against him, but he, too, longed to go home, even if just for a day...
📲. So, how's your family?
📱. Good, good. Everyone sends their regards – Julian lied, still a little panicked about having Benji at the same table. He'd only seen him in his "normal" form twice: the first time he'd met him and run away screaming in panic as he emerged from a smelly jock, and the second time when they kissed and... Anyway, his eyes were closed, so it didn't really count. The jock was still reeling from that first impression. What if he only remembered him as the horny ghost? What if he didn't like him for who he was?
📲 Thanks. I wish I could say the same, but I'll be spending dinner with some strangers.
Jules' heart almost sank when he read that.
📱 Oh yeah? Why?
📲 With other students. Only a couple are my friends, the rest are complete strangers, and I don't like some of them.
The ghost had to pause for a few seconds before answering.
📱 Want to tell me who?
📲 No, it's nothing important, it's fine. I should really go now. Talk to you later?
📱. Yeah, yeah, whenever you want.
— And when you least expect it – Julian thought to himself before putting his phone down. The absence of a body, Elliot's annoyance, having Ben around without his "shield" – shit, he'd even forgotten Brady would be there too. He was screwed, completely screwed.
— You didn't tell him, did you? – Marco stood beside him, hovering slightly in the air, almost as if he could read his worry.
— I tried! I swear I tried, man! – Julian was practically tearing his hair out in anguish – But... But every time I try, it's like I'm speechless! And now I don't know what to do. What will I say? How will I act?
— Normal. I mean, it's a dinner party. You've been to a bunch of them since you've been here, why would it be any different?
— Because Elliot's mad at me, the guy I like is going to be sitting a few seats next to me, and the guy who is interested in him, too.
— Well, if you put it that way – Marco made a face
— You're not helping.
— Look, just act normal. It's not the end of the world, it's... just dinner. Think about it, it's a masquerade dinner, he doesn't know who you are, like a disguise. Be polite, kind, make a good first impression, let this be the initial step towards the truth.
— But what about Brady?
— Pfft. Are you really worried about that jerk? Benji has rejected him a million times, he wants you or... Well, you know – Marco gestured, not wanting to get into too much detail – You have nothing to worry about, just... Don't mess with him, okay? I'm getting tired of saving your ass, dude.
Julian just smiled slightly.
— Thanks.
— You can say that again, though, don't you think “dinner” will be a little weird with him here?
— Why do you say that?
Something Jules had completely forgotten about was the food. Since they weren't humans, they didn't need to eat as a physiological necessity. Sometimes they would possess students or professors when they had that "craving", especially around Christmas. But today was different. The deal, so the guy could integrate with them, was no possessions for the day.
— So, what universities are you thinking about when you get out of here? – Mr. Ashford looked at the mortal with a calculating gaze, as if any move could go wrong.
— I... was thinking about attending Northwestern or NYU. They have good programs and academic plans.
— Interesting – the man murmured with a forced smile.
They were alone in the old library. There were a few armchairs. Elliot was playing chess alone in the back, though he was glancing at Benjamin's moves. The mortal was lucky not to notice his jealous stares. Julian just looked at him nervously.
— Are they really this... quiet here? – Ben murmured to Rex, who was sitting next to him with Tobias in his arms.
— No, it’s just… different today.
— It’s bad manners to be whispering. Don’t you think? – Daniel said from the other end of the room. He was sitting upright, although Brady next to him was sprawled on the couch, “discreetly” lifting his shirt whenever his and Ben’s eyes met.
— I said the atmosphere is a bit subdued – Ben repeated for everyone.
— Sometimes it’s the time of year – Julian ventured to reply, trying to make contact for the first time that night – These dates aren’t as enjoyable for us as they might be for you mortals, when you go back to see your families and…
Ben’s expression saddened, and Julian wanted to bite his tongue when he realized his mistake.
— Yeah, I understand – he said, looking away. Brady let out an inaudible laugh from his seat. His gaze wandered eagerly between the couple, like a carrion animal waiting for the hunt to begin so it could claim its piece of meat.
— So, tell me, Benjamin.
— You can call me Ben – the mortal tried to sound more "pleasant" to Professor Ashford, which was in vain.
— Yes, Benjamin. I've heard you have peculiar abilities, so to speak – Every word carried a hint of disdain in its tone.
— Well, uh... Yes, I think so, I mean. I can see you, after all.
— And what else? – There was a certain... curiosity in the man that Ben found odd; a chill ran down his spine like a cold blizzard.
— I think that's about it. I can only see them, hear them, and... That's it.
— So, practically nothing.
— He remained conscious when I possessed him – Rex tried to defend him, but Mr. Ashford greeted him with a stern look, and the sound of a piece falling on the nerd's chessboard echoed behind him.
— It seems your abilities are... interesting – the man said, placing his pipe (obviously empty, but it was a habit he maintained) against his lips – Indeed. Your soul seems interesting.
— My soul? What do you mean?
— Well, not all humans can see ghosts, can they? And not everyone has been on the verge of death – the topic was starting to make the guy nervous, his fists clenched at his sides – Souls in suspension, They're called “borders”.
— Borders?
— Those humans who were on the edge of life and death. Their souls suspended between two worlds, neither there nor here, quite a phenomenon.
The tension in the room gradually increased. The other ghosts weren't saying much; only the clock's constant ticking could be heard, occasionally stopping whenever Elliot made a movement, though he seemed attentive and focused on the information.
Ben wanted to sink deeper and deeper into that old armchair, as if the earth could swallow him up and pull him out of this moment.
— But he can only see ghosts, it's not... a great achievement, is it? – Julian tried to break the tension, to shift the uncomfortable focus that was now on Ben. Saving him, being able to shift the focus away from him, which was a success, although on the other hand...
— So you think what I can do isn't important?
— N-no, of course not, I mean. It's a gift, and I think it's really cool, but it doesn't have much use. Right?
It was as if he were cornering himself with his verbal outburst, trying to fix things when, in reality, he was making them worse. Brady was more than ready to see what was about to happen.
— And possessing athletes does have great use?
The first impression served as a cruel reminder for Jules.
— N-no, I didn't mean that, I mean. I, uh...
— Please, Benji, it's not like you're not hypocritical talking about possession – Daniel just let out one of his "elegant" laughs – You have your two lapdogs possessing left and right so they'll follow you everywhere.
Tobias and Rex lowered their gaze, saddened.
— It's not the same.
— Oh, isn't it? Because it seems that way to me. What's the difference between having athletes as your friends and one of us using them as puppets?
The tension in the air was palpable. Mr. Ashford said nothing, only observed with a judgmental air. Brady's satisfied expression spoke volumes without a single word. Marco and Zeke weren't present; they had promised to join them after wandering around the cafeteria in case anyone was hungry.
No one dared to speak. Julian seemed to have lost his tongue. He wanted to make another comment, at least apologize, explain himself, admit he was an idiot for not being able to express himself properly, but there was only silence. The words wouldn't form, no matter how hard he tried. Daniel watched the scene cautiously, a smug smile on his face. The mortal couldn't take it anymore.
Ben grabbed his things and left the library without a word. Jules ran after him.
— Ben, wait!
— No. Look, I have absolutely no idea who you are, okay? – The mortal turned to face him as they stood in some corridors on the outskirts of the old area. Stone archways led a path partially outdoors, the cold air whipping against them – I just remember that you're a mess, possessing bits and pieces like everyone else. And it seems you don't have much say in what I can or can't do.
— I didn't mean to make you feel this way, I-
— Seriously, just leave it at that – Their eyes met, but not in the way Jules was used as Peter. He could feel the gaze of the guy he loved: disappointment, disgust, anger – You can go back to your friends and keep giving your opinions on whether I'm a hypocrite or not.
— But you don't understand – his heart pounded with fear – I... I didn't mean to make you feel this way. What I wanted was...
— I'm not interested in knowing what you wanted. I knew it was a mistake to do this. Have a Merry Christmas, Julian.
Without waiting for another word, he turned to go back to the student wing, probably toward the cafeteria or the dorms. Julian stood in the cold air, his eyes teary and a void in his heart. That was what Benji truly thought of him.
That he was an idiot.
As Peter, he could be everything, but as Julian... He was simply nothing.
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Hello everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
I know this isn't what you've been seeing in Haunted or other stories in general, but I also want to create more narratives, not just the "hot" stuff. I want to give more importance to the stories themselves, and to the characters and their pasts and plots, making them more interesting. I want to have more narrative elements so I can build something more concrete.
I hope you like that too. I'll continue doing "the other side", but I also want to delve into more serious narratives and stories, moving beyond the series that are the easiest to explore these themes in.
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
