Message-ID: <32158asstr$998550601@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "guy in the hat" Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 20 Aug 2001 00:31:46.0359 (UTC) FILETIME=[7E514C70:01C1290F] Subject: {ASSM} The Camera Attn; Hecate Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2001 03:10:01 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates Here we go, posted to the right address. I sincerely hope I haven't worried you, or worse, been an irritation. There's always someone who doesn't get it and this time it's been me. I'd like to say THANKS for this opportunity. It's got me writing..... I just regret I might be off line for a spell. Louis Billie is possessed by an agency that was once a superhero. She becomes the Billie Ghost, able to utilise telekinesis.....and mind control. You must be eighteen years of age or older to read the following story. And if depictions of mind-controlled fantasy characters having sex is going to disturb you, please read no further. Everyone else go right ahead. "Trina Yeates" sounded like a boring, stuffy name, and yet she kept it. Her best friend Billie always wanted to suggest something Trina would adopt. She was bombarding Trina with names, like a sport. "Jessica Drew." "Have you ever read Spiderman? One of the Spiderwoman characters had that name. For her alter ego. Fictional superheroes have....." "I know. Clark Kent is Superman. Bruce Wayne is Batman." "What else have you got for me today?" "Die Fauster. Die spelt D-I-E." "What?" "That was my sister's latest contribtion." "I thought she'd grown out of being a Goth. Ha. No, I hadn't." "Fat chance. So I can tell her you couldn't use it?" "Or any of her others. Christ, does that girl think I'm seriously considering her pretentious....morbid....goth-crap? I want a name that rings with life. Tell her that." "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha." "You just give me her suggestions so you can have a damn laugh." "I have others. I mean real suggestions." "Tell me what they are and I'll tell you if they're real suggestions." "Mary Tyler." "After Mary Tyler Moore. Nah. I'm not big on "Mary", y'know." "I really like that one." ""Tyler." Mm. I don't know. It's okay. If there was something that went with it, it'd be brilliant. What else goes with "Tyler"?" "Delphine. Delphine Tyler." "That....might be kind of nice. Hey, if you had a name like "Delphine", you wouldn't need a name like "Tyler". You wouldn't need a surname." "Right......Well, what do you think of Delphine then?" "I think the superhero from Mumbai in India has that name." "A real superhero, who doesn't have one of those comicbook secret identity things going on. Yeah. Think about it. I can see people responding well." "Ultimately I feel like a plagiarist if I do a thing like that." "Rubbish." "I just want something.....I don't know, unique." "So we should be making up names." "But not dee-ay-ee. That's far too bloody crap." Trina and Billie had many conversations over the course of three years. Sometimes Trina swore Billie had come up with the goods. Other times Trina would get out a book of the meanings behind names, write notes in red biro on the page, and mope. One conversation in January this year: "I've got to say, I don't think we'll ever find a name for you, Trina. We've been over keeping one of your names and changing the other...." "More than once, more than twice." "We've considered every name in the book. We've sat down and played word association games. We've driven around making up names. Why don't you just keep....?" "BECAUSE IT SUCKS! IT SUCKS!" "Yeah, but what haven't we tried? You're never going to have another name. Even my fucking sister has suggested about a hundred names by now. And I must have suggested....God only knows....five hundred....a thousand....." "Some of them the same. You've suggested "Cookie" three times over the last couple of years. That's a fucking stupid name...." "Well, fuck you if that's all you can say about my efforts...." In June, it had been Trina's twenty fifth birthday. Trina had sworn she would find a new name that day, that she would somehow `hear' the suggestion of providence and fate and serendipity and God and chance and all that other shit, but there was no such luck. "You were trying too hard," Billie had told her. Today, Trina was actually crying about it, weeping into her phone as she talked to her Mum. "You're crying, Trina. What is it, dear? Your name? Is it really that neccessary?" "Yes." "But if there was a better name, better than the one your father gave you...." "Billie tells me this all the time now! She claims she's offered me fifteen hundred names or something. Tch. God. What if you're right?" "You'll always be Trina to me, my dear." "I can't believe I'm crying, Mum. I've got to change my name." Billie did some e-mailing, took an indulgent shower and got ready for bed. She was reading Serial Magic by Tatti Worlogod. Most nights, since the rift in her relationship with The Right Stuff (as he called himself) Tatti was staying home by herself and watching a lot of television. That's where having a good book came in. Her bed seemed to fold out like a comfortable newspaper, and she slid in. She reached over to pick up her book from the floor on the other side, and a shiver went up her extended arm. Immediately, she thought of Trina. I haven't seen Trina in two weeks. She only ever has one subject now. It's inane. It's insane. I give up. It took a second for her to think that. As her fingernails glided over the cover of Serial Magic, a second wave of chilly electricity shot up her arm. She held up her arm, concerned with everything from arthritus to the electricity sockets in her room. But everything was okay; Joe Normal, as she called a boring day. She looked around the room, up and down her arm and her body, and she pondered the fleeting sparks she had felt.....reaching for that book. She looked down upon it, and what about it? There it lay as mundanely as any commonly placed object. On the flat green carpet, it looked like a pontoon. She reached for it again, expecting the attack, and nothing of the kind occured. "Are you attempting to communicate?" she asked it, as she opened it at its book-marked spot. She made herself more comfortable, throwing back the baggage of her blanket and sheet. It was stuffy, but the window couldn't be properly opened or closed without a monumental effort, so she knew she would put up with it. She stretched out her legs, brief thoughts of the girls back at school trying to match the perfection of their shape. The opened Serial Magic rested on her slanted thighs. "Wow. I'm up to the chapter on assuming a new name. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Not that this is going to help either." She began to read, and she pretended to hear voices. One page was read by Vincent Price, another by the singer Nico of the Velvet Underground. The voice of Fran Drescher wasn't working for the next page, as she thought it would not, and she switched to Margeret Thatcher. Seven pages into the new chapter, and she couldn't think of any more voices to use. It was just an amusement, of course, but she was always disappointed nowadays to seemingly run out of ideas, like her imagination wasn't deep and bottomless enough. She had to agree to use her own. She turned the page, and the first sentence was like chamber music. She was at the end of the second when she noticed the strange appeal of her own voice, the character older than her years. She kept reading. Her narration was quiet avenues and suburbs of dead poetry. Each word she muttered mentally was the sound of a horn blown in the kingdoms of continuums simply unknown. The deeper Billie got into the page, the more her own interaction with the text seemed to fuse her to the experience. An ocean ran out like a fleeting tide underneath her mind. Her lips began to mouth the words like a silent movie. The music in her brain seemed to levitate the entire room. The electricity returned, this time prickling its way up the length of both of her arms and legs like a slow snake. She read on and on. There was nothing to contradict the process, no footnotes to redirect the path of the continuing passage, no new paragraph to reassociate the mind. Billie read like an addict. Her lips said all the words, speaking them in shape. Billie read and read and read..... Trina gazed at her reflection in the window. She loved her face, liked to see how it looked back at her from different mediums. The bathroom mirror had an austere quality. The bathroom was the documentary room. Clear water, like a lake, with plenty of sunshine, made her look like an angel. Trina's high cheekbones and curious red lips were the features that she immediately checked on herself. She never wore lipstick. She figured her lips couldn't be `added to' or improved. At night, with the artificial light in the uncurtained window, her lips didn't look any colour at all. She smiled at the image, and true to form, it smiled back at her. A curious reflection, the pane of glass at night. Against a background of black treees and garden, a horrible smear of yellow light creeping in like a gas, she and her lounge were reflected `back' at her like an alternative and opposite dimension. She looked into it, looking for the colour in her eyes (sensual green flecks) and colour in her cheeks (traces of pink you might only notice in the bathroom.) Her hair was as much a phantom of a silhouette as all her other details. Dyed black like a goth's, it was. (The opposite of Shecat, Billie's twin sister. `Shecat' was a brunette who dyed her hair blond.) Jill, `the flatmate', wandered in as Trina's attention seemed to sink further into her self. Jill was `a slim one'. Not anorexic, as Jill herself would instantly point out, but just small, and slim, and with a name Trina knew she would seek to change too, it was so boring. "You're a narcissistic bitch at heart, aren't you?" "No. Yes." "You are, man." "Yeah, I am." Jill was in her yoga gear, a t-shirt and spidery black tights. "You're very good at maintaining an excercise routine, aren't you? Better than I ever was." ""Was ?". Have you passed away?" "No. I'm just marginally older. You're nineteen, "man". I'm halfway to thirty." "Oh, God. Well, aren't we all just lived out.......?" "I hope not." Billie turned the last page in the book. She had no longer been reading it. Her body had stiffened and her eyes were like flat buttons. Scarcely fluid enough to move, Serial Magic tilted and tumbled over onto the floor. Billie's head lolled sideways to the left, following its passage. Trina watched Jill as she sat in the lotus, her eyes pinched tight, her breathing getting lighter and lighter. Jill was just meditating now. Trina wondered whether she was aware of her staring, a perfectly good question. If she was, it didn't change the proceeding or interfere with Jill's routine. Do I like women?, Trina wondered at times like these. I suppose I must. She studied the curves of Jill's legs, appreciating the almost cliched kitsch of her black lycra tights. They just had this little shimmer and shine to them. Resting and stationery as Jill's folded legs were, Trina had to move her head around to see those features on the curved and modeled lycra animate slightly. (Trina thought of Tinkerbelle, the superheroine who took her name from the Peter Pan fairytale. Now she could sparkle like champagne. Trina had seen her once in real life. She had flittered there in the air overhead, her golden aura glistening like madly diminutive pinpoint sunheads. Ever since that day, Trina had a thing for the glistening....the shining....the playfully star-like.....) The door whipped her back into the here and now. Not so Jill - or at least she didn't show it. The door was being hammered on! It sounded angry. Something about the rudeness of having her eyes dragged off Jill was violent and disturbing. Little fire alarms went off in Trina's mind. The fact is the door just seemed like the prelude.....but she rushed off to answer it. She could never ignore telephones - no one could ignore this! Trina threw back the door. No quick guesses or intuitions had told her to expect Shecat. "What in the hell is the -?" "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Is Billie here?" "No. What's the problem? Is Billie okay?" "I don't know. I don't know. Please, can I come in....?" "Sorry, yeah, of course......" Even over black coffee, the night had a sting in its tail that spread like a gradual poison. Even in the normalacy of conversing with Shecat and Jill, there was a component setting this apart from just any conversation she might sit down and have. Shecat was calmer now, but couldn't tell them much. Almalgamating the fractions of her conversation, her account went like this: "Billie and I....we have this psychic link. It's true of a lot of Gemini twins....I've told you many times about sharing our dreams....before we were ten....It's more occassional now....like deja vu, which is so much less....because adulthood or some shit....insulates you against...yeah. Anyway....God. Tonight....I was just watching TV by myself....mind on nothing particular....just, no, nothing particular. TV was just some consumer's rights thing....Billie, she comes to mind, right ? I mean....I just think Billie, and, like....it's like a book falls inside my head. A fucken book....goes and falls inside my fucken head....and...Y'know, I can feel it strike the ground. Fuck me, though, it's...I can tell what book it actually is. It's that bargain.....Billie got at Gateways. You know....thing she's been reading.....Serial Magic....written by someone Worlogod...."Worlogod", fuck.... At it's....Billie's coming here. I couldn't tell you....for what. Can't interpret... the impression. It's a blanket thing and I can't.....Anyway, Billie.....something about her, there's something about her....and she's going to come here....I don't know why....Billie's going to come here......." As Shecat ejaculated her story, she would shiver now and then for punctuation. She sat curled up on a stool in a fetal image. Trina had time to vaguely think about the shape of Shecat's slender, doubled-over form. Shecat wore her foundation and lacertated tutu. Strangely, her black tights were new and unblemished, contrasting with the primmer Jill, who it would have to be said, was wearing the perfect pair of Goth-legs in worn and thinning black lycra . Jill was impatient with them both. "Oh mannnnn, you've got to be worried about exactly nothing there. Would you call it a...an aural hallucination or something? Some book fell over when you had a daydream. Big deal, Shecat. You've gone and jumped to all these goddam....far-fetched conclusions. Did you try phoning Billie, for example? Did you try doing that ? You haven't mentioned it. I know it's late, but with the state you're in...." "Fuck off, Jill. I told you, she's coming here." Trina thought of the feeling she just couldn't quit, and she was on Shecat's side. Shecat was probably right. So....what to expect from her friend ? Billie sat bolt upright. Her legs, her arms, her spine, they were as stiff as a broomhandle. Slowly, her staring, catatonic eyes rolled back in her head. The agency had taken its possession. This is what Trina could expect of her friend. Jill and Shecat argued like opposing lobsters. Trina turned the radio on loud to blast them and shut them up. It did her some good, too. Briefly, the vague mental nausea was blown out of the scaffolding of her mind. "Jill, will you listen to me ? Shecat and Billie really do have the connection Shecat's talking about. She's not exaggerating...." "Perhaps I....Shecat, yeahhhhhh, I'm sorry. (Turn that down, Trina!) I'm no fan of talk about psychic this and psychic that. Those phone numbers on TV to call and get a tarot reading....They just get me angry. But, look, maybe something really is up here, y'know. I don't believe in telepathy or telekinesis....but I know some of those superheroes in the Field Agents or the Rivals of Evil....have that shit. Stuff like it. That girl in the purple....she has premonitions. And Dolly Random....she can see three hours ahead in time. All the time. She can't turn it off. That's a documented fact. Urm, so what I'm trying to say is....Well, I definitely apologise. And....what could be happening here? Won't Billie just show up, need a cuddle or something? That link you've got....Isn't it a channel for love and sisterly affections and...?" "Jeez, Jill, it's a channel for whatever the fuck is going on...." "Do you think we're in danger?" "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FUCKEN SAY, GIRL?" "Well, what the hell do we do then ? Shouldn't we escape from here...?" Trina felt anger at that. "Then what about Billie?" Everyone noticed it at the same time, a womanly outline coming to hover in the process of levitavtion at Trina's window. She was all white with a glow like a cold lantern. "That's Paper Princess," Trina said plainly, "Oh my God!" Shecat ran forward to open the window. Paper Princess floated in. "You are in danger." Her voice was like a secret river. "We know, we know," Shecat complained. "How do.....you know something is going on here ?" Paper Princess told the story: "Girl Ghost from my team the Rivals of Evil went bad when she fought a male demon from the Seventh Level. She passed through his form, disrupting his corporeal form. He blazed in orange fire, dieing in....it was hideous bloody-minded agony. I saw the recordings on file. Lord. In return, coming into contact with the internal body of the nameless demon, Girl Ghost was changed. She was corrupted. Anyone would be. And she....well, we have fought her several times. She likes to possess people and play....sexually with their bodies. Fondling and masturbating and....like that. She has....done it to me. In fact, I was the bait in a gambit that several mystic superheroes devised. Girl Ghost took full possession of me in Ranfurly Hotel, where we were sure she was spending time. We had to let her, um, go with me for a while. To ensure she wasn't going to suspect anything and that we would definitely get the drop on her, it was decided to let her have control of me for fully twenty minutes. I used an amnesiac block as well, strong and naturalised by Freya and Signature. Girl Ghost took over my body, controlling me completely. I've tried to describe this.....Certainly, I can say I was a prisoner in my own body. Girl Ghost determined everything. It seemed to me I had the occassional thought....but even then, I'm just not sure. When twenty minutes were up, and two achingly exotic orgasms had been produced - this is all a matter of record, I just want you to know what you're up against - the trap was sprung! Freya formed a psychic field of pure mental force about the bed. It was something Girl Ghost could not escape. At the same time, my favourite witches, Legion and Terran, began to chant their serial magic invocation. Large, sunken runes could be seen, from certain angles, hanging in the room. There was immediate impact! Signature levitated my body and Notional Girl caused Girl Ghost and I to hallucinate my....our perishing in those self-same orange flames. We twisted in horror and Girl Ghost abandoned my writhing-about body.....to be snagged by the metaphysical snares of Legion and Terran. Signature gently lowered me to the bedsheets while the transparent sight of Girl Ghost .....flattened out, fading into intangibility and nothingness. But....wellllllll, she keeps finding ways of coming back. Superheroes can't and often won't stay dead. But especially her.....Terran and Legion are sensitive to her unique vibration - they tell me it's active again. They tell me there is a chronal confluence in time and place.....here, right here. I believe Girl Ghost has taken possession of your friend, and is using her body as a terran vehicle.....to drive about in. Girl Ghost, if I'm right about this, is wearing your friend....like a set of clothes, like a suit. To permit her to operate on this plane." "Where the hell are the others? We need a whole team of you guys for this, don't we? What he hell's the use of you? She's already controlled your body once!" Trina came to the defence. "Don't listen to Jill. She's scared fucking shitless like we all are. You probably are too!" "Oh, I am." "Where are the others, Princess?" "They're scattered about geometrically.....outside. Surveillance. They will not engage her. That will be a group effort.....I hope." Paper Princess drank a glass of water. It tasted bright, and she drained the glass. Something happened! There was a shock as the glass dropped to the floor to shatter. "God! Look at that! Look at her eyes!" Shecat spat out. "She's....what....?" Paper Princess was as still as the side of a mountain, frozen in a moment's image, as unmoving as an old statue. Her eyes were dull and empty, unprinted pennies in her face. Jill backed away from the Princess, afraid for her mind. Trina and Shecat went forward to feel and touch her, to investigate her state. Trina stood face to face, looking into her frighteningly passive eyes. They had glazed, and reminded Trina of mirror glass. Trina felt her cheek. It was clammy. The Princess' temperature had been turned down. "She's....this Girl Ghost must have done this! The Princess is hers now. Hey, you know maybe....I mean don't tell me she was all along! I wonder." Shecat didn't fancy this idea. "You mean.....? Do you mean....Girl Ghost was controlling Paper Princess's mind the whole time? Fuck, no. How powerful is she? I fucking hope not. What chance have we got if she wants to control US? We're not fucking superheroes! Look at her, Trina. She's completely under....gone....and she's the superhero. She's s'posed to be saving us! How the hell is she going to do that? That bitch has turned her into a statue! This....Girl Ghost has complete control of our one vague possibility of hope." Paper Princess shuddered slightly but noticeably. Then she spoke three flat words in a tone more empty than space. "See - you - soon." There was a body in the air, floating across the city like a weather pattern. Billie's body, Billie's strange, appropiated husk. Girl Ghost looked down through the egg shell whites of her host's eyes. The city passed like a neverending vista. In the imperfect black of it, lights seemed to live. Red lights, green lights, blue lights, yellow lights. Cars and trucks drove about like travelling metal lifeforms making city echoes. It was good to be in the world again. Good to feel the cold, blowing wind on her new skin. Good to observe the human filled spaces of this familiar place. Whatever she used to think of what the human race have done with the habitat called the world, creating places like cities, machines like cars, it didn't matter now. Just to be here - in the world - this imperfect world, that was enough. For the only alternative was no alternative - floating like a disembodied shade locked out of home. Haunting the realm of the senses (as it is indeed called) and yet haunting no one and not marking the path of anything kindred . There was no communication and no potential access to making her plight known. There was only possession. Worlogod's excellent book on Serial Magic. She could live there if driven back into the desperate phantom planes. Driven back yet again! It must not happen. Through Paper Princess' eyes and ears, she could tune into the sights and words of Trina, Jill and Shecat. She couldn't resist the show she had put on with the Princess in her complete thrall. Unscripted, it was, all `played my ear'. She had never used one of her puppets like that before. So you can make them act! Oscar Wilde said something she couldn't quite recall, about how much effort it was to act natural. He wasn't speaking of mental possession, of course. Yes, it took a lot of concentration, much more than simply controlling the subject like the customary drone, no thoughts in their retarded brains,and no will in their bodies. But now she had another entertainment she could employ. Now she had another trick up her sleeve. It was all good. Jill amused her. Jill was the cliche, a scared rabbit. Shecat amused her. Shecat wanted to be saved by the superhero. Trina annoyed her. Something about that frequency, a funny note. She would investigate Trina's mind during the sex. "It's ludicrous that we haven't called the police. I'm calling the police" So spoke the rabbit. Shecat gazed across to the landline sitting on a small bookcase. "It's funny.....Coppers never occured to me. That's the one idea we've had. Jill.....is there any yoga or meditational technique that might help, Christ, I don't know.....proof our minds against Girl Ghost's mental stuff....her powers?" "Are you kidding me? No. Of course there isn't." "Okay. I'm only trying to help." "She won't neccessarily....do what she's done to the Princess to us, anyway," Trina added, trying to sound like there was any angle of possibility there. "She's going to do something to us! Why stage the Paper Princess extravaganza if she just wants to drop by for a gin?", Shecat came back to her with. And Shecat was right , of course. They were in a "power of shit", as an honest politican said once. "Hello? Police? Good. Listen, we....we've got Paper Princess here. What? The sup- You say what? No. No, you idiot, we really have....You - huh? No, not a ransom thing - NO! No, listen to me....We're in a situation with her....." Jill felt her nervous system short circuit as a catastrophe of mental telekinetic wind blew Trina's window into bits. The window crashed into the room, chaff and splintery dust hurled across the floor. Billie hung in the portal, her mental agilities negotiating with gravity, her powers putting on a magic show. Billie.....? Or the intangible insider lurking like an arrogant foreigner within her form? Trina and Shecat backed away. Trina tried turning the door handle of the front door. It wouldn't budge. Jill gazed across at Billie, as she swam into the room, a waterless amphibian. Jill had seen this stuff on TV. She was spooked to see it in real life. What was happening here? The Girl Ghost's possession meant she was stationed inside Billie's brain - and the Ghost's telekinetic nature could allow Billie to literally `go aerial'. Billie as the subject was the real reason to freak out! "Jill," Billie Ghost's voice was like a gaining signal, "I've just made a mess of your floor....when I'm about to make a mess of your life....." The cold in the room crept up their rib cages. The unreality of it marked it as an indulgent dream.....though it was real. The fear of the three women, their beings intact, mixed indivisibly with the invading character of the outside's pitiless chill. It was as though the Girl Ghost had already begun her (soft and gradual) assault. This could literally be true for Jill: "Billie....it's me, Jill. The Girl Ghost has control of you. Look. Look at you! You're floating in the air...like it's natural...." "Oh, it's natural...." Billie Ghost's voice seemed to blow mist across Jill. Jill felt it's fibre, its importance. "Billie....Don't....want to be like the Princess...." "Doesn't matter, Jill. What you want, it doesn't matter. Ha ha ha ha ha." "Billie...." "Oh, stop fighting Jill!" And she did. Jill felt her arms and legs grow as rigid as flagpoles, her mind free and cavernous. Her pupils lost their lovely blue. Her tempertaure decreased. Billie circled her new statue like a fish. She was pleased - hugely, magnificently pleased. "Seeeeeeee? You ARE like the Paper Princess - and you don't mind! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ." Trina and Shecat saw their worst fears materialise. Trina wanted to cry out - her throat wouldn't work. Shecat wanted to scream. Her throat felt like an empty cylinder. Billie Ghost clicked her fingers, and it was like thunder imploding. Jill, her body frozen in a model of antipathy and hopeless fright, slowly began to move her limbs. The O her lips were petrified in, turned into a wider, gaping mouth. (There was a sport the Ghost liked. The open-to-closed mouths her slaves were wont to display. Without determining any of it, she loved to take over a woman's mind, stunning them perfectly, letting the formation of their lips express the new hierarchy of their minds. Some women would inevitably shut their lips, tight. Hit them with anything, they would close their lips like stubborn clams. Despite controlling every drop of their will-power, every thought they could ever have, the Ghost preferred the spontaneity of the result. She could open their mouths like old sideshow clowns, the ones whose heads turned back and forth, whose mouths you fill with tennis balls. Or she could close their mouths, as shut as draw bridges. But she preferred the look of gaping helplessness to be the effect of her siezing them. She preferred that determination.) Still and all, she gave Jill an open mouth. She wanted her to exhibit that wide-mouthed frog look. True to form, Jill looked as helpless and powerless as any mind-controlled slave could look! Jill's body grew as inert as the Princess. Two statues, one agency, and two scared minds filled the room. And the cold. And the glass. Shecat found words. They were entrenched in the short, sharp whispers she was only capable of. "Jill's.....gone the way of the Princess. She is going to control us...." Billie Ghost got on with her agenda. Delicately, she hung in the air before her new puppet, spreading her legs. "Hungry? I say you are." "Oh no. Trina, look!" "I can't." Billie wrapped her legs about Jill's emptied face. Jill's tongue came out of her mouth. Billie pushed her pussy into that tongue - a sigh and a shudder completely making Billie forget what she was about.....for a moment. "Eat me, my love. You are mine. Your body is mine. Everything about you....." Jill got on with it. Her hands came up to greet Billie Ghost's legs mechanically. Her hands felt her master's thighs, and her fingers began a massaging rhythm. "She's...They're...." "Don't fucking tell me....." "No, look at them. We can't help Billie. We have to escape." "HOW? She's telekinetically sealed the door. We're trapped, aren't we? We've got to resist her....with will power. It's the only thing we have left. Our own minds." Despite her protests, Trina took a rollercoasting glance at the spectacle that Shecat couldn't, in truth, tear her gaze away from. There they were, as bad as Trina feared. To see Billie, her eyes like blind slits, her body levitated and in sexual congress with her flatmate.....It was insane. Could she use that insanity? Could she find some new part of her own being that could fight the impact of the Girl Ghost's superior will? Hopes like these seemed to be the only threads there were. "Drink....meeeeeeeee.......eat, yes, nibble and.......ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, some more on.......Oh God............" "We could make a break for the window....." "Maybe.....maybe we should. You're right. Billie...we can't help Billie. Only those heroes.....They've succeeded before......" The Paper Princess came unstuck, turning toward Shecat and Trina to comment, in her monotone...."You - will - be - going - nowhere - my - pets." The words came slowly, like chipped, tumbling pebbles from a being turned to void. "You - will - await - the -fate - I have - in - store - for - you.- Observe. - You - will - become - as - mindless - as - Jill. - And - you - will - serve - me...........bereft - of - your - wills. - You - will - pleasure - me......." "Princess! Can't you fight this? YOU HAVE TO FIGHT THIS!" Billie Ghost extricated her form from the embrace of her slave. Jill's tongue hung from her mouth, and slowly crept back up to her lips. It was covered in Billie. It hung in the open door of her O-shaped mouth. "You have my attention.....Shecat. Hah! What kind of name is that?" That voice! "You can't do that to us! Oh, please, I'm just begging you now...." "Oh, my sweet arse, I love it when my lovelies beg me......for their minds.....You haven't a prayer, you realise" Billie's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. It sounded like Billie. And Billie's lips moved. Of course it was the Ghost. Girl Ghost owned the apparatus. She owned Billie by conquest. And Paper Princess and Jill as well. "Well? Go on, Shecat. Beg some more....." "I won't. You....you're getting off on it....." "Then it is time I made you my tool!" "I'll resist you, you bitch. You won't control me, I'm telling you....." "Of course I shall!" The air about Shecat seemed to grow another shade colder. Shecat couldn't pull herself away from the confrontation with Billie Ghost. She felt the magnetism and gravity the agency had in abundance. "Goths are ice-creamier, " Billie stated, the blanks of her eyes shining like evil white glass. "Goths are.....so very fucking sexy. I now command you to stand on the spot and turn into my....zombie." And Shecat did try to resist. She concentrated, clenching her teeth, thinking of daggers and swords and violence and storm. She dug her heels in, and countered the force enveloping her mind, attempting to tie it up like a package. She thought as hard as she could, her fists tight and quivering. She fought the invasion, and was successful ....for the first moments. Then a numbness pinched her toes, travelling through them and into the balls of her feet. Shecat looked down to see her legs going stiff, a cold bleakness creeping up her arse, up her spine, shooting like a subterranian arrow up to its target, her head. It all happened so quickly. One minute, Shecat had a mind, the next she did not. Her eyes turned to film. Her body joined the state the others were in. "Come to me." Shecat, like a slow marionette, complied. Trina watched this, unable to avoid the issue. She watched Shecat as she took her first step toward her puppet-master. The look in her eyes! Each footfall was defeat and victory. Her legs moved her over to the victor. "Take off your shoes." Shecat knelt mindlessly, undoing the detail of her bootlaces. She pulled off her docs, allowing each one to collapse with a dull plod to the floor. "And kneel....where you belong.....my darling worshipper. Your will, it is mine. You will worship me forever, if I determine. You will....Why don't you start by sucking my feet?" Shecat, already crumbled to her knees, put out her hands to receive her master's gift. One of Billie Ghost's feet came to rest in her hands, and she began to nibble her ankle. Soon, she was smearing the Ghost's feet with her tongue, chewing and kissing and caressing her empty heart away. Trina did watch this. There was no escape. "And now....you! "Trina". It's your turn to join your friends....." "You can't hear me, Billie?" "I can hear you.....but I am not Billie. Now, how shall we do this? I favour the contact of eyes...." Trina was already there. A thin blue pulse of electricity streamed like a line of oscillating eels across the distance, trickling into her eyes....and Trina felt the shut down of her mind completely. It zapped into her pupils, going behind them. And the result as all before. Billie Ghost clicked her fingers. Trina, her arms raised, her fingers spread, her mouth gaping, froze like inplacable sculpture. And that was the four of them! Curious though. Something not quite right, though nothing you could put your finger on. "I congratulate the four of you, three of you as newcomers.....becoming theatrical sex-puppets in my ongoing....mmm, personal stageshow. Congratulations. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Princess, Jill, Shecat, Trina. You are thralls. Your bodies and your retarded minds.....just objet d'arts, simple exhibits.....that I exhibit solely to....ME!" Billie Ghost raised her hand, her fingers splayed like spokes. Trina stood before her, the colour of her eyes the colour of her ineffectual will. Billie fed her two smallest fingers into Trina's mouth. Trina sucked hard and dynamically, her tongue enveloping her master's protruding members. Billie Ghost laughed lightly, felt her pussy run madly. She took her new play-thing's other hand, pressed it deep into what she acknowledged as her second mouth. Billie Ghost squirmed, going mad with the pleasure. "Oh farkkkkk, that's....Who's got words for this stuff?" After moments of writhing, Billie wanted to be kissed. Her fingers clicked, and in the spartan detail of Trina's mental landscape, the softly blowing zephyr of her will fell across it like cover. Trina's arms rolled slowly down to the side of her body. The commands she felt in her top story seemed to fill every recess of her mind. "What I really want now....is a deep, carnal kiss. C'mere...." Billie pulled Trina's face towards her. She planted her lips on Trina's, and they both exchanged tongues. Trina's arms rose, and she enveloped the body of her friend, kissing and hugging her, holding onto her like there was nothing else. There was nothing else. After a while, Billie Ghost let Trina go. She had what she wanted. She had physical residence, she had her harem of automatons. She gazed about at their inert forms. There was definitely a feeling of pride. The Ghost felt like the child with the most impressive toys. Four blank-eyed dollies. She imagined keeping them on a shelf, or in a cardboard box. What could stop her? She laughed under a smile, and clicked her fingers, thinking of the media image of the conductor, hair flying about, majestic determination etched on their faces, their baton pointing - ordering the music about! The sound echoed like a crash in the canyon of their heads and the four of them seemed to pause as the closest thing they had to thought took place in thought's old home. Billie Ghost had decided that they ought to stand like mannequins. The four of them grouped together in a square, assuming this pose. With the cool of their skin and the white torpor of their bodies, the effect they achieved was all too appropiate. Shecat looked particularly impressive. White arctic skin, ditto the eyes, black throwing the white out even further. Billie traced her fingers across Shecat's breasts. Her nipples stood up like beautiful, small bullets. "And....well, so, I have you. I HAVE you." The Paper Princess made a convincing mannequin, too. Her blond hair went with the glassy eyes, the colourless skin. "This is what you, in particular, deserve. How dare you set me uplike that! Unfortunate, really.....Now you are highly subseptible to me. In due course, I'll deal with the other Rivals.....WE'LL deal with them together. We're a team. My will, your bodies." She thought it would be sexy if they spoke. "Yes - Master," they said in unison, two fat, wooden words. "Okay. I think for the rest of the night....an orgy." Morning was a romantic Spring promise of things to come. Had you autonomy. Warm air, yellow sunlight, brilliant blue, smoke-signal clouds. It's exciting edge took the chill off the five women. Billie stood in the sunlight, appreciating the difference. The other four lay on top of each other, a pile of rag dolls. (The Princess on the bottom, Trina thrown across the top.) Sun bathed their bodies in elements the distinct opposite of their previous eight hours experience. The freeze seemed to recede a little as the new colours changed the room not unlike a reprogrammed hologram. Even Shecat and the Princess saw a slight thaw to them. The smithereens of window-glass Billie Ghost had bonded into a small paperweight so that she and her lovers could avoid its minor lacerations. She walked about the floor now herself. Something called hunger was making itself known in her belly. "I shall have to feed you, shan't I? And this....pile of zombies. They're all keepers, aren't they? I'll say they are! Well, I'll just see what's in the cupboards and fridge....." As Billie went to look, Trina began a tremble that now escaped her attention. It seemed to gently massage her, warming and restoring her. Her wide, catatonic eyes, though, didn't fill in with green. Instead, her telltale pupils rolled back into her head. Trina took the look Billie Ghost possessed - egg shell whites, an agency behind her eyes. A new agency and presence. Trina, ("Trina"), as naked as the day she was born, sat bolt upright. She looked about, beginning to climb slowly off the small pile of bodies. (Each of them had their eyes open wide, never blinking, never needing to.) "Girl Ghost!" came Trina's voice, sparkling and pristine. "What?" came the confused and alarmed response. The Ghost stood in the frame of the kitchen door. She looked like a Tarot Card. "My name is Tatti Worlogod. You have been using my Serial Magic, have you not? You're name is, most often, the Girl Ghost, though you have something we'll call a civilian identity. Rochelle Sophia Purcell." "How are you able to....invade my subject? Trina's mine. Tatti Worlogod....You should get the fuck out of here while you can......" "Oh, please. It's my system of magic you use. You're in my medium. Have a care...." "Even you can't...." "Claim another's slave? Usually, that is true. But this one's a little....unusual. Special." "How is Trina special? I controlled her like any of my possessions....Though....there was an odd buzz.....I remember now. Something strange....that I didn't investigate. Nothing that prevented me from....." "It prevents you now!" "Why are you picking on me? Yes, I've used the pan-dimensional property of the very tome itself....the....ohrr, fucking superb book you've written up, built up into...." "You have misused my book. It's as simple as that. No good vs evil scenario. Just: I don't like the use you have put my magicks to. And now I'm going to deal with the situation!" "But, damn it, that's not for you to....to....You autocratic fucking bastard! IT'S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU HOW I HARNESS THE SECRET WORLD OF THE -" "Speak not." Billie Ghost's voice was dissolved. Her hand shot to her throat. It was a symbolic gesture. "That's right, you cannot speak. Do you think I care one whit for your .....indignity? YOUR indignity? What about Shecat, Jill and the Paper Princess? What about "Trina"..... special, nameless Trina?" Nameless? What do you mean "nameless" ? That's what Tatti Worlogod imagined Girl Ghost coming back with. "I mean.....nameless. Spirit without a title. What's the first aspect of Serial Magic, Girl Ghost? It is counting. From zero to one. I am zero, because I am `me', and that is my first perspective. I, myself, am ground zero. And so we come to one. One is one's name. It is the first footstep on a journey long or short. You've....got to have it. Without a name, your journey cannot begin. And if you begin such a journey .....through sheer force of will or built up momentum....which you certainly achieved here, then someone such as myself can come and...."tear your playhouse down." You have used Serial Magic, by which I mean my book, rather a lot in the last year or so. You have fled the Rivals of Evil, imaginatively using a copy of Serial Magic itself as a safe haven...more than once. Ingenious, I grant you. But now....you are imbued....with me. My magicks, my sequences, my rules. And you have lost out on step number one....." It didn't occur to Billie Ghost to run. It didn't occur to Billie Ghost to put up a fight. The Girl Ghost inside Billie's body felt a pull, something like a fish on a hook, and before she had another think, she was sitting in the White Room..... On Earth, Billie was free. "Gaaaarrrrrrd......Where the fucking hell am I....? My God, my head, my.....Ahhh. Trina! Christ, your....eyes. You....oh my God. Remember.....I can.....actually.....Oh MY GOD! And....and....You're not Trina. Wow, God, you're Tatti! Tatti Worlogod! I was reading Serial Magic when.....the Ghost got me. She used....I mean, she was hiding in.....You know all this! Christ, I remember, you know.....floating across the city. I can remember it being cold but not having to care about it....." Tatti Trina let Billie babble. At least she sounded healthy. Considering the process, Billie could as easily have ended up deep in a traumatised shock-coma. It seemed she could remember the deeds Girl Ghost committed in control of her body. This meant the telekinesis, the sex..... "Billie, I am happy to have restored you. Now I must restore the others.....and go." "What have you done with Girl Ghost?" "She's in number nineteen.....Limbo. I call it the White Room. And I'm afraid I may have to leave her there. Once you've been corrupted by something from the Seventh Level....well, you're fucked. She's never going to be the person she was. What does Shri Chinmoy say? Ah yes. "The past is dust."" "What about me, Tatti? She inhabited my body last night and....Am I infected?" Tatti Trina was quiet, because the answer wasn't a pure "no". "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Billie," she eventually said, "Sorry." Tatti restored the others. They picked themselves up off the floor, the colour of their irises natural again. They looked at each other, embarrassed, heads aching, remembering everything with the efficency of machines. Paper Princess began to apologise, but Shecat, hastily putting on a black pullover of Jill's, tried to put her mind at rest. "Look: It isn't Billie's fault, it isn't yours....It isn't even Tatti Worlogod for writing her book or the, what is it ?, Seventh Level for existing fuck knows where...." "We....We all....." "Princess. I know we did. I'm....pondering some of that stuff myself, well....right now." "Who isn't....?" came Trina's voice. "Our saviour has returned to her phantom-like realm. We get Trina in return, " Billie made known. Trina and Jill made coffee and a basic rice dish. Soon, the four of them had the conversation that would last for seven hours. `Normal' wasn't normal for at least six weeks after the Night of the Billie Ghost. Gradually, though, people's inflamed sense of the everyday began to settle. Trina, aware of Tatti Worlogod's caution regarding `contamination', looked twice at every thing Billie did. What was she looking for? Something out of character , something that reminded her of Girl Ghost or - Who knew? Trina, for the time being, forgot about her quest for a new name. It was her lack of a name that Tatti had been able utilise to put herself in the picture. And thank God she could. Perhaps Trina would never rename herself. "Trina." Yeah. Go with what you know...... (C) Louis, 2001 Anyone wishing to comment can reach me at soothdotcorn@hotmail.com. The characters above are available for the use of other authors, but are copyright yours truly. (And I'd appreciate hearing about it first.) _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+