Ghost Story

'This is so stupid,' Gary thought to himself as he stood naked in the dark, empty classroom. It was a stupid dare. He knew it was a stupid dare, but he took it anyway. Brad and his meat-head thugs knew that Gary hated to be called a chicken, and would never turn down a dare if it made it look like he was afraid.

The story went that some girls had used this classroom as a place to change sometimes before cheerleading practice. But eventually they'd stopped, because every time they were in the room after hours, they always had this really creepy feeling that someone was watching them. Some even swore that they'd felt something brush up against them. Everyone said the room was haunted, but that was just silly; there was no such thing as ghosts.

Gary had made the mistake of saying as much in chemistry class, and Brad, stupid macho jock that he was, had immediately challenged him, saying that Gary didn't have the guts to go into the room after hours like the cheerleaders had. Gary had taken offense, and eventually it had led to this: Gary standing naked in the room on Halloween night, waiting to see what would happen. The light of the full moon drifted in from the small, high windows, catching the silvery edge of the chalk tray and the handles of the teacher's closet near the front of the room. The white tile floor shone pale in the dimness, reflecting more of the light than anything else in the room, and making the desks appear as dark, hulking rows of shadows.

Gary wasn't actually scared, of course. Everyone knew there was no such thing as ghosts. But it was really kind of cold, and he was kind of worried that someone was going to find him here, even though he knew that he was the only person in the building. He chafed his arms a bit to warm himself; Gary was tall and skinny, and the cold got to him much more quickly than it did to people like Brad. How long would he have to stay here, anyway? It wasn't like anything was going to happen.

Suddenly there was a creepy prickling feeling on the back of Gary's neck, as though someone was standing behind him. Startled, Gary whirled around, but there was no one there. Gary blushed in the darkness. Of course not. He was letting the dark and the rumors make him paranoid. So it was Halloween. So what. There was no such thing as ghosts.

The feeling came again, but Gary forced himself not to turn around this time. He was just being stupid. If he turned around, there would be nothing there. He'd stand in the center of the room, naked, for half an hour, just like he'd promised, and then he'd leave a mark in the classroom to prove that he had, as agreed, and go home. The sooner the better. It was freezing. Did they just turn all the heat in the building off at night?

The prickling got worse; Gary could feel his neck hair standing up, but still he didn't turn around. Then suddenly there came a feather-light touch on his bare back, starting at the base of his spine and drifting upward. Gary leapt into the air and whirled around, prepared to yell at Brad or whoever else was in the room, playing tricks on him.

But no one was there.

Gary felt a cold shiver go through his body. He had definitely felt a touch. It was light, but he knew he hadn't imagined it. His heart began to beat rapidly. "Who's there?" he called out, keeping his voice as firm as possible.

There was no answer, but the touch came again, like a single finger dragging up the length of his spine.

Gary whirled around again. "Fuck you! Whoever's doing that, come out!"

Again, no voice. But a moment later, the touch was back, this time the distinct impression of the flat, dry palms of two hands, drifting up the planes of his back, feeling across his ribs.

Gary froze, looking over his shoulder. But though he still saw no one there, the touches continued. The phantom hands ran up and down his back and across his sides, fingers brushing lightly over his skin before coming to rest on his hips.

Gary twisted away, turning around and stumbling across the room, but the feeling remained. It was as though the hands moved with him, completely unaffected by Gary's own motions. Gary reached down, trying to brush away the touch, but there was nothing on him to brush away, and the sensation of hands remained.

Panicked, Gary fumbled his way back across the dark classroom, towards the door. As he did so, the sensation became fuller, changing from hands to a full-body contact as a plane of warm flesh pressed up against his back. Gary tried to spin around, to rid himself of his attacker, but there was no one else in the room, no one to dislodge, and the sensation continued, unaffected.

Gary finally reached the door and fumbled for the handle, only to discover that it was locked. That was impossible; he'd made sure when he came in that the door hadn't locked behind him. He knew he needed to be able to get out again. It must have been locked from the outside. But how? He hadn't heard anyone pass by the room; the high school was supposed to be empty. And anyway, he hadn't heard the bolt of the lock click shut, and it had been quiet enough that he would have definitely heard it if it had.

The sensation of flesh pressing against him grew stronger, and he rattled the handle frantically. His hands curled into fists, pounding on the door. "Help!" he shouted, even knowing there was no one who could hear him. "Someone help me!"

As his mouth opened, he felt one of the phantom hands slide across his face, and felt invisible fingers slide between his lips and inside his mouth. He tried to bite down, but before his teeth could close, his jaw stopped moving. It wasn't as though he felt resistance, or could discern the shape of the fingers with his teeth. His jaw merely stopped and refused to close further.

He could feel the fingertips on his tongue though, stroking it, then moving along to the insides of his cheeks. Frightened, Gary felt tears begin to run down his cheeks. What on earth was happening to him?

The suddenly, Gary's eyes widened, and he began to struggle in earnest. Something large and bulky was pressing against his rear, pushing at the cleft between his buttocks. In a panic, Gary dove for his clothing, shaking hands fumbling for his boxer shorts in the messy pile.

As his hands finally drew forth the correct fabric, he felt his butt cheeks being parted, and the distinct sensation of something slipping inside him, sliding into his anus and cleaving him open, pushing forward inch by cold inch. Gary cried out as he was opened, the penetration such a shock that for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to move. The invisible cock—for that's what it had to be—that speared him went unbelievably deep, and took Gary's breath away.

With a gasp, Gary shook his head and forced his body into movement. He dropped the boxers and reached back, grabbing his buttocks and pushing them together. But the sensation of penetration did not go away—on the contrary, it became stronger, as though he were pressing himself in around a real human penis. The friction was intense, and Gary dropped his hands with a whimper.

He fumbled again for the boxer shorts and stood, lifting them with shaking hands. The thick feeling of the phantom phallus did not change in the slightest as he stood, and Gary's limbs were trembling so badly that he had to lean against the teacher's desk to keep his balance while he struggled to pull on his boxers.

But even as he drew the cloth up over his naked flesh, he felt no change in sensation. In fact, as soon as the boxer shorts were completely drawn up, the ghost figure began to move, and Gary swallowed a groan as the invisible penis began to fuck him.

Gary struggled into the rest of his clothes, fighting against the distraction of his penetration, but the sensations continued against his skin as though he were still completely naked. The invisible cock pumped in and out of him, in and out, and the phantom fingers returned to grip his hips, doubling the force of the thrusts.

Gary writhed under the ministrations of his invisible attacker. He tried to sit down on the floor, but that only seemed to drive the cock deeper inside him. He tried rolling onto his stomach, and the thrusts only came more swiftly. Tears now streamed down Gary's cheeks, sobs catching in his throat, as he was brutally, breathlessly taken on the floor of the classroom by a rapist he could not see.

The worst of it was, he could feel himself growing hard in response. Though the thought of what was happening disgusted him, the sheer pleasurable friction of being possessed in such a manner was coursing through his body, dragging blood to his penis and making him stiffen. Though the phantom seemed to be completely ignoring Gary's member, Gary felt his own fingers drifting inevitably towards it with each thrust.

He couldn't give in, didn't want to, and held out as long as he could. But as the moonlight glancing off his watch face told him that an hour had gone by, two hours, the maddening pleasure became too much to bear. Gary shoved his pants down to his knees - it wasn't as though the clothing made the sensation any more bearable anyway - and grabbed his dick in his hands, pumping it madly. His palms were slick with sweat and pre-cum, and it took mere seconds for him to come, shuddering helplessly against the floor tiles as the savage thrusts continued unabated.

Gary continued to be fucked, more and more until eventually he came a second time, and then a third. It was well into the early hours of the morning when he hit his fourth orgasm and passed out, physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

The sun rose at 7:36 AM on the first of November. Its creeping rays found an unconscious Gary sprawled on the floor of the classroom, his pants and underwear around his knees, splatters of cum staining the floor around him. The light, silvery substance that leaked out of his anus evaporated at the first shaft of sunlight that hit it.