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A fresh cup of tea beside him, a book in his lap, his favorite armchair hugging his back. Mortimer Ardelean, author of the popular series All Blades Fall--with an adapted televised series in its second season--spent most of his free time reading.

Almost a whole year of living alone, finally in his own house. The red husky enjoyed the peace, his neighbors were considerately rowdy--always offering an apology with a note, sometimes accompanied by gifts. The older Victorian structure offered enough dampening so he was never disturbed much. Though the dark wood and elaborate veranda made for a spooky atmosphere by themselves during Halloween, he still carved two pumpkins, one grinning and the other melancholic, set up a paper skeleton, and hung a few orange lights outside his door.

Flipping a page and taking a sip from his tea, Mortimer read in the sunlit library. A grand window brought in plenty of natural light for him to read, a light covering of early snow on the small yard outside. The story was reaching its finale, and he read the remaining paragraphs with a pleased excitement. Finished with the last sentence, he stared off through the window, reminiscing the daring tale of unexpected heroes against a great threat, and he pondered over the unexpected details with another sip.

Lowering the cup, he noticed a book laying splayed on the floor across the room. It must've fallen, he thought. He placed his finished book on the table next to his tea, and walked across the room. The empty spot on the shelf where the book had been unrested stared like a void between the other titles.

He picked the book back up. No title. He flipped to the first page, where he found no ink. The entire book was bare, empty pages. He carried the book into the kitchen, trying to remember where he'd purchased this one, but no memory came to mind. He placed it on the counter, resolving to look into his recent purchase history later. He shrugged off a chill breeze. He went down to the basement to check on the furnace.

Two cords of logs stood ready to be used in the upstairs fireplaces. The large furnace had recently been upgraded to run on electricity. The beginning of the cold season had brought up a few issues with its reliability, however. He examined the machinery the best he could, restarting the system, checking the igniter. It all seemed functional, and he listened to the hum of steam getting worked through the pipes up into the house. Just needed a kickstart.

Mortimer picked up a few logs to keep next to the fireplace, but his train of thought flickered out just like the lightbulb had. The sharp green LED from the furnace barely lit the room. The husky's ears flicked, suddenly alert in the darkness while his eyes adjusted.

The hum of the furnace, otherwise just a stillness in the air. He ventured careful steps forward, toward the dark shape of the stairwell, and the lightswitch. The door at the top was closed, which he didn't quite remember closing. Hands on the rails, he slowly ascended.

He froze. The hiss of a breath stood his fur on end. He climbed the rest of the stairs with haste, relying on muscle memory to avoid tripping. Bursting into the hallway, he glanced back down into the basement.

No sounds. No light. He flicked the light switch, and the basement was lit again. He shook his head, relaxed his arms from clenching around the sharp wood, leaving divots in his fur. Just the house being old. Mortimerleft the events behind him, continuing on with his chores.

###

Cold moonlight lit the kitchen from high windows. The glittering outline of a large form stood in the kitchen, looking at his proportionally large paws. The ghost of the house, Jeshidiah, had been dead for far longer than alive. Memories slipped away from him as the decades passed, until he wasn't much more than a whisper in the hallways of his once-home.

Sensing life's breath in the house, he began remembering how to be. He could feel himself returning, becoming more and more present. And then tonight, he could actually focus and see. His own spectral paws. He picked up a mug from the counter, marveling at how much effort, concentration it required.

The mug, indeed much of the things in the house, belonged to its new owner. He put the mug back down, lest he lose concentration and it fall through him. He thought of the husky, and in his reverie found himself in the doorway to the source of his thoughts. Mortimer lay under a blanket, fast asleep, and Jeshidiah watched.

The disturbances in the house had been, usually, unintentional. He didn't want to disturb his guest--or should he say host?--but he couldn't help himself. The unusual ability to affect the living world was newfound, but it didn't last. He would experience the rush, tip something over, and then fade, returning to only passing through physical objects.

And now, watching Mort sleep, he felt a new need. It drew him closer, the ghastly form of his paw stroking over the lump under the blankets. He felt the fibers of the comforter in his palm, still amazed he could interact with the physical world. Mortimer jerked away, the red husky's eyes darting around the room.

Seeing nothing.

For several minutes, Mortimer scanned his bedroom, watching for signs of movement, anything. But there was nothing. He attempted to return to sleep.

The next morning Mort felt somewhat spry. He felt rejuvenated, regardless of last night's disturbance, and he wandered into the kitchen for breakfast. He started up a pot for tea, popped some bread into the toaster. Gathered all the ingredients for a light yet tasty breakfast. It slipped his notice how most of the dishes had been cleaned or otherwise prepared beforehand, making it a swift experience.

The rest of his day was spent doing a touch of cleaning up for a couple hours, then he was free to do as he wished. In this case, he picked up another book from his library on his reading list.

He read for long hours, stopping to prepare lunch, tea, and then finally dinner.

Illuminated by a single lamp, he noted the clock tick over to nine o'clock. A yawn stretched its way out of him.

He bookmarked his spot, set the book on the bedside table, and switched off the lamp. He brought out his phone to illuminate his path in the darkness. Shadows crept around corners. Furniture and architecture fading in from the darkness into the harsh shallow light of his phone. The hallway to the stairs seemed longer than usual.

The faintest reflection of light at the end seemed to illuminate his front door. But the more he focused on it, the closer he approached, the more he realized it wasn't quite where the door would be. The light shifted. Stuttered; came closer. It whispered.

Mortimer stood, watching the phenomenon. The form of something big took shape before his widening eyes. A hand floated towards him.

But Mortimer had already fled. He bounded back where he came, fumbling for a light switch, but missing the first swipe. He felt the floorboards shift under alien weight. He scrambled further into his house.

The library. He reached the lamp. A moan in the wind reached his ears. He grasped the base, pressing against the switch. The bulb flickered, refusing, refusing to shelter him in its glow. Mortimer felt his throat tighten, his breath became an effort. He turned to the entryway. There stood a ghost.

It took a step. The shape of the apparition became more solid in the warm glow of the lamp. It was huge, taking up much of the space the tall ceilings of the house provided. Though he could not discern a facial expression, Mortimer felt... wanted, somehow. The fear in his mind conflicted with the feelings he now felt creeping around his crotch, making him squirm in the seat.

The specter stood a foot away from him. While he wasn't completely translucent, Mortimer still couldn't tell exactly what species he was.

"Need..."

The whisper seemingly came from around his head. Still, the husky did not move. A hand reached up towards his head.

"You." Its hollow voice filled the room.

The hand fit his whole head in the palm. Fingers wrapped around the back of his head, physically pulling him forward. He let it happen.

And then there was nothing. No whispers, no shadowy light. It was a quick choice to stay in the chair, as if it offered some safety from the darkness of his house.

The morning sunlight glaring through the cloud cover awoke him. His limbs were stiff, and he looked around. No haunted specters awaited him. He must've fallen asleep while reading, he thought, and dreamed up a terrible nightmare. He stood, stretched, yawned. Walked through the entryway into the kitchen for a cup of tea, and ran smack into a tall solid body.

"Mort!" Exclaimed a tall bear, known as Harriet, and Mortimer's editor.

"Harry, what're you... how did you get in?"

"Well, I was ringing the doorbell a few times, didn't see anyone through the windows, and what d'ya know, the front door was unlocked!" Harriet patted his chest, looking up at the ceiling as he recounted his steps. "So I let myself in to see if you were, y'know, alive! And here you are! Fit as a fiddle!" He squeezed Mortimer's shoulder with a heavy paw.

"Thanks, Harry. Sorry, I'm just out of sorts at the moment." Flashes of the specter reminded him just how out of sorts he was. He eyed around his house, as if the ghost might appear now.

"That's alright!" Harry fished his phone out and scrolled through it. "I came by for two reasons. To see how you were," he paused to peer down at the husky, "and make sure you attended the book signing today."

A consequence of having a successful career as an author: public relations.

"Yes, I was just, er, getting ready." Mortimer brushed past the bear, heading towards his room to change into more appropriate clothing. He climbed up the stairs, Harry rehashing a few of the details of the meet. Mortimer left the door open to his bedroom, undressing from yesterday's evening wear. He pulled a few articles of clothing haphazardly, pulling black slacks over his legs and buttoning up a patterned shirt.

Standing in front of the mirror to make sure he looked alright, he saw it. In the doorway stood a shimmering shape with glowing eyes. Visible clearly in the daylight. He whipped around, his heart rate spiking. The phantom approached, a hand coalescing into shape in front of him. Mortimer froze in fear. The thing was real. A finger traced a line around his cheek, to under his jaw, tilting his head up to look right into the flickering eyes.

"Come back soon..."

Then it was gone. Mortimer couldn't move for another moment, his lungs screaming for oxygen causing him to take a breath. Then he slumped backward into the mirror, trying to calm down. He realized he was rock hard. Whatever this spirit was, it... he didn't know what to do. It wanted him?

"Time's a ticking, Mort!" A shout came from downstairs.

Gathering his racing thoughts and packing them away, Mortimer resolved to confront the ghost the next time it appeared. He felt anxious about it yet, also excited, which made him additionally confused. With a trifecta of feelings competing inside him, he arrived downstairs, Harry approved his look. "Let's rock n' roll!" He said, strolling out the front door. Mortimer followed behind, with a last look into the house before closing the door.

###

Harry dropped him off at the sidewalk, bidding him goodnight. The darkness in his house seemed monumental, like it would swallow him up if he got too close. Flicking on the lights in the entryway, the darkness receded, giving way to warm light. A modicum of trepidation in his heart, he went back upstairs to his bedroom, and removed his clothes almost methodically. As if waiting for his ghost to appear again, knowing he would. But he stood in his closet with just his boxers on, and no apparition appeared. He sighed.

He made himself a light dinner in the kitchen, taking his mind off the hauntings. It was still early in the night, and its arrivals seemed random. Sitting in the nook to eat, he noticed the full moon; the only other light outside were the streetlamps. He munched through his greens.

Rinsing off his plate and silverware, a thump from the above floor interrupted his peaceful night. Then another resounding thud. Mortimer turned off the faucet with his eyes glued to the ceiling. He wandered into the living room where he could watch the stairwell. A familiar fear welled up inside him, though along with anticipation.

A large paw stepped down. It was a solid blue, glowing as if aflame. Another leg stomped down. The blue reflected off the nearby polished wood. More of the spirit revealed itself, a tall, thickly-set beast of a man.

"It's so good to be corporeal again." It said. Mortimer's eyes jumped from the spirit's body to its eyes, and he realized he'd been staring.

"Hey," it crooned, "you're the handsome guy living here now?." He reached the bottom of the stairs. His full height had him bowing his head to avoid bumping the entryway. It was unclear what kind of species he was, if he ever resembled something from Mortimer's reality. "I'm sorry if I scared you before. I wasn't... completely myself."

"It's okay." Mortimer's voice was stronger than he thought it would be. His throat felt tight. "You seem friendly, at least."

It chuckled, golden eyes focused on him. "As friendly as one can be as an undead spirit. Call me Jeshidiah." Jeshidiah raised one of his paws up.

"I'm Mortimer." The husky's paw fit snugly into the warm palm of the spirit.

"Thank you. You seem particularly... nonchalant about meeting an otherworldly spirit." He rumbled.

"Well, I..." Mortimer's face flushed, and he looked away.

Jeshidiah hummed in understanding. "You know, as a spirit I am privy to emotional energies." There was a soft flump. Mortimer looked to see Jeshidiah lounging on the floor, legs splayed out and his private parts on full display. A fat sheath and full balls laying out, exposed. "I'm certainly corporeal enough to engage in any activities you and I might desire," Jeshidiah said with a wink.

"Really? You... want to?"

"Why not? If we're going to inhabit the same space, we may as well have some fun." Jeshidiah brought a large claw down the husky's chest, stopping at the pajama shorts. Looking into Mortimer's eyes for further consent--the husky nodded--Jeshidiah hooked a claw into the waistband, pulling down to reveal the husky's crotch, his cock already hanging out of its sheath. "Already excited for me! I love it." Jeshidiah gestured to his plump sheath. "You should help me catch up."

"Okay," Mortimer said, the trepidation slowly beginning to leave him. Kneeling down, Mortimer put his hands upon the ghost's fur. He felt Jeshidiah rumble, the glowing blue fur tinged with gold dimpling under his touch. He petted along the soft belly, admiring its solid roundness. Venturing down, his heart beat fast until, with only slight hesitation, his hands rubbed over the sheath. It was quite large in his hand, unable to completely hold it. Venturing down to the sac, he rubbed over the full balls. He noticed their weight, his breath catching in exhilaration.

He would bring the spirit pleasure. Leaning forward, he kissed the tip of the sheath, softly making out with it. The cock housed inside plumped up under his care, the tip greeting his loving tongue. Spreading his lips to encompass the beginning of the sheath, Mortimer gives the cock a warm spot to grow to full hardness.

It rolled over his active tongue, spreading his jaws even further. He swallowed instinctively when it pushed past his tonsils, dipping into his esophagus. It ventured deep inside his throat, forcing him to hold his breath. Neck stretching with the large cock's presence, his own dick trembling in the air, untouched. His tongue flexed against the cock flesh in an attempted swallow, squeezing it. Earning him a throb in response, stretching his jaws just that much more.

Jeshidiah growled above him, deep in his chest. He grabbed the husky's head in two large paws, pulling him up until his tip rested just past his lips. It pulsed, then drew forward. Mortimer relaxed as much as he could, letting the spirit use his throat.

Jeshidiah's glowing eyes rolled closed. It'd been too long since a warm mouth wrapped around his length. He flexed his paws against the floor, claws scratching lightly through the carpet. His thick thighs flexed with each stroke, holding back from hurting his new mate. The feeling of his partner's tongue along the underside of his shafter, along with the tight rippling muscles of his throat was divine for the undead being.

When Jeshidiah opened his eyes again--at first to see if Mortimer would like to try a new position--he spotted a large mirror to his side. To his great pleasure, his own reflection was absent, meaning Mortimer kneeled alone in the living room with his jaw stretched wide. Seeing Mortimer's throat bulge with his length inside it made his lust rise. He thrust a few more times, just to watch the action, his own voyeur.

When he'd gotten enough, or perhaps when he realized he actually wanted to blow his load inside the living husky's ass, he withdrew. Jeshidiah adjusted his position, leaning against a wall and making sure he had a view of the mirror. "C'mon up here and ride this old ghost, will you?"

Mortimer obeyed, taking the rest of his clothes off and climbing on board. Sliding a leg over one thigh, hands on Jeshidiah's belly, he slid the other leg over the other thigh, fully off the ground. He raised himself up, reaching back to guide the ghost's warm cock in. He blushed lightly when he felt the warm tip against his hole. The tapered tip would prove useful in making it easy to hit its target, but the girth of the thing would take some patience to get all inside him.

The pair were patient. The husky breathed slowly, bearing down to loosen his hole, inching himself backwards when he could, both hands on the ghost's chest. Meanwhile, Jeshidiah got to watch the husky's hole slowly spread around him with a view of the husky's rear in the mirror. It drove his need, his balls churning up fresh pre to shoot up the shaft and provide lubrication.

With a quarter of the length breached, Mortimer felt no more hard stretches, and carefully rode the rest of the length down. The cock traveled up his insides, making a bulge in his lower belly.

"Oh, Jeshidiah," Mortimer whispered.

He leaned back, sitting down in the spirit's lap. The sheath felt cozy around his abused ring, offering some comfort for the stretched muscle. The whole shaft inside him felt amazing, and he just wanted to marvel at it a moment. Jeshidiah, however, needed to breed.

"Mortimer," said in controlled tones, "I need to..." Large paws wrapped around his waist, thumbs nudging against the bulge in his abdomen.

The husky nodded, hands clutching onto the soft chest fur. Jeshidiah picked the husky up, then thrust him back down on his length. Spearing through the tight ring into the warm insides was an ecstasy he'd long been unable to partake. He would carve out the shape of his cock in his new lover's insides.

In the mirror, the dog levitated up and down, hole contracting then stretching around the invisible cock. Interestingly, the fluids were not so transparent, leaking down his legs and falling onto the floor, if not suspended in midair upon the ghost's thighs and balls.

Pleasure shot through Mortimer's prostate, making his cock jump and leak pre with each downward thrust. His ass felt so incredibly stretched, he might as well belong to this spirit. He doubted he'd be able to find another cock as huge so easily.

Feeling the lust in his cock rise along with a growl from his chest, Jeshidiah held the husky closer. Thrusts came quicker, were shorter. Mortimer held on, throwing his head back and moaning. He looked up at the ghost, muzzles almost knocking together. His next move felt like instinct; he turned his head slightly and met lips. The kiss returned with fervor, Jeshidiah grunting into the husky's mouth. Their tongues tasted each other, their breaths became shared.

"I'm going to..." The breathless ghost spoke. "Can I cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, please, fuck. Please fuck me up, I'm, going to-" Inticed by the thought of being bred by the spirit, his hole clamped down on the ghost's cock, his orgasm rocking through his body. He twitched, his sensitive cock head swelling with each shot. He continued being bounced, continued to moan while constantly thrust into him. His cock painted the ghosts blue lower belly with streaks of off-white, his cock slapping against the growing wetness with each landing.

Then all the movement stopped, and coming down from his orgasmic high, Mortimer felt his hole forcibly expand around each twitch of the ghost's cock. Jizz pumped up into him from those great orbs he fondled earlier. Jeshidiah got a front row seat to the breeding, watching the mirror through lidded eyes as the husky's hole rhythmically expanded. Even after several deep pumps, no cum leaked out.

"Hah," he said, once one final pulse deposited the last of his load, "that was incredible. For a living being, you're quite the catch."

"Catcher, is what we've been calling it."

"What?"

"Nevermind. That was really hot. I came all over you." Mortimer blushed at the mess he'd made.

"You did."

"Whew. I'm uh. Feeling a bit tired now though." Mortimer laid his head on the ghost's chest. Not minding his belly getting messy with his own cum.

"I've got the perfect place for you. Don't fret, you'll be safe."

The body Mortimer lay upon gurgled. "Sounds perfect to me," he said, fighting off a yawn.

The ghost's jaws opened wide. He'd fit his entire upper body in it no problem. Of course, being a ghost must help. Mortimer felt the tongue caress his head fur, touch of warmth leaving behind a sticky residue. The ghost's head lowered, and he found himself accepted into the enticing, slightly luminescent maw. Thick drool flowed down the tongue, dripping off sharp teeth. His head fit easily inside, followed by his shoulders.

Over the back of Jeshidiah's tongue, Mortimer could see all the way down the gullet. Smooth tube of blue flesh ready to accept him, though it'd be a squeeze. His face squeezed in, beginning the journey to the ghost's belly.

He felt pressure all around his head, the ghost's esophagus gripping him and beginning to pull him down. Strong hands lifted his lower body up, and he felt gravity pulling him. The tongue slid along his belly, tasting his cum, swiping it clean and then leaving behind a coating of drool. It pushed him, the tube tightening around his chest, then his stomach as the ghost swallowed him.

Gravity worked him deeper when Jeshidiah wasn't swallowing, Mortimer half-expecting to let the ghost let it do all the work. But yet another swallow, and he felt a tight pressure on his snout, relenting after a moment. Then the empty space of the ghost's glowing stomach, his face impacting against the bottom wall. It only slightly yielded, his head bending towards the bottom of the stomach.

His feet paws were licked over and swallowed, and the rest of his body joining him had him curling even further. The weight pushed his upper body into the sac, forcing it to stretch for him. The muscles, used to pushing down and keeping food inside, forced his legs to his chest. Curled up, with hardly space to move.

The walls undulated against him, and he felt heavier pressure from outside the stomach. "What a fine meal you make," Jeshidiah said, rubbing his paws over his bulging belly, licking his chops.

The ghost took a few steps towards the mirror, focusing his energy. His body began to fade, able to see the shadowy form of the husky inside his gut. Mortimer found himself in the mirror, wet and curled up while the ghosts dimly outlined hands rubbed over him.

He couldn't help blushing, or a smile spread across his face. He squirmed, rubbing into the walls as much as he could to return the gesture. They shared the moment together for a while. Jeshidiah then carried his meal up the stairs, to the bedroom, his gut swaying and gurgling all the way. Mortimer treated to a full massage at the hands of the capable stomach. Though one might consider it a bath too, seeing how much fluid it soaked into his fur.

His ghostly friend gently cradled his middle while he crawled into bed, not wanting to jostle his prey too much. Laying on his belly, he grinded against the bed a few times, squishing the small husky. Mortimer whined, feeling his arousal rising again. Just a plaything to the old ghost, and he loved every second of it.

But Jeshidiah sensed Mortimer's waning energy, and flopped onto his back. He'd let the husky sleep peacefully for the rest of tonight, and they could begin again later. Maybe after he treated him to a full tour of his functioning digestive tract...

THE END