Ghost Hunter
Ghost Hunter

Ghost Hunter

(Photo credit @ShinyCreature)

Sam examined the monitor zooming in slightly to investigate the noise he’d just heard.

“I think it was the dining room, check camera 12,” he instructed his partner and co-host, Tom.
“All clear on camera 12,” came the response.

Equipment encircled their set up in the kitchen area of an opulent manor home. Dusty walls, drapes and furniture surrounded their kit of monitors and tools.

The two business partners and lifelong friends often found themselves in such surroundings. They both co-starred in a semi-successful ghost-hunting live streaming series. They didn’t have the best luck with encountering the living dead but the duo always knew how to ramp up the tension for their viewers. The cohorts often created compelling footage, photographs and acted out paranormal activity to boost their ratings.

“So the story behind this house is quite terrifying. The last residents reported seeing a figure roaming around their house at night. They told the police that he was dressed totally in black. A couple of weeks after they made their report, the couple vanished. Not like they packed their things and left… No, the people just disappeared. Apparently, there was still milk sitting out on the table when the police showed up,” Tom said into his handheld camera – to build some suspense for the viewers.

The house shivered in the wind rustling outside.

“It’s currently 12:23 am, as you all know, is the witching hour. Now, this is when poltergeists are their strongest – so we have to be careful,” Sam whispered into his camera.

“I can see some readings coming from the second floor… and do you feel the air getting slightly more chilled?” Tom asked, more so for the audience watching at home, then his co-host.

“Absolutely! It’s suddenly like a freezer in here,” Sam lied, hamming up their act for the camera.

“I’m going to go investigate it,” Tom announced, giving the onlookers a view of his journey through to the manor’s hallway.

As Tom left the room with the audience captivated by his every word, Sam switched off his camera and sighed. He gulped a can of lemonade and scrolled through his phone notifications. A message popped up from a female fan asking to meet the pair in person. They’d never admit it to their loyal fanatics but the duo didn’t actually believe in ghosts.

They learned quite a while ago that there are plenty of nutjobs out there who’d happily watch an eight-hour lifestream for a decent subscription fee. Of course, some of these freaks would be attractive girls looking to hook up with the “Ghost Hunters”. These were the perks Sam and Tom enjoyed the most.

“Did you hear that! I can sense that there’s some strange energy coming from THIS room,” Tom could be overheard from the hallway as he creaked up the stairs.

Sam rolled his eyes. Tom enjoyed playing it up on camera however Sam just thought it came across as camp. He was clearly the more enthusiastic of the two as Sam enjoyed setting up all the techy stuff. Of course, none of the equipment was functional. Bulky contraptions, flashy monitors and night vision cameras wowed the audience at home.

The story about the manor was true as Sam and Tom learned that their viewers often fact-checked their locations. Nevertheless, throw in a strange disappearance, a derelict old house and urban legends would mean easy coin for the duo. ‘People believed what they wanted to believe’ was Sam’s motto.

The house inside felt stagnant, like a river. Somewhere within, mixed with old photos of past occupants, were remnants of the furniture they once used. The odour of dirt and dampness lay throughout the manor with stained wallpaper resulting in the scent.

‘DONG! DONG!’

Sam jumped at the sound. An old grandfather clock in the hallway rang throughout the manor. He felt embarrassed at his slight overreaction to the shock. An eerie silence followed with footsteps and mumbling from above. Sam discovered Tom rummaging through a closet in one of the night-vision cameras. His actions were as erratic as usual to build tension with viewers.

Suddenly all the screens flickered, some dropping offline entirely. One screen, in particular, caught Sam’s eye as he could see an outline moving through one of the rooms upstairs. Its body was a solid mass of black and its face was thoroughly expressionless. The screen went blank.

“What the hell!” Sam remarked aloud.

“I’ve lost signal again!” shouted Tom from the second floor.

As the manor didn’t have any electricity, the two had to plug into a generator they’d set up in the yard. It wasn’t the most reliable, so it occasionally broke down during their recordings.

“Yeah, gimme a minute,” Sam yelled back, distracted from what he’d just witnessed on the screen. He grabbed a torch from a case nearby and headed for the rear doorway that led to the garden.

The moonlight, a glowing white, slightly illuminated the interior of the old mansion. Outside, the moon’s ethereal glow beamed through the vast expanse of forest and grassy fields which surrounded the manor. Forcing open the old, rusty door, Sam stepped out into the patio. He had to avoid large cracks in the paving to avoid tripping.

The path is still adequate brickwork, the mortar holding back some of the weeds to their best efforts. It was clear nobody had lived here in a while, not for some months or more.

Following the wires, Sam started down a set of garden steps. The steps were old and slippery with the recent rain. Sam grabbed the rail with his free hand and moved down gingerly in the lack of light. He reached the dodgy petrol-powered generator and noticed it was running quite ruggedly.

Sam gazed around and found a piece of aged driftwood next to an abandoned greenhouse. Using the wood, he struck the generator on the side. The chugging became a little more consistent. He repeated the action. After a puff of smoke, the motor produced a powerful revving noise.

As Sam prided himself on a job well done, he turned back to the manor. Rustling in one of the second-floor windows caught his eye. As the white curtains swayed, Sam could see a dark figure observing him from above.
He did a double-take and the figure seemed to vanish. Sam put it down to his imagination along with the whooshing of the curtains in the wind.

Entering the kitchen, Sam yelled, “Should be working again!” to his cohort upstairs.

He slumped into his seat, taking another swing of lemonade. Switching through each of the cameras, Sam couldn’t sight Tom in any of them. They’d covered virtually every room in the house unless Tom managed to find a secret hideaway. Sam continued to search the feed for any indication of Tom’s whereabouts.

All was motionless on the monitors without a signal of life. He called up Tom’s camcorder view, but the video was offline. Sam became concerned.

After several more minutes of switching between cameras, Tom appeared on his screen. He was facing away from the video feed in an oddly rigid stance. It could be one of Tom’s weird stunts to freak viewers out, but Sam instantly felt uneasy. He studied the feed to work out what he was witnessing. He brought up the audio on the video and listened to the conversation.

“Please let me serve you, Master. My body is yours to control and use,” Tom spoke aloud.

Sam was perplexed by what he’d just heard. If this was an elaborate ploy as part of the stream, Tom had taken things in a really fucked up direction.

“I will do anything you ask. I’m here to obey your every command, Master!” Tom called out with an element of desperation in his voice.

“What the fuck?” Sam yelled in distress. He quickly leapt from his seat and ran upstairs.

“Tom! Tom! What the hell is going on!” he exclaimed, running up the steps almost tripping in his panic.

Sam burst into the bedroom, expecting to see Tom standing there, but there was no sign of his cohort. Sam panted loudly as he investigated the room further when his foot collided with something on the wooden floor. He reached down to pick up the handheld camera that Tom had earlier. The screen cracked, the device appeared to be busted.

Footprints of clean wood lay on the otherwise dusty floor, doubtless a track made by wet boots. Sam crouched to observe. He noticed in the distance that there was clearly two sets of them. Leaping up, he called out for Tom again.

“Tom! Tom! Where are you?” Sam exclaimed, journeying from room to room in a desperate attempt to find his lost compatriot.

The manor’s walls were cold to the touch, stealing the heat from Sam’s fingers as he navigated through the house. The house creaked in the wind, which added to Sam’s unease.

After exploring the upstairs floor, Sam headed back down the stairs into the vast hallway.

‘Splosh’

Sam slid on a greasy surface, snatching the handrail for support.

“Ugh, the fuck?”

His foot stood in a viscous, black goop that left tendrils of black string when he lifted his foot. He brushed the sticky substance on the carpeted stairs before continuing down.

At the entryway to the kitchen, he heard movement in the room with their equipment. Sam picked up an old leather-bound book to use for self-defence. He wasn’t always the best for thinking on his feet. Sam slowly edged open the swinging door, peering inside with a pit of fear in his stomach.

To Sam’s shock and relief, his cohort was nonchalantly laying back on a chair, gazing at the screen in front of him.

“What the fuck was that, buddy?” Sam shouted, announcing his entry into the kitchen.

“What was what?” Tom responded, looking almost confused at Sam.

“Upstairs! Who the hell were you talking to?” Sam questioned.

“What d’you mean? I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Tom replied.

“I heard you on the camera, you said about-” a bit embarrassed at his over-reaction, Sam stopped himself mid-sentence before continuing, “I found your camera it was smashed to pieces, what happened?”

“Ah! Sorry, I must have dropped it,” Tom responded, unconcerned.

Sam was dumbfounded at the reactions from his fellow co-star. They were extremely out of character for him. Sam let the silence hang in the air for a few moments before responding,

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. Why don’t we just get back to work? I’m always happier when I have something to serve,” Tom reasoned.

“What?” Sam replied, shocked at his wording.

“I said sit down and get to work,” Tom answered, still not tearing his gaze from the screen.

Sam sighed in frustration and sceptically accepted the instruction to continue working. The two sat in silence for a few more moments before Sam noticed a strange substance on Tom’s arm.

“What happened to your arm?”

“My arm?” Tom retorted, once again confused by Sam’s words.

“It’s all black like you stuck it in tar or something,” Sam quizzed, concerned.

“Must have brushed up against something,” Tom explained without hesitation.

“You mean the stuff that’s on the stairs?” Sam asked,

He reached over to grab and investigate the arm further. Tom pulled the limb out of reach before Sam got the chance.

“Leave it alone!” he yelled, more forcefully than Sam was expecting.

“What’s with you?” Sam retorted, pissed at his close friend’s behaviour.

“I just need some fresh air,” Tom declared before leaping up and dramatically exiting the room.

“What the fuck is going on,” Sam spoke aloud.

After a few minutes of deliberation, Sam called up the video feed from the room just before the incident with Tom. He caught the moment that the generator began to falter and could see Tom yelling downstairs that he’d ‘lost signal’. He rested against some plastic sheeting covering a sizeable standing mirror.

Sam noticed, his finger poking at the material, analysing the reflection underneath. Tom’s entire stance suddenly froze as if turned to stone, his gaze fixed in shock and wonder at the mirrored surface. The plastic sheet tumbled to the floor, revealing the ornate mirror in all its glory.

Its texture was smooth as glass built with jagged edges and a gothic aesthetic. Tom’s fingers traced the reflection, mesmerised by its image. Sam recalled not seeing the mirror during his exploration upstairs, so its whereabouts were a mystery to him.

Tom’s odd actions creeped him out even more as he continued to watch his cohort fondling the mirror. Sam noticed his lips moving, speaking unknown words. Paranoia and confusion grew in Sam’s mind as he tried to understand what he was witnessing.

He abruptly stopped the video taking a closer look at the mirror’s reflection. Sam stared into the darkness for several minutes. He wondered what he’d find in the grainy video feed. He soon got his answer. Two eyes reflected in the darkened mirror. Two twisted eyes stared directly at Tom.

Sam’s heart began to pound in his ears. His body frozen, his limbs numb. He noticed Tom’s reflection was nowhere to be found in the mirror. Instead, a shady figure, clad in black, stood opposite Tom. Sam shouted in terror at the paused screen and audibly cursed again.

Suddenly the monitors went blank. The power from the generator had cut out. Sam scrambled for his flashlight, shaking with fear.

“Tom! Tom! Let’s get the hell out of here. Where are you?” Sam shrieked in a desperate attempt to locate his friend.

Stepping into the hallway, Sam shone his flashlight at his eerie surroundings.

“Tom!” he yelled again.

His foot found more of the greasy material. With no railing to steady himself, Sam slipped on the unknown surface. He collided with the wooden floor with a loud crash. His flashlight cruised away, leaving Sam in darkness.

“Agh fuck,” Sam exclaimed as he tried to collect himself.

Sam felt like he’d fallen in spilt lubricant. It felt sticky against his jacket and pants, with the oily texture seeping into the cotton. He sat up, holding out his hand covered in the slimy goop. The substance was black as tar with an irregular thickness to it.

Gazing upwards, Sam let out an audible shriek as standing over him was the figure from the mirror. Sam could do nothing to turn away from the sight, only gaze at the entity above him.

Void of any personality, the figure appeared almost statuesque. Was it even human? Its entire body was cast in a rigid, black material. Only the two blank eyes showed amongst its hardened exterior. Every inch of muscle and flesh was tightly packed under the dark surface. One would believe that the entity’s own skin was constructed from the texture.

A reflective sheen caught Sam’s eye, with the light from the torch nearby, shining off the being. It appeared the figure was sheathed in the same slimy substance that Sam currently lay in.

“W- w-ho are y-you?” Sam stammered out, staring directly into the being’s two uncovered eyes.

There was no response, but the figure twitched erratically at the inquiry. Sam felt more uneasy by the being’s abnormal actions. It moved as if thought-controlled, fluid and soundless. The watchman was nothing if not robot-like, but Sam had the feeling it was far from man-made.

Both waited for the other to take action. Staring in silence, reflected in the light of the torch, at each other’s gaze. All was still until Sam heard a voice. It sounded like the echo of his cohort, Tom. Not a panic cry, but a dull, monotone voice, whispering in his ear.

“Relax”

“Do not fear.”

“Just breathe and look into these eyes.”

“You are feeling relaxed. Your mind is empty of all worries.”

The blank face of the creature had no visible mouth as the words spoke directly into Sam’s mind. He continued to stare dumbstruck into the two swirly eyes of the being. The longer he gazed, the more relaxed he felt. Unbeknownst to Sam, his mind was slowly decaying by the combination of the voice.

Once he was ready, the figure raised its black, ebony hands to hold both sides of Sam’s face in its grip. Its touch was frigid like a rock. The sludgy residue caused the being’s hold to slide across Sam’s skin with ease.

“You want to become like me. You want to have your body controlled as I do,” the voice announced in Sam’s brain.

Images flashed into his mind of having such comfort and warmth from being enveloped in the tough exterior the figure’s body was covered in. He felt himself lustfully want to be coated in the same material. To touch the tight embrace, the knowledge that he no longer had a fragile outer surface. Only rigid, hardened rubber would encase his form.

Sam could feel his cock rising to hardness at the thought and sight of the godlike figure in front of him. He now looked at this unknown creature with unadulterated passion. His mind prayed to surrender and let the deity take over his thoughts and actions.

“You want to be controlled,”

“I want to be controlled,” Sam repeated.

His words weren’t his own anymore.

“You want to serve your MASTER,” the voice boomed into his mind.

The word ‘MASTER’ made Sam shiver with intense delight. He wanted nothing more than to listen to the sweet melodic phrases and stare into the addicting eyes of the rubber-coated creature.

The figure stepped closer to Sam, squeaking, as his boots overlaid with the identical hardened texture as his skin slammed against the gummy floor. Inches from Sam’s face, a rubber-coated phallus formed from the statuesque being, it pulsated and dripped an ebony fluid. Sam, overcome with the desire to have the phallic shape deep inside him, shivered with anticipation. However, he knew to wait on command as the voice inside him ordered.

“Waiting for your MASTER’S command is what brings you pleasure.”

“You need this COCK to feel alive.”

“You can already taste it on your lips.”

Unknown to Sam, the rubbery sludge he was sitting in began to grow up his body, obliterating any garments in its wake. The rubber dripping cock came closer to his lips as Sam was instructed to open up and receive his MASTER.

Pleasure and delight buzzed through his broken mind as the tip pressed against his pursed lips. The phallus slowly inched into his mouth with a metallic and sterile taste dragging along Sam’s tongue. It was like honey to a bee as Sam greedily slurped it up, ingesting the erotic sap.

His mind begged for more, as the viscous liquid now blanketed his arms and torso spreading out in an unstoppable force. Sam felt an intense pressure against his anal muscles as the rubbery material congealed itself into a firm plug. He continued to suck without any stress in his mind.

“Accept your new body. Accept the pleasure it gives you,” the voice echoed.

Less and less of his body appeared to be his anymore. Sam’s new form persisted against any obstacle. His cock, now the focus of the rubbery onslaught, tensed and leaked precum as it began to transform. The ebony goo slowly grew up Sam’s tentpole as an intense sensation began to jolt his entire body.

The being began pushing with more vigour as he fucked Sam’s mouth. Both felt themselves building towards an extreme climax. Exploding like fireworks, Sam shared the most intense orgasm of his life, as he felt the rubber cock in his mouth ejaculate its rubber fluid deep into his stomach.

“You are NOW your MASTER’S property!”

Sam almost burst with feelings of delight. His cock continued to shoot a black rubbery substance over his stomach. It added to the rubber which had covered virtually every surface of his skin.

Memories, not recognisable to Sam, burned themselves into his mind. Sam learned of the previous occupants of the manor. His MASTER had once lived and worked here as a researcher. He studied the evolution of species and ecosystems, looking to understand the beginning of mankind.

His research, involving rare plants known as ‘ficus elastica’, had bizarre effects on test subjects, including an intensely hypnotic effect. MASTER’S research soon began to consume him as he too became deeply entranced by the rare plant’s spell. His body, no longer his own, was transformed into a symbiotic entity with one goal in mind – to disseminate.

As the rubber phallus in his mouth stopped pulsating its jet-black cum, it detached itself from the body of the figure. It remained fixed in Sam’s mouth, gagging him. Creeping up his neck, Sam’s new skin melted over Sam’s face, leaving behind a replica of the figure who’d assaulted him.

A cock grew outwards from the rubber being, replacing the one that had embedded itself in Sam’s mouth. He rose to his rubber-coated feet and stood side-by-side with the figure opposite. Both clasped each other tightly, their rubber cocks bobbing together.

The mask around the being’s features started to melt away, and beneath it, Sam would have been shocked if not in such a deep trance. The face of his former cohort gazed back at him in an expressionless stare. Their new bodies, wracked with pleasure, would supply endless energy for their MASTER.

The rubbery facades once again grew over their vacant features. Hand-in-hand the duo squeaked along the wooden hallway, searching for their MASTER to service him and receive further instructions. The Ghost Hunters would have a new prey to hunt.

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