Ghost Hunter Boooookkake

*kshhhk*

Television static flickers before an image fills the screen.

"Are we rolling?" Says an attractive blonde woman to someone behind the camera.

Her wavy blonde hair drapes beautifully over her shapely shoulders. A yellow tank top reveals her ample cleavage boosted by a push up bra, and frayed denim hotpants cap a pair of long, smooth legs that extend past the bottom of the frame.

"Yes! I counted you down! Just go! Just go!" whispers an offscreen voice.

The woman gathers her composure, stands up extra straight pushing her chest out towards the camera, and grips her microphone with both hands in front of her generous bosom.

"Hi, Stephanie Stevenson. We're here at the old Barclay house here in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The legend goes that back in the 1800s, a madam operated a brothel out of this house and it is now haunted by the ghosts of people who died while having sex! Come with me as we explore the Barclay Brothel!" She says with enthusiastic zeal.

"How was that?" Again addressing the man behind the camera.

*Kzzshk*

A flash of static before another image appears.

The blond woman shakes her hair out gently to position it just how she wants it, her eyes fixed at a spot behind the camera. After a brief pause she resumes earnestly speaking to the camera.

"This is one of the bedrooms here at the Barclay Brothel. I wonder what went on in here." She says with an exaggerated wink.

"The story goes that a man in this very room had a heart attack right before he could orgasm, and now he can sometimes be seen laying on this bed, futilely thrusting at the air, never achieving the satisfaction he was denied at the end of his life."

"The story doesn't say that!" The annoyed whisper comes in again.

"Whatever Brian, I'm spicing it up, making it more interesting for the viewers. Sex sells you know." She retorts with a smirk and a bounce, her breasts jiggle pleasingly.

"Ugh, whatever. Let's move to the next sho-"

He is interrupted by several streams of viscous white goo erupting out of nowhere just to the right of Stephanie's head. The mysterious liquid sticks to her face, drawing several pearlescent lines from the left side of her forehead, between her eyes, down to her right cheek.

"Oh my god! Ectoplasm!" She exclaims excitedly. "Did you get that Brian? Did anything show up on the camera?"

"I got it but it came out of thin air!"

The camera feed switches to thermal vision, the stripes of ghostly material are noticeably warmer than Stephanie's face.

"Lucy, anything on the recorders?" He says.

A third voice pipes up, another woman off camera. Her voice is deeper than Stephanie's with a mild vocal fry.

"We got something! Let me isolate it and play it back."

*KsshhzzshsFUUUUshUUUUzUUUkshUUUUUCKshzzhsh"

"Did that sound like...?" Brian trails off.

*kzzshshzk*

Static punctuates another scenery change.

The image is black and white indicating night vision. Stephanie can be seen from behind moving through a dark corridor as the camera follows along behind her.

*Slap*

Stephanie partly turns her head to look back and says in a low but earnest voice.

"Briannn. Aren't you filming?"

"Yes I'm filming. Why, what happened? I didn't do anything."

"You didn't smack my ass just now?" She stops walking and turns, looking at Brian behind the camera quizzically.

"No, is this more activity? Lucy? Anything on your end?"

"Nothing over here."

"Something just squeezed my boob!"

"Describe what you're feeling Steph, I'm gonna see if anything shows up on the thermal view."

"Ooh." Her hand that isn't holding the microphobe rushes to her waist "Mmmm. Definitely feeling the presence of several, um, entities, in this hallway."

The camera switches from hazy night vision to thermal. The orange silhouette of Stephanie's curvaceous body is leaning against the wall of the corridor. Several blue masses that look hand-shaped appear to be massaging her breasts, fondling her ass, and one is slipped down the front of her shorts.

"Their fingers are cold but they know what they're doing." Her voice quavers slightly "Oh shit!"

The blue forms on the screen disappear instantly and a door bangs open on its own part way down the corridor.

"They're gone!" She says disappointedly. "I think they want us to go check out that room!"

*Kshshzzkk*

The viscous liquid on Stephanie's face has faded slightly but the ring light above the camera reflects off of its wetness.

"As you can see we're in a new room here. We're actually not quite sure what this room is but we've been lucky with some strong supernatural activity so far so let's check it out!" Stephanie says exuberantly.

The room is sparse, no furniture. One wall is punctuated by several holes, about six inches in diameter, resting at roughly waist height.

"It looks like we can see into the adjacent room through these holes, I wonder what they were used for!"

She crouches down next to the nearest hole and waves with one hand for the camera to get closer. The frame of view jostles as the camera is removed from its tripod and brought down close to Stephanie's face. Her eyebrows are raised in excited curiosity, watching the camera draw near and then turning to peer through the hole at the same time.

Lucy's hand enters the frame from the right holding a small device, an electromagnetic field reader. She places the sensor right under the opening in the wall.

The needle on the display bounces back and forth rhythmically. Small movements at first. It swings to the right quickly, indicating the field is strengthening, then slowly falls to the left. Stephanie watches the needle, enraptured.

"We've got some definite activity in this hole here. Is the intensity increasing?" She asks.

On each cycle it swings slightly further to the right, building higher towards the red zone at the top end. The needle on the meter bounces back and forth faster and faster, right, left, right, left, frantically nearing the red zone. Stephanie's mouth is agape in awe, ringed by her crimson lips. She is fully focused on the oscillating reading. The needle maxes out the top end of the red area, quivering in place. At the exact same time, a thick ribbon of ectoplasm jets out of the darkness in the hole, landing directly in Stephanie's open, waiting mouth. She flinches as more streaks of ghostly liquid paint her face.

"Pbbst" Stephanie clears the sticky white fluid from her lips.

"Oh my god!" She shouts. "Another phenomenon! This is, like, the luckiest we've ever been!"

"This is what we've been waiting for!" Brian exclaims. "Real, rock hard evidence of ghosts."

The camera turns to focus on Stephanie's face. Two thick rivers of ectoplasm flow glacially from her forehead, parting around the bridge of her nose, terminating in long cables hanging from her chin that wobble with her movements until gravity overwhelms them and they drip into her cleavage with a splat. She spits on the floor and clears her throat.

"Hmm, ectoplasm is salty." She looks puzzled. "And warm, I always thought it would be colder."

Still close up in the frame, she picks up a clump of slime clinging to her cheek. It maintains a ropey connection with her coated skin. Observing the viscous white ooze now enveloping her fingertips and long fake nails, she describes it to the camera.

"It has such an interesting texture!" She pulls her fingers apart and the ectoplasm stretches into long filaments. "Sticky!"

"Holy shit" the camera mic picks up Lucy mumbling under her breath.

*kshzzshsk*

Stephanie is standing in the center of a large room. Surrounding her are tables and chairs all facing towards a stage with an opulent red and gold curtain. The white color of the fluid covering her face and chest has faded to translucence.

"This room is where the burlesque shows would happen!" She says, eyes wide with excitement.

"There's another story about this room in particular. In 1825, there was a fire in the Barclay Brothel,

during

a burlesque show. Fallen debris blocked the only exits and tragically 32 people lost their lives." She lowers her voice for spooky effect. "Visitors report they can sometimes hear the patrons hooting and hollering at the women on stage to this day." Looking at her fellow crew behind the camera "Brian? Lucy? Are we picking anything up on the equipment?"

The camera changes to thermal vision and there are many dark blue shapes converging towards Stephanie at the center of the room.

"I'm definitely seeing something on the monitor Steph. See if you can make contact."

The camera switches back to the normal setting.

"Hello, o' spirits!" She shouts to the room. "Tell me, what is your unfinished business? Why do you still walk this mortal plane?"

"...oooOoOoke off your toOoOooo..."

"...ooooOoOoOeed to cuOoOoOooooo..."

Several ghostly voices can be heard on the video, but it is hard to make them out.

Stephanie has an amazed smile on her face as she looks around the room. She bounces with enthusiasm and her voluptuous chest recoils erotically.

"O' spirits! Give us a sign! What can I do to help you pass to the other side!?"

"...oOoOSHOW US YOUR TITSOoOo..."

"...oOWE NEED TO CUMOoOo..."

The ghostly voices come through more clearly.

Stephanie turns back to the camera.

"Oh my god folks! These poor ghosts do have unfinished business! Let's see if we can help them finish!"

She sets the microphone down momentarily and pulls her tight tank top up over her head. She flashes a smile at the camera as she unhooks her bra in the back and slides it off of her arms. Her full EE breasts hang majestically in full view of the camera. Pink nipples standing at attention. She is well-lit by studio lights set up behind the camera which reflect sharply off of the droplets of ectoplasm that already dot the tops of her perfect boobs. She grasps the microphone again and gets down on her knees, her denim hotpants riding up the back of her shapely ass. Squeezing one of her tits with her other hand she says,

"Oh, spirits! Is this what you want? Is this what you

need

? Come to me, oh spirits! Come to me!"

A whirlwind sweeps the room, blowing Stephanie's long, blonde hair up in the air. Wolf whistles and applause fill the room. The sounds of a theatre full of drunk and rowdy men cheering on a sexy burlesque show.

Suddenly, from thin air around Stephanie, eruptions of ectoplasm begin to bombard her. Two, three, four at the same time. The ghostly white cables drape across her face, crisscrossing in an ivory fishnet. Her eyes are closed and her face turned up towards the ceiling.

"Ohhh spiritsflghsh!" She moans.

A large, thick, white rope of ectoplasm fills her mouth as she yells out. She gulps it down quickly and continues moaning, holding the microphone up to her mouth.

"So much ectoplasm! It's so warm on my skin!"

The barrage of spectral goo is non stop. When one entity finishes their four or five blasts, another starts in its place. Her face is now completely coated in a milky glaze. White clumps pepper her silky blonde hair. Thick bungee cords sway from her chin as she shivers in ecstasy.

After several more minutes of Stephanie writhing and moaning on her knees, her free hand squeezing and massaging her boobs, pinching and pulling her nipples, the deluge of ectoplasm eventually stops. She has recieved about 30 hot, sticky loads of ghost juice. Leaning back on her knees and bucking her hips, she screams out in pleasure, seemingly stimulated by something unseen. Her bliss culminates in a body rocking orgasm, her cries barely audible over the whirlwind rushing around them.

The air stops swirling as quickly as it had begun. The camera moves swiftly up to Stephanie. Up close it becomes clear she is absolutely drenched. Her beautiful skin glazed with a layer of viscous, warm ghost milk. White streaks and globs that have dripped from her chin stand out clearly on her beautiful, plump breasts. She opens her eyes slowly, her voluminous fake lashes scooping the sticky fluid away from them. Between heavy breaths, she addresses the camera.

"Oh. My. God. Folks. That was, like,

so

many ghosts. Do you think we helped them move on and find peace?"

Her breasts rise and fall as she heaves a deep contented sigh and lets the microphone fall away from her face.

*Click*

The screen goes black.

"So, like, what do you think?" Stephanie asks.

Brian and Lucy sit next to her on one side of a conference room table. Opposite them are three business types in suits.

"We think this will fit perfectly in our daytime lineup here at the Travel Channel." One of them says with a smile.