The Morris House

August 14, 18__

Frederiche,

The events of which I shall tell you in this letter had laid hidden in the forgotten depths of my mind for years. I hesitate to even put them to paper, but for me to speak of them to you in person as you had implored of me would be impossible, for I fear my mind would not survive such a retelling. but, as you have been insistent in your letters that you learn of that fateful night, I fear I have no choice but to tell of it. but be sure that I do so in warning, not indulgence. my hope is to deter you from your course, lest your own questing curiosity down a path that shall undo you as it had me. For these events were indeed the prelude to my scandalous expulsion from the women's college at the Miskatonic university and the subsequent ruining of my good name and,I fear, that of my very psyche.

It was In the summer of 1884 that I received the letter that would change my life, I had been accepted into the only women's college at the Miskatonic university of Arkham, where I had applied to study a course in biology and botany. but I soon learned upon my attending of the faculty ground how rare a study that was among the women peers of my age and it was a great effort for me to ever find the proper resources to conduct my studies properly. As so, I spent a great deal in the University library which officially was bound to the use for the other colleges but not ours, but said rule I found rarely enforced, and I found myself a regular haunt of the quiet halls of said library.

Our college and dormitories lay a little outside the normal campus, owing to an effort of the strict staff of our faculty to limit the mingling of the students of other colleges with the girls entrusted to their care by usually very reserved fathers. so it was no small trek for me to visit the library, and always I required permission first from the overly protective seniors of our dorm house. and as so I always endeavored to make the most of my visits, usually freeing up my schedule to spend the entire day there and save the time of multiple walks between the part of town where our dorm lay and the campus.

However, on that fateful night, and unbeknownst to me that it would be the circumstance of a great misery that shall befall me, I had in my research been fully absorbed in a great tome of lore on philosophy regarding the nature of plants. and I came not to my senses except when the light had grown too dim to read by and I found myself straining to make the word legible to my eyes.

I startled, for even If I left now and in a hurry, I would make it back to the dorm by midnight and I would surely be greatly reproached for such a behavior, if not getting a detention from ever going to the library again. Besides, a walk down the town at such a time was not a cheery prospect that I looked forward to.

My soul elated when an Idea came to me. Not far from the campus lived the old widow Mrs. Morris, one of the first alumni of our very college and I had with a couple of other girls been given leave to spend a few days with her to help with a history project she was working on in her private time. She knew a great deal of the staff and surely if she was to tell them that she required my help and had not let me go afterwards fearing the lone trek through the night no one would question her validity. and it wasn't yet too late that I could make it to her home within a reasonable hour.

Thus resolved, I hurriedly finished gathering my papers and returning the old tome back to its place and hurried out of the library, weary of watchful eyes.

I was staring at the gargoyle shaped brass door knocker, when the door creaked open and the bolt chain which kept it closed snapped with a clink.

"Ms brown!. Is something the matter?" exclaimed the eye that peered out at me through the crack.

"uh... good evening, Mrs morris. I seem to have stayed a bit late in the library. I'm afraid the dormitories will be closed by the time I make it. I wouldn't want to raise a fuss but if you..."

"Oh .....oh dear. Yes, I imagine so. you can come of course."

The door shut again and then the sound of the bolt slid open and then the door was thrown open and Mrs Morris beckoned me enter.

"Come in. come in"

She was in her nightgown and I feared that I may have disturbed her sleep, but she assured me to not worry and that she was staying up for some light reading.

Mrs Morris lived alone in a two story manor house that she had at a time shared with her late husband, a faculty member of a respectable degree, and her three children.

She offered me a light supper and despite my polite refusal she insisted I join her and we shared a light meal,after which she offered me a glass of wine with a conspiratorial wink and promised not to tell any staff. I wished to impose no further on her hospitality, and she showed me to her youngest son's room where I had spent the nights before when I was helping her with her work. She bid me good night and left for her own room.

I had not a change of clothes on me, and I was not in the habit of carrying a spare night shift to library outings. The idea of imposing on Mrs Morris once again felt unwelcome to me and decided not to. Besides, it was late in May and the nights here in town were not terribly chilly as is the custom in my country home. I was not accustomed to it, but sleeping naked didn't sound such a bad prospect.

So deciding it would be a better solution, I started to undress and ready myself for bed. I wiggled out of my layered skirts and lowered them past my hips till I could easily step out of them. I untucked my white shirt and after the pain of unbuttoning my vest, pulled it up and over my head. I neatly folded all garments and laid them stacked on the nightstand. feeling a chill run up my spine despite the warm night. I stepped out of my shoes and next came my black thigh high stockings, I rolled them carefully down my legs, feeling the draft of air upon my bare smooth skin. it sent a shiver through me as I stood in nothing but my pair of white panties and brassieres, grateful for my past self for the decision to forgo a corset and the pain of squirming out of it.

I divulged myself of the rest of my undergarments save only my pants and quickly blew the candle and slipped under the sheets, as if fearful of prying eyes against my stark nakedness.

I laughed at the absurd thought, the window was shuttered and the door securely shut, it was just a silly thought and I quickly laughed it out of my mind. It must be the unusual situation I was in, which upon reflecting on, I felt a thrill come over me. The conscious thought that had been forming in the back of my mind finally bubbled to the forefront of my thought; I was sleeping naked in a young man's bed.

True, the youngest Morris son hadn't been home for over eighteen months, but still. It felt too much like sharing a room with a stranger and felt nothing like the shared living quarters of the girls' dorms. The room simply... held too much of him, his presence marked within its walls and upon its every aspect; A trunk by the foot of the bed that held his clothing wasn't fully shut, a piece of cloth from a shirt poked out of its corner and stopped the lid from sealing. The night stand by the bed held a distinctive stain where he liked to leave a glass of water by his bed at night. The desk on the opposite wall of the room from my bed (his bed) carried a few stacks of books, their arrangement a mental fingerprint of his preference of reading. It was too dark to read any of the spine titles but I dearly wanted to do so, to get a glimpse of that young man through the ideas that must have formed his early adulthood. But I resolved to not leave the safety of the bed and the comforting modesty of the sheet.

The reminder of the room's decoration, although scarce, was undoubtedly mired by his taste, and despite being subtly enough for me to perceive individually, it still made the room,to my senses, feel like it contained all but the living breathing man himself.

The very mattress underneath me was deformed by the contours of his body. as I pressed my body down along the mattress I could feel he usually rested his shoulders and how deep his back pressed and where, I could sense how much taller than me he was and where he would rest his feet as they dangled over the edge, I felt where his face would press into the pillow where my ear and cheek now pressed and I felt like I could almost smell him.

It had not been the first time I had shared the room with the ghost memory of that young man, and each time it had elicited in me that same thrill that so enraptured my body and mind at the moment. Usually it was much tamer than that, but maybe my state of undress had served to highlight just how much of him I felt around me.

The covers shifted over my naked breasts and it sent an unholy yet not unwelcome shrill over me.

I thought of him often during the previous nights too. When I had come to sleep in this bed the first time, I thought of how often he slept right there, where I lay, his mind forming his own fantasies, I wondered what those fantasies were like and of whom and what they pushed him to do, right there where I slept. or, maybe, if ever he had shared that bed with another, and what they did.

My mind would sometimes stray to more 'self involved' thoughts of him. I wondered What the possibilities of him coming back unannounced for an urgent visit to his dear mother? What if in his care to not disturb her he decides to not wake her and instead wait for the morrow to delight her with his homecoming. What would happen if, tired and travel weary, he opens the door to his room and falls to his much longed-for bed, only to find a young woman soundly curled under his sheets. how embarrassingly scandalous that would be for me.

It's true, I have never actually met the young Mr. Morris. I had only known his mother since the start of the semester in September of last year and he, then, had already been gone for a year barring a brief summer visit. studying in Europe, his mother had explained, and traveling around to sight see when not attending college.

In fact, I didn't even know what the young man looked like beyond his boyish painting that Mrs. Morris kept, along with her other children and late husband, above the mantelpiece.

This object of my fantasies shared with the real man only what negative space is left by the absence of his true existence, a simulacrum created by my over active imagination and rarely indulged desires, and stirred to flame on lonely nights like these where circumstances convene to place me where I now lay. Naked lustful and alone.

The thought of touching myself in his bed crossed my mind not for the first time as I lay under his sheets. I had prided myself on not crossing that line of temptation on the previous nights. but I proved much less the chaste virgin that night.

I squirmed miserably in the bed. What type of depraved wretch was I to think of such horrid unfiltered fantasies? I lifted the cover over my head and slid down on my side and gave a weary sigh, still resisting the temptation and sorely the worse for it, what a sad long night it would be.

My left side pressed into the mattress, where his back had made a broad depression, and I felt my left breast squashed against that where his shoulder would be. I buried my head into the pillow and resolved to not think of him any longer.

My right leg pushed forward and tangled with the sheets which rubbed between my thighs torturously, and I shut my eyes begging for sleep to take me.

My lust filled imagination failed to heed my reins and ran its own wild course. As the sheet settled on my back I couldn't help but imagine it the weight of my ephemeral lover pressing against me in embrace, his hand resting on my shoulder and gently sliding down my arm to tangle his fingers in my own, His arm, strong and heavy, pulling me closer to his body.

I found my own too real hand slide up my side and rested upon my bosom where it didn't stay idle. I held my breast gently and started to kneed and pull at the soft flesh with a barely contained lust. I started slow, not wanting to lose myself and still deluding myself I could resist.

I imagined his hand slide forward to relieve mine from its toil at my breasts, and start his own rougher handling of the round soft flesh and the by now rock hard nipples, Invisible fingers reaching out from my unconscious mind to grasp and pull at those pink sensitive nubs.

My other hand freed itself from beneath me and found a glorious path down as it slid over my stomach and rubbed a palm against the outside of my moist pants, then over the hem and suddenly I was playing with my wet sex. I slid two fingers up and down both lips of my vagina as the heel of my palm rested on the mound above it, putting enough pressure there to coax my clit slowly out. A third finger slowly made its way between the and inside my pussy, one knuckle at first just to spread my entrance the barest of spaces. The fingers on my labia now pushed out, spreading my pussy and exposing my clit.

My hand seemingly moving with a purpose of its own, continued rubbing and stimulating my cunt as my thoughts strayed to the almost perceptible pressure pressing against my back. His legs, strong and heavy, tangling with mine as the sheets did. and then, as I squirmed and pushed with my knees to raise my hips, I felt a hardness press between my buttocks.

I was too consumed by lust to give thought to anything but the divine sensation of that phallic erection pressing between my thighs. had my imagination been always this vivid? I thought, or my desperation bringing new sensations not explored before?

I felt that too real shape slip forward and tuck itself between my spread open labia, it pushed forward and back again as my fingers did. my eyes were closed and my ears pushed into the pillow and my other senses were given the free rein to express themselves as colorfully and loudly as they never before did.

I felt a distinctive ridge that denoted the glans of that cock and it ran my clit over and over again, pushing and flicking the engorged part of my sex with prolonged teasing strokes while my fingers slid deeper in my hole.

I buried my face further and bit the pillow to muffle my moans, which escaped me uncontrollably.

I must have been on the precipice of sleep, my mind must have had been already slipping downward, hanging between the realm of dreams and the waking life.

For where I, at that moment, lived couldn't have been the same waking world of dreary long mornings and strict lessons. It was a different reality altogether, one shaped by countless dreamers whose journeys beyond the realm of reality and into the distant dreamlands where they can endeavor to bring their imaginations to reality, where unattainable fantasies become solid. The sounds of that world are cacophonous symphonies of moans and cries of pleasure and where thirst is not for water but for the sweet nectars of love.

What seemed like eons passed behind my closed eyelids, in the span of one moment the universe froze. My mind swam the oceans of those unnamed worlds while my body violently shook around an epicenter formed by the dick between the folds of my cunt, my thighs clenched down around it and trembled in an orgasmic shudder. my moans had taken on an edge of wild gasping and muffled screaming.

I knew not what part of the night it was then, nor how long had I been like this, delivering pleasure to myself and I cared little to know. I collapsed on my back after the throes of passion had raked my body and after my shaking limbs had quieted. I stared at the ceiling, watching as my bosom rose and fell in labored breathing and a wet patch of my doing spread between my legs to stain the stranger's bed.

It took my addled brain a handful of infinitely long seconds to come to a horrifying realization. for as I lay, panting and spent, that fondling hand on my tit whose imagined presence had been the very allure that drew me down this pit, had not stopped its groping of my flesh, nor had it loosened its grip.

As I watched in mounting terror, I saw my erect nipples drawn up and flicked over and over bringing my mind back from the blissful ocean of post orgasmic torpor to the land of reality with its inexplicable horrors.

With even greater trepidation I lifted the cover which lay over my sweating body and looked down between my legs. sensation was starting to spring back to my nethers and what I had first faintly felt was now confirmed by the sight before my eyes. My pants were fully in place and yet my delicate folds were spread open around a non existent object which was of the shape and weight that of a man's member and It felt real enough that I feared to reach my hand down and touch it.

Seeming to withdraw from my attention, I felt the invisible dick slide away from between my lower lips and for a brief second I allowed myself to imagine it had been nothing but a spell of sleep paralysis that had seized me after my exhausting masturbation and was now gone as my mind awoke. I wasn't allowed much to hope however as soon enough the sensation returned more forcefully and this time it was a steady pressure exerted by the ethereal phallic head against my entrance.

Suddenly the sheet was ripped away from me, exposing my naked sweaty mess of a body. I gasped, paralyzed by fear and confusion and watched helplessly as my underpants got pulled away from the entrance of my womanhood and the pressure there caused my delicate hole to give way and part open for the intruding member. I felt the steady advance as inch after inch of it entered me, sliding forth against my tightening walls to completely fill my inner cavity.

I bolted up, staring wildeyed at the dark empty room, my breathing shallow and sharp from both the effects of this unexplainable apparition and the sensation of being stuffed full of cock, though imagined, for the first time in my life. I looked on, dumbfounded for what seemed like forever while the phantom dick bottomed out inside of me.

The invisible paw on my breast kept me down while another hand, fingers rough and strong, dug into my thigh and lifted my leg up, spreading my limbs wide open with no sheet nor clothes to hide my lustfully glistening sex.

My mind tried to rally back to a semblance of sense, to try and find a coherent way of explaining what was happening to me even as I felt the thing slam deep inside me. What have my hallucinations formed or what nightmare have I called from another realm to inhibit that dreadful night with me?

Even as my mind reeled in horror of the implications of what I witnessed, my body was enraptured in a building arousal that threatened my already tenuous bond with reality.

I felt it start to slide out and I cried out with every bump making contact against the insides of my vaginal walls. it exited almost to the tip and after a pause pushed forward again with one powerful thrust to bring back blissful fullness.

He (or it for I knew not what creature it was) started to push back and forth with no discernible rhythm. his pace that of slow agonizing withdrawals followed by powerful deep thrusts.

I wanted to scream but I feared to wake my host and still I was unsure if I wasn't dreaming, lost in that realm of lustful dreamers. that would have been the favorable explanation for anything else would be too fantastical, yet I feared it was not so. For as I felt myself ravished and fucked by that fiendish presence I knew it was my real body, my real cunt spread open and the bounding against my womb was nothing but real.

I had not lost myself in the dreamlands I had allowed something to cross and It had taken shape by my lustful fantasies. and now, in this world, it latched itself to me and knew not but what I had shaped into its birthing.