Winter Visitor A Carrie Story

*Hey there, I just wanted to jump in here with a short notice. I think Carrie is going to become one of my constant recurring characters. Each story will be completely independent of her other stories. Really, her physical features, kinks/pleasures, and probably the way she talks will be similar. I'll call it Carrieverse or some stupid shit like that. I am writing pt2 to this as we speak, well, as I type. So I'm hopeful I get it submitted before or just after this one is.*

The December ice storm started nearly four hours before it was forecasted to begin. Carrie had wanted to get a nap and a short workout in her small gym setup down in the basement. She had planned on going for her usual winter weather supplies.

When she woke up, it was immediately obvious that the power had gone out. She thanked the universe for the impulsive, somewhat odd decision to add solar panels to run her furnace only. She had figured she could live with no lights or entertainment as long as she was warm.

It was still light outside when she woke from her nap. She decided to gather any items she thought she would need for a possibly long winter camping trip in her bedroom. She obtained several battery sizes; at the end of fall she would go to the dollar store and buy a couple of hundreds of each size for her flashlight and battery-powered lanterns she owned, and a few other items should the need arise.

Procuring a few books and magazines from her bookshelf and coffee table. She also grabbed a few of her guilty pleasure books from the trunk she kept in her hall closet.

Next were snacks. What was camping without snacks? Chips, cookies, and a few sodas ought to suffice for now. Packing her bounty in a box from the garage, she headed to her bedroom.

Growing up, it became a tradition in her family to spend bad winter weather in their bedrooms. As an adult, Carrie came to understand her parents' reasoning. The bedrooms had blankets, beds, obviously, and other activities her and her sister could entertain themselves with. They had loved to act out scenes from their storybooks in particular.

Now, she played no games; she read and slept, and occasionally masturbated. This one didn't happen often. Even though she had her secret stash of books and her special friends, masturbation wasn't an activity she typically immersed herself in. This, partly, came from the fact she and Laura, her sister, had shared a one-bedroom apartment for seven years before Laura was married. Meaning, it was an activity that was hard to engage in when you weren't alone.

Carrie settled into her room. Checking her phone only to find she had no service. This wasn't a usual occurrence during a winter storm; during summer storms, you could almost count on it. "Fuck, I can't watch TikTok now."

Resorting to starting her reading early, she grabbed one of her celeb/gossip magazines and began to flip through it. Twenty minutes later, Carrie threw the magazine on the floor; there really was only so much about the royal family or who fucked who in Hollywood.

Once more, she checked the service on her phone; still no go there; she was going to go insane if she couldn't get to TikTok throughout the entirety of the storm. It used to be YouTube, but then she finally bit the bullet and switched. Throwing her phone on the pillow next to her, she reached into the box she brought with her and just grabbed a random book.

She checked the corners to see if she had any dog-eared pages, indicating a good section or where she stopped reading it. Nothing, pristine corners. Same with the spine of the hardback. Carrie turned the book over in her hands; there was no dust cover; it appeared as if she had ever even opened the book. She opened it to see if she could remember it by reading the summary. There wasn't one; it just started at page one.

She closed it and put it down atop the magazines. It was strange; she never bought a book without a dust cover or summary. It was one of her literary quirks; she liked to read sleeve or in-book overviews.

Grabbing another book, there were quite a few dog ears with this one. She looked, yeah, just as she figured, at one of her 'special' books. Despite her little self-pleasure regimen, she did love to read erotica. Opening to the first marked section, she started reading. She remembered this one well. It was one of her few non-short story books.

After a few chapters, her eyes were beginning to droop. Reading in just the lantern light was fine, but it made her eyes tire quickly. She checked her watch; it had been five hours since she woke from her nap. She grabbed a soda and an open can of Pringles. Finishing off the soda and shoving one more chip in her mouth, she settled in for another nap.

Carrie woke with a start; the alarm was going off on her phone. It was time for her to take her medications. She was epileptic, meaning she had several medicines to take. Removing them from the stand next to the bed, she reached for another of her sodas in the box. Swallowing the pills, her eyes looked to the left. The odd book was now under the pillow, the very one her phone was on.

"What the hell? I sure as hell ain't sane, but I'm not crazy either. I didn't put that book there." She took the book from its new hiding spot. Carrie sat back against her headboard; she opened the book and read the first page.

Before she knew what happened, she had spent three hours and nearly six hundred pages and was laying on her stomach. Carrie looked down at the book in front of her, gasped, and sat up. The pages were blank. She flipped through the entire book; it was all blank.

Blank pages, in a book, unexplained reading of a blank book, moving books, then waking up on her stomach with an empty book in front of her.

What the fuck was going on?

"Carrie, dear. Are you frightened?" The book,

The words, appearing slowly and seemingly with quite a bit of thought for such a short sentence.

"Do I have to write it, or do I just say it? Because I'm really fuckin scared right now!" Carrie told the air she guessed. "Okay, ghost book, or paranormal phenomenon, she said to the air, again feeling like a goddamn fool."

Silently gathering all her mental and emotional strength, Carrie walked from the room. She kind of fumbled her way to the bathroom. She vomited, brushed her teeth, and rinsed her face.

As she stood in front of the mirror, letting the water drip from her face, she looked up at the steamed-over glass surface. "May I help, Carrie?"

Staring at the message written in the moisture, Carrie felt the left side of her short skirt begin to raise up higher on her leg. What she could only explain as a hand started making little left-centered circles around her right nipple and areola.

She stood, board still, staring straight into the mirror. Half expecting another message. But what she was waiting for was for this insanity to end and for her mind to snap back into reality.

She could see the material of her, now understanding why they were called 'mini' skirts, moving in wide circular motions as the hand that wasn't there, rubbing her upper thigh. Carrie almost thought she could feel the beginnings of a growing cock against her ass, her most prized body feature.

Carrie stood, walked out of the room, and went back to her bed, cursing herself for not snatching up the flashlight. As soon as she was on the right side of the bed, where the lights were stored for the storm, she felt her body spin, sensation of falling, then fuzziness in her thinking.

Swimming along with the current of the paranormal nightmare, she was now forced to float down, invisible teeth biting down on her nipple through the sheerness of her shirt material. Deep down in the corner of her mind, she realized her clothes were completely different from when she first prepared for the storm.