Possessions

It was a typical young woman's room, in a way, littered with the objects and mementos a young girl accumulated throughout her journey to womanhood. On the shelf were dolls and puppets and stuffed animals lovingly given to her by her father. On the dresser top was a snow globe he had given her on her twelfth birthday, the last present she ever received from him. Beside it was a small chest of earrings and bracelets her guardian, Uncle Dan, had bought for her. Today she wore the chain and pendant her uncle had proudly given her for her eighteenth birthday.

"Come to me, Danielle."

Danielle, dressed in a cute little pink baby doll, trying too hard to be sexy, swayed her petite but very nicely matured form daintily toward his, lying on his back, nude and crassly erect on her small bed.

Don watched the tableau in impotence. He didn't know why he'd been consigned to this nebulous fate. He thought back through his years, through all of his memories, trying to understand it, trying to find a fault or an act that was so heinous that it would doom him to this lonely, torturous existence.

At least he'd been allowed to watch his daughter grow into a woman. She would leave for college at the end of the summer, if she were allowed, and he would be left alone then with his monstrous brother as his only ignorantly unaware company. He only wished that her mother had been able to share all of the past moments with him, and he with her.

But he would never have wanted her to see this.

"Suck Daddy's cock," Uncle Dan told her.

She kept her frightened eyes locked on her uncle's as she lowered her trembling mouth to the purple helmeted head of his prick. Don silently, soundlessly screamed for her to stop.

Dan was a sick bastard. Don had always known it, but he'd never realized just how sick, and how much of a bastard, until his twin brother had pinned him down and dragged the knife across his throat, slitting it open. From that moment on Don had lived on as a silent, imperceptible ghost, bound to his brother, dragged with him, bearing silent witness to everything heinous act his evil brother committed.

He cried formless tears. He'd watched year after year as his brother, Uncle Dan to his daughter, raised her and took care of her, never knowing that her vanished mother and father were buried a scant hundred yards from the roadside, just miles away, victims of his bizarre cruelty.

"Like this, Uncle Dan?" she asked, running her tongue slowly across the length of his rudely engorged shaft.

"Call me Daddy, baby," he answered, putting a hand, kindly, gently against her cheek. She nuzzled it, purring, before he used it to forcefully guide her mouth back to his cock.

Don was powerless to stop him. He could touch nothing. He could say nothing. After years of practice, with all of his might, he could create a sense of shivering cold, but one that would pass in moments. He could, with an exhausting effort that actually drove him out of existence for days, cause a breath of air that could lift a scrap of paper an inch off a table, only to have it settle back down.

With days and days of rest and preparation, Don could possess an animal. It had never worked with people, but if an animal was very near, he could enter it's body, seeing and hearing with it's eyes and ears.

He could even control it's emotions, if not entirely its actions. He could make it fear, or hate, or even love, but only for a moment. Within seconds, his grip weakened, and he was banished out of existence, again, for a long while. But his influence on the animal lasted as well, especially if he could actually feel the emotion himself as he possessed the creature's body. If the emotions were strong enough, it could continue to fear, or to otherwise feel, beyond all reason, whatever he had instilled.

Once, he'd actually succeeded in frightening off a neighbor's unusually vicious pit pull, after it had unexpectedly turned on Danielle. At least he'd been able to save her from horrific wounds, then and for good, from that particular monster, if not his brother, the monster.

That was his power as a ghost. The power to make mere animals cower in trembling fear.

"Oooh, Uncle Dan..." she mewed as he sucked on her young, hard nipple.

"Daddy," he corrected, slapping her ass with a crack that invoked a high pitched yelp.

"Daddy," she stuttered, her voice tremulous, finding it hard to use the word.

"That feels so good... Daddy," she breathed.

Her voice was a sensuous, piping song that made her uncle growl in response. The man pushed her to the bed, now inspired to hurry on to sate his lust by implanting his stiff, stabbing prick in her tender young body.

Danielle didn't know, nobody knew, what he knew, that Dan was a sick, cruel, serial rapist and killer. As kind and giving as he had always been to Danielle until now,, he was pure evil. Don had been forced to watch, time and again, as he lured young girls from bars. He was very attractive, and the perfect gentlemen, with a winning smile and an easy charm. He bedded them easily.

He made them call him "daddy," and they liked it. He fucked them to orgasm. He made sure that they came. Then, in his own moment of orgasm, he slit their throats. He came inside them, as he watched their lust turn, as abruptly as the onset and explosion of his orgasm, into terror, and then he'd watch the life fade from their eyes as his cock emptied its load of vile cum into them, and his cock subsided and shriveled within them as they died.

"God, Daddy, yes, fuck me Daddy, yes."

Danielle grabbed bunches of sheets in her hands, writhing and twisting out of control as her climaxes took her mind and soul from her. Dan grinned evilly down at her with his accomplishment, his sense of power and inglorious pride sated by her pleasured cries, as he thrust himself into her with animal abandon.

"That's it, Danny, baby, be a good girl and come for Daddy. Come hard for Daddy."

He drove into her, over and over, pausing time and again to let her recover, then easily pushing her to another orgasm with another series of rapid, incestuous thrusts.

"Take Daddy's cock, baby, take Daddy's cock, the best, last cock you'll ever have."

She clawed and screamed in her rapture, raking her nails across his back, drawing one small bead of blood from one long, over sharp nail.

"You fucking slut, you fucking whore, take Daddy's cock, whore, take all of Daddy's cock."

Don looked down in horror, seeing the knife he already knew was there, revealed by a now carelessly tossed aside pillow. His brother was going to do it. He was going to fucking do it.

Don had hoped, prayed, that Danielle would be spared, that Dan's years of "fatherhood," that his care for and responsibility to her would overcome his sick urges. He'd hoped, uselessly, for years, and most strongly today, but deep down he'd always known that this was coming. He knew that tonight was the night.

He hoped he was prepared. He'd sensed this coming, and done everything he could.

"You dirty fucking whore. Daddy's stabbing your slut body with his fucking cock. He's going to fucking stab you like you fucking deserve."

Dan's hand closed over the knife.

It was hard to do. The mere thought of doing it repulsed him in so many ways. He steeled himself. He made himself try. He concentrated. He focused. He projected.

"You cock loving little dirty whore..."

At first there was a wall. There was darkness. There was hard, cold resistance. There were ways through. A maze. A path. A door. He was a fog. He was a smothering blanket. He was a closing grip.

Don's mind closed over Dan's, as Dan fucked his daughter like a rutting animal, while preparing to strike at his chosen moment.

It was a dark place. Possessing a simple creature was itself difficult, and discomforting. Their thoughts were chaotic, and too emotional. It was unsettling. This was different. Dan's thoughts were more ordered, his feelings more structured and defined, but the pure sense of evil was overwhelming. His twin brother's mind was a dark, black, painful place.

Don felt an elation as he realized it had worked. He and his brother were twins. They'd always been close. They shared many things, experiences, reactions, feelings through their lives. Whatever Dan had that had sickened him wasn't inside Don, but many other things were.

They were so close, the possession was almost easy. Don had suspected he could, that it might work at a moment of need, but had always been too frightened and revolted by his brother to try. He could have tried to save the other girls. He should have tried. He hadn't.

But this time he did. He had to. And it had worked.

"I love you, Danny," were his first words, spoken instantly, almost without thinking.

For the first time in almost a decade he felt a woman's flesh against his own. He looked down at his darling, lovely daughter as she writhed erotically beneath what almost felt to him to be a familiar body, so similar to his own.

"I love you so much," he said.

His guilt at fucking his own daughter was crushing, but it was quickly replaced with the sheer joy and elation of the sensations his body experienced. He felt a moment of sinful, unforgivable pleasure as he became aware of the feel of her slick, tight, little cunt, burning with satiny liquid heat, while pulsing rapidly over his cock as she came and came and came.

Her small, firm breasts heaved beneath him, her nipples begging to be suckled. Her skin was smooth and luscious, more beautiful than any he'd ever seen. Her eyes shown with a darling light, atop a pleased, sweet, endearing and still innocent smile.

"Oh, God, Daddy, I love you, I love you, I love your cock, Daddy, I love you."

Her eyes were staring straight up into his, so like her mother's, and in other ways so like his own.

Somehow, it was foolish, he knew, but somehow, he knew that now she was talking to him, not to Dan, not to her uncle, but to him. She couldn't possibly know that he was there, but when she said she loved her daddy, as she came, as sinful as the thought was, she meant him. She loved her father, in so many ways, and she told him so.

"Do you like it, Daddy? Is it good for you, too? Do you like being inside me, Daddy?"

He felt his brother's cock, his cock, surging to life. He felt it filling with copious cum, threatening to burst, aching to burst. The sensation built, conquering all of this thoughts.

He moaned out loud, and knew, as he spoke with his brother's throat, that the voice he used sounded like his own. It spoke to her with his voice, as it was in life.

"You're so fucking tight, Baby, yes, Baby, Daddy loves you, Daddy's always loved you and always loves you and will always love you."

He came inside her with explosive force. She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, knowing in moments that she'd be gone. He knew that in moments his energy would subside. His ghost would flee this body, and hers, leaving her alone with a monster, with him powerless to save her.

His mind was awash in an overpowering guilt as his cock poured cum inside his own daughter. He was smothered in guilt and rage and a searing hatred, of himself for enjoying the pleasure, and of his brother, Dan, for being the monster that he was. He hated him for having caused all of this pain, to all of them, and most of all for placing him in this sordid position. He hated himself, and his brother, both.

At the same time, in that same instant, he felt an overwhelming love for his daughter, beaming up at him, a beautiful, mature, sensual woman. He loved her more than anything, more than life, more than any existence, corporeal or netherworld.

"Daddy loves you, Danny, Baby. Daddy loves you. Daddy fucking loves you..."

"I love you, too, Daddy. I love you so much, I love you Daddy..."

He loved her. He hated himself. He hated his brother more. His cock jerked one last time, as he came with unbridled vehemence, his eyes drifting to the glimmer of the blade still in his hand, as the world went black for the last time.

* * *

Danielle held the cherished snow globe, a symbol of her lost childhood, then set it carefully down in exactly the right place on her new dresser, in her first apartment. She smiled whimsically as she put the last unpacked box into the pile with the others. It was done. She was a grown woman, living on her own, ready to start her first job as a civil engineer, degree and everything.

She'd made it.

She thought sadly about Uncle Dan.

He'd been her lover for one, wondrous night, but then, despite her half hearted advances, never again. They both felt shamed by what they'd done, so ashamed they didn't even discuss it. It was a marvelous, wondrous experience, in a secret way that she'd never shared with him, or anyone, but both were too overcome with remorse and shame to repeat it.

He'd changed after that. He became more introverted, and dour. He started staying in, and avoiding people. He couldn't stand to look at himself in a mirror. She could see him disintegrating before her eyes, living like a tortured soul.

His love for her was different, too. It was stronger, and less needy, and more giving. He'd finally become the father she missed, and needed, even as he faded away.

It hadn't lasted long. He died too soon afterward, inexplicably, leaving her alone to face the world.

She felt a sudden, brief, shivering cold. Her head spun about, not really knowing why. The windows were tightly closed. There was no draft. The feeling passed.

It was nothing at all, just her own mind trying to deal with the sordid experiences of her past.

When this day finally came, when she was left alone to face the world, she hadn't thought that she would survive. Not after all she'd been through. But now she knew she would. She knew she could. Her father had loved her, dearly, she knew, and that had always given her strength.