Trilogy of Tits and Terror Ch. 02

The silence hung between them as Sarah took it all in. Could it be true? Could Elizabeth have been the evil one after all? Wait, then how...

"How do you know all this?" Sarah asked.

"Because Elizabeth told me," Joyce said, exhaling a thick puff of smoke. She noted Sarah's confusion. That video that you saw... I saw it too. Ten years ago. I don't know how I received it, but I did. I got it in my email. So I watched. And I dismissed it. Thought it was just internet nonsense. Five days later, she came for me. She came out of the TV. She reached out and... crawled... out of the TV. She didn't look like a ghost. She was, like, a real person. She was soaked with water, and the way she moved... it was terrifying. She stood up, and she walked right up to me... I swear, I thought I was gonna die. But she stopped in front of me, like she was confused. Like something wasn't right. She asked me to give her my husband."

There was a long pause as Joyce looked away, lost in thought, puffing on her cigarette. Finally, she looked back at Sarah.

"I never married. I... well, it just never happened," Joyce admitted, slightly embarrassed. "That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. No, no, no, not in the least. She was furious. She yelled... she screamed... the house was shaking. The whole world was shaking. She said to give her a married couple now. To supply them to her in order to save my own skin. And..." she paused, taking another drag on her cigarette. "I was so scared... I thought I was gonna die. So... I did. I... I sent the video to my best friend. Nancy... Nancy Tramone."

"Billy Tramone..." Sarah said under her breath. Joyce nodded.

"That's her husband..." Joyce said. "The ghost then grabbed me by the throat, holding me against the wall. And that's when I saw everything. Her story. I saw it in my head, like I was seeing her memory. Once I saw everything, she dropped me to the floor. I had only barely opened my eyes again when I saw that... thing... crawling back into the TV."

Sarah was just staring, shocked.

"I regretted what I did... I mean it, I do," Joyce explained. "I couldn't bring myself to admit what I had done. I was a coward... a fucking coward. I had betrayed my best friend. Sold her out. I eventually worked up the courage to warn them, but by the time I got to their house, it was too late. I got there and watched that... beast... that evil slut... grab my best friend from in the TV, reach out like it was nothing. She grabbed my friend and pulled her in. She was gone. Just... gone. The only thing that didn't get pulled in was her wedding ring. It got pulled off her finger. Then that thing crawled out of the TV again. She ignored me. She only cared about Billy. She went after him, and he was frozen in terror. Then... somehow... she seduced him. She used her body to seduce him, even after all that. I don't know how, but it worked. They had sex, right then and there. We could hear Nancy screaming out from the TV, but they didn't care. Billy... he was such a good guy back then. But... when she was done with him, he was different. Changed."

Sarah was stunned. This was incredible. How could this be true? Sarah could easily detect when she was being lied to or misled, but Joyce seemed so haunted. This was real for her.

"That ghost left once they were done. She crawled back into the TV screen, but not before she grabbed Nancy's ring. She put it on one of her fingers, like a trophy. Her fingers were adorned with rings. Tons of them. Like... she had done this before. Done it... a lot of times. All of her fingers had rings on them... except for one. The ring finger on her left hand." Joyce explained.

"Why?" Sarah asked.

"I think... I think she's saving it for the one she's looking for. The ring that means the most to her, from the man she's seeking out." Joyce said. Sarah could feel the ring in her pocket, the discarded one from the bottom of the lake. She had no doubt it was the same ring she was talking about.

"What man is she seeking out?" Sarah asked

"She only tears apart married couples," Joyce explained. "That's her mission. Tearing apart couples to prove how weak those bonds truly are compared to her. To prove that she is more worthy than the wives they marry. That's why she wasn't interested in me. Only married couples. She wants to destroy married women, drag them to the hell she's had to live in, for all eternity. And then men... these married men... she wants to show them what their missing out on. I think she's collecting them, wearing their broken vows like trophies. Every five days, she reappears, and reclaims her trophies. Re-conquers them. Changes them. Fucks them, again and again, over and over. I swear, that bitch probably gets laid now more than she did when she was alive, and she was a huge slut back then, so that's saying something. I suppose she'll keep doing it till she finds the man she likes. The man she wants to settle down with."

"But... I stopped her. I found her body and buried her," Sarah explained. Joyce only smiled.

"Oh honey... that might work for other beings, but not her. I know her. I saw her true form. I know what she is. Trust me... she is not done. You did nothing to stop her. She's not after spiritual peace. She doesn't want rest. She wants to live. She wants revenge. She wants power. She wants dick. And she will not settle for anything less. She wants what was stolen from her. The life that was stolen from her. With the man that was stolen from her," Joyce explained.

"But he's long dead." Sarah replied.

"Well, yeah, of course. Maybe that's why she fucks so many men. She's looking for the one who matches up to him. Who compares to what she lost."

Suddenly, Sarah's mind flashed. To what had drawn her to this case in the first place. The painting of the man whose ring she purchased. A picture of Michael Bosley.

He looked exactly like Dave.

"Oh my God!" Sarah sighed softly, standing up. "My husband... he looks exactly him. Like Michael." Joyce's eyes widened.

"Oh no..." Joyce said. Sarah turned to leave when Joyce stopped her. "Wait! Wait..." she stopped in her tracks. "Wait... I know you think you can rescue him. But it's too late! He's gone. She is too good at what she does to be stopped. Just walk away! Hide, like I have. If you try to save him, you are only walking into her clutches. And trust me... there's no escape. Do not underestimate her power!" Sarah thought for a second before turning to move. "Wait!" Joyce said again, calling after her.

"He's my husband! I have to protect him!" Sarah called out before sprinting out the door, running to her car.

Joyce looked at the woman, watching her run away, knowing she would never see her again.

What a love-blind fool.

************

Sarah was zooming down the highway, cursing at her phone. Of course, this is the one time it chooses to die. She couldn't turn it on, she couldn't recharge it, nothing. She even stopped at a gas station, begging to use the phone, only to have them tell her their phones were out too.

Naturally. On this day of all days.

So, she was zooming home, hoping to get there as fast as she could and beat Dave home.

Okay, this case was actually more serious than she might have thought. She had done it all by the book, and it had been all for naught. She had to get to Dave, to warn him. Because Elizabeth was coming, and she had to be stopped somehow.

Dave arrived home from work first, a little tired, but happy to be home. He was a little disappointed to see Sarah wasn't home yet. To put it bluntly, he was feeling her absence in his groin. They had a pretty active sex life, and she could be quite a handful in bed, far more exciting than any of the other girls he had been with. He wished she was home now so he could ravish her. But not yet.

He set his stuff down and began settling in when something caught his eye on Sarah's computer desk. A picture of a painting.

He remembered it well. She had seen this picture at an auction, a painting of a guy who had looked exactly like him, and she thought it'd be cool to get the item associated with it, the ring that was currently on top of the picture. Dave's eyes lingered on it before moving towards his bedroom, pulling at his tie to loosen it. As he reached his bedroom, he heard the door open and close, and some frenzied, hurried steps.

"Dave!" Sarah called out, afraid. Smiling to himself, he turned back. Down the hall in the living room appeared Sarah, looking back at him. They met eyes, and she smiled.

"Oh thank God!" Sarah said, exhaling slightly. But in her frenzy, she lost track of her surroundings.

She was currently standing in front of her large, flat screen TV.

Sarah's relief only lasted for a moment. Because in that same moment, the lights in the house flickered, and the TV turned on, lighting the room in an eerie glow of static. Sarah only had a second to process this before it was too late.

A hand reached out from within the TV screen, grabbing Sarah roughly by the shoulder.

"What the...!" Sarah cried out, startled. Before she could escape the grasp of this hand, it used its inhuman strength to lift her up, dragging her into the screen. "AHHH!" Sarah screamed out as her top half was tugged through the plane of the TV screen, being pulled within, her legs hanging over the edge of the screen, still in the living room.

"Sarah!" Dave called out, moving to run forward to help his wife. But it was too late. As he reached to grab one of her kicking legs, whatever force that had her in its grasp yanked her hard, dragging the rest of her into the TV screen, leaving behind a small clatter as some things fell from her. But other than that, she was completely gone. Disappeared.

Dave ran forward, slamming his hands against the static screen, slapping against it.

"Sarah!" the terrified husband cried out. How? How? She got pulled into a TV. Not behind, but within. Into. What the fuck just happened? Where did she go? What the fuck was going on?

"Dave!" he heard Sarah cry out from the screen, sounding far away.

"Sarah!" he called out, but this time, there was no response.

************

Sarah had fallen into the TV, into some new plane of existence. Into the fog. The all-encompassing fog. She couldn't see a thing. She still felt like herself. She was still in her body. But it was like she had been pulled into a dream. As if she was falling into a dense, heavy fog. She couldn't see through it. She couldn't comprehend where she was at. But it felt like she was falling. Not at a breakneck speed, as if falling through the air. No, it was like she was sinking underwater, falling deeper and deeper, farther away from home. And as she sunk deeper, her mind drifted, unable to think clearly. Unable to think like normal. For a time, she found herself hypnotized by the void, lost in nothingness.

************

Back home, Dave felt just as adrift, only in a different way. He backed up from the television, terrified. What should he do? What can he do? What the hell just happened? He didn't even know where to start. He stumbled away from the TV, his eyes never leaving the screen. Was this real, or some awful nightmare? He scratched at his arm, hoping to wake himself from this scary dream, but there was no escaping this nightmare.

A hand reached out from the screen again.

Dave jumped in shock as the hand reached out again, looking for something. Grabbing the edge of the table in front of the TV for leverage, another hand reached out, joining the other.

Two long, lean, pale arms, fingers adorned with rings.

The arms tugged forward, until a head emerged, a messy mop of long, black hair, obscuring her features. This ghostly woman began emerging from the screen, more and more of her appearing. She wore a long, white, thin garment, like a plain, cotton dress, hanging down past her knees. And her body was covered with water. Absolutely drenched, dripping heavy drops of moisture everywhere.

Dave stood frozen in fear.

Finally, the woman emerged, sliding down onto the floor, falling heavily onto her belly. Drenched in water, she slid along the floor lightly like a sea serpent before coming to a stop. Dave looked at her, seeing lots of black hair, that long white garment, covering her, clinging to her due to the heavy weight of the water soaking it. For a moment, she just lied there on the ground, unmoving. Then, looking up with an almost inhuman jerk, she stared Dave down, her mess of black hair still obscuring her features. Getting on her hands and knees, she crawled forward like a spider, the rings on her fingers clicking on the wood floor, moving as quick as a flash, making Dave jump back.

"Jesus! What are you?!" Dave cried out. The woman said nothing, just looking up at him, studying him from her prone position. She then pushed herself up into a seated position quickly, knees raised in front of her, arms wrapped around them, face still obscured by her long black hair as she looked up at him. For a minute, she just stared and he didn't move a muscle. He was too frightened to do anything. Finally, she slowly reached up and parted her thick black hair, revealing her face for the first time. Dave was shocked by what he saw.

She was absolutely stunning.

For some reason, this cooled his fear, somewhat. Yeah, she had dragged his wife into a TV screen, before crawling out of it herself, into his living room from some mysterious plane of existence. But she looked good, so maybe she might not be so bad. It felt like a strange thing to notice at this point, but it was the truth. She did look good.

Very, very good.

Large, expressive, crystal-blue eyes. Plump lips, shaded black, which formed a natural, sexy pout. And she was just stunningly, classically beautiful, like a model. But the whole ghost thing darkened her look, gave a little edge to her good looks that at one time must have come across as effervescent and gorgeous. Despite everything, he found himself transfixed by how attractive she was.

From what he understood, the woman at the center of this ghost story was supposed to have been a few years older than he is now when she, uh... died. Her late twenties. But in her position, she looked younger, posing like a scolded child, sitting down with her knees tucked to her chest. And she was staring up with an odd expression, one of almost wonder. Her eyes were wide, and she gazed at him open-mouthed, studying him. Appraising him with almost child-like shock.

Then, she rose to her feet, and revealed to Dave that she was all woman.

The way she rose was odd and jarring. Instead of crawling to her feet, she just sort of rose straight up, utilizing no leverage other than her firmly planted feet. And as she rose, her voluptuous form was finally revealed. And the first thing he noticed, and it was impossible not to notice, was that she had absolutely MAMMOTH breasts. Just insanely huge tits, only made more massive by her slim, hourglass figure, jutting out against the white fabric. And that white garment she had on was so drenched with water that it clung to her. And because the dress was white, and so drenched with water... yeah, it was almost completely see-through.

Dave could see everything.

The frozen, married man could see every square inch of her huge tits. Every smooth, round, inch of her ghostly-pale breast flesh, exposed to him through her nearly transparent clothing. They were so full and round and shapely, capped with hard, pink nipples, pressing outward against the white material. Calling out to him. The soaked garment strained to contain them as it molded to their round, succulent shape, while also showcasing the dark shadow of her juicy cleavage.

The white material clung to every bit of her, showing off her flat, fit belly, and her small, cute navel. The material also stuck to her prominent, feminine hips and down her thighs, where the garment ended in a ragged mess. The material was heavy, drops of water falling from it to the floor between her legs as the material stretched between them. And even though the dress wasn't clinging to her between her legs, it was so wet and threadbare that Dave was able to see the dark shadow of her cunt-hair, a small, fashionable tuft of dark hair.

Needless to say, seeing all this, Dave didn't know how to react.

He was seeing a woman almost completely exposed to him, a woman he didn't know. But she wasn't a real woman. She was a ghost, or a spirit or a demon or something. Some specter from the underworld who had captured his wife and was now coming for him.

"Can you help me?" she asked, finally speaking up, her voice feminine but fragile, crackling with underuse.

"Wha... wha..." he stammered, still too shocked to speak. She was standing in place for a bit, still staring him down, studying him, and he just about jumped out of his skin when she began moving.

Wavering ever so slightly, as if not used to this corporeal form, she began to step forward in herky-jerky steps, moving forward a few stops before stopping, swaying in place. Padding over the hard wood in bare feet, water dripping onto the floor, she got closer and closer, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Can you help me?" she repeated.

"What... wait... wait..." Dave stuttered, still in disbelief that this was actually real as she got closer. As she walked, her massive boobs were bouncing and jiggling hypnotically beneath the thin white material, her dancing nipples arresting his vision. He held his hands out to shield himself from her, but she was undeterred. She kept approaching, eyes locked on him, sauntering towards him, a trail of water left behind her.

"Can you help me?" she asked again.

When she got within arm's length, she blew past his outstretched hands, putting her hands on his chest. Summoning some sort otherworldly strength, she pushed the taller man back till he slammed against the wall. Panting for breath, staring down at this crazy ghost woman in front of him, he couldn't find any words to say as she pushed herself against him, her huge breasts pressing against his chest. His clothes were becoming wet from her close proximity as she pressed herself in closer, moving so her arm was now against his chest, keeping him still, holding him in place against the wall.

"Can you help me?" she said, looking him right in the eyes.

Dave looked down as she held his gaze. He thought she was a ghost, but she felt all real. He could feel her hands against him. He could feel her massive boobs pressed softly against his chest. Every part of her felt very, very real. But there was a darkness inside her. An evil cascading out of her, washing over him. And her gaze was hypnotic as she looked at him, still studying him.

He didn't know what to do. He could feel that her strength was coming from a place beyond this world, and that he wouldn't be able to fight back.

He was at her mercy.

Before he could say or do anything, she pulled her hands from his chest, reaching up to his face with her slim, ring-covered fingers. Dave didn't know what she was gonna do, and for a moment, he feared for his life. He closed his eyes, unable to do anything else.

He opened them again when he felt her delicately remove his glasses, tossing them aside, cracking against the wood floor. He looked down at her, fearfully, seeing that she was looking up at him excitedly, breathing deep and licking her lips.

"You look just like him..." she said, finally speaking new words, her voice soft, feminine but ethereal and otherworldly, tinged with something sinister that made his spine tingle.

"What?" he asked, confused, but she moved before he could get the word out. Before he could move away, she leaned forward and extended her tongue, licking along the side of his face, from his jaw to his ear. It felt strangely pleasurable, sending a much more enjoyable tingle through him, but he was still petrified. She brought her lips to his ear.