“nnh” dante gave out a loud groan, thick ectoplasm dripping from his mouth. Opening his jaws had recently become out of the realm of possibility.
The groaning count, blinked dimly. He squinted over his snout, trying to peer past the cheeks that straddled it at the hallway ahead. Shimmering forms floated and danced in the air. Impish laughter echoed through the hall. The specters floating into view then out again before pressing against his taut skin. He shivered and groaned, their ‘bodies’ cold as ice cream. A few more pressed into him, another shockwave of cold and an intense appetite sating pleasure rippling through his body.
The count wriggled his fingers; the sausage like appendages lost in the bloated fat of his wrists.His movements were nothing but wobbles, his protests stifled by ectoplasm and fat. Every waking moment he spent trying to figure out what happened, wasted as his mind drifted to pleasure and panic. Somewhere deep within, his heart raced. His body was creaking dangerously. Every slosh making his skin shiver. His chest had begun leaking moments ago, but he was swelling up too fast.
And with every bounce of pleasure, and every ripple of expanding delight… Dante (the count) felt an encroaching fear. He wasn’t sure if it was going to be the hallway confining him… or the mockery of the human form that was his own body. But something was going to give very shortly.
Another spirit floated by his face, before diving into his body. The sound of creaking and swelling before a final snap being the last thing he’d ever hear.
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