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This story was written for Circuit as part of my 2018 Alphabet Challenge. It contains M/M sex between consenting adults and slightly toony stretching. :3

Y is for Yards of Yourself

Everyone always says that the people who take Professor Haversdell's class on myths and legends of the supernatural are idiots. Either airy-fairy spiritualist types, crazy conspiracy theorists, or people just looking to get out of doing any real work and coast by on an easy elective credit. I dunno what they meant by that though. It certainly doesn't apply to me. I'm not a conspiracy theorist, I'm not looking to get out of any work by doing this class, and... uh, oh gosh what was the other thing again? Well, I'm sure that doesn't apply to me either. I just know deep down that I have some deep, spiritual connection to the universe, and if I try hard enough, and put myself in all the right places with the right kind of energy, I'll be able to make a connection. I'll be able to connect with the other side.

I know it. And today, right here, right now, this is how I'm gonna do it.

Even if I have to admit, it is a little boring here.

It seemed like such a good idea. I'm sure it still is. I just wish I'd maybe waited until after the ghosts started to appear before tying myself up like this. But, I trust the Professor. Really, I do. Professor Haversdell told us that this house is just jam packed with ghosts and supernatural phenomena, and all we had to do was stake out a room. This one seemed perfect. It wasn't just old and creepy and way away from where all the other students set up, but it even had this crazy contraption in it. The one I'm strapped into right now. It took a little while for me to figure out how to get the last buckle fastened while I was already bound in it, but once I figured it out, voila! Now I'm stuck to this rack, and just waiting for a ghost to come along thinking I'm either some victim ready to be haunted, or perhaps a fellow tortured soul about to be harmed and stretched out just like they were. I'm gonna record everything too. All I have to do is wait till the ghost appears, then go over and hit the record button on the...

Oh.

Oh, wait. How am I meant to hit the record button when I'm already tied up here. But, if I'd hit record before, then... huh, why didn't I hit record before?

Ah well, it's no big deal. I'll be able to give the best evidence of all no matter what the other students say. Anecdotal evidence! Yes! It'll be perfect, everyone will believe me and I'll be so famous and all the other ghosts of the world will want to come and give their messages to me because they know I'll be able to pass them on to people who will actually believe them, not all those other weirdo crazies who think the government is hiding the existence of ghosts and stuff from us. I mean, they probably are, but I'm sure they have their reasons.

Wait.

Wait wait wait. Oooh, I hear something. Something's coming. I should say something, like they do in the movies.

"Spirit, let yourself be known to me! Spirit, let yourself be known to me. Spirit, let yourself be known to me. Awesome. Yeah. Rule of threes and all, the supernatural love that ritualistic stuff. Oh. Oh shit I probably shouldn't be saying all this out loud too. Internal monologue, Peter. Internal!"

That's better. Okay. La la la. Yup, definitely just in my head now. My mother always tell me I'm the most honest soul on the planet, mostly because I sometimes can't tell when I'm thinking and when I'm speaking. She also says that when I was made, God left out the stereotypical cunning of a fox, and put in a goldfish instead. I'm not sure exactly what she meant by that, but I like goldfish. They're gold, and... y'know, fishy too, which is neat.

Oh. Right, there's someone coming. They're really close now. Is it a ghost? Do ghost leave footsteps? Do ghosts turn doorhandles or would they just fly right through the door? Do ghosts...

Oh, it's not a ghost. It's Professor Haversdell. Hi, Professor! How are y-... oops, dammit. Wrong way round again!

"Hi, Professor! How are you?"

He's looking at me funny. He's not angry. Not upset. He's smiling. It almost looks like he's about to laugh. Oh good, he's happy. I'm glad.

"I'm good, Peter. Thank you. And how about you? You seem... um... well, you seem to be affixed to what looks like a medieval torture device. A rack. Is there any particular reason why you're tied up like this?"

Oh my god, he doesn't see what I'm trying to do? I'm smarter than my Professor! Woo!

"I'm all tied up so that if a ghost senses my energy it'll know I'm helpless and unable to escape if it wants to haunt me. Or if they're a ghost that was tied up and held hostage here too, they might feel sorry for me and try to help!"

He's nodding. See, Professor. It all makes sense if you're a natural like me.

"Ah, of course. Very... innovative, Peter."

He still looks so happy to see me here. And... oh my god, it's happening again. I swear to god, sometimes I think Professor Haversdell is a total perv. I've seen him get erections a bunch of times before. Sometimes during classes. Sometimes on field trips. He's way older than me. I'm only twenty one. He's like, fifty or something. But, he's still handsome. I don't mind if in his old age he can't control his body like he used to. God knows I get rock hard sometimes when I don't mean to. Although... he does kinda look like he's stroking himself through his tweed pants the way he has his hand in his pocket there. Oh man, now I'm getting hard too, just like earlier this semester when he was giving me some essay feedback in his office. He got hard, then I got hard. Then he started touching me and... okay yeah so maybe me and the Professor had sex once. I'd kinda forgotten that was him to be honest. I sleep with a lot of people. They tell me at least I've got a pretty face going for me. I think a lot of them are very pretty too.

"You know, Peter... it might be helpful if we were to get things started without the ghosts. Maybe it would encourage them to appear if they heard some sounds from in here, if they felt your energy changing to indicate you were under some degree of... tension, shall we say?"

He's already walking over to the head of the machine when I nod and smile. That's a great idea. Then he hits a button, and I hear a whirring sound as the rack's motors start up. That's so cool. The medieval people who built this place were so forward thinking, having it hooked up to the electricity and everything. I feel the pressure start to build on my arms and legs. The rack is stretching me ever so slowly that it's only a little pressure at first, but I can barely even think about that. My arms and legs and torso are all tingly, but not nearly as tingly as other parts of me start to get when the Professor moves back down to the middle of the rack. He starts to unbuckle by belt. To unzip my trousers and... ooh, is he going to play with my cock?

"P-professor, I... d-do you think the ghosts will like it? Will they come sooner if you... if you touch me?"

He smiles and nods as he fishes my hard cock out of my underwear. That's good. I'm glad that the ghosts aren't prudish. Sex is great. Oh my god, I wonder if the professor would let me fuck a ghost for science. I'd be just like Ray in Ghostbusters. I didn't really like that movie too much, it was way too serious for me. But that whole ghost blowjob bit? Classic! Oh-em-gee!

Oh. Oohh... t-that's an interesting feeling. Not the handjob. I've felt that before. But, I'm stretching out. Oh. This really is a weird feeling. My body is... stretching. Getting thinner. Longer. I can hear noises. Creaking. Popping. Like parts of me that aren't meant to grow are learning how. It kinda tickles. I can't really move all that much, but when I look down at the rack I can see my feet beginning to curl away down at the far end of the rack. It's at least nine foot long from end to end, this table. With my hands over my head and my feet stretched out straight I covered most of it, but now it's like there's not enough table for all of me. And I'm still being stretched. Still being stretched out and... ooohhh, it's really hard to keep thinking about ghosts when the Professor does that. His cock is out now too, and he's stroking himself with the hand that was stroking me. He's bent over me instead, and his mouth is... ooh, that feels nice. So hot. So wet. I wonder if ectoplasm feels like... ahhh! G-god, that feels really, really very good.

"Professor? W-when are the ghosts going to... t-to come? I'm pretty stretched now. I... I'm pretty horny too. Is that gonna make the ghosts come faster?"

I hear tearing. My body stretches, my clothes don't. They just rip. Pretty soon I'm naked. The Professor is too, though he did it to himself. He just nods as I ask him about the ghosts. I wonder if he actually knows. Maybe why he needs me is because he knows I'm the one with the connection to the other side. Maybe he's just guessing about all of this. No. No, that's stupid. It's more likely that he arranged all of this field trip just to get me and a bunch of other gullible students into an old, abandoned house where he can try and seduce us one by one than it is that he doesn't believe in ghosts. After all, the university wouldn't just let anyone lecture on ghosts if they weren't really an expert. Especially not one of their most veteran Professors. What is it I always hear the other lecturers say about Professor Haversdell? Something about how he has tenure. Something like... it's amazing what you can get away with when you have tenure? Or, no, maybe not that. That doesn't sound like a good thing, and they must have meant that he's a good Professor. I'd know. I'd be able to tell. I don't sleep with jerks. And even though we've never actually slept in the same bed, it still feels really good when the Professor strokes my cock.

"Professor? I'm really... r-really stretched out now. Have you seen any ghosts yet? Do you have any of your equipment with you to check and see?"

The wheels are still turning. The rack is still tugging on me. I feel so stretched out now. So flat, like rolled out pizza dough. If I look down I can't see my nose any more because I'm so stretched and flattened out. If it weren't for the Professor holding my cock, I think that would have stretched and flattened itself too. I look down at the Professor. He's not wearing clothes any more, and even when he was, he didn't have any of his ghost detecting equipment on. Just his tweed trousers crumpled in a pile with a shirt, a blazer and... hey, was he wearing a thong?!

"Nnn-nnhh... no, Peter. No ghosts. Now, be a good slu-uuh, I mean student. Be a good student for your Professor, a-and... and cum for me. I have three of your fellow students trying ritualised body-painting in the basement, your friend Ryan trying to summon fairies with a pole dance around a four poster bed, and two more ladies who I convinced... t-that is to say, who believe they are inhabited by the spirits of former lesbian life partners, in the old library. I need to get back to some of them, t-to... to ensure that their own experiments are progressing in due course."

I want to be a good student. I want to cum, too. I wish I could see my other classmates' projects too. They all sound really fun. But, I suppose I should stick to my own task first. I need to stay here all night if I'm going to prove there are ghosts here. And there are. I know. I can feel it. I can feel... oh. Oohhh, I... I can feel something else too. I'm going to cum. I'm close now. The Professor is stroking me faster, and... w-with the rack too? All this tugging, all this stretching and squeezing is making me feel so strange. So weird, b-but... good.

Professor. I'm going to cum. Oh Professor. Oh, Professor, I.... ooh, oh dear, internal monologue again.

"Professor, I'm... I'm cumming!"

It feels really good as the cum streaks of out me in thick ribbons. I can feel it pouring through my cock and out into the world, feel my cock twitching and straining as the strands of cum fly up into the air and land all over my body, all over the Professor's hand and... and then he's doing it too. Growling. Snarling. Tossing back his head and adding his own cum to mine, painting my thighs, my own cock with his cum. I can hear myself crying out to him, I can hear him crying out to me too, our voices ringing out like tortured spirits... only, y'know, sexier and not dead.

"You cute idiot, I... aaah, I'm cumming on you. All over you, y-yards and yards of yourself, sticky with my cum and... oohh yeahhhh..."

He squeezes my knot. He squeezes his He rises up on the tips of his toes and rubs our cocks together as we drool the last of our cum together. It feels good. I'm spent. I just want to rest now.

I think he stopped pretty quickly after that, and I think he turned off the machine too. Next thing I know, he's gone. The pile of his clothes, everything but the evidence of his cum glistening on me. My eyes widen. Oh my god. Oh my god, was he here at all?! Was that really actually the Professor, or was it maybe a real live actual gh-...

The door swings open, and the Professor rushes back in. He ducks down under the rack, pulls something out, and stuffs it in his blazer pocket before leaving again, calling out hurriedly after himself.

"Forgot my thong, happy ghost hunting, Peter!"

The door slams behind him. I'm alone again.

I'm all stretched out and covered in my Professor's cum, and just like he said, there's yards and yards of me now, stretched out and flattened, only my hard cock still fully three dimensional. The ghosts haven't come yet, but now, with me all naked and vulnerable, all mangled and stretched by the rack and still locked in it with my wavy limbs even now, they're bound to take an interest. I'll prove they exist. I'll tell the world about them, and everyone will be so excited to hear the story of how it happened. And this time, I'll get it all on video. I'll ask the Professor to turn it on for me and...

Oh. Right, he's already gone. Uh, well... when he comes back I'll definitely ask him to! Maybe he can jerk me off again at the same time. That would be fun to have on video. Ooooh, or I can get a ghost to turn the camera on, then have a ghost jerk me off too. Or we can go even further. I wonder if a ghost would like to have sex with a stretched out living person?

"If you want to have sex with me, ghosts... you can. If you're okay with it being filmed, anyway. Otherwise maybe just haunt me regular style after you turn the camera on. I want to be respectful of your choices."

That seems reasonable, right? Yeah, I'm sure they'll hear me and come haunt me, or fuck me, any minute now.

Everyone always says that the people who take Professor Haversdell's class on myths and legends of the supernatural are idiots. But, they don't know what they're talking about. My plan is flawless. It's perfect. And all I need for it to work, all I need to prove it is for a ghost to appear and turn the camera on so it can film itself here with me.

Any second now. Just me, my stretched out body, my still hard cock, and a ghost.

Any second.

I'm waiting.

I'm waiting.

Still waiting.

I'm... god, I'm getting kinda bored now. I wish I'd brought a TV so I could at least check for ghosts in the white noise while I lie here. Ooh, or the new series of Real Housewives on Campus might be on. God I love that show! Anyway, what was I planning on doing? Uh... stretched out, handjob from Professor, left alone again, oh, right! Ghosts!

Any second now.

I'm waiting.

I'm waiting.

I'm...

By Jeeves

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