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The Laughing Lurkers

For SuperDuperDog

By Draconicon

Being hired to retrieve magical items was hardly a new job for the experienced wolf, but the fact that he was being sent into a haunted mansion was a bit of a new one on him. He didn't like the idea, considering the fact that ghosts - particularly magically summoned ghosts, as his employer had implied they were - were never friendly to those that intruded on their grounds.

Gold, however, was far more persuasive than mortals, and the wolf eventually caved, deciding that it wouldn't be that bad, as long as he was quick.

And that was how he ended up standing at the front door of an old, dilapidated mansion that stood on a hill outside the main city. He had already disabled the old warding spells that had guarded the gate, and now, all that was left to do was to get in, get the magic books that were left behind, and then get back to his employer.

And hope that the ghosts are more mischievous than harmful, he thought, running a clawed finger along the crack between door and doorframe. If they're just watchful spirits, then I can deal with that, but if they're not...

Well, he would deal with that if it came to it. He had brought along plenty of salt for demons, as well as a few other magical tools if he was called upon to use them. The wolf shifted from foot to foot, wiggling his toes against the wooden floorboards. The air was cold with the presence of spirits, and he could already feel that chill seeping into his soles.

Let's get this over with, Morris thought, and pushed the door open.

No security spell activated as it opened, nor was he suddenly attacked by possessed items. So far, so good.

The barefoot, white-furred wolf shook his head as he walked inside, his leather trousers rustling and almost feeling like they were clenching tighter around his hips. The air stirred as he walked in, almost like wind brushing over his chest. It was colder than usual, too, far colder than the summer air should have left the still mansion.

He rolled his eyes, waving his hands through the air. If that was all the ghosts could summon, then he would be fine.

Down the main hall, second left, then down the stairs hidden in the closet, he thought, remembering his employer's instructions. Then through a second hidden door, and the lab's down -

"Mmmmph."

He stopped after taking a half a step into the house, feeling something more than just the chill air. He looked down slowly, watching as his trousers were pressed firmly against his groin, fingers rubbing and teasing over his bulge down there. The slight bulge of his sheath was slowly growing larger, and the imprints of invisible fingers traveled across the leather.

"So. That's your game, is it?"

There was no response, save for perhaps a laugh so quiet that he wasn't sure if he imagined it or not. He shook his head, gritting his teeth and fighting off a snarl as he walked forward, feeling the one hand getting joined by others. Soon, he was being felt up by no fewer than four hands, each of them teasing something different down there. He tried his best to ignore the gentle rubbing and stroking along his balls and his sheath, fighting the pleasure that was rising as his cock grew.

"I'm a professional. I don't have time for this."

Either the ghosts didn't hear him, or they didn't care. Either way, they were insistent on keeping up the teasing, stroking him slowly as he walked down the hall.

It didn't take long before he was fully erect, throbbing enough to push the waistband of his leather pants forward. He didn't quite blush, mostly because he was downright irritated, but he was thankful that the mansion was abandoned. If anyone had been around to see this, he wasn't sure what would happen.

Down the hall and into the secondary hallway on the second left, and then he had to find the right closet. He took a turn -

"Nnngh!"

Only to feel a hand gripping his ass cheeks. The white wolf whipped his head around, his cheeks starting to burn as he looked down at the back of his trousers. They were all bunched up under his tail, and the leather was pulled tight enough to show the slight curve of his rump.

"Hands off!"

Slapping around under his tail like some blushing tavern wench against a flirty suitor, he found himself somehow even less effective. The ghosts were not brushed away by his touch, nor did they stop groping him. If anything his flustered nature only made them that much more insistent about touching his ass.

Doing his best to ignore them and failing utterly, the white wolf made his way further down the hall. Every time he took a step, he swore that the air got colder, but worse, the ghosts got more amorous. They groped, they pinched, they pulled his cheeks apart. Hell, there were times when he felt their tongues under his tail, and that was downright disconcerting.

By the time that he reached the closet, they'd found a way to do more than just grope him through his clothing. He took a step, only to be thrown forward, off-balance from a sudden tug from behind. He threw himself into the fall, rolled -

And when he stood up again, he was naked from the waist down. His leather trousers were held tight in invisible hands, floating more than five feet away. The ghosts bobbed them up and down, swaying them from side to side, almost as if they were daring him to chase after them.

For the first time, Morris smiled.

"Keep them. I look better naked, anyway."

He shook his head, turning to the first closet he found. As soon as he opened it, he could tell that the back wasn't real, and that it had to have been installed to hide something. The soft 'flump' of his pants hitting the floor behind him meant that the ghosts were probably a little annoyed that their prank hadn't gone so well as they hoped.

As he made his way into the closet, he found the promised staircase. He also found the hands following him again, groping him, squeezing his cock and balls, rubbing them like a pair of worshipful lovers. They groped at his rump, and some even moved up to his chest, tweaking his nipples.

He wanted to swat them away, but he had already learned that didn't work. He'd just have to put up with them until he was out of the house.

What about getting back to his employer? Well, the guy could pay for a little full-frontal. He wasn't going to be bothered about that, now.

Or at least, he was doing his best not to be bothered. It was getting harder and harder to walk normally down the steps, and each stroke from the ghostly hands had him harder than the last. His cock was fully erect, swinging back and forth, and the invisible hands were stroking from base to tip every time, lingering over the head and teasing it somehow. The ones behind him were rubbing his ass, spreading the cheeks, and he swore that the ghostly fingers were about to slide right up his ass, too.

Whoever had summoned these things, they had done a good job of making them distracting, that was for sure.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, huffing and puffing and panting up a storm. There was another door down there, one that was already unlocked. Morris pushed it open, got a glimpse of the lab on the other side -

And then was promptly lifted off his feet. He yelped as ghost hands grabbed his ankles, flipping him upside-down, and this time, there was no easy way free. The ghosts held him there, suspended and floating.

"You must be joking," he muttered under his breath. "What do you want this time?"

The answer, as ever, came silently. Silently, and with sudden jolts of little scratches and brushes across the bottom of his feet.

"GA-HAHAHAHA!"

A sudden shriek of laughter ripped its way from his lips as the dancing, ghostly digits tickled at the bottom of his feet, dragging invisible nails and dancing fingers along his soles. Flailing around, Morris desperately tried to kick against the spirit hands that held him aloft, but nothing worked. He was helpless.

And the hands and fingers and ghostly feathers weren't stopping. They fanned his toes, tickling between them, and then along the arch of his feet. The black pads were attacked again and again, the sensitive flesh under constant attack by the summoned spirits. Every time that they flicked along the bottom of his feet, the giggles burst from his throat again, keeping him from shouting anything else.

Even as he strained to reach for the pouches at his middle, he realized that he'd left all the salts and powders in his pants. There was nothing left to fight the ghosts with, nothing that would make them leave him alone. All he could do was take what they wanted to do with him, hoping that he could hold out.

That was getting increasingly hard as more hands joined in, tickling his stomach, his sides, his back, his chest. Some wiggled in under his chin, tickling his neck, while still others reached around and got into his armpits. The jabbing, darting fingers would not give him mercy, not even to breathe as they tickled every square inch of flesh that they could find.

Morris struggled to say anything besides 'ha ha' and kept failing. He tried to breathe, and he barely managed to get a lungful. He panted, he shivered, he screamed, and his toes curled and his fists did too.

The tickles continued, and all he could do was laugh.

"Hahahahaha! HAHAHAH!"

The screams and giggles echoed around him as his lungs felt tighter and tighter, his vision collapsing in little circles of blackness as he failed to get his air back. He'd gasp, only for the tickles to force him to scream it out again.

"HAHAHAH!"

Another series of screaming laughter, another complete loss of air. He squirmed, he shivered, he screamed...

And bit by bit, he slipped further and further towards unconsciousness. The feeling of tickling chased him into darkness, and eventually, he could laugh no more. Dangling there, held by ghostly fingers, he was carried away, where he would be used in a most different manner when he woke again.

The End

Summary: Morris goes to explore a haunted house, hoping for reasonably decent ghosts. He gets perverts, and worse.

Tags: M/solo, M/ghost, groping, fondling, masturbation, teasing wolf, ghost, nude, barefoot, tickling, laughter, erection, unconscious,