Necromantic (2 page)

Chapter 2

After we had lain together for some time, he lifted himself off of me. There was a click and a bright light appeared, causing me to blink. That explained the darkness. It took some time to focus, almost as if I had not used my eyes in a long while. At last, though, I was able to see clearly enough to make him out.

He looked...
different
than I remembered. His hair was shorter and lightly streaked with grey. A few new lines showed on his handsome face. Though still in shape, he also appeared to have put on a little weight.

“What happened, Harold?” I asked, my voice sounding much higher in tone than I was expecting.

“Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I’ll explain,” he replied with a smile. He sat up, his body covered in sweat and his cock at a glorious half-mast.

I likewise moved to a sitting position.

“Lydia, wait!” he said, sounding panicked. “You shouldn’t move, it’s...”

He was too late, however. I managed to look down at my uncovered form and what I saw left me speechless.

I knew what I should have seen. I was in my mid-thirties, five and a half feet tall, toned body - if not quite as tight as I’d been in my twenties - well tanned, and with light auburn hair.

The body before me, though, was younger. It was much paler in skin tone, and the breasts...well, they were at least a full cup size smaller than they should have been.

I turned toward my husband, seeing jet black hair at the fringes of my periphery. “Harold, what’s going on?”

“Lydia, relax...”

“Don’t tell me to relax!” I protested, rising from the bed. It was then that I noticed the room was all wrong. It was still our bedroom, but it was all different. The furniture was changed. Gone was my old vanity that had sat at the far end of the room. In its place was a simple storage chest. The walls, the curtains, even the sheets on the bed...they were all wrong.

I looked around for something in which to see my reflection, but there were no mirrors in the room. I began to walk toward the bedroom door, but my husband stepped in front of me. I couldn’t help but notice that he appeared to be a few inches taller than he should have...leading me to think that I was now somehow shorter.

“Lydia...”

“Out of my way, Harold,” I snapped, sidestepping him. He made a grab for my arm, but I easily avoided his grasping hands. This body was nice and lithe in its form. I pushed that thought away, though. It didn’t matter. What did was that - as impossible as it might seem - I somehow wasn’t me.

I just didn’t realize how right I was.

* * *

Reaching the master bathroom, I flipped on the light switch. I peered into the mirror and almost screeched for Harold to call the cops. There was a stranger standing before me and she was completely nude. I stopped short, though, as realization began to fill my consciousness. I raised my hand instinctively. That’s when I realized that the young Asian woman before me had done the same thing. I opened my mouth and she did too, revealing her straight white teeth. I ran my tongue over them and she mimicked me in the mirror.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react, and then a wave of vertigo washed over me. The room spun. Harold reached me just as I lost my balance and blacked out, sweet unconsciousness taking me away.

* * *

“Lydia...Lydia, are you awake?”

I slowly opened my eyes. I was back in bed. Harold was sitting beside me, pressing something cool to my forehead.

“What happened?”

“You fainted. The shock was too much for you. I tried to warn you that...”

It all came back to me. I sat up and looked down. The same body as before met my gaze.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Harold pressed a finger to my lips.

“Shush. We don’t have much time left. Let me explain.”

“Don’t have much time...I don’t understand.”

“What do you remember?”

The question struck me as odd. I remembered awakening and feeling odd. I certainly remembered the feel of Harold’s cock pulsating inside of me. I started to voice as much, but he interrupted.

“Before all of that.”

Before that? I was...and then the fog began to clear. I had been in a comfortable place. Everything was white and pure. It was entirely pleasant and filled with people who were all friendly. I remembered having a chat not too long ago with my first grade teacher, Mrs. Pitt; however, that must’ve been a dream. Mrs. Pitt had been an old lady back when I was still a child. Surely, by now she must be... “Oh God!”

“It’s true, Lydia.”

“I was in...”

“The afterlife,” Harold finished. “I prefer not to speculate any further than that.”

“I was dead?”

“Technically, you still are,” he replied calmly.

“How long?” He hesitated before responding, so I asked again. “How long, Harold?”

“A little over three years.”

“Three years?!”

“Calm down.”

“Then you...”

“Yes?”

“Then I...,” I sputtered incoherently.

“It’s okay,” he explained. “I’ve been led to understand that the first time would be somewhat disconcerting.”

“First time?”

“Yes. It should be easier on you the next time you return.”

“Why? What do you mean,
next time
?”

He glanced over at the clock alongside the bed. It too was new, compared to what I had known. “I'll explain more the next time. Alas, when you fainted you were out for longer than I had hoped.”

“What?”

“I'll call you again soon...when I need you,” he said. The tone of his voice was odd and for some reason he sounded muffled - as if he were shouting at me from very far away.

I realized it was getting hard to see...as if I were looking through a dirty window from several feet away. I tried to open my mouth to say something, but nothing happened.

Little by little, the feelings, the sensations of having flesh, receded. For a moment, I was in limbo...there was nothing: no light, no sound, no feeling. Then that bright vortex of energy was back, appearing before me again. Once more, it consumed me as if I were nothing. This time when it was finished, though, I found myself once again in a place of light and warmth, surrounded by friends and family long departed. The only difference was that now I realized that I was one of them. I was dead...yet somehow I didn’t feel that way. The life that I had just inhabited clung to my memory. I remembered the world of the living, and how it had felt.

The only questions were what had happened to me, and would Harold make good on his promise to make it happen again?

Chapter 3

Time had no meaning in that other place. The longest conversation with old friends felt no different than a quick hello to a passing acquaintance - barely remembered, but instantly recognizable all the same. It’s hard to explain. Bodies didn’t exist there as they did back...
home
. It’s as if everyone was a canvas of smoke, but what appeared on that canvas was exactly how you remembered them. We saw what we expected, what we hoped, what was comfortable.

That wasn't important right then, though. What was is that I had no concept, no sense of time between that first occurrence and the next. It could have been a minute or a millennium. All I know is that one moment I was surrounded by loved ones and the next they were gone, replaced by that swirling miasma of energy.

Once more, I was devoured by it. This time, though, I tried my best to hold a sense of myself, my memories, and what to expect.

Upon coming to; however, I made it a point to forget about what to expect next time. I found myself on my hands and knees...or someone else’s hands and knees. Unlike last time, there was no gradual sense of becoming someone else. This time, it was more like a light switch. One moment I was ethereal, the next I was just there. Looking around, I was obviously in bed again. I glanced down and saw my hands. Gone was the porcelain skin from before. In its place was a dark mocha color covering long arms, tight with muscle. Whoever I was now, she was in killer shape.

I had little time to ponder the rest, though, as I felt hands grasp my waist. They reached under and began to finger her -
my
- clitoris. She -
I
- was already quite wet. I let out a throaty gasp as fingers slid inside of me. I sighed in a voice deeper than my own as they continued to work me. So wonderful was the feeling that I barely noticed when the other hand reached behind me and gently spread my butt cheeks apart.

Realization of what he was doing hit me.
That son of a bitch...he wouldn’t dare
!

What I had forbidden my husband to do in life, he now took liberties with in death. The tip of his thick manhood pressed against my asshole, demanding entrance. I tightened my host’s sphincter in response. I was about to let out a growl, demanding that he stop, when one of his hands slapped sharply against my ass.

I gasped in pain - perhaps some pleasure too - and Harold used my surprise to force himself in. It was so tight and he was so large that I was sure he would split me wide open. I gritted my teeth, feeling tears well up in my eyes as he violated me. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I felt his balls slap up against me. I was impaled upon him, helpless to do anything but let him have his way.

He began to thrust into me. The first few were painful, not to mention an entirely new experience for me, but then slowly that gave way. A new feeling, one I had never experienced before, began to spread through my body as he continued his assault.

“How do you like this, Lydia?” he asked from behind, the smug bastard. I’d make him pay for what he was doing.

When he was once more buried to the hilt, I again tightened my muscles. He gasped in response. This body was indeed in good shape and I’d use that to my advantage. Keeping myself tense, I took over. I matched him, thrust for thrust, never letting up the pressure.

Harold was never was one to give up easily, though. He continued to play with my vagina, alternating between rubbing my clit and gently fingering my labia. Gradually, I realized how good it felt to have both of my holes worked over, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

Emitting a snarl, I began to move my hips faster, never letting up on the pressure. I was close. Harold’s expert fingers were going to drive me over the edge any moment now and he knew it, but I was determined to make him cum first. The son of a bitch had been inside of me for a scant few minutes, and I knew it would piss him off to squirt so soon - especially in the newfound kingdom he had just conquered. Fuck him, though.

My breathing became labored and I closed my eyes. It was going to be a race to the finish line. I put everything this body had into one final squeeze of my muscles. I held it, nearly losing myself in the process, and finally he succumbed. A blast of hot cum scalded my innermost regions. I had won, and now it was time to accept my prize. Feeling his fingers twitch against my mound as he came, I gave in to the orgasm that I had so rightfully earned. A wave of pure pleasure swept through me, made even better as I imagined him behind me - helpless to have done anything more than shoot off like a teenager.

I could no longer hold him. My body spasmed with climax and every muscle relaxed as I collapsed forward onto the bed, my husband’s cock sliding from this body’s slippery hole in the process.

Harold lay down alongside, put one arm around me, and fondled the ample breasts of this new body.

I playfully slapped his hand. “Asshole.”

“That was incredible, Lydia.”

“That was low. Bringing me back just to assfuck me.”

“Sorry,” he replied. “But you have no idea how lonely I’ve been.”

“Lonely?” I turned to face him. In doing so, I got a good look at the body I now inhabited. Obviously a runner or some sort of athlete, judging by the six pack of abs I saw. “You don’t look too lonely to me.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I’ve done okay for myself, but none of these women can do the things you could do for me.”

I was still pissed, but allowed myself to be flattered by his statement. Harold and I had our ups and downs during my life, but our fuckings had been nearly epic in their scope. If I had died from one of the many mind-blowing orgasms I had received at his touch, I wouldn’t have been...hmm. I wondered if that was what actually happened. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember how I had died.

“What happened to me?”

“It’s hard to explain. There’s this incantation...”

“Not that,” I interrupted, although I had to admit I was intrigued as to where he’d been going with that. “How did...I die?”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I remember being me...actually being me, us living our lives...and now there’s this.”

He paused for a moment before finally answering, “It was a car accident.”

“Oh.” I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so I simply asked, “Did I suffer?”

“No. It was very quick.”

“Well, that’s good.” It was a lame response, but all I could think of. “How was my funeral?”

“It was nice. Your family flew in from Ohio.”

“Cousin Minnie?”

“Yeah, she was there too.”

“Shit. Why did you have to invite her?”

“Sorry," he replied offhandedly. "I didn’t really have time to sit down and go over the guest list.”

I decided to change the topic. Complaining about my bitch cousin wasn’t particularly productive, especially since she technically wasn’t related to the body I currently possessed. Speaking of which, that seemed as good a topic as any.

“Who is this?”

“Huh?”

“This body. Who is she?”

“Oh. I think her name is Idela Something-or-other. I met her on a dating site.”

“And that other person?”

“What other person?”

“From that last time!” I snapped. “How long ago was that, anyway?”

“That was last week.”

“Only a week ago?”

“Yeah. Saturday, to be precise.”

So, here was my husband - widower, I reminded myself - fucking two different whores in a week. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair, I guess. He was technically single now. Still, that didn’t make it sting any less.