Haunted by the Futa Ghost 15 Futa Ghost s Naughty Exorcism
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Incredible ChangesChapter 479: Ghost Stories free porn video
“May I please get the key from your hiding place to unlock the door to my room? I promise I will clean it better than I ever did before. Where I went, the things there liked the dust and the smell of a place where no one ever enters. They used me as a cloth to bring it to that place. My nose became a vacuum for the smell. I want to open my windows to make that smell go away,” Yolonda asked as she stopped in front of her mother.
A woman close to my age said, “The girls found the key. I don’t know how, but now I know why. I thought I knew every inch of that house, but I never knew something existed behind the door in the closet. Great-Great-Grandma always told us it led to a sad place. My grandmother and aunt always said it was a gateway to where ghosts and spirits lived. I went to wake them this morning and couldn’t find them. I looked all over and then found the door to that room open. They opened shutters over both windows. We always believed they were decorations over that part of the attic with no way to access it. They changed your sheets and put on a new bedspread. The girls snuck some of their sister’s panties and clothes to replace the ones your mom and dad never removed from there. They tried to turn on the water but couldn’t find where the pipes connected.”
“Mommy, we talked to a stranger,” one of the twins said.
The other twin said, “They told us daddy was coming, and he was bringing a surprise. We have to go into the room where the ghost lives.”
“The woman said that the ghost needed her clothes and the pretty sneakers she wore when she went away. The girl couldn’t come here with daddy if she were naked. That would be naughty,” the first twin said.
“Great-great-grandaddy? Is that what made you so mad at us when we made our sneakers look like the ghost’s sneakers?” the second twin asked.
While many sizes smaller, I saw that their sneakers were perfect copies of Yolanda’s.
“Yolanda?” the twins asked simultaneously. “Do we have to give you back your dollies? They looked so lonely and sad.”
Yolanda turned around, came over to me, and hugged both girls in my arms.
She then told them. “No, girls. My dollies haven’t had anybody to love them for a long, long time. My great-grandmother made the twin girl dollies when I was three. I think she made them for you. I didn’t understand why she always told me to take care of those two dollies because I was borrowing them, and they belonged to someone else I hadn’t met yet. They look like they did when she gave them to me.”
Both twins asked me to put them down, grabbed Yolanda’s hands, and ran her around to the back of the house. I could hear the shrieks and giggles from the two open windows in dormers sticking out from the roof.
I went to Yolonda’s elderly parents and asked if we could speak in private.
“Our father cursed us until the day he died while our mother said what happened to Yolanda was the price we paid for crossing the line brothers and sisters shouldn’t cross. We are more than a brother and sister. David, he, and my DNA only differ by ten-thousandth of a percent,” the woman said. “We are both XX, but she developed to be a boy. The doctors told us that she was sterile.”
“Our parents only made it through the fifth grade. Both only had so far up the career ladder they could reach, so life was hard. Our being twins had us sharing a room. We became a large family in a small house. They redid part of the house, and our bedroom had one full-sized bed and a four-drawer dresser. When we hit puberty simultaneously, mom tried to put my twin in the room with my sisters. That worked well for a short time until her thirteen-year-old sister came to live with us. They moved all the kids around to make it work, but only my twin and I could sleep in a bed together for more than one night. Doctors didn’t have the knowledge of DNA that they have now. They could verify that we were both XX, and I would only look like a man, but I was sterile. We were their only children that didn’t fight with each other, so they let us keep sharing a room,” the man told me.
“Mom talked about where babies came from when I had my first period. Nature took its natural course. My twin and I already knew every inch of each other’s bodies by then. Dad had told my twin that he would never father a child. Out of character, my dad explained to my twin that it was an advantage and that he had let it slip out at the bar one night with his buddies after work. His coworkers joked about that being a blessing and a curse. Unlike how people now accept that girls get horny and want sex as much as boys, it was taboo to mention it back then. It all changed one afternoon.”
“Not long after my father told me that I was lucky to be sterile, I was invited over to the house of a family that I didn’t know. My twin sister had gone there to visit, but it was rare. That day had felt odd since I awoke that morning. I found that the doctors were wrong about having nothing to ejaculate because I went off in the shower while washing my dick. That never happened before,” Yolanda’s father explained. “I knew what it was because dad explained it. When we arrived at that house, we found the girl that lived there had all of their girl cousins visiting, and they had a lot of cousins. I confirmed that the girls’ parents in that house did have a family emergency that took them away for two weeks that summer. Because I had a good reputation, they asked my parents if I could stay at their home to be the man of the house, so to speak, in their absence. That night, my sister had to return home, but I remained. We started with nine girls there but ended up fifteen three days later. This home was the biggest one their family owned, so it was where they sent their girls. None of those there were virgins and knew how to use their hands, mouth, butt, and pussy to pleasure a man or boy. My not being able to impregnate them made me the perfect choice. They would teach me how to use my dick to make a woman feel all the joyous pleasures of sex while the girls had their itches scratched.”
His sister said, “Two weeks of nearly constant sex for a fourteen-year-old has withdrawal symptoms, pun intended. My aunt came to my bed to teach me how to pleasure a woman and myself. It was the only private place in the entire house. Without my brother, we had that two weeks to explore each other. When my brother returned, our aunt continued to sleep in the bed with us. Oddly, my parents didn’t say a word, and my sisters were elated to have the extra space in whichever bed my aunt had once chosen to sleep in each night. When I went to bathe a week later, she stayed back in the room with my twin. We discovered why my aunt came to live with us on my return. She was a nymphomaniac and expected to get her first period around fourteen because she was a late bloomer. My parents knew all of that. They guided her into my bed while my brother learned how to satisfy fifteen girls’ needs by learning how to ride out the pleasure. Those girls taught him the importance of staying hard even if he got off. It was training for being my aunt’s flesh dildo. I was to have gone to sleep with my sisters that night, but one got ill and barfed all over that bed. My aunt ensured that would happen because she wanted me to feel what only a boy, or man, who loves me unconditionally can give me. I needed someone like a twin sister who had a male body. It seems my parents assumed that my twin and I long ago began having sex, and since I got my period every seven weeks, like clockwork, my twin was indeed sterile. He might have been, too. We will never know for sure, but we have guessed my dad farming him out to satisfy houses full of horny, teenaged, sexually active girls somehow kickstarted his sperm production. The men and boys went into the fields around planting season in the spring. My brother started sowing his seeds in their sisters, daughters, and wives. My aunt and I dodged the bullet because he went out to stud around when she and I were fertile.”
“It is when our sisters, cousins, and aunts were fertile too,” the man said. “That didn’t hold for the girls and women where I went to mount any pussy that wanted my dick. White, black, unicorn. It didn’t matter that I was a black boy, even in those days. I had an average-sized dick, knew how to use it, stayed hard, could fuck for hours, and was sterile. As you can imagine, that fall found anywhere I had gone to service girls, and women found them all pregnant if they had become women. Homes, where I was a flesh dildo, found those girls pregnant too. It perplexed my dad and the doctors because when I jacked off for them to see what came out, anything that did had no sperm, not even dead or malformed. The pregnancies caused a greater need for my stud services, which resulted in girls in those homes finding they never got their first periods before getting pregnant. Our sisters, female cousins, and unmarried aunts soon learned of my services. Incest wasn’t a topic discussed. It was a dirty secret that parents overlooked until one of their daughters became pregnant. By Christmas that year, other guys began scratching the itch of the pregnant girls and women. How did that joke go? Something about a pregnant woman and a light bulb. You can unscrew the lightbulb. My aunts, cousins, and sisters all got pregnant multiple times, and I was the only one they screwed. Because of my condition, none in my family stayed pregnant for long. None of those I had impregnated made it to term if they made it past three months.”
Yolanda knocked and brought us in fresh-made lemonade. I got a hug and kiss on the cheek before she left again.
Her parents were silent for some time.
Finally, her mom said, “Those making it past their first trimester miscarried or delivered a still-born baby in their second trimester or first few weeks of their third. That spring found some of those girls and women pregnant again. My brother hadn’t been anywhere near any of them. Only my sisters, cousins, aunts, and I continued to have sex with my brother. We always had our period four to six weeks later until we didn’t. Neither did the girls and women my brother screwed after that. Sadly, many became ill and died as infants. Others died in early childhood. Yolanda came into the world nine months later. No other child on Earth brought my parents the happiness Yolanda did from the moment she was born. Everyone loved her more than even some of their children.”
“Jealousy brings out the worst in people. Soon, however, how I made the rounds of women and girls became more than just whispered rumors. My parents kicked us out of the house and turned toward religion to save their souls. Yolanda was only four when that happened. We had to flee the only place we had ever known. We were doing honest work to pay to have what we needed to feed ourselves and Yolanda, plus put a roof over our heads, even if just for one night. One evening Yolanda was playing outside the house where we rented a room for the night. A man came to me to make me an offer. He would ensure I had a job where whatever sins people accused us of didn’t matter. It was honest work. It came with this house and a car. As I am sure you know, nothing comes without strings,” the man told me. “In this case, it was a blessing. He and his daughter had some ailments. We never knew what it was, only that it was fatal. He asked my wife to bear his children and his daughter to have mine. As you can imagine, we could tell no one, but not that we would anyway.”
Yolanda’s mom took over and said, “He was a wonderful man with an equally amazing daughter. Each of the children had our names on them as the parents. The man and his daughter were never on anything related to the children. No one questioned it. One day, the police came to our door to tell us that the man and his daughter had died suddenly. We never found out how. That was the end of the line for us, it seems. My brother no longer had a job. The place where he worked for seven years was gone as if it had never existed. We couldn’t find any trace of the man or his daughter. This house was in our name with no mortgage or liens, and that is all that kept us from ending up on the street. People knew of my brother and his skills, but he started again at the bottom of the ladder. Six children made things very tight financially. Two days before Yolanda’s twelfth birthday, my mother showed up with a present for Yolanda’s birthday and those sneakers. I knew what they cost and planned to return them the next morning. We could feed our family for a month on that money. Yolanda didn’t understand why I took them back to the store. To her, they were her shoes. I went next door to buy groceries with some of that money. Yolando returned to the shoe store and took them from behind the counter. No one saw her do it.”
“Yolanda decided we wouldn’t take her shoes back again, so she got into a leather-dye permanent marker kit from Christmas the year before. As she said, she made them pretty. At dinner, Yolanda had them on and was adamant that they were her shoes,” Yolanda’s father told me. “She knows better than to steal and got her butt spanked with a belt as punishment. We let her open her outfit to wear to school because it was picture day. Yolanda and her mom were headed to the store to deal with the shoe matter when she vanished. I tore into our father when he opened his mouth to say whatever nasty thing he had on his mind. I made sure he knew that this was all his fault, and none of this would have happened if he hadn’t sent me to be the flesh dildo for his work buddy’s daughters. Our mom couldn’t comprehend any of it, only that her favorite child in the world was gone without a trace. She fell back on the bullshit her cult church brainwashed her into thinking to assuage her guilt for not stopping what she knew was wrong.”
Yolanda’s mom hugged me and said, “When our great-granddaughter found out she was pregnant with twins, she came to us to explain how you used a boy for her pleasure. She said the boy was the best person she had ever met in this world, but these were her children and hers alone. No one would ever know who he is or seek anything from him. He didn’t even know she had been using him for sexual pleasures for over a year before she got pregnant. Seeing them today, you would never know that they are Autistic and non-verbal, or so we thought.”
I couldn’t help laughing, which perplexed this older man and woman.
The twin’s mother came in when she heard me laughing and said, “Of all the people in the world, David knew they were Autistic as soon as he saw them. He also knows that they are psychic, or whatever people call that form of hypersensitivity. I’m sure he felt them long before they sensed him getting close. I didn’t need to know who was on their way here when those two started chattering away like a pair of magpies instead of what sounds they normally make to communicate. He has always caused this when people with ASD are around him. Do you remember when I started talking out of the blue one day after coming home from a birthday party for a kid I didn’t even know? David was there. I know he doesn’t remember me, but he told me that if I wanted to go to the regular school, I had to talk to people other than the girl I could only talk to when no one was around to hear me.”
Her great-grandparents heard her out before asking how I came here with Yolanda looking the same as she did moments before she went missing but much older inside.
Yolanda’s surviving brother and sister came in with the rest of the family that had come outside when I arrived.
Yolanda’s sister said, “Mom. Dad. Just accept that this man brought our sister and your daughter back home to you. We have never believed in a god or higher power, but David here is the closest I think any of us will ever meet while we still live. He survived multiple lightning strikes. Fire rescue pulled one of his best friends from a car. She was the definition of a meat sack. Her head flopped around like a doll’s head removed from the socket and only attached by a tiny piece of elastic. If you saw her, you wouldn’t question if she could have survived. David squeals onto the scene, pulls the one remaining girl from the car and rushes off into a helicopter with her. The four girls and David vanished for months. One day, he arrives, pushing the girl who left a broken bag of bones and destroyed organs. If that wasn’t enough of a miracle, this girl stands to greet the children she gave her life to save. Weeks later, he brings home a daughter his parents adopted without a mother listed on the original birth certificate but him as the father. Of the hundreds of children he now has, this girl is the only one he calls his daughter.”
“She was the only one I called my daughter. I adopted an eleven-year-old girl for whom I was the only one who could,” I told them. “Please, do whatever you need in your mind to come to terms with Yolanda being home. It is her, and she will never get taken from your family again. If that is too much for you to handle, I will take her with me. I have a place where no one will question where or even when she was born.”
Yolanda’s mom said, “David, my baby isn’t going anywhere. This house is her home and where she belongs.”
The five-year-old twin’s mom said, “I’m guessing it won’t sound crazy to you, given that Yolanda is home, but we know plenty of diehard UFO abduction believers. Two are geneticists, and three work in places that will help make things appear to be what is best for Yolanda. They won’t be able to deny that Yolanda’s DNA confirms that she is the same little girl that disappeared on her twelfth birthday, the same day as hundreds of others. Yolanda’s disappearance is in the cold case files. Whenever a black girl around twelve is found dead, they check if it might be Yolanda. Many of those taken that day have come back. Not all were alive, and most were deformed in some way. These missing kids have appeared randomly over the years but show no signs of aging. It will be a bit of a nuthouse around here for a while. That will fade quickly, as it has with all the others. Yolanda is going to be okay, David.”
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