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Thread: "The Haunting of McAfree House" with Paris Berelc and Olivia Holt

  1. #1
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    fanfiction "The Haunting of McAfree House" with Paris Berelc and Olivia Holt

    The Haunting of McAfree House
    With Paris Berelc and Olivia Holt
    By Harbinger
    Tags: paranormal, reluc/non-con, oral, bj
    Disclaimer: obviously, this never happened, but can you imagine if it did? I don't make money from this, but it would be nice.
    A/N: This isn't usually my style, but I figured I'd try something new for Halloween. Sorry if this is terrible.





    Olivia Holt and Paris Berelc, best friends since childhood because of their Disney connections. No matter how busy their lives got, the two always made sure to see each other three times a year, if not more. The three mandatory days were their birthdays, and this day; Halloween.

    They made it to their favorite Halloween party, which they've made without fail since they were 18. This party wasn't in New York City or L.A., but in a quiet, old neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts.

    This year, however, there was a new visited, which shocked the two young friends, as it was a closed party, invite only.

    Olivia and Paris were no strangers to strong drink and dank weed, but they drew the line there.

    Beyond this new arrival being older than them by a considerable amount, he also had more about him than Paris and Olivia were okay with.

    It was no mystery to our Disney girls what was happening; the room around them was filling with pills, LSD, and cocaine.

    The girls understood it was 2020, and it had been a hell of a year, but this was too much, and didn't seem like the party they once knew.

    The girls decided it was time to leave before something regretable, or even dangerous could happen.

    Paris and Olivia fucked out completely unnoticed, and ran down the cobblestone path back to the street, hand in hand.

    The night was still young, and the girls had plenty of energy and just enough alcohol in their systems to make them mischievious.

    "Hey Liv," Paris said, squeezing her blonde friend's hand harder. It was also at this time that Olivia realized she was still holding Me. Berelc's hand. "Isn't that the old McAfree House? I've heard people talk about it at the party every year."

    A light of remembrance flashed in Holt's eyes and her lips curled back in a slow smile. "Don't they say it's the most haunted house in Boston?" Olivia asked.

    "They sure do," Paris smiled back, and turned to Holt, and held both her hands. "Liv, I dare you to go in," Paris said, smiling devilishly.

    "Oh hell no!" the pint-sized blonde said, fervently shaking her head, her hair swishing back and forth in front of her eyes. "If I go in at all, you're coming with me," the brave bit not stupid former Disney girl told the other.

    "Ooh! We should stay the night. I have a phone charger in my purse. We can film the whole thing," the brunette suggested.

    Olivia chewed her lip in thought, letting her friend slowly pull her closer to the old, stately mansion. "Alright. I'm in. If anything happens, we have each other's back, right?"

    "Of course," Paris laughed, a street light lighting up her eyes as if she herself was a dangerous cool. To Olivia, she might as well have been. "If you get jumped by a homeless squatter, I'll fight him with you. Unless he's really hot. Then I'll just keep rolling."

    "You're fucking gross, you know that?" Holt asked, rolling her eyes as they found themselves climbing the steps, the red paint chipping off bit by bit.

    Paris just smiled and stuck out her pink tongue before trying the door, which just so happened to be unlocked. Paris smiled again and ushered in her slightly smaller friend.

    Olivia gasped as they passed through a long hallway lined with mirrors, and had a hardwood floor. What Olivia gasped at, was the absolutely massive foyer which they found themselves in.

    This one room looked bigger than the house did from the outside. The room was old and dusty, but still had a stately, commanding air to it. The double staircase and baster led to a high landing that overlooked the room, which seemed to be getting larger and larger by the minute, making the girls feel like they were shrinking.

    On the wall of the landing was a great oil painted portrait of four men, impeccably dressed, all sitting high, straight-backed chairs with armrests. Behind the two center chairs was a gorgeous woman in a black ruffle dress with flaming red hair.

    "They must have owned this house," Olivia guessed.

    "This house is so old, though. There's no way they're the first owners," Paris said, beginning to explore the still expanding space, her phone already recording.

    Olivia began documenting as well, and the first words caught on her phone were "We should split up and investigate." The last words any girl should mutter in an old mansion.

    She wished she hadn't said those words, because as soon as she did, as if on cue, the lights on the wall all flashed on, nearly blinding the pair of amateur sleuths.

    They both paused, took a deep breath, and separated. Paris stayed down stairs, and Olivia began the climb up the staircase on the left hand side to see what lay in wait on the second floor.

    Olivia felt the cliched "the eyes are following me" from the painting, but noticing how childish that sounded, she chose to pay it no need. Perhaps she was also, deep down inside, afraid to check.






    Now young Ms. Berelc found herself in a study, of sorts. Great mahogany book cases lined every wall and were laiden with leather-bound books. The carpet looked so soft, so luxurious, that she felt a nagging tug in the back of her brain to slip out of her shoes and feel it beneath her dainty bare feet.

    As Ms. Berelc ran her slender fingers over the spines of many books,she felt increasingly watched. Time and again, she looked over her shoulder to see if Olivia was playing a prank on her, but that wasn't Holt's style.

    "Liv?" Paris asked timidly. She received no answer. She heard no foot steps, no breathing. She felt no sign of a living thing, but she still felt watched.

    Berelc shrugged it off and chalked it up to nerves. She went back to scanning the shelves, but stopped dead cold when she felt a focused breathe on the soft skin on the back of her neck. She felt it again, and was too afraid to move.

    When the gentle blowing stopped, Paris slowly turned around, her entire body shaking. She sighed in relief when she was the only one in the study.

    She tried to take a step forward to get out of there, the room seemingly dropping in temperature by the moment, to the point where she could see her breathe. Her skin felt as if it was standing up on itself, her goosebumps so intense.

    Paris's anxiety reached a new height when she found she could not move. Her body was stuck in place, like she was neck-deep in tar. Her heart beat was in her eyes, and she tried to scream, to cry for help from dear MS. Olivia, but no sound left her throat.

    Instead of moving forward like she intended, the now wide-eyed Paris was slowly shuffling backwards, though her feet never left the floor.

    She found herself pressed against the shelf she had just been investigating. Panic filled her entire being. She still couldn't move a single muscle, and a sense of impending dread became heavier and heavier.

    Her fright reached a fever pitch when, due to no will of her own, her arms started to slowly raise until they were both well above her head. Her entire frame rose off the floor by an inch. She was levitating, and petrified all at once. Again, she tried to scream, but it was nothing more than a raspy squeal, like an old dusty dog toy.

    Paris was completely alone, absolutely helpless as she could only watch what was done to her.

    Hands. Hands started slowly crawling out of the bookshelf to find her body heat. Rough, leathery, cold grey hands the color of modeling clay groped her body.

    The uncountable amount of limbs palmed and groped every part of Paris's young body. She could only float there, and panic as hands ran up and down her back, her belly, her arms, legs, bottom and breasts.

    She heard the sound of tearing clothe, and her anxiety again reached a new record. Her eyes shot down, and she was just able to tilt her head down to see the bodyless hands tearing at her jeans, revealing more hot flesh for their searching fingers.

    "No! No no no no!" Paris tried to scream again, but it was still just a whisper as the hands turned her once designer jeans to shreds.

    Once Paris's jeans were even less than tatters, the hands seemed to be of a hive mind, mostly focusing on destroying her panties, ripping them apart thread by thread until she was completely bare from the waist down.

    Meanwhile, the hands above her were tearing holes in her black tank top, ripping it to ribbons. The hands were ravenous, and in no way considerate. Her red bra stood as little chance as her shirt, and soon she was competely exposed to the flesh-starved hands.

    She was aware of every ghouly inch that danced over her skin, every finger on her breasts, the palms on her nipples, the fingers and hands spreading her bottom apart, and the fingers preparing her most sensitive hole to be plundered by them.

    Never in her life had Paris been more helpless, more vulnerable, and at the same time, more aroused, though she didn't want to be.

    Paris tried again to scream, expecting it to be fruitless. The hands didn't cover her mouth to stop her, but many, many fingers flooded her mouth to keep her from doing more than groaning as others began the onslaught on her wet, hot sex.

    Paris had been entered through every hole in short order, and she could do nothing. Her betrayed her as fingers went deeper inside of her, tearing orgasm after orgasm from the girl.

    Over and over, little Paris came, her arousal running down her legs to fall to the carpet. Her bottom had become home to three cold fingers, her core harbored four that ceaselessly moved in and out of her to the effect of continual rapture.

    Paris could only take so much punishment before her eyes rolled back in her head and her body became limp as a boned fish. When she was completely unresponsive to the hands' carnal tortures, they receded back into the bookshelf, into the walls, leaving Paris with gaped holes.

    The forces in the room that night lowered her from the air, and carefully carried her used body across the room to a velvety, red love seat by a royal fireplace that had lit itself.






    Meanwhile, on the second floor of the house, Ms. Olivia Holt was still exploring, and to this point, not harassed or molested in the slightest.

    It was while rummaging through the cupboards of the stately, full kitchen, that something caught the energetic blonde's attention out of the corner of her eye.

    Not only did she find it weird to have a full kitchen on the second floor, but what looked like a puff of smoke confused her even more.

    Olivia turned her body to see what she was seeing, and sure enough, there was a pale, grey-blue trail of smoke leading out of the kitchen.

    Being more brave than she was smart, she followed the thin trail through hall and to where it ended; a luxurious, master bedroom.

    Her eyes found the source of the trail; a full-bodied apparition of a man, formed by the same smoke Olivia had had been led by.

    The gravity of the situation finally struck the young actress. "Holy shit," the girl said aloud. "You're a ghost."

    Having been spoken to, the body of smoke seemed to slowly rise from the chair, and solidified more, taking on a physical being of sorts, to be quite the specimen of a phantom.

    Olivia was somewhere between terrified and hysterically giddy as the spectre bowed low to her at the waist. She felt oddly drawn to the thing, her feet seeming to pull herself forward of their own will.

    Though absolutely terrified, Olivia couldn't help but to reach out a shaking finger and touch the shadowy figure.

    As soon as she touched it, she squeeled as she was shot through the room, face-down on the fluffy bed. She tried to push herself up, but her arms were immediately knocked out from under her.

    "What the fuck?" she protested, the stupor from just a moment ago having worn off. Her arms were now pinned down to the sides of the bed, but she couldn't see by what. "Paris!" she called for her friend, whom she hadn't seen for some time.

    "Paris, please!" Olivia cried indignantly, kicking her feet petulantly until they, too, were pinned by the ankles. "Help me, please!" Olivia continued to cry out.

    She heard footsteps, madly dashing through the mansion, and then a naked Berelc flew into vision. "Liv?" Paris asked, terrified that her friend was to suffer a date she just had.

    "Paris, I can't move!" Olivia moaned, pleading with her eyes for her friend to do something.

    Paris tried to make a move towards her friend, but was roughly tossed through the air and landed squarely into a thickly padded love seat that would have been quite welcoming under any other circumstances.

    "Paris?" Olivia tried again as she felt he arms being stretched above her head and away from her sides. "Paris!" Olivia didn't know what to do other than cry for her friend, who at this moment was also rendered useless by an unseen foe.

    "Wha... what's happening?" Olivia frantically asked as she felt fingers, or was it claws, slowly dragging across her back. "Paris, what's happening?"

    "I don't know! You're the only thing on the bed!" Paris shouted back, terrified for her friend.

    "Horseshit I'm the only thing on the bed, something is fucking touching me!" Olivia screamed as she felt her tight ass being palmed.

    "Something's touching me, too!" Paris shouted back, the same hands as earlier rising up to start assaulting her body. "Not again, please not again!" Paris shook and cried as her body was exploded by cold, ashen skin. "Please stop!"

    "Paris!" Liv shouted out of worry for her friend this time, but worry for herself returned when she felt obvious weight startling her hips, but again she could see nothing.

    Olivia could feel the clothes being ripped away from her tanned skin, seem by seem until she was just as naked as Paris. She couldn't see how Paris was fairing, she could only hear sobbing and gagging.

    Of course, this was exactly what had befallen young Ms. Berelc. The shadowy creature that had lured Olivia to the bed chamber had returned, and stood in front of Paris.

    Paris could not defend herself, hands holding her down, hands holding her mouth wide open, and fingers in her slit and her asshole alike.

    With mouth wide open and her head completely immobilized, Paris was completely powerless to resist the hard, massive, veined ebony phalus that inevitably made its way to her.

    With no consent, no asking, the massive tip bottom slid over Paris's tongue until it touched the absolute back of her throat.

    Olivia could only wince as she heard her best friend choking on what she didn't know, and was afraid to know. She knew that soon, being stripped as she was and completely stuck, it would soon be her turn.

    Paris was still being accosted when Olivia felt hands roughly grip her naked hips. "No! Stop! Don't!" Olivia screamed to no effort as her ass was brought up and she was on her knees, her chest and face still on the bed.

    Olivia gasped as she felt the largest, wettest forked tongue lap at her from slit to tailbone in a single go. "Shit!" Olivia growled through gritted teeth. She knew for a fact that she was NOT supposed to like that!

    The tongue increased speed, and licked her all over hungrily, shamelessly, hitting her perfectly hairless and smooth mound to over her rosebud. There was no way this tongue was natural, and there was nothing natural about how absolutely wet it made her, like it's sole purpose was sapping Olivia of her precious girl cum.

    While Olivia was begrudgingly enjoying her sentencing for trespassing, Paris was finally able to breath again, the shadow figure removing his pulsing unit from her throat.

    Paris sputtered and coughed, and couldn't even wipe the saliva and thick, viscous pre-cum from her face. She couldn't even dry her own tears. She thanked the forces, though, when all the hands that had been on her released her. She was less thankful when she was catapulted across the room to share the bed with Olivia.

    As soon as Paris hit the bed, Olivia was rolled into her back, and both pairs of legs spread wide apart.

    "Oh, what now?" Paris moaned, wondering what else this house could do to her. Her question was answered when not just one, but a pair of shadow figures materialized on the bed, in front of each girl.

    "Oh, fuck me," Olivia groaned, dropping her head to the soft mattress beneath her, more or less submitting to her fate.

    "Watch what you say," paris warned, trying to scoot further back on the bed, well aware of how endowed their ghoulish assailants were.

    Olivia was about to ask what Paris meant, but she stopped, her eyes widening as their tormentors began to sprout between their legs what Paris was afraid of.

    "Oh hell no," Olivia said, shaking her head. She tried to crawl back, but she and Paris were both slowly pulled towards the figures.

    "No! No!" Paris cried, gripping the sheets as if it would hold her in place. It was no use, and both girls, their legs still spread wide open, were skewered by midnight black poles.

    Paris and Olivia took each others' hands for friendly support as they were railed into by these muscled beasts that gave no quarter, and had stamina that wasn't possible in humans.

    Paris and Olivia were rocked within inches of their lives with granite-hard lengths, powered by superhuman hips with intensity that made the girls feel like they were on rodeo bull sibians.

    Orgasm after orgasm were ripped from Ms. Berelc and Ms. Holt, both small treasures squirting like they never had before, more times than they ever had before as their innards were nearly rearranged for them.

    Finally, the beasts began to growl, and howl as they tensed, their impeccable physiques taking even sharper curves. They both erupted in hot, sludgy gysers that worked as a sappy, sleeping syrum for both of them.

    Olivia and Paris awoke with the rising of the sun the next morning, feel better rested than they ever had, wearing soft, luxurious ruby-red robes.

    They didn't remember all that befell them on Halloween night. They're phones were completely wiped of footage, and they had no idea why they were both nude under their robes.

    All they did know, was that neither of them would ever step foot in McAfree House again, and nor did they notice that oil portraits of them graced the walls along the staircase, next to the portraits of the girls that visited before them.





  2. #2
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    Not bad. Really good story, man

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  4. #3
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    Thanks, Retro. I don't usually write things this out there, so I was a little nervous about reception.

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    New tag for this site, sure, but quite good really

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