Halloween with the Headmaster

The gravestone is easy to find, even in the dark. In a row of non-descript gray headstones, it's polished and new, a slab of black granite lying flat in the earth. Alyssa shines the flashlight of her phone on its surface, confirming the name.

Patrick Hennessy

November 4, 1978 - October 3, 2026

"I found you, you fuck," she says.

Her boyfriend, Cody, doesn't look up from his spot on the cemetery grass. He's high, as usual, and not particularly invested in whatever midnight escapades she has planned.

"Right where you belong, Hennessy," Alyssa says, pulling up the skirt of her minidress and squatting over his gravestone. "If the deer that took you out was still standing, I would send him roses." The sound of her own piss hitting the stone makes her smile.

Promises kept, she thinks, glad she had the foresight not to wear panties.

It's been more than four years since the man got her expelled from Foxgrove Academy, but Alyssa is not the kind to forgive or forget. Yes, she'd cheated on a final, and yes, the school handbook stated this was grounds for expulsion. But the headmaster never did anything he didn't want to do. When he sent her packing, he did so with pleasure.

Mr. Hennessy was a large, broad-shouldered man with a square jaw and a way of calling her Miss Meyer that never failed to piss her off. Alyssa was used to getting away with things, but the headmaster was immune to her charms. If anything, he'd always seemed a bit bored by her. His cool, measured tone as he exacted punishments had only made her more determined to act out in the hopes that one day, she might finally make him lose control.

In that, she had resoundingly failed.

"Bet you weren't so calm when you saw that deer, you asshole," Alyssa tells his grave.

Truthfully, she finds his manner of death a little disappointing. A deer? That was really all it took to snuff out her great nemesis? In life, Mr. Hennessy had been virtually untouchable.

Alyssa had tried, over and over, to put an end to his reign. When she came into his office on the day of her expulsion and found him getting head from a pretty young math teacher, she was sure she had at last found a bargaining chip.

I'm sure the schoolboard would be really interested to know you've been getting BJ's from Miss Liu, she told him smugly, But maybe you and I can work something out?

I think you vastly overestimate our schoolboard, Miss Meyer, he responded, zipping up his pants as Miss Liu ran crimson-faced from his office. I've received BJs, as you call them, from more than half of our trustees. Now. Let's discuss your performance on this final.

And that was it. Just four days before her scheduled high school graduation, she was out.

"Cody, come here."

"Mmm?" Her boyfriend glances in her general direction. He's only smoked marijuana today--his version of sobriety--but Alyssa knows it won't last.

Cody is her age, twenty-two, but he's already done three stints in rehab. When they started dating in high school, he was tall, handsome, and going places, but the bright future he'd been promised quickly soured when he started using. Alyssa only stays with him because his family has money, and if his parents haven't cut him off by now, they never will. She likes his big house and the credit card privileges that come with being his girlfriend. It's better than having a job, that's for sure.

"Cody! Get up!" She marches over, grabs him by the arm, and tugs him toward Mr. Hennessy's gravestone. "You want to fuck me, right?"

Cody smiles amiably at her in the dark. "Yeah, sure," he says. "That sounds great, babe. Let's do it." He looks extra pale in the moonlight, more like a graveyard ghost than someone you'd want to seduce, but Alyssa sticks to the plan.

"Sit here." She directs him to the shiny black grave, which is now covered in her piss.

"Um." Cody peers down at it. "It looks wet."

"You didn't care about getting a little wet when you got piss-drunk last night, so I guess you can handle it," Alyssa tells him. "Sit down. I'm gonna fuck you."

It's her final middle finger to Mr. Hennessy.

She pulls out Cody's dick, which requires a quick suck to wake up. Cody has a big, beautiful, and tragically underutilized dick. His sex drive was never high, even before the drugs. Alyssa's never been properly fucked, and she knows it. When she wants something done, she has to do it herself.

She spits on her hand and rubs it against her pussy, lubing up. Cody leans back and waits for her to settle herself on his cock. Alyssa hikes up her minidress and straddles him, careful to avoid the puddles of piss. She sinks slowly onto him.

"That feels great, babe," Cody breathes as she begins to pump her hips up and down, riding him.

It does feel good. Cody might be the human equivalent of a dildo, passive yet penile, but he does the job.

Alyssa's starting to get into it, the pleasure of desecrating Mr. Hennessy's grave mixing with actual pleasure, when something beneath them begins to shake.

"The fuck?"

She looks around, searching for signs of an earthquake, but the rest of the graveyard is shadowy and still, a series of unmoving trees and rows of graves. "Do you feel that? What is--"

The shaking intensifies, nearly throwing her off Cody's lap. Alyssa's not sure, but it seems like maybe he's the thing shaking. She tries to get a look at her boyfriend's face in the dark. His eyes are closed, and when he opens them, she can suddenly see the whites, like his eyeballs have rolled completely up in his head.

Is he about to come? Is this just the world's weirdest orgasm? All she knows is that his dick is rock hard inside her and he's shaking like a wet cat. Maybe he's just having an extra good time?

"Hon? You good?" Alyssa slaps him lightly on the cheek. The eye thing is really throwing her. It's starting to look more horror movie than throes of passion.

Suddenly his face goes white, completely white. Not white in the sense of pale, but glowing fucking white, like his skin has turned luminescent.

Alyssa screams and jumps off his dick.

Cody's glowing white head turns toward her, following her movements. His eyes roll forward, but they're still not normal, they're--black. Weird black eyes, just watching her.

Before she can decide whether to stay or to run, Cody collapses.

Alyssa watches him a moment, more than a little freaked out by what she's been seeing, but questioning the reality of it, as well. Did she accidentally ingest one of Cody's shrooms or something? Did that actually happen?

Gingerly, she tugs on his t-shirt. "Hey. You okay?"

This time when his eyes open, two perfectly normal brown eyes look back at her. He sits up, takes in his surroundings, and then studies her.

"Jesus Christ," Alyssa says, laughing nervously, "you scared me. Come on. Let's get out of here."

Cody stands and follows her wordlessly through the graveyard and back to the car. Everything seems fine until he heads to the driver's side of the BMW and holds out his hand.

"What are you doing?" Alyssa asks.

"Keys," he tells her.

"I'm not giving you the keys. What's wrong with you? I'm the one who drives. I always drive."

Cody crosses over to her and dips one hand into the pocket of her minidress. He produces the keys with a slow, controlled smile she's never seen on him before.

"I'm sure you always do a lot of things," he says. "But that's about to change, Miss Meyer."

Alyssa's mouth falls open when she hears him pronounce her name.

"Mr. Hennessy?"

*

Alyssa tells herself she's imagining things, that Cody's just messing with her or something. There's no denying, though, that his energy has shifted and in no way resembles the guy she's been dating. Sitting next to him in the passenger seat, she feels deeply unnerved.

He doesn't speak as he drives them home, only stares at the unlit road ahead. Alyssa can't help but think that Mr. Hennessy died on a dark road like this one just a few weeks earlier. Suddenly the whole idea of a deer leaping out in front of a speeding vehicle seems a lot more menacing.

The house is its usual mess when they return home. Glad to have survived the drive intact, Alyssa barely registers the dirty dishes and random piles of papers and loose objects. Cody, however, gives her a stern look.

"Clean this up."

"I'm not cleaning anything," she tells him with a frown. "The housekeeper will be here in a few days. Who cares if it's a little messy?"

"I'm dismayed by your attitude. Appearances matter, Miss Meyer."

Alyssa's head snaps in his direction. "Why are you calling me that?" she demands. "You never call me that."

Cody--or someone who looks a lot like Cody--only smiles. "On the contrary, it's what I've always called you."

Alyssa's arms break out in goosebumps. "Who are you?" she whispers.

"You know who I am."

"You're--Cody."

"Not anymore." The man who says he is no longer Cody begins to undress, right there in the living room.

"What are you doing?" Alyssa asks.

He peels off his shirt and tosses it on the ground. "As I said, Miss Meyer, appearances matter. I intend to show this body a little more care than your boyfriend has, starting with a change in wardrobe." He removes his pants and looks down at the single article of clothing that remains. "Boxers," he mutters, grimacing at the SpongeBob print. "Absolutely not."

Alyssa swallows as he removes his boxers. She's seen Cody naked hundreds of times, but tonight his body seems... different. His posture is better, for one thing. Square shoulders, straight spine. She's seen that stance before, but not in Cody.

"Go fetch me a pair of briefs," he tells her. "Top drawer on the right."

Alyssa feels almost disappointed. "You are Cody," she says. "Nobody else would know your underwear drawer."

He crosses his arms and regards her with an expression of supreme condescension. "Cody's still here, Miss Meyer. He's just not running the show."

The man stretches his arms and does a few squats. He looks down at his flaccid penis and gives it a few experimental strokes with his right hand. Alyssa watches, wide-eyed, as his dick hardens and elongates before her eyes.

"Excellent," he says, and then turns abruptly to her.

Their eyes lock, and Cody's colorless blue eyes are suddenly a steely gray. Alyssa's gaze drops to his erect cock. She swallows.

"Miss Meyer." He stares at her expectantly. "I understand you're enjoying the view, but I gave you clear instructions. Briefs. Now."

Alyssa tosses her head. "No," she says. "Get them yourself."

The man walks toward her and takes her chin in his hand. "What was that?"

"I said to get your own clothes." Alyssa shivers at his touch, feeling a blend of fear and excitement she can't quite parse.

He laughs. "I see. You want me to punish you."

Alyssa shrugs, although that's exactly what she wants.

"You aren't a student anymore, Miss Meyer, but I'm still headmaster." His mouth moves inches from her ear. "Punishment doesn't mean you get what you want," he murmurs. "It means you don't get it."

"What do you think I want?"

"This." He grasps his dick.

Without thinking, Alyssa reaches out to touch it. The man steps swiftly out of her grasp, and raises a scolding finger. "No, Miss Meyer. From now on, this cock is only for girls who are very well-behaved."

Alyssa's face goes hot with embarrassment. Never in her life has a guy rejected her attempt to touch any part of him, much less his dick.

"Do you remember what I told you to do?"

"Briefs. Yes."

Alyssa stares at the body of her boyfriend, both familiar and now totally unfamilar. Cody's voice, always so agreeable, so spacey, has turned laser sharp.

"Yes, Mr. Hennessy," he corrects her. "You'll address me by name, please, Miss Meyer."

She can't deny it any longer. She can see her headmaster's presence in his poise. She can feel this man she so desperately hated in the room with her, his energy filling the house.

It's him. Really him.

"Miss Meyer," he prompts her. "Those briefs, please."

Alyssa is too stunned to protest. "Yes, Mr. Hennessy." Her stomach in her throat, she heads upstairs to fetch his briefs.

*

She awakes the next morning to the sound of a blender. Alyssa rubs her eyes, realizing with annoyance that she's in the guest room, and checks the time. 5:32 AM. It's not even light out. That asshole.

She opens the door of her room and sees all her clothing stacked in neat piles in the hallway. His insistence last night that she sleep in the guest room was not a fluke, it would seem. She's been officially evicted from the master bedroom. Aggravated, she crosses the hallway and tries to open the door.

It's locked.

Clad in only the oversized t-shirt she wore to bed, Alyssa stomps down to the kitchen. Mr. Hennessy is pouring himself a glass of green juice, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. And why wouldn't he be happy? Yesterday the fucker was good and dead. Today, he's occupying the body of a pretty young man with lots of money and zero responsibilities.

In truth, Mr. Hennessy wears Cody a lot better than Cody did. Her boyfriend's body is well-groomed today, his eyes are clear, and his face shaven. He wears tapered sweatpants, sneakers, and a form-fitting gym shirt. He even smells good, a woody, masculine cologne Alyssa purchased for him last year that Cody never bothered using.

He is eminently fuckable, but she isn't about to tell Mr. Hennessy that.

"Who runs a blender at five in the morning?" she grumbles. "It's Sunday, you asshole. Some of us are trying to sleep."

The headmaster takes a long swig of green juice. "Sleep is for the dead. I have things to do, Miss Meyer, and so do you. I'd advise you to tackle the day before it tackles you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She eyes him suspiciously.

"I expect the house to be in order when I return home tonight," Mr. Hennessy informs her. "And you'll want to begin applying for a job."

"A job?" Alyssa laughs. "No thanks. That's not our arrangement here."

"The arrangement has changed." Mr. Hennessy gulps down the last of his juice. "While it's certainly your prerogative to remain unemployed, you should be aware that I've shut off your credit card and your phone and dismissed the housekeeper. If you intend to stay in this house, you will be contributing to its upkeep. You can start by removing your personal items from the hallway."

Alyssa's face turns pale. "You--what? My credit card? Are you freaking kidding me?"

"May you have a productive day, Miss Meyer." Mr. Hennessy places his cup in the dishwasher and moves to leave.

"Where are you going?" she exclaims. "It's five in the morning!"

"To the gym." Mr. Hennessy smiles at her pleasantly. "Your boyfriend has not been using this body to its full potential. I intend to fix that."

And with that, he's gone. It's only when Alyssa sees the BMW drive off--her car, in practice, if not on paper--that she realizes he still has her keys.

"How am I supposed to get anywhere?" she calls to no one. Furious, she grabs her phone and dials Cody's number. She receives only a recorded message.

We're unable to complete your call. To speak to a customer service representative, please hang up and dial--

Alyssa hangs up. "Shit," she says.

This is worse than she thought. No money, no phone service, no car. The bastard has even changed the wi-fi password. And when she opens the fridge, she discovers a bunch of gross-looking health food he must've picked up at the twenty-four hour grocery. She rummages through packages of seeds and greens and unsweetened yogurt. Alyssa takes a bite of the yogurt and gags. In that moment, she makes up her mind.

This fucker has got to go.

*

After going back to bed for several hours, Alyssa finally rousts herself and walks the two miles to town. Initially, she figures she'll go to Saint Mary's and enlist the help of Father Jakub, since Catholics seem to have a pretty good handle on the whole exorcism thing. When she tries to speak to Father Jakub about her situation, however, he proves less than sympathetic. Apparently he's still holding a grudge against her for fucking his new assistant priest over the summer.

The assistant priest was cute, but not a particularly good lay. Alyssa had caught him at the end of a church fair, telling him she was having sinful thoughts, and then proceeded to enact those thoughts with him in the CCD classroom. He was a bumbling mess--about what you'd expect from someone who had pledged himself to a life of celibacy--and she felt no remorse when the young man confessed to Father Jakub and was promptly relieved of his post.

"You ruined his life and his relationship with God," Father Jakub now raves, totally ignoring Alyssa's concerns about her possessed boyfriend.

She flounces out, annoyed the old man can't get his priorities straight. Honestly, she thinks, Father Jakub should be thanking her for exposing the true moral character of his co-worker. What kind of priest was the guy going to be if he couldn't resist one little temptation? That meager fuck probably saved a bunch of altar boys a lifetime of trauma.

With Catholic-sanctioned exorcism now off the table, Alyssa determines she'll have to try something a little woo-woo. There's only one place in town that fits the bill.

The Three Weird Sisters Psychic Parlour has historically been a target of her disdain, but under the present circumstances, they're the only ones she can think of who might take her seriously. Alyssa turns off Main Street and locates the purple Victorian home from which the sisters operate. She's in luck. The hours on the sign out front indicate that they are open for business and accept walk-ins.

A woman who introduces herself as Saige meets her in the front hallway and ushers her into a purple-themed sitting room. Saige looks like she's in her thirties, with a nose piercing and short, dark hair with an undercut.

"I need your help," Alyssa tells her.

"It's two hundred dollars for a Weird Sisters session," Saige informs her.

"I don't have two hundred at the moment," Alyssa says, "but if you can help me, I'll give you two thousand."

Saige frowns. "I'm sorry, I don't think we can--"

"My boyfriend is fucking possessed," Alyssa says. "I need help, do you understand?"

"What do you mean possessed?"

"I mean there is a ghost person inside of his body completely controlling him," Alyssa spits. "You know, possession?"

"Aren't you Cody's girlfriend?" a voice calls from behind her.

Alyssa whirls around and sees another woman standing in the doorway. She's a bit older than Saige and sports a mane of frizzy red hair.

"Yes..." Alyssa says, momentarily thrown off balance. "He's the one who's possessed. How do you know Cody?"

The woman looks her up and down, as if she's heard all about Alyssa. "He used to come here a lot," she says. "For spiritual counseling."

Alyssa narrows her eyes. "And you are?"

"Ursula." The woman's mouth pinches into a frown. "You say he's got a ghost inside of him?"

"Yeah," Alyssa says. "And I know which ghost. It's Mr. Hennessy."

Ursula raises an eyebrow. "That principal from Foxgrove who just died?"

"Yes! He's taken over Cody's body and we need to get him out!" It sounds crazy even to Alyssa when she says it aloud, but neither Ursula nor Saige bat an eyelash.

"I was afraid something like this might happen," Ursula murmurs.

Alyssa stares at her. "You thought someone would possess Cody?"

Ursula nods and lets out a long sigh. "We see it a lot in addicts. They don't want to be present in their bodies, that's why they use. All it takes is a spirit with a dominant personality, and they just sort of--hand over the reins." She gestures to a chair. "Why don't you have a seat."

"But she can't even pay," Saige protests.

"This isn't for her, it's for Cody," Ursula says. "Willette! Can you come here?"

The third Weird Sister arrives on the scene, even older than Ursula. She has long gray hair and oversized glasses with black plastic frames. She wears a velvet black dress and silver bracelets on both wrists. When she sees Alyssa, she squints.

"Ah, a customer!"

"This is pro bono," Ursula says. "A possession. You remember Cody Clarke?"

"Oh God." Willette shakes her head. "Of course. Cody. A possession, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

Alyssa looks at the group of three entirely disparate women who seem to have known her boyfriend in ways she does not. She folds her arms across her chest. "So, like... you three aren't really sisters, are you?"

Willette laughs. "Oh, no. We're actually a throuple."

"Oh." Alyssa feels a little relieved. "So you have sex with each other and nobody else?"

"I mean, Saige has an Only Fans, if you're interested," Willette says.

"Nah, I'm good." Alyssa eyes up the trio, picturing them eating each other's pussies. Saige is actually pretty hot, she has to admit. If her credit card was working, Alyssa might check out her page.

She clears her throat. "So, about Cody. What do I do?"

Saige and Ursula both look to Willette, the clear leader of the group.

"It's very hard to exorcise a spirit in these cases," she says, "because the host is perfectly content to let it rule the roost." She taps a finger against her lips, thinking. "Timing will be essential to make this ritual work. We need a day when we're all a little less anchored to our corporeal vessels. Fortunately, we're right on the verge of one."

"All Hallow's Eve," Ursula says.

"You mean Halloween?" Alyssa feels a wave of despair rising up. "But that's not until next weekend! How am I supposed to live with Mr. Hennessy for six days?"

"Just play along with him, for the time being," Willette advises. "Halloween's on Saturday. I'll put together some kind of ritual for you and send Saige over on Friday with the details."

Alyssa's too despondent at the prospect of six days with Mr. Hennessy to be grateful. She walks the two miles home, her indignation building with each step.

By the time she makes it back, it's mid-afternoon. Cody's beamer is parked in the driveway, so she knows Mr. Hennessy has returned. She enters the house, prepared for another lecture on its messiness, and is shocked to discover a very different side of her headmaster.

"Oh please," a woman moans from upstairs, "please, sir. Fill me up with that big cock, sir!"

Alyssa stands at the bottom of the stairs, frozen, as Cody's Hennessy-inflected voice replies.

"Suck it," he orders. "Take this whole big cock down your throat like a good girl, and then I'll let your pussy have a taste."

From what Alyssa can hear, the woman does take it down her throat, because the gasping sounds she makes soon after sound like a woman whose mouth is very, very full. Alyssa clasps a hand to her own mouth, horrified and titillated, unable to step away. For the next half hour, she listens to every detail of the woman getting fucked.

It is awful and demeaning and absolutely the hottest thing Alyssa has ever heard. The noises that this woman makes alone have Alyssa sneaking a hand inside her panties, rubbing her own pussy in search of some satisfaction. She hasn't quite achieved it when Mr. Hennessy orders the woman out of the house.

"That's all that you get for today," he says. "Now put on your clothes and go back to your limp-dick husband. And I suggest you brush your teeth before you kiss him with that cock-sucking mouth of yours."

Alyssa stops touching herself and watches as the woman comes down the staircase, flushed and sweaty from the encounter. She's about forty, an undeniable MILF in gym clothes that hug her big tits and tight ass. Alyssa can't help but note the transcendent expression on the woman's face, as if every one of life's stressors has just been drained from her body.

It reminds her of Cody, she realizes with a pang, right after he's snorted or injected something. Is Mr. Hennessy that good? she wonders. Drug high good?

The woman glances at Alyssa and smiles as she reaches for the front door. "Is he yours?" she asks dreamily. "My God, you're a lucky bitch."

By the time Mr. Hennessy emerges from his bedroom, Alyssa is starting to hope that she is, in fact, a lucky bitch. She waits in the living room, her nipples stiffening at the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. He enters the room, freshly showered, still buttoning his shirt.

"The house is still dirty," he announces. "I'm very disappointed in you."

Alyssa notes that he's wearing slacks as if preparing to go somewhere. "Are we going out?" she asks.

"We aren't going anywhere, Miss Meyer," Mr. Hennessy replies. "I'm looking for an evening of good food in a clean, hygienic location. Clearly, that is not this house."

"But... you can't just leave me here," she protests. "What will I eat?"

"There is plenty of food in the kitchen," he tells her. "You'll just have to learn how to cook it."

"Where are you going?" Alyssa presses. "Out to pick up more women at the gym?"

"Collecting two women from the same location would be unimaginative," he tells her. "I have other plans."

He doesn't tell her what those plans are, just slips on his shoes and leaves.

*

The next day, Alyssa wakes with a fire in her belly. For one thing, she's starving. She had nothing to eat yesterday but a nasty protein bar, a banana, and some raw broccoli. Beyond her hunger, though, is a horniness she's never quite experienced before, a desire for something that is not immediately accessible to her.

The three Weird Sisters told her to play along with the being inhabiting her boyfriend's body, she rationalizes, so fine. She's down to play.

When the blender wakes her at half past five, she goes downstairs in a baggy t-shirt that stops mid thigh. She has no panties. As Mr. Hennessy pours himself a glass of green juice, Alyssa climbs onto the counter beside him and spreads her legs.

"I'm guessing you need more than a little juice to satisfy your appetite," she says, looking him straight in the eye.

In response, Mr. Hennessy sets down his glass, closes her thighs, and picks her up by the waist, moving her easily to the floor.

"I'm sure you know that's not sanitary," he says mildly. "Please be sure to scrub down the counters today when you clean the kitchen."

Alyssa's furious, at both the rejection and the insinuation that her pussy is dirty.

"You'd be lucky to get a pussy this young and tight," she says hotly. "Not like that old grandma you fucked yesterday."

"I vastly prefer older pussy," Mr. Hennessy says as he finishes his drink. "The kind of pounding I give requires a little--stretch."

Alyssa watches him move toward the door, preparing to leave her yet again. "Are you going to the gym?" she asks, trying not to sound desperate. "Why don't you just stay here?"

The smirk on Cody's lips is entirely foreign to her. "I'll stay when there's something worth staying for," he says. "Please have the house clean and dinner ready at six thirty."

And off he goes, leaving Alyssa all kinds of hungry.

Five more days, she tells herself. She can make it five more days. She's not going to give in. She's not going to let him win. But since she's stuck at home without a car, she might as well straighten up the house a little and see what happens.

*

Alyssa works harder than she's worked at anything she can remember. She vacuums and washes the floor. She wipes and sanitizes surfaces. She declutters and throws away a bunch of items she doesn't actually need. She runs the dishwasher and unloads it. She even dusts with a little feather duster she didn't realize Cody owned. And maybe she washes the bedding in the guest room, just in case someone happens to join her there.

The master bedroom is still locked, which pisses her off, but also absolves her of any tidying there. She doesn't think Mr. Hennessy would have any trouble keeping his space neat, but she's not sure if he washed his sheets yesterday after fucking that lady from the gym. The thought makes her angry in ways she can't explain.

Alyssa is feeling confident in her newfound housekeeping skills and intrigued to see what kind of good will it generates when she remembers about dinner.

"Oh, fuck." She throws a shoe at the wall, somewhat mollified when she sees it leave a dark smudge.

It's five thirty. She has an hour to plan and cook something. Plenty of time, she thinks, except that she has never cooked in her life and has no idea how to navigate the items in Cody's kitchen. In her defense, Cody didn't use the kitchen much either, apart from cooking up the occasional speedball.

She tears through the fridge and cabinets, trying to figure out what in there a person might possibly eat. There's a lot of green, leafy shit and some weird unidentifiable grains, plus raw meat. If her phone was working, she could pull up a recipe and figure something out. With no directions at her disposal, she is left to guess.

She opts for pasta, pretty sure that just involves boiling shit, and salad, which should mostly consist of cutting. When it comes time to choose a meat, Alyssa selects something pale pink and throws it on top of the boiling pasta. She knows you're supposed to add spices, so she finds a blend called Herbs de Provence, which sounds French and therefore kind of fancy. At some point, she realizes that pasta is supposed to have sauce and not just dried green flecks of herbs, so she dumps on a bunch of creamy salad dressing as well.

By the time Mr. Hennessy arrives at 6:25, Alyssa has two plates of pasta served. The dish is unappetizingly pale, both from the dressing she used and the crumbly chunks she now recognizes as overcooked fish, but the vegetables are at least suitably saladesque. She's done the best she could.

Alyssa sets out the meal and begins to pour them both glasses of wine.

Mr. Hennessy moves quickly through the house, inspecting each room before he joins her in the dining room.

"I see you did some housework, Miss Meyer," he says.

She nods, too nervous about the dinner to sit down. She stands at his side, biting her lip as he takes a bite of pasta.

He doesn't even swallow it, just spits it promptly into a napkin. "No," he says. "This will not do."

"But I did everything you asked," Alyssa whines, collapsing on the floor next to him. "I cleaned all day and I made dinner when I didn't even have a recipe!"

"Your dinner was an affront to the entire culinary world," Mr. Hennessy says.

Alyssa feels the sting of tears in her eyes. "I tried, Mr. Hennessy. I really tried."

His face softens slightly at the honorific. "You did." He runs his thumb slowly over her lower lip. "And I acknowledge your efforts, Miss Meyer, even if I cannot praise your results."

Alyssa's breath hitches as he stands up from the table.

"I'd like to encourage your progress."

He begins to unbutton his pants.

Without thinking, Alyssa moves to a kneeling position and sits back on her heels. Her pussy tingles with anticipation as he removes his cock and begins to stroke it. She almost reaches out to touch but restrains herself, knowing that isn't how he operates.

"Put your hands behind your back," he instructs her, and Alyssa complies. "Good girl," he says. He approaches her, cock in hand. "Now open your mouth."

Alyssa obeys, eyes never leaving his face. She loves the way Cody's youth mingles with Mr. Hennessy's cold power in a heady combination that hits her right between the thighs. She licks her lips.

"Please fuck my mouth, Mr. Hennessy," she says.

"What a greedy girl." He traces his dick across her lips. "I think your eyes are bigger than your mouth, Miss Meyer, but let's see how much you can take."

Truth be told, Alyssa has no idea how much she can take. She's blown Cody before, but she's never made any effort to accommodate his size. If she fit only half of him in her mouth, that seemed good enough.

It will not be good enough for Mr. Hennessy.

Her eyes widen as he pushes slowly, slowly into her mouth. Just when she thinks it's too much, he pulls back a couple of inches, letting her gather herself, and then plunges forward again.

"Oomph," Alyssa says, her mouth full of cock.

He moves in and out, in and out, and every time she thinks she's got the hang of it, he penetrates her just a little deeper. As he gains momentum, he reaches for the sides of her head, holding her in place.

Alyssa tries to suck him, to be an active participant, but the man's dick has taken on a life of its own. She's just there for the ride now, a warm, wet hole for him to fuck, and yet somehow... she likes it?

Then, with one especially hard thrust, his cock hits the back of her throat.

Alyssa's gag reflex takes over. Suddenly every muscle in her throat is contracting, trying to expel his dick from her mouth. Her eyes begin to water.

"Too much?" Mr. Hennessy smiles smugly, as if he knew she couldn't handle him.

But Alyssa is stubborn. She shakes her head, indicating that she's fine, and continues to take his cock, even as she's tearing up and gagging and struggling to breathe. Mr. Hennessy pulls out a couple inches, letting her inhale once through her nose, and then rams his dick back into her throat. Still, she makes no movement for him to stop.

It's a test of wills now. She has to outlast him.

He keeps fucking her face, hard, harder, until his breathing changes, and she can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Come, you asshole, she thinks. Just do it already.

For the first time since she has known him, both before and after death, Mr. Hennessy's voice is somewhat labored when he speaks. "You have a choice," he pants, his fingers gripping her hair. "I can come on your face or in your mouth. Which do you prefer, Miss Meyer?"

Alyssa is fairly sure she will drown in cum if he unloads in her mouth. It will flow up her throat and into her sinus cavity, and maybe even leak out her eyeballs.

She points to her forehead.

"The face it is," Mr. Hennessy declares.

He pumps his cock into her throat a few more times and then quickly withdraws it with a shudder and a groan.

Alyssa takes a single, joyful gasp of air before he begins to spray her with thick, white gobs of cum in the nose, mouth and eyes. She coughs and tries to wipe it off with the back of her hand, but that only has the effect of further smearing it across her face.

Not the kind of facial she usually starts the week off with, but she'll take it.

She looks hopefully to Mr. Hennessy, thinking maybe he'll go down on her or at least finger her after all that, but he's already slipping on a jacket.

"I look forward to a well-cooked meal tomorrow, Miss Meyer," he says, and then he's off in the beamer, leaving Alyssa nothing but her own finger to ease her swollen pussy.

*

The next day, Alyssa walks to town and borrows a bunch of cookbooks from the library. Back at home, she sets out all the random items from the fridge, trying to identify what ingredients she's working with and what can be done with them.

Eventually, she decides on a pan-seared steak, baked potatoes, and asparagus. The potatoes and asparagus seem pretty easy. She can't find olive oil, so she greases them up with a jar of coconut oil she finds in the cabinet, salts them, and then places them into the oven to roast. The steak is a little more complicated. Alyssa's convinced that she's nailing it until smoke begins to pour up from the pan, setting off the fire alarm.

She pours some water into the pan, hoping to cool it off, but the pan begins sizzling and steaming, and the texture of the steak turns dry and stringy with a few burnt patches.

This time, Mr. Hennessy doesn't even bother to sit at the table when he gets home. He sniffs the air and pronounces her meal inedible.

"The potatoes turned out good," Alyssa objects. "And the aparagus--you can still eat that."

But Mr. Hennessy refuses. "To burn a perfectly good steak is inexcusable," he admonishes her. "I will not tolerate this level of waste in my kitchen. Tomorrow, you will have to get a job."

Alyssa's shoulders slump as she realizes there will be no choking on his dick or letting him finish on her face tonight. And he's definitely not going to fuck her like he fucked the lady from the gym. She's not sure why this feels like such a blow to her self-esteem.

Mr. Hennessy leaves, and when he returns three hours later, it's with not one, but two women. Alyssa gapes, utterly confounded by his choice of sexual partners, as they follow him up to her and Cody's bedroom.

Both women have to be at least fifty, she guesses, and are visibly overweight, with figures one could only describe as dumpy. One of them has a series of red scars on the side of her face. The other walks with a limp. The pairing bothers her significantly more than the woman from the gym.

You rejected me for that? she wants to scream at him. What kind of freaky fetish is this?

Yet when she listens to the three of them fucking--of course she listens, how could she not--it becomes clear this is not an entirely random pick up. Mr. Hennessy calls them foxy and kitten, like he's genuinely fond of them. He praises them again and again, telling them what good sluts they are, how much he enjoys what they are doing to him.

"Look at you, taking every of inch of this cock, my foxy girl," he purrs, and Alyssa burns with envy.

She's also horny as fuck. As she hides in her room listening to the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all its accompanying gasps and moans, she can't help but reach for her personal dildo and tend to her own needs. Fucking herself with a purple silicone dick wouldn't be her first choice for the evening, but it does the job.

She comes once, and is working on a second orgasm when Mr. Hennessy's session finally ends.

Alyssa watches secretly through her bedroom window as the women leave. Mr. Hennessy walks them to their car, even opens the door for them like a gentleman. He sports trousers and a wife beater, and she wonders if he ever takes off his pants when he fucks.

She might never find out.

The thought makes her stomach hurt. Alyssa knows she's young and sexy, with perky tits and a round ass most men would love to spank, but the headmaster hasn't even bothered to get her naked. What gives? What could those two hags possibly offer him that she can't? And if they're so great, why doesn't he make them cook his dinner?

They must be a holdover from his former life at Foxgrove Academy, she decides. She wonders what he said to get the pair to go home with him, if he confessed his true identity or simply relied on Cody's looks.

When he comes back inside the house, Alyssa is waiting for him at the foot of the staircase in a tiny white lace cami and panties, full of questions.

"Who were they?" she demands, blocking his ascent.

"I don't see how that's really your concern, Miss Meyer."

"I just spent the last two hours listening to you narrate your fuck session with a pair of ladies old enough to be Cody's mom," she retorts. "I guess that makes it my concern."

To her dismay, he only smiles. "I see." His gaze travels over her skimpy outfit. "And did you touch yourself while you listened to us play tonight?"

Alyssa feels her cheeks flush. She only touched herself a little. Most of the night she used her dildo, not that it's any of his business.

"Those sluts probably have an STD," she says.

"Precisely why I use a condom."

"You knew those women," she says. "How? Were you in, like, a secret sex cult?"

"No, nothing like that." He chuckles at the suggestion. "I'm afraid reality is much more benign."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that as headmaster of Foxgrove, I always enjoyed a close working relationship with members of the school board."

Alyssa's mouth drops. She remembers the claim he made before expelling her, that more than half of the trustees had blown him. Maybe that wasn't just bravado. Maybe the school board is the secret sex cult.

"You're in Cody's body now," she tells him. "You could have anyone. What do you want with some chopped ass Boomers?"

"Call it... therapy, if you will," Mr. Hennessy tells her. "An act of kindness, Miss Meyer. The last time Ms. Chandler and Ms. Rivera were with me, things took an unfortunate turn. I didn't want them to feel any discomfort or guilt about the way things ended."

Alyssa blinks. "Were they with you when you died?"

"Indeed they were."

"But... I thought you were killed by a deer."

"There was a deer," he acknowledges. "But nothing I couldn't have handled if I didn't have two women gobbling my cock at the time. Learn from my demise, Miss Meyer," he says, with a regretful shake of his head. "Never underestimate the dangers of distracted driving."

"So those ladies know who you really are?" Alyssa asks incredulously. "They know you aren't actually Cody, and they don't even care?"

"Of course they know." Mr. Hennessy brushes aside her question as if it were a mosquito. "But my present form adds a little extra spice for everyone, doesn't it? Cody most of all."

"What are you talking about? You're, like, inside Cody."

"Trust me when I say that Cody has fantasized for years about having a man like myself deep inside him. He's quite happy with our current arrangement."

Mr. Hennessy pushes past Alyssa and begins to climb the staircase.

"Wait!" she exclaims. "What about me?"

He pauses. "What about you?"

Alyssa runs her tongue across her lips, suddenly nervous. "Don't I get a little extra spice?"

He studies her for a long moment, and Alyssa's arms break out in goosebumps at his gaze. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards her and then another.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Alyssa's nipples harden as he approaches. Her pussy is crying out for him, begging to be filled.

He stands in front of her, watching her intensely. His pretty face looks far too careworn for twenty-two, and his steely gray eyes seem to probe every part of her. He is the Cody she loved back in high school, and he is the young man whose bottomless needs she never could fathom. He is the headmaster she always hated, and the dead man whose complete control of everyone around him makes her desperate to be touched.

All these men together now form a singular stranger whose thumbs are on her nipples, tracing small circles on the surface of her shirt.

He leans forward, his lips millimeters from her ear. "You want some spice, Miss Meyer?"

His fingers close around her nipples, squeezing, and for a second Alyssa thinks that and the sound of his hot breath in her ear might just be enough to make her come.

"Please," she moans.

His teeth nip her earlobe once, twice, before pulling abruptly away.

"Get a job."

*

Alyssa has no idea how to start. A job? She's never worked a day in her life. Her mother and her stepfather sent her to Foxgrove Academy at the age of fourteen, eager to get her out of the house. When she didn't graduate high school, they threw her out. Fortunately, Cody had been there, offering her a place to stay, money to spend, all the things she deserved.

She never bothered to find another school, never got around to earning her GED. What was the point? She was set with Cody.

Except now she isn't.

Alyssa assesses the situation. It's Wednesday morning. In three days, it will be Halloween. If the Weird Sisters come through with the ritual and they can get Mr. Hennessy out of Cody's body, she'll be fine. Everything will go back to the way it was. All she has to do is wait things out.

But...

If she doesn't play by Mr. Hennessy's rules these last few days and they banish him back to the Other Side where he belongs, then he'll never fuck her. He'll be gone, forever, and whatever skills he possesses in operating Cody's cock will go with him.

She could get a job, couldn't she? Just for a day or two?

She walks to town, searching up and down Main Street for a business that might hire her. She tries the law office, the real estate broker, and the podiatrist, figuring one of them might have some light office work for her. They are entirely uninterested in her services.

Realizing she might have to venture into retail, she grits her teeth and visits the apothecary, the ice cream shop, and even the baby clothes boutique, despite the fact that she abhors babies.

No one even asks her to fill out an application.

Chocking her failure up to the decline of Main Streets everywhere, Alyssa trudges another half mile down to the strip malls. She actually manages to score an interview at a shoe store, but whatever good impression she makes with her styled hair, trendy clothes, and tasteful shoe selection is immediately undone when she reveals that she has no high school diploma. The store supervisor ends their interview on the spot.

Humiliated, Alyssa fills out a couple of applications at places that aren't actually hiring but promise disingenuously to "hold on to it just in case." Finally, she spots an establishment that is actually advertising for help: Taco Bell. Normally, Alyssa wouldn't be caught dead in Taco Bell as a patron, much less a service worker, but she needs a win today.

Someone has to want her.

The manager is as desperate as she is. "You got a social security number?" he asks. "You can start tomorrow."

"Great!" Alyssa flashes a smile, but she's already decided the place smells bad and the guy looks greasy. There is no freaking way she is working here. She hightails it out of there as quickly as possible and begins the arduous walk home.

It's been a long day, and Alyssa is starving by the time she makes it home. She missed lunch, she realizes. Now it's practically dinner.

Mr. Hennessy stands in the foyer, dressed to the nines in a white collared shirt and slim-fitting suit Alyssa didn't even know that Cody owned.

"How was your job search?" he asks, adjusting the angle of his collar and checking it in the mirror.

"Nothing yet," Alyssa says, kicking off her shoes.

"Pity," he tells her.

"Are you going out again?"

"I am."

"Can I come?"

"If you can't afford rent, Miss Meyer, you certainly can't afford a nice restaurant."

"Why should I have to pay?" Alyssa says angrily. "You could pay for me. It's not even your money! You're freeloading off Cody just like I am. And he's freeloading off his folks! So why can't you take me out to dinner once in a while?"

"Because I don't want to." The statement is simple and cutting.

"The only reason you're even here is because of me," she says. "If I hadn't gone into that stupid fucking graveyard--"

"And urinated on my grave, like the classy young woman you are." He nods. "Yes, you certainly set an interesting chain of events in motion, however unintentionally."

Alyssa begins to cry. "I'm sorry," she sniffles, and she is, but only because she really, really wants to go out to dinner. "I'm sorry I pissed on you, Mr. Hennessy. And I'm sorry I had sex with Cody on your grave."

"We both know your vulgar grudge has worked out quite well for me," Mr. Hennessy says with a congenial smile. "I couldn't have asked for a better vessel, and you unwittingly delivered him to my metaphorical doorstep. Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Meyer."

Alyssa grabs his wrist as he turns to go, rendering up one last plea. "I did get offered a job," she says. "At Taco Bell. They want me to start tomorrow."

"So start tomorrow," he tells her.

She wipes her eyes. "And then what? What happens if I do?"

"You mean what's in it for you?"

She shrugs.

"You'll build character, of course. Develop perseverance, discipline, respect. All qualities you currently lack."

Alyssa crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "That's it? That's the big reward? Fuck that shit. Count me out." She looks at him with accusing eyes. "I thought you were supposed to encourage my progress."

Mr. Hennessy's lip twitches, clearly enjoying this. "And how do you propose I encourage you, Miss Meyer?" His voice is low and liquid, like dark water slipping into cracks.

Alyssa peels off her shirt and tosses it in front of the door, blocking his path. "Oh, I think you know how to motivate me."

If he isn't going to get her naked, she decides, she'll just have to do it herself. She unclasps her bra and releases her tits, letting them spill out with all the glory they're due. She is gratified to see Mr. Hennessy's eyes on her, and even more gratified to see his pants begin to bulge.

"I liked having your dick in my mouth," she tells him coyly, "but there's better places you can put it, don't you think?"

"I do," he says. "There are other women's mouths I'd enjoy far more than yours."

She elects to ignore this comment and pulls off her pants, bending slowly to give him an extra good view of her ass. "I know you want to get in this pussy."Her panties are now the only article of clothing remaining on her body.

"Do it," she says. "Fuck me." Her fingers massage the front of his pants. "I've heard the noises women make with you. Let's see if you live up to the hype."

Mr. Hennessy looks her squarely in the eye, and runs a hand through her hair. Alyssa smirks, thinking he's about to move in for a kiss, until his hand clenches into a fist. He tugs her hair back, not too rough, but with a force she was not expecting.

Alyssa pulls her hand away from his dick and stares at him, startled.

"You silly little brat," he says, and suddenly her hair is wound so tight around his fingers she's not going anywhere until he says so. "If you can last a day at a real job, I'll show you exactly where I like to put my dick."

*

Every moment at Taco Bell is a misery.

Alyssa's shift runs until midnight, and though she's not even there until closing, she compresses what seems to her a lifetime of suffering into a single day. The joint is far too short-staffed to properly train her, so they give her half-assed instructions and make her wing it.

She assembles tacos, burritos, and other weirdly folded creations until her eyes sting. She stands over the sweltering steamer, melting cheese whenever someone orders a quesadilla or cheesy Gordita crunch and tries not to sweat into the food. She drags heavy, smelly bags of garbage to the dumpster out back and then, when the dining room finally closes and she thinks she's on the verge of leaving, she is ordered to clean the restrooms.

The women's restroom is gross in the ways one might expect, with a used tampon floating in the toilet and pee on the seats, but the men's room is a true hellscape. Alyssa cries tears of real despair when she sees that some dude took a shit in a urinal.

She thinks about leaving, quitting, but she can't. She can't let Mr. Hennessy be right about her. She can't watch him gloat at her failure. And she definitely can't listen to him fuck another woman in the bed that is supposed to be hers.

She grits her teeth, still crying, and cleans the fucking bathroom.

At midnight, when she finally leaves the restaurant, Mr. Hennessy is waiting for her in the BMW.

"Well, well, well," he says. "Look at my hard-working girl."

Alyssa climbs into the passenger seat, trying not to let him see her puffy eyes, and says nothing.

"I'm impressed, Miss Meyer," Mr. Hennessy tells her. "I didn't think you had it in you."

She tears her hair out of its stupid employer-approved bun and tosses her head. "I survived," she says. "Barely."

"You must be tired after a long workday." His voice is actually sort of nice. "I think you could do with a good, hot bath."

Alyssa glances at him. "In the whirlpool?" she asks. Cody's massive whirlpool tub sits in the master bathroom, which she's been banned from ever since Mr. Hennessy moved in.

"In the whirlpool," he confirms.

Back at the house, he leads her upstairs. The door to the master bedroom is wide open, the interiors of both the bedroom and bathroom dimly lit with an arrangement of candles. Alyssa sees in the warm glow that he's already drawn a bath for her. The air is steamy and smells like sandalwood and something floral.

He knew that I would do it, she realizes. He knew how bad I wanted this.

She's not sure if she likes his confidence in her or resents it. Either way, the bath looks heavenly, and she's pretty sure she's finally getting fucked tonight.

"Come here, Miss Meyer."

She's so tired, she complies without any sassy comments.

"I'm going to undress you," he says softly, and Alyssa feels her body stirring.

He lifts her black work shirt up over her head, folds it carefully, and sets it aside. He undoes the front clasp of her bra, letting her tits fall loose. He runs a finger across one nipple briefly and then removes her bra. Alyssa's pussy starts to tingle as he slides her pants off and folds them up, in no particularly hurry.

They're getting close, she thinks. He's going to touch her. He has to.

She stands, waiting, wearing nothing but a black thong. Mr. Hennessy circles her for a moment, as if considering her body. Finally--finally--he begins to peel away her panties. Alyssa moans slightly, her ass pushing against his hand, seeking more of him.

His finger moves down the crack of her ass, stroking her, and Alyssa's too turned on to think how sweaty and gross she must be after this day.

Until, to her embarrassment, he sniffs his fingers.

"Time for that bath, Miss Meyer," he says, his tone just shy of scolding. "You had a long day, but now I want you very, very clean, do you understand me?"

Her cheeks burn with shame. "Yes, Mr. Hennessy."

She climbs into the warm tub, and then the jets go on, hitting her skin from a variety of angles. She tries to let the heat and the bubbles relax her, but she's getting so hot thinking about the headmaster finally fucking her that the water seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all the bubbles fluttering across her body feel like they're exploring her, caressing her skin.

Mr. Hennessy leaves the bathroom, and she hastens to soap up. She takes special care with her sweatiest parts: her scalp, her underarms, her cleavage, her pussy, her ass. She's got to leave this tub smelling like a fucking rose. There can be nothing, not a single part of her, that might turn him off.

Fully scrubbed, she rises up out of the tub and steps onto the bath mat. Almost instantly, he returns from the bedroom and gently towels her dry. When she is damp but no longer dripping, he begins to inspect her. He raises her arms above her head, sniffing each armpit. He runs a finger across her pussy, smells it, and then nods approvingly.

"Bend over," he orders.

Alyssa places her hands on the side of the tub and bends down. Suddenly his hands are gripping her ass cheeks and his nose is up against her asshole, inhaling her. She holds her breath, afraid her own body will betray her, but Mr. Hennessy straightens quickly.

"Good," he says. "Very good. You're ready for me."

"Yes, Mr. Hennessy," she says. She is so ready.

He brings her into the bedroom, and Alyssa notices the jar of coconut oil from the kitchen now perched on the foot of the bed.

"You've been a very good girl, Miss Meyer," he says, dipping his hand into the coconut oil, which has hardened into a sticky, white semi-solid. "Good things come to good girls."

He rubs his hands together and their warmth melts the coconut back into oil, which he then rubs onto her tits. Alyssa shivers slightly at the feeling of Cody's familiar hands moving across her with newfound purpose. Mr. Hennessy covers her breasts in oil and then massages them with firm circular motions. When her tits are glistening in the candlelight, he turns his attention to her nipples.

"Oh, yes," she breathes, as he rolls and tugs her nipples. "Suck them," she begs. "Suck on my tits, please."

But Mr. Hennessy is not about to take orders.

"Patience, Miss Meyer."

He releases her tits and grabs another gob of thick white coconut oil. This time he massages it into her right ass cheek. Alyssa sighs as he starts on the other cheek and then begins to work both cheeks at once. Every time he pulls her cheeks apart, she hopes he'll plunge a few fingers into her pussy, but he never does.

He removes his dick from his pants and starts to oil himself up. Alyssa watches as his hand moves up and down the shaft, working coconut oil over his growing erection until his cock is huge and gleaming.

"Tonight, Miss Meyer, I'll let you choose where I fuck you," he says. "Tits or ass. You decide."

Alyssa can't believe what she's hearing. He's not going to fuck her pussy? He can't be serious!

The oil on her tits and ass cheeks says otherwise. Her choices are stark. Either she gets titty fucked or she takes it up the ass.

She considers her options. She could beg him to stick it in her pussy, but begging doesn't seem to work on him. Everything has to be on his terms, and the more that he senses she wants something, the more he seems to use it against her. If she tries to get her own way, she might get nothing at all.

And she's worked so damn hard for this. She can't end the night without any dick.

Alyssa's been titty fucked before and wasn't particularly impressed by the experience. She has no doubt that Mr. Hennessy could manage it with a little more style, though, and watching his cock slide back and forth between her tits would definitely be a turn on.

On the other hand, Alyssa has never been fucked up the ass. She hasn't particularly wanted to try. When she pictures Mr. Hennessy jackhammering her asshole, though, she has to admit... it's maybe kind of hot?

The fact is, she wants the man inside her, penetrating her completely. Just like he's penetrated Cody. Maybe Cody really does like how it feels to have Mr. Hennessy inside him, running the show.

Now it's her turn.

"Tits or ass, Miss Meyer?" Mr. Hennessy repeats, and Alyssa answers without hesitation.

"Please fuck me up the ass, Mr. Hennessy."

He smiles. "An excellent choice." He dips two fingers into the coconut oil. "Hands against the bed, Miss Meyer."

She bends over, hands against the mattress, her ass on display for him. Without wasting any time, Mr. Hennessy eases a finger into her asshole.

"Oh, God!" Alyssa feels herself tense up, but Mr. Hennessy touches the small of her back with his free hand.

"Relax, Miss Meyer. It may be a new sensation for you, but I don't think you'll find it an unpleasant one."

His finger hooks lightly inside of her ass and moves gently in and out, just a couple inches with each stroke. Alyssa knows she's clenching up, but can't seem to stop. It's a weird feeling, invasive in a way she's not sure she likes, but it also turns her on to know he's venturing into places no one has gone before.

"So tight," he says, pressing his mouth down to her temple. "Let's see if we can help you loosen up."

His free hand travels around her waist and dips down to her pussy. Without thinking, Alyssa's hips move to greet his index finger. He teases her clit for a few minutes, and she groans, barely aware now of the finger up her ass. She's been wanting him to touch her like this, just like this, and now she's finally going to--

He pushes a second finger into her asshole and she squeals in surprise.

"You're doing beautifully, Miss Meyer," he assures her. "Focus on how good your pussy feels. As long as you relax, you're going to feel very, very good. You trust me, don't you?"

Alyssa hates this man, this overbearing dipshit who has commandeered her boyfriend's body and her entire life. She hates him, but she also believes in his ability to make her feel good.

"Yes, Mr. Hennessey," she gasps, closing her eyes and trying to chase the feelings that have gathered in her pussy. Her attention swings back and forth from her pussy to her ass, like she can't keep track of both at once, pleasure and--if not pain exactly, something uncomfortable and strange.

He begins to stroke her pussy with two fingers. Alyssa is panting, trying hard to come. He moves away from her clit and slides both fingers up inside her pussy. She can't help but move her hips with him.

The knowledge that she's being doubly penetrated, even just with fingers, makes her nipples ache. His hands are everywhere, and her body likes this sense of fullness. And there's something else now, a feeling she's never experienced, a pleasant tingle in her ass when he moves his fingers a particular way.

"Oohh." Her attention has now been entirely diverted to what is happening in her asshole.

"That's right," Mr. Hennessy croons softly. "Don't resist. Give it to me, Miss Meyer. Give me everything.""

He continues to finger fuck her in both holes for a few long and lovely minutes. Just a little more time, Alyssa thinks, and she will come for him.

"Are you ready for three fingers?" he asks, before she can get there.

She moans. "It's too tight. I can't."

In response, he slides his fingers out of her ass and pussy, and begins to massage copious amounts of coconut oil onto her asshole. He massages her butt cheeks and the area around her hole with such deep, gentle strokes, Alyssa actually wants him back in there.

All of him.

"Just fuck me," she pleads. "Put your dick in, Mr. Hennessy. Please." Her hand reaches for her pussy, playing with it so she doesn't tense up.

"Are you sure?"

She looks back and sees him slathering Cody's cock in more coconut oil. It looks bigger than she remembered, and she has sudden doubts about his ability to fit that thing inside of her.

He rubs his dick up and down against her crack, letting her feel the length of him.

"You want this big cock in your ass, Miss Meyer?"

He rubs the head against her asshole, not pushing, just teasing.

"Yes, sir." Alyssa presses her face to the bed, thrusting her ass up for him to enter. Her fingers are slick with her own pussy juice.

She screams when he bursts inside of her. He's too big, she thinks, too fucking big, and it hurts, it hurts, it--

But there's another feeling there, dancing with the pain. A good feeling. She breathes deeply, keeps fingering herself, lets herself relax. Mr. Hennessy is unexpectedly tender as he pushes painstakingly inside her and then retreats, equally slowly. One hand strokes her breast, teasing at the nipple.

"Look at my brave girl," he marvels. "Look at her taking her headmaster's cock. Such a good girl."

Alyssa presses her face against the bed and touches her clit in small, quick circles. Something is happening inside that she doesn't understand, two competing feelings, and both are good, getting better, verging on great.

Her pussy is ascending in that usual, amazing build to an orgasm, but something is happening inside her ass, too, when Mr. Hennessy pushes gently with his cock. It's like she's building to two separate orgasms, but that can't be right, can it?

All she knows is that she wants more.

As the pleasure builds in her ass, there's no denying it. The sensations are so good, so intense, she can barely breathe. She stops touching her pussy altogether.

"Ohhh!" Her voice has gone up several registers, a high squeak as Mr. Hennessy continues to fuck her at the same leisurely pace.

"You're almost there, Miss Meyer," he says, his hands light against her hips. "Take it, pet. Take what I'm giving you."

It's the word pet that finally pushes her over the edge. She is his pet, she thinks, smaller, subservient, but cherished, and suddenly her body hits the peak of pleasure. Waves of it spread across her insides, and it's like a beautiful warm light moving through her, making her legs go weak and her voice cry out in sounds she scarcely recognizes as her own.

It is the longest, fullest orgasm of her life.

When she finally catches her breath, she's aware the Mr. Hennessy is still fucking her.

She puts a hand to her forehead, a little dizzy. "Fucking hell, what was that?"

"That, Miss Meyer, was your first anal orgasm." His grip tightens against her hips as he continues to fuck her, his speed building slightly. "I've been nice and gentle for you, but now it's my turn. Be a good girl, and don't move."

The waves of pleasure Alyssa felt seconds earlier quickly convert to pain as he begins to have his way with her. He's no longer slow and soft, just ruthlessly efficient.

She clenches her teeth, trying to understand how, in such a short span of time, they can go from the best sex of her life to a vaguely unpleasant pounding she only just tolerates. And yet, despite the dramatic change in physical sensation, Alyssa can't help but feel a rush of satisfaction in knowing what he's doing to her.

He's fucking her ass, hard. She is a very good girl.

It doesn't take long for Mr. Hennessy to come. He grabs a handful of her hair, tugging her head back towards him, and gives a series of deep, animal grunts. That's it, Alyssa realizes. It's over.

He pulls out, and she feels a gush of warm cum leak from her asshole. He brushes his hand against her hole, catching some, and then pushes his fingers into her mouth.

Alyssa whirls around, her nose wrinkled in disgust, and tries to spit it out.

Mr. Hennessy raises an eyebrow at her. "Am I to understand, Miss Meyer, that you don't want my cum in your mouth?"

"Not after it was in my ass!"

"Are you implying that your ass isn't clean?"

"I don't know." She flops down on the bed. "It's an ass."

He gives her a severe look. "I gave you instructions to properly clean yourself, Miss Meyer. If your asshole isn't clean enough to eat out of, it's not clean enough for your headmaster, is that understood?"

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "Yes, Mr. Hennessy."

"That is all. You are dismissed."

Alyssa stares up at him from the bed. "What do you mean I'm dismissed?"

"You may return to the guest room."

She can scarcely believe her ears. She's getting thrown out? After he fucked her in the ass and then shoved his assy cum fingers in her mouth?

She sits up, her lips forming a pout. "What if I don't want to leave?"

"I don't recall expressing any interest whatsoever in what you want, Miss Meyer."

She briefly considers refusing to go, challenging him with a make me. The consequences to such insolence could be steep, however. As long as he's inside Cody, the house is technically his. She wouldn't put it past him to call the cops and get her picked up for trespassing, the bastard.

Alyssa stomps out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

*

Exhausted by both their late night and the first full work day of her life, Alyssa sleeps in late. At around noon, she thinks she hears the doorbell, but she's still tired and her ass is sore. When she hears Mr. Hennessy's footsteps on the staircase, she rolls over and drifts back to sleep. Let him answer it.

It's nearly one o'clock when she wakes to the exuberant sounds of a woman getting fucked. Alyssa sits up in bed, immediately realizing what is happening.

"What the hell?" she demands, tearing angrily down the staircase to the strains of some woman's noisy climax. "You fucked me less than twelve hours ago, and you're already plowing some other girl?"

She arrives to the kitchen just in time to see Mr. Hennessy finish inside Saige, who is splayed across the kitchen table. The youngest of the Weird Sisters has her skirts pulled up, her panties pulled down, and the flushed, blissed out expression of a woman who has just experienced unfathomable pleasure.

"Are you freaking serious?" Alyssa exclaims.

Saige scrambles guiltily to her feet, pulling down her skirts and fumbling with her panties.

"You didn't answer the door," she says, as if this is an adequate explanation for her fucking the very spirit she's supposed to be helping Alyssa exorcise.

"Someone had to give your friend a warm reception," Mr. Hennessy says, tying off his used condom and then tucking his cock back into his pants. "Glad to see you're awake, Miss Meyer. I believe your shift at work starts shortly."

Alyssa is too irate to even speak to him, although she's somewhat gratified to know he used protection with Saige even as he barebacked it with her last night.

She grabs Saige by the arm and pulls her outdoors to the backyard so they can have some privacy. The day is sunny but cool, with a breeze that blows the autumn leaves in loose circles.

"I thought you were in a committed relationship," Alyssa snaps, arms folding across her chest. "A throuple, right?"

"I mean..." Saige shrugs apologetically. "Willette and Ursula are a little more committed than I am."

"So you just--fucked him?"

"Oh, no, honey. He very much fucked me." Saige waves her face with her hand, as if she's still overheated from the experience. "Look, I wasn't sure I believed you about the possession thing," she admits. "But now I do. That man in there--he's definitely not Cody."

"No shit." Alyssa wants to bitch-slap the woman, but she understands only too well that she needs her. "So what do I do about him?" She stares at Saige expectantly. "Weren't you supposed to bring me some kind of ritual to do tomorrow?"

Saige nods. "Willette's been doing a lot of research and consulting her spirit guides. They said you need to go back to the site of the original inhabitation."

"You mean the graveyard?"

"If that's where this headmaster guy first took over, then yes." Saige stretches out a crick in her neck. "My God, that man knows how to fuck. Poor Cody never had a clue what to do with that dick."

Alyssa is too pissed at Mr. Hennessy to get riled about Cody cheating on her with a Weird Sister. She'll deal with Cody's sorry ass later.

"So I go to the graveyard, and then what?" she asks. "How do I get his spirit out?"

"He has to come with you," Saige tells her. "Willette says you basically need to duplicate the circumstances that let him enter Cody. And then she's got a quick incantation of reversal that should get him back out."

Alyssa considers this. Conceptually it sounds simple enough, but the execution will be tricky.

"There's just two main things you need to have," Saige says. "First, an object strongly associated with the inhabiting spirit."

"You mean, like, his gravestone?"

"Sure," Saige says. "That should work. And the other thing you need is a liquid conductor."

Alyssa frowns. "A what?"

"Some kind of liquid connecting Cody's body with the object. You must have had one the first time around for it to work," she adds. "Rain, maybe? Tears? Even spit can work in a pinch, but spirits need a liquid conductor to complete a transfer."

Alyssa remembers the puddle of her piss that Cody sat in and winces. "Right," she says. "Got it."

"Make sure you're both touching the object and the liquid conductor," Saige instructs, "and then you just say this incantation. It's not complicated." She passes Alyssa a slip of paper with two hastily scrawled lines of text.

Unwelcome Spirit, break your curse

With this, your entry I now reverse

"Why's it rhyme?" Alyssa asks. "Does this shit really need to rhyme to work?"

"I don't know," Saige says, "but if Willette says it'll work, then it'll work." Her gaze moves past Alyssa to the house. "Are you sure you want to do this? Seems like living with this Hennessy guy might have a few perks."

"I want him gone," Alyssa says, already guiding Saige back to the front door. She's still fuming that Mr. Hennessy fucked this woman--and in the pussy no less!--so shortly after his encounter with her. Like it meant nothing to him that she'd taken it up the ass to please him. And, okay, she actually liked the butt stuff, but he could've plowed her on the kitchen table instead of Saige. She would've been more than down with that.

She runs through Saige's instructions in her head, trying to to figure out how she's going to pull this off. Mr. Hennessy isn't just going to follow her to the graveyard. She will have to be a very, very good girl to coax him out there. A spectacular girl.

She sighs.

She was scheduled for a 2:00 shift at Taco Bell today. After yesterday's horrors, she figured she'd just no-show it, but she needs to buy another day of Mr. Hennessy's good favor. And Taco Bell servitude is just the tip of the iceberg. To get him back to the cemetery, she'll have to pull out all the stops.

Alyssa tosses her head. Duplicate the circumstances that let him enter Cody? Fine. She's up to the task. And if getting rid of Mr. Hennessy once and for all requires a final farewell fuck atop his grave... well, she's not exactly complaining.

"Let's go out with a bang," she whispers.

*

The following night, Alyssa finds herself tramping through the cemetery, her phone's flashlight held aloft as she tries to find Mr. Hennessy's grave. She wears a white tailored blouse, black tie, and a pleated miniskirt, hoping her schoolgirl costume will get his headmaster juices flowing. Or maybe it just gets her juices flowing.

He walks a few paces behind her, far more game for a Halloween graveyard romp than she'd anticipated. But Alyssa has been such a good girl lately, how could he deny her?

She's worked three consecutive days at Taco Bell--three! She's cleaned the house and done the laundry. She's raked the leaves in the backyard. And for her crowning achievement, she made Halloween cupcakes, vanilla frosted ones decorated to look like ghosts, and chocolate ones that look like little witch hats. Alyssa is incredibly proud of herself, and though Mr. Hennessy didn't actually eat any of her baked goods, he pronounced them as attractive as any made by a member of Foxgrove's Parent Association.

Alyssa is nailing it.

She's nailing it so hard that, when she asked him to drive her to the graveyard so she could atone for her bad behavior there, he actually agreed to take her.

On the ride over, Alyssa laid it on thick. She told him she was ashamed of what she'd done and knew she deserved punishment. It was only right that they return to the scene of the crime so that he could properly discipline her.

Mr. Hennessy smiled at her indulgently. Let me be clear, Miss Meyer, he said. My cock is never a punishment. It is a reward. If you want to be properly fucked on my grave, you've earned it, but remember that only good girls get it in the graveyard.

I'm a very good girl, Alyssa reminded him, and now here they are.

She weaves through rows of headstones and past a spectacularly creepy crypt, trying to remember exactly where she located his grave a week earlier. There were a couple trees, she remembers, and a path with a bench not too far off.

In the end, Mr. Hennessy spots his grave marker before she does, and surges ahead. Alyssa trails behind, mentally reviewing the incantation Saige gave her yesterday.

She's ready. She just has to make sure she has a liquid conductor.

She joins him at the headstone, dropping to her knees on the black granite slab. The cold stone, coupled with the cool night air, sends shivers across her body. She can feel her nipples hardening, her pussy getting slick as she imagines the cock she's about to receive. It helps that, once again, she isn't wearing any panties.

Mr. Hennessy, still standing, comes up behind her. She hears the sound of his zipper, the rustle of his dick coming out, and she turns around, thinking she might suck him. Instead, she gets a stream of piss in the face.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"You wanted symmetry, Miss Meyer," he tells her. "Punishment." He gestures to her dripping face. "Now you have it."

She almost tells him that she hates him, almost grabs him by the hand and makes him touch his own gravestone so that she can say the incantation right then and there. But no. She can't banish him from Cody's body until she's had the fun of fucking him, both literally and metaphorically.

And, on the bright side, he's provided her with a tried and true liquid conductor.

"Thank you, Mr. Hennessy." Alyssa notices his soft penis and realizes that he'll need some assistance. "May I suck on you, sir?"

"I'd like that, pet."

Even with a urine-soaked shirt, she can't help but feel a tingle when he calls her that. She brings her mouth to his cock, her lips and tongue caressing the length of him. She's gratified to see him harden quickly. She's cold and wet. There won't be time for a prolonged fuck tonight.

When he's fully erect and his dick nicely lubricated with her saliva, she lies down on his headstone. She lifts her skirt and parts her legs, giving him a full view of her pussy.

Mr. Hennessy rubs himself lightly. "Where shall I put this nice, thick cock, Miss Meyer?"

"I've been a very good girl, Mr. Hennessy," Alyssa tells him. "Please put your cock in me."

"I'll give you a choice, Miss Meyer. Would you like me to fuck you hard or fuck you slow?"

Alyssa wanted both, really, but she knew it didn't work that way. "Fuck me hard, Mr. Hennessy," she whispers, and then his cock--Cody's cock--pushes inside of her.

True to his word, he fucks hard. Alyssa doesn't understand why it feels so freaking good, why the dick she's fucked hundreds of times is suddenly such an impressive presence in her pussy. Maybe ghosts just have a little something extra, she decides. Somehow he rams her in just the right spot, over and over again.

She comes quickly, and while she doesn't see stars and rainbows quite the way she did when he fucked her up the ass, it's a pleasant, easy orgasm. He keeps pumping vigorously, his hands balanced on the gravestone on either side of her, and Alyssa knows the time has come. She has to say her incantation.

She dips her fingers in a few stray drops of pee and touches his hand.

"Unwelcome Spirit, break your curse," she says in a rush. "With this, your entry I now reverse."

For a moment, it seems that nothing happens. Mr. Hennessy is still going at it, fucking her with his brows knit tight in concentration. Then Alyssa notices a feeling gathering in her pussy, something unusual for her. She's going to come again.

She clutches his arms, gasping as the sensations claim her. It's better than the first time, far better. She feels prickles of electricity pulsing through her pussy, and it's like she's running, running, then taking off, soaring up into the clouds of something indescribable. She forgets where she is or who she's with. All she knows is this high, this sense of flying.

And then, suddenly, nothing. It's like she's reached such heights of pleasure she has literally left her body behind.

For a moment, Alyssa feels untethered, loose, completely free, and then she jerks back into her body, pitching face forward into the gravestone. She catches herself before she hits her head, but her body is still crackling strangely, little zaps of electricity hitting her.

She sits up slowly, disoriented, trying to place herself in physical space.

Wasn't Cody's body on top of her? Did they somehow flip over during that frantic fuck, leaving her on top?

Something clearly happened when she said that incantation. She looks down at the body beneath her, trying to determine if it's Cody or Mr. Hennessy.

A creeping sense of horror overtakes her as she realizes.

It isn't a man at all.

It is her body.

Her bare legs, parted. Her pussy, with Cody's half-erect dick still inside it. Except the dick is no longer Cody's. It's...

Alyssa looks down at her own crotch and screams. A surprisingly deep and manly scream.

Those fucking Weird Sisters and their little reversal incantation! They reversed things, all right. Are they totally incompetent or did Saige plan this whole thing with Mr. Hennessy in advance? She might never know.

Panic floods her as she watches the Alyssa-That-Is-Not-Her sit up in the dark and smile ike some ghoulish reflection come to life.

Alyssa-That-Is-Not-Her smoothes her hair and slides quickly off Cody's cock.

Alyssa-That-Is-Not-Her stands and stretches, testing her limbs, inspecting her fingernails and breasts.

"Well, Miss Meyer--" says this Other Alyssa, "or should I say Mister? I think I'm going to enjoy this."