TG Story - In Good Spirits

 Story commission by TheOkayGatsby

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As the heavy rain poured down from a moonless night sky, a horse-drawn carriage came to a stop at the bottom of a large hill. At the top of the hill stood a lavish estate, its owners clearly of higher class than the poor residents of the rural village the carriage had just passed through on the way to its destination. As if to eliminate any doubt of this divide, an iron fence circled the property, with a large gate where the barrier met the road.

Were it not for the wealth of these owners, the carriage’s sole occupant doubted he would have ever come to the area, much to his chagrin. It seemed to him that the type of problem which he was trained to solve was only ever given its due seriousness when the rich were afflicted. Alas, the passenger understood how fortunate it was that he was summoned at all. Humanity had entered an age of science, which meant that even when lives were on the line people were reluctant to admit that they heard something go bump in the night.

With these thoughts in mind, the traveler stepped out of the carriage into the constant downpour assaulting the region. The driver handed the young lad his luggage, before turning the carriage around and heading back on the road. Within seconds the vehicle was no longer visible to the traveler, hidden now by the rain and the night. Not wanting to spend any more time in such foul weather than absolutely necessary, the dark-haired gentleman opened up the gates with the key the property owners had sent ahead of time, and quickly made his way towards the mansion.

It takes one knock for the door to be opened by a modestly dressed maidservant. The young woman smiled at the soaked visitor. “You must be the specialist. We’ve prepared a room for you, but please wait here while I inform the mistress and master, and find a towel for you to dry yourself off.” The young man nodded and as the maid walked away, began muttering to himself. “Specialist. Bah. Are people really too embarrassed to say it out loud?”

“A-are you the ghost hunter?” A timid voice rang out from the next room, immediately proving the disgruntled gentleman wrong. He looked to see a young woman staring at him, most of her body obscured by the door frame she was hiding behind. She must have been no older than nineteen, and from her age and frightened behavior the soaked traveler was able to assume her identity. “You’re the mayor’s daughter, aren’t you? The one who was attacked by the specter.”

***

Elizabeth sat on her father’s large reading chair, staring into the lit fireplace a few feet away. She had always felt safe in this chair, and now the injured girl needed its reassurance more than ever. It wasn’t as if she could rely on her parents for emotional support. Just two days after the attack they had already returned to their busy schedules, promising that they had sent for a man who could “solve the problem”.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Trudy, who was waiting for a guest, quickly opened it before a second knock arrived. The young lady heard the door slam shut, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said from where she was sitting. Elizabeth walked up to the door frame and peeked her head out to the foyer, where she saw a tall, dark-haired gentleman in a soaking wet cloak. “A-are you the ghost hunter?” she asked nervously.

The stranger turned towards her with a curious look on his face, and she suddenly became very nervous. What if he wasn’t here for the ghost, and she just made a fool of herself? His eyes seemed to study her for a few seconds, before he responded with a question of his own. Although it was phrased like a statement. “You’re the mayor’s daughter, aren’t you? The one who was attacked by the specter.” At first the girl thought it was awfully rude of the man to ignore her question while he was a guest in her home, but then she considered that ghost hunters probably didn’t have much use for manners, and decided not to press the issue.

Elizabeth nodded in answer to the man’s inquiry, and stepped into view. She wore a purple nightgown, with bandages covering her arms and neck. The violet fabric was see-through towards the bottom, and the man could tell her legs were bandaged as well. “Well ma’am” he said kindly “I am indeed the ghost hunter your father sent for. My name is William Graves, and I have made it my life’s work to stop spooks, and spirits, as well as any other unnatural apparitions that trouble fine folks such as yourself.”

His words seemed to comfort the young lady, as she smiled meekly. The sound of footsteps became audible, and soon the maidservant had returned with her employer. “Hello, my good man! I can’t express how pleased I am that you were able to get here so soon! This town dearly requires your, ah… services.” The well-dressed gentleman trailed off. Even after his own daughter was attacked, he was reluctant to entertain the existence of ghosts.

“I just need lodging for the night, and I have some questions for your daughter, if that’s alright with her.” The ghost hunter skipped over any formal greeting. He was there to rid the town of an unnatural aberration, not practice his people skills. The host seemed to understand, as he showed no sign of offence at his guest’s straightforward reply, and turned toward his child as if to indicate to her that she had a choice in the matter.

The nervous girl nodded slowly, and the hunter walked over to her. “Now, where exactly were you when you were attacked, and what time of day was it?” he asked slowly in a calm voice. “I-it was at the old Haberman’s barn. The one that was abandoned a few years back, on account of nearly burning down after it got struck by lightning.” She found it easy to talk to him, in no small part because of the fact that he wasn’t one of the townsfolk she was always trying to impress. “A few friends and I went in a little after school, although everything was fine until… the sun went down.”

William listened to the rest of the young girl’s story. He listened as she described how the wind started to howl louder and louder until they all tried to run out of the barn, but the doors shut before she could make it out. He listened as she told him that was when she felt a cold hand wrap around her neck and lift her up into the air and she heard someone laughing and- “Alright, that’s enough. You don’t have to keep going,” the gentleman interrupted, placing his hand on Elizabeth’s trembling shoulder. “You’ve given me all the information I needed. Come this time tomorrow, your town will be ghost free.”

***

With every step sinking his feet deep into the earth, bringing mud up almost past his boots, the stoic gentleman trudged towards the abandoned farmhouse. He stopped outside of the barn, reached deep into the canvas bag at his side, and pulled out a large flask containing sea salt and iron shavings. He circled the barn, leaving a trail of the mixture behind him and connecting the trail at his starting point. After this ritual, which any passerby would find simply bizarre, William Graves entered the barn.

Taking out a piece of chalk, the young but well-built lad began to draw sigils on the sides of the barn. They wouldn’t do much to weaken the spirit, but if the poltergeist was as strong as Elizabeth made it out to be, he would need all the help he could get. As he traced the sigils along the walls, William heard his stomach growl, and cursed himself for skipping breakfast a few hours earlier. Fasting before the job was an old tradition his father had drilled into him, but his father wasn’t here and it wasn’t like he had ever understood the practice. Still, the hunter was determined to do things by the book.

William noticed a puddle in the middle of the barn’s floor, and walked over to inspect the stagnant water. He had plenty of time until sunset, and there were only so many sigils he would be able to fit on the walls. Peering at his reflection, the dark-haired youth thought he looked every bit the ideal ghost hunter. Not that this brought him a great deal of pride. The young Mister Graves merely hoped that his image would help assure the locals that they need not worry. “I wonder,” he thought aloud, “how that Elizabeth girl would feel if she knew that this will be my first time banishing a ghost on my own?”

***

Jack’s eyes opened slowly, and glanced down to observe his incorporeal body slowly growing visible. His mud-coated shoes were the first to materialize, followed by his dirty dark grey pants. Next was his white vest. Well, white aside from the dark red stain on the right. Over his vest was his dark grey coat, missing its left sleeve. With the sleeve gone, there were only a few loose bandages covering his arm, but even they couldn’t hide the clawed, inhuman hand hanging from the unclothed appendage.

The abnormality of Jack’s hand was only matched by his wild eyes. With a black sclera and yellow pupils, there was no denying that his appearance set him apart from any normal man. Even without these features, obtained only after his untimely passing, Jack’s visage was quite distinct. The scars on his face made it clear the man had gotten into his fair share of scraps, and the long sideburns gave him an oddly dignified appearance. Though in life his hair had a ginger hue, in this ghostly form it was a pale white.

The sun had set, and now the world fell under the dominion of his kind. The ones who went bump in the night. Even before he had bled out while hiding from the cops in this literal dead-end town, Jack was a creature who thrived in the dark. Everywhere he went, bodies started to pile up. Jack knew it wasn’t his fault, though. Those women had been sinful, and in his own way he had been cleansing the world, just like his father, the minister. Why else would he be tied to this plane after death, if not for the fact that the lord wanted him to continue his work of punishing wicked harlots?

However, it seemed that tonight a different variation of sinner had arrived on his doorstep. Looking at the strange symbols drawn on the walls, it was clear to Jack that this man before him was a practitioner of witchcraft! Jack, now fully visible, turned to face the heathen intruder and made his intentions clear. “This barn shall be your grave, servant of Lucifer!” Jack howled as he stretched out his arms and… nothing happened? “If you’re trying to shake the building, I’m afraid that trick won’t work anymore.” The man dressed in black stepped forward. “You’re not facing a defenseless woman tonight, specter. Now have at you!”

The intruder lunged at Jack, swinging an iron rod through the ghost’s left arm. When it passed through his immaterial body an intense pain struck him. It had been years since Jack had felt an injury, and his fury returned with an even greater intensity. “I am an agent of salvation!” The spirit screamed out and a gust of wind sent his attacker flying backwards into a bale of hay. “By divine sanction, my soul patrols this earth so that it may be cleansed of heretical filth such as you!” Seeing that his opponent had dropped the iron, Jack flew forward and seized him by the neck.

As he strangled the life out of the worshipper of Satan, Jack stared deeply into the man’s eyes. However, the burning determination in those eyes refused to vanish. He heard a cracking noise coming from the heathen’s mouth, followed by the man spitting something into the ghost’s eye. A burning pain filled Jack’s head, and he dropped his attacker before keeling over in anguish. “Salt tooth,” the assailant explained between gasps for air, “Father says I should always have one in place, but that’s a pain in the ass so I just stick one in before each hunt.”

“Oh, and for the record?” The man in black walk towards the injured apparition, pulling out a silver cross. “You’re not a blessed soul, assigned to stay on Earth.” The hunter slammed the cross into Jack’s skull, sending him spiraling onto the wooden floor. “You’re just the psychic residue of some murdering bastard, stuck in a barn and preying on children. That’s right, the memories you have of life? They’re not really yours. That scum’s soul shot right down to hell when he died.”

At this last remark, Jack was filled with another surge of energy. A wave of force shot out in all directions from around him, sending his attacker staggering back. A flaming aura surrounded Jack as he stood up and slowly walked towards the evil assailant. “Blasphemer! Your vile lies are nonsense!” He pointed his finger, and the intruder’s heavy coat became covered in flames. Jack laughed as the man quickly pulled off the burning clothes and tossed them aside. “Now let’s see how you fare without your devil’s tools!”

The disarmed dissident was tossed by an unseen force across the barn several times, violently landing against the walls or dirty floor. Stumbling onto his knees, the injured villain reached a hand down the front of his torn shirt, and pulled out a pendant that hung on the end of his necklace. Jack strolled forward and grabbed the hand that held the pendant. He wrestled the jewelry out of his weakened opponent’s hands, and with a cruel laugh, crushed it into pieces.

“At last! No more tricks! Eh, what’s this?” Jack’s mockery was cut off as he noticed the strange purple residue sticking to his hand. Suddenly the strange substance began to spread up his arm. What’s more, the regions it was covering seemed to be shrinking or slimming down. A strange instinctual fear welled up inside the phantom, and he dug his other hand’s claws into his arm, slowly and painfully peeling off the purple skin. However, underneath the skin was not muscle or bone, but a thinner arm wearing a soft glove. Terrified, Jack tried to move his fingers…and saw the delicate fingers respond as if they were his own. Because they were his own.

Jack threw the peeled-off skin on the ground and it disappeared, but its work had been done. The purple coloration had spread to his inhuman hand now as well. Desperate, the ghost began to twist and contort his arms into unnatural angles, to no avail. Soon enough it had moved up both arms to his shoulders, which started to move closer together.

Once the strange coloration started to move up and down Jack’s ethereal body, part of the fear he felt turned to fury. He twisted his head around his neck to face the culprit behind him. His legs bent in a way they were never meant to as Jack walked toward his assailant without twisting is head back to its intended orientation. “What was that amulet-?” The words faded away as the ghost’s Adam’s apple vanished and his voice rose to an embarrassing pitch.

Suddenly an intense pain struck the spirit and his jaw dislodged to let out a bloodcurdling shriek as his torso shrunk inward. Jack’s head spun back around and his jaw realigned with his skull as his chin smoothed down. The changes continued with his chest swelling and his hips flaring out to give him an hourglass figure. At this point, the only points of masculinity remaining on the specter’s body were his legs and face.

Jack, aware of what was happening only on a subconscious level, reached for his growing breasts and tried to push them back into his chest. This seemed to have the opposite effect, however, as it seemed that there was still some potency left in the substance stuck on his hands. The more and more he pushed, the larger and larger his bosom grew. By the time the futility of his actions was made apparent, they had already swelled to a size that would fill any woman with envy.

Giving up, the psychotic specter let go of his heaving breasts and saw what had changed while he was distracted. His thighs had become soft and smooth, his legs were long and shapely, and his feet were just now shrinking to a tiny, ladylike size. Running to a nearby puddle, Jack looked at his reflection and saw his facial features and hair had also become completely feminine. Gone were the scars and sideburns that clearly marked him as a man. With pouty lips, wavy eyelashes, and long, curly hair, Jack had the appearance of a pure maiden. Which both infuriated and terrified him.

However, the changes were not just to her body. Her clothing had been altered as well. Both of her hands were now covered by soft white gloves that reached up to her elbows, where they met with an ornate gown. There were ribbons and frills along the bottom that only enhanced Jack’s newfound feminine beauty. And atop his head was a gorgeous bonnet with lovely flowers tucked into the ribbons that wrapped beneath her chin. It seemed like the perfect outfit for a truly elegant lady… except for the way his cleavage nearly spilled out over the top.

“What the hell have you done to me!?” Jack turned back around, screeching at the man behind him. “Well, I told you how you were just psychic residue, remember?” The dark ghost hunter grinned as he explained. “The stuff that makes you up bases its form on powerful memories and emotions. A dying serial killer is hard to beat, but luckily for me that pendant does the trick just fine. In other words, your ‘body’ is an actor, and I just gave it a more tempting role to play.”

Suddenly a sharp headache struck Jack and he grasped his head in pain. It quickly passed however, and he looked up with a grin on his face. “It seems the offer wasn’t as tempting as you thought, Will!” …Wait a minute, how did he know this man’s name all of a sudden? But why wouldn’t she remember Will’s name? They’ve known each other for years-No! This was all wrong! She? Jack was a man! He reached between his legs to feel…nothing? Did he lose his manhood during the rest of the transformation? Or maybe he lost it back when he first became a ghost…

Lucille closed her eyes and tried to focus. Was the ball this week or next- Agh! Jack dug his long nails into his head and tried to remember. He was hiding out in the barn, unsure how to treat a gunshot wound. But that can’t be right, ghosts don’t use guns. Marla shook her head and the memories cleared up. She had a broken wrist, but Will was protecting her while his father exorcised the ghost who just injured her. God, Will was so close to her face that- Stop! “Whose memories are these!?” Jack screamed out.

“Well, Marla said the pendant had been in her family for generations. So at least two. Oh, and she said it was passed down from mother to daughter, I hope that’s alright with you. Actually, on second thought, I don’t care.” Will smirked as he approached the screeching spirit, but Jack was able to throw him back a couple of feet. Unfortunately, the concentration seemed to cause another headache that had to be fought off.

A woman? How could he become a woman!? Those sinful harlots that plagued God’s land! That’s right, that’s why Marla had joined the nameless order in the first place. To protect the land from those unholy creatures that killed her mother Eloise! But… that can’t be right, Eloise is my daughter! Lucille frowned at this conundrum as a rather handsome man approached her. Why, if she was just a few years younger, and not married… Although she wasn’t married, was she?

Beatrice remembered that there was no need for her to rush into marriage. She still had time to choose between her many potential suitors. Not that it mattered in the end. Once Marla had joined the order, she had been forced to take a vow of chastity. Maybe they’d make an exception, once she and Will proved themselves-Will! It was he who made Marla think that her name was- no, Marla wasn’t right either! What was his damn name!?

The well-endowed wraith pulled at his long hair and tried to remember. It was a family name, right? Was he named after his grandmother, Beatrice? Gah, it’s all wrong! That was Marla’s family! He dug deep for a memory of his father, the minister. Some boys had beaten him up because they hated going to church on Sunday, although Eloise recalled how mother always taught her that boys only did that to show affection. Maybe they liked her?

The busty phantom began digging her nails into her scalp to bring back her focus. What was it her father said after the boys left? “Jackie me child, a man’s got to fend for ‘imself at times. It’s th’ only way t’get by in this life.” Jackie! That was it! And father was right, a man has to be able to keep on fighting! A man like that William gentleman- no, that wasn’t right! Jacqueline fumed at the thought of that bastard! He did this to her! He…what did he do again? “You-!” the enraged spirit shouted before remembering how her mother Lucille taught her that a lady must never raise her voice.

“Ahem. William, was it? May I ask just what precisely are your intentions with me?” Jacqui asked the rugged gentleman before her as she folded her hands behind her back. Of course, she knew just how to get any man to do what she needed. The elegant apparition had many memories of…um… that’s odd. She couldn’t seem to find any recollection of interacting with men, aside from a few moments she and Will had found themselves close. Suddenly Jacqui began to feel nervous. Could ghosts sweat? Oh lord, what if Will sees her sweating? The gorgeous ghost felt herself starting to drown in a sea of possible embarrassments.

***

Will looked cautiously at the transformed specter, who had started to sweat slightly. He didn’t even know ghosts could sweat, but it probably was a good sign. Jack didn’t seem the type to get nervous, just angry. “My lady, before I state my intentions, I must first know who it is I am dealing with.” The ghost hunter hoped that his attempt at cordial speech was close enough to the real thing. If Marla’s family was as rich as she claimed… well that would certainly explain the fancy dress.

“Very well then. You are in the presence of Jacqueline… er, Lady Jacqueline. The first!” Will realized that the ghost couldn’t recall a last name, and was attempting to obfuscate that fact with titles. At this point he was quite confident that Jack was gone for good, and he was in the presence of a rare benevolent spirit. “Well then Jacqui, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to form a contract and become my familiar? It’s dangerous out there for ghosts and ghost hunters alike. Maybe we could keep each other safe?” dropping the flowery speech, the injured man made his proposal.

“W-w-would we be like… partners?” Jacqui suddenly flew towards Will, their faces now inches apart. “W-w-would we be… close together?” Will nodded slowly, taken aback by the specter’s behavior. She was an odd one, that’s for certain. Quickly, the well-dressed woman spun to face away from the man, and a few seconds later, spun right back around. “Deal! I’ll keep you safe from ghosts, and you’ll protect me form ghost hunters! You’ll be like my knight in shining armor! Except I’m the one who’s shining…”

Will chuckled before turning away and walking over to where the shattered pendant fell. He could hear Jacqui behind him, asking if the ghosts they were going to fight would be scary, but he was too lost in thought to answer. Banishing a ghost on his own was his test to prove he had successfully completed his apprenticeship, but acquiring a familiar? Even his father hadn’t pulled that off, and he’d been hunting ghosts longer than Will had been alive!

He especially couldn’t wait to see the look on Marla’s face when she meets Jacqui. She’ll be so happy to hear her pendant had been so invaluable! Plus, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind that they’d get along well together. In fact, they kind of looked alike now that he thought about it. Suddenly a loud thunderclap shook the barn and the sound of heavy rain could be heard from inside. It was a bit muffled for Will however, as Jacqui had grabbed onto him in terror, squeezing his face into her mammaries. Maybe he hadn’t thought this partnership all the way through…