#duke wilder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilsanslut · 1 year ago

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꒷♡꒷ THE DUKE'S PET!

♰ featuring: wriothesley. [genshin impact]

sypnosis: what you get from being wriothesley’s pretty puppy. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut mentons. PUPPY-HYBRID!READER. GENDER NEUTRAL!READER. spanking. shoe-humping mentions. cock-warming. orgasm denial. dacryphilia. overstimulation. obvious pet-play themes. name calling/degradation. punishments. tummy bulging. sharing mentions (clorinde + neuvillette). ꒷꒦

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES being given to him by none other than the iudex of fontaine himself, neuvillette, as a “gift” of sorts. more so, you were a prisoner who personally denied your trial since you knew you were guilty, so neuvillette thought of a fitting place for you instead. he knew that wriothesley wanted a pet to keep him company while within the walls of the fortress of meropide, but he refrained due to it being cruel to keep an animal somewhere in which they could never see the sun. however, a puppy-human hybrid should suffice well enough, right?

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him not knowing what the fuck to do with you once he first got you. he understood how to take care of a dog well enough, but you were mostly human and had greater intelligence than that of a dog (most of the time). he seemed a little put-off by you at first, tensing up when you came to him for pets and affection, picking you up by the armpits (even if you were taller than him) and sitting you down on the couch of his office when you tried to smother kisses all over his face, pulling you by the back of your shirt while hissing a quick “quit it” every time you growled at someone who entered his office—even his guards, and even those times when you tried to mark his office as your territory . . .

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him taking his sweet time to warm up to you, but once he grew comfortable with your presence, you became the most spoiled pup around. he got you your own pretty collar, but of course, in his own aesthetic. a thick, studded black strap with ruby gems and a silver loop in the center connecting to a crimson pendant ringed in silver, with his initials engraved on the back. he bought you your own toys (even though you were more inclined to gnaw your sharp canines on the steel of his boots), and he even purchased a separate couch for you in his office for your afternoon naps with your name engraved on the gold that lined the backrest.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES going to the surface world with him any time he has a particular errand to run or just when he has free time. (he most definitely does that thing where he says a simple phrase like “outside?” or “walkies?” and has to restrain himself from cackling as he watches you go beserk in your own excitement.) hours are spent in the city of fontaine shopping for new items for you, such as clothes, toys, collars, etc. your days typically end with him allowing you to expend the rest of your energy chasing squirrels or birds in the fontainian wilderness until you eventually tucker yourself out and he carries you back to the fortress.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES being his little (or big) lap dog whenever he’s sitting in his office. whether he’s in the middle of signing off on a boatload of documents or talking with someone who entered his office, you’d shuffle your way into his folded arms and perch yourself on his lap, nuzzling yourself against his chest. he was never one to deny you affection (unless you were bad) and would always indulge in praising you whenever he deemed fit. scratches behind your ears, on your belly, gentle kisses to the forehead—you name it! wriothesley would give it all to you since he just couldn’t say no to you. that is, until he was forced to.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES him forgetting that while you are human, you still have the high-energy canine instincts of whatever breed you’re mixed with. that means you often get yourself into trouble more than you’d like. dashing over to others to steal their food at the coupon cafeteria because it smelled soo yummy, growling and picking fights with either the inmates or the guards who were simply minding their business, chewing on wriothesley’s boots, bookshelf, and the wood of his desk because you were bored, humping his leg or whatever you could get your needy parts on whenever your heat rolls around, and finally, his last straw, you tearing up the important documents and registration papers of the inmates because you were fed up with his silent treatment punishment.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S PET INCLUDES includes cowering and whining in fear when you see him towering over you, a steely glare in his eyes, and a deep scowl on his face as his chest rises and falls heavily from this thoroughly wasted patience. his fists would clench so tightly by his sides that you could hear them grinding against the leather of his gloves and the metal of his rings. you would give him your best puppy eyes and cutest whimpers to try and appease his anger, but it was futile. then he would utter the words that always sent a chill down your spine.

“bedroom, now.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES you shaking your head at him and whimpering out a ‘no’ when he orders you to his quarters. at first, he’s dumbfounded—stunned that you would even dare to disobey him when he had given you a clear, firm order—and then he’s laughing. it’s dry and humorless, and it strikes fear in the depths of your trembling little being. however, before you could react, his hand is threading itself non-too-kindly into your locks and dragging you along the steel floors of his office until you’re in your shared bedroom.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES knowing that he’s not a fan of verbal reprimanding. when he needed to correct your behavior, he was always physical. he wastes no time sitting on the edge of the bed and discarding whatever bottoms you were wearing before slinging you over his lap and popping a series of quick swats onto your ass cheeks, ringed-fingers and all. if you dared to try and use your fluffy tail to negate his hits, he was snatching it in a firm grip at the base and snarling out a bone-chilling “behave” before he would rain down more spanks onto your reddening cheeks until you’re a sniffling mess in his lap.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES you being unable to hide the arousal brewing from your nethers from being punished on wriothesley’s lap, accidentally giving yourself away when you shift on his lap, and the lewd squelch of your arousal squishing from your sex and his thigh is picked up by his stupidly good hearing.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES feeling your nethers throbbing when he utters out a “oh?” in that breathy growl that makes your head spin. “whats this?” he would inquire as he scoops up the milky fluid with two of his digits, not waiting for your pitiful answer as he uses the liquid as lube to stroke your sex with a teasing touch. “getting off on being punished?” he continues through your whimpers as your legs flail behind you from his increasing pace. “what a filthy mutt you are.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES being edged until the depths of the sea grew dark from the long set sun and illuminated from the moon hanging high in the sky. you’d be brought to the brink of your orgasm time and time again; however, every time you were about to reach your high, wriothesley would pull away, mocking your frustrated whines and begging whimpers with a faux pout of his own. “aww, my poor baby.” he would pout in an insincere tone, using his drenched fingers to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks. “you wanna cum, don’t you?” he’d ask, with his free hand gently stroking your sensitive sex. you would nod, babbling pleas and helpless cries for him to ‘please, please, let you cum because you’ll be a good pup for him’, only for him to grin cruelly down at you and go, “if you wanted to be good for me, you would’ve been so from the beginning. crazy how that works, hm?”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES when he finally does let you cum, he doesn’t let you stop. you’re gifted orgasm after orgasm until the sheets are ruined with your release, your poor body is trembling uncontrollably, your nethers are throbbing, and even the slightest breeze makes you wail from the overstimulation. you cry and cry and plead for him to be gentler with you, to please give you a break to let you catch your breath, but he only cackles at your misfortune and goes, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? to make a mess like the filthy pup you are? so then take it, Y/N.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES always being gifted with the best aftercare, no matter how tired wriothesley might be. he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he gently massages your sore limbs and nethers, praising you for being such a good pup for him. moreover, he’ll even state that he’s no longer mad at you just to see your pretty ears perk up and your fluffy tail wag. even when he’s pushed past the point of exhaustion, he’ll stagger into the bathroom, run a warm bath for the two of you, and carry your quivering body into the soothing waters. before he joins you, he always discards the messy sheets and replaces them with new ones, but not before letting them run in the dryer for a few minutes so that they’re nice and toasty for you.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES being his number one stress reliever whenever he needs to relieve some tension. you could be sitting docilely on the couch he brought you by yourself in his office, and he could just scoot his chair back while tossing his head back with a mighty sigh, and you would already know what to do. you’d prance over to him, and he would remove whatever lower garments you were wearing and dive right into you, feasting on you in your entirety until he was thoroughly relieved. if he was having a particularly rough day, he would call your name in a gruff tone and pat his lap to call you over. he would have you sit on his lap with his cock nestled deep in your walls, squeezing him so, so tightly as he tries to finish his paperwork, but he never can. nine times out of ten, it always ends with him tossing his paperwork aside, picking you up, and ravishing you right then and there on his desk.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES the amount of times guards and inmates have had to stutter over their words as they try to talk to or give reports to the duke, however, becoming thoroughly distracted by the sight of your pretty mouth swallowing inch after inch of wriothesley’s cock beneath his desk since you couldn't 'shut the fuck up and stop growling’ at the poor men and women who were just trying to do their jobs.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES servicing wriothesley’s friends whenever they visit the fortress. clorinde attaching a leather leash to your collar as she perches herself on the edge of wriothesley’s desk, using the lead to pull your kneeling form close to her pretty folds to eat her out while she makes your head dizzy as she praises and degrades you simultaneously. “what a well-trained pooch you have here, duke . . . such a pathetic, needy thing they are. i might just have to borrow them for myself sometime.” to which wriothesley, who was watching from over her shoulder with a possessive and lustful gaze in his eye, just shakes his head as he observes your lithe, sloppy, and greedy tongue eagerly lapping at the duelist’s glimmering pearl while your tail wags incessantly behind you. “nah, not a chance. they’re mine, clorinde.”

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S NAUGHTY PET INCLUDES even letting neuvillette in on the fun every once in a while. naturally, he brought you along for the ride when he had to personally meet with the iudex to discuss some business matters. neuvillette was amazed at how well his plan had worked when he saw how well-behaved and obedient you were, especially considering how you had been at first, when he had to hold you at arm's length away from him by your scruff to prevent your pointy puppy teeth from gnawing into his arms. he too would indulge in you by clearing his desk of all paperwork and fucking you right then and there on top of the expensive oak. when he told you to bark, you would. when he told you to sit on his cock, you would ride him within an inch of his sovereign life. when he told you to cum, you would not hesitate to gush all over him and yourself, effectively making a mess of both of your sweaty bodies. “such an obedient little thing. i am almost saddened that i gifted you to wriothesley and did not keep such a pretty puppy for myself.” he would growl, his slitted pupils constricting to pinpoints as they observed the way his two draconic cocks bulged your tummy.

BEING WRIOTHESLEY’S CHERISHED PET INCLUDES living out the rest of your days by his side as arguably the most spoiled and loved pup in the entirety of teyvat. you became his light in the darkness—his salvation from the perpetual state of solemn loneliness that he had isolated himself in, while he became your salvation in a surprisingly cruel world. you have never felt safer or more secure in your life than you did when you were with him. when he held you tenderly and whispered affirmations into your fluffy ears, you felt more loved than you had ever felt before. all in all, he was your second half, and you were his, and he’d be damned if he let anything change that any time soon.

#tw: hybrids #genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley imagines #genshin wriothesley #genshin headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #wriothesley headcanons #vampiiebitez

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gayghostgrimoire · 27 days ago

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The Frat House: Duke

The rain hammered down on the sidewalk like a thousand tiny fists, each drop echoing its own desperate plea to be heard over the sound of the storm. Alex, drenched and shivering, huddled under the flimsy shelter of his sodden hoodie. The wind whipped through the quiet streets, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and the promise of a long, cold night. He had been out for hours, searching for a place to crash before the weather turned from bad to worse.

Through the fog of the storm, he saw the silhouette of a grand, old building looming in the distance. It was a Tudor-style mansion, a relic of a time when the university had more money than taste. The ivy-covered stones looked almost black under the ominous, bruised sky. He knew the stories about the place, whispers of wild parties and even wilder students who had once called it home. Alpha Sigma Alpha, the frat house of legend, now stood abandoned, a monument to the past.

The house had an eerie beauty about it, with its tall, pointed windows like the eyes of a creature watching over the neighborhood. The shutters were askew, and the ivy had grown thick, obscuring the crumbling brick beneath. The porch, once a place of laughter and camaraderie, now groaned under the weight of neglect. The steps leading up to the front door were cracked and overgrown with weeds that seemed to have taken root in the very essence of decay. The door itself was massive, a heavy slab of oak that looked as if it had not been opened in years. The brass knocker was shaped like a snarling wolf's head, its eyes seeming to follow Alex as he approached.

Despite his trepidation, the storm's ferocity was unrelenting. The thunder rumbled like the growl of an angry beast, and the lightning was a stark reminder of his vulnerability. With each flash, the ivy on the house seemed to writhe, as if alive and eager to pull him into the building's embrace. The wind tugged at his clothes, whispering dark secrets in his ear, urging him closer to the sanctuary that the house offered. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch, his heart racing as he reached out to grasp the cold, wet doorknob.

With a grunt, Alex pushed the door open. It creaked like the cry of a long-forgotten soul, revealing the foyer of the mansion. The room was vast, with splintered mahogany paneling that had once gleamed with pride now lying in ruins. The water stains on the ceiling stretched out like the veins of a tired old man, and the chandelier above his head hung precariously, droplets of water plinking into the puddle on the floor below. The scent of mildew and decay was thick, mingling with the faint odor of stale beer and memories of raucous nights. The marble floors beneath his sodden sneakers were cracked and chipped, the insignia of Alpha Sigma Alpha barely visible under the grime and detritus of years gone by.

As the storm's fury grew, a strange gust of wind, musky and potent, like the stench of a long-forgotten locker room, whipped through the house. The door slammed shut behind him with a thud that seemed to resonate through his very bones. The wind had been so forceful it felt almost sentient, as if the house itself were alive and had decided to swallow him whole. Alex's heart skipped a beat as he turned to find the door was now sealed, the wood warped from the moisture, leaving him no option but to push forward. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning outside, painting the room in stark whites and deep shadows.

With the sound of rain as his only companion, Alex ventured down the long, gloomy corridor. The walls were lined with portraits of past fraternity members, each one seemingly more handsome and athletic than the last. Their eyes followed him, hazed over with age and secrets. The faces of the men from the 1920s were stern and stoic, their expressions etched with the gravity of their times. As he moved through the decades, the styles changed, but the arrogance remained consistent, each man's gaze seemingly challenging him to match their legend.

The corridor grew colder as he approached a portrait that was more vivid than the rest. A man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at him, a smug smirk plastered on his lips. He was clad in the university basketball jersey from the 1990s, and his muscular frame completely filled the frame. On either side of him, two equally striking men with dark hair and intense gazes flanked him, their arms draped casually over his shoulders. The air felt particularly heavy around the dusty photograph, and a shiver ran down his spine.

The rusted brass plaque beneath the portrait confirmed his suspicion. It read: "Duke Summers, President of Alpha Sigma Alpha Fraternity, 1997." Duke had been the basketball legend of the university, a name that echoed through the halls of the school even today. His untimely death in a car crash during his senior year had left a dark stain on the frat's reputation, the tale of his drunken end in a blaze of fire inside his Camaro still used to this day to scare freshmen into sobriety.

Alex felt an inexplicable unease as Duke's handsome visage smirked at him, as if sizing him up, assessing whether he had what it took to join the pantheon of fraternity greats. The room grew colder, and the smell of musk and sweat grew stronger, as if the ghost of the former president was standing right beside him, breathing down his neck. The thunder outside seemed to grow quieter, the storm taking a momentary pause to hold its breath.

The thud echoed through the hallway like a drumbeat from a funeral march, and it was as if the house itself was summoning him to the grand pair of French doors at the end of the corridor. Each step he took down the hall felt heavier, as if the floorboards were trying to cling to his sneakers, desperate to keep him from reaching the chamber beyond. The portraits' eyes seemed to narrow, watching him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Finally, Alex reached the doors, their once gleaming brass handles now tarnished with a green patina that matched the moss growing along the floorboards. With a gentle push, they swung open with an eerie grace, revealing the vast, derelict ballroom that lay beyond. The chandeliers that had once showered light on the dance floor now hung in shambles, their crystals shattered and their metal skeletons twisted into grotesque shapes by time and neglect. The walls, which had once been painted in rich jewel tones, were now a canvas for the wild, crude art of the decades of fraternity members who had claimed the space as their own.

The graffiti was a testament to the house's tumultuous history, with slogans like "Duke Lives" and "ASA Forever" scrawled in paint that had faded but not lost its defiant edge. Amongst the declarations of fraternal loyalty and bravado, there were cruder messages, like "Suck My Dick," etched with a fervor that spoke of a deep-seated arrogance. The room was suffused with the scent of masculine musk, a potent mix of cologne, sweat, and stale beer. It was here that the brothers had thrown their legendary parties, where the air had been thick with the sound of laughter, the clink of bottles, and the thump of music that had shaken the very foundations of the house. It was also the sanctum for their secretive induction ceremonies, where the line between tradition and debauchery was often blurred beyond recognition.

The storm outside grew more ferocious, the wind howling like a pack of lost spirits, and the rain pummeled the windows with renewed vigor. Alex shivered, not entirely from the cold, and reached into his pocket for the joint he had brought with him for comfort. He had intended to light it up in the solace of this forgotten place, to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of the tempest. But as he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, the sound of raucous laughter cut through the silence like a knife. It was distant, muffled, as if coming from another time, but unmistakable in its jovial malice. The air grew colder still, the smell of musk intensifying, and the hairs on the back of Alex's neck stood on end.

The laughter grew louder, swirling around him, echoing off the ruined walls and dancing around his ears. It was the laughter of young men, arrogant and unbridled, filled with the reckless abandon of those who believe themselves invincible. It grew, filling the vast ballroom until it seemed to come from every corner, from within the very fabric of the decaying house itself. Alex felt his heart race as the cackles grew closer, as if the ghosts of the fraternity brothers were closing in on him, eager to reclaim their lost territory.

Panic began to take hold of him as the doors that had once allowed him entrance now slammed shut with a finality that sent a tremor through the house. He spun around, desperation in his eyes, only to find that the once-rotting wood had transformed into gleaming mirrors, reflecting his own terrified visage back at him. He lunged at the glass, pounding on the cold, unyielding surface with his fists, but it remained steadfast, a silent sentinel that offered no escape from the horrors that now surrounded him.

The musky scent grew so intense it was almost tangible, coalescing into a thick fog that swirled around his ankles and crept up his legs, leaving a trail of clammy revulsion in its wake. It was as if the very essence of Duke Summers and his ilk had condensed into this room, a noxious stew of sweaty feet, ripe balls, and the indelible stench of unbridled male ego. The laughter grew louder, more insistent, the cacophony of gleeful cruelty bouncing off the mirrored walls and amplifying until it was all he could hear. It was as if the house itself was alive, and it was laughing at his plight.

Alex's eyes widened in horror as the air in the center of the room began to shimmer and distort. The shadows grew darker, coalescing into a shape that grew more and more defined with each heartbeat. A rubbery, translucent form took shape, the outline of a man with broad shoulders and muscular limbs, wearing the faded jersey of the university's legendary basketball team. The cheers grew to a crescendo as the form solidified into the unmistakable figure of Duke Summers, his smug grin plastered across his face as if he were in the middle of a victory celebration.

"What's up, fresh meat?" Duke's voice was a gruff, seductive purr that seemed to resonate in every corner of the room, the epitome of '90s jock charm, laced with a hint of something more sinister. His eyes, cold and piercing, raked over Alex's drenched frame, as if sizing him up for a game of one-on-one that Alex hadn't even signed up for. "Looks like you could use a little… pep in your step. Or maybe," Duke's smile grew more predatory, "a little taste of the Alpha life."

Alex stuttered, his voice failing him as he took in the spectral vision before him. "D-Duke Summers?" The words tumbled out awkwardly, tripping over his own feelings of awe and fear. In the stories, Duke had been the epitome of masculine perfection, a golden god who could dunk a basketball and charm the panties off any girl with a wink and a smirk. Now, here he was, in all his musky, muscular glory, standing in front of a mere mortal who hadn't even made the high school basketball team.

Duke chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, sending shivers down Alex's spine. "The one and only," he said, flexing his biceps, which bulged with supernatural vigor. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and the invisible audience of frat ghosts cheered him on. "So, you're looking for a place to stay, huh? Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Welcome to Alpha Sigma Alpha, the house where legends are made."

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he took a step back, his eyes darting around the room, searching for any hint of an escape. The mirrored walls reflected his desperation back at him, mocking his fear. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Duke's grin grew wider, the shadows playing across his ghostly features making him look more demonic than divine. "Don't worry, little buddy," he said, his voice echoing in the vast space. "You're not disturbing anything. This house is mine, and I don't get many visitors anymore. Besides," his gaze raked over Alex's slender frame, "I've got a feeling we're going to get along just fine."

He sauntered closer, the squeak of his sneakers on the old floorboards sounding like the approach of a giant beast. Each step sent a fresh wave of his musky scent towards Alex, making his nose wrinkle in disgust. Duke stopped mere inches away, his spectral hand reaching out to cup Alex's chin, forcing him to look into the depths of his icy blue eyes. "You've got that look," he murmured, his breath cold against Alex's cheek. "like you want to get on your knees for me." He snickered, smugly patting him on the cheek.

The former frat president's touch was like a block of ice, and Alex could feel the ghostly chill spreading through his body, his skin crawling with revulsion. "You know, I could make you into something," Duke said, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to resonate in Alex's very soul. "With a little bit of me inside you, you could rule this university. Just like I did."

Alex's legs felt like jelly, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He could feel the power of the spirit pressing down on him, a crushing weight that seemed to seep into his very pores. "P-please," he stuttered, trying to pull away. "I don't want to be a part of this. I just need a place to stay until the storm passes."

Duke's laughter filled the room, bouncing off the mirrored walls and reverberating through Alex's very core. "Oh, you're already a part of it," he said, his voice filled with a dark amusement that sent chills down Alex's spine. "You're in my house now, and I decide who gets to stay and who gets to leave." His rubbery hand tightened on Alex's chin, holding him in place as his other hand began to trace a slick line down his body, the coldness of his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "But I can see you've got potential. You could be great, kid. Just like me."

The ghostly jock leaned in, his breath cold and moist, and whispered, "Imagine it: the smell of victory, the roar of the crowd, the feel of a tight, wet pussy begging for your cock… or a nice bro hole." His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that made Alex's stomach turn. "All you've gotta do is let me in, and I'll show you the ropes. Make you into the King that everyone will envy. Everyone will want a taste of the Duke."

Alex's head spun, the room blurring around the edges. The storm outside seemed to mirror the chaos within him as he struggled to resist the allure of Duke's offer. The scent of musk that had once repulsed him now filled his nostrils with a strange, intoxicating warmth that made his body respond in ways he didn't quite understand. His thoughts grew clouded, his resolve wavering as he felt the beginnings of a powerful, primal urge to submit to the spirit's will.

"No," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't want this. I'm not… I'm not like that."

Duke's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker. "Oh, come on," he said, his voice a smooth drawl. "Don't tell me you've never felt that fire burning in your balls, that hunger to be on top." He leaned in closer, his breath cold against Alex's ear. "C'mon little bro. Let Duke make you into a fuckin' man."

The room grew colder as the laughter of the spectral frat brothers grew louder, the mirrored walls coming to life as their forms began to appear. The ghosts of the past were a smorgasbord of chiseled abs, bulging biceps, and cocky grins, all echoing Duke's words of temptation. They jeered and cheered, urging Alex to give in, to let Duke show him the way. The air grew thick with the scent of musky testosterone, the pressure building until Alex felt like he was going to burst.

Summoning every ounce of courage he had left, Alex wrenched himself from Duke's iron grip and sprinted towards the mirrored doors, his heart hammering in his chest. The room seemed to tilt around him, the cheers turning into taunts as he stumbled and slipped on the slick floor. But the doors remained steadfast, unyielding in their gleaming, reflective prison.

Duke's chuckles grew louder, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "Looks like we're doing this the fun way, bro," he said, his voice echoing through the room as if it were filled with the laughter of a thousand ghosts.

The two other figures from the portrait emerged from the mirrored walls with a fluid grace that belied their spectral nature. Perry, the former co-captain next to Duke, had a look of devilish glee on his handsome face as his rubbery hands shot out and wrapped around Alex's wrists, his grip as cold as the grave. His dark eyes glinted from behind the strands of his long black hair with the same malicious amusement that Duke had shown moments before. Darius, the former quarterback and pledgemaster, stepped out with a swagger that was all too human, his own spectral hands grabbing Alex's shoulders and holding him firmly in place.

The room grew colder, the musky scent thickening to the point where it was almost palpable, wrapping around Alex like a wet blanket that stifled his breath. "Thanks, boys," Duke said with a wink to his ghostly companions, his voice carrying the same cocky confidence that had once filled the house with the echoes of his conquests. "This one's got spirit. I like that."

Alex's heart hammered in his chest as the two other ghosts held him fast. He could feel the strength in their spectral grips, a cold, unyielding force that seemed to be pulling the very life from his bones. "You're gonna love it," Duke whispered, his breath sending shivers down Alex's spine. "The parties, the babes, the games… all the fun you could ever want. And the best part," he leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam, "is that you won't have to lift a finger. I'll be doing all the heavy lifting for you."

The room grew darker as the laughter of the spectral audience swelled, the air thickening with the musky scent of the fraternity's past. Alex felt a strange heat building in his stomach, his skin tingling as Duke's smirk grew wider. "Thanks for the ride, little bro," the ghostly jock said, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light.

Perry and Darius tightened their grips on Alex's arms, their cold, slick hands digging into his flesh as they tore his clothes from his body with an unearthly strength. The fabric ripped away like paper, leaving him naked and trembling before the trio of ghosts. The air grew colder, the laughter more sinister, as the former frat members reveled in their dominance.

Duke stepped closer, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin as he reached down to Alex's navel. He placed a single finger into the soft indentation of his belly button and pushed. Alex gasped as he felt something unnatural happening, a pressure building from within. The ghosts around him grew more excited, their spectral forms shimmering with anticipation.

With a sickening sound, Duke's rubbery fingers began to stretch and wiggle, elongating into a tapered, serpent-like appendage that slithered into Alex's navel. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—both terrifying and strangely euphoric. It was as if his body was being invaded, yet it was also opening up to accept the ghostly intrusion with a strange eagerness. The coldness of Duke's touch spread through his abdomen, sending waves of goosebumps across his skin.

The laughter grew deafening, the ghosts of the fraternity brothers chanting "Duke! Duke! Duke!" as the spirit of the legendary athlete began to squeeze himself into Alex's quivering form. The pressure was immense, the sensation of Duke's bulging muscles pushing against the confines of his skin, stretching and reshaping him from the inside out. Alex's body began to bulge and shift, his limbs thickening and his chest broadening with each new inch of the ghost's form that invaded him. The cheers grew louder, the ghosts' excitement palpable as the transformation took hold.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Duke's voice echoed through Alex's mind, his own voice lost to the cacophony of the spectral crowd. "You're gonna be a star, kid. Just you wait and see." His hand slithered up Alex's spine, the coldness spreading through him like a frostbite.

With another, sickening push, Duke's rubbery torso and legs disappeared into Alex's navel with a wet, slurping sound that sent the ghosts into a frenzy of cheers and howls. The pressure inside him was unbearable, his skin stretching to its limits as the spirit filled him to bursting. The room swirled around him, the laughter of the ghosts turning into a dizzying maelstrom that seemed to spin him around. Alex felt his body convulse as Duke's final form pushed its way through his navel, his giant, spectral sneakers sliding into his navel with a squelch that made him want to retch.

The transformation was now in full swing. Duke's muscles bulged beneath his skin, the fabric of his body stretching and distorting around the influx of the ghostly frat president's form. His limbs grew longer, the sleekness of his skin replaced with the coarseness of Duke's hairy, bulging biceps and thighs. The smell of stale sweat and old sneakers grew stronger, mingling with the cloying scent of Duke's cologne and the ever-present musk that permeated the house. It was a stench that seemed to cling to him, a constant reminder of his new, unwanted inhabitant.

Duke's arms slithered into Alex's, the skin stretching like latex over his new, bulging biceps. The ghost's hands emerged from his wrists, each knuckle popping as his fingers extended into their new home. The former athlete chuckled, his cold, ethereal breath tickling the back of Alex's neck. "Look at these guns," he murmured, flexing the new biceps before his eyes. "You're gonna love throwing hoops around the court, bro. Nothing like the feel of a ball in your hands."

Alex's legs trembled as Duke's thick, muscular thighs pushed into his own, the sensation of his skin stretching and conforming to the spirit's shape making him want to gag. He could feel the ghostly weight of Duke's cock slither into his crotch, his dick swelling as it is filled with the 10 inch python, dripping pre from the musky foreskin. The smell of sweaty sneakers grew overpowering as Duke's size 16 feet began to slide into his own, the sticky, squelching sound echoing through the room like a taunt. The spectral jock's toes wiggled against the cold floor, the wet grime of his new footsweat leaving imprints on the old wood.

The former frat president's hand reached down to grasp the thick, meaty cock that now jutted out from Alex's body, stroking it with a confidence that was alien to him. The sensation was strange, yet undeniably arousing, a potent blend of fear and excitement that made Alex's head spin. Duke's eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched his new host's body respond to his touch. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "That's my boy."

With a sneer, Duke began to pump the cock with a vigor that Alex had never felt before, his hand a blur of motion as he stroked the engorged flesh. The smell of stale sweat and locker room musk grew stronger, filling Alex's nose and mouth, making his eyes water. He felt himself growing taller, his spine stretching and popping as he grew to match the legend's towering height of 6'5". The laughter of the ghostly fraternity grew more raucous, their shadows cavorting around them as the transformation neared its climax.

Alex's body was now a perfect vessel for the spirit of Duke Summers, his skin stretched taut over the muscles that bulged with unearthly power. The former fraternity president's smug face pushed through his own, his eyes gleaming with a malicious joy as his spirit claimed dominion over the terrified young man. The pressure in Alex's throat grew unbearable as Duke's head pushed upwards, his skull seemingly expanding to accommodate the spirit's influx.

"Ah, it's been too long," Duke's voice echoed through Alex's own, his mouth stretching into a cocky smile that made his cheeks ache. "Feels good to be in the flesh again." He winked at his reflection in the mirrored wall, the room now a maelstrom of shadows and echoes. "You're gonna love this, buddy. Trust me, I know how to make an entrance."

Duke felt Alex's consciousness retreating, a tiny, panicked scream echoing through the recesses of his mind. He smirked, savoring the sweet taste of victory. He pushed further, filling every inch of the young man's being with his own arrogant spirit. The last vestiges of Alex's personality crumbled away like dust in a hurricane, leaving only the cocky, dominant presence of Duke Summers.

The ghosts of the frat brothers gathered around, their spectral forms crowding in close. They clapped Duke's new, bulging shoulders, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Welcome back, brother," they shouted, their voices a symphony of approval. They tossed him his old, tattered tee shirt , the fabric sticking to his wet, muscular chest as if it had been made for him. The scent of sweat and musk filled the air as they pulled the shirt over his head, the letters 'ASA' stretching tight across his broad back.

Duke threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound reverberating through the house. "You know what, boys?" he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "I've missed this." He turned to face the mirrored walls, his new body flexing and bulging with each movement. "But we're not done yet." His eyes swept over the ghosts, his smile turning into a wicked grin. "I'm gonna give all of you a taste of the real world again. New bodies, new parties, new pledges to break in." The ghosts roared their approval, their eyes alight with the promise of new flesh to inhabit and new conquests to claim.

With a flick of his wrist, the storm outside began to abate, the rain tapering off to a gentle drizzle, the thunder fading to a distant rumble. The house grew brighter as the lightning flashes grew less frequent, the room now bathed in the cold, blue light of the moon. "Let's go," Duke said, his voice filled with the promise of adventure. "We've got a university to conquer."

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