Please Don't Exorcise My Wife!

--Father Andre, January 1st, 2026--

Winter in South Patch, Minnesota has always been cold, but it ain't usually this fucking cold. This year, it's freeze-your balls off cold. It's so cold, you'll see a stony son of a bitch like me put on a pair of mittens and rub his arms like a little old granny. It's so cold they don't just close the school-- they make me close the church. It's so cold that even that flasher chick that's always running around South Patch has to go out in layers.

Well, had. Ichika had to go out in layers. Guess she won't be doing that any more. This place won't be the same without her. Wasn't ever much to talk about, besides Ichika.

That brings me to this mourning bouquet of fresh flowers I'm carrying, one that looks a hell of a lot like all the other bouquets of flowers freezing in the cold on the doorstep of the modest abode of one sad motherfucker: Otto Sugar. Now technically, Otto ain't a member of my congregation, so it ain't really on me that I ain't been by and dropped off my flowers and my regards yet. He ain't a popular guy either, but his girl was-- pretty good bet all the flowers there are from admirers of her.

I'm not going to give up and leave the flowers out here. Motherfucker's got his silver sedan out here in the driveway, frozen over like he ain't turned it on since the accident. He's letting me in if I have to beat his door down. It ain't because I want to tell him I'm sorry or we missed him at church. What I've got to say is a hell of a lot more important than that.

So I get to pounding, raising up one big mitten fist and slamming the door of that made-over bait-and-tackle shack he and Ichika call home. It rattles like it's telling me to stop as soon as I give it the first three knocks. "Sorry about your wife. Let me in, man," I tell him, knowing full damn well he can hear me in there. There's a doorbell, but I ain't using it, because this place is so small the fucker can't get more than fifteen steps from the doorway any direction he moves. I ain't giving him the "didn't hear the doorbell" excuse to fall back on.

I do this about three more times before I take in a big breath of that Minnesota air and put it another way. "You let me in right now, white boy, or I'm busting it down. Got some important shit for you. Shit that'll blow your mind."

I hear the sound of a couple footsteps, then his measly voice. "Weed?"

I blow cold air out my lips and give a long "hell no." Followed by a gentle. "What the fuck you talking about, town priest coming over here to give you weed? It's priest shit, bitch."

"I don't need any priest shit."

"Uh uh. You need this priest shit, trust me," I tell the man, but I hear him locking up the deadbolt like he really don't want any of it. This motherfucker is going to let me freeze out here before he lets me inside that damn house. It's time to play my trump card, even if it makes me sound like I got a crack in my church bells. "You seeing any weird shit lately?"

"Oh, like what? Like my wife dying in an accident the night I'm going to give her a ring and ask her to marry me?"

"Okay, three things. First off, watch your mouth with me. Second, you've got to be the stupidest bitch in the goddamn world to not put a ring on that ass before Christmas 2025, ya'll living together for two years and everybody in town wanting a piece of that ass too, dumb bitch."

"Really not wanting to give you the benefit of that third point after that zinger of a second one."

"And third and final, that ain't what I'm talking about. I'm talking about supernatural shit, since Christmas. You seen any supernatural shit? Shit like from movies, Paranormal Activity, Poltergeist, all that shit. Like things moving around when nobody's there, or like a crazy change in temperature, or like you hear somebody moaning or shit."

"Only crazy change in temperature is outside, thank God... Father Andre, what the hell are you talking about? Do you think my house is haunted?"

I froze up. Not just in the cold sense-- which, I was freezing my ass off, yeah-- but in the not knowing what the fuck to say sense. "Motherfucker, why don't you let me inside that damn house and I'll give you a story that will blow your brain out through your nose? Or you can leave me out here and I turn into a big-ass black ice sculpture right here with all the goddamn flowers you're too lazy to bring inside."

Finally, the light of God got through to this son of a bitch and he let me inside. I got warm real quick, but what I also got hit with was, I don't know how to put it, an aura of woe-is-me. The whole place was just fucking dripping with this sadsack's moping. Trash from microwave food was strewn all over the place, cause Ichika handled all the cooking, I guess. The whole place was covered in wadded up tissues that I gotta hope were from him crying his eyes out and not something else you do in the absence of your recently deceased fine piece of ass would-be wife. He had the lights out in every room but the entrance.

Not just that, either, but the man himself, Otto, was the saddest part of it all. This guy was a skinny, weird, wavy blond hair white guy, but normally, he was also a smarmy motherfucker. It was like the funny part of that sass had been wrung out of him, leaving only the fucking annoying part. Frankly, he kinda looks like a shorter Andy Dick most times, and I mean that in the most insulting way possible, but right now, he looks like short Andy Dick in rehab. This guy looks like he's lost every muscle a man needs to smile. Guess I'm not the smiling type either, but point is, this guy looks like he badly needs Jesus, a new bitch, or maybe both at the same time.

Luckily, the news I've got for him is about as good as it gets in that regard, he just doesn't know it yet.

I take a seat on his couch and kick my feet out on the little card table-- ain't doing nobody a disservice there, it's already covered in microwave dinner trays and shit-- and I prepare to alter this man's whole understanding of reality.

"You said you had a story for me, Father?" white boy asks, looking like he needs to hear about nothing less than the second coming of Jesus Christ. "I gotta tell you, I don't need a pitch to get me back into church right now. You didn't even make the funeral, if I recall! Little late for you to be doing your job."

"Bitch, you didn't invite me to no goddamn funeral. You got some other fucker to preach, I guess?"

"... I didn't get anyone to preach it or send out 'invites' exactly. It was more of a dinner, really. I just thought that if you really cared you'd hear the news and be there. It's a small town."

I shrugged. I did not care about this man's petty shit. I cared about this man's life-changing shit that he didn't even know he was in yet. I opened my mouth to start on it and he stopped me again.

"Wait... before we start, you really ought to know. Your fly's down. I mean, it's not just down, that whole thing's hanging out."

"What? Shit." He was right and I was pissed, because the cold probably made that thing look damn average-sized instead of its majestic full length. Except... no. It was warm. Not erect, but it was looking like it could be. Furthermore... "Got news for you, Otto. Yours is hanging out too."

"Again?!"

"Ha! Again. So this shit's been happening all the time over the past week or so, right? There it is, motherfucker." I spread out my arms and this time I do smile.

"What? There's what?"

I didn't even bother zipping back up, cause I knew in a matter of no time, it'd just open itself up again. "It's the miracle I've been talking about. Your sad white ass is haunted now."

"Huh? What? Haunted? By what?"

"Try and think what goddamn ghost is going to unzip the pants of two dudes at the same time, like she's still got no shame in the afterlife. Bring anybody to mind, dumbass? It's a goddamn miracle a guy like you netted the only thick Japanese bitch in the state of Minnesota and now you get another one. I'd say you're God's favorite."

That girl of his was still slutting it up from beyond the grave.

--Ichika, December 25, 2025 (past)--

Today's the day I've been looking forward to! Actually, it's a couple of special days. For most people, it's most notably Christmas morning.

Little children are all either still bundled up in their covers, or they're unwrapping presents under the tree, making now the perfect time for me to have fun around my beloved town of South Patch without running the risk of bumping into them. The weather is very nippy and cool... I can feel my nipples stiffening underneath the two thick coats I'm wearing. I still prefer the summer months, where I can go out in less, but this is nice in its own way! The fact that I ought to be wearing more clothing than I am just makes it feel naughtier.

For me to be happy, I don't need anything more than a nice, cozy Christmas with Otto. That said, I'm not very good at Christmas traditions. I never know what to get Otto, for starters. Today, I'm breaking in his Christmas gift: it's a red ribbon bow shibari harness in a turtle-shell style, worn securely underneath my coats. I've attached a pair of shimmering, forest green bows with gold trim over my nipples for extra excitement! Is it tacky to give myself as a present? I think that's what he'll like the most, though! The way his eyes light up when I talk about costumes and cosplay is the most adorable part!

Ahem. I got off track. I was talking about why today is so special. Like I said, I'm bad at Christmas traditions. Waiting for my present is one of the things I'm especially bad at. I went through the closet while Otto was away at work and found his gift for the year. That precious little box, wrapped up in white with a gold bow instead of red and green like you'd imagine for Christmas... It's too obvious! It's too honest! It's too pure!

That little box spoiled it for me: Otto is going to propose to me today! I'll finally become a wife.

With that in mind, I want to really live it up this morning and get all the crudeness out of my system, so I'll be well-behaved for him when he's ready to propose. Once I'm married, will I still have opportunities to go around town like this? I think so. I think he loves that part of me. Just in case, though, I want to make this one to remember!

I stop by the green grocer who's still cleaning up his store front. He's a sweet old man, balding on top, wearing thick overalls over his sweater and arranging a fine selection of winter vegetables. He's an upstanding citizen, in other words. He's also alone right now-- no one to be embarrassed if he happens to see something he shouldn't!

Before he's finished arranging his cabbages, I pop out from around the signboard and open up both of my coats. Neither one is buttoned, of course, so the lapels pull out to either side very easily. It's freezing, but my body is burning up regardless-- the cold air is making my cheeks rosy and my nipples super stiff. When he goes on arranging his cabbages, I up my efforts, letting the coat hang while I raise both hands above my head and shake my weighty breasts back and forth. They make slapping noises and they hit against my own skin, the present bows jostling but not coming off, tied securely to the tips of my nipples.

When he still doesn't turn around, I've begun to feel foolish. I can't help myself-- I call out, "Merry Christmaaaas!" and I grin in delight as he gets an eye-full of my bosoms, my belly, the black bush between my legs, and everything else a person ought to keep hidden.

He doesn't even look startled for a moment; instead, he waves at me as an old friend. "Oh ho ho ho! Ichika! What a treat this morning!" he greets me, a kindly smile stretching the smile lines on his cheeks. "Merry Christmas! Aren't you cold like that, sweetheart?"

"Ha ha, it's fine. I'll warm up in the house soon. Just making the rounds."

"Your husband's a very lucky man!" he laughs, then covers his mouth with a a mortified expression. "Whoops... I let the cat out the bag."

"... It's fine! I saw the gift wrapped up in the closet already, he he. Don't let Otto know that I know."

"Mum's the word, ho ho ho. Oh! Take a couple of zucchini back with you. Try to get them to the house without 'using' them, you naughty girl!"

"Now you're teasing me... I wouldn't do that. Take care, sir."

I left my first stop feeling giddy. He was in such good spirits and his cheer was infectious. My mood couldn't have been any better. I stopped and flashed everyone I passed, all the familiar faces from time, sharing a smile as I waved my tits around and spread my legs. The Christmas holiday was in full swing!

I still had that smile on my face when I made my mistake. When I got to the police station, I stepped inside, throwing open my coat. "Merry Christmas!"

Only, I had forgotten: the old sheriff had left South Patch just recently, taking an assignment in a bigger city. It was a nice promotion we'd all congratulated him on, though we were sad to see him go. I was especially regretful... he was very handsome and really seemed to love my visits, too.

In his place, a new sheriff had moved in. She was a lovely woman, brunette with very straight combed hair and bright blue eyes. She was athletic and upright like an officer should be, insisting that everyone called her Officer Beth, including her title. She seemed to be a real stickler for law and order. That is to say... while she was undoubtedly going to be a great sheriff, I don't think she was totally clued into my whole routine yet.

So you can imagine the shock on her face as I spilled into the little police station and flopped my bare breasts, wrapped up like presents, onto her desk. I didn't realize who I was exposing myself to until I heard her shriek.

"Oh no!"

"Oh no is right! You're under arrest!"

That was the start of the chase!

I ran out with my coat still open, flapping around my naked bottom, as I scampered in boots across the snowy ground, running for my freedom. In hindsight, I probably should have turned myself over... I don't think she would have done anything too harsh if she caught me. It might even be kind of arousing to be put in cuffs. Still, she was a stickler for the rules, and she ran out after me so fiercely that I was terrified and my instincts took over-- I had to run!

In hindsight, it may have actually been my instincts as a streaker that were doing the driving. The feeling of that chilly air against my flesh was exhilarating! It wasn't an accident when I shed my coat mid-sprint and ended up with my tits flapping up and down against me in the open air.

I hadn't scoped out the shopping district to make sure there weren't kids around, so just to be safe, I turned instead to go into an alleyway. It's of the utmost importance that I don't expose anyone who isn't the right age to the kinds of things that I do, even during a time of crisis like this! I was really hoping I'd find someone who would let me hide out in the back of their store.

I'm admittedly a bit on the chubby side. In comparison, Officer Beth is fit, firm, and athletic-- undoubtedly the type who regularly runs in those charity marathons. Admirable, but unfortunate, as it meant that she was gaining on me at double speed. I panicked. I wasn't watching where I was going, just doing my best not to slip on the cold pavement as I put one foot after the other in a mad dash to safety.

No open doors!

Nowhere to run!

But finally, a lifeline! Near the end of the street where the alley opened up into the shopping district, a garage door was just finishing opening up! I didn't know whose it was and I didn't have time to check. I skid on the heels of my snow boots and turned, bolting inside. I heard a loud beep as a delivery truck suddenly hit the gas while reversing, backed up out of the garage, filled my vision with its bright red tail lights, and then-

--Otto, January 1, 2026--

After recounting everything I knew about what had happened to my wife-to-be on Christmas Day, I stared dumbfounded at my guest, trying to look at his face and not the cock he was letting hang out of his slacks. "Ichika... Ichika... Is it really her? Wait, this isn't some kind of scam or like a pyramid scheme or something you're about to rope me into, is it?"

Father Andre ignored my question, which I took as a good sign.

I couldn't believe it. Father Andre had shown up on my doorstep saying what I could only think of as a bad joke. According to him, the mysterious happenings, such as my fly and his unzipping themselves and our dicks pulling themselves out when we weren't looking, meant that Ichika was haunting me from beyond ****. She was as frisky as ever.

Had she been there this whole time? Haunting me ever since that delivery truck ran her over on Christmas? How sad she must have been... how lonely! I've just been wallowing in despair by myself this whole time while she's been trying so hard to communicate with me.

I'd feel terrible if I wasn't so happy! "So she's alive?!"

"No, motherfucker, she's dead. She's a ghost," Andre grumbled out around the cigarette he'd lit inside my house without asking. "This is my smoking gun, though. This is what I've been wanting confirmation of my whole professional life: ghosts are real. I picked up on it quicker than you even though it's your goddamn house; that's funny, but I was looking for it. You see, ghosts sometimes linger around when there's a two-way attachment, be it love-- probably more like lust-- or alternatively, resentment, a grudge, whatever works. Basically, you and Ichika are working together. Your emotions are acting like a tether that stops her soul from vanishing."

"You're telling me I'm stopping her from going off to heaven? Isn't that bad?"

"What's really 'bad' is my little pet theory: there ain't no heaven or hell. It's either you go ghost or you just up and vanish."

"Well, that's bleak."

"It's also just a theory. Either way, the good news: your wife's actually still hanging around as a specter and if you nourish that bond, she will become more and more real-- and more powerful, too. Visible and even tangible too, on top of that. Probably good news for you, huh? You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?"

"... I really am."

Father Andre took another big smoke and then scratched at his fade. He was not just the only black priest I'd ever seen around these parts, but certainly the only one who kept his hair in a fade instead of shaving it all off. "So here's the bad news: the church has got a vested interest in keeping me, you, and everybody else ignorant of the existence of ghosts. Doesn't exactly jive with everything we learned in Sunday school, right? It actually jives a lot worse than you're figuring right now. There's a lotta power and money people stand to lose from that change in the narrative. To prevent that, they've got a special sect of the church devoted to taking care of this sort of thing. Call 'em the Exorcists."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Bitch, you think I froze my nuts off and beat my way into your trashy-ass, bitchless house to kid on you?" he fixed me with his trademark charm. "I've investigated this shit for years. The way that they keep this shit all under wraps is to send out these bad motherfuckers called Exorcists, with all kinds of techniques for getting rid of ghosts. That's what they're gonna want to do with you too. They got all kinds of ways; I can't tell you what the fuck they're gonna do, but they are gonna be here, soon. You're lucky you've got me, a guardian angel, explaining this shit to you."

"You're an angel?!"

"Bitch. Ha! Stupid motherfucker, did I say angels are real? That was an expression." He gestured with his hands, sorting the statements into two invisible piles. "Ghosts: real. Angels: TBD." He took another big puff, then finally stood up. "I wanna help you, stupid though you are, but I'm going to have to do it from the shadows. I've done all I can. My ass cannot be here when they show up. I'm the only person in the world who's putting together a case against these mofos, far as I know, and I can't afford to have all that derailed for your sake. So you're on your own, is what I'm saying."

I felt my jaw drop. He was just going to dump all of this on me and then leave?! I'm still processing that my horny wife is watching me from beyond the grave and now he tells me that a group of church black ops commandos or whatever are coming to kill my wife a second time?! I tried to hold him down with one hand on his shoulder so he wouldn't leave.

He slapped my hand away, predictably. I was lucky he didn't get more violent. Father Andre was pretty built. "Bitch, I know you're not putting hands on me, Otto Sugar," he barked back. "I've done my saintly duty already. You gotta figure out the rest of this on your own. Maybe your ghost wife can help you somehow. Good as I can figure, she's already got a lot more of that ghost juice than a lot of other ghosts I've studied do, moving zippers and shit. On that note, your little pecker's out again."

"Crap!" I reached down to zip myself back up.

In that time, he slipped past me and got to the door, then stormed out without so much as a goodbye. I was left literally holding my dick in my hands with a host of new problems to think about and no good solutions. Really, though, the hard part was believing any of it was true. I needed better proof than just some zippers falling down when nobody was watching them.

Feeling a little self-conscious, I sat down on my loveseat, leaving my penis hanging out of my trousers. One thing about Ichika: she was the type of woman who could see me sitting this way and go from there into a hundred different positions and scenarios, all of them equally exciting. She was sort of the sexual genius, between the two of us-- probably the most motivated woman I'd ever met in that regard. I allowed myself to get a bit of an erection, thinking about her soft body and warm smile clearly for the first time since she'd died.

"Alright, baby. If you're really there, prove it to me."

I waited and watched.

Sitting there in my empty house with my useless dick out.

Not a soul around.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Just when I was starting to feel embarrassed for myself, I saw it out of the corner of my eye: one of the tissues I'd discarded earlier was moving. For a second, I was certain this was going to be a major disappointment and a gross one at that. I figured one of the mice that get into people's houses out here in the boonies was going to poke its head out from behind the wadded tissue and ruin any desire I had to fap.

No. No mouse. The tissue paper was moving by itself! But...

"Wait wait, hold up. Don't use that, that's really unhygienic. I'll get a fresh one." I delicately pinched up a fresh tissue, then placed it over my erect cock. I licked my lips with anticipation. "Go on, honey."

I waited.

Sitting there in my empty house with a tissue resting over my throbbing cock.

I began to wonder whether my wife was getting off on denial play-- we'd tried it once before and it wasn't really my bag.

Thankfully not; she was just having a hard time building up that spectral power that Andre had mentioned, it seemed. Soon enough, the tissue began to gently move itself, looking a bit like one of those Halloween bedsheet ghosts. There wasn't really enough **** behind it to call it arousing, making it more like a tickle, but it was indeed a miracle for the new year: the tissue was moving by itself across my cock without a visible hand guiding it.

I felt tears spring to corners of my eyes. "Ichika!"

A whisper in the silent air seemed to speak my own name back to me. The thin white tissue lifted itself up and off of my penis, then began to slowly float toward my face, as if to dry my eyes.

"Woah woah, gross, that one's been on my dick. I'll get a fresh one." I laughed. It was just like old times. That caring nature, married with an adorably silly lack of common sense... my wife really had returned to me! I wanted her to manifest more strongly right away. I wanted to see her cute smile, hold onto her warm, soft body, and run my fingers through her long, black hair. Just thinking about it was making my heart beat faster and my exposed cock ache.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking with my penis. This was a second chance; it was an opportunity to bury my deepest regret.

In a hurry, I zipped myself up and ran to the closet where I'd hidden her Christmas gift behind all the pack rat collection of old electronics I kept there. It was a small, delicate box, the kind that would be tucked away without a trace-- I was fully confident she'd never found it, even if she went searching. I'd wanted to see her expression when I presented it to her...

... And I still wanted to see it, but I couldn't afford to be greedy now. It was a miracle just that she'd be able to receive it at all.

I returned to the living room and set the box down on the table. I gulped and watched it with an intense expression. What would happen? Would she pull it out of the bow and the paper, then open up the box? Could her ghostly, invisible finger wear the diamond ring I'd dumped my unused college fund into?

I'd probably expected too much. I saw the box move a little and a tug at the ribbons, but she couldn't get it untied. It was sort of funny that as a ghost, she was that much handier with unzipping flies and fishing out dicks than she was at getting a box like this open. I decided to help her out, unwrapping the little black felt box myself, then popping it open to reveal the ring somewhat anticlimactically.

I folded my hands back in my lap and watched, wondering what would happen next. Would she take it? Was there a chance it would just sit there without moving at all-- a tacit rejection of my feelings? I'd wondered many times since I made the purchase if I'd read our relationship incorrectly. Was it crazy for a guy like me to try and tie down the town pervert with marriage this way?

The thing about Ichika is that she's always been a wild soul. When things began to get serious between the two of us, we'd laid everything out on the table-- freedom was the name of the game. I didn't want to tie her down. I wanted her to be free to flash and streak and frequent the glory hole and whatever else she liked to do as the town slut. She, in turn, was willing to overlook my porn addiction. Actually, she watched me fap to it some times. Okay, frankly, I think living with her has made my porn addiction even worse.

The point I'm getting at is we had a healthy but very, very open relationship. A ring might just complicate that.

My stomach was tying itself in knots, but I finally relaxed as the ring slowly levitated out of the box and gently turned itself in midair, as though it was being inspected. It then fell down gently back onto the pillowed surface. I heard a whisper in the air and turned my head, looking for her but failing to find her in the empty room...

Still, I knew that she'd accepted my feelings. If she still had a finger to wear the ring on, she'd be wearing it now, I was sure of it. Our marriage wasn't doomed after all!

But just as I was thanking God for letting me have this, I remembered life going forward wasn't all going to be all wedding bells and ghostly handjobs.

I heard another loud knock upon the door.