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Description
Connie was the first one to call it a night. Just up the main staircase, she found the broad hallway with their bedrooms. The old oil paintings on the wall had an eerie quality to them in the shadowy light. One small electric light at the end of the hall was the only illumination, and it wasn't very bright. Like the others, it was an ornate glass-shaded table lamp with a pull chain in the Tiffany style--probably even a real Tiffany. Previously, they would have used a candle or a lantern in same location judging by the faint soot marks on the velvety wall covering.

She had claimed the first bedroom on the left. It was decked out with a large four poster bed, a marble fireplace and the decor appropriate for a young woman. It was so classically Victorian. She loved it.

Her head was spinning a little, definitely a few drinks past her normal limit. She managed to find the small table lamp after a bit of stumbling around in the dark. She closed the heavy drapes to shut out the eerie moonlight streaming in the window, then locked the door with the old-fashioned key that was already in the lock. Alone in the dim light, she was jumpy. With the talk of haunting and ghosts on her mind, every shadow looked like something sneaking around in the dark. She needed to relax and knew just the thing.

Connie opened the smaller of her two bags and searched around the outside pocket. She found her vibrator and lube. This one had become her favorite for travel--a special gift to herself last year with her income tax refund. It was elegant and discreet, half jewelry, half state-of-the-art technology like a fine watch. Airport security didn't give it a second glance. Engraved Asian-style dragons inlaid with gold on real silver--silver plating at least--concealed rechargeable lithium-ion batteries, electronics with a variety of options, and a powerful little oscillating motor. Like they say, "size isn't everything." It was super quiet and ran like the devil. Having no suspicious remote control, settings were accomplished with tiny buttons set with the tip of a ballpoint pen, hidden inside, twist and pull to open. It was, admittedly, a pain to set, but she just left it on a random selection of modes she liked and didn't fiddle with it.

Connie pulled the covers down on the four poster bed. She had always wanted to sleep in one. When she saw the beautiful deep pink silk sheets, she couldn't help herself. She wanted to feel immersed in the soft silky warmth--full skin contact. She struggled her way out of her tight designer jeans, took off her T-shirt, push-up bra and panties. She left the lamp on, hoping the generator would stay on all night.

Connie gave the vibrator a few drops of silicone lube from her small plastic travel bottle of "moisturizer." A little of it went a long way, and she didn't want to get any excess on the silk. She was already wet anyways. Her body anticipated the routine. She started to remember where she left off on her last fantasy: Her car had broken down in a bad neighborhood on her way back from a party. Her short skirt, stilettos and low neckline didn't seem like such a good idea now. Some gang members circled around her. Where did they come from? Was that a stun gun? Were those handcuffs?...

She twisted and pulled the vibrator, turning it on. It was really more the size for clitoral stimulation, but she pushed it inside holding the edge of the base with her finger tips. Oh, it was doing the job. She preferred to be penetrated versus clit-only stimulation. Not that her clit wasn't exquisitely sensitive--most definitely it was--but a vaginal orgasm was so much more satisfying for her now that she had a credit card and could get quality vibrators online in private. Fingers were for guilty teenagers. She loved the deep throbbing oscillations from inside.

Connie felt a strange spin like the world tipped sideways for a moment in an attempt to dump her out of bed. Wow, she must have really overdone it more than she thought.

Just as the spinning stopped, the door to her room burst open. Out of reflex, she pulled her hand away from her crotch. She felt the vibrator slip inside after the sudden movement. About that time she realized how stupid she was being and that one of her parents or brothers wasn't about to be coming through the door. After a slight delay for her drunken brain to catch up, she remembered that the door had been locked.

An older woman in a 19th century formal dress, complete with bustle and an obvious underlying corset, entered confidently like it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Her rather large breasts were contained behind straining buttons. The woman looked like she was going to a special occasion. Is she a ghost? Holy shit!

Connie tried to suppress a gasp as she suddenly noticed a number of other changes in the room. Her electric lamp had been replaced with a candle; there was a small fire in the fireplace, and the sheets were something like cotton instead of silk. There was nothing modern in the room at all. Connie couldn't believe what she was seeing. Something was really wrong.

The woman spoke, "Charlotte! Again! You know what Doctor Stevens said. Your father already banned you from the party and you're still doing it! You're going to get hysteria like your cousin, then you'll never find a husband. Stand over there in the corner young lady!"

Connie was confused. The woman was clearly talking to her, but who was Charlotte? She started to get up from the bed, but it wasn't her idea. Her body was doing it on its own. She started to speak: again, not her idea. Her voice was different sounding, more high-pitched. "Please Aunt Harriett, I don't fit in that thing anymore! Besides, I was just scratching. I have a few skeeter bites."

"Not another lying word young lady or you'll feel my hickory switch! Doc Stevens gave you a new prescription and had Mr. Hartly make up a new sleeping sack, one more appropriate to your age. It should help with that damnable posture of yours too. Don't you dare turn around until I say so, eyes in the corner! I want to see your hands behind your back now young lady!"

Connie's head was still spinning. It all seemed real, rather than a dream. She was even starting to get cold without the covers. Somehow she was inside this Charlotte's body. She was reliving some kind of past event. She tried to turn around, but her body, or rather Charlotte's body, would not respond at all. Still, she could feel the vibrator stirring. Charlotte seemed to notice too. Her hand was straying towards her crotch. She was really lustful, and her nipples were perky. Connie's mind tried to scream. C'mon Charlotte, go for it, bring us off!

She heard a lot of rustling near the bed, including what sounded like buckles and could smell freshly tanned leather. Charlotte reluctantly put her hands behind her back again, interlocking her fingers, apparently the expected position. Connie could feel Charlotte's fear of being caught. Connie could also feel how aroused Charlotte was; how aroused they both were.

"Alright Charlotte, it's time," said Harriett flatly.

Charlotte shrugged and sighed. Connie could feel the dread and fear Charlotte was experiencing. She could also feel the resignation and sense of futility. A large leather bag was on the bed. Connie thought it resembled a sleeping bag, one of the tapered mummy-style ones. It was held down to the bed by four sets of straps that ran down the sides of the bed.

"Oh Aunt Harriett, it's so thick and smelly! I won't be able to sleep in that horrible thing." Charlotte was practically in tears.

"You'll get used to it after a while my dear, but it might take a while to break it in. You don't want to get hysteria now do you? We've had this discussion before. You know your father's orders. If he has to come up here from the party, he'll be angry as a hornet." Aunt Harriett stared at her with one of those stares.

Charlotte knew that look. Aunt Harriett was a hair's breadth away from going into a rage, never mind her Father's wrath. Charlotte knew how much pain would be administered to her backside should that occur. She shrugged and sighed again as she reluctantly climbed up on the bed and started to get into position with practiced ease.

Connie could see that the bag was actually some kind of restraining device made of heavy, but well-tanned and flexible leather. She could feel Charlotte's sense of dread increasing along with her arousal. The arousal wasn't coming from the vibrator. She could barely feel its presence (the random mode must be using a lower setting at the moment).

First, Charlotte put her feet inside the lower end of the bag towards the foot of the bed. There were individual, shaped feet, separated by padding. Next, Charlotte slipped her arms down into sleeves built into the sides of the bag. Aunt Harriett helped her and pulled the bag up to her shoulders, then helped her lay back. The back of the new bag was rigid and shaped. Charlotte reacted as if that was unexpected and very unwelcome. Harriett busily started lacing, beginning with the foot of the bag. As she did, it tightened around Charlotte like a sheath.

Connie tried to move, but she could do nothing--no matter how desperately she tried--the image inside the mirror. She realized her romantic view of the Victorian era was rather naive. Poor Charlotte went through this every night? The lacing was up to her hips now. Her legs felt like they were welded together, but that was nothing compared to the torso section.

The bag had a built-in waist-shaping corset device, rigid in the back while tightly constricting the waist. Clearly the goal was to give Charlotte that coveted hourglass shape. The chest area was looser; the bag was obviously designed to leave her breathing unencumbered.

Harriett kept tightening the laces up to Charlotte's neck then buckled a thick collar around her. The collar was rather wide and forced her to keep her chin lifted, another posture forming device--comfort was definitely a secondary consideration.

Aunt Harriett fumbled at the leather over Charlotte's chest, opening two flaps and working each breast out through the resulting holes into the open air. "Aunt Harriett! What are you doing? This new sleeper is indecent! Why would Mr. Hartly make it like that!"

"Calm yourself Charlotte. It's part of the prescription from Doctor Stevens. Your breasts need to be exposed for the new tonic. Your skin needs to breathe after it's applied. Besides, no one will be in here to see you. I'll lock the door. The good doctor assures me that with persistence this new formula will work. If we get that bosom of yours a little bigger, you'll be surprised how many men come a callin'."

Connie could feel a flush of emotion from Charlotte and immediately recognized it. It was the complex set of feelings an insecure woman had about small breasts. The feeling was all too familiar to Connie. For her, it ran the gamut from hatred of Hollywood standards all the way to the envy of other women; an emotional soup made from a base stock of self-loathing spiced with a deep burning desire to be an object of voluptuous beauty.

Despite the supposedly enlightened and liberated views of small breasts being nothing to be ashamed of, and how so many men are really not focused on them, Connie still felt less of a woman being girlishly small. She felt guilty about not being able to accept herself as is--just for icing on the cake. She didn't want to be superficial. She knew she should be ok with it. She knew she was being neurotic about her perceived inadequacies; she still didn't care. She felt how she felt.

She could tell that Charlotte felt the same way, their spirits seemed to be intertwined, but it was the 1800's with no options at the cosmetic surgeon. Connie had tried that route already. Her breasts got hard as a rock and painful to touch, forcing her to have her implants removed. It was the most depressing time of her life.

Aunt Harriett pulled hard at the laces again, taking up any remaining slack. The fit was perfect, like a glove, but that was precisely the problem. Connie could feel Charlotte exploring her confines. Her arms were held fast in the sleeves. Her legs were tightly paired with each other. Her spine was rigidly braced in perfect posture. The wide collar forced her to look up towards the ceiling. She could not roll or twist on the bed since the sleeper was strapped in place. Still, Charlotte was calm, almost soothed, tucked in for the night.

Aunt Harriett held up a white waxy looking ball. Connie felt Charlotte's anger. She struggled against the leather sleeper trying to escape, but it was pointless. "I know Charlotte, but we can't have you disturbing the guests downstairs. Besides, you really behaved poorly last night and woke everyone up more than once." Harriett shoved the waxed leather ball into Charlotte's mouth before she could protest. It was large and conformed to her mouth. Her tongue was struggling to push it out. The ball tasted like beeswax.

Next, Harriett pulled a wide strap of thin leather tight over the ball, holding it in place. She buckled it snugly and then buckled a second strap under her chin. Again, Connie felt Charlotte's rage and frustration as Aunt Harriett tightened a soft leather blindfold over her eyes. "This should help you sleep my dear."

Charlotte's seething rage was fading as the vibrator reasserted itself. Connie could feel how puzzled Charlotte was at the new source of stimulation. Connie was puzzled too. It was like they were in Charlotte's time, the 1800's, but the vibrator was completely modern. How? There must be some connection to the present. As further evidence, Connie could no longer tell whose body she was feeling any longer.

Charlotte seemed to know that someone else was sharing her existence. She couldn't say how she knew. She just did. How were they connected? Connie had no idea, but obviously some of the rumors about Kelly's family estate were not just Halloween stories. Connie had hoped she might see a glimpse of a ghost down a dark hall or something. She never for a moment thought she'd be bound up inside a leather sleep sack with one.

Charlotte jumped when she felt cold lotion covered hands on her breasts. The hands were working the tonic into her breasts, massaging them deeply and roughly. Aunt Harriett explained, "Doctor Stevens said to massage this new formula in deeply every night until both bottles are gone. He said to try not to get it on your nipples, but I don't know how I'm supposed to do that. I don't see why it would matter. Shouldn't do you any harm. I better get back to the ball. Get a good night's sleep dear." Charlotte felt a light kiss on her forehead then could hear the door close.

With Aunt Harriett gone, Connie could feel Charlotte give in to the vibrator. Connie lost herself in the sensation as well. Helpless to do anything, all she could do was feel what Charlotte felt and wait for her to do what she was going to do. Connie could tell that Charlotte clearly didn't know what was happening inside her vagina, but was enjoying it. To Connie, it was a terrible tease, driving her crazy; too little, too slow. This was one time she could use some direct clitoral stimulation.

Charlotte struggled against the sleeper. The feeling of her exposed breasts was thrilling to her. She clearly felt like a slut with her breasts exposed. The tonic was starting to give her a warming sensation, especially her nipples. In fact, her nipples were starting to burn and her breasts were starting to swell in response. A few minutes later and they were burning fiercely. She twisted and struggled trying anything to reach them. She was just as helpless at reaching her breasts as she was in reaching her sex. It was exasperating. She wanted to call out, but with her mouth stuffed with the waxed ball, she was lucky she could even breathe.

The burning combined with the torment of being restrained was adding up. She tried moving her legs, but could only wiggle her feet and flex her legs a little. Her torso may as well have been encased in iron; her neck was rigid and immobilized. Her hands were trapped in leather mittens at the end of the sleeper arm sleeves. The whole sleeper had just enough play that she could feel movement when she struggled, maybe find a way to relieve an itch, but little enough play that is was relentlessly oppressive.

Charlotte's spirit could feel over 150 years of frustration building up again. She knew that she was replaying that fateful night from 1868 year after year. Every Halloween, for all these years, she would struggle in the same evil fucking bag, frustrated and unable to climax, kept from satisfying her sinful desires. Every year she was powerless to break the cycle as it got more and more frustrating. Always denied. Halloween was the only day each year where she could feel anything at all, and she was cursed to spend it this way, strapped inside a bag.

Somehow tonight was different. She didn't know the woman from the future, sharing in her plane of existence. She wasn't one of her descendants, no blood connection, but the woman had given her a great gift. Whatever the woman had done, it felt incredible.

Charlotte could feel the vibrations buzzing like little bees inside her. They had stopped and started a few times, but now they were going on and on. The stimulation inside her combined with the burning tonic was driving her lust higher and higher. She moaned into her gag. She couldn't help it. The room was getting cooler. The fire needed more wood. The cool drafty air in the room was flowing on her exposed, lotioned breasts. In the meantime, she was sweating in the leather sleeper.

Hellfire! The buzzing was slowing down again. She was cursed indeed. The feelings of helplessness and torment were returning. Charlotte thrashed for all she was worth, desperate to bring some sensation back to her intimate regions. It was useless as always.

Connie just waited, trying to be patient. If only she could somehow tell Charlotte that the vibrator was just in a different mode. The time elapsed and it switched to the next setting.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" thought Charlotte as the vibrator stepped up a speed, then another...then another. What was this thing inside her? She had no idea at all, but soon she was in the throes of delight--achingly slow, relentlessly building, insidious, seductive, tormenting, exquisite, joyful, powerful and then at last…unstoppable delight!

The contractions worked through Charlotte. The tightness of the leather sleeper held them in like a cannon barrel as they traveled up and down her whole body exploding. The throbbing went on and on, well beyond Charlotte had ever felt before. The strange dimension of replayed time locked her into a state of bliss as the future sought equilibrium with the past. She felt 1869 throb in her sex, then 1870, 1871, 1872…. She moaned and would have screamed if she could. Each year brought its own cycle of bliss, some more than others. The years replayed onward as she came and came, decade after decade's worth of Halloweens, previously nights of tormented denial, now becoming moments of incredible pleasure. The trans-dimensional orgasm was a pivot point of rebalance. She could feel that her body wanted to pass out, but that was impossible; she could not pass out in some years and not others. Instead, the feeling just kept on and on, rippling through time like a wave that she must ride.

Connie remembered sharing Charlotte's incredible orgasm; her completely supernatural, mind-blowing orgasm. After it was done, she couldn't help but swoon from the unrelenting overload of ecstasy. Coming back to consciousness, she could still feel echoes of the contractions coursing through her.

As her awareness returned, she noticed that she could move her arms, or rather attempt to move her arms. She was held fast in the sleeper, but now it just seemed to be her. Charlotte was gone. She also noticed the vibrations in her pussy were gone too. She could no longer feel the vibrator. The smell of the candle was gone.

As her presence of mind continued to return, Connie became aware of her predicament. Gagged, blindfolded and restrained to protect her virtue from herself. Like Charlotte, her exposed breasts suddenly became the focus of her awareness. She might have felt some of the burn from the tonic still on her nipples. Maybe it was just her imagination. Either way, she also became aware of something else. Her chest was much heavier.

She wanted desperately to see her breasts. The blindfold prevented that, but she knew they had changed regardless. She fought the sleeper and managed to wiggle her torso a little. She could definitely feel the much more substantial weight of her breasts jiggle.

Connie struggled again in earnest. She wouldn't be half-hearted and resigned to her fate like Charlotte. She grunted and groaned as she fought with all her might. She twisted her legs trying to free her feet from the foot of the sleeper. She thrashed back and forth trying to roll something loose. She tried arching her back and twisting her neck. Most of all she pulled and tugged trying to get her hands out of the mittens or her arms out of the sleeves. Nothing worked. She wanted to scream. It was hopeless and so incredibly fucking frustrating. She was irate beyond all reason.

Eventually she was spent and forced to lay there helplessly waiting for someone to free her. She couldn't sleep. She had a couple more fits of rage struggling against the leather, but all it did was make her horny which just frustrated her all the more, especially since her hands were just inches away.

The weight of her breasts was a constant source of stimulation as well. She could feel her hard nipples. They were definitely bigger too, at least they felt like it. She could feel the constriction of the insufficiently large openings in the leather sack squeezing her breasts tightly around the base. They were swollen from the pressure.

Connie had plenty of time to think over the next few hours. Of course, there must be some time ripple in this house during Halloween, but it was more than that. As she thought back to her shared elation with Charlotte, she knew they must have co-existed for a while in the same...dimension? After that, they have somehow been separated again. Her vibrator must have stayed with Charlotte while the sleeping sack stayed with her. Oh God! The tonic must have displaced to the future. She had the results of applying tonic every night for over 150 Halloweens!

As she laid in bondage, Connie's jaw ached from the gag. Her sex was aching for stimulation just as badly. The constriction around the base her breasts caused constant discomfort, a dull pain echoing with faint pleasure. Still, her insomnia was fading as her exertions caught up with her. Just before she dozed off in exhaustion, completely spent, she thought she felt a long tender kiss linger on her forehead then on each exposed breast.

Someone was caressing her left breast softly as if exploring it to estimate its heft…or was it a dream. There was a whisper in her ear, "What a delight sharing my body with you, my little nymph from the future. You share a part of me now. Remember me when you look in the mirror. How did you know that silver would be unaffected by the curse, oh my sweet little dear? From now on, I'll be looking forward to Halloween!" Connie felt another kiss over her gagged mouth just before she fell asleep.

Description
Connie was the first one to call it a night. Just up the main staircase, she found the broad hallway with their bedrooms. The old oil paintings on the wall had an eerie quality to them in the shadowy light. One small electric light at the end of the hall was the only illumination, and it wasn't very bright. Like the others, it was an ornate glass-shaded table lamp with a pull chain in the Tiffany style--probably even a real Tiffany. Previously, they would have used a candle or a lantern in same location judging by the faint soot marks on the velvety wall covering.

She had claimed the first bedroom on the left. It was decked out with a large four poster bed, a marble fireplace and the decor appropriate for a young woman. It was so classically Victorian. She loved it.

Her head was spinning a little, definitely a few drinks past her normal limit. She managed to find the small table lamp after a bit of stumbling around in the dark. She closed the heavy drapes to shut out the eerie moonlight streaming in the window, then locked the door with the old-fashioned key that was already in the lock. Alone in the dim light, she was jumpy. With the talk of haunting and ghosts on her mind, every shadow looked like something sneaking around in the dark. She needed to relax and knew just the thing.

Connie opened the smaller of her two bags and searched around the outside pocket. She found her vibrator and lube. This one had become her favorite for travel--a special gift to herself last year with her income tax refund. It was elegant and discreet, half jewelry, half state-of-the-art technology like a fine watch. Airport security didn't give it a second glance. Engraved Asian-style dragons inlaid with gold on real silver--silver plating at least--concealed rechargeable lithium-ion batteries, electronics with a variety of options, and a powerful little oscillating motor. Like they say, "size isn't everything." It was super quiet and ran like the devil. Having no suspicious remote control, settings were accomplished with tiny buttons set with the tip of a ballpoint pen, hidden inside, twist and pull to open. It was, admittedly, a pain to set, but she just left it on a random selection of modes she liked and didn't fiddle with it.

Connie pulled the covers down on the four poster bed. She had always wanted to sleep in one. When she saw the beautiful deep pink silk sheets, she couldn't help herself. She wanted to feel immersed in the soft silky warmth--full skin contact. She struggled her way out of her tight designer jeans, took off her T-shirt, push-up bra and panties. She left the lamp on, hoping the generator would stay on all night.

Connie gave the vibrator a few drops of silicone lube from her small plastic travel bottle of "moisturizer." A little of it went a long way, and she didn't want to get any excess on the silk. She was already wet anyways. Her body anticipated the routine. She started to remember where she left off on her last fantasy: Her car had broken down in a bad neighborhood on her way back from a party. Her short skirt, stilettos and low neckline didn't seem like such a good idea now. Some gang members circled around her. Where did they come from? Was that a stun gun? Were those handcuffs?...

She twisted and pulled the vibrator, turning it on. It was really more the size for clitoral stimulation, but she pushed it inside holding the edge of the base with her finger tips. Oh, it was doing the job. She preferred to be penetrated versus clit-only stimulation. Not that her clit wasn't exquisitely sensitive--most definitely it was--but a vaginal orgasm was so much more satisfying for her now that she had a credit card and could get quality vibrators online in private. Fingers were for guilty teenagers. She loved the deep throbbing oscillations from inside.

Connie felt a strange spin like the world tipped sideways for a moment in an attempt to dump her out of bed. Wow, she must have really overdone it more than she thought.

Just as the spinning stopped, the door to her room burst open. Out of reflex, she pulled her hand away from her crotch. She felt the vibrator slip inside after the sudden movement. About that time she realized how stupid she was being and that one of her parents or brothers wasn't about to be coming through the door. After a slight delay for her drunken brain to catch up, she remembered that the door had been locked.

An older woman in a 19th century formal dress, complete with bustle and an obvious underlying corset, entered confidently like it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Her rather large breasts were contained behind straining buttons. The woman looked like she was going to a special occasion. Is she a ghost? Holy shit!

Connie tried to suppress a gasp as she suddenly noticed a number of other changes in the room. Her electric lamp had been replaced with a candle; there was a small fire in the fireplace, and the sheets were something like cotton instead of silk. There was nothing modern in the room at all. Connie couldn't believe what she was seeing. Something was really wrong.

The woman spoke, "Charlotte! Again! You know what Doctor Stevens said. Your father already banned you from the party and you're still doing it! You're going to get hysteria like your cousin, then you'll never find a husband. Stand over there in the corner young lady!"

Connie was confused. The woman was clearly talking to her, but who was Charlotte? She started to get up from the bed, but it wasn't her idea. Her body was doing it on its own. She started to speak: again, not her idea. Her voice was different sounding, more high-pitched. "Please Aunt Harriett, I don't fit in that thing anymore! Besides, I was just scratching. I have a few skeeter bites."

"Not another lying word young lady or you'll feel my hickory switch! Doc Stevens gave you a new prescription and had Mr. Hartly make up a new sleeping sack, one more appropriate to your age. It should help with that damnable posture of yours too. Don't you dare turn around until I say so, eyes in the corner! I want to see your hands behind your back now young lady!"

Connie's head was still spinning. It all seemed real, rather than a dream. She was even starting to get cold without the covers. Somehow she was inside this Charlotte's body. She was reliving some kind of past event. She tried to turn around, but her body, or rather Charlotte's body, would not respond at all. Still, she could feel the vibrator stirring. Charlotte seemed to notice too. Her hand was straying towards her crotch. She was really lustful, and her nipples were perky. Connie's mind tried to scream. C'mon Charlotte, go for it, bring us off!

She heard a lot of rustling near the bed, including what sounded like buckles and could smell freshly tanned leather. Charlotte reluctantly put her hands behind her back again, interlocking her fingers, apparently the expected position. Connie could feel Charlotte's fear of being caught. Connie could also feel how aroused Charlotte was; how aroused they both were.

"Alright Charlotte, it's time," said Harriett flatly.

Charlotte shrugged and sighed. Connie could feel the dread and fear Charlotte was experiencing. She could also feel the resignation and sense of futility. A large leather bag was on the bed. Connie thought it resembled a sleeping bag, one of the tapered mummy-style ones. It was held down to the bed by four sets of straps that ran down the sides of the bed.

"Oh Aunt Harriett, it's so thick and smelly! I won't be able to sleep in that horrible thing." Charlotte was practically in tears.

"You'll get used to it after a while my dear, but it might take a while to break it in. You don't want to get hysteria now do you? We've had this discussion before. You know your father's orders. If he has to come up here from the party, he'll be angry as a hornet." Aunt Harriett stared at her with one of those stares.

Charlotte knew that look. Aunt Harriett was a hair's breadth away from going into a rage, never mind her Father's wrath. Charlotte knew how much pain would be administered to her backside should that occur. She shrugged and sighed again as she reluctantly climbed up on the bed and started to get into position with practiced ease.

Connie could see that the bag was actually some kind of restraining device made of heavy, but well-tanned and flexible leather. She could feel Charlotte's sense of dread increasing along with her arousal. The arousal wasn't coming from the vibrator. She could barely feel its presence (the random mode must be using a lower setting at the moment).

First, Charlotte put her feet inside the lower end of the bag towards the foot of the bed. There were individual, shaped feet, separated by padding. Next, Charlotte slipped her arms down into sleeves built into the sides of the bag. Aunt Harriett helped her and pulled the bag up to her shoulders, then helped her lay back. The back of the new bag was rigid and shaped. Charlotte reacted as if that was unexpected and very unwelcome. Harriett busily started lacing, beginning with the foot of the bag. As she did, it tightened around Charlotte like a sheath.

Connie tried to move, but she could do nothing--no matter how desperately she tried--the image inside the mirror. She realized her romantic view of the Victorian era was rather naive. Poor Charlotte went through this every night? The lacing was up to her hips now. Her legs felt like they were welded together, but that was nothing compared to the torso section.

The bag had a built-in waist-shaping corset device, rigid in the back while tightly constricting the waist. Clearly the goal was to give Charlotte that coveted hourglass shape. The chest area was looser; the bag was obviously designed to leave her breathing unencumbered.

Harriett kept tightening the laces up to Charlotte's neck then buckled a thick collar around her. The collar was rather wide and forced her to keep her chin lifted, another posture forming device--comfort was definitely a secondary consideration.

Aunt Harriett fumbled at the leather over Charlotte's chest, opening two flaps and working each breast out through the resulting holes into the open air. "Aunt Harriett! What are you doing? This new sleeper is indecent! Why would Mr. Hartly make it like that!"

"Calm yourself Charlotte. It's part of the prescription from Doctor Stevens. Your breasts need to be exposed for the new tonic. Your skin needs to breathe after it's applied. Besides, no one will be in here to see you. I'll lock the door. The good doctor assures me that with persistence this new formula will work. If we get that bosom of yours a little bigger, you'll be surprised how many men come a callin'."

Connie could feel a flush of emotion from Charlotte and immediately recognized it. It was the complex set of feelings an insecure woman had about small breasts. The feeling was all too familiar to Connie. For her, it ran the gamut from hatred of Hollywood standards all the way to the envy of other women; an emotional soup made from a base stock of self-loathing spiced with a deep burning desire to be an object of voluptuous beauty.

Despite the supposedly enlightened and liberated views of small breasts being nothing to be ashamed of, and how so many men are really not focused on them, Connie still felt less of a woman being girlishly small. She felt guilty about not being able to accept herself as is--just for icing on the cake. She didn't want to be superficial. She knew she should be ok with it. She knew she was being neurotic about her perceived inadequacies; she still didn't care. She felt how she felt.

She could tell that Charlotte felt the same way, their spirits seemed to be intertwined, but it was the 1800's with no options at the cosmetic surgeon. Connie had tried that route already. Her breasts got hard as a rock and painful to touch, forcing her to have her implants removed. It was the most depressing time of her life.

Aunt Harriett pulled hard at the laces again, taking up any remaining slack. The fit was perfect, like a glove, but that was precisely the problem. Connie could feel Charlotte exploring her confines. Her arms were held fast in the sleeves. Her legs were tightly paired with each other. Her spine was rigidly braced in perfect posture. The wide collar forced her to look up towards the ceiling. She could not roll or twist on the bed since the sleeper was strapped in place. Still, Charlotte was calm, almost soothed, tucked in for the night.

Aunt Harriett held up a white waxy looking ball. Connie felt Charlotte's anger. She struggled against the leather sleeper trying to escape, but it was pointless. "I know Charlotte, but we can't have you disturbing the guests downstairs. Besides, you really behaved poorly last night and woke everyone up more than once." Harriett shoved the waxed leather ball into Charlotte's mouth before she could protest. It was large and conformed to her mouth. Her tongue was struggling to push it out. The ball tasted like beeswax.

Next, Harriett pulled a wide strap of thin leather tight over the ball, holding it in place. She buckled it snugly and then buckled a second strap under her chin. Again, Connie felt Charlotte's rage and frustration as Aunt Harriett tightened a soft leather blindfold over her eyes. "This should help you sleep my dear."

Charlotte's seething rage was fading as the vibrator reasserted itself. Connie could feel how puzzled Charlotte was at the new source of stimulation. Connie was puzzled too. It was like they were in Charlotte's time, the 1800's, but the vibrator was completely modern. How? There must be some connection to the present. As further evidence, Connie could no longer tell whose body she was feeling any longer.

Charlotte seemed to know that someone else was sharing her existence. She couldn't say how she knew. She just did. How were they connected? Connie had no idea, but obviously some of the rumors about Kelly's family estate were not just Halloween stories. Connie had hoped she might see a glimpse of a ghost down a dark hall or something. She never for a moment thought she'd be bound up inside a leather sleep sack with one.

Charlotte jumped when she felt cold lotion covered hands on her breasts. The hands were working the tonic into her breasts, massaging them deeply and roughly. Aunt Harriett explained, "Doctor Stevens said to massage this new formula in deeply every night until both bottles are gone. He said to try not to get it on your nipples, but I don't know how I'm supposed to do that. I don't see why it would matter. Shouldn't do you any harm. I better get back to the ball. Get a good night's sleep dear." Charlotte felt a light kiss on her forehead then could hear the door close.

With Aunt Harriett gone, Connie could feel Charlotte give in to the vibrator. Connie lost herself in the sensation as well. Helpless to do anything, all she could do was feel what Charlotte felt and wait for her to do what she was going to do. Connie could tell that Charlotte clearly didn't know what was happening inside her vagina, but was enjoying it. To Connie, it was a terrible tease, driving her crazy; too little, too slow. This was one time she could use some direct clitoral stimulation.

Charlotte struggled against the sleeper. The feeling of her exposed breasts was thrilling to her. She clearly felt like a slut with her breasts exposed. The tonic was starting to give her a warming sensation, especially her nipples. In fact, her nipples were starting to burn and her breasts were starting to swell in response. A few minutes later and they were burning fiercely. She twisted and struggled trying anything to reach them. She was just as helpless at reaching her breasts as she was in reaching her sex. It was exasperating. She wanted to call out, but with her mouth stuffed with the waxed ball, she was lucky she could even breathe.

The burning combined with the torment of being restrained was adding up. She tried moving her legs, but could only wiggle her feet and flex her legs a little. Her torso may as well have been encased in iron; her neck was rigid and immobilized. Her hands were trapped in leather mittens at the end of the sleeper arm sleeves. The whole sleeper had just enough play that she could feel movement when she struggled, maybe find a way to relieve an itch, but little enough play that is was relentlessly oppressive.

Charlotte's spirit could feel over 150 years of frustration building up again. She knew that she was replaying that fateful night from 1868 year after year. Every Halloween, for all these years, she would struggle in the same evil fucking bag, frustrated and unable to climax, kept from satisfying her sinful desires. Every year she was powerless to break the cycle as it got more and more frustrating. Always denied. Halloween was the only day each year where she could feel anything at all, and she was cursed to spend it this way, strapped inside a bag.

Somehow tonight was different. She didn't know the woman from the future, sharing in her plane of existence. She wasn't one of her descendants, no blood connection, but the woman had given her a great gift. Whatever the woman had done, it felt incredible.

Charlotte could feel the vibrations buzzing like little bees inside her. They had stopped and started a few times, but now they were going on and on. The stimulation inside her combined with the burning tonic was driving her lust higher and higher. She moaned into her gag. She couldn't help it. The room was getting cooler. The fire needed more wood. The cool drafty air in the room was flowing on her exposed, lotioned breasts. In the meantime, she was sweating in the leather sleeper.

Hellfire! The buzzing was slowing down again. She was cursed indeed. The feelings of helplessness and torment were returning. Charlotte thrashed for all she was worth, desperate to bring some sensation back to her intimate regions. It was useless as always.

Connie just waited, trying to be patient. If only she could somehow tell Charlotte that the vibrator was just in a different mode. The time elapsed and it switched to the next setting.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" thought Charlotte as the vibrator stepped up a speed, then another...then another. What was this thing inside her? She had no idea at all, but soon she was in the throes of delight--achingly slow, relentlessly building, insidious, seductive, tormenting, exquisite, joyful, powerful and then at last…unstoppable delight!

The contractions worked through Charlotte. The tightness of the leather sleeper held them in like a cannon barrel as they traveled up and down her whole body exploding. The throbbing went on and on, well beyond Charlotte had ever felt before. The strange dimension of replayed time locked her into a state of bliss as the future sought equilibrium with the past. She felt 1869 throb in her sex, then 1870, 1871, 1872…. She moaned and would have screamed if she could. Each year brought its own cycle of bliss, some more than others. The years replayed onward as she came and came, decade after decade's worth of Halloweens, previously nights of tormented denial, now becoming moments of incredible pleasure. The trans-dimensional orgasm was a pivot point of rebalance. She could feel that her body wanted to pass out, but that was impossible; she could not pass out in some years and not others. Instead, the feeling just kept on and on, rippling through time like a wave that she must ride.

Connie remembered sharing Charlotte's incredible orgasm; her completely supernatural, mind-blowing orgasm. After it was done, she couldn't help but swoon from the unrelenting overload of ecstasy. Coming back to consciousness, she could still feel echoes of the contractions coursing through her.

As her awareness returned, she noticed that she could move her arms, or rather attempt to move her arms. She was held fast in the sleeper, but now it just seemed to be her. Charlotte was gone. She also noticed the vibrations in her pussy were gone too. She could no longer feel the vibrator. The smell of the candle was gone.

As her presence of mind continued to return, Connie became aware of her predicament. Gagged, blindfolded and restrained to protect her virtue from herself. Like Charlotte, her exposed breasts suddenly became the focus of her awareness. She might have felt some of the burn from the tonic still on her nipples. Maybe it was just her imagination. Either way, she also became aware of something else. Her chest was much heavier.

She wanted desperately to see her breasts. The blindfold prevented that, but she knew they had changed regardless. She fought the sleeper and managed to wiggle her torso a little. She could definitely feel the much more substantial weight of her breasts jiggle.

Connie struggled again in earnest. She wouldn't be half-hearted and resigned to her fate like Charlotte. She grunted and groaned as she fought with all her might. She twisted her legs trying to free her feet from the foot of the sleeper. She thrashed back and forth trying to roll something loose. She tried arching her back and twisting her neck. Most of all she pulled and tugged trying to get her hands out of the mittens or her arms out of the sleeves. Nothing worked. She wanted to scream. It was hopeless and so incredibly fucking frustrating. She was irate beyond all reason.

Eventually she was spent and forced to lay there helplessly waiting for someone to free her. She couldn't sleep. She had a couple more fits of rage struggling against the leather, but all it did was make her horny which just frustrated her all the more, especially since her hands were just inches away.

The weight of her breasts was a constant source of stimulation as well. She could feel her hard nipples. They were definitely bigger too, at least they felt like it. She could feel the constriction of the insufficiently large openings in the leather sack squeezing her breasts tightly around the base. They were swollen from the pressure.

Connie had plenty of time to think over the next few hours. Of course, there must be some time ripple in this house during Halloween, but it was more than that. As she thought back to her shared elation with Charlotte, she knew they must have co-existed for a while in the same...dimension? After that, they have somehow been separated again. Her vibrator must have stayed with Charlotte while the sleeping sack stayed with her. Oh God! The tonic must have displaced to the future. She had the results of applying tonic every night for over 150 Halloweens!

As she laid in bondage, Connie's jaw ached from the gag. Her sex was aching for stimulation just as badly. The constriction around the base her breasts caused constant discomfort, a dull pain echoing with faint pleasure. Still, her insomnia was fading as her exertions caught up with her. Just before she dozed off in exhaustion, completely spent, she thought she felt a long tender kiss linger on her forehead then on each exposed breast.

Someone was caressing her left breast softly as if exploring it to estimate its heft…or was it a dream. There was a whisper in her ear, "What a delight sharing my body with you, my little nymph from the future. You share a part of me now. Remember me when you look in the mirror. How did you know that silver would be unaffected by the curse, oh my sweet little dear? From now on, I'll be looking forward to Halloween!" Connie felt another kiss over her gagged mouth just before she fell asleep.