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Photo Story #77 - H25-3
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 15:05:37 +0000 UTCA massive thank you to Danny for sharing these photos and this awesome story idea. If you want to see more of the guy with the incredible ass in these pics, you can find him on Insta - @myownsecretalt - definitely worth a follow!
I hope everyone enjoys this ghostly story - possibly my longest photo story, and as promised, this one is being shared with all patrons!
Warren had always been into the paranormal, but when he hit his late twenties and realised that nearly every recorded ghost story was some sort of scam, he started to focus more on profits than the mystery behind some of the things he investigated.
He'd always been an attractive guy, and his handsome face and love for tight jeans, had proven very popular with some TV producers who had immediately backed and invested in his YouTube channel - Paranormal Hunker! It had originally been Hunter, but the producers felt that a nod to his looks would only serve to boost his ratings, and they weren't wrong.
For Halloween that year, Warren had been tasked with visiting an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere Connecticut - LIVE! Yes, he was going to do a live stream on his YouTube channel as he investigated the house, and hopefully conned a load of his followers with some fake bangs and groans.
While most people would be terrified of entering any sort of old haunted building on Halloween, Warren was completely unfazed by the whole thing. He'd done so many "haunted" buildings that he'd lost count of them, and he was certain that this one would be just as devoid of ghosts as all of the others.
As Warren walked down the gravel driveway towards the crumbling two-storey house, he pulled his jacket a little tighter and tugged his green beanie hat down a little lower to cover his ears. It was a cold night, and he had no wish to freeze his ass off more than he had to. He was wearing his standard pair of skintight acid wash jeans, and would make sure that he flashed said ass to camera on multiple occasions.
"Warren here," he said, answering his phone.
"It's Brandon. I just wanted to make sure that you're all set for the livestream. You start in five."
Warren laughed. "I'm just about to set foot on the porch of the house and then I'll get the live up and running. Are we still good for me to just do half an hour? I've got a party I want to get to."
Brandon, one of Warren's investors, chuckled. "Yes, all good. Enjoy your party."
Warren switched his phone to "Do Not Disturb" and pulled out the selfie stick from his pocket. He used to use a tripod but people seemed to prefer the Blair Witch approach of the camera angles he got with a selfie stick.
He switched on the small ring light at the end of the selfie stick before slotting his phone into the compartment that held it in place. He checked his hair in the front camera, and once he was confident that he looked his effortless best, he opened YouTube and started a livestream.
Within a matter of seconds, there were hundreds of thousands of people watching him and he didn't bother to try and hide the grin as he welcomed them.
"Hey Hunkers, it's time for a very special Halloween experience."
Warren told the audience about the house and the history of the perverted man that had died there, a man who had been accused of luring men from the village to his home for drunken debauchery.
"Let's head inside," Warren whispered with his face close to the camera.
The front door, which had been unlocked by the house's caretaker earlier that evening, creaked loudly as Warren opened it. He wagged his eyebrows at the camera, knowing how much his audience would eat up the creepy noise.
He started by doing a quick tour of the house, riling the viewers up with the sounds of the creaky stairs and the window in the second bedroom that banged softly in the breeze.
"And here we are, back in the lounge, the place that Mr Johnson is said to have brought the men that he lured to his house. In this very space, he was accused of molesting and even raping men from the village. I wonder if he's here tonight."
The comments went wild with people telling him to be careful and begging him to run while he could, but Warren just nodded gravely as he fought not to roll his eyes. He knew there was nothing in the creepy old house, he just had to suck it up for another fifteen minutes and then he could . . .
Warren paused at the odd, icy cold sensation around his waist. He heard a faint clink and wondered if his production team had set something up for Halloween.
"Let's set you guys down a second," Warren said as he placed the selfie stick on the floor, his phone aiming up at him. "So that I can get a proper feel for the room."
With his phone left on the floor, Warren had no way to see the comments, something he'd come to regret very shortly.
Heading into the centre of the room, Warren ensured he stayed in shot as he raised his hands to the ceiling. "I call the spirit of Mr Irwin Johnson. Are you here with us tonight?"
It was the same words Warren used for every spirit and very soon, he'd make out that he could feel something just to . . .
Warren's jeans were suddenly at his ankles! Someone, or something, had unceremoniously pantsed him on his livestream. He assumed it was one of the production team, even if he hadn't heard them, or felt them, move. He wanted to laugh it off, but when he looked down, he wanted to kick himself for the undies he'd picked - black briefs covered in glow in the dark ghosts. They were childish and stupid and he hadn't anticipated anyone actually seeing them. Secretly, he loved cartoon briefs and hadn't expected anyone to see his special Halloween pair.
"Looks like our ghost is feeling frisky this Halloween night," Warren said, trying to make a joke to the viewers. "It's a god job I wore my festive Halloween briefs."
Warren bent down to pull his jeans back up, but as he did so, something shoved him hard from behind and he tumbled forwards, hitting the ground with a loud "Oof!".
"What the hell?" he whispered when he managed to get his breath back.
Warren pushed himself to his feet, but as he stood up, he noticed that his pants had vanished. They were no longer around his ankles, or anywhere to be seen. He didn't understand how the production team had made that happen, unless . . .
"It looks like Mr Johnson is feeling playful tonight," Warren said.
He was about to step out of the line of sight of the camera when he felt a firm grip on his shoulders twisting him around so that his back was to the camera. His hands were locked together in front of him, and before he could so much as protest, his ghost briefs were suddenly yanked skyward, giving him a painful wedgie between his meaty cheeks.
Warren cried out as he tried to struggle free from whatever was gripping him so tightly.
"Please stop," he begged, the briefs chafing his hole as he tried to pull away.
By this point, Warren had forgotten about the now millions of viewers watching his livestream. He could only focus on the extreme discomfort of having his tight briefs yanked as high as they'd go.
"Fuck! Let go," Warren yelled.
But he regretted the request as soon as he made it. Whatever was controlling him, grabbed the waistband of his briefs and yanked them away from him and within seconds, there was a loud RRRRIIIIPPPPPPPP as the ghost briefs with their glow in the dark ghosts, tore from his body, his bare cheeks totally exposed for the millions of people watching him.
"No no no," he gasped, able at last to turn back around.
Warren tried to find where his briefs had gone, but they were nowhere in sight, which was when Warren remembered the livestream. He was naked from the waist down except his socks and boots, and he was currently standing there with his ample cock and balls just hanging free for everyone to see.
"No," he yelled, but as he reached down towards his phone, he was pushed forward, slamming to the floor on his knees.
A phantom hand suddenly slapped down hard on his right butt cheek and Warren howled.
No longer caring about his decency or his career, Warren grabbed the selfie stick and ran for the door, praying he could escape before the spirit of Mr Johnson took things even further. Warren slammed open the front door and tripped down the steps from the porch, falling on his butt in the grass.
He gasped for breath before ripping his phone free of the selfie stick and ending the livestream. But not before seeing some of the comments . . .
"Should have known Mr Hunker had such a big cock!"
"Did you see the size of the cheeks? Talk about some junk in the trunk! Damn!"
"Only fair he gets a wedgie for wearing undies that nerdy. What is he? 12?"
Warren would never question the existence of ghosts again!
