The Stranger: Halloween '12

Good October everyone. I've been meaning to put this one out for a few years now. Kept shelving it, coming back to work on it, and finally missing Halloween since 2010. Well, here it is; The Stranger.

As with my other stories, only those with an interest in sadistic transformation ought to read. Also as with my other stories, feel free to point out typos and what-have you.

The Stranger, Part One

Squeeshka

Sibyl Walsh's nipples ached. She stood stiff, arms crossed tightly, sheltering the underside of her breasts. A cold gust of wind penetrated her sweater for the 12th time.

"Goddammit!" she snapped at the unfriendly air, her breath cascading visibly toward the worn stonework at her feet. She brushed some of her ink-black strands from her face to behind her ear. She glanced around the cemetery and sighed.

Sibyl was alone.

Each October, in celebration of Halloween/her birthday, she took it upon herself to find a new graveyard to haunt. Cemeteries had been a favored sanctuary for her from a very young age, so finding a new one was always quite a challenge. She always enjoyed it too, but as of late the tradition had begun to lose some of its luster. This was due in no small part to the fact that in her 25th year of life, Sibyl was beginning to grow weary of her own loner lifestyle. If only the dead made for better company.

Though not a knockout by any means, she was not ugly. Her shoulder-length hair was as straight as rain, and though she was on the skinny side, she had very respectable c-cup tits. 'If you would just eat some meat' her mother would often say 'you'd never see the end of those boys'. While it was true that Sibyl wouldn't mind a few more curves, she wasn't about to change her diet.

In her younger days she was quite the goth. As she matured, plastic gave way to cotton, white theater paint washed away completely, and her color pallet expanded from black to black, grey, and brown. She retained her black leather boots, though they had taken on some age.

So there she stood, boots peaking out from under a long, ratty grey skirt. Her comfy brown sweater understated the curves she had, but she didn't care at that moment. As she searched her quiet surroundings, she realized she was looking for someone, rather than something.

"That's it." She told herself. "This is the last time I do this alone. I'm making an October resolution right now: no more lonely haunting!"

The empty wind whistled apathetically through the skeleton-branches looming above. An owl shrugged. Sibyl tightened her black knit scarf and pressed deeper into the yard.

Time crept by until at last the six 'o clock sunset was nigh.

"Half an hour to sunset." Sibyl told herself. "Gotta find a good perch."

There was a hill in the distance atop which a lonely crypt sat. Perfect. Sibyl quickened her pace a