SS Halloween Special Ch 17

Kayla opens the door and pokes her head in, finding a tearful Elsa on the floor.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“I have to pee, and I can’t get this off,” Elsa sniffles.

“Oh. Do you want some help?”

Elsa’s eyes are wide like a crazy person. “Nope. I got it,” she lies.

Kayla sees the scissors on the floor. “You don’t look like you got it.”

“I don’t got it,” Elsa sobs.

“OK. Let me help you.” Kayla slips into the bathroom and locks the door, kneeling behind Elsa.

Elsa feels her fiddling with the zipper back there.

“It’s stuck,” Kayla reports. “It’s like it’s bent out of shape or something.”

Elsa winces, fighting against her body and the urge to laugh like the Joker. The damage to the zipper must be the result of her **** pulling. That, and this is a shitty costume from Spirit Halloween.

“Donut!” she growls, wiping tears from her face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Elsa says miserably. “Can you just tear it?”

“Uh, I can try. You don’t care?”

“I hate this costume more than anything in this world.”

“I think it works for you. Mmm.” Kayla grunts as she pulls. “It’s not working. We need something legit to cut it with. Should I get a knife from the kitchen?”

“Nobody’s gonna let you walk through CCL House with a kitchen knife!” Kayla wails.

“OK, let’s go to the kitchen!”

“I can’t stand up!”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “It’s an emergency, huh?” Elsa is about to cry for real. Kayla sees that. “OK. OK. We can do it. Come on. Let’s get you up.” She tries to lift Elsa to her feet, and Elsa does her best to help, but she can’t do much. It is profoundly undignified, and Kayla’s gallant effort not to laugh isn’t helping. “OK,” Kayla grunts, hugging her tightly and heaving. “Come on!”

The things going on Elsa’s body are not all completely logical. Having to pee really badly is not the same as sexual arousal, and yet the vulnerability that goes with feeling as though she could lose control at any second is doing something strange. Kayla’s body is warm, and her hands are soft, although the way she grabs whatever she can to try to get Elsa to stand isn’t exactly soft. Her hands make things twitch, and Elsa’s heart is already racing, but it’s not Kayla’s hands that turn out to be the problem.

Elsa is lighter than Kayla, but Kayla is no athlete. Her thigh slips between Elsa’s legs, and that pressure hits like a truck. Elsa shrieks and clings to a startled Kayla, letting out a shuddering breath. She’s upright, but not under her own power.

Eyes wide, Kayla nervously rubs her back. “You OK?”

“Sorry,” Elsa squeaks.

“I get it. I get it. I get it. Can you walk?”

“I’ll—ah!” Elsa slips, and Kayla instinctively grabs on to keep her from falling. One hand grips Elsa’s bottom, and Kayla’s just pulling her in, so there’s that leg again. “Oh! Jesus!”

“Oh my god. Ack. Here.” Kayla shoves Elsa up against the wall, drawing another gasp. She’s about to say something, most likely something sensible about catching her breath and then trying to walk—but she seems to lose her words. Kayla gazes at Elsa’s flushed face, looking startled. “Gosh. You are, uh…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Elsa can’t breathe; her chest wants to heave, but her suit is fighting her. Kayla’s careful not to touch anything sensitive as she holds Elsa against the wall, but the damage is done. Elsa’s body is a raging inferno of competing needs.

“Is it weird that I kind of want to kiss you?” Kayla asks.

Elsa’s mouth is dry. She licks her lips. “Um,” she says.

“Oh.” Kayla’s looking down. Elsa is conspicuously pokey. Kayla bites her lip and touches Elsa’s extremely red cheek. “Wow. I guess it is CCL House, huh?”

Elsa is frozen as Kayla leans in. Her lips are softer than her body, and she’s only tentative for a second. Everything multiplies as Elsa loses the ability to think rationally. She moans when Kayla’s thigh presses against her pussy, and Kayla seems to like that. Her hands slide down Elsa’s back to her ass. She squeezes and pulls, increasing the pressure until Elsa can’t even pretend to kiss anymore. Her body can’t move on its own, or she would be humping feverishly. Instead, Kayla delightedly leans into her.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Elsa’s soft gasps come out rapidly. She feels Kayla’s lips on her neck and her face, and that only makes the wave build faster.

SSHP

“Bet this doesn’t happen to the real T Swift,” Kylie grumbles, covering her eye. Donut, or whoever’s in the back of Donut’s costume, bumped into her as she was taking a drink. Now she’s stained with wine, her fake eyelashes are jacked up, and her lipstick is smeared.

“It’s OK,” Ying assures her, helping her push past a cluster of girls sharing a vape and looking at something on a phone. “We can fix it. You’re fine.”

“I’ll make my whole next album about this,” Kylie says dramatically.

They’re almost to the back bathroom that nobody knows about, the tiny one that probably still isn’t gross by this time of night.

As Ying reaches for the doorknob, the loudest, from the gut, most heartfelt cry of slutty ecstasy comes clearly from inside. Ying slowly withdraws her hand.

They exchange a look. Ying blushes, and Kylie snorts.

“We’ll go upstairs,” Ying whispers.

“Yeah.”