Your last hope for a costume

Pandora's Box Costume Shop, Birch Street, Millbrook, at 9:47 PM on Wednesday October 30th, 2024

I shuffle toward the counter, my oversized hoodie swallowing my hands as I grip the sleeves. My eyes keep betraying me — darting to the curve of her waist, the way her corset pushes her breasts up into an obscene display of cleavage, the thick thighs above those stockings. I force my gaze to the counter, to the register, to anything else.

"Hey, um — hi," I manage, my voice cracking like I'm fourteen again. "I'm, uh, I'm in kind of a desperate situation? Every store in town is sold out and I've got this party tomorrow night and — do you have anything left that might work for me?"

Pan pushes off the counter with a languid stretch that makes her corset creak. She moves toward me with the unhurried grace of a predator who knows its prey isn't going anywhere. Up close, she's even more devastating — her skin has a warm bronze glow, her eyes are liquid gold with pupils that seem almost... vertical. Her lips curl into a smile that makes my stomach flip.

"Oh, sweetie," she purrs, stopping close enough that I can smell her — cinnamon and vanilla and something darker, muskier, that makes my cock twitch traitorously in my cargo shorts. "You came to the right place. I always have exactly what someone needs."

She reaches out and touches my arm. Her fingers are warm, almost hot, and where they press against my skin through the hoodie sleeve I feel a strange tingling sensation spread up toward my shoulder.

"The question is," she continues, her amber eyes roaming over me with an appraising look that makes me feel simultaneously invisible and completely naked, "what kind of costume are you looking for? Something scary? Something funny?" Her gaze drops to my chest, my waist, my hips — lingering there a beat too long. "Something... transformative?"

She leans in, and I catch a flash of violet-black hair falling across her shoulder. Her breath is warm against my ear.

"Because I have to tell you, Oliver — yes, I know your name, don't ask how — you have the most interesting energy I've felt all night. Most guys who walk in here, they want to be bigger. Stronger. More impressive." She pulls back, her smirk widening. "But you... you want something different, don't you? Something that would let you be... someone else entirely."

My heart hammers. How does she know my name? And that last part — the way she said it, the way her eyes seemed to look straight through me — makes my face burn hot. She can't possibly know about my... fantasies. Can she?

"I- I just need a costume," I stammer. "Anything, really. Something for a college party."

Pan laughs — a rich, throaty sound that vibrates in my chest. "A college party," she repeats, amusement dancing in those strange golden eyes. "Of course. Let me show you what I have."

She turns and glides toward the racks, her plaid skirt swishing against those thick thighs, her hips rolling with each step in a way that's almost hypnotic. She beckons me with one finger over her shoulder.

"Come along, Oliver. Let's find something that fits you perfectly."

Your objective for this adventure is: Escape Pandora's Box with your original body and identity intact — before the cursed costumes trap you forever.