Sapphic Sorority Halloween Special 2025

Gurlberg isn’t an affluent community, but the University of Florida Gurlberg campus is known for its tennis, swimming, and for being home to an unconventional and somewhat notorious sorority. The town has two reasonably safe, walkable residential neighborhoods that make for good trick-or-treating. The main drag in town has orange Halloween banners on the lampposts, and many local businesses give out candy.

Gurlberg’s best Halloween attraction is just outside town, high on a hill in the woods.

CCL House looks haunted even at the best of times. It’s not in the worst shape it’s ever been in, but time is not kind to the old, sprawling property. The muffled voice of Sabrina Carpenter is audible a quarter mile down the driveway. No one is trick-or-treating up here, although it’s been a while since the murders that added an extra layer of notoriety to an already storied sorority. Gurlberg parents still don’t want their kids around college parties.

The huge, old, plantation-style house is lit up brightly in the warm night. Music pounds and shadows move behind the windows. The sorority isn’t at a high point right now, but even its killjoy president isn’t going to throw a wet blanket over the Halloween party. The CGH party on the other side of town is officially the hottest party of the night, as usual, because guys are allowed there. It’s well-known that the CGH party always blows the HGF frat party out of the water, and Gurlberg’s other fraternity, TRP, is too new to be able to compete.

The CCL party provides a welcome alternative to CGH and HGF. Instead of traditional collegiate excess, this is a safer place for co-eds who are curious or don’t want to have to cover their drinks and get groped all night.

Besides, CCL House seems more welcoming now that it’s gotten around campus that the president has declared its infamous dungeon off-limits and locked everyone out of it.

Maybe that’s why it seems so busy downstairs. The floor of Elsa’s room vibrates from the music, laugher, voices, and the smell of spilled wine coolers permeates the entire structure.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Elsa mutters as she lifts the costume out of its bag. She flings the weird, rubbery-feeling, slightly shimmery blue thing onto her narrow bed. There isn’t even space in her room to pace. She snatches up her phone and composes a text to Donut.

THE FUCK THIS COSTUME IS

Fuming, she glares at her reflection in the mirror. Her tattooed body looks thin and pale. Her simple undies make her look depressed. Her short, dyed gray hair makes her look the wrong kind of gay. Her phone beeps.

Donut has replied:

U SAD SEXY

That is followed by several hands-up emojis and one quizzical one. Elsa knows that this is on her; trusting Donut was a rookie mistake. Sexy nurse. Sexy devil. Sexy teacher. How hard was it to find a normal costume? Elsa doesn’t even need it to be slutty. Just something fun. This blue bodysuit is the opposite of that. It’s weird and stupid. She’s had a long day at work and just wants to get fucked up and pass out. How’s she supposed to do that dressed up like a neon blue Olympic luger?

She grabs the costume and tries to pull it on. It’s not just stupid, it’s too tall, and not nearly as stretchy as it looks. Elsa tries doggedly, hopping on one foot as she tries to jam her foot in.