The Devil’s Halloween Stage Show

Note: All characters within this story are above 18 years of age. This is a fictional story and is meant to be read as a fantasy by adults (18+). Any apparent lack of consent is purely a narrative element within this fictional setting and is not meant to reflect acceptable behavior in real life. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The story:

Peter was nervous. He wasn’t a people person. Crowds made his skin itch and his mouth go dry and Halloween parties were the worst kind of crowd, loud, drunk and full of strangers who expected you to smile and talk. But his older sister Rose wouldn’t let him stay home alone. She’d texted him three times that afternoon, then showed up at his dorm room with the stupid costume already in a bag. She’d said he had to wear it. While she put on that goofy brown bodysuit and the cardboard cover that turned her into a beer bottle, complete with a little round gold cap perched on her head, he’d gotten stuck as the ‘bottle opener’. A black plastic shoulder mount with a cheap metal opener hanging off it. That was the whole costume.

He assumed his sister had missed the connotations. The pair was clearly meant for a couple, a bottle and opener, one thing meant to go with the other. When she’d popped out of her room with that bottle-shaped cover over her body and the cap on her head, grinning like she’d just solved something, he knew he couldn’t turn her down. She looked ridiculous and proud of it. So he’d put the opener around his neck and followed her out the door.

One thing he was grateful to his sister for was how many hot women seemed to be attending this party. Halloween was the one time in the year where every girl could dress up like a whore and not raise too many eyebrows. He thought that as he stood in the corner of the living room, back against the wall, sipping whatever was in his plastic cup. The place was packed. Colored lights, music thumping low, people laughing and moving between the kitchen and the couch. Costumes everywhere, some funny, some lazy, some that left almost nothing to the imagination.

“Hey!! You’re Rose’s brother, aren’t you? Almost didn’t recognise you! You’ve changed so much.”

A voice called out from his left. He turned. The woman standing there was Yasmin. Olive skin, long wavy black hair falling past her shoulders, dark eyes lined heavy. Her costume was a genie outfit that barely qualified as clothing. A gold bra top stretched tight across large D-cup breasts, the fabric so thin and low it looked like it might spill them any second. Sheer purple sleeves hung off her arms. Matching harem pants sat low on her wide hips, sheer enough that he could see the shape of her thighs through them, with slits running high up the sides. Gold jewelry at her neck and wrists. A small plastic lamp hung from one hand. She looked like she belonged in a porno, not at a house party.

She stepped in and hugged him before he could answer. Soft, heavy breasts pressed against his chest through the thin gold fabric. She smelled sweet and smoky. “Where’s your sister?” she asked, pulling back but keeping one hand on his arm. “I saw her earlier but then she disappeared.”

Peter tried to look past her, scanning the room for the brown bodysuit and the stupid bottle cover. He opened his mouth to say he didn’t know when the front door suddenly burst open.

A man in a black suit and a purple devil mask walked in, flanked by two attractive women. The women wore what could only be described as magician’s assistant outfits, shiny black corsets, tiny skirts, fishnets, high heels. The outfits looked wrong on both of them. Their faces were too serious, almost blank, like they weren’t enjoying any of it. One had dark hair pulled back tight. The other had lighter hair in a short cut. Neither smiled.

The man hurriedly closed the door behind him and locked it with a hard click. He said something low to the two women. They moved without hesitation toward the front of the large living room and started pushing people back, clearing a space in the front of the room. Conversations died. Heads turned. Everyone was paying attention now.

The man walked slowly to the center of the open space. He was tall, lean under the suit. The purple mask covered the upper half of his face, horns curling back, red lenses where the eyes should be. He started speaking in a loud theatrical voice, though he sounded a little breathless, like he’d been moving fast before he walked in.

“Ladies… and gentlemen… I apologize for my intrusion. I need a place to lay low for a while, but in exchange for giving me a place to stay off the streets, I shall be the free entertainment for the evening.”