Halloween Costumes

You are thirty-four, the kind of man who still flinches when the word “size” comes up in any context that isn’t furniture. Your wife is thirty-two, sharp-tongued, long-legged, and armed with a sense of humor that has always cut a little too close to the bone. Six years of marriage. In public you look like a normal, mildly attractive couple. In private she has spent the last three of those years turning your soft, average-at-best cock into the central running joke of your life together.

It started small. A playful comment after sex. A raised eyebrow when you got hard. Then the measuring tape appeared. Then the ice. Then the casual comparisons to the thick dildo she keeps in the nightstand “for when she needs something that actually reaches.” You never quite fought it. You blushed, you squirmed, and eventually you started getting hard from the humiliation itself. She noticed. She always notices.

Tonight is Halloween, and she has decided the theme of your couple’s costume will be “Honest Advertising.”

You walk into the living room holding two shopping bags. She is already on the couch in a black silk robe that keeps slipping open just enough to show the lace of her bra. She looks up from her phone and grins like she has been waiting all day for this exact moment.

“There he is. My little pumpkin. Did you get everything on the list?”

You set the bags down. Inside: a pair of skin-tight green elf pants two sizes too small, a matching tunic with a comically tiny codpiece sewn on the front, and a set of pointed ears. For her there is a dramatic black-and-crimson sorceress gown with a neckline that drops to her navel and a slit up the thigh that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

She stands, crosses to you, and plucks the elf pants from the bag like she is examining a particularly disappointing gift.

“These are perfect. Look how little fabric there is in the front. It’s like the manufacturer already knew what they were dealing with.” She holds them up against your crotch and tilts her head. “We’re going to have to shrink you a bit more before these even look occupied.”

You open your mouth to protest, the way you always do, half-hearted and already failing. She cuts you off with a soft laugh and a finger pressed to your lips.

“Shh. No speeches. You agreed last month when I told you the costume idea. You said, and I quote, ‘Whatever makes you happy, babe.’ Well, this makes me very happy.” She leans in, voice dropping into that warm, wicked register she uses when she is about to be merciless. “Besides, it’s not like anyone at the party is going to be shocked. Half of them already know my husband has a cute little stub instead of a real cock. Tonight we just make it official.”

She steps back, eyes sparkling with pure mischief, and starts untying the belt of her robe.

“Chapter one of our Halloween adventure starts right now. Clothes off. Measuring tape is on the coffee table. Ice bucket is in the kitchen. And if you’re very good, I might let you watch me try on my costume first… while that shy little penis of yours does its usual disappearing act.”

She lets the robe fall open completely.

“Your move, my sad little elf.”