Carved pumpkins, burning bright orange leaves, the smell of sugar fills the air. Spooky stories whispered illuminated by a flashlight under the chin. Strange creatures wander the streets and the festive spirit is at an all-time high…
Unless you are fucking degenerate that is.
The University town of Greenville was buzzing with excitement about the approaching “End of days”. Every Halloween turned this peaceful, dedicated to the pursuit of deep knowledge, place into complete pandemonium. It was the time for sorority and fraternity initiations and the creativity behind them was surprisingly mundane but also extremely destructive, since it revolved around humiliation, stupidity, and a lot of substance abuse.
Alpha Phi Alpha Sigma took center stage in front of the gates O-M-Chi Omega. The house resembled the aftermath of a bomb exploding in a very expensive Barbie’s vagina. The illegal amount of pink and curtains created a visual sore spot. If a bunch of idiots ran around and tossed toilet paper on it, it would not only not hurt the overall vibe but improve it. Which the guys from Alpha Phi Alpha Sigma did of course. But they were considered enough to use colored paper.
Garet knocked on the door by tossing a trash can at it. The entrance revealed three clones, or strong, female individuals if you asked their moms, who in the same high-pitched tone screeched ‘Tits or treat!’
As this place was renowned for its culture and history, the bimbos wore white robes, with edges barely concealing their babymaking organs. All three wore sandals with straps up to their knees and more material was used for the shoes than for the upper body coverage. Cleavages ran deep and the alcohol spilling between the massive bosoms promised fun times. No charge required!
But Garet was a man of substance. ‘Treat!’ the scoundrel said and bottles froze in the air. Those bottles were held by thin fingers ending in long pointy multi-colored manicures, an aesthetic choice clashing with the all-pure-ancient-greek-goddess look the ladies were going for.
Behind them, a mass of mainstream approved attractive young women, also wearing white robes, forgot to breathe. None had dared to refuse the tits fountain.
The middle one in the front, the leader, the one whose yellow hair stretched like a skyscraper on her bright brow, winked and turned around. With a practiced move, she grabbed the edges of her skirt and revealed her thong-clad buttocks. She slapped the meat with an appealing audible sound and laughter erupted in the house. The other two girls awarded the naked cheeks the same way and poured sparkling liquid across the shiny skin.
Garet jumped at the opportunity and slid right underneath the formed waterfall. A wide open mouth and thirsty tongue didn’t satisfy with just a taste from the falling drops. His face dug deep into the flesh. His nose pushed the thin strip of clothing deep in the ass crack and the sides of a bleached anus rested on his nostrils.
The man was gentlemen of old and didn’t sour the goods with his filthy man hands. Only his most delicate features basked on the woman’s offering. And as a such scholar of refined taste and behavior, he wouldn’t let a gift be left unreturned.
He stood up and his booming voice crushed poor notes into an epic ballad.
‘I’m gonna rub my dick for you
and there is nothing you can do.
You can scream about it,
you can dream about it,
but the cock is coming through!’
In the second line, more voices joined and a choir echoed through the neighborhood. Impressive feat considering the mayhem around.
They came from the bushes. All dressed like centurions. All looked like fitness models in their thirties failing to pass for 19-year old, barely out of their teen phase boys. Massive square-jawed motherfuckers, carrying shields, displaying all the mothers they had fucked.
A lot of similar faces filled the photo collages.
He waited for them to finish. They had other houses to attend to. And most of the others had already passed. The girls from O-M-Chi Omega looked disappointed. Those were the alphas, the sexy men the law demanded pretty girls like them to bone. But how could the young women know a lot of wives had husbands taking kids trick-or-treating and now those milfs chilled alone in their houses?
The door closed and through the shadows. He waited for some time, hidden behind the trashcan that was used to knock on the door several paragraphs above. How the guys missed him was a mystery but he was thankful for it.
The moment of action was upon him. The sounds of violent celebration moved away. The street was entering a quieter phase. The perfect opportunity for him to move.
He snuck onto the porch!
James was your typical nerd. An everyday normal guy you just miss in the crowd. Standing at a mere 6 foot 3, with wide strong shoulders and the physique of a god, held up by strong muscular thighs. He had a chin that could break coconuts, but he wore stupid round glasses and his haircut was kind of lame, being all short and generic, so women were not interested and guys didn’t want to play with him.
He knocked and giggles came from the other side of the door. Smiles turned to frowns after the gate swung open. The same three girls, with bottles ready to be spilled, lost all their appetite for shenanigans. James noticed another girl at their feet, with a bucket, ready to gather the alcohol. It surprised him to see someone as invisible in the midst of O-M-Chi Omega sorority.
Instead of an offering of silicon delight, he was met with ‘Whatcha want?’.
‘It’s Halloween,’ he began with no clear goal where he was going.
‘It is and what are you supposed to be? Nerd dressing like a dork is not much a costume,’ the middle girl said and the house exploded with laughter.
‘I just wanted…’
‘Some of these I bet,’ she leaned forward squshing her generous cleavage, letting her tongue go wild around her lips and making annoying spitty sounds like she was chewing gum in the most obnoxious way. ‘Well, too bad!’ She turned and grabbed the heads of the other two at her sides.
Whispering, glances behind her shoulder, laughter. All things to make any man scared for his safety.
‘Unless,’ she turned back to face him and winked.
Several arms extended from the doorframe and dragged the poor chap inside. The door slammed shut.
‘Oh, no,’ a token black character stood at the other side of the street, hiding behind yet another trashcan. ‘This is bad!’ he said and ran to never be seen again.
He dropped a foreshadowing picture. The illustration presented a laughing woman. A peculiar choice of facial expression, considering she was tied to a wooden pillar and a fiery inferno surrounded her. On top of the striking tableau, someone very carefully had positioned a pentagram with ancient writing around the points. And on top of that, someone in a hurry had placed a red line, striking the image from corner to corner.
‘Look what we have here, girls!’ The queen of this hell sorority hive tested her vocal strength. It was substantial. ‘A silly little boy playing at a man’s game.’
His body was tossed at the center. Stairs surrounded his demise and everywhere he looked white, blonde women stared at him. Numerous, all strikingly similar, like they were all made in a factory, made it impossible for him to concentrate on one face. With hunger and fire in their eyes, they moved around.
He lost focus and his glasses getting foggier with each laborious breath he took did nothing to improve his situation.
‘You don’t understand,’ he struggled to both speak and stand up but both actions were forbidden. A sandal materialized and stomped on his chest. The foot of the girl caved in a bit, landing in the solid crevice between his massive pecks but nobody has time to notice stuff like that.
‘His voice grates on me, gag him!’ The queen commanded.
Confusion fell upon her underlings. Despite the excessive amount of decoration around, there was not an obvious way to shut his mouth. One of them just shrugged and reached underneath her skirt. Her fingers dragged a pair of green thongs down her straight legs and a sliver of minge blossomed in front of him.