I'm baaaaack! Ya girl got her car situation figured out, so I should be back for a while at least! Hope you like this, and if you want something a little more on the magical side of Halloween, go check out the Halloween series Syd is doing (link to her blog on the side as always). It's great! And once she's done posting it, Sammi and I will be posting an epilogue on respective pages on the 31st! Thanks to everyone for being so understanding and all the kinds words while I was away and I'm glad to be back!
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“Ugh, this bodysuit sucks!” Gwen complained. She was dressed up as Black Widow for this dumb Halloween party her friend Mason wanted to go to. It was a superhero theme, so he wore an unimpressive, lazy Iron Fist costume, while Gwen was stuck in a low-cut, form-fitting Black Widow outfit, complete with heels that made her feet scream just looking at them. That’s what she gets for letting Mason pick her outfit. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Mason replied, trying to placate her. “You look great!” She glared at him. “Yea, that’s cuz I actually put effort into this uncomfortable costume you picked,” she snapped back. “Unlike you, wearing a green sweatshirt and yellow bandana.” Mason raises his hands defensively. “Whoa, you said you didn’t want to pick a costume and told me to find you one. Sorry you don’t like it, but that’s on you.” She glared daggers at him, making him shrink back slightly. “M-maybe I went a bit overboard on yours compared to my own,” he squeaked out. “How about this: There’s another party next weekend. You can pick whatever costume you want for me. No complaints, no questions, I’ll wear it.” He holds out a hand. “Deal?” Gwen thinks it over for a moment. Then she gets an idea. “Deal.” She says, with a mischievous smirk, as she reaches out and shakes Mason’s hand.
“You can’t be serious!?” Mason shrieked as Gwen showed off the costume she picked out for him. “Ah ah ah,” Gwen replies in a semi-scolding tone. “You said no complaints or questions; you’d wear what I choose.” She smirks devilishly as she hands the black bodysuit to him. “And I chose the Black Widow costume you made me wear last week.” An expression of shock and bewilderment grows on Mason’s face as he takes the costume. “B-but this is a girl’s costume. It probably won’t even fit me,” he tries to rationalize. Gwen looks him up and down, then lets out a snort of a laugh. “No offense, Mason,” she begins, barely keeping her tone more comforting than mocking. “But you’re not exactly the most manly of men. It’ll fit fine. At least once we add a few… modifications to you.” Mason gulped as Gwen led him into her bedroom to get ready for the party.
Mason struggled to stay upright as he minced down the sidewalk toward the house, his legs already burning from the heels he barely got any time to practice in. Between his inexperience with them and the weight of the breast forms on his chest, it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen since they left Gwen’s. “God, these things are killing my back,” he complains. A strand of the red hair extensions is blown by the wind and gets stuck in his mouth as he speaks. “And this hair is so annoying. How do you deal with it?” Gwen just laughs and shrugs. “Welcome to womanhood, Maci. You’ll get used to it.” “Not likely,” Mason grumbles as they approach the house where the party is being held. “You ready?” Gwen asks Mason. “Do I really have a choice? You drove, and there is no way I’m walking back to yours in these death traps you call heels.” “Oh, lighten up! We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you won’t even notice the pain or discomfort,” Gwen reassures. “And if you try to lean into it, maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself.” Mason just rolls his eyes and follows her into the party.
Mason’s first stop once they entered the house was the drinks. He mixed himself a rum and Coke, heavy on the rum. He downed it before even leaving the table, so he made himself another one. “Damn, girl, take it easy,” Gwen said, mixing herself a drink as well. “We still have a long night of partying and drinking to do; no need to rush!” Mason takes a sip of his new drink before responding. “You said it yourself: the sooner I’m drunk, the sooner the discomfort goes away.” Gwen shrugs. “Fair enough, I suppose. Ooo, they got dart, let’s go see if anyone has next.” Gwen drags Mason along to the dartboard, queuing them up to play the winner.
The party went on without a hitch. Nobody seemed to suspect that the hottie in the Black Widow bodysuit was anything but just that: a hot woman. As much as that hurt his ego, it also made Mason’s nerves go down tremendously. The copious amounts of alcohol didn’t hurt either. Surprisingly, the drunker he got, the easier the heels were to manage. Without the constant pain and overthinking, he was actually starting to strut in them without any issue. That is, until he bumped into a large wall of a man in a caveman costume, spilling his drink all over him. “Oh, shit. Sorry, dude,” Mason slurred out. Looking up, he saw the towering figure of the man, looking down at him. The sheer size difference sent a shiver down Mason’s spine as he shrank back in fear of the man’s reaction. The man just looked down at him for a moment, then gave Mason the kindest smile he’d ever seen. “No problem, gorgeous,” his deep voice practically boomed. “It’s just a little spill. Here, let me get you a refill.” He reaches to grab the cup, intentionally lingering with his fingers on Mason’s. “U-uh, sure. T-thanks,” Mason’s manages to stammer out, his face almost as red as his hair as the towering man leads him to the drink station.
“So, what’s your name, Miss Widow?” Mason stares at this dark, imposing mountain of a man, not even registering the question. Something about him is just so… alluring. “You good?” He asks, snapping Mason out of his stupor. “Hmm? Yea, yes. I’m great. My name’s Mas… Maci.” The man smiles down at Maci. “Nice to meet you, Maci. I’m Darrell.” He hands Mason the drink. “Would you want to hit the dance floor with me, Maci?” Mason just stares up at him and nods, allowing his dainty hand to be taken into his much larger mitt as Darrell drags him onto the dance floor. They dance for a good while, but eventually Darrell leads Maci somewhere a little quieter so they can talk. This mostly consists of Darrell talking while Maci stares up at him with drunken curiosity, occasionally nodding at something he said, but she doesn’t register. After a couple minutes of this, Darrell realizes she hasn’t said anything and stops talking. “Is everything alright?” He asks, concern evident in his deep, sexy voice. “What? Oh, yeah, yeah. You're just fine,” Maci replies. Then her tone shifts into something a bit more sultry and suggestive. “Very fine.” In her drunken and confused state, Maci surprises herself as she decides to go for it and stands to meet his lips, barely reaching them, despite the hells and Darrell being seated. After a few passionate moments, they pull apart. “Damn, girl, beat me to it. I’d been planning on making my move since I saw you.” Maci blushes at his words as Darrell’s large, dark hand comes up to cup the side of her face. “So I’ll at least make the second one,” he says as he kisses her again, this time picking her up and taking her to one of the bedrooms for a night, she won’t soon forget.
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