The line for the hayride stretched all the way back through the western gate of campus. It was the Saturday before Halloween, the moon was full, and Laurel Lane stood shivering in line.

 

“This line is fucking bonkers,” she said.

 

“It’s supposed to be worth it,” responded Katie.

 

“Don’t you think it’s kinda weird to come to college parties after you’ve graduated?” Laurel asked.

 

“No one has to know I’ve graduated!” whispered Katie, eyeing the group of girls standing in front of them.

 

Laurel was currently a senior at the University of Monroe, a two-hour drive away. Her sister, Katie, had graduated from MSU two years ago and now lived outside of Spring City. Katie had texted Laurel begging her to drive over to MSU this weekend, convincing her that the drive would be worth it because, in her own words, this would be the best damn Halloween party Laurel had ever been to. Katie had neglected to mention that the party in question was a bonfire you could only get to via hayride.

 

“How did you even hear about this thing?”

 

“Well, first, Emma DeBruyne posted about it—”

 

“Who the hell is Emma DeBruyne?”

 

“You don’t know Emma? MSU Cheerleader? Influencer? Dating one of the richest guys on campus?”

 

Laurel shrugged, “I’m not too active on social media.”

 

“You’re so weird,” Katie shook her head.

 

Although the two girls were sisters, this wasn’t obvious at first glance. Katie was a brunette who stood about 5’8”. Laurel, on the other hand, was a redhead who stood at a towering 5’11”. Laurel had pale skin, while Katie had more of an olive tone. The one attribute they did share was their bright green eyes.

 

“I should have brought a thicker coat,” Laurel moaned. She wore a green sweater over blue jeans and fur-lined boots. She glanced over at Katie’s even less appropriate outfit: a black crop top underneath a leather jacket. Thank God she’s wearing jeans and not shorts.

 

“You look like you could use a thicker coat too,” Laurel pointed out.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Just sayin’. You’re 23 now. Time to move on from the crop tops.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

The line finally started to move as one of the hayrides returned. From what Laurel had gathered, they were running three different tractors tonight just to handle all the demand. At this point, Laurel and Katie had been waiting for about twenty minutes.

 

A group of male students in red flannels were walking up and down the line. One was approaching the sisters now, and Laurel instinctively reached for her wallet to pull out her ID. She had just turned 21 in August, and she grew oddly excited whenever she was carded. So, she was surprised when she went to hand the guy her ID and he waved her off.

 

“No ma’am, I’ve got something for you,” he said, handing her a small flyer.

 

Laurel grabbed the flyer and scanned it. “Return MSU to its roots… vote Cantwell Becker IV for Student Government President,” she read out loud. “Hell of a name,” she giggled, glancing at Katie. But Katie wasn’t smiling.

 

Laurel had failed to notice that the male student hadn’t moved on, but was still standing in front of her. He was frowning and holding his hand out, palm up. He had matted brown hair that peeked out from underneath a well-worn trucker hat.

 

“I thought you said you didn’t want my ID?”

 

He didn’t respond, remaining mute and motionless.

 

“He doesn’t want your ID,” said Katie, rifling through her purse. “He wants a donation.”

 

“A donation for what?”

 

“For Chuck Becker’s campaign.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

“No… I’m not,” she laughed nervously before pulling out a $20 bill. “Here, that should cover the both of us.”

 

“But I don’t even go here!” Laurel snapped. “Why should I donate to this dude’s campaign? Who even cares about student government?”

 

The male student reached out and grabbed the $20 bill. He gave Laurel one last lingering glance—too long for her liking—before moving on to the next group.

 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out of this party before we even get there,” Katie sighed.

 

“Yeah, and I would’ve saved you 20 bucks,” Laurel muttered. She looked at the flyer again, scanning the smiling face that stared back at her. Cantwell Becker IV… something about this guy… seems off. He was handsome enough, sure, but why go through all this for some student gov position?

 

The low rumble of an approaching tractor interrupted her thoughts. “We’re getting closer,” Katie said with a hint of excitement.

Yes, Laurel thought, but closer to what?

 

***

 

Chuck paced back and forth in the hay enclosure. The full moon hung above him, complementing the light of the jack-o’-lanterns.

 

“And that’s why I’m voting for Chuck Becker!”

 

He turned around. “Very good, Jackson. One more time.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said before launching into his speech again. Chuck returned to his pacing.

 

Emma DeBruyne sat on one of the haybales, legs crossed. She, like all the girls that were “working” the party, now wore a dirndl. Hers was light blue; Chuck had picked it out himself.

 

Chuck listened as Jackson ran through his speech again. Making him practice it for a fifth time was probably overkill, but everything had to be perfect tonight. They were expecting over 500 students to attend this evening. Much of that was thanks to Emma’s advertising, but word of mouth helped too. A captive audience will be good, yes, but how captive do I want them? It was a debate Chuck had been having internally all night.

 

“And that’s why I’m voting for Chuck Becker!”

 

“Thanks, Jackson. I think you’ve got it down now.”

 

Jackson smiled, “Thank you, sir.”

 

Chuck stared up at the moon. There wasn’t much wind in the enclosure, but the night air was still refreshingly cool. Despite all his planning, Chuck still felt a twinge of anxiety deep within him. What am I nervous for? The wheels were set in motion weeks ago. My victory is inevitable.

 

But the twinge didn’t go away. He turned to face Emma. His eyes hungrily roamed over her body. Her long, bare legs—her full breasts which looked like they could pop out of her light-blue bodice any second now. 

 

“Emma,” Chuck said, walking towards her, “although I’m confident about tonight’s outcome, I can’t help but feel a little stressed. Some nerves are natural, I suppose.” He stood across from her now. He reached out and held her chin gently in his hand. “I need you to help me with that, okay?”

 

She looked up at him with dazed eyes and a dreamy smile. “Of course,” she said, standing up. She then turned around so that her back was facing Chuck and bent over. Her hands reached around and pulled her skirt up and over her ass, presenting herself to him. Her light-blue thong was nestled tight between two tanned cheeks.

 

“Sir, should I leave?” asked Jackson meekly.

 

“No, you can stand right there and watch,” Chuck ordered.

 

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson, before bringing his right hand up to his forehead in a salute. Chuck laughed—that was a special gesture he had programmed into Jackson specifically.

 

Returning to the beautiful image before him, Chuck reached out to Emma’s tan ass, grabbing two handfuls. He gently kneaded her cheeks before reaching up to the waistband of her light-blue thong. He slowly dug his fingers underneath the waistband, gripping the elastic tight. Then he gradually pulled it down over her ass, revealing her tight pussy and asshole. He pulled the thong down her thighs and let it fall around her ankles.

 

“You ready for this, Emma?”

 

“Yes, Mr. President.”

 

Chuck smiled. That was Emma’s special programming. He liked it so much he thought he might make the other girls do it too. He made a mental note to take it up with Maggie and Olivia next time he ran into them.

 

With that, he spat into his hand and started rubbing it onto his growing dick. A few more strokes—and a few more globs of spit—and he was at full mast, ready to go. He pressed the tip of his cock to Emma’s folds. The initial contact made him shudder. She had no reaction, her hands remained on the haybale, her eyes stared straight ahead. He took a second to savor the moment before continuing to press into her.

 

Her opening yielded to the pressure, her folds enveloped his first inches as he pushed forward gently with his hips. A soft groan escaped his lips as he felt her tightness around him. He grabbed her hips with both hands, digging his fingers into her soft, tan flesh. Gripping her hips, he thrust forward with determination and buried his entire shaft in her pussy. He groaned loudly this time, leaning forward until his nose was pressed between her shoulder blades. He remained still for a couple seconds, allowing her hole to stretch around his girth, giving her a moment to get used to his presence.

 

When the moment had passed, he stood up again, his hands still gripping her waist. He pulled his hips back so that only the tip of his cock was still inside her, then quickly thrust forward. The sound of his groin quickly coming into contact with her ass produced a loud slap. He pulled back and drove forward again, this time even faster. Slap. The warmth of her pussy—the tightness and the wetness of it—was almost too much for him to process. No, he was certain that if he even tried to process it, he would come instantly.

Slap, slap, slap. He had found his rhythm now. Her ass was only separated from his crotch for a brief second before they slammed back into each other. Her cheeks molded to the shape of his groin, offering a delicate cushion to meet his thrusts. He could feel her pussy clenching down on his cock, her tightness doing its best to drain him of everything he had. No, I’m not ready yet. He thought he could even hear some subtle moans coming from Emma.

 

He quickened the pace of his thrusts now. He could feel the tension in his groin growing. His cock slid in and out of her, her lips always gripping him, ensuring that his full length couldn’t ever quite escape. Then he would plunge his dick back into her as her pussy gripped him tight. The slaps were louder and quicker. Her own moans grew louder too, although they were still subdued in her trance. He reached forward and grabbed her long brown hair, forcing her to arch her back.

 

“You’re such a little slut,” he whispered between groans. He felt his climax approaching, felt the tightness in his loins, felt the need for release. Release here, inside Emma DeBruyne. Inside one of the most popular girls at MSU. Her pussy was squeezing his cock. She was begging for it, even if she didn’t know it. A few more seconds. That’s all I’ve got.

 

He thrust into her with his full weight, forcing their bodies apart and together again. And then he could no longer hold it back—he emptied himself into her, she drained him of all he had. His dick spasmed for what felt like minutes. He bent over her, his stomach in the small of her back, his chest on her upper back, his nose in her hair. It smelled of lavender. He continued to grind his hips into her ass even after his climax had subsided. 

 

“Thank you, Emma, I needed that,” he whispered, still bent over her. Slowly he stood himself back up and pulled his softening dick out of her. “Make sure to keep up with your birth control.”

 

“Yes, Mr. President.”

 

Chuck turned to Jackson, who stood only a few feet away, still saluting. “Thank you both, you may leave now. Jackson, I look forward to hearing your speech later.”

 

“Thank you, sir. I hope it’s to your liking,” he said, waiting as Emma pulled her thong back up and pulled her skirt down over her ass. When she was done, the two walked out of the enclosure arm in arm.

 

Now alone, Chuck walked over to his prized possession. In the warm glow of the flickering jack-o'-lantern's grinning face, he ran his fingers along the colossal gourd. The ambient light played tricks with the shadows, casting eerie shapes across the space. The giant pumpkin was cool and slightly clammy. His fingertips followed the subtle, ridged contours of the its skin, each groove a gentle undulation under his touch. The pumpkin's skin bore witness to its growth, like rings in a tree, echoing the story of countless days in the sun and earth.

 

A soft cough came from behind him. Chuck turned around to find Hunter standing in the entrance.

 

“Yes?”

 

“We got that stage and audio equipment set up proper,” Hunter said. “There’s a whole mess of folks out there.”

 

“Good.”

 

“You oughta come out. They’re fixin’ to be lookin’ for ya soon.”

 

“I will,” Chuck said, turning back to the jack-o’-lantern. “But first, I need you to do something for me.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Grab Dylan and go fetch one of those flatbed carts,” he said, patting the giant pumpkin. “I want this thing on wheels.”

 

***

When the hayride finally came to a stop, Laurel did a double (perhaps even a triple) take. There wasn’t just one bonfire, but several fires spread out over the distance. Country music blasted out across the field, and Laurel guessed that there were several hundred students here.

 

“This is absurd,” she whispered to Katie.

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Katie sighed.

 

One by one, other students began to exit the hayride. Immediately after stepping out, two girls handed red solo cups to both Laurel and Katie.

 

“Marzen lager, brewed from ingredients grown right here on the ag reserve!” one said, proudly.

 

“Uh, thanks,” said Laurel, before giving Katie a confused glance. When they were a safe distance away, Laurel whispered, “Well, at least we’re getting our money’s worth.”

 

“My money’s worth,” Katie corrected her.

 

“Whatever. Hey, what the hell were those girls wearing, by the way?” Laurel looked back. The girls looked like they were straight out of Germany or something.

 

“Not sure. I think it’s some Oktoberfest thing.”

 

“How are they not freezing to death? They’re not wearing tights or anything!”

 

“Alcohol blanket? Who knows! It’s a college party, girls are gonna wear whatever they want.”

 

“You better start building your own alcohol blanket. Regretting that crop top yet?”

 

“No,” Katie muttered before taking a sip from her cup.

 

The sisters walked to the closest fire, but found that all the haybales were taken, and so they continued walking through the field. It seemed like every fire had five or six kegs nearby, and almost everyone had a red solo cup in their hands.

 

“You’re not getting, like, Jonestown vibes from this, right?”

 

“What’s Jonestown?”

 

“Nevermind.”

 

As they kept walking, the country music slowly began to die down. In its place, a male voice boomed out: “Testing… testing…”

 

Laurel squinted. In the distance she could see an elevated platform. “I think there’s a stage over there.”

 

“I think you’re right,” said Katie. Laurel noticed some of the students get up from their haybales and begin walking over in the stage’s direction.

 

“Think we’ll get to hear from Cantwell himself?”

 

“Don’t be annoying. If he’s throwing this party he can have a little speech if he wants to.”

 

Laurel could see a tall man take the stage. His voice projected over the field, but they weren’t close enough to hear him clearly yet. As they got closer, more and more people began walking alongside them. Soon they were as close to the stage as they could get, and they were still about 100 feet away. The crowd of students in front of the stage was large, and more were filling in behind them.

 

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jackson Barrett, a senior and proud MSU Husker.”

 

“Holy shit,” Katie whispered. “That’s who Emma DeBruyne’s dating!”

 

“Woah,” said Laurel, trying to sound interested. Deciding that whatever speech this was would be terribly boring, she turned to scanning the crowd instead. And something immediately caught her eye.

 

“Yo, Katie,” she said, nudging her with her elbow. “There are more girls wearing those weird German outfits! There’s a ton of them, actually. Clearly, we didn’t get the memo.”

 

A loud shushing sound came from behind them. Laurel turned around to see a guy in a red flannel and trucker hat. It took her a second to realize it was the same guy that had handed her the flyer in line for the hayride. He was staring daggers at her now.

 

“Is there a problem?” she said.

 

He didn’t answer, choosing instead to continue glaring at her.

 

“Didn’t think so,” Laurel said, turning back around.

 

“Now, I’ve spoken to Chuck Becker about his vision for our school. And boy, does he have a vision. I’ve never met someone who cared so deeply about the future of MSU. And someone who hated UMon so much!”

 

This last sentence drew loud cheers from the crowd, and several students raised their cups in a toast. Yup, definitely Jonestown vibes. Laurel began pouring her beer discretely onto the ground.

 

Laurel glanced up to see if Katie had noticed, but Katie was no longer standing next to her.

 

“Now, many of you know that I was considering running for President as well. But all it took was one conversation with Chuck to make me realize that he’s the right man for the job.”

 

Laurel spun around. Katie was nowhere to be found. Even with her height, Laurel couldn’t spot her in the crowd.

 

“On behalf of Chuck, I want to thank you all for your generous donations to his campaign. When you think about it, though, it’s not really a donation. I like to think of it as an investment in the future of our campus.”

I’ve got to get out of here. Laurel began pushing through the crowd the way that she and Katie had come. A few elbows here, a few shoves there, and she was slowly making progress.

 

“With Chuck as our Student Government President, we’ll finally be able to return MSU to its roots. Did you know his great grandfather donated the very land we’re standing on?”

 

Finally, Laurel broke free from the crowd. She scanned the distance, looking for any sign of Katie. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light of the fires. After a few moments, she thought she could see a girl that looked like Katie flanked between two men walking in the direction of the cornfield.

 

“Katie! KATIE!” Laurel yelled out. She started running.

 

“And that’s why I’m voting for Chuck Becker!”

 

Laurel heard a great roar come over the crowd behind her. She was sprinting now. Although she couldn’t be certain, she thought that Katie and the two men were running too.

 

Laurel ducked as a pumpkin whizzed past her face. An idiot with a baseball bat issued a meager apology as she ran past. She watched in horror as Katie disappeared into the cornfield with the men.

 

“KATIE!” Laurel screamed as she ran. She was running out of breath now.

 

After another minute of running, Laurel was at the edge of the cornfield. Where did they go in? She ran along the edge of the corn, trying to find an entrance. Finally she stumbled upon a gap in the stalks.

 

Laurel entered cautiously. She wasn’t sure what—or who—to expect. All she heard was the night wind blowing over the cornstalks. The moon was her only source of light.

 

Then, in what was one of the most surreal moments of her life, she saw two girls step out of the corn and into the path. They had come from separate sides, and both wore the strange German costumes Laurel hated so much.

 

“Hello!” said the brunette. “Can we help you?” 

 

“I’m looking for my sister, Katie. She’s brunette, a couple inches shorter than me. Wearing a black leather jacket.”

 

“Oh, yes,” said the blonde, smiling. “We saw her walk through earlier. She said she wanted to do the haunted corn maze.”

 

“Haunted corn maze, huh?” Laurel eyed the girls suspiciously. She took a step closer. “I need you to take me to her, now.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said the brunette. “We have no idea where she’s at. But I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”

 

“That doesn’t work for me.”

 

“I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to wait for her,” said the blonde.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your names?”

 

“I’m sorry, how rude!” said the brunette. “I’m Maggie and this is Olivia. And you are?”

 

“I’m Laurel,” she said, taking another step closer. “And I’m going to keep walking now.”

 

The two girls stepped closer together, blocking Laurel’s path. “If you refuse to follow directions, we’ll have to alert The Fourth.”

 

“Shit, I’ll alert The Fourth myself. Just take me to him.”

 

“Not an option,” said Maggie.

 

Laurel paused and weighed her options. These two bitches didn’t seem like they were going to give in. And there was no way in hell she was giving up. She let out a long sigh.

 

Then, pointing to the left of the girls, she screamed, “Is that a floating pumpkin?!”

 

The girls turned in the direction Laurel pointed. Then, in an instant, Laurel flung her fist at Maggie, hitting her square in the chin. Her jaw snapped to the side and she collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll.

 

The blonde barely had a moment to process what happened before Laurel was behind her. She quickly reached around Olivia with her right arm and trapped her in a headlock. With her right leg, Laurel swiped Olivia’s legs out from under her and both girls fell to the ground.

 

Laurel’s back was on the ground and Olivia lay writhing on top of her. Laurel had her right elbow tucked snugly underneath Olivia’s chin and pressed her head forward with her left hand. “Don’t fight it,” Laurel whispered into her ear.

 

But Olivia did try to fight it. Her legs convulsed; her arms tried in vain to scratch at Laurel’s face. But within a few seconds, Olivia’s movements became sluggish and sporadic. Within a few more seconds, she was limp. Laurel rolled Olivia’s unconscious body off of her and stood up.

 

The two girls were both knocked out, but not for long. In the shuffle, both of their outfits had suffered wardrobe malfunctions. Maggie’s skirt was up around her waist, and Olivia’s tits had popped out of her bodice as she tried to fight off the sleeper hold.

Have to keep moving. They’ll be coming to any second now. Laurel glanced up at the dark path in front of her. You fucking owe me for this, sis.

 

Laurel took a deep breath, glanced up at the moon, and stepped forward into the darkness.