“And that’s…9 points of damage!” Jordan said, looking up from his polyhedrons. He was a lanky hundred-pound thing, noodle-limbed and taller than he had the body mass for. His videogame-logo emblazoned shirt hung loose on his frame, a hoodie draped over the back of his chair to help fight back the winter chill that approached. “Did I kill them?” he asked.

 

Yet despite his stretched out appearance, Jordan was not the tallest one in the room. That honor went to the woman behind the cardboard screen at the end of the table. Sintrae looked down upon her notes, hmm-ing to herself as her pencil made little scratches into the data. “You…barely killed the last zombie,” she said, her voice deep and smooth. She swept an errant lock of hair back behind her ear, exposing some of the spray of piercings that dotted the rim. “Which means Be’Kok now only has to make her death save every ten minutes, if someone wants to get her stabilized before she bleeds out.”

 

“Come onnn, don’t let me die!” came the voice of May, reaching out to her fellow players. If her big round glasses didn’t mark her as a particular kind of artsy nerd, her unironically worn beret absolutely did.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Derek countered, looking positively normie in this group. Which was to say, he was in okay shape, and besides their tabletop group, he was mostly into highly marketable superheroes. “We can automatically stabilize with a potion, right?” he asked, looking to Sintrae.

 

“That’s only in two-point-five and forward. This is based off the Advanced edition, so you’ll have to make a medicine check to save her life, Rhodan,” Sintrae said.

 

Poor Derek winced, sucking in air through his teeth. “Alright, alright. Let’s see…” He tossed the twenty-sided die onto the table, watching it bounce and roll until it settled in the center. A big, fat 12 sat there looking at them all, looming heavy.

 

“That’s…Okay, add my medicine skill, so…14?” Derek offered, looking to Sintrae.

 

She wasn’t smiling.

 

Oh, that was a bad sign.

 

May let out a long, slow groan, slumping against the table. “All my character development,” she whimpered, despite the fact that this was still the early days of a new campaign.

 

Jordan frowned to himself. That didn’t seem right at all. His last character had been a storyteller, like Rhodan, and the class came with– “Derek, did you add the story and song bonus?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t! Can I add that?” Derek asked, his attention snapping from Jordan back to Sintrae.

 

For her part, the gothic woman gave the tiniest little smile. “It would apply…”

 

Frantically, Derek scoured his sheet for the bonus, for the obscure little feature that made storytellers such renowned dabblers, until he found it. “Ah ha! I have another +1, so, 15! Does that do it?”

 

Silence sat heavy upon the table. The three players stared at their game master, each hoping this campaign wouldn’t get derailed almost as soon as it started…Until, at last, Sintrae’s smile widened from behind intertwined fingers. “It’s just barely enough. As you remember the tale of Roderick and his breast of red, you tie the bandages extra tightly to keep pressure on Be’Kok’s wounds…And thus keep all that remaining blood inside her body. Now then, as a calm settles over the battlefield. . .”

 

***

 

“. . . And that will be where we end today,” Sintrae said. A full hour of play later, and after much careful debating and camping, they had finally found the lost temple to the Hollowed King…which was transparently just a cheap plastic jack-o-lantern with a little entrance archway of foamcore ‘bricks’ glued on. Because this was, after all, a Halloween adventure.

 

“I can’t believe how hard just getting here was,” May said, packing away the colored pencils that coded her character sheet. “We’re all going to die to a pumpkin, aren’t we?”

 

Sintrae gave a shrug. “You never know. Maybe the temple itself is a peaceful place,” she said, despite all evidence to the contrary. “Oh, will anyone be coming to the party at the comic shop? It’s officially a costume party, so dress your best.”

 

Jordan groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Now I’ve got to find a costume…The stores are all going to be picked clean by now.”

 

“Say…What if we went as our characters? All the licensed stuff will be bought out, but the generic stuff should still be available!” May said, her excitement visibly building at the thought of continued self-expression.

 

Derek nodded along, grinning. “That’s a great idea! I’ll have to get a lute or something for Rhodan…Oh, man, what about one of those little tiny toy ukeleles? It’ll be perfect!”

 

For his part, Jordan gave a laugh. “I’ll have to dig out Sir Pentine and figure out how to do a snake tail…” Because, obviously, there was no way he was going to go dressed up as Madame Shadow. Don’t be ridiculous. He just played her because the Sorcereress class got different, better bonuses than the male Warlocks. Naturally.

 

May paused. “I mean…You’ve got the body type for a cocktail dress, Jordan…” she said, eyeing him up.

 

“Come on, dude, we’re both going as our new characters,” Derek said.

 

The next laugh that came out of Jordan’s mouth was rather more nervous. “Nooo, don’t be silly. Cocktail dresses are for, you know, women. And I’m a guy. I obviously would look ridiculous in one…No way, I’m just gonna be a snake guy with a drum, it’ll be fine,” he said, looking for some acknowledgment from the rest of his group.

 

Acknowledgment they did not give him. “Guys? I’m serious. I’m not going to be Madame Shadow for Halloween, I refuse, there’s no way I’m going to come in a dress!”

 

Derek looked from Jordan, to Sintrae, back to Jordan again. “Why don’t we roll for it?” he asked, a most mischievous grin splitting his chiseled features.

 

“I am willing to adjudicate,” Sintrae offered.

 

Which meant Jordan was outvoted.

 

He bit back a whole array of…well, not curses, the poor boy was too sheltered to have many of those in his repertoire. But he certainly bit back a lot of upset language, as he grabbed his d20. “Fine,” he spat, and tossed it on the table before he could think better of the situation.

 

The die bounced, rolled, and landed.

 

Nineteen. Just shy of critical success. Jordan felt a relief through him, at not having to engage with or question anything further. He was almost completely safe…And when Derek’s own die landed, he looked up to see it settling on a 15. Far below what it would need to be for this to coun–

 

“Rhodan is victorious,” Sintrae declared.

 

Jordan sputtered in the middle of his own thoughts, eyes snapping up from the table to his game master. “Wh–No! I rolled a 19!” he said, pointing emphatically to his die.

 

“Yes…But Madame Shadow has a minus one charisma modifier. Rhodan has a plus three…And adds his Story and Song bonus.”

 

Derek and May broke into cheers, high-fiving across the table. Jordan, for his part, sank as deep into his seat as he possibly could, a new weight sinking deep into his stomach. There was no getting out of this now. He was going to have to do it.

_____

 

Jordan drove off the freeway and got into the turnaround, before eventually pulling into the parking lot of a rundown and desolate stripmall. Despite there seemingly being open stores there, it was hard to imagine anyone shopped at them.

        The only store that did seem to have signs of life was the Lost Souls Halloween store, with its large orange banner resting on the largest commercial space on the concrete blight.

        Jordan sighed in his car, before eventually climbing out.

        *Nobody is going to care if I get a girly Halloween costume . . . this is the ONE day of the year nobody will care if I crossdress.*

        Jordan entered the store and looked around the fluorescent lit building. A few punky looking people covered in tattoos stood behind the checkout counter. A variety of people were looking around at costumes, most of them women in their 20s getting revealing costumes.

        As Jordan thought about leaving the store, a goth approached him and clasped their hands together.

        “Are you looking for anything?”

        Jordan studied the figure; he was a femboy dressed up in black laces and silks, with a long thin pipe resting between his fingers. The only sign he was an employee was a printed name tag resting inside of a piece of orange plastic, which read “Raven”.

        Jordan found it difficult to look at Raven in the eyes as he spoke to him. “Yeah, I’m . . . looking for a sorceress costume.” After a brief pause, he felt a need to justify himself. “My friends are making me dress up as my Gates & Griffins character. It’s a, uh, an OSR game . . .”

        Raven pretended to think for a moment, before raising a finger. “Ah, I know exactly what you need! Follow me.”

        Jordan watched as Raven walked into a womens’ aisle, and he gulped. *It was a mistake to accept the bet . . . I think I’ll just not dress as Madame Shadow . . . I won’t go to the Halloween party at all. I’ll just stay home and watch Ranma.*

        The employee eventually stopped and picked a revealing black outfit off of a rack. It came with a large crimson beehive wig. The model on the packaging was a crossdresser.

        “This costume will be perfect for you! It’s made for AMAB people, has cheap falsies, and even a wig! Oh, and it’s also a Cynthia costume! You know Cynthia, right? Madame of Horror?”

        Jordan tried to find a place to rest his eyes, as he hoped he could stop existing. “Uh, no, I haven’t really . . .”

        Raven smiled, and briefly paused to inhale from his long pipe. The fake bowl at the end glowed purple, and the smoke (mist?) that came from his dark lips smelled vaguely like lavender… “Follow me, I have something for you.”

        Jordan’s concerns couldn’t find space to be voiced because of how overbearing and powerful the goth’s presence felt. His every attempt felt squashed under a lavender-scented weight, his head swimming in it. And despite himself, he was starting to feel like…he’d just hurt Raven’s feelings if he said he didn’t want the costume. So he had to take it. Obviously. He followed him into the back of the store, into a largely barren room with a small block of lockers against the wall. Raven turned the dial on his locker until it opened, and then pulled out a VHS tape.

        “Here, you can have this with your costume. It’s a tape of one of Cynthia’s shows, where she riffed on Cannibal Sluts IX.”

        Jordan meekly accepted the tape, as well as the plastic bag holding the costume, from Raven. He didn’t fully understand why he would own a tape of a random show; he must’ve really been a fan . . .

        “Well, uh, thanks . . . I guess I’ll head out and pay for this.”

        Raven inhaled from his pipe again. Thus came the smell again, the mist having even less place to go in this confined space. “Nonsense! Nobody will see you if you just leave out the employee exit in the back! This will just be our little secret; what’s a little shrinkage between friends?” And thus, any protest Jordan could have had was squashed, just like that.

        Jordan hesitantly walked out the back of the building, and began to circle back around to his car. The store was busy enough that there was no risk of anyone seeing him with his haul through the front window. He climbed into his car and put a message into the group chat.

        *I think I’m coming down with something, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it to the Halloween party. I hope you all have a really fun time!*

_____

 

Jordan returned to his apartment, threw his new costume and tape onto his bed, and then collapsed next to it, a sigh escaping him. The entire trip to the Halloween store had been stressful. His knees still felt weak, and he was only just now regaining his breath.

        But a part of Jordan also felt . . . excited. The Cynthia costume wasn’t exactly how he imagined Madame Shadow looking, but . . .

        He picked up the plastic bag and popped off the button on the back, before letting it slide out onto his bed. He hadn’t even noticed before that the costume also came with stockings, topped with elastic and black lace.

        *Even though I’m not going to the party, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to . . . try this on.*

        Jordan began to remove his clothes, as he slowly started to get hard. His erection troubled him, and he reminded himself he wasn’t a pervert. The erection was . . . just a coincidence.

        After he’d stripped down to only his underwear, he began to put on the cheap black dress, which would be identifiable in any context as having been part of a cheap-ish Halloween costume. He realized he’d forgotten to put on the breast forms, which were meant to be worn like a bra. *I’ll have to circle around to those, maybe.*

        Jordan began to pull the cheap stockings up his legs, cursing at the feeling of them interacting with the hair on his legs. He turned to look at the wig, but a thought entered his mind.

        *I . . . I really should put on the breast forms first.*

        Jordan slid the upper half of the dress off of his torso, struggled to put on the breast forms, and then slid it back on. The fit was a little awkward, the breasts maybe a little too large relative to how emaciated the rest of his body looked. But at least the dress fit alright around his shoulders.

        He finally turned and studied the crimson wig. The ridiculous beehive seemed off putting. Jordan touched his long and ungroomed brown hair as he studied it.

        *Do . . . do I really need to wear the wig? I think my own hair will be just fine. Certainly more in-line with Madame Shadow’s appearance . . .*

        He hesitantly picked it up, and simply placed it onto his head, not even bothering with the wig cap included with the costume.

        He began to feel a wet, cold sensation on his scalp, as if a hairdresser were massaging some kind of product into his hair. Jordan’s brow furrowed in concern, and his erection began to falter as his eyelids drooped.

        He slowly descended onto his back, and sank into his mattress, as he was overcome with sleep.

_____

 

Tyler sat on his couch anxiously, parked uncomfortably close to his TV, and stared at the blank screen..

        A girl was coming over! Tyler had never thought something like this could happen! The choices leading up to this moment kept replaying in his head.

        He’d made a profile on a dating app, and he’d mentioned that he liked horror movies. He got a DM from the girl, or rather, 38 year old woman who’d asked if he’d want to watch something.

        She’d told him not to “expect anything”. Tyler nervously whined as his hands grew increasingly sweaty. They already sweat a lot during the best of times, but they currently were practically drenched

        He heard three loud knocks, and he nervously staggered to his feet, taking a moment to wipe his palms on his sweatpants. He walked up to the door and opened it.

        Sanguina stood before him, holding a couple of Blu-Rays and DVDs, staring down at him. He was a diminutive 5’6”, and she was an entire foot taller than him, even without her platform shoes. She wore black lipstick, had black hair, and wore black clothes. She spoke with a low and snarky voice.

        “Is this how you dress?”

        Tyler whimpered as he looked at his gray Arachno-Man shirt and oversized sweatpants hanging off of his emaciated frame.

        “u-uh yeah . . .”

        Sanguina gently moved him out of her way as she settled down on his couch. “So, what are we watching?”

        Tyler sat down on the couch cushion next to her and picked up his remote. “w-well i was thinking we could see something fun, like . . . Cry of Terror VII.”

        The woman, seventeen years his senior, smugly grinned. “What? Are you afraid of getting scared?” She then noticed how close Tyler was to her, and she pushed his shoulder lightly. “Move over a little, don’t push your luck.”

        The dumb nerd whimpered. “s-sorry! i, uh, i think it’s a good movie . . .”

        Sanguina pulled out one of her movies from her stack. “This one is a personal favorite of mine; SOUL REMOVAL: UNPERSON.”

        Tyler whimpered as he looked at the spooky box art, which showed a young woman’s face seemingly melting into some kind of black slime. “i, i dunno . . .”

        The goth woman cruelly grinned. “Well . . . if you get scared, I guess you can cuddle with me. And I think I could spend the night, if you have trouble going to sleep.”

        Tyler made submissive sounds as he moved closer to his guest.