tagSci-Fi & FantasyOctober 31, 10:06 AM

October 31, 10:06 AM

byYDB95©

He hated Halloween anyway. Just as well that he had to work that day, although the flashy dancers on the subway to the office didn't help; but he was used to putting a stop to those desires whenever they bubbled up. With the trip to work over, so was that particular crisis, and with any luck, so was his worrying about Halloween. No need to worry about handing out candy, no costume parties to agonize over, and most of all, no risk of reliving the fantasies his mother had taken such pleasure in punishing him over.

Those were an issue all year long, of course, with the consequences ranging from the mildly humiliating ("Leave your penis alone, dear") to the outrageous punishments he managed to no longer dwell on. But it was those few days in October, when women traipsed about dressed as witches and nurses and princesses and ballerinas, which had always brought out the nastiest of thoughts. They had also carried the worst risk of getting caught, since he'd gone at it rather more often then, with all that temptation. He could still feel the sting on his buttocks and thighs if he thought too long about it all, which fortunately he rarely did. Even now that he was a man, living safely on his own where he could cope with the guilt on his own terms on those occasions when he couldn't resist, the nasty memories were enough to make him break out in a cold sweat on a bad day. But today, in his button-down office with the ladies all in professional businesswear, would not be a bad day. It would just be another day.

The fire bell rang just after ten o'clock, clanging just a bit faster than it had last week, and the hammer went crashing through the window as they all filed down the stairway. Joe-Bob, the bouncer from the club downstairs, was looking tired but alert as he herded them all out to the sidewalk, where the gang of jazz dancers he'd seen before were still prancing noisily up the way while he and his officemates cooled their heels in the October sunshine. The women in their leotards had nearly driven his blood pressure through the roof the first time, and once again he felt the unwanted titillation even as he couldn't tear his eyes away. Perhaps the sight could inoculate him for the remainder of Halloween, and he'd make it through without any further guilt.

Or so he thought.

"Fall in!" came the voice of old Coach Jamison for the first time since eighth grade gym class, and he wondered where on earth that could have come from. But when he looked around there was only Joe-Bob directing everyone into two lines to go back inside. Dutifully he got in the queue and waited.

Joe-Bob opened the door, and the two lines started to move -- then came to an abrupt stop. "Hold it, everyone!" came a cheerful female voice from behind him -- Sally from Accounting. "I'm naked! It's best you let a vulnerable lady go first!" His head whipped around, and sure enough, Sally was striding up the walk between the two lines. She was smiling, confident, and clothed from the waist up in her usual blouse and sweater while her leather pumps clicked smartly against the cement. But she wore no pants or panties, and her bush was as readily visible as her face. It was trimmed but lush, just as well-groomed as Sally always looked fully clothed.

He gaped shamelessly as Sally climbed up the steps and walked casually inside. Just as the lines were about to move, he heard it again, this time in a different voice -- Carol from provider credentials. "Hold it, everyone! I'm naked! It's best you let a vulnerable lady go first!" Like Sally before her, Carol was only partially naked -- the same part -- and he gawked in amazement as she strode by without a care in the world. Her bush was smaller and blonder than Sally's, and her face was just as lacking in embarrassment at her unorthodox state of undress. Sally and Carol opened the door together and meandered in side by side, laughing together from the looks of it, their naked white buttocks shameless in the bright October sun.

The bizarre sight had an odd ring of familiarity to it -- where had he heard that line about vulnerable ladies before? -- but there was no time to ponder that matter. Before he knew just what had transpired, he felt himself borne forcefully off the ground. "Enjoying the show, pal?!" came Coach Jamison's voice, accompanied by Joe-Bob's harsh grip. "You don't respect the ladies' privacy, let's just give you a front row seat, huh?"

"But, I...!" He tried to protest but the words wouldn't form, as it occurred to him now that he didn't even understand what he'd just seen. A horrible sense of guilt washed over him; he had somehow violated the ladies' privacy even if they had sauntered right past him with their pants off, and somehow he knew he deserved whatever pummeling Joe-Bob was now going to inflict upon him. Or if it was Coach Jamison's voice, maybe it would be his mother's hands thrashing him?

No one else looked up from the queue, and his arms and legs were flailing uselessly as Joe-Bob had him off the ground. Then he found himself sailing through the broken window as if he were light as a doll.

He held out both arms to cushion the blow and wondered if there might at least be another glimpse of Carol and Sally's bushes and behinds. Maybe they would come to his rescue, even? Then it wouldn't be so bad for him to look at them. But on crossing the threshold he found he wasn't in the office at all, nor did he land face-first as he had anticipated. Rather he floated harmlessly down into a waiting chair in the storeroom at his old elementary school, also remembered for the band practices where he had played the saxophone decades before.

Instinctively he imagined himself a child again, but on feeling himself up and down -- and struggling to fit into the little chair -- he realized he was still very much the adult he had been minutes before. The room, though, was just as he remembered it. Whatever year it was, evidently it was still Halloween, for the paper ghosts and goblins and witches adorned nearly every inch of the wall and the doorways were hung with cotton that was pulled apart to resemble spider webs. The sun was shining through the grungy windows along the ceiling just as it always had way back when, and for once the light was on in the supply closet behind the room, strictly off-limits to the kids with the never-used shower that he and his friends had always wondered about. With an awful stab of guilt, he recalled many late afternoons imagining his favorite teachers getting caught out in that very shower, usually by him. How horribly guilty he had always felt after getting off on that image...

As he gathered his wits about him, he realized the never-used shower was in fact being used now, and slowly a middle-aged woman's body came into focus. Mrs. LeBrun, the prim and grim school librarian who had scowled so at every overdue book and every child speaking above a whisper, now naked and wet and soapy and grinning at him. "Oh, don't mind me," she told him as he stood up and was acutely aware of his pants bulging at the sight. "I'm just having a shower. Of course, you're welcome to join me. Also, Happy Halloween and welcome home!"

He wasn't sure how he'd recognized her, for her grayish hair was down instead of wrapped up in the tight bun she had usually worn, and it clung to her head and bare shoulders, and in the steamy water it seemed a few shades darker, and she was smiling instead of scowling, and it had been all those years...but it was definitely Mrs. LeBrun. Her heavy breasts hung down well onto her plump belly and her bush grew wild and dark, yet he was somehow wonderfully attracted to her. But it wasn't right to gawk at her body while he stood there fully clothed, after all.

He remembered his manners and turned away. "I shouldn't --"

"Nonsense!" she insisted, and with a sopping wet hand she reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him under the spray with her. "I'm delighted to have your company, dear! You know you always wanted this, and so naturally I'm pleased to share it with you. You look like you could use a bit of fun just now, actually. That's usually why guys like you get sent here on Halloween, after all." Before he could protest further, she had clasped both his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. "You know you always wanted to play with these," she admonished him. "And it's been far too long since anyone has, too. Please, don't be shy."

"How did you know?" Still fully clothed in the hot water, he'd stopped trying to make any sense of the situation. Instead, strangely devoid of his usual guilt in the unlikely surroundings, he enjoyed tickling her nipples. How he had imagined that so many years before! Her breasts felt supple and soft, belying their evident age, and she clearly enjoyed his caresses even more than he did.

"A woman can tell, my dear," she said. "Now then..." She undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants, and his hard cock burst out as if it were on springs. But he had scarcely felt her hand taking its grip when a sensation of fluidity washed upward from his soaked shoes to his legs, midsection and all the way out to his fingertips. Last of all he felt his face liquefying.

He said it out loud as he realized it: "I'm melting. Into the drain!"

"Don't be absurd," she teased him. "Didn't Mister Rogers tell you, you can never go down the drain?"

"But I aaaammmmmmmm!" He felt his voice growing from a whisper to a shriek as he felt his entire being slither into the tiny hole in the floor, Mrs. LeBrun's hungry grin the final thing he saw before everything went dark for five seconds or so. The light returned in slits below him at first and then he felt himself crashing through a grid of some sort, and coming to rest with a plop on a couch in a swanky hotel room. He was filthy, but after a moment to regain his wits he realized he was unharmed.

"You could use a bath, couldn't you?"

He looked up to see Rachel from college standing over him, her fiery red hair cut shorter but still unmistakably her. He was ever so slightly surprised to observe that she was fully clothed, in a beautiful floral print dress and white stockings. But then again, he had never dared imagine Rachel less than fully clothed. She had always been too pure and pleasant for all that.

"R-Rachel?" he asked, though he was certain it was her. "What's it been, ten years? Twelve?"

"It doesn't matter how long it's been, besides the answer would only confuse you," she said. "I'm glad you made it, though. When I saw your name on the manifest, I was thrilled, but a little uncertain you'd actually show up. Kind of flattered, too, to know you thought of me the way you did. The safe fantasy, huh? But you need to get over that, and I have a feeling you will, soon."

"What manifest? What the hell is going on?" No need to ask why she didn't trust him; that much he remembered all too clearly from back in the day.

"It's probably best that you don't ask any questions for now," she said. "I find it's better when people learn it as they go along, especially men." She stepped back and pointed toward the bathroom, and for the first time she smiled at him. "Now, as I was saying, you definitely need a bath. I can turn my back or leave the room if you wish, but I must confess I'd love to watch you undress if that's okay."

"If it's okay?!" Years before, Rachel had thrilled him to the core by asking him to dance at the end-of-term ball, but she had always seemed much too chaste for him to imagine anything heavier than that nice waltz they had shared. Maybe that was why he had such lovely memories of her -- they were pure, never sexual, unsullied by naughtiness...maybe until now! "Well, of course it is. I mean, fair's fair, but..."

"But what? I can leave if you would prefer that." But Rachel made no effort to hide her disappointment at that suggestion.

"No! I mean, if you want to watch me undress, that sounds kind of hot, really. It's just that I thought women...didn't care for that sort of thing."

Rachel sighed and shook her head. "And that's exactly why you're here. You think we don't admire your bodies like you do ours? That we don't get turned on? That we're all anything like your mother was? You need this more than I thought you did! Now, as I said, I don't wish to make you uncomfortable."

"You won't, as long as I know you do want to watch me," he allowed, standing up and struggling not to wince with the squish of his wet and filthy clothes clinging to his skin. "It's funny," he said as he set about untying his tie, "I've had this fantasy countless times -- I try not to, but it always comes back -- only I was the one watching the woman undress -- I mean not necessarily you, but a woman anyway -- and for some reason she never seemed to mind that I was just sitting there fully clothed and admiring her. If that turns you on half as much as it did me, then I don't mind at all." He had his tie off and was eagerly fumbling with the buttons on his shirt now.

"I was right, then," she said. "You not only need this more than I thought, you're going to be perfect for it. No wonder they sent you on Halloween. That's when you get the strongest dosage, after all."

"I sure wish I knew what 'this' was," he said, opening his shirt and welcoming her lusty gaze at his bare chest, which was mostly clean with the filthy shirt now on the floor. Though Rachel did not answer him, she smiled appreciatively as she sat on the bed and spread her skirt out endearingly on both sides with her legs crossed. She demurely rocked her left leg over her right as she drank in the sight of his slowly-emerging body, a racy look in her eyes that made him feel at turns dirty and delighted and both.

There was no need to ask her if she wanted him to continue, besides the fresh air on his bare, damp skin felt wonderful compared to his dank pants and boxers hanging limply from his waist. So he pulled off his belt -- still undone as Mrs. LeBrun had left it -- and unbuttoned his pants, and even allowed for a flirtatious sashay as he pushed them down and kicked off his soaked shoes along with them. He was harder than ever beneath his boxers, but it only seemed right to save them for last, so he peeled off his socks and tossed them in the farthest corner of the room, drawing a laugh and a bit of applause from Rachel.

Reaching down to push off his boxers, he noticed his cock was standing out at attention through the slit, pointing straight at Rachel. It seemed rather larger than usual, but he suspected he was flattering himself. He laughed at the unexpected revelation, and seeing it was okay, she joined him. "Somebody's happy to be seen," he said.

"And I'm happy to see it," Rachel said, though she remained seated on the bed. With a flair of knowing he was being admired, he pulled his boxers down and gave them a brazen kick that sent them flying over Rachel and over toward the bureau, on which they landed with a plop. Rachel rubbed her hands and nodded. "Beautiful. You men should give yourselves more credit for how lovely your bodies can be."

"Thank you," he said. "But are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"

"Asked and answered," she reminded him. "Now, bath time." At last she stood up and pointed him toward the bathroom, where the light was on.

Giving up on learning anything new, he walked to the bathroom, where he found the tub already full of soapy water. "You were expecting me, then," he said.

"I was hoping for you, anyway," she allowed. "Would you like me to wash your back?"

"I think I'd like that at least as much as you would," he agreed. Gingerly he stepped into the piping hot water and slid down, allowing for a bit of a squeal when his cock and balls went under. Rachel giggled a bit at that, and he didn't complain -- he was just as amused by certain vagaries of the female body, after all. Whatever was going on, a bath was better than the office!

Rachel produced a washcloth out of somewhere, and rubbed his back with a firm but gentle touch. She seemed to enjoy every moment of the pleasant labor. "Every woman should have a chance to do this," she cooed as she scrubbed him.

"And you do this for a living now, do you?" he asked.

"Everything you are wondering now will be answered later," Rachel assured him. "Including what you're probably hoping for right now."

"That you'll join me?" he asked, with a hopeful look.

"That's right," she teased, reaching around now to fondle his chest. "But you're not getting an answer to that or anything else just yet, because the answers depend on how you handle what follows."

"What about what came before, then? I mean, Mrs. LeBrun in the shower?"

"I don't know who Mrs. LeBrun is," Rachel said. "I'm guessing maybe an elementary school teacher of yours?"

"Close," he admitted. "Librarian from back then."

"Typical," she said. "You probably don't even remember fantasizing about her."

"Oh, I do now that I've seen her in the shower!"

Rachel laughed. "That makes sense. It does take a strong first dose with most guys. And that earliest fantasy is about as strong as it gets, because it's usually pretty whacked out from an adult point of view, even if it's just something really innocent, like just seeing someone nude. Usually it involves costumes, though, since it's Halloween. But it sounds like you preferred nudity. Nothing wrong with that, but I'm a bit surprised."

"Wait, so this has to do with Halloween?" he demanded. "Am I Scrooge meeting the ghost of Halloween past or something?"

"A bit like that," Rachel said reluctantly. Then, more firmly, "No more questions! But I think you're getting the right idea. Guys like you usually do at this time of year. With people already dressing up as so many frightening things -- witches, ghosts, Dick Cheney -- all the costumes stir up nasty memories for guys like you. Including librarians, I guess; that could explain Mrs. LeBrun. I never heard of a librarian costume, though. But it makes sense, with that whole prude-with-the-sex-kitten-within fantasy. In any case, that way you can imagine you're someone else so much more easily than usual."

"Then there are others like me in this weird warp," he mused, careful not to phrase it as a question.

"We're hard at work on guys all over the world this week," Rachel confirmed. "A lot in Detroit!"

"What you got against Detroit?" he asked, forgetting the no-questions rule.

Wordlessly, Rachel stood up and then bent over the tub, reaching in. She pulled the plug out of the tub, and stood back. "I'll be seeing you again shortly, I hope," she said, and before he could respond he once again felt the sensation of sliding into the drain. This time he knew better than to fight it or be afraid of it, though the matter of his nudity did cause some concern.

One blinding flash of light later, he found himself clean and safe and still naked and standing in the locker room at his college. After a moment's further reflection, he realized it wasn't quite the locker room he recalled. Though similar, it was laid out backwards, with the changing area to the left of the lockers instead of the right, and the toilets were too far off to the side. And no urinals.

No urinals?!

In a flash of awareness, he realized he was standing naked in the middle of the women's locker room, and in that same moment he heard the door open -- no choice but to hide in a locker for the moment, and in he dove.

Gaping silently through the slits in the locker, he wasn't really surprised to see Becky and Dawn sauntering in. They were older now -- college age, appropriately -- but it was still unmistakably them. And that could only mean one thing...the test. The one he'd set for himself so many times, to put a stop to the self-abuse that always got him in so much trouble. Ladle out the femininity as thick as it could get, but keep your hands pinned safely beneath you on the mattress...and sometimes he'd passed the test, but often he hadn't. Now that they were undressing together before his very eyes, he was all too sure he could never pass the test. He felt the blood rushing to his cock again as if it were jumpstarted, in spite of the fear and embarrassment.

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