Oz Beach Boy & Odessa...Trapped!

NOTES: This is an entry in the Halloween Story Contest 2023, so I’d really appreciate it if you could take the time to vote. This story features my recurring character Matt (a muscular, well-hung, sex addicted male exhibitionist in his twenties) and his girlfriend Odessa Prince (a beautiful but shy Cosplay enthusiast) being forced to “perform” at gunpoint on Halloween Night by two Halloween-hating hags. This story features CFNM, mild femdom, mild humiliation and ridicule, female-of-male body worship, and forced fellatio. This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are over eighteen. I am endeavouring to write a CFNM “Oz Beach Boy” story in every Literotica category. This entry: “Non-Consent & Reluctance”.

---------------------------------------

It was Halloween Night in Sydney, Australia. I was dressed up as Captain America...and I was trying not to get an erection.

My girlfriend, Odessa Prince, was outfitted as Wonder Woman...and she looked incredible. A true beauty, Odessa not only had an amazing body, but she also looked remarkably similar to Lynda Carter, the gorgeous actress who played Wonder Woman on the famous 1970s TV show.

With her thick, dark hair pushed back from her cherubic face with a gold, red-starred metal tiara, and her big, heaving breasts barely contained by a red-and-gold-eagle bedecked corset, Odessa looked just like the real deal. Her curvy butt was perfectly showcased by the star-spangled underpants-like lower part of the costume, while a pair of near-knee-high red-and-white heeled boots and shiny gold wrist-bands finished off the look. In Odessa’s right hand hung Wonder Woman’s famous weapon, The Lasso Of Truth. Odessa Prince truly was a sight to behold.

It was a mild spring evening, and Odessa and I were out enjoying Halloween. We were on Mordant Street, which was a twenty-minute drive from my home, and was locally famous for its Halloween festivities, which had kicked off several years previous when a group of residents united to make their otherwise unassuming street the home of everything ghoulish for one night of the year.

On Mordant Street, all of the homes were colourfully and inventively decked out in Halloween paraphernalia, and offered all-evening-long trick-or-treats; there were Halloween decorations hanging from the street signs and power poles; and there were throngs of happy, excited people walking around in costume.

As we strolled down Mordant Street taking in the sights, Odessa walked slightly ahead of me with excitement, and the vision of her wonderfully womanly and cutely curvaceous butt in her star-spangled Wonder Woman pants was driving me wild. I pulled at my crotch, trying to get my half-erect cock into a comfortable position, but failing miserably.

Odessa absolutely loved Halloween, and she’d been looking forward to getting out on the street and sharing the spooky spirit with all the other revelers. It was Odessa’s idea to have me dress up as Captain America, and I was now suffering because of it. That said, it was slightly better than the alternative.

My girlfriend preferred me in a skimpy Ka-Zar costume -- which basically consisted of a faux-fur loincloth and little else -- but when I’d last gone out dressed as the minor Marvel Comics Tarzan-like character, it had gotten me into all manner of trouble...which was pretty wild even by my frequently bizarre standards. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy Nude At Halloween Fest”]

Though not officially diagnosed, I’m a raging sex addict. I’m a narcissistic Aussie male exhibitionist in my twenties who loves getting nude, preferably with women watching me. I spend hours training to get my body as ripped and muscular as I can, principally to attract as much female attention as possible.

I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations whenever I can, particularly around Sydney’s many beaches and secluded coastal bays. I also frequently stroll around at night on busy weekends looking for action wherever I can find it. I am constantly horny, and I’ve enjoyed a lot of kinky hook-ups in my time.

All of that, however, was well and truly parked as soon as the beautiful Odessa Prince and I embarked upon a relationship. She wanted us to be monogamous, and even though I knew it would be difficult, I agreed because I was so incredibly taken with her. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Come Together”]

Thankfully, my girlfriend enjoys looking at me nude, and Odessa has happily indulged many of my kinky, unconventional sexual desires. [See Stories: “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Nude Morning”, “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Nude Videos”, “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Nude Balcony”, and “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Caught Nude”]

I think I may have even awakened something of a domme in my girlfriend, which has been truly extraordinary to witness. Odessa not only enjoys watching me nude, but she has also taken great sexual pleasure from displaying me naked and teasing other women with me. [See Stories: “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa At Nude Beach”, “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Pool Prank” and “Oz Beach Boy Fronts Abbie Chatfield”]

Odessa had long expressed a desire to dress me up (or perhaps that should be, dress me down) in a loincloth and other sword-and-sorcery type garb, and we’d even had a lot of fun in the bedroom lately with a little raunchy Conan The Barbarian-style sexual role play. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy & Odessa Role Play”]

On Halloween Night, however, Odessa had opted not to bring out the loincloth for me. We had both decided that the skimpy little outfit would be a little bit too naughty for a suburban street, on top of the trouble it had caused last time. So, on Halloween Night, I was Marvel Comics figurehead Captain America instead.

The Captain America outfit Odessa had purchased for me was far from screen accurate, and looked way more like something off the pages of a comic book than it did the movies with Chris Evans. My head was fully covered with a mask, while my heavily muscled frame easily filled out the thin fabric of the blue jumpsuit with its red-white-and-blue starred chest-piece. There were little red boots, gloves, and a silly plastic shield to match.

I looked pretty stupid, but as Odessa and I walked past the continuing parade of vampires, Frankenstein’s monsters, superheroes, cowboys, horror movie characters, witches and fairies, we got a lot of smiles and thumbs-up signs, which I think might have had more to do with Odessa’s cleavage-bearing costume than it did my stupid Captain America one.

“You look hot,” Odessa whispered. “I’m looking forward to peeling that suit off you later. Captain America and Wonder Woman are finally gonna fuck in one of the best Marvel-DC crossover events yet!”

“That sounds great to me,” I said with a giggle. “Captain America might even lick Wonder Woman’s Amazonian pussy...you never know. That could be hot.”

“Oooooh, I don’t know if The Comics Code would let that pass,” Odessa responded with a giggle. “But we’ll give it a go, lover.”

As Odessa and I walked down Mordant Street, we finally came to a big, rambling, two-story house ringed by a foreboding black metal fence and a front garden tangled horribly with weeds. The windows of the house were dark, but there was definitely a light on inside. There was something undeniably creepy about the house, but it might have just been the Halloween spirit playing tricks on me.

With a full moon glowing hard and bright above us, Odessa and I stopped to look at the house, which literally seemed made especially for Halloween. Just as we were about to comment on the house to each other, the front door banged open, and an old woman came running out urgently. She looked around at the Halloween revelers on the street, and her eyes finally settled on Odessa and I.

“Excuse me, young man...can you help me?” the old woman asked, her face contorted with confusion and concern. “Can you give me a moment of your time, please?”

“Um...I don’t know,” I said uncertainly.

“My cat’s tail is trapped under a heavy box that fell over in the house,” the old woman explained hurriedly. “He can’t get out...he’s in pain, and I can’t get the box to budge. I need someone big and strong like you. Please...”

“Um...you can’t move it?” I asked, admittedly a little nervous about going inside the house.

“Maybe we should go in and help?” Odessa whispered. “She seems harmless.”

“Okay...okay,” I said quietly to Odessa. “We’ll go and have a look, babe.”

The old woman moved as quickly as she could down the ornate front steps of her house and then walked toward the gate, her face still twisted with concern and desperation. The old woman pulled the gate open and looked at me pleadingly.

“You’ll help?” she said.

“Yes, we’ll come in and have a look,” I replied.

“Your lady friend too?” the old woman asked.

“Yes, we’ll both come in and help,” Odessa added. “It’s okay...we’ll sort it out.”

“Oh, bless you...bless you both...you are angels,” the old woman said, her face finally relaxing. “Thank you. I’m Mabel...Mabel Westcott. This is my home. Please come in.”

“Hello, Mabel,” I said as I walked in through the gate. “I’m Matt, and this is my girlfriend, Odessa.”

“Hello, my dears...follow me,” Mabel said, and we moved up the stairs after her.

Mabel Westcott looked to be somewhere in her seventies. Her grey hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and her face was deeply lined and aged, but you could still see that Mabel had obviously been very attractive in her younger years. Her eyes were a radiant blue and they literally sparkled with energy. There was something undeniably refined and casually sophisticated about Mabel Westcott.

On top of all that, Mabel was fairly tall too, and I couldn’t help but notice (my sex addict’s eyes seemed naturally attuned to such things) that she had very large breasts, which were conservatively covered by a navy blue, buttoned-up pants-suit teamed with a black turtle neck top. On Mabel Westcott’s feet were low heels, and her long, bony fingers shone with jewelry.

Odessa and I walked in through the front door, which Mabel held open for us. The house was large and classically decorated, with large portraits hanging on the walls, and big, heavy furniture perfectly positioned throughout. There were low lights and lamps burning, but the house was curiously dark, with rooms and hallways shrouded in inky gloom.

Naturally moving forward, Odessa and I walked into what appeared to be the house’s main downstairs living area. There were sofas, settees, artworks and sculptures everywhere, but no sign of a television, which I always found a little unusual. Mabel Westcott was likely in her seventies, however, so I assumed that her leisure tastes might have been a little old fashioned.

“Where’s this cat?” I said out loud as Odessa and I moved further into the living area, looking utterly incongruous in our Captain America and Wonder Woman outfits.

“I can’t see it,” Odessa responded, “or hear it.”

We moved into the centre of the room, and I noticed something very peculiar. In one corner of the dark, gloomy room was a very small raised platform, which looked almost like a stage. Directly in front of it was placed an antique two-seater sofa decorated with dainty cushions. To the left of the sofa was a large lamp, and to its right was a small coffee table. It was an unusual set-up, especially in relation to the rest of the room.

Standing in the middle of the gloomy living area in our silly Halloween outfits, Odessa and I suddenly realised that not only was there no sight -- or sound -- of a trapped cat, but Mabel had disappeared somewhere, without saying a word. There was no sign of her...it was as if the old woman had vanished into thin air.

“Where’s Mabel?” I asked Odessa, before raising my voice and speaking into the darkness. “Mabel? Where’s your cat? Are you there? Mabel?”

Odessa and I looked around curiously in the half-light, our eyes scanning around the room for Mabel. We tried to figure out what was going on, and I instantly became nervous, edgy, and profoundly uncertain about what exactly we’d walked into. I had an unfortunate habit of attracting trouble, and it looked like I’d done it again.

“Oh, I’m right here,” came Mabel’s voice from behind us, the old woman’s previously jittery tones suddenly characterised by a surprising sense of calmness and confidence...Mabel’s voice almost sounded hard and slightly fierce, like it belonged to a different woman altogether. “And, no...there is no cat. You have been duped.”

Odessa and I spun around to see Mabel standing firmly in one of the doorways to the living area, her face an implacable, hard-to-read mask, and her feet planted firmly on the carpeted floor. We looked down...and then the shock really hit us, like a slap to the face.

Now grinning wickedly, Mabel was holding a large, vintage-looking double-barrel shotgun in both hands...and it was pointed directly at us. I heard Odessa gasp loudly, and then whimper beside me, obviously stunned, confused and terrified.

“What the fuck?” I said loudly.

“Watch your language, young man,” came a stern, confident voice from behind us. “You will follow the rules of this house now!”

Odessa and I spun around to find the source of the voice. We looked through the gloomy half-light into another doorway on the opposite side of the living area. I strained my eyes in utter confusion and disbelief. Mabel Westcott was standing firmly and confidently in that doorway too.

I then spun my head back and forth from one gloomy doorway to the other, desperately trying to register what was going on. I quickly realised that Mabel Westcott was somehow in both doorways at once. What kind of trick was this? What the fuck was going on? Had I somehow been drugged? Was I hallucinating?

As I looked from the first Mabel to the second, I realised that the second Mabel was actually wearing a red pants-suit, as opposed to the navy-blue one of the Mabel who had lured us into the house in the first place. Both Mabels, however, were confidently holding double-barrel shotguns. My head spun in confusion until the first Mabel finally spoke.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, young man,” Mabel said with a sneer. “Don’t pee your pants! This is my sister, Regina Westcott. We are identical twins.”

“Oh, my god,” I muttered.

“Mabel is four minutes older than me,” Regina said in a raspy voice. “I’m her baby sister. I’m the naughty one.”

Like Mabel, Regina’s face was lined and wrinkled, but the remnants of her youthful beauty were still there in her vivid eyes, her regal nose and her high cheekbones. Regina also had the height and large breasts of her sister, as well as her icy malevolence. There were now two seventy-something women pointing double-barrel shotguns at us...once again, my life had taken a truly bizarre and disturbing turn.

For my whole life, I never knew who my father was, and just recently I learned that he was, in fact, Jack “Bull” Tyson, a former American porn actor currently serving several life sentences for multiple murder in Pelican Bay State Prison in California. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy Looks For His Father”] My father was a mass killer, and now I had two old women pointing shotguns at me and my girlfriend on Halloween Night. Fucking hell...

“What are you doing?” Odessa asked, the fear in her voice obvious and incredibly distressing to me. “What do you want from us? Why did you lure us in with that lie about your cat? Why do you have guns? What do you want?”

“Why, you’re our Halloween entertainment...our Halloween treats,” Regina said with a sneer. “Every year on Halloween, we lure in some poor dupe in a silly costume. Usually, it’s just a man on his own...we haven’t had a young man and woman for quite some time, have we, Mabel?”

“No...I think the last couple we had were those stupid English people dressed as Robin Hood and Maid Marian...idiots!”

“Oh, we made them do some interesting things with his fake plastic arrows, didn’t we?” Regina asked with a perverse giggle. “I’m still surprised how many we fit up his...you know.”

“Oh, my, Regina...you’re appalling!” Mabel responded, laughing under her breath. “You have such an awful sense of humour...so uncouth!”

“What’s going on?” Odessa asked. “You...you...kill people? Are you serial killers?”

At this, Mabel and Regina looked at each other across the murky light of the living room, and then both burst out laughing, their big breasts heaving up and down, and their heads tilted back with their mouths wide open in amusement. After a few minutes, the identical twins finally finished laughing.

“We don’t kill people, my dear,” Mabel responded. “We are most certainly not serial killers. We certainly have the power to seriously injure you though...if you push back too hard against us, however, then yes, we very well might have to kill you.”

“Oh, my god,” Odessa stuttered. “Oh, my god...”

“We could very easily depict you as home invaders or burglars,” Mabel continued. “But it is certainly not our intention to kill you. As long as you do as you’re told, you will be fine. We would, however, certainly like to kill Halloween...that’s one thing I’d like to see gone forever.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“We despise Halloween,” Regina replied in explanation. “It’s an imported American tradition that has no place in Australia. When we were younger, nobody celebrated Halloween in Australia...nobody cared! It has nothing to do with this country. It’s pure nonsense!”

“Now, there are stupid people everywhere in stupid costumes celebrating some stupid holiday that only has real significance overseas,” Mabel continued. “Plastic glowing pumpkins, cheap decorations, ghoulish garishness...it’s utterly absurd. Halloween is rivalled only by Valentine’s Day in terms of pure vapidity. It’s infuriating!”

“Every year, we have to endure having the street where we live turned into the very focus for this absurd celebration,” Regina added, anger rising in her voice. “We have to listen to stupid people referring to our home as a haunted house! It’s maddening! Mordant Street becomes a destination for idiots on one stupid night every year.”

“It drives me to the point of true rage,” Mabel said firmly. “True rage...”

“So, on every Halloween Night, we have our revenge on this most stupid of traditions,” Regina explained. “We lure a Halloween reveler into our home, and then we...have some fun with them. We make them...do things for us...for our amusement.”

“One year, we also handed out chocolate biscuits laced with laxatives,” Mabel added. “People were running through the street to get home to the lavatory...it was hilarious. A couple of people didn’t make it! Oh, the mess! The soiled pants! And the humiliation!”

“But most years, we take our revenge on Halloween in a more...erotic fashion,” Regina continued. “We are old women, but we have sensual needs and desires. We don’t put our hands on anyone, mind you...we like to watch...and the things we’ve made them do...men have left as pathetic shells of their former selves.”

“When a man -- even a strong man -- has a gun pointed at him,” Mabel sniggered, “he will do just about anything. And if you threaten to shoot his manly parts, he’ll do even more.”

“You’re sick,” Odessa said, sneering. “If you don’t kill us, we’ll tell the police...we’ll tell the police about what you’ve been doing...kidnapping people! Holding them at gunpoint! Making them...do things.”

“We let everyone go after an hour or so,” Mabel responded. “We imprison nobody. And nobody would admit to the police what has happened to them here...especially the men. Their humiliation and shame assure us that we will remain free from police attention.”