Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Fifty-Four: Trick or Treat
Hank had replaced his usual slacks and shirt with a couple of animal skins strung strategically over his massive frame, though he wore his uniform pants underneath for the sake of personal modesty. He’d also sprayed a light dusting fake snow over himself.
“Okay,” said Charles. “Just what–”
“I’m the abominable snowman,” he announced. “Rarr.”
Ororo’s costume was a simple white dress trimmed in gold. Her headgear consisted of a glowing loop suspended above her head with a wire. She did pretty much the same thing every year, so it was easier for Charles to guess.
“A goddess, correct?”
“Of course,” Ororo smiled.
Logan had already explained himself, but word was getting around. Every now and then, snickering would issue from around the area of a doorframe. Logan ignored it and massaged one of his feet. “How the hell do you gals *stand* these things?” he wondered.
“Usually, we wear pantyhose. Cuts down on the chafing.”
“Screw that,” said Wolverine. “Musta shredded ten pairs just *trying* to get ‘em on.”
Hank burst out laughing.
Ororo vanished upstairs for a handful of minutes and returned with a tiny packet. “Here. These are one size fits all.”
Logan opened the packet with his usual multi-purpose blade. “Tea bags?” he said.
“They’re footlets,” said Ororo. “They *do* stretch.”
Logan tried one, stretching it to its limit. “'kinell…”
“Just put them on.”
“Wow,” said Jubilee. “How do you *walk* in those things?”
“It takes a great deal of practice,” said Amara, swanning around in her outfit - the authentic costume of a Nova Roman Princess, replete with impossible-looking shoes. “So of course, I’m a natural.”
Jubilee slicked her hair back and fastened it under her suit jacket before she applied her makeup - an eyebrow pencil to her upper lip.
“Cross-dressing, Jubes?” said Amara. “I never knew you had it in you.”
“If Logan can do it, *I* can do it,” she said. “Besides, I *am* a gangster.” The final touch was a cheap toy ring on her pinkie finger, and an equally cheap plastic tommygun. “Now, where’s my trick-or-treating bag?”
“Jamie, we knew it was you,” Jubes didn’t even look up. “We heard you sneaking down the hallway for the last five minutes.”
“What *are* you, anyway?” Amara asked. “The ghost of idiots past?”
Now Jubilation looked. Jamie was wearing camouflage pants and army boots, a 'Friends of Humanity’ shirt, swastika armbands, a white, pointed hood that covered his face, and a glowing halo waggled above his head. “Good *grief*,” she said. “A little mixed, don’t you think?”
“No,” said Jamie. “I’m the spirit of intolerance.”
They had to give him ingenuity points.
Scott always had trouble with his costumes, since he had to incorporate his ever-present shades into the overall look. Therefore, he always went as some kind of agent from a government organisation. This year, he wore a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie.
“MIB,” he said, flipping open a fake ID at Jean. “Have you seen any unidentified flying objects recently, Ma'am?”
Jean giggled. She was wearing a blue gingham frock and had plaited her red hair into pigtails. “Well,” she said, “There *was* the Wicked Witch of the West…”
“So where’s Toto?” he asked with a smile.
'Dorothy’ brought a stuffed toy Scottie dog out of her little basket. "Bark, bark,“ she squeaked.
"I surrender,” said Kurt as he passed them by.
“Kurt… What the heck are you doing in uniform?” demanded Scott.
“Ah, ah, ah… Not *quite* uniform. I left the belt in my room,” Kurt twirled to demonstrate the absence of his belt. “I’m the Bayville Demon.”
“Kurt, you big fuzzy cheater!” Kitty staggered out of her room. “You could’ve like, put a bit more *work* into it…” She was labouring under the weight of two gigantic feathered wings, and also wore a rather pretty white dress and another glow-in-the-dark halo.
“I *have* been busy, liebe.”
“Okay, I can like, forgive you.”
“Ah, divine Katzchen…” they kissed, a chaste one, before Kurt helped her with her wing rig. “Here. You’re a little crooked. Let me help…” A moment’s tugging and hefting. “Better?”
“Ah. *Much*. I was beginning to like, wonder if like, Warren wasn't like, driven *insane* by these things…”
“He grew up with them, he didn’t notice.” Kurt grinned. “Shall we go help Bluebelle with her costume, Schatz?”
A moment later, Rogue emerged from the room she shared with Kitty. She was a vampire, replete with teeth. No-one was surprised.
Bluebelle had decided to dress up as Hess’ demon. Her costume consisted mostly of red, and the absence of her holowatch. She’d even added fake plastic horns care of Jamie’s dress-up box. Jubilee had painted her nails red, and let her borrow a tiny bit of glitter paint for eye makeup.
“Knock knock, liebchen,” Daddy tapped on the door. “What scary thing are you this Halloween, eh?”
She grinned and showed herself off. “I’m Hess’ demon!” she said.
Daddy had frozen. He looked horrified. “Where did you get *that*?” he pointed at her neck.
Bluebelle instantly felt the red collar on her neck, then fiddled with the leash. “I bought it myself,” she said. “Out of allowance money.”
Kitty was looking a little horrified, too.
“Liebling, Schatz, Honig; wir sind nicht Tiere…” Daddy took a breath. “We’re *not* animals. We’re *not*…”
“I wasn’t going to make anyone lead me around,” she said. “I was gonna lead myself…”
“I know, liebe. I know. But–” He knelt and held her. “Can we take it off?”
The first thing he ever did for her was take off her collar and leash; and she’d felt naked without it. Leashes *really* bothered him. “It's okay, Daddy,” she took it off herself. “I won’t do it again.”
“I’m sorry, liebchen,” he took her into a fierce hug. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Just as Logan predicted, there were Hess costumes everywhere, that year. There were black Hesses, white Hesses, Asian Hesses… guys and girls all over Bayville were Hess. There was Hess in straightjackets, prison jumpsuits, tracksuits, formalwear, rubber aprons (spattered with red paint, of course), and twinsets with pearls.
Logan was almost conservative. Especially next to the Hess portrayed by a two hundred and twenty pound black guy in a red bridal frock - Bride of Satan Hess.
Bluebelle had had the concept of Halloween explained to her, and mastered the majority of it fairly quickly. But, all the same, for the first few places they visited, the usual chorus of, “Trick or Treat!" was joined by one little voice yelling, "Gimmie candy or I egg your house!”
Logan was most amused.
“I only have one question,” said a pleasant voice. “How the heck can you stand walking around in those heels?”
Logan turned. It was the new gym teacher. Jarod whatsisface. He, too, was in drag, acting as if it was a personal joke, but Logan didn’t get it. “Mary Tyler Moore didn’t smoke,” he said.
Jarod grinned. He was wearing a grey ladies’ power suit with a cream blouse and a Mary Tyler Moore type wig. Plastic toy weaponry dangled out of his purse and he smoked a fake Hollywood herbal cigarette. “Believe me,” he said. “There is very little on this planet that’s scarier than Miss Parker.”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Logan. “I ain’t met her.” He fished around in his purse and unearthed the packet of footlets 'Ro had given him. “Here. These cut down on chafe.”
It was a fairly good night. When at last, the kids felt they’d filled their bags to capacity, they drifted towards the Monster Mash, an annual event set up by the local radio station.
There were more Bayville Demons hanging around, some were targets of flirting by various Hesses. Goblins, ghosts and ghouls abounded, laughing and shrieking in the night.
Those bold enough or generous enough would enter themselves in the Monster Mash costume parade for the price of five dollars. The proceeds went to a kid’s charity, and usually with much fanfare. Categories were wide and varied, including current events, mythology, original costumes, and cryptozoology amongst their number.
Logan wound up in Current Events, with a crowd of Hesses and a host of Lieutenants, along with a few relatively minor criminals and enemy figures like Sadam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden.
Kurt and Hank were both relegated to the Cryptozoology section. And the former was much peeved to come second to a Bayville Demon who was *red*.
None of the Centaurs entered. They much preferred to hang around on the sidelines and make slightly rude comments about bizarre American two-legger practices. The rest of Kurt’s tribe/troupe didn’t enter either, but some wore traditional Gypsy garb and smiled for numerous photographers.
Jamie won first prize for his original costume, and spent the remainder of the evening lording it over Amara, who hadn’t won a thing.