The Halloween Costume 3

The following very dark story has themes of non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

"Damn girl," my friend Becky exclaims after she sees me, her mouth dropping open to show she's not lying about her reaction. I've just come out of her bathroom with my handmade costume for the Halloween party tonight and by the looks of it, I did a good job.

It took me over two months and tons of hours watching YouTube to make my costume. I have never spent so much time on a project before that wasn't for work. I poured my heart and soul into this costume and it really shows. I don't think anyone could have done it any better.

"You...you look...like her. You really do! For a moment I swear to God I thought you were her!" My friend exclaims excitedly. She eagerly stands up and rushes over to me, eager to see my costume up close. Not only do I have on my homemade, customized costume, but have used detailed makeup techniques to complete the look.

"You look just like Dr. Avila," Becky tells me, walking around me in a circle to take in every inch. I'm unable to stop smiling at this, as I had really hoped it would look good. When I tried the costume on at home, I thought it looked good, but needed someone else's opinion to make sure. Now I'm sure I'll win the costume contest.

"It's still crazy that she even exists. That The Force exists," Becky states as an aside and I have to agree with her. This makes both of us nod as it is utterly crazy to believe it could be real.

If a year ago you told me there would be a real superhero in the world, I would have told you to up the dosage on your meds. But it's really true. There's a true to life superhero in the world with superpowers, as well as strange people that are always trying to take him down. We are living in some weird, warped version of the DC or Marvel universe now.

"You heard about the fight a couple of days ago?" I ask Becky, following up on her thought.

My friends know that I am somewhat of an expert on The Force. Not that I am obsessed or anything, but I do find the whole thing interesting. A being with superpowers? That shouldn't exist. It should be only in comic books, yet it does exist. There's a being out there, flying about with ease.

"The one in Glascow?" Becky asks to which I shake my head. The fight he had in Glascow was two weeks ago and it was against that weirdo

Boom Man

. He's a guy that makes small bombs that can do a lot of damage. The guy made these catapult things connected to his arms so he can launch his bombs over long distances. Thankfully The Force nabbed him before he did too much damage.

"No, the one that happened in Colombia," I tell my best friend as I step in front of the mirror to look at myself. Not only do I look like Dr. Avila, but this makes me look so damn hot. Sure, it feels like I'm almost naked, but it makes me feel super sexy. I never dress like this because I don't think I can pull it off, but damn, I look good. I swear the costume makes my boobs like two cup sizes bigger.

"No, what happened?" Becky asks, interested. She even sits down in a chair and leans forward, very eager to learn what happened.

I open my mouth to tell her, but then pause for a moment. I pause as I consider how any piece of news can come to seem normal given time. The introduction of a being with powers used to dominate the news every day, all day. The news would cover each and every sighting of the guy, even run pieces trying to see if he is trying to pass off an alter ego. Yet after a year, his existence is considered normal and part of life. The news barely even covers his battles of late, unless it happened in your city.

"He went down to Colombia because of some battle between rebels and the government. He didn't care about either side, but was worried about the innocent people getting shot up," I begin, trying to put all that happened in a simple manner as to not take all day.

"Long story short, it was all a plot set up by Madame Enemiga," I inform Becky, turning from the mirror to look at her.

"Who's that? I've never heard of her," Becky asks in reference to Madame Enemiga. Her face gets a puzzled look as she tries to think if she's heard of her. Don't blame her, there seems to be so many weirdoes these days.

One thing comic movies barely touch on is that with the introduction of a superhero people come out of the woodwork to try and kill him. These were seemingly normal people, well, mostly normal people with some mental issues going on, but they get it in their head that by killing him it will make them famous. They then act out on huge, strange plots to try and take him down. And as if this was a comic movie, most give themselves some supervillain name too.

Every week one of these weirdos is captured by The Force or by the police. There have been so many that it is so easy to forget most of them. Hell, the news doesn't even report it as to take away the one thing that the crazy bastards want most. Only a few are real opponents for The Force, such as Dr. Avila. They have managed to just to nearly kill him, but to also escape each time they are arrested.

"Madame Enemiga is supposedly some black magic, HooDoo priestess that lives down there. I doubt any of the black magic stuff is real, but she is in charge of a fairly large drug operation. One of the biggest and deadliest cartels in that country," I explain to my friend.

"Funny how each of the bad guys always seems to have a gimmick? Like this chick's is black magic, while that one guy from a few months ago was throwing fire because he was all scarred from some firefighting," Becky muses, to which I have to agree. Most of the weirdoes do have some weird gimmick, like it'll help them succeed.

"You know, it would have been so awesome if you had a boyfriend that could dress up like The Force. You two would win the costume contest for sure as good as you look. I mean, I think you are going to win by yourself, but that would have been a lock," Becky tells me, still looking overly excited at my costume.

"Yeah, well, sometimes a woman's got to go it alone, just like Dr. Avila," I say with a laugh. I then try to intimate the smirk that Avila gets whenever there's a picture taken of her.

As far as witty remarks, that one isn't one of my best, but it's true. It's been a good few months since I've even had a date, but that's not a bad thing. I don't want to date just to date. I want someone that will be fun, sweet or at the very least a great lay. I don't need a man to complete me.

For example, if I was dating someone, no way would I have had the time to create this awesome costume. It took so much time and concentration, which a partner wouldn't have let me have.

As I look at myself in the mirror, I can't believe how good the costume looks. The long sleeve skin-tight blue top, which stops high on my stomach accents my breasts. It's made of a shiny fabric, giving me a shimmer when light hits it. Supposedly Dr. Avila wears it because a sniper's scope would reflect off it, making it hard to get a clear shot. Since the fabric is so tight, a bra would show so I am having to go free, to which I'm glad how firm my tits are looking.

And covering my bottom section is a pair of red boy shorts, along with a black utility belt. On the belt are each of the items that Dr. Avila always has on her. None are real or work, but they look like the real thing. Just like how my shorts look like her exact shorts, down to the blue stripes that run lengthwise on my shorts. They cling to me, like they do her, letting her throw kicks like she's done when fighting.

Finally on my feet are combat boots. It may sound silly, but I like these the best out of everything. It shows that Dr. Avila is being practical in choosing to wear this outfit. Everything she wears is for a reason, and it's not to "look good." Such as the skin tight and revealing clothes are to distract idiot men so she has a better chance to attack/escape. And the boots are to protect her feet as to battle a superhero you would get into some dangerous situations for your feet.

"You know...they say Dr. Avila and The Force were once an item," Becky tells me as if this is a secret. This, like any urban legend is recycled every few months. I mean, as far as rumors go, it's a good one, but old.

"I know. Depending on which version of the story you hear, it was her experiment that gave him his abilities," I inform my friend, gently reminding her that no one knows more about The Force than I do.

"Really? I hadn't heard that part. I just heard they dated and she got jealous when he got superpowers," Becky says, now standing with me at the mirror to adjust her own costume.

"I mean, it's all rumors, and nothing has been proven," I begin, stepping away so Becky can use the mirror since I've been hogging it.

"The story goes because he loved her, he agreed to be a part of some matter or anti-matter science type experiment she was doing. It didn't go as planned, but as a result, it gave him his powers. When she wanted to study him to try and reproduce, he refused. He knew if she figured how to do it, she would sell it to anyone willing to pay, which would lead to the world ending," I explain, sitting on Becky's couch after I pull my cape out of the way. The cape is an addition. Dr. Avila rarely wears it, but has been seen with it. Since I felt foolish with my ass being in such tight clothes, I thought this would help give me courage.

"And so, from that day they become bitter enemies, as she's constantly trying to capture him to finally figure how she gave him his powers," I finish. After saying this I am reminded how believable that part is. That only someone you really loved could be your ultimate villain. Where you want to stop and hurt them, but some part will aways prevent you from killing them.

"Wow. That makes a lot of sense. I mean, Dr. Avila always seems to come back time and time again. You would think by now The Force would have done something, you know, to truly stop her," Becky says, acting like her mind is blown.

"You think we will ever meet him?" Becky then asks seriously, pausing to look at me. At this my heart does leap as it is one of my goals in life. Oh, how I want to meet him. Or at the very least see him in person. Sure, I've caught a glimpse of him flying overhead, but never anything up close.

"Maybe," I say and shrug, trying not to show any extra excitement at the thought. Doing so always makes me feel like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush when it's nothing like that. I'm not in awe of how someone can really have superpowers.

"But at the moment I wouldn't want to," I tell Becky, recalling the alert I received regarding The Force. The government started a service that sends out alerts regarding The Force. Such as if there's something happening in a city, or if there's danger of some sort.

"Why?" Becky asks, looking confused. A part of me wants to tell her that she really should pay more attention to the alerts, but I don't want to come across as a mini-Karen. It's not like I'm up on everything anyway.

"Oh! That alert. The one from this morning!" Becky exclaims, remembering that an alert was sent. I smile at this, figuring she swiped at it instead of reading it.

"Yeah. They've stated his mental outlook is poor at the moment," I tell Becky what the alert was for. Becky nods, showing she understands as this is a common alert for the poor guy.

Supposedly the experiment that gave The Force his powers messed with his mind. He has to take a lot of mediations to help keep him balanced or else his mental state declines fast. Such as him seeing hallucinations or making mental mishaps.

For the most part, The Force is very open about this and relies on people to help judge when he needs help, instead of him making the call himself. He even is open about going to therapy and saying how everyone needs help from time to time.

Now add to those issues that being a superhero is incredibly stressful. Not only are people constantly asking you to help them 24/7, but a lot of people also hate you for no reason. People blame you for stuff you have nothing to do with, like the weather. So whenever he is out and about, there's always a mixed reception for him, not to mention all the weirdoes trying to kill him to make a name for themselves.

With this in mind, the government sends out when The Force is starting to show signs of mental decline. It's meant to inform people that maybe today isn't the best day to hound him for an autograph or to be in your TikTok.

"Hey, you think that whatever her name, Madame Bitchy-face put a spell on him?" Becky asks, to which I can't tell if she's joking or not.

"No," I reply bluntly. Magic doesn't exist. I know that sounds stupid to say in a world that has a true superhero, but yeah, magic doesn't exist. To pretend it does is just stupid.

I hear a chime from Becky's cell which means she got a text. As she goes to look at it, I do consider her question again. It is sort of odd coincidence that The Force fought a witch and right after the alert was sent. Doesn't mean it's magic though. Could just be he wasn't expecting what he saw there or something.

"Damn it. That asshole," Becky while looking at her cell. The happy and free expression she has disappears as she glares down at her phone now. There's a look of anger now, which can only mean one thing, it's from her boyfriend.

"I'm going to have to pick the asshole up," Becky informs me, clearly referring to her boyfriend. She looks at me and even shows her screen with a look that screams, "can you believe this shit?"

"Pick him up? The party is like three blocks away," I tell her, which I know she is aware. That would mean she would have to go way out of her way to pick up her boyfriend instead of just walking to the party with me. That means getting in her car, fighting the traffic, picking him up and then driving back.

I almost make a comment about what she should do. That if it was me, I would tell him to take the damn subway, and get his ass over here, but keep my mouth closed. It's her relationship and not mine. I never want to be that complaining and bitchy friend that is always going on about someone's boyfriend.

"That sucks. Well, if you are going to get him, you better go now. Party starts in like 20, you know?" I inform her, trying to be supportive. At this Becky mutters under her breath and walks around, grabbing all that she needs to take with her.

"I'll see you there then, ok?" I tell Becky as she goes into her bedroom. As I say this, I start walking to the front door. I do this rather suddenly and for good reason. If I don't get out of here fast, she's going to beg me to go with her to pick him up. Normally I wouldn't mind, but that means being like an hour or two late for the party. And knowing that asshole, he'll want to make 500 stops first.

"Bye!" I call out right as I open the door and rush out, not giving Becky time to suggest inviting me to come along.

I walk down her apartment hallway, where I exit out the door to the complex. Normally I would be so embarrassed to wear something so skimpy as this costume, but today it empowers me. It makes me feel not just sexy, but confident. It even makes me sway my hips like the real Dr. Avila does, as she knows it drives legions of men into hormonal fits where they can't think straight.

Walking on the busy downtown sidewalk, I get plenty of looks by the passersby. Again, this normally would make me feel like a piece of meat and humiliated, but not today. Even the comments people make, both good and bad are welcome. It makes me feel that I'm not some nerdy girl that doesn't get out much, but a sexy, popular woman that is taking life by the balls.

With my head held high, I begin to wonder if this is how Dr. Avila feels. It makes sense if she does. It would explain how she is always able to come back no matter how many times she's been defeated. She must know how smart she is and that would give her strength. And in the end, it won't matter how many times she is defeated as long as she wins once, because that is all that she needs.

I then feel a bit of shame at thinking this as the woman is evil. She's caused so much damage and heartache that she shouldn't be praised. But I can't help it. There's just something about her that calls to me.

A very familiar sound starts in which everyone around me stops. It's a 'whoosh' sound as if there's a heavy object flying through the air at great speed. Whenever anyone hears this, they all do the same thing which is to stop and look up.

Flying just above the buildings is The Force. Despite him not wearing his normal outfit, I can tell it's him, well, everyone can tell it's him. Today he's wearing a long sleeve tight black shirt as well as tight black pants. And oddly, he's not wearing a cape. My guess is this is some sort of Halloween costume for him.

Like normal when anyone sees him, people start to chant his name, cheer, yell for him to stop and more. And of course, there are the few people who curse at him, telling him to die. That we don't need a freak like him. But the once busy street now becomes calm as everyone stops to watch him zoom by.

As I watch him fly by, I do wonder where he's going. He appears to be in a hurry, but isn't flying at top speed. In an emergency, he flies so fast that it destroys windows within buildings when he flies low. But at the moment I would say he's only going about 100 miles per hour.

"Mr. The Force. Avila is right here!" A little boy's voice squeaks out nearby. Looking to the side, I see a young boy around 7 or 8 next to me on the sidewalk. His small hand is pointing at me while his other hand is holding onto his mother's hand.

The boy's mother and I look at each other and we both smile at what he is doing. The boy, who is dressed as some cartoon character that I don't recognize, keeps pointing at me, acting as if I am the real Dr. Avila. I guess to him, I could be. I mean, I do very much look like her.

"He won't get me today little boy!" I say in my best impression of Dr. Avila. I then walk away, trying to do the strut that only Dr. Avila can do.

As I walk, the boy over and over proclaims how I am getting away, to which his mom starts to try and hush him. At first I think she was going to go along with him thinking I am the real Dr. Avila, but on his reaction I can hear her tell him that it's a costume. It may freak the kid out if he thinks I really am who he thinks I am.

I keep on walking to which the party is just about a block away now. It's at a rented space since so many people are expected to go. If you asked an older person, they would probably say how it's a rave or underground club, when it's really not. Just a bar with a super popular event that knew it would need more space, so they rented out a warehouse/event hall.

The sound of a heavy object soaring in the air returns, causing everyone to stop again, me included. I too look up, coming to the conclusion that The Force got whatever he was after. That he'll probably fly across dangling some bad guy by the leg, or maybe a group tied up as he caught them robbing a place. With increased strength, he can lift well over a ton of weight.

"F-Force, I want your autograph!" A man across the street yells loudly. There are multiple people yelling, but this one guy's voice stands out for some reason. It cuts though all the others in a weird way.

That voice sticks with me for some reason, but I don't know why. It gets in my head, where I feel the tone of it giving me goosebumps. It's enough that I turn to look at the man, getting a feeling I've heard his voice before. And that wherever it was, wasn't good.