The doorbell rang. It was still a little early for any trick-or-treaters to show up, so I knew it could only be one person. I straightened my black tie, adjusted my top hat, stood up a little straighter, and opened the door.
"Hi there, Mr. Stone, you're looking good," Amber beamed.
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Amber, my daughter's best friend, stood there in the cool October afternoon in something that barely qualified as clothes. A bright red leather corset that seemed to push her already ample breasts to a new dimension. Red shorts that were so small they might as well have been panties. Sinfully red fishnet stockings, held up with straps from the corset, like a garter belt. Tall stiletto heels.
It took me a few moments to realize that she had horns sticking out of her long, blonde hair and held a trident. My pants were uncomfortably tight at the sight of her incredibly revealing devil costume. She seemed to enjoy the attention, waiting dutifully for my eyes to traverse the entire length of her five-foot-five body, most of which consisted of legs and boobs.
"Is Meghan home?" Amber asked.
"Uh, yeah. Upstairs. Come on in," I stumbled over my own tongue.
"Thank you, Mr. Stone," she cooed and slipped past me into the house, walking gracefully in her heels. Watching her ascend the stairs was like torture for my libido. With every step, her plump buttcheeks bounced.
Halfway up the stairs, she turned her head towards me, caught me staring at her ass, and winked. Then she flitted up the rest of the way and disappeared in my daughter's room.
I groaned. It was too much. I raced to the downstairs bathroom, unzipped, and pulled out my rock hard cock. After ten seconds, I blew a massive load into the sink. Sprayed semen virtually everywhere.
Then, in my post-orgasmic clarity, the guilt set in. I started berating myself for my lecherous behavior. Amber definitely knew the effect she had on me and she loved to tease but I should have been stronger.
The worst part wasn't even Amber. It was the effect she had on Meghan. It started almost a year ago, during her first semester in college. Every time I saw her, she seemed to wear fewer clothes and more makeup.
There were times when the two of them watched TV together in the living room on a lazy Saturday morning in just their underwear and lounged around like they were on a set of a Playboy shoot. I walked into the room and saw my daughter's perky ass next to Amber's plump one. Watched her turn around and say, "Morning, Daddy," accompanied by Amber's, "Morning, Mr. Stone." Then they turned back to the TV and started giggling amongst themselves.
I don't know when exactly it happened but Meghan had really grown into her body. It wasn't just Amber who had the tits and ass to make any man's knees weak. My daughter had them, too, and she was more than aware of it. Just about the only difference between the two of them was that Meghan had the same chestnut brown hair I did, along with a slimmer face and cute nose, which she had inherited from her mother.
Oh god, I can't even count the number of nights I spent fantasizing over the two of them. The gallons of cum I spilled. The hours I spent feeling ashamed of wanting to fuck my own daughter.
My life as a single father of a nineteen-year-old daughter was pure torture.
*** *** ***
Two months ago, for my thirty-ninth birthday, Meghan had given me tickets to a magic show. The Amazing André Alchemico.
It had been a pretty good show. His gimmick was a modern fusion of hypnotism and chemistry. He mixed liquids on stage to create smoke that looked like dragons and dinosaurs, threw a bucket full water at the front row that turned into snow mid-air, and things like that.
The climax of the show had been a segment involving volunteers. Andé picked five out of the crowd. He put various animal hats on their heads and then blew a glittery powder in their faces. After holding up a mirror, each of the volunteers started acting like the animals of the hats they wore.
I distinctly remembered a woman in a chicken hat stalking around the stage for five minutes, clucking like a chicken. A man in a dog hat crawled around on all fours, barking.
It had been a great show, but that wasn't the most important part. The most important part was that two weeks later, I received a brochure in the mail. From the Amazing André Alchemico. It thanked me for attending his show.
It also offered the animal hypnosis powder for sale. "A party gag that will leave everyone confounded. With just a pinch of this Amazing André Alchemico Original Recipe, turn even the most resilient of minds into anything you want. A temporary hypnosis so powerful that even your closest family members will forget who they are, and baa, bark, and bleat at your command. Only $50.00."
It had been the last line that really drew me in. Something that could make Meghan forget that she was my daughter? It dominated my dreams for countless of nights.
I sat in my office in front of the computer while Amber and Meghan were locked in my daughter's room, getting ready for their Halloween plans. On my desk sat a little black pouch, with "AAA" embroidered on it. Inside it was a powder that seemed to glitter under direct light.
I picked it up for the dozenth time that evening and looked at it. It was such a stupid idea. I knew the entire show had to have been a trick. Simple stage magic. Sleight of hand and deception. The brochure had just been a way to fleece idiots out of their money. Something for people to buy as a gag gift and when it never worked, they would just say that they didn't use it right.
No, the fifty bucks might as well have gone down the drain. I was the world's biggest idiot for falling for it. But the thought of it working... of Meghan being hypnotized into someone who wasn't my daughter... just the thought of it made my cock rival the Washington Monument in size and hardness.
But... what if it worked?
I tossed the silk bag next to my top hat that was part of my billionaire costume and sighed. Loud laughter pierced through the walls. Amber and Meghan were having fun. She was probably re-telling the story of how I checked out her ass on the way in and they amused themselves at how much of a horny old bastard I was. But in my fantasy they were naked, eating each other out, and laughing with excitement.
My obsession was going to be the death of me someday.
*** *** ***
I poured the peanut bars into the large bowl. Added the gummi bears. The lollipops. The chocolate drops.
It was unlikely that I'd get a lot of trick or treaters tonight but it never hurt to be prepared. Any leftovers were well-appreciated snacks through the coming festival period.
"Mr. Stone," Amber's melodious voice rang through the kitchen. I whirled around, nearly toppling over the bowl. She stood in the entrance to the kitchen, hands on her hips, plastic trident clutched in one fist. She'd put on makeup and now her lips were crimson red to match the rest of the ensemble.
"Hello, Amber. Are you two heading out?"
"Just about. But we wanted to get your opinion on something first."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. We were hoping you could judge if Meghan's costume is appropriate for tonight or not."
Oh god. I mentally prepared myself for the worst. Steeled myself against my overflowing desire to rip the clothes off of Amber's perfect body.
Amber stepped into the kitchen and only then did I notice she held something in her hand. It was a silver chain. She tugged on it and around the corner my daughter appeared.
I just about lost it. The chain was fastened to a black collar around Meghan's neck, about an inch wide. She wore a black, skin-tight, strapless dress with white lace trims and a small apron. A maid outfit. The bottom of the skirt barely went past her butt. It feathered outwards, with a white petticoat. She wore stockings, too. Black ones, with a white lace bow on each thigh.
Amber tugged on the silver chain again and pulled Meghan closer. "She's my slave tonight. She sold her wicked soul to the devil and now I own her body. Isn't that right, my pet?"
"Yes, Mistress," Meghan responded demurely.
I couldn't believe it. My daughter was actually going to go a party looking like that. Guys would be all over her, no doubt encouraged by Amber. The thought of some lucky guy out there putting his paws on my daughter while I sat at home alone jerking off made me groan.
"What do you think of my pet?" asked Amber with a wicked grin.
"Don't you think it's a bit too much?" I tried tentatively. "I don't know if I feel comfortable with Meghan going out like that. Maybe you should change into—"
"Oh come on!" Meghan cried out.
"Pet, did I allow you to talk?" Amber scolded.
"No. I'm sorry, Mistress," Meghan apologized and stared at her own feet.
"Good girl. See, Mr. Stone? She's going to behave very well tonight. I'll make sure she doesn't get into any trouble."
I trusted Amber to keep her out of trouble less than I trusted the fabric of my pants not to break under the immense strain. "I still don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"It's just... I mean, you know it's not appropriate for women to—"
"Wait, Mr. Stone. When you're looking at your own daughter in her very adorable and innocent maid outfit, are you saying that you have impure—"
"No, I'm not saying that at all. But—" I tried to defend myself.
"Well, it's settled then. It's a perfectly fine outfit. Come on, my little pet, we're leaving." Amber turned around and headed for the door. She tugged on the chain and my daughter waltzed after her. Their heels clicked on the hardwood floor. "Don't wait up for us, Mr. Stone."
"Wait," I called out. It was now or never. Amber halted with an eyebrow raised. "Let me go get something first."
I raced upstairs, my feet pounding on the stairs as hard as the heart thumped in my chest. Grabbed the black pouch and the top hat. Returned downstairs and almost slipped on the stairs. In a few seconds, I was going to look like the biggest idiot on the planet.
"What's that?" asked Amber, staring at the black silk in my hands.
"Just a little something to make your costumes shine." I put the top hat on my head, loosened the string of the pouch, and shook a little of the glittery dust into the palm of my trembling hand.
"How kind of you, Mr. Stone."
I pursed my lips and blew on the pile.
A cloud of glitter erupted out of my hand. It billowed out, raining little sparks everywhere. Over Amber's exposed cleavage. Her face. Meghan's cheeks. The walls. The hardwood. The shoes. The stairs. Everywhere.
"Ooh," squealed Meghan.
"Shiny," grinned Amber. "Very nice, that'll look great. Thanks, Mr. Stone."
Nothing happened. No sudden hypnosis. No blank stares. Not even a hint of animal noises. God damn, I was the biggest idiot on the planet.
"Have a nice evening, we're—"
Amber turned to leave and came face to face with the glass panels next to the door. She stopped dead in her tracks. Everything was dark outside. With the light on, it acted like a makeshift mirror. The mirror! Of course, I had forgotten all about the mirror.
"What? Where am I?" Amber asked. She looked around wildly. Stared at her own hands
Her eyes fell on me. A flash of hatred crossed her face. She advanced on me, with the trident pointed right at me. Fast. I backed up until my back hit the wall. Amber's hand slammed into my chest, pushing me hard against the cool surface. With her other hand, she held the trident to my throat.
