Treat or Trick: A Story

This drabble is perhaps my ultimate fantasy. There is much truth in this, but sadly, this has never happened to me. Yet. Though if you want to be part of changing that, you can contact me at Comments always welcome.


The slight breeze didn’t help, and caused another shiver. The slightly wet ground, soaking into my tights didn’t help either. I was on my knees, blindfolded, blathering like an idiot, wondering if I’d made a mistake. Was he coming back? Should I take the blindfold off? But he’d been so good.
It was already pretty dark, and not a little cold, when I pulled into the parking lot of the small town park. Which made sense, it was Halloween. I walked down the pathway by the light of the moon, and listened hard. I wasn’t trying to blend in, no, I’d made sure of that. No chickening out for me. For years I’d been going out for Halloween in a girlie costume, pushing my boundaries every year, and this year I was listening especially hard for anyone else on the pathway. Some distant traffic noises could be heard, but out here in the Connecticut suburbs, I figured I was likely alone...or just about. Plans were that I wouldn’t be alone for long.

I wasn’t worried about someone stumbling into me and reacting to my outfit, for two reasons. Firstly, my costume made clear that I didn’t mind attention. Over years, I’d gotten a bit more outre with my costumes, from a pink devil to Alice to a sailor girl (that year I got pulled over for speeding, and that was quite the memory). This year I was a girlie clown. My outfit was a riot of aqua, yellow and pink with fuzzy “buttons,” a little jester cap on a headband, silly little gloves, and matching tights. A tutu poofed out the skirt, and my little pink shoes finished the outfit. I was a harlequin, a silly one. Of course, no self-respecting woman would wear such a costume but it was never intended for one. But that was fine, because my girlish side was typically younger, a young teenager. Giggly, self-conscious, spacey...something that would matter soon. I wasn’t into really dirty stuff, but was about to try something for the first time.

The evening had begun with a walk around a mall, soaking in the alarm and surprising amount of support from shoppers. “Well, you’re making ME laugh” said one guy, middle-aged with alcohol on his breath already as he leaned into me. I’d smiled tightly, but eventually relaxed. In the previous week, I’d made some modifications to the costume, some of necessity. As an adult, and a bit tall, my torso was too long for a “Tween” outfit, but I’d learned the trick of buying two costumes, and cutting out the skirt of one to add beneath the skirt of the second, giving me a two-tiered skirt that didn’t show too much. A short skirt was de rigeur for Halloween, of course.

One part of the appeal of a clown costume was in another set of modifications I made. I’d bought the largest colored bells I could find at a craft store, and sewed them to the jester cap, the fringed collar, little gloves, my shoes, and even the skirt of the outfit. Every step or movement caused a jingling racket, one that fit with the outfit and kept e from sneaking past even had I wanted to. I’d even sewn a small string of battery-powered LED lights into the skirt, but didn’t have that on. Too much was too much, even for me.

In this age of gender fluid acceptance, I didn’t get the mockery that I would have at one point, a bit of a letdown. Sure, a couple girls laughed, and I did hear one person say “oh my God, you just missed it” to someone as I walked past their back. But my dream of sustained humiliation wasn’t realized there. Nor at the small community college where I walked. I saw some smiles, but none of the laughing that I’d hoped...maybe people were too sober in both sense of the word. I wasn’t about to demand that people mock me. I told myself it was fine. I had dreams beyond being ridiculed by coeds. Those other dreams had brought me here.

A couple leaves rustled behind me and I tensed, couldn’t help myself. Then the adrenaline hit as I felt something draped around my neck from behind. “Got you!” came a muffled voice. Dodging around me in the path, I was confronted with an overweight man, wearing a black cloak and a white “Scream” style mask. I appreciated the effort.

I looked down at the cheap string of plastic jack o’lanterns and offered a fake pout, my voice thin and high. “Oh no.”

“Yep!” he said. “The treat-or-trick necklace! You know what that means!”

I nodded down, the fringe of my rainbow wig falling into my eyes. I swept the cheap hair out of them. “I know.”

“You have to do WHATEVER I tell you to,” he crowed. “If not, I tell EVERYONE and you will be an outcast at school tomorrow.”

Yep, that was the storyline we’d worked out. What fate could be worse for a teenager. I was about to mentally congratulate him on his creativity when he followed up with something I didn’t appreciate nearly so much. “Maybe I should make you suck my cock!”

I looked at the impassive mask. “Whoa, “ I said, a more male edge to it. This was my fear, I’d stumble on someone who’d ignore what we had painstakingly agreed to via email to get more. I’d been victim to many roleplays where something similar had happened in the past. Work on limits and plotlines, and then it blows up by minute four. I was bi-curious at best, but one thing at a time.
In response, mystery man offered a slight snort. His voice lowered. “It’s all part of the, you know. I know your limits.”

This allowed me to relax and resume character. “I….I’ve never...done that.”

He bent toward me. “Aw, you’re a little girl, basically aren’t you? What are you, 11?”

“13!” I responded with indignation.

A confident laugh, the braying of an entitled teenager came back. This guy was not bad. “Aw, you’re just a little girl. Tell me you’re a lit- no, wait. Wait. Tell me you haven’t sucked a cock yet, but you really want to.”


“You heard me, tiny one.”

He was no more than my height, but it was a good line. “I...haven’t yet, um…”

“Yes?” his voice led.

“...sucked a cock.”

A peal of laughter came from behind the mask. “Go on.”

“But I ah, really want to.”

He shook his head in front of me. “And leave bright face paint on some guy’s dong?”

“I...uh...guess so.” I bit my lip. That was in character, right? I was starting to be unsure, which thrilled me. My blood was singing.

“Aww, poor girl. I’m making you uncomfortable aren’t I?”

“A little bit.” I nodded. “Why don’t you take off your mask?”

“So you can whine and complain to everyone who humiliated you on Halloween night? No thanks, Miss Popular. It’ll keep a secret. You’ll just have to guess. I won’t even give you a fake name.”

Silence. I wanted more humiliation, but didn’t want to be too demanding. He sighed. “Well, let me think about what to do with you. While I wait, suck your thumb, little one.”

I put my thumb, tipped with a rainbow-painted fake nail in my mouth. The acrid taste of nail glue tickled my taste buds.

“Gimme your purse.” He said, as he reached for the pale pink bag I had on my arm.

I pulled the thumb out. “Hey!”

“Did I say you could stop sucking your thumb? Just for that, use the other hand to twirl your hair, like the ditzy cheerleader you are.”

Perfect. I was silent and stupid for all to see as this guy unzipped the purse. “Ooh!”

He held up my car key. Shit. I really hadn’t thought that out. I was sure he was smiling behind his mask. Still, I felt unable to complain, with my thumb lodged in my mouth.

“Lots of lip shit...wait..” He made a show of looking up.

“Have you even kissed a guy?”

“No.” I said around my thumb. This was true. We both knew that, and we both knew that was the-

“So much makeup….perfume. Wait, what’s this?” He held up a grey furry sleep mask. “You can take your thumb out.”

My thumb trails some spit, and glistens with pink lip gloss. “I’m going to Amber’s for a sleepover. I can’t sleep with any lights on."

“This is too perfect,” he says.

“Put it on now.” I took it with a bit of a sourpuss and paused.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” he reminded me.

That wasn’t it...I was hoping he would blindfold me, another symbol of his control over me, but it would be petulant for me to say that. This guy was great. I carefully put the elastic behind my wig and drew the mask down over it until it pretty much covered my eyes. I heard some fabric shift in front of me. “Aaah...that’s better.”

 His voice was clearer. “Now, let’s see….”

My heart was pounding. Was he going to toy with me more? That would be great. But if not, the finish would be welcome. This guy had been great...demeaning me, laughing at me. Sure, it would have been so much better if he’d mocked my costume or had me do some cheers like the ditzy cheerleader I claimed to be, but that was fine. As long as he didn’t mess this up…

“Let’s see. A girl who’s never been kissed, wearing the Treat-or-Trick necklace. With tons of, hm, cotton candy lip gloss. Perfect. Tell me you want to kiss me.”

This was real. My voice shook a bit. “I want to kiss you.”

“You sound like a wannabe movie star. Ever sentence from now on, you include the word ‘like’ once. Got it?”

 I nodded blindly. “I want to like, kiss you.”

“Tell me you want to make out with me.”

I did. “I like want to make out with you.”

 I felt something thrust into my hand. “Paint your lips. With a heavy hand.”

In reality, I hate the taste of cotton candy, but I figure a girl like Ashlee would love it. Just a reminder of my humility, I figured, as I added a layer or two to my lips, screwing the cover back on.

“Get on your knees.”


I felt a slight push down on each of my shoulders. “Get on your knees, and since you didn’t say ‘like’, now you have to say it twice in every sentence.” My arms out, I gently let myself down on the wet ground. I held myself from the cold. “Now, Ashlee, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to beg me to make out with you. You’re going to tell me how great it will be. And DO NOT STOP. Understand?”

And so I started talking. It was even more humiliating than I’d dreamed. “I like think it would be soooo cool to like make out with you. I would like love to taste like your mouth…” I babbled on, straining my ears? That’s where I was. Had he swiped my key and driven off with my car? Had he left, amused or bored? What if someone else showed up? Suddenly a strong smell reminiscent of my own teenage years hit me. Axe. Just as I was processing that, I felt hands on my face, and a tongue shoved itself into my mouth.

It was happening! After 38 years, my first kiss with a guy. On Halloween, with me so helpless and hopeless! For the next several minutes, his tongue worked on mine. His breath wasn’t bad - to be honest I was hoping for Doritos and Mountain Dew for the full experience. To be kneeling there in this ridiculous outfit, my bells tinkling slightly, some stranger playing tonsil hockey with me. It was delightful.

After a minute, or maybe an hour, he disengaged. His voice was softer. “Count to 100 out loud, then you can take the bli- sleeping mask off.”

I started counting as I heard him get up. I counted to 100 and lifted the sleeping mask. He was gone. I didn’t know what he looked like, his name, or anything. He was just some “random boy” who I’d made out with. Someone owned my first kiss, and I would never even learn who it was. I walked back in a daze, wondering if I should email him or let it be.

I wasn’t sure if it was my character debating that, or me.

 --- I write novellas as Kaitlyn Parker on Amazon. If you liked this, check ‘em out!


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