A Vampire's Last Stand 🧛

The meat cleaver had been the right choice, Molly decided, as she hurried down the dark street, boots squelch-squelch-squelching with blood. The chainsaw would’ve been too heavy. The devil’s trident had a wicked point, and Molly had very nearly gone with trident and meat cleaver together. But after posing with both in front of the mirror, she’d decided to leave the trident in her room. It just didn’t go with her costume.

Speaking of things that didn't go with their costume...

Twirling around, Molly peered back down the road. It was dark now and the light of a full moon was seeping into the fog, creating a thick ghostly mist. Even so, she had no trouble making out the large black figure that had been following her all night.

'Come on Auntie Abby!’ Molly called, now skipping backwards, ‘We still have four blocks to go.’ She paused, squinting into the darkness. ‘And stop eating my sweets! Catwoman doesn't eat sweets!'

Catwoman doesn't waddle like a cartoon hippo either, Molly almost added, biting her tongue just in time. She knew she was already on thin ice. If there was one thing Auntie Abby hated, it was walking. Every Christmas Day the family went on a post-dinner hike through the countryside, and Auntie Abby always scowled and grumbled throughout. ‘It’s because her bottom’s so big,’ Grandma had whispered one year, when Molly asked why Auntie Abby was being so grumpy, ‘look how it wobbles!’ For the next few minutes Molly and Grandma had done just that, giggling behind their hands at the jelly-like bounce and jostle of their relative's oversized yet stylishly clad rear-end as she huffed and puffed up a gentle slope, until Daddy turned to glare at them. Last year Auntie Abby had refused to go on the hike at all, complaining of a calf strain from the gym. Grandma, however, said the only thing Auntie Abby had strained was her stomach, after three helpings of Christmas pudding at dinner, and that she looked so full that even a single step might cause her to explode, showering the countryside in sultanas and brandy butter, an image that had Molly giggling hysterically for the rest of the day.

She doesn't look far off exploding now, Molly thought, as Catwoman broke character once again to cram a handful of Haribo jelly bears into her mouth. Molly sighed, silently cursing that stupid Superman for pouring that full tub of Starmix into Auntie Abby's goody bag just because she'd tossed her silky hair at him. Since then she'd been eating almost constantly.

At first Molly hadn't minded: it had given her a chance to build up some sweets of her own without them being pinched. But as they'd moved from street to street, and the bulge of Auntie Abby's goody bag gradually deflated and the bulge of her middle gradually inflated, her already overstretched catsuit had begun to squeeze her tighter and tighter. Apart from making her arms and legs look like overstuffed sausages, the increasing tightness of Auntie Abby's costume had slowed her down so much that she now seemed to be moving in slow motion, like the Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters.

'Come on!' Molly called again. This was ridiculous. By the time they got to the next house everyone would be in bed!

Molly shook her head with a sigh. Auntie Abby had looked even more pleased with herself than usual when she'd arrived in her costume, but Molly had been far from impressed. Catwoman wasn't scary! And apart from the silky black hair, there was no likeness at all. Tapping her foot impatiently, Molly watched Auntie Abby's heeled boot swing forward once more, agonisingly slowly. After seeming to hang in the air for about half an hour it finally landed, sending a billowing quiver through her thighs that rose to her chest and made her bulging catsuit wobble all over as if it were filled with jelly rather than a person, the buttons down her front wheezing and straining.

She’d have been better as Ursula, or Oogie Boogie, Molly thought, turning to check her reflection in the shiny letterbox. Adjusting her black wig so that the strands of hair fell in front of her blackened eye sockets, and trying to ignore the rustle of another chocolate being unwrapped behind her, she pressed the doorbell.

A ghoulish voice echoed from within: ‘It’s oooh-pen!’

Molly snorted contemptuously. Lowering her head and raising the meat cleaver high, she pushed open the door. ‘Trick or tr-’

Her growling voice was cut off by the need to cough, as clouds of dark grey mist engulfed her. Wafting them aside, Molly squinted into the darkness.

And her eyes widened in fright.

Deep in a narrow hallway, illuminated by dim candles, a bald old vampire was rising from a long-backed chair. Blood-red eyes pierced the darkness as his cloak spread bat-like, billowing waves of mist forward. Raising long curving fingernails above his head, he bared his fangs with a terrible hiss.

Retreating instinctively, Molly felt her heel catch on the threshold. With a gasp of shock she began to topple backwards, until the back of her head sank into something squishy.

It was the sweets, Molly later decided, that saved her. If it hadn't been so swollen with jelly bears and fruit chews and cola bottles and jelly beans - not to mention an infanticide of jelly babies - Auntie Abby's belly might not have protruded far enough to intercept the fall of Molly's head, or bulged with enough jelly-like plumpness to compress slightly beneath its weight and then immediately propel it back up.

Feeling as if she'd been bounced forward off the wall of a bouncy castle, Molly stumbled back into the hallway, spreading her arms to maintain her balance. From somewhere above her head there came a grunted belch, followed by a metallic pinging sound.

Two small, shiny black objects shot forward like bullets, striking the old vampire right between his bloodshot eyes, which flicked up in surprise.

And then bulged so huge that they almost burst their sockets.

As if felled by a sudden beam of sunlight, the ancient being staggered backwards, fangs and then dentures dropping in quick succession from his gaping maw. With a creaking wheeze, like the lid of a coffin closing, he crumpled into his chair.

For a few seconds, Molly gazed at the still-twitching creature. Then, vaguely aware of a rubbery squeaking sound behind her, she turned to find an even more confusing sight.

Chocolate-bulging cheeks flushed pink below her mask, Catwoman stood in the doorway with one gloved forearm held across the swollen expanse of a quite enormous and almost fully exposed bosom, which wobbled in the moonlight as her other hand fumbled beneath it, desperately trying to re-do the remaining buttons of her catsuit.

A catsuit that had burst open all the way down to her pudgy bellybutton.

Molly smiled behind her straggly hair. Turning back into the hallway, she picked up the large tub of Quality Street on a table beside the fallen vampire's chair and upended it into her cauldron.

Perhaps Catwoman was scary, after all.

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Hope you enjoyed this little Abby-based Halloween vignette and pic! Thought it was time I rewarded my higher-tier patrons for their amazing support, so this one is an early release for you guys and girls. I may open it up to others at a later date. 

There'll be some more exclusive higher-tier only stuff soon, including a few short stories about a new character: a vain blonde former local beauty queen in her mid thirties (yes, I've been re-reading Samster's Tracey stories! 😁).

EDIT: I realise the picture doesn't actually show a scene from the story. Sorry about that! This was one of those occasions where I did the picture first, but then the story developed from it. I do have the scene from the pic (and how it arose) in my head, so I'll probably get around to writing it.

Thanks so much for your support! As always feedback is very welcome. :)