Warning – Copyright

WARNING: 18+. My dark erotic stories blend explicit sexual themes with intense psychological drama, pointed satire, and highly controversial subjects. This work features extreme taboo dynamics, including fictional dub-con or non-con situations, that are essential to character and plot development. All characters are depicted strictly as adults (18+) engaged in fictional role-playing. Reader discretion is strongly advised; if these themes are offensive or triggering to you, please kindly skip my work. Thank you so much!

Note: This is dark fiction. If you or someone you know has been affected by trauma related to these themes and needs support, please consider reaching out to international support networks via the NO MORE Global Directory (nomoredirectory.org) to find confidential, free resources local to your country.

Copyright ©2026 Delisha Keane. All rights reserved.

Cover design: AI & Delisha Keane

COPYRIGHT: Copyright encourages authors to produce works that enrich our culture and society. Uploading or distributing any content from this book without prior authorization is theft of the author’s intellectual property. Please respect the author’s work as you would your own. Thanks for supporting the author’s work.

Halloween Party With Daddy: A Daughter's Journal

v1.0

1: The Costume Trick That Got Her Stripped

I stomp into my bedroom like I’m trying to murder the floor, and Daddy is right behind me with that look on his face. That look that says he thinks I’m being dramatic. I’m eighteen years old, and I have the Halloween costume options of a nine-year-old whose mom shops at Goodwill.

“There is no way. No. Way.”

He leans against my doorframe. Arms crossed. The corner of his mouth doing that twitchy thing.

“Show me.”

“Show you what? They’re garbage.”

“Show me. Then I’ll tell you if they’re garbage.”

Wonder Woman

I yank open the bottom drawer of my dresser so hard it almost comes off. The Wonder Woman costume is under everything else, folded into a sad little square. I pull it out. It’s basically a one-piece bathing suit with a cape stapled to it. The fabric is this faded red and blue that probably looked cool at some point. Maybe 2016. Maybe never.

“Put it on.”

I stare at him.

He shrugs.

Fine. Whatever.

I kick off my running shoes. Pull my sweater over my head. The jeans come next, and I have to do that stupid shimmy to get them down because they’re old and tight in the wrong way. Then my T-shirt.

I’m standing there in my cotton bra and cotton panties, the full Victoria’s Clearance Rack, and I grab the Wonder Woman one-piece and step into it.

I pull it up. The straps sit on my shoulders. The cape hangs behind me like a sad towel.

‘I look like a dollar store superhero.’

I turn to the mirror on the back of my closet door. The fabric is pilling. There’s a stain near the hip that might be chocolate or might be something worse. The elastic around the legs has given up on life.

“See?”

He tilts his head. Studies me. Then nods slow.

“Yeah. That’s bad.”

“Told you.”

“What’s the other one?”

Cinderella

I reach back into the drawer and pull out the Cinderella costume. It’s a dress. Blue. Puffy sleeves. The kind of thing that would be cute if I was going to a fairy-tale-themed birthday party in the third grade.

“Try it on.”

He immediately holds up one hand.

His finger points at my chest. Then lower. At the cotton bra straps poking out of the Wonder Woman neckline. At the panty lines showing through the hip.

“Take the underwear off first. You gotta try it clean, or it’s gonna look lumpy no matter what.”

My face goes hot.

“Daddy.”

“What. You want to see if it works or not? Your bra and panties are bunching up under that thing. Of course it’ll look ugly.”

He has a point, and I hate it.

I point at the door.

“Out.”

He pushes off the doorframe with his shoulder. Takes a step back. Two steps. He’s in the hallway now.

I peel the Wonder Woman one-piece down. The fabric clings to my skin like it’s begging me to keep it. I kick it off my ankles.

Then I reach behind my back and unclip my bra. Plain white cotton. It drops to the floor. My boobs feel the cool air of my bedroom, and my nipples tighten immediately.

Then I hook my thumbs into my panties and slide them down.

Naked.

Fully, completely, nothing-on-me naked in my bedroom with the—

My heart does something wrong. Like a hiccup in my chest.

The door is open.

Daddy

Daddy is standing in the hallway, and he is looking right at me. Not at the wall. Not at his phone. At me. At my body. At my breasts and my stomach and my hips and everything between my legs.

‘He can see everything.’

I freeze. My arms don’t move. My hands just hang at my sides like two useless things that forgot what hands are supposed to do, which is ‘cover yourself, idiot.’

His eyes are on my tits. Then lower. Then back up to my face.

I don’t know how long it lasts. A second. Three seconds. Enough seconds for him to see everything there is to see.

I grab the Cinderella dress and pull it over my head so fast I almost rip it. My arms find the sleeves. The fabric falls past my hips and I’m covered again and my heartbeat is somewhere in my throat.

‘He saw me. He saw all of me. That just happened.’

I smooth the dress down with shaking hands and turn to face the mirror. The Cinderella dress is wrinkled and faded and the blue looks like it got left out in the rain for a week. The puffy sleeves make my arms look weird.

But my face in the mirror is flushed and my eyes are wide and I look like someone who just got walked in on. Because I did. Sort of.

‘Just act normal. Act like you didn’t see him looking.’

“You can come in.”

Footsteps on the carpet. He walks back into my bedroom and stands behind me. His reflection appears in the mirror. He looks at the costume. His eyes travel from the sleeves to the waist to the hem.

I wait.

The Girl From TikTok

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. The screen lights up with a TikTok notification.

Daddy is still looking at the dress, but I grab the phone because anything is better than standing here pretending I don’t know he just saw me naked.

It’s Alazne. Of course it is.

She’s in her bedroom, black curly hair loose around her shoulders, one hand on her hip and the other waving at the camera. She’s wearing this tiny cropped top that barely covers her small tits and shorts so short they might as well be underwear.

The rant is pure Alazne.

Her parents are making her go to some neighborhood Halloween party in two weeks. She keeps switching between English and Spanish when she gets really pissed. Her hand slides down her own stomach while she talks, which is just what Alazne does. She touches herself like she’s her own biggest fan.

‘Neighborhood Halloween party.’

Today is Saturday. The party Daddy wants me to go to is in two weeks. And Alazne lives in this area. I know because I’ve seen her at the grocery store.

‘It’s the same fucking party.’

My stomach drops. Alazne is one of the most popular girls at college. She walks around campus in outfits that make guys walk into doors.

She never wears a bra. Everyone knows this because you can literally see her nipples through every single top she owns.

And now she’s going to be at my neighborhood Halloween party. Where she will see me in this sad blue Cinderella dress that looks like it survived a flood.

Him, Too!

I scroll down to the comments.

And there it is.

Sylvan. His profile picture is him flexing shirtless with that stupid grin. His comment: ‘bro same. my mom is making me go lmaooo’

‘No.’

Sylvan. At the party. Sylvan, who sits three rows behind me in Econ. Sylvan, who has a different girlfriend every two weeks and has literally never looked in my direction. Not once. Not even when I dropped all my books in the hallway and made a complete fool of myself. He stepped over them and kept walking.

And now he’s going to see me dressed as a Disney princess from a dumpster.

The Costume Deal

“I can’t go in this.”

Daddy looks up.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I’m eighteen. I can’t show up to a party in a Cinderella costume that looks like it went through a washing machine forty times.”

His eyes go to the phone in my hand. Then back to the dress.

“You’re right. Both costumes are bad.”

He picks up the Wonder Woman one-piece from my bed where I left it in a crumpled heap. Then he holds out his other hand.

“Give me that one too.”

I look down at the Cinderella dress I’m wearing.

‘If I take this off, I’m naked ...