Irresistible Super-Stud

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters were created by Joss Whedon and are owned by Mutant Enemy.
Natalia Romanoff (a.k.a. the Black Widow) was created by Brian Michael Bendis & Terry Moore (at least according to Wikipedia) and is owned by Marvel Comics.
Pussy Galore was created by Ian Fleming and I presume is owned by his estate.
Joe Hundredaire is probably a figment of my imagination brought forth to torment me (much like The Janitor in season 1 of Scrubs), but some claim he is a real person and writer/moderator at Twisting the Hellmouth. I will reserve judgment for now...

With thanks to Saturn for the beta.

Irresistible Super-Stud: The Joe Hundredaire Story
Chapter 1: Setting The Stage

“I like it!” Xander looked at the costume, a huge grin on his face, “I may not know a lot about a lot of things, but I know what I like.”

“Lounge Lizard.” Buffy shook her head, “It’s a Lounge Lizard outfit.”

The dark burgundy satin smoking jacket was trimmed with gold, and came complete with a white silk scarf, black silk shirt and slacks. A plastic bag attached to the hanger contained a fake cigarette in a long, thin holder and a plastic martini glass, complete with two plastic olives on a cocktail stick.

“It looks like something Hugh Hefner would wear.” The Slayer shook her head.

“Indeed; that’s the point.” Xander was grinning like an idiot, “Look, Principal Snyder has us over a barrel with this chaperone thing, so I say we fight back: we get costumes that will make the little troll’s face turn red.”

“As much as I hate to say this, you have a point.” Buffy looked over to Willow, “I’m in if you are.”

“I don’t know...” Willow looked nervous, but finally nodded, “Ok, I guess.”

“Groovy!” Xander smiled, grabbing the costume off the rack, “Let’s find you two ladies something provocative...”

“I’m not dressing as a bunny-girl!” Buffy spun around: jabbing her friend with a finger, “So don’t get any bright ideas, Hugh.”

“Buffy, relax, it’s me.” Xander held his hands up protectively, “Would I ever dream of something like that?”

“What about this?” Willow asked, defusing the situation instantly.

“What you got?” Buffy asked, then saw what her friend was looking at, “Oh my...”

It was leather and very little else. The top was cut short to show off the midriff, but the neck was surprisingly high. There was a red circle containing a black spider on the left breast. The bottom was a pair of form fitting black leather pants that left little if nothing to the imagination.

“The Black Widow.” Xander looked the costume over, “Very nice.”

“Who?” Buffy asked.

“Natalia Romanoff, a.k.a. the Black Widow.” Xander explained, “A comic book character: super spy extraordinaire. She got her nom de plume because all her ex-husbands met messy and unpleasant ends.”

“And you want to go as her?” Buffy looked at her red-haired friend, “You feeling ok, Wills?”

“I like it.” Willow nodded, “It’s a bit more revealing then I was thinking of, but I get Xander’s idea of annoying Principal Snyder.”

“We’ll have to do some padding.” Buffy stood holding the top, “No offence, but you’re not exactly built for this...”

“What about you, Buff?” Xander asked.

“I liked that dress over there...” Buffy looked around to see the outfit she’d been looking at was gone, taken by someone faster, “Rats!”

“The early bird catches the worm.” Xander shrugged, and then saw what was behind the outfit Willow was interested in, “Hold the phone.”

It was a one piece leather cat suit with matching thigh high boots. The letters AU were picked out in gold thread in roughly the same spot as the spider emblem on Willow’s costume. Buffy lifted it up and held it against her body: it looked like an almost perfect fit.

“Pussy Galore?” Buffy looked at the label, “I’m not going as a prostitute...”

“Relax Buffy, it’s all good.” Xander put his arm around her shoulder, “Haven’t you ever seen Goldfinger? Pussy Galore was the bond-girl, Honor Blackman played her, and she was a major babe in her day!”

“And it kind of goes with mine.” Willow looked hopeful, “Please Buffy: I’ll never have the nerve otherwise...”

“Ok, ok, ok.” The Slayer knew when she was defeated and it was time to give in, “Let’s go. Xander, we’ll meet you at my place half an hour before we’re supposed to be at the school.”

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“I’m not too sure about this.” Willow stood looking at her reflection in the full length mirror, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all...”

“You’re not backing out now.” Buffy handed her friend two pairs of rolled up socks, “Here: these should pad that top out a little.”

“People are going to laugh at me.”

“It’s like Xander said: this is our way of showing Snyder he can’t boss us around. Where did you put the belt?”

“Over on the bed.”

“Well then put it on and let's see what you look like fully kitted out.”

“Do I have to take the gun?”

“It’s part of the costume, and I think it makes you look dangerous.”

“That’s not how I feel.” Willow lifted the gun belt up and pulled it around her waist, securing the holster strap around her upper thigh. The plastic toy gun looked ridiculously large in her small hands, so she slipped it into the holster and closed the Velcro strap over the top.

“You think I feel any better?” Buffy looked down at her outfit: it could almost have been made for her, the soft leather flowing over her body like a second skin. It was tight and loose in all the right places, showing off her figure. One thing that did have Buffy a little worried was that it was so tight around her chest that she’d had to forgo wearing a bra, as it would have been clearly visible: the side effect of this was that she showed a lot more cleavage than she’d originally intended, and her nipples could just be made out through the subtle leather.

“I think Angel will like it.” Willow smiled.

“You know,” Buffy looked at her friend coyly, “for someone who claims that they are still a virgin, you seem to know a lot about what turns men on...”

They could hear the doorbell chime, saving Willow further embarrassment.

“I’ve got it.” Joyce Summers called out, opening the door and getting her first look at Xander, “And who may I say is calling?”

“The name’s Harris, Alexander Harris.” Xander gripped the end of the plastic cigarette holder between his teeth and reached out to kiss the older woman’s hand, “Charmed, I’m sure...”

“Xander, heel!” Buffy called out as she made her way down the stairs, followed by a rather self-conscious Willow.

“Giggitty! Giggitty! Giggitty!” Xander’s jaw dropped when he saw his two best friends in their costumes, the cigarette holder falling to the floor.

Joyce reached out with one hand and lifted his mouth closed, snapping him out of his trance like state.

“Sorry: all the blood just drained from my head for a moment there.” He shook his head, “Snyder’s going to blow his top!”

“He’d better.” Buffy smiled too sweetly, “Or I’m going to find a very small hole and re-enact your birth...”

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“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THREE THINK YOU’RE DRESSED AS?” Principal Snyder roared in anger as he saw Xander walk down the corridor of Sunnydale high school, Buffy and Willow on either arm.

“Well, there wasn’t exactly a dress code...” Xander did his best to sound innocent, but there was no mistaking the humour in his eyes.

“I...” Snyder stood fuming, his face turning bright red. He looked like steam was going to start escaping through his ears any second, a vain on his forehead throbbed visibly.

“We could always go.” Buffy suggested, “If you don’t think it’s appropriate for us to be dressed like this in front of little kids...”

“NO!” Snyder snapped, “You’re not getting out of this that easily!” He waved a finger at them accusingly, “But if I get one complaint...”

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Ethan Rayne knelt before the statue of Janus and completed the spell that would unleash chaos on Sunnydale. He’d been careful not to stock any costumes that could give the wearer powers that could be a danger to either himself or his plans, but he couldn’t resist adding just one or two that would make things interesting: otherwise, where was the challenge?

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“What the hell?” Joe Hundredaire blinked, almost spilling his martini: a split second ago he’d been walking across his study, ready to get some work done, and now he was here, wherever that was. He was standing in a dark street, surrounded by utter chaos.

This wasn’t what he had in mind for the evening.

“Stand and deliver!” A masked highwayman jumped out of the shadows, pointing an old flintlock pistol in Joe’s face, “Your money or your life!”

“Excuse me?” Joe blinked, “Is this some kind of joke? Do you even know what you look like? Are you trying to be Tom Max in Dick Turpin? You look more like Sid James in Carry On Dick! I mean, look at you: bright purple cloak? A feather in your hat? And don’t get me started on those ridiculous tights! Good god man, have some self respect...”

The highwayman ran screaming into the night.

“Some people just can’t take a little criticism...” Joe shook his head.

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Natalia Romanoff was stunned.

It took a lot to stun the infamous Black Widow, super spy extraordinaire: the product of one of Soviet Russia’s ultra-secret Super Solider programs, her body had been cybernetically enhanced; making her capable of more than a normal human. As an agent of the international intelligence agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D, she had seen and done things that most people could only dream of.

Her hand instinctively reached down to her holster, drawing her side arm. It was a customized Desert Eagle .50, rebuilt for her by the expert gunsmiths employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. Back when she’d worked for the KGB she would have never carried such an oversized gun, preferring smaller, more easily concealed weapons. But changing times called for new approaches, and she was suddenly grateful for the added stopping power.

The gun was loaded with 7 rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. It would take Natalia a fraction of a second to draw, pull back the trigger and flip off the safety catch. Two full magazines sat in the pouch on her belt, as well as a third which contained adamantium-tipped rounds. An adamantium coated throwing knife was tucked into the top of her left, knee high boot.

A man dressed as a pirate jumped out of the undergrowth, his eyes filled with lust. It was the simplest thing for Natalia to grab him by his shirt and throw him over her head and into a nearby streetlight. He landed in a lump on the pavement, out cold.

Natalia lifted his dropped cutlass and looked around, a faint smile on her lips: things were most definitely getting interesting.

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A sharp kick to the groin dropped the first attacker, while a well placed elbow to the solar plexus stopped the second dead in his tracks in less time than it took to blink.

Pussy Galore stood, swatting a lose strand of hair out of her face: this was not what she’d expected when she’d gotten up today. In fact, this was nothing like what she’d ever expected. One moment, she’d been at the airfield, having just completed another days training, and suddenly she was in the middle of a dark street.

Reaching down to the top of her right thigh high boot she drew the small, snub-nosed revolver she kept there. She knew full well that her rather strict conditional pardon forbade her from carrying anything more dangerous than a nail-file, but she’d made too many enemies to risk going completely unarmed.

She tentatively ventured forth into the night.

To Be Continued...