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Living in Deaddolfhin, Illinois had its advantages some said. Founded, according to accepted local legend, on the site of an early settler's fish-market, why the "f" instead of the traditional "p" no one knew. It had come though to be a rather well-loved little urban idiosynchrasy - something to engage visitors over conversationally, if nothing else.
Jenny Cornwall, by whatever yardstick one were to use, was a cutie. Just eighteen, she was in her last year of high-school. Having her mind set on a career in journalism, she was determined to follow in the footsteps of her illustrious father who was now a financial analyst for no less a tabloid than the New York Times.
Undeniably aiding her in whatever vocational path she may have chosen, was Jenny's physical appearance. "Cutie" actually downplays the situation here. "Ventricularly arresting" might be nearer the mark. Five-two in bare-feet (should you be so lucky) the most attractive little heart-shaped face looked out at her world through clear hazel eyes highlighted by sleek dark eyelashes that no street-artist could have pencilled in. Unblemished skin complemented the prettiest of natural expressions that drew one to those lips - delicate and so full of promise, one could only thank God to have been born male - and in Deaddolfhin. Her exquisitely cut and layered mass of brunette hair which trailed off her lovely shoulders even in the most gentle of winds, didn't detract much either.
The good news didn't stop there. The aforementioned five-foot two inches of smalltown, middle-American desirability was packaged into a body that did everything right. Her small but beautiful breasts were off-set by an equally restrained but spankable little bottom that sadly had last seen such action when she was but maybe four or five years old. Her legs it seemed, had been sculptured by a professional who one can only suppose, was stretchered off the field comatose, when he reached the top.
Jenny Cornwall was to put it succinctly, one of the most beautiful young girls on the planet.
Late October and circumstances found her hunched-up rather daintily on the floor of her outrageously expansive bedroom, with her four best-friends from school. It hadn't been a particularly cold evening for the sleep-over, despite the meteorological expectations that might be ascribed the "Cute Kitties of the World" calender that hung marginally askew over her computer desk. 'October' had as its main picture, a rather magnificent study of a white tiger trekking through deep snow, carrying her solitary cub by the scruff of it's neck. To the left of the calender and partly obscured by her carved table-lamp was a sign which read "A home without a cat is just a house" which adequately summed-up Jenny's views on the subject.
Cyndi Andersson wasn't far behind in the "Girls I'd like to kidnap for a month" stakes. Of Nordic parentage as might be guessed from her surname, she was slightly taller than Jenny - around five-four. Long deep-blonde hair and quite exquisite features. One of those girls that whatever the occasion, she handled it with style. She didn't suffer fools readily and as a result, was accorded the status by the other boys at San Carlita High as a seminal-tease as it were. She could so live with that!
Bronwyn Lanchard was the serious one among them. The third daughter of Conrad Lanchard, a prominent local attorney, her grades were legendary, her future (in the legal profession) indisputable. Bronwyn, whilst not classically beautiful was just simply pretty. Maybe it was the way she was constantly brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes as she talked. Perhaps, her little habit of giggling between comments. Certainly her stylish glasses sporting their neat little rectangular lenses by
“Jeunique," lent her an air of extreme vulnerability. More than likely though it was just her breasts did it for her. To die for in any clothing you care to mention, tonight as she sat on the floor with her friends in those silky little PJ's, no man could have shifted his gaze from her arousingly prominent cleavage. One might understandably be reminded of the Marianas trench.
Lucy Vandenholm could best be described as 'trippy.' Had she been around in the late sixties she would have slotted into life in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco like a born natural. An effusive little blonde, she had an interest in all things outre! Could have been a high-ranking Goth except for the fact she didn't like black! Ear-studs and accessories ran riot up into her hairline. A rather creative little tattooed scarab sat but centimeters below the rear naughty upper line of her knickers. To complete the picture, her belly button played host to a simple gold ring that her father had once threatened to tear-out without anaesthetic should she ever be thus pierced. It had not been without difficulty trying to hide this particular mutilation from his line of vision. She was though a real sweetie. Cuddly if not a little hypertense, she wasn't short of male followers let's say!
Completing the quintet was Jacqui Melville. Tallest of the group, she was not far off five-eight, courtesy of those wonderful thigh-dominating legs that were born for show and tell on the catwalk. Decidedly catlike herself, with those piercing green eyes, mane of tawny hair and a propensity to purr when you found the right spot, Jacqui was the group's balancing influence. Blessed with a truck-load of common sense, she could slink her way through any situation. For her, fear had never been an option.
"I wish we could go trick or treating again," said Jenny to no-one in particular. "It's Halloween tomorrow night guys - don't you remember all the fun we used to have?" she added wistfully.
"I certainly remember Rick Mancuso in eighth grade," laughed Jacqui, "Always looking to give one of the girls a real "treat" - behind the boy's locker-room." They all laughed.
"Well why don't we then?" said Bronwyn. "Who says you have to be ten years old to go out Halloween?"
"Hello Bron," muttered Lucy. "Look at us! We'd look like braindead co-eds fronting up to someone's house in designer jeans and stuff." The other girls stared at her. "Besides, what are we gonna say? Evening sir, Halloween sluts on call - just $500 the group and we take most credit cards!"
Jenny and Bronwyn cracked up.
"Hang on people," Cyndi was getting to her feet. She clasped her bathrobe to her. "Why don't we just dress-up young? I mean, we're all pretty short - well except for Miss Vogue magazine over there." Jacqui stuck her tongue out at her.
"You mean like little-girl dresses and pigtails type stuff?" asked Jenny. "You're kidding!"
"It's mega-simple," replied Cyndi. "Just take off your make-up and nail polish....hmm," she hesitated, "and well, just giggle a lot!"
"You're serious aren't you Cyndi?" enquired Lucy, hugging her knees and looking up at her friend.
"Hey, it would be such fun guys wouldn't it...really? put in Bronwyn, pleased that she had been the instigator of the idea.
Put to a quick vote, the concept scored big-time. Only Jacqui had held back a little saying "Not so sure this is such a good idea girls." Nevertheless she had gone with the numbers.
Halloween, and Deaddolfhin was host to more candle-lit pumpkins than you'd find at fruiterers' convention in Hell. At the Cornwall residence it was a veritable hive of retrogressive girlish activity. Jenny, Cyndi and Jacqui had dug out their old year-eight school uniforms which still fitted them to any curve you care to mention. Bronwyn had tugged on a pair of Levis with a floppy top that hid "the trench' while Lucy had squeezed herself effortlessly into a little party dress that made her look fourteen tops! Jenny and Cyndi had gone the pigtail route, Bronwyn a pony while Jacqui and Lucy had simply brushed their hair back and employed a couple of strategically-placed clasps. To the casual observer, a more normal group of bubbly young school-kids didn't exist.
The air was crisp to say the least, as the group, having overlaid themselves with warm coats, crossed Chadstone Road heading for Donners Ridge, an older established estate, comprising many desirable cedar-built homes on large blocks. The streets were tree-lined, the front yards for the most part - immaculate and the general aura - one of wealthy, if not staid indifference. Lucy herself lived in Greenline Avenue just up on their left.
"Hey, lets try this house," Cyndi called out to her friends. Giggling, they climbed the half dozen steps to the small covered verandah. Even as Jenny raised her hand to knock, the front door swung open, giving them and the emerging figure the shock of their joint lives.
"Jesus, you scared the hell out of me," muttered the man, pulling up abruptly.
"Well, it is Halloween sir," replied Jenny, recovering her own composure.
He looked the small group over - clearly undismayed by such redoubtable a feminine presence.
"Aren't you school-kids just a little bit old for this?" he asked, addressing Bronwyn now.
"No way," she replied, "We're just getting better at it each year," Everyone laughed.
"Well then," he muttered, "What can I say? S'pose I'd better go find you girls some "treats." He disappeared back inside, leaving the door ajar.
"Did you see the way he looked at us?" squeaked Lucy.
"Yeah, more like we were some early Christmas present than Halloween," chipped in Jacqui. "Told you guys this wasn't such a great idea."
"C'mon Jacqui, lighten up," said Bronwyn, "It's just a bit of fun is all."
Right then, the man returned and handed them all various candies. They thanked him and scurried down the steps, leaving him with little more than an empty verandah to talk to.
"This is cool," cooed Cyndi, "Let's try the next house."
By the end of the street all five girls had their pockets overflowing with enough confectionery to ensure the need of regular dental treatment for years.
"Come on girls, lets go back," said Jacqui. "I think we've gotten more than enough and its getting a bit late."
"Just a couple more houses then," insisted Cyndi. "Hey, lets try that street opposite." She pointed across the road.
"Noo," whispered Lucy looking genuinely concerned. "Not up there - it's got a bad reputation."
"As in scary? " asked Jenny. "Whoa! We gotta give it a whirl."
"No really," insisted Lucy. Kids have always been told to stay clear of that place. Just lots of stories about bad things happening there."
"Well it looks pretty normal," Jenny replied. "Let's not wimp out huh?"
Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess," she muttered. Jacqui looked doubtful but tagged along anyway.
Indeed, Mencole Street appeared entirely normal More of the same cedar-built homes lined both sides of the essentially straight road ahead. Perhaps the only noticeable difference was just how quiet the area was, the only sound in evidence being the girl's footfalls.
Deciding by majority-vote to tackle initially the second house on the right, the five of them approached the front door, well-lit as it was by the overhanging porch light. On their left, two huge carved-out pumpkins placed either side of the entrance steps, glowed with candle-lit intrigue. Sounds of some group festivity were clearly audible inside.
Huddled together as they were for collective comfort, Jenny knocked twice.
Whatever sights they had been expecting to emerge from behind that opening door - Freddy Krueger definitely wasn't one of them.
Touching the brim of his moth-eaten hat, he leered at them. Why, it’s Jenny Cornwall?" he exclaimed. Even the voice was uncannily like Wes Craven's hellish creation. So professionally made was the mask they couldn't even see where the facial join was.
"God, you scared me," stammered Jenny. "Who are you and how come you know me?'
"Same way I recognise Bronny, Cyndi. Lucy and Jacqui." the figure announced. "You're not the only five at San Carlita's y'know!"
The implication of this statement stunned them momentarily.
"You're a student there?" muttered Lucy incredulously.
"Maybe....maybe not." The Freddy-figure had propped himself up against the doorway. "Anything goes on Halloween night girls," he added, drawing a solitary knifed finger noisily along the top of the screen door.
"C'mon, who are you...really?" Bronwyn was almost begging. "Is it you Wayne? This is just the kinda stunt you'd pull."
"Wayne????" The figure looked wounded. "I'm Freddy Krueger...doncha recognise me?"
"Really? said Jacqui, not even vaguely impressed with the charade. "Well Freddy, last thing I knew - you lost your head. I seem to remember Jason Voorhees striding out of Camp Crystal Lake holding it up for the audience. You winked, remember?"
"Yeah he can sure take punishment that one," the figure cackled to himself. "Dear old Jason. He's here too you know. Wanna come in and meet him? We're having quite a party."
"Tell us at least which grade you're in then," piped-up Cyndi.
"That'd give it away," the figure retorted. "Come on, its Halloween - take a risk. Join us in some ghoulish excitement." So saying, the grotty apparition turned on its heels and headed back inside, leaving the front door open.
"Look, let's get out of here," Jacqui urged them.
"Wait," said Jenny, "I gotta find out which one of those San Carlita losers he is. I'm sure its not Wayne. I figure its Mark. Look, if we all stick together we'll be Ok - don't think anyone's gonna try anything this close to home."
Against her better judgment, Jacqui accompanied her friends as they trudged inside. The door closing behind them as they did so, did little to assuage her sense of danger.
"I can't open it," she said stepping back and trying to turn the handle.
"Probably dead-locked," called out Lucy. "You need a key."
Further along the hallway, the sounds of a party in progress were plainly obvious. Not only was the air hot and cloying, it appeared that someone had gone overboard with a fog machine ripped-off from some horror-movie set most likely. Whitish vapor swirled around them, in places almost to knee level.
"God, someone's blown their entire monthly allowance on the costuming and special effects here," muttered Bronwyn, though none too sure of herself.
An incredibly well lit room ran off to the left from the end of the hallway. Taking a few seconds to adjust, they could see several figures moving about. Many appeared to be girls, for the most part, pretty young. Some were dancing listlessly, others looking rather pale, as if they had tossed down one ecstasy tablet too many.
Over on the far wall and little more than swaying to the music, one arm around a girl's waist seemingly supporting her, could be seen another icon of cinematic pain. “Pinhead” in all his nailed glory stared at Jenny's group as they moved through the room. The smile that spread slowly across his mutilated lips was highly disconcerting. Again, Lucy was thinking, just how realistic was that face-mask!
Cyndi was the first to be separated from the group. Trailing the others slightly, she felt her arm being tugged gently. Turning, she saw a young girl holding her wrist and motioning her towards a chair in the far corner of the room. Whether it was occupied or not she could not tell. Her question though was soon enough answered.
The Shape rose to meet her. She looked up in horror as the familiar blue-clad masked visage towered over her, the wicked knife grasped menacingly in his left hand. She would have screamed as he dragged her down in his lap but for the fact the hand across her mouth was fully immovable.
"Michael loves pretty blondes" whispered the girl who had drawn Cyndi to her fate. Several other young girls were now surrounding the chair and jostling together as if to secure a better view of proceedings. Her coat was pulled roughly from her shoulders before she felt her arms being seized on either side, forcing the realization that whatever was planned for her, she had no viable options to hand.
The approaching black and red striped jumper meanwhile, indicated to the rest of the group, their host's return.
“Curiosity get the better of you did it Jenny?" The Krueger-figure smirked. "Follow me girls, someone here you might like to meet."
Threading their way through the smoky room they found themselves in another short hallway. A door to the right lay partly open and it was through here that they were being shepherded.
Contrasting with the dazzling lounge, this room was somberly lit. Bright enough though for the four girls to take in the features of the tall shabby figure standing near the window. Not that they noticed much beyond the battered hockey-mask and the dark pupils glaring back at them from the hellish depths of those eye sockets.
"We have visitors Jason," said Freddy, closing the door behind him.
The hand across Cyndi's mouth relaxed its grip, but only long enough to be replaced with duct-tape. She struggled uselessly. Whoever this was she was sitting on, was way too strong to argue with. She was thinking Hank, the school quarter-back but it just didn't 'feel' like him. Speaking of feeling, fear turned to outright revulsion as one outsize hand suddenly clamped itself around her right breast and mauled her through her thin top. She shook her head in denial of what was happening to her, tears welling in her eyes. The hand crossed to her other breast now.....fondling, rubbing. She could but stare downwards.
With her arms held tightly, Cyndi had to tolerate the demeaning behavior. The cordon of girls observing her discomfort merely added to the humiliation. Fumbling at the top buttons unsuccessfully, her tormentor evidently was losing patience. She realized at that point that he had not uttered a word either to her or anyone else present. Ripping her flimsy cotton shirt now, she gasped inaudibly as her entire bra was exposed and she wriggled in embarrassment as the Shape thrust his hand roughly inside the flimsy material feeling her nipple and pulling it hard. Quite without warning the great knife inched up beneath the skerrick of material that held the two cups together. The ice-cold metal against her cleavage caused her to shudder uncontrollably. As the tip of the blade effortlessly severed the elastic, her bra fell open, exposing both breasts in their entirety. A collective gasp - whether of surprise or escalating female arousal, she couldn't tell - encircled her. Blushing in spite of her fear, Cyndi awaited the next phase of her undeserved fate.
"None of the kids in our grade are that big," Lucy whispered to Jenny. The figure was approaching the four girls. They noticed lying atop a nearby bookcase a huge machete. Seemed to Jenny they had gone to great lengths to spare no detail in emulating their screen-horror originals. The outrageous hockey-masked stranger towered over them. Whether her imagination or not, Jenny was sure she caught a whiff of foetid breath.
"Don't even think about it," said Jacqui, propelling herself to the front of the group. "You don't scare us whoever the hell you are." She turned to Freddy. "As for you fuck-face, you're just pathetic. A total loser who gets his kicks dressing up. Now, if you don't wanna take that mask off and show us who you really are, you can just piss off and let us go home."
Before she had time to move, Jason had her around the throat and lifting her like a rag-doll, tossed her clean across the room on to a long sofa where she lay unconscious. The other three cowered in horror, unable or unwilling even to check the condition of their fallen comrade.
"You don't want to upset Jason," said Freddy smiling, "He really has an anger-management problem." He had moved now alongside Bronwyn and was obscenely running his finger knives across the top of her breasts. Shrinking from the unwanted contact, she found her retreat blocked by a large wooden cabinet.
"Come into MY world Bronwyn," he hissed at her and then to Lucy and Jenny's total incomprehension, both figures completely disappeared. Not that they had exactly much time to ponder this enigma. Jason had seized Lucy by the arm and was dragging her to the sofa. Her screaming was cut cruelly short by a backhander that buckled her knees and all but caused her to pass out. Tossing Jacqui's inert form on to the carpet he pulled Lucy into a sitting position and having shucked off her coat, had begun to systematically abuse her. Initially just fondling her breasts, Jenny could hear him making retarded noises of pleasure as he progressed to full-scale groping of her helpless body. Pushing her dress up, he seemed mesmerized by the view up between her legs and began experimentally prodding the front of her knickers with his fingers, grunting as he did so. Lucy was sobbing now and pleading with him to stop. She may as well have tried ordering an iced coffee.
Jenny had backed herself up to the door but to her horror, she found it was either locked or bolted in some fashion. It would not budge. All she could do was stare at her friend's desperate predicament. It was only then that she became aware of Cyndi's absence too, something that would have to take a back-seat to the current situation obviously.
Not content with pawing her, Jason had begun ripping her clothes. Lucy's top was in tatters as he wrenched loose her bra straps, tugging the ruined lace completely off. Her breasts were fully exposed as she tried futilely to protect her modesty. Her brief panties he found even easier to rip from her body, literally tearing them from her hips. Jenny noticed his hand dropping now to his own crotch and just about frozen with horror she watched as between little more than animal noises, he pulled out his huge erection and began forcing Lucy's legs apart as he pushed her back on the sofa. From what she could see, he was built like a horse and although she suspected Lucy was not still a virgin, she couldn't be sure, and in any event what Jason was clutching now between her slim and quivering legs would surely have split a buffalo on heat!
Wondering desperately where her friends were, Cyndi had little time to contemplate such trivialities.
Michael Myers was hot. This girl he held in his lap was arousing him just as his sister had managed to do all those years ago and he knew what had to be done to girls who teased him with their bodies and minds. This one though he would first enjoy - make her regret her birthright. He began tugging the hem of her school uniform upwards and as she wriggled in an agony of distress his hands reached her knickers and he felt the heat up between the girl's legs. He began to rub her there, enjoying the softness and the thrill of her fear and loathing.
Despite her untenable predicament, the constant pressure on her pussy was having its inevitable physical effect on Cyndi. She felt her nipples becoming erect and the outflow of blood causing her labia to engorge. Embarrassing as her public groping was, her sexual debasement in front of so many other young girls was adding to her arousal rather than detracting from it. As his rough hand slipped beneath the hem of her briefs, she found herself unable to prevent her hips from arching upwards and fully encompassing his inbound fingers. Noting her reaction, Michael began fingering her until she was spreading her own legs with unenforced deliberation. Ripping the duct-tape from her mouth he let slip his mask and began kissing her passionately as she lost all sense of reality and acceptable moral behavior. She began now to caress her own breasts and to whimper for that which a girl on heat needs at such a time.
The stirrings between Michael's legs brought back memories he would rather not bring back, nevertheless, they had to be answered. He turned the girl over effortlessly, face down now on top of him, her breasts free and compressed up against his unwashed blue top. Freeing up his erection as she half knelt astride him now, she had wriggled out of her knickers and with her bottom in full view of the youthful audience, she guided his unsighted but in truth massive erection right to the entrance of her pussy. It was only as he thrust up hard into her and with the benefit of her extreme lubrication, that she realized the size of the task she was handing herself.
She was filled to her abdomen and surely split already but so far beyond the point of no return it didn't matter. As he brutally fucked her, she began crying out for harsher treatment, her eyes still closed in fully transported pleasure as her hips moved to accommodate his inhuman coupling. At the very point she felt her orgasm peaking, concurrent with his own incredible seminal discharge deep inside her, she opened her eyes - and saw Michael Myers for the first time clearly - without his mask.
She may well have screamed, but the wicked blade of his great knife made very short work of her vocal chords. Even as her throat, slit ear to ear, gushed out her life-blood, Myers stood up and having replaced his mask, callously tossed the girl's body aside...to deafening applause from the onlookers
Understanding the difference between a written and an implied contract really is of remarkably little use when you find yourself isolated from reality and the sudden victim of an impossible occurrence. Bronwyn tried hard to fathom her predicament. That this was some kind of heating sub-basement was obvious from the outset. A furnace was visible the far end of the area in which she stood and from it, ran off steel piping - upwards to what looked like a steel gantry of sorts and along the walls and ceiling of the corridor behind her. She recognized the awful scene from one of the "Nightmare on Elm Street" movies.
It was simply impossible.
Insane laughter close by made her spin around. Krueger was ambling towards her making a screeching noise as he drew his finger knives along one of the pipes.
"H-how did I get here?" she asked in a voice understandably bereft of confidence.
"Your fear brought you here my sweet," he replied. "Eventually you all come to see old Freddy," His maniacal laughter echoed around the basement. She backed away as he approached, fanning the razor-sharp blades in her direction.
"B-b-but you're just a character in a movie," she stammered, "You never existed!
"Oh, you're sooo wrong Bronny -. may I call you that sweetheart?" He gloated at her shocked expression and distraught body-language. "I exist as much as you do. It's Wes Craven who lied to you all. HE made everyone think it was just a film when he always knew the truth."
Before she could move, he leaned forward and drew the finger-knives down the sleeve of her coat. "Does that look real to you babe?" he asked. She stared in disbelieving horror at the five parallel slashes that had ruined the expensive material.
"You like nice clothes doncha Bronny," he grinned. "Wonder what other things you like?" He leered at her.
"It can't be true," she sobbed, "It can't be - I'm dreaming this. And anyway, this isn't Elm Street.....its Mencole."
"Think about it Bronny, think about it! You're a bright girl - sure you can figure it out. Then we can get down to some serious fun here."
"Mencole Street??...she thought to herself, even as the letters began to re-arrange themselves in her head O N C E ...E L M ....S T R E E T. She screamed.
She could maybe have run but where to? This was his turf - his Hell...and now hers!
"Now come on sweetheart," he was cajoling her. "Lets get you better undressed for the occasion. I think we can dump that coat, its definitely seen better days." Seeing the gloved hand descend slowly, she pulled it off herself and tossed it on the ground.
"Good girl - Uncle Freddy loves girls who do as they're told - saves having to spank them." He leered at her once more. "Long time since your daddy spanked you I'll bet?" She nodded slowly.
"You know what? Uncle Freddy was a teacher once, he had to spank plenty of the little girls in his class to make them behave. The parents just didn't understand. You think your daddy would mind if I spanked you a couple of times Bronny?"
She stared at him unmoving.
"I'll take that as an OK then sweetheart," he cackled as he rested against the piping, one knee bent forward.
"C'mon honey, put yourself across my knee, let Uncle Freddy spank you."
"Nooo," she pleaded.
"Kids nowadays - I dunno" he muttered, gesturing towards her at the same time. She was powerless to stop herself stepping across to him. Even as she found herself bending over his leg she was willing herself to flee. She felt the flat of his gloved-palm as he rubbed the seat of her jeans obscenely.
"Well Bronny," he crooned, "That's one hot little butt you have there, lets warm it up for you." So saying, he delivered a stinging blow to her rear which made her yelp.
"That good huh?" he teased, spanking her bottom hard and ensuring both cheeks received their fair share of punishment. She was sobbing continuously now.
"Brings back some pleasant memories," he muttered, "Mind if I bring back a few more?" She gasped as the belt around her waist appeared to undo itself and the buttons at the front of her jeans undid themselves one by one.
"Now come on Bronny you can either take your own jeans off or let Uncle Freddy do it for you." She hesitated, causing him to add "Sorry, but it’s not a multiple choice question."
Still sobbing, she wriggled out of her jeans, forced to display her hot little blue briefs to his lecherous ogling. The fact that she had a really curvy and compact little bottom was simply highlighted now by the skimpy semi-transparent material.
As she endured the next round of spanking she noticed that contrary to expectation, it was hurting less somehow and arousing her more. She knew she was arching her bottom upwads slightly to facilitate a better coverage.
"Told you we'd be having some fun didn't I Bronny," he whispered to her. "Why not just get those hot little panties off altogether sweetheart and let Uncle Freddy work his magic for you." With almost indecent haste, she slipped her hands beneath the elastic and tugged the knickers down. She knew how arousing the sight of her naked young bottom must be for him. Were these her own feelings though or was Freddy messing with her mind. She had no way of knowing.
At the point her backside was near crimson, she was simply standing up now and allowing him to spank her freely as she stood there unmoving. She had an incredible urge to begin fingering herself but managed to overcome it.
Krueger, completely aroused himself by the sight of the young girl's glowing bottom, brought the punishment to an end and told her to turn around. She did so, knowing full well he would be able to see her pubic hair and the rather pronounced mound of her pussy.
"Take the rest of your clothes of for me Bronny," he ordered, "Strip for me sweetheart."
Gone was her fear of him or of her predicament. All she wanted was to please him and to tease him. Having removed her top, she took her time unhooking the crocheted bra and pulling the straps down her arms, before dropping it atop the small pile of clothes by her feet.
"Come to me," was all he said, Willingly she stood before him and as he inclined his head to lick first one nipple then the other, she shivered with expectation. Burnt, twisted, insane and ugly as all hell he might be, but at that second she wanted him to suck her.
She didn't even think it odd as milk began to express from her nipples. The feeling of incredible arousal as he sucked one side then the other, while milk dripped from both rapidly re-filling breasts onto the bare floor as she swayed against him. "Why buy it when you can get it at home for free," he smirked.
"Let's see YOU sucking something now sweetheart," he grinned.
With no hesitation, she dropped to her knees and unzipping her tormentor, drawing out (given the remainder of his deformities) a somewhat normal erection. With absolutely no prior experience of such intimacies, she seemed to know precisely what was expected of her. Krueger leaned back, a self satisfied smirk playing about his lips as the girl drew down on his unremarkable appendage. "That's a good girl," he muttered, as his pleasure increased threefold.
"Get down on your knees Bronny," he ordered her suddenly. Obediently she did as he asked, knowing what was to come. She even made sure her bottom was well elevated, and her knees wide apart. Krueger was no considerate lover. Thrusting up into the girl's compliant little pussy he had but one all-consuming need - to vent his lust.
Motivated also to cause as much pain as was possible, nearing his own finality he relinguished the mind control over his unfortunate victim. At the last second therefore, Bronwyn became aware for the first time of the full horror and degradation that was now her lot. She felt the utter debasement of being naked whilst suffering at the hands of this diabolical monster.
It wasn't a problem for long though. Even as she cried out from the pain of the enforced intercourse, she felt Krueger ejaculate deep inside her, his cum like acid, burning her vaginal walls. Another pain then of unbelievable intensity and agony. She stared down between her milk-stained breasts as the points of the five razor fingers emerged between multiple bloody spurts, from an area just above her abdomen. The neat little glasses with lenses by "Jeunique" fell to the floor. Mercifully then, it all faded to black.
As Jenny stared horrified at Lucy's imminent fate, she was still trying to make sense of Bronwyn's disappearance and most everything else that had happened.
Poor Lucy had been forced as far back in the lounge as space permitted and was obviously resigned to her upcoming ordeal. Not even bothering to try covering up her breasts any longer she was simply shaking her head in denial as Jason, half-kneeling there, forced the head of his monstrous erection inside her gaping slit.
"Please, it's hurting," she begged, placing her hands around the intruder in an effort to readjust herself. Jason merely grunted, commenced groping her breasts lewdly and forced himself even further into her. In spite of the situation, Jenny was shocked to feel her own wetness spreading at the sight.
One last thrust and he was fully inside her. Lucy was sobbing unrestrainedly now as he began to penetrate her. As his thrusts increased in intensity Lucy's resistance began to crumble and she let her arms drop at her sides as her lower body suffered unspeakable violation. At the stage she passed-out completely, Jason simply laid her flat on the sofa, climbed up between her legs which he spread impossibly wide and then began fucking her with such force her entire body shuddered with each thrust. Jenny noticed with horror, blood starting to seep copiously from Lucy's pussy as Jason showed less than no mercy for his victim as he slaked his abnormally cruel thirst.
Looking around in desperation, she saw the machete glinting on top of the bookcase. Jason now was undoubtedly on the home stretch, grunting continuously as he rammed home his argument for male supremacy. Getting swiftly to her feet and retrieving the somewhat heavy weapon, she was able to tip-toe up behind the semi-prostrate form who's back had been to her for the duration. The screen-Jason may be unkillable she was thinking, this dude however was about to be suffering big-time. Even as she raised the machete, aiming to drive the blade down into his neck and spine, Jason shook with the exertion of coming hard in the girl's inert body.
Either her aim was off fractionally or he moved to the left marginally, but the blade sank into his right shoulder. Not flinching, despite the gouts of blood splattering her face, her clothes and most everything else for a three foot radius, she forced the blade down almost to the hilt. It must have taken out his right lung, major muscle tissue, half his rib-cage and his aorta to judge by the fountains gushing from the wound. With but a strangled "Ughhh" the huge body toppled to the floor and lay still, right alongside Jacqui who appeared now to be stirring slightly.
With the adrenaline in full flow, Jenny leaned over the friend she had known since pre-school and attempted to revive her. The amount of blood still seeping from her vaginal area was sickening. The rape she knew could quite possibly lead to serious gynaecological repercussions. Probably already had. Worse though, Lucy was not responding and beside herself with shock and anxiety now, she felt for a pulse. There was none. Lucy's pallor was deathly and instinctively Jenny knew she had lost her friend. It was a question now of getting out with the others - assuming she could find them. Jacqui at least was sitting up and rubbing her neck.
"Jacqui, Jacqui," she muttered shaking her softly. "We gotta get out of here. Lucy's been raped....she's dead I think....the other two are missing. You got to help me now.....c'mon, get up you're OK!"
Coming to her senses, Jacqui looked around and saw Lucy lying on the sofa, her legs still apart and the blood running out of her. Simultaneously she saw "Jason's" body, blood still pumping from the horrific wound.
"Oh fuck Jenny, what happened here?"
"You don't want to know," she replied. "Look, the door's locked Jac - think we can get it open somehow?"
"You mean like THIS girls?" came a muffled voice from the other side. The door opened inwards ushering in anyone's worst nightmare. Pinhead, Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers.
"OK, OK, you've had you're fun," muttered Jacqui bravely. "Can we please just go now?"
"You entered freely my child," replied Pinhead. "Unfortunately we cannot grant you the same freedom when it comes to your departure."
"Please, please just tell us who you are,." Jenny pleaded, close to breaking point.
"As I explained to young Bronwyn," Krueger chuckled, "We are who you all refuse to believe us to be."
"Sure," replied Jacqui, and turning to the figure on the far right, "So you really are Michael Myers right?" The Shape just looked across at her, the dead eyes studying her every movement.
"Yes, that is Michael," Krueger responded. He is as real as any of us and he has finally come home.
"Well from what I ever knew," Jacqui was continuing, "Michael Myles lived in a place called Haddonfield."
"Exactly," said Krueger. "Haddonfield it most definitely was....Haddonfield, Illinois." He looked across at Jenny, grinning triumphantly.
Something was wrong, she knew it. Why had Krueger said Haddonfield, Illinois? A hazy notion was asserting itself in her head. Reality swum before her eyes as she struggled to discount the logic that was unwillingly piecing together the greatest joke of all. H A D D O N F I E L D .......the letters blurred suddenly of their own accord, reforming, despite her struggling denial of the truth D...........E.........A ........D........D....O...L....F..H.I N.
"Oh my God Jacqui," she cried out...and Mencole Street.....”Once Elm Street!”
Freddy was tipping his hat. "At your service girls!"
Their horrific momentary realization was interrupted by a scuffling sound behind them, causing the two girls to spin round. Jason Voorhees had gotten to his feet and quite visibly enraged, was pulling the machete slowly from his mutilated shoulder, quite oblivious to the blood pouring from the open wound. He strode now towards the girls. Krueger held his hand up. "Not now Jason, this isn't the time. Come over here with your friends." Begrudgingly, the murderous hulk took up his place alongside Myers.
Pinhead who had been fumbling with something, suddenly tossed it to Jacqui who caught the thing mid-flight. An intricately carved and gilded wooden cube, she looked at the item she was holding. "What is this?' she asked, her voice quivering under the influence of a fully unfamiliar condition - abject fear!
"Don't touch it Jacqui, whatever you do don't touch it," Jenny cried out. It's the Lament Configuration - the gateway to Hell itself......didn't you ever see HELLRAISER?"
Too late, the top of the box had lifted and turned in her friend's hands. As it settled into a new pattern a dazzling aperture appeared in the wall behind Jacqui.
"Oh, we have such sights to show you girl" declared Pinhead, as ill-defined but chillingly morbid shapes and similarly mutilated forms reached through the charnal opening and in the instant, dragged Jacqui screaming into their cruel and pain-loving dimension. The chasm closed instantly leaving Jenny alone and quite beyond rational thought.
"Pain and pleasure are but one and the same child," Pinhead said. "You will learn this in time." As he spoke, chains with hooks appeared from the ceiling and caught each of her arms embedding themselves in her thin wrists. She screamed with pain as her arms were jerked high above her head and held tightly apart. Pinhead remained where he was, smiling at her vulnerable and agonized state.
Michael Myers moved towards the stranded and helpless girl and lifting the point of his knife to her navel slit her top and bra in one movement. Despite the pain of her wounds she gasped as her small but beautifully formed breasts were exposed to the four of them. Shuddering fitfully, she stared downwards as Myer's knife point began to tease her right nipple.
Worse was to come. Jason Voorhees towered over her before slipping the machete cruelly down the front of her neat little tartan skirt, itself stained now by the droplets of blood trickling down from her lacerated wrists. Whimpering with fear she flinched as the cold steel caressed her thighs. The sudden retracted movement of the blade tore her skirt asunder, causing it to fall to the floor a useless rag and leaving her trembling and shaking in just her panties. Her embarrassment was complete, as triggered by her escalating funk, her bladder relinquished its contents, drenching her knickers before initiating warm trickles down both thighs as she stood there unable to fully comprehend the dreadful circumstances now surrounding her.
The chains pulled her arms even higher and as she screamed again in pain, Krueger stepped up close to the terrified girl and with exaggerated dexterity brought his finger-knives up between her legs right to the point of her sopping wet panties. Even as his razored finger began to serrate the soft nylon along the full length of her delicate ingress he rasped at her, the cruellest of smiles in attendance.
"So what's it gonna be Jenny…trick or treat?"
(c) Courtesy "The Best of Peter_Pan" (2007 Lulu Publishing Inc: Morrisville NC) www.lulu.com/content/679070
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