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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Intemperate Acquaintances
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
One cannot reasonably expect a traditional Halloween
story to be light-hearted fun. This one itself is
anything but. Many in fact, will likely find it
tasteless in the extreme. Without giving too much away
however, I would simply recommend that the reader
absolve him or herself, from forming even a marginal
attachment to any of the characters presented here.
Horror, sex and a high body count it should be
remembered, make for a pretty typical Oct 31 outing –
at least in my experience. The only constructive
suggestion I can make, is that the next time you see a
couple of flickering pumpkins propped up on someone's
verandah – be afraid, be VERY afraid! (Mf, ped, nc, rp,
v, mc, tor)
***
Living in "Deaddolfhin," Illinois according to accepted
local legend, on the site of an early settler's fish-
had its advantages some said. Founded, market, why the
"f" instead of the traditional "p" no one knew. It had
come though to be a rather well-loved little urban
idiosyncrasy – something to engage visitors over
conversationally, if nothing else.
Jenny Cornwall, by whatever yardstick one were to use,
was a cutie. Just seventeen, 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 small-town, 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"
calendar 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 calendar 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 anesthetic 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 brain-dead 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 $100 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... hmmmmm," 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 kids 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.
"Noooo," 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, its 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, barely into
their teens. 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 tiny 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
realisation 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 realised 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 fetid 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 mesmerised 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 realised 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
recognised 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-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...
it's 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.
Krueger was nodding. "You know what else is true
sweetheart?" She shook her head, tears of desperation
and hopelessness running down her face.
"All those little girls I molested," he sneered, "They
were sooooo pretty!"
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."
"Nooooooo," 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 its 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 relinquished 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 the most cruel of rapes at the hand 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 rape her
viciously. 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 "Ughhhhh," 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 gynecological
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... Elm Street Once!
Freddy was tipping his hat. "At your service girls!"
Their horrific momentary realisation 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
charnel 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 agonised 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 pussy he rasped at her, the cruelest of
smiles in attendance.
"So what's it gonna be Jenny.... trick or treat?"
© Peter_Pan October 31 2005
http://www.lulu.com/content/69187
Autobiography: http://www.lulu.com/content/74426
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 38