A Slasher Flick [MF][Snuff][Clothing][Feet]

Rachel lounged on the sofa, her black leggings draping over the arms as she kicked her feet back and forth, absorbed in her phone. Her leggings were tight against her waist, but flared as they approached her calves, the cloth swaying gently as her legs shook. The green sneakers caught the light, the shining rubber and plastic looking slightly beaten down and roughed up from all the walking one inevitably did on a college campus. Every once in a while, her leggings hitched up her legs a little more, a crease forming on the calf, and a small peek of her dark green socks was visible.

Rachel was bored. Brian was on the armchair, sitting on the other side of Rachel. Watching her leggings as they moved, almost hypnotically, up and down, he snapped out of his reverie, and looked over at his pathologically bored sister.

“Keep doing that, your sneakers are going to fly off.”

“Well, hopefully they hit you in the face.” Rachel looked up and stuck her tongue out cheekily. Brian was, like every older brother on the planet, just the tiniest bit a dick.

“Yeah, but then I’ll sell ’em online, big money in that.” Brian retorted immediately.

“YOU PERV! What, you want my socks too?”

“Oh my god NO! I meant like sneakers are popular, you freak!” He pondered over it for a second. “Though…you know what, betcha they’d sell for more if everyone knew it was a girl wearing them, even a stick insect like you!”

They bickered a little, and Rachel eventually swung up on her ass, her black leggings rippling just slightly in the wind. Her green hoodie was a bit crumpled and roughed up from the awkward position, but smoothed back out just a touch as she grabbed a pillow and threw it at Brian. He caught it, of course. He always caught it.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and a jolt of anticipation ran through Rachel. Not that she was expecting anyone, but literally anyone would be better than being bored on a couch. Heck, Mike Meyers could ring the doorbell, she’d invite him in for coffee.

Brian got up to open the door and before he could say anything, a familiar voice shouted out. “Bro, I’m fucked. FUCKED!”

“Hi Jeremy!” She called out from the living room, prompting Jeremy to poke his head in, look at Rachel, and repeat emphatically. “FUCKED!”

Brian had a look on his face that said he would regret the next few words, but he asked anyway. “What happened?”

“Christie dropped out man! She just…ditched.”

“Christie Robinson?” Rachel was suddenly intrigued, everyone knew Christie. “Honestly, J, if you trusted Roving Robinson for something, that’s on you.”

“Yeah yeah, nobody else wants to work minimum wage in 2021. Fuckin unions.”

“She’s not unionized.” Brian pointed out helpfully.

“Still though. I’m fucked, nobody else is going to step in and get their neck snapped for $7 an hour.”

“And that’s not even minimum wage.” Rachel pointed out as Jeremy continued to wax eloquent about his troubles.

“So what do you need? Like, really? Do you want me to get my neck snapped for you?” Brian had been on the receiving end of Jeremy’s rants for years, he knew that this was the bit where he had a “flash of inspiration” and asked for a favor.

“Not unless you can transform into a skinny white girl and get some acting lessons in.”

“Plus, your uggo muggo will scare away customers before the monster gets to them.” Rachel smirked at her brother as Brian continued to sigh.

“Well, we have a skinny white girl right here, and clearly, she’s got the gift of gab.”

Jeremy looked Rachel over, mentally comparing her to Christie. The brunette look was probably more suited to the friendly park guide role anyway, and Rachel *was* cute. Her eyes were nice and kind, and she had that casual, college girl look that practically screamed “Designated Driver at Parties.” The green hoodie was a little rumpled, but hey, short notice! The leggings were nice though, and…the girl had an ass. It was always a nice bonus to get sexy, cute and approachable in one package. He finally glanced down at her green sneakers, the yellow laces a little muddied and dirtied and the white of the soles streaked through white black marks. They looked beaten down, but that would only add to the impression, right?

Plus, Christie was kind of the stereotypical blonde airhead. First to die in a horror movie, the kind of girl that only really existed to show the killer meant business. Nobody would *expect* someone like Rachel to die! Heck, she was the kind of girl who survived till the end, called the cops, and got out.

Yep, Rachel would do great. Better than great, J could already feel tears welling in his chest at the thought of Rachel getting her neck twisted by a demonic serial killer. The tour wouldn’t know what hit them.

“$7 an hour?”

“Who said I’m in?” Rachel maintained a mask of disinterest.

“About 4 hours spent looking at Instagram did.” Brian chimed in, egging her on.

“Instagram is hilarious. Better than you dweebs!”

“Rach, come on, it’ll be fun. Everyone’s gonna be there, they’d love to see you again!” J started to plead his case, desperately trying to get one of the more popular, wholesome girls in town on side.

“I’m…now a people person?” Brian and J both looked at her. Brian cocked his head sideways. It was a pitiful lie, Rachel had always been a people person.

“*Sigh.* FINE. $15. Minimum wage, right?” She broke, finally. In fairness, the boredom had been killing her and she had exhausted the inexhaustible resource that was internet memes.

“$10 and anything you want from the concessions.”

“Deal.”

“Haunted House is set up on the old Elm Street Park, we took that condemned wreck and fixed it up real good last year.”

“…You know that this literally sounds like the plot of a horror movie, right J?”

“Yeah, that’s the *point* Rachel, we’re going *meta*.”

Rachel just sighed and smiled. Well, evening plans at least, right?

———————————————-

“Reupholstered in the 12th century after a gruesome triple murder, the architect forgot to check the floorboards, simply adding a new asbestos floor above them.” Rachel put on a spooky voice, lower and breathier. “What he didn’t know? Old Man Henderson was trapped under the floorboards, and the asbestos…it killed him slowly, painfully, over years.”

The tour group looked suitably impressed at Rachel’s little drama, although not particularly scared. That was okay, that would come soon.

“But some say..he made it out. He made it out, and he’s out for-” On cue, J pulled the light switch, and the entire room flickered, the flourescent bulbs crackling. And suddenly….”What? No, No please, please!!!” Rachel put genuine fear in her voice, acting terrified.

As the lights came back on, a masked killer, 7 feet tall (Thanks, platform shoes), a hockey mask covering his face, and a dirty canvas jacket hiding his body, was standing behind the girl, a sharp machete by his side.

The lights flickered once more.

“AIIEEEEE!!”

This was the hardest part of the night, really, screaming. Her throat was getting sore! Still, she put her all into the loud, high pitched scream of pure terror. The lights finally came back on, and this time, instead of Rachel, the crowd screamed as they took in the sight of the girl lying on the floor, in a twisted mess. Her black leggs highlighted how her legs were at odd angles, the shimmery material having hiked up her calves and almost to her knee. Her green hoodie covered her face slightly, until a young teenager bravely stepped forward and plucked the hoodie off her face. Her brown hair cascaded out as her eyes were closed, and Rachel consciously held her breath. She didn’t *have* to, but nobody could say she didn’t commit!

As the crowd began to run out, a teenager walked up and whispered, “Nice to see you back in town Rach!” John had been one of the many kids Rachel babysat, and throughout the night, the kids had been coming up to her to say they missed her. Rachel didn’t open her eyes, but whispered back.

“John! I’m dead! You’re *supposed* to be scared, you can’t talk to dead people.”

As John giggled, his parents came by and saw Rachel lying on the ground. “Ooh honey look, the serial killer got Rachel! Damn that Old Man Henderson!”

Cheryl and Sandra were pleased to see Rachel back. After all, hadn’t she grown up basically next door?

“Oh no! Well, guess we’d better take a picture for the police, huh? Don’t smile Rachel, you’re dead!” A camera flashed quickly, and Rachel almost opened her eyes at the flash, almost out of instinct. Sandra quickly posted the picture to her Facebook.

>#IHateItWhen my old babysitter gets killed by a serial killer! #Halloween #Halloween2021 #RachelWeMissedYou!

The replies *flooded* in!

>Nooo not Rachel! Was it Old Man Henderson again?

>Can’t believe Henderson got her on Halloween night, damn.

“Alright well, if you’re tired of being dead, come talk to me and Cheryl okay? We’ve missed you!”

Rachel continued to lie down, motionless. Her leggings were gathering just a bit of dust, and had wrinkled up in the front, having hiked up rather significantly. J would tap her when it was safe to get up, so she continued to commit, her brown hair still messily surrounding her face.

What she didn’t notice was the last remaining tour member, a relatively young guy who had been waiting for everyone else to clear out. He pulled out his phone, and said out loud, basically to nobody, “Yeah that was so epic, I have to take some footage….” Moving around Rachel, he zoomed in on the plain green hoodie as it bunched up around Rachel’s chest. The camera slowly took in the curve of her ass, little dust particles all over the back, and then finally, he panned down slowly. The camera recorded Rachel’s pale skin and then, the boy gave an audible gasp. Socks. As her leggings hiked up, Rachel’s dark green, mesh, ankle socks were visible. Little blue lines clustered around the edge, and since Rachel had been walking all day, the boy could only *imagine* what they smelled or tasted like. “Yeah great…acting.”

The boy finally left, or at least Rachel *thought* he had. The house was creaking an awful lot for there to be nobody in it.

Finally, J came back, and tapped her on the shoulder. She got up, shaking the pins and needles of her legs, the black leggings moving about as she spanked her own butt and thighs to get the dirt off. The wrinkles started to smooth out as the dust floated off them, and they finally flowed back down to cover her ankle socks and dark green sneakers.

“Dang girl, you might be the best dead body I’ve seen!”

“Seen a lot of dead bodies, J?”

“….”

“Didn’t know you were Old Man Henderson! Better call the cops! Don’t kill me please!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever Rach, you saved my skin, thanks a bunch.”

“I don’t know J….I’m pretty sure only serial killers save skin!”

“Fuck you Rach.” J replied peacable as they made their way out for the next tour.

————————————————————

Rachel’s feet *hurt*. She wiggled her toes a little, and the green mesh socks flexed around her toes. The front of the sneakers lifted slightly, and alleviated some of the pain, but clearly, she needed a bit more. She grabbed one of the few plastic chairs scattered at the entrance, and started to undo her sneakers, the yellow laces coming apart immediately. She kicked them off, the left shoe pulling down the right one and catching the dark green ankle socks in it, pulling the sock all the way to the arches of her feet. She rolled them back,the lighter green on the inside of the sock quickly disappearing as she righted her footwear. She flexed her socked foot just a little, and then pulled down the other shoe, careful this time not to nearly take the socks off. She sat cross legged, her flowing pants stretching taut around her thighs as Rachel started to massage her feet gently. Her fingers worked into the toes and arches of her feet, gently pressing on the pressure points on the socks, relieving some of the pain. From her vantage point, she was well hidden from the main entrance, but still close enough to catch bits of conversation.

“Jason, you gotta take the tour.”

“Haunted houses? Do I *look* 4, or are you high?”

“Nah, the house isn’t scary man. Like, it’s fine. But the chick is cute dude, you’ve seen her right?”

“Yeah Steve, I saw the haunted house park tour guide all the way from the other end of the park. Yep. LASIK man, does wonders.”

“Okay jeez, chill the fuck out. Anyway this girl, Rachel, man she’s *CUTE*. Like about *this* high, she’s got brown hair?”

“That’s like half the North American female population.”

“Big eyes, green? She’s got this super cute smile. She’s wearing like this crumpled hoodie, it’s green, looks comfy AF. And dude, the leggings hug her ass so good. Like, okay, she has this sashay, and she walks, and the pants kinda follow but a second later so it’s like she swaying. Except on her hips, it kinda all moves, y’know?”

“No, Steve, I don’t know. Again, none of this interesting to me.”

“Aight okay, so she’s giving the tour, being like, oh this is historical, this is where a murder happened, all that stuff. And then the lights go out and…BAM! SERIAL KILLER! Right behind her! Twists her neck, and she just fuckin’ falls to the floor man, just crumples like a sack.”

“….”

“Real cute sack though. Like, idk, those leggings hiked up a little and she has these like super cute green socks on…”

“Socks? I’m in.”

“Fuckin…Knew you’d come around, perv.”

Rachel, from her vantage point, just sighed and smiled. Well, at least her ass looked good! She hadn’t had time to change, but Jeremy said she was fine, and she’d just kind of taken him at face value. But taking J at face value was almost as bad as well…relying on Christie Robinson in a pinch.

Well, the last tour was over, so it was basically time for her to leave. It had actually been pretty fun, all things considered, making up history about the old abandoned house. “Oh yes, this shattered glass is a remnant on when Old Man Henderson threw a man out of his house at midnight, and the man cursed the house, causing everyone to mysteriously keep dying.” And a cool $40, plus another like $200 worth of overpriced concessions that sold for $10 at Target. Not a bad haul!

Her phone buzzed before she had a chance to put her shoes on, and instinctively, she reached for it and swiped up to check her messages.

> Hey, sorry, left my bag of costumes and gear and stuff in the House. Second floor, Foyer I think?
> Can you get it for me? Just bring it in tomorrow evening, no way we need any of this stuff before then anyway right?
> Thanks I owe ya one!

Fuck. If she just hadn’t opened the phone, she could have claimed she didn’t read the messages until she was home. Curse you, read receipts!

————————————

Rachel walked into the dusty haunted house, her dark green sneakers kicking up dust that landed on her leggings and covered the white soles of her shoes. Some landed on her hoodie as well, but the hoodie, with it’s dark, heather green color tone hid the dust better. Plus, it had already smelled just a touch musty from before, so it wasn’t a big deal for it to get dustier now. She coughed, peering into the house to see if the bag was hopefully just in front of the door. It was not. Well, that would be too easy.

“Up the stairs then. Maybe they’ll collapse and J can feel bad for my broken leg or something.” She thought to herself grumpily. She actually rather liked J, it was just the stress of a long day.

Her brown hair swayed behind her as she started to jog up the stairs. Each time her sneakers landed on a step, the leggings she wore flowed around her ankles and revealed a hint of lime green and blue socks. Her breasts jumped up and down a little under the hoodie, and her hair bobbed, catching glimmers of light. The house continued to creak and groan as she finally reached the second floor foyer, spotting the neon green bag in the center of the room.

Just as she approached the bag however, stretching to take it out, Donnie, who had been stalking her all day from beneath the floorboards, appeared from behind an alcove, reached out and rushed a hand towards her neck. His pale, white fingers closed around her delicate throat just a second before her brain comprehended the form of the man before her.

Rachel was momentarily stunned, and started to struggle. Her terrified mind tried to come up with the most obvious explanation, and she choked out a pained “J..please..stop…too much…”

Donnie didn’t reply. He didn’t understand, or maybe he didn’t care. Instead, he looked at the dangling girl, an expression without empathy on his face. Rachel finally registered that this was not the monster she had spent all day dying from. This white mask of a face, the yellowed teeth…this was someone else. She tried to shriek, but her throat would not let the sound out.

Donnie’s grip continued to tighten. Rachel’s pretty legs were kicking and flailing at this point, as she attempted to kick out at Donnie with her sneakers. Unfortunately, she hadn’t quite laced them up properly in her hurry, and the sneakers slid off her sweaty feet. The dark green, shiny plastic caught the light as the sneakers bounced harmlessly off Donnie, and fell to the floor, white soles gathering more dirt and dust immediately.

“FLESHBAG DIE!” Donnie’s hands started to squeeze around Rachel’s pretty neck, his muscular hands and psychopathy enhanced strength pressing into her delicate flesh.

“P-please….please..ju-” Rachel was up high in the air, and her socked feet didn’t even touch the floor anymore. The green mesh had clearly changed color from earlier in the afternoon, a result of the sweat she had worked up, and the green parts were closer to the navy blue swoosh on the side of socks than they were to the original color. A few frayed threads at the top of the socks caught her eye. Funny, what the eye focused on when there was nothing else to do. Her leggings continued to flutter as she desperately kicked, each new movement weaker and more pathetic, the leggings sticking to her body as she couldn’t even get the momentum to make the cloth move any significant margin.

Donnie decided it was time. His fingers gripped even harder, even stronger, feeling the bone through the thin skin.

*KUH-RRRR-KK*

Rachel’s last words were a mumbling, bubbling mess as her neck no longer supported the weight of her skull. She slumped forward, her brown hair floating forward. As the last of the life ebbed from her eyes, Donnie hissed out once more. “fleshbag.” A note of finality in his voice. He dropped her onto the ground, watching as she crumpled underneath her own weight, her legs folding under her body, the leggings stretched as far as they would go as her body took on a position that most contortionists would find impossible. For a second, she sat upright, supported by her own legs under her, until she finally slumped forward under the weight of her skull. Her head hit the ground with a **THUNK**, her hoodie the first part of her body to touch the ground.

Donnie bent down, and took her hair in his hands. Clutching it, he began the slow, expedient work, of setting up the Offering, by dragging Rachel’s body out of the room. Her socked feet dragged on the dusty floor, accumulating dirt which clung to the sweaty mesh. Her legging clad ass similarly bounced against the wooden slats as Donnie carelessly pulled her down to the first floor, near the entrance. The pants caught on a nail, and ripped just a touch, a small tear from mid calf to ankle, showing off Rachel’s legs, the lime green socks peeking clearly peeking out.

——————————————————

J opened the front door, and it creaked open, swinging on it’s hinges. He coughed at the dust that hit his face immediately. He looked around, and caught…a gleam of something green. His mind went to Rachel intuitively….that green was a lot like her sneakers. A second later though, he made out that the gleam came from a dark object in the center of the room. Not the shoes then? Something else?

Fumbling for the light switch, he sighed. As the lights flickered on, he screamed.

Rachel. Her mouth had been forcibly opened, and J caught a glimpse of something green in between her teeth. Her socks had been rammed down her throat, the dark green mesh crumpled up in a ball that obscured her teeth, sticking out just a bit. The mesh had absorbed her saliva, and was clearly still dripping wet. Her green hoodie had some dark marks on it, presumably blood? Or maybe more saliva, or sweat? Her leggings had a few micro rips that had grown larger over the night exposing her pale skin, and her bare feet were splayed out, her legs spread wide open. Around her neck…the sneakers, gleaming in the harsh glare of the room. The laces had been undone and tied around Rachel’s head, the yellow contrasting her beautiful, white skin, wrapping around her brown hair, her forehead, and keeping the socks inside her mouth. The shoes dangled down around her neck and throat, the dirty white soles scraping against her skin. Donnie had carefully wrapped her in glimmering halloween lights, tying her body to the chair and forcing her upright so that the body wouldn’t fall over. A nearby extension cord indicated that at some point…the lights had likely been plugged in.

Her eyes were wide open, staring straight into the floor, unseeing, unknowing, but somehow communicating the terror that she had experienced. They were still wide, bloodshot, as though she had been taken by surprise and then begged repeatedly until the end had come from her.

J experienced a rush of emotions at once. First, utter and complete disbelief. He called out to her, assuming this was a prank, but knowing somehow that it was not.

“Rach? RACH? RACHEL! This isn’t funny Rach.” He rushed over, hoping to shake her, but something intuitively made him stop, made him step back. Not that it was a crime scene, but something more primal, pure, unadulterated fear creeping into his spine.

As he stepped back, Rachel’s body still in the same position, he pulled out a phone, shaking fingers trying to dial 911, heart screaming she may be alive even when the brain told him she was not. Unfortunately, with a grip so weak, with hands so clammy…The phone simply slipped out of his grasp, clattering to the floor. He bent down, picked up the phone, and backtracked out of the house, into the open sunlight.

“Rachel….fuck fuck fuck no, not…not Rach.” J had spent last night drinking and getting high with Brian, who was still collapsed and hungover at his place. Neither had noticed that Rachel hadn’t come home, hadn’t even assumed that anything might have happened to her. With shaking fingers, he tried once more to call 911.

Rachel continued to stare directly into Donnie’s eyes as he admired his latest handiwork from under the boards, his knife at the ready to gut the next person to disturb the Offering. He would have to leave soon, but not yet. Not just yet.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ml06dj/a_slasher_flick_mfsnuffclothingfeet