Scent of Blood, Part 3, Beware Her, NSFW (Patreon)

***Content Warning: NSFW material ahead.***

Help.

Jaye Voorhees froze, blade hanging in the air. His hands shakily were still held in the sign word. Perhaps it had been a fluke.

Jaye. I'm sorry.

Her breath froze in her chest. She stared down at this miserable, terrified boy, older and smaller than the rest had been. Her eyes were locked onto his hands. Eventually, he opened his own and stared up at her. He mouthed a word but she wasn't paying attention to his face, even as handsome as it was. He didn't look right with dirt and cobwebs and blood all over his cheeks.

Then he signed her name. She about dropped her blade in shock. How...how did he know? She wore this mask to hide who she was, the face she had always hated.  She wasn't pretty like other girls, not beautiful, not cute.  How? How was he so smart?  His hands began to move again.

I'm sorry about what happened to you.

Memories of her past rushed through her mind again, making her clench her jaw. He knew. Behind her mask, she felt heat rush to her cheeks in a way she had not felt in years. Her lip trembled slightly and she adjusted her grip on the blade again. No. He didn't really care. He was just like all the rest. None of the dozens before had ever been different. Why should he be?

I wish I could have helped you before.

Hot wetness clung to her eyes, making her vision swim. Nobody could help her. No one had ever helped her. The few times she had tried to show her face to newcomers had always ended the same way.  Screams.  Attacks.  It never ended until their bodies were still and cold. No one had ever cared about who she was, no one ever wanted to know. It was just easier to kill them all.

I'm sorry for intruding in your home. I meant no harm.

Meant no harm? This wasn't his place. He could have run away. He had instead stayed behind to help others who obviously hated him for no reason she had ever seen be justified. Like her. He had tried to save Garret who had tormented him the worst out of them all. She knew it had been his arm trying to haul the big boy inside with him. People weren't as good as him. She knew. The only one who had been was her mother, and she was gone.

Please don't kill me. I'm only here for a job, I didn't mean for this to happen.

How many times had she seen others mouth those words? This boy was just like all of them. He didn't want to die. He would say anything to save himself right now. But...those eyes. Those earnest, kind, thoughtful eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that. He even seemed to notice her body, wasn't repulsed by it the way so many before had been. He pleaded with her as if she wasn't some monster but just another person. Another scared, lonely person.

Her mind flashed away to the past yet again, a dark, deep, enveloping past that she could never escape. Ten years of no kindness, of cold, fear, bloodshed, and murder. Ten years as a monster. And so, so many teens and young adults... Her eyes flickered away to the side. Her issue with them all had been their disregard, their cruelty, and yes...she had been jealous. Even at twelve years old, she had walked in on a couple of older kids getting intimate. No one ever wanted her like that, not as she had become.

Would...it be so bad? Just to try it once?  If he rejected her in the end, like they all had, at least she might have done something new, something different.  She would go back to being alone but for the glimmer of hope that maybe things could change.  Just once.  Maybe she could try...just once.

She lifted the blade high once more. He flinched, understandably, closing his eyes again. Only for her to plant it in the floor and reach down to lift him out of his hole. His shirt strained in her grip as she brought him up to eye level. She inhaled deeply, silently. He smelled...nice. Turning, she gently tossed him across the room toward the bed. He landed atop it and slid, along with the bed itself, across the floor before coming to rest again against the wall.

Retrieving the blade and stowing it at her side, Jaye crossed the room in a few strides. She loomed above him, inspecting him atop the sheets and comforters as he lay there, once again paralyzed. How had she seen others do this before? Weren't they supposed to...take off their clothes? She lowered her hands towards her belt, intending on removing her slashed, ripped pants, then paused. Maybe he might like it better if she made it clear she meant no harm. Started to undress him first. Some guys she had watched seemed to like it when the girl made the first move, made a show of her own removal of attire after.

Her eyes fixed onto his yellow, camp shirt. A selfish desire welled up in her then to see what was underneath. She'd seen the rest of them in swimming attire but not him. She reached for him again, grabbing his shirt and pulling as delicately as possible, trying to make her intentions seem as gentle and alluring as she could. It tore in her hands and left her holding just the ripped fragments of fabric, him flopping back onto the bed. Beneath her, Ian screamed silently again in terror and surprise.

Whoops. That hadn't been what she meant to do. Maybe...something else instead?

Maybe she was supposed to touch? It certainly was an appealing idea. His chest, while unmuscular, had a pale, hairless vibe that made it look so appealing. Her big hands trembled only the tiniest bit as she tamped down her nervousness. Her fingers slid across his flesh and she bit her lip a bit behind her mask. It was just as soft and smooth as it looked...She delicately trailed her fingers over his shoulders, to his pecs, and then down along his belly. She paused above his waist, feeling suddenly very shy. His skin, despite being in this draft room, was still so warm against her touch.

It felt...really nice.

Still, there was one really big hurdle to still cover. She had always yearned, always wanted, to have someone look at her. She hid her face behind the mask, scared to ever try and reach out to someone again and have them accept her. But he was like her, wasn't he? Alone, ostracized. How far would those people have gone if she hadn't stopped them? Her hands lifted to her mask and slowly, hesitantly, began to remove it.

Ian's eyes remained fixed on her as she lifted the hockey mask up and away before laying it to one side across the side of her head. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. He was the first person in years to see what was behind the hockey mask. She waited for a reaction, for him to scream or recoil. Instead, he just stared. And then his eyes began to slowly...roam.

Feeling suddenly shy, she tried to remain perfectly still as he inspected her from head to booted toe. He didn't object or seem put off. His eyes trailed over her scarred neck and she combed some of her hair away from it and showed off her throat and collarbone. Girls did that when trying to be flirty, she had seen.

Still, she was nervous but eager. She didn't want to wait any longer. If this was at all real, she had to try.  She reached down as tenderly as she had ever done and cupped the sides of his face.  He twitched and jerked at first, making her grip just a bit more firmly to make him sit still.  She started to lean down toward him, gauging distances, maneuvering herself very carefully and cautiously.

The bedframe creaked slightly as she allowed some of her weight to rest upon it, bending completely in two by this point at the waist to reach him upon the mattress.  Their mouths hovered close to one another, barely a few inches between them anymore.  She could taste his breath, warm and like citrus on her tongue.  Her lips parted as she licked her teeth.  Some of his hair drifted down over his face then and, trying to make him feel more at peace, she brushed it back with her thumb.

That gesture alone seemed to freeze him in place.  That was good.  He didn't look as afraid anymore.  She smiled very softly, corners of her lips just barely tugging upward, and she leaned in all the way.

At the very last second, he twitched away.  Her lips touched his cheek rather than his mouth and, while it felt good, she leaned back in surprise.  Worry and then frustration colored her face.  Her eyes furrowed down at him as he shuddered there in her grasp.

His shaking hands began to sign again.

***

Are you going to kill me?

Ian looked up into Jaye's narrowed, flinty eyes as she leaned back.  Her lips had felt cold against his skin and her grip had not wavered on him.  She seemed to be considering something.  Every instinct in his body had him nearly shuddering from head to toe, contained only by his drive to stay alive.

If I don't kiss you, are you still going to kill me?

Her one visible eye widened as he signed his question up at her.  She gave no response.

Can you understand me? he asked.

She nodded.  It was a single, sharp, almost bird-like motion, but also slow and mechanical.

He asked again.  If I don't kiss you, are you still going to kill me?  She didn't respond, as if weighing her options.  Her grip didn't loosen at all either.  He decided to rephrase the question.  If I do kiss you, are you still going to kill me?

Jaye shook her head.

His stomach sank.  It seemed a pretty easy decision to make, no matter how scared and honestly repulsed he was by the intimidating offer.  He had always hoped his first kiss would be sweet, romantic, and given willingly.  Not somehow as a bargaining chip to avoid having his head pureed or his stomach ripped open.

Ok then.  He closed his eyes and tried not to flinch, expecting her to lean back down.

She didn't.

His eyes opened a second or so of unchanging motion later and he gazed up at the face of the murderous, hulking woman above him.  He blinked and then his eyes went wide.

Jaye's single visible, clover-colored orb glistened somewhat.  Her jaw was set in a firm, grim line.  All at once, her hands let go of his cheeks and she leaned back and away from him.  She stepped to the side and sat down on the bed with her full weight, making the metal frame squeak loudly and shift slightly beneath him.

He sat up, edging just a bit away from her, and stared.  His first reaction wasn't one that made him feel good about himself.  But, then again, why shouldn't he feel angry, upset, afraid, and repulsed?  Was he supposed to feel bad for not willingly wanting to make out with a monster who had just killed almost a dozen people not barely a few minutes or so ago?  Blood still flecked the mask on the side of her head.  Her gloves stank horribly.  Her skin and clothes were cold and seemingly always damp.  She hadn't killed him for...some reason, but was he supposed to feel grateful and just offer up a bit of his innocence just because she wasn't slaughtering him like all the others?

Then his mind did a 180 as he saw a single, glistening tear lingering in the corner of one of her sharp, flat eyes.  All of a sudden, he did feel bad.  He had no real way to explain it but...he felt like an absolute douche.  He was rejecting her, just like she had no doubt been rejected so many times.  This...wasn't her fault, he realized.  Sure, she'd killed a bunch of people, granted he heartily disliked all of them for their lack of common decency and cruelty but...wasn't this technically her home?  Weren't they trespassing?  Hadn't she been through a lot?

She's probably killed way more than just these latest ones, a part of his brain reminded him.  She may have had a sad childhood, a tragically short one, and somehow come back from the dead after drowning, but that didn't justify her slaughtering probably scores of innocents.  Unless...noted another side of his mind: what if they were all just like the others?

He had to know.

Ian waved, getting her attention as she remained sulkily still and silent.  She glanced at him, noticeably his hands, with that flat, icy glare.  It was the same look she had before, probably the same expression she always wore underneath the mask.  Its empty eye sockets stared at him from the side of her skull, her wild hair sticking up all around and through its openings.

Why didn't you kill me? he signed.

No answer.

Why did you try and kiss me?

No answer, but she did flinch a bit, although it might have just been a twitch of her huge frame.  But...that seemed out of place.  She rarely seemed to move at all except for a reason, whether walking or killing.  Any other time she just stayed corpse-still and silent.

Hands shaking only from the cold now, as did his naked shoulders, he pushed a bit farther.  Did you even want to kill them?

She shook her head.

Why did you?

Her huge hands lifted.  Her movements were jerky and monotonous but he could clearly tell she was signing.  Lonely.  Scared.  Her eye hardened then.  Evil.

We weren't evil.  He argued back.  They weren't...  He paused, hands still held up.  They hadn't been evil...they hadn't deserved...okay sure they had been jerks.  They'd hit him.  They'd pushed him around, ignored him, excluded him.  A lot of people had in his life.  But had they deserved it?  Surely not.  They had been human beings.  Living, breathing...abusive, destructive, awful human beings.  And he didn't actually feel all that sorry about them.  Fine.  He met her face again.  But then why not kill me too?

Jaye quivered again.  Different.  Her hands were clipped and jerky but still legible.  Didn't deserve it.

Then why kiss me?  He pressed the issue again.  Why throw me across a room onto a bed?  Why rip my shirt off?

She looked away.  No answer to that one still.  Or at least, not at first.  He was about to 'speak' up again, demand an answer, or at the very least try something to get a response when her hands started moving again.  Seen others do it.  Jealous.

He blinked.  It was safe to say he had not been expecting that response.  A nagging suspicion began to gnaw at him.  He had to know for sure.  Are you a virgin?

She nodded.

Oh.  OH.  Ian's face, despite the chill blowing in through the busted open door, abruptly felt warm again for a second or two.  She looked almost embarrassed too but her pale skin stayed the same color and damp texture it seemed to constantly maintain.

Did you watch them a lot?

She nodded.  And others.  Before.  They were always the same.  All evil.  But even so.  I was lonely.

And jealous, added Ian for her.

Jaye didn't nod that time but she didn't really need to.

Then why hadn't she done anything different?  Sure, she was a bit different than most girls his age, she looked close to it at least, although he didn't stop to ponder how a 12-year-old girl could drown in a lake, come out, and continue to grow into such a colossus.  Then he realized a second later the obvious answer.  Because she was human, and humans didn't always make the most logical choice when frustrated and inexperienced in how to deal with their emotions.  He flushed again, but this time smiled a bit softly.  Wow.  Talk about a twist.

Why kiss me then?  He asked.  The others were way more attractive.  Some of them weren't nearly as bad as...Garret.

She actually furrowed her brows and looked straight at him through her mop of bangs.  You are pretty.  They were not.  They were evil.  She seemed to become more eloquent and less stiff the longer she talked.  Maybe it wasn't some kind of unnatural robotic nature, but simply the fact that she probably hadn't 'spoken' to another living soul in years.

Evil is subjective, he argued.

Evil, she responded.  Is evil.

Fair point.  No use trying to argue with her.  They lapsed into silence for a long moment.  Eventually he lifted his hands, getting her attention again.  I'm sorry.

She arched a thin, actually rather feminine eyebrow at him, leaning slightly over onto her knees.

I judged you without knowing you, probably like a lot of people had done.

She nodded.

I shouldn't have done that.  You saved me, after all.  She appeared confused, or at least, her eyebrow didn't go down.  From the bear.

Her eye went a touch wider in acknowledgment and she nodded again.

I was just really scared.  I've never seen someone like you before.

Her face twisted a bit at that.  Ugly, she signed.  Big.  Ugly.  Scary.

Ian waved his hands as she seemed to become darker again.  You're not ugly!  He assured her.  Yes, you're big.  Very scary.  The mask doesn't help.

She glanced at it once and then back to him.  I am ugly, she argued.  Big body, big muscles.  She flexed an arm, making her coat arm creak as the shape beneath it swelled somehow even more.  Big in every way.  Big hands.  She looked at both of them in their fingerless gloves.  Her fists began to ball up, knuckles popping alarmingly.

Without realizing what he was doing, he reached out and touched the wrist of one.  She stiffened and he hoped he hadn't gone too far.  Instead, she actually relaxed a bit again and he, with her permission, peeled off one of the sticky, damp, thick-woolen gloves from her hand.  The skin beneath the cloth wasn't as darkened or grayish as her broken-nailed fingers were, but they were incredibly coarse and rough to the touch.  There were more callouses on her than he had ever seen.

Tracing the line of a few on her palm, he then signed slowly with one hand, less eloquently but still proficient enough to get his message across.  Some people like big.  He kept his eyes down, shy and unsure, from hers.

She took her hand back from him and he worried at first that he had offended her.  Then he saw them moving again.  Some people like small.

Their eyes met again and he abruptly felt the weight of that gaze as she seemed to look his shirtless body up and down.  He grinned nervously.  You would be the first, he admitted.

She didn't respond.

His chest fluttered somehow.  That silence meant...a lot somehow.  It was easy to use words to lie, but what she had said and the way she was acting made it very clear she had no air of duplicity about her.  She probably didn't even consider lying as a possibility or nuance she would ever employ.  Why lie when you had only yourself to lie to?

Why lie when you were all alone?

Ian moved very slowly.  He slid a bit closer to her on the bed until there was only a bit of distance left between their hips.  She watched him cautiously, unsure what his intentions were.  He reached for her mask and his fingers trailed across the scarred surface.  He traced the red lines carved there, as well as the notch in the right temple.  Jaye didn't move or respond but she also didn't try and stop him.

Hands shaking, palms sweaty despite the chill that clung to him, and heart hammering, Ian lifted his other hand to her exposed left cheek.  He brushed her damp, cold skin with his fingers before he mirrored the grip she had used on his face before.  It...wasn't as bad as it had felt before.  Sure, it was cold and kind of wet like she had recently gotten out of the water, but it still felt very alive, just thick and tough.  Still soft in all the ways skin should have been.

He leaned up toward her as slowly and carefully as he dared.  Jaye didn't respond, at first, but when his intent seemed obvious, she leaned down toward him as well.  Her hair tickled his face for just a second before he brushed it away from that side, fully exposing her mouth.  Her lips parted.  His did as well.

His first kiss was slow, very inexperienced, and incredibly shy.  The feel and texture of Jaye's mouth against his was just like the rest of her: cold, kind of moist, and rough.  Even so, he kept up the pressure, the strange taste of her leaking through his lips to his tongue.  He felt her big hands lifting alongside him but he kept his eyes closed, actually beginning to enjoy himself.  He felt her grip his shoulders, gloved and ungloved hand squeezing just a bit.

They leaned back and away from one another after a little bit, but even that admittedly short kiss had taken his breath away.  He blinked his stunned eyes open and looked back up at Jaye.  Her response seemed similar, her gaze hazy and unsure.  Their eyes focused again on one another and, for a long while, they just stared.  Then, as the tension and weight of what they'd just done continued to rise, Ian broke first.

He looked away, chuckling, a stupid grin pasted on his face.

What is funny? she signed.

Nothing.  It's just...  He tried to find the proper words to use, head still fuzzy.  That was nice.

She nodded.  First.  She looked away for a second.

Mine too.

Her eyes ratcheted onto his again and went wide.  She didn't say anything for a bit until, just like him, a grin stretched her face.  It transformed her.  Where had been as cold, emotionless, and impassive a face as the mask she wore over it, now it was bright, warm, and while reserved, also joyful.  He returned the smile just as energetically, probably much more so.

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Her hands lifted and she signed a question.  Again?

He nodded eagerly.  This time, though, when she leaned in toward him, he held up a finger.  She paused.  Can you take the mask off this time? he asked.

Jaye's face broke in another grin and she lifted a big hand to slide the leather straps off her skull, releasing her fluffy mane of knotted and scraggly hair, before she dropped the thick mask.  It clattered onto the floor.  In the same instant, she was leaning back down and pushing him underneath her as well.  His naked back hit the sheets and she settled in atop of him with only a fraction of her weight.  The bed creaked.  Even that small part of her was incredibly dense and heavy.

Their lips met again and this time they kissed a bit more passionately than before.  They actually moved their mouths, he even tried to french kiss a bit.  Her tongue was not cold at all.  That alone shocked him enough to gasp and allow her entire muscular limb to force its way into his mouth entirely.  She was very rough and eager as she pinned him there.  They broke apart only when he tapped her arm several times, popping her mouth from his volubly and licking her lips.

He panted for breath, desperate to try and get air back into his lungs.  WOW was she forceful!  It was kinda hot.  Okay, really hot.  Then he saw the look in her eye.

Her hand lifted fast and she signed the same word, this time much more sharply.  Again!

She dove back down and this time he let out a grunt as she settled more of herself atop of him.  She was veritably crushing him against the sheets and thin mattress.  Her mouth wasn't gentle this time, in fact she made their passion from before seem as tame as their first by comparison.  Her teeth nipped at his mouth and she barely gave him a second in between each gnawing burst of kissing to get air before she would again smother him in her bulk and weight, each time settling more of herself to lay atop of him.

His vision swam with spots behind his eyelids before she finally jerked up.  His chest heaved up and down and his mouth felt raw and thoroughly worked over.  His chin was suddenly turned to the side and he felt her mouth close on his throat a second later.  He inhaled sharply, letting out a rattling moan of both pain and stimulation.  She wasn't being gentle at all.

Her teeth nipped at his tender flesh and he stiffened, grimacing as she worked his neck over, nomming and suckling on it as if inhaling a drug.  His hands knotted their grip on her coat until he felt it sliding off of her at her own behest.  Now she was coatless and nearly straddling him, pinning him in place with her rough, strong hands as she switched sides on his neck, actually clenching one palm against his jugular and cutting off his flow of oxygen.

Dear god, was she trying to choke him?  It was really scary all of a sudden.  And...yes...really, really hot.  If he had had any experience with this, maybe he would have done better as the giant woman all but attacked him, hands groping, gripping, grabbing, squeezing.  There certainly was something hot about having no decision or say in how she handled him.  But, even so, fear was beginning to take hold again.

Ian trembled as she tightened her grip on his neck, her other hand sliding down his bare spine to begin working at his shorts.  "Jaye..." he gasped out, barely with enough air to do so.  "Please..."  His heart was hammering in his ears as the world started to go dark more and more.

Just as suddenly as she had started, the huge girl leaned back and off of him.  Air rushed back into his lungs and left him hacking and coughing.  His throat felt almost like it had been seconds away from being crushed.  Eyes blurry, watering, he looked up at where her big shape was.  As his vision cleared, he saw her again.  She looked...worried.

She signed at him hurriedly as soon as she noticed him coming to.  I'm sorry!  She stroked his hair with a big hand, almost like petting a puppy.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

He lifted a hand weakly and staved off her attentions.  "I'm...fine..." he mouthed up at her, unable to think hard enough to make the hand signs right now.  She sat back and away from him, her body as still as a corpse again.  Her coat lay on the floor, leaving her in her sleeveless, ripped belly shirt and her tattered pants and boots.  She watched him recover slowly until he was able to use his hands to talk again.  Wow.  You are very...enthusiastic.

She smiled sheepishly down at him.  I'm sorry, she repeated.  It felt good.

He nodded.  That helped a little that she had been acting that way, not out of sadism but actual enthusiasm.  It would have been very flattering if he hadn't been sure for a second that he was about to die from strangulation.

Jaye reached for him again and he couldn't help flinching for just a second before he reminded himself that she really hadn't meant to hurt him.  He caught her hand in his as she started to pull back, face remorseful and twisted with guilt.  He stroked her knuckles and removed the glove on that hand too.  How about... he suggested with one hand.  I show you how to be gentle?

She nodded, seeming eager but still angry at herself.

He let go of her hand and signed Can I touch you?

She again nodded and scooted closer again.  She bit her bottom lip as he warily sat up and reached out for her.  He wanted to grab something...very prominent and veritably being thrust out at him but he wavered out of being unsure and new at all this as she was and instead he touched her neck.  He traced the line of her scars there, expression furrowing.  She stayed still as he touched each one of her markings across her visible flesh.

Do they hurt? he asked, taking back his hands eventually.

She didn't respond at first, lifting a hand to touch her throat as he had.  Then she hung her head, hair hiding her face.  Yes, she signed.  They all hurt.

Abruptly he felt horrible.  His arms reached out and he pulled or tried to pull, her into a hug.  His arms didn't even go all the way around her shoulders.  She stayed still, forcing him to lean into her instead, head against her collarbone before he felt her shakily lifting her massive arms up and encircling his entire chest with ease.  The pressure was light and he nodded against her.

He squeezed a bit more and she returned the same level of strength.  He showed her the comfortable level of a hug.  She seemed to like it.  Then, when she let go enough at his behest to lean back, he scooted forward again and kissed her of his own volition.  She really seemed to like that.  He traced her jaw with a hand and she gripped his entire skull between both of hers.

Again, he leaned back and she didn't try and stop him.

Gentle, he explained.  Soft.  You're doing great.

She smiled.

His eyes finally wandered and he shyly looked at her chest again.  It was...big.  Like all of her.  They still seemed anatomical but he had no idea what kind of cup size she would even have.  His hand lifted shakily, only for her to guide him forward with her own across the back of his knuckles and press his palm firmly against the huge globe of flesh beneath her straining shirt.

He was transfixed.  So that was what they felt like... the guys at school had been full of complete b.s in their lame, self-superior explanations and bragging of the times they had groped a girl before.  He soon was using both hands, lifting, squeezing, separating them, and then smooshing them back together.  He felt the hard tips of her nipples through the cloth and he tweaked at them.  Jaye wriggled at his touches.

Eventually, he let go, not without some reluctance, and he looked up into her eyes.  They shared a grin.  Then he shivered.  It was getting really cold in here as the storm front moved fully on top of their little cabin.  Thunder cracked overhead and he flinched, this time against her.  He huddled against her damp front from his childish phobia before he finally calmed back down.

As their eyes met again, Jaye seemed conflicted.  Her hands slowly wove around him and then suddenly underneath him.  He was hoisted up into her grasp with the utmost ease, bridal style, forcing him to put his hands around her bulky neck on instinct to avoid being dropped.  Not that she didn't bear his negligible weight like an empty sack.

He arched an eyebrow at her and she shook her head.  Wordlessly, she switched to holding him up with one arm, slinging him over her shoulder and then draped her recollected coat over him.  She heard a scrape of plastic as she no doubt retrieved her mask and suddenly she had turned and was carrying him from the cabin and out into the maelstrom outside.  Underneath the thick, musty-smelling coat, he didn't feel the rain hit much else than his exposed shoes and socks, although those rapidly became soaked through.  He saw her boots leaving huge prints in the muddy trail as she carried him off through the camp to somewhere else.

They arrived a small bit later.  Wooden stairs creaked as she climbed up a flight and then the creak of a door opened following a jangle of actual keys.  The room she carried him into was dark as the door rattled shut again.  He was lugged through some kind of very dark, very stuffy series of rooms and halls, up another flight of stairs that creaked loudly from disrepair, and then another door was opened.  Then he was being set down, rather gently, on something big, plush, and very soft.

He couldn't see a thing save for the spare flashes of lightning through a set of hanging curtains on one wall that apparently contained windows.  Then there was a click and the soft glow of an oil lamp lit up his surroundings.  He stared.  He was in a rather dusty and old-timey house.  The decorations were rather ugly, consisting of floral wallpaper and pictures of cats in tarnished silver frames.  He saw that he was in a bed, a very old one, with thick comforters and gray pillows.

Jaye stood before him, throwing her coat over to the side of the room before she helped him remove his sodden socks and shoes.  She then put her hands to her belt and dropped that too, weapons jangling loudly and making him flinch.  She flung them off to one wall and then, to his shock, took off her pants.  She wasn't wearing panties.  An untamed fluff of hair decorated her nethers as she kicked off her boots to the side to join his and dropped her sodden leggings to the carpeted floor.

Her eyes fell upon him on the bed as she stood there, wearing only her shirt now.  The soft glow illuminated every curve, every swell of hardened muscle and leathery skin.  She had a body he had never imagined could ever exist: scarred, rippling, almost inhuman, and beautiful beyond compare.  He gulped hard as she advanced and he backed up to give her room to join him on the bed.  She pulled back the dusty sheets and from them exploded a massive cloud that made him cough quite a bit as it hung there in the dim lighting.  Then her chilled, muscular bulk was gently guiding him to lay down on the white bedding where she joined him.

The sheets folded down around their waists again as Ian and Jay abruptly lay side by side in the old bed.  Outside, the thunder rolled and rain hammered on the roof above their heads.  His chest was pounding fit to burst.  He glanced over at her to see the light of the lamp reflected in her eyes.  It was bright enough to see now so he signed at her, hoping her dark vision was better than his, Where are we?

She signed back, easier for him to see since she was facing where the light was coming from.  My old house.  Locked.  No one comes in here.

He blinked and then shrugged.  While exploring the camp, he had noticed the old lighthouse building near the edge of the property had been inexplicably locked and no one knew of where the key would be.  He settled into the sheets more, already getting warmer and more comfortable despite how dusty everything was.  His limbs slid against hers and he started.

I'm not gonna get in trouble with your parents for being in here, am I?  he asked, trying to lighten the mood.  Not gonna have them walk in on us for us being in bed together?

Jaye lifted her eyebrow as high as it ever had gone.

He realized the irony of what he had just asked.  Abruptly, things became extremely funny and he snorted.  Jaye did as well, grinning in her taciturn but strangely utterly adorable way.  Sorry, he signed.

Jaye smiled, shrugged, eyebrow still lifted as if to ask Why?

He wasn't really sure.  He shivered a bit and allowed himself to slide just a bit closer to her.  She responded eagerly, half-naked form wrapping him up once again in her unnaturally strong embrace that now was just gentle enough to remain comforting.  They kissed again and it helped him more confidently explore her mostly bare body.  He didn't stay just attentive to her chest then as their lips danced and their world devolved into hot gasps and grindings.  He touched her all over, every limb, every scar, every bulge of muscle, and swell of softness.  Then soft, bristly hairs graced his roaming fingers and he sat up from her.  He looked down at the prone Jaye beneath him.

Her eyes looked...very vulnerable.  It was an odd look on such a big woman who only a short while ago had been the most terrifying thing he'd ever come across.  She glanced down at his southward hand as it rubbed against her groin.  He needed some kind of consent from her to feel comfortable doing more.  She gripped his wrist and shoved his eager fingers lower.  That would about do it.

Like her tongue, that part of her was not cold at all, but it was damp, just for a very different reason.  He inexpertly but with great enthusiasm began to slide his fingertips against, between, and all over the soft, demure lips that he had found, paying special attention to a small little nub that made Jaye wriggle beneath him.  He settled in atop and beside her as he kept tending to her feminine spot, pressing kisses against her torn shirt front and the hardened peak underneath that was all too easy to find.

A second later, she had lifted the shirt up enough and allowed the massive shapes beneath to flop out for the first time.  They were so...pale...and pretty...and huge.  And yet their tips were tiny, pert, and very pink, almost bluish like her lips.  He latched onto one while redoubling his southbound efforts, shorts-clad hips straining hard to contain his excitement.  One of her hands clapped onto the back of his head, stroking his hair and letting him know she was deeply enjoying what he was doing.

Jaye abruptly rocketed up against him only moments later, or so it felt.  Her legs snapped shut with an actual clap of muscular thighs smacking against one another and almost costing him a hand.  The huge girl shuddered over and over as she rode out an actual orgasm, caused by him, which made every single muscle of her body stand out vividly.

When it finally subsided, Jaye's eyes latched onto his.  There was such heat in them that he felt abruptly like he might be lit aflame.  Her hands latched onto his shorts and pulled hard, lifting him up with her thighs and easily maneuvering him atop of her even as she ripped the red nylon from his hips and exposed his...own nakedness in its entirety.

Her eyes went wide as he bashfully rested between her, again, spread open legs.  The sheets had all been kicked off by this point and he lay completely naked on top of her.  She stared down at his admittedly well-trimmed and completely exposed masculinity.  He grinned sheepishly.  You know what they say, he joked with his hands.  About skinny guys...?

She shook her head, still staring.  Her legs slowly wove around him from behind, trapping him in place.  She didn't look confident but she did look eager.

Now was when all his self-confidence issues came back to plague him.  Are you sure about this? he signed down at her.

She arched an eyebrow.

I just want to make sure, he signed hurriedly.  I know that things have been getting really intense but if you wanted to wait or...  Jaye's eyebrows furrowed.

What on earth was he doing?  There was a girl, an unbelievably hot, tall, muscular, busty, willing girl, completely waiting on him just to take the plunge.  She wouldn't have brought him all this way and done all of this if she wasn't willing.

So why was he hesitating?

Ian didn't get a chance to complete psyching himself up.  Jaye took the initiative for him.  Her legs locked him in place and, if she had a voice to growl, she let him know her patience and self-restraint were running out.  Then she flexed, dragging him closer, and grinding his organ against her entrance.  He gasped and even she wriggled a bit more.

He suddenly wished that, while being able to share his very first time with someone like her was indeed wonderful, he at least knew what he was supposed to do.  He had heard that being inexperienced could make it painful for the girl.  But, then again, he wasn't about to suddenly just know how to be good at this sort of thing.  There was nothing for it than to just do it.

So, steeling himself, Ian leaned forward and crossed that final threshold.  He went slow and careful, and as gentle as physically possible.  Inch by inch, he slid deeper inside until he had reached the base.  It wasn't easy to accomplish.  Lubricated or not, she was tighter than he could ever have believed.  He almost lost his head at the incredible heat and sensations, hoping only that she felt as good as he did.

He now totally understood all the jokes and references and why every single guy in his high school had obsessed over this.  He hadn't because he'd never met the right girl, or generally any girl willing to go farther than a handshake or a less than condescending acknowledgment.

That was all behind him now.

For her part, Jaye lay stiff and tense beneath him.  He wished that he could have helped her relax, worried that he was hurting her as he rested inside as deep as he could go.  Her eyes were squinted shut so he couldn't sign anything.  Her fists were knotted in the pillows above her head, so tight that he could hear the fabric ripping.  Then she let out a sound as he decided to just try and pull out and try something else.

Jaye Voorhees moaned.

It was a strangled, hoarse sound that her throat had probably never made before, not even during her orgasm earlier.  Her back arched and her head lolled back into the pillows beneath it.  Her eyelids fluttered, the whites of her eyes showing in between the flashes, and her muscles coiled and rippled even as he watched.  Her legs locked around his waist, keeping him in place and unable to pull out more than halfway.  She flexed them as if trying to pull him closer.

So he obliged.  He pushed back in and she let out the sound again.  Before his eyes, a smile again split her normally unemotional expression.  It was like her smile before, right before she had nearly strangled him.  He wasn't scared though.  Her eyes rolled open again and she stared up into his face with a look that set his blood to blazing and a surge of extra stimulation down to his already heavily enflamed lower region.

More, she mouthed up at him.

What followed was perhaps the single greatest experience in Ian's life.  He wasted no time in acquiescing to her request, setting up an easy rhythm of his hips back and forth as he pumped into her.  One of her hands lifted from its death grip on the pillows and gripped his shoulder, not to crush or stop him but more as if she needed something else to hold onto as the headboard of the bed began to smack monotonously against the back wall.

The view of her beneath him was nothing short of divine.  He often found himself entranced by watching just the back and forth sway of her chest as it bounced from his movements, made somehow even more erotic by the fact that her shirt was still rolled up above them and kept them mostly in place.  She also had a habit of flexing her arms for him at times, which just made him go faster with tiny bursts of energy.

Then, as every first-timer tended to want to do, he decided to try something new.  He paused in his rhythm and tapped her legs, having her release her lock around his hips.  With them loosened, he struggled and managed to lift them both up and draped them over his shoulders.  Jaye's eyes went wide, hair laying all around her face, and immediately seized on the novelty of this new position.  She even propped herself up more for him, providing him the shelf of her toned ass to balance on as he now pounded down into her.  It did what he hoped it would, making it feel like he was getting even deeper.

From there they experimented with plenty of ideas of possible ways to keep her on her back and submissive while also expounding on his treasure trove of moves he'd seen performed.  While those had been done by, admittedly, professionals, the many late nights spent by himself were wonderful to finally be able to try out for real.  They switched it up several times, from her propped up as she was, to her on her side and one leg up over his shoulder, to spooning with him behind her, and then him again just on top of her but her holding him in a cuddle while he moved.

That last one proved to be his undoing.  It was warm, she was warm now, and safe, and he felt closer to Jaye than he had ever felt to anyone else in his life, serial killer or not.  He felt like he totally understood her like this and she understood him.  Their needs were simple: to move.  But, eventually, the ride had to end.

It started as a burning wave he was only vaguely familiar with during his late-night solo sessions but never this intense.  He blinked his eyes open, unable to stop himself but also recognizing the danger of it.  He sat up, dislodging himself from the sweaty embrace.  She caught his eyes and cocked her head to the side, still giving off monotone grunts and growls of endearment.

Where should I finish? he mouthed at her.  He had to repeat himself several times before she seemed to understand.  Would she though?

She did.  Her eyes went wide and, like a wrestling lock, her legs lifted and wrapped, anaconda-like, around his waist, trapping him in place.  Her grin was feral and eager.

What about protection?!  The concept soon made, again, the irony apparent to him.  Was that really his biggest concern right now?

And then she lifted her actually shuddering hands and formed two words with them.  Want.  You.  Her arms opened wide again, welcoming him back into them.

Ian needed no second offer.  He collapsed down into her embrace, face buried in her mountainous chest, and spent himself nearly a second later.  Every burst was stronger and harder than the last and shook him from head to toe.  She quivered as well, clenching as tight as she could around him.  They rode it out, a dual pair of conjoined climaxes that were punctuated by a perfectly timed and especially explosive burst of lightning and thunder that drowned out their synchronized groans of pleasure.

He sagged against her, panting, as finally the tides ebbed, at last, letting his body sink into a well of pure bliss and relief.  Her hands trembled against his back, rough fingers and calloused palms stroking his spine and up into his hair over and over.  She made him lean up and they again kissed, more passionately than ever before.  After that, they cuddled as the storm continued to rage on outside.  As ever, there was danger still present, but it seemed so far away that all that remained was the comforting warmth.  Thunder didn't seem so scary anymore.

Could life truly be better than this?

Then Jaye was suddenly rolling them over.  His sweaty back hit the sheets and he was abruptly staring up at the dark, shadowy ceiling as she loomed above him just like before.  She tore the shirt from her, hurled it away, and then reached down to grab something off the floor.  His eyes went wide as she grinned and planted her mask atop her head even as he stared.  Her hair flattened around and beneath it save for one adorable cowlick that stuck up at the top.

She had a savage light in her eyes as she slapped her mask down over her face, obscuring it once more.  Her trunk-like legs fastened tight around his hips, trapping him underneath her with absolutely no room for him to move, leaving him completely at her mercy once again.  He had somehow been able to forget the sheer, arousing yet frightening intensity of just how strong and heavy she was until just then.  It sent shivers down his spine, heat and fear coursing through him to cause an even more rigid and profound reaction to what had been a deflated and seemingly completely-satisfied part of his anatomy.  It returned to life with a roar of both expectation and fear.  She signed just one word as she mounted up atop him again.

Again.

Beware Her indeed.

***

Giggles, soft and hushed, sounded around the cramped storage shed interior as the two young teens continued their inexperienced but passionate makeout session.  The boy's hands groped at the girl's modest breasts, her leg arched up and wrapped around his waist, tugging at the hem of his red shorts.

"We aren't supposed to be doing this!" the girl exclaimed in a whisper, still laughing under her breath as they broke apart for air.

"Doesn't that just make it hotter?" he asked in return, his face flushed and hair messed up from its usual coiffed perfection.

They both leaned back in to return to what they had been doing.  It was late and nobody was around to stop them from exploring the perks of their wonderfully laid-back and relaxing summer job.

The door to the shed abruptly banged open.  Both teenagers jerked in surprise, hands scrabbling at their clothes and trying to pull them back to more presentable appearances, smoothing hair and wiping at their faces.  The boy, Luke, had lipstick stains all over his face.  The girl, Bev, tried desperately to put her hair back in its ponytail.

There came a click and a beam of blinding light illuminated the dusty, cramped room and the two sheepish youths hiding there after hours.  They blinked rapidly, vision obscured by the blinding light.  Heavy footfalls sounded on the wooden floor.

"What are you two doing?" sighed a male voice a few seconds later.  The flashlight clicked off.  As Luke and Bev's vision returned to normal, they saw the unmistakable form of the Senior Camp Coordinator standing in front of them.  He wore the same yellow Camp Crystal Lake shirt over his defined and athletic chest and red shorts on his legs just like them.  His hair hung around his face in an attractive, well-maintained mane.  "You're not supposed to be out after light's out."

"Sorry Mr. Waylan," they chorused at the same time, hanging their heads and faces flushed from the embarrassment of being caught.  Under his supervision, they stood and traipsed out of the shack.  They were escorted to their cabins, just down the road from one another.  Pausing at the junction that led to either, they turned and looked their boss in the eyes as much as they were able to.  He wasn't tall, but he had an air to him that commanded respect.

"Now, Luke, Bev," Ian said, voice firm but not stern or angry.  "I don't wanna catch you guys breaking camp rules like this again.  Fraternization isn't allowed here at Camp Crystal Lake."

"Yes, Mr. Waylan," they again responded in unison.

His flat facade broke and he winked at both of them.  "If you have to explore your new relationship, my advice is to try the smallest cabin down the road.  The door locks and has a lot more room than some musty old shack.  Just don't let it be me who catches you again.  At least try and be subtle.  And don't even think of trying it down by the lake house."  He met their amazed expressions with a wink and gestured with a hand.  "For now, off to bed.  In the morning I want both of you to go down the road and repaint the camp sign after breakfast."

They nodded and made their individual ways back to their gender-assigned cabins.  They waved at the landing to both, to which Ian returned the gesture.  He made sure to watch them actually go inside and waited for the lights inside to go out fully.

Chuckling, he slung his flashlight at his waist and stalked off down the flat, well-taken care of road to the said sign.  Truth be told, it was very well kept and pristine.  He had, over the years, updated the artwork on the front, adding filigree and carvings of animals all around the picture of the lake, forest, and single floating boat.  He brushed a hand across the yellow wood, the upraised red lettering.

His fingers trailed over it all until they touched an old carved pair of words, so faded that they were almost impossible to make out.  He traced them with a skilled fingertip.  Beware.  Here.  He grinned to see that someone had blotted out the last E right beside the carved picture of an ambiguous mask, leaving the message to read differently.  Rather than a bloody handprint, this time it was a smiling face, crude but adorable.

"Beware, Her," he whispered softly.  There was a rustle, off in the bushes not far away, and he turned slowly to look at where it had come from.

In the gloom, he was hard to see much, but his suspicions were quickly confirmed as he heard a growl of something entirely inhuman.  He flicked on his flashlight.  There stood Young Gnarl, a huge grizzly, still walking toward him ominously with a dangerous slouch to his shoulders.  The bear had his eyes trained on him, nose snuffling and teeth bared.  He took a solid stance and faced the wild animal with a calm, unworried look.

"Evening, Gnarl," he replied even as the bear loomed up onto his hind legs, towering over the human.  "Out late, aren't we?"

The bear growled again.  Before he could do anything else, however, there was a rustle behind them both, off into the treeline.  Both of them turned.  Ian shook his head, chuckling.

Appearing out from behind a tree as silently as mist, the hulking form of a truly huge person seemed to materialize.  Her massive frame wore the same yellow shirt over a chest that strained it so tightly that several seams had already popped, as well as showing a much deeper v-neck than any of the others ever did.  On her bottoms, she still wore her thick, heavy boots, but had replaced her torn, ragged leggings with thick, canvas pants of a dark green color.

A similar heavy, but brand new jacket hung over her shoulders, emblazoned with the yellow tag of 'Camp Warden'.   Her machete was sheathed at her side.  The gleam of her notched mask hung there as well.  The gleam of something plastic shone on one of her ears, only partly obscured by a heavy, wild mane of hair that remained as untamed as ever, a single cowlick sticking up at the top adorably.

<figure> </figure>

"You better run along, old boy," Ian told the bear, glancing down at him once and then back at their newest, late-night companion.  Gnarl had quickly had dropped back onto all fours and was hanging his head. "You know how this went last time."

The bear heeded the advice and hurried off again into the woods.  Ian watched him vanish into the mist and shadows before he again turned and faced Jaye.  A grin stretched his face.  He clicked off the flashlight again.  He wordlessly approached her.  "Oh no," he drawled, chuckling.  "Help, help, a dangerous, huge, beautiful woman approaches in the dead of night.  Whatever will she do?"

"You could at least pretend to be scared," rumbled a thick, raspy voice that seemed, even now, entirely unused to speaking out loud.  Her gloved hands moved alongside her speech, signing out the same words.  She approached him as well, lifting her big, paw-like hands and cupping his cheeks as she towered over him.  One big thumb stroked his freshly shaven cheek, brushing some of his hair back behind an ear.

He smiled wider.  Unprompted, he stood up on his tiptoes even as she leaned down toward him.  They shared a single kiss, sweet and warm.  "Everyone's in their cabins," he said once she had allowed him to lower himself back down, speaking clearly and also, as she had done, mirroring his words with sign language.  Old habits died hard.  "Care for a moonlit walk?"

She nodded.  Side by side, they walked along the gravel path toward the lake.  They stopped by the docks, looking out over the completely calm and quiet, mirror-like resplendence of Crystal Lake.  The moon hung there, undisturbed as if it had fallen from the heavens and gained a twin to match the gleaming white orb still in the night sky.  Jaye leaned in close against him, her cool bulk a comforting presence.

It had been several years since the masked killer of Camp Crystal Lake, New Jersey had hung up her blade and ceased her days of teen-killing.  With finally one consistent and passionate Counselor to take over the restoration of the summer camp, the dark rumors that surrounded its woods and buildings had finally been put to rest.  New rules had been enforced to protect both children and teen counselors.  The police had investigated but, as usual, found no evidence of any of the many cullings of the past.  No one really wanted to look into them too much.  The place had gained a sinister reputation concerning those who probed too deeply would only end up vanishing too.

They were just that now, however: rumors and legend.

Jaye's hand gripped his shoulder and he returned the hug around her waist.  They turned to look at one another.  Her smile, simple, small, and gentle, was brighter than even the moon on the lake.  The twinkle in her eyes even more so.

He knew that look.  It, as ever, elicited just the slightest twinge of fear and excitement inside of him.  "What...?" he asked hesitantly.

Jaye's grip on him tightened.  In the space of a breath, she had gripped his shirt in her hand and picked him up off the ground, lifting him until their faces were level.  The brand new hearing aide in her ear caught the moonlight like silver.  She turned wordlessly and stalked over to the lake house.  Despite his protestations, she kicked the door gently open and flung him inside to land on the padded cot within.

He lifted himself up onto his hands after landing flat on his back to see her bolting the door behind her and shucking out of her jacket.  Even now, he couldn't help but shyly admire as she stood in her camp shirt, sleeves so short on her that it was practically a tank top, before she removed it too and began undoing her belt as well.  Moonlight shone in through the window across her pale, perfectly formed, muscular loveliness.  She nodded for him to do the same, growling softly in her throat.  That flat, emotionless hunger gleamed in her one visible eye from underneath her wild head of hair.  God, how it turned him on.

<figure> </figure>

I am such a hypocrite... he thought, chuckling as he hurried to follow his beloved's orders.

The End.

<figure> </figure>

Or is it...?

Down the road in New Hardwick, New Jersey, a local diner was doing a roaring trade, even for being so early in the morning.  Patrons sat at the polished metal seats, sipping coffee, or doing the same at the counter whilst seated atop revolving stools.  A pink, apron-clad waitress chatted happily with old favorites.  Outside, the hiss of a bus door sounded.  The doors to the diner opened and the waitress looked up.

"Morning!" she called brightly.  "Care for a cup of coffee?" she asked the single newcomer who had just entered the room.  No one else really paid them any mind, too consumed on their own conversations and meals.

"Yes, dear, that would be lovely," replied the older woman.  She took a seat by herself near a wall, away from everyone else.  The reason why no one else sat there was because of the macabre decorations against the wall.  The waitress, named Honey, bustled over with a steaming pot and poured a cup of coffee, setting it down.  "Thank you!" the woman chimed.

"No problem," Honey replied, chewing on some gum.  She opened a notepad.  "What can I get you started on?"

"Oh, just the coffee for now," the woman said.  "Although..." she inhaled.  "Are those pancakes I smell?"

"Yes ma'am, Louie just made a fresh batch.  Want some?  You look like you could use a good meal."

Rubbing her hands, the woman chuckled.  "I suppose I could be convinced.  Just a small plate though, dear.  I have a big morning ahead of me."

"Oh yeah?" asked Honey in a friendly voice.  "Where you heading?"

"Just up the road," she replied.

"Going to the camp?"

She didn't respond, seeming to be busying herself with a small prayer.

"Lovely place," Honey observed.  "So much better ever since the new guy took over management.  Really cleaned the place up.  People are actually willing to come by nowadays and stick around.  No more nasty rumors and all."

"Rumors, dear?" asked the old woman, just having finished with her silent 'amen'.

Honey glanced at the framed pictures hanging next to the table.  She nodded.  "Let me go get you those pancakes," she said quickly and clicked away.

Sipping at her coffee, the woman turned and eyed the pictures.  They were in fact old newspaper clippings, well-cared-for but at least a decade old from the date on the top left.  A grainy, black and white image of some kind of masked person, seen at a distance, dominated the one right before her.

Using a hand, she brushed aside some of her thick, graying hair.  It framed a heavy-set, homely face with sunken, clover-colored eyes that had once been ever so bright.  She wore a faded sweater over a large frame, tall for a woman of her years without even a slouch.  Her hands folded over her waist demurely as she read on about the attached story.  They were delicate hands, despite that they looked strong enough to wring a chicken's neck with a single trained twist, or work a knife as surely as any chef.

Masked serial-killer supposedly stalks serene summer camp.  Dozens missing.  Police investigations have as of yet turned up no leads.

Her smile widened as she looked up to see Honey returning with a plate of steaming, well-drenched and buttered pancakes.  She took them graciously.  "Thank you again!"

Honey paused, glancing again at the newspapers even as her new customer folded a napkin over her lap, old-school, and tucked another one into the neckline of her thick, cable-knit blouse.  "Creepy old things," the young woman observed.  "Don't know why Louie insists on keeping those around.  If it were up to me I'd take those old things down and~"

"Could I trouble you for some maple syrup?" chimed in the old woman, cutting Honey off.

The waitress smiled, unable to resist meeting the lady's exotic, charming eyes, even as sunken and sad as they looked.  "Sure thing, ma'am.  Can I ask your name?  I do so love meeting new folks.  You from around here?"

"I was, once," the woman admitted bashfully, as demure and soft-spoken as any grandmother.  "I'm Pamela."

"Well, nice to meet you, Pam!" Honey giggled.  "I'll go get you your syrup!"  She clicked away again.

Pamela nodded, the smile dropping off her face only when Honey was safely out of sight.  She sipped again at her coffee and looked again at the grainy, blurry photo of the masked killer.  She trailed a finger across the image.  There was no mistaking it.  "You've grown so much, my little Jaye," she whispered with a gleam in her eyes that belied her otherwise sweet and charming air.  Her smile widened.  "You've done so well in keeping our home safe and clean...only now I suppose it falls to me to get things back to the way they should be.  This is our home, after all.  Mommy won't ever let anyone hurt you...ever again."