Back in middle school, other kids had told me I’d been on the internet too much, believing Slender Man was stalking the edges of our playground. They actually had me convinced that it was just my imagination. I only ever saw his unnaturally skinny, dark-suited form out of the corner of my eye anyway, and kind of learned not to see him. Even when I caught glimpses of him seeming to follow me around during high school, as I walked to or from school or friends’ houses. I convinced myself it was just a manifestation of my teen angst and worries about life.
The spring of senior year though, on my birthday, I learned I hadn’t been imagining things at all. He’d been real. He’d been following me for almost my entire life. Waiting for me.
I awakened from a sexy-dream turned nightmare – something that had been happening with increasing frequency over the last month, to the familiar feeling I wasn’t alone in my room. Only this time I was right. He was there at the foot of my bed, freakishly long arms pulling the sheets away from me, his blank eyeless face somehow staring at me.
I tried to scream but no sound came out of my mouth. I tried to scramble off my bed but a long arm grabbed my ankle, while the other reached down, sharp-looking fingers extended, to rip my nightshirt and panties away in one tear.
His hand arced around to his suit, appearing to tear the immaculate formalwear all away in one more sweep until he stood naked at the foot of my bed. He was gauntly muscled, and, between his legs, his hardening cock was as pale and as long as the rest of him. I stared in terror, pulling to free myself as it rose to full erection and pointed right at me.
With a seemingly effortless twist of his wrist, he flipped me over onto my stomach. Desperately I grabbed at the sheets for purchase, but a long-fingered hand was already at my hips, stopping me from pulling away. Then the other hand wrapped around my other hip, pulling me back, effortlessly raising me.
I let out a silent scream as the cockhead – simultaneously dead-cold and fever-hot – pushed against, and then between the lips of my pussy. I was wet – I’d been waking up aroused often these last weeks from my increasingly lurid dreams. Usually it led to a quick wank to banish the nightmare and get me ready for school. Now, it just made it horrifyingly easy for the cock to sink into me. It didn’t even pause when it pushed against my hymen. Like a plunger pushed home, the horrific cock tore through my virginity, and my screams were completely mute.
He bored forward until I felt a pressure deep inside. Until I felt his smooth abdomen press up against my ass. Until I was stuffed impossibly full. His cock was the only thing not slender about him. I kept on trying to scream with each breath, drawing in raggedly and pushing it out, but all that came out was exhaled air.
Then, he started fucking. Hot and cold blurred together, pain and pleasure mixed as he thrust over and over into my newly opened pussy. Pleasure started winning, to my dismay. Every time his thick cock drove into me it dragged against my clit and did things to me I’d never before felt. I tried to look back at him, but his face still just wasn’t there. He almost seemed like he wasn’t completely there. But his grip, his body, his cock felt all too real.
I don’t know how long he fucked me, but every stroke had begun to bring both more pleasure and more dread. I knew that if he didn’t stop, I was going to cum, even though I didn’t want to. I knew he was going to, too. Something about the purposefulness of his grip and the thrusts of his hips. He and I both. It was going to happen and I couldn’t stop it.
When it did, when my orgasm hit, it was a cold lightning strike of pleasure down my spine to my pussy. Every muscle froze for an instant, and then it was all pleasure. I knew, dimly, that instead of pulling away, I was, for this moment of ecstasy, pushing my deflowered pussy back onto the impaling cock, squeezing it with my inner muscles, coaxing it. It was that exact moment of surrender when he slammed his cock in, all the way, deep as he could go, and erupted ice and fire into me. I thought I’d been cumming before. I thought I’d been terrified before. I was wrong. The pleasure and horror completely overwhelmed me as his cum, his essence, streamed into me in perfect violent silence.
And then, suddenly, I was alone in my room. Still on my stomach, naked with my ass raised in the air. I heard myself gasp and whimper and almost screamed, but… there was no one there. I shot off the bed and went to my mirror.
I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked like I hadn’t slept in days. There were angry looking lines at my hips, matching where fingers might have held a tight grip. My pussy was swollen, tender, with flecks of pink-tinged wetness. And it looked – my hand went to my belly – felt like something was off. Something cold and blank churned in me. Inside me.
Mom called from downstairs warning me I was going to be late for school if I didn’t get moving.
Categories: Cassie Andra, Erotic Fiction, The Wrong Alphabet
The Erotic Writer 
Slender man? well well ..thank you very much. Few people take a movie and turn it into a story like this. I have lost track at how many times I fantasied there was some sorta like secret directors cut where the dirty things happen. Please what others have you seen and though ” That can go to a dark place ”
thank you