Nightmare on Halloween the 13th, Part 8 (MtF & FtM TG)

From the twisted mind of director FoxFaceStories comes this new tale of horror!

Gregory Builder is an old horror director past his prime, with one last project in him, his most ambitious ever. With the help of dark magic, he is able to bring to life a real horror story, one in which his hired cast are physically transformed into classic slasher victim roles, all while a killer is unleashed into reality from the fiction of the script. These transformed and transgendered actors must escape before they are killed - because if you die in this movie, you’re stuck in your new role for life!

First Part

Previous Part

Scene 8: Final Girl

Lukas stepped further into the muck. His advance was stunted somewhat by the heavy trap around his leg, but he was still moving forward, and he had his machete in hand, waving it in the heavily misted air. Taylor’s heart beat at a tremendous pace, thudding dramatically in her chest. Her clothes were ripped, her hair frayed, but somehow she knew she would still look conveniently attractive on the silver screen; what a coincidence, for example, that the rip in her clothing exposed part of her bra and some attractive cleavage, or that her legs were quite on display.

She ignored all of it. She could feel the cameras upon her form, all trained upon her, goading towards this climax. The deformed gaze of the rotting Lukas Voss was likewise fixed on her, but she simply focused on rowing her boat further into the lake’s waters from which the monstrous slasher had first risen from.

“That’s right, you ugly fucker!” she shouted. “Come and get me! C’mon! Come and get me! You’re too slow, aren’t you!”

Lukas rasped, still silent on words, but something like a snarl appeared on his revolting features, and he began to push faster. His head was almost sunk down out of the water, and Taylor knew she had to time this carefully. It was the only way she could become a man again.

“C’mon! I’m the final girl, don’t you know that!? We’ve got a fifty percent survival rate! Half the time we die, the other half we live. Are you going to tolerate that? You know, I’ve had sex before? That’s right, I’ve ha sex as a party girl, Lukas! And I enjoyed it? All you slashers look to punish that, am I wrong?”

She was lying a bit; she had experienced sex, but not as a woman, though part of her less panicked mind was a little curious on that point.

This seemed to give Lukas the last shred of hate he needed to launch forward and grip the edge of the boat. It rocked, nearly spilling her out. In a haste, she began to try and row away, putting on a performance for camera and monster alike. The fog thickened around them, heightening the dramatic moment: it was as if the boat, the swamp, and them were the only things that now existed. She let loose an appropriate squeal, drawing upon not only her acting skills but her new female manner, and kicked at him futilely. The boat continued to careen into the centre of the lake, towards its deepest point.

Lukas rose, pulling himself up into the boat and slashing out with his machete. It hit her in the leg, causing heavy bleeding. She sobbed, but managed to raise an oar and catch the next blow, twisting it so that Lukas fell forwards. 

“Mother fucker!” she screamed, punching and kicking at him. She grabbed the chain from his bear trap, and at that moment he hit her, batting the young woman into the back of the boat. A rib gave way, causing her to wheeze in agony. Lukas rose, standing still in the boat, and raising his machete. His victory was at hand.

But then Taylor held up the chain, catching his attention. His gaze followed her gesture, where the chain had been wrapped around the heavy toolbox’s hand and then linked to the anchor. 

“Sink or swim, you rotten piece of shit!” she declared, and then Taylor launched to the side, tipping the boat over. It careened, and Lukas tried to steady it, but it only caused him to stumble and drop the machete. Taylor reached to grab it, and the movement caused both of them to splash into the water as the boat overturned. She flailed within the swamp’s revolting green mass before swimming upwards. She was free, she was so nearly free.

But then a hand grasped her ankle. 

Her breath caught, and then she coughed out half of her oxygen in a blind panic. Looking down, she could just make out the dread face of Lukas, still clinging on. She kicked at him, but he wouldn’t let go. She was going to die. After all this, he would drag her down with him. She reached out, clinging for the dawn light that was just beginning to rise. But she didn’t find a safe purchase. She did, however, find a machete. With one slice, two slices, then a dramatic third, Lukas’ hand was severed at the forearm. He sank down, falling into the impossible black depths for good. 

After one final look to confirm he was gone, Taylor turned her attention back up, and swam to freedom. Her first gasp of air was like being reborn.

She was a free woman.

There was something quite special about that.

***

Taylor made it to the bank, crawling up, her legs slick with mud, her breath heavy. She laid it on pretty thick, making sure that her wet top was positioned in all the right places to show off her bust and figure. She was no Scarlet, but she had a feeling she possessed the particular kind of attractiveness needed for the Final Girl, and for perhaps spot in the inevitable sequel.

“Finally,” she said, voice shaky. “The nightmare, it’s over.”

She turned, looking up the bank, and began to ascend away from the swamp. She didn’t need to know that, after ten to twenty seconds, there would be a dread hand rising from the watery depths. Builder was cliche enough to do it, and sure enough the watery burst echoed across the swamp, followed by:

“AAAAAAND CUT! That’s a wrap, people!”

The forest was suddenly illuminated, numerous light fixtures and cameras that had been invisible or hidden by magic now perfectly visible. Gregory Builder was in his director’s chair, a blue-billed cap on his white-haired head, grinning happily. The witch was beside him, looking just as proud.

“We did it, crew!” he announced. “My magnum opus! This will go down as the best horror film of all time, and it’s all thanks to you!”

Some cheered. A much larger group looked distinctly unhappy.

“Does that mean I can be a woman again?” a burly man said.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be stuck as a chick!” another whined, a cute Asian woman. “I’ve got a wife and kids, damn it!”

The witch just giggled maliciously. “Only those who weren’t killed as extras can turn back. Sorry, but that’s part of the dark magic, dearies!”

There was a chorus of protestation and anger, and Carpenter was too distracted by it to even talk to her. Instead, Taylor turned her focus to Scarlet, Sabrina, and Rodney, all of whom were running towards her from the sidelines, having been freshly clothed. Sabrina got to her first.

“You did it!” she declared. “I can’t believe it wasn’t me! I’m meant to be a powerful jock.”

“You helped, Sabrina,” Scarlet said. “Unlike me. I just screamed and then died with these ridiculously big tits out.”

“I at least had a badass moment,” Rodney said. “Though yours is better.”

“We all did it, helping one another,” Taylor said. “To think, this morning we were just an embittered group of actors who could barely stand one another.:”

Scarlet had to wipe some tears away, as did Sabrina.

“Darn female hormones,” the latter said. “I’m still so happy, even if, you know . . .”

The four of them were silent a moment. 

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor said. “Are you really stuck like this?”

Rodney nodded. “The witch confirmed it, that horrible damn hag. I’m stuck like this, now. I would much prefer to be a woman. At least I can get leading male roles. Besides, when I get older I’ll still have lots of casting opportunities. In ten years as a woman I would have aged out.”

Scarlet also sighed, cupping her large breasts in her top. “Meanwhile, I’m still a woman at least, but I have this bimbo body for good! And that scream!”

Rodney held her hand, and she gripped it back. There was certainly a connection between the two now, Taylor considered.

“At least you’ve got a body built for some very famous roles. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.”

“I can’t even see my own feet! But . . . you’re not wrong. I’ll just have to perform extra well to make people take this new look of mine seriously, I guess.”

That left Sabrina. She shrugged, putting a hand around Taylor. “Guess that leaves me a nerd. At least I can be smart for once, right? I’m sure that’ll help me out.”

“And you’re still a great actor, and a damn good looker,” Taylor said.

“What about you? Happy to be a man again?”

Taylor hesitated. Thankfully or not, Builder arrived behind to interrupt. Scarlet screamed, again, not having seen him creep up.

“Taylor, your performance was amazing!” he cried, leaping forward to hug her. She stopped him flat with a swift punch straight across the jaw that sent the old man sprawling.

“No violence against the director now, dearie!” the witch announced, drawing closer. Taylor rubbed her fist. She was still covered in gore and matted in sweat.

“Just wanted one punch in,” she said.

Scarlet and Sabrina cheered in the background as the director got back up, one hand raised in placation. “It’s okay, perfectly okay! Consider it a continuation of your perfect performance. I really must thank you all. With the witch’s curse and your own life-like roles, not to mention the reanimation of Lukas Voss from the pit of Hell itself, my ultimate film can finally come together. The Final Cut will be ready after just a few editing sessions, and all of you made it possible.”

“You’ve left us permanently changed, you asshole!” Rodney yelled.

“My bust is ridiculous!” Scarlet added.

“And I’m tiny!” Sabrina finished.

But the director’s dismissed their concerns with a gesture. Please, you were all just pontificating on how to adjust to your new lives and genders, not to mention new talents. The same is true of my wider cast and crew, and besides, it’s not a horror film without proper consequences. Once this film becomes a critical darling and you are all launched to stardom, you’ll be thanking me.”

Taylor gritted her teeth, wanting to punch the man. She didn’t dare do so while the witch was present.

“But we’re free? We don’t have to do another one?”

Builder looked to the witch, who smiled warmly and coldly, somehow both at once. “Oh course, dearies, it was just this night, unless you volunteer for another. The curse is upon you all to remain in your new selves, but for you, Taylor. Well done, you survived my darkest magic. Gregory Builder here did not even see it coming, and certainly not I. Which means you may now return to your body.”

Taylor continued to grit her teeth. “I . . . I’d rather not, actually.”

That surprised just about everyone, including Builder and the Witch all over again. Sabrina’s eyes practically bulged, as did Rodney’s. But Taylor just grinned at them, gesturing to herself.

“I mean, c’mon guys. You saw me before. Wipe off all this gore and viscera and get me cleaned up in my trailer, and I’m practically a star now, right?”

No one could really argue the point. The witch just cackled.

***

Taylor indeed looked like a star as she walked the red carpet. She was wearing a chic green dress that fit her lovely figure, and her hair had been expertly styled. She’d even gotten used to wearing heels, though having to talk about fashion was still something she was very much naive at.

“Taylor! Taylor, would you just pose this way? Fantastic, thank you!”

She beamed. Becoming a woman had certainly given her a great deal of confidence, and after her debut performance in The Final Cut, the calls were already flooding in for other roles. Evidently, people liked her tough-as-nails performance and she’d been called ‘the most memorable final girl in over a decade’ by Empire Magazine. Of course, Scarlet had been called the ‘most captivating Scream Queen’, too, and for good reason.

“This feels, like, very odd,” she murmured to Taylor, taking her place beside her and putting an arm around her waist. She was in a much more revealing red dress with plunging neckline to show off her ample assets; she still couldn’t not show them off, these days, much to her embarrassment.

“Try being male before,” Taylor whispered, causing them both to giggle.

“Please, you chose to stay like this. It suits you, though.”

Another camera flash. Rodney and Sabrina were now approaching. It was the unveiling of the UK screening, and both were a little jetlagged. 

“Suits you as well, Scarlet,” she said. “I know being a bombshell scream queen wasn’t what you imagined for a career, but you’re damn good at it.”

Scarlet blushed. “I think so too. I think . . . I might splash around in horror a little longer. It, like, pays the bills, right? Besides, everyone’s already seen my assets, so what’s the harm?”

She was acutely aware, as was Taylor, that her bust was now quite the internet sensation.

“There’s my girl!”

Rodney came over and embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. Their agents had advised them not to be too close to emphasise their sex appeal for a few years, but they didn’t care: the two were rampant lovers. The witch’s magic had left Rodney’s body as a very virile one, and thankfully Scarlet was up to the task. No more fucking in the woods these days, though.

“Taylor! Fancy meeting you here?”

That was Sabrina, who likewise embraced Taylor. She was wearing a cute black women’s pantsuit with light jewellery. The adorable dark-skinned woman adjusted her glasses as several pictures were taken.

“It’s so good to see you, Sabrina.”

“Please, it’s been like a week.”

“Well, that’s a long time for my best friend.”

Sabrina grinned. “You’re not wrong. What do you think they’ll say about this piece of shit?”

Taylor has to try hard not to cackle. While Sabrina was indeed having good roles thrown her way as well, she was still up front about her anger at being turned into a woman, even as she adjusted. It gave her the time of her life to know that despite the incredible box office numbers already happening at the domestic box office, the Rotten Tomatoes score was not kind.

“I don’t know,” Taylor replied, posing for another photo before the paparazzi and daring to stick her lovely leg out from the slit in her dress. “Maybe you should ask Mr Builder over there?”

The quartet relished the sight of Gregory Builder caught in the middle of an argument with a British film magazine representative.

“Excuse me!? It’s a great film! I don’t know what the critics are talking about! Cliche? Horror thrives on cliche! By-the-numbers? What’s wrong with numbers? I was promised - I mean, I made sure to make the best film of my career. Screw the critics! It’s a good film! It’s a good film . . .”

The old man was utterly dejected. Only fifty two percent on Rotten Tomatoes. Technically a fresh rating, but only barely. The performances were, of course, all incredibly acclaimed, but the script and direction were hackneyed and played out. Somewhere, they all suspected, a witch was cackling like mad.

“Serves him right,” Rodney said. “Next time he can get his gender switched and then go get fucked.”

“Next time?” Scarlet said, adjusting her top and showing off more cleavage. Even Taylor had to smirk at that; she was enjoying her new looks more than she let on. She already had a number of modelling jobs lined up as well.

“Haven’t you seen those box office numbers?” Sabrina said. “They’ll be making a whole franchise now. There’s already talks about spinoffs, prequels, remakes, reboots.”

“A reboot already?” Taylor asked.

“Ask Builder.”

Indeed, the aging director approached the quartet, something like desperation in his eyes. “Guys! My stars, my lovely stars! How are you all doing? I’m so glad I was able to rocket you to fame. I always meant for that, you know. In a way, you’ve got me to thank for all this glam, right?”

Taylor folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Right?”

“So, anyway, a lot of people aren’t appreciating The Final Cut. I’ve got a new take on Lukas Voss and the night of blood that might just get them to understand. A true director’s cut, you might say.”

Taylor looked to the group. They all shared the same notion, she could tell, but as the final girl, it fell to her to put it into words.

“Mr Builder,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes a little.

“Yes, Taylor?” he said, hopefully.

“With the greatest of respect to one of cinema’s finest horror aficionados, I think I speak for all my fellow actors and myself when I say . . .”

She paused, wringing the dramatic attention in a way the director would be proud of.

“. . . frankly, my dear, we don’t give a damn. Have fun with your next flick. Hope it’s better than the last one. But thanks for the careers!”

The four of them turned and continued down the red carpet, three gorgeous women and a handsome hunk, all destined for great roles in the future. Builder was left standing by himself, a little flustered.

“Maybe I still have time to make a comedy,” he said.

The End