Can't Say Ch12 (Slenderman x Reader)

            Amongst the incredibly compacted rack of clothes, your eyes landed on a black, leather trench coat. Upon touching its fabric, you find the leather to be thin and light, yet durable; it seemed well-used. You plucked the jacket from its place and held it out to examine, only to receive a deep chuckle from your master on his side of the room. You glanced at him, though couldn’t figure out the meaning behind his sudden reverberation of humor. Training your eyes back to the trench coat, you studied the gray belts that were secured to it; one belt around each upper arm, and three belts of descending widths around the chest, waist, and hips. There was a gap where the bottom of the coat’s zipper ended, leaving a window to the crotch and legs. Flipping the coat around, you found that the coat’s skirt was pleated on the back, adding some flair to it. You imagined how cool it would be for you to run with the coat on, its skirt flowing dramatically in the air draft. An amused sneer curled onto your lips.
            From the looks of it, the trench coat seemed about your size – maybe slightly larger – so you unstrapped the belts from their buckles and ran down the zipper, slipping it on. The lining of the coat was soothing and comfortable. It made you feel incredibly warm inside, but not so that you thought you might get overheated. The belts around your upper arms were just a tad too tight, so you loosened them a notch.  After you zipped up the front of the coat, you began fiddling with the belts around your torso. This is when Slenderman approached you.
            “The last person to wear this was quite resourceful,” he remarked. “The belts,” Slenderman’s bony fingers pointed to your chest, “are removable so that you may manipulate them for your survival.” He then paused, an air of nostalgia forming around him. You watched your master curiously, wondering if he would talk more about the person who used to wear this trench coat. He did, though with a hint of sadness, “That man was quite the adversary; one of the few reasons why my existence has been recognized by the human race. I was almost reluctant to dispose of him.”
            A man once wore this? He must have been small, then, for a girl like you to wear it so comfortably. The coat’s skirt reached just below your knees, so he must have also been closer to your height. You gingerly fiddled with the belts, adjusting them here and there to decide on a fitted tightness. “Maybe I will live up to his standards,” you mentioned, and part of you immediately regretted it. As your mind thought over the phrase, you realized how treacherous it probably sounded to Slenderman. “I-I mean,” you stuttered nervously, “that maybe I could have all the skills he had, but use them to serve you.” A flustered chuckle bubbled in your throat. You were astonished that you hadn’t been strangled again.
            Slenderman hummed in thought at your words, his head tilted down in your direction. “That would be a most fascinating accomplishment, coming from one such as you.”
            You flinched, not sure if your master just insulted you. Instead of questioning it, you decided to shrug it off and move your arms around to test the sleeves and coat one more time. It really did fit you well. “I’ll keep this, if that’s okay,” you glanced at Slenderman, to which you received a nod. “I guess that’s all I really needed.”
            “Boots,” Slenderman stated.
            “Boots?” You looked down at your feet to see your worn out converse. The soles of them were coming off and the fabric was muddy and tattered. “Oh,” you muttered and looked around the room to find a corner full of various footwear – mostly work boots and athletic shoes of sorts.
            You quickly stepped over to it, scanning the shelves of boots that reached from ceiling to floor. None of them were arranged in sizes, so you just had to check each one until you found a pair that should fit you. Many of the boots were built for men, and they ranged from brown to black colors. Few had laces, and if they did, the laces were only just long enough to be tied securely. You tried on a pair of black heavy-duty work boots with black laces. They seemed just slightly too big for you, but the laces helped to fix that. As you walked around to make sure the boots wouldn’t give you any trouble, you soon nodded in approval. These would do nicely, and the laces would add to the survival supply quirk you had going.
            Approaching a standing full-length mirror, you examined yourself again. You felt like some sort of Anonymous member, what with the mask and dark clothes. This had you grinning, knowing that this was far from what they aimed to do in human society.
            During your fascination with yourself, you hadn’t noticed your master approach from behind. The feeling of his cold fingers sliding over your warm neck snapped you out of your thoughts and you focused on the tall being standing right behind you.
            Slenderman’s fingers trailed up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and look up to him as he loomed over your much smaller form. You forced away an urge to shiver, whether in fear or some sort of pleasurable sensation you weren’t quite sure. Slenderman was far too unpredictable to let your intuition make a decision.
            “What am I to you?” Your master’s voice rumbled from all around you. His stark, white head tilted down to your gazing eyes, waiting for a reply.
            For a long moment, you weighed your options of what would be best to reply. At first, you didn’t know what to say, but memories of your first night as his Proxy came flashing back. The dominant air around him was all too evident, and now, you began to recognize that feeling once again. Gulping down the fear in your chest, you finally replied, “My master.”
            A pleased moan escaped Slenderman, the tips of his fingers running across the tender flesh of your neck. The cold sting of one finger breaking your skin had you frozen in place, if your master’s behavior wasn’t already doing that enough. You felt a small trickle of blood run down your neck and absorb into your shirt.
            With your gaze still fixated on Slenderman’s looming head, you registered a curious sound of something moist ripping open to the sight of jagged lines beginning to appear on the white skin. A black grin formed on your master’s otherwise lacking face, and from within its depths a slimy black tongue slithered its way from between the sharp gaps. You watched on in horror as the tongue reached down passed your chin and made contact with your neck. It was surprisingly warm, but uncomfortably muculent. The length of the dark appendage slowly swiped over the cut on your neck, tasting your crimson liquid, and then quickly retracted to Slenderman’s head. His frightening mouth sealed back to its smooth and unmarked perfection as the grip on your shoulders from his long fingers released.
            Stepping back and strolling to exit the room as if nothing had happened, Slenderman said, “Your first mission is tomorrow morning. You will be ready to go and available in the front lobby by 4 AM.” He paused in mid-step at the door, “Do not be late,” then disappeared into the hallway.
            You gazed at the doorway to the clothing room, awestruck at what had just happened. Subconsciously, you had raised your hand to feel over the cut on your neck. The ooze of your master’s slime had remained, though felt thin. When you inspected the area in the mirror, you were surprised to see no mark on your neck; no thin red line; no blood smear. Your eyebrows knitted together in thought, wondering if Slenderman had a healing power for his Proxies.
            If that were the case, then why wasn’t he healing Masky with it?
            Your curiosity soon became stumped, not even sure of all the possibilities Slenderman had with his saliva.
            Besides, what the hell is up with Slenderman’s fascination of you calling him “master”? Did he do this to his other Proxies? Maybe the guy has a fetish for being dominant over others? You shivered all the chilled feelings that had built up inside you as they were finally able to escape. Part of you was terrified at the thought that Slenderman had any sexual urges. Did he just sit in a room and satisfy himself, or did he use his Proxies to help that?
            Your blood ran cold at the thought of Slenderman using you for his bodily functions. Silently, you prayed that it would never happen and you were just overthinking things.
            You shook your head and exited the clothing room, closing the door behind you.
            It was time to ask your fellow Proxies some questions that were swirling through your head, so you tried to search for any of them. Even Masky was beginning to become an option as you unsuccessfully wandered the mansion halls on the first floor, but you figured it’d be best to leave him be. After what happened last time, you were convinced that he needed his rest.
            A raspy shriek pierced the air, jolting the hairs all over your body into alertness. With the chill running down your spine, something told you that this wasn’t a shriek of fear, but of fury. You whipped your head around in search of anyone rushing toward you, getting the sensation that you were going to be attacked at any moment. So far, no one was around, but you felt the need to hide - anywhere.
            There was a closet nearby, its slated door closed and waiting to hide whatever was inside. You dashed to it just as you heard the stomping of hurried footsteps clashing with the tiles of the floor. As you slipped into the closet, you pressed yourself against the wall, finding that there were cleaning supplies neatly placed at your feet. You held your breath, seeing the shadow of a figure pass by angrily. Unfortunately, you were too far back to see between the slates of the door, so you had no clue who had gone by. Either way, you were incredibly thankful that they didn’t notice you. You were too unfamiliar to everyone to be crossing their paths of fury.
            As soon as the stomping boots faded away and around a corner, you quietly pushed open the door and slipped back out, checking each way up and down the hall to make sure it was clear. You carefully closed the door behind you and lightly crept your way back to the mansion foyer, where you figured you would be safe. It was at least familiar territory.
            Rounding a corner, you bumped into a broad chest. You had immediately raised your arms for protection, so little harm was done to your mask.
            “Sorry! Sorry,” you apologized timidly, remembering how Jack said you would be bullied by just about everyone.
            When you looked up, you found the yellow fabric and red frown of Hoodie staring down at you. He didn’t say a word.
            Not sure what else to do, you stepped aside, thinking you might get pushed if you didn’t move soon.
            Hoodie continued walking, ignoring your presence.
            Then, you remembered that you needed to ask him something, since he was a fellow Proxy. “W-wait!” You reached out to Hoodie’s back, “I need to talk to you.” To your surprise, he actually stopped and turned around, staring at you expectantly.
            You cleared your throat, and adjusted your posture so not to look so afraid of him. “Does Slenderman treat his Proxies well? Or does he abuse us as he sees fit?”
            Hoodie stared at you for a long, awkward while. His halted form began to make you question if time had stopped around you or something. When you quirked a brow at him and stepped forward to inspect Hoodie’s form, he finally released a heavy sigh, one that hinted greatly at a weight he was being forced to carry. “Come with me,” he uttered.
            You didn’t hesitate to approach the Proxy’s side as he turned back around to continue wherever he was going to. Immediately, he began explaining the life you would come to know all too well.
            “He doesn’t trust any of your judgement right now, so don’t even bother making decisions of your own if you don’t have to,” Hoodie stated firmly. “Whatever Master tells you to do, you do it; whatever he tells you to think, you think it.” You bit your lip at this, worried if you would one day become brainwashed by Slenderman’s ideals. Hoodie went on to tell you how all of the Proxies started out this way. “As you can see, there aren’t many of us. We are the elite. If you can’t survive, then Master has no use for you.
            “Eventually, as you prove your loyalty, Master will give you chances to perform actions on your own.” Hoodie stopped at a door and placed his gloved hand over the brass handle. Before he opened the door, he said, “Don’t ever think that you can do things better – it’ll get you killed.” He then opened the door to reveal a room full of various weapons.
            There were guns and large knives mounted all along the walls. You swore you saw a rocket launcher, but you weren’t quite sure. Tool chests with numerous drawers stood in rows throughout the room, to which Hoodie approached the fourth one down and pulled a drawer open. “Master will never try to kill you as long as you follow his orders. He’s actually very protective of his property, but he’s not going to babysit you, either.”
            Property. The word stuck to you hard. You were property of someone – like a slave.
            Hoodie grabbed a small handful of metallic objects from the tool drawer and reached behind himself to pull out a black handgun from under his yellow top. He began loading bullets into the gun’s clip as though he had done it a thousand times – no doubt he had done it more than that.
            You nodded at your ally’s statements, finding some comfort that Slenderman didn’t outright abuse his Proxies. Still, one question lingered on your tongue, and you let it slip through your lips.
            “Does he,” you paused, feeling uncomfortable about your past experiences, “touch you in weird ways?”
            At that moment, Hoodie fumbled with the gun and bullets, dropping them onto the tool chest’s surface. His head whipped in your direction and you could feel the look of bewilderment that was surely plastered on his hidden face.
            Expecting that he needed further explanation, you cleared your throat and said, “Like, he gets close to me and makes me call him ‘master’.” You blushed at the memories of Slenderman’s strange behavior. “I don’t think he’s trying to molest me…” you trailed off at this point, noticing that Hoodie was still staring at you in shock. “What?”
            Hoodie slowly turned back to his gun, picking it and the remaining bullets up as he returned to loading them. “We’ll have to discuss that during our mission,” was all his replied. “Go find a weapon for tomorrow,” Hoodie gestured his head toward the general area as he snapped the gun shut.