Story 6: The First Rule? Always Double Snap...

Every year at this time people get into the Halloween spirit. Jenna is no exception. With at least three high-profile Halloween parties to go to, she decided to go all out on a costume that would blow men’s minds. And maybe a few women’s as well. Wearing a long midnight black wig made of real human hair, a skin-tight, slinky spider dress that is cut low, from the neck to the navel, and maybe a bit beyond. Exposing Jenna’s most delicious cleavage and midriff.

Long, fake nails, polished black and blood-red lipstick along with a spray-on foundation to make her skin look pale, Jenna was a sizzling hot Morticia Addams. Social media would be buzzing with the trail of hardons and wet spots she left in her wake.

Jenna strutted confidently into the mansion’s courtyard, her long, black gown swishing dramatically as she passed through the gates of one of the city’s most famous social media group houses.

The Halloween gala was a highly publicized event, with influencers, streamers, and YouTubers all vying for attention and followers. Jenna, one of the most popular influencers on the scene, knew she would be the star tonight.

The mansion was abuzz with activity. Famous faces from TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube flitted about, posing for selfies and doing impromptu live videos. The entire event was an influencer’s paradise ... bright lights, endless photo ops, and the promise of viral content.

But after a few hours of mingling and playing up her Morticia persona for her followers, Jenna felt herself growing bored. These parties were always the same: fake smiles, shallow conversation, and a desperate need for likes and attention. She needed a break. Slipping out onto a private terrace, Jenna took a breath, relishing the silence. Her fingers brushed over her phone, the notifications buzzing non-stop.

For a moment, she considered shutting it off, enjoying the calm. But then she heard it.

“Tish! Cara Mia!,” a low voice purred from behind her. The tone was dark, smooth, and unnervingly familiar. “How fitting, don’t you think?” Jenna spun around, her heart skipping a beat. A tall, slender woman stood in the shadows, dressed in a sleek black dress, her hair in two long, eerily perfect braids. The look in her eyes was cold, calculating ... an adult Wednesday Addams, but with an edge that felt too real, too unsettling.

Flanking her were two men: one in a perfectly tailored pinstriped suit with a pencil-thin mustache, playing the part of Gomez Addams, and the other bald and grinning maniacally as Uncle Fester. Behind them loomed a massive figure ... Lurch, the silent, towering butler.

Jenna chuckled nervously. “Wow, you guys really went all out. Great costumes.” Wednesday stepped closer, her dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, we’re not here for the party, Jenna. We’ve come for you.”

Before Jenna could process what was happening, Lurch moved with lightning speed, his enormous hand clamping down over her mouth, muffling her scream. Gomez and Fester swiftly surrounded her, cutting off any chance of escape.

Gomez smirked, tipping his head with a gallant flair. “Tish, Mi Amore! I’m afraid we have a bit of family business to discuss.”

Struggling against Lurch’s grip, Jenna’s mind raced. This couldn’t be happening. These were just party-goers messing with her, right?

Wednesday leaned in close, her voice soft but laced with malice. “We’re taking you somewhere far more interesting than this little influencer soiree.” Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “And if you can’t get us what we want ... well, you’ll be in for some real Addams family fun.”

There was a wicked emphasis on real that Jenna didn’t like.

They dragged her away from the party, slipping through a back door and out of sight before anyone could notice her absence. Jenna kicked and struggled, but Lurch’s grip was like iron. They stuffed her into the back of a black hearse parked discreetly behind the mansion, its engine humming ominously. Inside the car, Gomez sat beside her, his smile charming but cold. Fester, in the front seat, giggled like a madman, turning to wink at her. “Don’t worry Morticia, we’ve got all kinds of surprises planned. Maybe the electric chair? It’s been years since we got a good jolt out of it.”

The engine roared to life, and Jenna’s heart pounded in her chest as the hearse sped down the darkened streets. Wednesday drove in silence, her cold eyes occasionally flicking up to the rear-view mirror to watch Jenna squirm.

“This is insane!” Jenna finally shouted. “People are going to notice I’m missing! My followers ... someone will call the police!”

“Your followers,” Wednesday said with a scoff, “are too busy liking your last post to even realize you’re gone. They’ll never know what happened until it’s far too late.”

Jenna’s stomach dropped. It was true, her social media audience had no idea what was happening in real-time. To them, she was still at the party, living her best life.

As the hearse pulled up to a decrepit mansion on the outskirts of town, Jenna’s fear intensified. The mansion looked straight out of a horror movie ... dark, and foreboding, with overgrown vines twisting around crumbling stone walls.

They dragged her inside, past eerie portraits and dusty antiques, until they reached the grand hall. There, in the flickering candlelight, Jenna saw them ... devices of torture straight out of a nightmare. An iron maiden loomed in one corner, a rack stretched out ominously in another, and at the center of the room stood a gleaming guillotine, its sharp blade catching the light.