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In a parallel universe where Jason Voorhees is a horny, lonely soul, he finds solace in self-pleasure on a Friday the 13th night. His cabin, usually filled with the sounds of his victims' screams, now echoes with the rhythmic slapping of his meaty hand against his cock. The fire crackles, casting eerie shadows as he leans back, his massive frame bare and exposed. His breathing grows ragged, his strokes faster, until with a final, loud groan, he unleashes his load, painting the cabin floor with his sticky, white essence.