Categories > Celebrities > Metallica > Epicene Part 1

Very Young, Not Too Bright

by Cerilla 0 reviews

When your own problems are not enough to keep you entertained, you can always count on other people's help.

Category: Metallica - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Humor - Warnings: [V] [X] - Published: 2016-03-13 - 2173 words - Complete

Living with Faith wasn’t a total drag like Dave had feared at first. True, Faith was skittish, blithe and way too touchy-feely for a sarcastic soul like Dave’s, but if he were to be sincere, he found out that her cheerful attitude could be uplifting and not only grating. If taken in small snippets, that’s it; otherwise, he just wanted to wring her neck. Thankfully, their working shifts didn’t allow them to see each other for more than two hours consecutively (sleep time didn’t count), so everything was fine.

Dave turned his brand new fake ID over in his hands, smiling in satisfaction; a little piece of his new identity had been forged. It was perfect, it could fool anyone; the guy who had made it was a real artist. Of course, it hadn’t been cheap, and it would take quite some time for his wallet to recover from the drain, but it was worth it.
He had been admiring the card for various minutes when Faith burst in the apartment, skipping and giggling.
“Look at this, look at this!” She said, showing off the big, shiny rock on her ring finger. “Danny bought it to me. Isn’t he the sweetest boyfriend ever?”
“A sweet pea, that guy.” Dave answered sarcastically. He didn’t like Faith’s boyfriend; he had talked to him one time for five minutes and that had been enough to classify him as a creep.
But Faith was sure she was living her personal fairy tale, because Danny had been showering her with presents since the night she had met him at the strip club where she worked.
“He said I have something special in me, something that glowers. The moment he laid his eyes on me, he knew he had to talk to me. He’s so romantic.” She had said, wide eyed.
She had taken up the habit to spend the night at Danny’s, and sometimes she came back home with something fancy; a Gucci bag, a pair of Saint Laurent shoes, a big, fluffy, white coat. Faith was sure she had met her prince charming.
“He asked me to move in with him. Is it ok for you? I’ll pay you the rent and bills for this month.”
Dave had a very bad feeling about the whole situation. “Listen, Faith, if you want, you can go, but if anything goes wrong, call me, ok?” He made her promise it, although she was sure nothing could possibly go wrong.

One week later, Faith came back home, this time crying and shaking like a leaf. The look on her face was one of pure terror, which in turn put Dave on the edge.
“Vivien!” Faith cried. “Oh, Vivien, it’s horrible! Danny… Danny is a pimp!”
“Wait, what do you mean he’s a…”
“He said… he said that nothing good is for free, that I had to pay him back for what he had done for me, he… he wants me to work for him!”
“Let’s call the police.” Said Dave. He knew he could get in troubles, but he refused to let his friend sink into the ocean of shit she had put herself into.
“No!” Yelled Faith, “He said not to tell anyone, or he would kill me. He would kill mom, and Antonia, and you. I’m sure right now he’s coming for me.”
“Of course he said that, he wants to isolate you.” Dave stopped to think. Maybe there was a way to get out of that steaming pile of crap without involving the cops. “First, call your mom and tell her everything you know about Danny, ok? His full name, address, phone number, what he looks like, and what he’s trying to do. Tell her to watch out, but only call the police if we don’t give her a call before midnight.”
Faith did what Dave said. Of course, Rachel and Antonia were scared to hell and needed some reassurance, then some convincing not to blow up the plan, and then some more reassurance, but in the end everything was settled.
“What now?” asked Faith.
“You said he was coming for you, so we’ll wait for him.”

A couple of hours passed, silent and tense; Faith didn’t stop sobbing and trembling for a second, while Dave was boiling with anger. Sure, Faith was way too naïve and dim-witted for her own good, but what Danny wanted to do to her was horrifying; he was going to teach the man a lesson he wouldn’t forget. A knock on the door brought the girls back to reality.
“Open up, Faith!” Commanded a voice behind the door.
“That’s him.” Faith hissed.
“Unlock the door, then step back and let him open it.” Whispered Dave, backing against the wall next to the door.
Faith did as she was said, shivering. She almost fainted when Danny burst in with a gruesome face. Before the man could utter a word, Dave delivered a knifehand strike at the base of his neck, destabilizing him. Then he punched Danny on the nose, which broke with a satisfactory crack that made Dave grin, and kicked him in the solar plexus, making him fall down.
“Now listen to me, motherfucker.” He growled, grabbing Danny by the collar. “You are going to leave Faith alone, disappear from her life, forget about her existence. If you have any idea of what’s good for you, you’re going to crawl to the hole you came from and never come back. Are we clear?”
Danny nodded, swallowing the blood that was trickling down his throat. “Good. Now piss off.” Said Dave, admiring the man’s shocked face. Dude was a mess, he had done a good job on him. Dave kneeled the man in the crotch, just for his personal satisfaction, and pushed him out of the door and down the stairs. Faith watched Danny stumble to his car and leave with a stern expression plastered on her face.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Took a few lessons here and there. I should resume training, though. I’m a bit rusty.”
“We’re going to take lessons. Together.” Faith said with resolution.

Faith and Dave moved on with their lives, leaving the ugly accident behind their shoulders; Faith dropped her job as a stripper to serve at tables into a smoky bar, made up with her mother, learned some self-defence. And fell in love again.

Dave side-eyed Damon, his new roommate, who was sprawled on the couch next to him, channel zapping. He hated the guy. Oh no, he wasn’t dangerous, this one. Just a lethal combination of moron and asshole.
Only one week after he and Faith had started dating, Damon had moved indeterminately into her apartment, and since the two lovebirds slept together, Dave had been confined to the couch.
The guy had no job and completely leeched off Faith, who thought that since she was the one with the money, she also was the one who held the power. Damon used her car, ate her… no, wait, their food, lived in their house, monopolized their T.V. all without coughing up a single dollar; he didn’t even bother doing house chores, it was Faith who cooked his food and cleaned after him.
What was Damon’s official excuse? He was an artist, he had noblest things to do, like working on his music. Because, and here insult added to injury, he was the lead guitarist of a glam metal band.
Which meant that Malibu Hooker –that was how Dave called him, and not only in his mind– also made the entire apartment stink with his fetid hair spray and left his ugly, sweaty, gaudy costumes –bought and sewn together by Faith– all around the house.
When Faith had introduced Damon to Dave, the redheaded had been horrified; not as much as when he had discovered he had been turned into a woman, but it was a close second.

“Hey dyke, bring me another beer?” Malibu Hooker said, burping out loud.
Dave burped louder, kicked off the table the empty cans and bottles of beer and stretched his legs. “Raise your flat ass and get one yourself.” He bit back.
“Uh, watch out, the raging lesbian in on the loose again.” Damon was sure that the only reason ‘Vivien’ didn’t like him was because she didn’t like men. Which wasn’t completely untrue as Dave was still a pussy aficionado.
“I loathe you because you’re an useless parasite. And a shithead. And a glamster. Your dick has nothing to do with it.”
“You think only women can be kept?” Damon grinned. “Pussycat is more than happy to have me around, so…”
“You’ll be gone before I have to get over it.”
“We’ll see about that, butch bitch.”

“What I don’t get is why you insist on dating a loser who doesn’t lift a finger around the house and uses you as his ATM!”
“He’s not a loser, he’s a very talented musician! Damon will be a rockstar one day, I’m just helping him achieve his dream.”
“So what, you think one day he’s going to pay you back? Or do you hope he will take you into the showbiz?”
“I’m doing this out of love, and love is all about giving, not receiving.”
Dave gagged loudly. “You may want to choose your loved ones more carefully, then.”
“That’s silly, you can’t rule the heart.”
“Not if you don’t have an iota of good judgement.”
Offended, Faith went to the living room to pick up the trash that lay scattered around after the party thrown by her lover. Dave looked at Malibu Hooker and his band –The Gaping Assholes or something like that– sleeping in his living room and wondered if there was something that could be done about his roommate’s impeccable taste in men.
Good for her that she doesn’t expect gratitude from him, because she’s not going to get any.

The moans coming from the bedroom intensified and Dave couldn’t ignore them anymore; it was late at night and he was wide awake, sprawled on the couch, while Faith and Malibu Hooker were fucking like rabbits. He was getting horny, he supposed. Frankly, he couldn’t say with certitude. For months he had almost forgotten about having a sexual drive, and now… now his body had awakened. Or so he thought, it was the first time his feminine form was sending him those kind of signals.
Dave closed his eyes. Faith was mewling something like “yes, yes, like that, oh god” and Damon was grunting like a pig. He tried to picture them. What were they doing? Maybe he was taking her from behind, one hand gripping firmly her hip and the other stroking her back. Yes, that could work. Dave slid his right hand under his pyjama shorts and pulled his panties aside. He would bend over and gently turn her face to kiss her mouth. Dave teased his wet entrance, caressed his labia and reached his clit. He would fondle her breasts now, with one hand only, the other holding onto the bedpost for better leverage, their bodies plastered together. Dave rubbed his clit, but couldn’t find a good rhythm. The screwing became more frantic, more urgent, her face contorting in pleasure. His face contorting in pleasure. Dave grimaced. He didn’t want to think about him, he wanted to think about her getting banged. He had loved fucking, he had loved watching porn, but now the point of view was skewed. He usually identified with the man, but now? He didn’t have a dick anymore. He couldn’t identify with the woman, he didn’t want to think about being pounded by a cock. He tried rubbing his clit harder. Maybe he didn’t need to identify with someone, maybe he could just be an observer. Or better, he could change the scene entirely and picture two girls fucking. So there were… Bo Derek and… Vanna White… Vanna White?! What the fuck… no, ok, there were Bo Derek and Heather Locklear aaand… now he had the ‘Dynasty’ theme tune playing in his head. Thanks Antonia. Faith and Damon were getting louder and louder. Focus, he had to focus. Pussies. Wet pussies. Tongues licking and fingers stroking. Wet titties rubbing together. That was good. He had finally found a rhythm that worked for him and his climax was building up, when Damon uttered the ugliest noise ever heard by mankind. Dave’s eyes shot open, and all he was left with was a botched orgasm.
He lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling, while Malibu Hooker went to the bathroom to take a leak. He needed a drink, possibly something way stronger than beer.
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