FicWad

My mind is drunk with fatigue, my tongue five sizes too big and five times too dry. The first thing I can comprehend is a deep chuckle from above me. I recognize it, I had heard it recently.

*

“Greg, stop that” he giggles “we need to get inside!” Anthony wrestles me into the doorway as I foolishly stumble about talking about what a llama human hybrid would eat.

*

Anthony. I wrench my eyes open; they have crusted over and feel like they have been scrubbed with salt infused barbed wire. The first thing I see is carpet. Why am I on the floor? I lift my head slightly and can see matched socks, the tops of them covered with black skinny jeans. Anthony. He’s sitting in a chair unlike any we have had in either apartment. It’s old-fashioned and worn; it would not look out of place at a mad hatter’s tea party. But this was my own bedroom. Why is this chair here? A cold panic swept through me as I tried to wipe my eyes and found my wrists shackled to the odd chair’s ornate front legs.

*

“Uugh Anthony I don’t want to sleep I’m too drunk” I slur whining at the older boy. He giggles again, he’s also clearly had a few.

“This will help” He has a wet washcloth in his hand, and isn't that just like Anthony, always taking care of Greg. He held the washcloth to my face; he must have spilled something on his sleeve, a lot of something…the smell was overtaking me. I cried out weakly as my vision began to cloud, everything was black with the echo of Anthony’s laugh bouncing around my aching head.

*

“Good morning Greg!” Anthony smiled “Sleep well?” he turned off the camera in his lap and looked down at me, there was an odd glint in his eyes, something I had never seen before, something mad.

“Yeah.” I said distractedly “Where did that chair come from?” Oh real nice Greg, I thought to myself, You’ve been knocked out and chained up by your roommate who is acting nuttier than usual and what do you ask? You ask about interior decorating. Good one Greg. Anthony however took no notice of the odd situation.

“I went up in the attic while you were at Tesco the other day.” He grinned. “I don’t know why we were scared to go up there, I mean there’s nothing to be scared of, and this chair was all that was up there.” He chuckled again stroking the red upholstery lovingly. “It just sort of called to me you know the way things sometimes do.” I nodded pretending to be interested as I tried to devise a why exactly I was chained to the object in question. “You know the way I called to you, once upon a time.” Anthony grinned and moved the camera to my desk without leaving the chair.

“Wait, what?” That had caught my attention? He called to me?

“Yes of course I did Gregory ” his grin got bigger and slightly scary. “And you heard me, loud and clear. Although lately” he started playing with his fingernails feigning disinterest “you seem to have forgotten that it was I who called you, not the other way around.” He reached down to my now frozen form and ran his fingers along my cheek. I could not rip my eyes from his; this wasn’t the Anthony I knew. Pain skittered across my face like a mild shock and I gasped in surprise. When Anthony pulled his hand away it was painfully obvious that he had hidden a razor blade between his fingers. Blood had oozed out of my left cheek and onto Anthony’s hand. He grinned still larger and let out another strained giggle. I felt my jaw drop as he lifted the stained digits to his mouth and licked the blood away.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I screeched, scandalized.

“Making you remember” his kindly smile was all wrong. I slammed my hands to the floor trying to wriggle away to no avail. I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears stung my already sore face. I looked up indignantly trying to pull my most threatening face only to see that he wasn’t looking back. Anthony had taken off his right sock. The crazed look was back in his eyes and he started petting my hair back with his unclothed foot, giggling all the while like a toddler with a new plaything.

“Anthony. Stop.” I was getting tired of this. I just wanted to get up. My body was stiff and achy and my temper short. Anthony moved his foot down onto my neck and I spasmed away from it, only to fall on my face because of the handcuffs. “Anthony, seriously” I tried to show dominance in my voice but it cracked and I felt helpless. My tears flowed freely. You are so pathetic greg I’m sure anyone else would already be out of this situation and here you are on the floor crying like a child. I frowned at myself.

“You tasted good Greg, don’t you want some?” Anthony grinned.

“No.” I snapped. “Let me go Anthony.” He didn’t. Instead of doing anything sane he rubbed his first few toes across the aching cut in my face gathering blood and making it sting even harder. I tried to wriggle away but somehow despite my efforts his foot was shoved into my mouth and the blood tear mixture dissolved into it. It was at this moment when I slumped over and admitted defeat.

“Good boy Greg.” Anthony said sweetly as the washcloth was returned to my face and I passed out once more.

When I woke up I was still attached to that blasted chair only this time on my back staring up at a video camera. I groaned and rolled my head away from the lens.

“Don’t worry Greg this isn’t going on a video.” Anthony smiled down on me. He was wearing the same blue skivvy and black jeans. I must not have been out for too long this time. My head throbbed worse than before and I didn’t bother replying. “A Porn VHS maybe” Anthony giggled putting his hand over his mouth. My eyes widened in horror. “You must be dehydrated.” He hummed as he overturned a mug of warm coffee onto my face. I spluttered and choked on the sugary liquid, it ran through my eyes, up my nose and onto my cut. The tears came back, why was he doing this to me? “Oh now you’ve gotten your skivvy all wet, probably stained the carpet too. Naughty.” He grinned down at me and kicked the side of my head as hard as someone could sitting down. I felt my face crumple in defeat. Hope, it seemed, was lost.

Anthony took the same razor from before and ran a line from the neck of my skivvy down to the top of my jeans, slicing it neatly in two. Blood followed, as I expected, although the cut didn’t seem too deep. Thank god for small favors. He took the remaining fabric and ripped it severing my shirt completely and ruining it. Goodbye skivvy, I knew you well. Anthony giggled and bounced a bit excitedly as he ran another line down each of my sleeves cutting once again into my flesh. He leaned close to me, one hand resting on his beloved chair caressing the woodwork and his face just centimeters away. “I love it when you cry, Greg.” He harshly whispered into my ear. “It makes me feel stronger.” He ran his tongue over my eyes and cheeks his breath made me break out in goose bumps. All I could smell was his lynx deodorant and a slight undertone of his ridiculous feminine body wash. I was overwhelmed by the closeness that I barely noticed him playing in my blood until he wiped it on my bottom lip and covered it with his own.

Anthony was kissing me. Adrenaline pumped through my system as I tried to throw him off. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong so wrong I panicked and thrashed around harder but he was too strong. He forced my jaw open with his hands and quickly muffled my screams with his tongue. I whimpered and fought off his intruding organ with my own. Too late I realized he thought I was kissing him back. Tears once again sprang from my eyes as I admitted this defeat.

“You liked that didn’t you, you little pervert?” Anthony smirked down at me, his face flushed and lips slightly redder than before. I shook my head frantically trying to stop the tears. “Oh I think you did.” Anthony ground the heal of his hand into my crotch. I squeaked in pain and horror to find myself slightly hard. My face flushed and my hart sped up. This had to be a dream, things like this do not happen to normal heterosexual males and their lovable pushover heterosexual friends. I am having a nightmare. That is the only explanation. “So Greg I thought we could have some fun.” Anthony dragged the word fun out like a girl a decade younger than him and fussed with his hair. I stared at him incredulously.

“Really? Oh Anthony what could POSSIBLY be more fun than this?” I spit sarcastically and glared in the face of my captor. Anthony laughed and threw his head back sighing.

“This.” He laughed and reached behind my head. I strained to see what he was after and saw all too soon when he brought it back.

“Anthony, what are you doing with that ant farm?” I whispered. He tittered.

“Oh nothing, I just remembered that you’re covered in coffee.” He smiled at me winking flirtily. He opened the box and shook the ants out much like he was putting sprinkles on a cake. My heart stopped and I felt the hundreds of tiny bodies crawl on me, drawn to my face and torso by the smell of sugar. I couldn't scream. It was all I could do to close my eyes and mouth and pray to a deity that I didn’t believe in to save me from this living hell. I could feel them crowding on my face and my neck like a moving blindfold, going across my eyelids and into my nostrils. Some were crowding around my cuts, devouring my dried blood. I had never wanted to die more than I did at this moment.

Suddenly I heard a click, and then another and felt Anthony pull me up away from the chair. The ants rained off of me and he swore. “Fuck Greg keep your little mates to yourself, you filthy little slut.” He giggled proud of himself and slammed me into the wall, more ants falling. Even though he was hurting me he was freeing me from the six legged demons. He was my angel of mercy. “Missed the door there Greg.” He laughed and shoved me into the hallway. I could feel the remaining ants climbing up my nose. I panicked and tried to wipe them away with my now free hands. “Don’t think about it.” Anthony shoved me over and I fell to the floor with a thud. At least it was carpeted. I rubbed my face on the carpet desperately trying to free myself from the ants; they were in my ears now. Anthony lifted me up by my hair, wrenching me to my feet and slung me into a room. He then pushed me again, I felt my legs hit porcelain and I tumbled backwards into our bathtub slamming my head against the tiled wall. I felt cold water hit my face, sprayed from the detachable showerhead and far too close. Water flooded my eyes and ears, soaked my head and made me choke, but it washed the ants away, and for that I was thankful.

When my eyes opened I was still in the shower where Anthony had left me. The ants were gone and my jeans were slightly damp, I must have really hit my head. I looked around; on the counter near the sink was a glass of orange juice, toast, and some maltesers. I shook my head in disbelief, what was Anthony’s problem? I got up and wriggled the door handle, locked. I ate everything anyway and took a proper shower, the ritual of getting ready for the day took some of the fear away. I had just finished straightening out my hobbit hair when I heard a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Greg?” Anthony called, he sounded like old Anthony, not the Anthony from this morning, or whenever I happened to wake up.

“Y-yeah alright.” I called. Maybe I did just hit my head in the shower maybe that was a dream. When Anthony poked his messy black haired head in the doorway I knew it wasn’t. The evil glint was back in his eye and I knew I was his hostage. I could run and fight but he was faster, he was stronger and I was weak and had a massive headache.

“You look nice Greg.” Anthony stood behind me looking into my eyes through the mirror. I could see my reflection cower away from him as he wrapped his arms around my bare waist and kissing my neck, never breaking eye contact. I shivered in fright and rationalized that if I was good maybe he wouldn’t be so rough with me.

“Thanks.” I breathed out, chills going up my spine.

“Do you want to come back to your bedroom with me?” he asked shyly, flustered, almost cute if you could call it that.

“Yeah ok.” I whispered, shocked at myself for even thinking it. His eyes lit up in childlike joy and he grabbed my hand leading me gently down the hallway. When we got to my room his expression darkened and he pulled me not to my bed but to that god awful chair of his.

“Are you going to be a good boy, Gregory?” he whispered in my ear. I nodded, giving up all self-respect, I didn’t want another episode with the ants, some of which were still crawling around the stain at the chairs legs. He sat down, pulling me into his lap, kissing me harshly. His hand pulling back my hair so hard it hurt while his other was digging into the skin on my back. This was not how Anthony Field was supposed to kiss. Not my best friend that was all happy and hungry. No, this was not Anthony, this was a monster. I cried into the kiss hating myself once again for showing weakness. “You know what your tears do to me Greg” Anthony said as he ripped our faces apart. “Now I want you to be a good little boy and suck me off.” He punctuated his sentence by slapping me across the face, hard.

I fell off his lap and onto the floor. He grabbed my hair again and pulled my head towards his crotch. “Do it.” He barked. I trembled and slowly willed myself to do it, it wouldn’t be so bad. It was just my mouth. It’s just your mouth it could be worse. It could be worse. Fuck it WILL be worse. I closed my eyes as I took him, slowly at first, getting used to the odd sensation and willing myself not to bite. He grabbed the back of my head and I went limp, letting him use me. I wondered if this was what my parents were worried about when they found out about Anthony. I wish I had listened to them. I thought as tears spilled out from regret and from the depth Anthony was making me go. He started laughing again betwixt moans and shoved me away from him.

“Oh no, you’re not nearly done yet.” A feral grin contorted his face. He rolled me over so I was face down in the same coffee stained spot as before. “I saw a picture of you, Greg.” I remained silent. “You were only in your underwear. You really should think before acting like such a common whore, Greg.”

“That wasn’t me Anthony! You KNOW that wasn’t me! That was a model; we’ve seen that picture before!” I pleaded as he rummaged around looking for something else; I prayed to god no more ants.

“Do you even hear him?” Anthony spoke from the corner of the room. “Saying it wasn’t him, well we’ll show him Anthony, you and me, if you can’t have him no one can, and no one will want him when we’re done.” I stilled, very confused.

“But I don’t want to hurt him, he’s special, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love me, he’ll love someone else and they’ll be really happy.” This was my Anthony, old Anthony, nice Anthony. The crazed voice returned.

“No! That’s not what you want, you want HIM and we are going to make that come true, now DO IT.” The voice seemed to rip out from Anthony’s body. Anthony howled and scratched at himself, I knew I should do something but I felt as if I was covered in ice, unable to move or even blink. Anthony crashed into the wall as if he was thrown and sunk down to his knees. When his head rose he peered at me through his fringe with the same dark intensity that I had come to dread. I swallowed as he stood and walked over to me. Without a word he flipped me over and kneeled on my hands. He raised the steel wool he had found and grinned as he rubbed it into my skin. I could feel it splinter off inside of me but I remained silent. Determined to wait out this demon and get my friend back.

“Oh is that not good enough for you, bitch?” Anthony growled and rolled off me I let out the breath I was holding and followed Anthony with my eyes. He walked to the door and slammed it behind him. I got up and sat on my bed holding my head in my hands. Should I try to alert someone? Most likely are fans would take it as a joke.

“Help Anthony’s holding me hostage in my bedroom” I said sarcastically into my hands. “Yeah sure Greg.” I sighed. I was doomed. ..unless, unless Jeff, of course! He was so overprotective of his friends, he wouldn’t chance it. I scrambled up looking everywhere for my phone. Anthony must have taken it. I thought. Computer. I lunged towards my desk to find the it was gone. I franticly pounded the power button on my PC. “Come on! Come ooon!” I whined at the computer. Was it unplugged? I looked in the back. Every single cord had been removed. I was trapped.

When Anthony came back into the room I was on my back on top of my bed. I could hear him in the hallway “Greg I’m sorry I just-“ when he walked through the doorway his demeanor changed again. I was getting used to this. “I’m going to take you now.” He stated. His eyes darkened and he pounced on me, spilling the items in his arms. He mashed his lips onto mine again. It was so wrong. There was something so wrong with him it crushed me and I kissed him back, maybe just maybe I could bring my friend back.

“Good boy Greg. You’re getting the hang of this.” He grinned, his tongue poking out of his mouth, but the glint was still there. “Would you like to be mine Gregey boy?” he cooed. I felt bile rise in my throat as I nodded, praying for it to be over soon. He straddled my legs tearing my jeans down my body without unbuttoning them. I closed my eyes and tried not to feel his hands on my legs, on my stomach, on my hips and thankfully not on my crotch. His hands were warm, a stark contrast to the ball of ice his heart had turned into. When I dared open my eyes he was looming above me. He had taken off his shirt and his eyes were dark in the shadow of his hair. He looked strangely alluring stop it Greg stop it you’re strait the obnoxious voice in my head insisted you know what? Another voice, this time my own no one is ever going to find out about this and it will probably not be that bad if I play along. You have to try everything once after all.

Anthony moaned into my mouth and wrapped his arms around me, for the first time kissing me gently. I wrapped my arms around his neck everything felt so natural. Then he went rigid, I pulled away and saw the flash of emotion, as if he was saying ‘I’m sorry’ with his eyes before the darkness crowded them again and he bit me causing blood to pump from my lip. He ground his crotch down onto mine and slunk down my body. He pulled my boxers off as easily as he had my jeans, as if it was nothing. There was no fondling, no pumping anything to acclimate me before his lips were against me. He deep throated me immediately whimpering as if he was the one this was forced upon. I didn’t dare look down, I focused on the ceiling trying to ignore how good his mouth felt on me, how it was making my mouth water wanting to return the favor. And how I was moaning, despite of the situation this was the best blow job I had ever gotten. Anthony's tongue curved over my erection and slipped down farther than his lips. I lost the restraint I had once had and tangled my fingers in his hair.

And then as soon as it began It was over. Anthony's manic grin was once more above me and he shoved two fingers into my mouth wrenching it open and he spat into my mouth. Not a small amount of watery saliva but full on phlegm. I gagged and he shoved his fingers deeper into my mouth. When he added a third and fourth finger I felt my stomach lurch and I pleaded the best I could with him. He was having none of it and with one last push he succeeded in making me wrench and vomit all over my bed.

“You need more practice.” He leered at me before throwing me to the floor. I struggled against his weight as he crawled on top of me biting down on my neck. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and with the other handcuffed me to the foot of my bed.

“Anthony, you have to stop this!” I whined

“I don’t have to do anything for you, bitch.” He emphasized his point with a punch. I felt the cut on my face re-open and tried to bite back tears. I didn’t open my eyes until I heard my door slam. I let my muscles relax. My throat burned with the taste of bile and my face ached from the abuse, but I was alone and I let my head flop down and the tears run down my face to pool in my ears.

Anthony must have been gone for hours. My wrists were raw with attempts to free myself, my tears had long since dried but the salt remained irritating on my skin. Irritating, I thought, I am really irritated. I bared my teeth and struggled against my chains screaming in frustration.

“I just want my FUCKING FRIEND BACK!” I howled twisting around like a mad man. The door banged open, as if on cue Anthony strolled into the room.

“I’m right here Anthony!” he giggled, his tongue poking out of his mouth. He looked so innocent in one of his own skivvy and pants that I felt almost perverted to be lying naked practically displaying myself to him. I reddened and tried in vain to cover myself with my legs. “Oh don’t hide from me, silly, I’ve just made you some tea!” he tittered displaying a mug.

“TEA?” I spluttered. “You leave me chained to my freaking bed naked for HOURS in my own SICK and you come back with TEA?” I fumed, all embarrassment gone, I was enraged.

“haha, no.” Anthony grinned as he sunk into his chair at my feet. “I lied. I boiled some cooking oil.” He giggled and without hesitation splashed some on my stomach. My mouth opened in a silent scream as the liquid ran down my skin. I instinctively bucked my hips up, I could hear his devilish laugh and he landed a slap oh my thigh. I could feel my skin begin to blister as the oil ran over my chest.

“Get it off! Anthony, I’m sorry! Please! Please help me!” I whimpered refusing to look at him.

“I’ll help you.” Anthony sighed pouring oil down my left knee, most of it falling and searing my foot, some of it dripping into my pubic hair. I squealed as he gave the same treatment to the other leg. “I’ll help you.” Anthony said again chuckling. I let my eyes roll back and groaned in pain. It can’t get worse. I’ve been brutalized, covered in ants and now I’m in hell. My thoughts began to blur Burning. Burning in hell. I could feel a slight pressure through the white hot pain above my navel. Anthony had taken off his skivvy and was mopping up the oil.

“Thank you.” I croaked. Once again, broken.

“There I told you I’d help you.” He said cheerily after he had mopped up all the oil. I looked down at my body. Once it had been something I was proud of. Tan and toned, but now it was raw and blistered, a thin line leading up as far as I could see. Are these going to be permanent? Will I live long enough to find out?I shuddered at the thought and bit back tears, once again. I turned my attention back to Anthony who was rubbing Ice cubes on my abused skin.

“They’re made with milk.” Anthony explained. “They’ll help.”

“Anthony. Milk only helps with spice, not actual burns.” I said exasperated. I was rewarded with yet another slap, this one on my chest. I cried out face contorting in pain.

“I didn’t mean with that, sweetheart. Here” He shoved a cube into my mouth. “Your breath smells vile.”

“OH MY GOD!” I jumped when Anthony dropped lower, running the ice right over my dick my voice raising a couple octaves. “What are you DOING?” I shrieked. Blood running to my face…and admittedly a bit lower. Anthony just smiled at me and shoved the cube inside me. My eyes popped open in what I imagine an extremely comical manner, although I found nothing comical about the situation. Things were not supposed to go in there.

“Relax Greg.” Anthony said as if I was an overreacting child and he was a tired adult. He slipped another one in stretching my hole wider. I hissed at the intrusion and squirmed under his hands. The cold soon numbed the sensation and they began to melt. Anthony feigned yawning as he held his thumb to the ice making its removal impossible. Once I was pretty sure it was over I sighed. That actually wasn’t so bad I thought to myself. It could have been worse. We can get through this.

“I think it’s time we brought my little friend out to play.” Anthony smiled. Oh god I knew this was coming, but does he really have to call his cock that? I cringed. As if reading my thoughts Anthony grinned at me in the same sickly manner as before, his eyes shining dangerously. “Oh not this.” He said grabbing his crotch and shaking it vulgarly “This isn’t that little.” He winked at me and reached behind my head to the items he had dropped hours earlier. “This little guy’s hungry.” He smiled lovingly as he lifted a small snake from a black drawstring bag. My jaw dropped in horror. Snakes were worse than ants and I wasn’t stupid, I knew exactly where that little fucker was going.

“No way in hell!” I gasped attempting to roll under my bed and escape. Anthony was having none of it and he grabbed my leg, hard. I was immobilized with the pain and in my weakened state he took control of me.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t have to do this.” Anthony sighed taking two out two larger sets of cuffs and chaining me again to that fucking chair, this time by my ankles. He took one more chance to show off his new pet by dangling it in my face. The mouth of the snake had been sewn shut, badly, It looked irritated. The snake and I locked eyes for a moment sharing the same thought. I’m sorry and with that Anthony took it away from my face. I made no noise of defeat as the snake slid inside of me. Most of the feeling had returned and I could feel it wriggle inside of me going deeper and deeper rubbing against my sensitive skin. I would have puked again if anything had been left. Instead I glared at Anthony who was sat up in his ridiculous chair stroking the arms sensually, almost getting off on the contact. He looked powerful, and extremely dangerous.

“I’ve named her Delia.” I blanched. It was one thing to joke with the fans but to name a snake that was slithering around inside of me against my will Delia. I was speechless. “How does it feel to have Delia inside of you Greg?” Anthony laughed and at that moment Delia went still deeper and rubbed up against something that I was quite sure should never be touched by a snake. I yelped and bucked upwards color rising in my cheeks. Anthony stopped smiling and looked at me intensely. “You do like this, don’t you?” He whispered.

“I think I’d like it better if there wasn’t a FUCKING SNAKE IN MY ASS!” wait WHAT?

“wait, WHAT?” Anthony cried his face breaking into an unbelievable smile. I cringed. “You DO like this! I knew it!” Anthony said with all the unbridled joy of a child on Christmas. He reached down into my opening, probing his fingers into me and pulling out a very agitated snake, returning her to her bag. I sighed in relief as Phil bent over me, unlocking my handcuffs and then the ones on my feet. Was he letting me go?

Anthony turned me around so my head was almost under the chair. I could see a spring coming out of the fabric and glared at it as if it was all its fault. He crawled on top of me kissing up my neck and pinning my arms to my sides.

“Do you see what you do to me Greg?” he spat in my ear lifting my left hand up to meet his member. He was hard, very hard. The sick fuck. “Answer me!” he yelled

“Y-yes!” I squeaked

“Take care of it.” He growled shoving my hand under his belt. I did as I was told running my hand over him. He was hot to the touch, silky almost. I blamed my quickened breath and growing of my own body parts on the trauma I had recently sustained. He licked the shell of my ear and I bit back a moan of satisfaction. Not enough apparently, as Anthony removed my hand and placed his lips to mine.

The kiss was rough, wild, and full of pain, need and forgiveness. All I could feel was his tongue in my mouth, battling with mine like lovers play-wrestling . All I could smell was his scent, manly but sweet and all the same just Anthony. Tears leaked from my eyes as I realized I might never know that Anthony again, my sweet friend. When he entered me I wasn’t expecting it. No warning, no hesitation. In a split second he had lined himself up against me and split me in two. We both moaned as he started pumping in and out of me creating a rhythm. All the anal play had not prepared me for his girth and I cried out. He laughed at me and just took me rougher digging his nails into my hands, grunting like an animal. He seemed so powerful, so intoxicatingly untouchable that at that moment I felt almost honored to be his bitch. I moaned, embarrassed and far too turned on at the thought.

“Do you like it when I fuck you, beanpole?” Anthony laughed his voice low and dangerous; his eyes glinting with the use of the old nickname. “Answer me!” he growled aiming a punch to my jaw.

“Yes!” I gasped. “Yes Anthony I like it when you fuck me.” My voice wavered.

“Good.” He pulled out of me, flipping me over with one fluid movement and plunging back into me. He hit my prostate in the first thrust and I moaned pushing back up onto him. He chuckled, ramming back into me, hitting that wonderful little spot. He pulled me onto my knees and he kneeled, his calves pinning mine down. “Fuck yourself on me.” He ordered. “Fuck yourself on me and I’ll touch you.” I did as I was told, obediently pushing and grinding down onto his huge cock gasping and moaning with every thrust. My own was painfully hard and leaking underneath me. I insanely chalked it up to being a glutton for punishment and not the flaming homosexual I was becoming.

“Oh god ANTHONY! Fuck meee” the words left my mouth without my brains permission and my mouth dropped in shock.

“Oh god, Greg anything.” He moaned wrapping an arm around my waist leaning me against the dreaded chair. I hissed as the fabric touched my cheek. Anthony placed his hand to the back of my neck and rubbed my face into the upholstery. “That’s right baby, feels nice doesn’t it?” He taunted his other hand grabbing my aching appendage and stroking me. The feel of Anthony’s hand pumping me in time with his forceful thrusts was enough to send me over the edge.

I came with a strangled cry and shot my load in ribbons onto the carpet. Anthony let out what can only be classified as a howl and exploded inside of me. Panting he lifted me up off the ground and sat in his chair with me in his lap.

“See, Anthony, I told you I called for you.” He whispered nuzzling my chest. “And you answered.”

*

It had been three weeks since the night Anthony first drugged me.

“We’re going out.” Anthony said waltzing into the room that had once been only mine. “Jeff and Murray want to have drinks.” He sat on the bed next to me. I smiled in spite of myself. Ever since the day we first had sex the madness had subsided. Delia, however, still lived in a small tank next to the bed, as if she was a warning for future bad behavior. “I trust you now Greg. You’ll be a good boy and keep your mouth shut won’t you?” I nodded. I was a good boy, I wouldn’t want to anger Anthony. He smiled at me and kissed my cheek. “Get ready, baby, we leave in half an hour.”

The pub we went to was an intimate little one on the outskirts of Australia. I skipped along holding Anthony’s hand smiling. It was so nice to get out of the house, sometimes if I was really good Anthony would let me go into the living room and watch Blue Heelers while I went down on him, most of the time he liked me in his chair. His chair. I was getting used to his chair; it was soft and seemed to have a numbing quality to it.

“Greg! Anthony!” Murray waved to us from a booth at the end of the pub. “Over here!” I grinned excited to see my friends.

A couple hours later I noticed that while we had been eating none of us had touched our drinks.

“Um guys? Aren’t you thirsty?” I laughed halfheartedly feeling a bit fatigued.

“Ah, no.” Jeff said “Greg, we want to talk to you. You two have been acting strange.” I immediately flinched expecting Anthony to hit me as he normally did when I questioned his behavior but when I looked over I saw that his face was flushed and he was slowly leaning in his seat as if he was on a ship. “Are you two on drugs?” Jeff whispered taking my hands in a loving way. I couldn’t take my eyes off Anthony.

“We’ve been concerned.” Murray added “we haven’t seen either of you in ages and in all your videos your eyes are clouded over or you’ve been acting way out of character. Even the fans have noticed, mate.”

“Chair.” Anthony croaked grabbing onto my sleeve not in an attempt to harm me but as if I was his lifeline. “Burn it.” He whispered before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crashed to the floor.

*

My mind began to clear on the way to the hospital. It was like shaking off the feeling of a bad dream. Everything began to clear, the mists of confusion and submissive nature melted from my brain.

“Drop Jeff and me off at my house.” I ordered Murray. “There is something seriously important we need to do.”

“What am I to tell the hospital? We don’t know what happened to Greg!” he cried

“He’s been a bit feverish lately. Now I promise everything will be fine if you drop us off.”Murray gave me a look of apprehension and sighed.

“Alright mate, I trust you.” I sighed as Murray pulled into our driveway and Jeff and I hopped out of the car.

“I’ll call you when it’s done!” I shouted.

“Greg, neither one of us is going in there until you tell me what’s going on.” Jeff gave me a serious business look and I sighed, exasperated.

“I promise you that there are no drugs and I promise you won’t believe me.”

“I promise I will do what you say if you tell me what you believe to be the truth.” Jeff’s eyes bored into mine as if reading all my dark secrets, and lately there had been a lot.

“Anthony was possessed.” I whispered. “I guess I was too but Anthony was worse.” I let out a shaky breath. “The chair makes you act on what you desperately want and twists it so the worst possible outcome happens.”

“The chair? Ok I believe you Greg you just get it out.” Jeff wrapped his arms around me for support.

“Anthony wanted me.” I could feel Jeff stiffen. “The chair made him do things, things I could clearly see he didn’t want to do.” I sighed, feeling good to get it off my chest. “I wanted him too.” I breathed. I had never realized, truly realized until the fog had lifted how much I had truly wanted Anthony. For years even I had needed him in my life, needed him to be mine. “So I became submissive.” Jeff's face drained with color.

“Alright Greg, just promise me that if we destroy the chair and Anthony still acts this way you’ll call the cops ok?” he said pleadingly.

“I promise.” I unlocked the front door and led Jeff up into my bedroom. The sight was ghastly. Jeff gagged and covered his nose with his sleeve. There were stains on every surface that I hadn’t noticed before. The room smelled raw with sex and rot. Delia lay dead in the bottom of her tank. She had clearly been dead for days. Ants and flies were everywhere, everywhere except the chair. I pointed it out to my wide eyed friend and we each grabbed an arm lifting it to the doorway. I noticed the smell cleared more the longer we touched it. I could almost see Delia slithering up the stick I had put in her tank so she wouldn’t be so bored. I shut my eyes and willed the sights away unexpected tears pricking my eyes. None of this had been her fault. Or mine. Or Anthony’s. But here we were, Anthony was in the hospital and Delia was dead.

When we got out into the yard Jeff dropped his end of the chair and whipped out his phone

“Sorry Greg, I’ve just got to check on Murray.” He began a text and I saw red.

“NO JEFF!” I wrenched the phone out of his hands “I WANT MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND BACK!” The air immediately filled with tension. Jeff did not speak or try to go for his phone. Am I turning into Anthony, the evil Anthony? I panicked No. I just want my boyfriend back, my equally flamboyant wonderful boyfriend. And I will have him for the first time. The real him. I sighed as I finally came to terms with my inner voice and the fire from Jeff's lighter lapped at the bottom of the chair. Soon it would all just be a bad dream.