Let's Pretend

[Toon]

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION

 

1997 - Dallas, TX

I grew up in a very weird neighborhood. Our block was an extremely average row of standard ranch houses. Go one block West and you'd see some beautiful mansions and one block to the East were Section 8 apartments. It irritated my dad to no end. He hated both the very rich and the very poor. He basically hated everyone. The rich were 'a bunch of tax-evading crooks' and the poor were all 'drug addicts who constantly produced mixed bastard babies'. Dad was a most unpleasant man. Obviously. He maybe even hated me, but never came right out and said it. 

2008

I had basically flunked out of my first semester of college. I'd done well in high school but that was before I had unfiltered access to the internet and drugs. I liked weed, coke, booze and I liked porn...and pretty much nothing else. I loved speed as well - in all forms. I just stopped going to class or even caring about anything except getting high and beating off to videos of men fucking. It sounds pathetic as I write it now, but I was perfectly content at the time. 

So the deal was I could move back home for a year IF I cleaned up my act and got a job. Dad's rules. It was good timing because I wasn't yet at the point of having severely nasty reactions to coming down and my dick was rubbed raw from masturbating so much. I knew a guy at school who showed me how to navigate around internet filters, but I needed a porn break for now. I slept almost three whole days. The only thing that kept interrupting my sleep was the barking of the new dog my parents had adopted: Daisy. She was a black lab mix with a heart of gold. No way could I ever get mad at her. She was my example of joy...something to aim for. It was one of my assigned chores to walk her around the block several times a day. Daisy took her sweet time to urinate and/or poop. I didn't mind because the fresh air and the exercise were a sort of therapy for me. I could clean up and be something...definitely. But then....

I was walking the dog in the seedier part of our area when I saw some random guy standing almost in the middle of Olive Street. He was tall, skinny, covered with tats and handsome as fuck. He looked like Vanilla Ice after a bout with leukemia. He had on a baseball cap and seemed to waiting for somebody. I knew he was on something...it was an instinct I'd gained privilege to in the past few months. He didn't notice me at first which was good because it gave me a chance to look him over. Daisy gave us away by offering him a friendly bark. I knew her language of woofs - this was a 'hello, new person' noise and not a 'stay the fuck back' one. Still, the dude looked a little worried.

"Yo! Keep him away from me!" He grabbed his back pocket like he was going to pull out a gun or something.

"She's a she, and she's harmless. Her name is Daisy and I'm Mark."

"OK. Cool. I don't like dogs, man. I'm Damien, D-Dog, or whatever else I tell you to call me." He was pure sleaze and gave off strong criminal vibes. My dad would call him 'trash' which made me want to know him even more than I already did. A car pulled up and he got in. "See you later, Mark."

On the way back to Boringville, I chuckled to myself. Nobody was really named 'Damien' any more, right? Just like nobody was named 'Adolf'. Some names have been off-limits for decades. Some people had pretend lives and I understood them. Oh fuck -- Dad was home early. At least I wasn't taking a nap or watching TV. I unleashed Daisy and waited for his wrath. 

"Tomorrow. You're getting a damn haircut tomorrow."

"OK."

"And not at some fruity salon...you're going to John's barbershop on Walnut Street.. He'll expect you at 10 am." Fine. Whatever.

I was slightly late for the appointment with John who'd been in this place since I was a kid. He looked like he was already mad and you were already giving him a headache. He could have been related to my dad. There was no TV here, just a stack of old macho magazines like 'Guns and Ammo' and 'Field and Stream'. Of course an A.M. radio station was playing, spouting wingnut opinions John already held. I wanted to request he change it to NPR just to see his head explode. You don't get shampooed in places like this. You just sit in one of the ancient vinyl chairs that are almost always patched with duct tape. 

"What are we doing today?"

A crazy thought formed in my head. "Buzz it -- I'm gonna join the army next week."

His mood brightened considerably. "Will do, young man."

Looking back, I think I wanted to look more like Damien and also piss off my dad. He couldn't get mad at me because I was just doing what he requested. John brutally shaved my hair down to stubble. I'd pretend to be someone else for a while since my previous identity had been mostly dull. I could even pretend to agree with everything coming from the radio. I could become someone who hated Arabs and Jews and minorities and liberals. As soon as I started verbally agreeing with whatever the blowhard was spouting, John was ready to adopt me. Acting bears a remarkable resemblance to lying. I'd try this personality on for the time being.

Of course my dad lost his shit. "What? Are you one of those skinheads now?"

"No. He messed up a little and just kept cutting until it was evened out." Lying was getting easier and easier for me. I was 'M-Dawg' now. Fuck the world.

I walked Daisy before bedtime and made sure to walk by the house Damien was in front of. No lights on of course. Guys like him would be out partying this time of night. But no. He was sitting in the dark on his unlit front porch. 

"Hail!" What was the response to this? M-Dawg would know.

"Hail, Brother!"

"Shit! You're Mike, right?"

"Mark. I've lived a block West of here my whole life." 

"I'm new. I only know people from my old hood. Take that fuckin' dog home and then come back over."

"Sounds good."

Shit. My pretend self had opened a can of tattooed worms. Yes, Dad. I'm a skinhead now. I'm also a drug user and a fag and I can't wait for the day you drop dead of a heart attack. I let Daisy loose indoors and went upstairs to my room. I put on some old jeans from the hamper and dug through my closet until I found a 'Dead Kennedys' t-shirt I'd bought at Good Will. I have never heard their music, but I was going through an angry teen phase (that I guess I'm still not completely out of yet) and the shirt matched my mood. I never once wore it. Now seemed like the right occasion. Sure, it was a 'Small" when I bought it and I was rapidly becoming a "Medium"...but the tight fit made me look bulkier. It was practically sleeveless at this point. I was still skinny, but not as rail-thin as Damien. I had committed to no tattoos as of yet, but that couldn't be helped now. 

The night was warm, mosquito-filled and windless. Texas. I was back on the heat-soaked sidewalk in front of HIS house within 45 seconds. 

"Shit, yo! That was fast. You lookin' to party?"

"Yeah. And get to know my neighbors."

"Come sit here with me and we'll watch the end times coming." Huh? I guess I pretty much knew the end of times were arriving because the Middle East was so prepared to split the planet in half. Wouldn't that be a good way to go? You just fly into space and be be free of abusive dads, bullies and expectations. I was down with that. Damien had one of those indoor couches that had become outdoor porch fixtures around here (a Southern, White Trash thing), I just huffed and plopped down next to him. It was humid and the night was alive with the sounds of bats. They gobbling up mosquitoes and squeaking with joy. 

"I figured you'd be out partying tonight."

"You thought that? You thought about me? That's interesting. Want a smoke?" He meant a cigarette, but I guess I'd hoped he had a rolled fatty to share. Nope...just a regular cig that at least wasn't menthol. 

"So you're just hanging out tonight?"

"I kind of have to. I'm recently out on parole. It's so much bullshit. I have to be here to answer the phone...my HOME phone. I ain't allowed a cell phone."

"That sucks."

"You got internet?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You ever look at that website that shows you where all the local sex offenders live?"

"Nah. My dad used to check it regularly until he just got too outraged. Mom made him stop after so many red circles showed up that he nearly had a stroke. Why? Are we sitting in a red circle right now?"

"Yup. I almost thought that was why you came sniffing around. Some people are into that."

"What did you do, Damien?"

"Bunch of shit. It's too long to get into now. I did my time and paid my dues but I'm branded for life."

"Wow."

"Yeah...'wow', Want to come inside?" I sure did. He was pure danger and pure sex. He embodied something I didn't quite have a name for. 

"Sure." 

Once inside the door, I saw shit I could barely believe. I'm not entirely sure how much I can say in this forum, but suffice it to say that this guy was into the devil...bug time. He was into all that 'white power' shit too. Hitler and stuff. This wasn't cool, and not any kind of alternative personality I could make for myself would ever be down with this. I regretted my haircut so much right now. He was hot in his own way, but this was too twisted and just plain wrong.

"Want a beer?"

"Uh - yeah. OK." He brought us both cans of Busch Light.

"I still don't have cable, but I got the VCR hooked up."

"Whatever you want, dude." We'd watch a movie or something and I'd get the hell out of here....and never walk down this street again.

"See -- until I got sidetracked, I was going to be a famous filmmaker. I made some shit and put it on the internet. Want to watch a sample?"

"Absolutely." I wanted to escape, but I needed to rest a little first. I couldn't wait to be home, in bed with a book. It smelled like piss in here. I wouldn't have been surprised to see an open bucket of urine in the corner somewhere. 

He'd taken off his shirt, letting me see all his ink. Pentagrams and other weird symbols. Some words too. My eyes weren't focusing all that well right now. I guess I was just tired. 

"It's a little rough and I didn't edit it very well. This is just raw material."

He had the volume turned up pretty high and my ears were assaulted with violent metal/rap/rage music. There's a lot of what I saw I can't describe here and also a lot I've blocked out and/or can't remember. Damien handed me another cigarette and I gladly smoked it, hoping I could wake up a little. I closed my eyes to block out the imagery. One scene was of him fucking some passed-out guy. He grinned at the camera. Needles shooting into veins, guns firing, bloody wounds, and that awful goddamn music. Finally -- it ended. I wanted to soak my eyeballs in Clorox. 

"Damn. That was intense."

"Did it turn you on?"

"Um... I ...."

"Feeling sleepy? I got something to wake you up. Stay here." I put out the cigarette in my empty beer can. His indoor couch wasn't much nicer than his porch couch, but it was so comfortable right now. I should have known he'd come back with a syringe. Fuck. I'd never shot up before...or had I?

"A vitamin."

"Like B 12 or something?"

"Vitamin K." I'd heard of that. Pegople took that to stop having nosebleeds or something. 

"Yeah. Great. I don't do needles, man. Plus -- I think I'm allergic to that vitamin."

"Doubt it. You had two cigs soaked in it...and I put a little in your beer."

"Huh?" I wanted to sleep now. He'd drugged me. 

"Here. I'll just give you a little." Without me even trying to stop him, he thumped the inside of my elbow and stuck the needle in. It's weird that I didn't feel it because I always flinched when I got a yearly flu shot. "I'll finish up the rest of this." My arm was bleeding and there was a drop of blood on the tip of the syringe. 

"I don't feel good."

"I can help you with that." He kicked of his shoes and took off his jeans. No socks, no underwear. "Shit -- feels good to air everything out." He was working on an erection that seemed close to nine inches long and very thick at the base. No way. I'd thought he was sexy before, but now I was just scared of him. How did I end up here? Where did I live? 

"I think I need to lie down."

"Go ahead. It's night-night for you now. I'm gonna fuck your ass, though."

"No! I...can't. NO!"

"You think the drugs are free? You got high on my dime, and that gives me access to all your holes. I'm just going to get your clothes off and let the K do its thing." I was naked and lying face down on this filthy couch. He was positioning me like a rag doll until I was bent over with my bare ass in the air. I made an attempt to say 'no' again, but just couldn't get my mouth to work. "This ain't rape, man. I'm NOT a rapist. You came here of your own free will."

Maybe so. I liked danger, but this was beyond that. He stuck his big dick unto my ass hole and I honest-to-god didn't feel any pain. I'd later learn that I'd been drugged with Ketamine -- which is normally used as a tranquilizer for large animals. I suppose I could have felt a small amount of relief that my first time getting fucked didn't hurt. Damien just pumped away like a bull in heat as I took it all. Did he have STD's? Probably. AIDS? I wished so badly that I was truly passed out, but awareness remained. I wanted to remember this. My first time. I'd write about in one day. His breathing got heavier and his hips were thrusting faster. He was going to cum inside of me. Why wasn't I asleep yet?? A criminal was fucking me full of who-knows-what and I was lucid enough to realize it. I'd just pretend to be asleep. Yeah. I was good at pretending. 

"Hail! The seed of The Damned is in you now!!!" He was sweating all over me. It's funny how I didn't feel his cock enter me, but I felt it leave me. No worries. I was asleep. I heard him leave the room and go take a piss as my pretend sleep turned into actual sleep. Long, deep, dreamless sleep. 

I'll leave it to you to imagine the ending. Imagination is a wonderful thing.

 

 

 

 

 

[deathstick4boys]

Awesome begining. Never done K but had heard it was good for getting up in fresh unsuspecting ass. Cant wait for part two. Hope they shoot up some  meth!

[bjbottom]

Nine thick inches, I would not be scared, I would be in love!  Too bad for the K.    He should have felt every inch tearing up his hole.    

[ademiakari]

That happened to me once. Ativan, a wine enema and a whole lot of T. 

[syd_btm130]

Wouldn’t fucken love that

[lvbbcumnhole]

Nice introduction to a potential hot story.  Hope you will continue with it.