Kicked Around

Erik closes his eyes and unzips his pants. He pulls out his cock and starts masturbating as the fantasy continues to unfold in his head. One hand is holding down his pants while the other is frantically jerking himself off.

"Stick it in my ass, Erik," Jessica says in the dream. "I want to feel your big thick cock deep in my tight little ass." Erik slaps her ass again and pulls out of Jessica. He licks his thumb, so it was coated in saliva. Then, he moves his thumb down inside the crack of her ass, and he slowly circles it around her small hole. He inserts the thumb and moves it in and out slightly. Then, he licks his fingers and covers the head of his cock. Erik positions himself back behind Jessica and begins to ease his cock into her asshole. Erik gets the tip in, feeling the tight sensation closing around him.

The door to the room swings open. "I need forty...," Steve said as he barrels into the room, half stumbling. He sees Erik masturbating in full view of the door. "Whoa... That's beautiful, man... Nice dick."

Erik's eyes opened wide at the sight of Steve standing in his doorway with a smile on his face, watching Erik jerk off. Erik frantically tried to cover himself, attempting to stuff his dick back into his pants. "WHAT THE FUCK STEVE?!?" Erik yelled.

"Keep going," Steve says hunched over looking around the room. "Just need money."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING KNOCK!?!," Erik continued to yell.

"Don't I...," Steve looked upward, thinking about the answer. He looked back at Erik, shrugging. "Door was open." Steve saw Erik's wallet on the desk. "There.." He walked over to the wallet, took out some money and put the wallet back down on the desk.

"NO, IT WASN'T!" Erik yelled. "STOP!" Erik was caught between trying to get out of the chair and trying to put himself back together. He flailed in large motions as his body moved in different directions.

"Got it... Later...," Steve said stumbling out of the room with the money. Erik finally gets himself put away and hurries to the door to see Steve stumbling into Bret's room. Erik started to head toward Bret's room and then stops, feeling his erection pressing out from his pants.

"Fuck!," Erik said as he looked down. He walked back into his room and finds a button up flannel shirt that he puts on and buttons up. He looked at himself again and could no longer see his erection through his pants. Erik still felt uncomfortable, so he put his hand down the front of his pants and adjusted himself again. Then, he pulled the flannel down to cover the bulge.

Erik walked out of his room and saw Steve at the door to his own room.

"Hey!," Erik yelled out. "Give me my money back!"

"Bret has it," Steve said walking into his own room. Erik stopped in front of Bret's room and stood there, trying to come up with a response. Instead, he turned and walked into Bret's room.

"You have my money?" Erik asked. Bret stood there looking at Erik with a strange expression.

"Your money?" Bret asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Steve just stole money out of my wallet and walked in here with it," Erik explained. "Then he said you have it."

"So you aren't giving him money?" Bret asked.

"Fuck no," Erik said. "He's stolen from me twice now. He just barges into my room and takes it."

"Shit," Bret said. Bret walked out of his room and toward Steve's room down the hall. Erik followed him. Bret started pounding on Steve's door. "Hey! Open the fucking door!" Bret tried the handle, and the door was locked. "Fuck," Bret says turning to Erik. "You got a credit card on you?"

"No," Erik said. "My wallet is still in my room." Bret walked back to his own room, and Erik continued to follow him. Inside, Bret grabbed his wallet and opened it. He pulled out a battered credit card and put his wallet down back on his desk. The two exited Bret's room and then walked back to Steve's room. Bret inserted the credit card into the gap between the door and the frame and started pushing and pulling it with force. Bret leaned into the door to widen the gap between the door and the frame. After a few seconds, the door opened, and Bret rushed in.

"Hey Asshole, give me back...," Bret starts to say until he sees that Steve is lying on the ground twitching. Next to him, there was a mixture of white powder and an empty bottle of whiskey. There was blood under Steve's nose. On the ground, there were three empty bags. "Oh fuck...," Bret says. He runs over to Steve and slaps him in the face, hard. "Wake up fuckhead!" Bret yells at him. Bret slaps him again. Steve continues to twitch but otherwise doesn't respond to Bret. "You fucking dipshit!" Bret screams at him. "Goddamnit!" Bret yells as he quickly runs out of the room.

Erik stands there, eyes wide. He looks out the doorway as he sees Bret run to his room. "What do we do?" Erik yells out. Erik turns back and stares at Steve. Erik's frozen. "What do I do?" Erik says to himself. Erik looks around a room for a phone and sees it on Steve's desk. Erik rushes to the phone just as Bret runs back into the room with a small black case. Erik picks up the handset.

"Stop!," Bret yells at him.

"I'm calling 911!"

Bret rushes over to Erik. Bret takes the receiver out of his hand and puts it back down on the phone base.

"Don't," Bret says to him. "I need your help."

"He needs a doctor!" Erik says scared.

"If he goes to the emergency room, he'll tell them where he got his shit and I'm fucked."

Erik looked at Bret and eyed him suspiciously. "What a selfish fuck," Erik thinks.

"He needs a doctor Bret," Erik says.

"Just grab him and help me," Bret says. Bret walks over to Steve and picks him up by his arms. Bret slings one arm over his shoulders. "Grab him!"

Erik stares at the two of them trying to think of what to do. Finally, he decides to follow Bret's lead and grabs Steve's other arm.

The two struggled as they drag Steve out of the room. Steve was larger than the 2 of them, but they managed to drag his limp body across the floor. On the way out of the room, Bret picks up the small black bag. "Where are we going?" Erik asks.

"The shower," Bret says. "We need to wake him up." Erik and Bret drag Steve into the bathroom and set him down in the shower. Bret sets down the bag and takes off Steve's shirt. Then, Bret turns on the water to the coldest it will go and sprays it on Steve while slapping him. Steve doesn't wake up.

After a minute, Bret turns off the water and lays Steve flat on the floor. Bret takes a pulse. "Fuck!," he yells. Bret straddles Steve and starts chest compressions. He looks at Erik. "You see what I'm doing!" Bret yells at Erik.

"Yeah," Erik says.

"I need you to do this to him while I give him a shot and feed him air," Bret says.

"I don't know if I can do that," Erik says.

"You want to do mouth-to-mouth on him?" Bret asks still pumping on Steve's chest.

"No," Erik says.

"Then get over here!" Bret yells. Bret climbs off of Steve and Erik gets on top of him. Erik mimics what he saw Bret do.

"Harder!," Bret yells as he opens the black bag. Erik pumps on his chest harder.

"I feel like I'm going to crack his ribs," Erik says.

"You might," Bret says. "But you'll keep him alive." Bret pulls out a syringe from the bag. Erik's eyes go wide.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" Erik asks.

"I'm going to stick this in his vein," Bret says pulling a vial of liquid from the bag. Erik is pumping on Steve's chest watching Bret insert the needle into the vial and fill it with liquid.

"Oh god," Erik said. "I can't... I can't watch this..."

"Then turn your fucking head," Bret says as he puts the base of the syringe in his mouth sideways. Bret pulls out a rubber tube from the bag and ties it around Steve's arm. Erik watches Bret as he slaps Steve's arm looking for a vein. Erik is feeling light-headed, so he looks the other way, still pumping on Steve's chest. Bret takes the syringe and sticks the needle into Steve's arm. "There we go," Bret says as he injects the liquid into Steve's vein. Erik looks over and sees the needle in the vein. A sudden dizzy spell comes over Erik and nothing but white washes over his vision. On his next chest pump, his arms collapse underneath him and falls forward onto Steve.

"Oh, whatever the living fuck," Bret says disgusted. He pulls up Erik by his shoulder and slaps him across the face.

"Ow!," Erik said. "What happened?"

"Good," Bret said. "You're awake. Not get the fuck off of him." Erik was disoriented but understood the command. Erik got off of Steve as Bret checked Steve's pulse. "It's getting stronger," Bret said. Bret put his ear to Steve's mouth. "He's breathing," Bret reported.

"Oh thank god," Erik said relieved.

"It's not over yet," Bret said reaching back in his black bag. Bret pulls out a long firm, yet slightly flexible tube that has a push bulb on the end of it. "Help me sit him up," Bret says. Erik and Bret pull Steve back into the shower and sit him up against the wall of the shower. Bret leaned back Steve's head and then forced the tube down his throat. The whole tube went down, and the only thing exposed at the end was a funnel-like bulb. The bulb had an opening for liquid.

Once more, Bret went into the bag and pulled out another liquid. "What's that?" Erik asked.

"Ipecac," Bret says pouring it into the bulb and squeezing it down the tube. Erik watched in horror.

"What is that going to do?" Erik asked, scared of what was going to happen next.

"It's going to make him puke up everything," Bret said. After the liquid went down, Bret turned the water on in the shower and opened up the bulb so to capture the water inside. Bret squeezed the water down the tube. Bret did this several times.

By this time, Steve's breathing was picking up, and he was struggling for air with the tube in his mouth. Bret pulled the tube out and threw it on the floor. Bret began smacking Steve in the face. Steve still wasn't responding, so Bret stood up and put the cold water on him. After 10 seconds, Steve began to shiver. Bret turned the water off completely. Bret crouched down again and smacked Steve again.

"Open your eyes!" Bret yelled. "Wake up! C'mon, wake up! Open your fucking eyes! Wake up!" Bret yelled it repeatedly over and over again as he smacked Steve. Bret used his thumb to push Steve's eyebrow to open Steve's eyes. Steve's eyes were blinded by the ceiling light, and his eyes squinted slightly to close it again. Bret released his grip on Steve's head as Steve was starting to respond to Bret. Steve's breathing became heavier, and his eye muscles were straining to open and close. Steve was shivering more and more. Finally, Steve opened his eyes with a tired, sick look.

Bret moved to Steve's side out of Steve's line of vision. "Hey!," Bret screamed. "Hey, fuckhead! Hey! Asshole, look at me! Move your fucking eyes! Look at me!" After screaming several commands over and over again, Steve finally moved his eyes to Bret. "You dumb mother fucker! Why did you do this!?! What the fuck is wrong with you!?! You fucking know better than to do this shit! You are fucking cutoff! You hear me? No more asshole!"

The life was coming back to Steve. Steve was making more muscle movements with his head, neck, and shoulders. Steve was still shivering, but it looked like he was back. Steve started to heave like he was about to puke. "I hope you fucking enjoy this asshole!" Bret continued to scream. Bret looked at Erik. "Help me with him."

Bret and Erik grabbed Steve and turned him over. Bret stuffed Steve's knees underneath him as if he were kneeling in the shower. Bret and Erik held Steve's shoulders on each side as Steve continued to heave. After another 2 minutes, Steve began throwing up into the shower. Wave after wave of puke came out. With it came crushed up pill fragments that were partially dissolved. "And you fucking chewed them up too!?!," Bret screamed again. "You fucking junkie fuck!" Steve kept puking and puking. The smell of puke, along with the food that Steve had over the past several hours, mixed in with the strong smell of alcohol, was overwhelming.

Erik let go of Steve and ran to the sink. Erik threw up once in the sink and started to heave as if he would throw up again. Erik coughed and ran the water to wash down everything. Then, he rinsed out his mouth and splashed cold water on his face. "You alright Erik?" Bret called out.

"Yeah," Erik called back. "It was just... too much..."

Steve's strength was coming back. Steve's right shoulder and arm that were being held up by Erik now had enough strength to hold up Steve's weight on its own. Steve continued to throw up in the shower until there was nothing left. Now, he was dry heaving. The shower was covered in Steve's puke. The tiled floor could barely be identified below all of the disgusting half-digested food and pill fragments. Bret could feel that Steve's strength was back, so he let Steve support his own weight as Bret stood up.

Bret turned the shower on, and Steve's puke started to wash down the drain. Much of it was too thick and large to wash down, so it gathered at the middle of the shower, on top of the drain, and piled there, plugging the water from going down. "You can clean this shit up later asshole," Bret said. Steve watched as the puke was running down the drain or collecting in the center. Erik walked back and watched it too.

"That's fucking disgusting," Erik finally said.

"Yeah," Bret said. Just then, Steve's hands lunged forward to some pill fragments that settled at the top. Steve grabbed at them and put them in his mouth.

"Oh fuck you!" Bret yelled, winding up and kicking Steve hard in the stomach. The pills along with some puke and spit shot out of Steve's mouth in a sudden burst of air caused by Bret's kick. Steve was gasping, as the kick knocked the air out of him. Bret pulled on Steve's shoulders, picking Steve up to his feet and then slammed him into the wall adjacent to the showers. Bret held Steve there with both of his hands on Steve's throat.

"You are not fucking doing this with my shit!" Bret screamed directly into Steve's face. "Do you understand me!?!"

Steve nodded slightly. "Grab his arm!" Bret yelled at Erik. Bret moved to Steve's left arm, and Erik moved to Steve's right arm. Together, they moved Steve back to his room. This time, Steve was able to walk on his own, so they didn't need to drag him.

They put Steve on the floor of Steve's room with Steve's back to the ground. Bret pulled off Steve's socks and shoes. Then, Bret said, "I'll be right back. Watch him. If he moves, punch him in the face." Bret left, and Erik watched as Steve was breathing heavy on the ground. Steve looked tired and sick. Erik felt sorry for him but was mad at the same time.

This was the first calm moment that Erik had since they barged into Steve's room. Erik continued to watch Steve, who now brought his own hands to his head and covered his face. Erik could see that Steve was starting to cry. Erik didn't know what to think. The last 30 minutes went by so fast that he didn't have time to think. Erik just reacted to Bret's commands and that was it. Now, Erik was seeing the aftermath of the actions and feeling just as conflicted as when they started.

Bret returned with the black bag, two water bottles, and a trash bag. Bret set them down and closed the door behind them. Bret opened the black bag and took out a pair of scissors. Bret then moved down to the bottom of Steve's pants leg and began to cut off his pants. Bret cut through the entire right pant leg from bottom to top. Bret then moved to the other side and cut that off. Bret removed the pants and threw them in the trash bag. Then, Bret cut off Steve's boxers and threw them into the trash bag.

Steve was lying on his back in the middle of the room: cold, wet, and naked. Erik looked at Steve as Steve still shivered while holding his head in his hands. Steve was hairy, all over. It didn't look like Steve ever groomed himself on any other part of his body. Steve's dick was small. The cold water took it's toll on its appearance, having shriveled up to the size of a grape sticking out of what looked like a hairy ball of moss.

Bret found a towel hanging in Steve's closet. Bret padded Steve down. "Help me get 'em into the bed," Bret said to Erik. They picked up Steve again by his arms, removing Steve's hand from his face, revealing Steve's face wet with tears. They placed him face down on the bed. Steve's face moved to the side facing the wall. Bret grabbed the towel again and padded Steve down. Then, they turned Steve over so that he was face up and covered him with the sheet. After putting Steve back in his bed, Bret searched Steve's room.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked as Bret was looking under the bed.

"Looking for more shit this fuckhead might use to off himself," Bret said. Bret found some empty bottles of alcohol. He grabbed them and threw them in the trash bag. Erik stood there watching Bret search. Bret walked to the closet and found some over the counter medicine. Bret grabbed all of it and threw it into the bag. Then, he found several empty prescription bottles. Bret put them in his pocket and kept on looking.

The search turned up nothing else. Bret put down the trash bag and opened the black bag. Inside, he took out a small, white plastic bottle. Bret opened the bottle and set it down. Then, he opened the water bottle and poured out half of it into the trash bag. After that, Bret held the water bottle over the plastic bag as he began to empty the contents of the white bottle into the water bottle. A black powdery substance flowed out into the water. Bret closed the water bottle, put the cap on it and shook it to mix the water and the powder.

"What is that stuff?" Erik asked.

"Activated charcoal," Bret said.

"You're poisoning him with charcoal?" Erik said shocked.

"No," Bret said. "This should absorb any of the other shit he took and he'll either shit or puke this stuff out." Bret walked over to the bed. "Sit up."

Steve sat up slightly and Bret handed him the water bottle. Steve took the water bottle and drank. The look on his face soured and he spits it back out into the water bottle.

"Drink it asshole," Bret commanded. Steve lifted it back up to his mouth and began drinking. Then he stopped to hand it back to Bret. "All of it." Steve lifted it back up and drank the contents. Then, Bret gave Steve the regular water bottle to wash the taste from his mouth.

Steve laid back down. Bret stood up and turned to Erik. "Can you sit here with him for a few minutes?" Bret asked. "I'm going to clean that fucking shower so that no one asks any questions."

"Yeah," Erik said. Bret exited the room with his black bag and trash bag. Erik watched Steve. Steve didn't move, but Erik could hear him breathing heavily. Erik started to look around the room.

Steve's room was plain with only a single sports poster of the University team logo was hanging up on the wall. Otherwise, Steve had a TV, a computer, and that was it. There were clothes all over the room, as if Steve never straightened up or cleaned. The wastebasket over flowed with tissue. "Maybe he's been sick," Erik thought. Erik's eyes scanned by the bed, and there was a white sock laying down on the floor that had a yellow crusty look by the toes portion of it. Under the sock was a stack of porno magazines.

"That's fucking sick," Erik thought. "At least hide your jerkoff sock." Erik looked back over at the tissue overflowing in the wastebasket. "He's not sick; he's just dirtier than I am." The desk had a layer of dust on it that he could see from the sun coming in through the window reflecting on the desk. "Yeah, he's definitely dirtier than me."

After several minutes of waiting, Bret came back. "Shower's clean," Bret said. Bret looked at Steve and shook his head. "Has he moved much?"