Drinking the Spiked Punch

 

When Andy’s parents kicked him out, he thought his life was over. All of his clothes, books, and miscellaneous belongings were gone in the blink of an eye, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was gay! If his mother couldn’t see it, he had no other option than to leave. So, there he sat. On a bridge in San Bernardino, trying to hitchhike. Some complete asshole chucked a blue icee out of their Camaro, smacking him right in the forehead, and splattering the cold blue liquid all over his face.

Andy sat against the balustrade, defeated, dejected, and all-around depressed. Standing up, he looked over the side of the bridge at the rushing traffic. A single leap and the pain wouldn’t matter anymore. The sadness wouldn’t matter. He climbed up onto the ledge, standing inches away from the eternal darkness. That’s when he heard the screeching of tires behind him on the road. A motorcycle, a chopper, had come to a screeching halt on the otherwise derelict bridge. The rider kicked the kickstand and rushed over to Andy, grabbing him around his waist, and pulling him to safety.

Andy turned to see his knight in shining armor was anything but! A motorcycle helmet hid the guy’s face, but what Andy could see was the black leather vest, sleeve tattoos, cerulean combat boots, and tight, shiny leather pants.

“What the fuck, dude!” Andy shoved the stranger, upset that his plan was foiled by this random kid. “That was not your decision!” Andy watched the silent guy cock his head to the right, as if he was examining him. “What the fuck do you want?” The guy took off his fingerless gloves, sliding them into his pocket, and slowly took off his helmet. Standing before Andy was the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. The boy brushed his slick, sweaty black hair to the side, and stood silently, blinking.

“Uhm… What… Uh, do you need… Something?” Andy tripped over his words, as he stared into the golden eyes of his savior. The boy simply smiled, and gestured to his bike. Andy nervously nodded, and followed the dreamy guy to his bike. The two drove around for what seemed like hours, until they reached a mechanic’s shop in the questionable side of L.A.

“Do you work here?” Andy asked, his arms still wrapped around the boy’s lean body. He only nodded, as the big doors opened, and they rolled into the building. Inside, oil stains and paint littered the place. Through a door, and down a set of stairs, however, Andy entered into a suave underground loft. Red and blue light showered the room in a colorful blur, while stark white latex furniture sat occupied by more delicious punks. Andy stood mortified, embarrassed to be in such cool company, being so square. However, the beautiful mute boy grabbed him by the hand, and with a smile, took him to the bathroom.

Under an incredible blue light, the punk gently caressed Andy’s cheek, clearly showing his intentions. Almost as if by nature, Andy landed a peck on the punk’s lips. He smiled, and turned to his medicine cabinet. Pulling out a small bag of pills, he popped one, and handed another to Andy. Without question, he swallowed it. Immediately, it’s peculiar effects were evident. The room was distorted and a felt a strange sensation of warmth. The punk pulled him into deep kiss, his tongue piercing rolling over Andy’s bare tongue. Pulling away for only a moment, the punk gave Andy a comforting glance before sitting him down on the toilet.

Andy was entranced, unable to make any decisions of his own volition, and yet, completely at peace with the scenario. The punk sat on his lap, grinding his tight bubble butt on Andy’s growing bulge. The sound of squeaking leather was soon replaced by a slurping sound. Andy couldn’t see the punk’s ass pushing further and further into his groin. His clothes and even skin gave way to the punk’s grinding force, like clay giving way to hands. Slowly and gently, he worked his way down.

Andy’s legs enveloped the boy’s, just as his torso and arms would in time. The more the punk slid into his body, the happier and hornier Andy felt. A rich sensation of fullness overtook him, as he felt the shaved head of the punk push against his own. In seconds, his world was black. At least for the moment, Andy didn’t exist.

The punk got to work from within Andy’s body. He shaved his moppy hair into a slick loose mohawk, pierced his upper lip & nipples, and shucked his boring clothes to the side. On his now beautifully porcelain skin, the punk watched as tattoos sprawled all over his body: a lotus on his neck, an eagle on his chest, incredible patterns on his hands and fingers. His twiggy body remained lean and agile, yet put on another 30 or so pounds of muscle. The punk flexed his borrowed arms, and rubbed all of his stone-cut abs.

He pulled out a vial of black nail polish, and began to paint his fingernails and toenails, as they stretched and expanded. By the time he was done, Andy was unrecognizable. Throwing on some slick leather pants and damp black socks from the dirty clothes hamper in the corner, the punk smiled in the mirror at his dream boy. He closed his eyes and began to reprogram the body’s mind, making him cocky yet sweet. Memories of being a star tattoo artist and piercer were lovingly placed in his mind, along with all the punk’s kinky desires and fetishes.

Decidedly finished, Andy’s body doubled over, shaking and heaving. In a single movement, the punk stepped out of Andy, and stood behind him in anticipation. Andy stared at the ground for a moment, silent. Until the punk placed a subtle hand on his shoulder. He aggressively grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hard, sloppy kiss. Andy, or Jesse now, reveled in his new alpha personality and passionate love for his boyfriend Theo. The two knew deep down, that they were going to live their lives eternally happy and content, whilst simultaneously being the badasses they knew they were.