Special Effects

Special Effects 4

After the sleeper success of my story `The Best They Can' and whines of MOAR from the people who talked about it, I tried to make more, but ended up with an abomination that I decided to blow up and re-construct. That was bust too, so I put a bullet to that zombie, took the bloody body-parts from those two stories and the rotted remains of other ideas I had for stories and patched them together to make something Doc Frank would be proud of.

So all I can say about this story is:

IT'S ALIIIIIVVEEE!!!

Don't read this if you aren't supposed to (you know who you are). This story will (eventually) contain sexual activity of consenting minors, who do not use protection as this story is complete fiction as much as I wish it wasn't.

This story is mine. Y'hear me? Mine, mine, mine! I don't care if you put it in other places, but ask first, give me credit, but more importantly, don't change a damned thing.

Uh, if I'm forgetting something else just put that on the list too.

Special Effects

By Eric Wythe

Chapter 4 Waiting Through a Few Sloppy Seconds

Patrick is interesting.

"C'mon bitch, you can do better than that."

"Shut the fuck up..." I muttered.

He's also presumptuous.

"Beg for it! I know you want it!"

"Shut the fuck up." I said louder.

Arrogant.

"I'm bigger, better and stronger than you babe. You stand no chance!"

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled.

And he's the only person to ever beat me at Tekken.

"I give up." I stated, stepping away from the arcade machine. "You win."

"Hah!" He shouted. He started mimicking the victory dance his panda character was doing on the screen. "More proof that I own your ass!"

But God damn it, he makes it look hot.

"Why did you bring me to the mall of all places Patrick?" I asked folding my arms. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't just to prove you're potentially akin to an endangered species."

He walked over to me, and placed his hands on my hips.

He smirked, "I couldn't be a Panda. I breed too much." He stated cockily as I rolled my eyes. "I'm taking you clothes shopping."

I gave him an `Are you serious?' look.

"I don't like the clothes you wear. It makes you look like you're in a gang."

"I was in a gang." I responded evenly.

"But you're not anymore." He replied with a cocky smile. He put his hand on my neck, then moved it up to the back of my head and pulled off my do-rag. "So you don't have to look it anymore."

"We're going to school in the inner-city Patrick; this is what guys like me have to look like to keep from getting our asses kicked."

"No one's gonna lay a finger on you as long as I'm around." He stated intensely. His hand dropped to my hip again and he squeezed me between his hands.

I sighed, "You're not going to budge on this are you?"

He grinned lopsidedly at me, and shook his head.

Patrick guided us out, his hand on the small of my back. Every time a guy walked past us and so much as glanced in my direction, Patrick would pull me tightly into his side and glare at the guy. Whenever a girl passed us, he would perform a PDA of some sort, proudly displaying the fact that I'm with him.

I'm slightly ashamed that this extrovert possessiveness turns me on.

I shook my head. "So, what, are you going to dress me up in Hollister and Ambercrombie and Fitch like you?"

"Hah, no." He said, "You're not white enough for those."

"Exactly, so where are we going?"

He stopped us suddenly and held out one of his arms.

I looked up to the sign above the store skeptically.

"The Gap?"

There was a light knock at the dressing room door. I turned away from the mirror, contemplating if I should put on some pants. Fuck it, I figured and walked to the door. I unlocked it slowly and opened it a crack. Patrick smiled mischievously at me through the door, over-powered my hold on the handle and easily pushed me and the door open. He slid in and quietly shut the door and closed the latch. He tossed some clothes he had picked out for me on the couch in the large dressing room. He looked back up at me and just stared.

"Well..." I started nervously, "what do you think?"

He was drooling; I think that's a good sign.

"I think I wanna fuck you." He mumbled lowly.

He started to close the distance between us. He had this wild look on his face, like he was going to attack me.

I was scared, excited, hard and wanted it probably as much as he did...

But we're in a fucking dressing room!

"Wait-here?" My back hit the wall, and Patrick kept closing in on me. "Patrick, no-"

He smothered me with lips, and pinned me to the wall with his body.

Fuck.

He tore his mouth off mine. "I own your ass, remember?" He rubbed his crotch into mine, "It don't matter where. If I want it, I'm gonna take it." His monster cock was throbbing on my leg.

I gulped, "Jesus, how big is that thing?" Patrick smirked and opened his mouth to answer, "Wait-no, don't tell me. I think if I knew it'd scare me more."

"Oh," He rumbled huskily, "So it scares you, huh?"

He was humping my leg really hard; I was whimpering and my ass ached for it.

"It's safe to say it's the biggest I've ever taken. Not to mention the biggest I've ever fucking seen."

"I'm not your first?" He asked with a slightly disappointed look.

I laughed softly, "The way you fuck me, you may as well have been."

He growled approvingly at that. "That's exactly right. You're a virgin." He quickly started undoing his pants, his searing hot dick smacked against my bare leg. He practically tore my shirt off, I think he would have had it been actually mine. "Until you've been fucked by a real man, like me."

He began pawing at my underwear and kissing my neck, "I wouldn't go that far." I said skeptically.

His look steeled, "You shouldn't say things like that Sam." He reached into the front pocket of his shirt, taking out a small tube of lube. "Because I've been going easy on you." He peeled his shirt off and tossed it away. "I can fuck you-" He spun me around fast, pinned me hard against the wall and put his lips to my ears, whispering menacingly, "so much harder."

He shoved his fingers up my ass, I groaned in pain. I wasn't used to his rough preparations, even though I was expecting it. He used his body to keep me pinned to the wall; his free hand went to cover my mouth.

"Try not to scream too loudly," He growled, "don't want to draw any unwanted attention."

And before I even had a chance to process that, he shoved his monstrosity inside me, powering his way past any obstacle or hitch instead of working around it in consideration for me.

I was screaming.

It hurt.

So much.

When my screams turned into whimpers in his hand, he dropped his hand from my mouth.

I immediately turned my head back hissed at him, "You inconsiderate bastard," In my fit of rage, my accent slipped and I reverted back to Spanish, "Voy a apunalar a la cabra de su madre_!_"

Patrick laughed, "I don't know what you said, but it sounded sexy. Say something else."

"Yo voy a cosas de la cabeza la grasa en un contenedor de basura compactador_!_" I spat.

He groaned softly and ground his dick in my ass. It set me on fire and burned away my anger as I moaned. His huge body had me locked in; I could feel his hair brush against my back and his rock solid muscle encasing me in his magmatic body heat. His muscle danced and caressed my skin, I wanted to touch him, feel him, worship him like the god he thought he was.

But I couldn't move.

He wouldn't let me.

"Oh man," He moaned, "you're still so tight. Most guys I fuck feel so wide open after I'm done with them. But you actually feel tighter than last time. Are you tighter baby?"

"I don't know. Maybe you're getting bigger." I sputtered out pathetically.

The thought of that possibility made my dick jump.

"Maybe." He chuckled. "After all I am a... Growing-" He thrust hard into me, "-boy," He thrust even harder to punctuate his words.

I groaned at the sensations, by this time, our banter had given me enough of a reprieve to get used to him inside me. His fucking baseball bat was setting off all the nerve endings in my ass like rockets.

"All right," He growled, "let's get down to business."

One of his hands grabbed my face in a vice-grip, covering my mouth. He turned my face towards the mirror. We looked into each-other's eyes, his were strong, predatory and intense with lust. Mine were just the opposite, vulnerable, wilting under his dominance.

I've never seen that look in my eyes before.

He threw my head away from the mirror and began to fuck me. He started with short, fast thrusts pulling out a little bit longer and plunging in a little bit harder each time. Eventually he was pulling out up to the head and drilling back inside me at a pace I couldn't measure and a force that felt like it would crush my pelvis.

I had to concentrate on breathing, I was getting light-headed. He was turning my inside into puree to only prove the point that he's capable of doing it. I was screaming, but no sound came from me. My brain couldn't handle what he was driving into me.

I was scared.

But that's what made it so fucking hot.

Just when I thought he was just going to let his dick do the talking, he brought his mouth up to my ear, breathing heavily, but not too heavily. It made it seem like he was barely breaking a sweat.

What a cocky bastard.

"See?" He breathed raggedly into my ear as he continued to rip into me, "Real men take what they want. And I want you. I own you, bitch. You're mine, and no one else's. No man will ever be able to completely destroy you the way I can."

I was too overwhelmed to process what he was saying. But I figured he just gets off on hearing himself talk, because after he stopped, pulled out almost completely, leaving the tip of his head at my entrance. He held it there for a couple seconds then shoved all the way back in so hard I felt a dent form in the wall I was pinned against. I winced in pain as he dick swelled pushing me past completely stuffed to overloaded. His dick spewed out a barrage of cum that burned my whole body from the inside out. It felt like my entire body was on fire.

Patrick withdrew his contracting phallus from me and leaned against me and the wall. His arms drew around me and squeezed me in a tight hold. His face was nuzzled in the top of my head and was kissing it lazily. I was catching my breath and enjoying the air-conditioning breezing across my face. Patrick's body was like a furnace. The sweat between our bodies made it a little uncomfortable.

It wasn't unbearable though.

I was still.

He was calm.

But it made me wonder...

What am I to him?

Patrick placed my tray of teriyaki chicken in front of me, then sitting himself and his own food across from me at the table. I grabbed the flimsy plastic fork and began to play around with my food, using it the monotonous activity to keep my head clear of distractions.

I shouldn't be here.

I'm not exactly the hopeless mess that people like Patrick seem to enjoy swooping up in their protective circle. I'm not weak or defenseless, nor am I clumsy or shy. I'm just... here.

I'm a rock in a pile of coal.

I might look similar to the rest of the people here, but I have no shiny surface waiting to be squeezed out. I'm the rough that the supposed diamonds rest in. I'm nothing but a blank surface. I don't even feel like I'm here right now.

Sometimes I barely feel like I'm an actual human.

I've spent my entire life on the outside looking in. Observing, collecting data and information to what it means to be a person.

But where has it taken me?

I know how to act, but I've no clue how to feel. I've gone through life devoid of anything but useless knowledge. What point is there to my intellect if I have no passion to devote it to?

Looking at Patrick, I registered a small tint of envy watching him devour his oversized slice of pizza. He's seems so carefree, he lives by his whims and be damns anyone who might try to stop him.

Maybe that's why he likes me.

I don't put up a fight. For anything. I just go where the current takes me, soaking in everything I see and locking it away into my bank of information to use for a purpose I've still yet to conceive.

Patrick was staring at me with his kind brown eyes. His attitudes may have a small range of pompous to arrogant but his eyes are always kind when they look at me. I wondered: what is he guarding so closely in himself? That quaint but genuinely soft and caring gaze is one of the few sincere things that he allows to escape from his bravado. As far as I knew that disarming stare was reserved for me and me alone.

But could this also be part of his courtship routine? Is it just another ruse to get me to trust him so he can gain more control? In honesty, it wasn't the answer that fascinated me, but the influences and occurrences that caused him to become the way he is, the events that led him to believe he needed to guard himself. I wanted to know the core of this armored shell he walked around in.

Patrick looked at me curiously. He held up his hand and snapped his fingers in front of my face. When I didn't respond right away he waved his hand around.

I stared at him evenly and said, "I'm well aware I'm staring, and I'm not spacing out so trying to get my attention is unnecessary."

"Oh." Patrick said dumbly, and then chuckled softly, giving me a lopsided grin. "You're so serious all the time. Don't you ever smile Sam?"

I looked down at my food, and thought seriously about the answer.

I looked back up to him and stated simply, "No."

"Huh." he puffed out bewildered. "Guess I got a new game to play then." He smiled playfully and got up from his seat.

I tilted my head, "Game?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up him, my head close to his chest.

"I'm gonna make you smile Sam." He smiled at me brightly and warmly, his kind eyes shone with an inviting glint. "I promise." He stated.

I stared at him curiously, "You don't need to-"

I was interrupted by someone calling out in the crowd.

"Patrick!" The person was shouting.

Patrick's head swished around to look for his caller.

And suddenly some guy appeared next to us, grinning madly at Patrick. He was you're classic jock. He was built like Patrick, but had much darker skin and unruly curly hair and dark eyes of an indescribable color. He wasn't horribly attractive. At least from the neck up, his complexion was of Mediterranean descent and looked too dark for the round shape of his head. His nose was noticeably crooked and had greasy looking curly hair. But the moment his eyes landed on me, he bored into me intensely, I wilted slightly into Patrick. He looked at me like he wanted to fuck me.

Patrick didn't seem to notice.

"Yo! Lester! What's crackin'?" Patrick swooped his hand down into the open palm of... `Lester' and they comically did the fist-bump. It bordered on being a secret hand-shake.

I eyed `Lester' warily. He reeked of confidence and oozed sex appeal. He seemed like the type of person who would be disgustingly handsome, but really wasn't. I'm sure he got by well enough flexing a little muscle and pulling at his crotch.

"Not much." he began, his eyes not leaving mine. "Just here with some chick I met. We're gonna go back to her place and fuck." He briefly flicked his eyes at Patrick and then back to me. "Who's this?"

Patrick turned us to face him, putting me in front of him. He placed his hands on my shoulders and cheerfully stated, "This is Sam. He's my latest bottom boy."

I looked back at Patrick, "Fuck you." I mumbled.

Lester laughed and spoke to Patrick without moving his eyes from me.

"Is that so? Maybe he can come along with us." He grinned cockily and winked at me.

The pressure his sexual gaze cast on me made it feel like my chest was falling in.

I didn't like it and wilted further into Patrick, who cast a possessive arm over my chest.

"No." I heard Patrick grunt. "This one's mine."

Lester's gaze immediately moved to Patrick, with a shocked look on his face.

"But... we always share." He said it in a manner that sounded like Patrick had just slapped him in the face.

I looked up slightly, Patrick's face was stern. "Yeah... but not this time. I want him for me only."

Lester's face turned sour, he looked to me and then to Patrick, "Don't tell me you have... feelings for him."

Patrick tightened his arm around me and didn't say anything. He and Lester stared at each other for a very awkward moment. I felt like this wasn't really about me anymore.

"Les!" The moment was broken from a gravelly voice from not too far away.

A girl came to Lester's side; she wore a wool beanie over her long straight black hair. She had short-shorts with lace stockings covering her legs. She had a backpack with her skateboard strapped to the back of it. At least she's making use of my birthday present.

"Nats." I called.

Natsumi looked my way. "Sammy? What's up bro?" Her voice had a gravelly rasp to it, like she smoked too much, which may have very well been the case. Natsumi has been smoking since I met her eight years ago. She motioned to Lester. "This is Lester, my latest `fuck you' to my parents."

I nodded, "I know, he's my kidnappers best friend apparently." I nodded my head up to Patrick, "This is Patrick, the reason I've been limping a lot lately."

She put her hands on her hips and let out a low whistle, "Damn Sam. I don't blame you for letting him give you a limp. He's a fuckin' stallion if I ever saw one."

She looked between our two guys and then looked at me.

"Are they having a staring contest? Or did I just miss something?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure exactly. Mine has laid claim on me, and apparently that offends yours, who's used to getting his sloppy seconds."

Natsumi nodded, "I see. Well, you two are welcome to join us." She put her hand on her chin to ponder, "Though I don't know how you'd fit in unless I bust out the strap-on."

She smiled and giggled, "Actually that could be fun."

"Hate to break it to you Nats, but Asian chicks don't do it for me." I elbowed Patrick in the stomach; it didn't really faze him though. I sighed, still imprisoned in his arm. I shrugged to Natsumi, to suggest she try Lester.

Nats pulled on Lester's arm. "Hey I wanna go. I got the shit, now I wanna fuck. Take me home."

Lester broke the stare at the promise of tail. "Oh, alright." He stared at Patrick one more time as if to promise to pick up the contest later.

When they left I looked up to Patrick, "What was that about?"

"It's weird to explain. But basically, he's the guy that I figured out I was gay with."

"So he's your first." I stated rather than asked.

"Yeah, we fucked for a while, but then he started dragging in chicks and all this other bullshit that just added drama that I didn't want. So we stopped fooling around together and ever since then, I've handed him my bed-post notches to do with what he wants. He's still my best friend though. I don't know why he's being such a cunt about this."

"Maybe he has feelings for you, but buries it with risky sexual experimentation?"

"I guess..." He trailed, with a pondering look on his face. "But I don't have feelings like that for him. He's my best friend, but I don't even think of him sexually anymore."

"And here I thought your libido always won out."

He chuckled, "In most cases." He paused and kissed the top on my head then tightened his arms around me a little more. "I like this. The way I feel with you. You feel good in my arms. Lester's probably right."

"You don't seem too despaired about it."

"Why should I be? I'm not afraid of the way I feel about you."

"So then what exactly am I to you?"

Patrick nuzzled his face into my head and let out a long, "Hmm..."

I felt his hands start to grope at me and his crotch push into me.

"I'm horny again. I'm gonna take you to my place and fuck you again, so ask me tomorrow."

I shook my head and shrugged, "Alright."

Patrick placed a plate of food in front of me, put his at the other end of the table and sat down across from me. He smiled warmly at me and shrugged his hands at the food, encouraging me to eat. I picked up my fork and started playing with my food rather than eating it.

I had more questions.

"So when we're at school," I started as I dug into my food, "how're you going to act around me?"

Without looking up from his food he waved his fork in the air dismissively, "The same way I treat you now." He mumbled with his mouth full of food.

I nodded, "I'm going to warn you then."

"About what?"

"My ex. He's not exactly going to be happy about some guy treating me like their property. He hangs around me and treats me like I'm still his."

Patrick grunted dismissively and swallowed his food.

"He's in the gang I used to be in." I blurted out.

Patrick kept eating, looking at his plate. "Don't care." He looked up quickly. "C'mon Sam, eat."

I shrugged and went back to my food, staring at Patrick.

He sat with perfect posture. He meticulously used his knife and fork with expert cuts to slice his food into perfect proportions. Every so often he would gently put down his silverware and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, then put it back onto his lap.

This didn't exactly spell out Alpha-jock-bachelor eating behaviors to me.

"Who taught you how to eat so nicely?"

Patrick looked up, slightly surprised and said, "My old mentor and his friend. He used to live next door." He motioned with his fork to the apartment behind us. "But I guess I should be calling him coach now. He works at your school. When he found out Craig was going to work there he practically dragged us there to get me signed up for your school."

"How come he doesn't live next door anymore?" I asked.

"He moved. Bought a house off Santa Clara I think."

"He must have a second income then."

"Coach and his friend own a production company. We met a few years back when we did a movie for them. They don't make too much off it, but they make enough I guess."

I nodded, "I imagine. It's investing; you have to know what you're doing."

Patrick just stared at me with an amused smile.

I blushed under his gaze. "What?" I asked.

"You really are smart." He smiled wider. "I'm done, just leave the plates. Craig can clean it up. Let's watch a movie."

I had eaten enough. I pushed my plate away and got up to follow Patrick to the couch. He plopped down, stretching over the large couch. He opened up his legs and patted the space in-between, giving me a sleazy grin. I rolled my eyes and sat against him. He locked one arm around my chest and used the other to mess with the DVD remote.

What we were watching wasn't really important to me. Patrick had wrapped his other arm around me and I was trying to figure out what the strange sensation in my stomach was. Patrick kept lightly kissing my neck and nuzzling into the back of my head. He had one leg wrapped around mine; my hands were on his thighs. I felt warm inside my chest, I didn't understand it. One of his hands trailed down my chest and to my hand. He grabbed it and entwined the two. A light shiver went down my spine as he started breathing against my ear.

I felt strangely... comfortable with him.

I was getting a little sleepy against him.

"To answer your question from earlier..." He whispered, "I don't know..." I turned my head to look into him. Our lips were nearly touching. "But you're more than just another fuck. I want more with you." I could barely hear him.

I stared into his eyes. Searching. For what I wasn't sure, but I could plainly see a mixture of fear, vulnerability and more than anything, determination. He's afraid of what I think? That's so... unusual of him. He's one of the few people I figured to need the affirmation of other people. I become more intrigued with him the longer I stay around him. Maybe I should see where this goes.

I slightly perked the corners of my lips into a small smile.

"Okay." I said simply as I pushed my face forward to lightly let our lips meet.

We kissed lightly, our lips barely touched. But it made him moan a little. The corners of my mouth perked up a little more at that. When we separated, I let my head fall on his shoulder, not long after that I fell victim to comatose.

It's been a while since I've slept so well.

I'm such a disorganized writer, haha. Sorry I keep taking forever with this stuff. It either comes to me or it doesn't.

Tell me what you think at eric.wythe@gmail.com.