A Cocksockett Story

Cal woke in a panic. At least as much of a panic as the drugs flowing through his system leaving him feeling some what like he was floating on a cloud, wrapped in cotton wool. He expected his balls to feel like someone had tried to crush them just before he went to sleep...

BEEBEEBEEBEEP! What was a heart monitor doing so close to him, Cal wondered? BEEBEEBEEBEEP! He could feel his heart racing. He heard shuffling near by and then a warm fuzz that was even more than the one in which he was already wrapped seemed to envelope him. God he hoped someone wasn’t feeding him drugs to get him addicted. That didn’t seem right, he realized that he had fragmentary memories of things that had happened after Hammer had sold people the opportunity hurt him for money.

Then there were fuzzy memories of sex. Cal had dreamed, occasionally of finding a strong man to share his life with, someone who was kind and gentle with him. That certainly never applied to Hammer. One way or another the man seemed to constantly hurt, humiliate, belittle or otherwise make Cal’s life miserable in the few days he could recall, though the memories didn’t have near the same immediacy as the dreams he couldn’t remember that had thrust him forth from the arms of Morpheus.

Even in his drugged state, or maybe because of it, Cal realized that he was thinking differently than he had been the early morning that he had scraped together all the cash he had, and all that he could filch from his parents and vacated home due to his father finding one of the skirts he’d been experimenting with. He had a feeling that sometime in the missing time, and he was sure there was quite a bit of missing time between being frogmarched through the door to meet the neighbors near the flop where Hammer had first imprisoned him and now, there were things he could not yet remember. He wondered what had happened, what had been done to him, and what choices he had made in order to survive.