Best Served - Chapter 3: A Fortuitous Visitation

Best Served - Chapter 3: A Fortuitous Visitation

Published by Aereon · 2008-10-06T06:01:05+0000

Chapter 3: A Fortuitous Visitation



Martin tossed the keys onto the little faux wood table by the door as he came in and turned to push the locks closed on his door. There were just the two, the deadbolt and the chain and he wondered, for the first time since he inherited the house from his grandma, if maybe he needed more. The bolt clicked into place and he moved into the kitchen where the door to the basement sat pressed between the refrigerator and the door pantry. Many a late night eating binge with bleary eyes and a cloudy, sleep crusted mind, had thrust him unwittingly into the basement entrance mistaking one door for the other. Grandma Potter had installed a chain across the entrance and the stairs had a heavy iron support railing that prevented accidental falls into the gloomy interior, a fact that had saved him on more than one food-stalking binge.



He clicked on the lights and moved slowly down the stairs into the basement, the flickering of the energy-saver fluoro-bulbs finally steadying into a cold blue view of the small area. There was a small wine rack, of course and a bed in the corner that probably hadn’t been slept in since his grandma was a girl. There was dust everywhere, the drifting streams of it tickling his nostrils and threatening him with a mind-blowing sneeze. He moved over to the bed kicking up small dust clouds in his footsteps and thumped against the iron railing.



Iron rails and at the head and foot, should be secure enough to hold the ties down. He glanced under the bed. Nothing but dust-bunnies drifted beneath. Looking around, he grabbed a couple of wooden crates and set them experimentally under the head of the bed. They filled the space nicely and buttressed up the moldering mattresses into a 30 degree slant. There were several utility buckets and a mop in the corner as well although the strings were nearly dissolved in the age and mildew.



“Yes,” Martin thought scratching his chin, “this would probably work.” He stopped and put his head against the cold iron. It probably would work. Christ, what was he thinking! Of all the stupid, fucked up heads, he was the worst! He had picked up the tubing and even enema and catheter supplies on his way out the door, hiding them in his gymbag and sweating coldly all the way to his car. And now here he was, seriously considering kidnapping a man, tying him down, and… what?



“Christ!” he thought fleeing back up the stairs, trails of silvery dust swirling in the cold, almost surreal, light. He felt the door shut with a click and leaned his head against the thick, oaken frame. As he pulled himself away to go call his friend Devin, like a responsible friend would, there was a thump at his front door. “Who could that be at two in the morning?” he thought walking back out to the front door. The thumping hammered again and he called out just as he reached the door and put his eye to the peephole. Holy, shit! It was Evan! Martin opened the door and flicked the front porchlight switch, but a sharp sizzle crackled in the air and the light remained black. “Great,” he thought, “Another thing to fix!”



“You shtupid shit!” said Evan, his words slurred as though he were drunk. “Wha’d you shtell Dev’n?” he stammered and slumped forward, his hand missing the doorframe sending him tumbling gracelessly into Martin’s arms. The hefty muscle-boy was dead weight in Martin’s hands, the reek of alcohol cloying in the air around Evan. Evan chewed out a few more words but they were lost to Martin’s comprehension.



“Shit, you didn’t drive here, did you?” Martin asked, suddenly worried what a drunk in Evan’s condition might do without realizing it. He looked over Evan’s buzz-cut hair into the street but didn’t see Evan’s blue Mustang.



“Shtupid car wou’nt shtart…” Evan said producing his keyring which tumbled from his clumsy grip to clatter on the concrete steps. Evan’s head fell against Martin’s chest and a soft snore rumbled from Evan’s mouth as a line of drool spilled from the corner of his lips onto Martin’s shirt. Gathering all his strength, Martin hauled the drunk man into the house and laid him out on the floor. Evan was dressed in what were probably nice khaki’s and a forest green silk shirt earlier in the evening, but now were rumpled and stained, dust, dirt, and drool mixing in indiscriminate clods smeared across his body. Martin retrieved the keyring from the landing and threw it on the table with his own keys then pulled the door shut clicking the lock.



When he turned back to Evan, Evan’s head sat in a pool of vomit which had apparently seeped up while Martin’s back was turned large enough to surely be his entire stomach contents. He moved quickly to pull Evan’s face from the thick-stenched fluid turning Evan to his side in case more was forthcoming. He unbuttoned the shirt and undid the belt to remove Evan’s pants which, Martin was nonplussed to see, had a large, wet stain spreading across the front even as the smell of the urine filtered up into the air to mix with the vomit.



“Yup,” thought Martin, “just another day at the office.” He finished undressing Evan, the sinewy outline of the muscles Martin had come to admire breathlessly in the gym now laid out before him on his living room floor. As he started to drag Evan to the bedroom, he sighed as the limp body he struggled with caught the edge of the vomit pool and streaked along the floor, Evan’s underwear spreading the mess further still. He pulled Evan free of the vomit, stripped the last offending garment from the raucously snoring Adonis, and gasped. There, free of the restraining boxers, lay Evan’s huge meaty member, the size and perfection of which Martin could only dream about based on Devin’s sometimes lengthy descriptions.



The foreskin was circumcised but now completely leaving a partial hood to the almost absurdly large mushroom head sitting atop an equally thick shaft, the thick veins standing out even in its flaccid state. Martin shook his head and steadied himself against the wall gathering his resolve. With a will of steel, although a little aluminum in spots, he hefted the beefy man in his stall shower, went back to clear up the mess in the living room then returned to wash Evan clean and dried him down. Finally, exhausted from the activities, he pulled Evan onto the bed in the first floor guest bedroom and slumped against the railing.



And then it hit him like a baby-grand pushed from the from the penthouse ledge. Evan was naked and out cold in his house. The iron railed bedding was down in the basement. He had all the equipment to force a few extra pounds on Evan’s thick, rock-like muscles. He looked to the clock, shocked to see 4:36 glaring back at him in accusing red luminance.



Two and a half hours he was fighting with this hulk, this monster who had made a shambles of his best friend’s life! He had fallen into his health-care role too easily and actually helped the man who secretly plotted to fatten up Devin with false love and admiration then kick him to the curb to move on to the next helpless boy!



He looked back at the clock again and pulled himself up, weary muscled of his own groaning at the renewed effort, but determination was taking hold and this monster would terrorize the countryside no longer! Looking down at the sleeping muscle-man before him, his feelings of lust had vanished, replaced with a new loathing for all that Evan had done and all the innocent boys he had done it to. Mind set, he stalked out to the kitchen where the rohypnol sat innocently on the countertop.



He took up a tablet, crushed it in a spoon, and mixed it in a small glass of water until the crumbled remains vanished in the clear liquid. He returned to the bedroom and helped the naked bodybuilder to a sitting position then set the glass against Evan’s slightly swollen lips. The drunk eyes flickered once or twice as the water slipped down, gulp after gulp until the glass was drained. The eyes rolled back as Martin helped the slumbering giant back to the pillow and didn’t move again for the next 30 minutes as Martin watched him. He slipped back to his own room upstairs and set the alarm for noon. He needed sleep and when he awoke, if Evan was still here, Martin would change Evan’s life as Evan had changed so many others.