TRISTEN

The pain never stopped.

I lied. I lied about the pain. I lied about everything I said to Wilder to shut him the fuck up.

I sucked it up. I had to. I was so embarrassed. So sickened. When Sean offered to "help," I literally felt that I would throw up right there and then. And he didn't leave until Wilder made him.

What a disgusting human being.

His eyes puncturing through me, the biting of his lip, the squirming to get past Wilder to me, it freaked me out. The image of a man wanting me so bad was the scariest shit I've ever seen.

I thought I hit rock bottom when Stacie dumped me, but no. This was rock bottom. This was the most humiliating experience of my life, but I didn't think it was something I can't handle.

I was so wrong.

Ever since I had that drink, I felt like my insides were burning up. The pain was unbearable. I liked to think that I could take care of it myself. I really believed that. I thought I could hold it until I get back to the apartment, but the more I held it, the more painful it got.

I entered our apartment shaking. I got chills and a fever. I strived to enter my room and jerk this feeling off. I closed the door in Wilder's face. If I saw him right now in my current condition, I don't know what I would do to him. I was so angry at him for getting me into this mess.

Still, I felt sorry for him when I saw his sad puppy face before I closed the door. He was so worried about me. I have never seen him this nervous in my life. He was genuinely sorry, but sorry was not enough to fix this.

I swiftly reached for my belt. I struggled to free myself of it. My hands were shaking so much. My face was burning up. I could feel my dick painfully erect in there. So swollen and stiff. I finally got my belt off and pulled my pants down, removing them completely.

My dick was fully erect in front of me. I quickly searched the drawer for some lube, and once I grabbed it, I rubbed that slimy thing all over my dick. I collapsed on the bed and started stroking it while I still got some energy left in me. At this point, it wasn't pleasure, it was pain that made me moan. I shut my eyes and I let out a faint whimper.

God, it's so painful. Why does it hurt so much?

I kept stroking it. My hands started getting tired to the point I was just giving half-strokes. I couldn't finish the job. Nothing happened. My dick was still long and throbbing.

It's killing me.

Tears pricked my eyes. I dragged my arm to cover my face. This was going to be the end of me.

Oh, how did he die? people would ask. He died from a boner.

My chest heaved. A sob bubbled in my throat. Then I wiped my tears and decided to try something. I sat up with difficulty and only managed to get halfway. I reached for the painkillers on my nightstand and a bottle of water. I swallowed them and hoped it would give me the strength to finish, or at least numb the pain.

I slowly got up and headed to the bathroom. That was when Wilder knocked on the door to check in on me. I shouted from within the bathroom, telling him that I'm busy.

That seemed to stop him from talking while I tried to pee. I snapped my head back and hissed, suppressing a groan that eventually came out. Even peeing with this thing hurt like a razor cutting through my dick.

As soon as I finished, I turned on the shower.

Maybe some cold water will help.

I stood under the cold drizzles with my hands on the wall for balance. I felt like I was about to faint. It was getting harder to breathe. I looked down and saw my penis was still fully erect. 

I stroked it with one hand. I didn't know if it was the cold shower or the painkillers that gave me the strength to rub faster and faster until I eventually cummed.

"Ohhh." I gasped then stared down. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

I was panting like someone who just came out of a dive. It worked. It actually worked. My dick was slowly loosening up. Still burned like hell, but, hey, at least it wasn't hard anymore. I put my hands on the walls and started laughing until my dick got back to normal.

I assured Wilder that I was all better now.

I removed my shirt and wrapped a towel around my waist. When I got out of the bathroom, I lay down in bed, arms spread above my head and eyes staring at the ceiling.

Wilder kept checking on me. His voice was small and emotional.

"You-you don't have fever, chills, anything?"

"Wilder," I said. "Seriously, dude. I'm fine."

"Hah," I exhaled. "I'm fine," I whispered to myself as I closed my eyes. "Everything is fine."

Then I opened my eyes so suddenly. I felt something. A tingle in my dick. It was happening again.

Oh, dear God. No! Why won't it go away?

Chills. Fever. Sweat. Heat. It was all coming back to me.

This can't be happening. I swallowed hard. Not again.

"I need to make sure," Wilder shouted. "Open the door."

Then I realized why Wilder was desperately looking for someone to sleep with me when he found out about the juice I drank. The effects of that purple drink don't go away that easily, not without having decent sex.

But, who could I have sex with now?

"Please?" begged Wilder.

All I could think of when I heard Wilder's voice this time was the "help" he might offer if he knew about my situation. That same despicable "help" that Sean offered me. Well, maybe not the same, but still, I refuse to let my best friend see me like this, let alone help me.

Over my dead body!

Wilder was a good friend. He'd do anything for me, but I wasn't going to let him help me with this.

"I'm tired." I faked a yawn. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

And that was how I got rid of Wilder for the night. I was really tired, though. I raised my hand to move it down there for a stroke but it dropped next to me. I was so damn tired.

I didn't know if I fell asleep or passed out, but when I woke up, I woke up with a gasp. I was shivering and practically drowning in my own sweat. My breaths grew shallow and sharp. It wasn't a nightmare that woke me up. It was the shooting pain.

I raised my head enough to see my dick. It was peeking through the towel, long and hard.

"Ah, no, no, no." I flopped down on the pillow, whining. "Please, make it stop."

When I tried to move my arm for another hand job, it moved an inch and then stopped. It felt like there was some sort of magnet pulling my weight down. I panicked as I tried moving again. Nothing happened.

Then I had a feeling that I lost the ability to speak. I opened my mouth, trying to voice anything. Nothing came out. My breaths became raspy, more rapid with a high-pitched whine. A layer of tears blurred my vision as I lay there in my bed, all alone, paralyzed, and unable to speak.

My eyes darted everywhere. The door was locked. My tongue was stuck on the roof of my mouth. The pain was getting worse. My dick felt like it was going to fall off. My whole body was stiff. I wanted to call for help. I wanted to scream for Wilder to save me.

Why did I wait so long to ask for help? Is it my dignity? Fuck my dignity.

I don't wanna die like this.

The bed shook beneath me as I struggled to breathe, to speak, to cry.

Let... me... speak. Let me... scream. I WANT TO SCREAM.

"WILDER," a roaring cry cut through my throat. "HELP ME."

I breathed like I ran a thousand miles. I found my voice. The fresh air of relief entered my lungs.

Not a moment to waste, I heard a thud on my door.

"TRISTEN," Wilder yelled as he tried twisting the doorknob. "OPEN THE DOOR."

"I can't." Tears finally found their way down. "I can't move." I managed to tilt my head slightly towards the door and whimpered, "Wilder, please, help."

"Don't worry." The door shook as Wilder slammed his whole body at it. "I'm coming." Thud. Thud. Part of the wooden door splintered. "Just a little more." 

Bang!

The door swung open, hitting the wall behind it, and Wilder got in. He almost fell on me but recoiled at the last second. His jaw dropped with a lengthy gasp. His eyes went wide, looking at my exposed naked body, at a particular part of it.

"Don't look!" I frowned. "Stop looking at it!"

Well, what do you know? Turns out I still had some dignity left.

Wilder has never seen me naked before. The only lights illuminating the room were coming from the bathroom, but I was pretty sure he saw everything. This was embarrassing. I mentally hid my blushing face. I should have told him I was naked before he barged in, but I was so scared to even think.

"Oh!" He put his hands in front of his eyes. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to."

"C-cover me," I said while shaking.

He aimlessly extended his arm to find the blanket while his eyes were closed. He grabbed it and threw it over me, but my length remained obvious even while covered.

I winced from the impact. Any touch on my dick, light or heavy, was killing me at this point.

Wilder showed his big round blue eyes and quickly sat on his knees next to the bed, holding my hand.

"Tris, say something."

"It hurts so much. What's going on with me?" I whimpered. "Why isn't it going away?"

"Tris, you need to know something." He chuckled nervously then let out a shaky sigh. "I learned a thing about overdosing on the juice. With the amount you drank, you need to..." He paused as his cheeks turned red. "You need to—" He stared down "—to cum like 3 to 5 times to get rid of it."

That was impossible. I barely managed to cum once.

"And the best way to do it is to get laid."

What was he trying to say?

"Otherwise, something... bad is gonna happen."

Something worse than this? I internally screamed. What was worse than this? My eyes went wide. Is it possible that my dick will... fall off?

Wait. Something was wrong. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head and chills shook my body for like a second, but it was intense. It left me gasping for air.

What the fuck just happened?

"Holy shit! Tris, are you OK?" Wilder shook my shoulder and said with a broken voice, "What should I do? Tell me what to do."

I groaned and managed to squirm a bit as the pain became unbearable. Then I looked at Wilder's tearful eyes, so worried, on the verge of losing his mind. For a big guy like him, he sure was a softy.

I blushed at the thing I was about to ask him.

"I. Umm." I gulped and looked away. "I need you to—" I closed my eyes in shame "—gimme a hand with something."

"A hand with what?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing at what I was about to say to my best friend:

"Jerking off."

It's back to Tristen's POV. Did you miss our baby boy?

I sure did! 💜

Woohoo! Buckle up, everyone! Things are about to get nasty 😏

NEXT CHAPTER: Permission Granted >