Little Blue Pills

“It’s like the lady in the song says, boys: One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small.”

William held out the two blue pills for us like he was Morpheus in the Matrix, but his sharp face and pale complexion made him look more like the ivy league drug dealer he actually was.

I looked over at Trip, kneeling beside me. It had been an evening of strip games, public humiliation, serving the frat brothers drinks as they played poker and beer pong, and whisky shots throughout. Now we were both on our knees, only wearing our damp boxer-briefs, still sticky from the last task where we had to wrestle in a kids pool full of jello. The hazing had worn down my desire to join the frat, but Trip looked back at me with his floppy brown hair and big puppy eyes and I knew I was going to have to come through for my friend.

The frat brothers of Delta Alpha Phi stood around us holding drinks and joints, some of them swaying a little more than others depending on what they had taken. I recognized a few of them. The skinny one leaning on the couch to hold himself up was the son of a senator; the one with a torn shirt from a failed attempt to “hulk out” was the son of a tech billionaire; and William, the drug pusher, was the son of the Dean. Trip had made the argument to me before rush week that making the right connections could pay off big time. We just had to put up with the most insane demands from these children of the wealthy and corrupt.

But now it was one AM, and they were leveling up to experimental drugs. Somehow I don’t think my parents were expecting when I got into a medical school with a good chemistry department that it would lead to this.

“What do they do?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” said William with a sleazy wink that made me want to poke his eye out. He continued, “Don’t worry–a bunch of us have already taken them. They’re safe. But they’re different kinds, so you each take one and ride your own wave. Then, that’s it.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s the last task?”

“Finito,” said William, grinning, “And we name you official, certified Delta bros.”

I looked at Trip again and the puppy dog eyes were in full guilt mode. I sighed and said, “Can I get some water?”

A shirtless frat bro behind us held out two cans and said, “No water! Only beer!” and the crowd howled and pounded the backs of chairs like they were getting ready to chase Piggy down the beach.

We each took a different pill from William and cracked open the beers. Trip held his can up for a cheers and I knocked our drinks together before we both tossed the pills in the backs of our mouths and took quick chugs to wash them down.

William raised his arms above his head like an evangelist at a ritual sacrifice and said, “Trip and Rory, the sacred brotherhood of Delta Alpha Phi has tested you and deemed you–”

The woop of a police siren cut him off and bright red and blue lights hit the windows.

It was chaos. Drunk frat boys fell over chairs and cushions looking for their exit. A few of them dashed out the front door and I saw a pair of cops walking up the driveway towards us.

“Let’s go, man!” Trip pulled me to my feet and started dragging me to the back. The frat house was a mess. We passed through the disaster area of a dining room, hopping over the jello pool and dodging a pyramid of beer cans in the kitchen. Out the back door, the late summer air was still warm, which made hopping the railing and running across the lawn wearing only underwear slightly less insane.

We ducked through hedges and trees without running into anyone until we were a few streets away and within sight of our apartment building. I paused to catch my breath under a thick willow tree and Trip stopped to wait with me. He’d run track through high school, so the fucker was barely sweating, but I had spent most of my teen years getting high scores online and had the lung capacity of 80-year-old smoker. At least a good diet kept me skinny.

“Well that was quite something,” said Trip calmly, like we’d just seen a particularly mediocre action movie.

I glared up at him between gasps, my hands on my knees.

“What?” He asked, innocent.

“Getting drugged and busted by the cops after hours of dumb hazing rituals was not the deal!”

Trip looked down and kicked the grass with his bare feet like a kid caught stealing. He mumbled an apology and I felt an annoying wave of sympathy for him.

“How do you always make me feel guilty when you’re the one who fucks up?” I asked him.

He looked up at me, grinning, and said, “I just have that effect on people!”

I shook my head and sat down on the grass. “Do you feel anything?”

Trip shook his head, no, and said, “Just the shots and the adrenaline. They were probably placebos.”

“Maybe,” I said, unsure. I sighed and looked around at the empty street. In the distance I could hear some shouts and rapid footsteps from the other party escapees scattering into the night. “Can we go home now?”

Trip threw out a hand and pulled me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my bare shoulder to hold me in a bro hug. He smelled like strawberry jello. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I always appreciate you coming through for me when I need it.”

“Does that mean I get the first shower?”

“Not a fucking chance,” he said and he pushed me aside and ran off into the night.

I punched the key code into the door lock and stepped inside. I could hear the shower water already running. In the tall closet door mirror I could finally see what a mess I was. Twigs and leaves stuck out of my messy black hair and shiny pink globs of jello dotted my skin. I tugged at the uncomfortably moist fabric of my boxer-briefs and hoped Trip wouldn’t hog the shower long.

The apartment we shared was long and thin. The front door opened into the little entrance beside the living room. Beyond that was a basic dining room table covered in books and card games, and then the L-shaped kitchen. Beside the kitchen was the hallway that led to a bathroom on the left and our two bedrooms at the end. It wasn’t spacious, but it had quickly become home.

I went to the fridge and took out the water jug, and I poured it directly into my mouth instead of getting a glass, which was very out of character, but after the night I’d had, I felt I had earned it. My balls felt crushed and I adjusted them again. As I put the jug back, I stuck a hand inside the waistband to adjust my shaft. Something about the running and adrenaline and standing in the kitchen nearly-naked must have got my blood pumping: my cock was getting hard.

My skin felt flushed from the warm air, so I went to the climate control by the entrance and turned up the AC. The bulge in my underwear grew as my shaft thickened and arched under the tight fabric. I pulled the waistband away from my skin and reached inside to point my hard cock up to relieve the pressure and it poked out over the top of the elastic.

Just then the shower water stopped and I looked from the exposed head of my cock to my bedroom door, and to the bathroom door in between. I scurried forward, one hand covering my cockhead, but before I could escape past the bathroom, the door swung open and Trip was standing in front of me in a towel and a cloud of steam.

He kept his chest shaved smooth. His muscles were toned and not too bulky, to keep himself agile for running. At that moment his skin looked flushed, made pink by the hot water. He had a tight grip on the towel around his waist, and looked a bit dazed, like it took him a moment to focus his eyes and see me standing in front of him, hiding my hardon.

“Hey,” he said in a distant voice, “Shower’s free.” And he turned to walk towards his bedroom.

“Are you feeling ok?” I asked after him.

He was taking small, cautious steps, and he paused to turn around and face me as he said, “Yeah. I’m just tired. I think.”

It was a bit like he was talking to himself when he said it, and he turned away slowly and continued baby stepping to his room. It was a bit strange, but with everything that had happened, maybe not that strange, so I stepped into the muggy bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I wiped my hand through the fog on the mirror and gave my face another look. My pupils seemed normal. My face was a bit red, but that was probably just the warm air. As my reflection steamed over I just shook my head and stripped off my sticky underwear.

The relief was instant. My cock had only gotten harder, and now, finally free, I felt like I had been holding it in a cage. The shaft was a little thicker in the middle and then flared at the circumcised head, and it was so hard it bobbed in time with my heartbeat.

I kicked my jello underwear into the corner and opened the shower door. The corner shower had a double head that provided a nice full mist spray as I turned the tap, and I didn’t bother waiting for the temperature to change before jumping in.

The hot water danced on my skin. The flow felt intense, beating against my naked body like a waterfall, and I found myself adjusting the temperature colder than I usually would.

My hands stroked my chest and hips to help melt away the jello residue, but then they slid down my abs and over my crotch. It only took one touch and I felt possessed. The contact of my finger tips was electric, and I wrapped them around my throbbing cock to give it a stroke.

With my right hand around my cock, I wrapped my left hand around my balls. My thumb pressed against the base of my shaft while my fingers played chords on my sack. My strokes were firm and short. I had a solid grip on my cock, and felt the pleasure grow with every pump, like I was filling my chest with all the pleasure that was about to be unleashed.

I’d never jerked off in the shower before. Even when I was starting out and it was hard all the time, I’d always needed to lay down to coax cum out of my dick. But with the water pounding in my ears, drowning out all distractions, I felt the pressure of an epic orgasm suddenly peaking inside me.

My forehead pressed against the plastic wall and water pounded my back as my right hand stroked beyond my control and tipped me over the edge of ecstasy.

I opened my eyes to watch.

Cum poured out of the head of my cock like milk from a carton. It was a full load in one thick squirt, but it was only the first. Another stream splashed against the shower wall. My abs clenched. My toes curled. It was an out of body experience, watching my cock flex as it shot my massive load. Clear liquid slid down the wall as my whole body shook with an astonishing pleasure like I’d never felt before, from my toes to the tips of my ears.

This had to be the drug. There was nothing normal about this orgasm, or the way my cock kept throbbing even as it finished dripping cum. And I didn’t feel drained or sleepy like I usually would. It was like an espresso shot and what I imagined cocaine would feel like.

I released my cock and wiped water out of my eyes. I stretched my back and looked down again at my still-hard dick, throbbing as if it hadn’t just painted the wall with the biggest load I’d ever shot.

I turned off the shower and opened the door. As water dripped off my naked body I could feel every drop sliding down my skin. I took a towel off the rack and felt every fibre of it as I dried off.

Nothing about this experience felt like it was wearing off. If anything, it was getting stronger.

Trip and I had done shrooms together after prom, and we’d smoked pot a few times with some of our stoner friends. This was on another level. I was probably looking at an hour or more of serious effects.

And so was Trip. My mind went to the dazed look in his eyes as he had stepped out of the bathroom, and I remembered what William had said when he’d given us the pills: they’re different kinds, so you each take one and ride your own wave.

If this is what my pill did, what was Trip going through?

I wrapped the towel around my waist and tucked my erection behind the fold.

As I gripped the door handle I thought I heard a noise, but I opened the door and stepped out into the empty hall.

From the back, by the bedrooms: a moan.

The bedroom doors were both open, and the light in Trip’s room was on.

I took a cautious step closer and Trip’s bed came into view.

He had his head on his pillow, facing down and to the wall. He was on top of the sheets with his chest and shoulders low, but his back arched up. He was kneeling, his towel abandoned, with his bare ass in the air, his legs spread wide, and his right hand desperately pounding two fingers into his lubed hole.

“Holy fuck,” I said aloud.

Trip’s head spun around on the pillow to look at me, but he didn’t try to hide. His fingers kept moving in and out of his ass. His face was red and desperate, and his floppy brown hair stuck to the sweat on his brow.

I moved closer, a zombie drawn in by the wet sounds.

“What the fuck was in those pills?” Trip’s voice broke with strain and desperation, like a man without water begging for a well.

I paused in the door frame and felt the pressure growing under my towel. I couldn’t take my eyes off Trip’s fingers as they dove into his asshole again and again. Trip moaned and dug his face into the pillow as he finger-fucked himself a little harder. Then he turned to me again and said, “I can’t cum!”

“Why aren’t you jerking off?”

“I can’t!” Trip pulled his fingers out of his ass and rotated his body so he was on his back with his naked feet up on the bed and his legs spread to display the problem.

His cock was soft. It looked like he’d just come out of a cold shower. Maybe it was just me, but the air in the room still felt hot enough to melt butter, and yet Trip’s dick seemed to think it was time for a winter hibernation.

“I’m so horny,” Trip admitted, the desperation dripping off his words, “I’ve never felt so horny in my life, but it’s like my cock is numb!”

As he spoke, his hand slipped back between his legs and two fingers slid back into his hole. His knees folded back towards his chest and his bare feet raised up into the air as he desperately reached inside himself for what was demanding such pleasure.

“Those fucking assholes!” Trip shouted at the ceiling. “They wanted us to just suffer and humiliate ourselves, trying to jerk off when we can’t.”

“I don’t think that’s what they wanted us to do.” I said quietly. My grip on my towel tightened as I continued watching my friend desperately finger fucking himself.

Trip looked up at me with confusion.

I only hesitated for a moment before I unwrapped the towel and let it fall.

“Oh fuck,” said Trip as the pieces fell together and his fingers slipped out.

“Yeah,” I said.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I stood in Trip’s door, with just my throbbing erection trespassing in his room. The moist head pointed at his gaping hole and the frat bros’ fucked up plan took shape.

“It feels like there’s something inside me I can’t reach,” said Trip. His eyes were locked on my cock as he spoke. “Just do it.”

He hooked his hands behind his knees and I gulped as his naked hole stretched a little wider. It looked clean and tight. I felt myself moving towards him before I could process what I was about to do.

There was a bottle of lube on the bed. The cap was open and some of its liquid had pooled on the sheets, tossed aside as Trip had started to desperately finger himself. I ran my fingers through the slick pool and touched my cock for the first time since exposing myself to my friend.

I paused at the edge of his bed, barely an inch between my cock and his naked hole. Our naked skin was starting to shine with sweat. He tightened his grip on his legs and met my eyes with a nod, and I gripped the back of his thigh with one hand as I guided my cock into his ass.

It was like sliding into a warm sleeping bag on a cold night. His ring pulled my cockhead in, and I felt my legs go weak as the entire shaft disappeared inside my best friend’s hole.

I caught myself from falling on top of him with a hand beside his head. My fist gripped the bedsheet and I forced my eyes to stay open.

Beneath me, grinning, was Trip’s bright face. All the desperation and strain I had seen on him as he had tried to finger fuck his way to an orgasm was gone, replaced with joy and shock and ecstasy and hunger.

He laughed out loud, “You have no idea how fucking good that felt!”

I smiled and said, “I think I have some idea.”

I pulled out and thrust back inside.

Trip’s head went back and his grin got wider. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, “Do that again.”

I moved my left hand from the back of his thigh to his shoulder, and I used the leverage to rock his body back towards me, plunging my cock as deep as it could go. Somewhere, deep inside, I felt a hard bubble of flesh against my shaft, and every time I ran the head of my cock across it, Trip’s abs flexed, his soft cock bounced, and his ass muscles gripped me tighter.

“Oh fuck, that’s it! Keep fucking me like that!”

I kept thrusting. The tight muscles of his abs flexed as he pulled his legs to his chest and let out unrestrained moans of pleasure. My chest filled with another geyser, and I watched in awe as Trip’s soft cock bounced twice as he gasped, “I’m gonna cum!”

Thick liquid streamed out of his soft cock like spilled paint. It pooled on his belly and cascaded down the side of his hips.

The muscles squeezing my cock flexed as he unloaded, and then I exploded inside him. My cum shot as strong as it had in the shower, slicking my shaft and dripping out over my balls as I bottomed out as deep as I could, my body shaking with the mind-numbing pleasure of another orgasm.

I gasped and doubled over, pressing my forehead into his naked chest and gripped him desperately as my cum continued to fill him.

His arms wrapped around my naked back and held us tight as our orgasms ebbed, leaving us breathless, skin tingling with sweat.

I raised my head and let my eyes roam over our naked bodies, tangled limbs, and the mess of cum that connected us. I met Trip’s eye and he grinned as he said, “You’re still hard.”

I smiled and nodded.

And then I fucked him again.