Disclaimer: I don't own the boys of Supernatural. I merely trot them out for my own amusement.
Author's Note: The following two-part fic is incredibly dark. Many of you will not like the direction it goes in. There's Limp!Sam—with healthy doses of rape, drugging, domination, submissions, and psychological torture thrown in for kicks. I don't know where this came from, but it struck and so I wrote it. As always: read with caution, relish with joy.
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Josh Carter had been waiting all day for something to happen. And then it did. Well, not an it—a what—but a who.
He was easily six-feet tall: that much Josh could tell just by the way the kid had to stoop to walk into the bar. And the way he carried himself, the way he swung his shoulders, sort of hunched downward, and the way he moved his feet in a casually awkward shuffle, it all sort of cobbled together an image, instantly, in Josh's mind, of who this guy was. He was a boy masquerading as a man.
But a really cute boy—hell, he's fine.
Twenty-two, or three, maybe, on the outside, was how old the guy had to be. In fact, Josh thought, there was a distinct possibility he wasn't even old enough to drink. And yet here he was, and he was walking right over, getting ready to sit down right next to him. Perfect. Josh could use a fun night.
"You from outta town?" he asked as the younger man settled himself in at the next stool.
"Huh?" the kid replied, turning to him curiously. Whoever he was, the kid had some seriously nice eyes. They were deep, brown pools, flecked with youth. If he was being honest with himself, they sort of reminded Josh of a puppy.
"You don't seem like you're from around here is all," Josh said back, turning slightly.
"Oh. No, I guess not—I mean, no, I'm not from around here." Absently the kid ran a hand over his face and through his hair. It was a tired gesture.
"Just passin' through?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
Josh nodded at this news. It's what he had expected—what he had hoped for.
"Got a place to stay yet, kid?" He hoped his tone was right on point: equal parts commanding and benevolent.
For a second his new companion paused, uncertainly, and Josh new he might have found an opening. This could be his chance to have some real fun tonight, for once—things like this happened so rarely for him, after all.
"I'm not trying to be nosey or anything, but you look a little out of it, and I've got a house that's too big for me anyway. It's just about five minutes away, so…" Here he trailed off, leaving the invite dangling between them. For a second he noticed the kid actually considering it. He smiled to himself.
"What's your name?"
"Sam. Sam Winchester."
"Well Sam, why don't you grab a drink and think it over for a bit. After all, we just met. I wouldn't want to rush you into anything." Here Josh pauses for a quick, but hearty, laugh. "I don't want to give you the impression I'm some freak."
At this Sam actually smiled—mega-watt—and shook his head. "It never crossed my mind."
Josh smiled in return and nodded. "Good. In fact, why don't I buy you a drink, and while you're waiting you can run in the back and clean yourself up. You look like you've just been half run-over."
"Is it that bad?" Sam asked, taking a moment to inspect his clothes a little worriedly.
"Oh, it's not terrible. But I don't want to have to drag your dusty butt into my clean house and get it all messy." Again Josh smiled, hoping he came across in just the right way. Apparently he did, because Sam nodded to himself twice and got up from the stool.
"No, I guess I wouldn't want to do something like that to the guy who's loaning me his house for the night. Ok, I'll just run to the back for a second."
"Great," Josh said, sort of pushing Sam jokingly along that way. A few feet away Sam turned back to him with a twinkle in his eye and said, "I'll have a vodka on the rocks, by the way."
"Can do," he replied. And then Sam turned back towards the bathrooms, and Josh noted happily that as he moved away, he seemed almost to bounce like a little boy.
God this is going to be fun.
Three minutes later the bartender came back with Sam's drink and set it on the counter. It took Josh exactly two seconds to slip a roofie in it unnoticed.
Five more minutes after that, Sam came back, smiling a bit and looking better than before.
Josh looked at him winked. "You clean up good, kid."
"Thanks," Sam said, smiling even bigger. He sat down and grabbed the drink.
"Bottoms up," and then he downed it.
Quickly Josh looked at his watch and began a mental countdown in his head: 30, 29, 28…
Twenty-seven seconds later, things were beginning to fall into place for Josh's evening. Sam's eyes began to glaze over and he seemed to sway in his seat. His mouth hung open and he stared semi-vacantly at the bar.
"Hey Sam, you're looking a little groggy. Do you need to head back to the bathroom?"
"Uhhnh—" The younger man turned his head toward Josh and opened his mouth to answer, but Josh never gave him the chance.
"You know what, why wait? Come on, you can get cleaned up at my place." With that, Josh grabbed Sam around the bicep and lifted him from the stool, slinging his arm over his shoulder. True, Sam was taller, but Josh was well-muscled and easily half-dragged/half-carried Sam's stumbling frame out to his car.
He opened the passenger door and slide Sam into the seat. As he moved the seat belt across his torso, Josh's hand grazed the kid's crotch and he moaned in his drugged-state. Josh just smiled wickedly and quickly moved himself behind the wheel, putting petal to the metal all the way back to his house.
Once he got back to his dark driveway, Josh took a moment to think things through. Here he was with a prime piece of meat all ready for a night of fun, half-passed-out in the seat next to him. But what to do?
He turned to inspect his new toy. Josh's eyes moved over the kid's thick brown hair, which, boyishly, partially covered his eyes and then his eyes traveled past Sam's chiseled face down to the kid's well-developed chest, hidden even as it was by several layers of clothing. This kid has some serious body issues if he's covering up that much. Guess I can fix that too, he thought to himself mischievously. Josh's eyes then moved down from Sam's broad shoulders, past his 30' waist, to his crotch, and it was there—or, more specifically, it was that—which made up his mind what to do. It was clear right away the kid had a pretty big dick. Even through his pants Josh could see the semi-outlined fleshy mound. And it was just sitting there, waiting to be brought to life as its owner dozed in his stupor.
The drug would keep Sam out for most of the night, but if things went as Josh wanted, and he figured they would, there wouldn't be much of a Sam Winchester left after tonight. So he had to get moving. And he had to get Sam's pants off.
"Ok then, kid, easy does it—that's right, out you go." Josh again had slung Sam's arm over his shoulder, and was now trying to maneuver him out of the passenger seat and into a semi-stumble towards the door. But the drug was making things a little tedious. Dragging a dazed, very tall, very strong young man required strength and patience, and though Josh had both of those things, he also had a raging hard-on, and it was hard not to control himself.
Slowly—very slowly—they made their way to the front door. "We're almost there buddy, and then we can get you cleaned up," Josh said to Sam as he awkwardly opened his own front door while balancing the bigger man.
"Uhhnh—" was all Sam replied with.
"Ok then, easy does it. Come on…yeah, let's just sit you down right here." And then Josh is sort of shoving Sam down on his living room couch, not ten feet inside the doorway. And Sam just lays there, sprawled out, his head tossed back and his mouth wide open. He looks at once both very drunk and very, very, vulnerable.
Josh moves quickly. He strips his shirt off over his head and throws it in the corner. Turning back to his new catch, Josh sizes up the task before him. He was 5'10, 185 pounds, with wavy, short brown hair. He's lean, but well-muscled, and he should be more than capable of raping some twentysomething from out of town.
Except Josh doesn't just want to fuck Sam Winchester—he wants to mind fuck him, too.
"Come here, big boy," Josh says, laughing to himself as he squats down next to Sam's sprawled form and begins to turn him over. He grunts several times with the effort. But just knowing that soon he'll be able to penetrate this Winchester kid deeper than anyone has before is reward enough. (The Winchester kid in question, for his part, merely laid on the couch, nearly unmoving. If someone had looked hard enough, they may have detected that Sam's eyes were moving a little, frantically, beneath their daze—but it was all for naught. Josh was a pro, and even a demon hunter couldn't fight a date-rape drug.)
Finally Sam is lying flat on his stomach, bubble butt sticking straight up into the air. For a second Josh contemplates stripping him naked and taking him right there, but no—he will wait. There are steps to be taken if this is going to be done right. You don't completely obliterate someone's mental progression, after all, without a bit of ritual.
And so first Josh, albeit a bit excitedly, slips off Sam's shirts, one after the other, off his arms and down his back, until the hunter is left naked from the waist up. Wow. Just for a moment, Josh forgets to breath; that's how stunning this kid's chest is. Scars delicately criss-cross his skin at random intervals, and underneath his muscles ripple outward from his six-pack in perfect waves. It's beautiful. What does this guy do for a living? He's not like any farm hand I've ever seen… Whatever. This is going to be better than I thought.
First things first: Josh moves around from the opposite end of the couch to where Sam's face lies planted downward in the cushions. With a wicked grin he unbuckles his belt and let's his pants fall to his ankles. Reaching into Calvin Klein's, Josh grabs his throbbing cock and pulls it out. With his other hand he lightly slaps Sam on the face, urging him to stir.
"Hey, buddy, wake up. You sort of passed out on me back there. You ok? Hey, you can go to sleep for as long as you want in a second; but first I need you to dink this—ok? Aren't you hungry?" With that Josh ran his cock across Sam's dazed lips, leaving a glistening trail.
"Here, try this." Josh gently opens Sam's mouth and slips his cock in while at the same time reaching behind to the back of the young man's head, pushing it forward.
At first, Sam seems to sort of choke on his "snack," but Josh keeps up the rhythmic thrusting, and after a few seconds Sam begins to give his first ever blowjob. Over and over again Josh fucks the poor kid's face, in earnest, and at the end of each he spasms and cums deep into his throat, holding down Sam's head until he swallows every last drop.
Finally, he pulls his dick out of Sam's mouth. He lifts Sam's chin up until their eyes meet. "That taste good, kid—you like that?" Sam sort of moans in response, dazedly and very much confused, in response. I'll take that as a yes.
Josh slips off his underwear, ready now for the main event, as he moves down the couch toward Sam's jeans. The moment of truth is fast approaching; the night is heating up. He rubs one hand absent mindedly over Sam's wide, muscular chest while with the other he unbuckles the kid's pants. The first thing he notices is the inch or two of Fruit of the Loom briefs that stick up out of his jeans. What a boy scout.
He climbs up the couch on his knees and then quickly takes off Sam's jeans, leaving only a firm round butt pointed in the air, wrapped in bright white cotton and elastic.
And now the fun begins.
Josh lowers Sam's tighty-whities, and once more inserts himself into the Winchester. His dick throbs and he pushes himself in and out of the younger man. And then he begins to talk.
"Sam? Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me very closely—very." He hears a moan and keeps talking. "You like this, don't you, having a big strong man fuck a poor dazed stud like you senseless; you like losing control. I want you to focus on that, if you can. I know things are a little fuzzy for you, but just focus, if you can, on what it feels like to have all your power slip away, to be dominated and completely submit, to have your identity subsumed by another person. Feel my thick cock in your ass, feel it fucking you and focus on that. Let it consume you." Josh feels himself getting worked up; this is what he does, after all. And it's been so long since he actually had a decent hunk to manipulate and control.
"Ok Sam, are you listening. Good. You're focusing in on everything you feel slipping away—and it's all starting to slip away. Your memories, your past. But not just those things: your intelligence and your personality, it's all fading. But it's going somewhere. You can feel it running toward my cock, because I'm the guy who dominated you, who forced you to realize that you're nothing without bending to someone else's will. It's only right that I take this last thing from you, right? Good. Here it comes, all of it, it's all collecting in my big, meaty, dick. And I'm getting ready to cum inside you. And once I do that, you're going to go off—explode. As I cum, I will claim you, forever; you'll be mine. And everything that you've given me so far will vanish—gone. All of it: you'll just be a strapping, dumb stud. Your IQ will disintegrate; a box of rocks will be smarter than you are. But you'll be so happy—full of bliss. And the only thing you'll ever think again is nothing; you'll be a mental vacuum. But each time you hear my voice, you will obey, ok?" He feels himself getting so excited again. He'd forgotten how alive he felt each time he did this.
"Ready, kid?" He doesn't wait for an answer.
One, two, three times more Josh thrusts his cock in and out of Sam, and on the fourth time he cums, and at the same time, so does Sam. The youngest Winchester heaves against Josh, almost rebelliously, but it does nothing but pull them closer together. They spasm against each other—both yelling, both thrusting.
Strings of sticky cum have shot against the couch cushion by the time Josh finishes. As he gets up he pushes Sam down against his own mess, letting him roll in it, relishing his new power. He runs to the bathroom to clean himself up and when he comes back Sam is exactly where he'd been left, lying in a small pool of his own jizz, glistening with sweat.
"Stand up," Josh said, commanding. And Sam did.
He moves closer, and peers into Sam's eyes. His work was good, solid, because nothing is looking back at him. He reaches down and forcefully strokes on the boy's cock, enjoying the bucking moan he gets in response.
Josh looks around for a second and then pulls up the FTL briefs from where they're pooled around Sam's ankles. He snaps the waistband once against Sam's skin as they're pulled in place and then he smacks the kid's butt, playfully.
Smiling, he steps back to admire his handiwork:
Sam Winchester had come into the bar earlier that day an alert, intelligent, mostly-upstanding young man who just wanted to get a drink and forgot about his problems with his brother for a few minutes. But in his despondency he was also overtly trusting, and so here now he stood, having been, over the last hour, drugged, stripped naked, face-fucked, raped, and permanently mentally regressed.
From a twenty-two year-old demon hunter who wore layers of plaid and bulky jackets to a drooling infantilized hunk standing in nothing but cum-dried white Fruit of the Loom briefs in front of the handsome thirtysomething who now controlled his every action.
What a difference a day—a night—can make.
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Author's Note: Ok, that was the first half. Next up, Dean struggles to discover just what, exactly, happened to his baby brother. But when he finally tracks Sam (and Josh) down, nothing goes like he planned.
