"He's been acting all different after I saved his life" the teen said begrudgingly.

Tucker laughed, "Ha ha! Well, hope he doesn't start dating you or anything!"

"Cut it out Foley!" Sam flushed after Danny's obvious show of disgust.
The three were nearly home when Danny finally remarked, "Speaking of Dash I apparently have to make up that project that I missed because of Vlad!" grumbling, waving a snappy goodbye, heading in the opposite direction…

Arriving at Dash's house the boy merely rolled his eyes, reminded of his friend's risqué joke. A fist knocked at the door and it creaked open,

"Oh, it's just you Fenton…"
Greeted by a deadpan look.

"Well don't just stand there! Get in!"

The door was shut with a tiny click, "You're so slow Fenton, we only have a few hours to finish this book and come up with some model for it that you're gonna make!"
"Yippee."
"No," Dash retorted; "You're just gonna bomb on it just like your Halloween display last year, Fentino!"
Danny grit his teeth, clenching his fists slowly— "All right then Dash—then let's just sit down and work on this stupid book!"

"Hey, when do your parents get here?"
"They're out for the weekend, Fentino."

Danny groaned, "would you cut that out?"
"Cut what out, Fentino?" he sneered.

"Never mind." Danny just let his face fall between his hands for a moment before looking back at the plans for a scale model of some amphitheatre. . . By around 7:30, they had finally begun to fit the pieces together on a slab of heavy wood—

"Pay attention where you're pasting that!"
"You worry about your own work Dash!"

A leer was cast in the ebony-haired kid's direction, "You know, Danny, if we were in school I would have beat you up like the loser you are. But you know what? You saved me, Fenton. I owe you big, but it seems that you don't care for it."
Danny let out a mocking smile after pasting the object in its right position— "Well, that almost sounded intelligent!"

Dash suddenly wrenched the glue bottle out of Fenton's hand, "Let me finish this damn project by myself. I can't have you making my effort in this school be worth nothing. You with your ghost powers—
"For the last time I'm not a ghost for Pete's sake!"
"Whatever," the athlete scoffed. "Why don't you just make yourself comfortable and watch t.v. while I finish this project."
"What," Danny questioned, "Can't I just go home instead?"
"Your lame-o parents called before you got here; told them we'd take too long so they decided to let you spend the night here at my place—

"What?!" Danny flinched; blue eyes glittered with malice, "what about my clothes—toothbrush?—
The football player pointed in a corner somewhere, and sure enough, a pile of Danny's belongings were there ready for use… "I hate you." To no one in particular.

So Danny Fenton did just what Dash told him to do, nonchalantly flipping through random channels, eyes flittering across the menu bar; at some point reading titles such as "XXX Malibu" and "Playboy Penthouse". Hormones were naturally part of the boy's system, so he couldn't help but wonder what went on during those shows.
"Pay-Per-View" he said to himself, rolling his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of the very idea and found some cooking channel where a competition was taking place.

He was just getting settled when he heard the sound of bones cracking and grinding next to each other—
"Ahh!~ Well, it's finished!"
The other guy merely chuckled, got out of his seat on the couch, and stopped dead still; expecting some mound of trash, all he could see was down-to-scale perfection; even the little people looked halfway decent. He felt a twinge of embarrassment for expecting the worst and took a deep breath before facing Dash, who was beaming with pride,

"Nice job." Was all Danny could utter.

The time on the analog clock on the kitchen counter read 10:30 PM; Danny was suddenly aware of how tired he was; Dash emitted a tiny yawn before going upstairs to his room to get ready for bed; Daniel turned off the cable and the flatscreen before gathering his clothes to change in the downstairs bathroom.
Peering at himself in the mirror of his sworn enemy's house made him feel vulnerable to almost anything; bags were forming under his eyes from lack of peace: He was a bit shocked to realize that his ghost senses were not warning him of certain danger tonight. He ran quick hands through his hair before removing and replacing his garments, later flossing and brushing his teeth—

"Shiny teeth! Shiny teeth!" Humming to himself as he rinsed out the debris, gargling a bit of vintage Scope through his throat and coming across a now plastic bottle of Old Spice; out of mere curiosity placing it to his nostrils—

"Ehck!" Sweet, sultry, seductive—
Disgusting.

Quickly he put it back in its spot before leaving the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
"Fenton!" The neck of his hair stood up.
"What now Dash?" growling abruptly,
"Here's a blanket for ya, go to sleep."
"Where?"

"Ff! On the couch silly! Like I'm gonna let you sleep in my room.

Makes perfect sense.

Fenton laid; spread out on the couch sideways to the t.v. monitor, curled up under the blanket; Dash leered at him from the one in front. "Go to sleep Fenton, it's late!"
"Um, tomorrow's Saturday."
"What do I care?" Dash got up and switched off the light; everything went black;
"Fine."
Against his natural rebellious will against the popular kid in school, Danny felt his eyelids drooping; eventually falling into place for a deep slumber . . –

The hum of the boiler room became the hum of the television screen flickering dancing blue lights. The noose around the boy's neck resulted in being the blanket tucked tightly under his bobbing chin. The feel of skin was wrapped around thin sheets. Eyes opened seeing a mad scientist, closing to see a pink elephant, opening only halfway to reveal a multitude of spiders.
Danny did not know or care where he was, nor did he care of elements of the nightmare that plagued him. It was the same old thing every night. Even the sight of blood sprinkled upon those he recognized bored him.
The hum of the television screen kept on going; the voices emitting non-discernable to clouded ears; just giggling and a bit of a moan in the background…

It wasn't his room that's for sure.

Lids attempted to jerk the boy awake; little by little did the surroundings become clear,- the deformed faces of the people onscreen morphed into naked bodies grinding against one another; the flickering blue lights cast upon a hand roughly working on a hidden joystick—
It was way too close to the nether region of the teenager's lap to be one.

By now Danny Fenton was nearly awake from the dry spell; the corner of the sheet concealed growing horror; the face of the only other being in the room was shot with lustful pleasure; the scrawny kid could spot a tinge of red and a drop of sweat upon the athlete's blocked chin—

They said that you could spend the night . . –

"Dash—-

The blonde stopped; merely gazed at the other, letting go of the joystick; drawing out a wet, slimy hand.
The boy pretended to be asleep again, but it was too late; the now booming sounds of the sick orgy on the screen pounded against his head . . .
"Fenton." he flinched. "I know you're awake, Fentino." then letting out a small growl—

"Turn off the t.v. Dash!" An abnormally high shriek when he sat up abruptly; face going pink as his eyes were averted to the images across the panel. –"Turn it off."

A small whisper.

"Okay Daniel, you saw me. I get it." The teen grabbed a hold of some rag and wiped his hands as clean as semen could be. The letterman jacket that he usually sported was tossed carelessly on the far side of the couch where he was sitting. Danny did not dare to take a close look at the swelling organ now tucked away in plaid boxer shorts. The complexion was going hot within the dimly lighted room with the depravity still going strong, he wanting nothing more than flying straight home this instant! The current twinge was too much for him to bear—

"At least! At least change the channel!" Bellowing—
"Shut up! You'll wake the whole block."
"Then let them hear me! I—!"

A strong hand clamped on his raging lips; the stench of sweat and foreign spice underneath his nostrils made him go sickeningly mad—
"STOP!"

Incinsors wrenched down Dash's swollen hand, trying to slice it in two with the strength of his jaw—
"Yow!—
Hands flew up and tried to batter away at the blonde's face, yet with one severe armlock Fenton had to admit defeat, the struggling to get free only caused the pressure on his neck to be much heavier than before; an air-ridden yelp caused the attacker to let go suddenly letting Danny gulp for that molecule of oxygen, wanting to throw up, getting to his feet;

"Damn you—" glaring at the other with a newfound rage—livid at the core— "You mother—

A fist crushed against the jaw; he wondered how he was still alive. Blindly he rammed against Dash's torso and knocked them both right on the floor; jabbing against his twisted complexion—It only took a minimum amount of effort to get the scrawny one to stop—

The moans onscreen were getting louder than before; a lustful shriek was followed by the calloused tone of the popular kid's voice, "Don't be afraid to admit it, Fenton. You enjoy this, don't you?"

"Enjoy what?!" The chorus line continued; Danny was all over Dash's sculpted physique—the athlete spit in the boy's face and at once the kid tried to make a break for it, only to be thrown back into a sitting position in front of the teenager.

The kid took in full view of extreme blasphemy, the object-based lust and sexual abuse of men and women alike, no one spoke out against the blatant freakfest taking place in what should have been an elegant mansion. He could feel no pleasure, but only terror—nausea—

and yet—

the twinge only threatened more and more—

"Do you do yourself Fentino?—
What the hell?!—
"Do you masturbate, Daniel?"

Strong fingers hooked at his throbbing temples, where he shivered with anger and fear— "No, I don't!—
Shaking, breathing shallow; sweat rolling down the back of his neck and down his chest, cold and unforgiving—

A yelp of pain as other fingers grabbed a hold of the foreign member, thrusting downward and upward and back again—

"Stop it!" trying to prevent the other from going any farther; the strong hands suddenly went down the thin bottom garment and through the elastic band—
"Shut the hell up."
A hand clamped down on raging lips once more—
"This will teach you to never disrespect me in the hallways of Casper High ever again."

Danny wanted to scream, to yell—anything to get the world's attention—the screen only got more and more intense—more and more depraved than ever before—

Sweat rolling down, face red hot; head tortured, organ swelling and throbbing—
The saliva still slimed upon his forehead –gooping down by the second.

Frantically he shut his eyes to the whole scene, needing to pass out, get a concussion—the pleasured lustful shrieks and moans of both sexes in his brain was a thing of nightmares—demons attacking his nearly lost soul again and again!—

The pain let go when he should have died and gone straight to hell.

It was all a blur. The muscles stopped working—the fists unclenched; a drawing out of the milky white substance—the rag that was one of Dash's favorite shirts when he was just starting out in his football career. The boy didn't want to breathe anymore; he just fell back, defeated—
The athlete's wide chest stopped his descent but only for a mere second. A thump to the head was all he could hear; the room went black once more; the couch beside him creaked as a new weight settled itself in. Danny could not even get himself off the floor . . . As eyelids drooped, silent tears began to form, descending into nothingness.

"Bet we're gonna get the highest grade on Monday."