This is the chapter where the story gets EXTREMELY fucking angst. Believe me, there is a scene in this chapter that will either scare the shit out of you or turn you on… or both. It depends on what your deal is, how filthy-minded you are and how faint-hearted you are. I assume most of you will either be turned on your laughing your ass off, because you'd read this chapter anyway after having read the previous twelve chapters. The rest of you may be scared shitless. If you do get scared shitless, don't say I didn't warn ya.
Also, this chapter has some content in it that his halfway between T-rated territory and M-rated territory. I'll be keeping this fic at T, so this chapter maybe the closest this story will ever get to M-rated territory. This does not necessarily mean that this chapter will be the most disturbing chapter, however.
My Big Fat Creepy Roommate
Aftershock
Owen sat in the chair. He was glaring over at Justin. Not only was Owen naked, it also appeared to Justin that Owen had been sitting in that chair ever since Justin fell asleep. He hardly seemed to have left that chair at all, not even to go to the toilet. Justin knew this because he could clearly see the traces of urine on Owen's legs. Some of the traces were too white to be urine…. Justin decided it was best to stop analysing the situation.
"Uh… Owen? What are you doing here?" Justin finally asked.
"I was waiting for you to wake up," Owen replied.
"That's just… creepy," Justin cringed.
"I'm afraid I can't help it, Justin," said Owen, sternly. "I can't stand being apart from you for so long."
"Okay then…"
"Justin, I'm feeling lonely over here."
"And?"
"I want you to come over here." Owen stretched his arms out commandingly. Unlike most open arms, Owen's were in no way welcoming. In fact, Owen was still glaring at Justin.
Justin gulped. He did not want to go anywhere near Owen. In fact, he felt that even at this distance, Owen was still too close to him. However, he did not want to disobey Owen. Only a few hours ago, Owen was a happy, jolly, blissfully ignorant buffoon, and now look at him. Owen might get worse. With a sigh, Justin stood up and quietly walked over to Owen. With every step the former model took, the room appeared larger and slightly more menacing. After what felt like an eternity to poor Justin – even though technically it was only three seconds – he was merely ten centimetres away from Owen.
"What took you so long?" Owen demanded. Justin was too stunned to answer. Owen was still glaring at him.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"Take off your clothes." Owen was getting very impatient.
"Why?" Justin asked, terrified of what the answer may be.
"Because if you don't, we will still be apart when you're sitting on my lap," was Owen's stern reply.
Justin was horrified. He knew he was not going to like the answer. "But… I-I don't want to-"
"TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!" Owen finally bellowed, banging the armrest with his fist. Justin shook in fright as he took of his pyjamas. He kept his boxers on, but Owen was having none of it.
"I want it all off," Owen hissed. Justin was sweating profusely. His stomach was twisting itself into knots at this point. Nevertheless, Justin's boxers slid down his sweaty legs. Justin stood there, sweating buckets upon buckets of water. Owen slapped his thighs, obviously getting tired of Justin dragging it out. Justin slowly turned around and gripped the tips of the armrests before leaning backwards.
Soon enough, Justin's weight was fully committed to Owen's knees. Justin continued to sweat. He was too scared to look behind him. Suddenly, a feeling of profound terror surged through the entirety of Justin's body as he felt one big hand clasp his right hip and another big hand clasp his left knee. Justin cringed as he felt himself being pulled back and turned around in a ninety degree angle. Owen had Justin's head pressed against his right shoulder. Justin made a silent prayer that this ordeal would eventually come to an end within the next thirty seconds.
Unfortunately, thirty minutes have passed, and Justin was still confined to sitting on Owen's three legs.
*Knock*
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"Justin and Owen!" echoed an eerily familiar voice from outside the door.
*Knock*
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"Justin and Owen!" the voice repeated.
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
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"Justin and Owen!"
Owen answered the door. He was wearing his regular clothes and got cleaned up from this morning, so there was nothing that could mentally scar Trent.
"Can I help you?" Owen asked.
"Definitely," said Trent. "I'm here because I have held the whole apartment block hostage."
"WHAT?!" shrieked Owen.
"I have found enough fingers and toes for everybody to have nine fingers and toes," Trent explained. "So until you and Justin add a ninth finger and a ninth toe, no one will be allowed to leave this building."
"Has everyone added a ninth finger and a ninth toe?" Owen asked.
"That's what they've told me," Trent answered. "They'd better have done it," he mumbled.
"Okay, I'll do it," Owen smiled, gullibly. "But unlike other people, I might need your help. Let's start with Justin!"
"Sure!" Trent beamed, following Owen to Owen's bedroom. When Owen opened the door, a horrible sight met his eyes. Each pole of the bedpost had a pair of handcuffs attached. However, the other end of three of the four pairs of hand cuffs were open. The other end of the fourth pair of handcuffs remained securely locked.
The keys to the handcuffs were laid on the bed. Right next to them was a note. Owen ran up to the note, picked it up and unfolded it to read it. It read:
Dear Owen,
Fuck you! I'm straight! I don't like you that way! And after the way you've treated me, especially this morning, I don't like you at all! Knowing that you would eventually resort to domestic violence, I've decided to run away! Maybe if you went to bed last night or while I was in bed, you wouldn't have been out cold for three hours after you forced me to sit on you! While you were probably having wet dreams about me, I packed my bags, took all the money and left! Chris can try and sue me all he wants, but surely there's a country out there where that bloody contract is not legally binding! I'm never coming back, never! If you go anywhere near me, I will have the cops after ya!
Regards,
Justin!
P.S.: Tell Trent he's a fucking eejit! How the Hell does he expect to hold us all hostage in the building if he keeps leaving the keys on the main door?! In fact, how does he expect to hold us all hostage if he's only one on his side and he's up against forty-something people and we all have our own keys?! Does he honestly believe he can pull it off with 'the Power of the Nine'?!
Owen's jaw dropped. He could not find the words to speak, until Trent asked:
"What does the note say?"
"JUSTIN LEFT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" sobbed Owen, falling to his knees and unleashing the loudest, longest cry he could muster. "Oh, and Justin says to tell you that you're a fucking eejit," Owen casually added.
Dun! Dun! Dun!
What will Owen do now that Justin has abandoned him?! What will Trent do now that the Power of the Nine failed to keep Justin constrained?! WHEN WILL THIS STORY STOP WITH THE FIGHTENING INNUENDO?! Never, maybe?
By the way, if you enjoyed My Big Fat Creepy Roommate, then you'll love Post-Dramatic Mayhem, The Hatchets and, OF COURSE, Happilly Civilly Unionised. This story is basically a lighter version of My Big Fat Creepy Roommate, except the main couple actually gets married. Oh, and Trent is still obsessed with the number nine in this story. He even takes that obsession to a greater extreme.
Until next time!