Chris felt like puking; has felt like it for years, it seemed. Since splitting off the terrified gaggle of his friends and watching through the trees as the helicopter daintily landed and they were ushered inside by two concerned pilots.

Something inside him had been screaming what the fuck are you doing, dipshit??? what the fuck is your deal? all the way stumbling down into the caves. The same – sane – part that had tried taking over every time he stumbled and fell and the flare of pain from ripping his hands open was so startling and clear that he had to remain there on his hands and knees a few minutes and just pant through it.

Nothing had been able to keep him away from the mines, though. Not the sane part of him coming up with all the right reasons why it was suicide to go back down – and not the sight of Josh crouching in the murky darkness and ripping the flesh from a human head. Because there was no mistaking it. There was no lying to himself as to what Josh was doing with an impressive and gruesome set of teeth that hadn’t been there a few hours ago.

And still he’d pushed on. Had watched his hand lift as if he were someone sitting in the movies, watching someone else do the stupid thing. The moronic thing.

Josh had turned from him with a sudden, vicious snarl, bending lower over the head (and now Chris could see that it was the mangled remains of the old crazy bastard. The one that had tried to save all their bacon) like an animal afraid of getting its food ripped away under its nose.

“Come,” Chris said as if through a mouth of cotton. “Come. Josh.”

And Josh had come. After a last, departing bite into the lifeless cheek, he’d turned and stared at Chris’ hand and had debated for a second whether to grab those fingers or bite them off. He had taken it. And he had been coming – docile-as-you-please.

Chris felt like falling to his knees and retching. Like getting out all that was currently churning and cramping in his belly – although he had no idea whatever that could be. He couldn’t recall what, or even when, he’d last ate something.

The remains of the lodge, when they came to it, had stopped burning. The rooms further back were, astonishingly enough, still untouched.

Chris didn’t even realize how macabre it was to have brought Josh into Hanna’s room, but it had been the closest and Chris needed to sit down. He needed to let go of Josh’s dirty, grimy hand and sit down, and have a good old-fashioned break-down.

It never came, though. He just sat there on the bed, chest heaving and slowly evening out, watching Josh crawl through the room and sniff at a little heap of clothes lying next to Hanna’s desk chair.

Chris took off his glasses and absentmindedly started cleaning them with the edge of his shirt, even though one of the lenses was cracked and he only made it worse.

He dimly started to wonder where his friends were now. Were they already back home? Did they already have had time to shower and change their bloody, ripped clothes? He had no idea how much time had passed by as he had stumbled through the mines on the mad search for his even madder friend.

Then, there were no thoughts at all because Josh suddenly turned towards him as if startled into remembering that he wasn’t alone.

His eyes were big and luminescent and so comfortingly human, Chris didn’t even think about running away – not even when Josh started in on him. Sinuously crawling and still gazing at him with those always-tired-looking eyes, hypnotizing him like a snake. Captivating his gaze and not letting Chris stare at the gash in his cheek and the sharp, monstrous teeth protruding from it.

Or maybe it was Chris himself deluding himself?

It was definitely Chris who didn’t protest when Josh pushed him back onto the bed. Chris just fucking going along when Josh started to impatiently push and rip at his clothes. Helpfully dragged layers of shirts up from his soft belly; exposing all this skin and fat to a creature he’d watched…

His mind shied away from the image. He just pulled it up farther, small tan nipples puckering up in the cold air of the room. His eyes were squeezed shut, fingers clamped around the thick roll of garment he had gathered up in order to expose himself to Josh’s insistent snuffling; and now his tongue. Warm and wet and embarrassingly curious as it licked at his navel and wriggled inside as far as it could; then dragged across his chest with the occasional dip into his arm pits.

“Oh god,” Chris whispered, eyes opening and staring at the ceiling. “Oh shit.”

He could hear ripping and feel the warm puffs of Josh’s growled frustration as he tried squirming out of the overall. The one he used to play a cruel prank on all of them.

And maybe it was that thought that made Chris startle part-way out of his complacency – made him squirm and start to put up a fight. But of course by then it was too late. Had been too late for him for a long time now.

There was no going back on it; no excuse me I have made a terrible mistake. No Yo can I reload a safegame? There was only Josh’s warm breath, wet with excitement, puffing against the furry skin beneath Chris’ belly button.

There were teeth pressing against the soft bulge of his cock. He could feel them even through the thick layer of jeans. They were hard and sharp and terrifying – and enough to get a rise out of him. He could feel blood heating his cheeks in shame and rushing down to start filling his dick.

He wanted to reach down and take hold of Josh’s hair – to pull him up and away from his crotch. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. Just kept lying there and obediently held his clothes up like a little boy.

Josh didn’t bother trying to unbutton the garment, but figured out how to work the zipper, surprisingly enough.

And then there was a face nuzzling into the warm, cotton-filled space between. Chris could feel Josh searching. Could feel his growls of frustration rippling along his dick and making it jerk into hardness instead of softening it up in fear. He could feel the insistent bump of his best friend’s nose as he eagerly snuffled into the warm, spicy scent of Chris’ crotch, and he could only whimper in reply and mortification.

It didn’t need much help. Josh’s insistence and his own dick made it all to easy for it to finally find the hole and slip out of it, rubbing along Josh’s soft jaw (because he never had been able to grow any significant amount of facial hair), and then getting smothered with a warm, eager tongue that was just as unafraid to explore here as it had been licking and tasting the rest of him.

Maybe even more eager?

Chris lay there, panting up at the ceiling, toes curling in his boots as he felt Josh lick long, patient stripes along the underside of his traitorous dick.

His belly was already rippling and warm, and he couldn’t help but bark out a pathetic, shrill burst of giggles as he thought about how he was already about to shoot. How this was the first time he felt a tongue at his dick, and he was about to fulfill every damn cliche in the virgin book.

Josh’s spit felt strange on his skin. It was still wet on his body where he had inspected him, and it was sticky.

When he chanced a glance down, he was transfixed by the sight of Josh’s dark head bend over his dick. How startling his pink cock looked big and hard next to Josh’s face. How long and positively serpentine Josh’s tongue had become, strands of sticky saliva connecting it to the flushed head of Chris’ gently bobbing cock.

As he watched, said cock jerked in excitement which he could feel bubble and spike through his lower belly, and dipped against Josh’s cheek right above the terrifying gaggle of teeth. Josh closed his eye on that side part-way, but didn’t seem to mind getting smeared with spit and pre-cum.

In fact, he leaned down and started nuzzling Chris’ cock. Pressed it up and against his belly, so he could smear it all over his face, and not even the uncomfortable bite of his awkwardly still-closed jeans could make him soft.

He let his head fall back down onto the pink duvet of Hanna’s bed and clenched his eyes shut, praying to nobody in particular about nothing in particular. Just murmuring pleases and don’t make mes and not like thiss even though his hips had started to curl on their own – gently, almost timidly fucking up against the press and drag of Josh’s tongue that has now started up the infernal licking again.

His balls felt too full and too big in the warm nest of his underwear and for a moment he wished Josh would go back to exploring. Would not stand still until he had managed to get the sinful twist of his sticky tongue against the vulnerably orbs of Chris’ testicles.

It was the sudden clarity of the thought that made him jerk his hips artlessly one last time and had the muscles of his lower belly clench in orgasm – the mental picture of how good it would be to look down and see Josh – feral and monstrous – with one of Chris’ full, tight balls in his mouth.

He couldn’t even cry out. Just whimpered a soft slew of ngh ngh nnnnh as thick ropes of cum splashed against his belly and got lapped up immediately by Josh’s interested, inquisitive tongue.

Chris lay there and stared up at the dark ceiling. He could see some of the paper butterflies that Hanna had hung down from strings, and wondered whether he could hear a helicopter in the distance or whether it was just his imagination.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Being near Josh made him kind of stupid. Always had.