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Sweden. Why had his mom told the family that he’d gone to fucking Sweden two months ago? Surely his fourth trip to rehab wasn’t that difficult to imagine, they’d known about the first two times anyway thanks to his retarded younger brother Ben.

“Credence stop sulking, they’ll want to say hi so don’t be moody, especially not to your grandfather,” his mom kept on nagging in that unbearable voice she did when she was trying to appear perfect. Perfect? This fucking family? Even mediocre seemed too generous.

“That reminds me,” she carried on, ignoring the death glare he shot her from the backseat as they turned down the drive of their grandparents immense country house. “I don’t want you smoking.”

Credence sat up, clinging to the back of her seat and leaning forward abruptly. With a seatbelt this position would’ve been impossible, but he never bothered wearing one.

“What? You’re kidding?”

“No Credence, I’m not fucking kidding. Your grandpa’s already got one foot in the grave.”

“But not from smoking?” he shot back, digging his nails into the seat. How the fuck was he going to survive this whole wedding mess without something to curb his anxiety? He could hardly handle a normal day without going through a whole packet.

Ben held his camera aloft, capturing their less than familial exchange on film. It had been a birthday present from his dad, and since receiving it he’d compulsively filmed every waking moment of their lives.

During the first part of the car ride it had been fun to document where they were headed, but then mom had almost crashed the car and blamed Credence, which had lead to an overly aggressive (on his part) argument between the two of them. Mom had had to stop at a service station to get away from him for five minutes, and Ben decided to film and commentate on the passing shoppers. How Credence wouldn’t love to fucking smash that stupid camera.

He shoved it into Ben's eye with his hand firmly over the lens, and his younger brother yelped and started to whine about how delicate the focus was or some shit. They both stopped and looked ahead when Mom swore.

The car pulled up into the driveway behind a bright white and red flashing ambulance.

“Oh fuck,” Credence muttered, to add to the general mood. His mom shot him a dirty look before struggling with her seatbelt.

“Shit,” she swore again, stopping the car and exiting it quickly, not bothering with the bags or her sons as she hurried inside.

“You think that’s for granddad?” Ben rubbed his sore eye socket and reluctantly replaced the lens cap back on the camera, undoing his seatbelt.

“I don’t fucking know Ben. It might be for Grandma, change things up a bit for once,” Credence grinned humorlessly, flopping back against his seat and sighing heavily. He was tired, but it was only about four in the afternoon. Thanks to it being the middle of summer it wasn’t even dark yet.

Ben watched him, his expression unreadable. He had Asperger’s, so any attempt at anything other than spelt out slapstick humor went over his head, but he surprisingly understood his older brother's cruel remarks were solely to rile people up, to get a reaction. Credence couldn’t fathom how he’d worked it out.

“Come on,” he sighed, opening the car door and slamming it to hear it echo around the trees. The house really was absorbed in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere.

His head throbbed viciously thanks to the entire bottle of cough syrup he’d downed that morning before the trip and the box of aspirin he’d taken last night. Relapsing was the opposite of fun when there was nothing to fucking relapse on.

Ben followed him inside, reciting some bullshit he’d found out about the likelihood of bear attacks so far into the countryside. Credence kept a sullen expression fixed to his face and blatantly ignored him, walking into where the paramedics and female adult family members were gathered about his grandparents' bed where his grandfather lay in an oxygen mask, breathing loudly.

His mom caught sight of them before the others did and shooed them away with her hand. Credence raised an eyebrow carelessly and left as instructed, instead going into the kitchen to try and find Brandon. He’d always envied his older cousin, the freedom he’d always been given by his dad, so at every family gathering Credence latched onto him for as long as possible, basking in the sweet taste of adulthood his mom would never allow him.

Ben followed him, but left his task of doggedly pursuing his older brother to instead disappear into the pantry to look for food. Credence had no idea how he could eat so much when he himself could barely finish a sandwich without throwing it back up. The only time he could really gorge himself was after smoking a joint and even then it wasn’t guaranteed.

“Hey Credence, you’ve got big,” his uncle, Brandon’s father and proud bachelor, Percy, stood in the dining room that Credence had just drifted into, still on the hunt for his cousin.

The man was the definition of sleaze; the slicked back hair peppered with silver that fell in loose strands over his forehead, the tan that Credence couldn’t quite figure out was real or fake, the earrings that were sad recollections of some rebellious, heartbreaking past he wasn’t willing to let go of. He had a slight paunch which strained his Hawaiian shirt that for some ungodly reason all uncles seem to wear during summer vacation. He always used too much cologne and it burnt Credence’s nose with how spicy it was, and his collection of slightly faded tattoos were decidedly irritating to look at. He was handsome and fairly clean cut, but he was rude and hot headed and aggressive.

Credence had never seen him sober, and his breath constantly reeked of alcohol. He slurred his words, made generally inappropriate comments regarding any females within the vicinity, be they related to him or not, and never left his bed before three in the afternoon. He’d probably only just got up.

“I guess I grew,” Credence scowled at him, unwilling to lose his moody attitude this early on in the trip. If he looked unapproachable enough they’d leave him alone, and he wouldn’t have to lie about how he’d been recently or what happened the other month when he couldn’t attend some great aunt’s funeral or if he still suffered from the generous list of mental problems countless therapists had lumped on him.

Uncle Percy grinned and took a swig of whatever beer he was drinking, ignoring Credence’s frown.

“Ben still got that autism thing?” he slurred ignorantly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and Credence took note of the pair of tongs he held. Of course Percy would’ve taken charge of the BBQ they were undoubtedly having for dinner. He always had to have things his own way.

“Its not the kinda thing that goes away,” Credence glared at him, pushing his hands deeper into his hoodie’s pockets. He felt sick at the smell of burgers wafting in from the garden.

“You looking for Brandon?”


“He’s outback with the others, tell him I’ll be right there,” his uncle reached to ruffle his hair like he’d done so when Credence was a child, but Credence ducked hastily out the way of his large hand and moved round him out to the garden.

He stunk of cigarettes. Credence had forgotten that he smoked. The clear square bulge in his pocket indicated he had the packet on him, and Credence made a mental note to sneak into his uncle’s room later that night to retrieve them.

In the garden the late afternoon sun was golden and warm, but Credence pulled his hood up over his head as he went to sit at the table with his cousins, Brandon included. The natural light made his eyes hurt and accentuated the unhealthy pastiness of his skin. Brandon was stoned and barely noticed him, and the other cousins were deep in conversation amongst each other.

The adults came out with drinks, laughing and chatting carelessly with his mother at the rear looking dejected already. Aunt Donna clarified loudly that grandpa was fine, and then grandma quickly added that it happened all the time, and he just needed to rest.

Uncle Percy came out with another beer, laughing loudly with everyone though he hadn’t heard the joke and then half staggered over to where Credence’s other uncle Jack stood tending the BBQ. A couple of youngsters Credence hardly recognized splashed about in the pool despite the adult’s warnings that exercising before food caused vomiting.

Ben sat with the grown ups next to mom, the other cousins never bothering to include him due to his Aspergers, filming everything and nothing at the same time. Credence almost wished he could go over and join him. Besides Brandon, Ben was the only other family member present who actually talked to him as a person rather than an object.

The prospect of mental illness seemed to leave the relatives wary and obtuse. They avoided discussing it directly to him or even coming close out of fear he might be contagious.

“Alright everybody food's up,” uncle Jack announced proudly, a ridiculously garish apron tied round his waist outlining his personality exactly. Percy's was worse, with such a brutishly sexual 'pun' written across it Credence cringed to read it.

As burgers and hot dogs and kebabs found their way onto everyone’s plates, Brandon seemed to regain consciousness and noticed for the first time that Credence was next to him. Without even saying hello he was gesturing 'follow me' and the two of them went round the side of the house to a private section of garden, free from the prying eyes of the family.

Brandon rolled a joint expertly while Credence watched, folding his arms impatiently and making sure there was no one approaching. Not only would the two of them be in trouble but Credence knew his mom would freak out and send him straight back to Silver Hill without hesitation, even over something as harmless as weed.

“So Dylan and his bride to be are coming tomorrow, dude you should see Heather’s bridesmaids they’re fucking fresh man,” Brandon's choice of words showed how many times his father had pulled him out of school for holidays or a sudden change of location. “Your dick’ll be fucking dying man.”

Credence inwardly cringed at his cousin’s words, watching him intently as he lit the joint with his lighter and took a drag.

“My dick will be dying?” he repeatedly blankly, copying his younger brother’s unreadable expression and tone of voice to keep out the unattractive whine of desperation. He’d barely been allowed out the house since he’d got back from rehab, and it had been far too long since he’d smoked something as simple as a joint. He missed it, even though he knew he’d reek of it after.

Brandon handed over the blunt and Credence took it eagerly, taking a long drag which filled his lungs to bursting as his cousin blew out smoke in a billowing cloud. When he released his own smoke it was in a smooth stream, showing his practice.

“Trust me man, it will,” Brandon grinned at him and thumped his shoulder with his fist, his eyes watery and bloodshot. He took the joint back when Credence handed it over.

He considered how to respond. The prospect of meeting some 'fresh' bridesmaids tomorrow didn’t excite Credence the way it would’ve done to other boys his age. The fact is he didn’t give a shit about girls, whether they were fresh or not.

“Intriguing,” he ended up saying, and sounding like a complete fucking retard, but Brandon didn’t seem to notice as he handed over the joint again.

They stood smoking like that for about twenty minutes, and Brandon told him that along with his older brother Dylan and his future wife Heather, Credence’s older sister Alice would be coming tomorrow night, and the day after when the wedding took place mom's ex husband and his trophy wife would be arriving, as he was Dylan’s father and the guy who raised him.

“Fuck man why is your family so messed up? You got Dylan raised by one guy who fucking beat your mom up or some shit, then Alice is messed up and you’re messed up and fucking Ben’s messed up. What’s the deal?” Brandon threw the finished joint on the ground and stamped it out, blowing out the last of his smoke.

Credence shrugged, and started walking back to the house. As much as he clung to Brandon he couldn’t stand hearing the same 'your family's fucked' speech.

Brandon walked with him until they reached the cluster of cousins playing table tennis next to the pool, the underwater lights giving everything a vivid blue tinge as the sun continued to set.

“Whatever man, Dylan’s bachelor party is tomorrow night. You in?” his older cousin slapped his back and grinned, taking up a paddle from Ben and hitting the little plastic ball too hard for what it was used for.

“Sure, I’ll come,” Credence muttered, barely hanging round for more than ten seconds with there being such a big crowd of people who clearly didn’t want him there. And if all Brandon was doing was throwing some illegal shots at ping pong he’d rather go inside.

Everyone had finished eating and were sat talking outside or stood in the kitchen washing up. He dodged round them quickly, almost tripping his grandma as she went to put a stack of plates away.

Credence ignored her scolding of 'you should help more' and his mom’s rattle on about how he had problems and 'he didn’t mean to be rude'. The family hated it when she used their problems as an excuse. Frankly so did Credence.

He wasn’t sure which room was his as he got to the top of the stairs, but he remembered mom saying something about granddad having to use fentanyl, and made a mental note to try and get some out his medicine cabinet tonight when everyone was asleep.

Not knowing which room he was staying in Credence took a wild guess, and pushed open the door to a small room with a double bed in. He stopped dead.

On the edge of the bed facing the door sat his uncle Percy, his shirt unbuttoned and his bare feet splayed out on the floor, his legs wide. He was disheveled looking, one hand gripping the sheets of the bed, his hair falling over his forehead and his face a little sweaty. In the other hand he held his own cock, pulled out from his shorts, fat and red and shining with precum. The veins were thick and visibly throbbing, the head flushed deeply. He must’ve been close before his nephew interrupted.

“Shit Credence,” Percy exclaimed breathlessly, having enough decency to stop tugging at his prick but keeping his hand wrapped tightly around it.
Credence couldn’t take his eyes off it. His uncle was fucking huge.

“Fuck sorry,” he stammered, stumbling over his words as he clung to the door for support. The weed he had just smoked with Brandon clouded his head and prevented him from doing the normal thing of walking away and closing the door. He couldn’t stop fucking staring at his cock.

Percy pushed his free hand through his hair, the free strands unwilling to go back to the original slicked back style. His belly seemed less obtrusive when it wasn’t straining at the material of his shirt, and it looked soft and pudgy. His chest was hairy, and a trail of fur seemed to lead from his navel down to the base of his dick, where it grew wiry and dark.

Credence stared. His uncle, his rude, distasteful, boarish uncle was suddenly revealed in a whole new light to him. His hands were big, with thick fingers and knuckles. His arms were hairy and muscular, and his face held the rugged beauty of some kind of Adonis.

“Credence?” Percy was watching him carefully, a light frown to his features but a badly hidden smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He let go of his cock and leant back on his hands a little.

Credence, his head cloudy and unthinking, watched his uncle present the invitation of his dick. His tongue nipped out of his mouth and slid over his bottom lip at the sight of a fat bead of precum shining off his slit.

He felt his gut twisting and heat pooling at the bottom of his spine, his own cock giving an interested twitch. His hands gripped the door so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Come on, I’ll give you a cig yeah?” Percy spoke quietly, almost whispered it, in an unsavory secretive way.

Credence found himself feeling uneasy, suddenly a little nauseous from the smoking, his breathing quickening its pace. Turns out even when his body wouldn’t respond correctly to the situation his anxiety would happily comply.

“Hey Credence?” Ben's slightly nasal voice called up the stairs followed by his heavy footsteps on the old wood.

Credence blinked out of his trance and immediately backed hastily out of the room, tugging the door shut with a slam.

His heart hammered against his ribs and his breathing was shaky. He couldn’t keep his hands still.

“They asked me to come get you. They wanna ask you about Sweden. Hey are you alright?” his younger brother eyed him carefully, taking hold of his wrist in a gentle yet firm squeeze.

Credence shoved his arm away harder than he should have and leant back against the door, holding his head in his hands. He couldn’t even think about what had just happened. His own fucking uncle had been jerking off, and he’d…what? Propositioned his own nephew? Credence knew what a scumbag his uncle could be, but he’d never expected .. that. Who would’ve been able to expect it? Why did the view of his uncle’s cock turn him on so much?

Ben stood with him as he partially collapsed, shaking and panting and most certainly not fucking crying as he tried to cram the building feeling of an imminent panic attack back inside himself. It felt like he was about to burst out from his own body, his skin ripped to shreds and his bones shattered.

It took longer than it usually did, and he was left highly strung and jittery, with swollen lips and bloodshot eyes. At least it covered the previous pink hue his eyes had been glazed with from smoking with Brandon. There can’t have been much rolled in the blunt, he wasn’t feeling relaxed or happy at all, unless his tolerance had just increased without him realizing.

“Credence, they wanna ask you about Sweden,” Ben repeated, watching his older brother carefully. He hadn’t let go of his wrist even after Credence had shoved him. Ben might’ve been pretty shitty at comforting someone or making them feel better verbally, but he knew how to ground someone, keep them tethered to reality so they didn’t float off and lose themselves.

“Right,” Credence spluttered out, his voice thick and forced as he scrubbed at his face with his hoodie sleeves and stood up straight again.

Uncle Percy came out his room, closing the door behind him. His shirt was buttoned up again and the fucking huge cock he owned had been firmly concealed from view. He kept his eyes on Credence for longer than he should have, but Ben wouldn’t have caught it.

“You guys alright out here?” he questioned, gentler than usual, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them. He was acting so normal Credence considered he might’ve hallucinated the whole thing.

“Credence has severe anxiety so he gets panic attacks a lot,” Ben looked up at his uncle and smiled as if it was a normal response to the question that had been asked, and he shot Credence a mucky look when he hit him.

“Ben shut the fuck up,” Credence snapped at him, ignoring his uncle and pulling his younger brother downstairs with him, the older man following a few steps behind.

The two of them awkwardly stepped into the living room where the assortment of uncles and aunts were sat expectantly on the couch, with his granddad asleep in his armchair and his grandmother overlooking his breathing anxiously. His mom sat tensely a little way away from everyone, on the edge of the sofa. She watched him closely, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She needed him to lie about Sweden.

Ben ambled over to his mother and sat down, getting out his camera again and recording his older brother. Credence tried not to let the underlying anxiety that was so close to erupting show, and tried to seem nonchalant by leaning against the mantelpiece. His muscles were so tightly wound he found the position uncomfortable, but couldn’t alter it now.

Uncle Percy slipped in without greeting, standing at the back with a glass of some alcoholic beverage in his hand. The visible packet of cigarettes in his pockets glared at Credence, and he became highly aware of what he looked like. Percy’s eyes burned into him but he couldn’t rise to meet them in his state of coiled nerves.

“So Credence, what was Sweden like?” uncle Jack proposed, lounging back on the settee, a little tipsy.

Unlike Percy, Jack preferred a drink of wine or gin and tonic with his wife, and although he was partial to cocktails, he didn’t gulp down spirits and liquors to see how fast and for long he could remain drunk. Credence seemed to only now relate to his uncle Percy. They both tried to get out of their head for as long as possible by any means available. Credence wondered if that’s who he’d inherited it from.

“ was ok. I mean it was freezing the whole time,” he mumbled in response, playing with his fingers and shifting his legs uncomfortably.

Aunt Bonnie frowned, her forehead creasing. She was the type of woman to wear makeup even if all she was doing was cleaning the house.

“Really? Freezing? Even in June?” she raised a thinly plucked brow, her mouth a half open expression of distaste.

Credence’s voice broke as he made a non committal sound that really could’ve been anything. He forcibly refused to look over at his mother for help. His forehead was a little damp and he frowned as if contemplating something he hadn’t before realized.

“Yeah.. um, I think maybe it was just my preconceived notions of Sweden. it’s probably just psychosomatic,” he sounded like Ben using such robotic language. He realized how tensely he was stood and tried to relax into a casual position of leaning his arm against the mantle. He knocked an ornament almost off the shelf and had to readjust it. The family didn’t look convinced.

“I have anxiety,” he hastily added, with an awkward shrug as if that explained everything. “I’m on medication.”

“Well we all knew that,” Bonnie spluttered, and everyone laughed in the way that families collectively do that make you feel like shit.

Credence set his jaw and gave an annoyed half smile as he stood, arms folded, eyes pointedly not looking at his family. The previously subdued panic attack was making his insides twist up and he felt sick. His hands were clammy.

“Cut the kid some slack Bonnie,” uncle Percy spoke up over the noise, raising an eyebrow lazily and drinking down the last of his drink. He was leant back against the wall looking the picture of ease.

Credence stared. He felt as transfixed as he had been in the bedroom just a few minutes ago. Percy was never one to really involve himself on behalf of another person, especially not for a nephew like Credence, who had only ever shown disdain for the man. That opinion was changing rapidly and he didn’t like it.


Sneaking into his grandparents' bedroom in the middle of the night to rummage through his granddad’s bedside table to retrieve his fentanyl hadn’t been as difficult as Credence had first anticipated.

The old man had caught him but remained silent, and Credence had almost suffered another panic attack with the sheer shock of having a pair of eyes staring you down in the dark.

He’d only been in boxers and a pair of odd socks with different patterns on, but the house was warm due to it being summer.

Besides entering the bathroom and slitting the small clear plastic square which held the powerful painkiller with a razor, there wasn’t really much he could remember. It had been intense, he’d almost been afraid of dying at one point.

He thought he saw someone come into the bathroom, with it having no lock, but they were too big to be real, too strong smelling.


Percy woke up at around two in the morning. After actually getting to bed at a reasonable hour his body decided to protest with the dire need to relieve himself at the ungodly hour that it was.

His head was throbbing and his throat felt dry, and when he rubbed the sleep out his eyes they ached with exhaustion. The stubble peppering his jaw was scratchy and getting a little itchy. He sighed heavily, deciding to get a badly needed drink after his toilet stop.

His room didn’t have an ensuite, but he didn’t mind traveling across the hall naked. The house was too warm anyway, and no one would be awake to see him at this time. He tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to his room and tiptoeing across the hall. There were no carpets in the house due to his father's respiratory issues, so you had to be careful not to make the achingly old floorboards creak.

The light was on in the bathroom, Percy could see it shining through the gap under the door. When he knocked lightly and asked if anyone was in there no response came, so he assumed one of the younger kids probably left it on accidentally.

The sight that greeted him was… unexpected to say the least, and far more arousing than it had any right to be. In his barely awake hungover state he couldn’t fight the perverted urges that swam over him.

Credence, his nephew, a pretty little shit he was too, seemed almost frozen as he stood, clutching the sink in a state of tense half collapse. He was staring in the mirror, his pupils huge, his lips blue and chapped. His skin was an unhealthy white and he was gripping the sink with such force he could’ve cracked the porcelain.

His body looked clammy, a sheen of sweat mirroring the light against his hunched back, plastering his hair to his forehead.

Credence was naked besides his feet being covered with a pair of socks that didn’t match, a discarded pair of boxers a few feet away. His cock was half hard and his eyes were heavily lidded, mumbling almost silently incoherent sounds through bruised swollen lips.

“Credence?” Percy whispered hesitantly, closing the bathroom door quietly behind himself.

The boy barely responded, but his head started to sway slightly as if he was nodding minutely, however there was no way he could’ve actually registered what Percy had said. Upon seeing the razor and clear plastic square in the sink he realized just how far gone Credence was from his own body at that point. He might as well have been looking at a shell.

When he moved close the boy’s skin trembled like a horse's shooing a fly, and seconds later his legs gave out. Percy caught him before he fell and steadied him a little, resting him on his knees. In doing so he ran his hands through Credence’s damp hair to calm him down, and his nephew nuzzled into the touch greedily, a soft barely audible whine emitting from his throat as his lips parted.

He knew he should’ve done something help the boy. Possibly even called an ambulance. But the image of his bratty nephew, usually so sullen and rude, now subdued and hardly conscious, naked, trembling almost virginal like, was too sweet to pass up.

Percy took Credence’s face in his hands, stroking one of his fine cheekbones with his thumb. He rubbed his steadily hardening cock against his cheek, dragging the length over his fat lips and pushing the tip in his mouth, only to pull it out again and rub the saliva over his face.

Credence attempted to suckle, only his base, animalistic instincts able to respond through the intense morphine rushing through his system. He nuzzled against Percy’s length sweetly, his eyes barely open, unseeing. He tried to murmur something but it came out as a soft drawn out moan.

“Mh not so moody now are you Credence?” Percy smirked to himself, keeping one hand firmly on Credence’s jaw and squeezing, an act which would’ve been painful had the boy had any use of his nervous system. “You just want me to feel good hm?”

His nephew was unable to respond, and he wasn’t even sure if he’d heard, but when his cock disappeared into the boy's mouth it closed around him, attempting to swallow, to lick, to suckle, his responses barely even human, practically an infant's. Credence choked and gagged around the length in his mouth, his eyes watering, drool coating his chin as his uncle thrusted down into the tight slick heat of his throat.

Credence’s hands were limp, dragging against the floor as Percy held his head tightly, thrusting harder and faster than any conscious person would be able to take. The noises Credence made were not loud nor even recognizably human, merely gag reflex sounds; wet, messy and soft.

The bulge in his throat was obscene, and the boy's tongue was soft against his hard length, lapping against the underside wetly in some pathetic attempt to remove the large intrusive object from his airway.

Once or twice his eyes tried to flicker up, or his hand would drag against Percy’s thigh, trying to clutch it, before flopping back down.

Percy drove his cock as deep as it could go down Credence’s throat, and he continued to thrust faster than he knew he should. It was so silky and soft, so warm, and Credence had even started to suck, some kind of perverted de-aging effect occurring in his drug induced state until he was no more than a toddler in a seventeen years old's body. Percy grunted under his breath.

How badly he wanted to cum down his nephew's throat, watch him choke on it but unable to spit it out, watch it drool out of his mouth like a calf after suckling milk, but the mental image of the boy covered in his spend was too strong.

Percy gripped Credence’s hair tight and pulled his head off his cock with a wet noise, a string of drool connecting the head of his prick to the boy's fat shining lips. He slapped him in the face with it, and it left a wet mark. If Percy hadn’t been holding his hair so tight Credence would’ve slumped to the ground.

He pumped his dick fast with a tight fist, and with a cut off guttural moan he came in thick white ribbons over his nephew’s face. Percy breathed heavily as he tried to catch his breath, stroking Credence’s sweaty hair as he surveyed the gorgeous sight before him.

Credence knelt, held up only by his uncle’s hand on his head, cum and spit and a rare tear making his face a shining mess, his mouth open slightly, his jaw loose and his eyes lidded and glazed. The only sign that the boy was even alive was the soft mumbling which sucked his lower lip in every so often, a slight quake to his muscles.

Percy wasn’t a good man, but he had enough sense to rest Credence’s head on a towel as he laid him down gently on his side. Then he stood by the toilet and finally completed his original task of peeing. It was loud due to his orgasm, and he relaxed further once it was done.

Then he closed the door and made his way downstairs, grabbing a discarded bath robe on his way to cover himself. His head didn’t hurt anymore after the flood of endorphins, but it would start up as a terrible migraine soon enough, so he settled at the kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey he’d hidden away behind the cleaning supplies under the sink.


When Credence awoke he was still on the bathroom floor. It was bright, the sun shining through the frosted glass of the window and the bulb overheard still lit. He groaned as his eyes adjusted to the painful light.

It took him a while to figure out how to stand again, his muscles tingling uncomfortably with pins and needles. His toes and fingers were freezing and white, and his skin was clammy and cold, like touching a recently dead body’s flesh.

“Oh shit,” he slurred as he laid eyes on his reflection in the mirror. His throat was painful and his voice was rough.

He looked terrible. His eyes were squinting badly due to the light and there were dark circles under them, his lips blue from the lack of blood. Credence frowned, and tried to open his eyes further. His skin looked as though it had something on it. When he touched it with his fingers it felt tacky.

He washed his face in the sink and tried to ignore it, realizing he wouldn’t be able to leave the bathroom with his lips this color. His mom would freak out in the instant she saw them.

In an attempt to try and regain some sense of natural coloration he leant over the edge of the bath, his back arching uncomfortably, with his head against the floor.

“Hey come on hurry up in there, I gotta take a dump,” Ben banged loudly on the door, his crass words showing his annoyance. Credence wondered how long he’d been waiting out there.

Ben knocked louder, but gave up after Credence continued to ignore him. His head throbbed which each impact of his younger brother’s fist against the wood, and his ears hurt at the noise.

When he found laying over the bath didn’t work Credence tried covering up the unnatural blue tinge instead, pouring the contents of his mom's makeup bag into the sink and picking out a color that seemed closest to 'lip'. Why anyone would need fucking purple or bright red lips was beyond him.

He was still naked, but his hands and feet were starting to regain a normal temperature as his body grew into full consciousness again, taking in the heat of the summer radiating in from outside. Only his mismatched socks had survived the night's out of body experience, with his boxers cast aside next to the toilet.

The door to the bathroom opened suddenly. Credence froze, his eyes wide, the lipstick held to his lips awkwardly.

“Oh..” aunt Donna stood in the doorway, her hand clutching the handle tightly. A surprised, almost wary look on her face. She was pointedly not looking at his exposed cock, which Credence couldn’t decide if it made him feel more or less uncomfortable.

“No I..uh..” Credence stuttered, his throat refusing to work and his tongue tying itself in knots. His face would’ve been burning if it wasn’t for the lack of blood.

Donna stared at the lipstick and then back at her nephew, clearly trying to hold back laughter. She smiled falsely, and Credence glanced at the sinful stick of colored paste in his hand as if he’d only just realized he was holding it, before looking back at her, trying to shake his head.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, the grin stretching her face unnaturally as she closed the bathroom door again hastily.

There was a pause, enough time for his recovering brain to take in exactly everything that had just taken place, before the lipstick ended up being thrown firmly into the sink. A whispered curse word that most definitely was “fuck” ended up wrenching itself from Credence’s throat in pure frustrated anger, both at himself and at his aunt, and then at his mother for having such shitty lipstick, and then at the whole family which Donna would undoubtedly tell all about this, and then back at himself. He wished he could’ve screamed it.

Credence stood up and took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead roughly with his hand and scrubbing at his eyes with his wrists. He pulled on the lonesome pair of underwear and made his way quickly back to his room, fortunately not meeting anyone along the way.

Credence stopped. On his pillow was a packet of cigarettes. He frowned. His mom would never buy him cigs, especially not after refusing him access to any for the sake of his grandfather’s crippling health. Besides Ben, Brandon and he assumed uncle Percy after his comment in the bedroom yesterday, no other family member present knew he smoked, and his fourteen year old brother would have no chance at getting him any, not that he would’ve even offered to anyway.

He got dressed, eyeing the packet warily before grabbing it and shoving it into his pocket. He’d need it today, the rehearsal for the wedding was this afternoon.

When Credence went downstairs his grandma was angrily emptying glass bottles of whiskey and liquor and beer into the sink, muttering to herself about how 'he had hidden them right under her nose'. Credence guessed she was referring to uncle Percy and his rampant alcoholism.

The prospect of eating made him feel sick so instead he went outside where Ben was trying to film some bees collecting pollen without getting stung.

“Mom went to go meet Paul,” his younger brother informed him, his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to zoom in on a fly that undoubtedly was not happy to be filmed.

Credence grimaced at how bad tempered his mother would be, mainly towards him, after a meeting with her abusive ex. He took a cigarette out of the box and lit it, the long and slow drags easing his headache and general face ache.

“Dylan and his fiancée are coming at lunchtime as well, along with Paul and his wife, and Alice is coming too,” Ben was admittedly brilliant at remembering events to a tee. Credence sighed heavily through his nose, smoke streaming from his nostrils and disappearing into the outside air.

“I guess I’d better be long gone for the little family reunion then,” he cocked a brow, smirking to himself for a reason he couldn’t fathom as he took another drag. His mom would be able to smell it on him but he didn’t give a shit.

Ben made a non committal sound and jumped back when a bee, tired of being filmed, flew at him, but refrained from stinging him. Credence stood with him until he’d burned through the cigarette and then threw it into the grass, grinding it into the dirt with his shoe as he came back inside.

The morning passed in what felt like a decade, even smoking a few joints with Brandon did nothing but leave him blissed out on the couch for a couple hours. No one bothered him, without his mom there they had no reason to treat him as part of the family so instead of being cruel they simply ignored him.

Uncle Percy got the blunt end of both grandma’s and aunt Bonnie’s rage over his apparently midnight bender, and Credence listened from the living room as they had it out in the kitchen. It was fair to say that the man had not fully recovered, his voice audibly slurring and the bizarre statements he tried to counteract their 'you need help' arguments with.

When they’d left to go fetch Dylan and Heather and the rest of her family who would be attending the rehearsal, Credence finally stood up and went outside to where he heard his uncle stagger off to.

The man was leaning by the back door in the shade, in a hideous Hawaiian shirt that remained unbuttoned and a pair of cargo shorts. His hair was unwashed and messy, the stubble on his face clear, making him look dirty. The bags under his eyes almost mimicked Credence’s own. For the first time in his life Credence actually felt a connection to his uncle, as if perhaps they weren’t so different.

Percy looked up at him from over his cigarette, his hands shaking. He tried to smile but his eyes were teary.

Credence didn’t ask what was wrong, or if he was 'ok'. He’d been in the very same situation, of being both off his head and painfully stuck inside himself whilst people who were supposed to care about him screamed at him for things out of his control, things they could never even begin to understand.

Credence took out another cigarette from his pocket and lit it with his lighter, standing close to the older man, smoking with him. Percy eyed the packet for a long time with a quirked brow, but said nothing. After about ten minutes his uncle coughed chestily, discarding his cig on the floor and stepping away from the wall. His eyes were no longer red, and his hands had ceased trembling.

“Let’s go for a drive. I don’t think either of those two will want to see me for quite some time, and your mom's coming back any second. If she smells that weed on you you’re fucking dead,” he slurred slightly as he spoke, rocking a little where he stood before grabbing his wallet and keys from back inside the kitchen , coming out again and squeezing Credence’s arm. “And personally I don’t plan on hanging around to say hi to the newly weds.”

Credence agreed wordlessly, realizing this his uncle was actually right and he did reek of the joint him and Brandon had shared, leaving his cigarette on the patio as he followed his uncle to his pick up truck. The man was in no state to drive a car, he could barely walk, but Credence said nothing.

Somehow the man succeeded in actually keeping the car on the right side of the road at a generally acceptable speed, and they ended up at a McDonald’s. The man ordered something at the drive through, Credence wasn’t listening, but refused anything for himself. The smell when Percy parked up in the lot and opened the brown paper bags made his stomach churn. To combat the nausea he lit up another cigarette. This packet wouldn’t last as long as he’d hoped.

For about half an hour his uncle took turns between eating and complaining, telling Credence about how much his mother and sisters got on his case about his drinking and smoking, how he’d never really fitted in with them and he’d had enough of their 'perfect' act they liked to put on whenever anyone could see them.

Credence kept smoking and only looked at him in occasional sidelong glances, making non committal responses to his bellyaching but otherwise remaining silent. When he had finished eating Percy pulled out a bottle of something from under the driver’s seat and started to drink, his whining becoming louder and more crass, curses and derogatories spilling from his mouth.

And then he’d kissed him.

Credence had froze, pressing his back right back against the seat, his eyes wide as he stared at his uncle. His cigarette dropped somewhere on the floor of the car, forgotten. When the older man pulled back he pushed his hands against his chest in an attempt to push him back. He was very heavy.

“You’re…you’re my fucking uncle. Wh-what the fuck are you doing?” Credence stammered, breathless due to the force of the kiss, Percy’s hand finding its way to the back of his neck and squeezing roughly, pulling him forward back into the thick arms and alcohol wrapped breath.
His uncle kissed him again, deeper, more forceful, pulling Credence close until he was almost kneeling over the gearstick.

He was shaking, his breathing fast. He didn’t know what to do.

Unfortunately his teenage body, which definitely didn’t get release as much as it should, responded for him as Percy’s large hand pushed under his jeans, pulling his cock out and pumping it tight and fast.

“Fuck.. you’re a fucking pervert,” Credence muttered against the older man's lips, but it was hardly coherent as he began to moan, his prick growing to full hardness easily under his uncle’s expert attentions.

He pushed his hips up needily, moaning and wrapping his arms tight around Percy’s neck, the kiss deepening, opening his mouth to allow the intrusion of his tongue to explore his mouth. He let his mind go blank as the older man twisted his hand deliciously over the head of his cock, moaning into the kiss and gripping the back of his hair tightly.

When Percy tugged down Credence’s jeans to his thighs so they were jammed together and unable to move he didn’t struggle, and despite the fear of being caught by any of the many members of public walking by or the deep, pulsating feeling that this was indeed very wrong, his anxiety failed to rise through the waves of arousal and pleasure washing over him.

He didn’t want to struggle.

Even when Percy pushed him down against the cold leather of the seat and got his own impressive cock out, already at full hardness despite his drinking, and tied Credence’s hands behind his back with his belt he didn’t try to get away. In fact, he pushed back against the older man, moaning and writhing and really making sure that he would be severely embarrassed looking back on how he must’ve looked.

His face was burning and his lips were swollen, his flushed leaking cock leaning heavily against his belly as Percy pushed inside him as slow as he could manage in his state, aided by a heavy dose of saliva to ease the burn.

Credence hissed at the stretch, tears coming to his eyes, but he didn’t want it to stop. This was more real and here and tangible than anything he had ever experienced. He’d never felt such thrill and pure lust driving him forwards, towards the pain rather than away from it. It defied human nature but as his uncle started to slowly drag his hips back out and then shove too harshly back inside he decided he never wanted to be human again if it meant it wouldn’t stop.

Percy held Credence’s trapped legs to the side in his large thick hands as if they weighed nothing. There was something about being unable to physically move or get away that spurred Credence onwards, forcing him to put his anxiety to the back of his mind for once and just focus solely on what has happening now, what he was feeling.

His uncle leaning down and kissed him roughly, one hand traveling under his t shirt, pulling it up over his chest as his hurried touch slid over his heated skin.

Credence pushed his chest up eagerly at the touch, kissing back with the same degree of haste, their breath mingling, the smell and taste of cigarettes and alcohol almost unbearable.

After a few slow thrusts Percy decided his nephew was adjusted enough, and began to really drive the message home that Credence was his and his body was his and no one could fuck him like his uncle could. Needless to say Credence very loudly agreed with all of this.

The punishing pace the older man set stung dreadfully, and the burn made him howl, tears starting to spill from his eyes, but the burst of pure unrestrained ecstasy that hit him when Percy thrusted in at just the right angle set him moaning his own uncle’s name like a whore.

Percys hand found his throat and held tight, Credence’s prick only throbbing and leaking more at the show of dominance. He’d never thought he’d be so fucking happy to submit to someone as previously distasteful as his uncle, but now he decided he’d do anything for him as long as it meant he’d get fucked like this.

The leather creaked and Credence’s cock ached as the wet slap of skin against skin got louder, drooling pearly white strands onto his belly. He could’ve sworn he had a slight bulge protruding out from his stomach from the huge length that had some how been fitted balls deep inside of him.

Credence should’ve been embarrassed over how loud he was being, how wanting and needy and girlish his moans were, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure if it was due to too much porn exposure where the female squeals and wails and moans like an animal, no sense of volume control for either of the participants, or if it was because of how fucking good his uncle’s fat cock felt driving so hard and so deep and so fast inside of him.

His uncle came first, loud and hard, squeezing Credence’s neck so tight he thought he might pass out. His hips bucked up against Credence’s ass in several powerful thrusts as the feeling of his hot cum filling him up made Credence squirm. Percy then leant down and ran a thick hot tongue up Credence’s shaft, his breath wet and warm over his veins, and Credence came with a stutter of hips and a tearful wail. It went all over the smooth leather of the car seat.

The journey back had not been as nice. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Percy had been too drunk to realize that he hadn’t untied Credence’s hands so he’d had to struggle for half the drive with a belt that was really starting to hurt his wrists, but when he finally succeeded he hurried to pull his jeans back up. The older man didn’t say anything which made Credence start to feel sick, and he would’ve crashed the car several times if his nephew hadn’t grabbed the wheel at the last second.

When they finally arrived back at his grandparents' house Credence left the car quickly, ignoring Percy’s calls. It was late afternoon, the shadows getting longer, but even the low sun hurt his eyes and made his head throb. Everything seemed to be spinning and he’d never felt so panicked.

His own fucking uncle had just fucked him in his pickup truck outside a McDonald’s, too fucking drunk to even speak by the end of it. Credence felt sick. Why had it felt so good? Why did he want to go back and do it again?

He shouldn’t think that. Judging by how his uncle had responded afterwards he’d clearly just used him, a quick fuck and nothing more, but Credence couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

His breathing was picking up, starting to catch in his throat and his whole body trembled badly as he staggered into the kitchen through the side door, gripping the worktop tightly as his vision went cloudy.

Mom came over, clearly outraged at his disappearance.

“Where were you? We’ve been waiting for an hour, the rehearsal is about to start, go and get dressed!” she scolded, gripping his arm in an attempt to pull him upstairs, but he could only make it to the sink before he threw up, spluttering and coughing.


Credence had eventually managed to calm down from one of the worst panic attacks of his life in the privacy of his mother’s bedroom, but his mom had still made him come to the rehearsal, despite it being almost over by the time they got down there.

His grandma threw them both a disappointed look. Heather looked like she wanted to cry at their interruption. Dylan coughed and his ears burned, shuffling uncomfortably. Uncle Percy was sat in his seat dressed messily in a suit blazer and unbuttoned white shirt, almost falling asleep due to his alcohol induced stupor.

The after party was at a nearby pub paid for by the grandparents, and the bar tender was unusually lax, so Credence, Brandon, and an assortment of other male cousins who were far too young to be drinking got shitfaced. He'd hardly been able to walk, throwing up in the worst places possible and falling over invisible obstacles, keeling over with drunk laughter at the smallest things.

Credence and Brandon smoked weed in the toilets, and suddenly everything became a great deal funnier. It was the most fun he’d had since he’d got here, despite being unable to remember a good deal of it.

Of course his mother had been furious, dragging him outside when she found out and screaming at him with such ferocity Credence was sure her voice box would be spewed out along with her announcement of a return visit to rehab as soon as they got home.

His good tempered father, who’d arrived that lunch with Dylan, Alice and Heather, helped him walk to the car, his arms gripping round Credence’s middle while Ben followed behind, his camera pointed to attention at his older brother's paralytic form.

Credence remembered throwing up a great deal on the car ride back to the house, and only once did it make it out the window.


When Credence awoke it was dark, and he felt like shit. His head throbbed horribly and he could barely open his eyes without his stomach threatening to empty itself all over his bed. He was only his boxers, the rest of his clothes needing a wash after the journey back.

He reached blindly for his bedside table, knocking over Ben’s glass of water and his own medication in his search. The sound of glass smashing against wood made him gag. A light suddenly flickered on in response to the noise, and Credence groaned in pain at the sudden brightness.

Ben sat in his own briefs, watching Credence with sleepy interest as he rubbed his eyes.

Credence pulled the covers over his head, desperate to be rid of the intrusive light.

“Ben turn that fucking thing off,” he grumbled, his voice muffled and deep from under the duvet as his hands gripped the material tightly.

“What were you looking for?” Ben kept the light on and prodded at the lump of moody talking bedsheet.

Credence sighed deeply and pulled his head out from under the safety of the blankets, painfully facing the yellow glow of the bedside lamp, his face scrunched up unattractively like a newborn’s.

“Just look in the top drawer, there’ll be a little plastic square full of clear fluid and a razor. Pass me them both yeah?” he explained groggily, too tired to argue with his younger brother. He had no desire to remember what took place in the car yesterday with his uncle, and when he was hungover it was always best to get out his head for a while.

“What is it?” Ben asked blankly, handing his brother the two requested items after rootling around in the top drawer for longer than it should’ve taken him.

“Nothing Ben, go back to sleep, just ignore me,” Credence muttered, slitting the plastic with the razor and handing it back to Ben to replace into the drawer, and placed the square between his lips.

Ben sat up, watching his brother intently as after a drawn out pause his eyes rolled back into his skull and he began to breathe heavily through his nose. His limbs tensed up until they visibly rippled under his skin, hands gripping the sheets tightly, his body curving into an unnaturally hunched position. He seemed to freeze for a few minutes before uncurling again slowly, now on a limp version of all fours, swaying unsteadily.

The plastic square fell from his mouth onto the floor, and his eyes were heavily lidded. His skin was shiny as he’d started to sweat, but there were goosebumps covering his skin. Credence started drooling, it dripping onto the bedding below, and his head jerked lazily in small pulses as he muttered and mumbled incoherently under his breath.

Ben picked up his camera and started to film.

“Are you on drugs?” he asked quietly, making sure to keep his voice down to avoid anymore of their mother’s wrath.
Credence didn’t respond at first but then nodded slightly and seemed to be struggling to unlock his jaw.

“Is that what that plastic square was? What is it?” Ben raised an eyebrow, zooming the camera in on a droplet of saliva hanging off Credence’s bruised lower lip, threatening to fall.

“Fentanyl,” he muttered quietly, barely audible.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like morphine, but 81 times more potent,” Credence actually sounded a little like his usual self, but the strange slurred breathlessness of his voice and the trancelike state he was in confirmed he was anything but. Ben doubted his older brother even knew who he was.

“Are you, like, afraid of dying?” he asked, his voice retaining its usual monotone quality.

There was a pause where Credence rocked slightly, his legs sliding wide in the kneeling position they were in without him even realizing. Somehow his arms managed to keep hold of his body weight. His breathing was loud and labored in the quiet room. It was like hearing a corpse breathe.

“Every minute,” he finally slurred out, his jaw doing the strange locking thing again before he spoke. “Every second.”

Ben watched him, the camera still focused on his face. Credence sighed and adjusted himself on the bed, shuffling his backside forward and little and rolling his shoulders back so his shoulder blades stuck out momentarily in some freakish imitation of wings. He hunched a little before relaxing again, letting all the breath out of him in a long unhealthy wheeze. His eyes fluttered but remained lidded. His hair was plastered to his face.

“What’s it feel like?” Ben asked, wrapping the covers around his legs more, the room a little cold.

Credence mumbled to himself, no longer able to hear his younger brother, acting as if there was another person inside his head whom he was conversing with;

“It doesn’t make any sense.” “I know.” “Why’s it happening?” “I don’t know.”


Percy had woken up at three in the morning after drinking so much at the after party that he’d passed out and had to be carried home. He was thankful to have been put back into his bed, his brain threatening to burst out of his skull at the slightest movement.

It was now four, and after excessive consumption of water and aspirin he was able to stagger into a standing position without throwing up. The effect of the alcohol had left him in an unusually empathetic mood, and he decided to go apologize to Credence for what had happened yesterday. Despite how much he’d drank he remembered most of it clearly, and certainly how panicked Credence had been because of it afterwards.

This sudden influx of human kindness didn’t last long however, as when he entered his nephews' bedroom it was clear Credence was no longer Credence. He was swaying unsteadily on all fours on the bed, mumbling to himself, a clear half erection making his boxers tent slightly. His skin shone in the golden light of the bedside lamp.

He’d taken some of his grandfather’s medication again.

Ben sat on his own bed, filming the scene before him, but abruptly put his camera down when Percy came in clad only in boxers.

How badly Percy wanted to be the kind of man who was strong enough to resist his own perverted urges, who was compassionate and caring towards his family members and who would call an ambulance for poor Credence who was really putting himself at high risk taking these sorts of drugs.

But Percy was not a good man. He would do none of these things.

“Hey Ben, give us a few minutes alone hm?” he smiled at his younger nephew, trying to make his intentions seem nothing but genuine. When Ben's face fell into a mistrusting frown at his words, he added, “I promised Credence earlier I’d talk to him about something, and it’s really important, just us two can know.”

Ben frowned further, keeping hold of his camera, the red light on it blinking every few seconds. Percy wasn’t sure if that meant it was on or off.

“He won’t be able to hear you, I’ve tried talking to him already,” the young boy said flatly, in an infuriating matter-of-fact way.

“I know a way to get through to him, trust me. I know about this sort of thing, I can make sure he’s alright.”

Ben looked as though he was anything but trusting of his unsavory uncle and his hasty words, but he placed his camera down on the bedside table and left the room. Percy waited til he heard him going down the stairs before closing the door, taking in the sight of Credence, once again so helpless.

He came round to the front of him, lifting up his chin with his hand. He slapped him. Credence was unresponsive, other than the heavy breathing and the flicker his eyelids gave.

Percy opened the boy’s mouth and spat in it, then when he let go of his jaw it drooled slowly out again. He smirked, cocking a brow as he came round the back of his nephew, pulling down his boxers just enough so his behind was accessible before removing his own. He took himself in hand and pumped himself fast til he was eagerly hard, looking in the chest of drawers by the bed for some form of lubricant. He found a bottle of some sort of oil that one of the boys definitely used to jack off with, and coated his dick with it.

When he pushed into his nephew he bit back a moan, breathing out heavily instead, his large hands filling the expanse of the boy's hips, tanned and surprisingly hairy against his white porcelain skin. The boy's hole was so tight, how had he not fully appreciated it before in the car in his drunken hurry? It was so hot and slick, silky soft on the inside.

Percy smirked as Credence whimpered uneasily beneath him, unable to comprehend anything that was going on around him. Percy kneaded his hands into the boy's ass and hips, squeezing and then sliding his fingers up his spine, making his skin shudder like an animal's. The soft moan that escaped his nephew’s parted swollen lips was honestly adorable.

As he sped up his thrusts the noises Credence made were small, childlike whimpers of undefined pain or pleasure. His arms gave out underneath him and he collapsed heavily, his chest pressed flat to the bed with his spine curving beautifully, his ass held up by Percy’s hands alone.

Percy leaned forward and pushed Credence’s face into the mattress, gripping the back of his hair tightly. He leaned right over his nephew and drove his cock as deep as he could.

Percy thrusted deeper and faster, pulling out fully until just the tip was inside with the boy's tight hole clinging on, desperately trying to pull him back inside, before plunging balls deep inside him.

The lewd wet slapping of their skin and the slickness of Credence’s hole was deafening in the otherwise silent room, besides Percy’s quiet grunts and deep breathy moans.

Credence made soft intermittent mewls and whimpers, sounding like something so innocent and pure, compared to the boy who had been writhing under him only a day ago, screaming his name and bucking his hips whorishly.

Each time Percy pushed in balls deep Credence let out a muffled grunt, but if it was of discomfort or of ecstasy Percy didn’t know. If the boy’s hard flushed cock straining at his now stained underwear was anything to go by however, even if Credence wasn’t actually aware of what was happening, he was certainly enjoying himself.

When Percy came he let out a single, guttural moan, forgetting momentarily to be quiet as his release was absorbed into that tight wet heat. Credence had somehow managed to reach a successful orgasm while in still such an out of body state, his thin boxers leaking a pearly white fluid.

He let the boy go and Credence collapsed onto the bed, his breathing louder and his body slick with sweat, but otherwise still in his strange infant like state, unaware of his surroundings. He probably didn’t even recognize the man who had just assaulted him. Percy wondered if he’d even been able to feel any of it.

Percy pulled on his boxers from the floor and pulled Credence’s own back up, hiding the bottle of slick back in the drawer where he’d found it. He then left the room, planning on going to find Ben to tell him it was ok to come back in and go to sleep.

On the bedside table Ben’s video camera blinked its scarlet light. It faced where Credence lay motionless, still completely off his head. It had continued to record long after Ben had first set it down and left the room, capturing Percy’s and Credence’s 'liaison' perfectly.