Goon to Gone

# Chapter 1: The First Drop The bass thumped through Sarah's chest as she pushed deeper into the sweaty mass of bodies at the warehouse rave. Strobe lights sliced through artificial fog, painting everything in electric blues and sickly greens. She'd been here for hours already, her black skirt clinging to her thighs from sweat and friction. "Try this," a stranger had said maybe twenty minutes ago, pressing something into her palm. A small white pill with a faint purple sheen. "Dribble. You'll fucking love it." Sarah hadn't hesitated. She never did at these things. She'd crushed it under her tongue, letting the chemical burn spread across her taste buds before swallowing. At first, nothing. Then— *Everything.* The music didn't just pound anymore; it *invaded*, each bass note a physical blow to her stomach that made her whole body convulse. The dancing crowd around her blurred into a writhing mass of limbs and heat. Sarah's hips started moving on their own, grinding against the nearest body—she couldn't tell if it was male or female, didn't care. Something warm spread through her lower belly. At first she thought it was just the heat, but then— *Oh god.* Between her legs, a sudden rush of wetness soaked through her panties, spreading dark and wet across the front of her skirt. Sarah gasped, stumbling as her knees went weak. Her pussy *ached*, throbbed with a desperate need she'd never felt before. Every movement of her hips sent fresh floods gushing down her thighs. She was dancing—or grinding—against some guy now, his hands on her waist pulling her back against him rhythmically. She could feel the hardness in his jeans pressing into her ass through the soaked fabric of her skirt. The sensation made her whimper, made her grind harder, her mind going completely blank except for one desperate need: *more, more, MORE.* When did she leave? Sarah didn't remember deciding to go home. She stumbled across campus in her platform boots, skirt clinging obscenely to her still-dripping thighs. Her dorm room came into focus—Dave's side was dark and quiet. Good. She didn't want him seeing her like this. In the bathroom mirror, Sarah barely recognized herself. Her black hair hung in tangled strands around her flushed face. Her eyes were wild and glazed. And there, between her legs on her soaked skirt— A small baggie with three more pills inside. Sarah's fingers shook as she picked it up, holding it to the light. The same purple sheen. Dribble. She'd somehow ended up with more of it. She turned the bag over in her hand, and a single pill fell out, landing on the bathroom counter with a soft click. Her pussy *ached* just looking at it. Sarah's mind raced—when was the last time she'd felt this horny? This wet? She could still feel the dampness between her legs, could still feel that desperate need clawing at her insides. All from one little pill. She needed more of it. She *had* to have more. Her hand moved toward the pill on the counter before she even made a conscious decision.

Sarah's fingers closed around the pill on the bathroom counter, warm and smooth against her palm. Her heart hammered in her chest as she popped it into her mouth, swallowing it dry. The familiar tingle started almost immediately—a warmth spreading through her veins like liquid fire. She stumbled back to bed, barely making it before her knees gave out. Her skirt was still damp between her thighs, and the sensation of the fabric against her skin made Sarah gasp. Every touch felt amplified. Electric. Her hand moved down automatically, fingers sliding beneath the hem of her skirt. The room tilted and swam as she lay back on the mattress. Class. She had class today. The thought flickered through her mind like a dying ember before being consumed by heat. What was the point of class when her whole body was screaming? When that deep, hollow ache between her legs demanded to be filled? Sarah's fingers found their mark easily—she was already soaking wet. Her hips jerked at the first touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming. She could feel it building already, faster than before, more intense. Her other hand gripped the sheets as she worked herself faster, harder. "Oh fuck," she whimpered, her voice thick and desperate. "Fuck yes." Her mind went blank except for sensation. Except for need. The purple haze swallowed everything else—the thought of class, of tomorrow, of who she was supposed to be. There was only this moment, only the heat building in her core, only the frantic motion of her hand between her legs. Sarah came with a cry that tore from her throat, her back arching off the bed. Waves of pleasure crashed over her, so powerful they left her trembling and gasping for air. For long moments she lay there, limbs sprawled, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as her mind slowly drifted back together. A knock on her door made her jump. "Sarah?" Dave's voice came through the wood, muffled but concerned. "You okay? You missed your morning class." Her heart stuttered. Dave. Right. Her roommate. She'd completely forgotten about him—or classes, or time, or anything that wasn't the drug singing in her veins. "I'm fine," she called back, though her voice came out breathy and strange to her own ears. "I just... I got this new thing. This drug. And I can't really think about anything else right now." There was a pause on the other side of the door. "Is everything okay? You sound... weird." Sarah sat up, her black hair falling in tangled waves around her face. Her skirt had ridden up during her climax, and she could feel the cool air against her still-wet sex. The thought made her shiver—a good shiver. "It's this drug," she repeated, struggling to focus on his question through the fog in her head. What was important again? Oh right. "Dribble. It makes me... it makes me really horny. I can't think about anything else." Another long pause. Sarah heard Dave shift his weight outside the door. "Okay," he said slowly, and she could hear the discomfort in his voice now. "Well, maybe you should get some rest? Skip the rest of your classes today?" "I already did," Sarah admitted with a small laugh that sounded almost manic to her ears. She was having trouble remembering what class she'd even missed. Something about literature? History? It all seemed so far away and unimportant compared to the throbbing need still pulsing through her body. "Hey Dave?" she called out suddenly, an idea forming in her hazy mind. "Can you come in for a second?" "I don't know if that's—" "It's okay," Sarah assured him, already moving to unlock her side of the door. "I just need someone to watch me while this wears off. I'll be good. Promise." She opened the door and leaned against the frame, looking up at Dave with eyes that were too bright, pupils dilated. Her skirt was still hiked up around her hips, and she made no move to adjust it. Dave stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze dropping briefly before snapping back up to her face. His cheeks flushed pink. "Sarah, maybe you should put some clothes on or—" "I don't have anything else," she interrupted, gesturing vaguely at herself. "This is all I'm wearing. Please? I'll just lay down and rest. You can sit there and make sure I don't do anything stupid." She could see him wavering, his jaw tight as he fought with himself. Then he sighed, stepping into the room and carefully closing the door behind him. "Fine," he said quietly, moving to sit on his own bed across from hers. "But you need to keep it together, okay?" Sarah nodded eagerly and crawled onto her mattress, lying back against the pillows. Her skirt rode up even further in the process, exposing her bare legs and the damp fabric of her panties clinging to her still-swollen sex. "Thanks Dave," she breathed, settling into the bed with a sigh. "You're really nice." She stared at the ceiling for a moment before an idea struck her—or perhaps it was just what the drug wanted from her. "You know," Sarah said slowly, turning her head to look at him, "you could sit closer? Then you can keep better watch. Make sure I'm really okay." Dave's expression tightened. "Sarah—" "Please?" she asked, her voice taking on a pleading quality. She bit her lower lip and looked up at him with those wide, desperate eyes. "I promise I'll be good. I just... I need someone to be here. Someone to see me through this." He stood up slowly, his hand running through his hair in obvious discomfort. But he moved closer anyway, perching on the edge of her bed. "Just for a little while," he said firmly. Sarah smiled and shifted her position, rolling onto her side so she was facing him. Her skirt bunched up around her waist completely now, leaving nothing to imagination—but if Dave noticed, he didn't say anything. She closed her eyes and let out another long sigh, her body relaxing against the mattress. The drug was still humming through her veins, that deep ache never quite satisfied but somehow dulled by Dave's presence. She could feel his eyes on her, even with her eyelids closed. "Thanks for being here," she whispered. "You're really taking care of me." Her hand moved unconsciously to rest against her stomach, fingers splayed out over the thin fabric of her top. She was acutely aware of every inch of her body—the warmth in her cheeks, the heaviness in her limbs, the dampness between her legs that refused to go away. "I know you can see it," Sarah said suddenly, her eyes still closed. "How wet I am. How much I need." "Sarah, don't—" "It's okay," she interrupted softly. "You're my roommate. You care about me. That's all." But even as she said the words, Sarah felt something shift in the air between them. She could feel his discomfort, yes—but also something else. Something harder pressing against the front of his jeans. Her eyes opened slowly, pupils still dilated and unfocused as they locked onto Dave's face. Then her gaze drifted downward, taking in the growing bulge straining against the denim fabric. "I can see it too," she whispered, a small smile playing at her lips. "Dave." His breath hitched audibly. His hands gripped his knees as if anchoring himself to the bed. "Sarah, we shouldn't—" "We're not doing anything," she said gently, reaching out with one hand to touch his arm. Her fingers traced idle patterns against his skin. "You're just sitting here watching me. That's all." She shifted again in the bed, rolling onto her back now. The movement made her skirt ride up even further, exposing the soaked crotch of her panties completely. Sarah made no move to cover herself. "Stay with me," she breathed, her voice thick and honeyed by the drug. "Please? I'm still so horny Dave. It's not going away." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bulge in his pants grew larger, more prominent. "I can't—" "You already are," Sarah pointed out softly, her hand moving from his arm to rest lightly on his thigh. She could feel the heat radiating off him through the fabric of his jeans. "You're here with me. That's all I need." She shifted again, rolling toward him so that her body was pressed against his leg. Her face nuzzled into his thigh as she let out a contented sigh. "Just let me rest here," she murmured, her lips moving against the denim. "You're keeping me safe. That's what matters." Dave made a strangled sound in his throat, his whole body tensing as Sarah pressed closer. His hands moved from his knees to grip the sheets beside him—whether to push her away or pull her closer was unclear even to himself. But he didn't move away. And Sarah could feel it—the hard length of his cock bulging through his pants, pressing into her face as she lay there against his thigh. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, letting it mix with the purple haze still clouding her mind. Her hand moved to rest on his other leg now, fingers splayed out over the tense muscle. "Thank you," she whispered softly, her lips brushing against the fabric covering his erection. "For being here. For taking care of me." And there they stayed—Dave frozen in place with his cock bulging through his jeans into Sarah's face as she lay tangled up against him on her bed, too lost in Dribble to know where this was heading next.

# Chapter 3 The ceiling fan spun lazily above them, its blades cutting through the dim lamplight in slow, rhythmic arcs. Dave stared at it like his life depended on not looking down—at Sarah's face pressed against him, at her lips so close to where his body was betraying every good intention he'd ever had. "Sarah..." His voice came out rough, strained. "You need to move. This isn't—you're not thinking straight." But she wasn't listening. Couldn't listen. The purple haze had her completely now, and beneath that chemical fog, something more primal was rising. Dave felt it in the way her body shifted against him, in the small, exploratory movements of her hand sliding from his thigh to rest over the bulge straining against his jeans. "Mmm..." A soft sound escaped her throat as her fingers traced the outline through the denim, curious and uninhibited. "Dave..." "Don't," he breathed, but even as the word left his mouth, his hips gave the smallest jerk forward—an involuntary response that made his cock throb against her exploring hand. He heard it then. A wet sound. Soft at first, almost imperceptible beneath the hum of the fan and their combined breathing. But there—a slick slide of flesh on flesh as Sarah's legs shifted and she pressed her thighs together beneath her skirt. "No," Dave said again, firmer this time, but his hands remained frozen on the sheets beside him. "Sarah, you're... you need to stop." But she wasn't stopping. Couldn't stop. Her mind was a swirling vortex of Dribble-induced sensation and something deeper—an emptiness that desperately needed filling. The drug had peeled back layer after layer of her consciousness until what remained was pure instinct, pure need. Her fingers found the button on his jeans. "Sarah, don't—" The button popped open with a soft click. His zipper followed with a metallic whisper that seemed to echo through the small dorm room. Dave's entire body went rigid as cool air hit his exposed skin, but he still didn't push her away. Couldn't. Some part of him—a part he'd buried deep beneath years of friendship and brotherly concern—had been waiting for this moment since the day she moved in. And now that it was here, now that her small hand was sliding into his boxers and wrapping around his throbbing length, he found he had no will to stop it. "Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as her grip tightened. "Sarah... oh god..." She lifted her head then, her black eyes glazed and unfocused but burning with an intensity that made his breath catch. The Sarah he knew—the girl who danced and laughed and studied late into the night—was gone. In her place was something else entirely. Something hungry. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she looked up at him, and then without hesitation or preamble, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. Dave's whole body convulsed. His back arched off the bed with a choked cry that he tried desperately to swallow down, but it was useless—the sound tore from his throat raw and desperate as her lips closed around him and began to move. "Sarah... fuck, Sarah..." The words came out in broken gasps as she worked him with an eagerness that should have terrified him. But the terror was buried beneath a wave of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, and all he could do was grip the sheets harder and force himself not to thrust up into her mouth. But then he heard it again—that wet sound, only louder now. More insistent. Dave's eyes flew open to find Sarah's free hand sliding up under her own skirt, fingers pressing between her legs as she continued to bob her head over his cock. "Mmm... mmm..." The vibrations traveled through him like electricity, and he felt his balls tightening already, felt the pressure building at the base of his spine as pre-cum began to leak onto her tongue. And Sarah—lost in Dribble, lost in sensation—could only think one thing over and over again: *cock... need cock... filling... dribbling... full...* Her fingers moved faster between her own legs, slick sounds growing louder as she sucked him harder. Dave watched through half-lidded eyes as her hips began to rock against her hand, as her breathing grew ragged around his length. "Sarah, you're gonna make me—" He came with a strangled shout, his whole body going rigid as thick ropes of cum spilled down her throat. She swallowed greedily, moaning around him even as her own climax hit—a sharp, desperate cry that vibrated around his sensitive head and sent aftershocks rippling through his body. She pulled back slowly, stringing of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his softening cock as she gasped for air. Her face was flushed, eyes wild and unfocused, and when another orgasm ripped through her—just from the taste of him on her tongue, just from the feeling of cum sliding down her throat—Sarah let out a keening wail that sounded nothing like the girl Dave had known for two years. "Cock... need cock... dribbling..." The words tumbled from her lips in a broken chant as she reached for him again, trying to guide his still-hard length toward where her skirt was hiked up around her waist. And Dave—who had been holding on by a thread, who had tried so hard to be the good roommate, the protective friend—finally snapped. "Enough." The word came out like a gunshot in the quiet room. Sarah froze, hand still wrapped around him as he sat up abruptly and grabbed her shoulders. "We're doing this," he said, his voice rough and dangerous in a way she'd never heard before. "But we're doing it right." Before she could protest—or agree, or even register what was happening—Dave had shifted them both. One moment Sarah was straddling him on the bed; the next she was face-down over the arm of their couch across the room, her skirt yanked up around her waist as Dave positioned himself behind her. "Look at you," he breathed, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "So fucking wet... I can see it dripping down your thighs." Sarah whimpered and pushed back against him blindly, beyond words now, beyond thought. There was only the pressure building between her legs—the emptiness that needed filling so desperately—and the feeling of Dave's cock pressing against her slick entrance. "Tell me you want this," he demanded even as he began to push inside. "Tell me what you need." "I... I need..." Sarah's voice came out broken, fragmented by Dribble and desire. "Need cock... need you... filling me... dribbling..." "Fuck yes." And then he was inside her—all the way inside with one hard thrust that made them both cry out. Dave gave himself over completely then, any last vestiges of restraint burning away beneath the heat of Sarah's tight, dripping pussy gripping him like a fist. He fucked her like he'd never fucked anyone before—hard and deep and relentless, each thrust slamming her hips against the arm of the couch hard enough to leave bruises. The sounds filling the room were obscene: wet flesh on wet flesh, Sarah's broken moans with each snap of his hips, Dave's guttural grunts as he chased his own release. And every time Sarah came—every time her pussy clenched around him and she screamed out wordless pleas for more—she felt another piece of herself slip away. Each orgasm stripped away another layer: the college student, the dancer, the girl who loved music and friends and late-night conversations... All of it gone, dribbling away like water down a drain until all that remained was this: cock filling her, stretching her, claiming her so completely that nothing else mattered. "I'm gonna... Sarah, I'm gonna..." Dave's hands tightened on her hips as his thrusts became erratic, desperate. "Gonna fill you up... gonna—" "Please," she sobbed. "Please please please..." And then he was coming—pumping rope after rope of cum deep into her dripping pussy until it overflowed and began to run down her thighs in thick rivulets. The feeling of it triggered one final, catastrophic orgasm that ripped through Sarah's body so hard she saw white. And then... nothing. Darkness. Sarah collapsed forward onto the couch cushions as Dave slumped over her back, both of them too spent to move. The last thing she was aware of before blacking out completely was the feeling of his cum leaking from her used pussy and dripping onto the carpet below—a purple haze slowly mixing with white until neither color could be distinguished from the other. Dave lay there for a long moment after Sarah went limp, his cock still buried inside her as their combined fluids continued to leak out around him. His mind was blank—no guilt, no regret, no second thoughts. Just the fading echo of pleasure and the scent of sex heavy in the air. Eventually he pulled away with a soft pop and collapsed onto the couch beside where Sarah's unconscious body sprawled over the arm. He stared up at that same ceiling fan spinning lazily above them, each rotation marking time as reality slowly began to creep back in around the edges. "What have I done?" The words came out barely a whisper as Dave reached out with trembling fingers to brush some of Sarah's black hair from her face. But even as he asked it, even as part of him mourned what had just happened between them—what Dribble had made possible—another part of him knew the answer. He'd taken something that wasn't his. Had crossed a line there was no coming back from. And deep down, beneath all the guilt and confusion and chemical haze still clinging to both their bodies like cobwebs... Some part of Dave knew he'd do it again if given the chance. The fan continued its lazy spinning above them as Sarah's unconscious form slowly began to slip further into whatever hell—or heaven—Dribble had in store for her next.

# Chapter 4: The Offering Sarah's eyes fluttered open to a ceiling she didn't recognize at first. White. Ceiling fan. Her own dorm room, but something was wrong about it. She turned her head—too fast, nausea rolling through her—and saw herself in the mirror across from her bed. Black hair splayed across her pillow like spilled ink. Her skirt twisted around her waist. The taste of something metallic and sweet still coating her tongue. *Dribble.* The memory hit her in waves: the rave, the pill, Dave's face, his hands, the couch—everything after that was a blur of sensation she couldn't quite piece together. Her body felt wrong. Used. Pleasantly sore in ways that made her cheeks burn when she tried to remember why. There was a note on her bedside table, folded into a perfect triangle. Beside it sat a glass of water and—she squinted—were those what she thought they were? A small plastic bottle with a single pill inside, and next to it... Sarah reached for the note with shaking fingers: *Morning beautiful, had class couldn't miss it. You were out cold so I put you to bed. Saw how much fun we had last night lol. If you want to go deeper, so do you. —D* Beneath his signature, he'd drawn a little heart. She stared at the pill. Then at the items beside it. Her face went hot, then cold. The memory of the previous night came flooding back in explicit detail—Dave's mouth on her, his fingers inside her, him *inside* her while she couldn't even consent because Dribble had stolen her voice, her will, everything. And now he was offering more. Sarah sat up too fast again, vision swimming. She stumbled to her desk and grabbed her laptop with trembling hands. The screen glowed accusingly bright as she navigated to the college portal. Registration. Unregister. Her finger hovered over the button. *Go deeper.* She clicked it. The confirmation popped up. Sarah Jenkins officially withdrew from all classes, effective immediately. She closed the laptop and sat in the sudden silence of her dorm room, listening to that same ceiling fan Dave had stared at last night while she was unconscious. Her hand moved almost on its own, reaching for the pill bottle. The single white tablet inside seemed to pulse with invitation. Sarah opened it and dumped the pill into her palm. So small. So innocent-looking. She popped it in her mouth, chased it with water from the glass Dave had left—*thoughtful bastard*—and swallowed. The buzz started almost immediately. Not like last night's explosive rush, but a slow creeping thing that began at her toes and climbed up her spine like warm fingers. Sarah looked down at the other items on her bedside table. She picked up the butt plug first, turning it over in her hands. The glass of water was still there. She took another drink, then spat into the cup, coating the toy with saliva before setting it aside. Her breathing had already gotten heavier just from holding it. Then came the dildo. Heavier than she expected. Sarah lay back on her bed and hiked up her skirt without thinking about it—there was no room for second thoughts anymore, only sensation and need and the chemical imperative driving her forward. She positioned herself at her entrance, already slick from the Dribble coursing through her veins. It slid in easily. Too easily. Sarah gasped as pleasure jolted through her body like electricity finding a conductor. Her hips bucked involuntarily against the toy as she reached for what Dave had left her with trembling fingers. The plug. She'd never used one before, but Dribble made it feel inevitable. Natural. Right. More spit on her fingers, then on the tip of the toy. She positioned herself over her pillows, bent over the bed in a way that would make her roommate's heart stop if he could see her now—if he were here— But he wasn't. He'd left her to go deeper on her own. Sarah pressed the plug against her other entrance and felt resistance for just a moment before Dribble erased all hesitation, all fear, all sense of boundaries or self-preservation. She pushed forward with a strangled gasp that became a moan as it slipped past the tight ring of muscle and settled into place. The dual sensation hit her like a freight train. Pleasure exploded through her nervous system in waves so intense she couldn't even scream properly—only drool and moan and buck against both toys as they filled her completely. Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as Dribble carried her away on a tide of chemical ecstasy that left no room for regret, no space for anything except this moment, this feeling, this complete surrender to whatever came next. The ceiling fan kept spinning lazily above her as Sarah's conscious mind dissolved into pure sensation.