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</div></div><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Robert Rogers was blaring at Dax to <i>shut the fuck up</i>. and every time Dax looked at his balding and unkempt landlord, the jowls hanging from his cheeks seemed to shudder on his chubby round face. The unmistakeable flare of anger in his beady, pig-like eyes, showed murderous intent if not much worse. The man looked as if he'd never seen the sun in his entire life judging by the pale roll of fat peeking from under the grease-stained shirt that rode up on his torso. His rubbery lips had no shape as he held his injured micro penis, Dax noticing that he licked them constantly. The blow to his nethers had not deterred Mr. Rogers at all from his objective.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, the party was just getting started.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Thoughts of escape vanished completely when Dax Ripley found himself staring down the barrel of Robert Roger's <i>Smith &amp; Wesson Colt .45 revolver.</i><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Dax startled, staring at Mr. Rogers in disbelief. “Seriously dude? You're gonna kill me with an Airsoft pistol?”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Dax mistakenly thought that the gun was completely fake, as he scaled the side of his sofa in order to stand back up. Slowly, Dax tried to get up but quickly realized how futile it was to try to put weight on his bad leg in order to grab his crutches that had fallen when he was bowled over. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain lanced through his head and colorful spots flashed in front of his eyes, it felt like the bone in his leg was beaten with a sledge hammer. Dax probably re-fractured his leg, and suddenly he couldn't even think straight because the pain was so bad.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The second reason Dax couldn't think straight? Mr. Rogers engaged the firing mechanism by pressing the hammer back with his thumb as he aimed the gun at him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
"O-Oh oh!  Woah alright, alright dude! For fucks sake don't shoot me!" Dax stammered in a higher pitch, his hands involuntarily raised in a sign of surrender in order to appease him.<br/>
<br/>
While trying to take the weight off his bad leg, Dax was trying to do as he was being ordered to do. He slowly unbuttoned  his shirt, slipping it off with the T-shirt underneath. He was having the most difficulty in removing his jeans, his bum leg really slowing him down. The landlord's lust filled eyes roamed his body, licking his lips rather impatiently as he glanced at Dax's crotch. Having to tug his jeans down was one thing, but his boxers too? His stomach turned and he felt the need to gag, but Dax managed to hold it in.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<b>“Boxers too,” </b>Mr. Rogers said. With shaking hands, Dax slid down his boxers and placed his hands over my crotch to hide his manhood from view. Mr. Rogers wasn't having any of it. He shook his head no and Dax removed his hands. The bastard smiled at his flaccid five inches.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<b>“Get over here,”</b> he said, gun still aimed at him. Dax begrudgingly limped across the living room until he was within a foot of his landlord. Since Mr. Rogers already had his jeans undone, Dax already got a look at what he was going to be dealing with for the next who knows how long it took his roommate to show up. He had a micro-penis, and a lot of hair in places that were unmentionable. He was wider than he was long, three inches or so. Dax felt his eyes widen as he tried to accept his fate.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<b>“You’re going to fucking shut up and listen to me now. Stop being a little fucking diva and get up. You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?”</b> The pistol lowered down to Daxon’s uninjured knee.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He laughed. <b>“Suck me.”</b> Dax didn't move. Robert Rogers moved so fast Dax couldn't even blink. His fist connected with his left eye and Dax saw stars, as he was knocked backwards. The next thing Dax knew his landlord was forcing his dick down his very unwilling throat.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<b>“You better make it sloppy or else it's gunna hurt when I stick it up your ass.” </b>Dax barely heard Mr. Rogers through the blood pounding in his ears. But he listened.<br/>
<br/>
</span><br/><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Please fucking hurry already, Ross. Sweet Jesus he's gonna rape me.</span></i><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
<br/>
_________________<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Dax didn't know anything about the text message mistakenly sent to the wrong person, or see the response that came just after. He just heard his cell phone chirp to let him know he received a text. He was too busy getting his tonsils drilled by Mr. Rogers to really think straight. Robert Rogers tasted vile, smelled even worse, but with a gun pressed to his temple he was forced to lick his balls and ass like a good little cocksucker. Dax wanted to puke, and was starting to gag when Mr. Rogers clenched a fist full of his hair and thrust deeper into his mouth so that he could hardly breathe. Dax was going to pass out, black dots and zig zags moving across his vision as he became a source of pleasurable entertainment for his landlord.<br/>
<br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-size: 22px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">BANG! BAM!</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
<br/>
At first, Dax thought the gun that Mr. Rogers held pressed to his temple as he skull fucked him had gone off. He didn't feel dead, but the cock that had been jammed into his mouth had popped free in surprise. Dax might have heard the man say,<i> "What the fuck?! Who are you?!" i</i>n confusion, if he hadn't been pushed away to the floor as Robert Rogers turned around to confront someone that entered his apartment. He rested on his palms, desperately trying to catch his next breath as all hell broke loose. A blurry streak of activity too quick for his human vision to grasp sped past the small foyer, the front door that was once solid and deadbolted was now hanging in broken shards.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Dax blinked, and crawled over to the pile of his clothes. He didn't know what the fuck just happened, but he needed to get out of the way, especially since Mr. Rogers was holding the gun and waving it around wildly. What he was aiming at defied human physics. Dax wasn't quite sure of what he was seeing, but it was massive and much more agile than his obese landlord. The blur clotheslined him, and the sound of a bullet engaging rung out as it was fired from the pistol. Dax didn't practice religion, but somehow he figured out that this intruder was definitely not his roommate, Ross. It had to be someone who'd overdosed on anabolic steroids and some energy concentrate.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He ducked behind the sofa and covered his head, as a loud crack was heard and a growl that sounded more animal than human. "Oh shit. Oh shit! I'm gonna die!" Dax whispered, loud enough for someone to hear him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He might have been correct if he hadn't seen Mr. Rogers' body go flying past his hiding spot, and his hefty bulk make a mess out of the kitchen counter. Dax was visibly shaken as a shadow moved forward, grasping Robert Rogers by the shirt and slamming his unconscious form against the counter once more. It may have been a bit of overkill, but after the way the guy humiliated him and used him as a sex toy, Dax felt like he got what he deserved. Whoever his hero was, he let Mr. Rogers go, his body sliding down the baseboard with a soft thud. There was blood on the wall, and Dax panicked. Not only because his landlord looked a sight closer to death than he would've preferred, but because the man standing there happened to be his doctor.<br/>
<br/>
</span><br/><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Doctor Ian Callaghan, M.D. in the flesh.</span></i><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><br/>
<br/>
"I-Ian?" the shaky sounding voice of Dax emanating from his hiding place behind the sofa. "Is...that...you?"<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
A naked Dax thought he might just pass out the moment the man's name matched the face of the intruder in his apartment.</span>