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I left him drying in the kitchen and quickly went to get dressed. As I was pulling on some pants he made his way into the bedroom also. He sat beside me on the mattress and began inquiring about my idea.

"So what are you planning to do here, dude?'

I looked over at him, and before I could speak I remembered that the drill needed to be charged. Shit! I told him wait a second and I dashed back into the kitchen where I pulled the adapter out of my jacket pocket, quickly plugging the battery part into the drill and the plug into the outlet. There was a red light on it that was lit up, and a green light that wasn't. My deductive reasoning told me that when the drill was charged, the green light would come on. I had no idea how long it took a drill to charge. I went back and joined my partner, and asked him, "Hey man, how long will it take that thing to charge?"

"I dunno...I never charged a drill before. So now are you gonna let me in on this or what?"

"Ok, ok...now I know this sounds crazy, but I figure that since I no longer have blood circulating, I know I can't get high that way, right?"

"Ok..."

"And I also would tend to think that because I have no internal organs to speak of, and I'm still walking around and talking, I am somewhat immortal or something. But my brain is functioning. Are you following me?"

"Uh, no...I don't think so."

"Alright, listen, we take the drill, and put it to my skull, and press just enough to get through the bone...then we take a rig and fill it with vodka, and you stick it in my brain."

A look of shocked non-comprehension came over him. Compared to the look he'd given me when I related the initial bizarre story to him, this was a look of complete confusion. He began, "Dude, that is the most fucked-up shit I've heard from you. You have really gone over the edge, I think. I think you're 'one too many' was awhile back..."

"So, what you're saying then, is that you don't fuckin' believe what I told you earlier. Well fuck you, cocksucker. If you're just gonna sit there and look at me like I'm crazy, just go get high and I'll see ya later."

I spoke with too much emotion. I didn't give a fuck. I was focused, I was going to get off, and if this was the only possible means, certainly the only one I could come up with, well so be it. My overly sensitive reaction caught him somewhat off guard.

"No, man, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry...but I think you're taking this just a little too far."

"A little too far? Easy for you to say, fucker! You can take a drink without pissing it out right away. You can stick shit in your arm and get off. Put yourself in my shoes for justonefucking minute, ok?"

I was truly beginning to get mad. His lack of faith in me hurt my feelings, and his obvious non-comprehension of the truth that I couldn't get off was pissing me off.

"Just go on and let me do this then."

"No way, you crazy fuck. You really think I'm going to let you put a drill to your head? If you do, you apparently don't need to get any more fucked-up then you already are."

He made a move towards the charging drill, and I jumped in between him and it. God, I did not want to be fighting. This was ruining everything. I grabbed the drill and squeezed the trigger. It had gotten a bit of a charge, but not enough to work right. The bit turned slow-motion like, and made a low growling sound as it attempted to work. I cursed the tool under my 'breath' and tried to determine how to best deal with my overly-protective lover.

"Listen man," I began, "there is no way this will hurt me. Whether or not you've reached a point of possessing the ability to understand the shit I told you, about what happened in the bathroom, is not my problem. I was there, sober, very awake and aware. Believe me. You were in a heroin-induced semi-coma. I'm sorry you missed all the excitement. But you have already seen the demonstration of my lack of guts; you know that I have no fucking heartbeat. Remember when your head was on my chest? Think you just imagined that? So just fuckin' trust me and let me do this, alright?"

There was a long uncomfortable silence. I said my bit; I felt no need to carry on anymore. And I sure didn't want to have to fuck him up. After a few moments of struggling with it, he spoke and said, "Ok, man. If that's what you gotta do. But I am not going to be the one to put a drill bit in your head. So do not involve me."

I was relieved. But I also knew I had to coerce him, I needed his help. I pulled the trigger again. It still wasn't charged. I set down the drill and stepped forward to him, and took him in my arms. He was rigid, but allowed me to hold him. "Hey, why don't you just go get dressed, ok? You're gonna freeze."

He nodded and turned to head back into the bedroom, to put on some clothes. I sat back down at the table and my eyes landed on the gorgeous bottle in front of me. I reached for it, and my fingertips came into contact with its smooth slender neck. It was cold in my grasp. I cracked the seal around the cap and heard it give way with a snapping sound. I set it back onto the table, uncapped, and looked at it for another moment. My hand slid over the bottle in a slow up and down motion, close to the way I'd stroke my own shank lazily after finding relief via intoxication. I felt love. This bottle and a thousand just like it were so close to where my heart used to be. I raised it to my mouth and tasted it on my tongue. Even though the wonderful burn was there, I knew I'd just be sitting in a puddle if I were to take a swig. I held the opening to my tongue for several seconds, enjoying the burn, longing to partake and just drink it down. But I was at a point where alcohol intoxication by any means would suffice; even if that meant missing the true joy I thought I felt when I consumed it orally.

I remembered hearing that a liquor enema would fuck you up majorly. I wondered why I'd never tried that. Then I thought of the story I'd heard about the guy bathing in vodka. Literally, lying in a bathtub with huge amounts of vodka added to the water. Supposedly he got alcohol poisoning and died. Seems that the absorption of that massive quantity through his skin killed him. To me, that was just a fuckin' waste of good drink. Maybe I might have tried a milder version of that, if I had money coming out my ass. But as it were, I couldn't fathom wasting all that booze in a bathtub. I then began to try to recollect what I'd seen once on theDiscovery Channel about the pleasure centers of the brain, the D2 dopamine receptors that were only observed in people of the alcoholic variety. Where were they, what part of my brain were they in? I could not recall. I realized that, when the time came, I had no way of knowing if I were injecting the booze into the right part of my head. I really didn't want to have to make any more holes in my head than necessary. My boy entered the room again and I was once again distracted from my thoughts.

"I'm gonna get off now", he said, matter-of-factly, "So, if you need me I'll be in the front room."

I just told him ok, surprising him some by not protesting or asking him to wait. He watched for a minute as I held that bottle in my hand, and for that moment, I knew he felt for me. He then turned and left the room.

Sitting there alone with my glass-covered lover, waiting for the drill to charge, was getting to me. I got up and joined my boy in the other room, arriving just in time to see the look of "AAAHhhhhh" cross his pretty face. After his narcotic orgasm, he began to melt into the armchair in which he sat. When he was experiencing that initial rush, it was like he'd become a part of the piece of furniture he was sitting on. His glossy eyes half-smiled up at me, and I smiled back as the sounds of the CD he'd chosen drifted into my ears. I took the empty syringe from him and examined it. Shit, I thought, this is so tiny. I wondered if it was going to have to inject over and over and over, or if maybe just a couple boots would do it, being it was going straight into my brain and all. By pass any middleman. Straight vodka into my organ of intellect and reflex. I looked up at the clock, wondering still about the charging process. Looking over at my lover, already beginning to drool out the side of his mouth. I wished I could use sleep as a time machine, but I was just too excited. No sleep for me. No sleep until it wasn't even sleep, but loss of consciousness from alcohol. This was what I wanted.

Somehow the time did pass. Somehow, I sat there, sort of hearing the music playing, dominated by my thoughts that sucked me into a timeless vacuum. My boy stirred next to me, and it snapped me from my meditative state. I looked at the clock and was amazed that an hour and a half had passed like nothing. I knew the drill must be ready by now. I hoped. I reached over to him and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey man, you ready to come give me a hand here?"

"Uhh..whaat.oh yeahh...ookk, yeahh..help mee upp.." He reached his arm out to me and I pulled him up out of the chair. He swayed a bit for a moment, and then steadied himself. I led him by the hand back into the kitchen, going straight to the drill to check its energy level. The light on the battery was green. Green, saying to me, "Let's go,fucker." My lover was not as fucked up as he is much of the time, but enough to be calm. Not enough to have a very shaky hand. I instructed him on how we should go about this, that he should sit next to me, hold the drill steady, and go in above my ear, behind my temple. I prayed that this was a good entrance. Without any words, he took the power tool from me, touched my head with it lightly, and pulled the trigger. As I felt a stinging pressure and a sharpness from the metal bit, I continued focusing on the bottle on the table. I did not experience pain. Both of us remained silent during the procedure. I heard grinding and cracking sounds, very loudly, right next to my ear. Then I heard an even louder crack...and my boy jumped back quickly withdrawing the drill. He held it pointed at the ceiling, and shouted, "Oh fuck dude! Did that hurt? Did you feel that?" He wore a very alarmed expression on his face.

"No, it didn't hurt, not really. What dude? What'd you do?"

I reached to my head and felt for the hole. I felt around and then came to an opening big enough to put my finger into. Apparently a piece of bone chipped off in the drilling process. Results of a dull bit? I was pretty shocked myself. But I still felt no pain. My poor lover just stared with a horrified expression. Finally he spoke.

"Dude, that's a really big hole.I can, like, see your brain."

I probed into the hole in my head gently, and felt the sensation of wet cold matter on my fingertip. I had no feeling of my brain being touched though. It seemed numb. I removed my finger, and my boy came closer and began to study me. He put his eye up to my head and peered in. He was fascinated. I noticed he was breathing somewhat heavier. He was getting turned on...looking down at the tent he was pitching, it was more than apparent. His stiffening cock reached out to me and rubbed against my hip as he continued to silently look into my head. Then he did a most surprising thing. He put his mouth on my cheek, kissing my face, and moving right up to the hole with his tongue.

Before I knew it he was licking the small exposed part of my brain, and grabbing his hard dick. This was the strangest encounter in my recent memory. He was now so excited he could no longer exhibit any semblance of control. I went along with this. I knew that my excitement would equal his rapidly. I knew that my excitement was so much more than physical. We went down on the floor right there, and his instant state of sober arousal made me want him badly. He was on top of me, grinding into where once an equally hard dick would've been, still with his tongue jammed into the hole in my head. It was like he just got a shot of - something - I don't know what. His animalistic desire overwhelmed. During this hot humping session on the kitchen floor, the worst of all things happened. His excited foot kicked the table, the table where my beloved bottle sat, and I opened my eyes just in time to see my beautiful liquid salvation fall to the floor and smash into a hundred shimmering pieces. All I could manage was a loud, "Mother fucker!"

With my lover writhing around on top of me, his tongue still probing through the hole he'd drilled into my skull, the tip of it feverishly lapping at my..I don't know...brain juice or something...the thought that, yes, the vodka was now a puddle amidst broken glass, but I could still suck it up in a needle. Many times over. My rising mental passion disappeared and was quickly replaced by the urgency of containing and using the spilled liquor.

"Hey, man...lemmie up..lemmie do this real quick so I can get off, then I'll get you off."

He did not budge. He was sucked onto me like a leech. It almost seemed he didn't hear me speak at all. I began an attempt to move out from under him, but as I moved he clenched me hard in his grasp and held me tightly. Something definitely did not seem right. I tried to push him up by his shoulders, but couldn't easily budge him. He let out a strange irritated grunting sound and continued licking my exposed organ.

"Man, come on! I said let me up! I need to do this, now!" I spoke to him as sternly as I could, and gave him a hard shove while doing my best to roll out from under his twitching body. I was able to break the connection between his tongue and my head, and as I did I looked him in the eyes and saw nothing but two vacant insane looking caves. His black glare, although only momentarily, scared the living shit out of me. After just a quick look into my eyes his lids closed over the hollow looking orbs that were his eyes, and he took advantage of my shocked state and re-attached himself to my head.

What the fuck is this? I thought. What is going on here? In my fear I began to struggle much more effectively with him, and I wrenched myself from his hold. I twisted away and got to my feet in a hurry. He rose and looked me in the face with those empty looking eyes of his, and I watched as saliva began to drip from his bottom lip. He looked like a fucking zombie. Like a fucking brain-eating zombie from the movies.Oh, shit, I thought to myself upon the arrival of that last thought. Now, any other time I would not have been open to the possibility that my precious junkie dick-sucking lover could become a brain eating zombie in a matter of minutes, right before my eyes. But taking into consideration the events of the last few days, it seemed conceivable. Yes, that was definitely it. My darling was now a zombie, drooling and wanting more brain juice, or whatever, naked with a huge throbbing zombie boner. Man, how else can shit go wrong? I told myself not to ask that, and I darted out of the kitchen, away from the pool of vodka that called to me, with my zombie right on my heels.

Now, movie zombies are always slow and clumsy, on account of the fact that they are dead, and many have been deceased for a long time. But in actuality, a zombie like my lover was just as quick, quicker even, actually, than his regular self. He was hot on getting his tongue back in my head. I dashed down the length of the hall and into the bedroom, and quickly slammed the door behind me. I immediately heard him on the other side of the thin wood, twisting the doorknob, but I held it firmly. I looked to the window as a means of escape, but then I heard a faint whisper that seemed to come from my own head,"You can't go outside with that hole in your head. People will see you and want to take you to the hospital or asylum...you have to wear a hat." I scanned the surface of the room for a hat, on the advice of this inner voice, but saw none. My zombie's relentless pounding on and shaking of the door made me pause again in my desperation to escape the premise. I thought,well shit. I can't go outside, I have no hat. And what will it really hurt if he just wants to jam his tongue into my head-hole again? It was making him quite happy, and I must admit, it felt kinda nice to me too...Then I began wondering if brain juice was like some sort of instantly addictive substance. Maybe one that turned you into some sort of a primitive likeness of what you presently were. Hmm. The growling and clawing on the other side of the door shook me from my moment of Zen, and I stepped away from the door and let him open it.

He expected to need a lot more force than was necessary, and when the door flew open he nearly landed on his face. He saw me, standing there and somewhat calmly facing him, and it seemed to take him by surprise. For a minute he was unsure of the next move he should make. I said to him in a somewhat relaxed tone, "Come on then, if that's what you need, buddy, come and get it."

I stepped backwards and sat down on the bed, then laid back and stretched out. I noticed his erection had disappeared. What a bummer. He advanced and without a word, aside from an obvious grunt signifying pleasure, he topped me and his tongue found its way back into the wet cavern in my skull. Just like in the kitchen, with every second he became more passionate about what he was doing. His tongue worked itself around in the hole, going as deeply as it could. I felt his dick begin to stiffen again, and he humped me hard, grinding his engorged member into my pelvic bone. I put my arms around him as he sucked and humped me, making it known that I was a willing participant. I hardly noticed, or even remembered at that point, that I was unable to get hard. I was so turned on, that I just kept thinking about having him inside me as he fed on my brain juice.

I said, "Hey man...lemmie get my pants off. I want you up in me baby." He seemed to realize I wasn't going anywhere, and he broke his brain-kiss and rose up off me enough to let me remove my pants. I guess he wanted to fuck as well. I put my legs in the air with my knees bent to my shoulders and made myself accessible to him. He surprised me by actually tonguing my hole...I guess the desperation to get all he could - as fast as he could - from my head, subsided somewhat with the knowledge that I wasn't resisting at all. His drool was thick and abundant. The way it was stringing down from his mouth reminded me of a hungry Komodo dragon. He slobbered all over my ass, tongue fucking me for a quick moment, and then returned to his initial position atop me. He slid in easily. At least for me it was.

I felt very little resistance to his cock invading me. I did hope that he was feeling it more intensely than I. He pushed all the way in and then laid back down on me, settling his mouth into place over my head-hole, and proceeded to fuck and suck me. After just a few minutes, I realized that this was the hottest sex I ever remembered having. With him, or anyone. My lack of erectile capabilities seemed to not detract from the scene whatsoever. Fuck, this felt great! I moved my body in rhythm with his, and he seemed more responsive. Not quite as focused on my head, but still obviously into it. He was giving it to me really good. I thought,fuck, I always thought he was sexy as a junkie, but he's even hotter as a zombie! He got to the point where he was totally into the act of fucking, seeming to forget about my brain juice. I supposed he'd gotten his fix of it. He pumped away and was nearing an orgasm. It was hard for me to recollect the last time he's actually orgasmed, he would usually just fuck till he was tired, or till I'd had enough. The normal daily amount of narcotics made orgasm nearly impossible, and after a few vain attempts, he'd just stop trying. But I could see this time was different.