Rodney came home like always. He kicked off his shoes. Dropped his keys on the counter. Threw his tie on the sofa. Tossed his dress shirt and socks in the wash.
He untucked his tank-top from his skinny-cut trousers. The cotton, damp from the walk in the early summer heat, was clinging to his ripped upper body like a second skin. The A/C in his apartment was a welcome change. He flipped on the telly and set about cooking a frozen bagged meal while watching the pre-fight commentary. While it was his twenty-fifth birthday, he had no plans besides the pay-per-view. Andy, his best mate, had expressed interest, but Rodney anticipated watching the fights alone.
Then his phone rang. Though it was his doctor’s office and not Andy. She said there was something weird with his blood work and he stopped hearing her. Weird put him on edge right now. Lately, he had been having dreams where he was someone else. Someone different but yet... familiar. That would not have bothered him if not for the changes to how he felt. It was like his sex drive was reacting to everything–and it was getting worse. He had gotten so responsive he had to avoid the gym because he could not keep himself from tenting his shorts. Then there was how much he was eating now, not even family-sized meals filled him up. He had to be ingesting over four thousand calories a day!
“Mr. Harrison? Are you there?”
“Yes! Sorry, cooking. So…should I to go to the ER?”
She assured him it was nothing serious. Could he come tomorrow afternoon? He told her that was fine and she wished him a good night.
With dinner done, he dumped the pan’s contents into a large bowl, piled on shredded cheese, grabbed a protein shake, and planted himself on the sofa. Shooting Andy a text, he began to chow down. By the time he had finished eating enough food for four people, the undercard fights were starting. He was also sweating like crazy. He stood up to adjust the thermostat and realized he was erect, too. The feeling of his cock rubbing against his trousers was overwhelming and he was undoing them before he even realized it. Twisting to turn the thermostat down, his penis sprang free. When reaching to the dial, he found his shaft rubbing against the microfiber cushions. The gap between pillows swallowed him and his hips began to buck, sliding his length back and forth.
His thrusting got more and more frenzied, his knuckles going white as he gripped the back of his sofa. Was he actually going to get off on fucking his couch? Before he could find out, he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He had never been so happy to not have a coffee table. Instead of getting up, however, he grabbed his shaft with both hands, dug his heels in, and began to thrust into his grip. He was confused, but a wank had never felt so good before. He kept at it until cum finally erupted into his hand. He wiped his hand on his trousers and threw them in the wash as well. Sitting back down in his under things, he tried to catch up with the fight.
He watched the two athletes look for an opening while trading jabs, his breathing quickening as he got hard again. He absently rubbed, the fight so enthralling that he did not realize. All the while, tiny tweaks shifted his appearance from hunky to butch.
As the fight erupted into a flurry of blows, he began stroking between his balls. Each time, his fingers slipped further inside and his cock began to shrink between his knuckles. His upper body softened as mass moved to fill out his frame in other places. He seemed ignorant about becoming a fitness hottie. His fingertips started to get wet and he rubbed even harder as if scratching an itch deep inside. His cock shank into an oversized clit and his balls had transformed into a set of surprisingly plush labia. His legs shortened as he rose to his knees, becoming more powerful looking as they thickened. His already big butt grew fuller each time he rocked his hips.
As the countdown began, there was gurgle and his perky boobs surged larger, growing to the edge of being too big for a large sports bra. Near the edge of orgasm was once more, he was humping his hand with abandon. The countdown reached zero and his fit body clenched. Falling back to the couch, he blacked out.
Ronnie woke beneath under a blanket, idly edging in anticipation of a birthday fuck. She must have been so relaxed she dozed off. It was probably the fights, but she had the weirdest dream. Not that she was any slouch at the gym, but she had been ripped--and a guy. Weird.
The front door opened and Andy stepped into her apartment. “Surprise! I brought a cake for your birthday,” he said holding up a bag.
Her eyes moved from the cake down Ronnie’s built frame and fixed on his ever noticeable bulge. Her best friend also being a good fuck buddy sure had its benefits.
“Save it later, I’m craving sausage right now…”