The one thing that didn’t change at all, however, after a day without masturbating, was how horny he was. By the time he got home, it was even more intense than it had been the day before. He’d hoped, at least, that as the curse wore off the urge would dissipate as well–but it appeared that things were going to get harder before they would get any easier. Still, he managed the evening well enough, in the same way he’d done the day before–taking a long walk around the neighborhood–which was much easier now without an extra hundred pounds to lug around–stopping at a restaurant for dinner, and then going back home for an early bed.
Trouble came in the night. His dreams were vivid and filled with men. Sexy men. Cocks in his mouth, cocks in his ass. He was lost. It was too late by the time he began to struggle awake, and realized how close he was to cumming. “No!” he said to himself, desperate trying to will his hand off his cock, “No–not now, not after getting this far, you will…you are not–”
His objections dissolved into moans as his body unloaded a massive amount of cum all over his body and his sheets. A minute later, his body was back to the way it had been–a hundred pounds heavier, no body hair, reeking of cum…and as much as he hated it, the relief at finally releasing his load flooded through his body like lemonade on a summer day. Still, he hated himself. He’d managed to crawl one rung back up the ladder, and he’d lost it almost as quickly. Still–if he’d managed to do it once, he could do it again–at least he’d get a better night’s sleep this time.
In the morning, he checked the nightstand and saw the dildo had reappeared, good as new, but left it there. He didn’t even dare touch it, not as horny as he was. The morning went well enough, and by lunch he knew he’d passed the point of no return–he was either going to climb back up, or fall down yet another rung. It was clear that he was going to have to be smart about this, and so he started planning things out. So long as he managed to go two days–and reverse two sets of changes–he could afford to slide back. It wasn’t ideal, but two steps forward and one step back would have to do. In less than a week, he’d be back with his wife–and as long as he fucked her regularly, he’d be home free!
The day wore on. He was impatient with his students. They no longer respected him, now that he was a fat slob, and not the commanding sort of muscle pig he’d been before. Fuck, he could use a muscle pig fucking his old right about now…if only his dildo hadn’t left it at home! He snapped out of his fantasy, and refocused. At last, school was out, but Randal lingered in his office, twiddling his thumbs. It seemed harder today than it had the day before, and his dildo was there at home, waiting for him. He couldn’t face it, not yet. He worked on some lesson planning instead, playing with himself gently as he did–it seemed to help, though it did make him leak into his underwear.
“Not even bothering to slip into the bathroom today, eh Mr. Gray?”
The voice made him jump, and he spun around in his chair to find Mr. Jones, the janitor, behind him. He was younger, probably in his thirties, and not particularly attractive…though from the bulge in his uniform pants, it was clear he had plenty to work with.
“Like what you see, Mr. Gray?”
His eyes snapped up. “N-No…No, I…I think you’re mistaken.”
“I’m not mistaken, Mr. Gray. You slip off all day long into the bathroom. I can hear you, moaning. Watched you just yesterday, after than meeting, how you fucked yourself silly. Busted a load myself, listening to a slut like you! I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Gray–and that no one else is. I can offer you a real cock this afternoon instead, right here at your desk.”
The young man zipped down his fly, letting his seven inch cock out for air–no underwear to be seen. It smelled musky and ripe, but as delicious as it probably was, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t afford this, not right now. “I…maybe…I can’t, not right now…” he muttered, but the young man stepped forward, pushing the head to Randal’s lips, and they parted easily, his tongue slipping out for a taste, and he moaned.
“Don’t be a fucking tease–I know what you want.”
More of his cock slipped into his mouth, and he moaned around the shaft.
“Yeah, I know what you need, you old faggot.”
He sucked harder, getting it good and wet, his ass clenching and hungry for a taste as well. His cock was leaking more, and was hard as a rock–if he kept this up, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop. Maybe he could salvage this–after all, if he came without jacking himself off, it wouldn’t count, right? He pulled away from the cock, and trying to sound as seductive as possible, he said, ”Suck me off first, then you can fuck me all afternoon.”
“Hell no!” Mr. Jones said, “I’m not some fucking faggot. You’re just a hole–now get up, and bend over that desk–this thing has a date with that ass of yours. I might not be as big as that dildo of yours, but I think I can make you moan like yesterday all the same.”
Bracken's Corner 