Chapter 1

I poked my hand out of the blanket, letting the maximum-setting air conditioning wash over my pale skin. Reaching purely through muscle memory, I fumbled my hand over to the night stand table, my fingers grazing along the wood slowly until they hit glass. My eyes still closed, I carefully got my fingers around the handle of a blender. I guided the rim to my mouth, and slowly started swallowing the contents; the thick, rich creaminess of the shake pouring down my eager throat. I hadn’t eaten anything in close to four hours- my stomach churned in desperation as I eagerly downed my breakfast milkshake. Half a carton of high-fat vanilla ice cream, four cups of heavy whipping cream, a cup of pure lard, ten tablespoons of unadulterated high fructose corn syrup, two scoops of maximum weight-gain bodybuilder powder, the kind with added fat, and ten tablespoons of plain white sugar. I had to stop and pause three times, but I managed to consume the milkshake in about seven minutes; six thousand, six hundred and twelve calories were in my bloated, abused stomach before I even opened my eyes.

My belly temporarily satiated, I let myself slowly drift to wakefulness as I carefully returned the blender to the night stand table. I settled my hands on my stomach; like every morning, the shock of so much rich cream immediately triggered my tendency to flatulence. I luxuriated in silk sheets, a massive fart escaping from my body.

Chase entered the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, doing nothing to conceal powerful, muscular thighs and an absurdly huge erection. I mean, I’m talking like cartoonishly big. A shudder went through my body as I stared at his turgid, thick cock, reveling in the knowledge that my bovine body was the cause of its iron-hard rigidity. I was wet in seconds. Sweat was still glistening on his dark skin; I was sure that, like most weekends, he had spent the morning in the home gym, while I had wallowed in delicious sleep, my pale body only moving before 11:30 AM from the occasional jiggle produced by my constantly churning stomach.
He held a container of high-fat whipped cream in his hand, snapping off the top as he approached the bed. His 6’ 6’’ Adonis frame towered over my supine form. “So, how do you want to spend the day?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
Our lives hadn’t always been like this; these roles (and the rolls on my body) were relatively recent developments. As he placed the nozzle of the whipped cream container in between my thick, bimbo lips, I let my mind wander.

Eighteen months earlier
Chase and I had moved into an apartment following undergrad, and the situation had been working for us pretty well for a few years. We had been an unlikely pair at college; we shared a dorm in our freshman year, and despite a host of differences, had been friends ever since. Chase, Black, a chemistry major, and a bodybuilder, and myself, John, short, a book nerd, Jewish, and hovering between overweight and fat, didn’t seem to have a lot in common at first glance, but we bonded over a shared love for RPGs and action movies. He invited me to parties at Alpha Phi Alpha; I got him into obscure comic books. We also just learned in our freshman year that we got along well as roommates, which is much rarer than good friendships.

We had both found jobs in Boston after graduating, so the idea of getting an apartment together made sense; neither of us was doing anything other than casual dating, trying to focus on careers, so splitting an apartment with another guy seemed like a good living situation. He was working for big Pharma, and I had gotten a job cataloguing in a museum.

Our place was nice; nothing too fancy, but a decent enough size for two guys, with enough privacy for when one of us (him, a lot more frequently) would bring a girl over. Both of us had busy work schedules, and had started making friends in the city, so we didn’t spend all of our time together, but we did make it a point to hang out at least a couple of times a week; either stay in and play video games over a couple beers, or go out to a bar with mutual friends. He’d occasionally drag me to the gym, and while I never really got in shape or lost much weight, I did manage to get myself to look a little more trim in a suit.

Honestly, I was pretty contented, if busy and kind of stressed; my biggest concerns were career advancement and paying off student loans. An occasional couple of dates and one or two hook-ups with women a year were pretty much the extent of my romantic life, and I was okay with that. I had a good job, friends, a kick-ass roommate, so I didn’t really think I needed much else in my life.

And then Covid-19 hit. Suddenly, our apartment that had seemed plenty spacious to me seemed incredibly confining. My best friend, who I still genuinely enjoyed hanging out with after knowing him for eight years, seemed insufferably annoying. Chase managed to keep himself busy with working from home, buying an insane amount of gym equipment, and late night runs. I didn’t get fired, but I had very little I could actually do from home; it wasn’t a bad situation, but I found myself spending a lot of time on the couch, replaying video games, watching movies, and ordering way too much food off PostMates.

It was approaching Thanksgiving; freezing cold in Massachusetts, and seven months into the lockdown. The aforementioned stir crazy was getting to both of us; it was especially rough realizing holidays would be spent away from family and still in quarantine.
“You know what?” Chase asked, shouting from the kitchen into the living room, where I was seated on the couch, playing ‘Shadows of Mordor.’ “We should just get wasted tonight.”
“Ummmm… Honestly, sounds good to me. I don’t really have anywhere I have to be tomorrow,” I replied.
“Hilarious. Look, why don’t you order some food and I’ll run down to the liquor store.” I was already pulling up the app on my phone as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.
Neither of us were particularly huge drinkers; we would have drinks at bars on weekends, and the occasional beer at home. I appreciated that Chase was trying to do something festive, as much as a late 20s guy knows how.
I ordered an extra-large pizza and some wings to share; Chase arrived back before the food, carrying a twelve-pack of Dogfishhead IPA, two bottles of soda (Coke and Diet), and a handle of Jameson.

“I didn’t think we were supposed to really have people over yet, man,” I said as he sorted his liquor store haul out on the kitchen table.
“Hey! We don’t have to drink everything in one night. Besides, like I said, I want to get wasted. I don’t even have to be on Zoom tomorrow; might as well enjoy something about quarantine.”

He handed me a beer, which I popped open with a lighter, a trick I had picked up hanging out at Chase’s frat. My phone chimed, and I went to the hallway to pick up the no-contact delivery. He had flipped on “Inception” for background noise by the time I returned. The night was honestly pretty fun- despite living together, it had been a while since we just hung out. By the time Nolan’s ridiculously long movie was over, we were both decently drunk; this only got compounded by a joint. Between three 9% abv beers, four shots, two mixed drinks, and the joint, I was pretty faded when I suggested we play a drinking game. Two player kings cup became switching on Super Smash brothers, with a drink forfeit every time you lost a life. I was on the verge of a blackout when he suggested “truth or dare.” I agreed this was a capital idea.

Being stuck in the apartment and quite drunk, it was hard to figure out many good dares, so it quickly just became more rapid drinking and sharing stories of hook-ups and dumb stuff we’ve done in our lives. Until he asked a question:
“Okay, truth or dare?” he slurred at me. “Um, truth.” “Have you ever hooked up with a dude?”

I had considered myself pretty boringly straight. I was willing to admit when I thought a man was kind of hot, but I was more or less exclusively attracted to women. “No,” I said, taking a long pull off my beer, and thinking in my extremely altered state.

“Okay, your turn.” “Allllright…. Would you want to?” Chase looked at me quizzically… I wasn’t quite sure what his expression meant. We had talked earlier in the night about how much both of us missed getting laid, and I knew it was on both of our minds. Without speaking, he slowly lowered his hand, and unzipped the fly on his jeans. I watched as he pulled his dick out; I had managed to avoid ever seeing it, despite living with him for so long. I was startled by its size; it had to be at least six inches, and pretty thick, even mostly flaccid. I watched it begin to harden, a sight I had never experienced in real life. I involuntarily licked my lips.

I certainly wouldn’t have made this decision if it wasn’t from a combination of being extremely drunk and stir-crazy, but I got up off the couch and walked (well, stumbled), over to where he was seated on the love seat. I got to my knees, and looked up at him; he had his eyes closed, but there was a relaxed smile on his face. I slowly wrapped my lips around his shaft and gave an exploratory lick.

He softly exhaled; I took this as confirmation to keep going. I found myself getting more and more into it as I continued, trying out some of the things that I knew I liked from the occasions when I had gotten oral from a woman. I was slightly startled and broken out of my reverie when I felt his hand on top of my head, his muscular digits curling into my long-overdue for a haircut hair.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, I could feel him stiffen. I was amazed at how excited I was; I don’t know which of us was enjoying this experience more. I increased the intensity of my sucking, trying to deepthroat as much of his cock as possible, getting increasingly turned on with every passing second. He shuddered and grunted, I could feel his muscles tense, and a burst of salty, warm cum shot into my mouth. I gave one final slurp, and slowly got up to my feet. Without looking at him, I went over and poured myself another drink, which I finished in one gulp.