Caring About Life
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Warning: there is non-consensual, and explicit, sexual content in this story.

 

Caring About Life

 

 

“Check it out!”

An awakened jerk and startled exhale later, I opened my eyes to a view of the dark table I laid my arms and head down to rest on. Then heard the cacophony of the state college’s cafeteria unable to drone out Jimmy’s shrill excitement. I didn’t bother to acknowledge Jimmy -- I know that voice without looking. So I shut my eyes and tried to phase out reality and slip back into the peaceful oblivion I was in. It just so happens that was a difficult task with a hyper Jimmy doing a Show-n-Tell.

“Finally came in and she didn’t even catch the package deal. How awesome is that!”

Jimmy sounded far too happy about his mom not seeing his most recent purchase. The guy was twenty-four… Twenty five? I didn’t keep track of that shit, but anyways -- he still lived with his protective mommy. I suppose that wouldn’t be a bad deal while hitting up the books and lectures at college. I know I could certainly afford more living that way, but he gave me the vibe that his future was to be a basement dweller who invested his time in porn and video games.

“Jim… That’s purple.”

Mike had a condescending tone in his voice.

Sighing, I slightly tilted my face up enough to peek and see what the fuck they were talking about.

When I thought of someone with black hair -- I meant the pure darkness of nightmares black -- I thought it was only possible to obtain with hair dye.

Not Jimmy.

He was a natural and his short wavy hair stood out against his creamy alabaster skin. With him outfitted in full black, he made me think of a walking and talking icecream sandwich.

Or a thin Oreo cookie that wasn’t round.

His dark and round framed glasses appeared too large on his boyish face. In fact -- with his thin figure and soprano voice -- I had wondered a few times whether or not he was a tomboy. If he hadn’t come to the gym with us and showered when we did; I would have had my doubts about his manhood.

But seeing was believing.

Sitting next to Jimmy was a man who’s masculinity I never would doubt: Mike.

A cursory glance over Mike’s body had detected not one small thing. He was BIG everywhere. A thirty-something six-six giant that had brilliantly white shiny teeth on display every time he had a bigass smile on that black face of his. He hit the gym like it was his first home and only visited his house like he would hit the lockers for a change of clothes.

A pair of tense and loaded guns rested on the table with one menacing elbow aimed at Jimmy in the event he said anything out of line. Mike was like Jimmy’s conscience -- he made sure the little-thin Oreo got it when he said or did something wrong.

So far, all I could tell was Jimmy held something out in his hand.

“Thanks Spock for stating the obvious.” Shaking his head and rolling those sunken and narrow eyes of his -- I think Jimmy spent another long night, overdosed with caffeine, playing Overwatch again -- the item in his hand went popping up with the flick of his wrist.

There it was. A damn XChangePill -- of the purple kind -- swiped at and caught out of the air swiftly back into Jimmy’s hand.

“Dude, when I want to have fun, I want all I can get. This baby is gonna give me the pleasure of both worlds.”

“Jim, unless you specify what you want it to do, I doubt it.”

“What’re you talking about? It stated: Mixed Results. I’ll get both.”

“That’s not how it works. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Mike let an exasperated sigh escape his lips before he tried to explain the situation to Ol’ Jimmy boy here. “You’re going to be a chick with a dick. In other words,” he raised and waved his hands in the air to comically exclaim: “‘Wahoo! No Vagoo!’”

Jimmy didn’t sound too happy. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Which part? The Mr. Magoo reference or the pill that just gives ya tits?”

“What the fuck! Purple has Bad Mutherfucker written all over it!” He nibbled on his bottom lip and shifted his gaze back and forth from the pill to Big Mike. “C’mon Mike, you’re pulling my leg here, right?” Jimmy was shaking his head in dismay. “I didn’t go through this for a fucking shemale pill. What did I do wrong?”

Mike shrugged and pointed out: “Specifications.”

“What!? What the Hell -- Mike, you told me to get these --”

Jimmy instantly had shut up as a shadow fell over him. Rising out of his seat, Mike grabbed the hand that held the purple capsule and took a peek inside of Jimmy’s palm at the single pill. “‘These?’ I see one purple popper --”

“I’ve got a hundred count bottle back in my gym locker.”

Jimmy -- unbelievably more pale than before -- made that declaration and got Mike’s eyes lit up with interest.

“Dude, tell me -- were you going to pop one and drop the soap in the showers.” When Jimmy glanced away for a split second, Mike shouted: “JESUS! Man, you’re seriously --”

“Will you two shut the fuck up.”

My gaze shifted across the table to Stanley and I froze stiff. He was, maybe had been this whole time, staring right at me. I tucked my face back down between my crossed arms and pretended I didn’t catch the concerned look he gave me.

Mike spoke out apologetically. “Sorry, we’ll keep it chill.”

“What’s his problem anyways?”

I could tell that Jimmy was once again out of the loop -- along with perhaps a million other subjects everyone else knew about.

The hushed voice coming from Mike was to keep me from overhearing, but I could. “Ya’know his bro in Germany?”

Mutually quiet, Jimmy replied with a: “Yeah? Isn’t he in the Army or something?”

“Jarheads, but that’s beside the point… Suicide.”

Apparently Jimmy couldn’t keep the volume in his voice down when he got exciting news. “Really! Why the Hell did he do that?”

I heard a soft thud and grunt -- which I guess was Mike hitting Jimmy. “Keep it down asshole. His bro got dishonorably discharged for failing the PT three too many times.”

When I heard that bullshit, I felt my body get lit in a fiery rage. It would be best for me to storm out, show off how pissed I was about them talking about my brother that way and leave before I did something stupid.

But I didn’t.

The upsetting sensation washed over me and gradually disappeared. Going back to sleep was impossible now that my thoughts were back on mulling over ‘what if’ scenarios. They were ideas that I didn’t want to be thinking about anymore. I was too tired of the irreparable possibilities being cooked up in my head.

Lifting my head up, I looked down at my pocket as I pulled out a prescription bottle. One capsule and I’d doze off again. Two would cause me to call it a day. Three, four, five, ten, or twenty -- I shook my head and thought: ‘Not right now.’

With a push and twist, I rattled the bottle until I got a solitary black and blue bean out onto my hand and cupped it into my mouth.

“Clay, please lay off or you’ll become dependant on them.”

I reached a hand out to Stanley and gestured for his bottled water. He sighed and slid it over to me.

Once I took a swig and swallowed, I told him: “I’ll stop once I’m out.” Before I laid my head back down, I added: “I promise.” That was a promise I intended to keep.

A confused Mike brought up a valid point against me taking anymore drowsy pills. “Dude, didn’t you drive here?”

“He can stay in my room.”

I lazily lifted a hand off the table in a gestured wave of thanks to Stanley.

“I thought you and Stacey were busy tonight?” Jimmy changed the tone of his voice to be suggestive. “Ya know what I mean?”

There was another thud and grunt and a famous quote from Mike: “Bros before Hoes.”

“Why the Hell ya hitting me?”

“‘Cus you’re a bro and a hoe. Now take your medicine and I’ll meetcha in the gym.”

After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, I processed what Mike suggested.

That caused me to lift my head up and stare at an intensely serious Mike and stunned to silence Jimmy. The moment I felt an embarrassed heat rise, I face-planted back down on my crossed arms instantly after. I hid my flushed face and tried not to picture those two doing what I knew would be going on later anymore than I had.

They were my friends, but I had never thought they were that close to each other.

I would have had liked to believe XChange was just a sex pill to either experiment with or spice up someone’s love life.

These guys were buds. Brothers from another mother.

It didn’t matter to me if those pills transformed men into attractive women -- or a shemale in this case. I understood they would have had transfigured to the alluring opposite gender -- and whatever ‘specifications’ appealed to their taste of colorfully flavored pill. In the end, the one on the receiving end would wake up as a dude next to another dude or vice versa.

I wondered in bewilderment how that was not gay?

“Clay, your about to fall out of your seat. Come on, I’ll take you back.”

Tilting my head slightly, I peeked out and saw Stanley standing over me to rest a hand down on my drooping shoulder. He helped me up from my seat and offered an arm to keep me steady.

The sight we must have been would have stood out, I’m sure.

Here is Stanley Starliper, six-foot-three with a two twenty weight of lean muscle. His dark green shirt was one of those snug fit ones that allowed no imagination to be had about his physique. He would have been a perfect reference for one of Michelangelo's many masculine white carrara marble statues. Having S-shaped curly brown hair -- with each curly strand being as thick and long as a piece of sidewalk chalk -- and chiseled faultlessly smooth and rock hard features; he’d fitted the sensually infamous description of the famous artist’s taste in men.

My thoughts were interrupted when I caught a whiff of sandalwood. Leaning closer to Stan, I found the aroma to be stronger and guessed it must be his cologne. One glance this close to his bare arm and I almost forgot that his girl -- Stacey -- was first smitten by his flawless and warm caramel skin.

I smirked at the interference between the couple. Setting aside her incredible hot bod; Stacey was a bitch. I meant that literally. There was not one single day that had gone by without hearing her bark. She was nearly always all over Stanley.

We -- all four of us -- knew what she was up to: paternity entrapment.

On top of Stanley having rich ass Hell folks, he was an heir to a wealthy fortune from his grandparents. So even if his parents disowned him, he’d still be well off on his own from what trickled out of his inheritance.

Despite our discussion on Stacey being bad news -- just wanting Stan as a easy ride; the big problem was that Stan wanted kids. Between the two, I had to admit they’d make some really sweet children and grow into fine adults. But I had my doubts Stanley would win custody when he tired of Stacey’s attitude. Of course, she couldn’t care less as soon that bitch got half of what rightfully belonged to Stan...

Setting that aside, now there was me being aided and escorted -- by this Olympian -- out of the cafeteria like I was a pitiful reject. Compared to Stan, I was like a child. My twinkle toes could stand up on point and maybe even out at six feet -- if no one noticed me cheating. Then, of course, to add onto my youth reject appearance was this shaggy and dirty blonde on my head and covering a portion of my face. Well, in my defense, waking up a few minutes ago could excuse my bedhead.

A few months ago, I wasn’t skinny. I would have had a good lean and sturdy frame from a lot of daily runs. Quite a few exercises -- without equipment -- were in practice: jumping jacks, push ups, squats, climbing stairs, and if I was with one of the guys; shot the shit while we jogged.

Asthma carried over in our late generations. No sign of it yet in me, but I wanted to be certain that I had a good cardio before some doc surprised me with why I would be out of breath from a simple walk. I tried for a long time --

-- then I stopped caring.

Much of my motivation died over the year.

Mom was the first to affect me. A couple years ago, she had been diagnosed with stage four cancer and was only given so long until she’d kick the bucket. Luckily there had been clinical trials that successfully would push her lifespan by a decade rather than a couple years.

Instead of remaining with her, I left for college life and my brother entered the military.

She kept out of touch. I would have thought she’d want companionship; find someone to be by her side considering that she’d been divorced from Dad for roughly sixteen years. It might have been her appearance that had shocked her into solitude. Once beautiful, her illness had created one ailment after another until she was crippled.

Now she lives alone with a insured security coverage on all her needs.

Because we didn’t stick with her; she didn’t want us. That meant not to hear from us, let alone see us. She felt abandoned and returned the sentimentalism.

Then came the double-whammy earlier this year.

Dad had been diagnosed with cancer as well, but he didn’t make it through the third therapy appointment. The chemo had caused him to have a major heart attack and he passed away on the hospital bed halfway across the country from me. Half the world away for my brother.

A month later, our widowed grandfather had given up and passed as well. I managed to attend that funeral. My brother was another story. He was stuck and only heard of the happenings on our side of the world. His only companion was in a shady glass bottle.

After he was declared too unfit to pass the physical training for his outfit, he was discharged... 

But he never came home.

“Hey man, you still awake? Were here.”

Stanley carefully tugged me to stand upright as I took in the surroundings. I had completely phased out our trip from the cafeteria to the dorm building.

Soft as a whisper, I told him I was sorry and broke from his holding support.

“I’ll give Stacey a text and let her know tonight’s not a good night.”

He opened the door for me, but I stood and stared at him in confusion.

“You don’t have to cancel anything. Go to her place.”

“Fuck that. Have you seen her dad’s trailer? To start; he’s got a shotgun. Then there’s the problem with their non-stop bickering. Who the Hell knows when she’s getting a place of her own… And I can’t stand that damn dog. I’m cool with dogs, but they did not raise that rottweiler up in a good way. If they could at least pick up the shit from their yard, I’d give them a little credit for caring about the mutt. Oh, don’t get me started with how trashy it is in there trailer. You have to wade through there. And the smell --”

Holding up a warded hand in gesture of peace, I stared harder at him in speechless incredulity over how he was still with that bitch. Quickly, I walked past him so we could get to his room before someone came along in interest of the one way conversation we were having. I didn’t want to hear anymore about Stacey.

The moment we got to his room and he opened the door, I paused to take a look around his room. This was the first time I had been in here.

There were two dressers by another door. Across from it was the bed. No TV or computer. Very spartan. He certainly needed a lady in his life to give this room some… Well, life.

He was apparently not getting that from Stacey.

With that depressing discovery in my thoughts, I walked a straight line to his bed and planked.

Stanley had a hearty chuckle at how I landed on his bed.

“Haha, damn dude.” There was a pause so he could resolve his composure before he spoke again. “Before you get comfy; your shoes.”

I curled up on the bed -- my feet sticking out over the edge in respect to the bed’s covers -- and reached down to strip off the footwear. While I was busy with my shoes, Stanley approached the bed and reached down. Paralyzed, I watched him for a few moments to discern what the fuck he was doing.

Then I heard the rattle. My prescription sleep meds must have fallen out of my pocket when I curled down for my shoes.

I stretched out desperately on the bed after my almost full container of pills.

“Give those back.”

He held the bottle up and out of my reach.

“You’ve had enough today. I’ll hold onto them.”

Dropping my stretched out arm, I gave it a rest. He could easily place the bottle someplace high out of my reach. Like behind the grill to the AC’s air duct.

“Stan.” I gestured at myself to emphasize my point here. “I’m awake. I’d like to just drop dead asleep right now.”

In a serious tone, he told me: “Yeah, I know. Rest easy and sleep will come. Don’t force it.”

“Fuck that. Let me have one pill and I won’t be a bother. Guaranteed included.” It would be too considering I’d be knocked out cold on his bed.

He squatted down to be level with me.

“Clay… I’m canceling it with Stacey. I’ll keep you company.”

“Why? You’re gonna be bored shitless once I’m out --”

“That’s my problem. I’m more concerned about you right now.”

“Thanks, but I’m cool. Just tired.”

“Then you don’t need these.”

Picking up my shoes, he rose back up and pocketed the meds before he turned to deposit my shoes at the door.

I sat up on the bed. Sulkily, my head bowed and shoulders tucked low as I spoke softly to no one in particular about desire. “I don’t care what I need.”

Stanley obviously heard me and spun around on his feet fast and stomped towards me.

He yelled: “I do!”

My attention grabbed, I was startled as I gazed up at him towering over me.

My nerves caused me to jump when he violently threw the shoes blindly behind. Glancing past him, I saw they struck the door hard enough to leave marks. Black marks, from the bottom of my shoes’ heels.

A little frightened, I lifted my gaze up to Stanley.

I choked out: “Why?”

His smooth and hard features softened and crinkled with his brown brows knitted in worry. For only a second, he glanced away from me -- as if he considered something deeply -- then looked back down at me.

By my side, he sat down and announced a single name: “Claire.”

I sat upright in terrified silence. He took one look at how I reacted.

He smiled at me.

“Yeah, I know it’s you. Gentlemen’s Club. Been there a few times.”

I nervously stated in accusation: “We’ve all been there a few times when Stacey wasn’t hogging you --”

“Hey man, sometimes I have to blow off steam on my own. That includes blowing her off when she’s too much.” He shrugged and lazily pointed a finger at me. “Glad I did too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the time to figure out who the slick chick was dancing on stage. I mean it too -- your dancing was driving the men insane.”

I shook my head and clarified: “That wasn’t for fun.”

“You could have fooled me. Wait… You did for awhile.”

I sighed and explained: “Unlike you -- who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth -- I’ve got no one to rely on for money here.” Shaking my head again, I elaborated my situation some more. “My mom can’t afford to do handouts. You know how much her medication and monthly infusions cost?”

“Insurance covers that.”

“Not all of it and she’s unable to work. So try and guess who has been sending her checks.”

The way he went silent after I said that told me he comprehended.

I concluded with one last statement: “Girl’s got one thing up their skirts that us guys don’t: strippers get out of college debt faster than anyone.”

“Ah, Clay? To clear up some confusion here: why not go to one of the male strip clubs?”

“You know any around here, let alone one that has: the security, pay, insurance, and awesome tips like the Gentlemen’s Club?”

Stanley flatly declared: “Point made.”

I shook my head in slight confusion.

“Why are you bringing this up? What does me being Claire have to do with --” I stopped talking, froze, and understood.

“Alright Clay, here’s the deal: I’m willing to dump Stacey for somebody that’s better than her. Fact is: there’s no one who’s got a body like hers around campus.” He bit the corner of his lip as he tilted his head in a nod to me. “Until I saw what you had. One pink pill later and you’re a knockout.”

My silence ended with: “What the fuck!? No fucking way am I --”

“Clay! Look at yourself. When was the last time you had a decent meal? My God man, how about a shower? Look at your hair. It’s so oily, I could --”

“Fuck you. I’ve heard some terrible pickup lines from the tables, but you take the cake.”

He looked away and sighed into a gripped palm around his mouth. I understood he regretted what was said and made an attempt to shut himself up physically.

A small amused laugh escaped me at his effort.

Muffled behind his hand, he said, “Shahwwy.” Translation: ‘Sorry.’

I very lightly shook my head as I shrugged.

Softly, I told him: “It’s okay. Thank you for being there and --”

Looking away from him, I scanned his room a second until my gaze locked on his bathroom.

“I’ll shower. I don’t want to get your bed greased.”

He dropped his hand and corrected me. “Man, you’re not greasy. I’m sure you’ve showered, but I can tell it was just a rinse.” His gaze drifted down me as he added: “Clay, you’re not eating. I’ve watched you practically everyday in the cafeteria.”

“I eat. Have to take the pills with something in the tummy.”

“Like what? An apple a day?”

Before I could reply, he grabbed me around the hips, then raised his hands up along my waist until he stopped at my ribs. I didn’t say or do anything. Too shocked and confused by what he had done --

-- and a little excited by having been touched too.

“You remember what happens to the body when it doesn’t get the nutrients it needs? It eats itself for sustenance. The good and juicy parts --”

He didn’t finish lecturing me. Instead of giving me a lesson, he stopped to stare at me for a long while in silence. With a nod, he let me go and gestured at the bathroom.

I immediately got up before something weird would have happened here.

“Clay. I’ll give you a pill for tonight. After that, I want you to promise me one thing.”

A quick glance at the bathroom, then back to Stanley, I shrugged when I saw no harm in making a promise. If he was giving me back my pills, I really didn’t care what happened after I finished the bottle.

“What’s the promise?”

“I’ll tell you afterwards. Just get cleaned up.”

That caused me to quirk a brow, but I didn’t press the subject further. All I did was hold out my hand for a pill.

He looked at me like I was nuts. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Right now. Shower, then bed.”

Rising off of the bed, he walked away a moment and dug into the top dresser drawer. Taking a peek around him, I saw the prescription bottle being opened and I heard a little bean rattle itself out into the palm of his hand.

That must be where he intended to hide my prescription. Not very subtle if anyone were to ask me.

A cold shiver ran up and down my spine. Not really having a sure idea why, but I thought it may have been because the AC had kicked on and I stood in its direct flow. The slimmer; the colder.

I looked away from him to search for something to drink when I had to wash the pill down.

“You got water or something foHMMMM!”

In a flash, he had clapped my mouth shut and I involuntarily swallowed one or two somethings in surprise. Then just as quickly, he let go. I rubbed the corner of my lip and jaw to ease the soreness out from being harshly muted.

“Wha -- What the fuck? Stanley, you’re turning me into a broken record with that one line today. What is your problem?”

With a shrug and smile, he said, “Best way to pop a pill in raw. Enjoy your shower and give me a holler if you don’t have everything you need in there.”

I blinked and glanced around in befuddlement. The sleep inducer shouldn’t have kicked in instantly. Yet I felt a potent influence hit me hard enough to be thrown off balance.

Muttering about how forceful Stanley was, I remarked that I took the pill -- that was what mattered.

On top of the one I took earlier in the cafeteria, there would be enough time for a shower. My head would be in the clouds if I took too long and I didn’t feel like stumbling around like I had earlier.

“Hey, so you don’t get the bed wet -- see that hoodie?”

Following the imaginary line -- from his finger to the indicated -- there laid a mellow yellow sweatshirt with a hood and pouch on top of his dresser. I guess he must have dug that out when he stashed my pills.

Glancing back at him, I simply said, “I’ll just throw on my clothes.”

“Nah man. You might not stink, but I’m not letting you sleep in that.”

“... With my ass hanging out?”

“Pfft! Hold that thing up and get an idea how big it is.”

After I grabbed the hoodie, I stretched it out and held it up against myself. It was huge!

“Is this even yours? This looks like something Mike would get lost in.”

“Ha! Nope. I was gonna give that to Stacey.”

The yellow parachute was put back on the dresser and I turned around to ask a quickie. “Why?”

“In the event she got preggers.”

I got the picture and it made me feel like a dense stone plummeted into the pit of my hollow stomach. With nothing else to say on the subject -- at least nothing I wanted to hear, let alone discuss, involving him being intimate with Stacey -- I walked away and disappeared into the bathroom.

Door shut, one quick look around his bathroom, and I began stripping down. The socks went straight into the bowl of the sink. I tossed my shirt in the corner of the counter -- my pants joined it later. Then I hopped out of my boxers.

The strain of my struggle -- what I had recently divulged to Stanley -- gave me a frustrated headache.

Placing my hands flat on the counter, I took a moment to relax before I jumped into the shower. The long, wide, mirror that spanned above and across the countertop was a bit smudged.

I guess Stanley never bothered to really clean the place. He cleared it of clutter and obstructions, but dusting and disinfecting surfaces was a different ball game to play.

Unfocusing my eyes from the near milky-white smudges on the mirror, I caught sight of myself.

“Jesus… I did lose weight.” I narrowed my eyes at myself. “Wait a minute…”

My slim waist had tapered down to broad hips. I laid and splayed my hand over my abdomen and ran the palm down around my hips. It didn’t look or feel like I was skinny. Rather than that, I appeared and felt fit with a tight slender body.

Only my mind was still drifting in the cloudy Heaven somewhere and I couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong with my image.

Damn reflection in the mirror was too blurry.

I took only a couple of seconds to try my hand at wiping my shirt over the smudges, but that only seemed to streak and spread the adhered moisture around.

I gave up and threw in the towel -- shirt, in this case. It wouldn’t matter anyways if there was something wrong with me. I had my temporary escape ingested and would sometime tomorrow have a more permanent solution in mind.

The shower head hiccuped pockets of air and spurted residual water for a few seconds. When the shower cleared up and burst into action, the stream was a heavily fresh cool spray of water. Then I turned up the steamy heat and walked in with the curtain closed behind me.

Stanley wanted me clean before bed. That’s what I worked on.

With a puffy scrunchie in one hand, a splurt of body soap later, I scrubbed roughly over my body while I got the top of my blonde tresses soaked. I scoured and rinsed my face at the same time before moving down my jaw and neck.

When I had finished with my facial, I hung the scrunchie up on the shower head for the stream to be interrupted. I grabbed shampoo and dabbed out a dime’s worth. After I worked it into my now sudsy hair, I let it settle and sink into my scalp as I reapplied the body soap to the scrunchie.

The rest of my body was worked over hard to remove any and all I had not done properly over the time of neglect. I pinkened under the steamy shower and merciless cleansing.

After a few minutes, I ducked my head back under the heavy stream of water to rinse out the shampoo and whatever oily grit was in my hair. For once, I felt an odd kind of relief -- like I could breathe for the first time.

Other than doing my utmost to be thoroughly clean, I was being this hard on myself to also stay awake. I kept drifting off into a blissfully comfortable doze before jerking away with a jet of hot water in the face.

Mindlessly, I scrubbed harder and faster.

One time only, I heard before I noticed that my forehead thudded and leaned against the gridded shower wall to rest for a minute. The water simply streamed over my shoulders and down my slender back for that minute.

I was done. If I pushed myself any further than this; I was gonna be asleep on the shower floor.

Squealing in protest, the shower was turned off and let to discharge its remaining fluids from the faucet. I stepped out and quickly grabbed at the wall for support.

“Shouldah grabbed a towel first.”

Bleary eyed and gradually becoming less aware; I looked at what I thought was the closet door for a towel.

Nope.

Accidentally opened the main door and heard Stanley bark about the steam rolling out. Apparently the cool AC was causing the steam to be vivid in the bedroom.

I understood the issue. Moisture isn’t good for the ceiling and walls -- especially when the occupant barely maintains the sterile integrity.

Mold could form.

I shut the door behind me and spotted the beacon of outstanding yellow. Instead of drying off with a towel, I just slipped on the hoodie.

Stanley mumbled something about me having wet hair. So I pulled up the hood of sunshine over my head and gave him a sardonic smile.

Shivering a little as I crossed the AC, I stumbled and climbed up on the foot of the bed to escape the chill in the air before it escalated to freezing goosebumps on me. On all fours, I crawled across the bed and began to pull back the covers. The pillows were revealed and looked so very inviting for me to lay my head down on.

“Claire, your feet got dirty.”

Half-dazed, I looked over my shoulder and back at Stanley. I had failed to register what he called me.

He grabbed my foot and pulled me back.

My face crashed and smothered the pillow. I muffled a groan into the pillow as I realized my hands slipped out from under me when he yanked me back.

There was a ticklish sensation running up the sole of my foot. Then the other. I could have been wrong, but I thought he had wiped my feet with some cloth or a sani-wipe.

“You should have dried off first. You collected whatever was on the floor.”

I rolled my face and inhaled fresh air before I muttered he should vacuum.

He laughed and agreed.

Then he just held my feet.

Before I knew what happened, I hummed pleasantly as I felt the tension in my feet being rubbed and pinched firmly out.

Now it was my turn to laugh and ask more clearly: “Foot massage?”

“Full massage. Just relax.”

I obeyed. It was easy to do since I intended to do so anyways.

The circled pressure up my soles had pinched into the sides of my heels. His fingers ran up my ankles and cuffed them with a strong viced stroke around them. Letting go of my ankles, the lean meat of my calves were groped and tenderized before he gave the same treatment to the back of my thighs.

If this kept up, I was going to fall asleep and miss out on the whole experience. I’d never received an entire massage before. I had on the shoulders, but no where near the entire length of my body.

There was a scent that caused me to feel more alert. Something subtly powerful and enticing blanketed warmly over me.

A weight was on my back along with that equally masculine sense.

I closed my eyes and felt his hands press down and around the small of my back.

Being a little confused, I reached down and felt for the hem of the sweatshirt. It had been pushed up and left me exposed.

Slowly enunciating each word, I asked: “Could. You. Cover. Me. Back. Up?”

“And cover your nice ass? Sorry, I’d liked to be motivated when I’m working.”

In response, I ran the hand I had down there up over the perfect swell of my buttocks to grab the bottom of the sweatshirt.

Stanley just brushed my hand away, picked at the sleeve of my wrist, and dropped it back along my side.

“Claire. No touching.”

I was instantly dead still. This time I did take in the name he called me and felt a familiar shiver streak up and down my spine.

My lips moved to speak, but I was too far out of it for any volume to be carried out. Only the sweet hummed pleasure would be evoked from me when he administered those solid digits further and deeper to release all the tension in me.

If I wasn’t careful, I knew I would let a moan escape. I couldn’t show him how much I was enjoying what he was doing to me.

A hot flare of heat rushed up to my face when I realized what was wrong with me. What he had done when he ambushed me orally with my sleeping pill.

He threw a pink partner to change me.

With that in mind, I dragged my face back to smother myself and quietly groaned out: “Nooo…”

My jaw tensed up and a spike of rage had tipped me against Stanley for a brief moment --

-- then I didn’t care.

It wasn’t like he immediately attempted to rape me.

The man above me was laboring to bring me comfort. To ease me into a restful slumber. I didn’t know why he would transform me and simply leave me to sleep, but if that was all: fine. I was okay with that.

Not like I hadn’t taken the basic pink before. I wouldn’t be in front of crowds and getting jeered at to shake it or be invited to a table for something extra.

Brushing my brow and cheek against the pillow, I made certain there was nothing on my face suggesting that I teared up upon the discovery of my current gender.

He wanted me to be relaxed and relish this massage. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.

His hands slid back down to grab my glutes. I flinched and panted out a muffled cry from his firm grip.

I had been about to protest -- as if I could under my medicated influence -- but then felt a radiant warmth and relaxation fan peacefully over me. I guessed me sitting down for most of the month had caused some undesirable cramping.

He stopped and moved.

The warmth being blown against my cheek had told me where Stan’s face was at.

His voice was soft and sincere when he asked: “Do you want to feel better?”

Of course I wanted to feel good -- and better was simply that: better than good.

Impressing the pillow, I nodded into it to accept what he offered and would be better.

I had been left alone for a minute before I felt a dab of something slick land on my back. It cooled immediately and spilled into the smooth and shallow dimples of my curved spine.

But the moment his hands soiled themselves in the fluid, the heat erupted with his rubbing over my now prickling feverish skin.

I inhaled sharply and bit into the pillow as the fire on my back had concentrated. The more he spread his hands across the narrow expanse, the further his fiery touch sank its conquest into my flesh.

I began to pant hotly between my gritted teeth into the bitten pillow.

The burn made sense to me after a moment to consider. I had roughly scrubbed myself in the shower. Whatever was in the oil had agitated me in response to my own purifying treatment.

Now I felt like I was being purified with fire.

After a minute had passed, the slick flames that traveled with his hands had become painfully pleasant. Each time he drove his fingers or knuckles or the full palms, gripped or groped, pinched and pulled on my back and shoulders; I felt the relent of my muscles.

It was like all the tension in me would be abdicated by a mere flick of Stanley’s finger.

This was bondage. He didn’t require any ropes, cuffs, or any kind of binding.

I was paralyzed by the unique relief and pleasure.

An excitement welled up inside me until it could not be held back any longer.

A reluctant anticipation had begun to leak from the valley between my legs.

I was very aware that he had kept his hands away from my most private places. It was unimaginable what I would experience if his hot fingers so much as touched me there, let alone probed their way inside of me.

I wondered what he would do if he knew how his ministrations caused my hidden womanhood to be enticingly drenched in arousal. That thought had only caused more moisture to build in the vulnerable depths between my thighs.

It took me a lot of willpower to keep from shuddering whimpers of yearning into the pillow.

His hands left my back to leave it bared and chilled in exposure of the constantly blowing AC. From only the cold, I let go of the pillow to pant and gasp uncontrollably.

“Claire?” His hot breath was next to my cheek again.

The heady scent of him intoxicated me enough to face and breathe him in as if he alone could sustain me.

“Heh, I think that’s all the answer I need.”

He leaned in and caught my lips with his own.

Like a bolt of lightning, I was struck so suddenly that all I could do in that instant was open my eyes and stare in stunned disbelief as he lit me up from head to toe -- with just a kiss!

I gave up.

He wanted me.

He could have me.

A kiss was my mutual reply.

We started slow with each lip being nibbled and tasted before our hunger escalated. My lips had barely parted to nip at him, but it was all the invitation he needed to ram his tongue inside and fight mine back.

Then I drove his back with my own pinkened tongue before he clamped his lips around to suckle upon it for a moment. Tilting his head a bit, I felt the intake of his breath before we managed to deepen our passion -- until I was becoming desperate for air myself. Despite my need, I continued to return his kisses with my own voraciously.

When he released me, I gapped and drank in the air greedily.

And I watched him stand and started to remove his clothes hastily. As I had thought, his snug shirt really didn’t leave much to the imagination. He was as perfectly sculpted as a Latin statue of masculinity.

Only I knew I would soon learn each fraction of his perfections and faults in that smooth hard-bodied frame. And in turn, he would know all about my current one -- from without and within.

I heard the huskiness in each of his breaths. Looking up to catch his roaming eyes, I knew he saw me as a received offering -- something he’d savored like I had taken a lifetime of effort to be acquired.

Concealed in yellow, all he would appreciate was the long, lean flanks of my legs up to hips that began to move with an erotic rhythm by primal instinct.

It was an exquisite torture -- to be aware of my wants. To be touched and craved -- at first tentatively explored -- then surely conquered by those burning sunkissed hands and fingers.

Now I quaked with a painful awareness of an excruciating need.

He finally moved to take his hard earned reward for the incredible handjob on my body. It wasn’t a full massage as he initially presented it to be, but for the outstanding performance -- I could forgive that fib.

His hands touched and slid down the back of my thighs to spread them open.

The hot air of his breath against my sex caused me to seize up and nearly snapped my splayed legs shut around his head.

“Woah -- easy Claire.” My leg vice slackened in obedience. “Your soaked -- Mmm…”

Heat had flamed my face from his coarse description and assault with his mouth on the aching core between my legs. I jerked, startled at the penetration to taste me deeply -- his full mouth on me.

I buried my face down into the pillow -- muffled a gasped cry. By reflex, my hands shot up above my head to claw fistfulls of the pillow I bawled deeply into in ecstasy.

He had admired the swells of my ass by smoothing over the firm cheeks with both of his still fiery hot hands. Time blurred by without my notice of how long he tongued my quim and cupped the swell of one cheek in each hand.

Just as he had relaxed my muscles; he released a coiled tension in me. I was choked in stunned silence, but gawked wide open in a soundless scream. To slack his intimate thirst, he drank in my first feminine climax.

There was a buzz of interference in my head. I couldn’t think anymore. He drove me into oblivion and I had not yet received the tip, let alone the full blunt of what was to come.

I was about to.

The expanse of his body weighed down on top of my back. His arm slipped under and around my waist and pulled up my lush curves snug against him. He hauled me up to be more firmly against a deliciously thick and hard length that had a rhythmic pulse jumping between us.

It wasn’t my rounded ass he wanted to plunge into.

His hand curled and roamed around my waist and hip until he stroked up to my flat abdomen. I felt his finger gently dipped and teased my navel before his splayed fingers and palm rubbed the hollow of my stomach.

Leaning in close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against my ear through the yellow hood, he whispered an importance about my condition. One that terrified me the moment I heard it -- and excited me to start rubbing my backside against his virile cock.

“Breeder.”

Again, I was incapable of coherent thought -- otherwise my terrified mind would have rationalized why I should be afraid. For some reason I had still been given the impression that all I was forced to swallow was a basic pink. That tomorrow I would wake up as I had always been: a man.

As a woman; that primal instinct overwhelmed me and locked away my ability to reason, and comprehend the risks, for later.

He shifted down.

Then adjusted himself up to ease his manhood into my clenching heat.

An audibly loud scream tore into the pillow -- regardless how muffled it had been. I couldn’t prevent the shrill voice I made as he painstakingly branded me from deep within.

He pulled the hood off of me, soothed me with kisses and shushes along my ear and hair. Gradually I calmed down.

At the same time, he grounded down his hips into the surrounded tight heat on his fully sheathed member. The depth he reached grazed the very gate of my womb.

Pinning me under him, his slight, firm, rocking built up -- not faster -- but until he eventually began pumping to work himself deeply in and out of me fully.

Bending my knees, I crossed and locked my ankles behind his legs. With a series of grunts, I felt the searing flood as he began to crash down into me. I closed and tightened around his aggressive invasion like a tight fist to squeeze that vital essence of life out of him.

After he marked me as his mate, I felt his other arm encircle me and hold my waist possessively. He rolled onto his side and took me with him. My legs were still tangled with his as he spooned me.

The covers were yanked out from under us. Once he freed them, he pulled over the blanket and sheets to keep the two of us warm -- and me secured in his arms -- as he cuddled in affection against me while I finally slept.

He remained within me, but didn’t move any more than he had to.

He accomplished what he set out to do to me.

I was his.

---

The next morning, there was some serious explanations required.

I jerked awake and truly realized the dire situation I was in.

“Stan?”

“Mhm?”

Slow and to the point, I made it clear I was in a bad mood: “What. The. Fuck?”

He raised a hand up to comb his fingers through my hair and gently pet me. It honestly had thrown me off of my bad mood as I felt the warmth surge up through my body and press back against him.

“Claire. I’m not sorry. You can be angry with me for the rest of your life… But I want it to be a long life.”

“What?”

“I… Well, you didn’t change back. I guess that means the breeder pill worked.”

I kept silent so what he said could sink in.

Then I asked: “How the fuck do you suppose Stacey will react when she learns you knocked up your friend?”

“We all know what she wants and I’m sick of it.” He let out a good chuckle.

“I’m not seeing what you find so amusing about this.”

“Money. She was only interested in the money.”

I shook my head in confusion.

“Still not getting it.”

“I gave you the pink pill and am giving her the pink slip.”

Okay, a single note of laughter slipped out of me.

“Yeah, I guess she worked hard to no avail… So you’re actually breaking up with her? For me?”

“Who do you think I care more about?”

His embrace tightened and pulled me in against his body.

The emotional impact was too much and too fast.

I couldn’t help it. I turned my face down to the pillow to keep quiet when I would start to cry and let the soft cushion absorb the tears. Inside me, I could feel the shattering noise come up and crackle out of me in sobbing breaths.

“Claire. Stay with me and I promise to take care of you. And when the time comes, both of you.”

Unable to speak, I silently nodded to acknowledge his promise.

“I’ll take care of you. Now you need to start caring again.”

Once more, a nod that I agreed, but with a silent promise of my own.

“I know you were tired for a long time and I gave you a lot to absorb. Let’s skip classes today and rest in bed.”

A snivel later, I said, “Okay.”

When I finally calmed down, I crossed my arms and hands to hold the same arms that held me as we both went back to sleep. I was still angry and scared about what he did to me, but I was glad too.

He gave me something precious to care about in life.

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