[Patreon Exclusive] GOING THROUGH CHANGES: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Chapter 3

There was one positive about living with Aunt Fey: she was always up early, and she always made me breakfast. And it wasn’t like the breakfast that my mom would make me, before she started using drugs. Aunt Fey didn’t just whip up a bowl of stale cereal. She made eggs and bacon and toast. Sometimes she made waffles or pancakes or French toast. Sometimes there was fruit salad, and there was always fresh coffee and biscuits.

I always looked forward to her coffee. It was the best coffee I’d ever had in my life. It wasn’t too strong and it was rich in flavour—never burnt, never cold. Sometimes I would have three or four cups before heading off to school—or heading off to pretend school. That Monday morning I took a thermos with me as I made my long hike towards the small town.

There was a little café in town that had a working Internet connection. It wasn’t a great connection—not good enough to play League of Legends, but it was good enough that I could text chat with my friends on Discord. Though all of my Discord friends were in school, so all I could do was send them messages and then I would have to wait until the next day before I got a reply, so our conversations were slow. They all missed me in the game. “We don’t win as much without you,” one of my friends said. It was sad to hear, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

I was sitting in that café when a guy walked in and ordered a coffee at the counter. I found myself staring at him curiously. He was a few years older than me, with an even stubble beard on his cheeks and chin. As he reached to grab his black coffee, I noticed his arms were thick and muscular. I could even see the veins in his arms.

Then I noticed he was staring at me with a lowered brow. I looked away quickly, my heart pounding. I couldn’t figure out why I was staring at him in the first place—and I really couldn’t figure out why my heart was pounding. After a minute, I didn’t think much of it. Then another strange thing happened.

A pretty woman took a seat at a table next to me. She was a few years older than me and way out of my league, but she still looked up at me and smiled. I returned the smile, even though I usually darted my eyes away from any woman who looked my way. Then, as she looked down at the book in her hands, my gaze wandered down to her feet. She was wearing a pair of black open-toed heels. Her toenails were painted red and looked super cute. But it was the heels that had me strangely mesmerized. I was taking note of their shape, how they framed her foot. They made her legs look somehow longer and smoother. I loved the way they kept her toes pointed, as if she was a foot model. But the heel part seemed so thin—how did it not snap underneath her weight? She was only one hundred and ten pounds at most, but I couldn’t image that thin heel holding more than thirty pounds.

She was looking at me again. This time I darted my gaze away, my heart stuttering. I felt like I’d been caught staring down her top, even though I’d only been staring at her feet. Since when did I care about women’s shoes? Why did I find those feet so mesmerizing?

I didn’t think much of it. I hadn’t slept much that night, so I figured I was just seeing the symptoms of lack of sleep. I’d probably just zoned out, and my gaze just happened to be on that man and subsequently those heels as I zoned out. It wasn’t something to think too hard about.

When I got home, Aunt Fey was gone, along with her car. There was a note on the little kitchen table. “I’ll be out until late. There’s dinner in the fridge—you just need to heat it up.” I looked in the fridge and saw the impressive casserole. But it wasn’t dinnertime yet. I still had a few hours to kill, and then I would have a few hours to kill once dinner was over. So once again, I found myself with nothing to do. So I got undressed and I fetched that book from Aunt Fey’s nightstand.

I flipped through the pages until I found a page that made my heart stutter. And that page surprised me. It was the ‘wraparound handjob’ page, with a picture of the naked man’s front and the woman standing behind him, with his big cock in her hand. I don’t know why I found the image so arousing—there was hardly even a girl in the picture, unless you count the sliver of her face over his shoulder, or her hand. But the image got me hard. I stared at that massive cock while I jerked myself off. I imagined those pretty fingers sliding up and down, covered in shining lubricant. I imagined the tip of his cock getting redder and redder until it finally erupted cum into the air. Then my own cock erupted cum into the air.

And a cold tingling washed over me. Did I just jerk off to a picture of a dude? Was I thinking about the guy as I stroked cum out the tip of my penis? What was wrong with me? Can lack of sleep make a person temporarily gay? I took a long shower and tried to forget about what I’d done. I worked hard to convince myself that I had really gotten off to the image of the girl lingering over the man’s shoulder. She did have an especially sexy expression in that shot—so maybe it was true. Maybe I wasn’t suddenly turning gay.

I heated up some dinner and then went straight to bed, hoping my female lust would return to me in the morning. I was already looking to my first steaming cup of Aunt Fey’s delicious coffee.