Him

Er, her...

The words echo in your mind, but become jumbled as you're pulled back into the fray. Your impending orgasm surprises you in real-time, jostling your senses and giving a static visage over your vision, blacking out temporarily. You know you picked 'her' (whatever that did,) but something about your memory says otherwise, like a sense of deja-vu for something you've felt certain didn't happen. Your eyes refocus in a dark room. It's still your bedroom, darkly lit by the blotted streetlight through the black-out curtain.

You're still having sex too, albeit some things feel a little different. Ava's breathing a bit more labored, but, sex can do that too, you reckon. The sensations you attributed to her pussy were only moments ago, far more... hospitable, against your member. Maybe you should have used a bit of lube? You begin to pull out when you're surprised by the gruff, accented voice that begins to speak below you, "Haaah, David..."

You stop in your tracks, half-hilted inside the mystery person you had remained under the assumption, was Ava. You place a hand to her chest, surprised to find a decrease in cup sizes.
"Ava?" you whisper, the both of you ceasing movement.

"What?" replies the definitively masculine voice.

Your heart-rate begins to rise, you're feeling faint. You're perfectly confident with your masculinity, however much unrefined it is in your features. More so, you have no idea who this man is, and you're uncomfortable with the idea of trying to explain to the mystery man why you thought his name was Ava, and the fact that you're pretty damn straight; that's gonna be uncomfortable, too.

You're pulled forward, clenched by whatever muscles have your cock in a -grip - though you are starting to have an idea. While you could escape, it works with less resistance to be pulled off to the side of the spread with the man. Reaching out, your arms tangle with the stranger's, the both of you reaching for the nightstand lamp. It clicks, blinding you momentarily as you feast your eyes, uncomfortably close to the stubbly face of a well-trimmed man, who gives you a lethargic, yet toothy, smile.

"I knew a dog named Ava."
"...My dick's inside of you, dude. I don't want to hear about your pets."

"The fuck's gotten into you, hon?" the man releases your cock, squirming up with his sweaty back against your salad day pillows. "You this much of a conversationalist after sex?" You wriggle your way to the foot of the bed, pinching your temples as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.

"I was having sex with Ava..."
The man places a finger on his lips, "We-" he points disjointedly between the two of you, " -were having sex, and my name's Arty."

...

"Hell, you invited me back to your place! Is this some joke?"

A joke, sure, but it felt like you were the brunt of it. However, the longer you stared at the man, the more his subtleties reminded you of Ava. He had her eyes, and- for the most part her complexion. His hair was even of similar length and color; the only notable difference was he had a cock. It whirred in your mind for a second that... Arty, was somehow, one and the same as the girl you locked eyes with at the party earlier.

"We met at Mark's?"
"Yeaaaa...?" Arty's accent comes through with brevity, "Saw the tallest, you, across the room, sat down with you, had a spiritual connection; you even like hot soup. You don't remember that?"

You did like hot soup, but it wasn't a conversation you had with Ava at the party, so some things were still a bit different. Searching your mind, you abruptly alert Arty to the most glaring elephant in the room:

"I'm straight."
Arty sputters at the revelation, "Okay," he derides dismissively.

"Hey, uh-"
Arty throws himself off your bed, grabbing the piled bundle of clothes off the shag carpet and starts getting dressed. Arty's going to leave. A part of you is screaming that he holds the answers to what happened, or maybe even some nugget on how to reverse what has happened.

"Arty-"

"I dunno what dick's up your bum, but the way with you grunting my name up to the showstopper - you cant fake that." he grunts through his t-shirt, poking his head out the top like some gay turtle, "I dunno if you're confused, or- hell, just trying to use me for a one-night stand... I wouldn't have mind if that's what you told me first-hand..." Arty looks your naked body up and down, giving a faint smile, "I thought we had something..."

Arty waves a full-on goodbye. Full well knowing your next words are going to cause further conflict, you relent; "Arty, wait!"

Arty frowns, giving you one last look by the door. He gives a shrug, dripping with bemusement. It's the sudden look of fear on your face that speaks to Arty's empathic side, bee-lining a sense of doubt unto the breached man.

"Something isn't right... I don't know what's going on."